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heartateasee · 21 days

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“Lucky’s”

bar regular!harry x you

Word Count: 8.4k

Warnings: mentions of cheating, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, protected sex, sex in the back of a car (sex in public), slight size kink

Plot: After a terrible breakup with your now ex-boyfriend, you’d taken up the position of a bar regular at Lucky’s. You’ve become acquainted with another one of the regulars there, Harry, and the two of you hit it off quite nicely. One night when you have an unexpected run in with your ex at your new favorite bar, Harry steps in, and it changes everything.

(Per usual, big thanks to my bestie @finelinenina for sharing some of her inspiration for this one with me and giving me the title. 🤭)

🍻•🍻•🍻

Your chest heaved as you raced down the sidewalk, tossing your keys into your purse with one hand while looking down at your phone that was in the other.

You felt your shoulder collide with someone, and your body jolted, but you were quick to turn around and apologize. “Sorry! I’m so sorry!”

The clock read fifteen minutes past six, and you were supposed to be meeting up with Harry at Lucky’s at six. It was Friday, and unfortunately you got caught up at work. Of course you had a client who showed up five minutes before closing who wanted to pick up their large materials order, and that set you behind almost thirty minutes.

Lucky’s had become your go to spot after you were forced to find your own apartment due to the awful break-up you had with your ex. He had cheated on you. Admitted to a whole affair right behind your back, and the best part?

He cheated with your best friend.

You frequented Lucky’s almost every day for two weeks before you finally met Harry, but you knew the bartenders knew him as soon as he walked in. Your eyes wandered over the stranger as he leaned his inked forearms against the bar, adorned in a pair of light blue ripped jeans and a vintage white Beastie Boys tee - white and light blue checkerboard Vans on his feet.

The new people you had become accustomed to behind the bar asked him how his trip was, and you couldn’t help but to eavesdrop. He had just finished up a trip to Japan, apparently having been gone for a month, and you watched as he handed souvenirs over to the bartenders.

That night, Harry had parked himself down on a stool a couple down from your own as you drank your third Casamigos Añejo - neat. You stared at the caramel colored liquor in your glass, and you weren’t sure how long you had zoned out before you heard him clearing this throat next to you.

“Haven’t seen you before. Are you new to the area?” He had asked as he took a sip from his own glass.

“Not new to the city, but new to this particular area, yes,” you answered, chugging down the rest of your drink.

It was silent between the two of you before you noticed he moved to sit with only one stool between the two of you now. “I’m Harry.”

You stared at his outstretched hand for a moment before meeting his eyes. It was then you really took him in for the first time. His heart-shaped lips with a mustache shaping over the top one, a defined jawline and cheekbones as well as kind, evergreen eyes.

“Y/N,” you responded as you placed your hand in his own, giving it a shake.

From there he ordered you another drink, and although you didn’t open up to him completely about your previous relationship that night, you opened up enough for him to know the toll it had taken on you without you really even saying it.

That’s not to say that he didn’t know the full situation now.

Ever since that night, you and Harry had only grown closer, however, the friendship was confined between the walls of Lucky’s only. You didn’t have each other's numbers, and you hadn’t seen each other outside of the bar. This had been going on for the past four months or so, but you were never really sure if you and Harry were teetering on the verge of something more.

He had become a really great friend of yours. He was someone you could easily confide in, especially on the hard days when the downfall of your relationship managed to bleed into the forefront of your mind.

It had become your thing to meet up at six o’clock on Fridays for food and drinks to celebrate the weekend, so the fact you were running late had you panicking. These were times you did wish that you had his number.

Other nights you were glad you didn’t because sometimes you liked to get drunk at home alone, and you knew you would end up calling him to come over.

So maybe you had a little crush on your new found bar friend, Harry, but you couldn’t help it. He was kind, and nurturing, and you knew that wasn’t an act from the first time you met him. That was just who he was.

And, of course, you noticed his attractiveness. It was almost annoying sometimes just how captivating Harry was. He was so charming without even trying. Everyone loved him.

As soon as you saw the bright lights of the Lucky’s sign that branched off the side of the building, you couldn’t help but to pick up your pace a little more. You stepped inside, and you were immediately scouring the bar for Harry.

A sigh of relief left you as you noticed him on a stool with his pink beanie tight around his head. He was wearing those same jeans as when you first saw him, but tonight he had on a vintage black Pink Floyd tee - his signature checkerboard Vans adorning his feet.

You forced your way through the groups of people gathering behind the bar to order drinks, and you huffed as you ended up colliding directly into Harry’s back as you tripped over someone’s foot.

Harry quickly looked over his shoulder, and you sent him a soft smile. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he said, eyes running over you, and you realized this was the first time he had ever seen you in your work clothes. “Thought you weren’t going to show for a second.”

You were dressed in a pair of cropped black trousers with a light pink flowy sleeveless top - a black blazer over it. You were pretty sure this was the first time Harry had ever seen you in heels as well as your black pumps were on your feet.

“I’m sorry,” you shook your head as you pulled down the stool he had propped up against the bar top for you - signaling to everyone else that it had been taken. “I got stuck at work longer than expected.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize. Food should be coming out any minute though, they’re a little busy this evening.”

Your brows narrowed as you draped the strap of your purse on the hook underneath the bar top, sitting down in the process. “You already ordered for us?”

“Yeah, I hope that’s okay. Got you a drink too,” he said, sliding a glass over to you that was filled with your usual caramel colored liquor. “I know you’re always really hungry once you get here, so I wanted to have it ready.”

You felt your heart flutter at the sentiment, and you reached out to give his hand a squeeze. “Thank you, H.”

The corner of his lips turned up into that little smirk that you loved so much - just barely causing the dimple in his cheek to divot. He raised his glass, just barely tilting it towards you as he held your eyes. “Cheers to Friday.”

“Cheers to Friday,” you mimicked after picking up your own drink and tapping it against his.

You each took sips from your glass before setting them back down on the marbled surface, and a hum escaped you as the liquid slightly burned your throat.

“So,” you leaned over to tap your shoulder against his before sitting up straight - crossing one leg over the other. “How was your day?”

“Really great actually,” Harry nodded as he licked over his bottom lip to clean up the excess liquid that lingered on it. “Sold two pieces.”

Over your time together, Harry revealed that he was a sculptor. You had the pleasure of him showing you his works in progress on his phone every now and then. His work was beautiful - completely exquisite.

“Oh my god, Harry!” You gasped. “That’s wonderful. Congratulations.”

Blush tinted his cheeks, and he quickly looked down at his drink. “Thanks.”

“Hey,” you tilted your head to the side. “Be proud of your successes. You deserve them.”

Harry’s eyes flickered back over to yours, and you watched as they danced over your face before you were interrupted by one of the bartenders, Collin, bringing over your food.

You could see that Harry had gotten you the loaded fries that you loved so much, and he had gotten himself his usual veggie burger with cheese tots on the side.

“Thanks, Collin,” Harry said as he passed you one of the sets of silverware that had been placed down on the bar for you both.

“God, you do know me so well because I’m starving,” you groaned while unraveling the silverware - placing the napkin over your lap.

Stabbing your fork into the cheese fries that were smothered with ranch, sour cream, black olives and pickled jalapenos, you shoved a hefty bite into your mouth. You smeared both the cheese sauce and sour cream along the corners of your lips, and underneath your chin, but you didn’t care.

Little did you know, that was one of the things Harry admired most about you. He loved that you ate with such vigor because you adored food so much. It was cute to see you with different types of food smeared across your face every Friday.

As much as you were crushing on Harry, he was very much crushing on you.

It had been so long that Harry couldn’t remember the last time someone had enraptured him as much as you did. Once you finally let him in, he just wanted to know more and more about you.

He absolutely hated the way you were treated in your last relationship, and he was sure that if he ever saw your ex in public, he would have to be held back to keep himself from decking the bastard right in the face.

You were without a doubt one of the sweetest people he had ever met, and he couldn’t understand how someone had betrayed you in such a way. He wanted nothing more than to show you how much you deserved to be cherished, but he wasn’t sure if you wanted the same.

“Good?” Harry finally spoke up as you shoveled another bite in your mouth.

You lifted a hand to hover over your lips as you hummed - nodding in response.

A smile that stretched from ear to ear grew on his lips as he reached out to wipe the pad of his thumb over your skin to collect the mess you had made. You watched as he brought that same thumb up to his mouth - sucking it between his lips to clean it off.

“I’m glad,” he winked before turning his attention to his burger.

That familiar feeling that sometimes presented itself when you were around him pulsed in your lower abdomen, and you had to force yourself to look away from him before he caught you staring for too long.

You both worked your way through your food, Harry having the very few fries you left abandoned after getting too full, and now you were turned to face each other on your stools to indulge in conversation. You had just ordered shots for the both of you to celebrate Harry’s success.

“So tell me, which two pieces sold?” You asked lifting your shot glass in the air towards him, and he clinked his against yours before you both downed them.

It was silver tequila, and the both of you were so trained at this point, neither of you flinched.

“The mermaid one, and the sunflower.”

“Both so beautiful,” you shook your head as you remembered Harry showing you pictures of them on his phone. “I’m surprised no one has bought that mirror that you sculpted around. It’s so stunning.”

Harry had bought a large mirror about a month into the two of you knowing each other, and he had framed it with intricate vines and flowers. It was the first piece you actually got to see progress.

“Yeah,” Harry cleared his throat before he shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe I made a wrong move by trying to indulge in something different like that. It was super out of my wheelhouse.”

“No, no,” you shook your head, and reached out to place your hand on his knee. “That piece is breathtaking. The right buyer will come along. I just know it.”

You rubbed your thumb lightly against his leg as you kept a soft smile on your lips, and Harry swallowed harshly.

The truth was, he had placed a ‘NOT FOR SALE’ tag on the mirror - having it just be for display in his studio. He was trying to work up the nerve to give it to you after how excited you got about it while he was working on it. Your excitement spoke to him a lot through the process, and most of the flower work was inspired by the way you made him feel.

“You’re right,” he nodded. “It’ll end up in the right hands, I’m sure of it.”

“Exactly!”

It was silent for a minute before he looked over to you. “Can I confess something?”

You nodded, eyebrows narrowing with concerns. “Of course.”

“I’ve kind of been saving that mirror for you…if you want it.”

You couldn’t help but to stare at him in shock before finding it inside yourself to answer him.

“Harry, I couldn’t possibly-”

“No, I saw how excited you got over it, and to be honest, you inspired a lot of it. I’ve always pictured it to be yours, but if it’s too much, I understand.”

Thinking it over for a moment, you pursed your lips to the side before nodding. “Well, it is very beautiful, and I do adore it, so if you’re offering - I’d love to have it. It’ll just take me a bit to find the right place for it if you don’t mind holding onto it for a little while longer.”

“I’ll hang onto it for however long you need me to,” Harry smiled, and you returned it.

“Okay.”

You both continued to converse for a while before Harry stood up from his seat.

“I’ve got to use the restroom, I’ll be right back,” he said, rubbing his hand over your back as he propped his stool up against the bar and moved behind you.

“Alright, I’ll be here,” you told him.

You kept your eyes on him as he made his way down the hallway that led to the bathrooms before looking down at your drink. You were feeling extra drawn to him today, and you knew it was because not only had he taken the initiative to order all your favorites before you had even arrived at the bar, but he also revealed that piece you loved so much was just for you.

Not to mention the little move with his thumb to clean up the mess you were making while eating.

Sighing, you looked back up and started to lift your glass to your lips before you caught sight of a couple entering through the door out of your peripheral.

“No,” you whispered to yourself as you turned completely and see who it was.

Your ex-boyfriend, Max, with his arm tight around the waist of your ex-best friend, Flora.

Immediately you stood up, and you felt your hands begin to shake as you reached for your purse on the hook.

“Y/N?” You heard Max’s familiar voice say your name, and you closed your eyes - dropping your chin to your chest.

Deciding there truly was no way out now, you turned around to face the two of them while forcing a tight smile onto your lips. “Max…Flora, hi.”

You watched as Max’s eyes looked you over, as if he was trying to measure how miserable you were without him, and you hoped that it was evident that you were doing much better for yourself now.

When the two of them didn’t speak, you continued.

“I haven’t seen either of you here before,” you said, resisting the urge to drop your hands behind your back to fiddle nervously with your fingers. You wanted to appear confident, and unafraid of this situation.

“Heard about it from a friend,” Max stated, and you could see the way his hand squeezed Flora’s hip out of the corner of your eye. “We decided we’d give it a shot for weekly date night.”

Weekly date night.

That was something you had begged for during the last few months of your relationship with Max, but you were denied. He was “too busy” with work to commit to one day a week for that. It seems like the case was he was just too busy for you.

“Oh, how sweet,” you replied, but this time, you let the sarcasm drip off your tongue as you did so. Noticing that Flora hadn’t uttered a single word, you turned your attention to her. “You look well, Flora.”

It was then that Harry had begun to make his way back from the bathroom, and he stopped when he saw that you were now standing - the backs of the couple in front of you facing him. He walked forward a little more to hear the conversation just as Flora began to speak.

“Thank you,” Flora said, looking up at you before looking back to Max. “Max, honey, we should really find some place to sit.”

As soon as Harry heard the name ‘Max’, he now knew who was standing in front of him, and he wasn’t going to let this slide. It was obvious they had approached you, and that made him furious.

He quickly closed the gap between himself and the three of you, looking over to Max and Flora. “Excuse me, my stool’s right there.”

Harry pointed to the barstool he had been occupying, and Flora and Max took a step back to let him through. Once he was back beside you, he turned to face you completely - resting his hands on your hips.

“Sorry I took so long, baby. There was a line,” he told you before leaning down to rest his cheek against yours - whispering into your ear that the couple in front of you couldn’t see. “I’m going to kiss you now. If you don’t want me to, push me away.”

Your lips parted in surprise at his words, and your eyes watched his every move as he lifted his head. He kept one hand on your hip, and he brought the other up to cup your cheek while pressing the pad of his thumb against your jawline - tilting your head back slightly.

The next thing you knew, Harry’s lips were on yours as you felt the side of his thumb stroking against your cheek. You allowed your lips to ebb and flow for a few seconds as tingles began to form along different parts of your body.

His lips were so soft, and they were moving with a purpose. He was an excellent kisser, which you didn’t expect anything less when it came to Harry. It was obvious he was wonderful at anything he put effort into.

It was only a moment or two later that your lips separated, and your eyes fluttered open to look up at Harry. His cheeks were a bit flushed as he moved his hand up just a bit to allow his fingers to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Who’s this?” Max’s grating voice broke the bubble you found yourself in - having completely forgotten that others were around you.

Looking over to your ex, your mouth opened and closed a few times before Harry spoke up again.

“I’m Harry, Y/N’s boyfriend,” he said, dropping his hand from your face to hold it out to Max. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve caught your name either.”

“I’m Max.”

You felt your nerves swirling in your stomach as Max shook Harry’s hand, and you watched as Harry smirked at him.

“Oh, so you’re the one who completely disrespected her, and didn’t know how to treat her right?” He laughed, shaking his head as he quickly pulled his hand away - as if he didn’t know it was Max all along.

Flora’s eyes widened as Harry’s words, and she turned completely into Max’s side now. “Honey, we should really go.”

“And you,” Harry continued, looking over to Flora now. “I’d like to know how you gave up an almost fifteen year friendship for a guy who doesn’t even know how to use his dick properly.”

You choked on a gasp, and Harry was quick to turn his attention on you. “You alright, baby?”

He quickly grabbed your drink, handing it to you so that you could take a sip of it.

Harry was clearly just speaking to try to get under Max and Flora’s skin as you had never discussed how your sexual relationship with Max was, but Harry actually wasn’t wrong. Max definitely didn’t perform as well as boyfriends you’ve had in the past, but the emotional connection you once shared made up for that.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Max sneered, stepping forward to grab Harry’s shoulder, turning him to face him.

“Max,” you quickly pushed your hand against his collarbone, and squeezed yourself between the two men - your back against Harry’s chest. Max glared down at you, and now, you felt a bit brave as your smirk mirrored Harry’s from earlier. “I believe he told you he was my boyfriend, so I’m not sure why you’re asking that question again.”

Harry’s arms soon wrapped around your waist, and you felt him nuzzle his face into the side of your neck. You were fully playing into it now, resting your hands against his forearms as you giggled.

“Come on, Flora,” you heard Max huff before he was dragging her behind him - her barely being able to keep up as they exited Lucky’s.

Once they were out of sight, you turned around in Harry’s arms once he loosened them, and eventually he dropped them back down by his sides.

“Thank you,” you told him, biting down on your bottom lip. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Oh, but I did,” Harry nodded as the two of you sat back down. “Came back from the bathroom, and I could tell they had clearly approached you. It pissed me off.”

“Yeah, well, I could tell she was extremely uncomfortable,” you sighed as you grabbed the rest of your drink and downed it. “Fuck, my hands are still shaking.”

You held them out in front of you, and they were in fact still trembling.

“Here,” Harry’s voice was soft as he reached forward and grabbed them, running his thumbs along your knuckles. “Sorry if that kiss was a little much.”

“It wasn’t,” you shook your head. “It wasn’t at all.”

Your eyes held each other’s before you cleared your throat and tilted your head towards the liquor bottles behind the bar.

“I think all that calls for another shot, don’t you?”

🍻•🍻•🍻

It was the next Friday at Lucky’s, and you were currently seated in your usual position next to Harry at the bar. You reached over to snag a cheese tot from his plate - popping it into your mouth after dipping it into his side of ranch.

Neither of you had addressed what happened last week, but it didn’t feel awkward at all between the two of you. That’s definitely not to say that it hadn’t been consuming both of your minds though.

“So,” you started before taking a sip of your drink. “Have you started on anything new this week?”

Harry pursed his lips to the side as he reached over, mimicking your actions by stealing one of your nachos. “Maybe.”

“Hey!” You exclaimed, giving his shoulder a playful shove. “Don’t tell me you’re going to start hiding projects from me now. What did I do to deserve that?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at how offended you were. “I’m just teasing you. I did start on another piece.”

“And?”

Harry rolled his eyes, but truly he loved how much you were into his work. “It’s another big one. It’ll probably take me a month or so to finish. It was a commissioned piece. It’s the torso of a woman, and the buyer wants it to look crumbled on the top and the bottom - as if it broke off a whole statue.”

You raised your eyebrows at that as you chewed on the nacho you had put in your mouth. Once you swallowed, you licked over your bottom lip before speaking. “Yeah? Have any pics to show me?”

You watched as Harry pulled his phone out of his front pocket, and he swiped the screen a couple of times before turning it to face you. What he was showing you was actually a video, and you could tell Harry had set his phone up on a tripod to record it. You watched as his hands sculpted over the base he had set up, and you found yourself in a trance as you took in the way his palms and fingers shaped the clay.

Those hands were another thing you had noticed about him over time. The veins that stretched across the top of them, as well as his long fingers. Sometimes he wore rings, and sometimes he’d have his nails painted, but you noticed those instances only happened during times where he wasn’t actively working on his projects.

“Oh my,” you breathed once the video ended, looking back at Harry. “It’s so gorgeous already. I can’t believe how talented you are.”

Harry blushed at your comment as he stuck his phone back in pocket. “Thanks, Y/N.”

Just like every other Friday, you worked your way through your food, and turned to face each other a bit more while indulging in another round of drinks.

“There’s something I wanted to tell you about last week,” Harry started, clearing his throat before continuing. “I uhm…I wanted to let you know that I really enjoyed kissing you.”

You felt your heart rate quicken at Harry’s confession, and you could see in his eyes that it took a lot for him to admit. After a few moments, his usual coy smirk presented itself, and he shrugged. “So if you ever needed me for it again, I’d be available.”

Now he was being playful, and to ease your nerves, you knew you needed to do the same thing to cope.

“Oh yeah?” You asked, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “I’ll make sure to keep your offer in mind.”

“Only if you wanted to, of course, you know. No pressure whatsoever.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t feel pressured,” you shook your head. “I do have some questions about the ground rules though. Am I only allowed to take you up on that if my ex is around or…”

“That depends. Would you like the offer to stand when your ex isn’t around?”

You held Harry’s evergreen eyes as you contemplated his question, and before your mind could catch up with your body, you were now leaning towards Harry with one of your hands wrapped around the back of his neck. Lifting yourself up from your stool just a bit, you used the leverage of his neck to pull his lips down against yours.

After a moment, Harry hummed against your lips, and you felt his hands envelop your hips. His thumbs massaged into your lower stomach as his tongue prodded at the seam of your lips - asking for permission.

You didn’t have to think twice about granting it to him, immediately parting your lips to lick into his mouth first. Tonight Harry had forwent a beanie, his curls a bit unruly, but you liked them that way. You brought your other hand up to tangle into his hair before tugging it - emitting a groan from him.

Remembering that you were very much in public, you allowed yourselves to indulge for a few more seconds before you pulled away. Both of your lashes fluttered as you opened your eyes to look at one another.

“Does that answer your question?” You asked, noticing the shimmer happening in his irises.

“Hm, I don’t know,” Harry teased as he tapped the tip of his nose against yours. “Might have to take you back to mine, and give that another go to really figure it out.”

“Is that right?” You ghosted your lips over his once more. “Well if that’s the case, then what are we waiting for?”

You had never seen Harry move so fast since you’ve known him. He quickly stood from his bar stool as you grabbed your purse - slinging it over your shoulder. Harry threw down a fifty onto the bar to cover your food and drinks, and also leaving a hefty tip, before he took your hand in his.

He laced your fingers together as he carefully led you out of Lucky’s and onto the street. The breeze blew your hair around your face a bit as you stared up at him underneath the moon and the stars, feeling a bit breathless as you pretty much knew where this encounter was headed.

“You’re sure you're okay with going back to mine?” Harry asked as he gave your hand a squeeze. “If not, that’s okay.”

“Harry,” you stepped a bit closer to him, contemplating what you were about to admit for a moment before biting the bullet. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me to come to yours for a while now.”

Harry’s eyes slipped shut, and he leaned down to rest his forehead against yours. “Fuck,” he whispered. “I’ve been crushing on you since a couple of weeks into us knowing each other. Never met anyone like you, Y/N.”

“It sucked in the moment, but if I didn’t go through all that break-up bullshit, we would’ve never met. I wasn’t a firm believer in ‘everything happens for a reason’ until you.”

“Keep talking like that, and we might not make it back to my place. I might just have to deal with you in the car.”

The lowering of his tone, and his words, sent a pulse straight to your clit. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

Harry shook his head. “No, I’m not having my way with you for the first time in my car. You deserve so much more than that.”

This whole thing was giving you whiplash, but in the best way. He had you both horny and emotional all at once, and that was something you had never experienced before.

Since you couldn’t find the words to respond, you were glad that Harry started to lead the both of you down the street towards the parking garage that was just a block away.

“I’ll bring you back for your car tomorrow,” he told you as he entered through the door of the garage, and he started directing you towards his car.

“You just automatically think I’m staying the night?” You were still being playful with him, but once he got to his vehicle, he quickly turned and pressed you against the passenger side of it.

Leaning down, Harry started to press kisses against the side of your neck, and you could feel his mustache grazing against your skin. You pushed your thighs together as you thought of just what that could feel like in other places.

“Not if you don’t want to, no,” Harry spoke against the spot underneath your ear. “But I really hope you will.”

You couldn’t help but moan as he began to suck on that same spot, and your hands reached out to grip his ribs through his shirt. “I think-” you cut yourself off with a gasp as your felt Harry’s teeth tugging at your earlobe. “I think that could be arranged.”

Harry lifted his head, and he quickly pressed a kiss to your lips before pulling the both of you off his car so he could open the passenger door.

“Harry, I know you said you didn’t want the first time to be in a car, but I don’t think I can wait,” you looked up at him with hunger in my eyes. “Can we get in the backseat? You can make the second time more special back at your place.”

A groan rattled in Harry’s throat as he hardened even more in his jeans, and he was quick to open the back door instead - gesturing his hand inside.

“After you,” he smirked, and you crawled in, going to the far side of the car until he was inside as well.

Once the door was shut, you didn’t waste any time in straddling his waist while taking his face back in your hands. You reconnected your partially swollen lips in a sloppy kiss as Harry’s large hands came down to knead the rounds of your ass through your own jeans.

“Take these off,” Harry mumbled against your mouth as he tugged on your belt loops. “I wanna taste you first.”

Harry’s hands ventured back to your hips, and he had you down on the bench seat on your back in the blink of an eye. You stared at him with wide eyes, but you came back down to the present moment when you felt his hands on the waistband of your jeans after he slipped your shoes off.

“Can I?” He asked, and you nodded adamantly as he unbuttoned and unzipped them - pulling them down your legs with ease before tossing them to the side. “God, you’re so gorgeous.”

His palms traveled up the tops of your thighs before his slender fingers wrapped around the waistband of your underwear. The feeling of his knuckles brushing against your lower stomach caused you to whimper, and he couldn’t help but smirk at you.

“Glad to know you’re just as eager as I am,” Harry chuckled as he leaned down to press a kiss right below your belly button as he removed your underwear from your body.

From there, he knelt down on the floorboard of his car on the passenger side as that seat was more forward than the driver’s side, and he moved you around to have you sitting up - your legs soon thrown over his shoulders.

“My mouth is watering just looking at you,” Harry shook his head, fingertips now teasing along the outside of your calves. “Can’t believe you’re already this wet for me.”

“Always am,” you admitted, the words slipping out before you could process, and you watched as Harry’s pupils dilated. “I can’t help it. I’ve found you so sexy for so long.”

“Oh yeah? What else have you come to find, hm?” Harry hummed as he placed a kiss against the inside of your thigh.

The feeling of his lip against your tender skin caused goosebumps to rise, and you tried your best not to squirm underneath his touch and his gaze.

“That I like the way you treat me,” you responded breathlessly as he placed another kiss a little higher up - edging closer and closer to where you needed him most. “You make me feel seen - feel important. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that before, at least not in the way I do with you.”

“You deserve to feel seen and important because you are important. Such a sweet girl you are, Y/N,” Harry praised you as he dropped his head down to where he was hovering right over your slick core, but his eyes still held yours. “I’d like to show you just how sweet I think you are.”

“Please,” you pleaded, feeling yourself dripping even more just from having him so close. You decided to be a little more brave, and feed into the dirty talk and the teasing. “I’ve also found that I think about how your mustache would feel against me while eating me out a little too often.”

“Thought about me going down on you? A sweet, but dirty girl you’re proving to be.”

Before you could make another remark, you felt Harry’s mouth against your folds as he slid his tongue right through your drenched slit. “Oh,” you moaned, reaching down to thread your fingers through his hair. “Oh my…fuck.”

His mustache was brushing against your clit in the most delicious way, and you weren’t even sure how it could get better than this. The feeling of his mouth finally on you was spreading across your whole body as your toes curled - heels digging into his back.

Your eyes slipped shut while you arched your back, savoring the feeling of Harry practically making out with your cunt. He was strategic with his movements, which was something you had never had when it came to guys giving you head.

When you felt his perfect lips close in on your swollen pearl and beginning to suck, your hips stuttered up against his face - emitting a moan from him. It was then you felt the tips of his middle and ring finger against your entrance. You opened your eyes to look down at Harry, and he raised his eyebrows, as if asking permission, and you nodded in response.

The strangled moan that left you echoed in the car as you felt his two magical digits filling you, and the tips of his fingers immediately started stroking against your front wall. You could already feel yourself clenching down around his fingers - thighs beginning to tremble against the sides of his head

You dropped your head back onto the headrest, eyes closing once again as your chest began to heave. It had been months since you’ve been touched, Max having been the last one to do so, and that didn’t even begin to compare to the way Harry was making you feel.

“Y/N,” Harry pulled off your clit, and you blinked your eyes open to look back down at him. “You still with me, baby?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, moving your fingers down a little further on his head to brush back the curls that were hanging down onto his forehead. You let out a mewl of pleasure as his fingers hit right against your spot - hips bucking up against him. “It’s so good, Harry. You’re gonna make me come.”

The way Harry’s lips twitched up to one side had the warmth in your abdomen growing even more just at the look of him. “That’s my goal. I need you to come on my tongue.”

When Harry lowered his mouth back down, he sucked on your clit with more vigor, and you cried out as your stomach began to jump. “You think you can take another finger?” He mumbled against you.

“Uh-huh,” you were delirious, feeling sweat forming along your hairline.

As you felt his index finger enter you, you shot up off the seat - sitting up completely now as your other hand latched to the back of Harry’s head to keep his lips against you with your other hand still tangled into the curls on the top of his scalp.

“Oh my god,” you whined, your whole legs beginning to shake. “I’m…I’m coming, Harry.”

Harry continued to suck aggressively on your swollen bud until he felt your walls swallowing his digits completely, and he moved his mouth down to drink up your orgasm as it dripped down them. He moaned at the taste of you - drinking you up as if he couldn’t get enough.

Once he rode you through your climax, he pulled his fingers from you slowly before licking into you once more. You shuddered in sensitivity, but you realized you enjoyed the bit of overstimulation. He didn’t linger too long, pulling back to clean off his fingers with his mouth as well.

“Sorry,” he leaned in to press his lips against yours after you collapsed against the seat again. “Didn’t want to waste anything. You taste so fucking good, Y/N.”

You lazily wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him up onto his knees more - having his chest press right against yours as you smeared your lips on his. “I want your cock now, please.”

“Yeah?” Harry grinned against your mouth. “How do you want it?”

“Can I ride you? Max never let me be on top.”

Harry pulled back instantly at your words, eyebrows narrowing as he looked down at you. “Never?”

You shook your head. “No,” you swallowed harshly, not really understanding that it was such a big deal. “He was always on top or…or behind.”

“Every new bit of information I find out about this guy really makes me regret not punching him last week.”

Tilting your head back, you giggled at Harry’s statement, and that caused his heart to flutter. “What? You think I’m joking?”

You shook your head in response. “Not at all. It’s just a little funny picturing you being violent,” you started to play with the curls that just barely reached the back of his neck. “It’s kind of hot to think about though.”

“Call him,” he teased, as he kissed the corner of your lips. “I’ll give him a proper decking to get you even more hot and bothered than you already are.”

This caused a louder laugh to escape you now, and you tugged at Harry’s torso. “Come on, I wanna get in your lap.”

“Alright, alright. Scoot over for a second, baby.”

You moved over into the other seat so Harry could get up properly and occupy the space you had just been sitting in. Your eyes were trained on his hands as he made quick work of his jeans and briefs - tugging them down right to the tops of his knees. Once his prick bobbed up after being released, your mouth went dry as you watched him give himself a couple of strokes.

He was already so hard and leaking precome, and he had no hesitation in admitting it was because of you. “See what you do to me?” He huffed, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth for a minute before continuing. “Got me so hard just by looking at you - tasting you. I’m so into you, Y/N, you have no idea.”

Not being able to take it any longer, you straddled Harry’s waist much like you did when you first entered the car, but this time you moved his hand away to grind your achy cunt against his length.

“Makes two of us I guess,” you rested your forehead against his. “Because I’m so crazy about you.”

You connected your top lip with Harry’s as you both continued just to grind against each other, slicking up his cock with your arousal.

“If you can reach behind you into my back pocket, I have a condom in my wallet,” Harry lazily licked into your open mouth - stirring something even more feral inside of you.

Keeping one hand on his shoulder, you leaned back, but didn’t stop any of your movements as you reached into his pocket as instructed. You located his wallet, quickly pulling out the condom before sitting up straight again.

Bringing the foil packet to your mouth, you tore the packet open with your teeth. “You want me to do it, or do you want to?”

“You, please,” Harry looked down as he watched your hand take hold of him, and his jaw dropped with a moan as you gave him a squeeze.

You made sure you rolled the condom onto him securely before bracing yourself properly onto his shoulders again, and he reached down to grip one of your hips - the other hand around his length.

“Sit up a little bit for me,” you obeyed, and lifted yourself up onto your knees slightly before you felt his tip prodding at your entrance. “Alright, I’m gonna guide you down.”

Harry used the leverage on your hip to begin sinking you down onto his cock, and you both gasped at the feeling of him finally entering you.

“Big,” you whimpered as your walls stretched around him, and Harry pulled you about halfway down before lifting you up again - wanting you to be eased into it. “I like it.”

Harry’s eyes were honing in on the image of him beginning to disappear inside of you again as he started to bring you back down. “I like your sweet little cunt too. Feels so good - can already feel you pulsing around me.”

“Can’t help it,” you sighed, as he continued his motion of pulling you up again once he brought you just a little further down than the first time. “I want it. I want all of it.”

“Here I was trying to get you used to it, but you just want to take it all right away, don’t you?”

You nodded as you rested your forehead against his temple. “Been waiting so long. I don’t want to wait any longer.”

“Well, if that’s the case…”

Harry then brought you all the way down, filling you to the brim which caused you to throw your head back, hands gripping to his shoulders as you felt the burn, but you loved it.

“Yes,” you gasped. “That’s it. Shit, Harry.”

“Hold on a second,” Harry dropped his face into your chest. “I’m trying not to come.”

You couldn’t help but giggle - knowing you had such an effect on him. “Take your time, babe. I’m not going anywhere. Trust me.”

Caressing your palms over his shoulders and his upper back, you allowed Harry to gather himself as you continued to adjust to his size, and eventually he lifted his head back up. “Alright, we’re good.”

You sent each other lustful smiles as you hooked your fingers together against the back of his neck, and you began to roll your hips against his.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N,” Harry groaned as he moved his hands up to tug your tank top down, and he was more than grateful when he saw a flexible lace bralette underneath. “Can I see these perky tits? Another thing I’ve been dreaming of having my mouth on.”

“Mhmm,” you hummed. “I like having them played with it.”

“Noted.”

Harry pulled the cups of your bralette down to expose both of your breasts, and he wasted no time in cupping underneath each of them. He kneaded the plush flesh in his palms before leaning down - kitten licking at one of your nipples.

“So pretty,” Harry whispered as he moved his actions onto the other nipple. “Every fucking bit of you.”

Your head was swimming with the praise Harry had been giving you all night. You were almost positive no man had complimented you so much within a small period of time, but you loved it. It made you feel confident, and that caused you to start grinding your hips even harder.

“I wanna see,” you brought a hand down to tug at the collar of his shirt. “Wanna see what you’re hiding.”

Harry obeyed you blindly, and you moved your hands as he grabbed the back of his shirt between his shoulder blades and pulled it over his head. Your mouth gaped as you saw the additional ink etched into his torso, and you stopped your movements momentarily to graze your fingers against all of it.

“How is it that someone who’s a sculptor looks so fucking sculpted himself?” You laughed, shaking your head before looking into his eyes. “You’re gorgeous, Harry.”

“Guess this was meant to be then, huh? You’re fucking stunning, and you think I’m gorgeous. It all makes sense.”

Nodding, you now raised onto your knees and then slammed yourself down against Harry - properly riding him. “I’m so glad we’re doing this.”

“Me too, baby. Me too.”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you continued to ride him aggressively, the sounds of your arousal filling the car as Harry’s thick cock entered and exited you at an accelerated pace.

When Harry could see that you were getting tired, he gripped to your hips, and slouched down in the seat a bit more to start fucking up into you.

“Harry,” you whined, laying back as best as you could to grip to the tops of his knees, your torso outstretched - your breasts bouncing with every thrust.

“How could he let you go, hm?” Harry grunted, and you knew he wasn’t going to stop giving it to you this hard until the both of you were coming. “Such a sweet, and pretty girl. So funny, and warm. Warm all over. Can’t believe he didn’t appreciate you, but his loss is my gain. I’m going to treat you right, Y/N. I hope you’ll let me.”

Harry knew it was tricky to bring up your ex in the midst of your first time together, but he couldn’t help it. It was impossible for him to wrap his head around the fact that someone wouldn’t want you.

“I will,” you mewled, the band in your stomach growing once again. “God, I will. And I hope you’ll let me treat you right too.”

“That’s all I want,” Harry dragged one hand down to cup the top of your thigh, extending his thumb to start rubbing against your clit. “Come for me, baby. Let me feel you own my cock.”

Only a few thrusts later, you gave into his command - your orgasm coating his rubber covered length as he rode you through it. You knew he wasn’t far behind as you came down from the white that clouded your vision, and you gripped to his shoulders again - having your tits right in his face as he continued to pound into you.

“I’m gonna come, Y/N,” Harry moaned, looking up into your eyes. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me explode.”

It was then you felt his prick completely pulsing and throbbing inside of you, and as you were still coming down from your own orgasm, you clenched against him to milk him for everything he was worth.

With the both of you panting, you collapsed against Harry’s chest as he gathered you in his arms - stroking his fingers through the back of your hair while pressing kisses against your forehead.

After a moment, you heard him chuckle, and you pulled back just a bit to look up at him.

“What?” You smiled, the sound of his laughter pulling that from you.

“Now I understand why they call it Lucky’s,” he said, reaching a hand up to cup your cheek as he thumbed at your bottom lip. “Because we sure got lucky with each other, didn’t we?”

🍻•🍻•🍻

Taglist: @daydreamingofmatilda @prettygurl-2009 @ghoststyles @lillefroe @gem1712 @lemoncrushh (if you’d like to be added to my taglist, please send me a DM!)

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redtsundere-writes · 1 month

Note

sukuna and servant!reader is so good!! looking forward to rescue more of them <33

Eyes On Me | Sukuna Ryomen

king!sukuna ryomen x femservant!reader

Sypnosis: Uraume can't play chess with the king right now, you must step up. Contents: Obsession, pining, kinda fluffy, mentions of blood and body parts. Uraume uses they/them pronouns. Word Count: 2404 words. Author's Note: I love writing this ship. People have been asking me to make this a series. I'll try my best lol I think you can still read them individually, but there's a preferred order.

Beginning. ← Previous |

AO3/WATTPAD VERSION

Sukuna hates humans. It's a fact of life. The sky is blue, roses are red and Sukuna hates the disgusting creatures that humans are. He has so many reasons to hate them that he doesn't even know where to begin. Humans are annoying, weak, clumsy, but most of all, stupid. They make decisions without thinking through the consequences. They prefer to spend their money on temporary pleasures and end up bankrupt by not prioritizing their survival. They worry about unimportant things such as social status, religion, and traditions. Sukuna hates humans, but boy, are they entertaining.

Sukuna tends to study his servants very carefully. Even though they only clean, cook and obey his orders to a tee, it was fun to watch them interact with each other. He finds it fascinating how the servants gossip in whispers, how the gardeners concentrate to prune the bushes well despite their hands shaking, or how the cooks taste the food several times so that it’s up to their majesty's standards. It was like watching dozens of filthy lab rats in the middle of a social experiment. Although… There was someone special he loved to watch, no matter what they were doing.

You had finished all the chores for the day and decided to help the cooks prepare dinner because you had nothing better to do. Your muscles were exhausted from having spent all morning cleaning the porcelain sculptures, the large frames of the paintings in the great hall, and the king's jewelry so they could sparkle in all their glory. You had been assigned the task of peeling potatoes, so there you were. Sitting at a table with a small knife, peeling potatoes while listening to the chaos going on in the kitchen. Uraume was busy preparing a special passion fruit tea for the king. The special coming from the water that was inked with human blood. Sometimes you wondered if Uraume had always agreed to cook with humans or was it something they got used to because of Sukuna's orders, but since they never talked about themselves, you never asked.

“Fuck!” A cook yelled when the frying pan caught fire.

Your eyes widened at the flashy flare. Uraume put the tea set aside to attend to the emergency. With some ice from their magic hands, they put out the fire in a jiffy, but left the kitchen a mess. They began to berate the cook with smacks in the head and curses for his ineptitude. The cook just apologized over and over again, but that wasn't enough for the head chef.

“You!” Uraume called. You put your task aside to attend to their orders. “Take the tea to our king and tell him I will be with him when I settle this situation.” You nodded and took the tray carefully to go in search of him.

After Sukuna gave you permission, you entered the library with the golden tray in your hands. The library was the coziest room in the entire castle. Its high walls were covered with huge bookcases filled with books, maps, and scrolls. There were long desks of works and hundreds of candleholders everywhere to enjoy reading during the evenings. He was sitting in one of the comfortable chairs in front of the game table, a small wooden table with a chessboard on top. The king was surprised to see you there despite having specified Uraume's presence.

“I didn't ask you to come,” Sukuna said chidingly as you served him tea at a small table next to him.

“Uraume had to attend to an emergency in the kitchen. They'll be here once everything is under control,” you replied as you set down the fragile cup of blood tea, adorned with small pieces of eyeball floating on the red surface to give it texture.

Your gaze traveled to the chessboard, it had been a long time since you had seen the king playing. You knew from the other servants that he was a good player and only plays with Uraume or some brave guest. This was no ordinary board. You could see that each piece was handmade and had luxurious detail. The pieces were made of white quartz, the eyes of the horses were rubies and the crowns of the kings were made of jade. It was the most beautiful board game you ever saw.

“Do you know how to play?” Sukuna asked out of curiosity.

Being a servant, you surely had not received the same education as he did. Well, almost no one was on his level when it came to education. Sukuna was a master mathematician, a skilled debater and could threaten his enemies in 5 different languages. You hadn't been as lucky. You're good at cleaning, cooking and taking orders, but what else can you do?

“Yes,” you answered with a smile.

That answer surprised him quite a bit. Although chess was a game that was rapidly gaining popularity among the middle class, it was not a game for women. It was a game that required intellect, always thinking two moves ahead and knowing how to read your opponent. You didn't look like a girl who could do all that.

“Sit down,” Sukuna ordered you.

“I warn you that it may be a short game. It's been a long time since I've played,” you warned him as you sat down.

Sukuna watched you with great attention. Your eyes scanned the board as if it was the first time you had ever seen one, your hands rested gently on your thighs and you smiled nervously. You may have known the rules of the game, but you didn't know how to play. The king took your word for it.

“Ladies first,” he asked you to start.

“My pleasure,” you said as your dominant hand moved over the pieces to decide what your first move would be.

Your father had taught you how to play. He always wanted a son to inherit the family business, but your mother only kept giving birth to women, so he had to resign himself to you. Your mother taught you how to be a lady so you could get married as soon as possible and your father taught you about the business so that your future husband wouldn’t take advantage of the family money. You used to sit in front of the wooden board and talk for hours after dinner. Your father may not have been the wisest or the most astute man, but he had left you a very important lesson: Always look people in the eye to know their true intentions.

This was one of the few times you came face to face with Sukuna. Because of his title as king and the great difference in height, you were always beneath him, physically and psychologically speaking. You were a simple human, while he was a king with the power to get rid of whomever he wanted with a simple movement of his fingers. Although his presence made you feel vulnerable, you didn't resent him. You had a relatively comfortable life serving him, but sometimes there was a need for you to show him that you were more than a servant. This was a good opportunity to do so.

Sukuna's eyes were not on you, they were on the board. His gaze denoted boredom. He was waiting patiently for you to make the first move. If you waited a little longer, maybe he would yawn. He overestimated you, you had to use that feeling against him. You moved a pawn to the C4 square, a common move among beginners.

“Finally…” He said in a monotone voice before quickly moving the knight to the F6 square.

Each of you took turns to move the pieces quietly as time went by. You took your time with each move, while the king only needed to look at the board from time to time to know what to do next. You could take all the time in the world, but he would still eat all your pieces. Even though it didn't seem to be an interesting game, you could at least keep up with him. Sukuna's queen advanced towards yours, standing face to face. One false move and your king was in trouble.

“Check,” you said as the queen retreated two squares diagonally, leaving her free to begin the attack on the king.

At that announcement, Sukuna woke up from the trance he was in to concentrate on what he was doing. He smiled with satisfaction as he noticed the change in your body. Your hands had relaxed, your back was straight, and your eyes were glued to his. You knew exactly what you were doing. You didn't need to tell him verbally that you would destroy him at his own game, your eyes told him clearly. It was as if you were dissecting his soul bit by bit until you left him completely naked.

Your hands were interleaved with each turn. You moved quickly as you realized that Sukuna had already noticed your active presence on the board. Sukuna returned the queen to his side. An interesting move. It was wise to know when to back away, but you noticed one thing in his eyes. He had no plan, he just acted based on his understanding of the game. He moved like in real life, using only his killer instincts.

“Check,” you announced again by moving a knight up.

“Not so fast,” Sukuna told you before taking the horse that was threatening his king using a queen. You smiled as you saw that his majesty had fallen into the trap. By moving his pieces like that, Sukuna had fully exposed his king.

“Checkmate,” you announced the end of the game as soon as you moved the white queen close to the black king. And only then, the poor maid defeated the almighty king.

“Well, well...” Sukuna sighed in awe as he looked at the board with extreme curiosity. He couldn't be mad at you. He had let his guard down. You were playing even before the game started.

There was someone special he loved to watch, no matter what you were doing. Sukuna would always hyper fixate on you whenever he noticed your presence around him. You could be cleaning, chatting with your companions or eating some dried fruit in the garden, and he would still only notice you as if nothing else in the world existed. You were the most interesting human he had ever seen. Sukuna tried to look for a logical reason for his obsession with you, but he couldn't do it. You looked like a simple being with clear goals, but he was sure you were hiding something behind your perfect facade.

Someone knocked at the door. Sukuna sighed, he wanted to be alone with you longer, but now was not the time. Uraume entered the room and was surprised to see you sitting with his majesty. Something strange had been going on between the two of you for months. They had even debated the idea of asking the king directly about you, but hadn't worked up the courage to do so.

“There was an inconvenience in the kitchen. Sorry to keep you waiting, your majesty,” Uraume bowed in apology.

“Lucky for you, you sent a good replacement,” Sukuna said before smiling at you in satisfaction.

Uraume instantly understood just by glancing at the board. You had beaten the king, something even they could not easily accomplish. They could tell that he was looking at you like no one else. It wasn't a look of disgust or boredom, it was a curious look. Like that of a child looking at a group of kids playing in the playground, wondering if he could come over to play with them.

“If you'll excuse me, I have to go,” you said as you got up to give the seat to Uraume. “Good game. It was a pleasure to play against you, my king,” you bowed.

“Good game,” Sukuna whispered so you could leave the room.

Sukuna and Uraume started a new game as soon as you returned to the kitchen to peel potatoes. They quickly noticed that something was occupying her majesty's mind. Their white pieces were eating his black pieces easily and his moves were slow compared to previous games. Uraume could tell that the game against you had changed the way he played.

“What do you see in her?” Uraume asked him after a move.

“Am I too obvious?” Sukuna asked them before getting up from his seat to start prowling around the library to clear his mind. “What do you think of her?” He asked her as he stopped in front of the window to admire the land. The large green lawn stretched all the way to the intimidating entrance of his wonderful castle.

“She is a dedicated servant and a perfectionist. She does all the chores in a timely manner. She is as good a servant as any other. The real question is: What do you think of her?” Uraume asked as they watched him from their seat.

“She has potential.”

“Potential? Potential for what?” Uraume arched their eyebrow at the confusing statement.

“She has the potential to become a queen,” Sukuna replied confidently.

Sukuna Ryomen was known among the kingdoms for being an unorthodox king. Not only because he took kingdoms left and right as if it were nothing, but because he has a strange way of ruling his people. He did not care about social classes, behavioral labels or unwritten codes of human coexistence. Everyone was inferior to him regardless of gender, race, or religion. He was the god of this new world and everyone had to obey him, just like that.

The fact that he wanted to have a queen went far beyond just following the established patterns of classical monarchy. Sukuna must have a reason why he wants to have a queen other than just because, but there was a more important question on the table.

“Your majesty, you can get any woman you want. You can get a beautiful woman, with more training and presence, why would you settle for a servant?” Uraume asked in confusion. Sukuna smiled. It was a good question.

“She has something much better than that,” he answered before continuing the game as if nothing happened. Uraume looked down to see that Sukuna had checkmated them.

Author's Note: I poured my poor knowledge on chess for this lol I hope it makes sense.

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Masterlist.

#fanfic #fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna ryomen #jjk imagine #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #fluff #jjk fluff #king x servant #sukuna x reader #ryoumen sukuna #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen smut #jjk ryomen #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #ryomen x reader

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shibaraki · 6 months

Text

THE VANISHING MOON ┊ TSUKISHIMA KEI

tags: GN reader, post timeskip, exes to lovers, fluff, emotional hurt + comfort, reader is a writer, alcohol consumption, mutual pining, getting back together, kisses, weddings, previous ‘mutual’ breakup, happy ending

wc: 4.2K

For as long as you can remember, you’ve loved love stories.

The first time you picked up a pen with the intention to write you’d been looking for a specific someone. To pour love into and be loved by. Conjured from the recesses of your mind, a soft smile from the boy you liked, one prepared to whisk you away from the converging angst that came with your adolescence.

In later years you looked inward, searching for yourself. To satiate your loneliness through self introspection. Ink blotted fingers working arduously at the knots that make up the soul. Knots that were once straight rope, simple and without weak points. And when you failed to love yourself you turned outward, exploring the web that made up the world.

You saw that other people loved stories, too. That there would always be at least one which speaks to them in some way and stays with them. You coveted that reality; to be something another person could love, and look back on with fondness. For your words to strike such a chord that they’d become part of another’s tapestry. To live on. Never again be forgotten, even if it means being an echo of something.

That yearning accompanies you up the cobbled footpath. The crisp air pinching the tips of your ears. Soft, muted chirps rippled throughout the treeline. “Wow,” you murmur, breathless. Arms sticky with perspiration, leg muscles tingling in exertion after walking the steep hill.

The reception venue sits on the end of a private road, concealed by threadbare canopy. Under an open sky there lay every shade and stroke of colour. Dappled sunlight casts shadows across the grass and your eyes are drawn to them.

“Wow is right. They’ve done an incredible job,” Sugawara airs his appreciation as he walks at your side. His voice is awed, and his cheeks are red. “I can’t believe they managed it. Karumai Gardens are notoriously stingy for booking events”.

The wedding invitation shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Remaining some of your closest friends, Kiyoko and Tanaka had already confirmed your attendance long before the formal invites were sent out. You even found yourself on the end of multiple phone calls over the months assisting a panicked Tanaka with writing and rewriting his vows.

Despite that, your stomach roiled at the invitation on your kitchen counter, and your heart crawled up into your throat. Because suddenly it was too real.

Everybody would be there.

Tsukishima would be there.

You’ve been a high strung for most of the day, hyper vigilant to the point of fraying. The ceremony was beautiful. Kiyoko looked ethereal draped in her white lace gown, a delicate veil cascading down her back and rippling down the aisle as she walked. Tanaka was striking in his dark blue suit and embroidered waistcoat. Sitting at the forefront, you remained steadfast in your ignorance of Tsukishima’s scrunity and dabbed at your face as you cried.

You missed having his attention. Missed the subtle stroke of his sharp gold eyes across every part of you as though it were Tsukishima’s hands themselves. A scant, cowardly part of you considered not attending the reception, grateful that he hadn’t approached you yet. If he would at all. Kei could be unbearably prideful about these things. But what do you know?

Nothing. After all this time you probably know nothing at all.

“I think he wants to talk to you,” Sugawara says, drawing your focus to the present. “It’s obvious he’s missed you”.

You edge past the increasingly dense foliage with intent, your fingertips outstretched to brush the near-blooming plants. “Who?” you ask. Sugawara’s grin turns wry and he threads his arm through yours.

“So petty,” he murmurs, patting your bicep. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But he’s single, and has been staring at you all day. I thought I should mention it”.

“Well you’ve mentioned it,” you return without true malice, squeezing him back. Sugawara’s lips parted in a sigh, and for a brief second, you saw a wistful expression beneath the lighthearted veneer. It stirs unease in your chest and you add, “I just don’t want to make a scene”.

“You really think that’s what it’ll come to?”

Memories unearthed from the deep recesses of your mind. Packed away into tight spaces and left to collect dust where they can’t hurt you. They awaken easily, triggered by a simple question, and with such clarity that you wonder if you ever forgot them at all.

Soft, deliberate touches. Long, warm embraces, swallowed up by his large frame. Graceless laughter—the ugly kind that makes your stomach hurt. Languorous kisses, biting kisses, chaste kisses, clumsy kisses. Good morning and good night kisses. Bickering over breakfast. Bickering over dinner. Wandering, calloused hands. Pressure behind two fingers, splitting you like soft fruit. A sharp tongue and sharper words. Holding hands in bed, anchoring yourself to him like you were afraid he might float away in the night.

Life became busier than either of you expected. Kei landed an opportunity to play for a division two team in the V league alongside his work at the Sendai city museum. Your publisher's demands increased. Kei’s priorities shifted. Resentment crept in. He started to forget things. Small promises and favours, like getting the grocery’s or making it home for date night. They felt so significant at the time—things you deemed indicative of his commitment to you, without communicating as such.

Fractures formed in your relationship. You ignored them in favour of keeping the peace, hoping to address them when the timing was better. Only with hindsight can you say that was the wrong choice. The fractures contracted, expanded until it grew into a yawning cavity with one of you standing either side of it. A slow decay.

“No. No, it wouldn’t,” you tell Sugawara. Tsukishima has never been a shining paragon of virtue but he wouldn't do anything to disrupt Tanaka’s wedding. “I’m just nervous. I haven’t seen him since…”

Sugawara hums his acknowledgment. You’re adrift as he guides you into the venue holding the wedding reception, welcomed into a kaleidoscope of colour. Carefully crafted floral arrangements line the hall. Half of the building is a greenhouse conversion, and natural light filters in through the high, arching ceilings, illuminating the dance floor. You take in the surroundings as your senses are enveloped by the pleasant din.

“Look, there’s Yachi and Nishinoya,” Sugawara tugs on your arm and calls out, “Yachi! Noya!”

Nishinoya crowed, leaping forward to gather you and Sugawara into a blistering hug. Barely two extra inches on him yet larger than you remember, skin kissed by the sun and his hair handsomely coiffed. His waistcoat creases awkwardly with the stretch of his body while you sink into his warmth and feel your cheeks ache.

“Man, I feel like I could scale a mountain! It’s so good to see you guys again,” Nishinoya reclines to get a look at you both and firmly takes you by the shoulders. “You have a lot to answer for,” he says with mock seriousness.

“I do?” you laugh, skull knocking side to side as he shakes you.

“I read your book on the plane”.

Your laughter putters out. You grimace and clear your throat, “Oh—really?”

“Most of us have. We wanted to support you properly,” Yachi admits as she steps forward to hug you. She’s smiling when she pulls away, faint laughter lines deepening.

Sugawara nods and pokes at your waist, “Don’t look so embarrassed. It was amazing”.

“It made me cry!” Nishinoya effuses. He sniffs, and to your mortification he looks like he might burst into tears again. “There was this one line—gah, no! I can’t talk about it. Get over here, I need to hug you again”.

“Thank you, Noya-san,” you wheeze at the arms constricting around your midsection, eyes clenched shut to repress the impending sting. You turn your head, nose knocking against his temple as you peer at the others. “Thank you all. I mean it”.

Yachi squirms, her smile quivering. “I’m really happy you made it today,” she says once you’ve been released. The unyielding pressure of Nishinoya’s embrace lingers like two phantom limbs. “You too, Nishinoya-san”.

“It’s amazing you’re upright. I thought for sure the jet lag would get to you,” Sugawara laughs. He utters a quick apology to the server passing with a tray of drinks. “Didn’t you fly in from Barcelona?”

“Yeah. Should’a been heading to Andorra but I wouldn’t miss my bro’s wedding for the world,” Nishinoya’s voice drifts as his eyes follow the alcohol. He plucks a glass in one swift motion and holds it high, “Salut I força al canut!”

Yachi watches him throw back the drink with poorly veiled anxiety. “Ah, speaking of, we should find our seats. It looks like the cake cutting is starting soon”.

“Good call. We’re getting in the way of the preparations. And I think you’ve left Asahi alone for too long,” Sugawara claps Nishinoya on the shoulder. “Looks like he’s been accosted by Saeko-san”.

Nishinoya pivots on his heel, whip-like and buzzing. You’re not sure which name he reacted to more. Asahi or Saeko. “Where?” his gaze locks in on the pair across the room. “I’ll talk to you guys in a bit!”

Gone in a blink. “He never slows down,” Sugawara sighs, shaking his head fondly. “Guess that’s my cue,” he says before parting ways. Yachi waves after them.

An idea strikes you then. “Say, Yacchan. You’re next to me, right?” you glance toward the long tables set up around the dance floor and meet her gaze with a suggestive smile. “Would you want to sit next to Yamaguchi instead? I don’t mind swapping”.

Their relationship had blossomed over the past few months. A long, slow burn finally come to fruition, new enough that mention of it usually makes her turn pink. But the light in her eyes dims at your suggestion, and rather than flustered, Yachi looks uncertain.

Her fingers form a loose clasp around your forearm. “Tadashi is seated next to Tsukishima,” she explains gingerly. You feel yourself freeze and the kind motion of her thumb strokes circles along the inside of your wrist.

You let out a shaky exhale. “That’s okay. I don’t mind,” you tell her before the consequences of what you’re offering can really be cemented. Yachi’s eyes widen, her grip tighter on your hand as you squeeze back in an attempt at reassurance, knowing your smile looks brittle. “It’s probably for the best. We haven’t… talked yet”.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure”.

“Are you sure you’re sure?”

“Hitoka,” you laugh, bumping your shoulders together. “I promise I’ll survive”.

You regret it not two minutes later.

Anticipation fizzes under your skin as you spot him. On approach you give him a cursory look over, the harsh beat of your heart ricocheting in your chest. Tsukishima looks good—he always does, but today, dressed in his dark, double breasted suit, with the golden hour light carding fingers through his neatly styled hair, you think he’s never looked better.

It is disconcerting to see him again and realise that your feelings haven’t changed much in the slightest.

You sit in the chair beside him. You see his spine draw taut in the corner of your eye and feel an oscillating loneliness; so alike those final few weeks together that cold dread seeps between the spaces in your ribs and steals your breath.

“Tsukishima,” you incline your head, impersonal and cautious, hating how foreign his surname is on your tongue.

A beat passes before he repeats your name in greeting, soft as a psalm despite the dour expression on his face. You’re overcome with the urge to poke the uncomfortable crease in his brow. To smooth it out and kiss the skin there, the way you used to do.

You shift in your seat. The arms curve around your midsection and knock against your elbows as you fiddle with the table cloth, “I told Yacchan that Yamaguchi could have my seat so they can sit together. I hope that’s alright”.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” and you know the clipped answer is reflexive by the way his jaw locks in frustration at himself. Bracing for what you’ll say next.

Only, your mouth curls up a little, and you exhale a short laugh through your nose. You haven’t seen him this skittish since your first year of highschool. You consider that maybe you aren’t the only one who’s scared. That things are the same and they are not the same. The thought is bittersweet, but it’s nice, the way his trepidation gives way to muted awe, how he sends you sidelong glances when he thinks you’re not looking.

The music picks up in a grand crescendo as the newlyweds enter the hall and the reception begins with a raucous applause. A rich aroma unfurls as the food is served, the depth of the flavour layering over the already present notes of wildflower and honey. Drinks are handed to the guests. Generously. You swirl the liquid gold around the rim of your glass, luxuriating in the syrupy inebriation of a gently oaked chardonnay.

“So, uh. How’ve you been?”

Tsukishima, to his credit, does not startle at the question. “Fine,” he says, and you think he might leave it at that when he adds, “The museum received another new Crinoid collection last month, so I’ve been preoccupied”.

You grasp at the conversational thread, not wanting him to stop, “Crinoids?”

“Marine animals. They still exist today, though not as common. You might’ve heard of sea lilies and feather stars,” he shrugs halfheartedly, not daring to look away from his deep fried tofu, though it’s clear he can’t help talking about his work with pride. “Ours are from the Triassic period”.

“Just like the, uh—” you click your fingers to conjure the name from thin air “—Gojirasaurus! Your favourite, right?”

Tsukishima pauses. It’s a fleeting thing, but you notice. The corner of his lips curves into a barely-there smile. He seems pleased that you remembered. You busy your hands with repositioning the cutlery a fourth time so maybe, hopefully, you can distract yourself enough not to say something stupid like: “If I visit, will you show it to me?” or “Do you miss me, like I miss you?”

You clear your throat. “I hear the Sendai Frogs have been doing well, too. Congratulations on moving up to division one”.

Those aureate eyes are sliding to you again, bright and searching. Tsukishima arches his brow in a delicate mocking gesture that was unbearable when he was sixteen and even more so now. “Keeping tabs on me, are you?”

There’s mirth trickling into his voice, giving it a familiar smarmy lilt. A wave of emotion washes over you. Embarrassment and heart-twisting-happiness. You shove some rice into your mouth and chew it down to fine paste, vying for time to formulate a coherent sentence. “No. I read about it in the latest Volleyworld issue,” you reply unconvincingly.

“You don’t read Volleyworld”.

“How would you know that?”

Tsukishima takes a shallow breath and nods. The warm gloam of late afternoon mellows his taut features. “I’ve been reading too,” he says after another sip of wine. “I saw you finally published your book”.

Dread seized the inner workings of your mind and the apology on the tip of your tongue curdles. Time ticks by, one sickening second after another. Your eyes dip low to avoid his gaze—which for some reason, he refused to direct anywhere else.

Your recollection of the break up itself was hazy at best. There had been no raised voices, no desperate movie-esque kiss, no slammed doors. Only grief filling your body like lead, and jumbled, half-hysterical thoughts of ‘Is this it? Are we giving everything up, just like that?’

You remember everything that followed, though. The inability to accept reality. It is said if a writer falls in love, that love can never die. And so you kept writing, and writing, and writing; perceiving love through different lenses, creating different endings; relying on metaphors of natural forces and disasters, of cannibalism and gluttony, of journeys and patience to make sense of it all. Six months after everything fell apart you completed the final draft of ‘The Vanishing Moon’, dedicating a final testimony to him in small print on the first page.

Given the choice, I would’ve rather had you at my side than any one of these words.

Has he seen it? Is that what he’s getting at? Did he read through all eighteen chapters and meticulously pick out the remnants of him you pressed between the pages?

“Noya said it made him cry,” you eventually reply.

Tsukishima signals for another drink. He takes two flutes from the server, handing one to you. You accept it with a soft ‘thanks’, hoping he didn’t notice the tremor in your fingers. “Nishinoya-san cried when he found out swans can be gay,” he points out.

“You cried at The Land Before Time”.

“What kind of cold hearted bastard doesn’t cry at The Land Before Time?”

Laughter bubbles up in your chest as the initial dread ebbs away and the tension seeps from your shoulders. Tsukishima dips his chin, a small smile as he mutters, “That’s better”.

In the centre of the hall Tanaka cradles Kiyoko in his arms, now surrounded by clusters of their loved ones whirling with their own partners, a hurricane of colour and laughter and love. Tsukishima observes them with a solemn gleam in his eye. That could’ve been us, his heart says in chorus with your own.

“Do you remember that time we danced together in third year, at the summer festival? I tried to kiss you and gave you a nosebleed”.

“I remember”.

Your gaze drops to the bottom of your glass. At the time you had been mortified. Now it’s a story you would share at your own wedding table. The thought cleaves your heart in half.

“Do you remember the song that was playing?”

“Why are you bringing this up?” Tsukishima snaps. “Yes, I remember everything. I couldn’t forget even if I wanted to. Happy?”

There’s a surge of something devastating in your chest, like love and heartbreak all at once, strong enough that you feel as if your ribs might splinter just to make room for it. But they don’t—and you don’t, because you’ve felt this before, and your body remembers.

You remember.

Suddenly the room is too hot, and the music is too loud. “Sorry. I’ll be back in a minute,” you murmur, pushing your chair back and getting to your feet.

“Wait,” in one short breath there are long, calloused fingers circling your wrist. You do wait. Tsukishima hesitates, the pressure elevates, and as you lean away your palm slips into his, skin kissing skin. Then he’s standing, towering over you. “I’ll come with you. I know a place that’s quiet”.

Tsukishima does not let go of your hand, and you don’t let go of his. He walks a few steps ahead guiding you through the throngs of people. Some familiar heads turn, their attention drawn immediately to the place where your bodies meet, and shooting you various looks of encouragement or confusion. Yamaguchi sees you pass and his mouth splits into a grin so wide that his eyes crinkle.

You’re not sure where it is he’s taking you, only that his promise of finding quiet is true. The cacophony simmers and soon enough the festivities are muffled entirely. Just when you think you’ve wound up at the end of a corridor it curves, leading to a pair of french doors. “Come on,” Tsukishima ushers you out onto a balcony.

What you’re greeted by makes your breath catch. The world as it is around you comes to a standstill, the fabric of reality peeling away. An orange yolk dips below the horizon and the sunset hour drapes across the ostensibly endless meadow hidden behind the Karumai Gardens. Rolls of grass sway in the wind, peppered with wildflowers of every shade.

You move to stand at the balcony’s edge. Tsukishima drops his hand, and your fingers curl into your palm. The shadows grow longer, the air cooler. The evening insects begin to sing. You’re warmed still by the wine thrumming in your bloodstream.

“Hey, Tsukki?”

He comes to stand beside you, folding his arms atop the wall. “Don’t call me that”.

“Oh,” you swallow against the swell in your throat. “Sorry, Tsukishima”.

Tsukishima’s expression twists into a scowl. There’s a blush creeping toward his ears. “I didn’t mean that,” he says. You blink and wait for him to elaborate, which only flusters him further. He stares stubbornly at the border. “Just—call me as you normally would. Anything else sounds wrong in your mouth”.

The name leaves you in an instant. Hushed—not whispered, “…Kei”.

He makes an inquisitive noise, strangled as it is.

“You didn’t say what you thought of it,” you continued. “My book”.

You feel a rush of adrenaline when Kei doesn't answer immediately, unable to read his expression. “Good,” he says, veiled indifference belied by the restless twisting of a cufflink between his forefinger and thumb. “It was good”.

“Well, that’s practically a Pulitzer recommendation coming from you”.

“Shut up,” he huffed, gaze flitting across your face and dropping to your tentative, uncertain beginning of a smile. He wets his lips and glances away. Heartened, both by the alcohol and his reciprocation, you press closer in small increments, and Kei flowers under your gentle persuasion, like he always used to.

“This okay?”

In lieu of a reply you are ensconced by a warm, firm chest and two strong arms around your back that show no sign of withdrawing. The low timbre of his voice vibrates under your cheek, “Who was it for?”

“Hm?”

“The book. You dedicated it to someone”.

You exhale, squeezing your eyes shut. You’re glad, in part, that he can’t see the emotion written plainly on your face. “Nobody,” you answer lightly, angling to position your ear right over his beating heart. “Just an ex. You don’t know him”.

“Right,” Kei says, drawing out the ‘l’ the way he does when conceding a point he knows he’s correct about. It sounds so fond that you want to curl up where you’re resting, like some benevolent cat. “Guy must’ve been a dick”.

“I was too. We made a lot of mistakes, I think,” you say. If nothing came of this you would at least be able to revisit it; to pick at the scab and stop the wound from closing over too soon. There’s comfort in that. You crane your head and meet his gaze, nervous but unwavering. “But even if he was kind of a dick, I miss him a lot”.

“Yeah?” his eyes soften, half lidded and dark. “He misses you too”.

“He told you that, did he?” your mouth trembles. Kei dips to bring your foreheads together, and the hard frame of his glasses bumps your eyebrow. You share a shaky exhale of laughter.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, brow pinched with regret. Again, “I’m sorry. I know I fucked up”.

You feel your jaw quiver. The familiar burn behind your eyes. Tears so close you can taste them. “We both did. Don’t shoulder the blame on your own”.

“But I made you feel lonely,” he says.

You tuck your chin and whisper, “Yes”.

His fingers splayed across your cheek, pinky tucked beneath your jaw as he cradled your face in his hand, tilting until you’re staring back at the reflection in his pupils. Puffy and damp, eyelashes clumped with tears. What a sight.

Kei strokes his thumb in an arc beneath your eye. A tear beads on his nail, slipping into the crook of his hand. The inexpressible tenderness is overwhelming yet you are underwhelmed by the inaction. You can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed by the whine in your voice as you ask, “Are you going to kiss me?”

“Demanding as ever. What happened to ‘please’?” he murmurs. And then he kisses you.

It is slow at first, hesitant, leaving room for you to pull away. But with every languid movement of Kei’s lips came a sweet affirmation, that which you took and took until you no longer felt unworthy of receiving it. His hand flutters at your waist. You take a shuddered breath, pressing closer into his embrace and deepening the kiss. In his distraction you take him by the wrist, encouraging him to touch. There’s an immediate, reverent grip at your hip, kneading over your clothes.

This is what you’d been longing for. The feeling you couldn’t transpose; that which people have long tried to capture. The esoteric, giddy anticipation and joy that bubbled between two people on the precipice of something bigger than themselves. Even with an affinity for stringing words together you are scarcely able to describe it. Immense and overwhelming, light and dark, tender and everything in between.

Kei pulls away for breath with a low, vibrating hum, wearing a smile that you thought you’d never see outside of your memories. Almost boyish when he looks at you. The distance is an inch too many but it is just that—an inch. “Eager,” he teases, only to kiss you again, twice as eager.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve loved love stories.

But love doesn’t only exist in stories.

You remember that, now.

#hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyu x reader

982 notes · View notes

amerricanartwork · 5 months

Text

Look at that! The little creatures are back! And there's two new ones this time!

Hey, what brings you guys around here—

Oh. My. God. This little blue one is so cute!! And those little frill things are so pretty!

What's it carrying, though? Come here so I can get a closer look!

Whoa! Calm down, purple one! I wasn't gonna hurt your little friend here!

See, it's alright!

Though I must say, you two are quite the interesting pair! I'd love to get to know you more! Both of you, feel free to stay as long as you'd like!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

At long last, a new update to Rain Wool is here! And to hopefully compensate for the very long time it's been since my last addition to this project, I've decided to showcase TWO new figures this time!

First up is everyone's favorite little wet goober, Rivulet! And I must say, this one's been the hardest so far! Like I mentioned in a previous ask, it was quite hard to find a suitable blue color for Riv, in the sense that it both matched the in-game sprite as closely as possible and looked nice with a pink color that fit for the gills (which was also a bit hard to find). Then, on top of that, actually felting all six gills and attaching them to the cheeks was rather tedious. However, the end result was definitely worth it! Rivulet's gotta be my favorite Rain Wool figure so far; it's just so cute, I wanna hug it every time I see it!!

And next up is the quiet yet deadly messenger, Spearmaster! This one was a bit easier to make than Rivulet, though dark-colored slugcats are always a bit of a challenge for me. Visually, it's the same as Nightcat in the body, with the main difference, of course, being that thick spotted tail. It was a bit of a challenge to gauge just how thick I wanted the tail to be, but once it seemed satisfactory, placing the spots was pretty relaxing, and I like the way they came out in the end!

And, like my last two figures, I made little props for these guys as well! Again, I tried to make things matching their characters and stories. Using the same mini bamboo skewers with some hot glue and white ink, I made three of Spearmaster's special white spears, while some black and blue wool was used to make a little rarefaction cell for Rivulet.

That's about it for now, though. I hope you enjoyed seeing these two new figures! I'm pretty excited myself, not just because they both turned out great, but because I now only have two more slugcats to make!

Stay tuned for more Rain Wool: Downpour! I'll see you next time!

#art #artwork #artists on tumbr #traditional #traditional art #fiber art #needle felting #felting #fanart #rain world #slugcat #rw slugcat #spearmaster #rw spearmaster #rivulet #rw rivulet #quetzalli needle felts #project: rain wool #does this count as spearvulet/fishstick?

815 notes · View notes

theblueflower05 · 1 year

Text

Crawling Back to You

(Part Two of First Love/Late Spring)

A/N: So like, I’m really excited that you guys seem to be digging this story. I was hesitant about it just because there’s so much of my own Na’vi/Metkayina lore thrown in there. Thank you for all of the kind response.

Word Count: 8k+

Warnings: From here on out, this story will be extremely explicit. Minors DNI. If Aged Up! Neteyam isn’t your thing, please exit to your left. Let’s all respect each other's boundaries, please.

Angst. Self deprecation. Alcohol consumption. Smut. Mutual masturbation. Fingering(fem receiving). Nipple sucking. Breeding kink. Scent marking. Public sex(if you squinttttt)

Summary: Neteyam returns from his Motnaui and isn’t in much of a celebratory mood when he realizes that he’s scrapped any chance of having a mate for Fertility season…or has he? Neteyam x Reader

Series Masterlist(all parts can be found here)

Previous< First Love/Late Spring

Next>: Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea

Secret's that I’ve held in my heart

Are harder to hide then I thought.

Maybe I just wanna be yours- Artic Monkeys

The brilliant Pandoran sun beats down on the crystal blue waters, fragmenting into bursts of light under the surface of the waves.

The Motnaui is intense, Neteyam’s lean frame isn't made for the open ocean but over the months as he trained intensely with the Metkayina hunters, he gained muscle he didn't even realize his body could retain.

His shoulders are broader and thighs thicker. He can keep up with the clan, he can help row the boats without his arms giving out on him.

Neteyam hasn't felt this way since they had fled the safety of the forest. He’s useful again. He’s worked hard to regain his title of Hunter.

Warrior.

Brother of the people.

He sense’s it as they jump between the endless maze of isles. Hunting and sleeping on the beaches under the open night sky. Swapping stories around the small campfires.

They don't see him as an outsider anymore. No, he is Metkayina. All of the hunters treat him as such. Clapping his back. Embracing him tight. Sharing in the whopping joy as he makes a clean, merciful kill.

They listen to the Omaticayan legends he tells the and fill him in on the lore of the sea.

The four days out at open ocean are needed and he feels sure footed now. Knows that he will always have a place in Awa’atlu. He can't wait for Lo’ak to complete his Iknamaya next cycle, to get to feel this feeling of deep belonging. Of acceptance.

The tattoo forever etched into the the skin on his on his shoulder burns. Throbs all the way down his elbow, ends right above his wrist. The permanent swirling ink a symbol of his place among the reef.

His third birth is as beautiful as his second. He is a man, twice recognized.

Neteyam reminds himself of that fact as he sits down next to Tonowari one night. The stars are sparkling and the dimming light of the dying fire makes the hulking chief look larger than life.

Still, the younger man gathers his courage.

“I wish to mate with Y/N” Neteyam states firmly. He had been Olo’eyktan in training for over a decade back in the forest. He uses the voice he’d take on when speaking of important matters “I would like your blessing to do so, sir”

Their brothers and sisters in the hunt surround them. Either asleep at the late hour or lost to their own conversations.

Or maybe they just know not to interrupt this important exchange. They only listen in with peaked ears and envious hearts.

Tonowari’s features go stern, his strong brows pulling together “Before my T’smuke returned to the great mother, I promised her that I would always take care of her daughter as though she was my own. I love Y/N as I do my children. Do you understand that, Neteyam?”

Neteyam is nodding “Yes sir, of course”

“She is a good woman. A very important member of our community, if I allow this courtship I have to be certain that you will honor that. That you will honor her place among us, and be serious about what that means for your own”

Neteyam mules over the words, thinks he knows what they mean. He will be marrying into the royal family of the Metkayina. He will be bound by blood to the clans chief. His future children will have a claim to the title of Olo’eyktan or Tshaik, third in line should anything ever happen.

“I am very serious about her, I will work hard to give her all that she deserves. I will build us a Mauri to raise our family in. I will dedicate my life to her and the tribe” It is not a vow lightly made, Neteyam knows this.

He had never been one to be fickle about responsibility.

It’s only when the intense expression on the Olo’eyktans face shifts, a broad smile stretching across his mouth, that Neteyam feels his posture untense.

Tonowari claps him hard on the back and offers him the leather flask of strong liquor that the hunters pass amongst themselves-

“Then you have my blessing” Tonowari laughs as the younger Na’vi man almost chokes on the burn of the Kava.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

When they return to the main island of Awa’atlu with their abundant catch they are greeted warmly by the clan. The giant horns are blown, drums play rhythmically. Children scream joyously and women dance scantly clad in ceremonial drab.

Its busy and blustering but there's only one thing on Neteyam's mind.

Only one person.

The same woman who had plagued him since his arrival all those months ago. You’re as elusive as the receding tide and he had become accustomed to having to look for you. To having to seek you out in a crowd, to go searching for you.

You hadn't seen him off and he hasn't spoken to you in many days. He misses you. It's an ache that he wants to soon remedy, that he knows he’ll never have to feel again. Not with Tonowari’s blessing fueling him.

Since he was young, Neteyam had wanted to be bonded.

He’d dreamt of sharing that special connection with another individual; the way that his parents did. He craved someone to cherish him, to take care of him and in return he’d do the same for them. He itched for a woman to braid his hair, to bear his children. To bury his cock in every night and wake up to every morning.

He was a simple man with a big heart and a lot of love to give. And he wanted to give it to you.

He just has to find you first.

Neteyam tries not to worry when he can't catch sight of your petite frame. Not one peek of your long hair or seafoam eyes. He couldn't scent the natural perfume of florally herbs that always seemed to surround you-

“Neteyam!” It’s Tuk.

She collides with him hard. Many years of being a climbing post for his siblings is the only reason he doesn't topple over. Is able to catch her mid air and hold her to his chest.

He’s greeted by his family-

And only a moment passes before he can notice that something is wrong.

It’s written all over Kiri’s face. In his mothers expressive eyes and the glances his father throws him as he embraces the Olo’eyktan from across the way. Even Lo’ak gives him something akin to a small glare.

“Whatever is going on, it will have to wait” Neteyam decides out loud, slowly lowering his baby sister to the ground. “I need to find Y/N, have any of you seen her?”

Kiri’s mouth opens and shuts, as though she’s trying to figure out what to say and it frays his nerves. His legs are antsy, burning with the need to run. To seek you out- still on the high of the hunt.

“I don't have time for this-”

“Brother, wait. It is about Y/N” Kiri grabs his elbow, keeping him still.

He doesn't like her tone.

Likes the expression on her face even less. She looks too serious, it doesn't suit her at all. Kiri had always been as airy as a tree sprite- carefree and bubbly.

Call it a gut feeling or the simple ability to read the room. He just knows whatever she’s about to tell him isnt going to be pleasant.

“What happened?”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

His sister pulls him aside, into the mangrove tree’s and away from prying eyes and ears so that she can relay what she’d heard. Fill Neteyam in on what he’s missed.

He listens to every word…and they settle like stones in his stomach.

“Y/N thinks that you have accepted an offer of courtship from another woman”

“I didn't- I’d never!” Neteyam hisses in protest, shaking his head. It’s all one big misunderstanding. He has to make find you, shake these thoughts out of your head. Make you see-

“But you did,” Kiri replies firmly, her mouth pulled into a grim line.

She explains the meaning of the Lei’s.

The gravity of him accepting one from another female and Neteyam hasn't felt so small in many years. He’d been forced into adulthood early. Taken care of his siblings from a young age and then was thrust into the war with the RDA before he had even fully come out of adolescence. He was wise beyond his years, that’s what everyone had always told him.

He doesn’t feel that way now.

He’d fucked up, made a mistake that could very well cost him the future that he had worked so hard to secure since coming to the reefs-

And he hadn't even meant to! He’d been as naive as a baby, as ignorant to Metkayina traditions as an untrained child-

He wants to scream in frustration. Wants to kick the absolute shit out of himself. Instead he listens to his sister, his hands shaking as he balls them into fists.

You had been devastated. Heart broken. Wouldn't talk to anyone or come out to eat. Couldn’t stop crying-

“Enough” He pleads, he can't hear anymore of it. Guilt rises in his chest like bile.

Imagining what the last days had been like for you as he’d spend them having the time of his life, galivanting with other hunters. Getting drunk and having carefree fun-

“Kiri, what do I do?”

She sighs. It’s so rare to see her older brother like this. He’s always so solid. So strong and stable. It’s unnerving when he loses his composure. When his carefully built walls come down

She had known that the whole thing was a miscommunication and had tried along with Tsireya to convince you of that fact. But you wouldn't hear it, and avoided her at every turn.

You and her brother are both such stubborn dumb asses. Rubbing at her temples Kiri prays to Eywa for strength. Sully’s stick together.

“We fix this”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

As the evening eclipse starts and the sun disappears in the sherbert sky the beach lights up.

Bonfires roar, their flames tall and burning bright.

The air is filled with the smell of roasting Paokpak(island boar) and fish. Huge pots full of dishes that Neteyam had never seen line the long wooden table set up at the center of the celebration. Barrels of Kava have been brought out. The strongest of Metkayina liquors, brewed and stored for decades in airtight containers. Made from berries that are extremely hard to harvest.

This is a time for celebration, to gorge on the hard earned harvests the hunters have brought back. To celebrate the newly rited adults and prepare for the Fertility Season.

The beat of the drums is hypnotic. It's sexy and primal. It's a tune that all Na’vi know in their chest, one that their hips move to as if of their own accord.

Children play, Women sing, stories older then the briny deep are told. The air is electric; so full of magic and unity.

And yet, Neteyam is on edge.

He had been since his rude awakening earlier in the day. He’d spent his afternoon running around like an Austrapede with its head chopped off. Desperately trying to solve the issues that he hadn't meant to create.

After hunting down the culprit to all of this mess, a pretty lei made up of sunset orange lilies which he’d given to Tuk almost automatically after it’d been given to him, he returns it to its owner.

Seychelle is haughty. Rightly upset and shrilly confused as she takes the token of her affections back. Neteyam’s apology is poor and he knows it, he backs away before she can throw her drink in his face.

Tsireya had told him this was the only way to remedy the issue- to refuse the offer for courtship so that he could be open to be with another. The younger girl had been so relieved when he came to her, begging her to help him win back your affections.

“I knew you are a good man, that you don't have a mean spirit”

Tsireya is as eager as Neteyam to see her cousin happy. She doesn't think she could spend another night listening to your inconsolable weeping.

The last obstacle is the hardest.

You refuse to be anywhere near him. Are forced into the festivities because of your family standing, but pretend that Neteyam simply does not exist.

At every turn you evade him.

Sandwiching yourself between the hulking muscle of Ao’nung and Tonowari at the buffet table. Dancing in an enclosed circle of swaying women. Flitting away in a plume of smoke when he approaches you with your favorite ripe fruit in hand; leaving him standing there stupidly. Palms stained by the juice of the Lionberry as he squeezes it in frustration.

You’re hauntingly beautiful in the firelight.

He hates the fact that he’s not the only who notices it. The way the other males consume you with their carnivorous gazes makes him sick. His fingers clench and his knuckles crack of their own accord.

Long dark hair pours down your back in bouncing waves. The top that you wear clings to you like a second skin; the pearls and seashells glittering in the warm hue of the flames. Your own Lei, pink and pristine, is still resting on your throat. Many intricate bracelets and anklets clink as you walk and he cant take his eyes off of the way that the back of your tweng sits on your pert ass-

“Go talk to her” His dad suggests gruffly as he watches his son watch you. It’s getting hard to stomach at this point, all of that longing palpable and souring the atmosphere.

“She doesn't want to speak to me” Neteyam mutters. Trying not to feel too bad for himself. And failing.

Neteyam hadn't thought his return from Motonui would be like this. He’d envisioned a lot more kissing, and alot less moping.

“Woman aren't as complicated as they seem, son. You don't need some grand gesture-”

“Says the man who tamed Toruk after his first fight with his mate” Neteyam interrupts and Jake snorts at his unusual outburst.

His eldest son is usually so very put together- it's entertaining to see that a woman could bring out this side of him.

“I have nothing to offer her. Back home in the forest I could have given her- everything” Neteyam sighs as he admits what's been on his mind since he’d begun pursuing you “There’s no reason why she’d want to be with me, I’m aware of that”

Jake pulls his son close.

His first born. The apple of his eye. Neteyam was good to his core, and anyone who knew him could see it. Jake was so proud of him and wondered if this lack of self confidence came from the fact that he probably didn’t tell the boy of that fact enough.

“All that girl wants from you is reassurance. That’s all you need to give her, everything else will come with time. If she wanted to mate for status she would’ve done it long before you got here, kid. ”

Jake had been shitty at motivational speeches since his stint in the military. You would think his time as reigning Olo’eyktan would have given him some kind of skills. But still, his words are a bit clunky. But sincere.

After a moment, Neteyam gulps at the Kava in his hand. Drains his cup and then squares his shoulders before he’s off.

Eyes set unyieldingly on the prize.

Jake grins. If a good ol’ pep talk doesn't do it- liquid courage sure will.

You’re half heartedly participating in the conversations going on around you, just distracted enough that Neteyam’s able to stalk over. Unnoticed until he’s standing right infront of you-

“Y/N” His voice is firm, he wonders if you know how hard it is for him to keep it as such. “I see you”

Up close he can see how swollen your eyes are. How exhausted you look. You just nod, muttering out a quiet “I see you” in response.

Everything about your body language screams that you want to be left alone. Your arms are crossed over your chest, your ears tipped low. Your tail curls around your ankle and your nose keeps scrunching up.

He wishes he could let you be,

But you make him selfish. You bring out a side of him that wants to take. Has to be satiated or he’s going to lose his fucking mind.

“I must speak with you” He states his intentions, clear. Ignores the way Ronal glares daggers at the side of his head.

“I don’t think-”

“It will only take a moment. But I ask for the privacy to explain myself to you. If after you hear my words you still do not wish to talk to me I will respect that”

You glance at your family before responding to him. Sharing a look with both Ronal and Tsireya. Your cousin smiles encouragingly, your aunt gives a barley tolerant tilt of her head.

You sigh and nod, but step away from his hand when he offers it to you. It's an obvious rejection, but Neteyam tries not to dwell on it. His tail flicks anxiously behind him.

“We may speak in private. Come” your voice is low, before you begin to lead him away from the festivities. Down the beach until the firelight is in the distance and the beat of the drum is a low hum on the howling wind.

The storms will start soon. The sea is choppy, the clouds rolling in and the breeze cool.

It’s hard to find privacy on the sandy shores, intertwined couples can be found scattered along the waters edge. Lips locked. Speaking lowly and intimately.

Neteyam is pretty sure that one of his fellow hunters has his mate twisted into a mating press- if her breathless whimpers are anything to go by.

He avoids their writhing bodies, ignores the way it makes his own core tingle.

Fertility Season is all but here. The entire clan falling under its low boiling energy.

All he could think about as he had been out on the open ocean; is that this cycle he wouldn't have to spend it alone.

He’s not sure that is the case anymore.

After more walking, completely in silence, the two of you come to a mostly desolate area. Quiet and still, as private as it’s going to get.

You stare out at the cresting waves and Neteyam knows he needs to say something, anything. But all he can to is look at you.

At the way that the moonlight illuminates your silhouette, at the dusting of turquoise bioluminescent freckles that are scattered across your nose.

“I-Um-” You start, and that wont do. He cuts you off quick.

It is only him who needs to explain himself. “Let me start by apologizing to you. I am so sorry, Y/N”

You appear as though you’re going to start crying and if you do, he’ll lose all his carefully cultivated cool.

So he presses on.

“I had no idea that accepting Lei’s was a courting symbol here. I don't know how to make you believe me but if I had know I would’ve never-” Neteyam lets out a long shaky breath “I can only swear to you that in the future I will be more mindful of your clans traditions”

Time ticks by. The moon shines and the waves crash against the shore.

“Our clan” you break the silence, your voice gentle and melodic. “You passed your Iknimaya. It is your clan as much as mine”

He wants so desperately to hold you. He has for months, but the need is almost unbearable at this very moment.

“If I have lost my chance. Please, tell me now” it’s a plea. Because it hurts to look at you. If he can not have you- if you do not want him, he will accept it. Somehow. But being alone with you like this and not knowing is killing him. “I will…I’ll leave you alone, if you want me to”

You scoff, not looking away from him. Refusing to meet his eye, still staring blanky at the waves. “You act as though I am the one who accepted someone else’s offer. I have never wanted you to leave me alone, Neteyam”

“I’m sorry” Does he sound as idiotic as he feels? He surely hopes not.

“You already said that”

“Please, look at me”

“I can’t” you whisper- hissing at him warningly when he outstretches his hands “I- I don't want to ever feel like this again. You need to tell me what you want from me because I do not know. I will get confused again, if you do not tell me what we are doing”

He can tell by your expression that you are serious, and even so. He cant fucking believe it. Had he failed at courtship so immensely that you really don't know? He’s stuck in his head for a moment too long.

It makes you anxious, makes you back even further away.

“Please-” He’s all but begging, yet

you avoid his touch again and it feels like blades.

Your shrill warning hiss rings in his ears.

He returns it with a snarl of his own when you continue to refuse to let him touch you. Can't help it, the need to rebuff all of this uncertainty around the union that is so special to him is strong.

He grips the top of your arms, his long fingers holding your biceps.

You finally look at him. Your round eyes wide and vulnerable. Filled with unshed tears and unspoken questions.

“I want to mate with you” He starts because if you need to hear it all, word for word, then he’d tell you. “I want to build my life here with you by my side. I want us to have a home that will never know war-”

A tear rolls down the swell of your cheek.

“I-I want you to choose to be with me” He swallows, the lump in his throat getting bigger, higher. Threatening to choke his vocal cords “I will be good to you. If you let me”

His family had always required him to be the rock. Had leaned on him to take on the role of caretaker, he had had to keep it together. Keep them together. It wasn't easy for him to break open like this. It went against his very nature, all that self preservation he’d learned early.

But you need this. And he thinks he might too.

“Neteyam-”

“I will ask you again. If I have lost my chance tell me now”

Have mercy on him.

“I understand if you want to be with someone who can offer you more. I won’t fault you for it” he doesn’t know why he feels the need to tack that on. Why the self deprecating thoughts manifest their way into words that hurt for him to speak “I don’t have much here. But I’ll build it, for you”

Your muscles tense under his palms and he prepares himself for the rejection. The physical blow of it-

But then, you melt. Loosen. Your entire body sags fully into his grip. That pinched expression on your face slips away. Your full lips part and your eyes soften, brows furrowing together.

You look at him like he is something precious. Like you can see him- and he thinks you might be the first one who ever has.

He’d known it in his bones. Since the day he’d arrived. Since he’d first spotted your face in the crowd.

“Oel ngati kameie” you whisper, your hand coming up to cup his jaw. “Oel ngati kamei, Neteyam. I see-”

He leans heavily into your hand. His forehead clunking against yours, pressing hard. The contact stings, but its welcome. He needs it.

He needs.

“I don’t care about any of that. I don’t care what you have or don’t have. You know I don’t.” you murmur urgently, he can feel the words against against his skin.

When you press a whisper light, tentative kiss against the sharp of his cheekbone, something snaps. Something that had been strained and barely held together just breaks.

His control, he realizes as he crowds you.

As his fingers dig into your arms and he presses the line of his body against your own firmly.

You’re so soft everywhere. So much smaller than him. He’s all lean muscle, tall and hard. You’re pliable skin, a layer of blubber to keep you warm in the deep. So different from the women he’d grown up with. Your hips are wide, thighs pillowy.

You’d give him healthy children. His hindbrain howls.

When he captures your lips he hopes you realize that there’s no going back. That this is until death. He’d go to his grave before he was robbed of this again.

You gasp, sweet and small, and he eats it. Consumes all of the air in your lungs. You’re good at holding your breath anyway, right?

“Neteyam” you whine, pulling away, your lips wet and your pupils wide. You’re shaky, already a bit disoriented and he wants to keep you. Protect you. He’ll give you anything if you just keep looking at him like that.

“Are you ok-”

You reach up on the tips of your toes, slamming your lips back against his before he can finish his words.

Your hands tangle into his braids as you try to gain traction, pull him down to your level. Get a better hold on him.

Its intense, dizzying. You kiss him like you’re dying and maybe you are. Maybe you’ve been slowly dying since he first got here. Every moment that you hadn’t been able to be held by him had killed you- a slow torturous death.

You drag him down. Do you know he’d follow you anywhere? Under the waves, down onto the soft sand. He cups the back of your head, shelters your neck as he bullies his thin hips between your dense thighs and pressed you against the ground.

The months worth of tension isn't released gently, because it can't be.

The kisses are bruising. Wandering hands and desperate tongues. It’s carnal, Fertility season making both of your minds cloudy as you try to dig into each others flesh.

Nothing is close enough.

With a whine, your fingers slip under Neteyam's multilayered choker. Using it as leverage to tug on as you thrust your hips up violently. The heat at the apex of your legs grinding against his covered erection dangerously.

“Ah-” he gasps wetly “Easy, Narlor. Easy”

“Sorry” you simper, panting. Trying to get a hold on the feelings rushing through you. One hand gripping his necklace, the other slipping into the back of his hair, brushing the nape of his neck “I want- I dream about it all the time”

Fire rushes down Neteyam’s spine, both at your words and your feather light touch to his kuru. He wonders if you touched yourself after those dreams. If you had to take the edge off like he had. He shudders at the thought-

You’re kissing at his neck again, at all of that sensitive skin under his braids, near his ears.

Your quick touches are everywhere. Rushing all over his body. Manicured nails scraping over his skin-

“Ugh,” he warbles out as your curious hand disappears under his tweng.

Its a tight fit as your fingers dance along his hard cock. Delicate and teasingly light. He’s going to come all over himself like some inexperienced teenager that had never gotten a taste of pussy before if you don't. Slow. Down.

“Tell me about those dreams of yours. What’d we do in them?” Neteyam teases, his lips moving against the corner of your mouth. A distraction for both you and himself.

You can't form words, not as you feel how big he is. As you cherish the fact you’ll never be empty again. He's hard and pulsing in your hand and you want him inside of you. Your mouth, your cunt. You don't care. You want to be the only one who gets to feel him, no one else can ever-

There’s only one way to ensure that.

“Tsahelyu” you whimper, “Please Neteyam. Need it”

He slows down a bit, his head spacy but not totally lost. The bond is everything. It’s the most important aspect of Na’vi culture “I can't bond you here”

“Why?” its a petulant whine, your hips pressing against his again.

“I’m not going to bond you on the cold ground, Yawne. Out in the open”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind” you press and he chuckles, shaking his head “you could have me anywhere you want me”

It’s the raw honesty in your voice that drives him crazy.

Devotion in a way that makes him lightheaded.

He can't give you Tsaheylu yet, he wants it done right. He wants you tucked in a mountain of blankets with a warm fire going- at the height of Fertility Season. The ancestors watching over you as he intertwines himself into your soul for the rest of time.

“I will have you” He assures you, dragging his mouth across your clavicle, his long fingers working the strings of your intricate top loose “And you’ll have me. But you have to let me do it right”

You hate waiting. You tell him as he suckles his way across your chest. Moaning as he finally gets his mouth on your soft breasts. Your fist his braids, shivering as he feasts on your skin.

“I’ll make it worth your while” Neteyam promises between mouthfuls of supple flesh “You’ll want for nothing. I’ll give you anything”

He’s humping down into you, unable to stop his hips from shifting. His cock seeking your warmth. You’re right there, he could just-

“Please” you shiver, like you know what he’s thinking. Like you can read his mind and all the dirty thoughts that cross it.

You can't take it. All of his hesitating.

You’d heard that the Omiticayans were more reserved, more traditional when it came to mating but he was going to drive you crazy.

You push on his chest. Gentle yet demanding.

He doesn't want to remove his mouth from your breasts but he allows it all the same. His lips swollen, a thin string of spit connecting him to your tender nipple as he stares at you with questioning eyes.

Neteyam lets you push him off of you before he goes down onto his back, the sand grating against his shoulder blades as he lays flat. You grin the entire time. Your eyes sparkling with excitement. With hunger.

You look as horny as he feels and it kills him.

Your fingers pluck at the at the delicate ties of your tweng, loosening it until it falls from your curvy hips.

“Y/N” he warns as you then reach for his own. Tugging at the leather straps of his loincloth. He raises his hips, helping you shimmy it down his long legs.

“You can't bond me” You whisper as you straddle his waist, your small hands using his broad chest for balance, palms on his pectorals “Not yet anyway”

“Mhmm” Neteyams murmurs as his eyes roll into the back of his head. You're hot and dripping wet, the center of your legs steaming as you rub it against his groin.

“That doesn't mean you cant touch me” you coo at the man under you as you slowly begin to undulate above him. Your hips circling as your head lowers to tongue at the underside of his jaw.

“Shit” He curses in English, gasping at the night sky as you drag damply across his lower stomach .

“Yes?” you question him as you reach for his hand, leading it exactly where you need him most.

“Yeah” Neteyam assures, fingertips dipping where you're skin is plush and dripping- right in between your spread thighs “Yeah, Yeah”

Your hand is still leading his, cupping him firmly against your pussy as he feels how much you need him. You hadn't been the only one dreaming of this. You had danced behind his eyelids for months. His brain had played tricks on him, desperately splicing together mismatched audio in an attempt to conjure up what you would sound like when he finally got to have you.

A shivery keen escapes you when he presses on your swollen bundle of nerves and nah. His imagination couldn't hold a candle to this.

It’s not just how you sound its how you look.

Sat on top of him, resting on your knees with your chest bare save for that brightly hued Lei. Your kiss bruised bottom lip is skewered between your sharp teeth as you worry it in keyed-up concentration. Blue eyes low, your long eyelashes almost fluttering against your cheeks as you stare down at him.

It’s how you smell.

Ripe and earth wet- his mouth floods as he inhales lungfuls of it, your juices are all over him. His waist, coating his hand . Everywhere but right on his tongue where he wants it the most.

Exploring you where you’re the most vulnerable is slippery, your pussy swollen as he traces along the folds. Your clit beats with your pulse under his touch, inflamed and you cry out.

“Awe, baby” he tuts. Your hips chase him in jagged little movements, unsure and needy and it’s enough to get him grinning. You’d been so sure of yourself when you’d pushed him down and climbed on top of him.

Yet here you are a whining mess of his thing in his lap.

There’s no room to tease, he wants to watch you come all over him. Everything still feels too over sensitive. Too new and easily breakable. You’d spent the last near week questioning his feelings.

Neteyam had his words. He could wax to you poetic until your ears bled,

But he had this too. He needed to make you feel a way that no one else could and as he sunk his long digit inside of you he realized that this was better then any conversation. This felt like the most natural way to express all of his emotions, you sucking him in knuckle deep felt so right.

Velvet soft and vice tight, he’s hard between his own legs from just the feel of you. Just knowing that this was his.

You, your heart. Your body. Your tiny little cunt.

Tiny but taking him so well, not just one finger. But two. Then three. Your body moves like the crashing waves behind you, intense and wild. Shoving down onto him so hard that his wrist starts to ache with the demanding press.

“More” you pant wetly into his neck “Faster. Net-please”

He figures out that faster means harder, and harder means he has you all but vibrating on top of him. Bouncing in time with every thrust of his digits. The arm that isn't preoccupied comes around you to hold you steady as he finger fucks you until you're a squealing mess.

This isn't the first time Neteyam has done this.

There’d been girls back home. One girl in particular that didn't take it too personally that he needed tension relief from the war raging around them and not the arranged soon to be wife that everyone had been trying to shove down his throat back them.

This isn't the first time he’s done this but it’s the first time he’s felt this.

He nuzzles your head out from its hiding place in his shoulder. He has to watch your face, needs to see the way he’s making you fall apart.

This is the first time he’s felt the all consuming pull to be with another person. He wants you like this always. So close to him that he could taste the perspiration from your panting breaths.

You tighten up in his arms, going rigid as your pleasure crests. Your pussy fluttering and mouth gaping. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You’re orgasm is ethereal, raw and fervid.

It’s a glance at Eywa. He sees the great mother on your face as you writhe atop of him.

It’s alot, he can tell. Fuck he can only imagine what you’re feeling if it had been this intense for him. Neteyam lets you hide again after a moment. Your hair covers your face as you shake and he thinks you might be crying, but he just brushes a hand down your damp back. Soothing you back down from the high.

The stars are brighter, even as the clouds gather in gluggy gray storm clusters. Everything seems a little bit more beautiful with his fingers still inside of you. It pains him to slide them out, missing the tight clutch of you once his wet fingers are exposed to the cool night air.

Tsaheylu, you’d begged him earlier. His kuru throbs and gooseflesh erupts all over his body just thinking about bonding with you. He wants it more than he’s ever wanted anything.

You nuzzle against him, nosing at his cheek. Your lips ghosting at the corner of his own.

“You okay?” you wonder. Your voice deep and husky. So sexy it makes his eyes close for a second.

“I should be asking you that”

“Mmm, no need to ask. I feel so so good” you assure him, starting to sit up a little “I um-I kind of got really into it. I’m sorry”

“Sorry?” Neteyam questions, keeping his grip on you as you start to squirm. Not in pleasure this time. But in shame, the embarrassed kind. Coming down from the pleasure haze, that anxious edge comes back. Unsure even as you’re on top of him. “Don’t say that. Why would you be sorry right now?”

You huff, nose scrunching. Ears flicking “I made a mess all over you”

It might not be very nice but he can't help but laugh at you. His pearly white canines on display as he hoots, the belly laughs jostling you from your perch.

“What!” you grumble, but smile all the same. “Stop”

“Hmm. I love messes like this. Feel free to make messes like this anytime” his fingers, still glistening come into view as he brings them to his mouth. Your eyes widen, glued to him. At the slight suction of his cheeks as he licks them in earnest “See. Easy clean up, you’ve got nothing to worry about, Pretty”

You taste as good as you smell. His tastebuds tingle as he swirls the new flavor around. Complex; a sweet musk that he wants to bathe in. He’s acutely aware of the way you watch him, your sweet cheeks burning at his lewdness.

When he frees his fingers with a pop, he gasps as your tongue surges in his mouth.

Tasting yourself on his spit.

Fuck.

He lets you kiss him breathless. Lets you run your sloppy kisses all over his face, down his chin. Across his neck. He arches into it all, gives you all the room you need. He’s well aware of what you’re doing. Working your strong scent into every inch of his bare skin.

Scent marking is a vital part of Na’vi courtship. Ancient, ritualistic and respected. Practiced by your ancestors before the first songs.

It’s makes something in him pur, knowing that you want him to smell like you.

“I think that's enough” He grins when your tongue dips into his navel “They can smell me, baby. You did a very thorough job”

The pout on your face is beyond cute as you sit up on your knees. The little ‘hmph’ sound so adorably out of place in the highly sexually charged situation “But I wanna smell like you too. How will anyone know I’m yours if they can’t smell it?”

Neteyam's nostrils flare. His ears swivel on his head and his tail gives a good lash at that. You want to be marked by him too. Are willing to parade his scent around all of those assholes in the clan that have been trying to win your affections, even when it was clear you were uninterested.

“Lay down” It’s an order, spoken softly but directly and you follow it at once. A giddy smile on your face as you lounge on the sand.

You are a vision.

Hair sprawling and messy behind your head. Your legs spread, back arched. Pretty nipples pebbled hard and on display. The only thing covering you is the floral necklace around your svelte throat.

It doesn't take him long at all. He strokes his striped cock firm and efficiently. Too many years of having to get himself off fast enough not to be caught has made his practiced movements almost perfect.

You’re looking at him like that again. Adoration clear as day on your face. Soft for him. You see him-

“Ol Ngati Kamiel” your voice is saccharin as you speak and he grunts violently as he comes.

Ropes of it land on your belly, across your exposed chest. It’s almost too much when you reach down swiping into the translucent, sticky, mess and start rubbing it into your smooth skin. He collapses shakily beside you, needing to collect himself for a minute before he helps your cause.

It’s the most intimate thing the two of you have done all night, laying together. Basking in the afterglow. Your scents mingle, dancing together in the evening breeze and Neteyam wants to imprint this memory somewhere deep.

The festivities are still raging- and you really do need to get back. It’s an important night. Your clan wants you there, the two of you need to make your rounds. Keep appearances. He won’t keep you from your duties, no matter how much he may want to.

After a quick dip in the ocean, removing the filth of love making but still wearing the strong scent of each other's pheromones, you begin to redress.

Neteyam watches. Highly distracted as you shimmy back into your tweng before looping your top around your shoulders. He works clumsily at the leather of his loincloth.

“Wait-”

The two of you are starting the trek back to the bonfire when he reaches out to halt you. His fingers play with wreath of lilies around your neck and his eyes bore into yours pleadingly.

The smile you give him is more radiant then the silvery moons that twinkle in the inky sky.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Even at the late hour the ceremonial bonfire still crackles with life. The festivities have ebbed into something slower, more intimate.

The adults of the clan are all that’s left, children long gone and tucked into their beds or dozing off against their parents' side.

Kiri sits on a carved log, in a circle of familiar faces.

Her mother and father had left not long ago. Tuk had been fighting slumber but succumbed after the Elders crooned a particularly slow song about the Sky and Sea’s forbidden love. Jake had hoisted the young girl up and bid everyone adieu, swaying on his feet as his wife hissed at him about how after all these years, he still couldn’t handle his liquor.

Now, Kiri listens to stories as she sips slowly on her cup of Kava. Enjoying the pleasant burn;

But not willing to end up like her dumb as rocks brother who is sprawled on the ground. Lo’ak is all but unconscious, every time he opens his eyes they are unfocused and hazy.

That’s what he gets for trying to out drink clan members twice his size. He’d been on the losing end of the drinking competition from the start- he was just too stubborn to see it.

Lo’ak is lucky Tsireya doesn’t care much for drinking, and is more than willing to tend to him. She keeps trying to force him to drink water and nibble on bits of food.

Ao’nung isn’t faring much better; he stares at the moon with a dopey smile as he sings, incredibly off tune, to the song that fills the air. A gaggle of girls surround him. Each hoping to catch his eye.

It’d been an all night thing, affections being thrown at him while he ignored it all too easily.

“My bed will be full this season, I’m not worried about a thing” he’d shrugged it off when asked about it.

Roxto’s boisterous laugh had dwindled down when Kiri shot him an extremely unamused glare.

She’s debating on leaving Lo’ak to sleep on the beach for the night when out of the shadows comes her eldest brother; who had been missing for most of the evening.

The hours had bled away and Kiri had tried not to worry too much about the confrontation that was going on just beyond the jovial bubble of the Metkayina celebrations. You had been distraught and Neteyam had never been good at voicing his own emotional needs-

Huh.

It looks like she had nothing to worry about.

The grin on Neteyam’s face is shit eating. It’s the smuggest she’s ever seen him. Even at his first Inknimaya, back with the Omiticaya, he hadn’t reacted like this. All head raised high and walking on a cloud.

You tug him along behind you, you guys’ fingers tightly intertwined. Your hips sway excitedly as you bounce along the sand. Kiri’s brother's chest is puffed out in obvious pride as he follows your footsteps.

Around his neck is Lei made up of vibrant pink flowers. It matches the one in your hair, that sits kind of lopsided now.

As the couple gets you closer, and Kiri catches a whiff of your approaching bodies, she wants to wretch. You’re drowning in each other's scents and it’s quite obvious what you had been up to all night.

“So gross” Kiri gags in accusation once you’re both in earshot.

You two owed her so big. She thinks naming one of your future children after her would suffice.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Okayyyyy. This was so fun to write and I already have Part Three brewing! TAGLIST IS CLOSED.

So like. Lots to address here. Tons to talk about. I’m gonna start the conversation but I hope you guys continue it in the comments.

1. The Motnaui is something I completely made up(…yes after watching Moana and taking inspiration for the name) lol it’s a ritualistic hunt that newly anointed hunters and warriors go on after their Metkayinan Iknimaya’s. I know all the different clans Iknimaya traditions would be different and I thought this would be cool.

2. I read a story in the Avatar fandom where the liquor they drank was called Kava and it just stuck in my brain. I know Kava is a drink in real life too, but for the sake of storytelling, please think about them as completely different things. The drink in this story is more of a wine/moonshine mixture deal. Would really fuck your ass upppp.

3. Fertility Season is obvs totes made up. Why is it rainy during it? Because I myself would want a week of non stop loving making with a nice little fire going, under lots of blankets with it chilly and rainy outside. And at the end of the day I’m writing for me lol

4. NETEYAM IS A SWEETHEART WHO STRUGGLES WITH HIS SELF WORTH JUST LIKE THE REST OF US. Please listen to the Artic Monkeys while you read this chapter(wanna be yours, do I wanna know, 505. THE LONGING)

5. Expect more POV’s to come! It will always be mostly rooted from Y/N’s point of view but I love touching base with all of the other characters. It’s so fun. I’m thinking a snippet of Neytiris in Part Three!

#neteyam smut #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam x reader #aged up neteyam #SMUT!#neteyam x metkayina!reader #neteyam x you #atwow neteyam

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mysteriesmuse · 1 year

Text

Princess Reader x Royal Guard Katsuki Bakugo

Bakugou Katsuki’s job is literally to stand by you day and night. You promoted him to being your personal guard and now he follows you around the castle like a dog. Katsuki thought he would hate it. Thought he would have to do something to get himself fired. Something that would make you dislike him because everytime he was around you his skin definitely felt red hot and he had a slight nauseating sensation in his stomach. It’s only when steam started pouring out his ears with him clenching his teeth and palms that he was able to pinpoint that feeling. Oh yes that previous feeling was jealously and Katsuki Bakugou apparently didn’t hate you. Because he really felt jealous about this stupid suitor that was attempting to woo you. He liked you. He had a crush on the princess he was in charge of protecting with his life. Not that, that would change. But now he had a reason to get to know you more. To make the same impression that the other elite guards made with small talk that put you at ease during any shift changes.

BECOME THE BEST GUARD IN THE CASTLE: CHECK

MAKE SMALL TALK & GET IN GOOD GRACES WITH THE PRINCESS: IN PROGRESS

WOO THE PRINCESS: ??? So Katsuki really freaking struggled with small talk. Plus, I mean the guy knows practically everything about you. How is he supposed to make small talk if he can’t just ask the questions? Trick question he still can. In reality he doesn’t really have to. He’s supposed to be a rather stoic and sentient figurine that guards you. His first few attempts were meet with startled eyes and strange looks for the next few weeks. You’re known to be fairly cordial and friendly with the guards, but his reputation proceeded him. Big Scary Guard Dog Bakugou. That’s who you were told was your new guard. And that’s what you expected for the most part. A quiet guy who may or may not be a piece of eye candy following you around like a shadow. Oh boy, were you wrong. He was definitely a piece of eye candy. Actually he was the piece of eye candy that was apart of your elite protection group. A very silent man Bakugou. And after the first couple of weeks of him assigned as you personal guard your opinion on that changed. Bakugou grunts out a G’mornin’ and a G’night to you every day. Almost looks strained, but it’s pleasant nonetheless. And he’s incredibly observant too. You catch him in the hall to your corridors arguing with a servant about the bouquet of flowers she’s attempting to bring in to replace the last bouquet on your writing desk. “Shitty - ahem - her majesty prefers another variety of flower. Go back and procure some of the blue snowball looking ones.” After that you noticed that the vase continually held varieties of flowers that you’d complimented on in the royal gardens. And from then on your awkward guard/royalty relationship bloomed like a hillside. A cascading flurry of one beautiful thing after another. ——— When you’re cozied up in the quiet royal library to enjoy a good book you pause and peek over the top of the novel in your lap. Almost out of curiosity or disbelief that Bakugou is the one asking a question. He blinks out of genuine curiosity and you open your mouth and start to turn the book around so that he can see the words of the story you’re gesturing at. He gets you to go on and on that way. Nothing but a few affirmational vocals from him that he’s still listening. And he loves watching your expressions almost more than when you insist that he do something. Read his own book, after all it is a library. He dismisses it all. And yes your highness he can read and write just fine. This is just his job. Well not the secretly pinning over you while you read, but the watching part. And He learns that you actually know a lot more about kingdom politics than he previously gave you credit for. You’re smoothing over diplomatic matters with a carefully inked letter and secretly keeping promises about exports and materials your kingdom has pledged.

All while you sit and hum at your writing desk. The way you gently tease off your shoes with your toes at the heels when you’ve decided you’re going to be in for a long while. And Katsuki knows then that you’ll idly wave for him to sit instead of standing at his post the whole while. Except he starts to develop the nasty happen of staring and when you catch him looking he’ll chose between grumbling and turning away as his ears turn pink or blink unyielding and say “just doing my job, princess”

Katsuki likes the suave of the second one, but it really ends up being 50/50 with it. ————

But 100% of the time your strolls through the royal garden have him itching to take some armor off as the sunny warmth makes him sweat buckets underneath the layers of his uniform. Not to mention you walking this close already has his skin hot enough. The way you walk shoulder to shoulder just has him practically drooling at the thought of holding your hand. - Exhibits extreme self-control every stroll. Oh and when the fruit and vegetables are ready to be harvested you like to take teasing strolls into the royal orchards and gardens to taste the first ripe fruit of the season. Always curtesying as you point and ask him to grab a mandarin, or plum, or peach, or nectarine, or lemon, or apple, or whatever it is. And you’ve usually tried just before hand. On you tip-toes waggling your decorated fingers into the air. The sunlight bouncing off your jewels that adorn your skin and cascade daggers of rainbowed light upon your face. And it’s always just out of reach. A fresh shiny pout on your face when you turn and ask him to pluck one. And Katsuki usually just has to stand and put his arm up to grab one as you patiently wait and watch. But you’re admiring him just as much as he admired you. Staring up at his chiseled jawline. The wheaty stubble that decorates his face. You long to feel it prickle underneath your fingertips. Wonder how it would feel tickling the edges of your kiss when you finally set your mouth against his plush lips. You admire his impeccable physique. His staggering size as he barely stretches his shoulder to reach the fruit. And the way his golden tan glistens underneath the dappled light of the sun; glistens from the profuse sweat elicited from his layers and layers of chainmail and armor. All brushing over his adams apple before he gulps and turned to hand it to you. And Katsuki loves to hold it in his palm in the way that you have to pick it up. Feel your fingers gently prod and caress the skin of his palm as you turn the fruit over. Mulling over its quality before wordlessly holding it back out. He huffs and grabs the fruit as you take him to the stone wall. You sit and pull out a handkerchief from between your breasts if he’s not swift enough in supplying you with his. And Katsuki will grab his dagger and slice up the fruit, setting the pieces down onto the handkerchief before you plop one into your mouth. His hands will still and his eyes flick to your face watching as you chew and make a satisfied moan. The rest of your stroll will include these snack breaks. Taking “samples” as you call them of the seasons fruit. And the royal gardners have since decided to ignore the two figurines of their princess and the royal guardsmen sitting on the stone walls chattering and pressing handkerchiefs into sticky thieving fingers. ————

In the royal kitchens he accompanies you as you excitedly follow behind a kitchen maid who’s sent for you to do a testing of the new desserts the chef has been working on. Despite your official look of composure he knows that you’re excited by the little bounce in your hair from your steps. Katsuki always clunks down to the table when you beckon him to sit. Frantically patting the chair next to you after he’s been a right gentleman and pushed your chair in. You always think he looks rather scared with the way his carmine eyes dart around the empty dinning hall before the procession of maids and chef come out into the hall and display a plethora of desserts in front of you. They always wave you on with glee before retreating to the kitchen to finish the next batch. Your mouth practically waters as you pick up your fork and spear the perfect first bite. Only to turn to Katsuki with your other hand under the utensil holding it up to his plush pink lips which immediately turn into a defensive scowl. You’re always muttering something about your safety to “taste test for me? Make sure there’s nothing poisoned?” Except Katsuki’s never been sure that’s your real agenda here because you always gently spoon the first bite of your special taste testing into his mouth and if its something chocolate it always taste like Heaven despite it being a brand new recipe. (You’ve got the best chocolatier in the kingdom) and he always a little groan slip out. His face melting as he chews and swallows. (he’s going to be doing a lot more of that)

Before he nods muttering it’s safe. Not that your food would be poisoned because the staff and kingdom are all pretty loyal here and him and the elite guards are way to fricken scary to have on your tail. But he humors you anyway because technically that’s protecting and you’re right it’s in his job description. And then you, without changing forks, without doing anything else immediately set the fork he just used between your own lips and lick off the icing residue between your pink lips and hum before taking a real first bite yourself. And you do it all while maintaining perfect eye contact with him. And he can feel blood rushing to weird places all over his body. And it goes on like this for every single plate they offer. HAVE THE PRINCESS FLIRT WITH YOU: yes? maybe ?? At this rate he’s not sure why the kitchen staff haven’t mandated you with a royal poison taste tester with your insistence of him having a bite of every one of your plates. Seriously what are these people thinking! They’re thinking that there’s some real true love blooming in the castle and who are they to get in the way! Plus, it’s a good practice for any wedding cake samples they do in the future. Of course they won’t ever tell y’all whose wedding they’re preparing to cater. ———— While you delight in that. Katsuki delights in nothing more than your dance lessons. He likes to watch you glide, or try to, across the floor with every step. Definitely feels a weird blooming of secondhand pride when you practice a new step a few times and smooth it out with practice. Overall he finds it very peaceful and relaxing watching you laugh and groan and be belittled by this ancient teacher they have for you. Stands at the door tapping his toe in his boot to the beat. When this ancient woman that he just loves comes over and insists that he mustn’t “just stand there and look handsome. Make yourself useful she needs a partner” which always causes your head to swivel like a chicken as he detaches a few layers of pure metal off his body to make the dancing “easier and more realistic for her highness”

So now he gets to stand bare of any occluding armor and he can feel your e/c gaze washing over his body and the ripping muscles that he’s always had hidden under that armor. Adores the chance to hold you in his arms and practice doing the steps that you’re working on. And he’s attended enough of these things and the balls to be able to pick up on his part pretty quickly. Katsuki, not to toot his own horn because he would never, has to say he’s pretty darn good at dancing. Stupidly good for a royal guard which he’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be clunky and clumsy, but as soon as the armor is off he’s as graceful as any one of the princes or dukes you’ve danced with ball after ball and gala after gala. He’s humongous. Practically a head taller than you and his shoulders are stupidly wide and it’s like you’re in a cocoon of just him. His stupid minty breath whenever he’s mumbling something snarky or whispering the counts just loud enough for your teacher to know he’s actually helping. The flopping bangs that fall into his face whenever he needs to look down and see what your feet are doing. Usually because you’ve accidentally skipped a step or done something that messes with his leading because how can you not! Except this only fuels Bakugou’s ego more because he’s never seen you mess up with any partner at any of these balls you attend. The logical part of his brain says it’s because this is your dance room and you’re practicing. But the other hopeful part of his heart says it’s because maybe you’re flustered. Maybe you feel something too. And you definitely do. The oddly warm, but searing heat of his hand on the small of your back makes you stand up. His shoulder and bicep and forearm all a fluttering mass of muscle that languidly stretches and twitches underneath your arm. His meaty and calloused hand that holds yours, which is incredibly clamy except you’re not sure if it’s you or him! And your annoying dance teacher who constantly whacks your limbs and buttocks whenever you do something wrong, which only makes your guards impeccable poker face quirk into a smirk before she starts the music again. And unfortunately the old crone has caught on. Because your lessons after having danced with Katsuki are immensely improved. And your performance at balls is flawless at best, so she’s going to keep asking the young rugged handsome guard of yours to keep stepping in as your partner for dancing because he seems to be the only one where you actually have to work for that composure. ————

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biteofcherry · 11 months

Text

A little slice of something sweet&spicy for @alexakeyloveloki on her bithday! 🍰🎉💗

A follow-up to Cherry

soft!dark enforcer Steve Rogers x female reader

warnings: soft!dark Steve; hints of power imbalance; hint of innocence/corruption kink; hint of breeding kink; explicit se*ual situations;

You swallowed nervously as you walked up to the door of an expensive-looking house in the hills. The gate was wide open, two dark cars parked in the driveway. There was no sign of Steve's camaro, but maybe it was hidden in the huge garage in the separate building you passed.

The house looked like a renovated mid-century style and though you couldn't see it, you suspected there was a big swimming pool in the backyard.

The thought of which instantly created an image of Steve emerging from it - water dripping down his sculpted body, shimmering on the colorful ink of his tattoos.

You still haven't seen them, only the glimpse of those stretching up to his wrists and over his neck.

Jesus, you closed your eyes, once again feeling a wave of shame wash over you.

You met Steve two days ago. He was a complete stranger, with an aura of darkness that should make you run away.

Instead, you flew to him like a moth to a flame.

You allowed him to consume you the very first time you met him; hell, you were still trembling at the memory of the way he fucked you in his car, then right outside your apartment.

It could be just an adventure. A crazy one time thing you can brag about to your friends, for once having something really spicy to talk of.

But you kept the little piece of paper with Steve's address and dolled yourself up to meet him on the day he asked you.

Though the voice of reason yelled at you to at least have some doubts, you didn't hesitate for a single second as you put on a cute summer dress, a pair of bow sandals, and pink panties that already had a little wet spot, because you couldn't help thinking about what Steve was going to do to you on your date.

Nothing happened for a long moment after you rang the doorbell, your nervousness heightening in fear of being ignored. But then the door opened and you lifted up your gaze to look at a tall, bulky blonde man in what could be only described as surfer's style attire.

His long, wavy hair matched that vibe as well.

"Well, hello there." He grinned. "Whatever you're selling, I'm buying two of it."

A small laugh escaped your lips, which seemed to make the huge hunk's smile widen.

"I'm- um, I'm supposed to meet Steve," you explained, clenching your fingers tighter around your purse.

"Ah, the five o'clock meeting he wouldn't disclose the details of. Come on in." The guy moved aside to let you pass. "He's finishing a previous meeting, but I'm sure he'll be happy to know you're already waiting."

He led you through the sunny house to an ajar door, through which you could hear scraps of conversation.

Steve's voice you recognized right away.

He spoke firmer than when he was talking to you, giving clipped commands and harsh critique. You'd never want him to use that tone with you.

"Your next meeting is here." Surfer guy simply walked inside the office.

He moved to take a seat in one of the chairs, while you stood there in the open door like a deer caught in headlights.

You felt like that, too.

Because the moment you stepped in the doorway of the office, your eyes landed right on Steve.

He was sitting behind a desk, his dark green shirt unbuttoned halfway and the sleeves rolled up. More tattoos were on display, as well a tiny glint of a golden chain around his neck.

His blue eyes zeroed in on you; his gaze moved up your body slowly, taking every inch as if he was already imagining every single detail of what he was going to do to you and how will you look taking it all.

Then his attention shifted to a group of men sprawled on a couch on the side of the office.

"Your incompetence made me late for my date." He said to them and there wasn't even a slightest hint of playfulness to his tone.

He made it sound as if they did a severe offence to him and he was a step away from making them pay for it.

You had no idea what line of work Steve dabbed in, but it sounded like a serious business with dire consequences. Now you felt like you were an intruder who should leave, or else Steve's annoyance will shift to you.

However, when Steve's eyes returned to you, the steely glint in them morphed into softness.

"Come here, Cherry," he slid his chair back and motioned for you to walk over to him.

Your heartrate quickened as you felt eyes on you when you fully stepped inside. You tried not to glance at any of the other men in the room, instead allowing Steve to hold your gaze and lure you into his flame.

You let out a surprised gasp when Steve pulled you into his lap the moment you rounded the desk.

One of your hands touched his chest as you braced yourself at the sudden change in position. Steve's skin was warm beneath your fingers, dark blonde curls of his chest hair tickling your palm slightly.

You quickly moved your hand away, embarrassed that you touched him so openly while strangers were watching.

Steve didn't seem to mind it. He took your hand and lifted it to his lips to brush a soft kiss on your knuckles. Then he placed your hand back on his chest, while his own landed on your thigh.

Unabashedly high, almost slipping beneath your sundress.

"You're exactly on time, Cherry. You really are a good girl, aren't you?" He mused quietly, squeezing your flesh.

"Yes, Steve," your gaze dropped down and you tucked in your chin.

Steve studied you for a moment longer then turned his attention back to the others in the room.

"You have your orders and you better follow them exactly." Cold edge of his voice made you want to bury your face in the crook of his neck to avoid his wrath.

"Thor, make sure they make no mistakes this time. Now leave. All of you."

You didn't lift your head even after you heard the last footsteps fading away, your gaze lingering on the twirls of ink on Steve's chest as your own heart hammered in your ribcage.

You were acutely aware there was just the two of you now left. And as much as it was what you wanted, your nervousness bloomed.

Steve cupped your chin and made you look up at him.

"I'm sorry for running late on our date, Cherry. I promise that what I have planned should make it up to you."

"But-" suddenly his charming smile twisted into a hungry smirk as both of his hands slid to your hips- "those imbeciles have worked me up and I need to take the edge off before we leave."

In a swift single move he hoisted you up onto his desk.

"With how stiff and shy you are on me now, I think you need to get off, too."

He spread your legs apart - not that you put up much of a fight - and moved his chair closer.

Steve flipped the skirt of your dress up and traced his fingers across the pink cotton of your panties. He pressed his thumb against your clit, right above a small wet spot of your arousal.

"I see you're eager for our date," he chuckled, rubbing your clit harder and watching the wet stain spread.

Your hands clenched on the edge of the desk when Steve pulled the fabric of your panties aside and inched his mouth closer.

"I bet you're sweet all over, sweet Cherry."

He took a taste with a swipe of his tongue, licking between your slick folds and flicking the tip over your clit.

Your hips bucked and your head fell back when he repeated the motion, this time in three rapid strokes. Then his mouth descended on you, biting into your pussy as if it was a juicy fruit.

You weren't sure if you came when his tongue flicked between your opening and your anus, or when Steve's mouth closed around your clit and sucked. Or maybe it was two orgasms melting into one.

Your eyelids were clenched shut and your head swimming when his fingers curled around the front of your neck. With a hand around your throat, Steve pushed you back until you lied down on the desk fully, while he stood up.

A clink of a buckle being undone reached your mushy brain and your eyes fluttered open. Just to see Steve pushing his zipper down.

His cock sprang free; big and thick and veiny.

Your cunt clenched, hungry to feel the stretch of him leave you sore again.

Steve pumped himself a few times before inching forward between your splayed thighs.

"W-wait," your hand reached up as last, barely functioning brain cells reminded you of something important.

Steve paused, as you asked, squeezing his shaft tighter. The sight of it made you drool, your thoughts threatening to melt away. But you managed to stay focused for a second longer.

"Condom. Do you have- can you put one on?" You asked, looking up at Steve with uncertainty.

You wanted him to use one, but you weren't sure if you'd really be able to stop it all if he refused to. You wanted him inside of you too much.

"Condom?" Steve quirked a brow in surprise, studying you.

"Yes, please. I'm not on birth control," you admitted, gulping nervously.

Steve's blue eyes darkened as your words sank in. He stepped closer, bare cock inches from your dripping, unprotected pussy.

"Sweet Cherry, you let me take your pretty, tight pussy raw, even though you could've ended up pregnant?"

His voice was a sinful temptation and his dirty words made your walls clench around nothing.

"Yes," you admitted, ashamed.

"Why, hm?" He resumed slow strokes of his cock as he put his other hand right above your pussy, spreading his fingers wide on your abdomen and dipping his thumb between your folds.

Because I wanted you so bad.

Because I needed you inside me at any cost.

Because I liked that you branded me with your cum.

Because I didn't care what you do to me as long as you kept doing it.

"I don't know." You bit your bottom lip. "I wasn't thinking about the consequences. I wasn't thinking at all. I just- I want to be responsible now."

"What a good, smart girl you are," Steve praised, brushing his thumb along your clit.

He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a short strip of foil packets. He ripped one open and rolled a condom on.

His hand returned to your throat as he pressed the head of his cock against your slick opening.

"We'll be responsible, Cherry," he leaned over you and kissed you softly.

"For now," he added in a dark rasp while thrusting deep into you.

And then he took you, with the same unrelenting force that left you boneless and moaning. Steve praised that you sounded sweet and needy; you thought you sounded more of a whore. You didn't care anyway, because the way he was making you feel was maddening good.

You came around him once, the second climax Steve forced out of you with a hand choking the air out of you and a pinch to your clit.

He finished with a groan; lips parted and face flushed, possessive glint in his eyes as he watched you twitch beneath him.

If he wasn't planning on keeping to his promise and taking you out on a proper, nice date, he wouldn't empty into the condom, but instead withdraw from your sweet cunt and come all over your pretty sundress.

But Steve was a man of his word.

So he tossed the used rubber into the bin, helped you clean yourself up, then readjusted your dress and helped your wobbly legs walk outside.

He could ruin you more when he took you back home later.

#alexakeyloveloki #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #enforcer!steve rogers #enforcer!steve rogers x reader #soft!dark steve rogers #soft!dark steve rogers x reader #steve fic: cherry #my writing

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lazyneonrabbitt · 9 months

Text

Inked

Tattoo artist!Carmen Berzatto x Reader

3.1K | The cute, blue eyed guy does your tattoo, then he does you as well.

Smut, Mikey lives AU, improper use of a tattoo station.

Carmy, who always stops his work to make sure you’re greeted properly when you deliver their lunch.

Who gets numerous complaints from the other artist in the shop when he suggests ordering sandwiches at The Beef during lunch for the third time that week.

“You just want to see he girl again.”

“we’ll agree this one time, but only if you ask her out.”

Carmy, who gets stupidly jealous when you’re getting a tattoo from the guy who does your preferred style of tattoos.

Carmy, who’s pretty sure you don’t even know his name.

So when you come into the shop that day with the ordered sandwiches, he’s gathering the courage to ask you but he never really gets the chance. When you drop the bag at the desk as you usually do, you’re immediately chatting with Layla, the lady at the front desk, about something he can’t hear from back at his station. He sees you take a piece of folded paper from your back pocket and hand it over. A moment later he sees Layla point at different flash sheets behind her on the wall, as if she’s having you choose a style. His observing is stopped by a sandwich being handed to him.

Eventually your serious conversation seems to have ended as all that’s heard over the now resumed buzzing of tattoo machines is cackling laughter from the front desk, which he was still happily watching between his appointments. Normally he’d been sketching in between his clients. Either refining his next appointment’s design or working on new flash designs, but today his mind wasn’t anywhere near a canvas.

He did catch the guy that did your previous two tattoos linger near the front, which Carmy was a asshole move since you clearly wanted something different than usual, otherwise you would have asked for him immediately.

He shrugged at his own thoughts and went back to enjoying his sandwich and watching the scene from a distance, hoping to catch the guy’s disappointment when you picked someone else.

And as if he had spoken it into existence he saw his eyes widen and immediately scrunch up in annoyance, huffing angrilly as he stomped past carmy’s station and glaring at his smile.

His small, mental victory cheer was short lived, though.

“Yo, Bear!” Layla’s voice bellowed through the shop. “Get your ass over here for a sec.”

With every step he took to the front he got more curious about what was on the piece of paper you had brought with you, but he was also feeling better with every glare he got from mister rude guy.

He stopped at the counter, leaning on it and awaiting his friend’s explanation for calling him over.

Layla scoots him the paper with a “She loved the coloring on these,” as she points at the open binder filled with colored pencil drawings. “You think you can work that into this design she brought?”

Carmy lets out a laugh as he picks up the paper and looks it over, already picturing what he’d do with it color-wise and looks back up to you. “So, you want this exact linework with this color palette," with a gesture that moves from your picture, to his open binder. "But with this type of coloring?" He looks at you with his fingers on a watercolor piece with soft pastel tones under smooth curves of a globe, a waterfall flowing from one ocean into the soft blue background. The design looked like an upgraded version of the small line only piece he had on his arm.

“If that’s possible, yeah.” You nodded excitedly before looking back at him. “It is possible, right? If not I’ll think up something else or whatever.” The disappointment your own thoughts were causing you was clear on your face, so much Layla almost felt bad for you.

A hand on your arm quickly made the thoughts disappear. “I’ll make it work, yeah. I got this.” He takes a pen and writes down the design details in he upper corner. “So, how soon do you wanna get this done? I got some open spots not too far out.”

“Really? I got this week left before we close the shop for renovations so I got all the time then.” You bounced on your heels from excitement as you worked out the appointment details and he handed you his card. “Thank you so much!” You put the card in your back pocket and looked around for a clock. When you spotted one you realized just how long you had been there. “Shit, I gotta go! If I walk fast I’ll make it back before my break is over. see you in two weeks!” You waved to them and called out a goodbye over your shoulder as you jogged out of the front door.

~~~

You kept the little appointment card in your phone case, getting more and more every day.

You got so giddy about it, the Beef staff teased you about it endlessly during the first week of renovation, up to the second you walked out of the door on your way to the appointment.

Arriving at the shop without your work attire or a bag of food felt strange but you were insanely excited. During your waiting time you had been stalking Carmen's artist instagram as well as the parlor's. You had initially picked Carmen as your artist for this piece because of his style, but after really taking a close look at his new posts your mind was already collecting more and more plans for him to cover your body with. But you would be lying to yourself if you said you hadn't been enjoying those tattoo hot take videos of theirs. Honestly you were glued to your phone whenever either page posted something new.

You arrived early so you quietly sat down at the front after saying hi to Layla. From your spot you could see Carmen busy getting his station ready for you, your quickly folded, printed design taped to an armrest.

After a couple of minutes he came up to you, offering you something to drink before walking you to his station.

"So, you nervous?" His sweet smile made all of your nerves disappear and smile back confidently. "Not anymore now that you're here." You couldn't help it, you were so much more excited for this piece than your first ones.

Maybe because this is the first big one, or maybe because of the intricate colors. Obviously because of the insanely cute guy being up close and personal with your thigh for hours.

It surprised you how much effort he had put into your piece. "We never discussed the size, only the placement so I printed the linework in different sizes." He looks at your leg, comparing the prints. "Look in the mirror for me? Which one do you prefer?" His eyes follow yours through the mirror as he moves the stencils onto your leg one by one. "The second one, but maybe a bit higher up?" You leaned in slightly to tap your leg up t where you want the design to be and Carmen follows your taps, holding the paper carefully for you to judge in the mirror. “Yeah, that’s perfect!” You smile at him, following his movements as he puts the sheet between the foils and transfer paper and runs it through the machine. After cutting the piece out again he grabs a sharpie and kneels down in front of you. “Alright, I’m gonna need you to stand perfectly straight for me.” He puts his hands on your hips to turn you all the way to the mirror and places the piece of transfer paper onto your leg. “Right there, yeah?” “Yeah.” You stare as he takes the sharpie and marks its position before taking it off again. He grabs a bottle of liquid and puts some on hi8s gloved fingers to rub it onto your skin. “Okay now stay still.” He steadily holds the paper between his fingers, his pinkies resting against your skin for stability as he carefully lines up the markings and smoothes out the design onto your leg. Giving it a few careful brushes to make sure it stuck everywhere, he gives it a once over and peels it off carefully, checking if it transferred fully.

You watched him work with his full attention on you, no chatting with the other guys or casual conversation. Only making sure you’re getting the best work. When the stencil was fully off your leg he got back up again. “While that dries, lets go over colors.” With a hand on your lower back he led you towards the small desk hidden behind the bar like wall that separated the stations from the front of the shop. “This is what you brought,” His hand splayed out on the desk. “And this is what you requested for the coloring.” carmen opens a leather binder and pulls out a couple of pieces of paper, turning them over and placing them down for you to check. “Holy shit.” It was all you could get out, honestly. You had imagined what the finished concept would look like, but this was so much better.

“This one has the original colors your print has too, and then these two have small edits that I personally thought would look better on skin.”

The first one was what you requested, but the other two had such a better palette. “That one.” You put your finger on the last one, it had the best balance of the original colors and Carmen’s additions. “Yeah, that’s gonna be the one.” The excitement in your voice and that little bounce when you announced your decision had his heart do a flip. He smiled back at you and went to grab and prep all the colors needed for his work. “Go lay down for me? Make sure you’re comfortable and don’t touch the stencil.” You stared and nodded, hands behind you as you backed up against the leather seat and hopped on. He followed your movements while shaking multiple ink bottles. “Or stay seated, I guess, if you want to watch me work.”He smiled at your shocked blush as he turned back to his toolbox table and started pouring colors into tiny tubs. You watched as he compared needles, holding them to the printed line work and placing every needed item neatly on his workbench.

A few buzzes from the machine indicated the end of his setup.

“Okay now you really gotta lay down.” With a gesture of his hand he rolls over with his seat and positioning your seat so he can easily work on your thigh. Once he had you comfortable and got ink on he needle he gave you one last word that he was gonna start. You gave him a thumbs up in response. He looks up at you, raise brows as he asks again. “I’m gonna start now, you good?” “Yeah. Yeah I’m good to go.”

With that said he rubbed vaseline over the bit of skin where he decided to start and carefully pulled the needle across your skin. The scraping burn felt painful at first, but with time it faded into a dull feeling as you stared up at the ceiling catching Carmen’s gaze from time to time whenever he asked if you were doing okay or needed a drink.

By the time the lines were finished the rest of the artists had left for the day. Even Layla came by to have a look at he progress before she called it a day. You sat up and accepted the glass of soda, looking around the empty shop. "We usually don't do tattoos today. Just bookings and designing." He spends a moment cleaning his machine, changing to a different needle for the colors. "I got lucky and have most of my scedule filled out for the upcoming time, so I could take you today." He finishes up prepping for color and cleans off your leg once more with a quick "sorry.". You swore the alcohol on the towel hurt more than the needle.

“You good to start on colors?” You gave a nod in response and laid back down. “Yeah, let’s go!” He gave you an approving smile, loving that you answered him immediately this time.

The colored reference you chose was taped to an armrest next to you. Carmen studied it for a bit, choosing the best order of colors. Again, the buzz of the machine notified you of the start of round two. You kept your breathing even through that first burning moment again and laid still, relaxed and content. The two of you made some stupid small talk, joking here and there. Whenever silence took over for too long he’d start narrating whatever part he was currently coloring, or you would ask tattoo trivia questions that he’s happily answer for you.

The hours passed way quicker than you expected and before you knew it your leg was being cleaned up for the last time and you were carefully helped off the leather seat to take a look in he mirror. With a hand on your back he led you closer to the wall. “Man, walking feels weird now.” You mention and get a laugh in response. “It’ll have faded by tomorrow morning.” He looked at you from his spot beside you, taking in the way you’re staring at your new art piece in awe. “so?” His hand slid a little lower, squeezing right at the hem of your shorts. “What do you think?” His eyes were still on yours as he asked. “It’s perfect, holy shit Carm you’re amazing.” Your thigh was now decorated with the bold, black cartoony linework of a carebear, colored with pinks and blues, beautifully blending into each other and its details done in such smooth thin lines you could stare at it forever.

Your gaze left your tattoo and turned to the side, staring right into his eyes. Your eyes flicked over to his lips for a second before you grabbed his curls at the back of his head and pulled him in for a kiss. Your sudden move caught him off guard but he quickly returned the kiss, one hand slipping lower onto your ass and the other one holding your hip to make sure you wouldn't rub your freshly tattooed skin against his jeans.

“Lets get that leg wrapped up, shall we?” He guided you back to his station to wipe and wrap your thigh, securing the wrap with pieces of tape.

You were leaned against the large seat with Carmen kneeling in front of you, his eyes on yours. In a moment of confidence you put your hand in his hair, carding your fingers through his curls as his hands moved up to the hem of your shorts waiting for your permission.

A tug on his curls lets him know him he could go ahead, carefully pulling down your shorts and panties while making sure he's not dragging the fabric over your wrapped up skin.

Looking up through his lashes he hooks your leg over his shoulder and inches closer until he's right at your centre. "You got no idea how long I've wanted to do this." With that he closes the gap amd his mouth is on you, his tongue dragging over your slit in a broad, slow stripe.

"Fuck, Carm.." Your fingers curled into his hair and pulled him even closer. His nose brushed against your clit and his tounge easily slid into you, tasting all of you. His moans vibrated through you, having you buck your hips into him almost riding his face. He pulls away for a moment to breathe "Taste so good.. Bring this over for me next time you do a food run?" He jokes with his head against your good thigh, those bright blue eyes staring up at you.

You let out a breathy laugh. "Only on food runs?" The hand in his hair moved down to his jaw to guide him back up. His hands find your hips and in a moment his lips are back on yours. "Gotta thank my brother for always sending you over," He kissed along your jaw. "Got high, spilled about my little crush on the pretty one that brought our lunch that day." Moving your head your lips find his earlobe. "Chef may or may not have heard me talk about the cute artist with the blue eyes and pretty curls a couple of times.."

He smirks against your cheek and steals a kiss before grabbing you by the hips and turning you around.

One hand moves up to your back and presses forward so your upper body is laying against the cool leather of the tattoo chair, while the other kept your thighs at a small distance from the chair. With your head resting on your forearms you look back at him admiring you. When he caught you staring he gave you a quick look with raised eyebrows, looking down at where your ass was pressing against the front of his jeans before looking back into your eyes. A smile and a wiggle against him as response told him enough as he pulled his sweats and boxers down far enough to take out his cock ad rub it between your folds. “Don’t tease, Carmy.. Just put it in,” You press your hips into his again, practically begging him. “please..”

With a roll of his hips he pushes in slowly and leans down to kiss down your spine and softly bit your shoulder blade before setting a steady pace, holding your hips close to his so he won’t accidentally shove you into the chair. Your sighs and moans are sounding trough the parlor as he fucks into you with rhythmic thrusts. “You’re not charging me extra for the happy ending, are you?” Your smartass remark only got a pull on your hips and rougher thrusts as a response. He kept up his fast pace until you were seeing stars and his thrusts started getting sloppy. His forehead was pressed against your back as you clenched around him, taking a few more snaps of his hips before he stilled with a moan. “Shit, if you let me do this more often I might even let you walk out without paying at all."

You shifted so you could look back at him, sweat and curls stuck to his forehead, a tired amile on his face. "Fetch me something to clean up with and I will."

You both got cleaned up and laughed together, chatting about all kinds of stuff. Planning a small dinner date during opening night at the restaurant and betting on how each of your work teams would respond to the two of you dating.

You did end up not having to pay for the tattoo.

~~☆☆☆~~

A/N: lets all pretend Mikey runs the Beef and shit never went bad.

#sometimes i write #the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear imagine #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut

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offictionandfandoms · 2 years

Text

✎﹏﹏ Rumors Pt. 2

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✑ Pairings: Eddie Munson x f!reader!

✑ Word Count: 5192

✑ Requested: Yes/No

✑ Warnings: Angst into fluff, cursing, bad DND talk because I don’t understand DND so….yeah. Let me know if I missed anything!

✑ Authors Note: I just want to thank everyone who loved the last part and requested to be tagged in this one. It truly means so much to me, y’all have no idea. I wish I could reply to every comment asking to be tagged but I was busy making this. I’m sorry if I missed anyone! I hope this part lives up to expectations and you love it just as much. Also. I have a small part three that is just fluff because I was in a mood and I already liked the way I had ended this one…so. Here is a short fluff part 3! Enjoy :)

✑ Gif isn’t mine!

“It’s spelled with an ‘e’ not an ‘o’,” Y/N critiqued the paper in front of her, using her usual red pen to circle the mistake. The paper was adorned in red ink at this point, harshly overlapping the pencil markings, something she usually tried to limit. She always believed that verbally pointing out the mistakes and allowing the student to fix it in the moment was better than just marking the paper and letting them go. But over the past few days, all she cared about was wrapping up her tutoring sessions as fast as possible so she could escape back to her house.

“Oh, okay.” The dejected tone of the student had her looking up from the paper, red pen hesitating over yet another mistake she was about to mark. The reason being that she always wished to verbally correct them over just marking was that they always took the red marks to heart: the more marks there were, the worse the feeling of failure became. She was a tutor, not a dream crusher. Yet that’s all she had been doing lately. She recognized this, but she couldn’t stop it. It was like an angry blue monster had sat right on her brain, eating away at all sense of logic, healing, and hope, replacing it all with bitterness, sadness, and tints of anger whenever she saw Eddie Munson’s stupid pretty face in the halls or in class. She felt horrible in every way possible.

“I’m sorry,” she started, opening her mouth to give words of encouragement but halting before anything slipped out. The wide green eyes staring back at her were waiting, wanting some sort of pick-me-up advice and comfort. But how could she offer them that when she couldn’t even give it to herself? On top of feeling horrible, she felt pathetic. It had been days since the break up, days since she spoke to Eddie or even Jason, who she still hadn’t confronted about the rumor. The only person who she actively spoke to beyond her tutoring clients was Max Mayfield, who insisted on checking in on her every day, even if it meant her step-brother had to wait in the parking lot.

“It’s not a bad paper, these errors- they’re small. Just little things. You can fix them and everything will be okay.” She muttered out, averting her eyes back to the paper, yet not truly taking anything in. She had begged Eddie to let her fix her error- which she now knew hadn’t even been /her/ error- and he rejected her. Banished her, actually. The thought now made her laugh— was she some traitorous princess, banned from her kingdom?

Yes.

Quickly circling the last mistake she could find, or really the first mistake her eye came to after coming back into focus, she pushed it over the table towards the rightful owner, watching as they scanned over all the red. You couldn’t even make out what they had actually written in the first paragraph due to her scribbles.

Their shoulders slumped, “I. . . When I fix them, can I come back to you?” She wanted to say no, she wanted to cancel all her tutoring sessions for the next week but she couldn’t. So she just nodded her head and offered the kid a small discount for the next session, as she really wasn’t 100% there herself.

She watched as they shoved everything in their backpack and took off, leaving her alone with her thoughts. At least for another ten minutes, at least, before her next and final client showed up. She was currently holding all of her sessions outside; the wind blowing her hair into a little dance and kissing her skin felt more freeing than the feeling of stares crawling over her body and whispers assaulting her ears. Whispers of what, she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure if her overactive imagination and paranoia was making her hear her own name or if they were genuinely whispering about her. She wasn’t sure she even wanted to know.

Students were still dallying in the parking lot; some throwing balls back and forth like there wasn’t an actual sports field behind the school, some making out with their significant others like they didn’t have a house to go to, and some, like herself, sitting alone to study like they actually cared about school.

In her stupor, she could make out someone asking to talk, but she assumed that it was directed towards someone else, not bothering to turn around and see who it was. Not until the person said her name.

“Y/N?” Normally, she would’ve turned around to properly address whoever was speaking to her. Normally, she would’ve greeted whoever it was with a smile, maybe a handshake or a hug, and invited them to sit down with her until her next client came. She was raised in a proper household, she had manners.

But this wasn’t a normal case. And that wasn’t just anyone saying her name. She could tell who it was within seconds, the cadence of his voice permanently etched into her brain.

So, in that situation, she froze. Like a deer in headlights, she stared ahead of her, vaguely seeing the football go sailing through the air, and in her peripheral’s, the shadow of a body taking a seat beside her. Uninvited.

“Please.”

It was such an odd time in her brain. Because she could recall just how easily she used to cave into his cute little plea’s, how seeing his pouty face as he begged her to give in had filled her with such a strong sense of adoration that she felt like she was floating. Now she could also recall just how easily he denied her when she pleaded, how seeing him push her out the drama room door felt like he had stapled an eviction notice to her heart. She could feel the want to give in, to turn to him and promise to make things better. Normally that would be enough to make her do it. But, again, this wasn’t a normal situation. The blue monster was turning red, tendrils of smoke puffing down her spine and overcoming the want for them to work out with the want to tell him to shove it. Neither side won, and she just sat there, knee bouncing as her mind and heart fought a war inside her. It wasn’t her place to make things better anymore, she had already tried. But she couldn’t imagine treating him like he had her, even if he deserved it.

As if he could read her mind, he nodded, leaning forward on the table to try to catch her attention. If only he knew that every nerve ending in her body was standing on end for him, how every neuron in her brain felt like they were on a live wire that was Eddie Munson’s guitar string. Even if she wasn’t looking his way, she was still acutely aware of every move he made, every breath he took, and even his hair being ruffled by the wind.

The rings glinting in the sunlight was what made her look over, though. Specifically the ring he had on his ring finger— the one that she had bought him. It was a gift for them making it a month together. Eddie had freaked out because he hadn’t got her anything, mainly because he didn’t get the hype of a monthiversary, not because he hadn’t remembered. When the next month came around and he had brought her handpicked flowers and a guitar pick with their initials messily engraved on them, she had laughed, explaining how two months isn’t really celebrated but that she loved them. He had started complaining about how monthiversary’s are complicated but she kissed him mid-sentence and took the flowers to a vase. She still had the dried petals in a box in her bedroom and the guitar pick in her jewelry box for safe keeping.

“I couldn’t take it off.” He had noticed her staring at the ring, lost in thought. So lost that she hadn’t noticed that he had begun to fiddle with the ring nervously. She raised an eyebrow at how easily it spun around, clearly not too tight for him to be unable to remove it. He caught that, too. “I mean. I could. But I.. couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Didn’t want to.”

Finally she lifted her gaze to meet his, the wide puppy stare a punch to her already beaten gut, “Why?” It was the first thing she had said to him since the breakup, and yet it summed up everything she wanted to know. Why couldn’t he take the ring off? Why didn’t he trust her? Why didn’t he talk to her? Why didn’t he love her enough to make things work?

She could see his Adam’s apple bob with a harsh swallow, almost like he had picked up on her thoughts regarding this, too.

“Well, you see, it’s my favorite.” The same goofy grin she had come to love developed on his face, his hair sweeping across his forehead as he dipped his head down. He was trying to be cute. He was trying to be cute to hide the fact that his fingers were now tapping against the table nervously, much like her bouncing leg. He was trying to be cute to hide the fact that he was as upset over everything as she was. If he knew her enough to pick up on her thoughts, then she surely knew him enough to do the same. And there was no way he was as upset as she was.

Anger finally took hold of her as she crammed her studying books, index cards, and red pen in her bag, swinging it over her shoulder as she stood up. The momentum nearly caused her to stumble but she used it to propel herself towards the school doors.

“Yeah, well. Things change. Find a new one.”

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

After managing to find her last client and change location to the library, Y/N had been homeward bound and had never felt better about it. The brief encounter she had with Eddie had left her shaken and she just wanted the comfort of her blankets and whatever sad song she could find on the radio.

Though, the next day brought even more shaking encounters and by the time lunchtime rolled around, she was thoroughly exhausted and on edge. She had nearly failed her first period exam, hadn’t been able to answer a question that her second period teacher had asked due to her being zoned out, and then she nearly tripped in the hallway, losing some papers in her skirmish to regain balance. She didn’t even try to get them back as she hurried to the cafeteria, eager to eat mediocre pizza and not be bothered.

But, as all bad days go, they get worse.

“Hey, Y/N! Hey!” She could barely contain her groan as she lifted her head to see Jason waving his hand for her to join his group in the line. The people who stood between her and him gave her warning glares, as if to say ‘don’t you dare skip again’. She had no intentions of doing so.

“Hey, Jason. I’m good here, thanks though.” While she was angry at Jason and his inability to shut up, most of her anger lay with Eddie, who bought into the cheap rumor without hesitation. Though, she still didn’t want to be near Jason or his posse of dumbasses.

“They’re not going to say anything. Right, guys? She can come up here.” He asked, his voice carrying over the other conversations taking place as he addressed the glaring individuals. None of them went against Jason’s order, though none looked happy about it, either.

Y/N was forced to take a deep breath through her nose as she steadied herself. It felt as if she was teetering on a tightrope and either way she fell, she was going to end up having a breakdown. Whether it be from anger or sadness was yet to be determined. In this moment, though, she was about to swan dive into anger.

The tight lipped smile she gave him felt painful on her face as she spoke through gritted teeth, “I’m fine here, Jason.”

But, as all choices given by egotistical jocks go, you don’t really have a choice.

Y/N soon found herself sandwiched between Jason and his buddies as they came down the line to her, willingly giving up their space near the trays just to grate her nerves even more.

“You know something, N/N?” Jason started, looking down at her with his pretty smile she was sure had other girls swooning, “You’re a saint. A real saint.”

The thin line of frazzled nerves that he was sawing away at was about to snap, but she decided to play his game. Not like she had been given an actual choice in the matter. “And why is that, Jason?” She refused to call him by some nickname that his friends usually used— they weren’t friends and she wasn’t going to appease his feelings by pretending otherwise. She wasn’t even looking his way as she moved forward in line.

“Tutoring that freak.”

At that moment, Y/N swore she could see red. His friends were howling with laughter, he himself seemed smug with his insulting joke. She couldn’t take another step forward as she processed what he said, and each time it played over in her mind, the angrier she got.

“What?” By now the line had moved up more and Jason was pushing at her back, but she was a brick wall and she wasn’t moving. Not until he repeated what he had said, not until she knew she had heard him right.

“Oh, c’mon. It’s not like he can pay you. You’re doin’ it pro-bono right? You’re a saint. I guess even devil worshippers need to graduate.” Not only had she heard him right, but he was only making matters worse. She didn’t pay much mind to the students behind her once again complaining about how she needed to move or Jason trying once more to push her body forward.

He had successfully sawed her nerves away. She was now hurtling towards the pit of anger, happily so. Anger beat sadness, and she was about to beat him.

“Go fuck yourself, Jason,” was the first thought she had to say, one she had been dying to get out since she first realized what he had been spreading about her. His eyes went wide at the sudden quip and his friends started letting out low “ooh”s.

“You can’t talk to me..”

“I can talk to you however I want to. But God knows from your essays that you probably won’t understand anything I say. So let me spell it out for you,” she started, feeling as if the world around her was shaking, and yet it was only her body as rage coursed through her. “We are not friends. We did not sleep together- I would never sleep with someone like you…”

His hands threw up in defense as he took another step back, away from the step Y/N hadn’t known she had taken forward, “Whoa. I never said we slept together, dude.”

The interruption was enough to make her jab a pointed finger into his chest, sending him another step back. “Don’t you dare interrupt me. I am talking. Eddie Munson is /not/ a freak. He is a better man than you could even dream of being. I am not tutoring him. And you can shove your money right up your-”, she didn’t get the chance to finish her rampage before someone was grabbing her around the waist, pulling her away from a red faced Jason Carver.

“Put me down! I said put me down, asshole!” She yelled, not caring how her voice bounced off the walls, or how everyone in the cafeteria was staring at her like she had lost her mind. Maybe she had, but she didn’t care much about that either.

“I know I’ve made some mistakes but I don’t think name calling is necessary.” It took a moment before she could pinpoint that voice in the midst of her anger but once she did, she thrashed harder in his arms. She felt like a dog backed into a corner, no matter where she ran, she was met with people who pissed her off.

And a corner is exactly where she found herself as Eddie deposited her in a janitors closet, shutting the door behind them. It was dark for only a second before the dim light filled about half of the room. Dirty mops, cans of antiseptic spray, cobwebs, and a very amused Eddie stared back at her as she looked around.

The second his lips pulled up in a smirk, she exploded, “Why would you do that? I was-“

“You was’ going to get yourself expelled.”

“Stop interrupting me!” She flung her arms up in exasperation, seething at her sentence being cut off once again. Though when her fingers made contact with metal shelves and brick walls, she was quick to gasp and pull them back into her chest.

Much to his credit, Eddie hadn’t even flinched during her yelling, he had simply leaned against the opposite wall, watching with the ever-amused smile and raised eyebrow. He even shook his head with a chuckle as she nursed her now stinging hands.

“Let me see,” he started, inching forward with a hand outstretched to her. His rings didn’t glint as much in this light but she could tell he was still wearing the one she gave him. Tucking her hands closer into her chest, she shook her head. Her anger gave way to stubbornness, nostrils flaring with each deep breath and her chin lifting up to give some semblance of strength. Much to her chagrin, it only amused him more.

“Come on, sweetheart. Just let me see.” At the pet name, she froze for a moment, thinking back to all the times he had called her that before. Eddie wasn’t big on cliche pet names, he liked to create his own for her. Though sweetheart was a personal favorite of hers, so he had a tendency to use it on her. It always worked for getting her attention and making her feel more comforted and loved. Even now, even while dealing with a hundred different thoughts, that one word was like a bridge straight to her heart.

Without a word, but with a dramatic huff, she held out her hands, letting him see the damage for himself. He was very gentle when taking her hands into his, the warmth of his rings pressing into her skin like a beacon from home. His fingertips gracefully traced over the little red marks now marring her skin, like any sort of pressure would cause her to crack and fall apart.

The softness of the moment had entirely eradicated her anger and she was left with an ache where it once was. With her hands still held in his, she couldn’t fiddle with her fingers in nervousness, and when she tried to pull them away, he tightened his hold. Yet it was nothing compared to the way Jason’s hand had been firmly nudging her at lunch or how he held her wrist. It was like Eddie had found the next greatest DND figurine, used and a bit worn, but beautiful, ethereal, sacred. Something he was meant to protect— and he had failed doing so. But now he was making up for it.

His lips pressed against the red marks before she could question him, his forehead resting against her wrist as he just stood there, not saying anything, but not needing to. The amusement from earlier was long gone and was replaced with something Y/N couldn’t quite place.

Her lips parted for a moment as she thought over what to say: ‘I’m fine”, “We should go”, “Thanks for stopping me from getting expelled but god I wish I could have decked Jason just once’?

What came out was something entirely different: a whisper of his name. Saying it any louder would have broken whatever spell had been placed over them, and she didn’t know that she had it in her to do so. Or if she could even raise her voice again- she was so tired of yelling, of trying to be heard and listened to.

“Please,” was all he said in return, his voice just as low as hers. He finally dropped her hands but it was only so he could wrap his arms around her waist, tugging her into his chest; into a hug that she had yearned for since last week; into the arms she never thought she’d feel herself in again.

Vulnerability. That was the new feeling, what had replaced his amusement. The room was warm but the goosebumps on her skin still arose, her heart raced like she had run a mile and yet she was standing still, time felt like it had reversed a few weeks to when they were still together, when they were still Y/N and Eddie. And yet, it was still the same day, same hour, and the same broken up situation.

“Eddie…” she repeated his name, feeling his hair tickle her lips as they moved, smelling his cologne sneaking into her nose, and hearing the way he took his own shuddering breath, terrified of what the next steps would bring.

A few seconds later, Y/N found herself back in her own space, Eddie standing against the wall like he had been moments before, “I know you didn’t sleep with Jason.”

Even though the anger had long since disappeared, she still felt snarky as she shot back, “Oh, really? News to me.”

The smile he gave back was one of mock amusement, one of barely concealed pain, “I deserve that. I… I don’t know why I didn’t talk to you about it. I’m sorry.” He was pushing away from the wall in a flash, pacing the short width he was given as he raked his fingers through his hair, his face scrunched up in a look of concentration and anxiety.

“Sorry doesn’t-“

“I know, sorry doesn’t cut it. I /know/ that, Y/N. Why do you think it’s taken me so long to approach you? I had to do better than that. I had to think of more than ‘I’m sorry.’” He rushed out, not caring that he had interrupted her again. He just had to get it out of his brain before he lost it, before he became a stumbling, stuttering mess and wasn’t able to fix things.

“I still don’t have anything. Because nothing will magically sweep this away. I can’t roll dice and overcome this. But seeing you today in there with him, I knew I had to step in. And I’m sorry.” He rattled off, finally coming to a stop as he looked down at her, looking like a puppy who had just been kicked or left on the side of the road, searching desperately for its home. And even though he didn’t say it, Y/N was his home.

She couldn’t continue staring into his eyes when he looked like that, all she wanted to do was to grab him back into her arms and never let go. So she looked down, she folded her arms over her chest and she looked anywhere but him, anywhere but where she really wanted to look. “Why did you believe it?”

His laugh was dry, humorless, and forced. It was so unlike his normal behavior around her that her heart ached. “I didn’t. Well, I didn’t want to. I came back to the lunchroom that day and I saw you sitting there, him whispering in your ear. And then him again at your locker. And every time, I could just hear him telling his friends how he kissed you in payment for tutoring. I felt.. I felt. Pissed off. Hurt. Like the runt in a family of giants. Or a magicless spell caster. I can’t blame you if you wanted to be with someone like him.” The moment he started speaking in DND terms, she snorted. That was more like the Eddie she knew, the one she missed. This made him halt in his tangent as he looked at her, clearly confused and worried about her laughter.

“Jason Carver paid me in cash. Extra cash, actually. He stayed across the table at all times, he didn’t ever touch me. I wouldn’t have let him. I wouldn’t have let anyone who wasn’t you touch me. If you’re a magicless spell caster than Jason is.. is a tree stump.” She was never good with DND terms, but she was trying to get through to him in any way she could.

Her words seemed to only make him feel worse as he threw his head back in a groan, hands dragging down his face roughly. His rings left momentary red streaks on his skin. “I know that, too. I’m just a dumbass and I ruined it, didn’t I? I can’t make this better.”

Hearing him so down on himself had Y/N pausing, watching him with a studious eye, analyzing everything he did. His face had returned to the normal color, though his eyes were still wide and pleading. His hair was a mess from being tugged at so much from his own hands. He was fumbling with his rings again as he anxiously awaited her response. His body was wound so tight, she was sure he was going to spring apart in a seconds notice.

Now it was Y/N’s turn to inch forward, hands outstretched slightly, “I wouldn’t say you ruined things but,” she started, watching as his head snapped around so fast she was sure she heard a crack, “it will take time to get back to how we were. You have to work on trusting me, Eddie. Relationships can’t work without trust.”

“I do trust…,” at her look, he trailed off, nodding his head again, this time much slower than before. Maybe she really had heard a crack earlier and now he was feeling the consequences. “Okay, okay, yeah. I’ll work on it. I promise.”

“And promise me that you won’t listen to bullshit rumors without talking to me?” She asked, feeling his hands snake into hers, fingertips tapping against the inside of her wrist, like he was waiting for the go ahead sign to fully grab her hand.

“I promise, I swear.”

In the beat of silence that spread between them, Y/N felt her heart building up hope again. The strings she thought she left back in the drama room were wrapping around the beating organ with a new found excitement, the cracks starting to form together once more. There was work to be done, yes, but she truly believed it was going to be okay.

“Okay,” she murmured more to herself, testing it out, feeling how her heart soared at her acceptance, “yeah, okay. We can work on it.”

That must have been the sign he was needing because he was soon pulling her back into his arms, forehead connecting with hers with a little more force than intended. Neither commented on the slight bump, both entirely caught up in being back in each other’s arms, no fight or rumor or dumb jock standing between them.

The shadows from the dim light cast deep shadows over Eddie’s face, making his eyes seem darker than normal. It had Y/N’s stomach flipping in nerves. Who would’ve thought that only a few days apart could have her feeling like she was about to have her first kiss again?

Who would’ve also thought that right when everything was about to be made right again, they would be interrupted? Not them, for sure.

But here they were, the lighting from the hall now creeping into their little hiding spot and a familiar redhead standing with her hand on the knob.

“Oh,” she started to turn away but soon turned back, like leaving without an explanation was more awkward than speaking, “Dustin told me what happened in the lunchroom and I wanted to check on you. But, I see everything’s good. Great. Okay.” Pointing at them like a finger gun, Max went to shut the door once more. The shadows that had been starting to crowd around the couple again were soon chased away, though, as she pulled the door back open.

“Max!” Y/N laughed, part of her finding her new friend’s insistence and indecisiveness funny, but another part wanting to kiss Eddie and hide away in their bubble for a short while longer.

“Sorry, sorry! Just sayin’. Eddie, don’t be a dick next time, understand?” With her headphones hanging off her neck, red hair pulled back in a low pony, and her eyes narrowed on Eddie’s figure, Y/N had no doubt Max could and would have some choice words with him next time around. When Eddie just laughed, Max pursed her lips and leaned her head closer, refusing to leave until he said it.

Taking the hint, he curtly nodded his head towards her, “Understood.”

Seeming satisfied with his answer, she briefly turned her attention back to Y/N with a teasing smile, “Don’t forget, you promised me more ice cream after school.”

Finally, with the door swinging shut and the noise from the hallway being muffled, Y/N turned to Eddie with a shy smile, remembering key components of her time as a single woman.

“Eddie, I have to tell you something.” Her teeth dug into her bottom lip as she felt him pull away, just enough to fully look at her face. “I kind of spent half of my savings buying me and Max ice cream.”

Instead of responding like she had expected, Eddie laughed. It wasn’t like the dry one from earlier; this was filled with happiness, humor, and maybe a hint of teasing.

“I was a…” whatever she was going to say was cut off as his lips pressed against hers, his arms tightening around her waist as he held her close. Every thought, every word, every syllable left her brain as she clung to him, fingers tangling in his hair, back bent slightly as he leaned over her, not an inch of space between their bodies.

It was perfect, Y/N swore she could see clouds and Cupid himself flying around them. Bright light shone down on them like the heavens approved of this match.

Well, that was what she was choosing to believe as the principal led them into the bright hallway, students all around whispering and pointing at the couple with messy hair, puffy lips, and intertwined hands.

There would be rumors of this, Y/N was sure. ‘Eddie Munson and Y/N Y/L/N caught making out in a broom closet!’ But it was a rumor that she was actually looking forward to hearing spread around— because it was absolutely correct.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Taglist: @therealautobotgirl @tinawhynot @gemm-femm @evi-mads @bunnysthngs @subjecta13-thefangirl @soanis @eddieussy @samsdarlin-redactedwriter @lily-sinclair-2006 @atrxidxs @makimakills @bambi-laufeyson @do-not-call-me @elmariachijin @visi0ns-of-vi0lenc3 @iheartyouyou @darksunemiku @dulce-incitacion @curemyteeth @kingofhellfire @khayhuij @paradisiacalsparks @momzashi @flicksturz @poisxnedmind @salembridger @imasimptoowth @eddiemunson-thehero @lelenikki @authorlovers @peter-parker-break-my-back @toosadtobecool4 @crimecatt @the-chocoholic-writer @theloveablesociopath @yanelimerida @juggernort @eddiemunson4ever @heyaitsklaudia @dollop-of-cream @demo-bats @thegirlbeyondtheuniverse @hydratrashbucky @masterofquinn @onibee13 @suckyatphotography @nanasdream @andreead @do4mu @empress-simps

#eddie x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fics #eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson love #eddie munson #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic

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whoreish-behaviour · 1 year

Text

Revenant 2

Previous - Next

Na'vi!Colonel Quaritch x Na'vi!Reader

Warnings >~< = Man-handling, nothing too extreme..yet

The throbbing pain all over your body was what woke you up. You felt as if you had been chewed up and spat out.

Even opening your eyes grew to be difficult, the blinding glare from above proving to be too much for your unadjusted eyes.

After much effort though you did, finding yourself placed carelessly into the corner of a room.

The ceiling was low and the table in front of you barley reached your knees as you wobbled to stand. You assessed yourself quietly, nothing looked broken or too bruised.

Aside from your tail, that had an odd bend to it.

However there was also an excessive simultaneous ache in your back, tail and thigh as you gritted your teeth.

You thought back to how you got here, the room leaking the scent of those sky creatures.

You could feel yourself get more angry as you remembered exactly how you ended up in this beaming white room.

The pathetic oaf had knocked you out. And how? You weren't sure.

Your tail whipped around you painfully as you felt yourself get more worked up, ears flattening as you circled the table - searching for a way out the puny room.

You spotted the door, stomping over to it only to find it completely sealed shut.

Banging you fist against it, you hissed at the thing blocking your path out of there. Spinning around, you then saw...you?

The whole wall seemed to reflect, like the water back home when you gazed down into it icy depths.

The reminder only fired you up more as you walked over to it, fingertips ever so lightly touching the cool surface.

You looked at yourself and tilted you head, ears up and alert. How these creatures had managed to mimic water baffled you.

They were such stupidly.. smart things.

They were smart and stupid enough to create destructive machines that in turn destroyed themselves and everything around them.

And now they were here, set on laying their destructive fingers on Pandora and cursing its soul with their disease.

The thought had your blood pumping with anger as your hand became a fist, slamming against the surface before you. You repeated it again and again, hissing and snarling.

They couldn't keep you here.

You had a family, a clan to keep safe - away from the sky creatures.

You then felt the wall begin to splinter beneath your fist. You stopped as you heard a hissing sound escape the damaged area.

Stepping back cautiously, your eyes bounced all over the room - waiting for something to happen.

And almost immediately, you began to hear the seal on the door break away, smoke collecting along one side.

Instincts on high alert, the only thought racing through your mind was Run!

Lowering to the ground slightly, you crept closer to the door just as it began to hiss along its edge- similar to the sound you heard from the wall.

As quick as anything it slid open, revealing the blue soldier from before, the ink on his arm easy to identify.

Your face automatically snarled - you couldn't see from his chest upwards as the doorway was too low, however you knew he was sneering right back.

Without thinking, you darted towards him, slipping though the gap between his body and the door.

Because of the doorway, he wasn't able to guess your intention, giving you a clear head start as you ran down the hallway.

'Fuckin’ hell..' You heard his curse just as you rounded the corner.

The hallway seemed to go on forever, littered with people in uniform who all turned to you, faces going pale.

Not wanting to linger any longer, you sprinted down the hall until you came to an absolutely massive room.

The eyes of soldiers and more people in white snapped to you, there had to be at least over 50 in the room. Amongst them, the blue soldiers that had helped raid your clan where also planted around.

Caught off guard you came to a stop, breathes heavy with frustration.

There was no escaping, not unless you wanted to risk being shot.

You felt a seed of panic grow as you saw people reach for their weapons, knowing this could be the place you die.

Not on the coast where you grew up, not on the back of your ilu fighting for your clan and not in the arms of the people you loved.

No, it was going to be a cold, white room filled with your enemies.

The air around you felt thick, too thick to breath as you began to heave. Why couldn't you breath?

All the air seemed to have been sucked from the room, causing your panic to grow more and more, working yourself into a terrifying state of fear.

Your legs and mind suddenly felt weak, too weak to feel hands behind you grasping yours in a firm grip before pinning them behind you.

You felt yourself being kicked to the ground, body collapsing as you continued to gasp out, all breath finally leaving you.

You cheek rested against the cold ground until you felt a warm hand on you chin, grasping you jaw and tilting it up.

You them felt another hand on the back of your head, gently lifting it off the ground.

Feeling the same hand crawl from the back of you head to the underside of your face, it supported the weight of your head entirely, your body loosing strength to so.

The hand on your jaw then left you, before quickly returning - a black breathing mask in it's grasp. It was pressed firmly to your mouth and nose, creating a seal.

You then felt it.

It was as if you were breathing for the first time again.

You eyes shot open as the air filled your lungs, your chest expanding as you let out a gasp.

Shooting out, your hand cupped over the one holding the device, pressing it even harder against you face, sucking in the air.

After a few, you eventually calmed down, breathes even.

As your mind cleared though, you realised who was siting on your back, their weight heavy but not entirely restricting.

It was just to make sure you didn't try anything stupid again.

Sensing your body tensing beneath him, the soldier pulled back his hand, leaving yours to hold the breathing machine.

'Easy.'

You didn't fight back, only relaxing against the floor as you allowed yourself to go limp.

You weren't in immediate danger, yourself told yourself to calm down, obeying the order given to you for once.

'You go ahead and keep that, but imma' need your cooperation.' He saw your ear flick in his direction as he watched you maul over his words.

You were either contemplating another cheap escape or was translating his words to yourself.

He hoped it was the latter.

He then felt your body shift under his, until you laid on your back, staring up at him. He didn't sense a fight or struggle but he could never be too sure.

He looked down at you, hands ready to hold you down if you tried anything, but the nod of your head had him relaxing ever so slightly.

You watched him as he looked away from you and towards the many people behind you.

You saw as another breathing mask was thrown towards him, his hand easily grasping it as he raised it to his mouth, deeply inhaling before letting it hang from around his neck.

You stared as you his chest expanded before settling once again. You then traced up to his neck, his traditional blue Na'vi stripes peaking out.

You cursed yourself for looking.

He was evil.

A walking devil in disguise of your people.

You saw him look back down at you, his right hand reaching behind him ominously. You felt your face screw up, his movements making you suspicious.

Only when your eyes saw the handcuffs did you move once again.

He wanted you restrained!

However, you'd never allow him to have that much effortless control over you.

Bucking your hips up to attempt to throw him off, you wriggled around, trying to escape as he pressed his weight down on you, trapping you to the cold tile.

'They’re only goin' on until I get you away from all these important people.' He rolled his eyes at your dramatic display, before placing the orange restraint between his teeth.

Now with his hands free, he was able to flip you back over, pressing down hard between your shoulder blades as you hissed at him.

You heard him whistle above you as you continued to thrash.

'How her down will you?' You heard him mock you, talking about you as if you were some rabid dog.

Looking to your side, you saw another blue soldier step closer over to you, her smirking face glazing down at you, her jaw chewing something in a bored manner.

She walked all the way up until she was directly in front, her boots an inch from your face.

You then felt a rough pressure replace the hand on your back, the texture painful as it dug into your skin to hold you down.

You whined from your helplessness as you felt two hands roughly grab yours, placing them at you base of your spine before being secured tightly.

Looking up, you saw the female soldier, her foot securing you to the ground, watch as you were restrained, a smirk on her lips.

Knowing there was nothing else you could do, you slumped to the ground, tired breaths leaving you.

'Atta' girl!' You heard her laugh at your submission, her foot lifting from up your back before dropping back down in front of you and walking back to where she originally was.

You then felt the weight on you move up, a single hand grasping the hair at the back of your head, pulling it to yank your head back. You cried out but didn't move.

'Don' move.' You heard him grumble before you felt the breathing mask being attached back to you, the band now going around you head to keep it there.

He released your hair and you felt his weight leave you completely. You shivered as the cool air traced over your uncovered back.

You eyes widened as you suddenly felt a hand grab at your tail, the thing still in pain from earlier. You looked over your shoulder and hissed at the soldier.

His thumb was tracing over the lower middle section of your tail that was bend ever so slightly, the area discoloured and purple.

And from your hissing and whines he would tell it was hurting like a bitch.

Looking over his shoulder, the colonel waved over one of the many doctors and scientists, who immediately came padding over - clipboard in hand.

'This thing look broken' to you?' He emphasised by moving your tail closer to the doctor, your body dragging with it slightly as you whimpered.

The doc's gloved hands replaced the colonel's, fingers assessing the area while the colonel's eyes bounced from your injured limb to you, making sure you stayed down.

'I'll definitely need an X-ray but I'm pretty sure I can snap it back into place. A few bandages for a while and it'll be fine.' The doctor spoke, shrugging as if it was nothing.

The colonel looked back down at you, body obeying for once and relaxing.

You wouldn't be useful if you were broke.

Plus, he knew how sensitive these things were and could only imagine the pain every time your body acted on instinct and moved it.

It was gonna be a bitch to do but he knew he was having your tail fixed whether you wanted it or not.

Part 3

Kofi <33

Taglist = @namor-is-the-way @kimqueenofhell

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evalevaeva · 7 months

Text

rival | yeon sieun

warning : death

Yeon Sieun wasn't just a schoolmate. You wouldn't have considered him a friend or someone you hate. The two of you acknowledged each others existence, knowing that the other person existed simply because of one piece of paper that was pasted on the signboard of Byuksan Middle School's notice board every few months.

"First : Yeon Sieun," That was what the board would read every month from the first year of school, but somehow by the third test of the fourth year, yeon sieun's name was not first.

"Did you hear? Yeon sieun got knocked off first place!" Students began gossiping as yeon sieun stood in front of the noticeboard, face blank, but his eyes showed anger.

To say he was angry would be an understatement. He aas furious, his heart pumped faster and he could hear ringing in his ears as he walked back to his seat, acting as he would on a normal day as the students in the class looked at him, muttering and whispering to each other.

"Congratulations! I can't believe you did so well for the mock exams! You'll definitely ace the exams by CSAT year!" The sound of female students congratulations caught Sieun's attention as he raised his head to look at the window in the corridor.

You were walking with four other female students, a large smile plastered onto your face as you shook your head at your friends' words, shy from their compliments.

For the first time in a long time, Sieun felt the feeling of inferiority creeping up his neck like a silent monster. His grip on his pen became tighter as his eyes were glued onto the notebook in front of him, not wanting to think about the result slip on the noticeboard.

"Sieun," You called out his name as you held your tray of food. The boy looked up from his English textbook as he looked at you, his earpieces still in his ears as you exhaled, feeling the awkwardness creeping up your arms.

"Could I sit here? I wanted to talk to you about certain subjects because I'm still not at my best," You asked until you realised that he was ignoring you, eyes glued back onto the text on the book in front of his face as you sighed, turning to walk back to the table with your friends.

That was over a year ago, and by the actual examination, sieun was back on top, with you being in second. That didn't bother you. You weren't aiming for the top, just high enough to get into a good school later on in life.

By the last year of school, the teachers saw that both of you were high academic achievers, which led to their decision to make both of you seatmates.

The air was tense at first. You never knew if you should talk to him or wait for him to start a conversation. You chose the latter, thinking back on your only other encounter with him the previous year.

Over the course of half a year, you were still struggling with Additional Mathematics, and you could never really understand it. You would've asked your classmates but only one other student took Additional Mathematics with you, and that was, lo and behold, Yeon Sieun.

It was break time, and on a usual day, you would've been at the snack bar with your friends deciding what to eat, but today wasn't the case. You had to figure out how to do the hard questions before the exams, and you were still struggling. The teacher was no help, simply telling you to check with Sieun. If you could, you would've.

"The shoelace method."

You lifted your head up from the paper as you turned to see sieun still writing in his notebook, despite you having just heard his voice.

"The shoelace method...?" You questioned him again as he turned to you, his face with his signature cold look, but he was offering help, who were you to reject that?

Sieun adjusted his seat as he moved slightly closer to your table, his chair slanted in your direction.

"I assume you already know the formula?" Sieun asked, not looking at you as his head was tilted slightly, reading the question carefully as he clicked his pen, writing down in blue ink as he explained.

"Take the points in the anti-clockwise direction. The first point chosen must be repeated..." Sieun explained as he wrote down the formula and numbers for the polygon.

You should have been focused, but somehow... having yeon sieun so closd to you made your heart jump. You gulped as you blinked, hard, focusing on the problem at hand.

"You can use the numbers in the motion of a shoelace, x1 with y2, so on and so forth, and eventually, you'll get this answer," Sieun wrote down the final answer as you looked at him, feeling starstruck.

Everyone knew he was smart, but getting to experience his academic ability first-hand made you feel a newfound respect for him. He knew his work, and he made sure he did.

That single event with both of you led to a more comfortable atmosphere as the days passed. Sieun didn't act like you didn't exist, and you could talk to him easily, most of the time.

A simple 'good morning sieun' and a nod back was a more usual occurrence between the both of you and the teachers were more than elated by that.

On that particular day, you didn't seem yourself, even sieun could see it. You didn't speak nor look at anyone in the class as yoj entered, head hanging low as you sat in your seat. You took out your books and placed them on the table, placing your head on them as you closed your eyes, feeling the lack of sleep beginning to seep in.

Your situation at home led to your current state, but you couldn't tell anyone. It's normal academic pressure, it was nothing to worry about ; you chose to believe it. Your grades were beginning to slip, slowly like a snake creeping up with its venom. Your parents weren't happy, a screaming match ensued the moment you arrived home at the start of the week and it was already Friday. You were exhausted. Emotionally and physically, you were done.

"Wake up. The teacher's here," Sieun muttered as he tapped on your shoulder, causing you to flinch as you woke up from your five minutes of sleep.

"I'll be announcing the winner of the additional mathematical olympiad competition that was held recently," The homeroom teacher spoke, but you were to busy beginning to doze off as the teacher's sudden mention of your name caused you to wake up once again.

"Congratulations, this prize is awarded to this student for achieving first place in the additional mathematics olympiad." The teacher announced as you stood up, walking to the teacher to receive the certificate, before plopping down on your seat once again.

"Yeon Sieun, second place," The teacher announced as loud gasps were heard around the room.

You opened your eyes as you saw Sieun at the front of the class, taking the certificate half-heartedly as he gave you the same glare he had given you a year ago, over the mock exam results.

"Now, now, settle down class," the teacher shouted over the muttering and chatter in the class while you were trying to grasp a few more minutes of sleep.

Everyone had gone for their lunch, and it was just you and sieun in the classroom.

"Was it fun?" Sieun suddenly asked, he was seated, facing the board as you turned to him, confused and exhausted.

"What?" You questioned back as sieun turned to you, his eyes glaring at you ad he continued, "Did you just want help because you wanted to surpass me? To get first place?"

You were too tired for this. Everything was becoming a blur in your head.

"Look, if you wanted to win that math olympiad, you could've said so. I didn't even want to take part in it, the teacher in charge signed me up," you muttered as sieun suddenly slammed the desk with his arm, causing it to turn red with each second that passed.

"You're lazy, and all you do is leech off of others. You ask me for help in everything, but can't even do such a basic concept like polygons." Sieun scoffed as you turned to him, eyebrows furrowed at his sudden aggresiveness.

"What is wrong with you? Just because of a stupid math competition, you're attacking me? Watch your mouth yeon sieun," You spat back at him as he turned to face you, his anger reaching its limits.

"You're pathetic," Sieun stated heartlessly as you stood up, grabbing your textbooks, shoving them into your bag, not caring if the covers or pages were bent. You made your way out of the class, walking down the hallway as you made your way to the main office.

"I'm not feeling well. I need to go home," you told the receptionist as she handed you the form to fill out to leave school early.

Sieun's words were echoing in your head as you thought about his harsh words. He was just like everyone around you. Your parents, always telling you to work harder, unsatisfied with everything that you did for your academics.

You walked down the path from the school gate to the bus stop as you quietly wiped away the tears that were threatening to fall. Floodgates were about to be released, but with the many people at the bus stop, that would be embarrassing. Your vision was still blurry from the lack of sleep, but you kept repeating in your head that it was nothing to worry about.

That was until your legs gave out, and the next thing you knew, you were on the floor, your head facing the road as you felt people calling out to you. They sounded mumbled, as if you were underwater. The world seemed to become a whirlpool as you inhaled deeply, before blacking out, the last thing being the sound of the ambulance.

The next week came, and Sieun walked into the classroom, waiting patiently with a box of milk, patiently waiting for you to arrive. He had thought about his actions over the weekend and realised he had lost his cool over something minor, and he had definitely hurt you. He tried to convince himself that he did the right thing, but he couldn't. Remembering how you looked at him, face full of hurt and hands trembling, he couldn't.

The bell rang, and the boy looked up from his notebook to see the seat next to him empty. You didn't arrive. Maybe you were late? He told himself as he placed the milk under your desk for you to see when you arrived.

"I have news to share with all of you," the teacher started as she walked into the classroom with a vase of white flowers, the atmosphere becoming heavy. The teacher was barely ever serious unless something bad happened, and that wasn't a good sign to sieun.

"Our classmate has passed away on Friday. I would like everyone to remember our dear friend as someone who was hard working and could be relied on."

Sieun's ears seemed to ring. A high-pitched ring with a buzzing feeling in his head as he turned to look at his classmates. Only your seat was empty.

"Sieun," the teacher called him as he snapped out of his daze, realising she was standing beside your table.

"I hope you're alright. I know the sudden news shocked you seeing as the both of you were quite close," The teacher said as she placed the flowers on your desk, leaving it as sieun couldn't help but stare at it.

You were gone, and the last thing he called you was 'pathetic'. He was so caught up in his inner turmoil that he was so blind as to not see you suffering right in front of his two very eyes.

Sieun reached out his hand, his hand grazing the clear vase as he thought of when he'd pat your head when you'd sleep in class. He didn't expect that the next time he'd see you, you would be in a casket, with a large potrait of your school photo in front of it.

"You must be yeon sieun." a voice called out as sieun turned to see an old woman in a black hanbok, a chief mourner badge around her arm as sieun nodded.

"You were always spoken highly of. My grandchild would always come home and excitedly tell me about how she talked to you more with each day that passed." the old woman told sieun as he looked to the ground. He felt ashamed, as if he shouldn't have been there. Even in death, you'd still find a way to clench his heart.

Sieun sat at his desk at home, staring at the wall. He felt as if his soul had been removed from his body. He always felt void of emotions, but somehow, he felt like there were too many emotions.

One drop, two drops.

Sieun felt his tears running down uncontrollably, not being able to keep himself together. Sieun never had many friends, but somehow, he always found you sneaking into his heart as someone dear to him, as someone he'd want in his life.

But it was too late. You were no longer a rival, but a friend.

---

MY ASS BRUH I WORKED ON THIS FOR 2 HOURS AND IT TURNE DOUT LIKE SHIT IM SO MAD AT 4:38AM AND ITS JFJFJRWBWJ

also the math part was kind of entertaining to write other than the fact i couldn't write the formula in so pls imagine it

#whc1 #yeon sieun #sieun fic #sieun x reader #ahn sooho #ohbeomseok #weak hero #weak hero class 1

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mrs-fatu · 13 days

Text

Blossom in Summer

Chapter 1: Why me?

Paring: jey uso x Jasmine (fem!reader)

Warnings: Language, anger, confusion

WC: 2,824

Summary: Jasmine wakes up in an unfamiliar bedroom with no memory of last night. Who is this man? And why did he pick her?

As I slowly opened my eyes, the morning sun cast a warm glow across the lavish bedroom, bathing me in a soft, golden light. The silk curtains, adorned with intricate patterns, seemed to dance in the gentle breeze, and the sweet scent of dior Sauvage wafted through the air, filling my senses. But as I sat up, my head began to pound, and I was hit with a wave of confusion. Where was I? This wasn't my bedroom. The silk sheets tangled around my bare legs felt luxurious, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was a stranger in this unfamiliar surrounding.

I forced my eyes open again, taking in the room around me with a sense of disorientation. The walls were a deep, rich blue, accentuated by traditional lavalavas hanging in beautifully crafted frames. To my left stood an antique black armoire, its intricate carvings telling a story of elegance and sophistication. The plush blue rug beneath the massive four-poster bed seemed to have been imported from a far-off land, and I felt like I was sleeping on a cloud.

As I sat up, holding my throbbing head in my hands, memories of the previous night began to trickle back. The fancy cocktail bar with my friends, doing shot after shot of tequila until the night blurred into a haze. Stumbling into a swanky hotel suite afterward, though I couldn't remember exactly how I'd gotten there. Who did this room belong to? And where had they gone? The questions swirled in my mind like a whirlpool, pulling me under.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up on shaky feet, clutching the bedpost for support. My head felt like it was going to split open, and I needed to figure out what happened and get out of here. As I looked down at myself, I saw that I was still wearing the silky black dress from last night, now wrinkled and creased. It was then that I noticed something heavy on my left wrist - a tennis bracelet so bright it almost blinded me. What was it doing there?

Just as I was trying to make sense of the strange circumstances, the door on the side of the room swung open, and a tall figure emerged. He stood at 6'2", his chiseled physique on full display as he walked towards me. His ebony shorts clung to his toned thighs and waist, accentuating his inked legs and tribal tattoos that glistened against his damp skin.

His hair was styled in a seductive mullet, and his lips sported a perfect shade of color, revealing his dazzling grillz as he parted them. It was like he had stepped out of a steamy romance novel, and I felt like I was staring at a character come to life.

"Morning," he spoke, his deep voice low and husky.

I stood there in shock, unable to form words. He walked around me, opening a drawer from his dresser to pull out his clothes. My eyes followed him, mesmerized by the way his muscles flexed as he moved.

"I'm sorry, who...?" I stuttered before I could finish.

But before I could even get the words out, my stomach began to churn and I felt like I was going to vomit. I stumbled backward, but it was too late. The morning sickness washed over me, and I threw up right on the floor.

He darted towards me, concern etched on his face. "Shit, you good?" he asked as he brushed away a dangling curl from my face.

"I'm sorry...I'm..." I spoke, feeling tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

But before I could finish speaking, he ushered me towards his bed and sat me down on the edge. "Sit down," he said softly.

As he left the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts and emotions, I felt like my world was spinning out of control.

I just wanted to go home, to crawl back into my own bed and forget the reckless night I had just endured. But instead, I found myself in a luxurious bedroom, surrounded by the opulent trappings of a life that was not my own. A diamond tennis bracelet glinted on my wrist, a constant reminder of my foolishness. How could I have been so irresponsible, drinking so much that I ended up in this strange and unfamiliar place?

As I sat on the bed, trying to gather my thoughts, my phone began to ring. I picked it up from the nightstand, hoping for some semblance of normalcy in this chaotic situation. "Hello?" I spoke, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Girl, where the hell are you?" asked my best friend Natasha, her voice laced with concern.

"I...I don't even know," I replied, trying to gather my thoughts. "I'm with a man, and...and I threw up on his carpet, so..."

Natasha's laughter came through the phone, followed by a gasp. "Wait, is he sexy?" she asked, her tone playful.

"Um, well...he looks like he's from some kind of Pacific Island or something," I replied. "He has all these tribal tattoos and lavalavas on his wall."

Natasha's squeal of excitement was music to my ears. "Don't stop there, bitch! Tell me more! How does he look?"

I took a deep breath before launching into a detailed description of the mans handsome features. "Well, he has a short-cut mullet, and he's kinda muscular. His thighs are thick...and he has bottom grillz...and his voice is low and smooth."

Natasha's reaction was immediate. "Oh my god, Jas! You're in trouble!"

I glanced up to see him standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. "Shit, I gotta go," I said hastily. "he's back."

"Okay, girl, let me know if you need me to pick you up," Natasha said, her voice dripping with concern. "I love you, be safe Jaz."

The line went dead as Natasha hung up, leaving me alone with him once more. I felt a sense of trepidation wash over me as he walked towards me, his eyes fixed on mine with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat.

As I stood up from the bed, I felt a sense of unease wash over me. He had just finished cleaning up the spot where I had vomited, and now his eyes were locked onto mine with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat. I felt a flush rise to my cheeks as I met his gaze, my mind still foggy from the previous night's excesses.

"I'm really sorry...I need to leave," I said, trying to sound apologetic as I began to step into my shoes.

His eyes darted as he stood up, his expression unreadable. "You just gonna forget about last night?" he asked, his tone laced with accusation.

I hesitated, searching for the right words to say. The truth was, I didn't remember what happened last night. It was all a blur of music, laughter, and tequila shots. But I knew that I couldn't keep it up forever, not when I had no idea what had happened or who this man was.

"I don't..." I paused, feeling a sense of embarrassment wash over me.

The man let out a huff, his expression turning annoyed. "Damn, you don't even remember," he said, his voice dripping with disappointment.

"I am very sorry," I said, trying to apologize once again. "And...the bracelet. You can have it back, I'm sorry."

I started to unhook the bracelet, feeling a sense of relief wash over me as I handed it back to him. But instead of taking it from me, he spoke up again.

"Just keep the bracelet, Jaz. I don't want it back. If you want to leave then go, the door is over there," he said, his tone hostile.

I was taken aback by his words. "I'm sure you spent hella on it," I said, trying to reason with him. "I don't want to..."

But he cut me off again. "Bruh, keep it, Jaz. I gave it to you for a reason."

His words were laced with aggression, and I felt a shiver run down my spine as I realized that he was genuinely upset with me. But why? What had happened last night?

As I stood there, feeling a sense of unease wash over me once again, he spoke up again.

"And I bet you don't even remember my name huh?" he asked, his tone dripping with disdain.

I lightly shook my head, feeling a sense of shame wash over me. How could I have forgotten someone's name?

He sucked his teeth in disgust before speaking up again. "It's Joshua, Jey Uso," he said agitatedly. The name sounded slightly familiar but not quite.

With that, I grabbed my purse and made my way towards the door. As I left the room, I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over me. I had no idea what had happened last night or who Jey was or why he was so upset with me. All I knew was that I needed to get out of there before things got any worse.

I stood on the sidewalk of the penthouse, my head still throbbing with a dull ache. The morning sunlight was harsh, and I winced as I squinted up at the towering skyscrapers. I pulled out my phone and dialed the familiar number, hoping that my friend Tiffany would be able to come and rescue me from this situation.

As I waited for her to answer, I took a deep breath and tried to clear the fog from my mind. What had happened last night? Who was Jey Uso, and why did he seem so angry with me? And why, for that matter, had he let me keep the diamond tennis bracelet? It didn't make any sense.

The phone rang again, and Tiffany's cheerful voice answered. "Hey, what's up?"

I took a deep breath before speaking. "Hey, can you come get me? I'll send you the address."

Tiffany's voice turned serious. "Yeah, I'll see you soon. Be careful."

The line went dead, and I was left standing alone on the sidewalk, feeling like I was in a fog. Who was Jey Uso, and why had I ended up in his penthouse apartment? What had happened last night, and why did I have such a pounding headache?

As I stood there, trying to make sense of it all, my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car approaching approaching. It was Tiffany, looking stylish and put-together as always in her benz.

"Hey, girl, get in" she said, concern etched on her face. i stepped into her car and took a deep breath, "What happened?"

I shook my head, feeling a sense of relief wash over me as I handed her the keys. "I don't know," I said. "I don't remember anything from last night."

Tiffany's eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean?"

I shrugged. "I don't know who Jey Uso is or what happened. But I need some coffee and some crackers. Like, right now."

i rubbed my temples in an attempt to alleviate the throbbing headache, my friend Tiffany's eyes lit up like a bright light bulb. "JEY USO?" she yelled in question, her voice piercing the morning air.

I winced, feeling a wave of pain wash over me. "Goddamn girl, my head," I groaned, trying to hold onto my sanity.

Tiffany's eyes sparkled with excitement. "I'm sorry, but you said his name is Jey Uso, right?" she asked, her voice filled with curiosity.

I nodded my head, feeling a sense of resignation wash over me. "Yeah, why? Then he let me keep this bracelet," I said, holding up my wrist to show her the diamond tennis bracelet.

Tiffany's reaction was immediate. She squealed like a little child, her eyes wide with excitement. "YOU STAYED WITH JEY USO AND HE GAVE YOU A TENNIS BRACELET?" she repeated, her voice rising to a near-shriek.

I palmed my face, feeling a sense of embarrassment wash over me. "My head. Please stop screaming," I begged.

Tiffany's laughter died down, and she looked at me with a mixture of amusement and concern. "Oh, girl, I'm sorry. Jey Uso is the WWE wrestler, and he's fine as hell!" she exclaimed.

I gave her a skeptical look, feeling a sense of unease. "What? Come on, you can't tell me he's not sexy. He's main event Jey Uso. And God, the way he flicks his tongue... We have to go to the supershow tonight, you gotta see him in the ring," she said.

I raised an eyebrow, feeling a sense of trepidation. "I mean, he's okay, but he was kinda rude. If going to the show will make you happy then sure. But I really need some fucking coffee," I said.

Tiffany rolled her eyes. "Fine, we'll get you coffee and then get ready for the show," she said before driving off into the morning traffic.

I couldn't help but feel a sense of confusion. Who was Jey Uso, and why did he seem so angry with me? And what had happened last night? The questions swirled in my mind like a whirlpool, refusing to be silenced.

But for now, all I could think about was getting home and getting some coffee into my system. Maybe then things would start to make sense again.

—

I knew that having a hangover wasn't the best, but coffee always seemed to come in handy.

I reached for my trusty brush and gel, and began to work my hair into a sleek, curly ponytail. The hard bristles of the brush glided effortlessly through my locks, leaving them smooth and tamed. I then moved on to my eyebrows, using a precision brow pencil to reshape them into a thin, arching shape that I preferred. The gentle strokes of the pencil seemed to calm my frazzled nerves, and I felt a sense of clarity wash over me.

With my brows in order, I turned my attention to my makeup. I carefully applied a light foundation to even out my complexion, followed by a subtle blush to give my cheeks a healthy glow. A swipe of mascara added depth and drama to my lashes, and a swipe of lip balm left my lips feeling soft and hydrated.

As I finished up my makeup routine, I stood up and surveyed my reflection. I was pleased with the results - my hair looked luscious and bouncy, and my makeup was understated yet effective. I then gathered my clothes, selecting a nice outfit that would see me through the day.

As I dressed, I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the simple pleasures in life - a hot shower, a good cup of coffee, and a fresh start. The night moonlight streaming through the window seemed to hold promise, and I felt a sense of renewed energy coursing through my veins.

I took one last look at myself in the mirror, smoothing out any wrinkles or creases in my outfit. Satisfied with the result, I headed out into the night, ready to face whatever happens.

As I emerged from the hotel, I was greeted by the warm night and the sound of Tiffany's horn blaring in the distance. I rushed towards the car, my mind still foggy from the lingering effects of the night before. As I slipped into the passenger seat, Tiffany flashed me a bright smile. "You look good, girl!" she exclaimed.

I smiled back, feeling a sense of gratitude for her kind words. "Thanks, you look good too," I replied, taking in her stylish outfit.

As we hit the road, Tiffany began to drive, her eyes fixed on the windshield. "Okay, so remember, we're going to see Jey tonight. I got us front row tickets, so at least cheer when he comes out, because I definitely will," she said, her voice filled with excitement.

I raised an eyebrow, feeling a sense of confusion wash over me. What was up with this man? Why did women like Tiffany drool over him so much? I mean, I got it - he was hot as hell - but I didn't understand all the hype. The traffic lights seemed to be flashing in sync with the diamond bracelet on my wrist, and all I could think about was why me? What had happened? Would it all come back to me?

As we navigated through the crowded streets of Las Vegas, my mind began to wander back to the night before. The anger in Jey's eyes as I told him I didn't remember anything was still etched in my memory. It was enough to keep me away from him, to make me realize that I didn't need another angry man in my life. Not again.

After dealing with Aaron, I had promised myself that I wouldn't dare let another angry man into my life again. And now, as I sat in the car with Tiffany, I knew that I had to keep my distance from Jey Uso. Maybe after the show, I could find him and give him the bracelet back - never look back. It would be for my own good.

As we pulled up to the venue, I took a deep breath and let my thoughts settle. I had five days left in Vegas, and I was determined to make the most of it. No more worrying about waking up in a random man's bed. No more drama or stress. Just me, myself, and a fresh start.

#fanfic #jey uso #wwe fanfiction #jeysuso #main event jey uso #wwe #jey uso fanfiction #series #jey uso x oc

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cat-mentality · 7 months

Text

It happens at night.

When darkness falls and the moon is not enough to illuminate the world, when the stars dim and the monsters are at their most active.

It happens at night.

They are not silent.

Why would they be?

You hear the laughter first. Always the laughter.

The screams and the laughter mixing together in a cacophony that sends shivers down everyone's spines, the sound grating at their ears.

They are not silent.

Knowing they are coming doesn't mean anything.

Their weapons are rudimentary, not a single enchanted item but the ones they took from previous corpses. Their armor does very little to protect their body but it doesn't matter, they welcome death as a blessing, hug her as an old friend.

They come, as a group.

Always a group.

They destroy the lights first, always. Bathed in darkness, like their senses have gotten intimately familiar with it.

A flash of colorful wings, cracked with dirt and blood and debris, and she laughs and laughs as she descends upon you with a stolen knife. She laughs and laughs as they strike her back, as they kill her, she is still laughing when she comes back and attacks again with her bare hands. Blood coats her whole body and she bathes on it.

Eyes that flash in the darkness, pools of blue consumed by madness, eyes that stared at the void and smiled at it. He smiles with blood red lips as he cuts you with a knife made of bone, he smiles as he licks the blood of the blade looking you in the eyes, a challenge, a plea. He smiles as he tears out pieces of the bodies, as he offers it to his companions like offerings. You never thought monsters could be so beautiful.

A flash of corrupted green, static that cuts the air, whispering things you cannot understand, that you cannot make sense off. He follows, without rest, he tears himself apart as long as it keeps you going and going and going, you blink and suddenly you are alone in the middle of nowhere, he smiles, twisted, eyes poison green. The static consumes you.

A sword you never see coming. A moment you are watching your surroundings, ready for an attack, expecting it because you know you are stronger, knowing that victory is promised to you. It doesn't matter, you don't see the blade until it is sticking from your body, gone in the blink of an eye searching for a new victim to sink into. You never see who is holding it.

A flash of ink black wings, in the darkness of the night you can't even see the spots where feathers do not grow anymore. Before you see the wings you can always feel them approaching, a chill down your spine, the air growing colder and colder, mist surrounding you, heavy, oppressing, the smell of blood and candles mixing together. Your death is an offering, a sacrifice. Blood for the Blood God. A soul for the Goddess of Death.

Eyes that stalk you in the darkness, unblinking, challenging you. He laughs and laughs in good nature as he invites you to kill him, as he begs for a reason to feel something, you can swear that sometimes even as his lips spread into the biggest grin you ever saw tears glisten into his golden eyes, his skin glowing, blessed with the un-death. You kill him over and over and over again. It doesn't matter. You cannot kill what was never truly alive in the first place.

A voice, soft in the darkness of the night, singing. Songs of mirth and joy, some in a foreign language most do not speak but those who do recognize the silly little lyrics, she sings and she kills you, she sings as you kill her, she invites you to join her over and over again, coming back like a lamb waiting to be made sacrifice, grinning, asking you why do you care? Why do you fight? You shiver once more as you sink your sword into her knowing she will be back and you still wouldn't have an answer to her question.

They die.

Over and over and over and over and over.

An unending circle of death and resurrection, of blood and pain and screams and laughter and madness.

They don't care.

They come back with the night, they bring darkness, they bring death like a second skin, they laugh and they laugh as they kill and as they die.

This is not Purgatory, they will crackle with blood dripping from their mouths, this is Hell.

Why do you care, they ask with genuine curiosity as you sink diamond blades into unprotected flesh, Why do you care.

Join us, they chant as they disappear into the shadows as the sun threatens to appear, join us, join us, join us.

We will wait for you, the last words spoken before they are gone, when you realize, we will be waiting for you.

You don't relax even when you can't hear their laughter and screams anymore, when you can't feel the madness spreading, consuming.

They will come when the night returns.

They always do.

#good day im still insane #there is so much i want to write i don't even know where to start #this just felt very appropriate im thinking of doing one for each team but still don't know #i was possessed to write this i was in the middle of something else actually #qsmp #qsmp purgatory #team bolas #qsmp cellbit #qsmp philza #qsmp jaiden #qsmp baghera #qsmp slimecicle #qsmp carre #qsmp foolish

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ieatangstforbreakfast · 7 months

Text

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ Earth 42! Miles Morales x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ If y'all wanna be part of the taglist, answer this

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol

Chapter 5: Just A Girl, Just A Boy

Warning ೃ⁀➷ Foul language

FIC MASTERLIST

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

I like you.

Miles stares at the ceiling before him, the powder blue from the window fading from the lightness to a faint shade of pink. In almost every hour he’s spent just glaring at the plain wall before him, he thinks of you— your words, your frown, and most especially, the taste of your lips. His lips had grown too dry from the constant dabs from his tongue, that had grown too desperate to ensure it’s gotten every inch of your taste.

I like you. I like you. I like you.

With the flat of his two fingers, he fiddles with the bottom of his lip. He tries to trick his mind into thinking that it was you— nibbling on the mauve and marking it with the shade of pink you rouge your own with.

But why can’t there be an us?

He thinks of you as the devil. Stealing a kiss and walking off, but in a way it wasn’t your fault. As much as you did like him, you probably had your own reasons, and he felt shame for pressing you a little too much. But you’re fucking vicious in the way you’d kiss, which meant it probably wasn’t your first time. Unfair, Miles thinks. I’m going insane over you like this, while you’re probably drifting off to sleep.

And it devours him even in the weekdays.

You haven't texted nor replied in days.

You had him zoning out in the middle of his favorite class, pulling his phone out every break of basketball practice, and distracted even on his missions. To say you were his weakness would be an understatement; one word from you alone determined the way of his day. If you’d leave him hanging on the seenzone, he grows irritated of everything— leaving his friends utterly horrified of his silence. Miles had always been silent, but now he was just seemingly murderous. Hell, if only you’d reply with the same flirty twang you usually do, that'd ease him more, but there was nothing.

Even then, it’s not like you owed him anything.

"Morales," Mrs. Vincent sighs, handing his test paper faced downwards. Miles hesitantly accepts it, only to see a bright B- circled in red ink staring right back at him.

"This isn't a failing mark, but it's alarming as you've always had steady A's— and it isn’t just that, I’ve caught you using your phone too many times today." She pensively brought up. Miles hated that sort of look she bore, a kind of pity he despised. He's grown too exhausted to care, but that didn't entirely mean that the mark was not alarming. In fact, it was, and what was worse was his apathy.

With the tip of her pen, the woman taps against the flat of her broad desk. "Is there anything troubling you at this moment?"

"No, ma'am." He lies, gnawing at his cheek.

"... Look," She delicately starts. "I didn't call you in here for your grades' sake, I called you in here for your sake."

What's the point really? If he were to ever tell anyone that he got a B- in AP Physics just because of a girl, the damnation would hurt more from the embarrassment rather than the rejection.

"I just.. Haven't been sleeping well."

That was a truth, sparcely. Like a half-baked meal. It seemed more plausible, if anything, rather than confessing the whole truth. Mrs. Vincent leaned back into her chair. ".. Is that so? Have you tried going to the clinic for a check up?"

He shakes his head. "No. I don't need to go to the clinic, ma'am. It'll pass in about a week."

At least, within the week, he'll learn of your answer.

Mrs. Vincent seemed only half-convinced. In the shallow tension, Miles hears the edge of her chair scraping, watching as she sits up taller. "Morales, you're a smart boy, but sometimes, you tend to overestimate your capabilities. That'll only drain you, and if it does, you'll get burnt out."

Miles stares and stares, mentally rereading and repeating the highlighted word 'irrevocable' on one of his classmates' papers. He didn't need this speech, he thinks. Some sort of bullshit that'll exit his mind the moment he walks out the door. But in the midst of her talking, Miles suddenly picks up.

"I know it must've been hard for you ever since the incident three years ago. I heard your father was... One of the casualties—"

"Ma'am." He blurts out. "Please, can I go home?"

She swallows the thick lump at her throat, taken aback by his forwardness.

"... O-of course."

And he's off to his own little world again. Away from the world he’s spent three, agonizing years grieving over. For once, he wanted to part from the tragedy that embodied him, and he wanted to brood like every other teenage boy.

Why can’t we be?

The two of you crossed the line of being friends the moment you latched your hand over his collar and mercilessly dragged him down for a kiss. You liked him, and he knew— knew too damn well about it. Your eyes weren’t great at lying, at least, not when it came to him. You hated wanting him, and yet you loved it all at the same time.

And that was also what he felt for you.

Weekend meetings, unspoken pasts. Miles knew not a thing about your family or your life, at times he’d think you’re a thriller, a mystery in the form of the prettiest face he’s ever seen. You were too damn good with words when they came off as casual flirts, but when it came to explaining your damn feelings, you were an utter mess.

But that's what he absolutely adored about you.

It was about that part of you that left him searching for you in the middle of the night.

When Thursday night arrived, Miles found himself trudging through the leaf-fallen streets of Brooklyn in search of you. Searching for a glimpse, a memory, or at least a semblance of you in the autumn weather. He could almost picture your figure prancing around him, could almost hear the sound of your giggles. Suddenly, the streets weren't as warm as they first seemed.

Instead, only hues of cold blue and silver surrounded him, like a dead winter that's yet to come.

Miles often walked the streets as though it all belonged to him. In a way, he was feared as a vigilante behind a mask. But at that moment, he wanted to own the streets as Miles Morales, and not the vicious Prowler half of New York eyed. In those streets, he didn't want to scheme about what he'd have to do and how he has to keep the borough safe.

Miles simply wanted to wander these streets as a lovestricken boy, which he was. Behind the mask, he was still a boy.

A boy who was so terribly in love with you.

All he needed was a yes.

But all you needed was space.

"I need time to think about.. This." He recalls you mumbling while holding onto his icy hands. "I need to sort out my thoughts about this first." At that moment, Miles adequately nodded, finding solace in your short answer.

You needed space, and Miles wanted to respect that. He'd been too harsh with you, he thinks.

But you thought of it as a wake up call— a sort of harsh pull from the icy waters you considered your comfort space.

It was also all that devoured your mind; the guilt was your most often visitor. You couldn’t look at his messages— you feared you’d say the wrong thing in text.

That morning, you’d suffered an incident.

"Fuck!"

You yelp, crashing down less than gracefully. You slam your palm against the floor, cursing a hundred curses beneath your breath. Victor, your partner, kneels before you worriedly, repetitively checking on you. Drearily, you deny his worries. "I'm fine, I'm fine— stop."

"Are you alright?" Eleanor steps in, peering over your leg. "Do you have a sprain? Can you walk?"

"I can—" As you try to move your leg, a piercing pain shoots through your ankle. You bite back another curse. "I'm fine. I just need to ice it— I'll be fine." Was your attempt to reassure her. Eleanor places a palm over her head, evidently frustrated. "I told you to slow down. The performance is in a week, is this what you plan on showing your audience?"

"I apologize. I haven't been feeling well as of late."

You can almost sense the disappointment scribbled all over her face. You didn't even have to look at her, the feeling was just all too familiar to miss. "… For now, I'll go fetch an assistant to aid you. Victor, help her up." Only then, Eleanor exits the room, leaving the both of you inside.

You couldn’t even focus on the damn tango. Everything was ruined for you— Miles ruined everything for you. All you could think of was twirling into his arms, and feeling the warmth of his hands over your waist.

You wanted it to be him. Wished for it to be him.

You glance at Victor awkwardly. And in your guilt, you ended up uttering a small apology. He reaches out a hand for you to hold, aiding you as you stood up. Begrudgingly, you limp towards one of the nearby seats. Victor stands before you, removing himself off of you as soon as you sat down.

"Are you alright?"

The question sparked something in you. Something most would call annoyance.

"I'm fine." You fake a smile. "Don't worry much."

Uptight, a little too uptight.

The whole thing about Miles bothered you in almost every aspect of your life, but no one noticed. Maybe some did, but no one asked. Was that better or was that heartbreaking?

You needed a break, and it was oh-so-graciously delivered when midnight dawned.

You often dreamed about drowning.

The feeling was unlike any other. You could still remember, the waters enveloping you in an icy embrace, as it seeped into your body, tempting you to become one with the ocean. You felt the cold blanket you, yet just like every other day, you felt this weirdly serene feeling enveloping your chest. It was like sleeping in the softest bed one could ever make.

You pulled your knees up to your chin, wrapping your hands around your shins as you allowed your mind to go completely blank.

You lifted your head and began to breathe again. Thus, your consciousness returned to the sights of the private pool. You effortlessly floated in the waters, eyes glued onto the dim ceiling. Like a corpse floating into the abyss. The dimness reminded you of the ocean at night, a sight that vanished along with the summer.

For the past days, you’ve been thinking about Miles.

Thinking about what to do, how to answer him.

“[Y/n]," A familiar voice calls out. Immediately, you stick your head out the water— finding a pair of eyes similar to your own staring right back at you. "Hey."

"Malachi." You call out to your younger brother. "It's midnight, sweetie. What brings you here?"

Timid and soft-spoken, you often insisted that Malachi was the best of all four of you, a true epitome of his name's meaning. Baby brother, you often teased. Somehow, the nickname remained befitting of him even though he's already ten. Time's always been your worst enemy.

"You weren't at dinner. I've been looking for you." He softly states, crouching before you like a frog. "Fernando cooked amish chicken, a-and I helped him cook, so I saved you a plate."

Sweet boy.

"Thank you, Mal." Your lips tug a small smile. "I'm sorry I missed dinner."

"It's fine." Malachi dips his tiny hand into the cold water. "I-I know you're busy and all that, so I just wanted to check if you're okay." Malachi pulls his hand back, wiping the water away on his shirt. "Seeing as how you're swimming right now, you're probably not okay."

You lift yourself up and rest your head over your crossed arms. "Wow, you really know me well, hm?" You flick your fingers at him, tiny droplets splashing at his face. Malachi giggles, wiping the water of him. ".. Of course, I do. It's what you always do." He splashed back at you. "But, why aren't you okay?"

You think of an easier way to explain your little situation.

".. I'm not okay because I've made one of my friends sad." You vaguely reply, allowing your lower half to float along with the rest of your body. "And because I made them sad, I'm trying to find a way to fix everything."

It was ironic, since you were the one refusing to look at his messages.

"... Have you tried saying sorry?" Malachi suggests. "Sorry always cuts it."

"... Not this time, Mal." You sadly smile. "I wish saying sorry could fix all of my problems."

Most of your problems consisted of people who wronged you first anyway. Plus, you weren't saintly enough to apologize to those who did you wrong— who the fuck were they to get an apology out of you?

You poke at Malachi's toe, hoping to hear his little laughs just to drain the heavy feelings inside of you for a moment, but he hums, almost like he's lost in thought, thinking a little too hard about your situation.

"... Maybe you didn't say it enough." He sat beside you, sticking his feet into the water. "Or maybe you said sorry about the wrong thing."

"About the wrong thing?" You repeat. Malachi nods. "Didn't you tell me that before I say sorry, I should first find out why I'm supposed to be apologizing in the first place?"

"That's right."

"Well, did you know why you had to apologize?"

Of course, you do.. You...

You sat there, thinking about it.

Malachi lifts his finger. "Maybe that's the reason why she's mad at you: you lied."

'Just tell me the truth.' You remember him saying so clearly.

Oh. Now, it all made sense.

"Huh." You breathlessly huff. "Since when did you get so mature?" Your fingers reach to lightly pinch his cheek. "My baby brother's getting all big now, hm?"

Malachi pouts. "I'm only telling you the things you tell me."

Right, it's easier to speak than to act.

"If only I could stop time like this, let you be my baby brother forever.” You murmur, beaming at his doe-like eyes. In a way, they reminded you much of a certain someone’s.

“… Now, let me go get a taste of your cooking." You swiftly dragged yourself out the pool. You reach for the towel just to dab it all over your limbs, when suddenly, you hear a short ding emit from your phone. As you dry your hair, your fingers tap over the screen, only to find:

Miles || 14 minutes ago

im at commodore rn

It was stupid.

Miles missed you a little too much. It was beyond your schedule, hell, beyond your limits. But for some reason, he finds himself still sending the text in hopes you'd arrive.

His shoulders droop, phone nearly brushing past the tips of his fingers. He kicks at the dirt beneath him, nudging the swing to sway. He didn't want to wait for tomorrow, you've left him sulking for five days— utterly desperate to hear how you sorted out your thoughts in the time he's spent yearning to fucking kiss you.

He needed to know. What was it entirely that made you so scared?

He had a million theories, but not one did he ever really stick onto.

But there was one that had been chewing at his back for a while now.

He stares at the night sky, feeling the cold wind envelop him. Miles had grown used to the cold- as the apprentice of the Prowler, he often stalked the streets in brick weather, at the peak of buildings where the winds were angrier. But for some reason, it was much colder tonight.

When rain started splattering against his cheeks, Miles knew.

"Fuck." He quietly cursed, pulling his hoodie over his head. An array of colorful curses exit his lips, the downpour of the rain heavy and merciless.

He picks himself up from the swing, off to search for a place to shelter himself from the livid skies.

It rained just like this when you two first met.

Hotel Primm, he remembers. The Greek pillars, the antique architecture, and the large, curtained windows. He remembers, never once forgot the place and all of the horrors it hid. He remembers gripping the can of red spray paint in his hand while marveling at your drenched beam. The wound was still fresh, even after three years. He believed you two shared the same sentiment. In the midst of the beautiful building that had buried hundreds of bodies, Miles watched you emerge from the shadows and enter the limelight that escaped from the windows. And with that pretty face of yours, you offered him. "Do you want to wreck this place together?"

Miles sensed that he'd always been a little too familiar with your figure.

Especially right now.

"Miles!"

Why were you in the hotel that night?

"Hey, wait!"

That hotel housed more bodies than a cemetery, why did you vandalize the place with him that night? Who did you lose in that incident?

He figured it would be a private matter— but you knew what had happened to his dad. If you did lose someone that night, you would've told him.

Why didn't you?

"Yo!" Your call bellows from across the pavement, paired with a couple coughs. Drenched in rain, you glided past the streets on a bike. You waved your hand, halting him immediately. There, everything seems to move at this glacially slow pace.

And that same piercing pain shoots at his head again. In that crimson hallucination, your figure approaches him like a lagging shadow, appearing next to his ear while whispering something he couldn't decipher. When you pull away, he finds your eyes glowing in this shade of scarlet— a menacing allure that even lulled him into enchabtment. In that vision, your voice in the present and your voice in his mind begin to overlap.

“Miles,”

“Miles.”

“Never forgive, never forget.”

"Miles, FUCK—"

Miles snaps from his thoughts at the sound of you crashing down. In the blink of an eye, you’re sprawled out on street– covered in slush. He sprints straight out to aid you, picking the bike up away from your body. Only then, he grabs your arm, picking you up from the jagged ground.

"Are you fucking crazy!?"

He yells, the sound of his voice muffled by the heavy pour. "Dumbass— the fuck are you doing, biking around in the middle of the rain like that? Are you hurt? You okay?”

You only burst out laughing at his worries.

"God I fucking hate myself."

You mumble in between wheezes. You rub your hand across your face in an attempt to clear your sights, holding onto Miles. Your lips part to speak. “God, I’m so fucking dumb— oh, god, I’m definitely going to get killed tomorrow. But it’s fine—“ You look at him. “I’m fine, yeah, so long as I get to do this.”

Miles looked at you confusingly as you rambled.

"Miles," You call out again, voice like gravel from your exhaustion. "I did it. I've made up my mind." You announce like some proud child. "I'm sorry, for hurting you, and for running away— I-I'm sorry for leaving you on read. Truth is, I'm an absolute fucking mess, like I’m going through a fuck ton of shit. And I'm scared of hurting you because of my bullshit, because– because I like you so much.”

There it was. The truth.

“I like you— and as much as I am a mess, I don’t want to ever lose you.” With a hand over your heart, you swear. “I ain’t gonna say shit about you deserving better, because I’ll be better. All for you.” Your hand skims through the air. “I might be fucked up in more ways than one, but I swear,”

"Motherfucker, didn't you fucking know that, that's the reason why I fucking like you so much?"

“Don’t— stop—“ You put a finger over his lips, hushing him. "Stop romanticizing my mental instability, that’s just adding up to my theory that my lore made me hotter." You laugh, head leaning backward from glee. This causes you to nearly slip, making you grip onto Miles' hand. His own subtly latches onto your waist just to catch you. You hardly even notice, but Miles simply watches, adoring this sight of you, crazily laughing beneath all the rain.

Miles, a vigilante feared by many after picking up the mantle to be the Prowler, had a heart. Most had nearly forgotten about this fact— as it had hardened all throughout the years— but he did have one.

Small and soft.

Flesh and blood.

Human. Nothing else.

Seeing you smile like that, laughing it all off, was enough of a reminder for Miles to remember that he’s just a boy. Not a masked avenger renowned for scraping through the hellish alleys while shouldering all of New York’s safety—

but a normal boy, still capable of liking, loving.

"Anyways, um," You manage to ease down momentarily. "I’ve been wanting to ask this for a long while now but.. W-would you like to go out sometime?" You finally blurt out.

He shakes his head. "That's my line, ma."

"Fuck that and fuck gender norms!"

"Nah, chivalry ain't dying tonight." He places his hands over your brows, shielding your eyes from the rain. There, your sights cleared up upon the sight of him, as though he were the sun dawning in the midst of a thundering sky.

“Would you go out with me, [Y/n]?”

You cup his cheeks, grinning widely. “Yes. I would love to.” Your lips then pressed a tiny peck on the tip of his freckled nose.

Miles squeezes a smile in between your hands, eventually poking a finger into his lips.

“How ‘bout ere?” He pouts. “Ain’t I gettin sum here?”

“C-can I?”

“Can you?” The question took him by surprise. He straightens his lips. “You didn’t seem to hesitate at all last week.”

“I-I’m sorry. I really should’ve asked you first but—“

“Mami, estoy bien.” He reassures of you. “Ahora quiero mi beso.”

Steadily, you arch your toes, reaching out for his lips. This time, he bends over to reach you— and when he does, your lips gently collide with a small peck. So short, momentary, and it hardly fulfills his yearning. At that moment, your gazes meet, but his were constantly shifting between the gleam in your eyes and the smudged rouge on your lips. Miles pulls the hoodie of your jacket over your head, fingers tracing down behind the lines of yours ears and down to the nape of your neck.

“Aye bendito, I waited too long for this.”

He murmurs before pulling you in to crash his lips against yours. The rough way he does it was foreign— his lips roaming to taste you, gnawing at the cherry flavor of your gloss. You wrap your arms around his neck, mulling him down to your level. When your lips would part, you’d feel him slyly smirking at your desperation.

“We still friends, mami?” He whispers. “You gon’ tell me that shit again?”

You airily shook your head.

“Buena nena,” He sighs. “Cause if this is how you be treatin yo friends, ain’t nobody gonna live to see the light of day again.”

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cherrycola27 · 1 year

Text

Red, White, and Rooster

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption. Frenemies to lovers, relationship of convenience. Political situations. Allegations of affairs, military and political inaccuracies. Eventual smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Series Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

...........................................

Chapter 5: Honeymoon Blues

You woke up early the next morning to the smell of breakfast cooking. You slipped out of bed and went to the small bathroom to brush your teeth and get ready for the day.

You were well rested. It was probably the best sleep you'd had in months. You went to your suitcase and found your simple black two-piece bathing suit. You were on vacation until Wednesday, and you planned to enjoy it. You slipped a pale blue Oxford button up on over your bathing suit and a pair of white shorts. You tossed your hair into a high ponytail before gathering a few things you would need for the lounging by the pool, which was right outside the sliding glass door of your room.

"Good morning, Sweetie." Bradley greeted you as you entered the room. "I made pancakes and eggs and bacon." He said.

You turned into the kitchen, and you had to do a double take. Bradley looks so different from the man you were used to seeing. He'd traded his suits for a pair of swim trunks, a white tee, and a Hawaiian print shirt.

"Who are you, and what have you done with the president?" You tease him. He laughed before setting a plate of food down in front of you. You perched on a stool at the island and began to eat.

"Oh my god! These are the best pancakes I've ever had!" You exclaim through a mouth full of food.

"Thank you, Bradshaw family secret recipe." He laughs. "Does that mean you're going to share it with me sometime?" You smirk at him while wagging your rings in his face. He tenses before muttering, "Yeah, sure, I guess I can." The two of you talk for a bit. After breakfast, you insist on cleaning up the kitchen.

You then grab your things to head to the deck. "I'm going to lounge on the deck. Would you like to join me? You might as well take advantage of this free time we have." You tell him.

"I might be out there in a few." Bradley replies. You shrug your shoulders and head outside.

Once outside on the private pool deck, you open the umbrella beside a lounge chair and set your things down. You place your book, phone, and water bottle on the nearby table before spreading out your towel on the lounger. You slip off your shorts and unbutton a few of the shirts' buttons, but decide to leave it on before you settle down in the chair and start reading.

After about thirty minutes, Bradley joined you with two beers in his hand.

"Isn't it a little early to start drinking?" You asked him.

"It's five o'clock somewhere." He mused as he handed you one. You set your book down and took a sip.

"I think I'm ready for a swim. Can you put some sunscreen on my back for me?" You asked him.

He nodded. You grabbed your bottle and passed it to him before turning to stand with your back to him. You slipped your shirt off your shoulders and tossed it aside.

Bradley almost lost it at the sight of your in your simple black bikini. He'd never seen this much of your skin. It was just as beautiful as he thought it would be. And he had thought about it a lot. Probably more than he should have.

He swallowed thickly as he quickly composed himself and rubbed the lotion on your back and shoulders before setting it on the table next to him and sitting back down. You turned around to thank him—and that's when he saw it. His eyes almost buldge out of head. Thankfully, you couldn't see them because of his sunglasses.

He was enraptured by what he saw.

The distinct black ink on the left side of your chest that curved under your left breast and disappeared under the band of your swim top.

"You have a tattoo?" He blurted out in surprise. "Oh, yeah. I didn't tell you?" You asked him. No, you most definitely did not tell him. He would have remembered that. He would have fantasized about what it looked like if it was the only thing you had on. "It's not visible all the time. Sometimes I forget about it." You laugh.

"What is it?" He asks you. You move closer to show him. You lift up the band of your top ever so slightly so he can see the whole thing.

"It's one of Ruth Bader Ginsburgs lace judicial collars she used to wear. It says 'I belong in all places' on the inside because of my favorite quote by her: 'Women belong in all places where decisions are being made.' I got it here because I wanted to keep that close to my heart. Being a woman in politics isn't always easy. I wanted a reminder that I belonged here." You explain to him.

"It's amazing." Bradley tells you. Without thinking, his hand reaches up to trace the ink. You shudder under his touch. "Sorry." He quickly draws his hand away.

"It's fine, I'm just ticklish." You laugh. "Care to join me?" You say as you nod toward the pool. "I'm fine, have fun." He tells you as he leans back into his chair. Bradley waits until you've dove under the water to get up and leave. The sight of your nearly naked form and him learning about your tattoo have made him impossibly hard, and he needs to get back inside now before he combusts.

.........................

Wednesday couldn't come fast enough for Bradley. After the tattoo fiasco, he'd spilled wine all over your pajamas by knocking your glass over. You were frustrated because you didn't have another set to wear. He'd offered you one of his worn Navy shirts he had packed, though he would have preferred it if you wore nothing at all. It was almost sinful the way it fit your body, stopping at your mid thighs, leaving just enough to the imagination. You spent the rest of the weekend prancing around in it, and when you had to reach up to get something off the shelf and he caught a glimpse of your lace underwear, it almost did him in.

But the thing that really killed him was Tuesday night. The two of you had decided to watch a movie, and you had ended up falling asleep on him. Bradley had to will himself to get up and put you in your bed and not his. He loved the way your body tucked into his. He had to do something.

Your flight back was easy, and everyone was happy the two of you were back. You were all smiles when you entered the White House. Bradley was quickly pulled into a meeting in his office while you went to your room to unpack.

Only, when you got in there, your things were missing. Everything of yours had been moved. Your smile quickly turned into a grimace as you asked one of the housekeepers where your things were.

She informed you that Bradley had called that morning and made arrangements for your things to be moved into his, well now your shared bedroom.

You rushed down the hall to his office. You were fuming. How dare he? You spend a long weekend together, and now he thinks he can just move your things without your consent? He thinks just because you're married, now he can boss you around? Just when you'd started to like him, he becomes a dickhead again.

You both knew this marriage was a calculated business arrangement. There was no reason for you to have to live with him.

"BRADLEY!" You shrieked as you stormed into his office. He was by himself, his meeting over you assumed.

"Yes, Sweetie?" He asked as he cocked his head to one side.

"Where are my things!" You yelled at him. "I had them moved into our room. You won't need your old room anymore now that we're married." He preened.

You locked eyes with him. You could detect a hit of something. It wasn't anger. It was more like resentment or frustration. Was he mad that you slept in a separate room over the weekend? No. That couldn't be it. He didn't want to share a bed with you? Did he? You shook the thought from your head.

"It wouldn't look good if people saw us sleeping in separate rooms, now that we are back, would it?" He asked you.

"I know that the staff have been thoroughly vetted, but all it would take is one of them saying that you still sleep in your old room for the tabloids to go crazy. The rumors would start flying immediately. You know I'm right." He stated.

You sighed. It was all part of the game you two were playing.

You rolled your eyes and huffed. He did have a point.

"Fine. But next time you have my stuff moved, you'd better tell me first—dear." There was an edge in your voice as you used the pet name. "My apologies—sweetie." He shot back at you. You groan before storming out to go to your new bedroom.

"That went well." Jake chuckles as he comes into the room. He'd stepped out for a moment and heard everything.

"You know you're being petty right now?" Jake asks Bradley. "I'd be a lot simpler if you just told her how you felt instead of forcing her to shack up with you." Jake croons.

"I'm not forcing her to do anything. I'm simply keeping up appearances." Rooster smirks before kicking his feet up on his desk and taking a sip of his whiskey.

...................

That night, when bedtime came, you were nervous. Bradley had already showered and was watching TV when you got back from a post honeymoon dinner with Jaycee. You got your sleep clothes and found everything you needed for your shower. You drug out your skincare routine as long as you could. When you emerged from the bathroom, you noticed Bradley had set up some pillows and blankets on the couch and was getting ready to lay down.

"Bradley, I'm not going to kick you out of your own bed. I can take the couch, or we can get a cot put in here." You tell him gently. "Sweetheart, I'm not going to make you sleep on the couch, and definitely no cots. You can take the bed. This couch is insanely comfortable." He assured you.

"Bradley, dear, the president shouldn't be sleeping on a couch." You tell him. You look at the bed, and then you look at him. "This bed is huge. We can—we can share. I mean, no matter how comfortable you say that couch is, you can't sleep on it for the next four years." You tell him

He takes a few seconds before he reluctantly agrees to it. You inform him that you sleep on the left side of the bed, which is fine because he prefers the right. He even takes time to build a pillow wall between the two of you before he slips under the blanket.

You click off the light and tell him goodnight before turning over.

Neither of you knows it yet, but neither of you gets much sleep that night. Both of you are too busy longing for the person on the other side of the pillows who is so close, but still so far away

I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. I know it wasn't as much drama, but I promise the next two parts are going to have you reeling!

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