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motherlvr · 10 months

Text

just friends?

she fell first, he fell harder

wc: 2.2k

pairing: Earth-42! Miles Morales x f! reader

Summary: In the early years of your adolescence, you made the grave mistake of asking Miles to ‘practice kissing’ for future suitors. That mistake would come back to bite you every following day.

Warnings: cursing, childhood friends to lovers, friends that kiss, jealousy, started off the fic with a bang cuz i dont believe in small talk, possessiveness

A/N: what happened to hello? what happened to how are you?

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Your current predicament was straddling Miles' lap as you both kissed like this would be the last time you ever did. His hands grabbed onto your thighs that encased his legs. Pulling away for a second, you watched as a small string of saliva binds both of your lips.

Looking down at him, you asked out of breath, "We're still just friends, right?" The question caught him off guard. But he responds with a teasing smirk, "Yeah, yeah ma. Just friends." You nervously bit your bottom lip, nodding at his response. Wrapping your hands onto his braids, you smashed your lips against his yet again to ignore your conflicted thoughts.

It's times like this when your past mistake comes back to haunt you. And he made sure you never lived it down. The mistake in question was made on the playground with Miles when you were both ten. Being the young and innocent child you were, you proposed to 'practice kissing' for potential lovers in the future. As all kids do. He accepted and it all sprouted from there. You were each other's first kiss.

That first kiss was only one of many to come. You both had urges, after all. Since your younger days, it turned into something a bit more than just practice. But you never gave it a second thought. Until of late. What used to be a silly playground crush on Miles only grew stronger as the years passed by.

In all honesty, you had no clue where you stood with Miles. What were you, friends that kiss periodically? That was how it was, you suppose. But what you did know was that you'd stay by his side no matter the circumstance. Even if it meant that your friendship would never develop into more. Although occasionally you wished you never initiated to 'practice kissing' with him in your naive and prepubescent years. That would solve your problem at its roots and prevent the rapidly growing feelings you had for him. It was no doubt a mistake in your mind.

Separating your lips for a second time, you pulled away again. He stared at you in confusion. You looked frantic, "Shit, what time is it?" Glancing at the time on your phone, you cursed. It was 3:30 pm. "Fuck, I have a date at four o'clock. I gotta go, Miles." You jumped off of Miles' lap on his bed and swiftly started packing up your things.

Miles felt jealousy start to boil within his stomach as his lap felt empty. He was right here, why would you need to go on a date with some other guy? Furrowing his brows, he irritably questioned, "Fuck you mean you gotta date? With who?" He tried to conceal his annoyance but failed miserably.

"Some guy from my physics class asked me out, sorry but I gotta go." Grabbing your bag, you pecked his cheek lightly as a goodbye. Glancing in his mirror one last time, you tamed any stray strands of hair.

Your response only fueled his jealousy, "Do you even know his name?" He started interrogating you.

"Of course I do, it's..." You paused for a second to think, and your conclusion was unclear. Your mind was foggy. "I think it's Javi? Or maybe Jake? Jacob? Shit, I think you kissed the thoughts right out of my brain." You rambled. Your words made him crack a slight smirk, and he said, "Nah, you ain't going on that date ma." pulling you back into his hold by your hips.

"I can't just stand him up, Miles." You told him, starting to regret agreeing on going on the date. "I could take you on a better date than he can, mami." He suggested.

He was full of surprises this afternoon. Usually, he didn't display such possessiveness. You didn't even like the supposed guy you were going on a date with. You just thought he could help you get your mind off of Miles for a few minutes.

Raising an eyebrow, you asked, "Is that an offer?" "It's a promise." He responded without an ounce of hesitation. The way he was staring at you almost made you take him up on it. "Tempting, but I'll have to take a rain check. See you tomorrow. Alright, Miles?" You waved goodbye and walked out his door.

"'Ight, ma. See you." He gave up. As he watched you walk out the door of his room, he groaned in frustration.

The unfortunate recipient of his frustrations was a punching bag in his Uncle Aaron's apartment. Striking the bag with all the force he could muster, the punching bag rumbled on the chain it was strung upon. His knuckles were slowly getting bloodier with each hit, but he couldn't feel it. He could only feel you. It was the only thing he wanted to feel, anyway.

His Uncle inevitably noticed his behavior. Cleaning off one last knife, he set it down and walked towards his nephew. He held the punching bag steady and questioned him, "What's up with you, man?"

Continuing to throw punches at the unsuspecting punching bag, he responded sharply. "It's nothin'. Just my girl going on a date with some other guy." His nostrils flared slightly.

With those two sentences, his Uncle understood his sour mood. "That doesn't sound like nothing. And you just let her? I don't think you're my nephew, man." Shrugging, Miles took a quick water break. Taking a long swig of water, he replied, "You know her, she's stubborn." He had introduced you to his Uncle a while back. His whole family knew you, in fact. Every time he went back home, his mother asked about you. How you are, and when he’s going to tell you how he feels. It seemed everyone knew. Except you.

"Hey. If you want this girl, you gotta show her before someone else does." His Uncle wisely told him. Miles stopped hitting the punching bag and started wrapping his bloodied knuckles in bandages.

Those words stuck with Miles for the rest of the night as he made his way back to his dorm.

Laying on the bed of his dorm, Miles stayed up thinking about what his Uncle told him. His dorm felt empty without you there, he realized.

The next afternoon in his dorm again, you laid on your stomach on his bed, kicking your feet in the air. You frequented his dorm so often that you were more of a roommate to him than his actual one. Glancing at Miles, you noticed the bandages on his knuckles. “Ay, Miles. What happened?” You asked him, taking his hand into yours to inspect it. He disregarded it, "Don’t worry 'bout it.” He continued, addressing the elephant in the room. “How was your date with Javi, Jake, or Jacob?"

You casually respond, "Actually, his name was Jason. And it was fine, I suppose. Although I called him by the wrong name a few times until he corrected me." You mumbled the last part, embarrassed. Not to mention, you almost called him by Miles' name. Not just once but multiple times.

"Just fine, huh?" He replied, intrigued. And slightly satisfied that you didn't have too good of a time.

"Yeah. I mean, he tried kissing me by the end. But his breath reeked of garlic, so I looked the other way and pretended I didn't notice." You said with a grimace, pretending to get flashbacks. In reality, Miles ruined kissing for you. You couldn't stop seeing Miles' face as your date was leaning into you. He wasn't him.

Stifling a laugh, he grinned at you. "So, that mean you wanna take me up on my offer?" You whipped your head to him in surprise as you said, "You were serious about that? I mean, I'm down." Friends go on dates, don't they? You thought to yourself.

Nodding his head, he said, "I made a promise, ma." He started to stand up, gently grabbing your hand to pull you up with him. Locking your hand onto his arm, he led you out of campus.

Miles brought you to an endearing cafe only a few blocks away from the campus. A diamond in the rough, you thought. As you both sat down across from each other, you felt your nerves spiking.

Truth be told, he still made you nervous at times. Although you've undoubtedly been friends with him for longer than either of you could remember. The both of you ordered food and you started to speak, "So, you take all your girls here, Miles?" Putting on a calm facade, you teased him. You were glad he couldn't see your leg bouncing with anxiousness underneath the table.

He let out a slight puff at you, "What girls? Solo eres tú, mami. You know that." Your heart fluttered slightly at his words. Widening your eyes, you murmured, "I didn't know that, actually." You cleared your throat and enunciated, "How'd you find out about this place then?" Your voice piqued with interest. You didn't believe he would frequent this cute cafe in his spare time. It wasn't exactly his scene, so to say.

"This is where my dad took my ma on their first date." He said with an unusually soft tone, staring into your eyes for your reaction. You would never guess it, but he saw a future with you. Ever since that day on the playground, he knew it was real. His affection for you never dimmed since then.

As you both locked eyes, you realized then that he took you to a place that was sentimental to him and his family. This cafe was where his parent’s story first started. All of a sudden, this date felt a bit more serious than he had originally let on.

Under his stare, you felt your face go warm, "That's beautiful, Miles." After a few moments, you continued, "I suddenly feel like I'm intruding, though." His response came quick, "Never, mami. What makes you say that?" You confessed the thoughts that swarmed your brain right when you walked into the cafe, "I mean, this place feels a bit intimate for people that are 'just friends'" You said with air quotations.

"I think we're past that stage. Don't you, princesa?" You nodded at him. He was right, you thought. After all, friends don't usually have an oral fixation for their friend's mouth.

Your orders came at the same time. You both comfortably conversed. It was a nice change of pace after your date from yesterday. After you both ate your orders and paid, Miles and you walked down the street with his fingers settling on your waist. You spoke up, "Thanks for bringing me here today, Miles. I had a good time with you." You wanted nothing more than to reach up and kiss him til he couldn't breathe, but resisted.

"Anytime. If it meant you'd stop going on dates with other guys." He said casually, but his grip firmed on your waist. Your head turned to him at his words. After your date with Miles, you were sure he ruined dates for you as well. Just like he ruined your ability to kiss anyone else. "Yeah, I'm not even sure I'll want to go on a date with anyone else after this." You said under your breath. He silently grinned.

As you both made your way back to Miles' dorm, the urge to brush your lips against his only became stronger. You could tell he felt it, too. You noticed how he walked a bit faster to go back to his dorm.

Once the door to his room opened, you gave in to your desires and pulled him in by his hoodie to connect your lips. He backed you against his door as his hands traveled all over your body like it was a new territory he was unfamiliar with. He couldn't get enough of you. Groaning into your mouth, he deepened the kiss impossibly more. You both parted for a moment to get a quick breath of air.

Staring into his eyes, you told him before you lost the courage, "I don't want to be just friends. Friends that kiss sometimes when they feel like it." He looked at you like you just told him he won the lottery. In his eyes, this scenario was better than winning the lottery. He grinned as he kissed you again. Full of heat, his kiss spoke louder than words. "Then why don't we be lovers that kiss?” He pulled away to whisper against your lips. “Yeah, I think I like that idea.” You smiled against his lips.

That kiss from yesterday would be the last kiss you shared. As friends, that is. And this would be your first kiss as lovers. From the very first chapter of your life, he was there. And to the present-day chapter of your life, he's still here with you. In the end, It'll always be him and you.

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solo eres tú - it’s only you

princesa - princess

#earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #miles morales spider man #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #spider man #friends to lovers #prowler miles #jealousy #childhood friends to lovers #childhood friends #prowler miles morales #miles morales #miles morales prowler #spider man: across the spider verse #friends that kiss

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jakexneytiri · 1 year

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Neteyam and reader go on date night and mistakenly leave uncle Lo’ak in charge? Imagine

i love thisssss yes. i’m not feeling the best so i hope this is okay :’)

⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰

“do you have to leave? can’t you just stay here?” se’ayl asks, hugging her father’s leg.

neteyam kneels, taking her hands in his. “we’ll be back before you know it. promise you’ll be good for uncle lo’ak?”

“i promise.” se’ayl mumbles, as neteyam kisses her forehead.

“why do you have to go out to kiss? you kiss in front of us all the time!” txonuk says, flying his ikran toy around your marui.

neteyam shoots him a look before speaking aloud.

“my love, are you read-” the last word dies in the back of his throat, tail swishing eagerly as he takes your appearance in.

“yes! sorry, i’m ready. nima wanted to help take my braids out, so it took a little longer than i’d anticipated.” you smile, holding nima on your hip. “isn’t that right, nima?”

“mama pweeeettyy.” she giggles, resting a tiny hand on your cheek.

“thank you, little love.” you smile as you kiss the top of her head, setting her down gently.

neteyam holds his arms out for you, wrapping you in a warm embrace before taking a step back. “wow. spin for me, mama.”

you give your mate a small twirl before his arms are around you again, unable to keep them off of you. “you’re so beautiful. how did i get so lucky?” he whispers against your neck as lo’ak rolls his eyes.

“you two should go, cause i guarantee no one in this marui wants to see that.”

you and neteyam both laugh, going to hug and kiss your children goodbye for the evening.

“behave for uncle lo’ak!” you say as neteyam holds the flap of your marui open for you.

“and uncle lo’ak should also behave.” neteyam states sternly.

“yea yea yea we’ll be fine. see ya!” he says, closing the marui flap in your faces. you hear the giggles coming from your children inside.

neteyam suddenly sweeps you off your feet, as he begins carrying you through the forest.

“teyam, what are you doing? i can walk!” you say, squirming out of his arms, only for his grip to tighten.

“i want to carry you.” he simply states, continuing to walk.

you lean in closer, whispering in his ear as you say “i can walk perfectly fine now. i’m not so sure i will be able to later tonight.”

he hums just below your ear, smirking against your skin “i will carry you then, too.”

your heartbeat picks up after that, giggling as you reach the designated spot for your date night.

a small spring, shoulder deep, that has a tiny, peaceful waterfall flowing on the other side. it radiates with bioluminescence this time of night.

neteyam sets you down gently, quickly fiddling with the strings of his loincloth. tossing it aside, he slowly wades into the water, until he’s submerged up to his shoulders.

you take in the glorious view of your naked mate, not moving to remove your own garments just yet.

“aren’t you joining me?” he questions, a smirk forming on his lips.

“maybe in a bit. i’m enjoying the view.” you bite your lip as your eyes never leave your mates broad shoulders, the only part of him you could see at the moment.

“don’t make me come and get you.” he playfully growls, the noise sending heat straight to your core.

“maybe i want you to come and get me.” you say simply, your arousal already soaking through your loincloth.

he smirks, wasting no time getting out of the water. in a few steps, he’s reached you. your arms stretch above your head as he removes your feathers in one swift movement. he’s quick in working the strings of your loincloth, tossing it next to his on the soft moss.

“you’re so beautiful. and you even took your braids out for our date?” he asks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “my pretty flower, i love you so-”

you crush your lips to his, unable to resist him any longer. he deepens the kiss, bending down slightly to grab the backs of your thighs. you wrap your legs around his waist, as he carefully brings you into the water with him.

—

“uhh, uncle lo’ak? dad doesn’t let us eat fruits after dinner.” tsantu motions to txonuk and nima, who are happily eating yovo fruits.

“that’s because your dad doesn’t let you have fun. he’s boring! and that’s why i’m here.” lo’ak confidently states.

“aren’t we going to get in trouble?” tsantu asks, glancing over at txonuk and nima.

“all right, listen. it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission, okay? your dad will understand.” lo’ak gives tsantu a pat on the head.

“oooh i like that saying!” txonuk shouts with his mouth full of fruit.

“now, who wants to use war paint like real warriors?” lo’ak asks, holding up a pod of orange paint.

—

“do you think they’re asleep?” you mumble against your mate’s chest, as he carries you back to your marui.

“they better be. or i will never let lo’ak watch them again.”

you laugh, patting neteyam’s chest softly. “let’s just see what we’re walking into here.”

heading inside, you immediately spot discarded yovo fruit peels scattered throughout your marui. the boys’ bows are strewn across the floor, along with their toys. tsantu and nima are laying beside each other, holding hands. se’ayl is laying next to nima, curled up on her own. there are little orange handprints plastered all over their tiny bodies.

txonuk is laying down a few feet away, right next to lo’ak, who’s also out cold. lo’ak is laying on his stomach, drool running down his chin, cheek pressed against the woven floor. they both have matching orange war paint that covers their bodies as well.

you’re the first to speak. “okay yes, the marui is a disaster right now. but at least the kids are asleep!”

“he’s never watching them again.” neteyam pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a loud sigh.

“let’s get some rest, and we can discuss what happened with him in the morning, okay?” you ask, resting both hands on your mate’s cheeks.

neteyam sighs, pulling your hands away to kiss each of them gently. “all right, my love.”

you settle in beside your children, laying on top of your mates chest. “you know,” you begin to whisper. “i enjoyed myself tonight, and it looks like the kids did too.”

“as did i. but i’m asking my parents to watch the children next time.” he says, wrapping his arms around you.

“mmmmm.” you snuggle into his chest. “we’ll figure it out tomorrow. goodnight, i love you.”

“goodnight beautiful. i love you more.” he places a gentle kiss to your forehead, before resting his cheek against the top of your head for the night.

#dad!neteyam #daddy neteyam #dad neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam smut #neteyam sully smut #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam sully x y/n #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully x you #neteyam x you

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thefabulous-mostgroovy · 27 days

Text

Beautiful Boy

"You're sure you want to do this?" he asks, softening his voice. Jon nods.

"I... I think it'll be good for me."

That's all Martin needs to hear.

(art included!)

Jon/Martin, 1.7k words, rated Gen, read on AO3. this is for day 3 of @jonmartinweek for the prompt Hair Care!!

Martin truly thinks he's an absolute genius for using one of Jon's hair clips to keep the towel in place. Jon snickers a little at his chuffed face in the mirror, holding the other end of the towel up with his hands in front of him.

"Don't laugh," Martin tuts. "Or I'll give you a bad haircut.

"I don't know if a buzz cut is possible to mess up," Jon says. Even joking, he sounds a little nervous. His eyes dart from his own reflection to the scissors in Martin's hands, and back again. Martin plants a kiss in his hair.

"You're sure you want to do this?" he asks, softening his voice. Jon nods.

"I... I think it'll be good for me."

That's all Martin needs to hear.

They've gone over his decision a few times. First of all, the long hair has gotten a bit annoying. It blows in his face, especially in the Highland winds. It's a pain to maintain. But, mostly, it has too many negative memories attached. The only reason it's as long as it is, is he's been too tired and stressed and scared to go outside to get a proper haircut. He didn't grow it out, it got out of control. Just another thing he couldn't fix, couldn't get a handle on. Not to mention the fairly recent fear of strangers welding blade near his throat. Chopping it all off is about as good of a fresh start as Jon is going to get right now.

He remembers Jon's hair when they first met. It had been a bit long, even for how short he used to keep it. He kept it loosely pushed out of his face, but it fell in loose waves over his face whenever he was concentrating on anything else. Martin was never able to pay attention to the day's to-do's because he was always too busy watching Jon's hands run through his own hair, flipping it out of his face, the grey strands at his temples revealing themselves when he combed it back.

Despite his scruffy, ill-fitting suit jackets and trousers, his hair always fell perfectly with seemingly very little effort. Martin has curly hair himself, and he's never been one to get jealous over someone else's hair, but he really thought that's what he felt about Jon in the early days.

(It was not jealousy. He was just completely arse over kettle for his boss. But, can you blame him? Jon might be the prettiest man Martin has ever met.)

After Prentiss, Jon let his hair grow out a bit more. Well, let is a strong word. More like, he neglected in getting a haircut as his paranoia grew and grew. It reached his shoulders in just a few months, and Jon had taken up keeping it tied back in these large clips that's currently holding up the towel that will catch all that hair when Martin shears it off.

Martin remembers being quite surprised at how long his hair had gotten when he returned from his brief stint of running from the police. It was hanging in loose strings over his shoulders, like it hadn't been very well taken care of. Part of him had wanted to sit Jon down and detangle the nest residing on his head. Maybe give it a good wash.

The next time he saw Jon, it was with his hair in a braid. Or, an attempt at a braid. It was a bit more like a series of knots, a bit lopsided and kind of falling out. In his week-long shock at the fact that his boss was not, in fact, just a creepy middle aged man who was way too into administrative work, but an evil eldritch monster who is still way too into administrative work, he told Jon this. While he waited for Jon's tea to steep, he turned around and told him, 'Hey, your braid's a mess. Want me to fix it?'

To his everlasting surprise, Jon said yes.

With shaking hands and a beet red face, Martin had sat behind Jon on the couch, and carefully brushed Jon's hair through with his fingers. His hair looked healthy, like it had been recently washed, and smelled of coconut and bergamot. There was a lot more grey in it than when he first met Jon (but not as much as there is now).

Jon had sighed and closed his eyes, tilting his head back as Martin had brushed his hair back. He had wanted so badly to run his nails over his scalp, and he just barely restrained himself from doing so. His hair was soft under his hands, and it bounced back into shape when his fingers ran through the ends.

Actually putting the plait in was easy. Martin fell victim to being a girl's Gay Best Friend while he was still in high school, which is never all that great, but he did actually enjoy styling her hair. It came to him as muscle memory, twisting the three sections around each other, careful not to pull or tug by accident. He kept it fairly loose to not give Jon a tension headache, and the shape of his curls were still visible as they flowed into the braid.

After tying it off, Jon had gotten a bit stuttery and smiley, tucking the shorter strands that fell over his face behind his ears, and Martin had practically short circuited and fled the room.

Jon never got around to properly cutting his hair, even as it reached further and further down his back. After Daisy, he could never let anyone near him with a blade without falling into panic. So, he simply put up with the choppy cuts from cutting the dead ends off with a pair of kitchen scissors. It was good enough for him, apparently. And he never had to let any strangers near his neck.

Martin can't help but feel a little pride at the fact that Jon is allowing him to do this. Sure, he's screwing his eyes shut and bordering on holding his breath, but Jon is letting him do this in the first place.

"I'm gonna start now," Martin warns him. Jon hums and nods minutely, and Martin gathers some hair in his hands. He gives him another moment to change his mind, then makes the first cut.

He starts near his nape, moving along in as straight a line as he can manage. He cringes a little at the slope he creates—he somehow manages to cut a bar graph into Jon's ends—but it doesn't matter. He drops the cut strands into the bin below him, not bothering with the bits that stick to the towel. His hair goes from ending at his mid-back, to... whatever Martin has managed to make. It sits in an odd, blunt bob, just above his shoulders. When Martin sets the scissors down for a moment, stretching his hands, Jon's shoulder slump and relax, and reveals that Martin has actually cut much further than he thought.

"You look like Lord Farquaad," Martin snickers as Jon opens his eyes. They glow green for just a second, and Jon gasps in offence, then laughs.

"So mean to me," he bemoans. "Why must I face such treatment? Go to jail."

"If I go to jail, I can't do the rest of your hair, m'Lord." Martin picks the scissors back up, ready to cut more off before going with the razor. Jon closes his eyes again.

"I'll just visit you in jail," Jon says, seeming much more relaxed now that the first shock is over. "Give you a spoon to dig your way out."

"I'll Shawshank Redemption my way out of there," Martin promises as he cuts shorter and shorter. "Come back with scissors and a vengeance."

Jon laughs quietly. After another few minutes, Martin has gotten his hair into a rather shaggy short cut. It looks awful.

"Okay, I'm gonna plug in the razor, don't look at your hair."

"Why not?" Jon immediately opens his eyes and starts to laugh at the sight.

"Don't look!" Martin splutters, scandalised.

"I look like I got attacked by Edward Scissorhands!" Jon cackles, running a hand through the choppy sections.

"I'll fix it, just hold bloody still," Martin grumbles, face red. Even through the buzzing of the razor, he can hear and see Jon humming with giggles. He never could have guessed that Jon's favourite hobby, should they ever have actually started dating, would be winding Martin up at every opportunity.

He starts, again, at the neck and works his way up. His grey hair sits in patches through the black, buzzed hair. Martin wouldn't tell him, but it makes him look like a spotted cat. The hair falls into the towel above Jon's lap, onto the floor. Once Martin is done, and it looks a relatively even length, he turns the clippers off, and kisses the top of Jon's head.

"All finished," he says softly.

Jon opens his eyes and stares at the mirror. He runs a hand over his head, tilting it to the side a little. Martin, to busy his nervous hands, removes the hair clip from the towels and gathers it up with the pile of hair in it.

"Do..." Martin tries to act and sound casual. He does not. "Do you like it?"

"Yeah," Jon says, and finally smiles. There are pinprick tears in his eyes. "I do. I really do."

Martin kisses the top of his head again, running his hand over his hair. The short strands are still soft, but sliding his hand up the opposite direction leaves his palm a little scratchy. Jon doesn't stand, but he reaches up and pulls Martin down into a proper kiss.

"I love you," he whispers on Martin's lips.

"I love you, too," Martin whispers back. He brushes some of the stray hairs that somehow found their way onto Jon's jumper before he kisses him again.

That night, in bed, Martin strokes his hand back and forth over Jon's hair while he sleeps, tucked under Martin's chin. It feels nice. Different.

And Jon is still the prettiest man that Martin has ever met.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #jmart #jonmartin week 2024 #jmart fanfic #jmart fanart

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biancadjarin · 1 year

Text

thinking about Bully!Eddie

passing you notes in class

18+

“Hey nerd.” Eddie whispers into your ear from his seat behind you in algebra. You try to ignore him, eyes staying fixed on the teacher at the front of the class. He tugs on one of your long braids causing your neck to strain back before he leans back in his seat with a laugh.

A couple minutes later a folded up note is being pressed onto the edge of your desk. You shoot him a glare as he smirks at you and winks as he mouths “read it.”

You roll your eyes as you unwrap it quietly, not wanting to get in trouble for passing notes.

“I heard you moan when I pulled your hair. You liked that didn’t you?”

You scoff and crumble the note before tossing it back to him. He laughs and opens it up, writing a new line.

“Ok ok but I think I need a tutor ;) Your place after school sound good for our first lesson?”

“Maybe if you’d actually pay attention and take notes, you wouldn’t be failing.” You scribble in your girly handwriting before discreetly passing the note back to Eddie.

He huffs out a laugh before writing his response.

“Meet me by my van after school.”

“We can’t go to my house, Eddie. Not happening.”

You pass the note back and hope that’s the end of it. As your fingers graze his, you both linger there for a second. He lets the pads of his guitar string calloused fingers caress the tips of yours and you instantly feel tingles. Your eyes look down at your hands and he has to hold back a smile when he sees the way your cheeks blush.

He opens the note and reads it as the teacher catches the both of you.

“Munson!” His head shoots up, your eyes scan the classroom, hoping no one noticed you were passing notes to him.

“What’s so interesting that you and Miss Meyers can’t wait to discuss it after class?”

You slump in your chair, wanting to disappear, wishing you wouldn’t have fallen for his immature tricks. I should’ve just ignored him. Kept taking my notes and he would’ve left me alone. Except you know that’s a lie. He wouldn’t have.

“Oh y/n was just asking if I wanted to study together after school, she thinks she can help me with this chapter.”

Your eyes grow wide as the blush on your cheeks covers your whole face. You wish you could just crawl out of the room and disappear. Why is he doing this??

“Oh well that’s nice. You could use the extra study time. You both could. Your last quiz score wasn’t up to your usual standards Miss Meyers.” You teacher chastised. Kill me now.

You got a D on your last quiz because every time the teacher looked away, Eddie ripped your paper from your desk to copy your answers. After you got halfway through the quiz, you started to circle wrong answers on purpose just so he’d get a bad grade too.

After the class bell rang, you and Eddie walked out of class with the rest of the students. He followed you to your locker, staring at your ass the entire time.

“You wearing a thong, baby?” He asked as he crowded behind you while you spun the combination into your lock. He left little room between you and the locker so you had to back up into him a bit to swing it open. “Mmm yeah baby, just like that. My lap was feeling empty.” He purrs as his hands grab your hips harshly.

“Ugh Eddie please.” You say as you grab what you need for your next class. His big brown eyes sparkle with a mischievous glint. He leans his face close to you, sniffing at your hair. “Yeah, beg me for it baby, say my name again.” He says into your neck. “Gonna have you screaming it later in your room.” His breath is warm and minty on your skin, it feels so good and his words are making you wet but you try to act disgusted. You push back against him but he doesn’t go far. “So do you?”

You look at him confused. “Do I what? Want to study with you? No!”

“Oh you’re ‘studying’ with me.” He says using air quotes. “No doubt about that.. I meant do you wear thongs?”

You scoff, “You’re disgusting, Eddie.” You say as you slam your locker closed. His arm comes up to wrap around your waist, holding you close to him.

“Gimme a kiss and I’ll let you go.” He whispers against your lips. You want to kiss him. Everything in your body is telling you to lean forward and see if his lips feel as soft as they look. But you can’t because if you do, he wins.

“I’m not kissing you Eddie!” You say, maneuvering out of his strong grip. “If you really want me to help you study, you can come over after school but we’re only studying. Ok?”

He smiles wide as the class bell rings. “Ok, sweet angel. Whatever you say.”

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

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wildbluesorbit · 2 months

Text

Wounded III || JTK

18+mdni

paring: jakexreader(f)

LONDON MASTERLIST

A/N: alrighty, here’s the final piece. All your words have made my first fic/series so fun and I can’t wait to give yall more:)) pretty please let me know what you think <3

Summary || You promised Jake an evening out, but you’re not certain if you can make through the night.

Content Warnings || swearing, alcoholic consumption, anger, verbal aggression, adult themes, agoraphobia, haphepobia, graphic sexual depictions

Word Count || 9.5k+

The light knock at your door sends you into a frantic spell before anyone can announce themselves and their business that miserably requires access to you and your sanctuary.

You had been doing your best to go about your routine the past few days and not dwell on the daunting date you assured Jake. You had always given him your ifs and maybes when it came to going out, but this pledged appearance was taxing your every thought.

Routine. Keep your head in routine. Just keep moving. One day at a time and all that compartmentalizing bullshit your therapists always vomit at you yet never proves useful.

The truth being no matter how you avert your attention, the dreaded moment would still come to pass. And alas, it does; arriving in the form of Jake poking his head through the door. You invite the rest of his body to join your room.

With an easy energy, Jake percolates through the doorway dressed in his signature all black deep-v button up and pleated trousers. Paired with his signature chain of doubloons and black loafers. You always find the consistency of his formulaic ensembles to be a comfort.

In the true spirit of procrastination and denial you hadn’t even conceptualized an outfit yet.

Jake instinctively gravitates towards the guitar in the corner of your room and begins to fidget with the strings, busying himself from your bed as he watches you get ready. You think maybe he fears you are going to talk yourself out of the evening or it might not come to pass if he doesn’t witness it with his own eyes.

You frantically scatter for the first outfit you can make out, dressing in a relaxed cream button blouse with mom jeans and platform oxfords. You paint your features with natural make up and throw your curls in two messy braids and lightly accessorize. You emerge back from your bathroom expecting to make out a bored Jake. Instead, you’re greeted by an empty bedroom.

You are sure you hadn’t taken too long to get ready. You simply shrug and stomp to the full body mirror. You appear just fine, yet you definitely do not feel it.

You run your sweaty hands down your jeans as Jake reappears through the door. In his hands, he clutches his navy corduroy jacket he went to retrieve. You are clueless as to what you have done in your life to deserve this man that always anticipates your next need before you do.

Jake streams across the floor towards you and unfolds the coat, lifting it in the air for you to slip your arm through. You face away from the doting man and extend your hand out as he attentively dresses you in his jacket one shoulder at a time, savoring the moment. His aroma emits from the material as you take a deep breath and tug the sleeves over your fingertips.

Glancing back in the mirror you already feel a bit better; that’s what your outfit had been missing.

You return your eyes to Jake, slinking your hands deep into the pockets of the coat as he tugs on the lapel, properly adjusting it over your shoulders; unaware of your shaking till he steadies you with the weight of his hands.

His digits travel to faintly twist the tail of one of your braids between the pads of his fingers as a smile breaks loose at the sight of you.

“You are truly a vision,” Jake’s honey eyes swivel as he indulges in every detail he can canvass, his words adorn you better than any accessory ever could, “Ready?”

You force a weak nod and dreadfully follow his giddy lead from out your bedroom, down the stairs, and towards the front door.

Of course, you freeze where you always do but this time Jake just smiles and swings the entryway wide open, sauntering out to wait for you on the other side of the threshold.

“You’re ready, I can see it,” his lips curl as he beckons you with his giant smile.

You raise an eyebrow at him from the safety of the inside, “How do you know?”

“Because in just these past few days, it's not hard to see you’re outgrowing your fears and soon you’ll become cramped with them in this house,” he offers his palm out to you.

You slip your hand into his and squeeze, clench your eyes shut, and take a deep inhale as you step from the elevated doorstep down to the porch.

You playfully puff your cheeks out to hold your breath and squint open one eye to examine your surroundings.

Jake chuckles, tugging you toward his car, “Oh? So you got jokes now?”

You anticipate the same relapse as the last time you stepped foot out your door. Everything appears the same. The autumn breeze waltzes around you the same. The birds chirp the same. The world is the same shade of fall. The same sun warms you. Yet everything that terrified you about your last excursion seems to spell you ambitious to walk further with Jake now. Maybe Jake is right and he can see something you can’t. Maybe you are ready.

You achieve the top of the driveway as Jake pilots the path to open your door and you load into the vehicle. Like a familiar episode of Deja Vu, you had almost forgotten what Jake’s car looked like: the black interior, the smell of him mixed with car leather, and of course a tricked out stereo. The sight brings you to a nostalgic giggle as you are reminded of an indecent moment or two with Jake in this very car.

The door shuts with a slam and just like that, you are alone with the terrorizing silence while Jake walks around to the driver door. Although he rejoins you within seconds, it's enough time to let panic make its presence known, like it always does.

Jake fidgets in the driver’s seat and asks you the same antsy question for the second time this evening through his restless dorky smirk, “Ready?”

You have run out of no’s for him so you force a tight lipped smile and buckle yourself, nearly flinching at the click of your seatbelt. You tug the sash as tight as possible and just pray you aren’t making a fool of yourself.

Jake pulls into a parking spot and anchors his hand on your bouncing leg. The warm sensation of his limb is what reels you in from your own anxious realm to make contact with appraising eyes. You fold your hands in your lap and manage a smile.

You can’t help the way your breath gets caught on panic, “So, everyone is just in there? Waiting on us?”

“If it's showing up wounded you’re afraid of, don’t be,” his hand seeks the lock of your seatbelt and unfastens the buckle with a click, “You tell them that's just your battle scar, angel. Don’t hide how strong you are.”

You grant Jake a slight nod in agreement. Slowly, you push your car door open and extract yourself from the vehicle one limb at a time, as if you are some fragile thing that can shatter with a single misstep. Regret looms closer and closer as you cross the parking lot and pass everyone’s car one by one, each step dragging you towards the warzone you know awaits inside. You stall as your proximity to the battlefield diminishes.

Taking notice of your dawdling, Jake shifts to tower directly in front of you. The sudden advance pounds throughout your chest and hitches your breath but you refuse to fall back. He presses his forehead to yours and coaches you through a deep breath once your eyes refocus on his caramel brown ones.

“If it gets to be too much you don’t even have to say a word,” he gingerly takes your hands in his and squeezes in a triple pattern, “just like that, and I will immediately take you home. No questions asked. Like it never happened and we can try again when you’re ready.”

You focus on your breathing and mimic the intervals in which he gripped your hands.

“Good girl, just like that,” he praises your raging seas back to stillness and checks in with you for a third and final time, “are you ready?”

You nod your head and inhale as if you could take a drag of the courage he is emitting deep into your lungs. Jake releases your limbs back to you but replaces it with his palm against the small of your back as he leads you through the entrance of the bowling alley.

You soak in the dingy fluorescent lighting and are greeted with the smell of beer, leather, and frying grease. The humble sight is paired with a cacophony of pins clunking together in their gutters as classic country pours over the sounds of cheering and laughter.

Your feet already beg to turn back towards the door.

Jake waves to the group occupying the last two lanes, only they are bowling in the farthest and using the other as a barrier of isolation. Just like Jake said. This seems to cancel out a portion of your initial panic wave.

As you follow in Jake’s bee line around pool and foosball tables you recognize Josh, Danny, and Sam waving you over, along with a few other new faces.

The two of you are serenaded by scattered hellos. His brothers each take their turns to greet you, welcoming you with warm words of how elated they are to have you with them again. Jake strategically takes the opportunity to introduce you himself to the new faces to avoid any awkward interactions and customary physical contact. He turns to you as he announces your name with the most exuberant tooth-bearing smile. The one you first witnessed in that dusty record store on Christmas Eve. The one that spelled you absolutely his by New Years. The same giant smile you now only know to exist within the walls of your bedroom during late night laughs. This is Jake in complete bliss.

The beaming smile fades out as he goes to retrieve shoes for the two of you and is replaced by a flood of new ones belonging to his brothers as they catch up with you.

As your welcome parade dies down, your eyes immediately hunt for Jake seeking comfort, already approaching overstimulation. You see him off to the side of the lane’s designated sitting area, discreetly speaking with Sam. Jake’s hand finds its place on his hip and it occurs to you this exchange is one of hostility. Sam presents some unstable defense, eliciting an eye roll and a scoff from his older brother. Ultimately, you witness Jake give into whatever Sam’s plea might be as he heads back towards you with the shoes.

You timidly prompt Jake to tell you what is bothering him when he resides back to your orbit, sitting next to you on the bench.

“Nothing, Sam did something stupid but it doesn't matter anymore,” he looks down as he unconvincingly dismisses your question.

Wavy tresses that normally frame his face, curtain his features as he lets his head hang.

You lightly tug on one of the dangling coffee-brown strands to bring your favorite honey eyes back to your line of sight and give him a heartening smirk, “But you’ll tell me when it does, right?”

His burdened face breaks back to bliss as he tucks a rogue curl behind your ear, “Yes, of course.”

Jake lets his hand linger and for a second you are revisited by the marvelous familiarity of that time with Jake before Nashville.

The rental shoes hit the floor with a light thud as Jake lets them drop beside you. He relieves you of any obligation to participate knowing that you might not be up for it yet.

Grateful doesn’t even scratch the surface of how Jake is able to read you when you aren’t sure how to articulate yourself. You agree, telling him to check back next round.

After a few cycles of everyone’s turns you notice a peculiar pattern in Jake’s behavior. After every play the bowler would return to the lane, showered by hoots and hollers of praise and glory from your friends. This includes Jake, all except for when it came to the welcome of one person.

A girl. She is tall and lean with a long auburn bob, graced by delicate cartoon features and olive skin. Earlier she introduced herself as Claudia.

Everyone cheered upon her return to the kingdom. But not Jake. He did not shout. He did not clap. He did not smile. If she so much as let her gaze fall in your direction he would clench his jaw and check on you. Everytime single time. Like a tick.

You slide your hand on Jake’s mid thigh and rest your head against his shoulder. You feel him almost spooked by your touch. Other than when he came home earlier this week, you are rarely one to seek ease in his touch. You usually avoid all physical contact but especially are never the one to initiate it. However, Jake leans into you once your intention occurs to him.

You tilt your mouth up towards his ear so only he could hear your notion, “That’s her? Isn’t it?”

The muscle of his jaw protrudes at the very mention and he places his hand over yours, “I didn’t want to cause any commotion to further overwhelm you or make you uncomfortable. More than anything or anyone, I’m just happy you're here.”

You didn’t have a word for the strange sensation that followed being in her presence. Someone you thought you’d never meet. Someone you hoped to never meet. To put a name and face to the horror story of some wicked stranger who heartlessly spun your trauma without remorse between her fingers. Someone who wielded your weaknesses as a weapon to torment Jake. To turn the only man you trust against you without so much as a motive.

You are interrupted by the already buzzed boys asking for requests as they obnoxiously announce they’re headed towards the bar. Just as Jake’s brothers become absent, the girl with the auburn hair lifts herself from the opposite bench to head towards the restrooms, but not before the flashes you a sly smirk and cheekily waves and winks at Jake. She then swiftly disperses into the ladies room.

The grisly sound of Jake’s teeth grinding invades your ears as he shifts in his seat from physically cringing in outrage.

He growls through his clenched jaw, “That’s enough. I’m going to say something to that fucking prick.”

You discourage him, “No, Jake, please. It’s fine. Don’t give her the reaction she so blatantly wants. Seriously.”

“She fucking with us- she’s fucking with you,” he struggles to not to raise his voice and remain still in his seat.

“I know, but my goal is only to get through tonight,” you try to make him understand beyond his momentary red.

“She’s only going to get braver-,” he surveys your face and cuts himself off with an indecipherable flicker, “Fine, but only because you asked.”

He settles back in his seat appearing fine, his only tell being one leg vigorously bouncing up and down.

Jake seems to cool off though once his brothers are right back with beer and distractions. Claudia eventually returns from the restroom and you do your best to ignore her.

You reticently watch the boys bowl from your reserved spectator bench and ardently listen as they delight you with funny stories of what has happened since the last time they caught up with you. Your vigilance actually begins to wane and you feel yourself seeping into a plane of comfort and ease of enjoyment.

That is until you're being dragged back into reality by Claudia calling your name.

She casually accosts you with the loaded question, as if she is addressing the weather, “So I’m told you moved here from London, what brought you to the states?”

Your breath hitches in your throat. She knows exactly where the trigger is. Your shortest fuse to a spiral. You have no idea why Claudia is gunning for you, just that she is doing it well.

You feel Jake’s subtle touch to your knee and place your hand over him and squeeze.

One.

Your cheeks glow red as you burn alive.

“Well- I-,” you squeak out, “just needed a change of scenery.”

Pleased with the results of her game, Claudia continues, “Interesting. Well, tell me, why our little city? What’s Nashville hold for you? Other than your friend, Jake.”

Your hand clenches around Jake’s once more.

Two.

You feel Jake shift in anticipation, waiting for your third and final squeeze; a bull pawing before his charge. If Jake had his way he would have already put Claudia in her place and left. But he knows this night belongs to you and should be your decision, but you freeze.

In an instant, Jake discreetly turns his head to your ear, the decibel of his encouragement is hardly audible in its lull, “I’m so proud of you no matter how this night ends.”

Proud? Jake is proud of you? You had never really stopped to think about how he might perceive you.

In the midst of your storm you never sought past how he made you feel. You assumed he regards you with compassion and patience and loves you despite being this broken mess because that’s how he made you feel.

Never once did it occur to you that when Jake looks at you, it would be with eyes full of pride.

It isn’t until now that you fully realize how he craves you. It is clear he longs for your recovery and happiness and hungers to have you to himself. But you understand now he yearns for the time he had you in his corner. He aches to experience life with you, like the two of you used to. To walk into a room with you by his side and show you off and indulge in your presence. To be your equal. To be your partner. Though he loves to come home to you and regale you with stories of the road, more than anything he wishes to make you smile by recalling a shared memory instead. He misses who he is with you. But he wouldn’t dare confess such a selfish thought amongst your recent fragility.

You remove your hand from Jake’s and strain a cordial smile across your face.

You're terrified to stay but terrified to retreat. You fear if you go home now you might not ever leave again. And that is not an option. More than ever, you’re now miserably aware you can no longer survive without the courage that would dawn at the burning end of this anguishing night, you only need to push through.

You will your words to wield an ostensible confidence you do not possess, “Well actually this is probably my favorite thing to do anywhere, just spend time with loved ones. So why not Nashville?”

Before she can get in another word Josh returns from the lane and Jake curtly alerts Claudia it is her turn.

After that game ends everyone decides on one more for the night. Jake attempts to sit this round out but you insist he play and so he does. Although it does not take much convincing on your end.

He plays his turns briefly, immediately finding his seat next to you every time. He avoids all contact with Claudia and is mindful to keep you stimulated with conversation rather than your surroundings.

He hums, “So, what did you do for a whole week while I was gone, hmm?”

“I went outside for a walk,” you had almost forgotten to tell him, your brain had repressed the memory.

“Oh,” his tone turns up in genuine surprise, “How was that?”

Even though Jake has seen you through so much ugly, you still carry the small failures with a backbreaking shame.

“I ran back inside,” you grimace.

His brows knit together and bites his lip, “Were you alright after?”

You look down at your fidgeting hands in your lap and click your tongue, “That was the night you came home.”

He rests his pointer finger under your chin to raise your eyes back to his, “Well, all that matters is you’re here now. Even if you hadn’t come tonight, you’ve already overcome so much. And I know I’ve said it already but I’m proud of you.”

You don’t even have a chance to process his adulation as Claudia ambushes your bubble from her seat a few feet away.

“Enough chit-chat. You’re up, Zookeeper,” she smugly addresses the man beside you.

And just like that, everything all at once is consumed by swelling flames of a long-repressed scorching temper.

She must think she's so slick. She must think she is so fucking clever. She must assume you wouldn’t understand her reference. That no one would dare tell little frail you of her verbal assailments.

Or maybe she does hope you catch on. Maybe she thinks you’ll run and hide.

To your own surprise she isn’t so lucky.

Without so much as a moment’s sense or contemplation, venom commandeers your tongue and spurts past your lips and any prior inhibitions, “So just how big does the stick up your ass have to be in order for you to be such a raging bitch?”

She, along with everyone else within earshot, surrenders their aghast attention to you. Claudia's face is now painted with a red blaze. It's obvious she did not think you were going to burst from your timid and socially safe box, no one did.

She springs straight up and crosses her arms from her place on the opposing bench, “Excuse me?!”

Though you had been keeping to yourself you had been paying attention to the game. She couldn’t have hit more than 10 pins the whole time you’ve been here.

You reload your gun and fire off another round, “Is that also the reason you can’t bowl or are you just doing that for attention like everything else?”

Her face creases in bewilderment as she jumps to her feet, “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

Her attack stance has concerningly no effect on your newly ballsy demeanor. Jake doesn’t say a word but the way he stands to mimic Claudia’s body language speaks volume enough. She relaxes a bit but is still ready to pounce.

“Oh, I apologize,” you feign a pout, “I forgot you probably can’t hear very well with your head so far up your ass. Let me speak up.”

The distant sounds of snorting laughter and Sam choking on his drink as he spits it out reminds you of where you are.

A pang of guilt ceases your fire. You had given Claudia exactly what she wanted, but now it looked as if it was more than she could handle.

Normally, this would indicate victory. The old you would have basked in Claudia’s dumbfounded state. But now for some reason, you aren’t able to stomach making her feel any worse than you already have.

You back down from your reign and feel your face heat a bright red. Jake holds his hand out to gesture you to stand from the bench. As soon as you take it he squeezes three times and pulls you to your feet.

In all the ways you saw tonight ending, you definitely did not predict Jake being the one to call it quits.

He turns on his heels to address his brothers and friends, “Well, it’s getting kind of late so I suppose we should head home,” his shit-eating grin finds Claudia before she can regain any kind of composure, “We’ve had quite a lot of excitement for one night!”

You only have enough time to grab your purse and motion a goodbye to Jake’s brothers before he whisks you away from the wake of madness you had created.

Once in the shelter of Jake’s vehicle he asks if you’re okay. You respond with a disingenuous yes and neither of you whisper a word to each other for the rest of the car ride home.

You speed through your nightly regimen as if the sooner you shut your eyes the sooner the tides of slumber would wash over you and rinse away the day.

Yet you lay restless in your bed. You toss and turn, pleading for sleep to come but you’re convinced your prayers must have gotten lost.

After what feels like hours, you slip out of bed and throw on an oversized shirt and a pair of worn sweats you stole from Jake. You scamper about, not even certain of what you’re searching for until a tangible task to occupy your idle hands presents itself. You never thought you’d be grateful to arrive at a kitchen sink harboring dirty dishes. You fill the sink with hot water and soap and begin to scrub away.

Your laborious act is rewarded by the complete consumption of your thoughts. Your focus is on the cleanliness of the plates only.

That is until you hear the clinking of glass on the bar cart across the kitchen. You don’t even bother to avert yourself from the chore; you know it’s Jake pouring himself a late night drink.

You dare to ask the question first before Jake can pry, “I know why I’m still up, but why are you?”

“Well, I was in bed until someone decided now would be a great time to do the dishes,” you hear the ice in his drink clatter against the glass.

You attempt to scrub quieter but don’t actually stop.

Jake has no regard for subtly as he dives right into what he knows is terrorizing you sleepless, “I thought you handled tonight fine.”

“I wasn’t ready for- I shouldn’t have-” you hesitate for a moment before continuing the dishes rather than your train of thought.

You hear Jake’s tone slightly pick up, “Shouldn’t have what? Shouldn’t have stood up for yourself? Should have let that cunt walk all over you?”

“Jake-”

You can hear his boiling frustrations begin to erupt past his control again, “No- I'm glad you handled yourself that way! She would have just kept bulldozing!”

You pointlessly try to illustrate your crime, “I stooped to her level-“

Yet he has no desire to understand your fault, his hand not responsible for his glass flying through the air to cut you off, “She deserved it!”

You suddenly feel queasy at the night’s recap, almost dropping the dish you are holding from fatigue, “Jacob, were we even in the same room?! I mean, did you see the look on her face? How can I expect understanding for my pain and trauma and then go and make someone else feel like that?”

The kitchen fell into a still silence, the only audible signs of life being the dying suds in the sink and a remorseful huff from Jake. In his rooting for your full recovery, it hadn’t occurred to him that you might not want to return to everything you once were, including your existing flaws.

A crackled feedback of speakers introduces itself to the air, indicating Jake connected his music to the sound system throughout the kitchen. A soft blue melody pours from the stereo, confirming your assumption as you feel him come from behind you.

He nimbly removes the plate from your grip and places it to soak in the soapy sink water. He takes the nearest dish rag in his hand and delicately dries yours off before placing them around his back, leaning in to curl his arms around your afflicted stature.

Wallowing in your fresh wounds, you naturally resist when he begins swaying you back and forth with the rhythm of the music.

His speech abandons all previous conviction it carried seconds earlier as he softly prays, “Come on, I’m sorry I got upset with you, angel. Dance with me please? It’s been so long.”

You loosen your demeanor and sway with Jake, always wanting to grant him yes on the small things you could.

He accepts your movement as his exoneration and continues to candy you with kind words, “You know, I had no clue what I was in for the first time I laid eyes on you. No clue how in over my head I was- No clue I’d get to feel this way about you.”

As he feels you further give into his motions, he places his hand in the dip of your waist to properly waltz you about the kitchen. With his opposite he tucks your stray bedhead hairs behind your ear and gives you a small tight lipped smirk. His smile is one that you have yet to deny so you wrap your arms around his shoulders and follow his feet, fully accepting your fate.

You rest your head to his bare clavicle as a familiar steel guitar resonates throughout your kitchen. The smallest chuckle escapes him as he begins to hum along with the melody.

Why are you still crying?

Your pain is now through

Please, forget those teardrops

Let me take them from you

The love you are blessed with

This world's waiting for

So, let out your heart please, please

From behind that locked door

Still whirling around the kitchen tile to the swaying melody, Jake fully presses against you and rests his chin atop the crown of your head. Left. Right. Right. Left. Just like the first time on that New Year's Eve. Just like he taught you.The recording blends with Jake as he begins to fully sing along with George Harrison.

It's time we start smiling

What else should we do?

With only this short time

I'm gonna be here with you

And the tales you have taught me

From the things that you saw

Makes me want out your heart, please, please

From behind that locked door

You’re not sure if you’re overwhelmed from the evening’s events or maybe it's Jake singing along with former Beatle’s kind words, but something inside you breaks as your face begins to stream warm with tears. You cling to Jake and hide your face in his chest like a scared child. He holds you steady as you quake under his arms.

A sharp sob breaks out of you and into his flesh, “I miss me too, Jake! I want to come home to you more than anything.”

“I know,” his voice is a calm surface, contradicting his heart pounding erratically under your cheek, “but you’re going to be alright. You will heal, I can feel it. All in good time, angel.”

You fight to steady your speech against hiccuping breaths, “I’ve never fought this hard. It’s never been this dark before, Jake! How do you know that I haven’t burnt out and this is what's left of me? How do you know I’m not stuck this way?”

He answers without a moment’s hesitation, as if he had rehearsed his words and held onto them for a thousand years, “Because, angel, I’ve seen so many places and people and there is only one of you. You’re a marigold. An eternal flame. A rey of light bestowed to me by the sun herself. Your’s is not an energy that can be demolished.”

You squeeze your arms around his neck tighter, abolishing any unwelcome space between the two of you.

Jake caresses small soothing circles against the small of your back, “Whenever you’re ready, I love you now and I'm ready to love whoever you are going to be.”

There are those words again. Words you hadn’t spoken to him till you blurted them out in a half-conscious panicked confession. Words he hadn’t dared speak to you since London. But here he is confirming his love for you in the midst of your wounds and extending it to the woman you would be after they healed.

Swept in your own existential whirlwind, your fingertips mindlessly explore the warmth of his exposed skin as you tilt your head up and close in to his face to appreciate his delicate features there. He realizes you are searching for his lips before you do. Jake lowers his head to help you achieve your hunt, brushing the tip of his nose over the peak of your top lip and across your wet cheek until his warm breath hovers over yours. You swear hours must pass when you finally feel his lips press into yours but not in a kiss, more like he is relearning your mouth, trying to recall your taste before savoring it. Taking the time to survive on the same air, waiting for you to give in.

Heedlessly, you rush against him, lips plush as you remember. As if you are magnetic, Jake’s starving hands fly to cradle your jaw, his thumbs caressing your cheeks and swiping the rolling tears away.

Your appetite swells quickly and you push your weight into Jake until he slowly backs into the nearest kitchen countertop, eliciting a hum that tickles your lips. You stretch on your tiptoes to better reach his hungry mouth. He immediately wraps his hands into the curve of your waist and shifts to lift you on the counter. Jake’s lips never leave yours as he plops you down on the espresso wooden slab.

His tongue graces your lips and you promptly grant him access. He impatiently laps into your mouth as his touch further constricts around your midriff. You feel his starved fingers fighting not to venture across your skin.

Finally, all at once Jake reignites your desire. Like someone turned on the light in a dark room you had been stuck in. Suddenly, you remember where you are and what you had been doing in that room, like you picked up exactly where you left off.

Jake has been your only shelter in this storm. He has put you back together so many times now and remained patient every step of the way. He took care of you in London when he could have looked the other way and nobody, including yourself, would have known. He hauled you away from the monsters Europe held for you. He’s been your only friend and liberation when you couldn’t even escape the very walls of your bedroom. If your malaise hadn’t warded him off yet nothing would.

You finally recognize Jake isn’t leaving. He always says it, but it seemed like this abstract concept, but he is here in front of you still voracious for more even after all he has witnessed.

His devotion is now this tangible thing.

You can see it in the way he looks at you and fights for you. You feel it in the way his fingers grace your skin and hands grab at you. Hear it in the way he sings your name and groans in restraint to devour you. Taste it on his bourbon and peach velvet tongue. Jake is not going anywhere and he’s not going to hurt you.

You depart from his lips to catch your breath and contemplate if this is solid ground or a passive breeze. You retrieve his hand from where it is clasped around your waist, calloused, heavy, extending much longer and thicker than your own digits. You run your fingertips over his knuckles studying the lines there, fidgeting because you’re uncertain how to articulate the arrival of your long awaited craving.

Jake's eyes grow wide, terrified he's done something wrong, “I’m sorry! I don’t-”

“Jake, I want you,” you can’t even stand to hear him finish.

His breath hitches at your words, “No, it's alright. You don’t have anything to prove to me. Tonight has been more than enough.”

It has been months since the two of you have touched each other. He was more than satisfied to just be near you and he did not want to lose or confuse or overwhelm you.

You wrap the material of his shirt around your fingers and tug him in close once more, not even letting the sting of his rejection sink in, “Jake I need to feel you again.”

Still gripping the half open button down, you commandeer his exposed neck to your reckless mouth. He growls a, “Fuck,” into the open air as you begin to kiss, lap, nibble and suck his salty skin.

He groans as you mark his collarbone, “Are you sure, Angel?”

You whisper your third consent into his ear and without a beat missed Jake whisks you off the counter. Your feet barely meet the tile before he's grabbing your hand and ushering you out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and down the frigid dark hall till you reach his bedroom door.

He twists the knob and the hinges groan as he pushes the entrance open for you. You take your time entering his room, your fuzzy socks slipping and sliding on the hardwood floor over to his bed. You sit, sinking into the soft mattress and place your hands in your lap as he turns on his salt lamp, illuminating the room in a coat of warm light.

Your favorite smile grows wild on his face at the sight of you waiting for him on his bed. The elated man hurries over and presses a quick kiss to you before he places his hands on the tops of your thighs.

He levels himself with your line of sight, his every word carrying what seems to be the weight of the world, “You’re in control here. You say the word and it is my command.”

You whisper a rushed yes and he pulls you back to your feet, gripping your hips. He once again envelopes your lips in his, but this time it is sweet and slow. There is no haste, no power dynamic, only the two of you basking in the warm essence of the other.

He swings your hips closer to him and you feel his hard bulge press into your stomach. Jake's fingers scatter for the hem of your shirt. Hips not daring to leave you, his torso repels in order to slip your top off, exposing your goosebump ridden skin and breasts to his soft eyes and brisk air of the room.

You in turn, undo the few done up buttons of his shirt. You lean into him to slip the sleeves off his shoulders, your lips catching along the muscle of his jaw as you undress him.

His hands travel down your sides and slip under the waistband of your sweats, his warmth buzzing across your cool skin. He traces the curve of your hips under the fleece material and migrates to grab your ass until your feet have left the hardwood floor and locked around his back.

At this new angle he laps one of your erect nipples into his velvet mouth with ease and your whimper floats into the room. He groans with a mouth full of your tit as your hands slip into his tousled hair and tug, the vibrations rippling through you and straight to your core as he hums against your pebbled breasts.

He staggers, carrying you till he reaches his bed and leans to lay you down on your back. Jake casts his face over your pelvis and begins to slowly tug down your sweats, pressing his mouth to every newly unenveloped inch of your skin as it peeks out from behind the material being pulled down further and further. Jake’s open mouth kisses trail your hips, thighs, and down to your ankles, tossing the pants somewhere on the floor near his closet after he’s fully removed your pajamas.

He brings his knees up to the mattress and props himself over you, crawling till his mouth is hovering over yours again. He looks down between your bodies as he drags his faint touch below your naval, over your mound, and slips through your folds to feather your clit.

He swallows your moan as you are reintroduced to his kiss. You struggle to stay still as his loving fingers press into your labia till he finds your entrance. You swear you are far more sensitive since the last time he touched you, almost as if this is the first time he’s had you.

He pulls away from your mouth to gingerly check in with you, “This is okay, babygirl?”

“Fuck- more than okay,” you breathlessly whimper against his pink pout.

At your reassurance he inserts a long finger inside you, relishing in the way you squirm underneath him.

“Please- Jake, more,” you’re already begging.

Without any hesitation he inserts his middle fingers and watches as he starts pumping his digits in and out of you, glistening in your slick.

He begins a beeline of open-mouth kisses down the valley of your breasts and past your belly button. He reaches your slit and slightly parts them to suck your clit into his mouth, swirling his warm plush tongue around the swollen bud.

He returns his fingers, this time curling them up inside you, causing your hips to buck towards his face. The lewd sounds of Jake lapping your clit and fucking you with his fingers fills your head. He moans into you as you writhe in his hard-working mouth.

“I don’t think I can wait any longer,” you desperately command, “Jake, I- fuck, baby- I need you.”

“Just be patient, angel, let me take care you,” he croons against your bundle of nerves, “I’ve- I’ve waited so long for you.”

Jake continues drilling into you, his thick fingers pumping inside you and velvet tongue fluttering against your clit. All at once, your climax sneaks up on you, a drive by of ecstasy, sweeter than you could ever remember or commit to memory. Your legs cut off Jake’s air supplying, squeezing around him till you tremble and you cum right into his mouth without so much as a warning.

But he refuses to cease his oral attack on you. Instead, he continues to consume you at a painfully dizzy pace. You hardly register the symphony of your own whimpers and slurping of Jake sloppily eating you out.

“Fuck! Ja- I- Please, Jake, I need to feel you inside me,” you restively whine through your overstimulation.

Like you’ve casted a spell on Jake, his mouth and fingers part from you without another word. Though the dark of his eyes and furrow of his brows tell you a story of struggle; if Jake had his way, his head would still be lost between your shaking thighs.

He steps to the floor to shimmy out of his pants and boxers to free the pretty pink cock you are desperate for. You watch his hard length bob about as he hops right back on the mattress.

He wraps his hands around your ankles and pushes them in toward you to bend your knees upward. Jake admiringly watches his own hands run along your shins and up your thighs until he stops and squeezes at the thick of them. He spreads your legs open to gain access to your inner thigh and presses more kisses and nibbles there.

When his lips reach your folds Jake laps his tongue though for one last taste before he pulls away to gravitate his core closer to your dripping center. His consuming touch leaves you to grab his cock, collecting the gloss at his tip to pump his hand over himself a few times before pressing his painfully pink head to your lips.

You gasp in pure anticipation and whimper when Jake flicks his throbbing tip over your swollen clit. Lining himself up to your entrance, he looks back to you one last time for your consent.

He rests his arms down beside you to anchor himself in your atmosphere and rasps in your ear, “Ready, angel?”

“I’ve never wanted this more, Jake,” you pant out against his neck.

At your cue, he thrusts his hips into you and hisses in your ear. Your drawn out moan sounds through the room as your cunt welcomingly stretches for Jake.

He looks at you with curious eyes, concerned if you’re still comfortable.

You run a gentle finger along his hairline before brushing the rest through his chestnut waves and nod, “I’m okay, baby, you can move.”

You see relief flash on his face but it is quickly replaced by something else when he plunges deep inside you to the hilt. Jake begins to pump himself in and out of you at a deliciously slow rhythm.

This is so different from anything you’ve ever done with him. Fooling around with Jake had always been some thrilling primitive game. And while this moment is still animalistic, it is also raw and real and sweet and tender. The two of you taking care of each other. The two of you a union.

You are consumed by Jake; he is the only thing you can see, feel, taste, smell, and hear. You can’t recall a moment before him or see a thing beyond. Everything belongs to him. At this moment Jake could do no wrong.

He speeds his pace up and laps a stripe across your neck, “Oh fuck- I missed you, pretty girl.”

The only words you could find were babbled moans.

Praises absent of any satire or malice, he coos, “Oh, someone likes being called pretty? Well good because you are. You’re the prettiest girl.”

Without any real ideation, the desire blurts out of you, “Jake- Fuck- want to be your pretty girl, Jake!”

Both of you caught off guard by the demand, he pulls away from his work on your ear and his hips stall in divided attention. Jake blinks at you wide-eyed, waiting for some redirection of blood flow back to his brain to process your words. You swallow down your mournful whine that follows the loss of momentum, knowing you brought it on.

You are summoned back to coherency by the rasping of your name as he blesses your face with kisses, “You want to be my pretty little thing? Want me to make you all mine?”

Fully wrapping his mind around the concept, his strokes return harder and faster. That familiar sweltering pressure you’ve missed begins to burn in your pelvis, rolling your eyes back.

A stuttered moan is all you can manage, “Yes- Please, Jake!”

Jake brings his hand to cup your chin, pressing his thumb against your bottom lip and slows his hips yet again to bring you back to earth, “I need to hear you say it, angel.”

You open your eyes to meet his dark chocolate irises and focus all your energy into gathering your words, “Yes, Jake. I’m yours and I want you to be all mine.”

You are graced with the sight of that giant smile of his, of which he presses to your lips and attempts to kiss you through his teeth baring elation.

He then swings his hips back to a mind numbing pace.

He can’t help the audible smirk in his demands, “Good girl. Now, will my baby cum for me?”

Your only acknowledgement to his request is a broken stream of moans, whimpers, and muttered swears as he swivels his hips, hitting the spot only he ever manages to find.

You are rendered to a puddle of incoherent begging, “Please, Ja- Baby- Fuck- I love you, Jacob, don’t stop!”

You feel your second climax begging to burn through you like a good smoke. With every swing of Jake’s hips, you inhale his saccharine nicotine deep into your lungs and puff him out, only to drag him in again. A sweet slowburn of ashes till you turn out.

Jake begins to thrust inside you even faster and reaches a hand down to rub your clit. You’re lifted by his gravity, arching your back as your pussy begins to contort around him.

“Fuck- do that again, babe,” he hisses in ecstasy, “squeeze me and tell me that you love me when you cum. Please?”

His begging is enough to set off your release. You try your best to look at him but your eyes roll back as the tension in your stomach bursts in a white heat. You feel that electric buzz in your chest ripple throughout you. Your only tether to reality is fulfilling Jake’s sweet need.

You squeeze your walls around Jake as tight as you can, sinking him even further inside you as your rasped confession breaks against involuntary moans and squeals, “Fuck- Ja- I love you so much- Jake! I didn’t even know- it was possible to- to be so consumed by one person. I love- I love you, Jacob!”

He fights to remain composed, coaching you down from your high as he approaches his, “Easy, princess, I’ve got- I got you. I’ve missed you so bad, baby, please let me have it.”

Your senses become bombarded by overstimulation as you finish on his twitching cock inside you but remain attentive to help Jake finish. You know he is close when his hips begin to sputter.

You buck your hips upwards to finish his motions and clench around him one last time as you feel his cock jerking inside you. Jake’s eyes flutter shut and his head drops to your shoulder as slack jaw mutters your name like a swear. Jake slips a hand under your head to cradle you closer as he fights though his final stokes.

You take the opportunity to start sucking and kissing encouragement against his neck, “Come on, baby boy. You’re so good to me. I want all of you, Jake. Want to feel full of you. Want to love you.”

Your serenade shoves him over the edge and his bruising grip sears into your hip bone as he lets go. With a blissed out grunt of your name, you feel his release coat your walls and fill you.

He collapses on to you, his weight sinking you further into the soft mattress. You wish to exist in this amber lit moment forever, convinced the weight of Jake’s head and rhythm of him catching his breath against your shoulder is the safest shelter you’d ever find.

You wrap your arms around Jake to rub his glossy back, still heaving in recovery. He hums underneath your jaw and begins to lazily kiss the muscle there. The two of you seem to exist in your own plane before Jake breaks the silence, telling you to stay put while runs to fetch you a warm rag.

Upon his arrival you grab the cloth from Jake, his eyes devouring the scandalous scene you are cleaning him from your dripping thighs. You catch his ravenous stare and fold the rag to the opposite side. You earn a beaming smile and bashful giggle from Jake as you begin to gently swipe away at the beads of sweat that decorate his glistening face.

He nuzzles into your touch, allowing you for once to care for him. But as you clean him, Jake catches your hand in his to cease your movements. You witness a short scene of grief and guilt play across the very features you were just nursing.

“Was it- not-,” you can’t string your sentence together to bare the thought of Jake regretting his actions.

“No- No- That was- I’m so glad we- Its just- It reminded me of the last-,” he scrambles for his words as a few thoughts try to make their way all at once.

You squeeze his hand still in yours and tend to his uncertainty with a smile of reassurance, “Jake?”

He reflects your gesture, taking a deep breath before putting his concern to words this time, "I never apologized for the way I treated you."

Out of all the things you expected Jake to confess in this moment, an apology is certainly not one, "What the hell are you talking about, Jacob? You have nothing to apologize for. You've been nothing but good to me."

He shakes his head with a slight chuckle, indicating you misunderstood, "No- I meant before your move to Nashville. I was just- I was cruel to you and I'm so sorry for what happened between us."

It seems like lifetimes ago, you almost want to giggle at Jake’s amends, having already made up for it in more than a million ways, "Well, trust me, you have more than made up for it. And we are finding our way back now."

Jake pulls you into him for another kiss as he presses a small chuckle and that pretty smile into your lips before scooping you off the bed and into his arms. You devoutly wrap your limbs around Jake to stabilize yourself as he playfully peppers your skin with quick pecks and carries you to the bath he had already started running.

He slowly lets you down to the floor and checks the temperature of the water. Once he is satisfied, he ties up his hair while stepping into the tub. Jake sits and settles his back against the wall before extending his hand up to guide you in. You utilize Jake for balance as your feet dip into the steaming water. You twist away from your guide as the rest of you sinks into the warm bath, replicating his movements.

Jake’s arm grips the lip of the tub as an anchor when the other wraps around your waist as he tugs you into him, your back flush against his chest. You let your head fall against his shoulder to find his lips yet again. A blissed out sigh slips from Jake and tickles your cheek.

Your call comes out smaller than you intend, “Jake?”

His only acknowledgement is a vague hum as he tucks his face away in your neck.

You timidly purpose, “No more games, right?”

You only receive another fatigued hum in agreement, “Of course. No more games.”

You proceed to pry for an answer he's already given in ten thousand different tongues, “Be honest with me? You meant what you said? Or was it the high of the moment?”

“I’m not quite sure what you’re referring to but you should know I have a girlfriend now,” he giggles at himself into your skin, having not removed himself from your neck.

You roll your eyes at Jake. You know he is merely teasing you but you do not have the courage to ask twice.

Jake pries himself from you to grab the tan bar soap and lather it in his vast calloused hands. The smell of vanilla and patchouli shamefully teleports you back to days he had to help you bathe.

He runs the suds down your arms and speaks softly against the shell of your ear, “I meant every syllable.”

Jake rakes his fingers against the skin of your forearms before he places his stretched out hand below your open palms, your limbs posing so helpless and dainty in comparison to his.

He studies the size difference before interlocking your fingers and bringing them to his lips, “This is all I’ve ever wanted. And now it's finally mine.”

Jake places your hands back in your lap to retrieve more soap.

He lathers the suds around your torso and slightly presses his finger into the meat of your stomach, “This is mine.”

You giggle and he continues, the goofy smile plastered on his face audible in his tone.

Jake wraps his digits, finger by finger around your waist, “And this is mine.”

He spreads the suds up across your breast, massaging them and running his knuckles along your nipples as he lightly teases, “I’m very pleased to say these are now mine.”

With his fingertip, he blazes a trail along your clavicle, his lips following the route as he adds, “and this.”

With his hands still on your shoulder he lightly guides your weight forward to gain access to your back. He sweeps your half drenched raven locks above your head and grabs a tie from the tub caddy to place your hair up. His digits meet your shoulder blade and flutter down your back in lawless streaks.

You know he is tracing exactly where your scars are. The scars you’d hardly seen, avoiding them in the mirror at all costs, but you know exactly where the tissue lies.

Jake feels you cringe underneath his touch but doesn’t let you squirm from his reach.

He places his pink lips to the discolored welts there, kissing blessings and vows to your scarred flesh, “And this- I want all of this too.”

His mouth continues up your neck, biting and lapping until he reaches your jaw. Jake places his fingertips on your chin and tilts your head towards a full body mirror across from the tub, directing your vision to your reflection.

“And this stunningly gorgeous face, the one I see everytime I close my eyes,” he punctuates every word with a kiss to your eyelashes, the tip of your nose, and cheeks, “All you see is mine."

He finally reunites with your lips, “And I am irrevocably and absolutely yours. You are all I’ve ever wanted. I am so in love with you, baby.”

thank you so much for reading, pretty please let me know what you think🫶🏼

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tiredmamaissy · 1 year

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Hiiiii - just wanted to say I love love love your writing 💗💗 and i have a req but idk if you’re still taking requests if you are yayy!! if not bloop 😪 Anyways you could make this multiple parts if you wanted to build on the storyline more but could you do a Neteyam or Aonung (I cant decide - both extremely beautiful in their own way) x reader. Maybe where Neteyam and y/n have always been close and like eachother but haven’t made it official or clear they want to be mates. All the other girls in the village desperately want Neteyam for themselves (obvi) and a few of them heavily flirt with him in which he is oblivious to making y/n jealous. So she plays hard to get and makes him jealous with Aonung or something. Idk but it can end in some FILTHY smut and then fluff 🤭🤭🤭 ok that’s my req. Thank you and keep up the amazing work!!!😁😁😁❤️

Eyes for You

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Characters: Neteyam Sully (20) x Metkayina reader y/n (19) x Ao’nung (20)

Warnings: nsfw, heavy smut, fluff, first-time, foreplay, oral sex, rut cycle, jealous/protective Neteyam, consent king neteyam, profanity Word count: 6.5k (sorry y’all, I have a problem with overwriting.)

Authors note: I tried to write this while I was experiencing some writers block + burn out, so this honestly isn’t my best work. Regardless, I hope this is okay, anon, and enjoy <3. Also, I’m feeling really inspired to write something that is unrequested. I’ll be temporarily closing my requests to that I can work through my list of requests thus far (even the ones sent in before this post went up), to the best of my abilities :)

Tags: @jakexneytiri (first part is the bow scene you requested)

Synopsis: You and Neteyam like each other but haven’t made it official. You’re promised to Ao’nung even though you don’t like him in that way. You see Neteyam with another girl, and flirt with Ao’nung to get back at him. Neteyam intervenes and makes you his.

Intro: There isn’t a single girl in the village of Awa’atlu that doesn’t have a strong liking towards Neteyam. This includes you. As soon as Neteyam approached the shore with his hands out in the air, he caught your eye. You came out from behind your promised mate, Ao’nung, and examined the na’vi thoroughly. His tail was thin, just like the rest of his body, and he had darker skin with golden eyes. It was a beautiful sight, and he seemed to think so too, as his face lit up immediately when he first laid eyes on you. Since then, you guys spend most of your time together, as you teach him and his siblings everything they need to know about the reef people. He has even been teaching you his ways too, riding his ikran and learning how to use a bow and arrow. In the silent moments where it’s just you two, the tension is unspoken, and off the charts.

----

“Hold here, tighter.” He taps your elbow and repositions your grip on the taut string.

He’s so close behind you that you can feel his soft breaths on your shoulder. Each warm, pant that blows against your skin makes your bioluminescence glow, and your ears perk up. You simply can’t deny the way he makes you feel. You glance at him quickly, catching the sight of his serious gaze. You hold the string of the bow tighter and adjust your elbow.

“I can hear your heartbeat.” He whispers next to your ear. “Relax a bit, y/n.” He slides hand down the side of your waist, fixing your stance.

“Likewise.” You whisper back, hearing his heart thumping, too.

He leans into your shoulder, his braids barely brushing against your skin, and loosens your grip on your bow. How could you relax when he’s doing this to you? Does he even know what he’s doing? You turn to look at him, searching for any hint of innocence in his eyes.

He pulls back slightly, looking deeply into your eyes. “You know, it helps if you focus on the target, y/n.” he breathes, placing the tip of his index finger under your chin, using it to turn your head towards the target. It feels like your stomach is fluttering, all from his simple touch. You swallow your spit.

He must know what he’s doing, right?

You snap your head back to him, to see him smiling at you, glancing down at your lips. Those flutters in your stomach make their way up to your chest, quickening your heartbeat even more. His smile slowly disappears the more his heavy eyes stare at your lips, and you find yourself staring at his, too. Maybe it’s in your head, but it feels like the distance between you two is shrinking.

You feel his breath on your cheek now, causing your gaze to drop to your feet, and then shoot back up at the target. You clear your throat and reposition your arms. His hand lets go of your waist when he fixes his stance, slightly backing away from you.

He clears his throat, too. “Erm – good.” He looks at the target. “Now, release” he whispers, tapping his finger against your elbow again.

Your arrow completely misses the target. You laugh together, making eye contact again – only to drop your smiles when you feel the tension budding in the air.

“Good try, y/n.” he smiles again, brushing your upper back.

“Thanks, but I’m pretty sure we both saw it miss the target completely.” You laugh, covering your mouth.

He faces turns serious and takes your hand off your face. “You know I don’t like it when you cover your face when you laugh.” He says, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink.

You can’t help but smile and stare at him, feeling the warmth in your chest spread throughout your body. “We should go back before our parents get upset.” You whisper, focusing on his lips.

He focuses on your lips, too. “We should. Dad might actually skin me.”

You look down from his lips, landing your stare on his bare, muscular chest. “Well, mine’ll skin you, too if you don’t get me back before the eclipse.” You laugh, using your hands to nudge him towards his ikran.

Though his body moves, his eyes remain locked onto your face.

“...and so would Ao’nung.” You tease, knowing that he hates hearing the name.

He rolls his eyes and walks swiftly to his resting ikran. “Get on, mermaid.”

You giggle, grabbing his hand and hopping on his ikran, seating yourself in front of him. After bonding with his banshee, he takes off, soaring quickly through the air. It’s almost like what happened ten minutes ago happens all over again, with his loud, hot breath on your shoulders, and his hand brushing against your waist – holding onto his ikran.

His warm chest presses lightly against your back, as he steadies his ikran that makes a sharp turn towards the shore. Your heartbeat speeds up. It never used to feel this way – this intense. Sure, being close to him made you nervous, but never this nervous. The flutters in your stomach turn into knots, and it’s almost like he could sense it.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, leaning into your shoulder.

“Yeah. Why?” you ask breathlessly.

“Your heartbeat. It is fast again.” He states, sounding a little worried.

“Oh, that.” you gulp quietly, “I guess I’m just a little motion sick”. You lie, looking down at your hands gripping the seat beneath you.

Immediately the ikran slows down, stabilizing itself even more. His free hand slides over your waist, onto the flat of your belly, and pushes you back into him.

“I’m sorry. Just relax and breathe, you’ll feel better soon.” He whispers into your ear, brushing his cheek against your hair. “Close your eyes.”

You melt into him and allow your heavy eyes to rest. The rest of the flight home is silent and so, so comfortable, that you don’t even realize that you’ve fallen asleep. You wake up to the eclipse occurring, looking down at the glowing arms wrapped around your waist. Not only are you snuggled into his chest, but he is also leaning into you, too.

You take a sharp breath and sit up quickly, looking around you to see exactly where you are. You’ve landed in the sand, right outside of your marui pod. You turn around to see his glowing amber eyes watching you, with a serious expression on his face, as if he were trying to restrain himself in some way.

“Hi.” You smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Sorry I fell asleep; you should’ve woken me up.”

“I did not want to disturb you. You looked...” the corners of his lips slightly curl upwards, “comfortable.” He lies, realizing it would be creepy to say that ‘you look beautiful even when you’re sleeping’.

The sound of your father’s voice breaks the growing tension.

“Y/n. I told you to come back before eclipse!” Your father shoots Neteyam a deadly look, storming towards you. Just as you’re about to explain, Neteyam speaks up for you.

“We got here before eclipse, sir. She felt sick and fell asleep. I didn’t want to wake her. I take full responsibility. I’m sorry, sir.” He bows his head at the chief warrior.

Your father shakes his head and comes to help you down his ikran. He drags you back home and you look back at Neteyam, who is waving goodbye to you, pursing his lips.

----

“You know I do not like you hanging out with that forest boy. You are promised to the son of Olo’eyktan, Ao’nung. Do not bring shame to this family.” Your father scolds you, resting his hand on your shoulder.

You shrug him off and walk away to the Marui pod. “You know I do not want Ao’nung, father. I don’t like him in that way.” You turn around, fuelled with anger. “Why must you force me?” you look at him through teary eyes.

“Not another word, daughter.” He says sternly, looking you directly in the eye.

You leave and go to bed, crying yourself to sleep.

----

“This will be your second rut without a mate, Neteyam.” Neytiri states firmly. “Why must you refuse all the beautiful girls that offer themselves to you? I will not continue to see my son suffer.”

“Mother.” He looks at his feet. “I don’t want anyone but y/n. I thought I made this clear. I will continue to spend my ruts alone until she is ready.” Neteyam argues, shaking his head. “I don’t care how painful they become.”

“I will be speaking to your father about your betrothment with Tsireya.” She spits, getting up to find Jake.

“Mother! Please.” Neteyam snaps, standing up behind her.

“Agh!” she grabs at the air in front of his eyes, causing him to jerk his head back. “It is final.”

----

You disconnect your queue from your ilu and make your way back to the shore. You enjoy your early morning swims, as the water is usually still warm by this time. You see Ao’nung standing at the shore, his hands crossed over his chest, peering at you through his brows (or what would be brows, lol). Ao’nung smirks as you walk on the shore in his direction.

He makes his way over to you, extending his hands outwards, as if he were asking for a hug. “My beautiful mate. I love watching you come out of the water.”

You look down at your feet as you walk past him, trying to avoid eye contact. “Thank you, Ao’nung, but we are not mated.” You mutter.

Ao’nung shouts after you as you walk away. “Agh. I know, I know. We will be soon, my love. No need to be so short with me!”

He knows that you don’t feel the same way about him, yet he continues his feeble attempts at winning your heart daily. Your heart has already chosen Neteyam, and has no space left for Ao’nung, no matter how handsome he may be. You walk up to the grassy part of the mangroves, lifting your head up to see a sight you wish you didn’t.

Neteyam is in front of you, leaning against the large roots of the mangroves, talking to Tsireya, the Olo’eyktan’s daughter. Her beauty is stunning – absolutely breath taking. You could see that he feels this way too just from the way he gazes down at her with the biggest smile on his face. She, too, is smiling with him, brushing against his bicep with her hand.

Jealousy consumes you. The feeling is like a spear to the heart – deep and painful. The pain radiates off your chest, up to your face, reddening it as your eyes sting, pooling with tears. You stand there, frozen in time, just taking in the sight before you. Neteyam laughs, and shakes his head, as if he were telling her ‘no’ to something.

He catches a glimpse of you in his peripheral vision, and does a double take, looking directly at you. When his gaze meets yours and he realizes that your eyes are glossy from tears, his smile falls off his face. You look away, and turn around quickly, hoping that he didn’t see your tearful eyes. You walk hastily back to Ao’nung, with the image of him laughing with the prettiest girl in the village replaying in your head.

“Hey, pretty.” Ao’nung says huskily.

You force a smile on your face. “Sorry if I came off as rude a while ago. I’m not feeling great.” You lie.

He takes a few steps towards you, with concern written all over his face. “What is wrong?”

You didn’t want to tell him the truth – that you were feeling jealous about his sister of all people. “I’m just sore. The water was rough this morning.” You look up at him, meeting his blue-eyed gaze, seeing that he looks worried. “It’s just my back. I’m alright. Really.” You smile at him, thanking him silently for being so concerned.

Unbeknownst to you, Neteyam had made his way over to you the moment he laid eyes on you. He stood at the grassy area by the mangroves, watching the interaction between you and your fated mate intently. Ao’nung inches closer to your face and rests his hand on your waist.

“Crying over a sore back? It must be bad.” He moves swiftly behind you. “You do know my mother is Tsahik, yes? She has taught me quite a bit.” He places his other hand on your upper back. “Where does it hurt the most?”

You feel uncomfortable with his touches and turn around to face him, pulling away from his advances. You see Neteyam in your peripheral vision, seething from jealousy and anger, watching the two of you closely. (side eye, lol)

Is he jealous?

The thought of you making him jealous, too, makes you feel better, as bad as it sounds. You work with the situation, flipping it to your advantage. You focus back on Ao’nung, and smile at him.

“Thank you, Ao’nung.” You rub his bicep, sending Neteyam over the edge. “But I’m really alright.”

Ao’nung arches a brow and looks down at your hand rubbing his bicep. He looks up back up at you and grins, wrapping his hand around your waist. “Took you long enough to come around, my mate.” He pulls you into him, leaning in, staring at your lips.

Its only now dawning on you what you just got yourself into. You feel uncomfortable – on edge. You feel like running away, but you’re frozen, watching him inch in closer to you. Neteyam watches you two get closer, feeling pangs of pain in his chest. He really didn’t think you would choose him, even if you guys were promised to each other. He always knew deep down that there was something between the two of you, it just wasn’t official.

But he couldn’t stop you. He would never come between you and what you want. All he can do is accept it for what it is, no matter how much anger he’s feeling. If you choose Ao’nung, then so be it. His only concern is your happiness, and for it to be your choice. He drops his gaze to his feet, not being able to stand the sight.

It feels wrong, very wrong. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want Ao’nung, you want Neteyam. You break eye contact with Ao’nung, and finally put your hands against his chest, pushing him away from you.

“Wait, Ao’nung. I’m sorry. I, I-” You stutter, turning your head to avoid his gaze and lips. “I’m still not ready, yet.” Neteyam hears this, and his ears perk up as his head snaps back to you.

“Don’t back out on me now, pretty girl.” He cups your cheek and pulls your face in his line of sight.

“Stop, Ao’nung.” You pull your face out of his hand and take a step back, as your eyes start to well up with tears again.

“Y/n. You are promised to me.” Ao’nung says sternly. “How long are you going to take? My rut is coming soon.” He pulls you back into him by your waist, causing you to fall into his chest.

Neteyam doesn’t waste another second and rushes in, braids swinging in his face, and pushes Ao’nung away from you. “You heard what she said.” He growls, towering over Ao’nung.

You hide behind Neteyam, backing away from them both. They’re face to face, staring each other down, waiting to see who will back down first.

Two sons of Olo’eyktan challenging one another? Over me?

“Leave Neteyam. This does not concern you.” Ao’nung looks him up and down.

“No. Back. Off. Now.” he steps towards him, poking Ao’nung’s chest with his finger.

Ao’nung scoffs, shaking his head. “She is promised to me.” He steps towards him. “Mine.”

You’d never seen Neteyam this angry before. You could see the rage in his body language, he looks like an akula (shark-like animal) ready to strike.

“She is promised to nobody. She chooses who she wants.” He snarls, flashing his fangs.

Ao’nung looks behind Neteyam, directly in your eyes. He squints them, looking from you, to Neteyam, realizing that you both have feelings for each other and the ‘choice’ he speaks of is between him and Neteyam. Ao’nungs face relaxes, knowing this will just end in a fight - a fight that makes no sense. He takes a step back putting his hands in the air.

“Smart choice.” Neteyam growls. He turns around to look at you, his eyes were a deep gold, something you’ve never seen before. He shakes his head, as if he were disappointed in you and grabs you by the hand, leading you towards a hidden cave deep in the roots of the mangroves.

----

“What were you thinking?” He asks with his back turned to you, not being able to look you in the face.

“What were you thinking?” You shout back, still upset with him.

He turns around, walking towards you quickly, towering over you now. You look up at him, feeling small and feeble compared to his size.

“What? Don’t think I could’ve taken him?” he scoffs, shaking his head.

“I’m not talking about that, skxwang (idiot). I’m talking about you being all lovey-dovey with his sister.” You see his expression change; his gaze softens, and he pulls back. “Yeah, I saw you.” You cross your arms and turn around.

He laughs, loudly, finally understanding the entire situation. You’re both upset about the same thing.

“What’s so fucking funny?” you mumble, back still turned to him.

“We are upset about the same thing.” He slides his hand down your arm, and holds your hand, pulling you towards him.

You turn around, looking him in the eyes. “What?”

“You are jealous of Tsireya, and I am jealous of Ao’nung. What does that tell you?” he smiles, taking your other hand into his.

You roll your eyes and pull away from him. “I don’t even like Ao’nung, you know this. But Tsireya... She is the prettiest girl in the village, why wouldn’t you want her?”

“Y/n... That is not even true.” he scoffs, knowing you’re the most beautiful girl on pandora, “...and it is not what you think.” He grabs your hand again, pulling you into him. “Tsireya and I were just having a conversation.”

“Oh, yeah? A conversation... with her touching your arm like that? Come on.” You hit his hand away.

“Yes. We were making this stupid situation that we are in into a joke. My parents, they are trying to promise me to her, which is stupid because I already explained to them that I have eyes for someone else. And she – she even confessed to me that she has eyes for Lo’ak. It is really nothing like that.” He shakes his head, backing away to give you the space you want.

Your glossy eyes peer up at him, searching for the sincerity in his eyes. “Who?” you mutter.

He looks at you, confused. “Who?”

“Who do you have eyes for?” you ask, feeling the same stabbing feeling in your heart.

“Is it not obvious, y/n?” He whispers, stepping towards you. “I only have eyes for you.” he whispers, taking your hands into his.

Hearing these words make your heart flicker in your chest. You can’t help but smile, the swell of your cheeks finally pushing a tear out of your eye.

“I only have eyes for you, too.” You whisper, sliding your hands up his arms.

You knew your father would be upset if he found out what you were about to do, but you didn’t care. Neteyam didn’t care either, it’s time to break the unspoken tension between the two of you. Neteyam leans into you, his gaze fixed on your lips. You find your body responding to him, tilting your head upwards to meet the gaze of the man in front of you.

“Can I kiss you?” Neteyam asks, wrapping his hands around your waist.

“Please.” You breathe, before feeling his lips crash into yours, reeking of desperation.

He kisses you passionately, but in an inexperienced way. His hands are all over your body, trying to touch every inch of you. He backs you up against the rocky wall, and moves his feverish kisses down your neck, to your collarbones. Your hands make their way to his chest, where they slide down to his stomach, feeling every dip of his muscular physique.

“You are so beautiful, y/n.” He mumbles in between kisses, looking up at you with dark amber eyes.

You giggle, feeling shy from his comment. “Why are your eyes different?” you ask, trying to change the topic.

He kisses the bone between your breasts, inhaling your natural scent. “What do you mean?” he mumbles into your chest.

You feel your nipples harden, and shivers run down your back. “Your eyes, they are darker than usual.”

“Oh, sorry.” He pulls back, blinking rapidly, hoping they’ll change back to their original colour. “My rut is coming in a week.” He nestles back into your chest, lingering there, waiting for your consent.

The thought of him in rut, unable to control his insatiable urges, makes your undergarments wet. You nudge his head over to your left breast, while your free hand unties the knot of your top. Both your movements are hurried, eager for each other’s touches. He takes your nipple into his mouth and sucks on it rhythmically, blowing hot breaths through his nostrils onto your breast.

“Mmnh, feels so good.” You moan softly. He bites your nipple gently. “Neteyam!” You gasp, pulling his head even closer into you.

The sound of you moaning his name makes him impatient, sucking even harder at your nipple, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. His big golden eyes stare up at you, like you’re something to be devoured. He unlatches from your nipple and kisses you again, his tongue exploring your mouth and intertwining with your tongue.

He kneads your breast with one hand and uses the other to play with the strap of your loincloth. You could feel his burning desire for you in his movements; he’s ready to take you right here. He shoves his knee between your legs, applying pressure to your cunt. You moan into his mouth and can’t resist humping at his leg.

“Shit.” He groans, applying even more pressure for you to hump at. “I like when you use me like that.”

You laugh between heavy breaths, feeling your slick wet his thigh. He notices, too. “Fuck, you’re that wet already?” he breathes, smiling with raised brows.

He kisses you again, like he can’t get enough of your touch. He kicks your legs open and lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his hips. He’s pinning you against the wall, pushing his pelvis into yours. You feel the imprint of his cock through his loincloth, pressing against your hot, wet slit. It feels so thick, and warm, bulging against you, throbbing for some attention.

The friction against your clit feels amazing, like the heat from your cunt is making its way through the rest of your body in waves. The pressure in your chest builds to the point where you must release it through loud moans, and pants. All you can do is bury your face into the crook of his neck while he pins you to the wall and bucks his hips into you.

“Neteyam... it’s so thick.” You whisper shyly, now smelling his musky scent. “...and you smell so good.”

Neteyam is too busy willing himself to be gentle with his thrusts to listen to what you’re saying. He wants to take you right here, right now – to shove his cock inside of you in one thrust and fuck you carelessly for even looking at Ao’nung.

“Why did you touch Ao’nung like that? You should only be touching me like that.” he thrusts hard against your cunt.

You can feel how stiff his cock is, rutting into your plump cunt like that, eager for some release.

“Yeah? And you should only be touching me like this.” You take his hand and press it firming against your breast.

He kneads your breast and kisses you roughly, breathing hard through his nose. All the tension that has been building since his arrival to your village is finally coming to a head. You grab his face and melt even further into his kiss, squeezing your legs that wrap around his hips, trying to push him harder against you.

He pulls away from the kiss, catching his breath. “Can I taste you here?” he pants, looking down at your sticky pelvises rubbing against each other.

“Ugh... yes, Nete.” You whimper, desperate for your mate’s touches.

He puts you down and starts kissing your neck, making his way down your chest once more. You will yourself to stand on your shaky legs, weak from holding onto him so tightly. He kisses your stomach, paying extra attention to your belly button with his tongue. The sensation is so erotic, feeling him inch his way down to your most vulnerable part. He’s breathing in deeply, trying to savour the scent of your cunt.

He kneels before you, looking up at you with big golden saucers for eyes, fiddling with the straps of your loincloth, asking you silently if he can take it off. You look down at him and nod your head, using your hand to try pull down your undergarments. As soon as he gets your consent, he buries his nose into your hips, and slides his fingers underneath the cloth, slowly pulling it down your legs.

He’s grunting into your soft flesh, kissing your thighs and your plump pussy lips. He gently opens your trembling legs, that struggle to remain standing, and looks up at you while he uses his tongue to part your lips. The flavour of your cunt is so sweet – so enticing, that he closes his eyes to fully immerse himself in the experience of eating you out, swallowing the slick that pools in his cheeks.

Although he is inexperienced, he follows his body’s commands, lapping at the sensitive nub at the top of your slit. He feels your body jolt from pleasure, telling him that he’s just found your sweet spot. He sucks lightly at your clit, opening his mouth and licking you from your hole up to your pearl, engulfing it with his hot mouth. He uses his thumbs to spread your pussy lips apart as he makes out with your cunt, looking back up at you.

The sensation is too good, you feel like your legs are going to give out any second. Your hips thrust into his face on their own, already chasing your orgasm. Covering your mouth with your hand, you stop yourself from letting loose the loud moans that make their way up your throat. Your free hand explores the wall you lean against, trying to find something to hold on to. Neteyam notices this and takes your hand, placing it on his head. You weave your fingers through his braids and hold on tightly, as he eats your cunt hungrily.

Not being able to hold back your moans anymore, you drop your hand from your mouth and place it on his head. You let your head dip back as you let loose lengthy mewls into the air as you experience your intense climax. You look down to see Neteyam touching himself, rubbing his bulge with his hand as he laps at your sopping cunt. You want nothing more than to share your next climax with him.

“Fuck... I wanna cum with you, ‘teyam.” You moan breathlessly, legs trembling uncontrollably as you try to push away his head.

He peers up at you, gulping your juices loudly before pulling away from your throbbing cunt. He stands quickly, meeting his lips with yours, having you taste your own cum. He kisses you frantically, still touching himself.

“Mine to touch.” You slap away his hand and grab his growing bulge.

He moans at your aggressive advances. You pull down his loincloth in a hurry, to hear the slap of his cock against his belly. You look down to see his monstrous cock, oozing beads of precum out of its pink, mushroom-like head. His slick is shiny, glistening in the light that reflects against the water outside of the cave. It looks so tempting.

“I want to taste you, too.” You announce, quickly dropping to your knees.

His warm, rock-hard cock brushes against your cheek. You take a deep breath and hold it to savour his musky scent. You release your hot breath through your nose, as you rub your closed mouth up and down against his shaft. The heat of your breath against his sensitive, throbbing cock sends his head back in frustration – he’s eager for you to take him in your mouth. You sense his desperation, and lick the tip of his cock, swirling your tongue around his cockhead. He bucks his hips suddenly, sliding his cock over your closed eye.

You let out a breathy laugh. “Want to fuck my face that badly?” You lick his cock from the base of his shaft, back up to his tip and take him into your mouth.

His cock is so thick and girthy that it stings the corners of your mouth when he thrusts inside down your mouth. He’s pressing his hands firmly against the rocky wall behind you, trying to prevent himself from ramming his entire length down your slippery throat. You suck harshly, paying attention to his swollen cockhead as you bob your head up and down.

“F-fuck.” He groans, dropping his head, feeling overstimulated “I need to be inside you.” He grips you by the hair and pulls you off his cock, standing you up. He’s panting like a maniac, backing you up against wall yet again, kissing you hungrily.

“So, fuck me, Neteyam.” You grunt into his mouth, reaching down to stroke his swollen cock.

“Shit. Spread your legs for me.” He moans into your mouth between feverish kisses.

You obey him, opening your legs as wide as you can whilst standing up. His fingers rub against your slit, coating themselves with your glossy slick. You whine against his fingers, trying to grasp them with the walls of your cunt. He rams two fingers inside you, scissoring them to stretch your hole out enough for his cock.

“Nghh, Neteyam... make me yours.” You pant, trying to grind into his fingers. “Just put it in, already” you whine, trying to replace his fingers with his cock.

“Patience, my love.” He pants, trying to be gentle with you. “It is your first time, no? You must be stretched.” He hums, inserting his third digit inside of you.

You feel like you’re losing it, you just need his cock inside of you. “Please. I need this.” You beg, gripping his member.

His hand is pressing against the wall; his wrist brushing against your neck as he looks deeply into your eyes – forehead to forehead. He searches your eyes for your bluff, to be met with your serious glare. He’s so eager to fuck you that he can’t even hold himself back anymore to stretch you out properly.

“Fuck, y/n.” he exhales, moving his hand from your slit and turning you around, pressing you roughly against the wall.

Your tail sways wildly from side to side, tickling his throbbing cock, as you look behind you at your soon-to-be mate. You see him reach for his queue, running his hand along its length before bringing it forward. Knots form in your stomach knowing that he’s about to make the bond with you. He takes his hand off your head and reaches for your queue, bringing it towards his.

He pauses, waiting for your word – for your consent.

“Yes, Neteyam. Do it.” You say through shaky breaths, feeling your slick drip down your legs from the thought of him being all yours. You knew this would upset many people close to you, but you didn’t care.

He watches closely as your tendrils wrap around each other, morphing together to form a unified connection. Your eyes bulge and dilate as you both take a sharp breath, feeling your bodies and minds sync together. He looks down at you, and you look behind you to meet his gaze, knowing his every thought – knowing exactly how badly he wants you.

You’re panting at the mere thought of him ploughing into your cunt. He presses you against the wall with his body, pushing his bulge against your slit, coating it with your thick nectar. He leans into your ear, brushing his lips against it, just taking in the feeling of his mate. You feel him grip his cock and rub the tip against your hole. You feel his restraint – his struggle to fight the urge to bury himself inside you.

Please... hurry. You pant, pushing yourself back onto him.

Say the words, y/n. Use your voice.

“Fuck me.” You moan breathlessly, feeling his hot breath against the back of your neck. “Please.” you whisper.

“Good girl.” he smiles into your shoulder, lifting one of your legs up in the air, spreading you wide enough to accommodate him.

He slides the tip in slowly, giving you time to adjust to his thickness. It feels as if you’re overly full – stuffed to the brim with Neteyam’s huge cock, and it isn’t even half way in yet. You whimper loudly, from the mixture of pain and pleasure of taking something this massive inside of you. Neteyam cups your mouth with his hand, muffling your loud, lewd noises.

“Shhh... Mawey. You don’t want your father hearing us, do you?” he growls into your neck, slipping into his hazy fog of desperation. Your whimpers quiet down into soft mewls as your cunt stretches to the sheer girth of his cock. He praises you by planting soft wet kisses on the nape of your neck.

“That’s a good girl.” He groans into your neck, inhaling your natural scent. “You are taking me so well.” He looks down at the sight of his mate taking his cock for the first time, causing him to lose his control for a split second.

“Although, I would love to have Ao’nung hear this.” He rams his entire cock inside of your cunt in one swift thrust, getting the pain over with for you.

“Agh! Neteyam!” You yelp out a long, loud scream, feeling overstimulated from the mixture of sensations happening all at once.

Hearing his name roll of your tongue in such a lewd manner causes him to fall deeper into the haze he’s under. He’s breathing heavily into your shoulder, enduring the tightness of your cunt as it clenches around his entire length, willing himself not to pump in and out of you.

“Mmn’ you okay?” he mumbles, focusing on being as gentle as he possibly can with you.

“Sst. ‘ts too big, it stings, Nete!” you panic, frantically trying to accommodate to his size.

“Shh... I’m sorry, baby.” He kisses your neck while rubbing circles into your thighs, patiently waiting for you to get comfortable. “But you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting this... wanting you.” he growls.

Flutters are felt in your stomach, yet again, making you want him even more. “Me too, Nete... I’ve wanted you from the moment I first lay eyes on you.” You say between shaky breaths. “You can move now.” You moan, feeling more pleasure than pain as you back yourself up on him.

Those were the only words he needed to hear. He begins thrusting into you with no rhythm, grinding his cockhead against the hole of your cervix. He moves his hand in front of your body, tracing the dips of your stomach as he makes his way down to your swollen clit. He rubs circles into your wet pearl as he ruts relentlessly into you.

“Oh, good Eywa. Neteyam!” a new sensation washes over you as he fucks right into your sweet spot.

“Fuck. You’re so... *thrust* fucking small... *thrust* so tiny... *thrust* and tight.” he grunts into your ear, rolling your clit between his fingers. “Shit. You’re just sucking me in.”

He’s pounding into you at this point, unable to restrain himself from his territorial urges, fuelled by the jealousy of seeing Ao’nung touch you in that way. You could feel that his climax is near, as yours is nearing too. Your leg is shaking, about to give out at any moment. He takes notice of this, and lifts your other leg, causing you to slump back into him as he fucks you suspended in the air.

He weaves his arms under your knees and around the back of your head, spreading your legs as wide as they can possibly go. He is pounding into you so hard that you can feel his balls slap against your sore clit. His movements become erratic, like he’s going to cum inside of you any second. The heat is overwhelming, like you’re about to implode from the sheer force of his thrusts.

“Fuck! ‘m gonna cum!” you cry, finally feeling the burning sensation in your chest shoot down into your pelvis. Your walls clench tightly around his cock, on the verge of pulsating.

“Oh – oh fuck.” He huffs, quickly climbing to his peak. “Moan my name. Tell me who you are really promised to.” he groans, licking the dip of your shoulder.

“Ngh... Ne-neteyam! I’m promised to you! Oh – I’m cumming!” your cunt throbs quickly as you cum to the sound of his sweaty skin slapping against yours, burying his pulsating cock deep into your cunt.

“Gooood girl. Cum all over my cock” he grunts into your ear, cumming inside of you. “Ughh... fuck.” he groans, looking down at his cock spurting its thick, heavy ropes of cum into your cunt.

He rests his head into your shoulder, desperately trying to calm down from his high. He’s panting hot breathes onto your clammy skin, already being consumed by his urges yet again. He uncontrollably bucks his hips into you, as you feel his low mewls vibrate into your shoulder. He’s whimpering from the overstimulation of his body rutting into you after just cumming.

“Y/n. You need to go.” He growls, suddenly pulling out of you and releasing your legs – causing you to fall to your knees, breaking tsaheylu. You turn your head around and look up at Neteyam to be met with reptilian-like, green eyes, peering down at you.

“Neteyam?” you pant breathlessly, already knowing what’s happening.

Your mate just went into rut.

#neteyam sully #neteyam #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam smut #avatar way of water #avatar x you #avatar smut #lo'ak avatar #avatar #metkayina #rut cycles #neteyam fic #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x metkayina!reader

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mrsjellymunson · 7 months

Text

Hello, Stranger

Pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!reader, Eddie Munson x you, Eddie Munson x reader

For @lesservillain’s excellent Strange and Spooky Stories Halloween writing event for the prompt: ‘Stranger’

Summary: A stranger comes in to buy weird stuff at odd times, and as the cashier at the local hardware store you’re not quite sure what to make of it…

CW: 18+ (MDNI), fluff, maybe SFW though caution for mature and dark themes and allusions to crime and violence. Flirting, li’l bit of awkwardness, some swearing. Both Eddie and reader are in their 20s. Reader’s gender and appearance are not described, they can be whatever you want. No use of y/n. Time period is not mentioned, and any inaccuracies/inconsistencies about history, equipment, American schooling (I’m not from around these parts) or science are deliberate and artistic oh yes they are. No smut, I thought I’d better assess whether I could string a semi-coherent story together before attempting to add that 😆

WC: ~6.2k

A/N: I love gore, revenge movies, murder shows, true crime, science/biology/forensics and DIY (sort of), so this prompt seemed like a perfect fit. There are tiny Easter eggs from The Equalizer, Breaking Bad, 80s crime TV, The Blacklist and John Wick in here - let me know if you spot any! This is the first ‘proper’ fic I’ve posted so I’d love to know what you think. Comments, reblogs and feedback are hugely appreciated and very welcome!

(Also this is my first attempt at dividers too, I hope they worked, I literally have no idea what I’m doing!)

Yep, you were ‘that’ weird kid. Your friends in Middle School had called you a freak because you brought squirrel tails and chicken feet to show’n’tell.

“But look! If you pull this tendon it makes the claw close! Isn’t that cool?!”

No, apparently that was not cool. Especially when demonstrated against your teacher’s finger...

You’d visit a friend whose father was a doctor, begging to read his medical and pathology text books, and preferring to look at pictures of dissected and diseased organs and spontaneous human combustion over braiding your friend’s hair or talking about boys.

And, apparently, scoring a class-topping 9.5/10 for your rat dissection also wasn’t the social merit badge you thought it might be, even amongst your science-abreast academic peers.

So what if you had a strong constitution. And a love of anatomy and pathology. And then compounded it with a love of true crime, particularly serial killers and forensic methods. Surely there were worse things to be interested in?

By the time you’d finished High School you’d learned to mask your enthusiasm, covering your (apparently, socially unacceptable) fascination for all things ‘gross’ and ‘murderous’ (your friends’ words) by choosing science majors like human anatomy and pathology, criminal behaviour and forensics.

People just thought you were clever, nerdy, a scientist. You never let on that you were itching to actually experience some of these things for yourself, in real time, with your own hands…

You work the evening shift at the sprawling out-of-town homewares store on the road running out of Indianapolis towards a tiny town you’ve never been to (Hawksville? Hawking?). You work a few evenings a week plus alternate Sundays, currently in the gardening, kitchen and hardware department. It wouldn’t be your chosen section of the store (in the short time you’ve been there you’ve had to amass a lot of knowledge about tools. Also, how to politely deflect the regulars’ offers to share details of their new projects, lest you get drawn in to a half-hour discussion about u-bends or rawl plugs), but the hours suit you and fit around your college classes, and the employee discount comes in handy when things in your shitty apartment break down or your roommate carelessly breaks something, again.

The final few hours of your shifts were usually pretty quiet, barring the occasional domestic plumbing emergency, or a bored Hawkins housewife coming in looking for batteries.

You don’t mind spending your evenings amongst the tools and machinery, it gives you a chance to flick through the latest copy of forensic magazine or True Crime, or work on your college assignments.

One thing that does make the slow evenings more entertaining is the unusual clientele. A nerdy-looking guy with a moustache needing releasable cable ties, cooking oil and a large plastic sheet at 9.30pm must have an interesting backstory, right?

You find yourself concocting fantastical vignettes about the oddballs that pass through, giving them the most amusing or disturbing story you can think of as they glide by in the night.

The guy with the cable ties? Too easy. Clearly he’s got a ‘special friend’ and an interesting evening planned. TBH, that’s probably not even fictional. You call him Salacious Scott.

The friendly, rotund lady who regularly comes in for for buckets and sawdust? You know it’s Mrs Henderson, who is trying to go self-sufficient and has recently installed a composting toilet, but you prefer to imagine she’s actually a madam with a ‘specialist interest’ playroom, who you brand Madame Urolagnia.

The paranoid guy with a beard and thick glasses who won’t tell you his name, buys a lot of vodka from the liquor store nearby and comes in for plastic pipe, cladding and those slot-together foam mats for kids? He tells you he’s into martial arts and these make safe weapon facsimiles for training, but you reckon he’s actually some kind of government agent. Your imaginary name for him is Mysterious Murray.

One oddball in particular has caught your attention, and not just because he’s easily the handsomest customer you’ve had in a while.

Wait, no, you didn’t just admit that; you just find him interesting, that’s all.

It was his speed and demeanour that had struck you first, rushing in, hand atop the bandana on his head, gangly legs in ripped jeans looking like they were trying to run in two different directions at once, large, dark eyes wide as he’d frantically looked around the store.

“Uh, rope, I need rope, where’d you keep the rope?”

You’d blurted some instructions and he’d headed off, not looking in your direction.

His leather jacket and swinging chains certainly commanded attention amongst the flannel and blue denim that was usually in your line of sight, and you’d found your eyes following him, catching sight of him moving between the aisles from your position behind the counter.

He’d moved towards you with a sturdy knife, a shovel and 3 rolls of duct tape that he’d collected on his way to the checkout, arms full (he didn’t pick up a basket), when you’d ventured,

“I’d recommend the next brand up, if you want something stronger with better sticking power? It costs a little more, but it’s better quality, so overall you’ll use less”, (silently thanking Mr Wheeler’s recent diatribe on the merits and pitfalls of various brands of adhesive tape, remembering the detail because he’d gone so far as to demonstrate by sticking small pieces of it to your skin. It was a weird interaction for sure, but also oddly informative).

He’d lifted his head to look at you and your eyes had connected for the first time. Your eyes widened, and you think you spotted a slight twitch of a smile at one side of his mouth.

Oh, he’s actually really cute.

“Uh, okay, if you think that’s best”.

He dropped his eyes from yours and, after unceremoniously dumping everything else onto your counter, he’d exchanged the rolls and returned.

You’d both paused, you don’t know for how long, and you’d wondered how someone buying rope could be so captivating. But the spell was broken as you’d both spoke simultaneously:

“Did you find everything you need?”

“I’m kinda in a rush, so…”

You’d both chuckled nervously, and you’d set about ringing up his purchases, noticing that a small smile definitely now graced those previously harried features.

He’d paid with a handful of old, crumpled bills pulled from his jacket, politely declining your offer of a bag, and then he was gone as quick as he came, hurrying out into the night with the swish of the automatic doors and a breeze of parking lot-scented night air.

You didn’t know why anyone would need rope and a shovel at that time on a weeknight, but with this particular guy, who you dubbed The Stranger, you found yourself thinking that you wouldn’t mind finding out.

You’d unintentionally spent the rest of that evening coming up with fantasies about that particular customer, although, unusually for you, quite a few of them hadn’t actually involved what was on his receipt…

When The Stranger next comes in he’s after heavyweight garbage bags, more tape and a saw, but seems in slightly less of a rush.

He pauses at your counter for a few moments, making polite conversation, asking how long you’d been working here, whether you were working late tonight.

Is he trying to… flirt? Surely not…

“Thanks for the tape recommendation by the way, it was a real lifesaver. That stuff’s really good, I definitely have a new favourite!”, gracing you with a broad grin (oh fuck, that was a sight) before he was on his way again.

Another time he bought shears, tarp and a large quantity of painting coveralls.

The next trip involved wire cutters, buckets and a wet’n’dry vacuum.

You begin to enjoy The Stranger coming in buying random shit at odd hours. You can’t quite make him out. He buys a lot of gardening and decorating-type equipment (plus he’s almost single-handedly keeping the cleaning product aisle in business), but he dresses like neither - always in tight, ripped jeans, shredded band tees and his signature leather jacket. You’ve never seen him covered in leaves or dirt, and his clothes have zero paint on them. Those coveralls must do a really good job…

You build up a rapport of sorts with him. There’s always a polite, verging on friendly greeting between you, and you let him know when there’s special offers on tarp and garbage bags, and what days there are deliveries of latex gloves and those painting coveralls he seems to like so much. (Sometimes you’ll even stash a few of the latter for him under the counter if there’s a holiday weekend coming up, knowing Hawkins’ husbands will be out in force and not wanting him to miss out.)

But the ‘fantasy vignette’ and forensically-inclined parts of your brain begin to overlap, and start to tickle your imagination. It’s almost as if each selection of items he buys could be used to either dispatch someone, or dispose of a body. But that’s crazy, right? He seems way too nice to be a serial killer. And mob activity in this part of Indiana? Nah. That wouldn’t happen around here.

Would it?

It’s a quiet Friday night when you next see The Stranger. He’s picked up bolt cutters, pliers, some metal trays, a sledgehammer, a mop, and, most bizarrely of all because you’ve noticed he’s not usually one for personal safety equipment, ear defenders.

Again, he’s basket-less, barely able to contain the items piled up in his arms. They topple as he arrives at your counter, and some end up partially covering your open magazine.

“Shit, I’m really sorry about that.”

“Oh, no problem, honestly. I probably shouldn’t be reading on the clock anyway”, you say, slightly bashful, as you move the crumpled magazine out from underneath his items, smoothing it down. The Stranger’s eyes are locked on your hands, and as they move across the page they reveal a headline about a recently apprehended serial murderer and some photographs of a variety of grisly-looking, bloody weapons.

“That looks… interesting, watcha reading there?”, he remarks, leaning in.

“Oh, this? It’s about a new guy they’ve just caught over in Europe. He’s fascinating, he used such a variety of tools and methods that at first the police didn’t even think to link the crimes. Ingenious, really, when you think about it. So creative!”

You look up, and The Stranger is regarding you with an unreadable expression. Does he think you’re weird, babbling on about this murderer like you admire him? Or is he actually impressed with your enthusiasm?

“Sorry, I’m a true crime buff, it’s a bit of a pet topic of mine. And I’m studying forensics at college, so it’s kind of like schoolwork too.” You chuckle nervously, arms moving in front of your body and shoulders subtly curling in on yourself in embarrassment.

The Stranger seems to sense your discomfort, and shakes his head, making his curls bounce, smiling and chuckling along with you.

“No, yeah, uh, me too with the crime thing, actually. Well, not so much the reading, I’m more of a hear-it-through-the grapevine, hands on kinda guy.”

‘Hands on’? WTF does that mean?

“Oh, cool, coolcoolcool”. Smooth…

As you scan his items your fantasy vignette tickles your brain again.

No, don’t be silly…

You bag everything up this time, insisting it’ll be easier to carry, handing them to him and taking his crumpled bills.

Your curiosity is more than piqued and you can’t hold it in any longer. Feeling bold, you ask, “So, what’s all this for?”

“Huh?”

“The- the stuff. What’re you doin’ with it?”

The Stranger looks at you through his lashes, not speaking.

Shit, you’ve overstepped, he’s gonna leave, find a different store and you’ll never see him again.

“Uh, well, some people I know out near the big city are, er, planning a, uh, party, with a few of their, um, associates, and I think it’s gonna get pretty loud, hence the earphones. I, uh, don’t usually get involved in stuff until later in the evening, y’know, after all the main fun’s over.”

You look a little quizzical.

He thinks for a moment.

“I tidy up, but I sorta make it a bit more fun for everyone. Bring a bit of pizazz to a usually mundane part of the evening. Kinda thing.”

You process for a few moments. The ‘Mob Cleaner’ vignette you’d fantasised about screams loud and long into your cerebrum.

Nerves give way to curiosity, and you brashly ask, “So, what exactly is it that you do?”

“I’m kind of a cleaner, I guess? If someone has a problem that they’ve had dealt with and they wanna make the cleanup more, um, interesting, I’m the guy they call.”

Probing further, you clarify, “So you don’t make the, uh, mess, you just clean it up. Creatively?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

He explains he’s still quite new to the job, and kinda fell into it. His boss and his mentor are both encouraging, saying his USP is truly original (Unique Selling Point, he explains when you look confused), and that he definitely ‘has potential’. He’s learning a lot as he goes, but his enthusiasm seems to be appreciated and he wants to do well.

“All you really need is a strong stomach, imagination and a flair for the dramatic!”

He illustrates his last point by making jazz hands by the sides of his head, offering you a generous smile. Yeah, you can see how that particular part of the job comes easy to him.

“Oh, well, it sounds like fun. I hope you have a very successful evening!”

“Okay, well, thanks again! I’ll see you.”

You watch him leave, noticing in particular how well his jeans fit tonight.

What’s that saying again - I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave…?

You shake your head to rid yourself of the lewd - and crazy, yeah, totally crazy - thoughts you’re having about The Stranger and encourage yourself back into work mode.

As you busy yourself and tidy your counter you notice something small and white on the floor in front, about the size of a credit card. It must’ve fallen out of his jacket as he fumbled for cash.

Cash. Always cash. Never credit card, never cheque, never — anything traceable…

You round the counter and pick it up, thinking you’d save it and return it to him the next time he comes in. It’s a business card. The text is unfussy and clear, but glossy, bold and slightly gothic. It’s a company name above some text and a pager number, but it may well be the most intriguing piece of writing that you’ve ever come across:

E.M. Creative Disposal Services, Apprentice to Mr Kaplan & Associates, For dinner reservations call: (555)-666-6969

It’s another quiet night, but there’s already a couple of people at the counter when The Stranger arrives. Mr Sinclair needs a pipe wrench and a plunger (you don’t envy him his evening), and Mrs Wheeler has come in to buy double-As for the second time this month (although this time she also added gardening gloves and secateurs to pad out her basket. Not that you’d judge either way).

You spot The Stranger’s curls before anything else, bobbing in the fluorescent lights as he comes through the entrance doors. He spots the queue and immediately joins it, glancing towards the counter and visibly brightening when he sees you behind it. He’s carrying the sledgehammer he bought last time. As you start to ring up Mrs Wheeler’s batteries you see him examining the head of the hammer. Frowning slightly, he moistens his thumb with his tongue and rubs at one corner, then polishes the same spot on the front of his jeans.

He reaches the counter, receipt retrieved from a bundle pulled from inside his jacket.

You greet each other with a quiet ‘hey’. He continues, “I, uh, wanted to return this. Can I do that?”

“Yeah, sure, lemme ring it through the till. Can I ask why? Company policy,” you shrug, almost apologetically.

“Sure, uh, well you know that phase ‘using a sledgehammer to crack a nut‘? Turns out a sledgehammer does indeed obliterate the, uh, nuts… Let’s just say it wasn’t really suitable for the project I had in mind. I think I need something…”

Lighter? Easier to aim?

“With a little more finesse?” You venture, eyebrows raised, hoping you haven’t completely misread things.

“Yeah, finesse! I like that”. He beams widely at you tilting his head slightly, revealing the most gorgeous dimples you’ve ever seen, and it’s all you can do to hold on to the edge of the counter while your knees gently fail beneath you.

“Umm, you want some help choosing?”

He readily agrees and you direct him to the hammer section, both of you discussing the merits and disadvantages of various models as you choose ones from the display and encourage him to feel their weight and balance. He seems impressed, clearly not expecting you to be so well-versed in the finer aspects of hardware.

“Y’know, you really know your tools!”

You squeak out a bashful, “Thanks.”

You slip into self-deprecating mode and brush off his compliment, saying, “It comes with the territory I guess. I’ve picked up a lot working here. Plus I just sometimes browse the shelves, thinking of nefarious uses for random household objects.” Hurriedly adding, “For school, of course!”

You cringe a bit, thinking this must make you look like some kind of weirdo, but The Stranger takes it easily in his stride, commenting, “You know, you’d be surprised to learn just how much of a marketable skill that can be.”

You chat some more and he eventually chooses a smaller, less unwieldy hammer, and after he pays you part ways again.

You still desperately want to ask him exactly what he used that other hammer for, what ‘Creative Disposal Services’ actually means, and what the hell have dinner reservations got to do with any of this?

The next night you see The Stranger he saunters in at about 8:30. He has a different energy about him this evening, seeming both more relaxed but also somewhat on edge. He’s not in his usual ratty band tee tonight, you notice, and no leather jacket either. Instead he’s wearing a what looks to be a clean, maybe even pressed, electric blue raglan shirt with black half length sleeves. You spot a crimson guitar pick necklace that you’ve not seen before dangling from a twinkling silver ball chain, resting against his sternum and resplendent against the blue.

Observing his forearms for the first time you notice how attractive - and (oh!) tattooed - they are. Toned and veined, their shape and his mix of tattoos are shown off to perfection by that sleeve length, and a leather and chain bracelet that adorns one powerful-looking wrist. The glint of his chunky silver rings accentuates his large hands that peek out of his jeans pockets as he wanders over to you. He’s still in tight black jeans, but they seem a little… neater than usual. And he’s not in a rush. It’s almost like he’s not working, maybe even making an effort.

You feel a frisson of excitement - could it be that he’s come in just to see you?

Exhibit A, m’lud: Scrubbing up well.

He heads straight for your counter, and you greet each other with your characteristic friendliness.

He spies the hefty text books you’ve spread before you, and leans onto the counter to get a closer look.

“Watcha workin’ on tonight, Doctor Quincy?”

You swallow at the cute nickname, voice cracking slightly as you start to tell him about the assignment you’ve got. It’s about evidential tool marks, and how pathologists can identify what’s been used as a weapon or tool of dismemberment.

The Stranger tries to play down his interest, but his demeanour betrays him as he presses for more details, even asking if he could maybe read the finished piece.

That’s weird, right? People don’t read other people’s science essays for fun. Do they?

But you agree, promising to bring him a copy when it’s done.

The conversation lulls, and The Stranger twists the pad of one of his thumbs against the counter, seemingly a little nervous, though you can’t imagine what about.

To break the silence you slip into work mode, but for some reason drop your voice a couple of octaves and murmur,

“So anyway, what is it that can I help you with, sir?”

Wait, is he blushing?

“Um, oh, uh, I actually don’t have a shopping list today, I was, uh, just gonna browse, I guess.”

He backs away from your counter, giving it a few rhythmic slaps with his fingertips before turning away from you and ambling off into the store. He returns a few moments later with a small hatchet and mid-range fold-out knife, plus two rolls of his now-favourite tape.

“You can never have too many of these, amirite?”

He gives you that dimpled smile again, and you feel your stomach do a full (though anatomically impossible) 360° flip.

Observing his lack of focus and comparatively small selection of items, you wonder if he really needs those things, or whether he’s just picking them up as an excuse to come in to the store. Your chest heats up a little at the thought.

Exhibit B: Small, possibly unnecessary purchase. The evidence is mounting up.

Seeing the hatchet, your eyes light up with enthusiasm as you remember something.

“Hey, we just got some new stock in that I think you might like, y’know, if I’m not overstepping or anything.” You finish with a nervous chuckle.

You smile at him nervously through your lashes, skin heating even more in case this is suddenly all a bit too familiar.

He grins, responding, “Sure, go ahead!”

Your smile broadens and relaxes as you turn away from him and walk to the back shelves, crouching down and retrieving something in your arms.

Standing quickly and turning, you notice his eyes widen and immediately flick up to yours, a slightly alarmed expression on his face.

Exhibit C: Was he checking you out when he thought you wouldn’t notice? (Also, is it getting hot in here?)

With a loud thunk you lay two (frankly, terrifying-looking) multi-tools out on the counter in front of him. One looks like an oversized, overspec-ed Swiss Army knife, and the other could easily pass as a prop from an exorcism-themed horror movie. You over-excitedly explain the features of each, saying, “This one has a hammer and an axe, plus screwdrivers, pliers, a saw, wire cutters, a magnesium rod”, you look up at him quickly and ask, “do you ever need to start fires? Plus, it has…”, you wave your hand dramatically over your favourite part of the item, like you were showing it off on a shopping channel, and stretch out the syllables of the final two words for emphasis, “…a bottle opener…”. You raise your eyebrows and grin widely, like this must surely be the deal breaker.

The Stranger laughs, throwing his head back with deep-throated barks from the centre of his chest, and then he chuckles a little, bringing a strand of hair over his cheek and a curled finger to his lips. You’re slightly distracted by that glimpse of his extended neck (god, you want to gnaw at it), and that laugh? You wish you could’ve recorded it somehow.

You quickly compose yourself and continue, switching to the ’horror prop’ product, “And this one has fewer features, but I like it for its simplicity, robustness and practical charm. It’s an axe, hammer, nail puller and pry bar. And it even has a rubber coated handle, so you can still use it safely even if your hands are wet. For, y’know, whatever reason…” you finish, slightly abashed.

“Aw, Pumpkin, this is the kindest thing anyone’s done for me in a while, thank you.”

Pumpkin. PumpkinPumpkinPumpkin. Exhibit D: A term of endearment!

He takes some time to examine both articles, testing out their various features, hefting them in his (large, strong) hands (stop it!).

“I love them. Y’know what, I can’t decide. I’ll take both. What’s the damage?”

You visibly brighten, a squeak of delight that you hope he didn’t hear inadvertently leaving you as you puff up with both his term of endearment and your ever-growing customer service confidence.

You check whether he’d still like the other items he’d brought to the counter, and apart from the duct tape (“You really can’t have too much of this stuff!”), he allows you to reshelve the rest.

He watches, enthralled, as you wrap his new tools in the store-issue brown paper reverently and carefully, as though you were wrapping an expensive gift in a fancy department store, the pair of you sharing bashful looks and half smiles as you work.

As he hands over the now-unsurprising crumpled bills and takes his change his hand drifts closer to yours, glancing his fingers over your palm and lingering for just a moment. There’s a little hitch in your inhale, and you think you see his ears redden a little.

He gathers up his purchases in his arms carefully and gently, and he backs away from your counter slowly.

“I guess I’ll head out then. Uh, I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, I guess you will, uhh-”

“Eddie. My name’s Eddie.”

“Okay, I guess so, Eddie.” You say his name slowly, like you’re testing out the syllables in your mouth.

You continue speaking, offering your name in reciprocation.

“Yeah, yeah I know your name, it’s kinda on your little badge there.” A tiny nod indicates the plastic rectangle pinned on your apron strap near your left shoulder.

Your cheeks heat again. “Right, of course. Ha!” You inwardly cringe. Well, that could’ve gone better.

He’s still backing away, getting dangerously close to an intricately balanced display of colourful children’s watering cans. You’re about to say something, but he turns just in time, ambling towards the illuminated exit with a mumbled, “Okay, bye then. Thanks again for these…” lifting the packages in his arms, and turning to look over his shoulder a couple more times before he finally reaches the door and disappears into the parking lot.

“Hey, d’you know anything about wood chippers?”

It’s been a week since you’ve seen The Stranger Eddie, and you turn abruptly to find him walking towards your counter.

His question throws you out of your stocktaking zone (you’d been focussing on ordering enough plastic pumpkin-shaped buckets for all of Hawkins’ kids this Halloween), but you quickly slip into customer service mode and ask for more details.

Eddie explains, using mostly his arms, that he needs one that, “throws everything everywhere”. You finally work out that he means the type where you feed stuff into a hopper on one side and the shredded debris is forced out of a raised chute on the other (as opposed to the more gravity-based ones where stuff is fed into the top and simply falls out the bottom).

He’s passing it off as being involved in some avant garde student art project, a performance piece involving feeding a load of wood and, uh, paint, yeah, paint into a wood chipper and having it spray out the other side. He blusters that the students are trying to make a point about climate change, or maybe it’s deforestation, he can’t seem to decide.

He explains that the piece is to be performed indoors, that there’ll be quite a few people present, and that he also needs a large quantity of tarp and coveralls because it was likely to make a huge mess.

This is the clincher. You’re absolutely convinced there is no art project, and what’s go through that chipper is more likely to be a human body. Or, given the amount of effort being gone to, and Eddie’s flair for theatrics, probably more than one.

“What size branches?”

He looks at you, confused. “Huh?”

“The, uh, limbs. What size will you be shredding? Some of the smaller models won’t cope with thick trunks.”

He swallows. His eyes meet yours, and he licks his lips. You can’t help but stare at those full, pink… Look away! Just look away!!

He subtly smirks, slowly moves his hands across the counter, and, gently taking hold of one of your hands in his, loops his other finger and thumb around your wrist.

“Um, definitely thicker than this…” - he extends your arm towards him, and moves his other hand slowly up your skin until he gets to your upper arm - “…and maybe a little thicker than this, too.”

You hope he can’t feel the burning sensation that’s erupted up your arm. You know he can’t possibly hear your racing heartbeat or detect the adrenaline that’s coursing through your veins, but you’re acutely aware of both just the same. You briefly ponder whether you’ll need to get a fire extinguisher from aisle 7.

“Umm, how about I show you what we’ve got?”

Composing yourself, barely, you take him to the large garden implements section, explaining that for larger trunks and limbs he may need something towable.

Under the guise of working out whether various models would be suitable, you take the opportunity to dig a little and find out what kind of vehicle he drives. It’s a van, so roomy, practical for carrying a lot of equipment that needs to be kept out of sight. Well, this all tracks.

Also, your brain helpfully suggests, it could potentially be romantic, a private little hideaway where you and he could… No! Stay on topic, you’re at work for god’s sake!

As you debate the various choices you find you’re occasionally leaning into each other, shoulders and elbows lightly bumping, you stealing glances at his chiselled jawline when you think he isn’t looking.

Eddie eventually decides on a mid-size towable model, and as you arrange for it to be delivered to the collection bay he bids you goodnight and disappears out to his van.

‘Art project’, huh? I don’t think so…

You don’t see Eddie for a couple of weeks after that, and you begin to wonder whether he doesn’t like you. Maybe you went too far, did you bore him? Did you frighten him off? Did he feel pressured into buying those gadgets or the expensive wood chipper?

Maybe he’s finally realised you’re a weirdo, like everyone at school eventually did?

Trying to get out of your funk you steel yourself and ask your department manager, Keith, whether he’d seen an odd, metal-looking guy in the store at all.

“Nah, not recently, but someone like that did come in a few weeks back, asking about when you’d be working. Something about your product knowledge helping him with a job, or whatever. I told him your schedule, I hope that’s ok.”

So you haven’t missed him, and maybe he’s not avoiding you. Good, that’s good. Exhibit E: He’s been asking about you?? Oh fu-

You’re startled out of your reverie by the sound of someone slapping two plastic packets down onto the counter.

“Oh, hi Mrs Wheeler, let me ring those up for you…”

On his next visit it’s clear Eddie is restocking his cleaning supplies, and he’s even deigned to use a small trolley this time to transport the heavy and bulky items.

As well as multi-surface cleaner, mops, cloths and some heavy duty gloves, you notice his trolley also contains numerous bottles of chlorine bleach.

“Big clean-up job tonight, huh?”

“What? Oh, yeah, I guess so. I need to leave the place without any trace of the, uh, performance this time.”

“Depends what you need to clean up, I guess. Y’know, chlorine bleach doesn’t necessarily get rid of everything.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, it’s fascinating, common misconception by the way. Chlorine bleach gets rid of visible stains, so that’s great if your main concern is aesthetics. But you can still detect haemoglobin, if you have access to the right tools and solutions.”

Eddie looks bath engaged and confused.

“A-heema-whatnow?”

You snicker.

“Haemo-, y’know what, never mind. Blood, basically. So actually, oxygen bleach is your best bet if your biggest concern removing all traces of, let’s say, blood and DNA. Whilst it doesn’t necessarily remove all the marks, it does degrade everything biological to the point where it’s undetectable. At least, with the tests we currently have.”

Eddie leans his elbows on the counter, giving you his full attention, resting his cheeks on his knuckles and pushing his dimpled grin up even further. Emboldened, you talk at length about haemoglobin, DNA degradation, specialist chemical solutions and alternative light sources.

He stays there, rapt, until you come to a natural stop. Just before he straightens up he quietly mumbles, still smiling, “Fucking incredible”.

With a deep breath he returns to the aisles to procure both types of bleach, pays and heads out into the night with a cheery, “Wish me luck!”

The cleanup must’ve gone well, because Eddie’s back a few days later and is making conversation.

“Hey, um, I remember reading once about some guy in England, years ago, who, like, melted people. You ever heard of that?”

You contemplate for a moment.

“Oh, d’you mean the Acid Bath Murderer, John Haigh?”

“Acid bath? Yeah, that sounds familiar.”

“Y’know, that’s actually one of my favourite case studies! It was one of the stories that first got me interested in true crime. 1940s England, dude thought he could get away with it if there was no body. Nope, sorry! When I first heard about it I thought it was really inventive, though he actually took the idea from a French guy who’d already done similar. Makes you wonder how many undiscovered dissolved bodies there might’ve been before and since, huh?”

You wax lyrical for a little while on the relative merits and disadvantages of the dissolving of human bodies in acid, even relating an anecdote about how your lab partner once chose the wrong combination of acid and beaker type, finishing with, “Hoo-boy, that was a mess!”

You become a little awkward, aware of how long you’ve been talking and the possibly-disturbingly-creepy level of detail you’ve gone into, though Eddie doesn’t seem to mind and presents somewhat like he’s paying attention in a chem class. Regardless, you decide to change the subject.

“I meant to ask last time, how did that wood chipping project go?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, really good, thanks. Y’know that advice you gave me about the chipper came in real handy. It was quite the show!” He looks gleefully at you, flashing that brilliant smile. A few small fireworks quietly explode in your innards.

“I’m so glad! Did the client like it?”

“Oh yeah, baby, they were thrilled!”

Baby. That’s new. You like it, and you add it to your growing mental filing system labelled ‘Evidence that Eddie might like me’. You can’t even remember what letter you’re up to now, you’re just enjoying stuffing it fuller every time he graces you with another morsel.

“They even gave me a nice bonus, for my ‘theatricality’.” He begins to lift his arms, but stops himself, resisting doing the jazz hands things again, reasoning there’s only so many times he can do an impersonation of a court jester before it puts someone off. “Said they’re gonna recommend me to their buddies too.”

More softly, and a little bashful, looking through his lashes he adds, “Kinda wish you could’ve been there, actually.”

Oh my, is he blushing again?

“Yeah, me too. I’d love to see you work sometime…”

“You would?”

Okay, he’s definitely blushing.

He leans in over your counter, close, so he can say in a low voice,

“Uh, just so we’re on the same page, you know what I do has nothing to do with art projects, right?”

Holding his gaze, and with your voice surprisingly steady, you swallow before confirming, “Yes, Eddie. I know.”

He huffs out a stuttering breath, and the air between you seems to heat.

He lifts one hand and rubs the back of his neck nervously.

“Hey listen, uh, I dunno if this is a little too forward, or weird, or y’know, whatever,” He’s rambling now. It’s adorable.

“I was kinda gonna ask you if you wanted to get milkshakes sometime, but, uh, maybe you’d actually wanna come out on a job with me? I’ve got one coming up on Sunday that I could really use an extra pair of hands on. I could pay you of course, y’know, for your time.”

You want to blurt out that, for him, you’d willingly burn the world and everyone in it for free. Instead, you smile wide, and settle for,

“Well, my tutors are always encouraging us to get real world experience…”

“Great, so I’ll pick you up at the end of your shift?”

“Sure, Eddie. I’ll look forward to it.”

You’re both grinning, stuttering messes.

“Great! Great. Uh, okay then, I guess I’ll see you Sunday?”

As he turns to leave, you stop him with one final question.

“Just one more thing Eddie. Should I bring my own coveralls..?”

If you got this far, thanks so much for reading!!

Comments and reblogs make my world spin, do let me know what you think.

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eywathemother · 1 year

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Fish Lips part 7

Ship: Aonung x Kiri's twin sister!Reader

Warnings: Language, bullying, gore, fighting, talk of war, injury and blood, slow burn, enemies to lovers (not really a warning just some people don't like that trope), death of (a) character(s), not proofread

Words: 2,312

Keys: (y/n) = your name,,(y/i/n) = your Ikran's name,, Neural Queue= the braid extension of a Na'vi's nervous system that allows them to link up to animals and Ewya,,(y/II/n) = your ilu's name,,

Chapters; Introduction || Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 || Part 10 ||

Spoilers for Avatar: The Way of Water A whole ass lot.

If you feel like the writing is weird or the dialogue seems less, it's because I am slowly losing my sanity. :) I just sneezed my contact out of my eye KLMfaoAos- along with my soul, my soul is gone.

I was gonna post this earlier, but I was trying to find this ff that I love so I spent 3 HOURS TRYING TO FIND IT AND GUESS WHAT- I didn't. I am pissed off.

This one kinda sucks compared to my others, sorry 😭

The next few days were the most boring days of your life. Stuck to the side of your mother or father you followed them around, it pissed you off more than anything. Why were you getting punished for something you didn't even start. The only time you had time to hang out with Tsireya and your siblings was during lunch or dinner. You didn't know how long your father was going to punish you, but you were fed up with it already.

They were busy today, unsure of what they were doing you stuck near the Marui. Your mother was in the Marui, you weren't interested of exactly what she was doing so you placed yourself in her view but not nearby.

You kicked your feet into the water, almost finished with the bracelet you were making for Tuk. You loved to craft; it was one of your favorite pastimes. As you focused on finishing the last string, a head suddenly popped out of the water by your right leg.

You let out a shriek, clutching the bracelet to your chest tightly. Aonung grinned amusement at your reaction and you glared at him. You had been avoiding him, not wanting to see him after what he did to your siblings.

" What." You grumbled, going back to your bracelet." I just...wanted to see you." You looked up with a raised eyebrow, he ran a hand along the top of his head." To, you know..apologize."

" I don't accept." You blinked at him, an awkward silence hung in the air, and he clenched his jaw." You haven't even heard me out yet." He let out an unamused chuckle, trying to hide his distaste." I'm not obligated to accept."

" Yes, I know that!" He blew out a quick breath of air and lowered his voice." But at least listen to what I have to say. That's all I'm asking." He placed a hand above your knee but quickly removed it when you looked down at it." Then you can ignore me all you want."

Your ears turned a bit purple from embarrassment, mainly for having it be called out, he seemed to notice." I was right." He pointed to your ears and your quickly covered them with your hands." I don't know what you're talking about." You denied. He rolled his eyes." Your ears turn purple when you're embarrassed or angry."

" No, they don't!"

He grinned at you, and you turned your eyes away from his stare." Fine, I'll hear you out." You grumbled and he put his hand to his ear." I'm sorry, what was that?"

" Maybe I shouldn't then if you're gonna be a cocky bastard about it." You scowled at him, and he tried his best to keep a straight face." Okay, okay, fine. I'll stop teasing you." You fell into a tense silence as you waited for him to speak. His ilu nudged your leg and you pet its snout in acknowledgement.

" I'm sorry for the immaturity and bullying I put you and your siblings through. I understand that this was supposed to be Uturu for you and your family and I made it very difficult for it to be." He sighed, not making eye contact with you." You can avoid me, ignore me, glare at me.... or we could start over." He put three of his fingers to his forehead, bringing them out and pulling them down while looking at you.

You rolled your eyes, and he squirmed under your piercing gaze. After a long pause you did it back, and he had to contain himself not to show how excited he actually was." I still don't like you, though. And I don't accept you lame ass apology still." You whispered to him, and he did everything he could not to roll his eyes.

" Hello Aonung." You jumped a bit at your mothers voice." What are you doing here?" She asked, she handed you a fruit basket, full of cut fruit. " What's this for?" You asked." For your siblings, go bring it to them." Neytiri cocked her head at you." Without joining any fights."

Aonung would've snickered if you hadn't sent a glare his way. You stood up and began to walk away and Aonung hurried to catch up to you. " I'll come with you." He walked next to you, you gave an annoyed look, still mad at him." Go away." He was like an annoying, rude, cute little puppy that was trying to follow you around.

" You're grounded to your parent's company, right? I'm the chief's son if you hang out with me, I'm sure they'd let it slide." He smirked at you; he was gonna make your ears permanently purple out of irritation. Neytiri watched you two, smiling a bit at the boy trying to get your attention. It reminded her of when she first met Jake.

" Hey, why don't you go on the next hunt with us." He nudged you with his arm and you furrowed your brows." Why so you can abandon me there and almost get me killed like you did my brother." He winced." I really am sorry, I even apologized to Lo'ak."

" So, you guys are buddy-buddy now because you can both relate to being losers?" You raised a brow at him, and he rolled his eyes." He told me about your conversation, don't worry I know aaalll the juicy details." You laughed at his irritation; he put his hands behind his back and balled his hands up. He was going to tell you off, but he knew he teased you worse in the past, so he ignored you.

" So, will you?"

Before you could respond Tuk came up to you." Are you ungrounded! I want to show you something!" She didn't wait for your response and began to pull you towards the water." Look I found this really cool plant, see. See!" She waddled into the water, kneeling into the water and pointed at a plant in the water.

" Where are the others?" You asked and she shrugged." Well, Kiri is somewhere around here but I don't know where the boys are." You squatted next to her, keeping the basket balanced on your shoulder. " This is my new favorite plant, isn't it pretty!" She ran her hand along the plant, messing with it as it flowed in the water.

" Well, I brought fruit from mother for you guys as a snack." She lifted her head." Oo yummy." She went to reach for the fruit, but you pulled back a bit." You must wash your hands first." She groaned and you gave her an amused grin.

" Well, I'll eat them after I'm done exploring then. I want to show you more of what I found!" You turned towards Aonung who looked bored, annoyed that you hadn't answered his question yet. Maybe you could get him off your tail and leave you alone. So, you turned to Aonung with your smirk, a smirk you only wore when you were about to piss someone off.

" Hey, you can show Aonung. He could also give you more information on your favorite discoveries!" You turned back to Tuk, pinching her sides lightly making her giggle." Really!" She looked over your shoulder to an Aonung who was glaring at you." Would you do that!?"

You looked to Aonung expectingly, he stood their awkwardly." Uh, yeah okay." You gave a big grin to Tuk and stood up as she waddled over to Aonung. You were glad that she was relatively okay with Aonung, this would help you lose him and maybe have a decently peaceful day.

You liked Aonung to some extent, but he always managed to irritate you, even his stupid smirk made your neck purple in annoyance. At least, you hoped it was annoyance- of course it was, what are you thinking.

Tuk began to talk his ear off, asking him a bunch of questions. He was surprisingly patient with her and spoke with a softness you've never noticed before. You were off to find your brothers, you didn't trust to leave the basket with Tuk. Not that she was untrustworthy, she would just end up eating more than her fair share and you'd get in trouble for not splitting it among all of them.

You walked a few minutes on the beach until you spotted them on a rock, snickering to each other. Lo'ak hung out with Kiri the most, but during the times he did hang out with Neteyam they were both snickering and giggling like school children.

" What's up mommies' girl." Neteyam waved you over with a teasing smile, earning an eye roll from you." What happened to being stuck to mom or dad's waist?" Lo'ak raised a brow, and you handed them the box of fruit." Mom wanted me to give this to you guys."

Their hands immediately went into the basket, and you grabbed one, nibbling on it a bit." Make sure to save some for Tuk and Kiri."

" We should show Tsireya Uno." Lo'ak suggested randomly. You turned to him with a confused face." What brought this up?"

" Uno brings out the worst in us, a part of us.... she should not see.." Neteyam placed his hand on his chest and shook his head while his eyes were closed, feigning sorrow." Idiot, it's just fun." Lo'ak grumbled while shoving his face with slices of fruit.

Your father had shown you Uno when he was younger, forcing Neytiri to join every few nights for a family game. It was his favorite childhood game on Earth, and he wanted to share it with his family. It caused many fights between you and Lo'ak but it's definitely a big part of your family.

You turned around and waved behind you." Anyways, I should probably head back." They waved at you, not really paying much attention and went back to eating the fruit.

You were halfway back to your Marui when Aonung jogged up next to you and stopped." So, what about my question earlier?" He asked and you blinked at him, genuinely confused." What question?" He huffed in frustration and annoyance." About you joining Rotxo and I to go hunting."

" Uhhh..." There was a long pause as you pretended to think." Nah." You shook your head, and he got in front of you stopping you from moving." Why not?"

" I just don't want to."

You tried to move around him, but he just continued to get in your way." Come on it'll be fun." Your annoyance was growing, finding it more difficult not to yell at the boy." Why do you want me to go so badly?" You asked and he shrugged." Neteyam said you're good on a hunt, wanted to see if he's right."

You knew on some level he was being dishonest, trying to cover up the real reason as to why he wanted you to go. You didn't bother to pry, it's not like you cared.

"Okay, fine I'll go." You smirked at him, and he looked down at you with an interested stare." But I kind of don't want Rotxo there. Just you and me, okay?" He frowned, why would you ask to be alone with him if you tried to ditch him any chance you got.

Wait...oh. You were going to try and ditch him. Give him a taste of his own medicine. He grinned at you, two could play that game." Okay then, tonight before Eclipse. Don't worry about your father, I'll deal with that."

He didn't lie, you don't know exactly what he told him but about an hour later he was coming up to you telling to get ready.

Neytiri seemed relatively happy you two made up." I hope this means your fighting will lessen drastically with the boys." She looked up from her current focus of wrapping wrap stuffing. You held the urge to scoff." I hope he stops following me around like a lost puppy after this."

He might've just started doing it, but you were fed up with it already. She took a braid in between her fingers and folded it behind your ear." You are the polar opposite of Kiri it makes me laugh." Lo'ak said behind you as he carried in some fish." You are literally the biggest asshole-"

" Lo'ak!" Neytiri scolded and he let out a snicker before going to his spot next to his father." What do you know! She's literally just like me!" You chucked a random object at him that was next to you." She's not violent!"

" Yes she is! With her words! Penis Face!" You snapped at him." Hey! Knock it off you two!!"

" Ready to go?" Aonung's voice rang out on the side of the Marui, making you jump a bit. Lo'ak laughed in amusement until his arm was roughly pulled backwards by Neteyam. " Yes." You sighed and stood up; he wore a smirk on his face as you followed him away.

" So, what's with the penis face thing?" He chuckled, looking at the side profile of your face. You refused to look at him, but he took you responding as a win." Something my sister started when we were younger." You giggled to yourself at the memory.

" Kind of like the Fish lips thing that Lo'ak called you." You let out a cackle as his face fell." I don't find it that funny to be honest." He grumbled and you grinned at him." Stop looking at me like that." He pushed your face away with his hand.

The walk towards the water was peaceful, but you didn't know how peaceful this hunt was going to be. Considering you knew he knew that you were planning on ditching him and that he knew you knew he knew you were planning on ditching him which he planned to avoid as much as possible. Let the fun begin!

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#avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar x reader #aonung #aonung x reader #avatar ao'nung #aonung x you #atwow aonung #atwow x reader #atwow #ao'nung #ao'nung x reader #ao'nung x you #atwow ao'nung

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imshymorph · 2 months

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Finally, it’s here (i’m so sorry) Part 3 of Death!Ghost and Life!Reader. You can read Part 1 and Part 2 here.

Just like any other time, the both of you slip into quiet silence. Admiring the world around you, the one you both contribute to keep balanced and prospering.

“Would you mind me asking a question in return?” You ask, fingers plucking small silvester flowers to braid them together. You barely turn to face him after your question before going back to the braiding.

- - - - -

“No, go ahead.” He says, moving one arm up to rest his head on it, his other hand feeling the soil under him, not minding the way some of the dirt clings to the fabric of his glove.

You hesitate for a moment, not sure how to word your thoughts properly. You end up laying back like he is, looking up at the birds flying around and the small wispy clouds that add a pop of white to the blue sky. It’s then that you manage to ask, “Do you ever feel like you got the short end of the stick?”

He’s surprised at your question, he’s not sure what he was expecting you to ask, but it definitely wasn’t that. It really isn’t something he thinks much about, mainly because it holds at least a slight bit of truth to it.

“Maybe not the short end.” He murmurs after a bit, “Both sides are equally important. And it’s been like this since pretty much the beginning of time.” he says, turning his head to look at you.

You nod lightly, mirroring his movement to look at him as well. “It has… It doesn’t take away the fact that you’re the one dealing with it.” you say softly.

“Well, you deal with it too.” He says with a light shrug, “you have to see your creations being taken away. Know that they will at some point while creating them.”

You hesitate for a second before nodding lightly, “That’s true. But it’s different.” As you try to string your thoughts together, you turn to your side, now fully facing him as your head rests against your folded arm. “There has to be a balance, and like you said, I'm aware it’s going to happen from the beginning. The parts have to end so the whole can be continued. But you have the task of ending it, not just the knowledge that it’ll happen.”

“Hmm, it’s how it works, isn’t it? We complement each other, keep it balanced.” He says, and you know he's avoiding the implicit question you’re trying to make.

You look at him, study him. Noticing the stark difference between the both of you. The way he always had to keep hidden, not only with the mask but the robes that covered all of his body, the cape with a hood he always wore. While you were free to feel, free to be, he had to keep to himself.

You let the silence build between the both of you for a moment before you finally give in, asking him what you’ve really wanted to know this whole time. “I know, but do you feel bad for having to take them?” you whisper, feeling like if you were to ask any louder the whole world would stand still.

He hesitates for a few seconds, his eyes drifting anywhere but you before he lets out a deep sight. “Yes, it hurts… I try to be comforting, but not everyone can manage the fear they get.” he murmurs, blinking a couple times before looking at you. The angle of his face making the warm sunshine hit his skin, making his soft curls look like honey. “But it has to be done. At the end of the day, I'm the embodiment of the end.”

You nod lightly, laying on your back once more as you look up to the passing clouds, “I wish we could change positions from time to time. Share the weight.” you whisper, not even sure if he could hear you.

If he does, he doesn’t say anything. Neither does he when you gently grab his hand and move it closer to you, slipping the braided flowers over it and around his wrist. Both of you ignoring how the few leaves that reach under his sleeve and touch his skin wilt.

#cod x reader #x reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2 #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x you #ghost x oc #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #oc: life #death x reader #death x life

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kaimxri · 1 year

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Means To An End

Lucien x Reader (she/her)

Part II Part III Warnings: ooc Azriel Wordcount: 3K A/N: I'm thinking of writing a part two to this depending on the reaction this gets:)

Azriel had been clear on the rules of our ‘relations’. We are not dating; we do not stay the night and we certainly do not discuss our feelings. Although, he has never been discreet about his own emotions. I almost believed my name to be ‘Elain’ with the number of times he moaned out for her during our nights spent together. I tried to bring it up one night, but his sharp glare cut me off before I could finish my questioning remark. I was simply just a body to warm his bed. Not someone with feelings. Of which I had gained for the spymaster.

Azriel would rather spend his time pining for a female who was clearly stringing him along than to look at me. The girl who had clawed her own heart out to make space for him.

When Azriel wasn’t inside me, he was avoiding me. Acting as though my very presence did not exist. Instead, his days were spent pandering to Elain’s every need. She called; he came. They spent time together tending to her garden. He would bring back seeds from distant courts. Even going as far as to breach Spring Court borders to retrieve flower seeds that he said would grow to compliment her eyes.

Her garden bloomed as did his love for her. They were a perfect contradiction, a perfect match. She balanced him out whilst he made her stronger. If it weren’t for Lucien, I am sure the pair would have bonded in some way. But alas the red-haired male stood in his way. At least he held some respect for her intended.

Though I am certain he curses the cauldron for giving what he believes to be his to Lucien.

When the night comes and she eventually brushes off his advances, he would crawl into my bed and pretend as though she felt for him as he did for her. Whilst I would pretend he felt the same for me.

Of course, I never said anything about our situation. If he knew of my feelings for him, he would end our arrangement before I could explain. Or if he already knew he never said anything. Perhaps that made him a bastard. To keep taking advantage of me when he knew I would hurt myself only to pleasure him. And perhaps that made me a fool. But I was in love. I knew his cold exterior was simply a front to keep others from prying too deep, but I couldn’t help but wonder what delights lay under his stone surface.

The little cracks he lets shine through during moments of unbridled joy bring me great happiness. The grins he lets slip when training with Cassian, the sleepy glaze over his eyes during his evening reading or even his little skip he does whilst running down the stairs on good mornings. He truly is the most beautiful male I have seen. And he does not see me.

The inner circle had noticed a developing distance between the spymaster and I but had not commented on it. Perhaps they didn’t know how deep our roots ran, how we spent our evenings only to act as if the other simply never existed. Or maybe they did know of the things we did behind closed doors. If they did, they probably felt some semblance of pity for me as they knew of Azriel’s affections towards Elain. But I didn’t want nor need their pity. I knew where I stood with Azriel, even though I wished I could be held a bit closer to his heart. Whilst the others are embraced in the warmth that is Azriel, I stay planted outside the stone walls of his being.

During the fourth month of this torture I found myself out in the garden in the dark of the night. Memories of that morning had bullied their way into my mind, leaving me restless and heartbroken. Mor had organised an evening out to Rita’s to celebrate having mentally survived our recent trip to Hewn City. I had spent all day preparing myself. Doing my makeup to perfection, braiding my hair in the way Azriel had complimented when we had first met. My dress was everything. The same sapphire blue as that of his siphons, shimmering in the light. The fabric flattered my body making me feel worthy.

I was practically skipping down the stairs of the town house, whistles from Cassian and Nesta reaching my ears making my grin widen more than I thought possible. Once I had reached the hallway, I had given a small twirl. Nesta showered me in compliments whilst Cassian touched the braids in my hair. My giggles died down and my heart skipped when my gaze landed on Azriel. His black shirt and dress pants hugged his frame, showing off the hard work he put into maintaining his body. As my eyes flew across the expansive pains of chest towards his godly face, my heart fell into my stomach. For Azriel had never even looked at me.

I had felt like a gem, until the second eldest Archeron sister appeared.

She glided down the stairs with the elegance of a doe. Everyone’s attention had fallen to her in her baby pink gown that hugged her slight frame. The colour of the dress amplifying the ruby flush crawling up her cheeks. Adoring word after word poured from Azriel’s mouth. Like a cascading waterfall of love, he was hoping for her to swim in the depths of it. Make her feel surrounded by his love and only his love. However, the presence of her yet-to-be mate hovering at her side dragged her from the waters of affection. Leaving her cold and unsure.

Oh, to be her. To have two males waiting for her to simply give a glance in their direction. If only she would choose already to spare them the inevitable heartbreak. Or maybe she would never choose. Simply keeping them both to herself. With tight enough leashes to have them wanting more but never being able to leave when her affections stray too far in the opposite direction. Not being able to take anymore, I winnowed to Rita’s. A half-baked excuse of wanting to get an early start on my night of drinking gaining attention from everyone but the man who unknowingly holds my heart in his hands.

The night droned on, the drinks blurred together. I barely remember dancing with an unknown fae male before a scarred hand is reaching for me in the crowd. Shadow enveloped me as lips fell upon my own. Barely registering the faraway look in Azriel’s eyes, as we fell into my sheets.

Before I knew it, it was over. Azriel had finished and left without a word. The last thing he had said was her name as he reached his peak. I was left in my wet sheets, holding a blanket to my chest. The interaction had sobered me. Moving around my room, blindly picking up my discarded clothing and re-dressing myself. I emerged from my bedroom and ended up on a stone bench of the garden in which Azriel had nursed his love for Elain.

“Why am I doing this?” I had thought out loud. Perhaps I had thought the Gods would answer me, give me advice on how to banish the male from my heart and my head. To give me an antidote to the heartbreak that is unrequited love.

“Why are you doing what?” The Gods had heard my indirect plea. I registered the voice as that of Lucien, Elain’s supposed mate. At least he would know what it feels like to love someone and not have them love you back.

“Funny you should ask Lucien; I don’t believe you of all people would have the answer.”

“Should that offend me? May I ask why I ‘of all people’ wouldn’t know the answer?” He sat next to me on the bench, shoulder to shoulder. I could smell the fae wine on him, but it was clear he was not drunk. Perhaps Elain had brushed him off too and he had left Rita’s early.

“Why do I love someone who does not love me back?” Silence followed. I did not expect him to answer for it was a difficult question. Even outside of a mating bond that has yet to be accepted. Many fae, even mortals, knew nothing of love. How one person can be so completely in love with another that sees them as nothing the same. It’s one of life’s great mysteries. I had felt slightly bad for asking Lucien that question as I knew my situation was nothing like his. At least I had a possible mate in the future for when Azriel inevitably rejects me. His mate however seems to be toying with the bond, leaving him in a grey area of hope and despair. We sat in the silence together for a while, staring at the stars hoping they would give an answer to our woes.

“Hope.” Was all he had said. The word lingered in the silence a while more until he stood and left me with nothing but a kiss on the forehead. I had stayed out not much longer than that. Making the decision to step back from Azriel. He had become a drug and I was addicted.

That night as I slept, I dreamt of my life free of Azriel. Perhaps I would find my mate. I would love him, and he would hopefully love me. We would be married and live our lives together. Maybe we would have a few children and we would get to see them grow into beautiful, intelligent adults. And I would never have to think about Azriel again.

Waking up that next morning I was filled with hope. Spending my day reading by the hearth. Romance novels, of course. Until Azriel walked in through the front door. His face was stoic, and he simply nodded his head towards the stairs. My resolve crumbled, and we ended up in my sheets yet again. I sobbed that night. For me, for my future. Would I ever be over Azriel? Could I truly ever move on? I came to the realisation that night that I could never move on from him if I saw him as often as I already did. I proved to myself today that I wasn’t strong enough to deny him the pleasure he seeks. Realisation washed over me; I need to get away.

It didn’t take me long to decide where I was going to go. The Day Court had always welcomed myself and my friends, Helion being a true friend at times. The court had also been my favourite place to be (besides Velaris) and felt like a second home. The warmth of Day would distract me from the now cold shadows that linger in the night, haunting my heart.

My bags were packed by the afternoon, but I wanted to wait until the next morning to leave. I was not brave enough to tell the others I was leaving so instead I was leaving a simple note. Not mentioning my deep feelings for Azriel, only a brief explanation that I was feeling overwhelmed and needed to deal with my emotions alone. That I needed space from them all and that I may not be returning. Leaving them all behind was going to be devastating but I needed to do this before I destroyed myself.

Midway through writing the note I was interrupted by a knocking at the door. Panicked that it was Azriel coming over to yet again take out his frustrations on me, I threw the papers to the side. Forgetting about my suitcases that remain leaned against my desk, ready for me to grab and leave when the morning comes.

“Come in” My voice was strained from hours of not using it. Cursing myself for sounding weak. As the door creaked open, it was not Azriel on the other side but Lucien. I silently thanked the Gods that it was not the male who was ruining me coming to seek me out.

“I had hoped to catch you before you went down for dinner. I wish to discuss our conversation from the night before last.” His posture was hunched, and his hands were wrung together. My concern for my friend grew and I ushered him inside and to my bed. We sat together for a while as I waited for him to unleash the thoughts swimming around his head.

“I too ask myself the same question you do. Why do I do this to myself? Why do I hurt myself wanting Elain when all she does is push me away?” My heart broke alongside his. He had leant his elbows against his knees and dropped his head. He looked so small. Lucien had never looked small before. Even when Elain started to initially show feelings towards Azriel, he always held strong. I had always admire him for his strength in the face of true pain.

“Well, it’s like you said Luc. Hope.” He scoffs.

“Do not make me laugh Y/N. We all know that if it weren’t for the bond, she would have rejected me and accepted the shadow singers advances by now. I am simply here because she pities me and does not wish to hurt me by rejecting the bond. I just wish she would get it over with so I can stop clinging onto this so-called hope.” His words had cut through me. As much as I had hated to admit it, he was right. If the bond had not happened Elain would be with Azriel by now. I would be free of him. None of this would ever have happened. When my eyes fall upon my friend again, I feel tears forming in my eyes. He had been through so much and out of all of my friends I believed he was the one who deserved true love the most. He does not deserve to be dragged along by this bond and a hopeless female.

“Well, why don’t you reject the bond?” His head shot up. Almost in shock that I had the audacity to suggest he destroy his one chance of having a soul twined mate.

“Are you insane, Y/N? Why would I do such a thing.”

“Well, it’s like you said. She does not want to hurt you by rejecting the bond. So, why don’t you do it? At least it would be on your terms as your idea and your choice to do so. To hell with her I say. She has strung yourself and Azriel along for a long time now and it is unfair to the both of you.” Lucien rolls his eyes at the mention of Azriel, almost as if simply just his name is enough to cause irritation to surge through his body.

“Are you saying this because you believe I should do this for myself, or because it would help out the shadow singer? I am not stupid Y/N I know of your affections for him.” His accusations make me almost enraged. If he wasn’t a heartbroken male on the verge of possibly having a rejected mating bond, I would have let loose and let him know exactly what I thought. Of how ridiculous that accusation is. Why would I want to push the man I love into the arms of another? Why would I want to remove the one blockade keeping him away from the one his heart desires? I do not want to do that.

“I am suggesting that for you, Lucien. You are my friend, and it pains me to see you go through this every day. Yes, I have love for Azriel, but does it not occur to you that this would be pushing him to Elain rather than to me? Do you think that is what I want? No. But I want to see you happy. You deserve it more than anyone I know and seeing you like this… Well, honestly my friend it is disheartening to say the least.”

We sit in another silence, as expected. Rejecting a bond is a big thing. Not a choice that you can come back from. If he were to do this, he would never have a chance with Elain again. Especially not with Azriel sitting and waiting for her to turn to him and tell him all he’s been waiting to hear. On the other hand, if he did this it would give him an opportunity to find a love of his own. One that has not been chosen for him by fate itself.

“If-if I did this. If I rejected the bond, what would I do then? I would have nowhere to go. I left Spring Court to be here with Elain. I’m not sure I’ll be welcomed back there. I’m only in Night Court for Elain and once the bond is rejected, I will not be welcome here either. Especially if I reject the bond. Could you imagine? She’s so frail still, I would be chased out of here and banished before I can even say the word ‘reject’.”

“Lucien… Just come with me. I am leaving tomorrow to go to the Day Court. I cannot be here anymore wallowing in these feelings as all I am doing is hurting myself day in and day out. We can leave and start fresh. Forget about the both of them. I know this is extreme, but gods I cannot do this anymore. ” His eyes lock with mine once more, moving back and forth almost as if he is trying to read me. I notice his gaze falling behind my shoulder to my packed bags leaning against my desk.

“Gods, I am so sorry Y/N. I’m such a selfish male I did not even notice those. You are truly leaving? Why did you not say anything?”

“Because I only decided to leave today. I am tired of being means to forget. I leave tomorrow morning, you are welcome to come with me.” He thinks for a few minutes, before slowly nodding his head at me.

“Okay. I will join you, Y/N. I will reject the bond and we will leave. Together.”

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