#the one where its glowing when hes holding it up in the air is sending me. its like smth from indiana jones or smth | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

disasterofastory · 6 months

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Run (Brahms Heelshire x Reader)

Run // Brahms Heelshire Masterlist Brahms Heelshire x Reader Kinktober 2023 - 12/14 Warnings: chasing, outdoor sex

Summary: Brahms chases you through the garden.

"Are you ready?" Brahms asks one last time. One of his hands is still on your hips, squeezing your flesh softly before letting you go and taking a step back. He can already feel the tension and adrenaline building up in him, pumping in his veins and speeding up his heartbeat. "Yeah," you breathe out, barely finding your voice. You already feel cold without his closeness. "I will count to twenty," Brahms smirks. "You will need it." "Don't be so sure about it," you reply. The confidence in your tone is light and trembling. "Maybe you will never see me again." A few months ago, Brahms would have been angry and desperate hearing your words, but not anymore. He will catch you, and even if not, you will come back to him. He is sure about it. Instead, he laughs, pressing his back against the wall of your room. He has to force his muscles to relax and not crawl their way back around your body. The curve of his lips is confident and a bit mocking. "Run." His words are muffled by the porcelain mask hiding his face.

He doesn't have to say more.

You run as fast as you can. You fall against the wall with a quiet thud as you try to take a sharp turn without slowing down. You can hear Brahms laugh from the distance. The deep rumbles send chills through your body, and your heart quickens its beating. Your socks are slippery on the wooden floor, but you still reach the stairs. Your legs almost slip, and the only thing that keeps you from falling on your bottom is the handrail you are still holding. You can still hear the man from your room as he counts louder and louder so you can hear him.

By the time you reach the entrance door of the manor, you are already panting and gasping for air. Your limbs tingle with the adrenaline rushing through your veins, and you have to force them to do as you want as you circle around the small space in front of the door. "Brahms!" You shout. "Where are my shoes?" "Five," he continues to count. "Four." Fuck! Not caring about your shoes or the nasty trick Brahms pulled on you, you bolt out of the door. The cold night air slaps you across the face, filling your lungs with the earthy scent of damp soil before you jump down the stairs and start to run into the darkness. The moon hangs low in the ink-black sky, casting a silvery glow over the green field behind the manor. Your eyes scan your surroundings, trying to find a place where you can hide from the man, but the sound of the door closing behind you makes you forget everything.

Brahms is here.

Adrenaline courses through your veins, and your heart races in your ribcage, urging you forward with every wild beat. Your breath comes in rapid, shallow gasps, and your lungs burn for more air. With each hurried step, the soft, cool grass tickles the soles of your bare feet. Excitement and determination bubble within your chest, pushing you to run faster and faster while Brahms behind you gets closer with each passing second. You can feel the thud of his heavy steps under your feet. He will get you. You want him to get you.

With a sudden thought, you stop in your tracks, turning back to face him. When the man notices the change, he stops, too. Even though you can't see his face, you know he is surprised. Your chest heaves as you stare at each other. His mask looks even paler with the moon's silvery glow on it. Your thighs clench as your eyes rake over his broad form. He looks primal and beautiful. With a smirk on your lips, you grab the hem of your shirt to pull it off with a swift motion. The thin fabric falls to the ground, leaving your upper body bare in front of his darkened eyes. Your nipples harden within a few seconds because of the cold air brushing over your heated skin. You feel like a raw nerve, throbbing and needing friction. "Do you want me?" You ask him teasingly. "If you are not fast enough, I will run away," you continue. You can see as he tenses at your words.

Brahms's whole focus is solely on you. His eyes follow your every movement as you make a few steps back, grinning when he follows you. His every instinct tells him to bounce on you before you slip further away from him. His fingers twitch, and his muscles cramp as he forces himself to stay put.

For a while, you circle around in the empty field, staring at each other with heavy breaths and rapid heart beating. You really feel like a prey under his gaze, and the excitement goes straight to your pussy. Your panties are already damp between your legs.

"I start to feel like you don't even want me," you taunt him some more. "Not really. Maybe I should go and-" Your words end up in a loud scream as he jumps. You barely have enough time to turn around and run when his arms cage you against his chest, keeping you secure and tight in his firm hold. "Brahms!" You squeal again, falling onto the ground under his strength. Your knees land on the grass with a painful thud. "Fuck!" You try to roll over and out of his hands when his hold on you tightens, and he turns you onto your stomach. You grunt at the sudden tug. He pulls your hips up so you are on your knees with your ass in the air in front of him. "You are mine," he growls next to your ear. His mask is cold at the crook of your neck as he hovers above you. His chest is pressed to your back, and you can feel his erection through the thick fabric of your jeans. He already grinds against your bottom for some friction. You want to tell him to tear off your clothes, but you decide to stay silent and let him have this moment.

Even though Brahms knew of your little play the whole time, there was a moment when he was really afraid of losing you. He still feels the sick turn of his stomach when he saw you running away from him in the distance. His muscles burn from the effort he chased after you with his full speed.

When both of you are naked, finally, he presses his cock against your pussy. You are already wet and ready for him, but he doesn’t push in yet. He relishes in the heat of your folds on his shaft as he grinds against you, keeping your hips tight and secure in his large hands. "Brahms!" You gasp, your words muffled by the ground under your face. Your fingers dig into the mud as you push your bottom backward. "I know, love," he grunts. "Just give me a moment." His eyes are closed as he soaks his erection in your juices. The tip of his cock glides through your folds and nudges your clit. "Br-Brahm-" you whine again, shaking. Need blinds you for long seconds as you wiggle in his hold. "Tell me you will never leave me," he demands. "Tell me you are mine, Y/N." "I'm yours," you tell him without thinking. At this point, you would say everything he wants to hear just to get what you want.

A hiss escapes both of your lips when he adjusts himself to your entrance. You sound like a wounded animal as you feel his cock pressing into your wet channel. Your toes curl at the stretch of your pussy around his grith. Brahms doesn't push into you entirely even though you know you could take him. He teases you, driving you mad with need. He rocks in and out, once, twice, three times. "Please," you gasp. "Brahms." It seems like the only thing you remember is his name falling out of your open lips every few minutes. And while you are busy begging him, Brahms is at the edge of losing his mind. His muscles are taut above you, trying to control himself and his urges. Every fiber in his body tells him to ruin you for every other man, to fuck you so deep and fast, you won't ever think of leaving him.

You look back over your shoulder at him with a small frown when you notice his stalling. His cock splits you open but stays still. "Brahms," you groan, wiggling. The man needs a few seconds to register his name falling from your lips. His eyes find yours, and for a little while, none of you says or moves. "It's okay," you tell him, opening your legs even more. "Please, Brahms. I need you." You arch under his warm palm on the middle of your back, so you practically present yourself to him. You rest your head on the ground, keeping yourself from falling forward with your arms while your ass is high in the air with his cock in your pussy. Your grip around him is warm and wet.

With a deep, ragged breath, Brahms starts to work himself in and out of you. Your walls clench around him as if you are trying to keep him inside, stretching and filling your tight hole. At the feeling of your muscles working on his cock, he gives a harsh thrust into you, grinding inside you entirely. Saliva slips out of your lips as your jaw goes slack by the power of his push. Your body rocks back and forth as he fucks you from behind.

Brahms's head drops for a second when a low groan bursts out of his chest. He can feel every small movement and squeeze of your pussy. You suck him in deeper and deeper, wanting him just as much as he wants you. And this little fact still amazes him.

You want him. You love him.

You want him to fuck you under the dark sky, not caring about the dirt sticking to your skin or the cold caressing both of you.

He adjusts himself behind you so he can watch as you take his cock with every thrust of his hips. Another low growl escapes his clenched teeth as he focuses on your tight hole stretching around his grith. Your pussy and his cock glint with your juices, seeping down your thighs.

Brahms is ruthless as he fucks you and fills you to the brim while you cry and whine underneath him. Pure ecstasy washes over you in waves, rocking your body against his thrusts. "You are mine, Y/N," he growls, pounding into you. "You will never leave me, do you understand?" Beneath him, you wail and sob, gripping onto the ground. Your nails are dirty from the soil. Your eyes are teary and unfocused as your lips open and close every now and again without forming any coherent word. You are so beautiful like this, helpless and cock-drunk.

"Fuck!" He snarls, holding onto your hips tightly when he feels the familiar pull in his balls. "Y/N!" At the same time, his cock starts to jerk inside you, your walls clamp and squeeze around his shaft too. He fills you to the brim as he empties his balls until your tight hole starts to leak with his semen. He grinds into you, wanting everything and anything you can give him as you reach your climax. Drool slips out of your mouth, and tears run down your cheeks as you cry and cry and cry. The world spins around you, and the only thing that keeps you grounded is the man above you, forcing you to stay on his cock until your whole body goes limp and he falls to the ground next to you.

"Do you still want to leave?" He pants, pulling you to his chest. Your leg drops over his, and he can feel you smearing over his skin. Your pussy is sensitive, swollen, and leaking with his cum. "If I can run, can you fuck me again like this?" You wheeze, still fighting for your life as your body trembles after your orgasm. Brahms just laughs. There is no way you can run after this, but if you can, he sure can fuck you even if his dick will fall off.

#brahms heelsire x reader #brahms heelshire imagine #brahms heelshire smut #the boy x reader #the boy imagine #kinktober 2023 #slasher fucker

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moonlightsolo · 1 year

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beauty of all things.

summary: joining the military was never on your bucket list. mostly just a fantasy that your parents couldn’t live out themselves. somehow, you snagged a job to study the native people of pandora and were sent to space. after slowly figuring out that the organization you work for is crooked, you decide to escape into the pandoran forest to seek out the omaticaya clan. on the way, you take quite a tumble, and a certain na’vi boy saves your life.

pairing: neteyam sully x human!fem reader

warnings: smut 18+, vvvv descriptive, unprotected sex i'm sorry, slight size kink, squint for breath play, mentions of animals dy!ng, violence, guns (sorry but the reader is a badass), brief uses of y/n, also non-accurate na'vi language but i tried my best.

word count: 8.5k+

note: hello i havent written smut in so long so if its terrible just tell me i did good and scroll !!! thanks ily <3

the year is two-thousand, one-hundred seventy, and you’ve finally arrived on pandora at the rda base, now named bridgehead.

the feeling of waking up after six years in cryosleep is indescribable. your brain feels like jelly bouncing around in your skull, the organ thumps in sync with every beat of your heart.

even a slight movement of your finger feels as if your bones will shatter up your arm.

“calm down. everything will be fine. just breathe.” someone speaks to you. the sound of their voice echoes in your head, making your ears ring as if they screamed directly into your ear drum.

but fuck, you can’t breathe.

something covering your mouth and nose is flush against your face, making it hard to take in a full breath. one of your arms lift up, sending a shockwave of pain throughout your body.

you grunt as you rip the oxygen mask off of your face, taking a deep breath of fresh air. your lungs burn from the feeling, making tears spill from your waterline. your eyes finally flutter open, welcomed by a bright white light above your head.

maybe you’re dead. wouldn’t that be something.

“calm down, private.” a nurse dressed in blue scrubs shines another bright light in your eyes. “reflexes look good.” she talks to another person on the other side of your bed.

“where am i?” your hoarse voice croaks out, making pain sizzle in your esophagus.

“you’re on pandora.”

the nurses don’t waste time to get you ready for your first mission. your bones and muscles are still sore, but you’re required to join some fellow colleagues on a tour on the outskirts of the forest.

well, what’s left of it.

your first step outside made you realize that the people you’re working for are making the same mistakes as they did on earth. stripping the planet to its bones, and killing anything in their path just to pocket a dollar.

the destruction of the environment around you makes your heart ache for the na’vi and the native animals. the area is barren and dry from the wildfire they caused when the first group of ships arrived last year.

you couldn’t help but feel slightly emotional, completely regretting letting your parents make this decision for you.

you reluctantly follow the group, the trees and vegetation growing thicker as you trek farther into it.

you didn’t know there could be this much green on a planet. the exotic flora fascinates you, how it glows and interacts with the world around it.

“hold up.” the guide of the brigade raises his hand, all of the soldiers halt in their steps. an animal that resembles a much larger deer strolls from behind a large tree, grazing on the grass.

from your studies, you recognize it as a hexapede. you go to step forward to admire the creature, but you can’t help but notice your lieutenant move his hand to his gun.

he snickers and lifts his gun to aim at the animal, “watch this.” he cockily smirks at the other male comrades next to him, who grin excitedly at the mention of a hunt.

before he could pull the trigger, you turn your back and cover your ears. the ring of the bullet being fired makes you jump. tears instantly burn in your eyes, seeping from your eyes and trailing down your cheeks.

your breath shudders in your chest, heart breaking for the animal that just lost its life for some sort of game.

“look at her.” some of them chuckle as they pass you.

another soldiers walks by, hitting you with his hip which causes you to fall to the ground directly on your ass. the wet dirt seeps into your uniform, soiling your pants with a mud stain.

“get a grip. you need to toughen up, princess. it’s not going to be castles and rainbows out here.” the lieutenant spits out at you from above, face red with anger.

you flinch, shoulders rising higher to your shoulders with every insult thrown at you. the laughter from your comrades makes your anger and embarrassment grow stronger by the second.

you slowly stand to your feet to follow them, facing screwing up in pain with every step. you decide to walk farther behind them since you would rather be eaten by a predator then have a conversation with any of them.

the rest of the day was filled with indoor training, lectures, and meetings with the big guys. all they yell about is reprimanding the na’vi, and if we see them, we shoot to kill.

somehow, every single person in the room seems to be too excited to go out and hunt them- everyone except you.

the thought makes you queasy, like you could vomit at the thought of using violence against them.

back on earth, you studied the omaticaya people for years. the last thing you want to do is to hurt them.

every day is the same. training, lectures, and numerous meetings. the rda somehow created their own avatars, and are using them against the omaticaya people to take down jake sully.

it’s already your fifty-seventh night on pandora, and it feels as if you’ve been here for months. every day, the heavy feeling of wanting to leave grows heavier in your chest.

the thought looms above your head like a dark storm cloud, following you around everywhere you go.

tonight is the night you decide it’s time to leave. you’ve seen and studied enough of the forest to know how to survive for a few days.

all you know is that you need to find this jake sully everyone is talking about to warn him about everything.

you’ve already packed a bag full of non-perishable food and water, a fresh pair of clothes, ammo, and a poncho for the rain. the pistol you stole from training is tucked in the waistband of your pants. you would rather not use it, but if it came to surviving you would have to.

taking a deep breath, you crack open the door to your quarters. you look down the long corridor of the dormitory, seeing that the coast is clear.

you flip your hood onto your head before stepping into the hallway. you keep your head angled down so the cameras can’t get a glimpse of your face.

you truly can’t believe you’re about to do this. you’re honestly stupid. how will you ever get past the guards? you mentally battle yourself to go back to bed and plan this out more, but you’ve already gotten this far.

once you get outside, you pull the full-face oxygen mask up from where it was hanging loosely around your neck. you truly start to believe you actually might get away with this.

you take another deep breath, “you got this. you can do this.” you give yourself a little pep talk, before scurrying behind a wall.

you peek your head out to scope out the area. there’s the gate that leads to the outside and it’s guarded by one guy. it’s only one guy- well, one big guy.

you press your back against the wall you’re hiding behind, looking up at the dark sky that sparkles with stars. you take another deep shaky breath before stepping out and heading straight towards him.

your eyes dart around the area to make sure nobody else is coming. you slyly bring out your knife that sits in a sheath connected to your belt.

“hey! you’re not supposed to be out here.” he shouts loudly at you, forcing you to pick up your pace towards him.

“hey! what’re you doing?!” he goes to grab his gun, but before he could, you lift your heavy boot up to kick in his knee. a loud crunch sounds from his leg, making the man fall to ground with a loud yelp of pain.

before he could cry for help, the blade of your weapon is pressed against his jugular.

“scream, and i’ll kill you.” you hiss at him quietly, eyes still looking to the side to make sure nobody is coming.

“give me your keycard…now!” you tighten your grip on him, pressing the blade into his neck. he grunts as his hands scurry to unhook it and reach it up to you. “you sick fucking bitch.” he seethes out through his teeth.

before you grab it from him, you land a blow to his temple with the handle of the knife. sending the man to the ground unconscious, “douchebag.” you grumble as you bend down to swipe the card off the ground, pressing the plastic key to the scanner.

the gate beeps green, and slowly clicks open as the multiple bolts unlock. you push through the gate, slamming it shut behind you before you break out in a sprint down the steps and into the dirt.

the buildings behind you begin to blare sirens, red lights flashing into the sky. they must’ve found him. “fuck, fuck, fuck!” you whisper to yourself, picking up your pace as you dash to the tree line.

the forest in front of you is dark with no sign of life nor light. you continue sprinting, jumping over logs and hopping over puddles. before you know it, you’re surrounded by vast darkness and the base is no where in sight.

you slow down, leaning against a tree to take a breath. you can’t believe you did it- you actually escaped from that hell hole.

your eyes squeeze shut as you breathe slowly, attempting to slow down your heart rate. “eywa, if you’re there. please don’t let me die.” you speak out into the air desperately.

when you reopen your eyes, you can see absolutely nothing in front of you. that cues you to grab your flashlight from your pack and to begin your hike.

you have no idea where you are going, but from all the intel you overheard in all those meetings you know that their base is somewhere in the hallelujah mountains.

you fish through one of your pockets in your cargo pants, finding the map of the surrounding area. your eyes locate bridgehead, the coastal rda city, and then the mountains.

“holy shit. that’s a long way.” you grumble to yourself as you continue walking forward.

crack!

you stop in your tracks to spin around in a three-sixty, shining your flashlight every which way. another loud crack sounds from behind you that seems even closer than before.

“fuck this shit.” you spit out and take off in a run again. you weave and bob between large tree trunks and leap over fallen ones. you need to find shelter and wait for the sun to come up for the last two hours of nighttime.

you’re thankful that training helped build your stamina because if you couldn’t run for more than five minutes, you’d probably be dead already.

once you slow down, you realize there’s a clearing to your right. as you grow closer, you realize it’s an old hut- specifically an rda scientist pod. your eyes scan the area for any possible danger before stepping out into the open. you keep mind to where you step, making sure to make as little noise as possible.

you notice the pod is overridden with vines, and the windows are shattered. as you step inside, grass cracks under the sole of your boots. you wince from the noise, peeking behind your back to make sure you’re still alone.

you decide to sit down in one of the non-smashed-in avatar capsules, taking a deep breath.

wow, you really did it. you’re now a fugitive of the government.

unbeknownst to yourself, your mind is more exhausted than you thought. you take a few gulps of water, before leaning back to finally (sort of) relax. before you know it, you’re fast asleep.

a few hours later, you’re awoken by a loud screech of some sort of animal. gasping and automatically reaching for your gun, you pull it out and aim it in front of you through the broken window.

the sun has already risen, streaming through the numerous trees surrounding the opening. you take another deep breath to slow your breathing, realizing there’s nothing to worry about.

you decide it’s time to get up and eat something, but you would rather begin your very long trek to the mountains instead. so you grab a granola bar and start heading north.

you pull out the map and your compass, following the directions and hoping you’re going the right way. “god. i’m so stupid.” you whisper to yourself as your head lifts up to see where you're going.

you didn’t realize where you were walking since you were too busy paying attention to the map. suddenly, your feet are taken out from under you and you’re tumbling down a rocky hill.

unfortunately, you land in a large pool of mud at the bottom. sticky, heavy mud that gives off heat.

the air in your lungs feels like fire, oxygen fuels the embers deep in your chest. your throat constricts as you wheeze, the wind is knocked out of you, and it feels as if you’re suffocating.

mud splashes up on your face, the feeling of the thick dirt sucking you under makes you panic even more. another wheeze punches your chest as you attempt to climb out of the pit, but to no avail. the mud continues to suck you under the surface as your nails dig into the grass in attempt to keep your head afloat.

you let out a loud cry once some oxygen returns to your lungs, but you can feel the mud compressing the tube connected to your backpack. some of the air from outside is slowly leaking into your headpiece, making you feel extremely lightheaded.

“please..” you squeak out, eyes squeezing shut as you slowly start coming to terms with your death.

unsure if you’re hallucinating or not, you hear muffled commotion in front of you. your eyes flutter open, vision blurry and unable to make out the large figures. “help.. me.” you softly call out, lungs compressed by the weight of the mud.

suddenly, hands are gripping any part of your exposed body they can get to and you’re being pulled from the pit and laid on the plush grass. you instantly gasp for air as the oxygen returns back into your mask, chest heaving as it alleviates your dizziness.

a coarse cough pummels your chest and you roll over on your side, sucking in fast deep breaths.

“hey, hey… it’s okay.” an accented voice speaks to you before going back to speaking in a foreign language. seemingly, talking to someone else who responds in the same language.

your eyes finally open to see your rescuer, praying to every supernatural god that it’s not the rda.

to your surprise, a very blurry na’vi is crouched in front of you. his golden eyes are wide with fear that glance between you and the person behind you.

your breath gets caught in your throat at the sight of him. a very beautiful one, at that. he’s adorned in handmade beaded and weaved garb. his head is covered in very tight knit braids with various decorations tied in them.

you can tell that he’s arguing with the person behind you in their language, almost making out a few words.

dangerous… human… girl… listen to… dad…?

before you could say anything to him, one of his arms slide under your head and the other slides behind your knees. “don’t worry. we are going to help you.”

his warm skin gives you a sense of relief as he holds you close to his chest while he starts to run. blinking through your blurry vision, you notice another blue figure following closely behind you.

you float in and out of consciousness, every breath you take squeaks as if you have an instrument in your lungs. your head is sitting in the crook of his elbow, now watching mountains flash by. beside you, is another boy flying a banshee.

are you in the fucking air right now?

“please don’t die. stay awake for me.” the one holding you mumbles, making eye contact with you before your eyes flutter shut again.

something burns your nostrils, sending signals to your brain to wake up. “ah!” you yelp, going to sit up but the pain in your body causes you to fall back down in a crying mess.

once your watery eyes finally open, you’re greeted by another pair of yellow eyes, but this time it’s a girl- not the boy who saved you. “hi, i’m kiri.” she smiles wide. her face looks quite familiar.

“don’t tell her your name, skxawng.” someone scolds from somewhere around you, which just makes her roll her eyes. it’s another boy, but not the one who saved you.

“where am i?” you rasp out, looking around at the room you’re in. it’s almost like a makeshift hut with a strong smell of herbs and smoke.

“i can’t tell you that, but just know that you are safe.” her hand gently runs down your hair, making you tense up before relaxing. her entire presence calms you down, there’s just something about her.

“i think you might’ve broken one of your ribs, and you definitely have a concussion.” she sits back on her heels to grab medicine that’s laid out next to her.

“i still think we should get mom and dad.” she chirps, eyeing someone out of the corner of her eye as she crushes something in a mortar.

“if we tell dad, he will kill us for bringing her back here, and then mom will skin us afterwards.” the same voice sounds from the corner of the room.

you can’t help but attempt to lift your head, but kiri’s hand presses on your oxygen mask to keep you down. “stay.” she reprimands you as if you are a dog.

you groan in annoyance, but continue to stay put as she scoops up the medicinal paste she was grinding and swipes it on your forehead and temples. “to relieve your pain.” she smiles at you and nods.

wooden beads clink together as someone enters the room, “is she okay?”

there he is.

“yes and no. she’s in a lot pain but she will live.” kiri speaks to him as she continues rubbing the paste on different points of your body. like your neck, wrists, and numerous pulse points.

the paste gives off a cooling sensation, almost making your pain go away instantaneously. this time, you refuse to listen to the girl. you swiftly sit up to look at the boy, teeth gritting together from your aching muscles.

your movements makes him take a step back, almost like a scared puppy.

“look, i’m not going to hurt you.” you glance at all three of them before continuing, “i’m here to warn your people about what’s coming- what the rda is planning next. i need to talk to jake sully.”

once you mention that name, they all pause and look between each other with an ‘oh shit’ gleam in their eyes.

“what do you know about jake sully?” the older boy stands up straight with his shoulders back, his height towering over you intimidatingly.

“i know he’s your eytukan, and your toruk macto. so that means he’s in charge, right?”

“why do you need to warn him?” the younger boy stands up from behind him, walking forward to face you and await your response.

“the rda. you know, the mercenaries. they brought in avatars, but they want to kill him and everyone that comes in between them.“ your voice is strong as you lay out the facts, but on the inside you’re nervous as hell.

“how do you know you weren’t sent here to spy on us?” the older one speaks again.

“neteyam. i don’t think she—.” kiri gets cut off by his hand raising for her to be quiet.

neteyam… so that’s his name.

he sighs at his name being mentioned. obviously bothered by it as one of his hands come up to rub the bridge of his nose.

“i promise i wasn’t sent here. i came here looking for jake because i just… couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. trust me, please.” he takes a second, almost as if he’s deep in thought.

“i’ll relay the information to him, but i can’t let you be seen by our people. they won’t react well.” he mumbles, “they don’t trust humans that come from where you’re from.”

“lo’ak, why don’t you go get her some food?” neteyam looks back at his brother who throws his hands up in annoyance, “and kiri, why don’t you clean this up so nobody wonders where you are?”

kiri grumbles under her breath as she packs up her medicine and herbs into a pack to leave alongside lo’ak.

and then there were two…

thankfully, neteyam sits down in front of you with his legs crossed- instead of intimidatingly towering over you from above. your eyes travel over his body, admiring the color of his skin and the stripes that adorn him, “so what’s your name?”

“i’m y/n.” you respond with a smile, “i’m guessing you’re neteyam?” you almost let out a laugh, which makes his lips quirk up a bit.

“that’s me.” he shrugs with a shy grin. his fingers tap gently on his knees as he looks around awkwardly.

“how do you know english so well?” you question, making his pointed ears perk up. you watch how his tail curiously flicks behind his body.

“some of the scientists that work here. they’re humans… the good ones.” he quickly adds, his glowing eyes watch your every move.

“thanks for saving me back there. ya know, like in the mud and stuff. i probably would have died if you weren’t there.” you breathe out, almost as if you’re slightly embarrassed by the situation you got yourself into.

“i will be honest, i was kind of scared of you. i didn’t know if you were one of the 'good ones', but i couldn’t just leave you there. i’m a gentleman, you know.” a cocky little grin tugs up on the corner of his mouth.

a deep shiver runs through your body from his words, feeling heat rush onto the apples of your cheeks. for some reason, this na’vi boy is way too charming for his own good.

something stirs in your belly, a gut feeling to keep prying at him slowly. maybe you’ll get to know him better.

“so how old are you?” you ask out of pure curiosity, not for any other reasons…

neteyam slightly stiffens at the question, eyes squinting at you for a brief moment before softening. almost as if he was deciding what to say, “i’m twenty.” he states simply with a blank face.

“i’m nineteen.” you blurt it out, even if he didn’t reciprocate the question.

neteyam smiles and goes to answer, but lo’ak bursts through the beaded doorway with various foods in his hands. he dumps it on the bed in front of you, bowing like a servant.

“bon appetite.” he grumbles sarcastically before turning around and heading back out of the room- but not without purposely bumping into neteyam with his hip.

“what’s up with him?” you almost laugh as you rummage through the exotic fruits in front of you.

“that’s my brother, lo’ak. he’s an ass.” he shakes his head with a laugh, his braids swing on his head as he does so.

you go to pick up a bright pink fruit to bite into it, “wait! don’t bite it. you cannot eat the skin.” he crawls toward you, unsheathing his knife from his waistband.

“what’re you gonna do? stab me?” you ask playfully which makes the boy smirk at you, “yeah, i might as well. it’ll keep you from asking anymore questions.”

his response makes you laugh and shake your head. his large hand wraps around the fruit to take it from you, slicing around the center to follow the seed in the middle. almost like a giant pink avocado.

he lifts the top off, and there sticks out the oblong seed sitting inside yellow pulp that looks disgustingly delicious. “so all you have to do is suck on the seed…” he trails off, bringing the fruit to your lips. you pull the oxygen mask off your face, holding your breath.

“and pull it out with your teeth, then you can drink the inside.” his voice is breathy as he watches your lips wrap around the seed to lick off the extra pulp stuck to it. you can’t help but tease the boy by looking up at him through your eyelashes, which makes his breath evidently hitch.

neteyam gulps as he watches you pull the seed out with your teeth, before you take the fruit from his hand to tip the fruit back to drink the inside.

you pull the mask back over your face, looking up at him with a little smile. “that was delicious, thank you. it kind of tasted like vanilla pudding.”

his eyebrows furrow, “pudding?” he questions.

“oh yeah. it’s from earth. like a sweet, thick textured milk. it’s yummy, but not good for you.” you lean back in the bed you’re laying in, stretching your arms above your head.

neteyam‘s heart beats a little faster as he watches your shirt slowly hike up to reveal your belly.

“so who’s bed am i in?” you smile softly up at him from where he’s sitting the end of the bed, shaking him out of his trance.

“mine. this is my… erm- kelku.”

“oh, your room?” you smile at him and he nods, “yeah, m'sorry i didn’t know the english word.”

“don’t be sorry.” you shake your head at him, still smiling away, “does your kelku have a bathroom i can use?”

neteyam grins at your use of a na’vi word, “ah no, but… i can take you to get cleaned up. you just might have to wait until sunset.”

you overly exaggerate a loud sigh, making the glass fog up but you can’t help but still smile at him so he knows you’re not really upset. “okay fine..” you grumble sarcastically as you sit back up with your legs crossed.

“they really made more avatars, huh?” neteyam asks.

“and they’re dangerous and were created solely for combat. i don’t want to see you and your family get hurt. all of you have already gone through so much.” you mumble, eyes falling down to your hands sitting in your lap.

neteyam reaches out to lay one of his hands on yours, completely engulfing your lap with it. the soft touch makes your eyes raise to look at him, “you… are brave.” he nods his head along with his words.

you couldn’t help but beam, a sense of accomplishment filling your chest. “thank you.” you turn your hands up so your palms were against his. you carefully wrap your hands around his, holding his one hand with both of your own.

“you put your own life at risk to help us… to let us know we’re in danger. so i thank you.” his fingers curl in to hold onto your hands with a soft smile curling onto his lips.

something in you urges you to leap forward, to rip this goddamn mask off and kiss this boy to show your appreciation for his kindness.

it seems as if he’s feeling the same way by how he is looking at you. his big round eyes glance over your lips before returning back to your eyes, his chest is picking up pace from his rapid breathing.

the sound of beads rustling snaps both of you out of your mutual fascination with each other. “just coming to check on her.” kiri walks forward with her hands on her hips.

“and what are you two doing?” she looks down at your hands wrapped around each other, making neteyam jump back and stand swiftly to his feet. you can’t help but notice his braids swing wildly with every move.

“i- um…” he points at you then scratches his head, “i’ll be right back.” he bolts out the doorway, leaving you silent and shocked.

“boys.” kiri sticks out her tongue in disgust as she bends down to your level to check the paste she smeared on you. “seems like your body is reacting to it well. are you feeling okay?” she looks up at you.

“yeah. i actually feel completely fine. a little sore, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary.” you laugh, which makes your ribs ache.

“then you didn’t break a rib, but just bruised yourself.” she hums as she stands up to her feet.

“you need to get cleaned up. you’re covered in mud.” she looks over your body, her nose scrunching up at the sight.

“oh yeah.. um neteyam said he would take me during sunset.” you awkwardly laugh as you gnaw on your lip.

kiri slightly side-eyes you, before shrugging. “okay... then. get some rest, i’ll have neteyam come to you when he’s ready.” she comfortingly rubs your shoulder before walking out.

you let out a groan before falling back against the cot, rolling onto your side with a slight wince from the dull pain.

your body refuses to fall asleep, unable to get comfortable from the curiosity of wanting to see what’s outside of your room. you decide to just peek, it won’t harm anyone, right?

you quietly slide out of the bed and tip toe to the beaded doorway. your hands move them to the side so you could get a good look. it’s nothing but rocky wall and the backside of another hut, which is disappointing.

you slowly creep out from behind the beads, looking around to make sure nobody can see you.

you press your back to the outside of the hut, sliding across it to the front to look on the other side. before you could step out, a very large hand presses against your mouth and an arm wraps around your waist to hoist you up.

you let out a yelp into the palm of your captor, kicking your legs once they leave the safety of being on the ground. “shh, shh… it’s just me.” neteyams voice whispers next to your ear.

your body relaxes as he turns around to walk back inside of his room to put you down. you turn on your heel to scold him for scaring you, but he starts first, “i was coming to get you so i could bring you to get cleaned up, but you decided you would like to escape now, huh?” the tone of his voice seems agitated, and his breathing is quite fast.

“anybody could have seen you! my parents could have seen you! they would have tried to hurt you. you’re not trying to leave, are you?” he slightly whisper-yells at you, now obviously frustrated.

you’re a bit taken aback by his demeanor, “look, i’m sorry. i wasn’t trying to leave, i just wanted to look around. ya know… see what it looked like.” you sheepishly speak out. you can feel your heart rate starting to pick up.

“i don’t believe it. are you trying to spy on us?” his eyes are slightly squinted, now starting to pace in front of you. “i don’t want to keep you here, if you’re the one putting us in danger.”

your eyes blow wide in shock, heart dropping to your feet. “no, no! neteyam, believe me, please!” he stops in his tracks to watch you, “i wasn’t trying to spy or anything, i swear! i’m just a curious person and i’ve studied the omaticaya clan for years. i just wanted to see what it looked it. i wasn’t trying to spy, i promise you!” your voice gets higher as your emotions start to take over.

neteyam notices your watery eyes and shaky hands, slowly coming to terms that you’re actually telling the truth. “don’t cry.” he mutters out, running a stressed hand through his braids.

he takes a hesitant step towards you, head angled down to look at you from above. one of his hands cradle your head, tip of his thumb rubbing over your forehead and down the bridge of your tiny nose. “i don’t want to make you cry.”

“i just don’t want…” you sniffle, “you to think of me that…” another sniffle, “…way.” your bottom lip quivers, as all the horrible memories of the rda come rushing back into your brain.

“i don’t, i don’t. i am sorry.” he bends down slightly, eyes darting over your face in attempt to search for a way to help you. he wishes he could kiss you, to make you feel better.

“would you like to go get cleaned up? i found woman’s clothing in the scientist’s shack.” he mumbles, gesturing to the pack on his back.

“oh really?” you brighten up slightly at the sound of getting clean clothes.

“follow me.” neteyam motions with his hand for you to walk with him.

he parts the beads for you to walk through with him, bringing you down the rocky hallway with numerous huts filled with other na’vi. “i may have told my dad about you. he wants to meet you after i get you clean.” he nonchalantly speaks as if you know who his dad is.

“and who’s your dad and why do i want to talk to him?” you question with a laugh.

“oh… well my dad is jake sully.” he mumbles, “i didn't tell you because i didn’t trust you at first.”

“hm.. that’s reasonable. i can’t believe he’s your dad though that’s crazy. the big and bad toruk macto.” you giggle softly, covering your mouth with your very dirty hand.

neteyam can’t help but laugh along, “yeah… big and bad, sure…” he grumbles sarcastically as he walks you up to a clearing.

there’s a few banshees laying on the rock next to an opening in the floor, and a giant hut in the middle next to the science pods. you can see the tops of a few na’vi’s heads but they don’t notice you thankfully. you can't help but feel excited to finally see one of these in real life, let alone ride on one.

“let’s go.” he jogs toward his ikran, bringing his braid forward to make his bond with it. he easily climbs onto the large animal before he reaches out to you to help you climb on. “we’ve got to hurry. hold on to me tight, okay?”

your arms wrap around his waist tightly, one of his hands reach back to pull you closer by your thigh. “wrap your legs around me. this is gonna be a wild ride.” he chuckles. you can’t help but feel nervous as your legs wrap around his hips, making your body quite literally flush with his back.

the banshee squawks loudly before nosediving off of the landing, making your stomach do somersaults in your stomach. “neteyaaaaaam!” you squeal loudly as the wind rushes by your ears and your arms hold him in a deadly grip.

he finally levels out, cackling loudly and throwing his head back. “the way you screamed my name!” he belly laughs as he continues to fly forward.

“you can’t just drop us into the sky with no warning!” you can’t help but laugh along, arms and legs still wrapped around him tightly like a vise.

neteyam slightly descends into the forest below, dodging numerous trees and taking turns until he finds where he needs to land. “finally.” you breathe out once you slide off the animal, “i’ve never been so happy to see the ground!” you exclaim which makes him laugh.

neteyam pulls the pack off of the side of the bird, swinging it over his shoulder and walking forward. you take it as a cue to follow him, hopping over a few rocks that he easily steps over.

the sound of running water grows louder as you keep walking, eyes searching the area for where the sound is coming from. “just up here.” he calls back at you, picking up his pace.

you can’t help but start running, since his speed walk is like a sprint for you. “god, neteyam. i’m tinier than you. slow down!”

before you know it, he stops in his tracks right in front of a clearing. “here it is.” he breathes out with a wide smile.

you duck under his arm, a gasp leaving your mouth from the view in front of you.

natural pools cascade down a mountain, spilling into each other like a domino effect, creating multiple spouts of water that pour into a lake. the color of the water is cerulean, sparkling in the sunlight.

“the best thing about this place. is that humans can naturally breathe here.” neteyam states as he admires the small waterfalls.

“what?!” you shriek in excitement, tugging on his arm happily, “how?!”

“the mix of gases in the air and in the water create the perfect recipe for humans to breathe, but only for a little bit.” he grabs your hand to pull you forward down the little hill towards the lake.

“you can get cleaned up here.” he drops the bag onto the ground before bending down to rummage through it. “stole this.” he hands you a plastic bottle of old spice body wash from earth, “and this.” he hands you another bottle of two-in-one shampoo and conditioner.

obviously the stash of a man, but you couldn’t be happier to see soap. you know that you have to smell terrible.

“thank you very much, kind sir.” you hold the soaps to your chest and dance around happily like a kid in a candy shop.

“what… are you doing?” he stares up at you in awe, his pearly whites on show.

“dancing cause i’m happy. now close your eyes so i can get undressed.” you cheekily smirk at him, making his eyes go wide and turn his head away from you.

you place the soaps on the ground, using your hands to finally take the mask off your face. you take a deep breath of fresh air, the natural smell of dirt and plants filling your senses.

you swiftly pull your shirt over your head and your pants down your legs, along with your underwear and sports bra.

you keep your eyes on the back of neteyams head, grabbing the soaps and taking a few hesitant steps into the water.

“oh my god! it’s warm!” you cheer with a surprised laugh, continuing to walk farther into the lake until you reached one of the spouts of falling water.

you can’t help but put the soap down on a ledge, ducking your head under the natural faucet. you almost moan from the feeling of the caked mud washing out of your hair, “neteyam! this is amazing!” you glance back at him, seeing his back is now towards you.

aw, what a gentleman.

neteyam can’t help but turn around slightly to glance at you. you’re waist deep in the lake, standing under the water as you wash your hair.

he admires your back, watching how the brown water turns to clear as it flows down your skin in little streams. he wishes he could reach out and touch your soft body.

he feels terrible for looking, but he can’t help himself- you’re just so beautiful. he wants to admire your body like a form of art, not for an object of his own personal pleasure.

some ways that you move, he can catch an glimpse of the swell of your breast. making his head around turn to stop looking, but something deep in his belly urges him to go in there with you.

the sound of moving water behind you makes your heart skip a beat. something wants you to turn around, to look and confirm what your gut is telling you.

neteyam is in here with you.

before you could turn around, a tall shadow looms over you from behind. your hands drop to your side, breathing picking up in pace from his proximity.

“can i… touch you?” his voice is low, deeper than normal.

“please.” you desperately respond into the air.

neteyam’s fingers dance over your sides, sending shivers down your spine. his thumbs gently press into the dimples of your lower back as he bends down.

you can feel his warm breath ghosting over your shoulder and onto the next one before he finally lays a kiss against your damp skin. “you are so beautiful.” he whispers, which makes you smile.

“i shouldn’t be doing this.” his voice murmurs in your ear, making your head lull back against his abdomen. “you’re right, but it’ll feel so good.” you look up at him, watching how his face screws up in shock from your words.

“bad influence.” he snickers, nose scrunching up cutely. his hands quickly take dominance over you, twirling you around so your back was pressed against the cool surface of the damp rock.

he leans down just enough, lips barely pressing against yours with a featherlight touch. your breath mixes with his, making you lean forward to attempt to kiss him but he pulls back.

“are you sure?” he asks, which just makes you roll your eyes. your arms swoop around his neck to pull him down to you- finally kissing those damn lips you’ve been dying for.

neteyam smiles into the kiss as his hands slither up your sides, making you giggle from the soft touches. “does that tickle?” he hums into your mouth, making you nod fervently.

your lips move in sync, tongues wiggling against each other as he deepens the kiss by turning his head to the side. his giant hands cup your breasts, the tips of his fingers reaching just above your collarbones.

his hands move to your back, snaking downwards under the water to cup your butt with his hands. “your body is amazing.” he groans against your lips which makes your face flush.

neteyam can feel his back aching from bending down to your level so he lifts you up from your ass, making you squeal as your back is pressed against the wall behind the waterfall.

“backs hurtin’… can’t bend down.” he breathes out against you, moving his lips away from yours to slowly kiss down your neck. he spends time ravishing your skin with kisses and tiny love bites.

you gasp and wriggle in his arms, shivers wrack your body from his teeth running over your sweet spots.

neteyam slowly backs away from the wall, shuffling directly under the water which spills over both of your heads but neither of you could care. you’re both completely enamored with each other.

he shuffles back over to the rocky bank where your clothes are piled up. he gently lays you down on the flat surface, standing tall to admire your nude body from above.

suddenly, you feel overexposed and you go to cover yourself but he stops you, “don’t do that, tìlor.”

the little nickname makes you smile, even if you have no idea what it means.

neteyam leans over you, lips hovering over yours before kissing you softly. so delicate as if you would shatter from the slightest touch.

“means beauty of all things.” he mumbles against your lips before dragging his lips down your chin. he presses wet kisses down your neck, between your breasts and down to your navel.

his hands cup under your ass to push your legs up, shins resting on his shoulders. “gonna make you feel so good, ma tìlor.” he repeats the same word that makes you go crazy.

the feeling of his breath puffing over your core makes you wiggle in anticipation, “please, ‘teyam…” you whine.

he smiles at your begging before dipping down, swiping his tongue through your dripping folds. “oooh my god.” you gasp out.

neteyam smirks as he dives deeper with his tongue, keeping his eyes on you the entire time to watch how you writhe under his touch.

his entire mouth fits over your cunt, his tongue flattens against your clit before his lips wrap around the bud to create suction.

you cry out in surprise, hands flying to his head to grip it as your back arches off of the ground. one of his arms wrap around your hips, right above your pelvis to hold you in place.

he chuckles against you, which sends another shockwave of pleasure to course through your entire body.

he can tell by your body language, and the heartbeat he can feel that you’re already so close to release, so he reluctantly pulls off with a pop.

a string of saliva and your juices connects his lips to your core, a giddy smile pulls up on his face. your eyes glance over his wet chin, the look on his face makes you want to push his head back down between your legs. your chest bounces with every sharp breath, now starting to feel the effects of the toxic gas getting to your head.

neteyam kisses his way back up your body, tongue licking random stripes on your skin. your hands attempt to reach down to untie his loincloth, but they aren’t long enough.

“so tiny.” he mumbles against your skin before pulling back. he presses one forearm against the rock to hold himself up on top of you, while his other one is working on pulling the thin cloth off.

your eyes can’t help but bulge out of your head once he throws the cloth to the side. his cock sits heavy between your bodies, blue and striped like the rest of his body. the pink tip is oozing pre-cum, just begging to be licked up. it's almost as if he could read your mind...

“not now, later… wanna be inside of you first.” he swiftly kisses you before he grips the base of his cock to line it up at your entrance. your legs absentmindedly wrap around his slender waist.

nervousness bubbles in your chest from his size, because how is that going to fit inside of your body...?

“i’ll be gentle with you, ‘promise.” he reassures you, eyes looking over you before leaning down to pepper kisses all over your face.

he slowly thrusts forward, letting it run through your folds to soak up your wetness. he breathily moans into your mouth from the feeling. the sound could quite literally make you cum without being touched.

“ready?” one of his arms are above your head as he looks down at you, while the other holds his cock.

you nod and bring your bottom lip between your teeth, glancing up at him and in between your bodies to watch. your hands rise to rest on his sides, right on top of his rib cage.

he tantalizingly presses his tip against your entrance, making you suck in a sharp breath. your eyes are wide as you look up at him, but his gaze is too focused watching himself push into you.

god, he stretches you out. it burns, and you feel so full- overly full. the tip gets sucked in by your entrance, making his face screw up in pleasure. his plump lips part in awe before his eyes look down at your face in attempt to read your expression.

“good?” he asks softly with a shaky voice, and all you can do is nod.

his hips push forward after letting you adjust for a moment, your nails dig deep into his skin as a mewl falls from your lips.

you throw your head back against the rock, face screwing up as his cock completely splits you open.

he gets about half way before he pulls back out, and thrusts back in to the same depth. “ngh!” you whine, hands desperately clinging onto his body.

neteyam digs his head into the junction where your neck meets your shoulder, biting down on your skin. almost hard enough to draw blood with his sharpened canines.

“oh yes, ‘teyam...” you moan out as the pain of the stretch slowly succumbs to the pleasure sparking in your lower belly.

“you feel so good, my girl.” he chokes out, one of his hands cups the side of your head to pull you in for another kiss.

it was barely a kiss though, mostly just moans and breaths spilling into each others mouths.

neteyam uses your sounds as a suggestion to slightly pick up his pace, his cock going even deeper inside of you than before.

your body bounces with every thrust, drunken hiccups and gasps bubble from your lips as your nails scratch over his ribs.

“pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease.” your words slur together as you feel the tightness building up in your lower belly.

neteyam starts rambling in his language, the tone of his voice shows how desperate he is for release. his tail absentmindedly twitches and wraps around your ankles, locking them into place around his back.

you couldn’t even care at this moment if he would cum in you. the feeling of him inside you has you hypnotized.

your head feels dizzy, and you can see stars in your vision whenever you blink. the lack of oxygen is getting to your brain, making you feel lightheaded and even more sensitive to his cock ramming into you.

“gooooonna cuuum.” your voice is high and your words are drawn out.

“mmmm sran, ma tìlor.” he moans out, his teeth bite down on your shoulder. definitely drawing blood this time by the pain that sparks up your neck.

one last thrust, he pushes almost the full length of his cock inside of you as he releases. you swear you can feel it in your throat.

he lets out a guttural groan against your skin, his back quivering as he thrusts every last bit of his seed into you.

you cry out in pain and euphoria, eyes rolling back inside of your head. your body arches off of the ground as you climax in unison with him, thighs gripping his sides tightly and chest pressing into his.

neteyam uses this moment to kiss you as if he would never kiss you again. his lips move intensely against yours, savoring the taste of your lips before pulling his head back to shove the oxygen mask back on your face.

you instantly suck in a deep breath, chest heaving as your foggy head begins to clear from finally being able to breathe clean air.

neteyam gently rolls over onto his side next to you on the rock, his hand still holding your mask on your face as he attempts to catch his own breath.

he gently presses soft kisses along your arm, and uses his other hand to touch the bruised puncture wounds on your shoulder.

“m’sorry. got carried away.” he breathes out heavily, resting his head on your shoulder.

you take a moment to pull the mask onto your face fully so he didn’t have to hold it for you.

“don’t ever… be sorry. that was fucking amazing.” you laugh in shock as you look down at him. a big smile is on his face as he stares up at you from his place on your chest.

you both lay there in silence, the only sounds being your heavy breathing and birds in the distance. “we should probably get dressed and head back since my dad wants to talk to you.” he mumbles a bit sadly.

you huff a breath out, but nod in agreement. “you’re right.” you mumble, sitting up along with him.

he ties his loincloth back on himself before grabbing the pack to fetch the clothes for you. he hands them to you with a little smile.

you hold out the shirt, seeing it’s a very old rda employee shirt and some sweatpants. you stand to your feet to pull the clothes onto your body, and thankfully they fit.

“oh…” neteyam breathes out disappointedly, “your neck… i’m sorry.” he reaches out to run his thumb over the hickeys and teeth marks he left behind.

“nobody will notice, right?” you attempt to look down at the damage, but from the angle you can’t see what he is talking about.

“uhm.. right.” he agrees with a nervous little laugh.

the ride back was full of laughter and light-hearted remarks coming from neteyam about his dad. mostly just preparing you to talk to him, on what and what not to do.

once the ikran lands on the rocky floor of the cave, you can’t help but take notice to a very tall na’vi man waiting directly in front of you.

“and that’s my dad.” he whispers quietly enough to you as he helps you off the animal. he lets off a little sigh as you duck under his arms to walk up to jake. rule number one was to let neteyam introduce you first, but you didn't listen.

“hi, sir.” you clear your throat, reaching a hand out for him to shake. jake uncrosses his arms to shake your hand, and you can’t help but notice that he has five fingers. unlike four, like his son.

“i know this is terrible timing, but i promise the information i have is worth while.” you give him a curt nod, standing tall with your shoulders back so you wouldn’t look weak.

jake let’s out a little breath and his eyes glance over your body before raising to stare at his son, “and do you think whatever you did to her neck was worth while?”

you freeze in your spot, body instantly heating with embarrassment. you slowly turn your head to look up at neteyam. his eyes are wide like saucers as he stares at his dad, his adam’s apple bobs as he gulps.

when the boys eyes trail over to you, humor bubbles in your chest when you make eye contact. it seems like he’s feeling the same by the way he’s trying to force the smile away that’s slowly creeping onto his face.

almost like a ticking time bomb, the two of you burst out into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, stumbling into the space between your bodies to lean on each other for support.

oh my eywa, you’re both really in trouble now.

tags: @supernerdycookietrashblr @fireflystoughts @eddieslvt @bluealiensimp @aliseaaah

#avatar #avatar twow #avatar x reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam #avatar x you #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully x y/n #neteyam x y/n #neteyam sully x you #neteyam sully #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x you #avatar x y/n #neteyam smut #neteyam sully smut

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ghost-proofbaby · 7 months

Text

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER THREE: ALL TOO WELL

AND I KNOW IT'S LONG GONE AND THERE WAS NOTHING ELSE I COULD DO, AND I FORGET ABOUT YOU LONG ENOUGH TO FORGET WHY I NEEDED TO.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, description of panic attack, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.7K+

☆ A/N: it'll be a short fic, i said. short and sweet and simple, i lied to myself.

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

The moment your name leaves his lips, you swear the world halts on its rotation.

This was real. Every fear and every anxiety you had wrestled with over the last twenty four hours wasn’t for naught – he was here, sitting before you, breathing your name out like a sigh of relief when all you felt was pain. Stabbing, radiating pain. It’s even worse than looking at pictures and headlines of a stranger on a phone screen. Something about him suddenly being tangible, suddenly being real, sends you reeling.

Lydia looks wildly between your showdown with the ghost of a man before you, “I’m sorry… Do you two- do you know each other?”

Not anymore.

“I-” you choke on your stutter. You’re frozen under his stare, going ashen as your head spins. Leave the room. Think of an excuse, get out of this room, run away. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

It’s the world’s most pathetic excuse, but the only thing you can spit out before you’re turning heel and running, just as your body had so desperately craved. You nearly bump into one of the security guards you’d just bravely had a confrontation with.

They’d demanded your phone, you had put up a fight. You had stood your ground. Had held your chin high, dared them to push further even once they had your cell phone in their grasp, and displayed all that self-assuredness you had curated in the last two years. Only to end up scampering past them like a wounded animal mere seconds later.

Pathetic.

Lydia calls out something after you, but it reaches deaf ears as you blaze down the hallway. Your chest is squeezing, as if someone had wrapped it in shrink-wrap and sucked all of the air right out of it, swathed so tightly you could feel every pounding beat of your pulse racing. Your eyesight completely blurs, not quite from tears but rather a mere loss of focus. You nearly knock over one of the god forsaken fake plants Lydia insists as a primary form of decor, hardly being within the right mind to reach out and right the oversized bush of green plastic.

But you don’t have to. Right as your back collides with the wall off to the side of the plant, breathing only coming in short and miserable pants, a different hand reaches out to catch the plant. A ringed hand.

When Eddie says your name again, it’s not a sigh. It’s laced with panic as you support your full weight against white plaster and stare at where knuckles wrap around faux wooden stems.

“Hey,” he stresses, hand leaving your line of sight as he puts a large palm on each of your shoulders. You can’t look at him, not yet, “Hey, can you breathe for me? C’mon, big breaths.”

This close, you can smell the cologne. It’s not even the same woodsy drugstore scent that had lingered on the pillowcases he’d left you to cling to while on tour. Even that, something so miniscule as what cologne he now wore, had changed. And the new and unfamiliar scent chokes you, turns your desperate gasps for air even more futile.

You had walked out of that apartment two years ago, without any intention of ever being this close to him again. You’d sworn to yourself you’d never be this close again.

“You’re having a panic attack,” he squeezes your shoulders within his hold ever so slightly, as if attempting to ground you, “You need to breathe.”

Your eyes nervously find his brown ones. For a second, you recall summer days when the sun would hit them just right, turning them into molten honey for your tasting. Soft and glowing, warming you from the inside out so effortlessly.

But there’s not a single shred of sunlight in this hallway. The dark brown falls flat against your vision.

“I’m fine,” you very clearly aren’t, struggling to even get the words out into the air between you two, “I’m- I’m fine.”

He doesn’t fight you when you reach up to swat away his hands. He lets you, hands falling away with ease, touch retracting as if it had never burned you. You take the chance to look over the metal now settled on his fingers, and you realize he still wears all the same ones you remember so vividly. A cross, a pig’s face, an animalistic skull. But there are new ones added to his collection, adorned on his right hand rather than the left. Unfamiliar and odd, the bulky metallic additions are more plentiful. A silver snake wrapped around his pinky, a large spider with the body of a Magic 8 ball on his pointer, a bat spread eagle on his middle. There’s a chunkier one on his thumb, thinner ones added above a few of his second knuckles, but you can’t clear the haze of your vision long enough to pick up on the designs. You choose to focus back on the familiar ones instead, old and comforting even in your panic.

New rings, new cologne, new habits – the Eddie before you is not the Eddie you once knew.

“Okay,” he’s whispering now. You’re not even sure what excuse he used to follow you out here without causing a scene. Maybe he did cause a scene, surely a grander one than you. He had that privilege now; he was an untouchable rockstar, he could afford to raise a ruckus. “I… Are you sure?”

It’s hard to believe there was a time he was a familiar comfort when all that remains now is the awkward distance between the two of you.

But when he takes a step back from you, the new cologne leaves your stratosphere and the new rings leave your field of vision, and the breaths finally come just a tiny bit easier. Still not enough to satiate your lungs, but enough that the headrush begins to pass.

“I’m sure.”

You try to insert such finality in those two words. As if whatever had just happened would fade and never exist, as if you could walk back into that conference room and take yourself off this project. You can’t. Eddie has a sense of control, a grip on his reality and the reigns of his choices, but you don’t. If you were to demand Lydia remove you from the project, you’d be risking termination. You’d be risking everything – and it may not be much, but you’d built it brick by broken brick these last few years. You’d salvaged what you had been able to out of the ashes of what had been, but it hadn’t been enough. It had hardly been enough for a foundation. You’d built up the person that now stood before him from practical scratch.

The weight of just how much you had to lose hits suddenly – the realization that this was happening and you had no control of it.

But Eddie did. He had to.

“You need to go back in there,” you start, voice still shaking and eyes still averted, “And you need to demand that they reassign you guys. You… You need-” you begin to stutter and fumble to find the right words. You could have lashed out, could have tried to pour salt in a wound you weren’t even sure still existed so that Eddie made the choice on his own. But your mind is muddled and you’re desperate, “Someone else can take on the project. You need to go and demand that someone else takes on the project.”

“What?” Not the response you wanted. Not the response you needed, “I- No.”

Two years later, and he still found a way to do significant damage.

Your eyes snap up, “What do you mean no?”

“I mean no.”

“I haven’t asked anything of you. Not back then, not after everything happened, I-”

He cuts you off with a scoff. “Can’t ask for anything if you just fall off the face of the fucking earth.”

You hadn’t noticed before, but as his walls begin to build, you realize that the prior interaction had been something vulnerable. Something where neither of you were on the defense quite yet like you’d always imagined a reunion would go. All that had mattered ten seconds ago was you being okay, him coming after you, making sure you were fine. He’d allotted you all the care and attention you had craved so terribly two years ago, nearly begged for until your knees had bled for.

“Eddie,” you whisper, getting too distressed to think straight, “Please, for the love of God, just make them reassign the project-”

“I can’t,” he interrupts, shaking his head, “Do you think I’d put myself through this if I could help it? I fucking can’t. I have absolutely no control in there. I didn’t even-” he cuts off his sentence, looking you in your eyes, leaving more to be said.

He didn’t even what?

“I can’t do anything about it,” he says instead of whatever had been on the tip of his tongue, “Trust me – if I could, I would. But I can’t. So why don’t you say something?”

It’s your turn for scoffing and disbelief, “I can’t. I’m not the one with all the power and glory-”

“Is that what you think I have?”

“That’s what I know you have.”

You both go quiet as a battlefield fills the distance between you. All anger, all regret. None of the love or care that had once existed between you two exists here in this quantum plane of sharp words and deadly jabs.

“Just- please ask for a reassignment,” you try with one final plea, eyes hard on him, “Say that that first impression left you unimpressed, I don’t care. She won’t fire me for that.”

“Once again, no. As it turns out,” his voice is low, dangerous, unfamiliar. A tone he had never used before with you, “Even the one with all the power and all the glory can’t make miracles happen. Sorry, doll.”

He doesn’t await your response, leaving you on your own as you stay pressed against the wall and he’s walking away.

What is the saying? ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’?

You were certainly feeling scorned.

You felt ripped wide open, beaten and bruised and damn scorned as he leaves a conversation you weren’t finished with. You can’t tell which limb aches the most – the shoulder where his now strange hands had held onto you, your fingers that had curled into pained fists at your side to show you were prepared for a fight, your rib cage that still struggled to expand and accommodate the air now vacant of his cologne that you needed after your panic attack, or the legs that had once carried you away from Eddie Munson only to lead you right back to him.

There’s nothing you can do, though, beyond composing yourself. You take the same big, deep breaths that Eddie had tried to coax out of you moments before. Your fists slowly unfurl and your palms rake against the side of your jeans in an attempt to wipe away the sweat of the interaction.

Fine. If he wouldn’t help you, you could handle this. You could manage this project, plan a goddamn party for your ex-boyfriend’s new single. You would treat it just as you did every other previous project you had excelled at, and you would avoid all unnecessary contact with him just as you had with previous clients.

As a matter of fact, you could probably get away with avoiding all contact.

He hadn’t hired you. His management had. And, according to him, he had no real power in this situation. If he had no say in the matters, then there would be no reason to reach out to him.

You could do this. You could handle this.

It’s a mantra of salvation that you repeat to yourself internally as you take confident strides back to that conference room, not even stopping for the guards this time before you burst back into the room when your imminent doom awaits.

The repetition falters a bit when all eyes land on you as you take your first steps into the room.

Your name comes out of Lydia’s mouth like a hiss, her teeth locked into a smile that would better pass into a grimace as she asks, “How nice of you to join us again. Please, take a seat.”

“Of course,” you can’t look her in her eyes for very long, immediately rushing to sit at the chair she’d motioned towards. You haven’t spared Eddie a single glance – you haven’t spared any of the boys you’d once known a look. Instead, you look up to direct an apology at the only face you don’t recognize before you, “I’m truly sorry.”

The older gentleman, wrapped in a certain kindness and warmth below his professional attire, smiles. And in an instant, his face isn’t quite as unfamiliar, “No worries. When Nature calls, right? Regardless, I’m Matt. Nice to meet you.”

You can guess which hole in Eddie’s life he’s attempting to smother, which shoes this man serves to fill. He has more hair than his predecessor, but the grin is the same.

If you picture the man he reminds you of back in Hawkins, you’ll surely begin to ache.

When you reply with your name, you can hear a fragment of your youth in your voice. Better days spent in Forest Hills trailer park, loitering about a trailer as Wayne Munson asks you how well of an eye you’ve been keeping on his nephew. You’d always lie, say you were keeping him in line when you knew you’d spent the day following him right into trouble, like some sort of lost puppy. Like some sort of loyal soldier. It occurs to you that that’s who you had always been; a fierce soldier over the shoulder of Eddie, ever the brave commander. You would have followed him into battle without a second of consideration, you did follow him all the way to New York without ever taking a final glance at your hometown.

You wondered if he had tried to replace you as well. You imagine it; the new and fresh face that replaced yours in picture frames, that laid beside him at the end of each night he returned home, that heard a whisper of I love you over the line to the backtrack of a sound rehearsal.

Were there ever any bloody wars between him and his new lovers that could compare to the battles never fought between you two? Did anyone else in this world know the wounds of his gun never fired?

The smoke clears. You still don’t look at Eddie, afraid to only see the commander you once knew. You force a smile, putting on a soldier's bravado that doesn’t fit quite right anymore.

Bullets never fired, triggers never pulled, but the blood stained the same.

“So, where shall we begin?”

—

Matt does most of the talking for the next hour. Sheet after sheet of paperwork is laid down in front of you, your hand beginning to cramp from signing your name so many times, and the details are discussed.

A new single, set to release in three months. A release party that needed to be grandeur and garner the type of attention that Matt feared had been waning from the band due to radio silence on their music front. The outlines of the project were clear cut, simple enough, and you had yourself fooled just well enough that this would be easy.

You kept your eyes set on the prize and never once noticed the tomfoolery occurring between the band members. The words on the tip of their tongues that Eddie keeps quiet through quick kicks to their shins beneath the table, the individual hurt reflected in each of their eyes as you treat them no better than strangers. That treatment of Eddie, they understood. But them?

They could never understand.

“What’s the name of the single, if I may ask?” you question as you look over one of your copies of the paperwork. Lydia had been eerily silent, allowing you to take the lead.

Despite the rough start, it was paying off. Having a switch for your emotions can be a good thing, as it turns out.

“You may,” Matt nods before turning to the boys. It’s the first time he's looked to them for answers during the entire meeting, “Shall I do the honors, or would you boys rather do it yourselves?”

It’s a chance for all the members of Corroded Coffin to open their mouths without silent reprimanding from Eddie beneath the table, but he beats them to it.

“Dial Tone.”

You freeze your reading.

There’s something in the way he says it that forces you to look up. As if he’s only speaking to you, and the rest of the room is a faded mirage for him to send away for these private moments. Still a commander, even when his bravest soldier has left him.

“Sounds… interesting,” you murmur, taking a few seconds too long to meet his gaze, unsure of what to say, “Rolls off the tongue easily.”

“It certainly does. Which, ironic, given the situation that inspired the song.”

“And what would that be?”

You’re both wearing masks in front of an audience half made up of people painfully aware of your history, and the rest being painfully oblivious.

Does Matt know about you? Lydia certainly doesn’t know about Eddie.

“Words never said. Answers never given. Phone calls missed and never… returned.”

You’re not stupid, but you wish you were. It feels a bit selfish, a bit self absorbed, to so quickly assume you’re the inspiration.

But how could you believe anything else when Eddie is looking at you like that?

Hollow eyes, devoid of all the honey you once reveled in. Not so much of a stain of sweetness you swear you still taste on the back of your tongue. He’s looking at you with blame, well-deserved anger, and yet not an ounce of the guilt that should exist somewhere in those depths.

“How riveting,” you play along, trying to swallow down the waves of emotions, “Sounds like it’ll really draw in your audience. Might even be relatable to a few.”

Answers never given. Like how someone could stop saying they loved someone they’d spent years planning their life with, like how he could stop calling so easily, how he could leave so easily.

“Fingers crossed,” his forced smile in return is almost sinister, and you know it was the right choice to avoid speaking to each other until this moment.

There will be no contact. You know now that if you take on this project, which you technically have through law-binding contracts, that you won’t be able to be civil with Eddie. There is a history that can never be erased, mistakes made and wounds inflicted by both sides. Two worlds of hurt caused by opposing sets of hands that can only clash when they try to meet in the middle.

But then Matt, sweet Matt that you had come to actually like during this meeting, has to burst your bubble.

“Right, well, the good news is the boys aren’t on tour for the time being, meaning there will be plenty of time to talk about the small details and how the single will come into play during planning,” he explains, happily and still so unaware, “As a matter of fact, I would like to emphasize just how much I would appreciate you including the boys, especially Eddie, in this ordeal. His participation would be very helpful.”

Some silent form of communication happens between Matt and Eddie, glinting eyes and sudden frowns meeting raised eyebrows and fake smiles, but it’s not your concern.

The last thing you want during this project is Eddie’s involvement.

“Of course!” You need to think of an excuse, push for a way to keep him out, “But if Eddie is too busy, I’ll completely understand. I know that a single usually means an album, and that can be very time consum-”

“He won’t be too busy,” Matt interrupts, still staring at Eddie as if he’s daring him, not even questioning you singling him out as he does the exact same.

You recall what Eddie had insisted in the hallway, that his reach of control wasn’t as far as you had been assuming.

Swallowing hard, you see another relic of Wayne Munson in this man – he wasn’t someone to argue with, “Right, of course. Eddie will be involved. Absolutely.”

All the power and all the glory – but did it really rest in Eddie’s palms like you assumed?

“She has a point,” Eddie finally finds his voice, leaning back in his chair, trying to relax the tension from his shoulders, “I do have the album to work on.”

“And now you have this. I’m sure you can find a way to multi-task.”

Your comparison was accurate. It had been a while since you had seen another grown man capable of shutting Eddie down so quickly, tearing down his walls of affinity for challenging authority and reducing him to nothing more than a shell of his younger self. Matt and Wayne would have gotten along well. You doubt that they’ve met, but you know a bond would have formed between the common denominator of being able to subdue the once-rambunctious boy before you.

Eddie pouts nearly the complete remainder of the meeting. And those foolish, bitter shards within you become determined to be the bigger person. To smile and nod along, even when you disagreed with certain terms discussed. To be agreeable, to be good, to be better. This new version of you has something to prove; that you’ve done better without Eddie, that you’ve changed into something that no longer aligns with who he is.

It’s all for show, but you tell yourself no one can see through the cellophane disguise.

The only remaining signatures aren’t required from you but the rest of the boys. A single contract is passed down the line, and each of them sign themselves away to the agreement. Line after line of swooping black ink locks the five of you into an entrapment, a crowded dance of newly made strangers who have no choice but to play pretend.

Eddie makes it a deliberate point that he’s the last one to sign. Forces Grant to slide the prettily detailed paper right in front of him until it’s clear he’s making no move to pick up his pen, and the poor guy has to stretch a bit further and let Gareth take it rather than the stubborn rockstar. Only once Jeff’s own night-shade of ink has looped over one of the many lines does it return back to Eddie.

He looks you in the eyes for several seconds too long, pen crooked beside the paper on the table. You can’t take a single breath as you register how lifeless his eyes remain.

He’s not the person you once knew, but you are no longer the girl that once saw the world in him.

You will not drop to your knees before him, you will not worship the ground he walks on, you will not break. Certainly not first. Certainly not at all.

There’s no final words before hands donning unfamiliar rings pick up a pen amongst the silence. Just the click of bringing the ink to life, and the soft scratch of promises that will not be kept. It’s nothing new amongst the two of you.

As a matter of fact, if the scratch of the pen could echo, it might just resemble the sound of the door on that haunted and vacant apartment closing for the final time behind you two years ago.

—

“Do you two know each other?”

You had been waiting for this moment. Once Matt had called for a quick break so that he could organize and make copies of all paperwork, you knew Lydia would be chasing you down.

“What do you mean?” you question airily, topping off the small paper cup of water you had used as an excuse to dismiss yourself into the corner of the room, “Me and Matt? No, I’ve never-”

“Not you and Matt,” she moves to stand in front of you, your back to the room and the band, as she continues in an authoritative whisper, “You and the band – you and Eddie.”

“Why do you think we know each other?”

Please don’t catch on. Please don’t notice. Please don’t make me admit it.

Please don’t fire me.

She retrieves her own water, moving as if she wasn’t having such an intense conversation with you at this moment. All a show for the clients, no doubt. You weren’t the only skilled actress in this room, “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the way you ran out of this room when you saw him, maybe the way he ran after you without a word. Maybe the way the two of you spent a good ten minutes alone in that hallway, and how the rest of that band has been looking at you like you’re a ghost. Please don’t tell me you had a fling with Eddie before this. I really need my best person on this project, but I can’t have personal relationships interferin-”

“No, we don’t know each other,” you cut her off, ignoring the compliment and taking a sip to give your chance to formulate a better addition to the lie. It wasn’t really a lie, though, was it? “I promise it’s nothing, and it won’t interfere. I just…” I just hate him. I just miss the version of him I used to know. I just need you to take me off this project as quickly as possible for a reason that won’t make you think less of me or affect my future career here. “I don’t like the band, you know this.”

“I knew you weren’t a fan of them, but…” she trails off and looks over your shoulder, no doubt surveying the band. When you stood up from the table, they’d all been feigning boredom as if they hadn’t been taking turns staring you down so intensely. You felt like an animal under observation. “I thought it would be a good thing. To have a neutral party take this on. Why, exactly, don’t you like them?”

“ I don’t think he’s a good person.”

He as in Eddie. It goes as unspoken knowledge. And, technically, it isn’t a lie. Based on the headlines, based on his coolness this entire interaction, you don’t think he’s a good person. Not anymore.

You can feel the four sets of eyes on you even now. Your exchange with Lydia has been too quiet for them to hear, but you know you’re still being watched carefully.

“You don’t have to think he’s a good person, but you do need to play nice,” Lydia reminds you. You open your mouth, prepared to argue that you had been playing nice when Lydia waves her free hand to stop you, “I know, I know. I’m not saying you haven’t been perfectly professional. You have been, aside from your… bathroom break at the beginning, but please just remember that.”

You nod, stiff as ever. She was giving you more grace than you deserved if you tried to look at it from an outsider’s point of view.

“Of course,” that tone of professionalism, that mask to hide the whirlwind of emotions. You could do this.

You had to do this.

Choice is an illusion when Matt returns with the copies of paperwork, dividing the files up between himself and Lydia. Choice is an illusion as fake smiles are exchanged and pleasant goodbyes are offered. Choice is nothing but smoke and mirrors when all is said and done, and the entire group of you all stand outside the conference room, ready to part ways with a promise of next time, meaning the next meeting.

You never had a choice in any of this. Eddie did, somewhere along the line, but you didn’t.

Lydia and you both hand over business cards to Matt’s waiting hands, a deliberate move on your part. You bypass Eddie’s expectant glare entirely. The quicker this is over with, the faster he’s exiting the building and no longer occupying the same room as you, the better.

“We’ll be in contact,” Matt promises as he tucks the cards away carefully.

“I look forward to it,” you assure him, as if you weren’t dreading every second of what those contracts had detailed.

Three months. You had just signed on to guarantee Eddie Munson being back in your life for three months. The thought makes you nauseous.

Matt, ever the normal person, takes it as his queue to leave. Lydia has nodded, turned and began her short trek to her office as the band’s manager starts his journey to the elevator. Most of Corroded Coffin scampers after him, gazes on the floor as they retreat to a private space that will certainly be filled with questions. You almost wish there was a way for you to hear what will be said. The topic of conversation, undoubtedly, will be you. You and Eddie, Eddie and you. A pair of intertwined souls that had taken a sharp knife to your connection only to end up with Fate cruelly retying it on this dreadful day.

Fate, and Eddie, it seems.

His hand reaches out and catches your upper arm before you can escape the exchange properly.

“Can we talk?” You stare at him blankly to hide the racing of your heart and pounding in your mind. Those hands on you, skin on skin, leaving an inevitable mark. An inevitable stain. “Go for coffee, go for lunch, just-”

“No.”

You don’t have to think about your answer. Your pause was only born out of shock.

His eyebrows furrow, “No? What do you mean no?”

It feels like a pathetic repeat of your interaction in the hallway, when you had begged him to save you from this doomed union. Except now, you hold the cards in your hand. The first sense of control you’ve been offered this entire time.

“I mean no,” you repeat yourself clearly. Matt is halfway down the hall, and the boys trailing right behind him seem to fumble over their steps for a second. Jeff even goes as far as to look over his shoulder at the brewing storm appearing behind them, but clearly thinks better of intruding, “I don’t want to talk. I don’t want coffee, and I don’t want lunch.”

End of story.

Except, it isn’t, because Eddie’s face only twists further in pain, “We have to talk at some point-”

“Actually, we don’t. I’d prefer we didn’t. I think we can both agree it’ll be better, easier, for both of us to keep this strictly professional until we can go our separate ways again.”

He looks as if you had physically reached out and struck him. The force of your words nearly makes him rock backwards, face falling and mouth agape as he tries to grapple with the determination in your words.

If you were a fool, you’d mistake it for a flash of disappointment. But it’s not possible – it couldn’t be disappointment, only arrogance. He had obviously been assuming you would just give in. Your change just hadn’t become clear enough to him yet. It would, in time.

And now, the two of you seemingly had too much of it to endure.

“Actually, I think we can both agree that’s a load of bullshit,” he crassly argues back once he’s regained composure, “You know that’s not possible.”

You shake your head, suck in a bit of the skin of your inner cheek between your molars as an internal encouragement to stand your ground, “It is. It’s not only possible, but is exactly what’s going to happen.”

“You heard Matt. We have to talk at some point, even if it’s just about this and not us.”

“And we will. We can talk about this project all you want, Eddie. But not over lunch, and not over coffee,” you swear you draw blood from your cheek as you take back on that tone of professionalism, ice cold and completely disconnected, “My preferred form of contact is email. I usually respond in a timely manner, even after hours-”

“Don’t do that,” he stops you.

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m just another one of your clients.”

The metallic flavor floods the deepest corners of your mouth, overtaking the aftertaste of a honey you once knew on the back of your tongue, “That’s exactly what you are. One of my clients.”

Just a client, and nothing more. A boundary must be drawn, or else there will be more blood spilled than a mere drop from biting your inner cheek. And you aren’t prepared to bleed for him – not again. Never again.

He opens his mouth, as if he has more to dig out of the grave of this conversation, when Matt’s voice calls from down the hallway, “Eddie! C’mon! There’ll be time to talk later, we’ve got a meeting with the producer across town now.”

His stance goes rigid, annoyance rolling off him in waves, eyes still focused on you.

Maybe the reminder of time, the three month timeline, hurts him just as much as it hurts you. Maybe, just possibly, his arm has also been twisted in carving out a space for you in his life once more, whether strictly professional or not.

He deeply exhales through his nose, “I don’t even have your email.”

“Matt does. He has my card.”

“Yeah, he does. I don’t. How am I supposed to reach you through your preferred form of contact without it?”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

You mean to smile at him just as you would the owner of the bakery opening on Third Street, or the mother of a bride trying to share the weight of responsibilities for a wedding. It doesn’t come off that way, though – you can feel the sadness of it tickle the corners of your mouth before he’s even slowly turning from you.

You watch the figure of Eddie Munson walk away from you, and you begin to wish he were walking out of your life rather than only out of the building for the time being.

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alwaysmicado · 3 months

Text

predator & prey

8.6k | 18+ MDNI | Nathan Bateman x f!reader

Warnings: consensual non-consent, restraints, manhandling, face slapping, hard choking, rough p in v sex, biting, creampie, pain kink, degradation/praise, subdrop, aftercare, soft(ish) Nathan Summary: Nathan fulfills your fantasy of being taken in the woods. Can you handle it? A/N: Living in the middle of nowhere has its perks...Can be read alone or as an extension of in control. I'm so beyond excited to finally share this with you!! It's been wreaking havoc in my brain for months now. Enjoy the ride and let me know what you think! 🖤

As the last rays of the setting sun dip below the horizon, casting the world into a deep indigo hue, Nathan grabs the neatly folded pile of clothes, your trail running shoes, and his backpack. Still in your sweats, you’re taken aback when he steps into your office, his hand finding your shoulder.

“Put these on,” he tells you, his voice betraying no particular emotion. He hands you a pair of jeans in your size and an oversized, white t-shirt, along with a nude bra and panties. You swallow and look up at him, catching the subtle glint in his eyes.

“Time to go.”

You dress as instructed, your fingers deftly lace up your shoes, and the two of you set off.

The crisp air gently nibbles at your cheeks, and the faint glow of twilight casts a soft ambiance as the crunch of leaves and gravel beneath your feet echoes through the stillness around you. The air holds a charged energy, and each one of your steps carries a weight of anticipation. Your muscles are tense, your senses heightened, acutely aware of what lies ahead.

Nathan’s demeanor is casual. He’s smiling, asking about your day, about the project that’s been giving you a headache for the past two weeks. You give him a semi-honest answer, admitting that you’ve been stressed, but omitting the fact that you’ve cried yourself to sleep over it more than once.

“You’ll figure it out,” he reassures you with a soft smile. Your furrowed brow meets his confident gaze, and for a moment, you study his face. He’s sincere.

You’re used to discussing your work with Nathan, it’s what you’re living with him for, after all. And despite your…complicated relationship with him, he has never questioned your professional skills.

That’s all on you. Your perfectionism is draining.

As you reach the edge of the woods after a half-hour march along the river, darkness begins to cloak you like a shroud. The trees whisper secrets, and the unknown looms like a specter in the night. Nathan activates the small portable light attached to his backpack, rolls his shoulders, and fixes his gaze on you.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and excitement courses through your veins, fueled by a potent blend of curiosity and trepidation.

“You know what’s about to happen,” he says calmly, tilting your chin up with his gloved fingers to search your eyes. “Take a deep breath. We’re not starting until you’re ready.”

You take a moment to gather yourself, inhaling the grounding scent of earth and pine, your eyes locked onto his.

“Choose a path and make sure you memorize it. Be aware of your surroundings and where you’re going. Do not look back.” He rubs your cheek softly with his thumb as his dark eyes pierce your soul.

Sensing the rough leather of his gloves against your skin sends a chill down your spine as memories of pain and pleasure flood your mind.

These gloves have choked you until you passed out, just to slap you awake again. They’ve penetrated all your holes simultaneously, teasing you, stretching you, making you come over and over again. They’ve split your lip, caressed your cheek, spread Nathan’s cum all over your face, wiped away your tears.

There’s no part of your body they haven’t thoroughly explored in a tantalizing dance between violent and soft touches.

And Nathan only ever wears them for you.

As you study the man in front of you, the only man you’d willingly follow into the unknown, his presence feels both reassuring and elusive—a paradox you’ve come to not only accept but cherish. The intricate interplay of familiarity and mystery that shapes your connection is not just comforting; it’s irresistibly alluring.

In his all-black attire, he presents an effortlessly handsome yet imposing figure. You appreciate the boots on his feet, a deviation from his usual habit of walking around barefoot, and how they seamlessly blend into the darkness of his tactical pants secured by a familiar belt.

While the physical marks from your last encounter may have healed, allowing you to shower and sit down again without writhing in pain, the mere sight of the leather item makes you wince and sends a jolt of electricity through the muscles in your ass cheeks and thighs.

Provoking Nathan is fun, but the consequences hurt. Badly.

Your gaze wanders further up, drawn to the hoodie that tightly embraces his broad frame, accentuating the breadth of his shoulders and the defined contours of his chest. It’s one of your favorite sights, second only to seeing him completely bare. Beneath his glasses, dark eyes fixate on you with a keen intensity, silently assessing the anticipation evident on your face.

Finally, your eyes reconnect with his, and the magnetic force of his gaze draws you into the depths of his desires. You see the lust in his eyes, the look of raw hunger etched across his face. It’s a look you’ve grown to both crave and fear, a look only you bring out of him.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Alright.” He nods and takes a step back from you, his scowl deepening. “Ten.”

You’re up and running before ‘nine’ even fully leaves Nathan’s lips. You don’t look back as his booming voice echoes behind you. Do you remember the path you chose? Do you know where your feet are carrying you into the mist, through the labyrinth of trees, fast, faster than they’ve ever carried you? You better run, little bunny, run, run away from him.

Ignore your racing heart, ignore the weight of his presence, ignore the forest closing in around you. You need to run. Run through the shadows, run away from him. Can you feel his eyes on you? The predator’s eyes locked on his prey?

Your time is up. He’s coming for you.

Nathan’s eyes follow you, vigilant, watching as your silhouette disappears into the forest, his heart pounding in his chest. Swiftly, he fastens the chest strap of his backpack, tightens his gloves, turns off the light, and lunges into a run. He’s on your trail.

Can you feel him? Can you feel him chasing you, drawing nearer with every frantic beat of your heart? He’s not going to stop until he catches you.

And you know what happens when he does, don’t you?

You’re sprinting, the crunch of leaves and the snap of twigs beneath your shoes creating a frenzied symphony in your haste. Panic creeps in, its icy fingers tightening around your racing heart. The air, now cold and damp, clings to your skin, making you shiver. You run further along the path you’ve chosen, quickly, as quickly as your aching muscles will allow.

Are you scared? Is that why your breath comes in shallow gasps, and your eyes shimmer with unshed tears? Ah, yes. Yes, you are scared. That’s good. You should be. Let the tendrils of fear wrap around your every move, and embrace the primal instinct that tells you to run, run like a rabbit chased by a hungry fox.

He’s going to sink his teeth into your neck and tear you apart, tear you to shreds.

Your cold feet carry you along the path you chose, deeper into the woods, deeper into the darkness. Trees blur past, bathed in moonlight, casting enigmatic figures on the path ahead. You can’t stop. He trails behind, a shadow in the darkness, tracking your scent, treading the path your feet imprinted moments before. Can you hear him panting, can you feel his hot breath on your neck? He’s on your heels, inching closer, so close to catching you, so close to having you.

You’re a fast little bunny, Nathan quietly acknowledges, his hungry gaze capturing a glimpse of your shirt. It only heightens the thrill for him, pursuing someone deserving of his dominance.

Oh, how he’s going to enjoy devouring you.

He’s behind you, pacing himself, feeling the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He’s calm and calculated in his hunt for you, his feet carrying him swiftly towards you. You must hear the branches snapping under his heavy boots, you must feel the heat radiating off his body.

How do you feel? Are you afraid or turned on right now? Be honest. He’s not going away, you’re not going to escape him, he’s going to get you. Have you made peace with your fate?

You should have listened to him. Fuck. A fleeting glance backward is all it takes for you to lose your balance and trip over your own feet, twisting your ankle. The harsh ground rushes to meet you, hands breaking your fall, immediately sending a sharp pain through your arms and shoulders from the impact. Gasping for air, on the brink of tears, you fumble back to your feet, rising as quickly as your sore knees permit.

Where are you? Where has fate led you? The urgency to run grips you again, urging you to flee, escape. Start moving—now. Away from him. Are you sure you chose the right path? Darkness envelops you. Your vision is blurry, you’re tired, your body hurts. The echo of your breath lingers, a haunting reminder of your vulnerability. He’s so near, closing in. Why are you doing this?

A surge of adrenaline in your bloodstream propels you forward, numbing the pain in your ankle and legs. You push yourself into a sprint, using all of your determination and strength, ignoring the heart in your chest threatening to explode. Do not stop. No matter how suffocating the open space around you feels now, no matter how much the cold wind bites your face, no matter how much you yearn for respite.

Do not stop.

You keep running, heart pounding, panic rising. You hear him, feel him, know he’s toying with you like a cat playing with the mouse it’s about to rip apart. You like that, don’t you? The anticipation. Dull pain in your muscles slows you down, slows your desperate escape.

Exhaustion and vigilance intermingle, fear collides with excitement, and amidst the confusion, a strange clarity emerges. This is it. He’s here.

He’s on you – you’re free.

Nathan’s weight bears down, the forceful impact knocking the breath out of your lungs, his hands and knees pressing you face down into the unforgiving, cold ground. The weight of his breath, heavy and labored, blends with the earthy scent on your lips, clouding your mind.

“Caught you,” Nathan growls into your ear, his dangerous tone of voice causing your whole body to shudder with an urgent sense of dread. He’s panting, his teeth clenched as he grabs your neck, his gloved fingers painfully digging into your skin, putting his weight on you as you scream and thrash under him. He caught you, he has you, you’re his now.

Your brain races in overdrive as the primal fight-or-flight instinct kicks in, telling you to ‘fight, fight, little bunny’.

Go on, act like you don’t want it.

“No, get off me,” you scream at him, clawing at his hand on your neck, writhing and struggling to escape his grip. You can feel the sneer on his face, can feel his satisfaction with your predicament. Do you really want to resist him? That’s not true, is it? You don’t actually want him to stop, don’t want him to listen to the pathetic pleas leaving your lips. No, no, you don’t want that.

You want him to have you, to take you, to ravage you.

What a sick girl you are.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Nathan snarls, his knees pinning your legs down, his grip on your neck intensifying while his free hand retrieves something from one of his pockets.

“You’re mine now. Mine to take, mine to hurt,” he grabs your chin roughly, his dark eyes boring into you. “And you better believe I’m gonna make it hurt.”

Are you scared of him? He’s stronger than you. He’s going to hurt you. You made him chase you, made him chase what’s his. You’re going to pay for that, little bunny. You’re going to pay for trying to deny him. Can you see the fire burning in his eyes? That’s all for you.

Grabbing your wrist, he forcefully twists your arm behind your back, ignoring your pained groan as you struggle and try to resist. With practiced efficiency, he repeats the motion with your other arm, his gloved fingers digging into your flesh. He needs to use all of his strength to keep your hands in place as he fastens the zip tie tightly around your bare wrists, effectively immobilizing your hands.

You’re bound, restrained—like a little present on a plate, primed and ready for the taking. Does it hurt? Does it hurt to be this helpless, this vulnerable? Struggle all you want. There’s no way you can escape now.

Your fate is sealed.

Nathan manhandles you onto your back, grabbing you by your shoulder, then immediately straddles you and sits on your thighs to keep you pinned down. You can see the dark glint in his eyes and the violent desire painted across his face. Does that make you wet? The lust, the hunger, the raw need he has for you?

He knows, little bunny. You’re so pathetic.

“Fuck you,” you defiantly spit at him, as the subtle smirk on Nathan’s face stirs the rebellious voice simmering in your mind.

It’s the same inner voice that urges you to provoke him when your ass is already black and blue, the voice that tells you to deliberately graze his cock with your teeth, so he’ll grab your neck and fuck your throat harder, the voice that tells you to come without permission, so he’ll overstimulate you until you’re too weak to cry — the voice that tells you you need more.

Nathan strikes you hard across the face, splitting your lip. Tears spill from your eyes, and a surge of adrenaline floods your veins. The impact on your cheek is so intense that your head recoils, seeking refuge away from him, eyes clamped shut in an attempt to find solace in darkness. He denies you that respite.

“Look at me, whore!” His hands are on your throat in an instant, knocking your head against the ground, ruthlessly pressing on your veins, crushing you, choking you.

His eyes blaze with a wild fervor, pupils dilated to an almost feral intensity. The lines on his face contort, a mixture of raw desire and twisted pleasure etched across his features. Desire and dominance intertwine as his gloved fingers tighten even further around your neck, each breath he denies you heightening the predatory satisfaction he feels.

The crushing grip on your throat sends shockwaves of panic through every fiber of your being, alerting your body to resist. Resist him. Resist him or die. With your hands bound behind your back, your struggles are futile, your desperate squirms and frenzied kicks against the unyielding ground only fueling Nathan’s arousal.

Can you taste your own fear on your bloody lips? Delicious, isn’t it?

The world around you blurs, your head spinning, your heart racing, the dark grip of unconsciousness tightening around you. Dumb little bunny, willingly jumping into the fox’s den. What did you think was going to happen?

You’re so helpless under him, so vulnerable, so utterly…human.

Nathan’s cock is so fucking hard it hurts.

Right on the edge, as the vacant look in your eyes hints at a mind detaching from reality, he lets go of your throat with a growl, and takes off his gloves. Convulsing, you desperately gasp and cough and splutter as precious air revives your lungs. Your vision gradually returns, and as you gaze upward through tear-filled eyes, the vast expanse of the night sky unfolds above you, a celestial canvas painted with a myriad of stars.

It’s beautiful. Chaotic. Intimidating. Soothing.

Then, his eyes come into focus. Those deep, dark, intense eyes you could drown in. Wouldn’t that be nice? You see fire in them, hunger, calculated power, and…something else.

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re scared,” you hear Nathan pant, his bare hands gripping your cheeks firmly, before he leans in and presses his lips on yours in a messy, violent kiss. You’re still gasping for air, but he doesn’t care. He needs to taste you, to devour you, to claim you as his.

He’s frenzied now, moaning into your mouth, gripping your jaw, sliding his hand under your shirt, along your belly and further up, pulling your bra down. He bites your lip, tasting your blood on his tongue, bruising you, marking you. You sob against his lips, out of breath, in pain, mind reeling, so desperate to be close to him you’re shaking.

He laughs at the pathetic sounds you make as he sucks and bites at the sensitive skin of your neck while hungrily groping your tits, his hand exploring your soft skin, squeezing, twisting, punishing. He tugs at your erect nipples, loving how you arch your back and how your cries echo in the night.

“Scream all you want, baby,” he murmurs into the crook of your neck before peppering soft kisses along your jaw, his free hand moving down your belly and into your pants. “Nobody’s coming to save you.”

You cry and whimper as blood, spit and tears stain your face, giving Nathan exactly what he wants. God, you’re perfect.

He slips his hand into your panties, groaning at the feeling of your wetness, his fingers sliding through your folds, making you moan and clench around nothing when he brushes your swollen clit. You beg him to stop, twisting and pulling your arms back and forth under yourself, trying to wriggle your hands free to push him off. But it’s no use, is it? Poor baby. You’re bound, you’re, ensnared, like a fly caught in the spider’s silk, each struggle only tightening the threads around you.

What are you so afraid of? Why are you trying to resist so hard? Is it fear or is it the fact that you’re sopping wet from being violated?

The truth hurts, little bunny, it really does. But you can’t escape it.

Overwhelmed with Nathan’s assault on your senses, you gaze up at him with pleading eyes, his wicked grin widening with every agonizing second as he’s relishing the betrayal of your body. You’re such a depraved whore, letting him hurt you and getting off on it. He loves that you are, and he wants you to know that. He wants you to know how much he fucking loves hurting you, how much he wants you. All of you.

He can’t take it anymore. He needs to feel you.

Sitting up straight, he kneels between your legs, momentarily abandoning your tit and your pussy to hastily fumble with the button and zipper of your jeans. Can you see how hard his cock is straining against his pants and how hard his chest is heaving? Can you see what you’re doing to him? He’s in agony and he’s finally going to get his relief from you.

If only he hadn’t underestimated you.

A split second. A split second of lust-fueled distraction is all it takes for Nathan to give you an opportunity to get out. And you take it.

It all happens so fast.

The forceful kick you deliver to his abdomen shocks you both. He gasps as the unexpected blow catches him off guard, and he stumbles backward, crashing onto the backpack strapped to his shoulders. The impact jars through his spine, making him groan in pain as he feels the sturdy surface of the thermos he brought pressing into his back. Hearing his pitiful groans stuns you for a fleeting moment, a hint of concern creeping in.

You catch a quick glimpse of Nathan’s dark eyes and that’s when the flight instinct finally kicks in, telling you to get the fuck up and run.

Oh, what have you done, little bunny?

You wriggle on the ground, pain pulsating through your body as you scramble to your feet, wrists still bound behind your back. You run, feet pounding against the uneven forest floor, frantically, unsteady, driven by a primal need to escape.

Your eyes, wide with terror, dart wildly in all directions, desperately searching for an escape route. The whites of your eyes stand out starkly against the backdrop of fear, reflecting the moonlight that filters through the trees overhead. Each breath is visible, quick and shallow, as if the very air you inhale carries the weight of your anxiety. The cold air stings in your lungs, each breath hurting your sore throat.

“You fucking bitch!” Nathan’s furious shouts echo behind you as he pulls himself up with a pained groan, a relentless pursuit that adds to the drumming rhythm of your heart. “Running won’t save you, you stupid girl. You’re mine. And when I—fuck—when I catch you I’m gonna hurt you like I’ve never fucking hurt you before.”

Your blood freezes in your veins at his words, but you don’t respond, focusing solely on the path ahead. Running, panting, gritting your teeth, trying to keep your balance with bound hands. Twisting and turning through the dense foliage, you try to outsmart your pursuer, relying on instincts honed by fear. The shadows dance around you, leaves crunching beneath your feet. You better run, little bunny, run, run away from him.

You think a little groping and choking was bad? Oh, you naive thing. That was nothing. He means it when he says he’ll hurt you like never before. But you know that, right? That’s why you’re running now even though your body is threatening to collapse. You just had to be defiant, hm? You just couldn’t accept that you fucking loved what he did to you.

Now look where your pride got you. Was it worth it?

He’s catching up to you, determined to win, his quick feet carrying him through the mist, his angry shouts getting closer. Can you feel his anger, his hot breath on your neck? Can you feel the venom with which he spits his threats at you? There’s nothing more dangerous than a wounded animal.

“You think you can escape me, you dumb bitch?” Nathan’s voice is a predatory growl, following your every move.

His cruel laughter chases you like a haunting melody, spurring you on to push your aching muscles harder. The forest seems to tighten around you, an inescapable labyrinth closing in as the predator hunts its prey. And then it happens again. He’s got you.

As you dart left, he anticipates your move, and your bodies collide with a force that knocks the wind out of you. You both tumble to the ground with a thud, intertwined, leaves and dirt swirling around you in a chaotic dance.

“No, no, no,” you scream, thrashing about like a wounded animal caught in a bear trap.

You’re so much stronger than Nathan anticipated, it’s incredible. He knows you have a high pain tolerance, but your resilience is honestly amazing. You truly are the perfect prey.

You squirm and struggle to get away again, but Nathan puts all of his weight on you, pinning you face down under him, your face pressed into the mud, his fingernails digging into your arms so hard you’re making yourself bleed when you desperately try to pull away from his grip. His eyes burn with a mixture of fury and triumph as he pants against your neck, his knees digging into the back of your thighs, one hand moving to press on your neck.

“That’s enough,” he growls through gritted teeth, as you just won’t give up, even though he can feel your exhaustion.

He slaps your exposed cheek as he holds your neck steady, the sharp crack of the impact echoing in the oppressive darkness. A surge of pain courses through you like lightning, leaving a heavy imprint on your senses. Before you can fully register the sting, he ruthlessly yanks on your shirt’s collar, revealing the vulnerable expanse of your shoulder.

Without hesitation, he bites into your flesh, dragging his teeth, breaking your skin. His assault is akin to a wolf sinking its razor-sharp fangs into prey, tearing into your body with a savage hunger. It hurts worse than anything you can remember. Your body’s in shock and your cries come out soundless, weak, futile. He’s pushing you to your limits.

When he’s had his fill, he wipes his bloody mouth, sits up and turns you on your back, immediately straddling your thighs as one of his hands constricts around your bruised neck. The pressure is not yet enough to completely cut off your air supply, but it’s enough to evoke vivid and terrifying memories of how he choked you just moments ago. The implied threat is enough to keep you still.

Nathan slings off his backpack in a swift motion using his free hand and turns on the light. He then takes a few seconds to look into your wet, glazed-over eyes, caressing your tender cheek with an unexpectedly gentle touch, tracing your soft skin with his palm. He can see it in your dilated pupils, he can feel it radiating off your body, he can hear it in your trembling voice as you can’t hold back the pathetic little whimpers escaping your lips.

You’re flying.

Seeing the need in your eyes, his handprint on your cheek, his bite mark on your shoulder, and the blood on your lips makes his cock throb in his pants. He can’t wait anymore, he needs you.

He lets go of your neck with a menacing growl, moving back to sit between your legs. His unwavering gaze remains locked onto yours, stripping you of any semblance of agency. He quickly grabs the waistband of your jeans and drags them over your ass and down to your thighs like you’re a doll — like you’re one of his androids. Sentient, but not in control.

It’s so peaceful, isn’t it? Being his toy. His little slut to play with.

You feel your panties being yanked down, feel the cold breeze on your pussy as Nathan lifts and bends your legs for better access, feel him holding your thighs with a tight grip. He can see how wet you are, how swollen your clit is, how much your body craves his violence. And he’s going to give it to you. All of it. Because he craves it just as badly. His cock is aching for you, rock-hard, pulsating, desperate to feel the warmth of your cunt.

He hastily pulls down his pants with controlled movements, revealing just how much his body wants you. You can see his cock through your wet lashes, causing your walls to clench around nothing and your hips to jerk at the sight; a conditioned response from the hours upon hours of ecstasy he’s given you.

“All for you, my little whore,” Nathan says with a sly grin as he follows your hungry gaze and reaches down to grab the object of your attention. Locking eyes with you and searching them for a second, he strokes the tip of his cock up and down your slick, puffy lips once, twice, and then pushes into your cunt in one forceful thrust.

You whine pathetically as he stretches you open with a loud groan, your toes curling in your shoes, the feeling almost too much to bear. He gives you no time to adjust before he pulls out completely and slams back inside as hard as he can, pushing your body up on the cold ground.

“F-fuck yeah,” he groans as he bottoms out deep inside you, savoring the delicious feeling of your wet pussy sucking him in. “That’s it…Now, be a good whore and take it.”

You can’t hold back your moans as he starts fucking you at a relentless pace, holding on to both of your thighs, putting his weight on them, pressing them against your torso. The angle makes you incredibly tight and allows him to go deep, deep inside of you.

Nathan’s gaze penetrates yours, watching in awe as the need in your eyes grows bigger and bigger with every inch of his cock stretching you, with every snap of his hips against your thighs, with every demeaning word he spits at you as he takes what he wants, reducing you to a toy he can use and abuse.

You take it, take everything he gives you, take it so well. You take it until you can’t anymore.

“Please stop,” you whimper as his deliberate, continuous hits to your cervix cause you immense pain.

Nathan laughs breathlessly. You’re so cute when you pretend that’s not exactly what you need. What hurts more, huh? The pain of him using you or the fact that you’re close to coming from it?

“Can’t take it, slut?” he pants as he can feel his cock swell deep inside of you, your pussy gripping him like a vise. You feel so fucking good. “What happened? I thought you wanted this.”

“Hurts…” you whine as fresh tears run down your temples. You writhe under him, trying to move your legs, but it’s no use. You’re trapped.

“I know it hurts, baby,” he coos in response, his voice deceptively soothing. “But I need you to be good for me. You wanna be good for me, don’t you? Yeah, you do. You wanna be my good girl. That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

His words send heat straight to your core, causing your walls to flutter around his cock. God, you’re a perfect little fuckdoll.

You yelp in surprise as Nathan suddenly leans in, putting your calves on his shoulder, crushing his lips against yours in a feverish kiss. You instinctively open your mouth for his tongue to slide inside, wanting to taste him, to feel him, to have him claim you completely.

The coil in your lower belly is wound tight and ready to snap at any moment. You’re so close. You moan into his mouth as his tongue swirls around yours, and he groans in response, his hips picking up the pace, slamming into you feverishly. Your pitiful cries evaporate in his mouth as his cock hits your cervix over and over again, determined to make you come from pain.

He can feel you burning up against his body, can taste the desperation on your trembling lips, can feel your pussy gripping him so hard it hurts. You’re fucking loving this. He chuckles against your lips as you start jerking your hips, trying your hardest to get more friction on your clit.

Poor little bunny.

He’s not going to touch you. You’re going to come like this or not at all.

Not giving you even one second to catch your breath, he draws back from your lips and immediately grabs the base of your neck with a firm grip to pull himself deeper inside you with every harsh thrust. Lightheaded, mind reeling, your overstimulated body is screaming for release.

“Nathan…” you sob, your voice a mere whisper as tears stream down your temples.

“That’s right, slut. Keep fucking crying,” he groans, his hips stuttering for a moment when he feels your pussy twitch around his cock. You’re so close. Your whole body is trembling and your moans are getting louder and louder as he’s picking up the pace, thrusting into you relentlessly, telling you what a depraved little whore you are for coming on his cock.

It only takes a handful more of Nathan’s measured thrusts before the coil inside you finally snaps and you crash into your orgasm at full speed. Your walls clamp down around his cock so hard he can barely keep moving, and the overwhelming ecstasy that spreads through your body and mind makes you forget who or where you are. You feel weightless, free, whole as he fucks you through your high, drowning you in his touch that masterfully blends pain and pleasure.

He almost comes instantly when he sees and feels you fall apart so completely, your blissed out expression the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

As you start to come down and all sensations begin to blur into an elusive haze, you feel the edges of your vision start to blur and Nathan’s groans seem distant and muffled. On the precipice of your consciousness, in your delirium, you feel the gentle touch of Nathan’s lips on your skin, you see him smiling at you, you hear him whisper in your ear that he lo–

A sharp slap to your cheek wakes you up and has you turning your head to cough and gasp for air. After a few seconds of trying to catch your breath, your chest heaving, your head spinning, you notice that Nathan’s still moving, his hips slamming against the back of your thighs with a relentless ferocity that borders on primal.

“You don’t get to pass out on me, baby,” you hear him chuckle. “I want you to feel it when I fill you up.”

He can feel it building and building, winding tighter and tighter, his cock swelling and twitching inside your cunt. He pants and moans your name, telling you what a perfect little whore you are, how fucking good you feel, how much he enjoys hurting you.

“Holy shit, that’s it. Fuck. Fuck.”

He explodes deep inside you, cum painting your walls, still thrusting as he twitches and pulses, making sure your pussy swallows every last drop. He sits up, panting heavily, sweat running down his temples as he looks down at where your bodies are connected. He slowly pulls out of you with a strangled groan, watches with satisfaction how his cum leaks out of your swollen pussy, and at last lets his spent body collapse on the ground next to you.

“Fucking unreal,” he sighs deeply, covering his face with his hands for a moment before wiping his sweaty forehead with his sleeve. He takes a few seconds to catch his breath and to wait for enough blood to flow back to his brain, then turns his head to look at you.

You’re lying on your side, turned away from him, your knees pulled up to your chest in the fetal position. Nathan’s eyes are immediately drawn to the burns on your wrists, the scratches covering your arms and ass, and the blood he can see on your shirt’s collar.

Seeing you in this state has his cock twitching on his belly.

He did this to you. He beat you, overpowered you, took you, fucking destroyed you. You were so sure of yourself before, and now look at yourself. Pathetic.

What hurts more, little bunny? Your body or your mind?

Your pitiful sobs cut through the still of the night, interrupting Nathan’s thoughts.

“Shit.” He snaps out of it and immediately sits up, haphazardly stuffing his cock back inside his pants before opening his backpack to get out the shears he packed. He grabs them, then kneels behind you.

“I’m gonna cut your ties, okay? Don’t move.”

You give no indication that you can hear him, but you don’t move your hands as he cuts the ties around your sore wrists. You lie still, limp, even now that your hands are free again.

Concerned with your body temperature, Nathan quickly reaches for his backpack again to get out a woolen blanket. He drapes it over you, shielding your exposed body from the cold wind blowing around you.

He tries to turn you around, so he can look at you and talk to you, but you start thrashing about and crying violently when he puts pressure on your arm.

“Hey, hey, shhh, it’s over,” he says calmly but firmly, pulling you up into his lap with your back against his chest despite your protests. His strong arms hold you close, the blanket tightly wrapped around you. “Shhh, it’s over, you’re safe.”

He can feel you stop resisting and your muscles relaxing in his arms after a minute or so, your head falling back against his shoulder, your breathing getting calmer.

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” he murmurs into the crown of your head, rocking you gently.

After a short while of sitting in silence, he decides it’s best you two get going, so he can clean you up and take care of your wounds. But first, he wants you to drink from the tea he brought, to warm you up and rehydrate you.

With a careful maneuver, he reaches into his backpack while keeping a supportive hold on you, retrieving the thermos that left a lasting impression on his back. He takes a sip to make sure it’s not too hot before encouraging you to do the same. He smiles to himself when you don’t bother asking what’s in it this time, too exhausted to care, apparently.

You feel the soothing warmth trickling down your sore throat, warming you from the inside. A gentle cough escapes your lips, a testament to the wear and tear your body has endured. When Nathan’s satisfied with your intake, he stows the thermos and helps you stand up. He pulls up your panties and pants without any protest from you, then picks up his backpack.

“Here,” he murmurs, wrapping the blanket tightly around you, so it stays put without you having to hold it. He then hands you a blue cool pack for your swollen cheek and lip and guides your hand to the affected area. You wince and groan when the pack makes contact with your tender skin.

“Keep pressure on it, okay?”

You nod and press a bit harder, the throbbing pain prompting a new set of tears to well up in your eyes, silently expressing both pain and relief.

“Can you walk?”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him. “Mhm.”

“It’s not far,” he murmurs, prompting you to walk in front of him. The flashlight he brought illuminates the path, but exhaustion causes you to stumble a few times. When Nathan has to catch you for the fifth time, he realizes this isn’t going to work and finally opts to rearrange the blanket, so he can guide you with a supportive hand under your armpit.

You’re not really here, so you don’t notice that he’s leading you down a different path than the one you came from.

The cold night air is filled with unspoken truths as you walk in silence, the sound of gravel and leaves crushed beneath your feet echoing the muted conversation you’re not ready to have.

Your body is beginning to hurt more and more with every step you take, as you can feel the adrenaline slowly leaving your body. The fog in your mind begins to clear at the same time, revealing a storm of conflicting emotions you’re utterly unprepared for.

Nathan’s just fulfilled a fantasy you’ve had forever but could never find the right partner for, either due to lack of sexual compatibility or lack of trust. And despite having you climbing the walls with frustration many times over the past few months, you trust Nathan and know he would never seriously harm you.

Not physically at least.

So, why are you pouting right now? He gave you what you wanted, didn’t he? This was your idea and you wanted it so badly.

Is it because you didn’t think it would feel so real? That it wouldn’t hurt so much? Hmm, that’s not it, is it? No, no. What you’re feeling is shame. You’re ashamed. Ashamed at how much you loved it. How much you loved the thrill of the hunt and the pain of being beaten and used.

What kind of fucked up person would enjoy something like this? What is wrong with you?

– – –

“I had it built over the past week,” Nathan murmurs as he’s opening a new pack of sterile wipes. “Pretty great, huh? I designed every room myself, feng shui included.” You dig your fingernails into your palm and suck in a sharp breath when the alcohol makes contact with the bite mark on your shoulder.

You’ve been in Nathan’s new cabin for half an hour now, and he’s been trying his best to make you feel comfortable—turning up the heat, helping you take off your dirty shirt and jeans, preparing a cup of tea for you while you were on the toilet, giving you pain meds a non-billionaire could only dream of getting their hands on, and carefully disinfecting your wounds in the bathroom. He’s even refrained from misquoting Oppenheimer or exclusively talking about himself.

He is trying.

You, however, have remained unresponsive, eyes vacant, lost in the echoes of your scene. Vivid memories pulse through your veins, and when Nathan notices the subtle tremors wracking your body, a flicker of concern shadows his eyes.

“Looks good,” he goes on as he’s done cleaning the mark his canines left on you. “It’s not as deep as I thought. Still looks like it hurts though.”

He can’t help but smile at the sight, the evidence of what he did to you. Beautiful. He puts the wipes down onto the wooden bench you’re sitting on and studies your profile. Silent tears are slowly rolling down your swollen cheeks, your bruised neck, over your breasts, pooling in your bra. Your lip is quivering.

You hear him say your name. “Can you please look at me?”

When you don’t react, he says your name a little louder, his patience waning as he grapples with his own sense of helplessness.

He’s not used to feeling this way—unable to fully understand or solve a problem that’s presenting itself. He’s a genius for God’s sake. Concern turns to frustration, his eyes mirroring the helplessness he’s experiencing—an unusual and uncomfortable sensation for someone accustomed to being in control.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head. But your silence persists, and his frustration peaks. With a sudden resolve, he reaches for your chin, intending to force you to look at him. As soon as his fingers make contact with your skin, you slap his hand away.

“Don’t touch me!” you hiss at him with such venom in your voice that he’s momentarily stunned. Your eyes meet his for the first time since you left the woods, bloodshot and watery, pupils dilated.

The sudden break in the stagnant atmosphere startles both of you and you immediately regret what you did when you see the look on Nathan’s face. Your palms are clammy, the bathroom suddenly feels far too hot, and every scratch on your body burns and pulses in time with your racing heartbeat.

“I–I’m so sorry,” you stutter, your eyes wide, your trembling hand reaching for his arm.

“It’s okay,” he says calmly, studying your face with a furrowed brow. “Are you in pain? Is that it?”

“No—well, yeah. Of course I am, what the hell do you think?” A small smile tugs at Nathan’s lips, amused with your answer. “But, uh, that’s not it.” You avert your gaze and absentmindedly rub your right thumb over your left thumb in your lap.

“Was it too much? Did I do some–”

“No.” You vehemently shake your head and look into his eyes. “It was perfect, Nathan. I liked it, really.”

He can see in your eyes that you’re telling the truth, but that just confuses him more.

“It’s just,” you go on, shifting uncomfortably on the bench. “What’s wrong with me?”

A lightbulb flickers to life above Nathan’s head, and suddenly, it’s crystal clear what your pleading eyes are trying to say.

“Why do you think anything’s wrong with you? You just said you liked what we did.”

“But why?” you blurt out. “Other people don’t ask their boss to chase them through the woods. They’re not perpetually bruised. And they wouldn’t get off on half the shit you do to me.” Your voice is agitated now, your hands wildly gesticulating between the two of you.

Nathan can see how distressed you are, but he genuinely doesn’t understand why. This isn’t like you. He sighs and puts his hand on your naked thigh. You let him.

“Pain, humiliation, submitting to me,” he says softly, his eyes locked onto yours. “That’s your thing, okay? Now, why is that your thing? Because you did a detailed analysis of all kinks and you cross-referenced that analysis with a points-based system? No. You’re just into pain and humiliation. You like submitting to me. It’s how you were programmed. Nature and nurture, baby.”

You hear the words he says, but your tired brain and your aching body make it so you’re not really processing them. His logic isn’t what you need right now.

“But…don’t you think that’s weird?” you murmur, your eyes filling with tears again.

Nathan sighs deeply, pushing his glasses back on his nose. “This is your insecurity talking, this is not your intellect,” he says sternly. “You’re better than that.”

He gets up with a suppressed groan, clutching his abdomen, and holds out his hand for you to join him.

As soon as you’re standing, he pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. Your lips still sting, but you don’t mind. Nathan’s lips, his warm body against yours, and his hands roaming your naked back feel too good to care. You’re losing yourself in his touch again.

He directs you backwards toward the sink without breaking the kiss, pressing his growing erection against your core when your lower back hits the sink. His tongue swirls around yours, his low hums vibrating against your lips as his hands find your hips.

Breaking the kiss, out of breath, he turns you around, so you’re in front of the mirror.

“Look at yourself,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear, his lidded eyes watching you. He slowly traces your skin with his fingertips, appreciating the marks on your body. A shiver runs down your spine and you moan softly at his tantalizing touch.

“I did this. I did this to you.” Nathan kisses your neck with his warm, soft lips, his beard tickling you. You close your eyes and hum at the feeling, resting your hands on the sink.

“And you took it so well, baby,” he murmurs against your skin between kisses, his hard cock pressing against your ass. “You earned every single bruise. You’re such a good little whore.”

His right hand moves down your belly, down between your thighs, cupping your mound over your panties. Gently but firmly. He keeps kissing up and down your neck, his warm breath and soft groans making you wet. You let your head fall back against him, wrapping your hands around his neck, and rocking your hips against his hand.

“Nathan…don–” you murmur, but he cuts you off.

“Shh,” he purrs against your neck, sliding his hand inside your panties and finding your clit with his fingers.

“Look at yourself.”

You reluctantly open your eyes. His gaze meets yours in the reflection, your brows drawn together, your lips slightly parted. You still wince at the sight of your swollen face, the mark on your shoulder and the bruises and scratches you can see. But all of your thoughts are quickly washed away when Nathan’s fingers start rubbing your clit, his dark eyes never leaving you.

“That’s it, baby. Look at what I did to you. Look at how much I hurt you.”

Speeding up the movement of his fingers, he can feel your legs starting to tremble as your orgasm approaches rapidly. He wraps his left hand around your front, his hand splayed over your tense belly, holding you against his chest.

Sweet release. You can already taste it.

Your moans are becoming louder and louder, and right when you’re about to tip over the edge, Nathan roughly grabs your throat and simultaneously pushes three fingers into your pussy, pumping them in and out of you hard and fast. Your eyes widen in shock and your hands instinctively grab at his, trying to get him to loosen his grip, but he’s undeterred.

He knows you’re sore, so he’s not going to fuck you with his cock. But you need this.

“There is nothing wrong with you or with what you want,” he growls into your ear, his eyes boring into you as he feels you coming around his fingers with a desperate moan.

You ride out your high on his hand until your knees buckle and your limp body collapses against his, your walls rhythmically pulsing around him. Holding you upright, Nathan presses a soft kiss to the mark on your shoulder and nuzzles the crook of your neck with his nose.

“You’re such a fucking good girl,” he murmurs as he slowly pulls his fingers out of you.

“Now, how about a bath?”

– – –

Lying in the softest bed you’ve ever laid in, feeling the comforting embrace of the satin sheets around your body, and thanks to the pain meds working their magic, you find yourself in heaven. Floating on a fluffy cloud. Mind empty. Content.

“Feeling any better?” you hear Nathan’s voice behind you before the bed dips under his weight as he joins you.

“Mhm. Great meds,” you murmur into your pillow.

“Yeah, right? I feel like I’m floating.”

“Huh?” You turn around to look at him, his face illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the trees and the wall-to-ceiling window opposite the bed. “What the fuck, Nathan? You can’t mix those with alcohol.”

“No worries. My liver’s been training for this.”

You scoff. He’s unbelievable. “Why did you take them anyway? It’s not like you got hurt.”

“The big, purple bruise on my abdomen begs to differ,” he chuckles. “You got me pretty good.”

You can’t hold back a little laugh. “You’re a baby.”

“And you get a little too bold when you’re high. I’d watch it if I were you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you murmur, your eyelids beginning to droop.

Nathan smirks and shakes his head at you. “Hey,” he lightly taps your shoulder, “wanna see something cool? Check this out.”

He flips a switch on the wall next to the bed, and suddenly, the roof smoothly retracts, unveiling the vast expanse of the starlit sky.

It’s breathtaking.

“Pretty amazing, huh?”

“It is,” you whisper as your thoughts float away like dandelion seeds carried by a gentle breeze, dancing into the realm of dreams. “Thank you.”

The quiet in the bedroom stretches for a few minutes as the soothing embrace of sleep begins to claim you. Suddenly, Nathan breaks the silence with a soft murmur.

“I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Hm?”

He sighs. “About your masochism. You never told me.”

“Hmm. I don’t always. Only sometimes.” You turn onto your side, your face buried in the pillow. A content sigh escapes your lips. “Can’t help it.”

“Don’t keep stuff like that from me. Tell me next time.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m serious, it’s–” He stops when he hears your rhythmic breathing. He leans over you and looks at your face. You’re sleeping. You look peaceful.

Nathan rolls onto his back and stares at the stars overhead for a few minutes, contemplating the universe and his role in it until your breathing lulls him to sleep.

– – –

Thank you for reading 🖤 ➝ check out my masterlist

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runningfrom2am · 3 months

Text

cold nights // part twenty

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 6.1k (YIKES)

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: guyssss guys guys guys omg :,) also s2 only has two parts left!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

The air is brisk as it surrounds you in the night, chilling you down to the bone, but with a book in your lap and a blanket draped over your shoulders, you don't mind the cold. Not one bit.

You're reading the same page over and over again- Romeo and Juliet. Act two, scene two. Your monologue. You flip the page, and that's all there is.

'Tis but thy name that is my enemy.'

You whisper this, smiling softly to yourself. The grass tickles the undersides of your arms and when you look up, you see the stars. Thousands and thousands of them- more than you could count if you were given a pen and paper and a month to try. It's beautiful.

You lay back into the wild grass, letting it consume you. You can smell it as the long blades brush across your cheeks.

"Y/N?" You freeze at the sound of your name, not that you are really moving. You just hold tight onto the air in your lungs, as if exhaling it could light a beacon to you. Your heartbeat was thrumming in your chest- you were afraid.

"Y/N?" The voice comes again. Coriolanus. He shouldn't be here, he doesn't know where you go at night when you need to end your unfortunate days. Why is he here?

You don't move, eyes wide open as you stare at the sky. Maybe he'll go away, maybe he'll ignore the lantern still burning close enough that you could read under its flame. As if.

"Y/N, you have to go." Now you can hear the grass rustling with every slow step he takes, and he's trying to be quiet. Whispering, as if there was anyone here for miles.

"Go, hide. It's not safe for you out here."

You sit up quickly, scrambling onto your feet. He's close enough now that he's certainly seen you. You get no chance to say anything before you realize you weren't in the field you thought you were. Grass covers the ground of the Capitol arena, and alongside the long green leaves, Coryo's scarf is draping down your side, brushing your legs.

"Coryo?" You say, but you're not looking at him. The compact weighs heavily in the pocket of your dress as you spin around, taking in the dark space. Your lantern flickers out.

"Y/N." He says again, and your eyes snap back to him. His hair is short, buzzed almost down to his scalp like the last time you saw him. "Hide. Now."

"But, I-"

It was too late, and quickened footsteps alerted you to someone else coming.

"Come on, come on!" Coryo grabs you by the wrist quickly, pulling you with him toward the exit glowing red in the night as you abandon your book and blanket.

His hand shifts to hold yours, attempting to force you ahead of himself. You want to look back, but he won't let you. The exit feels miles away. You can't take leave- you don't know why you're running with him. You'll be killed. You'll be killed either way.

You fall through the turnstiles, the mocking automatic voice from the speakers going ignored as you hit the ground. You don't know what you fell onto, you look and there's nothing there, but blood begins to pour from three linear wounds in your leg and a gash on your upper arm.

"Are you okay? Hey, are you okay?" Coryo is in your face now, kneeling in front of you and trying to get you up.

You can't speak, looking past him at the faceless shadow following you. Pushing yourself back against the wall, they glide through the gate and Coryo turns quickly, hands raised. "Wait! Don't! He shouts, but has to duck as they swing something at them.

"Y/N- Run!" He yells at you, but you can't move. You curl up against the wall, burying your face in your knees.

You hear the sharp swing of metal in the air. Once, twice, and you're waiting for an impact that doesn't come until you hear Coryo cry out in pain instead.

You feel the grind of cement next to you as something is lifted from the ground.

"I don't want to hurt you!"

Another swing.

And then a cracking noise, and the turnstile again.

"Enjoy the show!"

You look up then, watching just as the shadow hits the ground across the gate.

"Coryo?" You push yourself up using the wall. He doesn't look back at you, but you can see his shoulders rise and fall with his breaths as he stares at the shadow now sprawled out across the ground.

He swings the club again, the cement block disappearing into the grass with a hard thud.

You don't run.

"Coryo, let's go. Please... let's just go." Your voice comes out small, but he still hears you.

He turns, and you aren't afraid. "Y/N-" He drops the weapon and you take an involuntary step back. You look into his eyes, cleared of the blonde curls he recently buzzed off.

Sky blue. Angry. No- baby blue. Worried.

He's afraid.

"Y/N, wait." He pleads with you, hands clear as he takes a step closer. This time, you let him. "Please don't walk away again."

"What did you say?" You ask, brow furrowed at the familiar statement as you take another step back.

"Please, don't run from me."

When you wake, you feel different. You feel your blood pumping quick through your veins as you stare at the ceiling, the sun peaking in through the curtains like usual, but you feel more sick than scared.

It's a welcome change.

Crawling out of bed, you pull a dress on over your pyjama shorts, deciding that would likely be fine since you didn't plan on leaving the house today. Maybe to go out to the meadow, but with sleep still blurring your vision you weren't ready to make any big decisions like that yet.

You felt guilty about ruining the lake day for everyone. It wasn't a bad panic attack, they did have to jump into action the way they did and try to rush you home, but they had. You can't be upset at them, Lennox and Lucy Gray only wanted to protect you.

You wish Maude Ivory hadn't seen you cry.

The hike back is all you can think about while you make your morning tea.

You watched as Sejanus grabbed Coryo by the arm, pulling him back up and into the cabin and shutting the door behind them.

No one bothered to get you dressed again, the priority just being to get you home. Lucy Gray had helped you get your shoes back on, and Lennox practically lifted you to your feet. You were still shaking, but the tears had lessened and you could breathe again.

"Tam Amber, will you go ask the boys if they remember the way back?" Lucy Gray whispered to her cousin and he nodded, running off the dock.

"You're safe. It's just us here." She reminded you as you watched him hurry away.

"But... But Coryo-" You stammered, suddenly shivering.

"I know, I know, Hun." She wrapped the blanket back around your shoulders. "He's gone. You're okay."

"No, no I-"

You heard Tam Ambers footfalls returning, just as hastily as he had gone. "They remember." He nodded to your friend.

"Okay, will you tell them to wait twenty minutes before following us?" She told him and he nodded again, disappearing once more.

"Lucy Gray, it's, it's okay. I don't think they need to wait." You tried to explain, and she had to lean in to listen to you.

"I know, it's okay." Clearly, she didn't know what you were trying to say. "I promise you they can handle themselves, you don't worry about it." But you weren't worried about them. You wanted them to come.

"E-Every one can master a grief but he that has it." You huff through shaky breaths, frustration at their lack of understanding building in your tone. Why couldn't they see that he was helping you?

Lennox and Lucy Gray look at each other on either side of you, but say nothing.

You looked back at the cabin over your shoulder as your brother and best friend guided you away, the rest of the Covey in tow.

You hadn't seen either of the Capitol boys since.

Coryo walks into Sejanus's room, expecting him to still be sleeping. It's early, the sun just peaking over the mountains, but he's not there. He was out late the night before, so maybe he hadn't come home. He did mention something about possibly staying with Lucy Gray after her show.

They would only be in town for another couple of weeks, he was getting down to the wire of time he had to earn your trust back. He was fucking it up royally, and he wasn't even sure he could go home without any conclusions. He just needed to talk to you, if it was him who was hurting you, and you said the best thing he could do was leave and never look back, he would do it in a heartbeat. He'd never recover, but he'd be willing to do anything to know you were happy. Or at least getting there.

But you hadn't said that. Remembering your conversation at the lake, he didn't feel like all hope was lost. Even if Lucy Gray and Lennox wouldn't let him anywhere near you. He couldn't give up yet.

This is why, in all honesty, he is lucky that Sejanus didn't make it home last night.

He saw his friend writing in a notebook the other day, so he opened the bedside drawer to try and find it. He'll just leave a note saying he's going for a walk, and Sejanus likely won't suspect he's going to go try and talk to you and come stop him. If he even wakes up from his hangover with enough time to find the note and then catch him.

When Coryo opens the drawer, that's not what he finds. Well, it is, and he pulls the pad of paper and pencil out, but his eyes catch on something else. Cash. And lots of it.

He looks over his shoulder at the door before picking it up and picking through it. It must have been in the tens of thousands. Why would Sejanus bring so much money to District Twelve of all places? He wishes he could understand rich kids.

He sits on the bed and opens the notebook, pausing again when he sees some scribbled notes.

'Hob, 10 pm, 08/17

Broken fence, storage shed. 4 am, 08/18

Lennox ?'

Brow furrowed in confusion, Coryo turns the page. Nothing else. No other context clues as to what on earth this could mean. It was meeting places and times. He looks around again as if he could find answers in the walls of the small bedroom.

Nothing.

He quickly shoves the notepad back into the drawer and leaves. Maybe he didn't need to leave a note after all.

Coryo had to move quickly. Collecting yet another peace offering, some kind of treat, and then make it to your house before Sejanus or Lucy Gray can intercept. He does it, but there was still the biggest obstacle yet- your brother. He prays as he knocks that Lennox doesn't open the door.

When there's a knock on the door, you leap from your bench on the back porch, quietly slipping back in the door. You were home alone, only for a few hours while your mom handled some business in town and Lennox went to hang out with some friends. Your mother didn't want to let you, she wanted you to come, but you insisted. You were an adult, you could be home alone for a few hours.

Who on earth would knock on the door right in that window of time?

Sneaking into your parents' bedroom, you peek out of the curtains to try and look at the front door.

No. This is ridiculous.

You force yourself to straighten up, smoothing the front of your dress and taking a deep breath. You're home. You're safe. No one at the door is here to hurt you.

You pace up to the front door just as another quick three knocks ring out. Deep breath. You twist and pull the handle.

"Y/N." Coryo grins, relief washing over him like a wave that only lasts a moment. "Here, these are for you." He holds out a small bouquet of flowers before you get the chance to slam the door in his face.

You can't help the smile that pulls at your lips when you look down at the hand he extends to you.

Butterflies. The very same ones you felt the first time he gifted you a flower.

"Coryo, you don't have to bring me flowers every time you see me." You giggle, and he smiles. The relief is back.

"Well, I'd like to. You deserve nothing less."

You look up through your lashes at him, slightly shaking your head. Your smile doesn't slip as you examine his features, checking his eyes. As blue and clear as the lake you swam in last week. "Would you like to come in?" You offer, unsure of yourself up until the point the words leave your mouth.

"I would love to." Coryo smiles so wide you feel as though your own heart could burst. You're doubting yourself for ever being afraid of him, but as he passes you into the threshold of your home, you remember why. Deep breath.

"You came at a good time." You joke, closing the door behind him and stepping into the kitchen as it's laid out next to the front door.

"Oh?"

"Well, Lennox isn't here to push you down the front steps." You giggle. Maybe you shouldn't be telling him you're home alone. Your heart stops for a beat.

And then he laughs, and everything is okay again as you pull a vase down from atop the fridge, placing it in the sink to rinse off. "That is true." He agrees.

"But, I'll warn you, Tybs is here somewhere. He's always watching." You look at him over your shoulder as you place the flowers down and run the tap into the ceramic vase.

"Noted." Coryo chuckles, looking around his feet to see if the cat had come to say hello.

He watches you as you turn back around to focus on your task. Watching you wash dishes was a privilege he never even considered that he wanted, but now that he had it, he was more certain than ever that he could never let you go.

It was so good to see you have some peace.

"I brought some things for a picnic, I was hoping you could take me to the meadow you told me about. I'd really like to see it." He asks as you dry off the outside of the vase, proceeding to fill it with water.

"I was going to head out there myself, actually. That sounds perfect." He watches your hair move as you nod, popping the flowers into the vase and turning to show him. The smile on your face makes his heart melt. He didn't know that feeling was real.

"How do they look?" You ask, quickly adjusting some.

"Lovely." Coryo grins and your lips pull together, looking back down at the bouquet in your hands.

"Thank you, by the way. I realize I didn't say thank you." You say, carrying the vase out to the living room and he follows while you place it on the coffee table.

"You don't have to." He shakes his head. "To be honest, I didn't even expect you to accept them."

"Oh, would you like them back?" You ask, worried.

That's not what he meant, you were just too sweet. "No, I picked them for you."

"Would you tell me if you did want them back?" You ask, wiping your hands off from stray water on the front of your dress.

"Probably not." He admits with a smile that matches yours, shaking his head. "I suppose you'll just have to trust me."

"Here we are!" You grin, flipping out the quilt you brought from your room for the two of you to sit on.

Coryo looks around. It's a big open field, with trees and hills in the distance. He did imagine it would be beautiful at night like you said, but he never thought that during the day it would be as much of a sight. After years and years of coming to this exact spot, the grass is shorter here. Already conditioned to not grow where this family could come and sit during the days and nights of your childhood- you had built the perfect little spot to lay down a sheet.

You're already sitting down cross-legged on the hand-sewn material when he looks at you again. "Thoughts?" You ask, tipping your head up at him. "You look like you're thinkin'."

"Yeah, yeah. It's beautiful. This isn't what I pictured."

"No?" You ask as he sits down next to you, adjusting on the blanket and placing his bag on the corner.

"No. Nothing like this." He answers. "It's much bigger."

You giggle, looking around. "So you understand what I was missing, then."

"Yeah." He breathes the word out with a slight nod, but he's still staring at you even as he pulls everything out of his bag. Some cookies, and the book.

"So," You start with a smile, and he looks up at you. You look down at the book, your train of thought completely leaving you when you see it. "You brought it..." You mumble, reaching out to touch the cover.

He lifts it to hand it to you, but you quickly pull your hand away as if the book could bite. You look between him and the leather-bound book in his hand, cheeks flushing. "I-I don't, I'm sorry. I don't know why..." You laugh awkwardly, looking instead out to the woods that surround you.

Your trauma had consistently manifested in the strangest of ways. That book had done nothing to hurt you, you knew that, but it did remind you of the nights and days you spent reading it before the games when Coryo was locked away in the hospital. The memory almost makes you sick.

"Don't be." Coryo shakes his head at you. "I get it." He puts it down on the other side of himself, just out of your view. "I just... I know you usually read out here. So I wanted to bring a book too. It's the only one I have here."

You smile nervously and nod. "I'm glad you like it." You look over your shoulder when you hear a soft 'meow' from within the grass. "Someone followed us."

You let out a soft gasp, smiling as your cat emerges from the tall blades next to you. They were only about knee height to you, but they completely swallowed his small form. "Tybs!" You grin, opening your arms to him and he crawls straight into your lap. "Good King of Cats, there you are." You scoop him up, kissing him on his fluffy head.

"Y/N," Coryo says, drawing your attention again. You hum, face still pressed into Tybalt's fur as you hug him. "I... I was hoping we could talk about some things, if you feel safe enough. I know with just me it's scary but there's some things I really need to tell you before I have to leave and no one will let me talk to you, so now feels like my only chance."

"Okay." You nod, lowering Tybs down onto your lap again, holding him close. "But... I just, I don't want you to have to deal with me if I... I don't know, panic. I can't promise you I won't, and it's embarrassing."

"That's okay." He assures you, scanning your face closely even as you avoid his eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you, so if you can't talk about it it's totally okay. I can try my best to say what I need to say without scaring you."

"No, no I... There's stuff I have to say to you too." You confess to him. "I just, it is so frustrating to not be able to talk about anything without feeling like... I can't communicate what I need to say. Or like I'm dying."

Coryo nods, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I'll be as patient as you need me to be." He promises. "I can't imagine what that's like for you." He adds, almost whispering. You have always expressed yourself so eloquently through words, and in a way, the games, he has taken that from you.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and nod, focussing on petting your cat. You can feel the vibrations of his purring against your body, and that helps already.

"It's hard." You admit quietly. "I still sometimes feel like no one wants to listen to me when I can talk about what happened. It's always the same thing." You shake your head, letting out a slight laugh. "Do you know how many times I've heard 'You're safe now'? Or 'you're home now. It's okay'? Because it's a lot. And I know that. I know they're just trying to help, but... It's more complicated than that."

"There's no guidebook on living with this stuff." Coryo agrees. "That's what your father told me."

"He's right." You mumble. "No one knows what to do, Twelve has never had a Victor before. I'm lucky number one, and it feels like nobody sees me as human anymore. Not even Lucy Gray. Not even my family."

"I do."

You smile sadly at him. "Coryo, I..." You sigh, shaking your head and grounding yourself in feeling Tybalt rub his head against your palm, begging to be pet. "Is this real?"

He furrows his brow slightly with confusion.

"I mean, I don't-" You sigh. "I feel like I am being so daft but Sejanus says he thought you actually cared about me but that was back in the Capitol so I just need you to be honest with me."

"Y/N..." He shakes his head at you, fully in disbelief. "I have never lied to you. I don't think I could even if I wanted to."

"No, not- not like that." You sigh, shaking your head. "I mean, the way you acted. The things you did- I feel like I don't know who you really are."

"You know me. Better than anyone." He assures you, voice soft with sincerity. He doesn't want to be offended, but he'd still like to understand.

"You said... you said you wanted to start over." You say after a moment, looking into his eyes and loosening your grip on your cat as he adjusts the way he's laying over your bare legs. "So... can we?"

Coryo smiles, giving you a quick nod. "My name is Coriolanus Snow." He starts, and he can see how closely you're watching him, a small smile growing on your lips. That's not exactly what you meant, and he knew it. "But you can call me Coryo. That's what my friends call me."

How could he miss the apples of your cheeks turning slightly pink under the sun?

"I was born and raised in the Capitol, and I'm an orphan. My mother died in childbirth, and my sister didn't make it. My father died here, in Twelve. I live with my cousin, Tigris, and our Grandma'am, and my whole life I have been starving." He admits, swallowing as he monitors your reaction closely. Sadness. Empathy. "One time, during the war, I even ate a jar of paste just to stop the pain in my stomach." He smiles as he says it, it's meant to be funny- to try and keep you with him as he speaks.

He raises an eyebrow at you as you can't help but giggle. "I'm sorry, that must have been awful."

"It was certainly... pasty." He chuckles, shaking his head slightly. "But then, the moment I first laid eyes on you and was told you would be my tribute, I knew that everything was going to change."

You think back to the reaping, and how he must have watched. One of many memories that haunted you now doesn't seem all that scary, knowing he was with you even then.

"I was angry, I knew Highbottom was trying to sabotage me- to give me no chance at winning the prize but I didn't know that the universe was just bringing me to you."

"Coriolanus." You grin, tilting your head at him. "It's a pleasure to meet you again."

"Did you know that I was named after a play?" He asks, a teasing smile pulling at his lips knowing that the only reason he knew that was because of you.

"Oh? What's it about?" You humour him, and he chuckles shaking his head at you.

"Well, it's a long story, really, but it's about a man in ancient Rome who gets put in a position of power, and makes some pretty big mistakes." He quotes as much of what he can remember you telling him. "Then the people of the city hated him, and he was cast out because he betrayed people who trusted him."

You don't say anything, hanging on every word of his interpretation.

"And sometimes I feel like it's a fitting name." He continues, voice lowering with seriousness now. "But I don't think I am like him, because I regretted my mistakes the moment I made them. And I think that if he was more like me, and had someone who made him want to be a good man, his story wouldn't have ended too tragically."

You feel the telltale burn of tears brimming your eyes, and Coryo watches you closely. Your breathing is steady, the ghost of a smile still on your lips.

"Are you okay?" He asks quietly, reaching up to push your hair from where a piece is beginning to fall into your eyes. He's careful not to move too quickly, or even to touch your skin.

You nod, briefly drawing your lip in between your teeth while you think. "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

Coryo smiles, almost in disbelief. "You forgive me, then?"

"I'm a Victor." You state, although your whisper sucks almost all the confidence out of your voice as you focus on Tybalt purring against your lap. "If I expect forgiveness in return I need to give it, don't I?"

"You don't need forgiveness from anyone." He insists, smile fading. "You didn't do a single thing wrong."

"I think I did." You admit, lip beginning to wobble as you try and remember, looking down at your cat and stroking his back almost obsessively. "I should have gone back for Wovey, I should have stayed with Jessup, and... and I think I killed those boys, Coryo. I haven't told a soul and it's been killing me."

When you look back up at the boy next to you, his heart breaks. You hadn't done anything wrong; you even tried your best to be a pacifist when thrown into the Hunger Games, of all things, and still, you found things to blame yourself for. "Do you remember what I told you?" He asks, very slowly and carefully reaching out to swipe away a tear from your cheek. "That we all do things we aren't proud of to survive. That doesn't make you a wicked person."

"Is it true?" You ask, resisting your gut and it wanting you to lean into his touch. "That... that I killed them?"

"No." He answers. "I did. I gave you the compact."

"But I used it."

"You had no choice." He reminds you. "That was my fault, and I'll take the blame for it but I won't lie and tell you that I regret it."

You take a sharp breath in. His eyes. Look at his eyes.

"I did it to save you, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I couldn't live with myself if I let you die. You saved my life first, and you could have ran but you didn't." He wouldn't let you beat yourself up about something that was his fault. "You could have saved yourself, but you gave up that chance for me. I couldn't let you die. It would be such a waste for the world to lose a girl like you."

"Coryo... That's not right." You say, shaking your head. The way your face fell made him nervous. "You can't tell me you did it for me. That is not as noble as you feel like it is."

He felt stupid for telling you that, despite its truth. You wouldn't like it, he knew that. "I know, but I don't want to keep anything from you. I have to tell you why I did the things I did, I have to get you to trust me again. I'd speak every thought I'll ever have if that's what it takes."

You take a shaky breath. "What about when you killed Bobbin?" It took you a moment to even get the words to leave your mouth- and he waited all the while. Powder blue. Patient.

"I... okay." Coryo nods to himself. "I was scared, I didn't want to do it. Sejanus was injured, I remember realizing he couldn't walk. I tried to talk to the boy, but he wouldn't listen..." He trails off, not daring to break eye contact with you. "I felt... desperate. I was panicking, and then... powerful. That's the only way I can describe it. That I wasn't helpless anymore, the way I always had been."

His words are terrifying to you, but you can't look away as you tuck Tybalt closer to your chest. He's stopped purring, but he's breathing against you, craning into your touch. It's actively keeping you grounded through your fear.

"Then I looked at you," Coryo continues. "And I thought that I should have let him kill me instead, because maybe that would have hurt you less."

You swallow the anxiety sitting heavy and thick in the back of your throat. If it was you, you would have thought 'Yes. I should die before taking the life of another,' but since it was Coryo, your gut reaction was telling you to say no; to reassure him that he was only protecting himself and it was scary but he had done the right thing. The realization that he outweighed your own morals and the fact that as much as you wanted to say that, you weren't sure you would stick to it yourself now was a sick combination of things to grapple with all at once.

"Stop, please." You say quietly, feeling your heartbeat picking up just behind your ears. You don't even notice when you had looked away, but your eyes are shut tight.

"Okay, okay. I'll stop." Coryo quickly promises. "But I need you to look at me, okay? Can you do that?"

When you don't immediately respond, he takes the calculated risk of rubbing your back. It didn't scare you last time, it almost seemed to help for the brief moment you were able to look at him.

"I'm sorry." You say quickly, voice cracking.

"Don't be." He says softly, feeling how quickly you're breathing with the hand he has so delicately placed on your back.

It almost makes him cry, too, not knowing what to do to help. It was his fault, again, and this time there was no Lucy Gray or Lennox to come running. He looks around anyway as you cling to the cat in your lap. Tybalt. Quickly, he looks down to the book at his side.

"Oh sweet Juliet," He says, no better ideas surfacing on how to help you. He would make a fool out of himself if he must, but he had to try. "Thy beauty has made me effeminate, and in my temper softened... valor's steel." He tries to remember, and prays that he remembered it correctly.

Under his hand he feels you shake, and he tries to catch your eyes again. It takes him a moment to realize that you weren't crying harder- he hadn't made it all worse again. You were laughing.

He grins, chuckling slightly. "There she is, hey, hey... Look at me."

You turn your head, your smile already mostly gone by the time your eyes reach his.

"I don't remember it, can you refresh me?" He asks, trying to give you an adequate distraction.

"That... that scene? Uh-" Your mind is short-circuiting, running a million miles a minute to try and remember more details. What came before, what came after?

"Anything. Any part you want."

"Okay. Okay..." You nod, trying as best you can to take a deep breath. "Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-browed night. Give me my Romeo, and, when I shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night..."

Just like at your interview, Coryo watches your anxiety begin to melt away as you recite every line. Something about it was so calming to you. It forced you to focus on something other than the tightness in your chest and the tremor of your hands.

"Atta girl..." Coryo nods, proud as he keeps rubbing your back. "Are you feeling a little better? Do you want some water?"

"I- I can get it." You nod quickly, reaching for the bag and digging for your water bottle, careful to not disturb the cat on your lap.

"I'm sorry." He says, withdrawing his hand so you can drink in peace. "I hate that the games have done this to you..."

You seal up the bottle again, wiping your lips on your wrist and shaking your head. "No one can come out of that unchanged, but... let's talk about something else, please."

"I just... I hope you know how much I truly care for you. That's real. That will always be real." Coryo promises, allowing you to put the bottle down before taking your hand.

His hands are slightly cold against the one of yours he is holding, and you attribute that to your no doubt increased blood pressure. There's nothing but pure, undiluted honesty in his eyes.

"I read your note." He continues, wanting to explain but you look away quickly, letting out a slight laugh. He's never seen your face so red.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said the things I did. It was foolish and I was feeling so confident knowing that that day very well may have been my last and-"

"It wasn't foolish." Coryo smiles slightly, moving so he can look in your eyes again. "It was sweet, and all this time I have been dying to tell you that I love you. I do." The confession has his heart pounding as if he were the one who is still coming down from a panic attack.

For the first time maybe in your whole life, you were speechless. It didn't feel like all the love stories you had read in books that made your heart flip the way it just had- it was more. It was your story, and no quote felt quite fitting to describe your own feelings. They were all yours.

"Is that... is that okay? I don't want to scare you but-" Coryo doesn't even get the chance to finish before your lips are against his.

You are kissing him. You're real, you're alive, and he is finally getting that second kiss that he never thought he would have. You were still his.

Your cat had long abandoned his post on your lap by the time Coryo processed this and moved his hands up to grasp your cheeks. He's as gentle as he possibly can be, he knows he's being somewhat irrational to imagine you just vanishing from his hold like you had consistently done in his dreams. This wasn't that; your lips against his, your unbelievably soft skin under his hands.

"I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest." You mumble against his lips, having finally found something close enough to express it.

This was real, you were there, and Coriolanus would never let you walk away again.

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orchidniins · 17 days

Note

hi! would you please be able to write a fic of george picking us up from a drunken night out and looking after us? i think he’d be so lovely 🥰🥰

Drunken Adventures | George Clarke

Summary: Just boyfriend George taking care of his drunk girlfriend Pairing: George Clarke x F!Reader Warnings: Fluff Word count: 2.8k+ A/N: George is such boyfriend material and would just be such a caring boyfriend. The biggest simp in the world. tbh not my best work, but this request has been in my inbox for like a month now. Hope you enjoy!

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George lounged in the familiar living room of the Arthurs’ and Chris's apartment, unwinding after a long day of filming. It had been quite some time since he moved out to live with you, and with you out all night for your best friend Jenna’s hen do, he was not looking forward to the prospect of returning to an empty apartment. So, when the opportunity arose to spend some time and catch up with the boys, he was more than glad to seize it.

Midway through their conversation, George's phone begins buzzing on its spot on the coffee table. Glancing at the phone, he expects to see your name on the screen, assuming you would be calling to let him know you were on your way home. However, concern washes over him when he’s instead met with the caller ID of your friend Lily. Instantly springing up from the couch, he excuses himself to take the call.

George's fingers hurriedly tapped the screen as he accepted the call. "Hey, Lily. Is everything okay? What's the matter?" His tone carried a hint of urgency.

"George, it's me, Lily," came the slurred voice on the other end. George let out a soft huff, realizing just how intoxicated your friend was. Patiently, he asked again, "Yeah, hi Lily. Is Y/N with you? Is she alright?"

Amidst the muffled voices and the noise of people talking over each other, he patiently waits for Lily's response. Finally, her voice broke through the chaos. "Yeah, she's fine... mostly. But she's like absolutely shit-faced right now. She's insisting that she'll get back on her own, but none of us trust her to do that, so you better come and pick her up. I'll send you our location."

"Tell her to stay put, I'm on my way," George says as he walks toward the door. With his phone pressed between his shoulder and ear, he begins putting on his coat. Lily responded with a quick, "Okay, thanks," before abruptly ending the call.

With a brief goodbye to the boys and a quick explanation of where he was headed, George was out the door in a hurry, calling a cab on his way down to your location.

A quick cab ride later, he reaches the club where you were at. He steps out into the cold night air and almost instantly spots your small group gathered outside. You were seated on the pavement, legs criss crossed, your head leaning against a lamppost while you scrolled through your phone, laughing at whatever was playing on your screen. The faint glow illuminated your features in the dim light of the street.

George couldn't help but shake his head and laugh at the spectacle before him.

The bride-to-be was video calling someone, oblivious to the chaos around. Meanwhile, one of your friends was bent over a nearby bush, puking her guts out, while Lily stood holding her hair back. The rest of the girls, keeled over in drunken laughter.

George made his way over to where you were sitting, a smile playing on his lips as he crouched down next to you. "Hey there, troublemaker," he greeted softly, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

You look up from your phone at the sound of his voice and your face lights up with a goofy grin. "Georgey!" you exclaimed, without a moment's hesitation, you threw your arms around him in a tight hug, causing him to stumble back slightly. His hand lands on the pavement, steadying him, while the other instantly wraps around your back.

"Hey there, love. You feeling okay?” he says, his voice filled with laughter. You returned his gaze, a grin spreading across your lips. "Yeah, I'm great," you replied, your words slightly slurred. You reached out and gently grabbed his face with both hands, planting a kiss on his lips, catching him off guard.

"I missed you, you beautiful man." you continued, George chuckled softly, thoroughly amused by your actions. "How much have you had to drink?" he asked, his tone gentle and caring.

"Not that much, I feel fine," you insisted, trying to sound serious but failing as a smile inevitably crept back onto your face, causing you both to laugh.

"Alright then, let's get you up first," George says, gently brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen out of place before tucking it behind your ear. He then slowly gets you up to your feet, fixing your dress after it had ridden up while you were sitting down.

"Now, let's get you home," he says while you eye him with a small pout. Once you're up on your feet, you lean into his side, wrapping your arms around his waist and tucking yourself under his arm. His arm naturally settles on your shoulder, providing support to keep you steady.

As George reached for his phone and opened up the Uber app, you swiftly snatched it away, declaring, "But I'm having fun! I don’t want to go home yet!" In your haste, however, you accidentally dropped his phone, which landed squarely on his right foot.

"Ouch. Careful there, love, you nearly decapitated me," George joked, his laughter ringing out in the night air. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, unable to suppress your own laugh. As he bent down to pick up his phone, you playfully attempted to hold him back by his waist. However, your drunken attempt at holding him back proved worthless, causing you to stumble back as your arms detached from his waist. But, before your bum could hit the pavement, George was quick to grab onto your waist and keep you from landing on the ground.

"Okay, that's a sign, you're done for the night, Y/N," he says, gently getting you back on your feet. Once you're standing, you turn around to face him, his arms still securely wrapped around your waist to prevent another potential stumble.

You shake your head stubbornly, determination shining in your eyes. "No, I don’t wanna go back home just yet," you insist firmly, your conviction clear. "The entire city is ours, George. We can't miss out on this adventure," you explain, pointing towards the street. "Each street, each building, they all have stories to tell. And tonight, we get to be a part of those stories."

George smiles at your intoxicated ramblings, gently teasing, "What are you going on about?" His laughter follows. that contagious sound that you love so much, accompanied by the crinkle in his eyes.

As you continue trying to convince him, George can't help but think how absolutely adorable you are, even in your drunken state. And despite his initial resistance, he finds himself giving in to your whims.

"Fine," he finally gives in with a sigh, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I can never say no to you, can I?” he admits.

You smile at him as you raise up on your tiptoes and give him a peck on the cheek "Exactly, now off we go Georgey!" With that, you grab his hand and pull him away from the club.

Turning back to your friends, you shout a goodbye, waving enthusiastically. George shoots them a quick farewell before turning his attention back to you. "You sure it’s a good idea to leave them to fend for themselves?" he quips, laughing as he gestures towards your just as wasted friends.

You laugh and shrug, "Eh, they'll be fine,” you reassure him, "Jenna’s brother is coming to pick them up, they're crashing at her place," you explain as you start walking down the street together.

George raises an eyebrow as he asks, "Do you know where you’re going?"

"We’ll figure it out, the night is still young," you reply, sounding carefree.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. "You're so full of shit," he remarks, and you roll your eyes, playfully swatting at his chest while he continues to laugh at you.

As you continue walking, you stagger a bit despite his support, catching George's attention. "Let's get you some water first," he suggests, concern coloring his voice. You pout in protest, but he remains adamant, guiding you to the nearest corner shop. He has you sit down, and makes you chug some water to help sober you up a little.

You two navigate the city streets just past midnight, the Friday night nightlife around you is full of energy. The neon glow of club signs casts shadows on the streets as the late-night crowds stumble out onto the streets. "Hey! Oh my god I love your dress! You have to tell me where you got it," you exclaim as you strike up conversations with random people on the streets as if you've known them for years, becoming extra extroverted when you are even slightly drunk.

George stays glued to your side the whole time, equally as amused and anxious, just wanting to make sure you’re safe and don’t hurt yourself, his protective side kicking in.

"Woah there, do you wanna sit down for a bit?" he interjects as you stumble slightly, tripping over your own two feet. His hand reaches out to steady you, but you brush it off with a dismissive wave. "No, I’m fine," you insist. Throughout the night, you two continue to dance under the glow of street lamps, sharing laughter over each other's absolutely terrible jokes, almost falling from laughter multiple times.

As you’re practically rolling on the sidewalk laughing, you hear the click of his camera, and you immediately sit up, "Hey! What are you doing?" you protest, but your laughter betrays the mock seriousness in your voice. George just grins mischievously, snapping a few more photos, definitely exploiting your drunken state for blackmail material later.

He takes a moment to look at the photo he had just taken of you, a grin spreading across his face as he laughs. "You're laughing way more than you should at that. Show me!" you demand reaching out to grab his phone, but he pulls it away, hiding the screen against his chest.

"Come on, baby!" you plead, giving him your best puppy dog eyes, and he can’t help but melt, quickly flashing his phone at you, revealing the photo. Your mouth falls open in disbelief, but you burst into laughter at the sight of yourself. Still giggling, you make another attempt to snatch his phone from him, playfully demanding, "Give me that! Get those photos off your phone, George!" But his height advantage keeps the phone just out of your reach, and you make a feeble attempt at jumping to get it back.

Your attention however suddenly shifts from your antics when you spot a lime bike stand out of the corner of your eye. You instantly forget about what you were just doing and run up closer to it, leaving George momentarily confused before he follows your lead. “George,” you exclaim eagerly, turning back to face him with excitement. “Lime bikes! We should totally ride bikes!”

“Great idea when drunk, huh?” You continue, trying to take the piss out of him. You shoot him a mischievous grin. “Bet I can actually manage to stay on one though,” you tease, throwing him a wink.

George rubs his face with his hands as he laughs, “Haha, very funny… absolutely not,” he replies with a playful shake of his head. “I think you’d actually kill me if something were to happen and you end up in the A&E. Not how I wanna spend my Friday night, love,” he quips, sharing a knowing smile with you. He then joins you and gently turns you around, pushing you in the opposite direction, away from the bike stand.

"Boo, party pooper, you're no fun," you jokingly accuse him, a slight pout on your face as you tease him for being a buzzkill.

"Who else is gonna keep you from making horrible decisions?" George quips, nudging you slightly as he can’t help but laugh as he says it. You roll your eyes at his playful jab, but a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. He brushes it off, intertwining your fingers with his, enjoying the warmth of his hand as you both start walking hand in hand.

As you walk, George notices you getting tired, your steps becoming a little slower and your conversation gradually quieting down. He looks down at you with a caring expression as he notices a small yawn escape your lips. "How about we get you home soon?" he suggests softly, his voice filled with concern.

But you shake your head, looking up at him with a soft smile on your lips. "Not yet," you insist, tugging him along until you arrive at a nearby park.

As you stroll through the park, the stillness of the night surrounds you, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and distant noises of the city. You two find a nearby bench and take a seat, kicking off your heels and swinging your legs over his lap. The cool night air kisses your cheeks, and you shiver, prompting George to take off his jacket and drape it over your exposed legs. You glance at him and mumble a small "Thank you, baby" before continuing to rub your hands together to warm them up. George instinctively wraps his arms around you, pulling you close and rubbing his arms against your shoulders in an attempt to warm you up. You lean into his warmth as you snuggle up close to him, gazing out at the twinkling skyline.

You sit in silence for a moment, feeling the weight of the night settling over you. You start to feel drowsy, comfortable and warm in George’s arms, and you let out a soft yawn, catching his attention. He watches you with affection in his eyes, taking in the sight of you under the moonlight. Your hair glows softly in the gentle moonlight, framing your face and he thinks it makes you look absolutely angelic.

As you snuggle in closer to him, you feel your eyelids growing heavier. George softly brushes the hair out of your face with a gentle touch. He whispers softly to you, his voice barely above a murmur, softly nudging you awake. "Can I take you home now?" he asks. You nod in response, finally agreeing to call it a night.

Once you're back at your shared apartment, you stumble in, shedding your heels and tossing your jacket haphazardly in the living room before making a beeline for the bedroom. George follows closely behind, gently nudging you in the direction of the bathroom. "Hold on there, love," he says with a chuckle. "You very well know you'll be absolutely pissed at me in the morning for letting you go to bed with makeup on."

You nod as you enter the ensuite, hopping up onto the counter and facing George as he comes to stand between your legs, his palm resting on your thigh. You point to the drawer, and he retrieves the packet of makeup wipes, pulling one out to gently start wiping your face.

The whole time, your eyes remain fixed on him, a loving and dreamy look in them. Once he's finished removing your makeup, he tosses the used wipe into the bin and chuckles, eyeing you with a curious look, “What?”

"Nothing," you begin softly, your hands reaching up to rest on his shoulders. "I just... I feel so lucky." Your voice is quiet but earnest as you gaze into his deep blue eyes, a soft smile gracing your lips. "Thank you for taking care of me tonight. You didn’t have to, you know. I know how much you were looking forward to hanging out with the boys."

George’s hands begin to softly rub the exposed flesh on the side of your thighs as he looks at you with just as much affection, placing a featherlight kiss on your forehead. “It’s fine…I was with them all morning," he begins, “But for you, I’ll always be there, whether you like it or not."

You smile up at him, your laughter bubbling over. "You're such a sap," you tease, but there's genuine affection in your tone.

He smiles down at you, his eyes warm. "I mean it, though," he insists. "There's never a dull moment with you, drunk or sober."

Then, he leans in, closing the distance between you, and places a tender kiss on your lips. As you pull away, you look into his eyes and whisper, "I love you."

"I love you too, you drunken mess," he replies, his voice filled with adoration.

With a gentle smile, he wraps his arm around your waist and effortlessly lifts you up, setting you down on the ground before placing a kiss on your temple. You quickly change into more comfortable clothes, and together you head to bed, snuggling into each other's warmth as he wraps his arms around you, finally putting an end to your late-night adventures.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Requests are open...or just drop in for a chat! 😊

#george clarke #george clarke imagines #george clarke fluff #george clarke fic #george clarke x reader #george clarkey #george clarkey fluff #george clarkey x reader #youtube #chaos crew #fluff #george clarkey imagines #chrismd #arthurtv #arthur hill

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5cookiekitty · 1 year

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Could you do a fanfic with you demon slayer fanfic idea with reader having the same personality as daki but worst and visiting them and was attacked by a hashira and had to call one of her siblings

*『koku-nii』

Yandere uppermoon {kokushibo} × little sister reader

Fanfic idea

'This is to easy.' The hashira avoided the array of pin like crystal that came flying towards him with a slash of his breathing. 'Somthing isn't right here.' He could feel it in his bones a she watched uppermoon zero send out more crystal's from the ground in which he weaved and dodge once more. The crystal's on her face that formed in the middle of head in the shape of a butterfly glowed allowing for crystal like butterfly to fly through the air.

"I can you feel you getting weaker and slower! Your a hashira right! If I kill you here I will certainly expect some praise!" The demons voice was sickenly gleeful on such a beautiful face. Her Kimono , that split open to show a leg that wore geta sandals and a ankle long white sock , fluttered in the wind like falling angel wings. Maybe she was one.

The hashira stared at the demon who was taunting him much like how a child would. ‘Something isn't right here.’ he thought as he easily deflected away another array of crystals coming his way. ‘There's no way it should be this easy right.’ this was an uppermoon of course but even he was getting bored with this battle. ‘Doesn't matter anyway…’ he activated his breathing as he slashed forward in an instant and behind the demon. “Cause your through”

The demon was quick to try to snap her head around with the anger on her beautiful face clear as day. “What did you just say to me you li-” and then suddenly the world was upside down and spinning as she collapsed like a marionette without its strings attached as her head gently rolled on the ground as her body slumped to the ground on its side. “Huh?”

“Do you mind telling me where your little demon friend is hiding.” he watched those e/c eyes glare at him from the floor. “Since you're too weak to be the one who killed all those slayers.” he got an angry screech in response. “What is that supposed to mean! I really am an uppermoon ,I am! I'll kill you for your insolence!” he looked down at the demon on the floor with confused eyes. “Can't kill me if you're dead.” His voice was flat and deadpanned.

“It's not over yet , You just caught me off guard! If I put my head back on, I'll show you! You wont get me a second time”

“You're right I won't get you a second time cause there isnt going to be a second time.”

“But-”

“Stop it , it's over. You're over so why don't you just go ahead and die already. Your reign of terror is over.” he was about ready to stop entertaining this soon-to-be-dead demon when suddenly he felt something. ‘What the-’ all the hairs on his body stood to attention as he narrowly avoided a thin crystal needle coming at him. ‘Hold on, wait a minute, why isn't she disintegrating.’

“How dare you!How dare you! How dare you!” the shrill voice on the angry demon renovated throughout the forest as she sat up onto her hands and knees, head forgotten in favor of slamming the ground down in anger. “DIE! DIE! DIE! all of you slayers can die!” the demon continued her babbling angry rant as the hashira stared on in growing confusion. “I'm an upper moon!i'm strong and i'm getting stronger everyday! I'm better than you!I'm better than you, you hear me!” The woman now had angry frustrated tears streaming down her face looking and acting too much like a child in dire need of comfort.

“My head got cut off! It got cut off! He cut it off!”

‘Wait hold on , who is she complaining to-’

And suddenly with a hand raised in the air that once more slammed onto the ground she released what felt like death itself.

“KOKU-NIIIIIIIIIIII”

And before the hashira could comprehend what was happening there was a sudden burst of unimaginable bloodlust throughout the area as something started to emerge from the female demon's back. Suddenly he was swinging forward as every instinct in his body since becoming a demon slayer activated in a sudden urge and need to kill the literal death-bringing-thing coming out from where it was hidden with his katana. And yet as soon as he neared the thing , inches away , his katana cut through nothing.

And then he heard sniffling and a whine and his head quickly snapped behind him to see the demoness , crying softly into a hand that cupped the side of her face gently as she tried in vain to whip away her rapidly falling tears. Head now attached to her body with a person crouched in front of her. “Y-you saw what he did right.” Her voice was soft and shaky , reminding the slayer of a crying child and not of a heartless demon that he knew she was. “I wasn't doing anything and yet-” she sounded like another slot of tears was going to come out as the last of her sentence wobbled out.

The slayer stood to the back , uncertain of what to do. Even for someone like him the back to back abnormalities were coming quickly and he felt as though he needed some time to rest.readying himself he quickly zipped across the room only to jump back when his face came too close to being sliced in half by a sword. ‘Shit.’ He could feel blood begin to dribble down from his head as his eyes finally found the new occupant in the room. ‘Double shit.’ cause staring back at him were six eyes , the middle pair having kanji written in it.

Uppermoon 1

“I knew something was off.” the slayer mumbled as he looked the upper moon up and down. ‘This is bad. I can feel it in my bones.’ He watched as the girl, not a woman , never to grow up and be one continued to cry to herself in the background. ‘Not to mention that one aint exited from the land of the living yet. What the absolute hell is going on here.’ he stepped back , a bit nervously , when uppermoon took a stance that blocked most of his view of the woman.

“You must be a hashira.” The demon talked slowly, giving his tone that of a gravitas one. ‘His whole aura screams unnerving tranquility.as if he's in control of everything.’ The hashira got into a stance , hands on the handle of his katana ready to strike at a moment's notice. “Yes I am.” he watched as the demon brought down his katana also into a stance ready to fight. “Good.” he said. “Maybe you'll last longer…than the others.” and with a swing of the katanas and the swirl of crystals the fight was on.

hours later y/n would give kokushibo her gift she meant to give him before she attacked in the midst of a bloody massacre. A hand carved comb with little dragons painted onto it to with white crystals. It would the next night when y/n had combined herself with him that he would genly touched the comb hidden away in his kimono as he stared up at the moon.

#platonic yandere #platonic #yandere #yandere kny #yandere kny x reader #yandere demon slayer #yandere uppermoons #yandere uppermoons x reader #yandere kokushibo #yandere kokushibo x reader

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coolcoolcoolbutwtf · 1 month

Text

Now presenting Danny the impy jester and his co henchmen joker junior!

Getting knocked down from the warehouse ceiling rafters and landing painfully face first on the very hard floor was decidedly not something Trixter, formerly known as Danny Fenton had ever wanted to experience again.

Hearing you boss's tiny duplicate kidnapped torture kinda son get thrown into the discarded pile of mattress with a loud "uff" was also something he didn't want to hear but for a entirely different reason. Joker didn't like failure.

Failure hurts. Well, his pre beating by way of concrete floor would probably be enough of a lesson until he got busted from juvi, again.

It's just his luck, the one time they fight at the back of an absolutely packed mattress store warehouse and he gets to land on the one spot on the concrete floor without any mattress or padding whatsoever!

Trixter groaned lifting his head from the floor up while using his right hand to lift his glove checking the time. The watch unlike Danny didn't groan while seeing the time. Didn't either when the feeling of blood slightly dripping to his lips started and definitely did not when his nose furiously started gushing.

Trixter did groan loudly when the realization came thundering back into focus.

Both of them, him and joker junior just lost, both of them failed at keeping Batman busy long enough while joker and Harley set up five streets away.

The boss always gets so mad whenever they fail at keeping the bat busy long enough and getting caught on top of that? He's always so pissed at having his goons busy busting his henchmen out from prison.

Won't be long now before that bat and his annoying sense of justice sends his black and white jester butt back to arkham's juvi for the mentally unstable, again. This would be the first time Junior got caught since joining the official joker 'family'.

Trixter shudders slightly his breathing forming clouds ears suddenly feeling cold from the wind. Wait, full stop, wind, cold wind? It's summer and it can't be that cold now and Mr. Freeze is locked up tight in Arkham since last week's ice sculpture incident so how?

Movement from the mattress pile junior landed in alerted Trixter to swirl his to the left. Missing when the glow from the floor below himself started to stretch into patterns the cold wind now making frost form on the walls and windows. Dark green symbols forming on every wall its green glow growing in intensity.

Batman's dark silhouette landed a few meters away from the pile of mattresses turning his head around alert.

Trixter sneaked his way over to the pile using just the tinyest amount of ghost power for help. Blood was still rapidly dripping from his nose when he started giving junior a rough shake. The tiny joker had apparently passed out when he landed or maybe Batman knocked him out. Whichever it was didn't matter what did matter was junior needing to wake up right now. Batman was distracted if they could just sneak away long enough for the joker and Harley to finish.

A loud ticking sound started to echo. Joker couldn't have set it off here right now could he!?

No that wasn't right. The sound was to clear the ticking sounded from right above them! But it being so close was impossible he would have heard it with his heightened senses and not to mention see it with how close it sounded. Ugh! Where was all this green light coming from! Wasn't it supposed to be a laughing gas bomb in the park? This sounded like a normal bomb timer not one of the joker's laughing ones!

The green glow became blinding Danny Trixter gripped junior Tim shoulder tighter. A muffled cry of a NO was echoed!

Trixter woke up to sand in his face and the burning heat of fire licking his back. The thick smell and feel of smoke hanging heavy and low in the air. Green dyed hair scruffed his chin. Danny sighed letting out a breath of relief he didn't know he was holding. Trixter turned his head confused looking over his shoulder back at a large building. Was it a warehouse on fire?

Where ware they? This Is not, can't be anywhere in Gotham. Sure a building aflame was a common enough site but. There is like sand everywhere, it's not like it's dirty no it's, fudge bread sticks are they in the desert?

Wait a moment. Flaming warehouse in a desert? Oh, oh fuck. That's just their luck, fuck. Trixter has heard enough bragging from the joker to know where they are. Those lights, green glow ugh this is just his fucking luck isn't it?

Danny had a history with "history time travel portals" e.i alternative universe travel.

"Squeak!" Trixter cursed he may have died before but he ain't taking any chances with Batman now. Trixter shock his head the cap and bells on his head cling-klanged loudly. Too loudly it appeared if the Batman pointy eared shaped figure in the short distance away quick motions was anything to go by.

Butter biscuits!

Trixter knew his jester demon thing disguise worked great in case of scaring people or tricking someone into believing he was an actual demon. Better demon than ghost but in this case he didn't think it would matter. Batman hadn't been scared, shocked, spooked or even very surprised

It was rather insulting actually.

An angry Batman could probably beat a half ghost and former Robin electrocute into a mini joker. Danny looked down quickly then up again, mini joker, joker just blew up Batmans Robin, junior currently looks like a mini copy of joker and Trixter a fucked up black and white Harley.

It's not like Trixter could even really explain! He wouldn't even have a chance to try explaining. Unless Batman knew cursed jester squeak's speak both junior and him were in for a world of trouble.

God, should he maybe try and make junior not look so joker-esk? Maybe try and smudge his makeup off? Yes definitely do that and hide the flower, wait just take the hole jacket!

Trixter could definitely hide most of juniors joker looking clothes in his chest cavity! His chest has a portal space in It, one of the reasons why joker even brings him out on heist! Trixter might even have some normal-ish clothes for a change or makeup remover.

"Jason! Jason is that you?" The shape was much more Batman shaped then before was approaching fast but with all the smoke it would be hard, was from the way Batman was calling out. Jason was that the name of the second Robin? Did Batman think Trixter was him? Danny looked back down to where his gloved hands were still smudging juniors makeup. His palm and fingers staind red from lipstick and pink from the white paint mixing. Tim Let out a loud groan.

"Jason!" The smoke was thick Batman couldn't see well but was steadily making his way towards them. Trixter fought himself. He could maybe fly away for a bit with junior but his only way of flying in this form required him to grow wings. He wouldn't be able to take them away without cutting them off. It hurts so bad but if Batman sees them. A twitch from junior made Trixter steal himself.

He.

"Jason?" Trixter looked up alarmed a squeak escaping him how was Batman so close!

#dpxdc #jester #Danny the jester demon #he goes by Trixter now #ghost boy is cursed #Danny is cursed #he can only speak in squeak's and ghost chirps #feral tim drake #joker junior #warehouse #work in progress #Danny hiding as a Trixter demon/ imp #inspired by this old unfinished fanfiction on fanfiction.net where Danny started working with the joker and Harley #unsure about some stuff but I'll try and find it #i accidentally postaded this instead of saving it #smoked Jason #Trixter the jester fic #im working on the second part not finished yet

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starsreminisce · 1 month

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Elain's heart raced as she watched Lucien enter the River House, his figure clad in a jacket strikingly similar to the one she had carefully hidden away. Panic surged through her as their eyes met, but she managed to offer him a cautious nod before he moved on to join Rhys and Feyre.

Feeling overwhelmed by the sight of Lucien in the familiar jacket, Elain quickly excused herself, murmuring something about needing a moment alone. With hurried steps, she retreated to her room, her mind a whirlwind of emotions and memories.

Alone in her room, Elain hurriedly retrieved the box from the back of her closet, relief flooding her when she found the original jacket still neatly folded inside. Clutching it briefly to her chest, she carefully placed it back in its hiding spot.

Descending the stairs, she spotted the new jacket discarded on a nearby chair. Acting on impulse, she snatched it up, holding it close. But as she moved to return it to its place, she realized her scent now lingered on the fabric, sending a wave of panic through her. Hurriedly, she returned to her room, stuffing the jacket into the same box as the first one.

As Elain was about to descend the stairs, she heard Lucien's voice from the main room.

"Where's my jacket?" he inquired, his tone laced with a hint of frustration.

Feyre's voice carried a hint of amusement. "Maybe a faerie stole it."

"Very funny, Feyre," Lucien replied, frustration evident in his tone.

"It's not like you need it," Feyre remarked casually. "You're warm as it is anyway."

Elain gritted her teeth, realizing with a sinking feeling that Feyre's words hinted at a closeness she hadn't anticipated.

"If you see it," Lucien sighed, "please let me know."

"With that magical eye, you really do like losing stuff," Feyre teased.

After Feyre's teasing remark, Elain felt a pang of guilt and embarrassment wash over her. She stood frozen at the top of the stairs, her heart pounding loudly in her chest. The weight of her secret seemed almost suffocating as she battled with the turmoil of her emotions.

Unable to face Lucien and Feyre any longer, she quietly retreated back to her room, seeking solace in the familiarity of her own space. With trembling hands, she reached for the box containing her hidden treasures, seeking some semblance of comfort amidst the chaos of her thoughts.

As her fingers traced over the various items within the box, each one serving as a tangible reminder of her clandestine actions, Elain couldn't help but feel a profound sense of regret. The weight of her secret pressed heavily upon her heart, stirring up a tempest of conflicting emotions within her. She longed for the courage to confront her feelings and lay bare the truth, yet fear held her back, its grip tightening with every passing moment.

"Maybe I should just talk to him," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible amidst the turmoil of her thoughts. With a heavy sigh, she closed the lid of the box, momentarily setting aside the burden of her hidden feelings.

Unbeknownst to her, just beyond her window, the golden rays of daylight cast a warm glow upon Lucien as he stood with a slight smile gracing his lips. His gaze lingered on her silhouette, framed against the soft light filtering through the curtains. Despite the complexity of their situation, a quiet determination shone in his eyes.

"When she's ready," he murmured to himself, the words carrying a sense of patience and understanding. "So will I."

In the tranquility of the day, a delicate balance hung in the air, with untold emotions swirling between them, waiting for the right moment to be acknowledged.

#elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #elucien headcanon

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misc-obeyme · 5 months

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9 Days of Solomon: Day 4 - Ocean

Well this didn't go at all how I expected it to lol. It was going to be all angst, but then it decided to do its own thing. I always just follow where the story leads.

You knew that Solomon was not fond of the ocean, but sometimes you have to do things you don't like in the name of magical research. Or at least, that's what he had said.

The two of you were on a tiny boat out in the darkness of the Devildom ocean and Solomon was using a spell to attempt to find some kind of unusual fish.

You were mostly keeping an eye on the boat itself and trying not shiver in the damp salt air.

Apparently, this fish was in possession of some rare type of scale that was one of the best potion ingredients around. You couldn't buy them because the fish were so elusive, nobody knew where they were at any given time.

But Solomon had been tracking the ways of the fish for a length of time you didn't care to think about and he was sure that there would be a school of them in this part of the ocean on this night.

The more time that passed, though, the more you began to think you'd never find the fish.

At some point, Solomon sighed and dropped the spell. He was standing at the railing, looking down into the black waters. You came to stand beside him.

"Everything okay?" you asked.

Solomon frowned and looked at you. "I was so sure they'd be here, but I can't seem to locate any. All this time out here on the ocean for nothing. I'm sorry, MC."

You smiled. "I don't mind. It was nice just to be out here with you. Why don't you like the ocean, anyway?"

Solomon's eyes returned to the glassy water that rippled its waves against the side of your boat. "The ocean is one world I've never been able to truly discover. It's vast and deep, holding so much just beneath its surface. It reminds me too much of…"

You cocked your head slightly. "Yourself?"

Solomon looked at you with a startled expression before it smoothed into a smile. "It always surprises me how well you know me."

You were about to respond when the entire boat rocked hard, sending both of you stumbling back. Solomon reached out to grab you.

Salt water splashed over the side where the two of you had just been standing, rushing down the deck and soaking your shoes.

And then you saw it - the head of a massive sea serpent that had risen from the water right next to your boat. It was black, its eyes glowing a smoldering deep blue.

Solomon pushed you behind him, his arm wrapped around you protectively even while he stood in front of you. "If only Leviathan was here. You don't suppose this is one of Lotan's relatives, do you?"

You squeezed Solomon's arm. "How can you be so calm? He looks like he wants to eat us!"

Solomon laughed. "I dare him to try."

His tone of voice let you know that Solomon was not calm. Not at all. He was getting ready to defend you, whatever that looked like.

The beast tipped his head over the rail to look at you in a surprisingly gentle gesture. You felt Solomon's arm tense around you.

The sea serpent made a low mewling sound, then opened its great jaws. Certainly you were privy to the sight of many rows of very sharp teeth, but they were almost secondary to the other thing you saw. Cascading out of the beast's mouth was a plethora of sparkling fish. They piled up on the deck, a handful of them still wriggling. Half of them remained in the beast's mouth as he closed it and lifted his head again, watching you both curiously.

You felt Solomon relax.

"Ahaha! He had eaten all the fish! No wonder I couldn't find them." Solomon sounded bemused.

You moved out from behind Solomon and he let you go. You stepped up to the sea serpent and patted his nose. "Hey, thanks. We were looking for those."

The sea serpent trilled at you before descending back into the water, creating waves that rocked the boat slightly as he went.

You turned back to Solomon. "How did he know you wanted some of those fish?"

Solomon was smiling, watching the water where the beast had disappeared. "I'm not sure. Maybe he could feel my spell. It was probably disrupting his dinner."

Later, you would keep a handful of those shiny scales as a memento of that night. Not only to remind you of the kindness of a sea serpent, but as a keepsake of the time you spent with Solomon. A reminder of his depth, his laugh, and how he was always there to protect you.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#9DaysofSolomon #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #obey me solomon #om solomon #solomon obey me #obey me solomon x reader #om solomon x reader #solomon obey me x reader #misc writes

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pepperonidk · 1 year

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Be Here With Me || l.sm

MASTERLIST

Pairing: king!dk x fem!reader Summary: it's been a long day, but it's okay because at seven you will be here with me Warnings: none Word Count: 788

a/n: i had written this about 2 weeks ago now when i was at the height of my shadow and bone phase (prince nikolai enjoyers where yall at?) but literally the day i wanted to post it, i went into mourning so... take this as my slow enterance back into writing. I have requests in my inbox that I promise i'm working on... just slowly. it's been a hard month.

It wasn’t much of a stretch to say you were tired. The kind of tired that feels like it’s been building up for weeks – sneaking up on you like wavelets against the sand, growing and growing until you find yourself sinking under tsunami tides.

Rebuilding a kingdom from ashes of a war was no simple task, even for the most seasoned of veterans. Too many things to do and never enough time. Too many people to please and never enough resources. Each day was a paradox, twenty-four hours dragging like molasses out of the mouth of a glass jar while you run on against the stream. Every rise of the moon was a welcome sight to you, a sign that although tomorrow would be its own battle, for a few hours you could enjoy the pale glow of the moon.

Tonight, however, instead of retreating to your private rooms to enjoy time alone with your lover, you found yourself longing to be outside of the palace walls. You send a courier to deliver a message to the king, a short message of “meet me at the river,” and make your way to the quiet banks of the indigo waters to wait for him. It doesn’t take long for him to find you – it never does – and with the sound of grass breaking, you feel warm arms wrap around you from behind.

You don’t turn around until he calls your name — not the name used by the people to address you but rather the one kept secret for moments like this. “My love,” the dulcet tones of his voice harmonizing with the crickets and the river waters. You can tell he’s smiling as he calls for you, as he always does, and when you turn around it feels like falling into starlight. His disheveled hair after a day of frustrated ticks is ever so ethereal, glowing in the white light of the moon and his dark eyes mirror the broken reflection of light against the water. It happens quicker than instinct that you reach a hand to rest against his cheek and for Seokmin to release a soft puff of air, as if only now can he finally find rest.

“Come sit with me, darling,” you beckon to him and he quickly complies. He gently pries your hand from his cheek, opting instead to hold it in his as he fills the space beside you, close enough to feel your thighs touching and you loop your arm through his to fit yourself to lay in against his shoulder. This is home, you think to yourself.

It isn’t long before the quietness is filled with stories about the day. Although you had spent most of the day in your husband’s company, it was never enough, with only fleeting glances across meeting tables and secret smiles shared in passing. In the daylight, he was Lee Seokmin, the People’s King. But here with you… he was your Seokmin, dearest. Although your relationship was well-known among the people, it was moments like this that you indulged in like a delicious secret between the two of you. Once the silence comes to find its way between the two of you once again, Seokmin turns his head to press a kiss against the crown of your head.

“What’s that for?” you lift your head up to smile at him. He shakes his head bashfully before giving you a soft smile and bringing your entwined hands to his lips.

“I just missed you,” he replies sincerely, his free hand coming up to push a hair back from your face pointlessly as a chilling breeze sweeps it back out of place. You let out a chuckle as Seokmin sighs in exasperation with a pout. However, when he notices the slightest shake of your shoulders in a shiver, he immediately stands and extends his hand out to help you up. “Come? Before the winds turn icy.”

With a laugh, you slip your hand in his, leaning against his shoulder as he tucks your hand into the crook of his elbow. “Is the fearless king afraid of the cold?” You look to see him roll his eyes as he pulls you closer into his side.

“Never,” he replies with a scoff. “But I’d rather like to feel my wife’s skin under my fingers, and I can’t do that when they’re frozen numb.” As if to prove his point, he wiggles his fingers before poking you in the side teasingly.

To his defense, you completely agree. But more than that, it didn’t matter where you were together, so long as you were together. Come storm or high hell, Seokmin was always your resting place as you were his.

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aclowntiny · 5 months

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hi!! I know you said soul exchanges weren't necessary for requests, but I'm more than willing to give mine up for this one because it's a universe I adore

superhero!ateez meeting reader. who or what the reader is? entirely up to you 👀👀👀 (the possibilities are endless omg)

((also plz I've been binging all of your writing because it's just so amazing. the cute stuff just gives me lil butterflies and the fuzzies))

yELLS you’re the sweetest actually 🫶🏻 trying to balance all of my stuff & writing, but hopefully what I have out isn’t the last of the butterflies 🦋 & fuzzies I’ll be giving you 🥰 also this is such a good AU idea??? OMG not me spending forever thinking about their powers 🫣 tried not to just drop them directly into famous heroes’ roles… but Yunho HAD to be spiderman & I will not apologize 😤😝 also, I’d be down to do a part 2 for sure hehe

Warnings: some gun/minor violence/death references, some blood, suggestive comment(s), some pain/peril for Reader, long post lol

Meeting Superhero!Ateez

Hongjoong

Magic was not something to be tarried with. It was not a substance one could bend to their will, it was an art and a fickle one at that.

No one understood that better than a person who wasn’t meant to have it in the first place. He hadn’t been tricked into selling his soul, lost himself in some foolish, evil deal, no. Oh, no.

He’d gone and died.

It had felt just like blacking out when he’d been hit, coming to like the collision was barely beyond a concussion. But the world wasn’t the world when Hongjoong awoke.

There was no sun, no plants, only twisted, dead roots, and the people passing by him little more than glowing wraiths, some looking more human than others. His first reaction was to hold his hands before his eyes, exhaling in relief at the sight of their flesh. Except it felt like his ribcage had shrunk; he was unable to get as much air in or out as usual, every fight for air shallowed.

“What’s happening? Where am I?”

“This is the Underworld,” a low voice replied from behind him, sending him shooting up to his feet and turning to face its owner.

A woman perhaps twice his age, one draped in loose black veils falling around the tight shadowy raiment she wore. Her hair like emerald flame wreathing an expression of dark curiosity, like Hongjoong were a bug she hadn’t decided if she was annoyed by.

He was confused, but not afraid. “Well, I want out. There was so much I was in the middle of out there. I can’t lose it all in some accident. I can barely breathe down here!”

The woman chuckled deeply. “Getting sent back is no simple task. We do not idly accept mistakes.”

“Isn’t there something I can do?” Hongjoong urged, stepping forward and gazing into the woman’s blazing green eyes.

“You will never be fully living again. To return is to become a conduit of the Underworld.”

“Will I be a ghost?”

“No, but your humanity will never fully be restored. Death’s connection is inescapable. A part of you will forever be tied to us. Is this what you wish?”

Hongjoong had a career up there. Friends who weren’t ghosts. A hard drive full of projects. A distinct lack of green flame littering the ground. Music. Fashion. Whatever life he could have. Breath in his lungs. The words escaped his shallow chest so quickly he barely realized he’d spoken them. “Yes, it is.”

The deal was sealed willingly and the Underworld faded away, the final sight in Hongjoong’s eyes those points of green burning into his soul.

Nothing seemed different when breath rushed fully back into his heaving lungs or when he crawled from the wreckage of his car. His feet still hit solid ground as he walked back to his apartment under the night sky.

And the next day when he was yanked into an alley by two dark figures, his heart sure beat. And when they, speaking of him being the one they were sent for, raised knives, surely it was a one-way ticket out of his second life. Maybe he’d be like a cat, get nine…

All of the stress, every endorphin pumped through Hongjoong’s newly-reanimated body, dropped from him like sweat and arced out as green flame.

The cloaked assailants recoiled at the flame, cursed as glowing forms rose from it. Two of them little more than skeletons, one of them much more humanoid. More like the wraiths Hongjoong saw. More like the Emerald Lady herself. He couldn't help recoiling himself, glancing down again at his hands in disbelief. That was of his making?

The duo of skeletons lashed out first, parrying dagger with sword. You sealed the deal, slamming the butt of your polearm down upon the concrete and sending cracks erupting across the charcoal grey. Beneath their staggered feet, a fissure opened up, sending the men plummeting to some unknown doom.

And with that, you turned to Hongjoong, head cocked with interest. "You're going to be hunted from now on."

He took a deep breath, balled his hands into fists. "What did she do to me?"

"Why do you think she let you go so easily? You're the next Crane."

Tempting was it to look away from the burning glow of your eyes, so similar to the ones who bore him half-escape. Hongjoong wasn't the sort to give in, though. "What does that mean?"

"You were never meant to come to the Underworld, even witness it. Whatever your memories tell you, that was no ordinary accident you were in."

Seonghwa

When you first saw him, sparks flew. Literally.

You’d been focused on the mission at hand, hovering above what you hoped was the main jet for infiltration when a burst of the most beautiful glittering energy sparked before you, wavering like the Aurora Borealis at the edges as it struck open the adjacent craft. It was enough to shake you from the crosshairs haze of disabling anything, stealing your gaze over to the sweeping flight of a black-haired man in a dashing caped suit of violet and silver.

Stories of such a man had reached your ears. “You’re the one they call Cosmos, aren’t you?” You called, mirroring the smile that rose to his lips.

He nodded. “And you must be Depth Charge.”

“I will have you know that that was not my first choice,” you replied as you sent a pulse echoing through the jet’s steel, “or my choice at all. It barely makes sense. I go up, not down.”

Cosmos chuckled at that. His eyes sparkled like the stars in his little energy burst trick, giving him an air of innocence despite his trim figure, the way he sailed through the sky in that l roguish suit. Maybe this was going to be a fun fight after all.

He swerved narrowly past a barrage of jet-fire. “Maybe we should talk when we’re not, you know, attempting to prevent the theft of confidential technology?”

"You're no fun," you mock-scoffed, smirking and boosting yourself to the next jet with a pulse of energy.

"And you're not the one getting shot at!" He fired back, blasting more crackling, star-studded energy at the next barrage before ducking below the shrapnel.

"Yeah, yeah, just come back me up, I see our guy," you urged him, crawling to the top of the jet and focusing the waves you felt into a bladelike space.

The hole had just been cut open when Cosmos swooped in next to you. He was somehow taller than you'd pictured once you saw him up close, serious expression completely changing his bearing. You studied his profile for a few seconds before sliding in through your entry hole legs first. Boots hitting hard floor with a wince-inducing jolt up your ankles, you readied another sonic blade and crept closer to the cockpit. Some shuffling at your back told you Cosmos followed close behind.

Two goons rose from their seats at the sight of you, landing a couple of punches to both of you and even managing to knock you over before you sent their inertia right back at them, slamming them against the wall as you held your surely-bruised jaw. For all his spark, Cosmos held his own in hand-to-hand combat. Well, relatively speaking. He ended up knocking his opponent out with a surprising roundhouse kick. You smiled again, giving a shake of your head.

"What?"

"Extra," you chuckled.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he replied, extending an arm to the cockpit door, "would you like to do the honors?"

"Thank you, my good man," you humored him, peeling open the door to meet with a faceful of gun barrels.

"I would stay back if I were you," the head thief remarked. Geez, was the guy reading an old movie script?

"I would stand down, actually, unless you'd like to sail through a hole torn in space," Cosmos told him, standing firm.

Your jaw dropped as you turned to face him. "You can do that?"

He gave you an urgent look.

"Sorry."

"You wouldn't risk letting this device go any more than I would," your enemy sneered, tugging his tie into place.

"I wouldn't have to. That's kind of the thing with being able to manipulate gravity. And yes, I can do that."

With that, he raised a hand and the jet flipped upside down. No, wait, you flipped upside down, drifting into the air against your own volition and flailing fecklessly for a few flaps before firing off a balancing pulse. The case drifted loosely in the air, into the hands of one of the gunners, and then right back out as Cosmos summoned it forth. The men opened fire instantly, bullets drifting slowly into air filling with faint whisps of smoke. Both of you banked hard left to dodge the fire, grunting as you hit the wall hard, but Cosmos stood firm again, offering you his hand. Taking it, you felt yourself hurtling through the air, a familiar sensation as speed returned, then the harsh blasts of wind upon leaving the hull.

"Sorry I stole your target," he told you as he drifted and you blasted away, gazes turning from the final jet's descent.

"Stole it?" You snorted, giving him a smile. "I believe that's called helping me. I'm not exactly in this for the brownie button."

"Oh, yeah, what was it again? For fun, right?"

"Something like that," you agreed.

"By the way, if we're going to be working together, we better know each other's names. Real names. My name is Seonghwa." And there were those stars again, lighting up his dark eyes in a manner far too on the nose for his hero name.

Heart fluttering, you gave him your name.

Yunho

Fortunate. That’s how many people described living in a city with a guardian. Hopeful, like if they were to get into trouble, that very man could, in the most literal sense, swoop in and rescue them. It was like magic how he appeared at the scene of wrongdoings- it only added to the feeling that he could see all that occurred through the hustle and bustle of the proverbial concrete jungle.

For Yunho, it was a lot of pressure. Phrases like the man, the myth, the legend hit a little too close to home. What if he were to let someone down? What if one day the mask got yanked off and all everyone saw was a fresh college graduate semi-desperately searching for a job to apply his major to? He didn’t always feel like a hero, just like a man doing his best to help out.

A man with wishes and dreams like any other. Oftentimes that wish was simply for life to be normal again. Like, he had been granted this amazing opportunity and yet it still fell like a burden across his heart sometimes. Especially when he looked at you.

You were his next door neighbor, the occupant of the apartment adjacent to his. Some days you both would be out on your balconies at the same time just staring out at city lights with your favorite drink in hand and you’d glance across the way and smile at each other. Start a little conversation. What do you think those people across the way are doing? Man, you wouldn’t believe this customer at work today. Whatcha got there, the usual?

It dawned on Yunho sometimes in some poetic delusion that you two took and occupied identical spaces, yet they would be wholly unknown to the other. Made reflections of someone still learned. It made him want to clean his apartment, frankly.

It put things into perspective about his powers, too. One time his spidey sense went off and he told you to step back, only for a bird poo to land exactly where your head would have been. As a jest you’d called him your hero, but the jolt that sent through his heart was anything but funny. Fuel, that’s what it was. Motivation to be the man, the myth, the legend, even in the smallest way.

The sense rang through his body, slid down his spine, mere seconds before the cry for help. Yunho would have recognized that voice anywhere.

As he launched a web out and swung closer to the sound, his heart pounded. It had never been anyone he knew before. It wasn’t supposed to be someone he knew. But it was you. Sailing between buildings, he stuck to the top of the nearest one, gazing down at the man before you and narrowing his eyes at his wild gestures. Without warning, though, he was grabbing you, pinning you to the wall and reaching a hand-

Thwip! A hand that was pinned to his side before it could even reach a weapon, touch you again. Swinging out from his viewpoint corner, Yunho slammed into the creep with his feet, kicking him off of you. In retaliation, he landed a punch with his good hand.

“What is this,” Yunho lowered his voice lest you recognize it as your neighbor’s, “‘I can take you with one hand tied behind my back’?”

Before the man could reply Yunho tied him down again, not wanting to stoop any closer to his level of brutality.

“I think I’ll have a word with the police on you. Heard they were investigating a bunch of abductions. It’s about time they got some practice in.”

Footsteps rang out as you ran to his side. “Spiderman! Thank you! I had no idea if anyone would hear me, but I should have known!”

“Hear you? I could feel you,” he replied, “well, er, that is, I… I have this, you know, danger sense and I-”

“Hey, it’s ok. I get it,” you said, wrapping your arms around him in a quick side hug, “I know you’re nothing like that guy. Your partner’s lucky to have a guy like you.”

“Well,” Yunho’s voice lowered even more as your eyes peered into his masked ones, as if you could see him, “I don’t actually have one. No one’s really into, uh, yeah.”

“Well, then, can I do this?” With two fingers, you motioned near the edge of his mask, sliding up its corner.

Yunho inhaled, eyes widening beneath their white affects. “Sure.”

Your fingers felt cool when they brushed the edges of his skin, staying true to their word as they peeled up the tiniest section of his mask. Leaning in, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. It took everything in Yunho not to giggle then and there.

“Thank you again,” you breathed as you leaned back.

“No problem,” Yunho replied, “need a walk back home?”

You put a hand on your hip. “Since when does Spiderman walk?”

Chuckling, he shrugged. “Thought offering a swing might scare you.”

You smiled. “I’d be down.”

“Alright, then, hold on tight and name the address.”

Yeosang

It was just another day on the streets of Seoul. The day's bustle had taken its toll on the sidewalk, crowding the strip with bodies and voices. All Yeosang wanted was to get out of there. No sooner had that thought occurred, though, was he reflexively granted that wish: one of the multitudinous passersby careened sideways into him, and in his startlement he’d disappeared entirely.

Cursing internally, he searched for witnesses, sighing with relief at the simple alley he’d unthinkingly sent himself to. Premature relief, for as he turned to leave said alley, there you were standing as if frozen in a bend over a trash can, eyes wide as saucers. He felt his own eyes reflexively widen, resisting every impulse to disappear again and leave you just wondering if you’d gone crazy, never to see him again in a city that large.

A smile spread across your face. “That was awesome! Dude, you just teleported!”

“No, I didn’t,” he deadpanned, taking a few steps toward the alley opening.

“Ok, gaslighter.”

Yeosang stopped dead in his tracks, turned to fix an eye upon you again, sighed. “You understand what a big secret you just witnessed?”

Straightening, you shot him a finger gun. “So you did teleport?”

“Yes, I did. I know how this works,” Yeosang answered, “what will it take for you to keep quiet?”

“Are you a superhero?” You asked, skipping over a scattering of alley trash to move to his side.

“I-” Yeosang sighed. Most days he felt more cursed than heroic. Burdened with secrecy and threats to all who stood for differences, deviations of any kind. But a mutation like his? Inherently greater safety than most challengers to Seoul folk. Dodging the proverbial bullet. He’d managed to teleport a woman who jumped off a building and have a conversation with her. Weeks later. She saw him again, said she considered him her hero. Humbling to say the least. After the long pause, he swallowed. “I try.”

“That’s so cool! What you need is a sidekick.”

“I’m not exactly spiderman,” he replied sheepishly.

Your eyes darted briefly away, then back to his. “Home base?”

“I mean, I live somewhere already, but-”

“No, no,” you cut him off, waving a hand, “I mean like a secret hideout where you can conduct your operations and keep your research with your…administrative assistant.”

“Ok,” Yeosang chuckled, “that’s a pretty clever workaround for ‘sidekick’. But you have to realize people like me aren’t exactly caped crusaders. It’s not an organized thing, I don’t have a danger sense, I just…help where I can.”

At that, you nodded, eager expression finally sobering a bit. “I know. I had a friend whose family attacked him over his powers. He barely made it out of there. I don’t even know where he is now. I guess I just want a better face for you guys. Maybe I just want to make a hero.”

Oh. Yeosang was not expecting that. His eyes widened, softened, blinked. “It’s a nice thought, but maybe let’s start small.” A part of him couldn’t believe he was even implying an agreement, but he’d been alone for so long. Alone wanting to believe someday the world would change.

“Like some cameras? A red-string sort of situation on local crime? Bullet dodge training?”

“I, uh, I think I’ve got the last one covered,” Yeosang replied, putting his hands in his pockets and finally shuffling toward the alley horizon, squinting as he crossed the sun’s threshold.

“You’ve been in a shootout?” You gasped, following him with a hand out over your wide eyes.

“Shh,” he hushed you, glancing back and forth at the thankfully empty street, “I told you! I try to help where I can. Even if it means making myself a target. I’m much harder to hit than the usual robbery victim.”

“This is so cool. What’s your name, by the way?”

“Yeosang.”

You gave him your name, glanced back at him from the peripheries of his vision. “They ever give you a nickname?”

“They usually just say I’m like trying to hit a ghost.”

“Ghost,” you murmured, “that could work.”

“Maybe it could,” Yeosang murmured back, smiling faintly into your wide grin, “maybe.”

San

Most of the other workers thought you were too young. You looked more the age of the test subjects, they said, despite you denying any presence of the mutagens. All you wanted was to understand them, just like anybody else. After all, harnessing the genetic component that allowed adaptation that fast had both amazing and terrifying implications for humanity. Implications not lost on the subjects themselves. It was for that reason that you were assigned to the one dubbed safest for beginners.

He was a young man about your age, a man with well-sculpted features and a contagious smile-on the rare occasion you got to see it. It wasn’t a happy life, after all, in a laboratory quarters, even if they did “simulate comfort”. It was a lie and everyone knew it- those were no apartments. They were cells. It was no way to live, and there you were working there and contributing to it.

Well, sort of. “Ok, I know they say no pins in the walls, but I keep hearing how the guy who likes to give himself bear claws has practically scratched the entire things off his room, so seems a bit hypocritical. I got your old Day6 poster,” you told your subject, holding up a few pushpins in one hand and his poster in the other.

“Aren’t you going to get in trouble?” San asked, grin emphasizing his charming dimples.

“If they fire me, they lose the latest honors geneticist, so I don’t think they want to risk it over a poster.”

“Good point,” he conceded, accepting your gift and crossing the room to pin it on the wall nearest his bed one corner at a time.

His motions were careful, calculated- far less erratic than many of the other subjects’. Subjects. You kept using that word. Dehumanizing. Was that the end goal?

“Alright, what do you think?”

San’s voice cut through your thoughts, directing your attention to the band now displayed upon his wall. One small addition and the room had that much more personality. That much more San.

You smiled. “I like it.”

He nodded toward all the guys in the picture. “Who’s your favorite?”

“I dunno,” you mused, pointing, “that one’s pretty handsome.”

“Young K? Oh, everyone tells me I look like him,” San grins.

“No, they don’t!” You tease. “You would’ve just said that about anyone I called handsome!”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, “gotta have some fun before my daily blood sample, huh?”

Smiling sadly, you just nodded, stepping back to take up your syringe tray from where you’d set it on his bookshelf.

Shrill warnings echoed throughout every corner of the alternately dimming and brightening laboratory, lights flashing their own alarm as your feet struck the smooth, institutional stained concrete. There’d been a containment breach, an immediate interruption to your protein synthesis as battle stations rang.

Restrain. That was the order. As if you could do anything against a guy with bear claws or venomous barbs or someone with the agility of a cheetah. That was why your company wanted the source so badly- super soldiers and all that. Always soldiers. Never curing wounds. Never jellyfish immortality. None of the subjects had thought of that one, either, as far as you knew, but then you’d yet to witness anyone using the mutagen’s power.

What could you do? There was a taser in your pocket, a small standard-issue you’d received in case of this very unlikely scenario. Restrain was about the only chance you had, but the thought of running into the breach barely crossed your mind amidst the chaos of scrambling compatriots and banging doors as the mass escape began.

All you could think of was reaching Quarters 314. San’s room. It was insane, it was stupid, it was the absolute irrevocable death of your career there- but then again, so would all the subjects escaping be.

If a bunch of the most powerful mutants you housed were escaping already, you wanted San to have freedom. Every cent you had, you’d bet that he could walk back out onto the streets and never hurt a single soul. That’s why they gave him to you in the first place- he was complacent. Kind.

304. The moment the door entered the haze of your vision, you slammed your key card on the lock sensor pad and tumbled in.

San was hunched near the doorway. “What’s going on, did someone get hurt?”

“They’re escaping. All the strongest ones,” pausing for a heartbeat, you reconsidered your words, thought about how every man and woman in the building had the same skills, “well, all the fighters. Come on.”

His eyes, shining as ever, widened. “Are we evacuating?”

“No,” you shook your head, grabbing his hand, “you’re leaving.”

“I don’t understand.”

“This might be your one chance to get back out there and live. I’ve been coming in here every day for weeks. You don’t deserve to live in a cell. As badly as I wanna know how you work, this isn’t a life for anyone. Do you want out?” You asked, tone firm despite your frantic heart, searching his eyes.

San nodded. “Ok. Thank you. I can get us out.”

You frowned. “Us?”

“If this is all on the cameras you stick everywhere, they won’t be your biggest fans anymore.”

“Good point. Are you going to…” You trailed off, unsure how to broach the subject.

He hummed in response, those soft eyes you’d seen every day hardening like never before and that sharp jaw setting. He squared…braced himself.

“You don’t like doing it, do you?” The question came out of your mouth before it had fully entered your brain, but to your relief he didn’t look annoyed.

“Depends on what it is. You haven’t seen it, have you?”

You shook your head.

“Well, sorry this is your first time,” San said, and with that, his shoulders squared again, his head falling as if struck down.

Subconsciously, you reached out hands at his pained expression, but what could you do? It was all inside him.

At least at first. Soon, the slick fabric of his moisture-wicking regulation top was splitting, bursts of blood spraying as new bone and tissue arose, tendrils that solidified into sharp flesh-toned blades before bursting into feathers. Tears fell from San’s eyes as he shakily rose back to his feet. He’d just grown wings.

And as if all that blood and tissue and the sheer amount of development occurring over mere seconds was little more than a strenuous workout, he wiped his brow with his left hand and extended his right.

“Alright, let’s get out of here.”

Mingi

Sometimes he wondered why he was chosen.

What it was about him that another race from a different planet would think he had what it took to bear and protect one of their greatest treasures? He’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or maybe the right place. The demand had been simple- keep it safe until others arrive for it.

The crash had happened when he was home, a sound so deafening it was like the world was ending. Shaking as he was, Mingi had run outside into the rush of the night wind, out along the smoke trail in the woods to see if whatever catastrophe had had survivors, if victims. And survivors there were- ones a bit odd-looking. Almost human save for the violet hue of their skin, the pointed tips of their ears, the vertical slits of eyelids revealed when the woman’s visor fell from across her eyes. Their skin felt different, too, as Mingi pulled them from beneath crushed metal and fire, firm and with smoothness gently interrupted by texture he could only describe as like small scales.

They didn’t look happy with him, but still accepted his help stumbling between trees and back into his home. They understood bandages, accepted beds. Swore Mingi to secrecy even as they thanked him days later. Be it technology or some uncanny occasion, they could speak to him. They could understand.

The mission they’d set out on was one of guardianship; the relic, something of myth, needed new housing and a new bearer.

“The one worthy will be selected,” the man told him in his deep, faintly accented hiss of a voice.

It was an imposition, sure. But how often did aliens land near one’s property guarding a weapon of legend? Mingi’s whole week had felt like a dream, and until he woke up the least he could do was deepen its lucidity.

“Can I see it?” He asked, peering up earnestly into their snakelike eyes from above the intricately carven and paneled box of steel with the most incredible iridescent shine he’d ever seen. Its contents had to be even more beautiful, right?

They watched, glanced down at the way his hands hovered reverently, stared back into his eyes.

“You are not of deceitful mind,” the woman replied.

“It is not out of depth that he welcomed strangers into his home,” the man shot back.

“No, it was out of kindness,” the woman insisted, waving a hand over the box, “as a reward, you may look upon the Heart of Steel.”

Gingerly, she traced some of the lines that Mingi had barely noticed with the tips of her long fingers, reaching beneath the bottom and holding her hands there until the top of the box simply floated a foot or two above the remainder, held by some microcosm gravity that drew a breath of awe from Mingi. Reflexively his fingers stretched toward the contents of the box, a smooth metal teardrop shape crafted from that same resplendent material.

Heat radiated from its small surface the moment he moved closer, sending him drawing back, but like a magnet it shot after him and into his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said, glancing at both of the beings who still hadn’t offered him names, “I swear I’m not doing this!”

“No,” the woman shook her head, snake-eyes wide, “you are being chosen.”

“And you expect me to believe this why?” You asked him, brow arched.

“Because,” Mingi put up his hands in defense, eyes scanning your form, “I didn’t even want to touch it! Why would I steal this thing I know nothing about?”

“Delskvlln was right. Not a deep thinker,” you commented.

“See? I know him! They ended up telling me their names! His wife was…er…Syssmerlyss? I am so sorry if I’m not pronouncing it correctly.”

“Well, the accent needs work, but I suppose Syssmerlyss was right- you have a certain kindness about you.” You took two steps closer to him, half-tapping, half-pushing him on the shoulder twice in a gesture that probably didn’t fully translate. “Come on, then, we have training to do.”

“Well,” he scratched at the back of his neck sheepishly, “sometimes the suit doesn't cooperate, but I think I’m starting to get pretty good with the gravity swords.”

“It gave you the swords?”

“Heh, uh…yeah?”

Wooyoung

It was hard sometimes, using such abilities for good. Had he so chosen, Jung Wooyoung could have become a world leader, a dictator even. But that thought terrified him. The pressure sounded unbearable. No fun, either, not that former friends hadn’t tried to convince him countless times to use his gifts for that, too. He preferred the traditional methods of seduction, were he to desire employing any at all.

Accessing minds was Wooyoung’s least favorite skill, in fact. Seeing and hearing thoughts was crushing, uncomfortable, an unfair dominance. Bouncing twice as high as a person should be able to with a force field, though? Making things levitate out of people’s hands? Bee’s knees.

He'd been a rogue in the city, just a wanderer who did what he could to help others when he wasn’t working. Flinging the gun out of an armed robber’s hand, blocking bullets with force fields, even fighting back when he had to.

They just didn’t learn. He couldn’t help scoffing a bit and teasing them when they fired at him.

“Now, gentleman, isn’t this a bit insulting?” He’d ask, casually flipping a hand as the bullets ricocheted and buried themselves harmlessly into walls. “And besides, I don’t want to hurt you. I just think this doesn’t belong to you.”

Cue him summoning the stolen money or goods right from their indignant hands and, eventually, back to the rightful owner. After convincing them all to stand still with their hands in the air, of course.

There had just begun whispers of his presence, trepidation at the prospect of an illegal smuggle or a robbery for the first time, a name for him emerging when he faced the first true opposition.

“So, you’re the Vigilante everyone’s talking about, are you?”

“Is that what they call me?” Wooyoung shot back.

“Guess you aren’t in it for the fame,” you snickered, stepping further from the shadows of the doorway, a tube-shaped device Wooyoung didn’t recognize in your hand.

“What do you want with me?” He asked, glancing at it and crossing his arms.

“Ideally, you to get out of the way,” you replied, flicking something on the device and sending it unfolding with large cracks, climbing up your forearm like a mechanical caterpillar and glowing at the tip once your hand was completely enveloped.

“Out of the way of wh-” He didn’t have time to complete his sentence before a bolt of energy arced his way, his instincts barely kicking in in time for him to launch away from it.

Putting up a force field, he stood his ground, staring at you with new interest. “You’re part of the weapons racket, aren’t you?”

“A plus, genius,” you replied, smug satisfaction glinting in your eyes, “the city isn’t going to need you much longer.”

“You’re right,” he said, “because I’m about to kick your ass.”

Another bolt of purple energy came at him, shattering the faint glow of his field. Wooyoung’s jaw dropped, but he quickly righted it as he moved closer. It felt like his whole body clenched as his energy focused on peeling the device off. You winced in pain and jumped back as the gun fired an erratic shot that rained chunks of ceiling down behind Wooyoung’s back, sending a little lightning strike of guilt across his heart, but he kept at it, sending each piece yanked off to your side to fortify the restraints he was making. You struggled, panting and tugging as he worked, kicking aside his work and scrambling toward a panel on the wall. With each button you pressed, Wooyoung slid your feet out from under you, but in the end he heard the dreaded activation beep. The look you turned and shot him was a mix of defiance and resignation that shook him to his core and froze him to the spot. He didn’t even stop you as you ran away, just slid the nearest couple pieces of your contraption towards himself, grabbed them, and made his own flight out before the place blew.

Shielding himself from the heat and sound, he knelt and examined the scraps. Luck was on his side, it seemed; he’d gotten the chunk bearing manufacturer and serial number info. For the first time in his life, Wooyoung wasn’t going to just deflect and run- he was going to chase you down.

Jongho

It was cloudy. It was almost always cloudy. Not exactly ideal conditions for your lot, but what were you going to do? Couldn't exactly bottle sunshine, as they said.

Not that they weren't probably trying. Scientists had gone positively psycho in your city, the hottest trend being harnessing the elements. Success rate? You, at least. It wasn't supposed to be you. Maybe not anyone, for that matter, but the spores ended up in your body regardless. You'd heard that they were supposed to be used or they'd take over, but the call to do so was strong regardless.

Trees planted on the sidewalk suddenly bloomed and flourished. Green sprouted in odd hosts within the concrete jungle. Flowers out of sidewalks and the like. Anything to combat what the rest of humanity was doing, right?

That was all it had been until someone saw you. An older man, betrayingly grandfatherly, began a mild conversation that quickly deepened, progressed to him requesting your help in an investigation on the very place that exposed you to their research.

"Why me? I barely spent any time there. I wasn't the test subject, it was an accident!" Never had you realized you were afraid to return until it was asked of you. The infection was hell until it stuck, pain all over your body like you'd never known, violent reactions as your body writhed and tried again and again to reject the foreign invasion.

Then poof, there you were as the city's chlorophyll ninja.

"Because you have been inside. You've visited once, why not again? They'll never suspect a thing, and if they do, you're armed with something much greater than what I got."

"Oh," you raised a brow, "so this is personal?"

"It's beyond that," the main replied quickly, gaze darting from yours, "but yes. I'm getting older. This sort of mission is getting more difficult. But more than anything they would recognize me in a heartbeat, and I didn't exactly quit on good terms."

"I'm not in this fight. I didn't ask for any of this," you repeated, "and now you want me to go in there blind and alone? Maybe I don't want to be your recon pawn."

The old man waved a hand, the one that wasn't gloved. "You wouldn't be alone, poor dear. You think you're the only escaped lab rat? I used to think I was." Grabbing the hem of his pant leg, he pulled it up to reveal a very elaborate cybernetic prosthesis. "Both are different. But no, I've kept tabs on the place for a long time. Found another much like you."

With that, he motioned to the doorway with his free hand. Guess you could figure out why the other was covered. As your gaze traced the man's one organic limb, your eyes fell to the doorway, where a young man about your age stepped out.

His appearance was pretty innocuous. His hair was short and dark, his expression stony but his features kind. His broad shoulders were draped with a long coat that swayed near the base of his boots, and beneath that he wore a dark turtleneck and jeans.

"How do you do, Neo?" You quipped as your eyes scanned his form.

To your great surprise, that 'mission go' look on his face melted rapidly into a wide grin, a chuckle. Guy had a nice smile.

"It's Jongho. That was good, though." He nodded down toward you. "Was the green intentional?"

You yourself glanced down at your outfit, and you'd be darned. You were wearing green. Apparently this Jongho fellow knew more about you than you did of him. You were surprised he didn't comment on the potted plant necklace you'd gotten from Etsy- the one you'd nicknamed 'ammo'.

"No, but I guess fate has a sense of humor. Do you have beef with FTR Labs too?"

Jongho nodded. "They have my brother."

At that, your heart dropped. Just by the man's tone of voice you could tell he was trying to be brave, but he didn't want to go back to FTR any more than you did. Want, no. Need? Yes. Maybe the old man was right- maybe they were taking their experiments too far. You hadn't even seen what they'd done to Jongho yet. If it had been a fight for his body, too, let alone his brother's.

"Alright," you nodded, shoving your hands in your pockets, "I'll go with you. Do you have a plan?"

"Of course. My main goal is to disrupt their comms first."

"Classic. How do you propose we do that?"

"I figured a little lightning would do the trick."

"Excuse me?"

Wordlessly, Jongho stared at you, his eyes almost glazing over as gusts of wind rolled through the room and clouds drifted over his head, spattering his black-clad shoulders with tiny droplets of rain. Electricity arced between two of the clouds, light flashing like tiny, branched white roots as it traveled down his cheek, through his arm and into his hand as if illuminating his very veins. Harnessing the elements.

Nothing could have stopped your jaw from dropping, but as you righted yourself, you couldn't help smiling with a strange rush of anticipation. "Hey, if you're the one that's been keeping it so cloudy these days, can you at least rain a little on my friends?" And with that, you let ammo grow out, engulfing your upper body with the comforting hug of leafy vines.

"Kids," the old man shook his head, "always showing off."

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sheeple · 6 months

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Miracles don't exist | 26: Heavy heart, truthful words

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): Non sexy choking [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]

"What has you so anxious?"

You snap up from the book you're reading, your back resting against a tree in a courtyard. Hermione looks at you with raised eyebrows, as she points towards your bouncing feet.

"It's nothing", you dismiss as you tuck your feet under yourself. "Too much sugar at breakfast."

The Gryffindor girl gives you a look, one you choose to ignore in favour of re-reading the same page for the nth time. You can't focus on the words. Your body is jittery with anticipation.

Your foot doesn't stop twitching until you spot an owl flying in your direction. Sitting up straight, you take the letter from the owl's claws and thank the animal with a scratch on its head.

Unfolding the letter, you read the simple message in the familiar handwriting.

Classroom 24C 14:00

You check your watch. You've got ten minutes.

With a quick snap of your book, you're on your feet. "I have to go. See you at dinner." You send a hastened smile before you practically run towards the classroom.

You try to catch your breath once you enter and lock the door of said classroom. The fireplace is lit, emitting a soft glow around the room. Your eyes survey the classroom, in search of someone. But it's empty.

Suddenly, the flames turn a poisonous green and it makes you turn your head. You wait for a moment to see if someone's coming through. But as the flames stay calm it's clear it's you who has to enter through.

Closing your eyes, you step into the fireplace with a big inhale of air. You get pulled and squished from all sides until you come to an abrupt stop and roll out of the other fireplace. You huff and quickly jump on your feet, dusting your robes off.

You stand in the tea room of Grimmault Place. Sirius's not far removed from the fireplace, anxiously pacing back and forth with his hands on his hips. Remus Lupin sits on one of the sofas, a woman with bright pink hair next to him. Nymphadora Tonks

As soon as Sirius notices your arrival, he's on you in a second. He holds you at arms-length as he turns you around to all sides, checking up on you. "Are you alright? What's happened? You're not hurt, are you? You don't look hurt."

To be fair, you've sent a pretty cryptic letter. I need to talk to you, was the only thing you wrote.

His worry about you brings a warm but unfamiliar feeling to your belly. You lay a hand on one of his, giving him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, I'm fine. It's not me that's it about."

You hesitate for a moment. Are you really doing this? If this reaches the Dark Lord it would mean your death, heir or not.

With slow movements, you take off your school robes so you're only in your blouse and skirt. You also take your wand out of your robe pockets and place it on the table where the three Order members can see it. "For my safety", you explain as they look at you weirdly.

Clasping your hands together, you take a deep breath. "Draco Malfoy has been ordered by the Dark Lord to kill Dumbledore. As punishment for his father's failed attempt to get the prophecy." You cut straight to the chase, seeing no need to mince your words.

Remus blinks rapidly, processing your words. "How... how do you know this information?"

"Because... I was there... when he branded Draco with the Dark Mark and gave him his mission." Tears well in your eyes, the agony in your cousin's eyes flashing through your mind.

The mood is tense between the four of you. You basically confessed to having seen Voldemort in real life. In close proximity.

"Why should we believe you? For all we know you could just fabricate this story to get attention." Remus raises from the couch, towering over you. You take a cautious step back as you swallow.

Sirius is quick to jump in your defence. "Now Moony, just slow down okay? Don't accuse her of something as it could be true."

"Draco cursed Katie Bell. He... he hexed her or something so she would take the package with the cursed necklace. To Dumbledore. There is also a Vanishing Cabinet in Hogwarts! I do not know where the other one is."

"Arthur Weasley was tipped off by Harry that there was a Vanishing Cabinet in Bourgin and Burke's. Maybe it's paired with the one in Hogwarts", Tonks intercepts Remus calmly, looking at you before back to Remus.

"Harry?"

Sirius hums. "He's been suspicious of Draco for a while now. But I wonder; is You Know Who so desperate to kill Dumbledore that he initiates a sixteen-year-old?"

You scoff humourlessly as you run a hand over your face. "Believe me, he also makes them take the Mark way younger."

Everybody stills and you know you've said too much. Sirius and you look at each other in shock. He slowly takes steps towards you until he's right in front of you. "What do you mean?"

Your bottom lip wobbles, tears threatening to spill out. You shake your head scared. He keeps staring at you until you break. "I didn't want to. He expected it of me and gave me no choice", your voice is unsteady as a single tear rolls over your cheek. "Don't hurt me, please." Your plea comes out in a whisper.

Sirius reaches out slowly to your left arm, pulling up your sleeve to reveal the bandages you have been wearing for almost two years now. You shake your head shakely, silently begging him to not do it.

"Please don't, Sirius."

But he ignores you. He untwists the bandages from your arm until it falls on the ground, the Dark Mark visible for everyone to see.

In an instant, Remus is upon you. He wraps a hand around your throat and points his wand in your face, the tip pressing into your cheek. "Did you tip someone off? Hmm? Does someone know you are here?"

Whimpers escape your restricted throat, tears now freely flowing over your cheeks. "No! No! I promise! Nobody knows! Please!"

Remus growls. He actually growls. He presses his wand deeper into your cheek and restricts your airflow even more.

"Let her go, Remus!" Tonks intercepts, pointing her own wand at the ex-teacher. "She's a child. She couldn't have stopped it even if she wanted to."

Remus' hand disappears from your throat and you slide down, coughing wildly and gasping for air. You hug your knees, sobbing. "I didn't want to. I didn't want to hurt the muggle. And he killed him. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." You rock back and forth, the horrible memories flooding back to you.

You feel arms circle around you and you look up. Tonks gives you a slight smile before pulling you up on your feet and helping you to one of the couches.

Sirius appears before you with a glass of water and your wand in his hand. He holds both out to you. You hesitate for a moment, but only take the glass with water.

"When did it happen?" He drops to eye level, his eyes showing only concern.

You swallow a gulp of water, your face contorting painfully. "Summer break before fifth year." Your voice is raspy.

"Do you know why he chose you?"

The answer lies like lead on your tongue. You're unable to move your lips. To give him a concrete answer. "Because... because I am the Heir of Slytherin."

You wait for it to sink in, your eyes trained on the ground, tracing the shapes of the Persian rug.

Sirius starts to sputter out half sentences. Tonks pulls a weird face. "So that means You Know Who and my aunt..? Ugh. Gross."

Her comment makes you scoff in humour. "He was good-looking when he was younger." You also pull a face as you realise you called your father hot. "Ugh indeed."

"No. No joking. This is not a joking matter! Who knows? Does Dumbledore know?" Remus butts in irritated.

You nod. "Yes, he knows. I told him in my second year. Only my family and the Death Eaters that have been around Malfoy Manor know if the Dark Lord being... my father. And Theodore Nott."

"Is he also one?"

You wildly shake your head. "No. And I never want him to be one. If I can, I'll try to prevent him. I don't want to curse him with this too..."

Glancing towards Sirius, you say, "Harry does not know. And I do not want him to know. Please don't tell him."

Sirius takes your hand, squeezing it. "This is your secret to tell, not mine."

You linger around Grimmault Place until you're calmed down. Sirius has given you some Wiggenweld to help you with your throat and you can barely feel it now.

As you stand before the fireplace, robes back on you and wand in your hand, you turn to Sirius. He lays his hands on your shoulders before giving you a bear hug. "You protected me and now I'll do everything in my power to protect you. I promise you."

You smile and give him one last squeeze. Tonks also hugs you, but it's more curt. "Next time we'll meet it should be to get to know each other, cousin." You give her a shy nod. Remus stands in the back and looks at you, not saying anything.

"I don't know when I'll be able to send any more letters, but I hope to see you soon." And with that, you disappear in the green flames and go back to Hogwarts.

Your heart is heavy but you're so glad that you finally told Sirius.

Taglist (bold means I couldn’t tag you): @the0doreslover @lqndkxlmqma @st4rrry @choppedpartymuffinwinner @ledtassoo @literallyobessed @lestat-whore @vanishingcherry @harrysnovia @pietrobae @ireallywannasleep127 @yeolsbubbles @fruityfrog505 @fluffybunnyu @theroyalmanatee @shinrjj @hegdus @kermits-bitch @m1kasawps @noah-uhhh-what @mypolicemanharryyy @fals3-g0d @decapitated-coffee @thatgirljas13 @slytherinambitious @mythicalamphitrite @mastermindmiko @timmytime17 @regsg18 @supernatural-lover

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byeol-ssi · 2 years

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hi byeol!! your “sharing a bed” trope with diluc, ayato, and scaramouche was amazing!! i love those characters and that trope so much. i was wondering if you could do a part 2 of that but with venti, zhongli, and aether. tysm!! :D

underneath twilight ♡ part two

✦ aether. venti. zhongli. x gn!reader | part one.

✦ tags: sharing a bed (completely SFW) + various tropes.

aether *. ⋆ through thick and thin companions

as dusk fell, the blue haze of day lifted to unveil the stars and brought about a silence that only the crackle of the campfire could be heard. AETHER sat close by on a mossy log, savoring the radiating warmth, holding his palms toward it.

you, on the other hand, burrowed deeper into the sleeping bag as the frigid wind picked up, threatening to vanquish your sole source of heat.

aether's eyes turn to you. "it's pretty cold," he comments.

you laugh softly, nodding at his astute observation. "yes, it is." the bedroll underneath you did nothing to prevent the chill from seeping up from the earth, and the thin blanket likewise proved futile in fighting back the iciness in the air.

the smoke twirling skyward barely obscures the concern that etches itself on aether's features, but you still get a good glimpse of it.

he dusts himself off when he stands, before gesturing toward you to scoot over. you comply — albeit hesitatingly, given how your eyebrows crease in confusion — by providing him ample space to squeeze himself in with you inside the sleeping bag.

"aether?" you startle when his arm snakes around your waist and pulls you gently, so delicately, into his arms.

"sharing body heat is an essential survival tip," he explains. his breath falls on the shell of your ear, sending a jolt of electricity along the back of your spine.

you bite your lip, choosing to wisely stay silent. survival, right. being travel companions meant that you both relied on one another for plenty of things.

this was nothing different. and this would change nothing.

at least, that's what you tell yourself while your limbs grow laxer with every passing second and eventually drift off into a pleasant dream — one of hearth-glow-golds and fields of windwheel asters.

and as aether held you snugly against him, your body felt like a warm, soft star. and similar to how stars are forever present in the sky, whether day or night, your constant presence has made his travels bearable.

because of you, peace is a tangible place where he can go. your eyes, the sound of your voice, and your warmth restore him whenever he grows weary.

so tonight, he'll hold you and rest, knowing that he'll require the strength to keep you safe, keep you happy, and most importantly, keep you by his side until he reaches the end of his journey.

venti *. ⋆ forbidden love

you're seconds away from retiring to bed when dull, muted taps echo throughout your room, causing you to pause.

you whip around, time stopping like the breath in your chest. a glance outside your glass panes should have only shown blackness, but in its place is VENTI, holding onto the ledge.

a wave of fondness fills you, quickly overshadowed by panic. yanking your window open, venti topples over you in a fit of hushed giggles.

"what are you doing here?!" you whisper-shouted in disbelief. his cheeks were flushed red, and you're uncertain if it was from drinking alcohol, the evening air, or from the sight of you.

your heart secretly yearned for the latter.

"i wanted to come and pay you a visit. i haven't seen you in a while," he sits up, disentangling himself from the mess of limbs he'd fallen into.

"what if someone had caught you?"

"precisely why i didn't choose to waltz through the front door," he winks, sounding awfully proud of himself. "and don't worry, i'll only stay for a few minutes."

you fall silent, bitterness rising inside you at the irony of it all. you weren't being fair, and he'd never hated you for it.

you recall the pain in his eyes when you'd been too terrified to respond to his unspoken confession before — the brokenness he'd replaced with an easygoing grin — due to your fear of being looked down upon by people. and yet ...

"why don't you stay the night here?" you impulsively suggest, your emotions prevailing over your reason.

for perhaps it might've been because of nightfall. when twilight settles and all a being wants, whether they are divine or mortal, is a place for their heart to feel at ease.

and that doesn't necessarily mean a place where one rests their head. maybe it can mean someone's arms, or their mere presence, too.

even if the world deems it unacceptable.

venti flounces to your bed, immediately taking you up on your offer and tugging you with him. you don't resist — you're never able to — even when the tiniest shred of logic still intact in your brain reminds you that sharing a bed with an archon was wildly inappropriate.

your bed was never meant for two, but lying beside him, having him so near, felt right.

he always felt right.

even if people would call it wrong.

his arms tighten around you as if he could sense the million thoughts running in your head. he pulls back to look at you, and another smile tugs at his lips.

"you always seem to be smiling," you remark softly. despite the ache you've inflicted upon him because you weren't ready to love, he's proven countless times that he was ready to hurt.

"i can't help it." brushing the hair out of your face with a gentleness equal to his voice, he stares right into your eyes when he confesses, "it's hard to look at you and not smile."

and in the stillness that follows after, you realize that although choosing to love venti would probably cause the whole world to judge you, you knew that staying in love with him would set you free.

so you fall asleep with revitalized courage and music in your soul, drenched in the melody of the promise of freedom he offered. a freedom you'll finally fight for alongside him when daylight arrives.

even if the universe makes it appear impossible.

zhongli *. ⋆ business partners / contractual "relationship"

with your bags emptied and put away, you sent a sideways glance to the man who'd just entered. neither of you had anticipated the awful storm that interrupted your line of tasks, leaving you both with no choice but to seek shelter.

that shelter being a modest inn, with only one room available. moonlight bathed it in silver, illuminating the double bed — like it was mockingly emphasizing your present circumstances. aside from the tall closet and two rickety-looking chairs, the space was otherwise bare.

but when ZHONGLI closes the door behind him, you couldn't help but feel as if the entire room had become uncomfortably smaller.

"are you truly alright with this arrangement?" he asks you, securing the shutters from the unforgiving uproar of rain. "i simply did not want you to catch a cold."

"yes, i am," you answer, unsure if it was him you were reassuring or yourself.

"i don't mind sleeping on the floor if it will help you feel safer," he offers for the third time that night. not that it eases the anxiety bubbling in your gut. far from it, actually.

anxiety brought about by purely different reasons from what zhongli was probably assuming. reasons that involved your long-buried fondness for him.

"i'm not worried," you lied again, sitting down on the bed as a clap of thunder shook the inn.

"are you certain?"

you let out a shaky exhale to steady yourself. "yes! we're both adults, we've worked alongside one another for a long time, and ... i trust you."

that much was true.

still, despite the fact that you'd completed several transactions together over the years, you were heading into uncharted territory that fell outside your contract — waters you'd never even considered dipping your toes into.

you nestled into bed first, and zhongli rounds out to the other side. silence crowded the space between you, and in the darkness that engulfed you both, you held your breath.

listening. to the rustling of sheets, to the pounding of your heart, and to another rumble of thunder that reverberates throughout the sky, causing you to shudder.

then, in that same darkness, zhongli's hand reaches out to hold yours. intertwines your fingers with his. rests it atop his chest, right above his own heart.

"i will protect you," he promised, so quietly, that the rain lashing the window nearly drowned out his words. "get some rest."

the contact of his impossibly warm skin had you drowning instead, so much, that you don't notice yourself moving closer to him. zhongli subtly shifts and closes the distance too, though intentionally.

after a long while, when he's certain you've fallen asleep, he releases your hand to cup your cheek, and unconsciously, you lean your face into his palm.

his eyes sweep across your face, details he's long memorized from across tables with documents in between, but now they're much closer. in his hands.

still, that was all he allowed himself.

not until he could propose a different contract with you altogether — one that could allow him to call you exclusively his.

✦ byeol’s notes: thank you for your kind words, and for making a request, nonnie! i hope zhongli's part was okay, since i don't have him. still, please stay safe, happy, and healthy! ♡

✦ reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! thank you so, SO much!

#genshin impact #genshin drabbles #genshin impact aether #aether x reader #aether x you #genshin impact venti #venti x you #venti x reader #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact fluff #genshin x you #✦ commissions.

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son1c · 1 year

Text

this part brought to u by defunctland

falling stars fic masterpost

Shadow didn't know how to feel about being compared to a dead guy. Especially when that dead guy was being remembered as a hero. "No one is mourning me," Shadow said. "I'm not dead."

"I know that," Sonic said. "And you know that. But what about everyone else?"

Shadow stared up at the bulletin board, at the blurry face of the hero. A strange feeling was curling in his gut. "We weren't born in that crater," he said. "Something led us there. Who we were before… what we left behind… it remains to be seen."

The feeling wasn't good, Shadow realized suddenly. It tasted bitter on his tongue. Melancholic.

Sonic looked over at him and frowned. The dark expression on Shadow's face made him reach out and set his hand on his shoulder. "Don't get too hung up on it," Sonic told him. "I'm with you 'til we figure it out."

Finally, Shadow turned away from the bulletin board. Its glow cast half of his face in darkness. "You don't seem all that concerned," Shadow observed.

"Should I be?" Sonic asked. He offered Shadow a small shrug. "Personally, I think my plate's already full."

It's not that the motobug's assistance had caused Shadow to forget about Sonic's broken leg. He remembered it. He just hadn't realized how much it was still bothering him. The injury took away a lot of the blue hedgehog's freedom--if Shadow was in his position, he would probably feel similarly occupied by its existence.

"I understand," Shadow said. Then, he paused. He thought about how Sonic had been looking out for him, even with his broken leg. Kicking G.U.N. soldiers in the face and sacrificing his own sleep just to make sure nothing could get to them in the dead of night. The pain he had endured for their sake was a testament to his willpower, and it hadn't gone unnoticed by Shadow.

In that moment, Shadow's expression lost its darker edge. "I will support you, as well," he said.

Sonic smiled. It was small, but sincere. And it quickly grew into a three-thousand watt grin when he clapped Shadow on the back, saying, "Alright! How 'bout we swing by the park next? That's where one of those 'extra events' was supposed to be, anyway."

Shadow was about to respond, but was stopped prematurely by the bulletin board behind him suddenly flashing red. He turned back around to face it, and saw that the hero's face had disappeared, only to be replaced by a warning message.

There were signs of an infestation at the festival. All celebrations would be put on hold until the invaders could be exterminated.

The message was posted by G.U.N.

"Forget pest control," Sonic said, sounding irritated, "someone brought feds to the festival!"

Shadow caught sight of someone behind Sonic. The dark shape shifted, half-concealed by a parked car on the other side of the street. Then, the moonlight glinted off the tip of something metallic, and Shadow quickly grabbed Sonic's arm. He was going to pull him off the motobug and to the ground, but there wasn't time, he could already hear the barrel of what must have been a gun going off, and see the silver streak of a bullet tearing towards them.

They needed to move. They needed to be somewhere else, somewhere like--

The air crackled. Instantly, the two hedgehogs and their motobug companion vanished. The shot struck the bulletin board they had been standing in front of less than a second later, shattering the glass and sending volts of electricity coursing through the damaged screen. It promptly short circuited and flickered out, going dark.

Then, Shadow, Sonic, and the motobug reappeared in a flash of light at the park.

Shadow blinked. Sonic blinked. Even the motobug's eyes briefly pulsed, the surge of energy from Shadow's teleportation stunt running through it like a charge.

Shadow let go of Sonic's arm, his hand shaking slightly. The sudden output of Chaos Energy threatened to overwhelm him, but he forced down the bile rising in his throat, because he knew that they weren't safe yet. They had to run. Run away from the gunman, and the situation that was so horribly familiar to him.

The grim sense of deja vu held his heart in a vice, and the echoes in his mind grew louder, and louder, and louder. The jaunty music from the festival sounded like an alarm, ringing in his ears.

What he had said earlier was true; he wasn't dead. He wasn't dead, but… someone was. He just didn't know who.

Sonic's voice cut through Shadow's thoughts. "Party's over, Stripes," he said urgently. "It's time to go!"

The motobug beeped in agreement.

Shadow struggled to focus on them. He could hear the sounds of boots on pavement in the not-so-far-off distance. His eyes scanned the park, looking for a way out. All of the festival goers had disappeared, leaving only the decorations to fill the space in between the fountains and trees. That was when he saw it--the wooden stars adorning the entrance to the queue for a roller coaster on the other side of the park.

The roller roaster stretched far beyond the park, its tracks reaching up into the clouds and winding through the many skyscrapers of Starlight City.

Wordlessly, Shadow grabbed Sonic's arm again. Crossing the park would be too dangerous with gunmen crawling around like roaches, their bullets so much faster than them. He had to call upon that strange power again. He thought about the roller coaster cars. He thought about their glittery yellow paint, their wide leather seats.

And then he was there.

The motobug's eyes pulsed again, its circuits briefly filled with Chaos Energy, its artificial brain jarred.

Sonic handled the sudden shift in his surroundings a little better. He slid off the motobug's back and onto the seat of the roller coaster car. Then, he grabbed a purse that someone had dropped in their rush to heed G.U.N.'s warning and threw it at the control panel near the coaster's loading dock. It hit the big green button in the middle, and the roller coaster lurched to life.

When the coaster began to climb the lift hill, Sonic held the motobug in place on the floor of the car with his good leg. Then, he turned his attention towards Shadow. The dark hedgehog was still clutching his arm, and it was clear from the way he clenched his jaw--so tightly it was a wonder his teeth didn't crack--that something more than just the threat of being shot at was going through his mind right now.

"Phew! That was some light show," Sonic said. He was talking fast. "It sure came in handy. Hey--you got us out of there, y'know? Take a breath, man. It's no good if you start turnin' blue on me."

The higher the coaster climbed, the more distant the noise from the festival became. It wasn't long before Shadow couldn't hear the music or the boots or the alarms at all anymore. He could only hear Sonic's voice. Slowly, he loosened his grip around the blue hedgehog's arm. He took a breath.

"Apologies," Shadow said quietly. "I suppose not all memories will be pleasant."

Sonic was curious. "You remembered something?"

Shadow curled his hands around the car's guard rail. "I remembered... being afraid."

The nose of the roller coaster dipped down over the top of the lift hill. Gravity quickly took over, pulling the cars towards the ground, rocketing the coaster over the tracks at top speed. The ride continued through the city for awhile, spinning around tall buildings and staying mercifully far away from the ground, where the two hedgehogs could see the tiny figures of soldiers combing the streets.

Shadow looked back over his shoulder at Sonic. He was still ignoring rider safety by standing up in the car. "Once the coaster reaches its highest point, it will begin its descent back to the station. We will need to make our exit then."

"You mean, jump?" Sonic asked, acutely aware of how terribly his last fall had ended up for him. He masked his nerves with enthusiasm. "I'm game. Let's give these military guys the slip for good!"

Unfortunately, G.U.N. chose that moment to cut the power. One by one, the lights on the ground went dark, until the entire city was pitch black. The lack of power caused the roller coaster's emergency brakes to activate, and the cars shuddered to a stop after a few blasts from the compressed air.

The motobug's glowing eyes stood out in the dark. But they weren't blue anymore--now, they were flashing red.

Sonic lifted the motobug onto the hood of the roller coaster car. Then, he climbed up onto its back and turned to Shadow. "Change of plans," he said, "we're ditching these guys the old fashioned way--on foot!"

Shadow and the motobug hopped down onto the tracks with Sonic in tow. The edge of the city was within sight, the highest point of the tracks just two swells and a curve around an office building away.

They started towards it immediately, mindful of the tracks' smooth metal surface. Sonic grabbed the motobug's antennas and bent forward like he was riding a motorcycle, leaning left and right as the motobug turned with the path of the tracks so he could keep his extra weight from throwing it off balance.

After clearing the two swells, Shadow faltered. Harnessing the power of Chaos Energy two times in a row was messing with his head, making it hard to see straight. He missed the centering of his next step by an inch, and his foot slipped on the smooth track. It looked like he was going to tumble off and fall to the ground far below.

That was, until Sonic snatched him, and pulled him onto the back of the motobug with him. "No time to pump the brakes," Sonic told him. "Just hold on tight! We'll make it!"

Shadow wrapped his arms around Sonic's waist and gritted his teeth against the pain building behind his eyes. He had to keep it together until they were out of the city. He couldn't let his body shut down on him like last time.

When the motobug began to ascend the final hill, the tracks started to rumble. Then, a spotlight suddenly flared to life on the ground, illuminating the sky before the soldiers manning it turned it towards the two hedgehogs and their robot companion. It shined in Sonic and Shadow's eyes, forcing them to squint against the bright white light.

Behind them, G.U.N. soldiers were in pursuit on the tracks. They were closing in.

But they were too slow. Sonic, Shadow, and the motobug had finally reached the very top of the track at the edge of the city. Shadow took a deep breath, preparing to warp them all to the ground, as far away from the city as he could, despite the toll it would inevitably take on him.

"DISTRESS SIGNAL LOCATED. SOURCE: PUNY FODDER MODEL."

A large black and red robot dropped down onto the tracks next to Sonic and Shadow. Its weight made the supports creak.

With its shiny red eyes, the large robot looked down at the two hedgehogs. It stared intently at Shadow.

"LOCAL CHAOS ANOMALY ALSO LOCATED," the robot said, its mechanical voice booming. "NEW OBJECTIVE: DEFEND TINY MEATBAGS FROM IMMINENT THREAT. WITH FIRE."

#falling stars au #>:D

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