#the angst is dripping from these tags i hate it

[jj-one]

STRAY KIDS + POSSESSIVENESS ! 🩹 ⋅˚₊ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

this is smut, do not interact if under 18

pairing: dom!skz x sub!fem!reader, established relationship, husband!changbin bc why not ? genre/tags: smut, angst, fluff (tbh it's only changbin's part), jealousy, exhibitionism, voyeurism, lots of degradation, mentions of crying, marking, manhandling, bondage play, piv, unprotected s*x (do not try this at home kids), public s*x, rough s*x, fingering, nipple play, oral (f & m receiving), t*tty slapping, multiple orgasms, edging, choking, bulge kink, slight breeding kink… am not mentally ok for writing any of this words: 3.4k

**old repost from my deleted blog

BANG CHAN. His patience was a level of no other. The man just watched you flirt with his friend and didn’t mutter a single word. All the while you kept boasting about how good Changbin’s muscles looked and the movement of his biceps were leaving you in complete amusement.

Pissed off doesn’t begin to describe what he’s feeling right now. He clears his throat,

“Are we done y/n? I think it’s time we head home now.”

The tone of his voice was cold, icy like a winter storm.

The lump in your throat was stuck. You knew how much in deep shit you were for this and his silence was the main indicator.

You could feel his piercing eyes on you the whole time.

It wasn’t long before you’d end up in this position. Both arms were locked above your head by his strong hands. The tight grip he kept around your wrists was definitely going to leave some bruising.

“You’re such a dumb slut. Did all this just to get me like this huh?” His cock hitting your walls aggressively as you spasm and shake under him.

“All this to get me to fuck you the like the dumb little cockwhore you are?” He growled, “can Changbin fuck you like this?”

His pace was relentless. His cock stretching you open with each deep thrust. His harsh words cutting into you like a dagger. Your mind was blank, head full of Chan’s cock. You had to answer him though, or else he will stop.

“N-no Chan only y-yours… only you can fuck me like this!”

A smirk creeps up his face from your quavering voice. He leans forward, his lips brush over yours as if almost to kiss you but doesn’t.

“I own you y/n. Only I get to have to you, understood?”

All you feel is his cock slamming into you. The slapping sounds becoming a melody of a beat, your heart was racing a mile a minute.

“Understood.”

LEE KNOW. He hates when you act out in public. The way you tease him and get him riled up, knowing he can’t do anything about it. It gave you sense of power, you had the upper hand— for now.

You were wearing the shortest mini skirt possible, it barely covered your bum and you could feel a cool breeze slip through your crevices. You kept walking in front of him, swaying your little hips side to side, letting him watch you bend down to pick things up as he sneaks a peak under your skirt. The sight of the pink lace thong you wore was enough to make him grab you by the arm and yank you into a public restroom nearby.

Before you know it, you’re being devoured by your boyfriend. Sitting on the counter of the sink whilst he was below you, giving you a gaze that could snatch your soul. His digits sunk into your dripping cunt as he swipes his tongue across your slit. Your skirt was still on but pushed up slightly, your thong was also moved to the side.

“I can’t believe you’d go out like this and expect me not to control myself.” He rises up momentarily.

“You do this on purpose, knowing I don’t want other people looking at you.”

He laps up your juices and coats it with his face, scissoring you open with his fingers.

“Fuck… I wore this for you Minho— w-wanted to look pretty for you.” Your eyes were tightly shut, feeling the euphoria as you were close to your orgasm.

He abruptly pulled his fingers out of you, thrusting your hips in the air now, you whine for stimulation.

“Will you be a good girlfriend for me and cum on my tongue kitten? I want you to scream as loud for me as you can, I don’t care who hears it.” Minho was dead serious. He doesn’t care you both are in a public restroom and there’s people casually walking by. He wants everyone to know you are his.

You nod and agree to be on your best behavior for him. You know he will most likely reward you for this in the end.

“I promise, I’ll be a good girl Minho.”

Feeling your body heat surge as he inched closer to your core, pressing his tongue at your entrance. He tongue fucks you viciously while never breaking his eye contact with you.

Feeling yourself come undone from the surreal pleasure, all you want is to feel your release.

You thrash and moan as you cream on Minho’s tongue, your legs felt like jello when you climax. You let out multiple gasps for air, feeling as though you just ran a marathon.

Minho hasn’t left between your legs yet, his face still in a headlock. He wasn’t quite finished with you just yet.

“You can give me one more, right kitten?”

CHANGBIN. Being a newlywed couple felt like a fairytale dream come true. He felt incredibly lucky to have you as his wife and doesn’t stop reminding you how happy he is. He’d shower you with a beacon of compliments that would melt your heart each and every time.

You went on another vacation right after the honeymoon and it felt like paradise. That was up until a small incident occurred, it happened when you were at the pool with your husband. One of the pool goers at the resort couldn’t keep their eyes off you. You wore a sexy one piece that had cut-out details on the sides to show off your waist but you wore a sheer cover up over it.

Changbin noticed straight away the eyes that were glued to you, the eyes that were glued to his precious wife. He was livid. Almost causing a scene, he went up to the perverted man that was eye fucking you and gave him a piece of his mind. In utter disbelief of what was unfolding in front of you, you go up to Changbin to calm him down and get him to stop before he ends up actually doing something he’ll regret. His face burned crimson from anger but the sound of your voice brought him back to reality.

Things were much better in private now. Much better. Sitting on your husband’s lap in the jacuzzi bathtub felt so relaxing, his hands roamed your naked body as he placed chaste kisses all over you. He stopped at your neck to give it more attention, nibbling on a sensitive spot that made you sink right into his form. Moaning softly whilst his hands prance down to your back.

“I want to shield the rest of the world from you, only I get to gawk at my gorgeous wife.” Changbin says possessively, looking at you once he comes up from your neck.

You nod in agreement, “they can look but can’t touch!”

“No, they can’t even look, all of this is mine, mine, mine.” He plants a kiss to your cheek as his hand creeps down to your core. He prods your hole with a single digit, entering you with ease. You let out a soft moan as you part your lips slightly, bucking your hips forward. He pumps his finger into your wetness as he looks deeply into your eyes, nothing but burning desire in his pupils. He brings his thumb to your clit and rubs it in a steady motion, your swollen nub feeling overstimulated from his touch.

“This is just the beginning my love, I’m not done with you until the sun comes up.” He whispered in your ear as he drags his tongue against your earlobe. In just the jacuzzi alone, he’s made you cum several times from his fingers. Oh how those magical fingers always do wonders on you..

HYUNJIN. The room was pitch black, your vision completely impaired from the blindfold attached to your head. Your hands were bound to each other, behind your back being tied by a thick rope. You had nowhere to go and the room was pure silence, naked and touch starved, you whine for Hyunjin to do something but you were met with no answer. He was standing over you on the bed but you were unaware of any of your surroundings.

The man finally spoke, “This is what happens when you try and make daddy jealous.”

You can feel his hot breath on your neck, the sensation making you crave him even more.

Hyunjin was always the possessive type, was constantly in need of reassurance if he felt his ego was being bruised. This was situation was no different, he needed to remind you that he was the one who owned you.

He brought finger to your perked nipple, gently dragging it across to tease you a bit. A white-hot charge sent through your body as you finally felt his touch. Dripping in a puddle of your own slick from the dirty thoughts racing in your mind, he continues lightly tracing your hardened nipples; eliciting low moans from you.

Your senses were heightened from the way you weren’t able to see anything, any little touch from him making you squeal from shock.

“You like this don’t you?” He says in a condescending tone, he belittles you some more. “So pathetic, look at you. Can’t do anything but take it, so fucking helpless.”

Hyunjin loved seeing how weak you become under him, the power dynamic being completely imbalanced right now. All you could do was moan out for him, practically begging him to do more but you know he’s going to take his time with you.

“Gonna make you squirt all over this bed for me.” He says, “Won’t stop until I have you screaming and begging for mercy, which I will never give you.”

The smirk on his face was devilish, he was conjuring up the perfect plan to ruin you indefinitely.

“Hyunjin, please fuck me… please.” You push your thighs together to feel some friction but Hyunjin gets mad at this action instantly.

He brings a harsh slap to your left tit, making you jump up a bit but your body couldn’t move properly from being tied up. Your legs went back to it’s original position, spread open for him so he can get a glimpse of your dripping cunt.

“Don’t ever tell me what to do, I make the rules now.” He palms your breast and kneads it excessively.

“You are my property.”

HAN. If jealousy was a disease Han would be the first one to catch it. He really loves yet hates the fact that he has such a smoking hot girlfriend that everyone wants. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy dating you but the way some of these other guys would look at you was about to become his villain origin story.

You were so oblivious to anyone who attempted to flirt with you, you only had eyes for your man but it was hard to convince Han otherwise. The pizza delivery guy complimented how pretty you looked and when you handed him the money to pay for the food, you accidentally gave him a ten dollar bill instead of a twenty, he didn’t even care he just smiled and continued talking to you.

That’s when Han knew he had to butt in, he was listening from the couch and he knew he shouldn’t have let you be the one to answer the door. Quickly he comes up to you to wrap his arms behind you, keeping you in a tight hold as the pizza guy looks mortified now.

“You can leave now,” Han says to him in a harsh tone, “We have important business to take care of!”

Slamming the door in his face now, Han comes up from behind you to take the pizza box out of your hands to place it on the table. Soon after, a heavy make out session between you would ensue.

As your naked bodies entangled one another, you feel yourself cinching around his cock from each inch as he slides it in. Your breath instantly coming to a halt as the end of his cock crashed into your cervix. He moves with his ass up in the air as he buries his length deep inside you, the squelching sound of your wet pussy making him see stars.

“Fuck… so fucking tight for me.” Han says sounding pussydrunk off the way you feel around him.

You fall into a frenzy as he pumps his length into you harder, pounding into you like no tomorrow. The bulge of his cock could be seen inside you, moving in and out of you intensely. Grinding your hips to match his pace, you rub your clit to feel more stimulation.

“You’re so fucking hot my God…” He cooed, tiny beads of sweat now forming on the sides of his face. “Your pussy was made for me and me only…”

“Only I can make you feel this good.”

FELIX. He felt sick to his stomach whenever he saw someone else looking at you. The way people would look at you in public when he was with you made him feel beyond disrespected. This is exactly why he doesn’t bring you anywhere because his fragile little ego will be crushed as soon as another person laid their eyes on you. He couldn’t deal with it anymore, he just had to do something about it.

You were at a public park but the park was so big that it was easy to hide and go unseen behind some bushes.

Felix brought you to a secluded area and told you get on your back, you do as he says and he looks at you with the most evil grin on his face.

“I’m going to fuck you so dumb right here, right now.” Felix says in a raspy deep voice, “I will let everyone exactly know who’s bitch you are.”

You gulp once you feel his hands all over you, you wore a black slip dress which drove him absolutely mad.

“Gonna make you pay for getting me worked up like this.” You felt so small when he spoke like this to you, the sticky mess in your panties was only growing as you feel his hands go up your thigh.

“Too stunned to speak sweetheart?” He asks, giving you an alluring yet mischievous smile. You have no idea what this man has for you in store.

“N-no, I can speak-“

“Shut up.” He quickly cuts you off from saying more. “I’m the one talking right now, you sit back and take what I’m going to give you.”

You did exactly as you were told and lay back for him. He quickly unzips his pants and frees his cock from his boxers. You look at the red tip of his angry cock, the sight of his raging erection was enough to make you feel a tingling sensation in your heat. His cock would plunge into you nice and slow but once he bottoms out he’ll quickly pick up his pace, fucking into you menacingly. He brought a hand to your neck and squeezed the shaft of it tightly, you gasp for air as he choked you but it wasn’t unbearable. You close your eyes to the feeling, letting yourself be fully immersed into him. Each thrust he gave you felt like bliss as he roughly held onto your hip, fucking you like a complete maniac.

“Gonna dump all my cum into your slutty little body,” Felix continued,“you’re my fuck toy, only I get to use you.”

SEUNGMIN. Usually something like this would never get to him. However, today was different, very different. Seungmin almost went ballistic when he found out that some guy asked for your number while you were out shopping at the supermarket. He often goes everywhere with you but you were getting off work and went straight to the store to grab some things for dinner. That’s when it happened and you told Seungmin as soon as you got home. You thought he’d just laugh it off but he frowned, disproving of that guy’s actions.

“What a loser,” Seungmin says in an annoyed tone, “when they will learn to just leave you the hell alone?”

He wanted you all to himself, if he could lock you up forever and throw away the key, he probably would. Only letting you out when he tells you you can.

“They can try all they want Minnie but I know I belong to you at the end of the day.” You bring your arms around his neck and lean in to kiss him and he kisses you back passionately.

“Want you to say it for me again, who’s pussy does this belong to?” Seungmin was now relentlessly pumping two fingers in you.

“Y-yours Seungmin… yours!” You could barely get a coherent word out of your mouth.

“And who makes you feel the best?”

He wasn’t letting up on making sure you know that you fully belonged to him. “We can do this all day princess… I’m not going to stop until I’m satisfied.”

This was his fifth time edging you at this point, leaving you on the verge of an orgasm but would pull his fingers out once he notices your chest floating up. He’s being so evil to you right now, as if you it was your fault for what had happened in the supermarket.

“You, only y-you! You’re the best at making me feel so good!” You babble as he rapidly moves his fingers in and out of your gaping hole.

“That’s my good little girl, now keep taking my fingers and I’ll reward you soon okay?”

JEONGIN. “You’re such a filthy slut, you know that?” The motion of needy hips were bucking into you. Your head was kept in place, completely still, on your knees and on the verge of tears from your boyfriend’s words.

You knew why you were in this predicament right now. This was all your fault and you did it all for this exact reason.

You wanted to see Jeongin’s reaction to saying you think Felix was hot. You know he wouldn’t take that comment lightly since that was one of his best friends. You wanted to see how far you could test his limits.

“You wanna fuck my friends huh?” He grabs you by the hair and furrows his eyebrows to regain more focus onto you.

You couldn’t speak, all you could do was shake your head around him as he shoved his cock further down your throat.

“Can’t even talk with your mouth full of cock, what a dumb little whore you are.”

His cock hitting the back of your uvula, causing you to make a gagging noise. Streaks of saliva creep from the sides your mouth, the messy scenery underneath him was a heavenly sight indeed. You moan while sucking his cock, the vibrations making the hairs on the back of his neck rise up. He throws his head back and keeps a tight hold on your hair, gripping you with everything he had. He thrusts his hard length into you viciously, the gurgling noises you were making whilst he fucks your face sounds harmonic to him.

“Shit…think I’m gonna cum soon” he muttered, letting out a groan as he kept pushing your face into his cock. “Yeah… just like that fuck… that’s it.”

A stream of tears came running down your face as you continued. You can feel his veiny cock twitch against your tongue as you felt hot spurts of cum fill you up now. You swallow each and every drop and milk him clean like the good girl you were. Opening your mouth wide to show it was empty he grins viciously and taps his dick against your tongue.

“You’re the biggest fucking slut…” He pants heavily.

“My biggest slut.”

#skz smut #skz headcanons #stray kids smut #skz x reader #skz x female reader #bang chan smut #changbin smut #lee know smut #lee minho smut #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #han jisung smut #felix smut #lee felix smut #seungmin smut #jeongin smut #skz imagines #skz hard thoughts #skz scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids headcanons

[sukimii]

Clingy

Tags: fuff, slight angst, foul language, touch-starved!Reader

Notes: Before reading any of my fics please read this first, thank you.

"Do you even love me?"

"Yes" your answer is immediate, with no hesitation. Of course, you love him, if you could write it in the sky you would. Yet now, the man you love is angry at you, with a mix of disappointment while you're on the verge of crying.

"Then why the fuck aren't you initiating shit?"

You know you should say something. You know you should open up and explain your behavior, but it's easier said than done. Because in the past, whenever you opened up no one listened. They either pretended not to hear or changed the topic of conversation. So you settled on pretending.

Over the years you became good at faking your moods and smiles. It came naturally for you to plaster a smile on your face and make it believable. You became good at pretending you were fine, when in fact you wanted nothing more than to have someone to listen. But no one ever did. No one cared enough to listen to the end, because as long as it doesn't concern them your insecurities are irrelevant.

"If I don't text you, you don't. If I don't call you, you don't. If I don't kiss you, you don't. Why the fuck are we in a relationship then?" The anger in his voice is deafening. It makes you want to crawl on yourself, wishing to disappear. You can feel his resentment in your bones. You know you should speak up, but your voice seems to be stuck in your throat.

"I didn't call you for three fucking days to see if you would. And guess what? You didn't!" Bakugou's eyes narrow on you, waiting for an answer that he will probably never get. "Why the fuck aren't you speaking?! Do you even give a shit about me? About our relationship?"

"I-I do care"

"Fucking bullshit." He scoffs, one hand dragging along the roots of his hair while the other one curled into a fist. "If you cared you would've reached for me. If you cared you would show it through your actions. If you cared-"

You can't listen to all your flaws.

He's listing the very same things people in your past had complained about. The sad part is that you already know the endgame, which only worsens the angst creeping up your back.

Bakugou is the only person you managed to fall in love with. He's the only one that makes you feel important, the only one that always waits for you. He is the first one that makes your heart beat so loud to the point of tuning out the world. He is the only one that keeps you on your toes. The only one that can awaken emotions buried in the depths of your heart and soul.

But now, having him complain about you was destroying your already fragile heart. All the wounds that you managed to somehow patch over the years are now ripped open again. It hurts. His words are like stabs, and you don't have the strength to listen. Because the man you love isn't willing to wait anymore.

You should've seen this coming. It was bound to happen. But your childish self, that small part of you that believes in hope, thought he was going to be the exception. You feel betrayed, by yourself. And you snap.

"BECAUSE YOU WILL HATE IT!"

Your breathing is heavy and ragged, tears already spilling down your cheeks while Bakugou is stunned to silence, watching you with both his eyebrows raised. Then he frowns.

"Why would I hate it?"

"Because everyone does, sooner or later." You can feel snot threatening to drip down your nose, and you sniff, using the abused napkin in your hand to wipe it. "You say now that you want me to do all those things, but as soon as I do you will get sick of me. So-" you choke back another sob, gathering your phone and bag. "It's best if we break up. Sorry for wasting your time" and with those final words, you get up from the table, intent on leaving his house.

It's always like this.

In every relationship that you had, it always ended up with them complaining about you. Something, at the end of the day, made you unable to satisfy them properly. There's always something wrong with you. You. You're your own reason why no one can ever stand you. Right now, all you want to do is get back to your house and cry out all your frustrations. But before you reach the handle, something tugs your other wrist, spinning you around into a hard chest.

"You're not going away, not when you're opening up. Fucking finally" Bakugou drags you back to the living room, this time on the couch. All your protests fall on deaf ears, even the attempts of pushing him away are an utter failure.

"Sit your ass down and start chirpin'."

To Bakugou it's clear that there is a problem, which might run deeper than he originally expected. So he waits for you to speak up.

Yet again, you seem to lose your voice, uncomfortable under his stare, and you look anywhere but at him.

After several beats of silence - disrupted by your sniffs in a poor attempt to not cry- Bakugou sighs. "If we- if you don't speak up, I don't know how to help you. I already have a feeling of what the problem might be, but I want you to tell me. I want to hear it from you."

You mull a little over his words, weighing down your options. The past experiences with childhood friends, exes, and family members, taught you to never expect anything from anyone. Sometimes people pretend to listen because their goal is to seem nice, but once they realize that the problem is nothing interesting, they drop the subject. And as much as you love Bakugou, you don't believe he'll be any different.

"There's nothing too important. It's exactly what I said it is. You think I don't want to hold your hand? You think I don't want to wrap my whole body on you like a koala all day? I crave physical touch, I crave it so bad, but I can't. I can't" as you keep spilling out your frustrations, your voice grows bitter and resentful. "Because you enjoy it in the beginning, but then you'll get sick of it and call me clingy, just like everyone else did! I know that after, you'll tell me to 'get a life', to 'go bother someone else' and I don't want it to happen again! Because I'll be the one getting heartbroken while you all keep surfing life as if you didn't stump on my stupid, useless feelings! You're no different from the others, once you get what you want then I hold no value in your eyes. Just another bitch to add to the fuck list no-" Bakugou is quick to cover your mouth with his palm, and you finally look at him.

He looks… sad. His eyes are soft, mouth pressed into a thin line as he looks at you with what you could describe as pity. But in reality, you couldn't be any farther from the truth, because Bakugou isn't pitying you. No. He understands you.

"We already fucked, two months ago. And I'm still here, aren't I?" His voice is gentle, probably the softest you've ever heard him. As if trying to soothe a wounded animal. It's endearing.

Blinking the heavy veil of unshed tears away, you give him a couple of nods.

"Do you really think I would do something like that to you? Do you think I would say to anybody that I love them?" his palm slides down your neck until it rests comfortably at the back of your head. With breath stuck in your lungs, you offer him a soft shake of your head, no. You don't think Bakugou is that type, but you never know.

"Do you have any idea of how much I want you to do all those things? Fuck- be a fucking leech for all I care, just-!" His forehead lightly bumps into yours, the tip of the nose rubbing a couple of times against yours. His eyes are transfixed into yours, and you can feel goosebumps raise on your whole body at the intensity of his stare.

"I don't care if I'm in an uncomfortable position. I don't care if you're all sweaty from working out or if I'm barely standing because of a rough day. I want you to do anything you want. You want to spoon me? Do it. You want to hold my hand in public? Do it. You want hugs when I'm busy? Do it. Fuckin' do it. I don't care. Fuck- I could be in the middle of an important call and I still wouldn't refuse your attention!" His head dips into the crook of your shoulder while leaving a trail of kisses down your neck.

"I don't care what shit-stain you dated before me, all I care about is for you to be comfortable with me. Do you understand?" His arms are circling your back, holding you tight, but not enough to cut the breath out of you. You sniff, suppressing another sob that threatens to come out.

"Y-yes"

"Then hug me" He gives you a squeeze, voice barely above a whisper. "Please"

You know that this doesn't count as a potential improvement since, again, Bakugou is the one that initiated the physical contact. But you oblige, wrapping your arms around his neck.

For several minutes, you bask in the silence, enjoying the comfort and warmth. Until Bakugou speaks again, voice partially muffled by your clothes.

"I noticed how different you are with that weir- Hatsume."

"She-" you clear your throat, trying to get rid of the ragged tone "she never pushed me away. Probably the only one that never did." you don't want to relieve the past, but with Bakugou seems right. Up until now, he showed nothing but understanding.

"There were times when I would visit her back when she was in UA. She didn't mind when I would sleep on her while she worked on her babies. One day I remember falling asleep on her back, and she didn't complain. She- she was the only one that never called me a bother."

"You didn't do anything too scared I would…" he trails, lifting a little his head just enough to see your eyes.

"Call me clingy." You finish for him. His arms tighten around you, pulling you even closer.

"Even my parents pushed me away. I used to seek physical attention all the time. If it were possible, I would stay with you like this all day, but I know it's impossible. And I don't want you to think that I-… I don't want to be a burden. An inconvenience. I don't want you to hate me because of that. So I give you space. I let you initiate everything on your own terms because I'm scared of being annoying."

Bakugou listens. He knows that if he speaks you might try to make the conversation take a detour. So he waits for you to continue.

"I used to like sleepovers. I used to beg my parents to let me sleep at a friend's house. But then they told me no because I would be a bother, and that people are too nice to tell me that. Even holding hands was something I enjoyed, until someone slapped my hand away."

That detail doesn't sit right with Bakugou, and whoever slapped your hand was already on his piss-the-fuck-off list.

"Is this why you keep refusing to stay the night?" When you nod, Bakugou feels like the heaviest stone has just been lifted from his chest. When he slept with you for the first time, he asked you to stay over. It was late, and dark outside, and letting you wander the streets where danger lurked wasn't something he was keen on. Plus, it would give him more time to spend with you. But when you got up and dressed, turning down his offer saying that you were busy the next day, he walked you home.

The second time, again, you shut him down. He tried to be understanding. At the time, he couldn't understand why you refused to crash at his place when he did overstay at yours. At first, he thought you didn't like his apartment, or that you didn't feel comfortable enough. So, he bought a couple of plants, hoping that it will ease you, and stuffed his bathroom with products he saw at yours. He made sure to put hairclips and hair ties near the sink, in a pink-stained glass bowl. And different types of pads were stashed in the first drawer, just in case. He also added some décor, similar to your aesthetic, but even that didn't work. Despite your compliments, saying that you loved the changes he made, it still wasn't enough to make you stay.

Another time he tried again was three weeks ago. He tried his hardest to fuck you stupid, he hoped that six hours of constant sex will tire you out enough that you will cave, and finally spend the night at his. He tried different positions that he knew would strain your legs. Positions that will weaken your body, and time for you to recover were minimal. If he was generous, only a minute before he went at it again. Despite all his efforts, you still went home. Bruised, body screaming in pain at the effort, and on the verge of passing out, you asked him to take you home. And Bakugou, at that point, began to think that maybe you didn't love him.

He became self-conscious. Because why else wouldn't you want to spend more time with him? Why would you only have sex and then drop out as soon as you felt like sleeping?

Yet that theory wasn't exactly making sense, because the very next day you asked him to stay over at yours.

But now, Bakugou understands. He now knows what the problem is, and he has to admit that you told him way more than he originally expected. He's glad you did so, it's a step in the right direction, and he believes that improvements will happen soon.

One hand moves on the back of your head, cradling you closer while his lips ghost the skin right below your ear.

"Let's take baby steps" he murmurs, leaving a feathery kiss on the side of your neck. Your arms hook around his shoulders, leaning into him.

"Stay tonight" He feels your body tense up, and before you can utter a word -already knowing what you were going to say, he squeezes you, silently adding the 'please' that was lingering on the tip of his tongue.

When he feels your body relax in his hold, and a soft 'ok' leaves your lips, Bakugou allows himself to smile, happy with the outcome.

#bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou imagine #bnha bakugou #mha katsuki #bnha imagines #bnha bakugō #bakugo x reader

[heartpascal]

the world is brighter

▹— joel miller x platonic!f!reader

▹— summary: joel is trying to be someone he’s not.

▹— a/n: so this is meant to be the reluctant daughter fic…. and it didn’t turn out exactly the way i planned :( not sure that i like it at all honestly, but i wanna put smth out for y’all and this is 13K words that i cba to rewrite so… love you.

▹— warnings: references to suicide attempt, familial loss, previous good relationship with (assumed) biological dad, blood, so much blood, murder (you kill someone), fighting, i think you could class this as dissociation/blackouts but i’m not sure (pls tell me if it’s something different), fighting, canon-typical violence, angst — please tell me if there’s more, ive been trying to keep up to date but i’ve written this fic over so many days. be mindful, this one might be kinda heavy.

▹— tags: @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @fariylixie0915 @erensloveinterest @dazedshoon @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @sleepygraves @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @ilybbg @rvjaa @oliest19xx @pedropepsi @sunflowersdrop @truthfuleeyours (if you’ve been tagged it’s because you requested to be on my general taglist! if you want your tag removed, drop me a message! <3)

masterlist

howl’s song associations!

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Living in Boston QZ hadn’t been your idea. No — you never would have chosen the so-called safety of the walls, which were only filled with bad people and worse authority, but you had been left with no other choice.

Pronounced an orphan on your way to the QZ, you didn’t know what else to do. With nobody to guide you or advise you, you had gone ahead with the original plan, walking the final twenty-something miles alone, in some sort of absent state.

The journey was a blur, and so was the arrival, you only really remember seeing the green flash of the cordyceps tester, reminding you of all you had lost. Every time you closed your eyes after that, the shade of green haunted you.

They had put you up in a FEDRA school, and so you began your training to become an officer. You hated it, hated the FEDRA organisation as a whole, and hated being in Boston when the person who had wanted to be there didn’t make it.

You tried not to make a habit of sneaking out after the first time, but you couldn’t help yourself. Most days, you were so exhausted from your nightly adventures through the QZ that you got everybody into doing more drills. Not many people were a big fan of you, but that was the way you preferred it.

You liked being alone, really. Enjoyed the silence that echoed through your room, the absence of other people letting you simmer in your own feelings. Your father had always reprimanded you for wallowing in your own self-pity, but he was no longer around to do such a thing. So, you wallowed.

Between climbing out of your bedroom window, jumping across rooftops to reach a particular apartment building with an actual view outside of the wall, you spent your time disconnected from the hellscape you lived in. Everything felt so far away, so out of touch, and the only moments you blinked back to reality, you were dripping in blood. Down your face, your hands, so much of it that you didn’t know where it started or ended. Or if it was your own.

Everything coming back into focus at once was dizzying enough, and sometimes that feeling was so closely related to blood loss that you had been sure somebody must’ve stabbed you, must’ve finally managed to get past your survival instincts, must’ve brought you to your end, at last.

But then you’d wake up, blood dried, no sign of the looming figure of death in front of you. There was only one occasion where the blood must’ve been mostly your own, and that was a broken nose. You pretended not to be disappointed, each and every time. Despite everything you had done to survive, everything you still do, there was a darker part of you that hated yourself for it. That blamed you.

It was one of those times yet again, where one moment you swore you were paying attention in your FEDRA classroom, and the next you blinked, eyes opening to the sight of bloodied hands in front of you.

It was everywhere, you would swear on it, underneath your fingernails, between each digit on your hand, even dripping down your wrist. It was warm and clung to your skin, even when you wiped your hands against the jeans on your legs. You blinked again, finally moving your eyes away from your sticky hands, and you gulped down a lump in your throat at the sight in front of you.

You recognised the man — a snarky guard at FEDRA, one who always had it out for you. You could see a slither of the face that always glared over at you underneath all of the red blood.

It didn’t take much realising to know that you wouldn’t get away with this thing, that this would be something that killed you. If they found out, if, then you were dead.

You needed to know, had to be sure, if this was going to be the final thing, your final action, if you had actually killed a FEDRA guard. But despite that, despite knowing that you didn’t have another option than to look if his chest was rising and falling, you couldn’t draw your eyes in the direction. Even when you tried, your chin fell to your chest, eyes back on the hands that were cradling one another in your lap, feeling far too heavy for your arms.

With the sharp way your breath was coming into your chest, you were starting to realise that your hearing hadn’t returned with your sight, and you jumped when the realisation brought it back, a rush of sound hitting you all at once.

The distant sound of gunfire, the whirring of a generator nearby, the sound of your own hyperventilating breaths, it all echoed too loudly, far too much going on for you to comprehend it all. So much so that you missed the footsteps heading your way, missed the sound of crunching stone as somebody else stepped foot on the rooftop.

A hand against your shoulder had you rearing around, fists drawn back and pushing forward until they hit the person, hard, and the hand was immediately withdrawn. You continued forward, eyes blinking closed in a flinch as the hand grabbed your wrists, holding tight until you stopped trying to pull them away.

“Jesus Christ— Tess, get on out here!” The voice belonging to the person holding on to you yelled out, about as loudly as he dared, and you bared your teeth with clenched fists at the woman who pulled herself up from the fire escape on the apartment building.

“Jesus,” She echoed, looking between you and the FEDRA agent with raised eyebrows, a slight grimace, marring her features. She looked over at the man who was grasping your wrists in a bruising grip with a questioning gaze. “What the fuck went on here?”

“Get your fucking hands off of me!” You spat out, tugging your arms, trying to get out of the man’s grip as you grit your teeth, your mind still reeling with everything that was going on.

He stared sternly at you, “You gonna calm down?” When you responded with a more than angered nod, he nodded, releasing your wrists and stepping away, leaning to look at the FEDRA guard still lay at your side. He kicked the guy in the side, and there was no hint of a reaction. “Dead.” He told the woman, Tess, with an odd look on his face.

“Well, shit, kid.” Tess sighed, hands on her hips as she looked at the situation before her. She shook her head with a tut, and approached to have a look at the guard herself. “What happened?”

You just continued baring your teeth, metaphorical hackles raised high, and Tess just responded with a blank look on her face, a dismissive purse to her lips as she moved her gaze over to the man.

He tilted his head, looking between you and the body, “Could’ve been anyone.” He suggested to Tess, rocking his head from side to side in something like deliberation. You stared hard at the two of them, confusion still buzzing through your head.

“Could’ve been.” She agreed.

They shared a look, communicating between only their eyes, and they had no reaction to the way your hands clenched, your head snapping between them. You didn’t know what had happened, couldn’t understand what was going on, and you had no idea who these people were. It really didn't provide any reassurance, and your eyebrows lowered over your eyes, a glare prominent on your features as Tess huffed.

“C’mon, kid.” The man said to you, offering a hand to help you up from the ground. When you stared at him, that glare on your face, he raised his eyebrows in annoyance. “It’s either you come with us, or you’re found here with him and hung. Your choice.” He told you, hand still offered out, and you grit your teeth as you took it, letting him pull you to your feet, and steady you when you stumbled, everything feeling a bit too real.

You focused on where you were going, rather than who was leading you there, as the two of them took you down the fire escape, hurrying you into an open window on the second flight down from the top. You didn’t take any notice of the bloody handprint Tess wiped away after you had managed to get yourself through the gap, instead looking for the doors.

“You can calm down, kid, we ain’t gonna hurt you.” Tess said, sounding snarky as she moved past you to their kitchen, where she helped herself to a glass of illegal alcohol. You raised your eyebrows, knowing that wasn’t a FEDRA-supplied bottle.

You huffed, watching the man look around the area before he shut the window, flicking the lock into place. “Can never be too careful.” You murmured in response.

“Ain’t that the truth.” Tess said, somewhat amused. “I mean if anybody here’s showed some aggression, that’d be you. Gonna tell us what went on up there?” She asked between careful sips from her glass, measured, or maybe, savouring sips.

At her question, your eyebrows furrowed once more, and you pulled your bloodied hands close to your chest, jaw clenched.

“No?” She asked, leaning forward with an expectant expression, and she opened her mouth to ask some more questions, say something else, but the man cut her off.

“Tess,” He warned, eyebrows raised, “Take it easy.” He glanced back to you, to the hands you held close to yourself, and frowned. With a nod of his head, clearly expecting you to follow, he headed down the hallway. You looked at Tess, hesitantly following the man as she nodded with an exasperated scoff.

He opened a door, revealing their bathroom, which had certainly seen better days. You wouldn’t exactly cheer for the bathrooms at FEDRA school, but jesus — at least it was better than what the general public got. “Head on in, clean yourself up. Don’t want anybody seein’ that on you.”

With some reluctance, you kept a hostile expression plastered on your face as you stepped into the bathroom, flicking on the tap in the sink and running your hands under it. Up until that point, you had remained ignorant to the way the blood clung to your skin, sticky and not quite cold, but now there was the opportunity to be rid of it, you became desperate.

The water helped, slightly, but not fast enough for your liking, resorting to the scraping of your dull nails against the drying blood, up until flakes of red started to melt away, colouring the water as it drained.

Their mirror was broken, and you couldn’t have been more glad. You were sure that if it had been there when you glanced up, if you had to look yourself in the face, you would be sick. You didn’t want to face the fact that all of this was real. You had just killed a FEDRA guard.

“Alright, that’s enough of that, now.” The man said, reaching into the sink and pulling your hands away from the stream of water when you ignored him. He shut the tap off, staring at you with that same strange expression, only glancing away to grab the towel that hung over the door. You took it, drying your hands hastily before you shoved it back towards him.

You were shoving past him before he could get another word out, barely even able to grab the towel as you passed it back. He blinked, a frown forming a deeper crease than usual between his brows.

“Listen, I—I really need to get back. Curfew is going to be over soon, I think.” You fumbled around the words, hurrying down the hallway you came from and spinning around in the room to try and reorient yourself. You finally saw the door you believed to be the exit, and headed towards it.

“Well, hold up,” Tess said, frowning and reaching out to you, stepping back with a slight scoff when you moved away from the reaching arms. “Daylight’s gonna break any second, you’d be better off waiting for curfew to be over with. And,” She added, tilting her head at you with a stern look, “You still haven’t told us what went on. We’re covering your ass, right now. If anything goes to shit it’ll be us keeping you safe. You realise that?”

You did realise something — and that was the kind of people you were dealing with. You’d heard from them, and not from the FEDRA teachers, but from other trainees, other students.

When the world went up in flames, FEDRA had been the first to seize onto power, and they held on to the pretence that they had never let go. But the world was still burning, and the people had begun rioting, and there was another opportunity for a power-grab. It was people like this who had taken that opportunity, who had made something of themselves in a world on fire.

You knew then that the way she had likely gotten that bottle of alcohol was through her own network. She was a manipulator, clearly, a blackmailer. She used the resources she had, and she definitely made the most of them. She wasn’t bluffing.

“So, what? I don’t tell you and you sell me out?” You ask, despite knowing the answer. Part of you wants to hear her say it, though, wants to hear the admission of being a bad person. Then again, maybe she was the good guy, you thought, after remembering the blurry image of that guard, lay still on the roof above where you stood.

Tess tilted her head, “Pretty much.”

“Well, fine. Be my guest. As much as I would love to comply with your blackmail, I couldn’t tell you. Don’t have a fucking clue what happened up there. I’d say try asking him, but…” You snarked in response, another bare of your teeth, another raising of your hackles. Tess was looking more frustrated by the moment, if the slight twitch of the skin of her brows said anything. She held herself together pretty well. If it weren’t for the stark difference between times like now and the times of blacked out memories, blurred images, you likely wouldn’t have even noticed. But it was like everything was so clear when you actually looked, and you noticed details that most people wouldn’t.

“Joel,” Tess sighed out, and even the cadence of her voice revealed the annoyance that was growing within her. “Help me out, here?” She asked, because despite every front that the man put up, he was still better with kids than she was. There was something about him, an authority, she wondered, that just made people fess up.

You looked over to the man, to Joel, to see his eyes looking at you with more recognition by the second, a pull to the frown on his lips that suggested he knew something that you didn’t. You weren’t a fan of the look.

He gritted his teeth at the whole situation, his chest aching with familiarity. Joel knew, probably better than anyone, that look in your eye. “I believe her,” Joel answered Tess, hesitantly, rolling his eyes when the two of you immediately looked at him with dumbfounded expressions. “Look, Tess is right. You’re better off sticking ‘round here ‘til curfew drops.” He told you then, his voice gruff as he leaned to look out of the window, seeing the light outside growing brighter each passing minute.

You huffed, but crossed your arms in defeat, shoulders slouching where you stood.

“But remember, you owe us.” Tess said scathingly, a crease running along her forehead before she turned away, heading down the hallway. She pretended that she didn’t hear the way you scoffed at her words.

You and Joel stood opposite each other, the room tense. He cleared his throat, uncrossing his arms so the two of you didn’t mirror each other quite so accurately, and he turned to grab his own glass of booze. “So, uh, you go to school? FEDRA?” He asked, talking over the sound of liquid being poured into his glass.

“Yeah.” You responded lamely, tapping a foot against the floorboards of their apartment, avoiding looking at the man.

“You know the guy, then?” He questioned, eyebrows raised as he turned back around to look at you.

The look you gave him was scathing, but you gritted your teeth and responded anyway, seeing no other choice. “I guess. Gives me— gave me a hard time for dumb things. Don’t know what happened last night, before you ask.” You said, correcting your words to the past tense, and your chest felt hauntingly empty, despite what you had done.

Joel shrugged at you, “Wasn’t goin’ to.” He responded, mouth set in a thin line before he took a long sip from his drink. “Get some rest, kid. Got an hour or so, yet.” He told you, seeing your exhaustion before you had even felt it, apparently.

You blinked at him, surprised. The idea was tempting, you could admit, but it didn’t feel like a good idea to go to sleep around two strangers. At any moment, they could have a change of heart. It was best to stay on guard, to be ready to run at a moment’s notice. That was the way you always played these type of things, and it worked out.

He drained his glass, shrugging at you when you didn’t move to head towards the sofa he had vaguely gestured at, and said, “Suit yourself.” Before he walked down the hallway, following Tess.

You waited there for more than a few minutes, so still, making sure you didn’t make a sound, waiting to hear when one of them would come back to keep an eye on you. You had never felt more confused when they didn’t.

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Ever since then, the world seemed to blur around you even more. And despite getting out in the hold at school after getting caught trying to sneak back in, it didn’t deter you, and they didn’t seem to suspect you of anything. You had heard the whispers about the dead FEDRA guard, though.

You tried not to listen.

Instead, you spent even more of your time sneaking out, but allowed that haze to fall over you with even less of a fight each time you went out. It was easier, that way, to let the world fall away and leave you with memories smudged in blood, that you certainly didn’t remember acquiring. Nothing in them was clear, and the cycle of waking up covered in blood didn’t stop.

More often than not, though, it was beginning to be your own blood. Apparently, your hazed self had become terrible at picking the battles you fought, and you’d blinked back to reality more than once when sparring at school, the jolt of pain when somebody caught an injury bringing you back faster than anything else had.

When you blinked back into reality this time, however, it was with warm blood dripping down your face, a hand gripping onto your head and keeping it upright when it began to fall to one side. You didn’t expect to see a familiar face, that was for sure.

“Joel?” You asked, incredulous, your voice slurred as you spoke through blood in your teeth.

“Well, she’s alive.” He said, not to you, barely even acknowledging your questioning tone as he glanced behind him to somebody you couldn’t see. Tess, presumably. “What have you gotten yourself into this time, kid?” He grumbled, voice gruff as he looked over your head for injuries, a grimace on his face at the amount of blood dripping down your temple.

His hand left your head a moment later, and you just about caught the weight of it before your chin could hit your chest, leaning back and settling the crown of your head against what felt like a brick wall.

A hand against your shoulder caught your attention when your eyes had been drifting closed, without you knowing they had even begun to do so, and you blinked them back open. “Jesus, how many times are we gonna have to save your ass?” Tess asked rhetorically, a grimace that matched Joel’s on her face as she looked at the state of you.

“‘M fine.” You grumbled, moving to try and push her hand away but only pulling your hand back with a hiss at the sudden throbbing pain that bloomed in your fingers.

Tess smiled sarcastically, “Yeah, sure you are. Those are broken, by the way.” She said, nodding down to the fingers on your hand which were bloodied and bruised, swollen and now so painful you had to grind your teeth together. Your knuckles were split, and you looked around, seeing no sign of a body, but you couldn’t help wondering what the other guy must look like.

You didn’t say anything else to her, just focusing on keeping your eyes open and attempting to remember whatever had happened to lead you to such a state. Nothing came up.

Even when Joel lifted your arm, hand gripping your wrist tightly as he pulled your elbow around his neck until he was holding most of your weight. He stumbled slightly when you did, and let out a gruff comment about you handling some of your own weight.

You did your best, but he ended up practically carrying you all the way back to their apartment, which was a couple of blocks. You vaguely wondered how they had even come across you, but figured you were in no place to ask questions.

“Remember what happened this time?” Tess asked, opening the door to their shared apartment so Joel could pull you through it, his arms straining to keep you upright. It was a much harder task when you were conscious but barely in control of your own limbs. He had thought about carrying you, but decided that was much too strange.

You shook your head, but realised she was facing away from you, and you hoped Joel hadn’t noticed your mistake. “Not a fucking clue.” You slurred out, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth as it tried to spell out the words.

Joel huffed out a breath through his nose as he set you down against their couch, his shoulders slouching as he finally relaxed his muscles, feeling a distant ache in his arm from being so tensed. He went down the hallway a second later, disappearing from your view.

“You are one lucky kid.” Tess drawled, the scene so familiar to the first time you met the two of them, as she held a glass of alcohol loosely in her hand. Distantly, you wondered if they had a glass every day, and if that meant they had shitloads of the stuff stored away somewhere, but decided you probably shouldn’t be thinking about it.

You scoffed, brows furrowed in aggravation despite the fact they had probably saved your lives. “Yeah, lucky. Sure.” You said, likely the clearest you had been able to speak since you’d woken up. Or become aware. You weren’t really sure which was more accurate.

Tess smiled, a sarcastic one that was full of humour and annoyance, “Oh, you don’t think so? Should we think about what could’ve happened if somebody else had found you there?” She asked, eyebrows raised, and you grit your teeth to stay silent.

You, better than anyone, knew what could’ve happened. You knew what people in this QZ — hell, in this world, — were capable of. So maybe you were lucky that Joel and Tess had found you, considering that they hadn’t ratted you in to FEDRA just yet, but you knew that the one thing this world would never generate is trust. They could be just as bad, or worse, as anyone else who might have discovered you there, bloody, injured, and completely unaware.

After all, you were at their apartment, with no idea why.

“She knows, Tess,” Joel grumbled, reappearing from the hallway and looking just as unhappy as ever. He sighed, drawn out and heavier than you had expected, and held up a wet cloth. “Come on, kid, get yourself cleaned up.” He handed it over to you, and ushered Tess to follow him back down the hallway, where they spoke in harshly whispered voices.

You wiped the side of your face, getting rid of the sticky blood that was coming from the side of your head. It was kind of difficult to do with no mirror, but you wiped as much of it off as you could get to before you stopped, breathing through the pain in your head, your fingers, the left side of your chest. You grimaced as you tried to wipe blood away from your split knuckles, your broken fingers. It hurt, and it was too real of a pain.

You paused when you heard Tess’s voice raise, “She’s going to get us caught, or killed, Joel!” She said, before her tone lowered once more, further discussion happening between them. You wondered what they could be talking about — they held no obligation to pick you up off of the streets. They didn’t owe you anything. As far as you were concerned, you didn’t owe them anything, either. Everything they had done was of their own volition, meaning you hadn’t forced them into anything.

For whatever reason, they felt the need to help you. You couldn’t pretend to understand it, but you did know that this couch was much more comfortable than the stones of whatever street you had been lay on were.

Joel came down the hall soon enough, a crease between his brows, and he grunted when he saw the poor job you had done of cleaning yourself up. “Get to the bathroom, kid. We’ll patch you up there.”

“Why?” You asked, before you could help yourself. They didn’t need to be doing this, so why were they? Tess was right, you were only a danger to whatever operation they had going on, so why?

“It’s either that or you carry on bleeding out on our couch.” Tess called out, rustling through something as soon as she emerged from the hallway, busying herself in drawers and cupboards.

You figured it’d be in your best interest to not bleed out on their couch.

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Weirdly, it was the fourth time you ran into Joel and Tess that everything seemed to fall into place. Except this time, it was you doing just that, running into them. Or more accurately, him.

You had hit against shoulders in your fast pace, sending various people tumbling backwards or stepping out of your path. Helpful for you, yes, but also helpful for the group chasing you. You tried not to look back, but the footsteps chasing you were growing louder and you had to know how close they were.

One look over your shoulder led to you colliding with somebody, and you cursed as it sent you spilling to the floor at their side. With a scathing glare on your face, your heart going a mile a minute, you looked up to see none other than Joel fucking Miller.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.” Joel murmured, eyes wide as he looked to where you had fallen after running into him. The alarm in your eyes made him move to face where you were looking, and there were three of Robert’s goons. He noticed, quickly, the knife that one of them was holding.

Without a second thought, he stepped between you and the group approaching, his hands clenching into fists as he grit his teeth. He wasn’t good at negotiating, at talking — that was more of Tess’s side of the deal. If it came to it, though, he could take on these fools. And he could play it off as if he was defending himself from the knife they were carrying, if need be.

They sputtered to a stop in front of him, a wary look exchanged between the two men, as the woman behind glared daggers at him. “Come on, Miller, move outta the way.” The man holding the knife said, tilting his head to one side as if that was going to make Joel listen to his directions.

Joel’s eyebrows set lower on his face as he looked back to you, with your wide eyes, and the way you scrambled up to stand just behind him. He huffed, a tired sigh leaving him, and turned back to the goons.

“Not happening.”

The three of them scoffed, incredulous, and the woman stepped forward with a sneer on her face. “What? You some kinda saviour now, Miller? Gonna start defending all the helpless little girls?” She said, voice venomous, but she stepped back when Joel went to move forward.

You, however, were not having that.

“Helpless?” You questioned, a scathing heat burning its way down your throat, “I’d like to see you go and ask your boss how helpless I am.”

Joel’s hand blocking your path stopped you from stepping towards the woman, your teeth bared at her, but you remained behind the man. You may not like listening to him, but he seemed to know what he was doing far more than you did.

“You bitch,” The final man said, no weapon held in his hand, but there was something dark about him that even Joel could see. Joel pushed against you, putting you further behind him as the man stepped forward. “When I—”

Joel’s eyes darkened considerably, and he knew from the expressions on the group’s faces that they had seen his face harden. “When you what?” He asked, looking down at the group before him, something violent in his words, as if daring the man to finish his sentence, to say something that Joel didn’t like, to give him the excuse.

“Can’t you just mind your own goddamn business, Miller?” The one with the knife asked, his lips drawn back in what was almost a snarl as he tried to catch a good look at you from around Joel’s shoulder.

“This is my goddamn business. Now run yourselves back to Robert before this gets out of hand.” Joel said, the threat in his words clear despite him having said nothing particularly violent. It was explicit in his tone, apparently. His gruff words were somewhat of a comfort to you, though, a slight relief that you could stop running, for now. You were also hoping that this meant your messed up shoulder would be your only injury of the day.

“Are you having a fucking laugh?” The woman asked, incredulous, as she stared at where Joel stood tall in front of you.

“Do I look like I’m laughing?” Joel asked, being met with nothing but deadly silence. You peeked around his arm to see the three of them looking like fools in front of him, their cocky, entitled attitudes falling apart under the weight of his words. The three of them shared a glance, gritted teeth and angered glares, and looked to Joel with a more than annoyed expression.

The man with no weapon caught sight of you looking around Joel, and pointed his hand at you, “Just you fucking wait.” He threatened, putting his hand down when Joel’s shoulders straightened, his legs moving to take a step towards the man, who quickly backed away alongside his two companions. They left without another word, throwing angry looks over their shoulders until they disappeared out of sight, at which point Joel turned to you.

“How is it that I always find myself savin’ your ass?” Joel asked, mostly to himself, as he looked at where you stood, a hand holding your other and close to your chest. He sighed, heavily, “You hurt?”

“I’ve been worse.” You admitted, though Joel knew better than anyone. He could see on your face that the swelling from around your black eye hadn’t long faded to almost normal, he could see the stitched cut along the back of your forearm, could see the way you winced as you attempted to shrug, give up halfway.

Joel nodded, studying you for a moment, his eyes drawn to the way your clothes had been ripped after your fall to the ground. He frowned. It was getting colder as the days went on, and he was already sceptical about the lack of layers you wore. He huffed out another sigh, a frown pinched between his eyebrows, and looked back down the street to ensure the goons hadn’t decided to come back. When the coast was clear, he turned back to you where you stood almost nervously, and he realised this was the first time he had seen you out during the day time. Every other time he had discovered you it had been the midst of the night.

“C’mon, let’s get back.” He murmured, keeping the mean look on his face in case anybody else came after you. For once, you didn’t say anything, just following along at Joel’s side, wincing every time you moved your arm.

“I remember what happened this time,” You offered, when the two of you finally reached Joel and Tess’s shared apartment, with you taking your seat on their couch with a half-repressed sigh. Your feet were aching, and your shoulder was killing, but at least you could rest here for a while.

Joel looked up from his rummaging at that, surprised by not only what you said, but the fact that you had said it at all. Each time, one of them prompted you for information, and you never remembered. Or you weren’t willing to share the small details you did recall. It was strange for you to offer such information to him. “Yeah?” He prompted absently, continuing to look through drawers after his slight pause.

“Yeah,” You answered as you raised an eyebrow at his actions, wondering what he could be searching for. Before you could lose your nerve, you continued, “Got into some stupid business with some guy called Robert, and then he tried to rip me off. I got kicked outta school trying to get what he needed, too.” You scoffed as you spoke, paying less attention to Joel’s reaction and focusing more on your annoyance at the whole situation. “I just… got angry, started hittin’ the guy. Then ran away, and they started chasing me.”

“What were you goin’ into business with him for?” Joel asked after you had finished, his eyebrows creased together. Robert had a way of getting to old world stuff, but everyone knew he was dodgy. Often times, it was double-sold, or broken. He was a scammer, and that was coming from Joel, who had upped prices to ridiculous amounts on the shit he and Tess smuggled in, per her order, of course.

You huffed, “I dunno, just wanted something. Doesn’t matter, anyway. He didn’t have it.”

“Well, you tell me what it is and I’ll see what I can do.” Joel offered, unsure as to why. He hated himself for doing this, for letting you in, for feeling some inexplicable reason to help you each time you were hurt. He couldn’t understand it. Perhaps, he could say you reminded him of someone who’s name he refused to speak, but that wasn’t right. You shared very few similarities with her, in fact, Joel would argue that you looked more like him. That lost look in your eyes, the blurred vision you saw through when he found you covered in blood, the memories lost to bloodshed… it was like looking in a mirror.

He felt some sort of responsibility towards you — as if helping you could heal his own wounds. Joel figured he should’ve known by now that something like that would never work.

Perhaps, he just wished that someone could’ve pulled him out of that state, when he was in it. He couldn’t say your reasons for being like this, hell, it could just be a product of the apocalyptic world you lived in, but he figured that one day, you’d grow to be like him. And god, he was hoping that you could avoid it. So if him helping you could do that, could steer your path away from seeing him in your reflection, he’d do it.

“I said it didn’t matter.” You responded, snappily. Clearly whatever you had been after was personal, held close to your chest. He couldn’t blame you for not wanting to reveal it.

Joel said nothing for a moment, but looked at you from where he stood across the room. “You got kicked outta school?” He asked, instead of pressing the subject. He saw a weight lift off of your shoulder at the change in topic.

“Yeah, got caught sneaking out too many times. Said I must have some place else to go, and that I’m old enough to know what the fuck I’m doing.” You said, rolling your eyes at the memory. You weren’t all too bothered about it. Learning about the world through a government’s perception wasn’t all that mind blowing, and you hated drills. You didn’t want to be a FEDRA soldier. So, in reality, it was quite the gift.

You had to think that way, too stubborn to remember how your father had always talked about you going to those kind of schools, about you getting an education that was more than him just pointing out words and teaching you basic math. He had never quite understood that you learned more from him than you would from anybody else.

Joel’s eyebrows pinched, a look that was almost concern shining through his eyes. “You’re just a kid.” He said, having no reaction to the way you glared at him.

“I can take care of myself.” You told him, firmly, trying your best not to think about how many times he and Tess had pulled you out of shit, likely saving your life. It didn’t matter. At the end of the day, all you had was yourself.

“Where are you staying?” He asked, eyebrows raised at you, as if he was proving his point by asking it, especially when you didn’t answer immediately. All orphans went to FEDRA school, until they were old enough to get sent to a position as a guard or they were kicked back out to the street. He knew you weren’t old enough to be put in that position just yet. After all, FEDRA didn’t allocate housing to people of your age.

You looked to your hand in your lap, picking at the blood still stuck underneath your nails. “Not important.”

“No?” Joel asked, just a hint away from mockingly. You furrowed your brows at him, a frown pulling at your lips in defence.

“No.” You answered.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

You think now, that you would have never been in this situation if you hadn’t accepted Joel’s insistence that you stay with him and Tess. It had gotten to a point of normalcy, something so close to domestic that it had you sneaking out of their apartment, up the fire escape back to the roof where it all began to unravel, all those nights ago.

The stain of blood on the ground is still there, and you had been staring at it long enough that you were starting to miss where it began and ended. You still couldn’t pull the memories from that night from your skull, and you were starting to think they weren’t in there at all.

It had all led you to here, to where you sat, legs swinging over the edge of the air-conditioning unit on the roof of the building. Or at least, that’s what Joel told you these things were. You frowned at the memory.

You hated the way you had let all of this happen, had let yourself get closer to the people who seemed to always be there. They were more present in your life than any other figure, even before you moved in with them. It had seemed as if you only woke up from your haze when they pulled you out of it. You couldn’t begin to understand why, and honestly, you didn’t really want to.

All you knew was that this was exhausting. You had been present for the longest time you could remember since before your father had… well, since before everything changed. And it was all because there was a ball of anxiety in your chest, hammering loudly within the beat of your heart.

Maybe it was selfish, or foolish, maybe it was both, to feel so dejected over something that should be good. But it was all feeling too familial for your liking, and it was like a constant waiting game, constantly wondering when the other shoe would drop. There had to be some sort of catch, something would surely go wrong, because life with Joel and Tess was becoming too comfortable. You should’ve been happy for it. Perhaps any other kid your age would have been, but all you could think of was the time before Boston.

Images of a house, a father who cared about you, who bought you paints and brushes even when that would have been better spent on new boots for himself. You could remember the way the sole had been peeling away when you had last seen him, remember the way he had yelled at you, begged you to leave him behind.

Sure, you had listened, had walked away from him slumped against the wall of a decrepit convenience store, but you had never truly left him behind. All the times you had spent in Boston, in a subconscious state, there had been no more memories. Before Tess and Joel, the most vivid thing you could recall was your dad.

If you closed your eyes, shut out the image of the blood staining concrete, and focused hard enough, you could hear his laugh. Reluctant laughter was something you had often drawn out of him, because he found the only joy he had left in the world within you. But there was always that nagging worry, at the very back of his mind, reminding him that things weren’t okay.

Hell, the whole reason he had insisted upon leaving the house where you had spent most of your life was because he believed you would be safer in Boston, in a QZ rather than a small community with not enough firepower to cope with any hordes.

He’d been a firm man, with a furrow between his brows that you could now see in Joel’s face, and you hated it. Your dad had given up everything for you. Why were you seeing similarities between him and Joel?

“Come on, it’s time to get going!” Tess called to you, dragging you from where you were trying to conjure up an image of your dad that wasn’t his last moments. You huffed, pushing off of the air conditioning unit, and headed down the fire escape, taking your backpack from Tess where she held it out to you.

It hadn’t been your choice to go along with Joel and Tess, more of an order, given that they didn’t want to leave you alone at their apartment. They were running low on ration cards, not enough for you to survive alone, especially if anything went wrong. That was the whole purpose of their trip, they had told you, to get something they could trade for more cards. The two of them hadn’t explained to you the radio and music catalogue that sat in their apartment, but you had figured out that it must’ve been some sort of communication system. If you were going to go off of the way Joel’s head had snapped up when some song you didn’t recognise came on.

The three of you were setting off the next day, so it must’ve meant something to them.

Joel had said something about you being in for some kind of treat, assuring you that the trip would be worth it, despite the way you remained unconvinced. You didn't want to leave the QZ again, but part of you, that stupid childish part, was curious.

So you followed them.

You were quiet most of the trip, despite Joel trying to encourage conversation with you, a crease of concern to his face the more checked out you became.

In your own defence, you seemed to be on guard well enough when you retreated to that state where it wasn’t really you, and the whole trip was too familiar. If you didn’t focus hard enough on your surroundings, you would wake up and be with your father again, or you’d lack attention and hear that gunshot as you walked away.

It was easier this way. Safer.

You also didn’t expect for Joel or Tess to notice anything different, but then you were blinking back into reality some time later, though you couldn’t tell how much. Joel’s face was in front of your own, his eyebrows furrowed, expression angrier than you had seen it in a while.

Looking around the area, over Joel’s shoulder, you saw a burning building some ways behind him, and your eyebrows raised in surprise. “What happened there?” You asked, your throat sore as you said it, your chest aching, and you were more confused than anything else at the sensation.

“What were you thinking?” Joel seethed, seemingly becoming angrier at your question, and you tried not to pay the emotion any mind. You looked around again, squinting your eyes and catching sight of Tess stood before the building, her gun raised to the doorway as if expecting something to come out of the blaze. “Huh?” He questioned, drawing your attention back.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, getting more confused by the second. You looked down to where your fingers were apparently covered in soot, and slowly connected that with the burning building across the way. “Wait, did I—”

“You can’t check out like that! You’re gonna get yourself killed.” Joel said, and you felt his hand squeeze your shoulder far more gently than the way he was speaking. He seemed… frantic, almost. You frowned, because nobody had ever really noticed you blanking out before, or at least, nobody had ever said anything to you about it.

Your awareness came back to you fully then, and you could feel the heat from the fire even all the way over here, so you couldn’t imagine the heat Tess was feeling. With a huffed breath, you pulled yourself to your feet, shrugging Joel’s hand off when he tried to help you as you stumbled slightly. Your bag felt lighter than it had before, but at least you still had it.

Joel grumbled, his hard expression unchanging as he turned away from you to go and grab Tess, nodding at you to follow them as you hurried away from the burning building, blinking as you tried to remember what had happened.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Arriving at Bill and Frank’s compound was… overwhelming. Which was probably the biggest understatement ever.

Tess and Joel didn’t think it pertinent to tell you where you were headed before leaving Boston, and you weren’t all that well versed in where smugglers got their items to smuggle. You figured it would be some run down place, that was mostly untouched by the outbreak.

You didn’t expect this.

Initially, it reminded you of the small community you had lived in with your father, all that time ago. Though this place was guarded much better, with that electric fence that Joel warned you away from. The houses looked good, and there was one down the street, with a wide porch and old kids toys piled in the garden, which made your heart clench.

You wanted to retreat back into yourself, to hide in that haze, to let the blanket of emptiness cover you, but then Frank was emerging from the doorway of their house, his grip tight on a walking stick, but his smile was wide. He was tailed by Bill, whose hands hovered hesitantly as he followed Frank.

“Tess! Joel!” Frank called, and held his arms out for Tess when she approached, sharing a hug like they were family. You were pretty sure that they were just friends, had no connection before the outbreak. It was strange, really, to think of hugging someone that wasn’t a relation. Or perhaps it was the caring part of it that had your brows creased. “And who’s this?” He asked, smiling at you.

With a nod from Joel, you introduced yourself to the man, trying not to shrink into yourself at his cheerful demeanour, and the suspicious glances of Bill from beside him.

“Bill, it’s fine,” Frank sighed, a roll of his eyes as he turned to the man. “Go get started on dinner! We’re going to sit out here, while the weather is nice.”

Bill grumbled, eyes darting between the three of you and the man he loved, but he turned with a resigned sigh. Frank grinned, a fond look on his face.

Tess busied herself setting the table, ignoring the way Frank scolded her for doing his job, only shooting him an exasperated smile. After a moment, Frank realised there were only four chairs set around the small garden table.

“Oh, I think there’s another in my art room.” He said, as he looked between you and the four chairs.

Unable to help yourself, “You have an art room?” You asked, which was probably the most you had spoken for the past few days. You ignored the way Joel seemed to perk up at your words, a glance going between him and Tess.

Frank smiled. He seemed to do a lot of that. “You wanna have a look?” He asked kindly, nodding his head and starting towards the house.

“Go on.” Joel encouraged with his monotone murmur. You hesitantly followed Frank into the house.

You didn’t look around much, instead opting to focus on keeping close to the man in front of you. If you looked to closely, you think you might see similarities to the home you had with your dad, and after already shutting down once on this journey, you figured that Joel wouldn’t be too pleased if you did it again.

It was wracking your nerves, the closer you got to Frank’s art room. You wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, not even your father, had he been here, but you were scared. You had gotten so good at removing yourself from a multitude of situations, but the concept of art had you grounded in place no matter how much you might have wanted to fade back into your mind. You can remember nights spent staying up late, dipping brushes in colours that resembled the world around you almost too accurately. The gentle swipe of paint across paper, canvas, walls, wood — whatever your father could give you, at the time.

It was the best thing you had.

You realise, now, that you had been escaping from the world for your whole life. Only back then, it had been to nicer lands, beauty put down on different mediums so you could physically touch it, could know it was true, it was real. The only thing that had changed was your method of escaping, really. Where you had once clambered for colours and depictions of the world in a different light, you now escaped to the very depths of your mind, hidden deep under sadness and fear and loneliness. Somewhere that you couldn’t be disturbed, wouldn’t have to think about the world and what it had taken from you.

You’re scared of wanting that old method of escape back.

When you enter the art room, you know your fear is valid. You know that the longing you have for paints and pencils and whatever supplies your father could get his hands on was back, or perhaps it was just the longing for your father returning full force from where you had buried it. Whatever it might have been, it was overwhelming.

It made everything feel like it meant more. Like the careful brushes of meticulously selected colours on white canvases was personal to you.

Frank’s art was covering the entire room, a stack of empty canvases in one corner, dwarfed by the amount of wooden frames that had sketched or painted pictures stretched over them. It was bright in here, the colours seemingly glowing from the light that was shining through the large windows, looking out on parts of the garden.

“This one isn’t finished,” Frank said, his voice quiet, and you looked to where you had forgotten he was standing. He leant heavily on his walking stick, gesturing with his free hand toward a canvas stood upon an easel — the first easel you had seen. When your dad first encouraged your interest in art, he had told you all about what his time in art class at school had been like. He’d told you about the easels, the shitty school paints — which were heavenly compared to what yours had been like — and his own art teacher. But easels weren’t the most common thing, and so you had never used one.

The painting that stood upon the strange-looking three legged stand looked like the beginnings of Bill’s face, blue eyes surrounded by carefully mixed colours to bring about the contours of the man’s skin. It was much better than anything you had ever painted.

“Have you ever painted?” Frank asked, after a few moments of hesitation. He’d lived in the apocalyptic world, too, but he hadn’t grown up in it. The man had more awareness than you expected, given his presence in such a protected home, but you supposed that if he knew Tess and Joel, it made sense that he would be sensitive of the world’s horrors.

You looked at the paintbrushes set out to dry beside an open window, and quickly drew your gaze away. “Yeah,” You responded, voice uncharacteristically gentle. You cleared your throat, annoyed at your own involuntary vulnerability. “My dad used to get paints, before I got to Boston.”

If Frank noticed your choice of pronoun ‘I’ and not ‘we’, he didn’t comment on it. He let your words settle for a moment, and you realised this was probably the most open you had been, the most you had spoken of your life before Boston. It was almost… sad. You think your dad would’ve loved Bill and Frank’s home, and the knowledge that nobody else would ever be able to consider what he would like was a painful admission.

“Well, I’m sure you could take some back with you.” Frank offered, a gentle smile on his face. He seemed to know more than he let on, even when your words were limited and he didn’t know you, hadn’t even met you before today.

You tried to brush your discomfort away, tried to unwind the stiffness to your shoulders. “That’s okay.” You said, fiddling with a button on your jacket as you took one more glance around the room, an uncomfortable tightening in your throat. “We’d better get back.” You prompted, walking to the chair in front of the easel and picking it up, gesturing for Frank to lead the way back to the garden.

“You alright?” Joel asked quietly as you set the chair down by his side, taking a seat in it a moment after as Frank and Tess began chatting away.

“I’m fine.” You snapped.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

It was on the way back from Bill and Frank’s that everything seemed to go wrong. For this portion of the journey, you made sure to cling on to every slither of awareness you had, digging your claws into consciousness and not letting go. You wouldn’t admit it, but the whole situation on the way there had shaken you.

You supposed it was different to the way blanking out in the QZ had been. After all, there was a certain amount of control in the QZ, much less of a wild factor than there was in the outside world. You could anticipate everything that you might come into contact with at the QZ, and each time, nothing was scary enough for you to even consider holding on to consciousness. Out in the real world, that was very different.

Despite travelling in it to the Quarantine Zone, there wasn’t a whole lot of that you could remember after the incident with your father. Everything was unpredictable, out here, and you were foolish to forget that. Especially after what it cost you the first time.

There may have been something else, though, something that had your fingers grasping onto reality so tightly you didn’t think you would ever let go. And that was the fact that it wasn’t just yourself that you were putting in danger, anymore, but Tess and Joel, too. And would you ever be able to forgive yourself if you came to awareness, just to see their blood on your hands? To find their bodies lay still? To be at fault once again for killing the only people left in the world that would see you safe? You could pretty confidently say no, you would never be able to forgive such a thing.

Even with your best attempts to cling on to your own awareness, it was clear that Joel and Tess didn’t quite trust your efforts. Given the fact that they refused to let you take a watch when night fell early, stopping to wait the darkness out just over halfway back to the Zone. Tess had already taken first watch, shaking Joel awake despite your offer to watch the area for him, so it was just you and Joel, Tess’s breaths long-since evened out.

“You can get some rest, y’know.” Joel said, his voice low to avoid waking Tess. You were well aware that she was a light sleeper, though you couldn’t blame her. It was the apocalypse, after all. Besides, it wasn’t like you were able to catch much sleep, too hyper focused on staying present to drift even into slumber, fearing you wouldn’t become conscious afterwards, fearing you would just wake.

“‘M fine, Joel.” You grumbled in response, eyes flitting around the rustling grass surrounding you, as if something was going to jump out at any moment.

Joel huffed, something between exasperation and vague amusement in it, and shook his head. “Sure, you are, kid.” He responded, adjusting his grip on the gun and resigning himself to the fact that you were going to stay up, no matter what he said. “Not gonna let anythin’ hurt you, you do know that, right?” He asked, after a long pause, and ignored the unpleasant way your face twisted.

“Why do you two help me? I don’t get it. Not done anything to help you, so why?” You questioned, instead of answering his question, too desperate to know to avoid the opening in the conversation. Joel sighed, a roll of his eyes, a deflection, as always.

“So impossible to believe that we could just be good people?” Joel replied, after your expectant silence lingered on uncomfortably. He shuffled, pausing when Tess moved, but only turned in her sleep.

You huffed, and Joel tried to ignore the way he was sure it sounded just like him. “Yes, it is impossible to believe that. You found me after I…” You paused, unsure how to go about admitting something you didn’t even remember. “After that FEDRA guard. Good people wouldn’t help me, after seeing that.”

“Been in your shoes, kid.” Joel said, at last, and you furrowed your brows at his answer. And the nickname he had taken to calling you. Joel didn’t exactly want to talk about it, both for the unpleasantness he had experienced and the worry that you’d retreat if he was honest. He could barely even explain the why to himself, so he had no idea how he could formulate it into words to tell you. “Not a good place to be, even worse if you’re alone.” He admitted, though he hadn’t been alone for as long as he could remember. There had always been Tommy, and after Tommy there was Sarah, and then his brother returned, but even then — he had Tess. But despite all that company, Joel knew exactly how it felt to be isolated, to be alone in your situation, to feel no other option than to retreat into yourself to get through the day.

He wouldn’t wish it upon anyone, let alone you.

You wanted to deny it, to tell Joel that you weren’t alone. That you already had a family you loved, that you already had a dad who cared about you, but what could you say? The truth was, he was gone.

“Get some sleep.” Joel said, dismissing the conversation before you could figure out anything to say. You just frowned at him, staring at him like his expression held all the answers, but as always, Joel revealed nothing. No reasoning, no answers, nothing. Finally, you turned away from him, resting your head against your backpack, eyes remaining open so you could keep an eye on the forest ahead of you for the last few hours of the night.

When the light finally a swept the last of the darkness away, the three of you set off again. Now, you were at the final stretch of your journey — so close to the QZ you could almost smell the pungent scent of fire and unrest. You never thought you’d be glad to see the decimated land around the Boston zone, but here you were, five steps ahead of Tess and Joel, who shared secret glances, communicating in a language you couldn’t understand.

They joined your side when you paused, waiting for them, just along the edge of where FEDRA usually patrolled. You looked to the two adults expectantly, not sure where you’d be entering the Zone, and figuring you must’ve been out of it if they had ever actually told you that part.

Now this, this was where it all went downhill.

“On your knees.” A voice from behind the three of you said, and you recognised the sound of a familiar FEDRA officer, from your time spent as a trainee. You just hoped he wouldn’t remember you. “I said, get on your knees!” He repeated, when the three of you had hesitated a moment too long, stepping forward and jabbing the end of his gun into the back of your knee. You grit your teeth as your knees buckled from the hit, dropping to the ground with your hands raised. You watched Joel and Tess follow when the guard moved towards them. Joel’s jaw was clenched.

“We’re just lookin’ to get to the QZ, man, that’s all.” Tess said, keeping her hands in the air and her head tilted as she tried to negotiate, as usual.

“Just a precaution, ma’am.” The guard responded, a snark to his voice. Despite what he said, when you first arrived to the QZ, there was no precautions this far out. In fact, it was only when you stalked towards the gate that guns were trained on you, your wrists bound until they got you through the main gate to test you.

He was patting down Tess, and you would’ve sworn you could hear Joel grinding his teeth together, clenching his jaw shut so tightly you wouldn’t have been surprised if it had broken. Meanwhile, you focused on trying to remember the name of the guard, trying to recall his temperament, whether he was easily swayed. You blinked your eyes shut, trying to see through the haze that clouded your memories as the guy moved on to Joel, but without seeing the guy’s face, it was too difficult.

“What kinda QZ has precautions this far out?” Joel grumbled as the guard moved along, checking the distance towards the gate with squinted eyes, and trying his best not to clench his fists as the guard moved towards you.

“You born yesterday, man? World’s fucked.” The guard answered, stepping away from you and moving to go around to see the front of the three of you. “Well, I never.” He chuckled, catching sight of your face as it fell, finally putting the voice to the face as you looked at him. “Don’t recall seeing your name on the exist list, trainee.” FEDRA had a bunch of awful guards, but this guy… Jerry, you were pretty fucking sure, was amongst the worst of them.

“Not a trainee, anymore.” You bit out in response, practically feeling the two adults beside you tensing up at the FEDRA guard’s recognition of you. “You even know my name, Jerry?” You asked, tilting your head upwards with your best reinvention of the careless expression that used to rile the man up so much.

He smiled, a grin full of rotten teeth and breath that stung your eyes as he leaned towards you. You resisted the urge to throw up over his shoes as he said your name, proving your hopeful taunt incorrect.

“Alright, now, no need for trouble.” Joel said placatingly, trying to keep the grimace off of his face in exchange for a more… reasonable expression. “We ain’t Infected, just a couple of folks tryin’ to be on their way.”

“Shut your mouth, and mind your business, fella.” Jerry spat towards Joel, before he looked back to you, a grin on that ugly face. “I’ve been trying to get the dirt to have you hung for months, now. Unauthorised exit? Well, that ought’a do it.” He said, morbid amusement dancing across his face. You just bared your teeth at him, a sarcastic expression donning your features.

“Careful, Jerry. You’re soundin’ awfully obsessed. Didn’t they out you for that, once already?” You asked, sarcastically, recalling the way he had been shamed outright by a higher up for getting on the trainee’s cases too much. FEDRA was strict already, so if he was getting publicly scolded for his obsessive behaviour, you figured it must’ve been bad.

You saw the way Joel was tensed up out of the corner of your eye, but didn’t dare turn to look at him, or even attempt to see how Tess was fairing.

It was when Jerry reared back, his rotten teeth bared, a sneer pulling at his features, that you saw Joel move. He’d noticed a second before you did, the way that the FEDRA guard was reaching for his smaller weapon, his handgun, barely getting it out of the holster before Joel was launching up and forwards, pushing Jerry and falling alongside him as they rolled down the slight slope to go towards the QZ gate.

“Joel!” Tess yelled out, a curse falling from her lips as she grabbed the stuff that Jerry had been attempting to confiscate before realising who you were. She dug through her bag, looking for her own gun, too risky to have it on her person this close to the QZ for this goddamn reason. You glanced between her searching frantically and the duo fighting slightly below you, before you caught a glint of metal in one of their hands. Did Joel have a knife? Did he have a knife, or was that Jerry’s? Was Jerry about to fucking stab Joel, who had tackled him to protect you?

You stumbled down the slight decline after the two of them, just as Jerry was catching the upper hand, something red trickling down his sleeve. You pulled the very gun he had tried to pull on you from its holster at his side, before he could even react to you having moved from where you were. He was slow, this guy, but that didn’t mean he was incapable. He was freakishly strong, and he bared bloody teeth at you as he moved to swing the blade in his hands down.

A crack interrupted his movements, blood dancing a crimson path down the side of his forehead.

Jerry’s body slumped backwards, falling away from where he had been about to fucking kill Joel Miller, all for what? His helmet made a dull thunk against the ground as it connected, and Joel was groaning, shoving the deadweight off of him with a bit of a struggle.

“The fuck were you thinking?” Tess asked, grasping onto Joel’s shoulders to help him up, only for him to hiss and pull away, and you vaguely saw Tess’s hand covered in a sticky sheen of blood that had leaked through the material of Joel’s jacket. “Jesus, Joel, you could’ve gotten yourself killed.” She scolded, pulling the jacket away and unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt to look at the wound. She dug through her bag to pull a few rags out of it, pressing the material against the fucking stab wound, and waiting for Joel’s steady hand to take over before she moved away. “Come on, we can’t wait around. If they’re patrolling this far out, something must’ve gone down, and I doubt anyone’s far enough to have not heard that.” She said, nodding pointedly towards the gun gripped tightly in your fingers.

At her reminder, you shivered, taking the knife from Jerry’s limp hand and replacing it with the gun. You wiped the blood — Joel’s blood — off of the blade onto the side of your jacket, before shoving it back in its place on Jerry’s vest, which you hadn’t even realised was there. You wondered if Joel knew, before he decided to attack him.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

You blinked, and realised you were already back at the apartment you stayed in with Joel and Tess.

Joel was sat at the table, med kit set out open in front of him, with Tess being nowhere in sight. He barely spared you a glance as you stood up from the sofa you didn’t remember sitting on, your brows furrowed as you looked around the room, as if the answers—the memories—you wanted would be revealed.

“She went to trade what we managed to get from Bill and Frank’s.” Joel told you, not even looking in your direction as he focused on fixing himself up. He had the rag in his hand once again, wiping at the blood still trickling from his wound. You wondered if Tess didn’t tell you where she was going, or if Joel just knew you weren’t present if she did.

You didn’t even know what had sent you back to the depths of your mind, this time. Was it shooting Jerry? Killing somebody whilst actually being fully responsible for your actions? Was it his threats about getting you hung? Or was it that very wound that Joel was tending to right now? The fact that once again, somebody got hurt, and it was your fault?

“Can you hand me the, uh…” Joel trailed off, gesturing over towards the counter where amber liquid sat in a glass bottle. You went over and grabbed it, placing it down on the table in front of Joel far harsher than you realised you were going to. You hadn’t quite noticed the way anger, or something defensive at least, had settled in your chest, stirring that brimming pot of guilt until it was almost flowing over the edges. “Thanks.” Joel said gruffly, splashing some of the booze onto the rag and pressing it to his shoulder.

You stared at him, waiting for him to say something, to explain himself, but he made no move to do so.

“What is wrong with you?” You said, finally, your voice loud and echoing around the barely furnished room, like it had burst from your chest, like you had no choice in the matter.

“Got stabbed, in case you didn’t notice.” Joel quipped, which seemed even further out of character for him. You vaguely wondered if you had just lost your mind, if this was all some made up scenario playing out in your head.

“Why did you attack him? He didn’t attack you, I—I don’t understand!” You told him, gritting your teeth when Joel just continued tending to his wound, not acknowledging your questioning. Part of you wished Tess was here so she could dismiss you before you could continue, but she was clearly nowhere nearby, given that she hadn’t burst into the room to stop any conflict. “Joel, answer me.”

He finally looked up, shaking his head. “What do you want me to say, huh? Somebody’s gotta protect you! Lord knows you don’t do it yourself! Rilin’ that guard up— it was reckless. He could’ve killed you, kid, and what would I have done then?” Joel questioned, his voice louder than your own, a booming thing that had you wanting to retreat. You refused, pushing it down in favour of the confrontation that you’d been putting off for months, by now.

“I can take care of myself.” You answered, spitting the words out like there was a semblance of truth to them. “I’m not your goddamn kid, Joel, there are plenty of other strays you could help out if I had died.” You continued, throwing the nickname back in his face, watching the way he recoiled, something unfamiliar flashing in his eyes.

“Now, you listen—”

He tried to say, only to be interrupted by you continuing on. “No! You’re not my dad, Joel! I already had a dad, okay? I had a dad, and he’s dead, and that’s on me. I won’t go through that again. You gotta stop puttin’ your life on the line for me!”

“Kid…” Joel trailed, the confession not exactly surprising him, but he felt a twinge in his chest nonetheless. He had figured all of this was catalysed by some kind of loss, just going by his own experience with the matter, but he had never known for sure. You were closed off — another way you were just so similar to him, and you’d never spoken about any family.

You closed your eyes, tears brimming in the edges, slipping down your face, and you wiped them away with a rough swipe of your sleeve against your skin. “You don’t understand. It was my fault. If it weren’t for me, he’d—… Every day I’ve been here, I’ve just been wishing we could’ve swapped places, wishing that he was here instead of me, because I can’t do this without my dad. But—But he could’ve, without me.”

“When my Sarah died,” Joel started, gritting his teeth against the pain in his chest that just her name brought. “I gave up. I—I lost any will to live, I prayed that it wasn’t real, prayed for God to switch our places, to trade her life for mine. Tried to end it, and when that failed, I got numb. Got lost in my head, ended up fightin’ anybody I crossed paths with, usin’ any excuse to hurt people, even while I was with Tess. Barely even remember it,” Joel continued, a strained laugh falling from his lips, his hand held to his chest in hopes of soothing some of the ache that originated there. “Just remember wakin’ up, covered in—in blood, not knowing who the hell I hurt. So, when I saw you, not even present in your own goddamn head, I figured that wherever you came from, whatever family you might’ve had, they wouldn’t want you ending up like me.”

That pot of guilt in your chest felt like it would explode, even as you blinked back tears, only getting harder the longer Joel spoke, the more he told you. You had never taken him for a religious man, but you supposed you could relate to that, that desperation to just save your family’s life.

“I’ve got too much blood on my hands, kid,” Joel told you, the words going past the literal sense of his own blood, spilled across his palms from that wound that you had caused. It was deeper than that, it was something you related to, like he knew that sensation of fresh blood that plagued you, like it was dripping over your hands all the time. “You gotta wipe yours clean.”

Clearly, that wound on his shoulder wasn’t his only open one. It was there, gaping in his chest, weeping waves of guilt and suffering that hit you with such familiarity. My Sarah. You couldn’t help but think about your dad, couldn’t help wondering if this was how he’d feel, if your places had of swapped.

“He was my dad,” You said desperately, like it could explain everything, like the simple statement could convey everything you couldn’t put into other words. That’s not something you can replace, something you can change, something you can forget. You opened your mouth to continue, but all that happened was the tears stinging your eyes fell, and you turned your head to the side, hoping Joel wouldn’t see the way your lip was trembling.

Joel’s arms were warm when he wrapped them around you, blood still tacky on his shirt where it pressed to your jacket, but you barely noticed it. “She was my daughter.” He said in response, and suddenly it made sense.

If anything about your relationship with Joel was true, it was that you were mirror images. Reflections. Two sides of the same coin, two sides of the same story, one that told of grief and loss and pain that would never go away. His response was the answer you didn’t even realise you had been waiting for. He was my dad, and she was my daughter. Not replacements, not something to try and fill the gaps. The acknowledgment was everything you needed to wrap your arms around Joel, to squeeze his shirt between your fists and cry, to cry for the dad that you lost, for the daughter he lost, for everything the two of you would never have again.

You weren’t Joel’s daughter, and he wasn’t your dad.

That much was true, and you knew it, because you had each other. And maybe, come morning, you would still leave the apartment like you had been considering doing all along, or maybe you would stay. Maybe, you’d let yourself have this, this little family made up of torn apart pieces, of members too damaged to fit just right, of a dad who lost his daughter, and a daughter who lost her dad.

#heartpascal writes #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine #joel miller father figure #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x platonic!reader #tlou imagines #tlou one shot #tlou imagine #joel miller fic #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x daughter!reader #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x platonic!reader

[makoodles]

ミ tìyawn / ve’kì [nsfw]

🍓 pairing: tsu'tey x fem!human reader

🍓 word count: 12k

🍓 tags: nsfw, human/na'vi relationship, angst to fluff (kinda), jealousy, vaginal sex, tsu'tey is one seriously conflicted boy

masterlist

It’s no secret that Tsu’tey hates the Sky People.

They are demons, blind to the world around them and so utterly destructive in their natures. His planet, his home, has seen nothing but chaos and hardship ever since they have arrived.

They are small and weak, yet vicious and harmful in just about every way. He has not known true peace since their arrival.

The sky demons have no redeeming qualities. Or at least, almost no redeeming qualities.

“Fuck! Oh, god-”

“Be quiet.” Tsu’tey grunts, gripping the woven cushions that you’re bent over so hard that the skin goes taut and bloodless over his knuckles.

Honestly though, it seems as though this is your attempt at staying quiet – your eyes are squeezed shut tight and your little blunt teeth are digging into your lower lip hard. Your face is all screwed up, your breaths coming in little panting gasps as he ruts into you.

“Are you not embarrassed? So loud.” He mumbles, though his tone doesn’t match his words at all. 

He really can’t manage to stir up the usual feelings of disgust he has for sky demons, not when he can see the way your little toes are curling everytime he fucks into you.

“Fuck off.” You say, but your voice is all weak and trembling.

The sound of it only intensifies that heat building in his lower belly. You’re so small underneath him, your pussy stretched to its limit and dripping all over the thick length of him. Despite the size difference, you’re taking it so easily.

It’s far from the first time that he’s had you like this, on your hands and knees beneath him as you take him so well, but he still gets such a thrill out of it. He enjoys your pathetic little noises, the whimpers and moans and mewls as you wiggle and squirm beneath him, trying to get him to hit just right.

You make a sort of little mewling noise, muffled by the floor as you turn your face into the woven reed flooring beneath you, and then he feels you tighten up like a damn vice around his cock, your cunt fluttering as you come again. 

“Another one,” He notes, not bothering to hide his amusement. “Greedy.”

When he comes into you, it’s with a soft, satisfied little grunt. He has done this many times already, yet the pleasure always surprises him. He’s never felt anything as tight as you, so good that it borders on painful, and the element of illicitness only adds an additional little thrill to the whole thing.

You’re still making soft, muffled little sounds as his hips rock lazily, riding out the last tingling aftershocks of his own orgasm. He enjoys those little noises immensely, and he makes a rumbly sound of satisfaction as he plasters himself over the top of you and allows his weight to press you down into the floor entirely.

“Ow, fuck-” You mumble into the floor. “You’re fucking heavy, asshole, getoffme-”

“Quiet.” Tsu’tey mumbles, his eyes sliding shut as he attempts to enjoy the pleasant tingling feeling in his fingers and toes following his release. “You are always talking, mouth never closed.”

“You didn’t mind my mouth being open earlier.” You shoot back, attempting to throw a pitiful little glare over your shoulder.

 He thinks of your mouth earlier, wide open and hot and wet as you worked your tongue over him, and smirks.

“Okay, seriously.” You grumble, a little louder this time. You reach around and shove irritably at his chest. “Get off, dickhead. Did you tear your stitches? I told you to be careful-”

Tsu’tey just grunts and rolls off you, landing on his back and stretching his spine out with a sigh. No sooner has he started to relax than you’ve sat up to peer closely at the healing wounds along his chest and stomach.

“Do not touch.” He snaps, baring his teeth at you when you prod at the ridiculous little sutures that you had insisted on threading into him weeks ago. 

“You’ve been touching me for the last forty minutes.” You grumble, but you take your hands back all the same.

Tsu’tey doesn’t bother responding to that. He’s feeling pleasantly loose and relaxed, and he’s trying to enjoy that feeling for as long as possible before the weight of all his responsibilities come rushing back in.

Though you’re not touching him, he can feel your eyes on him as you examine his injuries, making sure none of them have torn open during your activities. Your concern pricks at his pride, and he grumbles lowly as you peer closer at him.

“You’re lucky you didn’t bust these,” You say. 

“You would just redo them anyway.” He grunts without opening his eyes.

There’s a pause. Then you sigh.

“Yeah.” You murmur, so quiet he almost doesn’t hear. “I guess I would.”

This little… arrangement with you had started nearly two months ago. He can’t even fully remember how it had happened – you were some kind of healer, and had stayed around after the battle to help the wounded. Initially, he refused your help. He would have rather suffered the pain of his wounds than feel your little demon hands on him, but you had been practically forced upon him by Jakesully. 

For the first week or so, it had been nothing but sniping back and forth with each other. At some point, his insults and your challenges had evolved into heated exchanges that ended up like this, with you on your hands and knees or on your back for him as you both search for pleasure out of each other's bodies. 

After the great battle with the Sky People, most of them have been forced off the planet. The ones left are loyal to the Na’vi, or so Jakesully says. Tsu’tey is not convinced; they do not belong here, and he does not like them. Their presence aggravates him; he is still healing from the near-fatal wounds he had sustained during the battle, and he does not like having enemies around while he feels so vulnerable. 

You are not an exception to this; your presence aggravates him in a way he does not know how to describe. He is not blind or ignorant enough to claim that you are not attractive, in your own demon sort of way, but that reluctant sort of attraction only infuriates him further. He thinks something may have broken inside him after his fall from the sky during the great battle, but he refuses to think too much about it. 

It’s just a way of working out his frustration and you clearly enjoy these encounters. It’s not worth putting too much thought into.

Life slowly returns to normal after the majority of the Sky People leave. For weeks, the Omaticaya rebuild their home. The loss of Hometree was devastating, and the efforts to rebuild is both physically and emotionally taxing for the People. 

Tsu’tey does his best to pull his weight when it comes to helping out with the construction of their new encampment, but it is made difficult by the fact that you follow him around like a pest.

“I said no heavy lifting-”

“Go away, demon.” Tsu’tey grumbles, irritated by your presence.

“Doctor’s orders.” You’ve tilted your chin up, as stubbornly obstinate as ever. “Put that down.”

“Go away.” Tsu’tey repeats, but this time he reaches out and shoves at your head. It’s not a particularly rough gesture (he doesn’t actually want to hurt you), but it’s just enough to push you off balance.

You stagger a little, but keep on following him. He doesn’t bother trying to hide his irritation – the basket he is carrying is full of building materials, but it is not particularly heavy. He resents the fact that a creature as pathetically fragile as yourself would question his strength. 

And even more than that, he resents the fact that his wounds are admittedly paining him a little.

“I’m the one who’s gonna have to stitch you back up if you burst those-”

“I did not ask for your demon medicine.” Tsu’tey bares his fangs at you, growing genuinely aggravated. “I do not want it. Go and bother someone else.”

“But-”

Someone calls Tsu’tey’s name from further into the village, and he pulls his attention away from you to look towards the call. At his hip, you cross your arms and grumble as though you’re unhappy that his attention is not solely on you. You are a greedy thing, just like the rest of your people – always looking for more.

The one who has called him is Saeyla, and he has to suppress a sigh at the sight of her. She was his student once, and a talented one. She always did have much potential, but things have been very awkward between them since she had offered herself to him as a mate at the Tree of Souls. He had been harsh when he had rebuffed her, but perhaps not harsh enough if she is calling to him once more. 

It is typical that she has appeared in his path while you are hovering at his hip. A Na’vi woman that he rejected, and a human woman that he frequently chooses to be intimate with. It sounds like a bad joke.

“Saeyla.” He greets, hoping that he does not sound as tired as he feels. “What do you want?”

Despite the fact that she had called out to him, Saeyla is not actually looking at him. Her eyes are fixed on you, her brow puckered in visible distaste. There is no way for Saeyla to know of the little illicit sexual relationship between you two, and yet Tsu’tey feels his shoulders tense. He does not like to think of how she would react if she were to find out.

“Go away.” Saeyla speaks, but it’s not directed at him. She bares her teeth and hisses at you, and Tsu’tey bristles despite himself.

You actually take a step back, no doubt cowed by the venom in Saeyla’s tone, but Tsu’tey grabs the back of your neck and holds you in place by his hip. The audacity of his old student irks him, and he narrows his eyes and lets his lip curl as he looks at her.

“You do not give orders.” He says sharply to Saeyla. “I have business with the demon.”

You’ve gone uncharacteristically silent by his side, and he just barely resists the urge to glance down at you. Where is all that annoying fire gone? Usually he can’t get you to shut up at all.

Saeyla is still glaring, but at least now she’s looking at Tsu’tey. “Why is she following you?”

He doesn’t have a good answer to that, so he just glares back at her. He dislikes her tone, and he is not used to being questioned. 

“What do you want?” He repeats himself, an unmistakable edge creeping into his voice.

There’s a pause, and then Saeyla purses her lips and throws her hair over her shoulder. Her kuru is drawn over her chest, long and glossy – her movements are calculated to draw attention to it, in a move that is unmistakably flirtatious. 

Tsu’tey’s ears flatten against his head at her boldness, uncertain what to make of this. 

“I wish to speak to you.” She says, before cutting a glance towards you at his side. “Without the demon present.”

For a moment, Tsu’tey says nothing. He stands there, tail swishing uneasily, as he considers the situation. This is admittedly more uncomfortable than it should be. He had rejected Saeyla’s mating proposal harshly, and now he feels as though he has been cornered by her yet again. 

Even worse, you stand at his side to remind him that he has apparently turned down the company of a fine, respectable Na’vi woman to rut with a human.

With a sigh he removes his hand from the back of your neck and instead pushes at your shoulder. “Go. Leave us.”

You pause, dithering a little, before relenting and stepping back. He does not glance down at you as you retreat, but rather keeps his eyes fixed on Saeyla, who is watching you as though she’s about to start hunting you.

Once you have retreated beyond earshot, Saeyla speaks up. “Ma’Tsu’tey. I was wondering if you have reconsidered my proposal.”

Once, Tsu’tey may have attempted to keep a neutral expression and to meet her bold requests with patience. But since the battle, since his injury, since he had started fucking you, he feels like a raw nerve, pulsing and peeled open and exposed. He feels as though he’s lost some of his control, some of the safe rigidity that had ruled his life up to now. 

“I have not.” He says bluntly.

But just like always, Saeyla does not know when to stop pushing.

“I understand that you are not ready to take a mate.” She says, stepping closer to him even as he stands stiff and still. “But the battle is over, and the People are rebuilding. I am happy to be… if not a mate, then a lover-”

His eyes flare wide, surprised by her brazenness.

“Saeyla,” He bites out. “You overstep.”

“It is an offer.” She says simply, bowing her head in what would have been a gesture of deferment if not for the way she is stubbornly maintaining eye contact with him. “Just an offer.”

Tsu’tey’s upper lip lifts up in a snarl, baring his sharp upper teeth. “I do not enjoy repeating myself.”

As always, Saeyla is unapologetic. She keeps staring up at him in a way that she likely believes is seductive, but is really just uncomfortably intense.

“Consider it.” She entreats him, finally stepping back. “You are lonely, I know it. I wish to share the burden with you.”

His jaw clenches, his shoulders straightening and going rigid. He probably should consider her offer. She is a woman of the People, a warrior-hunter who has completed her iknimaya, and she is not unattractive. And yet, his entire being rejects the idea of taking her as a mate. It feels wrong in a way that he does not understand.

Without another word, Tsu’tey turns from her and marches away. 

He feels restless and discomfited, his tail swishing low around his legs in annoyance as he storms back through the village. Some of the People call out greetings to him as he passes, but he is too preoccupied to reply. 

“Tsu’tey,” Jakesully calls when he passes by him, “Brother, I thought you weren’t cleared for heavy lifting yet-”

“What?” Tsu’tey snaps, turning with a scowl.

Jakesully pauses, his eyebrows creeping up at Tsu’tey’s overly aggressive tone of voice. Chagrined, Tsu’tey takes a moment to breathe, forcing himself to calm down. He is being unreasonable.

“I thought our resident little nurse had ordered you not to be doing any heavy lifting.” Jakesully says slowly. “You’re bleeding a little there.”

Tsu’tey follows Jake’s pointing finger to his chest, and sees that one of the neat little stitches around one of his wounds has torn open a little bit.

“Ah,” Tsu’tey’s brow contorts in frustration. “She will be a pain about this.”

Jakesully reaches out and takes the large basket from him, still watching his face carefully. “Yeah, well, we’re lucky to have her. Most of the medical personnel went back to Earth.”

“All of the demons should have gone back.” Tsu’tey says, but he’s somewhat distracted. He’s basically just repeating old arguments, his attention preoccupied with the blood that’s trickling over his chest from where your careful stitches had torn at the skin.

Jakesully gives him a look of intense disapproval, but Tsu’tey does not quail beneath it. It is a disagreement that the two of them have had several times. Tsu’tey believes that Jake is blinded by his past as a tawtute, and that he is unfairly biased in their favour, and Jake believes that Tsu’tey is allowing his prejudice to blind him when it comes to forming alliances and friendships with the sky demons that remain here.

“What crawled up your ass today?” Jake demands, brow furrowed.

Tsu’tey nearly chokes. “I- what? Nothing is up my-”

“Why are you even grouchier than normal?” Jake interrupts his protests, still frowning. “I thought you were getting along better with her.”

“No.” Tsu’tey denies instantly, his ears pinning back defensively. “I do not like her.”

Jake’s eyes narrow, visibly unconvinced. “Right. Well, Jesus, if you’re so against having her help, go to one of the Omaticaya healers.”

It’s not an unreasonable suggestion, but Jakesully has no way of knowing that Tsu’tey goes to you for reasons other than simple medical help. There is no simple way of describing the strange sexual relationship he has with you now, not without admitting a level of vulnerability that he is uncomfortable with. His attraction to you is a shameful thing that he would prefer to indulge in without having to analyse at all.

He just grunts, brow furrowed, and doesn’t answer.

“Whatever.” Jakesully blows out a frustrated breath, clearly done with both Tsu’tey and the conversation. “Do what you want. But don’t be so damn hard on her, yeah?”

Tsu’tey just scowls at him, before turning on his heel and storming purposefully back into the village. Why is it that everyone thinks they know what he wants better than he himself does today?

Predictably, he finds you in the little outpost that has been built to house the demons that have chosen to stay close to the village. 

He has to loop one of those horrible little masks around his neck when he ducks inside, taking the odd puff of air every five minutes or so as he lopes into the outpost. The ceilings are high, made to accommodate the demon avatar bodies that some of the scientists have, but he still feels claustrophobic in the confined space.

The outpost itself is quiet at this time of day – the sky demons keep busy, often attempting to offer help in the village or just wandering the forests with their stupid technology as they research. 

He finds you in your usual workspace near the back, fiddling with one of the glowing pad things that the demons usually use. You don’t look up as he approaches, even though he’s sure that you hear him. You appear absorbed in your work, except when he gets close he can see that you’re just staring at the pad without actually doing anything.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, still not raising your head. “I thought you were busy.”

Tsu’tey hums, poking at one of the strange machines that line the little room you’ve been working in. All this demon technology makes him uneasy, and his ears stay pinned against the side of his head as he hovers behind you.

“These stitches have broken.” He says, reaching up to scratch at where some of the blood has begun to dry.

That finally makes you turn, though your expression is all crumpled up into a frown as you step forward to peer at his chest. Ridiculously, he feels a little guilty. You had told him to be careful so many times, after all, and now he has made more work for you. But then he pushes those little feelings of guilt down deep – he was not going to be a burden on the clan by not helping out when he should, no matter how much you begged him to be still and useless as he healed.

To his surprise, you don’t scold him. You just purse your lips and gesture to the small flat bed that you use for his medical check-ups, and he sits without complaint. He is familiar with this routine by now, but his tail curls uncomfortably as you remain silent – you haven’t even said I told you so.

You place your small hands on his chest as you lean in to inspect the wound that cuts across his left pectoral muscle, right where the stitches at the top of the cut have torn. Your expression makes it very clear that you are unhappy with what you see, and yet you still remain quiet.

Tsu’tey allows the silence to stretch as you wash your hands and gather your medical supplies, threading a small needle as you prepare to redo his suturing. Even when you actually begin to fix his stitches, the needle pricking at his skin uncomfortably, he waits for you to speak first. 

It becomes clear very quickly that you’re content to do his stitches in silence. Unusual. You should have been scolding him by now, insulting him as you usually do. Then he would be able to insult you right back, and you would respond with a challenge, and then eventually the two of you would wind up in a sweating, moaning heap, as usual.

But you stay silent, your tiny hands gentle as you painstakingly work on his wounds.

Tsu’tey’s tail lashes, on edge. “You are quiet today.”

You just hum, without making any real effort to answer at all. It only makes his agitation worse. Why are you acting so strange?

When you finally finish up with his stitches, you step back and move to wash your hands, still not saying a thing. He watches you carefully, brow furrowed. 

You’re wearing a small white top, but you seem to have gone without your usual breast covering – a bra, you’ve called it before. He hadn’t noticed earlier, but now that he’s looking at you he can see the way your nipples press against the thin cotton material. Despite the oddness in your demeanour, Tsu’tey can feel himself growing aroused.

Perhaps he’s been conditioned to expect pleasure from these little encounters with you, because he’s growing hard beneath his tewng. He reaches for you, his tail swishing slowly as his hand trails over your waist.

You finally look up at him, but you neatly sidestep his hand. Surprised, Tsu’tey’s ears twitch back and flatten. You’ve never avoided his touch before – if anything, you’ve always been deliciously eager for him.

“What did Saeyla want?” You ask, turning away from him to dispose of the used needle and bloody wipes.

He blinks. He’s a little taken aback by the question, so it doesn’t occur to him to lie.

“She wished to offer herself to me as a mate.” He says. “And when I denied her, she offered herself as a lover.”

A muscle in your jaw pulses, and you flick your hair back before throwing him a look over your shoulder. “And what did you say?”

He frowns. Your manner is confusing him. Are you angry at him for tearing the stitches? You have always told him that you would stitch him back up again, so he had not thought you would be mad. 

He reaches out again, and again you step away. He scowls, frustrated.

“Am I not allowed to touch you?”

“What did you say to her? What was your answer?” You repeat, taking another step back as you squint at his face.

He blows out a breath, irritated. “It is not your business.”

“Not my business?” You repeat, sounding faintly disbelieving. “Not my business?”

Your eyebrows are raised and your eyes are narrowed, your mouth pressed into a firm line. Tsu’tey is not very good at reading the expressions of Sky People, but even he can tell that he’s treading a dangerous line here. You seem angry, though he can’t understand why.

“My mating prospects are a concern for the People, and the People alone.” Tsu’tey says, leaning forward to scowl at you. “It is not the business of tawtute.”

You scoff, folding your arms tight across your chest. “You seemed to enjoy making your mating prospects my business when you were fucking me after every damn check-up.”

“That was not mating.” Tsu’tey snaps. “That was…” He thinks of a phrase he has heard Jakesully use before, a human idiom that you will surely understand. “That was blowing off steam.”

You take a sharp breath. If you looked angry before, now you look furious.

“Blowing off steam?” You repeat, your voice trembling with righteous anger. “Are you fucking joking? I mean- I know that you don’t like humans, but I thought- I thought that you-” 

Tsu’tey’s tail lashes, and he pushes himself up off the bed. He does not like this; you are unexpectedly angry, and he does not know what to do with the brunt of your frustration. He has argued with you before, small and petty disagreements as you snipe at each other, and it has always been resolved with you face-down and ass-up as he pounds his way into you. This argument feels different. He doubts there will be such a pleasurable end to this one.

“Do you even-” You start, your face all screwed up. “Do you even like me?”

What a loaded question. He doesn’t even know how to begin answering that – he just stares at you like a total skxawng, his brows furrowed and eyes flared wide in bewilderment. The two of you have never spoken about what it is you’re doing together, or about how either of you feel about it. If anything, Tsu’tey has been trying his damn hardest not to think about things. 

“You-” He starts, floundering a little and trying to hide it. He hates appearing uncertain or vulnerable in any way. “You are… a good healer. And you are… attractive.”

You are more than attractive, really. You are so small and delicate, squishy and soft, and you heal rather than destroy like the rest of your kin. He likes that you are so concerned about him, that you care so much for his healing. Your weakness is also something that is distinctly… thrilling to him. He likes that he feels as though he can protect you, he likes that he feels so strong around you. When you’re not actively tending to his wounds, he’ll admit that his eyes trail after you more often than they should.

He doesn’t say any of that out loud. “But you are still a tawtute.”

“So it’s fine to fuck me, but nothing else, is that it?” You demand, glaring at him. “Jesus, why have you even been wasting your time with me?”

His ears pin back, confused. He had thought that you were both on the same wavelength when it came to where you stood with each other. It had never felt like a waste of time to him.

Tsu’tey hates the Sky People. Everyone knows that. You were the most bearable of all of them, and he will admit that you are enticing with the soft plushness of your body and your sweet little face, but you are still a sky demon. His attraction to you is a shame that he wrestles with constantly, only quieting when he is with you properly.

You’re breathing heavily, your chest heaving as you try to regulate yourself. “You know what? Fuck off. Go ahead and fuck Saeyla, or one of many other Na’vi women that are clearly into you. There’s no fucking reason for you to be wasting both of our time like this.”

When he doesn’t move, you bare your teeth and reach up to shove at his stomach as hard as you can. You are one of the weakest little creatures he’s ever come across, so there’s no chance of you actually managing to shift him – still though, he takes a step back as you shove at him again.

“Get out! Go away!”

Tsu’tey growls warningly, and grabs at your small hands with one of his before tugging your arms to the side so that you can’t shove at him anymore.

“Calm down.” He warns, frowning at you. “You are overreacting-”

“Oh, you asshole!” You yell, visibly furious. “Don’t tell me I’m overreacting! Just go – go find Saeyla and tell her that you accept, and don’t come around here anymore!”

Tsu’tey rumbles a growl, his lip curling at you. How do you have the audacity to tell him not to come around somewhere on his own planet when you are the interloper here?

“You do not tell me what to do-” He begins, but you’re not even listening to him.

“Go!” You shout, and this time he does as you say.

He beats a retreat out of the outpost, his tail lashing in agitation as he storms out. He doesn’t look back once, and you don’t follow after him. 

For the next couple of days, Tsu’tey stews.

It is his nature to brood over things anyway, but even he can recognise that he’s particularly moody in the days following his disagreement with you. He skulks around the village and tries to help where he can, but Jakesully banishes him from the heavy-lifting. That means that Tsu’tey has even more time to sulk to himself, replaying the argument in his head and trying to figure out what the fuck had happened.

Strangely enough, he does not see you around the village at all. Not even a glimpse in the distance. It makes him uneasy.

Before the incident with Saeyla, you used to follow him around constantly, badgering him about being careful and minding his stitches. It had been irritating, but now that you’ve seemingly disappeared he finds himself hyper-conscious of your absence.

Eventually, he finds himself outside the demon outpost once more. He can’t quite believe that he’s here of his own free will, but he tells himself that it’s just because he needs his stitches checked. They look fine, but it’s better to just make sure.

But when he shoves his way inside, he’s unnerved to find that you aren’t here either. There are several tawtute around the outpost, and they look both startled and bewildered to see him here. He pays no attention to them, searching the place for any sign of you.

There’s another Sky Person in your usual work space, a male, and he looks absolutely terrified when Tsu’tey approaches.

“Oh,” The demon says, straightening up. “I- hello. Do you- you’re here for a check up?”

Tsu’tey’s lips peel back in a sneer, a harsh snarl rumbling in his chest. The tawtute shrinks back, horrified.

“Where is she?” He demands, looking around as though you might emerge from behind one of their strange machines at any moment.

The demon swallows thickly. At least he doesn’t insult Tsu’tey by pretending that he does not know who he’s talking about.

 “Um… she’s not around right now.” His voice is trembling slightly, but he still gets his point across. “She said that if you came in about those stitches, that, um… well, she said to tell you that you should go to a Na’vi healer.”

Tsu’tey’s nostrils flare, and the tawtute flinches. “I want to speak to her.”

The man just shrugs, all jerky and stiff. “She’s not here, man. Sorry.”

It takes days before Tsu’tey sees you again.

He is starting to grow genuinely frustrated with your absence, and in some sense worried too, though he didn’t want to admit it. So when you finally reappear, Tsu’tey is honestly relieved.

That sense of relief doesn’t last for very long, because the next time he sees you, you aren’t alone. 

Tsu’tey knows that you are a healer, of course. He knows that you must surely attend to other people. But ever since he was injured in the great battle, the only person that he’s seen you focus on is him. 

Maybe that’s why it’s such a shock to finally catch sight of you tucked away in a corner of the village with your head bent over the arm of Artuk, a recently blooded male of the Omaticaya. He was a student of Tsu’tey himself, and only completed his iknimaya trials a few weeks ago. 

As a young hunter, he is free to choose a mate for himself. It is utterly galling to see the way that his tail coils so close to your thigh as you inspect the cut on his arm, gently cleaning it of blood. 

Artuk’s ears rotate forward as you speak to him, his eyes half-lidded as he listens closely to whatever it is that you’re saying. He looks too interested, and Tsu’tey feels his own ears pin back defensively at the sight before him.

Perhaps he is reading too much into this. You are a healer. You are healing. Artuk is probably not looking at you in that way at all – surely Tsu’tey is the only one with that specific illness that makes him feel attracted to the sky demons that tried to destroy his home. Or at least, one particular sky demon.

Still though, he ends up hovering nearby and trying to look busy as he steals glances over to where you’re standing next to Artuk. The young hunter’s arm has been carefully bandaged up by your gentle hands, but Tsu’tey notices that you’re still holding onto his arm anyway. 

When you laugh at something he says, Tsu’tey’s ears flick even lower. Art’uk has never been particularly funny, so what are you laughing at?

Artuk starts to grin, looking disgustingly pleased with himself. Then, to Tsu’tey’s horror, he starts to shuffle closer to you. 

And you just stand there, not making any move to edge away. If anything, you look flattered by the attention. As Tsu’tey watches, your smile turns faintly shy and you reach up to tuck some of your hair behind your ear. 

You look so pretty from here, even if you are too small and weak and odd-looking. The fact that your smile is directed at Artuk is disgraceful, and it causes Tsu’tey’s teeth to gnash.

The last straw comes when Artuk’s tail moves low and begins to coil around your ankle. There is no mistaking what a move like that means, and Tsu’tey grimaces in pure shock. Art’uk is flirting with you. His intentions are unmistakable.

What the fuck? Artuk setting his sights on a sky demon is one thing, but setting his sights on you? That is something that Tsu’tey could never have predicted.

He’s moving before he even realises it. There is no plan, he’s not even thinking, and before he knows it he ends up standing in front of you and Artuk with a scowl so forceful that it’s nearly giving him a headache.

Artuk startles, his eyes blowing wide as he attempts to sit up straight. “Ma’Tsutey! I did not see you!”

Tsu’tey just glowers. The youngling is hardly even a man yet, and yet his tail is still coiled around your ankle in some pathetic attempt at asserting ownership. Where did he get the audacity? And you! You were letting him!

“What happened?” Tsu’tey asks, and his voice comes out rough with irritation. He nods pointedly towards Artuk, where his arm has been so carefully wrapped by your skilled hands.

“Oh,” Artuk’s ears twitch, a sign of embarrassment. “An accident with construction. A beam slipped and cut me.”

“A foolish mistake.” Tsu’tey snaps disdainfully.

You speak up for the first time, but you don’t look at Tsu’tey at all. Your gaze is still focused on Artuk’s arm, despite the fact that it’s already been wrapped.

“Accidents happen.” You say, before sending Artuk a sympathetic little smile. “Does it still hurt?”

“A little.” He says, and Tsu’tey snorts in contempt. 

What kind of warrior snivels over such a small injury?

“Oh,” You coo sympathetically, and stroke a thumb just beneath his bandages. “Poor thing. Well, it’s clean now, so you shouldn’t be at risk of infection-”

Artuk is nodding, but Tsu’tey knows that he isn’t really listening. He’s too busy staring at your face, his eyes lingering around your strange little blunt teeth and your odd nose. Tsu’tey understands the appeal – he has studied your foreign features enough to be rather intimately familiar with them – but he finds himself resentful of Artuk’s interest. Innocent fascination would be one thing, but he can see by Artuk’s body language that his interest in you is not innocent. 

“Thank you for your help.” Artuk says so earnestly that it sets Tsu’tey’s teeth on edge. “You have very gentle hands.”

Tsu’tey rolls his eyes violently, but you seem flattered by that little comment. You look down, all flustered, and smile up at Artuk from beneath your eyelashes. It’s a look that would have had Tsu’tey’s kuru tingling and his cock stiffening, if only it had been directed at him and not Artuk.

“Alright,” Tsu’tey finally says, his voice much louder than entirely necessary. “Go away, Artuk. I must speak with the tawtute.”

Your head snaps around, and you glower at him so intensely that it almost physically burns. Tsu’tey doesn’t care – it doesn’t matter that you’re glaring at him so long as he has your attention on him and not Artuk.

“I can’t imagine what you think we have to talk about.” You say sharply, sticking your nose up at him.

You’re such a prissy little thing. He has no idea why he likes it so much – he doesn’t think he’s ever enjoyed that in a woman before. 

“I think we have lots to talk about, little thing.” He rumbles, and watches the way your lips purse.

He is not blind. He sees the way your eyes dart over the muscles of his chest and down over his waist and hips, before quickly darting away towards safer territory. Unfortunately, it seems as though you’ve decided that safer territory means towards Artuk.

Tsu’tey bristles, frustrated that your attention keeps straying. He’s never had an issue keeping your attention before. If anything, he’s always found it difficult to escape your fussing. That he is being denied your attention now is making his skin itch.

“I’ll check on this later, alright?” You say, smiling at Artuk once more before straightening your little tank top and stepping back.

Tsu’tey relaxes slightly as space grows between the two of you, though he keeps darting his gaze between you and the young hunter. Artuk’s tail coyly slips away from your ankle, though it drags painstakingly slowly across your skin as it does so. Tsu’tey just barely manages to resist the urge to grab it and tear it away from you entirely.

“Yes. Thank you again.” Artuk says, his ears lowering in supplication. “Will you have dinner in the village this evening? I will see you then?”

“I’m not sure yet.” You say, a little awkwardly. “We’ll see.”

Artuk takes that in stride, and he gives you one last smile before leaving you alone with Tsu’tey. He doesn’t even spare Tsu’tey a glance as he walks away, and Tsu’tey is struck by his boldness once more. He certainly hasn’t always been this confident; Tsu’tey remembers him as a weedy youngling who cried from frustration when he found himself unable to hit the target during training. 

Now that it is just you and Tsu’tey, it seems as though you’re absolutely determined to ignore him. You drop your attention to the little medical kit that you carry around everywhere, packing away the disinfectant and the bandages that you’ve been using. 

“What was that?” Tsu’tey demands, ducking his head down towards you so that he can speak to you with an illusion of privacy. “You say you will check on that small scratch of Artuk’s, and yet you have not looked at my stitches for many days now.”

“You’ve told me hundreds of times by now that you think human medicine isn’t worth shit and that you don’t want it anywhere near you-”

“You have never listened to me before.” Tsu’tey snaps back, aggravated. “Why are you listening now?”

“Tsu’tey, go away.” You grit out without looking at him. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“So you would speak to Artuk instead?” He asks, frowning as he shuffles closer.

You turn and scowl up at him once more, and Tsu’tey feels something within him ease at having your attention on him again.

“Artuk actually wants to speak to me.” You say sharply. “Unlike you. Why are you here?”

“I am here because I do want to speak to you.” He points out in frustration. “You have been avoiding me.”

“Yes, obviously.” You sling your little pack of supplies over your shoulder, clearly preparing to leave. “I can’t imagine why that would bother you. You have made your opinion on me perfectly clear-”

“Well, I obviously have not made it clear if you are avoiding me.” He reaches to stop you from leaving, but stops short of actually touching you. “Stop. I wish to talk.”

“Fine.” Your small hands are clenched into fists. “Talk then. Tell me exactly what you think of me.”

For a moment, Tsu’tey just stands there. You’re watching him expectantly, your hands on your hips, and your brows are drawn together challengingly. It’s almost comical to see a small thing like you act so defiantly, but Tsu’tey feels warmth curl in his belly at the sight. It’s sweet.

“Come back to my kelku.” He blurts. It’s not quite what he had meant to say, but the words are already out and he can’t take them back.

You scoff. “No. Jesus, all you do is think with your fucking dick-”

“Not for that.” He says hastily, ears lowering. “Just for talking.”

You're still scowling, your arms coming up to cross defensively over your chest. You don’t appear too convinced by him, but he is not willing to give up just yet. 

“Let us go to the tawtute outpost instead, then.” He offers. “Just to talk. That is all.”

Slowly, so slowly, you start to relent. Your shoulders lower and your arms drop, but you keep scowling. 

When Tsu’tey sees you start to give in, he seizes on it. “Ten minutes. Just ten minutes.”

He’s pleading like a moron, his dignity lying in tatters around his feet. It’s a little mortifying to have to beg a demon just for the chance to plead his case, but he stands firm anyway – he may as well commit fully, after all.

You sigh, and reach up to rub at the back of your neck. You look tired, and he feels guilt creeping into his stomach.

“Ten minutes.” You say firmly, before turning on your heel and marching away.

Tsu’tey wastes no time in following you. Usually, it is him leading the way with you following along at his heels, so for him to be following behind you like this is a novelty. He finds his eyes glued to your back as he walks after you, careful to take smaller steps so that he can stay behind you.

He lets his gaze travel down your back and over the curve of your waist and the swell of your hips. It’s not often that he gets a chance to look like this – he’s usually trying too hard to pretend that he’s not aware of you at all. Now, he allows himself to appreciate the view as your steps cause your hips to sway.

The two of you have just reached the edge of the village when there’s a call of Tsu’tey’s name.

He’s fully prepared to ignore it, but then you pause from where you’re marching ahead of him and turn your head to look back in the direction of the village.

It is Saeyla again, he knows without even looking. He sighs as he follows your lead in pausing and looking towards her.

Saeyla has taken a step towards the two of you, her eyes narrowed and resentful as her gaze falls on you.

“Go away, Saeyla,” Tsu’tey calls, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I do not have time today.”

He places his hand just in between your shoulderblades and pushes, just hard enough to get you walking again. You half-stagger, glancing from Tsu’tey to Saeyla and then back again, before lurching forward.

“Are you not going to talk to-” You sound a little sour and Tsu’tey has no doubt that you’re planning some snappy little comment, but he has no intention of letting you finish.

“No,” He interrupts, still pushing you on. “I am not going to talk to her, vrrtep.”

That seems to mollify you, and you keep taking your somewhat clumsy steps into the forest, leading the way through the trees towards the outpost. Your journey together is quiet – you are still stubbornly avoiding talking to him, and he is reluctant to push his luck by attempting to draw you into conversation. 

It is a relief when the shoddy eyesore of a building looms up from the forest, and Tsu’tey speeds up without conscious thought. You let out a soft sound of complaint, but allow him to guide you into moving faster all the same.

When he follows you into the outpost building, he finds that it is far busier than the last time he was here. The sight of all the sky demons chatting and laughing and working irritates him, and he glares as he straightens up, his shoulders drawing back.

“Get out!” He delivers the order in the same harsh tone he usually uses when he is training the young hunters, and he finds it gratifying when he’s met with a frantic burst of movement.

“You are so goddamn rude.” You grit out, clearly irritated with him, but you just push further into the outpost as the other humans begin to file out.

He doesn’t particularly care for manners when it comes to interacting with tawtute, but you had looked at him so reproachfully that he hesitates to snap at them again. He just follows you towards the little medical bay you work from, looming over the scientists and glowering at them to get them moving out of the building a little quicker.

You lead him into the small medical room and as the doors whoosh shut behind him, you lean against one of the work counters and cross your arms as you watch him. Your regard is weighty for such a small creature, and he finds himself puffing up his chest and rolling his shoulders under your gaze.

“Go on then.” You say, eyes narrowing. “Explain.”

There’s a challenging bite to your voice that has his tail curling. He is getting excited, and he hopes that you don’t notice. He imagines that you will only get angrier at him, but he can’t help it – there’s something about the jagged edges of your anger that is impossibly enticing.

“I told Saeyla no,” Tsu’tey says, and watches you very carefully for your reaction. “I told her no about mating, and I told her no about taking her as a lover. Just as I have told her before.”

Your expression wobbles, but you manage to keep up the veneer of calm aloofness remarkably well. “Am I supposed to care about this?”

Tsu’tey steps towards you, and is pleased when you don’t step away from him. He ducks his head, just slightly, so that he’s closer to eye-level with you. 

“Yes,” He murmurs. “I think you do care.”

Your jaw clenches, and he realises that you’re beginning to get defensive. He tilts his head in supplication, attempting to appear non-confrontational – he will need to be careful or you will grow too angry to listen to him.

“I do like you,” He says. “You asked me before. The answer is yes, I do like you.”

You sigh, then reach up to rub at your face in frustration. It is rare that he gets access to your face like this; your face always appears so impossibly distant to him, all locked behind the awful plastic bubble of your mask, and he watches with ill-disguised interest as you press your fingers into your eyelids.

“Are you only telling me this because I was talking to Artuk?” You demand, your eyes squeezing shut in frustration. 

Tsu’tey shifts on his feet. He feels as though it would probably be unwise to answer that question, but he wants to be truthful with you.

“I have been thinking these few days.” He says, frowning. “But I did not like seeing him with you. He should not make advances on you like that.”

You laugh, but you most certainly do not sound amused.

“Why not?” You demand, stepping towards him. “He doesn’t mind that I’m human.”

Tsu’tey’s ears twitch, his mouth pursing. “Is today the first time he spoke with you?”

You scoff again, turning your face away from him. At first he thinks that you are so frustrated with him that you can hardly bear to look him in the eye, but then he sees that your mouth is pursed and your eyes are shifty – you are embarrassed.

“No.” You say, clearing your throat. “It isn’t.”

Tsu’tey inhales sharply. This does not please him at all.

“He’s friendly,” Your arms tighten across your chest defensively. “And he treats me like a person rather than a demon.” After that jab you pause, but then keep going as though the confession just spills out of you. “He… he’s hurt himself a couple of times over the last few weeks. He brings me fruit when he comes to get fixed up.”

That is a revelation that leaves Tsu’tey reeling. There is no reason that Artuk could not find a Na’vi healer in the clan to fix him up – and why was a hunter who had completed his iknimaya and was recognised as a man in the eyes of the People getting injured so often, anyway? And bringing you fruit? That, in conjunction with how his tail had curled so boldly around your little ankles, was undoubtedly a mating display.

And this has been going on for weeks? Tsu’tey has been fucking you for months, at least two, which means that surely Artuk has smelled his scent on you. That means that he has chosen to challenge Tsu’tey’s claim to you anyway, a fact that has Tsu’tey bristling. Not that his claim is obvious, admittedly. He should have noticed, should have done something about this.

To realise that his old student has been seeking you out like this is utterly galling. He feels a little ill at the thought of you accepting Artuk’s offering of fruit, of you smiling at him as you patch up his wounds, of you allowing Artuk to touch you.

Tsu’tey steps forward without thinking, reaching for your waist. This time, you don’t back away from him. His stomach leaps a little bit in mingled excitement and relief, and he lowers himself to his knees as both his hands cup you by the waist. It chafes at his dignity a little, to kneel before a sky demon like this, but when your eyes settle on his face he feels something in him ease.

Your eyes dart down to his hands, so large where they wrap around your torso, before darting quickly back up to his face.

“You only have ten minutes.” You remind him, raising your chin. “And you haven’t done much talking.”

Bossy, he thinks, amused despite himself. He has never been very good at talking, but he’s determined to do the best he can.

“I do not like Artuk talking to you.” He says, his fingers curling into the soft material of your clothes. “I do not like him bringing you fruit. I do not like that he is attempting to offer himself to you as a mate-”

“Oh, that isn’t what he’s doing.” You roll your eyes, but Tsu’tey ignores you.

If Artuk was brave enough to be so damn unapologetic about his desire for you, then Tsu’tey should be too. It might be shameful to desire a tawtute, but it would be even more shameful to have the tawtute he desired stolen away by another.

“I enjoy your softness, I like your small hands, I like that you care so much about the wellbeing of other people,” He starts, his tail lashing. “I like that you are small and bold. I like it when you get angry. I like the noises you make when you open up around my cock-”

You let out a noise of pure mortification, your hands jumping up to grab at his wrists where he’s holding you.

“Oh, stop!” You hiss, clearly flustered. “Where is this coming from? I thought we were just blowing off steam. If you want a lover, go to Saeyla-”

Tsu’tey cuts you off with a frustrated snarl, his fingers tightening around your little hips. 

“You are angry at me for something that I have not done.” He points out, clicking his tongue. “I have rejected Saeyla, I have rejected Txisma, I have rejected Ninat. Can you not see? You are the only one I have had.”

Your forehead is all wrinkled as you frown. You seem confused, and he can’t blame you – his feelings have been confusing him, too. 

“Do you-” He starts to ask, insecurity rising up in his throat like bile and gripping him tight. “Do you like me?”

“Ugh!” You throw your hands up, narrowly avoiding knocking him upside the head. “You’re so stupid! “

His ears pin back and his lips press tight together, but he does not argue. He is still waiting for you to answer the question, and it seems as though you’re just working yourself up.

“Of course I fucking like you!” You snap. Tsu’tey doesn’t even have time to feel pleased about that before you continue. “Do you have any idea how humiliating all this has been? I didn’t even really care that you were being a total asshole the whole time we were hooking up because at least you were noticing me. I understood why you called me a demon, I understood why you talked all that shit about humans. I still do undertand! We’ve been awful!  But I thought that maybe you were getting over it, since you were coming to find me damn near every day just to fuck. I thought that maybe you might like me-”

“I do like you.” Tsu’tey says quickly, but you actually hiss at him. 

“Shut up!” You snap. “I’m not finished!”

You have no fangs, so you should be utterly unintimidating, but he finds his ears flattening as he sits back on his knees, falling silent. It probably shouldn’t be attractive, seeing you like this. He attempts to stifle his reaction the best that he can in the hopes that you won’t notice the way he is shifting.

“You’re rude, and grumpy, and sometimes talking to you is like trying to talk to a brick wall!” You continue, your little face all contorted in frustration. “You think you know best, even when you don’t, and you won’t listen to my goddamned medical advice even when it will fucking help you! And I’ve had to redo those stupid stitches of yours at least a dozen times-!”

Tsu’tey’s own brows are furrowed now. Are you confessing that you like him, or are you just going to list out all of his faults?

“And yeah, I like you anyway.” You sigh, rubbing at your face. “God knows why. Maybe it’s your nice face, or stupid sexy body.”

Ah. A compliment. Tsu’tey tosses his braids back and smiles smugly. So you do like him. Excellent. 

“I am sorry that I upset you.” Tsu’tey says, his voice low in the intimate quiet of the room. “I have been… confused. But I know that I want you.”

“Like, actually want me?” You ask, one of your eyebrows cocked in challenge. “Or do you mean you just want to fuck me?”

“No, I mean-” Tsu’tey takes a breath, confused but determined. “Fully. I want you fully.”

Your expression falters, and you bite your lip hard in an effort to conceal your feelings. “Oh yeah? Even if I’m just a human? Are you willing to defend your choice to the rest of the clan?”

“Yes.” He breathes. “I… I think so.”

Your face collapses into a scowl, and he realises almost immediately that he has made a mistake.  

“Well,” You say; your tone is so faux-sweet that it’s almost sickening. “Why don’t you just come back when you're certain, then?”

You reach down and knock his hands off your waist, then turn from him and begin to march towards the door. The sight of you trying to leave sends his stomach plummeting to his feet. Has he lost his chance? Is his ten minutes up? Panicked, he lunges forward and grabs at your little hands.

“Wait.”

 He is still on his knees, which makes it difficult to shuffle after you, but he still manages to lightly tug you back to him. You yelp, reaching up to plant your hands against his chest in an effort to keep your balance. 

“I want you,” He says urgently. “I am certain.”

You pause, your breathing coming heavier as you stare at him. He can see the whites of your eyes as you watch him in what looks like disbelief.

“What if you want to take a mate later?” You demand, eyes narrowing. “What if you decide that I’m not enough, or that you want a Na’vi mate-”

“You are it.” He interrupts, hoping that his tone conveys just how earnest he is being about this. “Demon or not, I… it is you that I want. Just you.”

He’s not expecting you to lurch towards him, your little hands reaching up to grab at his face. When you press your soft little lips to his in a kiss, his hands find purchase on your hips and he uses his grip there to haul you closer.

"Sweet little demon," He breathes against your mouth, "Please, just- let me-"

"Yes," You gasp into the kiss as you reach up to tangle your hands in his hair, desperate to make the kiss last. "Yes, alright-"

When Tsu’tey’s hands slip down your back and over the curve of your ass, it sends a visceral jolt up your spine. He lets out a soft grunt, and squeezes at the pliable flesh there as you kiss him fiercely. He doesn't know how you’re able to do this, to make every small contact feel so unbelievably good. He swears that even your chastest touches make his head swim. 

The hand that he had on your ass slips around to your front, where he plucks at the waistband of your stupid leg coverings.

“Remove.” He groans out, his voice rough and gritty with arousal. 

You do as he says eagerly, pawing at the button closure before shoving your pants roughly down over your thighs. You are so sweet and insistent, and you keep kissing him with unrelenting heat as you push your trousers off. He unclasps his own tewng and tosses it aside before his hands return to your body.

His hands roam over the soft material of your top, landing just over your squishy breasts. You are not wearing a bra again today, and he delights in the feeling of them in his palms through your top. You are so much smaller than him that your breasts fit neatly in his hand, and he marvels at the sight. 

“Fuck,” You whimper as his thumb brushes over one of your firmed up nipples. “Oh, fuck, please.”

His fingers curl into the fabric covering your tits, and he tugs at it lightly. “Remove.”

You start to wrestle your way out of your top, and Tsu’tey feels a little thrill at how easily you are obeying him right now. As soon as your top is removed and your breasts are bare, his hands coast down over your ass. His hands squeeze lightly over the squidge there, and then he uses his grip on you to haul you up into his arms. 

You squeal a little in surprise, before you dissolve into laughter as he holds you against his chest and nuzzles into the base of your throat. Tsu’tey breaks out into a wild grin at your reaction, unrestrained and thrilled – your laughter is an unspeakable relief after being on the receiving end of your ire for so long.

You’ve barely stopped kissing him once, your little hands cupping his face and keeping him firmly in place as you nip at his mouth. The wet heat of your tongue against his has his head spinning as though he had drunk too much of the fermented nectar the clan makes for celebrations.

When one of his hands slips into the flimsy cotton of your panties, he takes a sharp breath when his fingers find the slick heat between your legs. Oh, you’re so wet, all sticky and slippery as the pads of his fingers ghost over your swollen little clit. 

You moan, your hips jerking, and Tsu’tey grins into the kiss, sharp teeth bared. It seems as though you want him as badly as he wants you.

His fingers press into at the same moment as he ducks his head down and bites at your throat, and you wheeze as your back arches. Your hips are chasing his hand, rutting up and trying to get him where you want him. It’s cute, and he suckles at your neck as you shiver against him.

“Tsu’tey,” You breathe, your hands winding into his hair. “Tsu’tey, please-”

He is almost unbearably hard, but he can’t bring himself to tear his hands away from you in order to take care of himself. He just grunts, and allows his thumb to roll over your clit as you gasp a tremulous little breath.

"Tsu’tey," You complain, beginning to writhe around his hand. "Will you- can you just-" 

When he just chuckles at your tone you huff and reach down, grabbing a hold of the hand he’s got between your thighs and rutting your wet pussy against his fingers.

“Yes,” You breathe, your eyelids fluttering dazedly as your head tilts back. “Like that.”

Tsu’tey watches with an open mouth as you grind against his hand, sucking his fingers in deeper as you rut your clit up against his thumb. Heat flares through his nerve endings at the sight alone, and he ducks his head down and laves his tongue over one of your breasts.

You cry out, pressing closer, and he takes the hint to keep going. He suckles at your firm nipple, enjoying the way that your breath stutters as you absolutely soak the hand between your legs.

“Fuck!” You sob, but then you bite your lip hard to stifle any more sounds as he rolls his thumb insistently over your clit.

Tsu’tey breaks away from your chest, his mouth leaving a string of drool connected to the breast he had been sucking at. He frowns at the sight of you biting your lip to stay quiet.

“Let me hear you.” He says, and the gravel in his voice surprises even him.

“No,” You grumble, though you’re breathless. “You always say I’m too loud. Mouth never closed, remember?”

Damn. He curses his past self for sabotaging him like this.

“I was a skxawng. You must not listen to me.” He murmurs, kissing your breast before licking over your nipple. “I like it. Let me hear.”

The next time his thumb rolls over your clit, you let out a soft, breathless moan. The sound hits him like a punch to the gut and goes straight to his cock. 

He feels a little bit feral as he takes a hold of your hips and lifts you, walking quickly to the large medical cot in the corner of the room.

The medical bed was built to withstand the weight of avatar bodies, yet when Tsu’tey lands heavily on it with you in his arms it judders unsteadily beneath him. You let out a small noise of concern, grabbing at his biceps for stability as he clambers atop you, settling between your legs and looping your thighs around his waist.

His fingers return to your cunt instantly, and his chest rumbles in a satisfied purr when your little cunt swallows them inside with ease. Your hips buck up to meet his thrusting fingers, it seems without conscious thought on your part. You’re absolutely soaking, and your pussy makes obscene, wet noises with every plunge and retreat of his fingers as you pant.

Your obvious pleasure and the feel, sound and smell of your sex ratchets up Tsu’tey’s own excitement. He finds himself rock hard just thinking about how good it’s going to feel to have your soft, slick body envelop his cock, and he moans against your breast.

“Okay,” You breathe, spreading your thighs further as he settles into the cradle between your leg. “Come on, fuck me.”

You’re such a pushy little thing. It’s taking every ounce of strength in him not to flip you onto your stomach and just pound you senseless, but he’s trying to prove himself to you here. He will make you feel good, but he will do it carefully.

“Yes, little thing,” He breathes, his cock hard and unyielding as it rubs against the folds of your sex. “Alright.”

He grips the base of his cock, grunting with the effort it takes to hold himself back. He pushes his hips forward, the tip of his cock dragging against you as he grinds lazily in between your thighs. 

When he does finally begin to push in, he does it painfully slowly. Your brow puckers, your lower lip sucked in between your teeth as you inhale sharply and whine. He watches your reactions with avid interest, his eyes tracing over your face as he pushes into you. He thinks you look beautiful like this. You are soft and strange and small, but your features please him just as your bossy little attitude does.

“Relax, vrrtep,” He murmurs, nosing at your sweat-slick temple. “Or I will not fit.”

“Just- do it-” You’re trying to hump your hips onto his cock like a damn little brat, and it nearly makes him laugh out loud.

He knows you can take it – he’s had you before when you were less prepared, and he’s not sure why it feels so different this time. 

He eases his pelvis back, and then pushes forward all at once until he’s halfway inside. You shriek, clawing at his strong shoulders, and he stills for a moment to let you adjust. 

You whine, breathy and wanting, as Tsu’tey lowers his chest so that he’s pressed tight against you with your breasts all squished up against him. Like this, he can feel the frantic flutters of your heartbeat against him, and his own heart thumping rhythmically as if to mellow yours out. He purrs, chest rumbling soothingly as he slides deeper.

Your eyes are squeezed shut as you gasp, and Tsu’tey’s purring takes on an edge.

“I want you to look at me when I claim you.” He says, his lips dragging over the base of your throat. 

“Stupid,” You gasp, your nails biting into his back. “As if it could be anyone else.”

"I want you to watch," He clarifies, nipping at your collarbone. "After this, your cunt will know no other than me."

“Jesus fuck-”

He hunches over you until you’re engulfed beneath him – you’re so tiny, and he’s never felt like such a mighty warrior as he does right now, with you safe and caged in by his own body.

With a grunt, he begins to rut into you properly. You fit around him like a vice, so tight that it feels as though you’re trying to actually squeeze his cock right off. The wet heat of you steals his breath away, and he moans senselessly into your throat. He feels lightheaded with pleasure, and clutches mindlessly at the soft flesh of your ass.

You scrabble at his chest, and he blinks in bewilderment as you grab at the breathing mask looped around his neck and bring it to his mouth. He takes a deep breath and some of that lightheadedness fades, but he still feels positively dizzy.

He looks down, and feels his brain practically blank at the sight of your pussy stretched taut around his cock, swollen and shining wet as he fucks into the hot cradle between your legs. You take him so well, entirely at his mercy as he lifts your ass up so that he can push into you at an angle, your legs locking tight around his narrow hips.

You reach up and fist his braids in your hand, and he snarls like a beast. Has this always felt so good? Or does his body recognise that his mind has finally opened up, accepting you as a potential mate?

His strokes steadily became long and powerful, angled just the way that you usually like. You reach above your head and clasp the steel bars of the medical bed to hold yourself steady, and Tsu’tey’s eyes drop eagerly to your chest as your breasts bounce.

“Lovely,” He mutters drunkenly, bowing his head to suck a bruise into the top of your breast. “Yuey, ma’tawtute.”

The noises that you’re making have his head spinning. How could he have ever shushed you? He was a bigger fool than he can even fully comprehend.

He grips your ass and pulls you up closer, your thighs squeezing tight around his hips. You whine, then choke, then go silent as he strokes into you as fiercely as he dares without hurting you.

“Do not go quiet on me now, mate.” He croons, one hand pawing between your legs in search of the swollen bead of your clit. “Let me hear you.”

He isn’t going to last long in the agonisingly tight heat of you, but it’s so terribly important that you come first. It is a matter of pride, of dignity, of his honour as a man – he needs you to know that it is a priority for him to please you.

“Oh, fuck.” You practically wail it, the word all drawn out and slightly slurred as your head tosses back. “Keep- keep touching me like that, please!”

Tsu’tey does as you ask, his fingers rolling insistently against your clit, so soft and swollen from your arousal. Your back arches and your cunt clamps down on him, and he damn near blacks out from the sheer overload of sensation.

“Oh, yes,” You pant, eyes wide and mouth open. “Tsu’tey, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna-”

“Yes,” He says eagerly, a purr ripping through his chest. “Yes, let me see your pleasure. Give it to me.”

It seems to wash over you like a wave, your eyes rolling back as your head tips against the bed, your fingers scrabbling across his back. Your walls tighten around his cock in pulsing waves, and you let out a soft keening that sounds like a garbled version of his name.

You’re a mess, all sweaty hair and glowing skin and limp limbs as your orgasm rocks through you. You look beautiful, and Tsu’tey doesn’t allow himself to blink the entire time you’re coming. 

Your climax marks the end of Tsu’tey’s control, and he lets himself go. His head drops to your shoulder and then he’s running on pure instinct and biting. His teeth are sharp and pierce your soft skin easily, without the need for any real force. He drives into you, breathing heavily, grunting as he thrusts harder and faster, letting the world fall away until he’s aware of nothing else but the singular sensation of fucking you, of knowing you’re his, of keeping you safe, only you, his and his alone.

With that thought, he comes suddenly – harder and faster than he’d intended – and the shock of it ripples down his spine like an electric current, sparking in his blood and seeping into his veins. He moans around your shoulder as he spends himself inside of you, feeling his release fill you and overflow, dripping out of the tight space already stuffed so full.

For a long moment, the only sound in your little cramped office is the sound of the two of you panting for breath. It doesn’t occur to Tsu’tey to breathe from the mask again until you start fumbling for it, but he releases your shoulder from his mouth and takes a deep inhale when you press it to his face. His tail waves lazily at the gesture – you’re such a caring little thing.

Just like all of the previous sexual dalliances between the two of you, Tsu’tey goes entirely boneless after his orgasm. He doesn’t even bother to pull out of you, just enjoying the feeling of intimacy as he goes lax over you, ensuring that his body weight is rolled slightly to the side so that he doesn’t crush you. 

“Okay?” He manages to ask, still feeling a little as though his brain has been liquefied.

You pant out a breathless laugh. “Oh yeah. I’m so okay.”

Tsu’tey hums as he nuzzles your jaw, the side of your neck. When you raise your hand and run them through the braids at his scalp, his eyes flutter shut instantly. Your small fingers scratch lightly at his scalp, and he lets out a purr so loud it nearly shocks him. How could Saeyla have ever thought she could compare with this? It feels so right, and he curls himself around you with another quiet purr thrumming in his chest.

You let out a soft noise, and Tsu’tey raises his head so that he can look at the bite mark he’s left on your shoulder. It’s bleeding lightly and sluggishly, and he runs a thumb lazily over the indentation of his teeth, smearing some of the blood over your skin. The sight of his mark on you, his claim on you, has his spent cock pulsing tiredly inside of you.

“Are you hurt, small one?” He wonders. He can’t quite drum up any guilt over marking you this way, but that doesn’t mean that he wants you to feel pain.

You just scoff, your head tilted back towards the ceiling as you breathe. “It stings, but it’s fine. You’re a real asshole, you know that? What the fuck was that? You’ve never bitten me before!”

“Of course not,” Tsu’tey mumbles, laving his tongue over his own teeth marks on your shoulder. “I have not claimed you properly before. It was important to fix that.”

You exhale at that, a breathy little laugh. “Oh, claiming, huh? Why didn’t you tell me? Next time, I’ll give you a big nasty bite too.”

Tsu’tey’s tail curls, his ears twitching in excitement. Do you mean that? You wish to claim him too, in the way of his People? How would it feel to sport your mark on him, made by your blunt little teeth? He would wear it with pride, he thinks. He can imagine your smug little face at the sight of Saeyla noticing, and he barely stifles a quiet snigger in your hair.

“Next time, tìyawn.” He promises you, hardly able to contain his own excitement at the idea.

You just yawn, blissfully unaware of the way that his thoughts are racing, and turn your face into his chest. “I feel like I want to sleep for a hundred years.”

Tsu’tey chuckles, his hands drifting low over your back. His fingers pet absently over the base of your spine, fascinated by the lack of tail there.

“You must sleep later, vrrtep.” He murmurs, before nipping lightly at your other shoulder that doesn’t have his bite. “Come. Let us go and get food.”

That catches your attention, and you squint up at him through disbelieving eyes.

“Now?”

“Yes.” Tsu’tey says simply, his tail lashing. “Artuk is waiting to see you there.”

He nuzzles into his mating bite on your shoulder, and feels you sigh under him. There is no possibility of you misunderstanding what he means, what he wants Artuk to see.

“You’re such an asshole.” You say yet again, but this time Tsu’tey’s ears twitch at the unmistakable fondness in your voice. “A possessive asshole, apparently.”

He doesn’t bother trying to deny that. He is a possessive man, and always has been. There are very few things in life that he has to call his own, and he is fiercely protective of them. Now, that stretches to include you.

It’s no secret that Tsu’tey hates the Sky People. But he’s willing to admit that you just might be an exception to that.

#tsu'tey #tsu'tey x reader #tsu'tey fic #avatar way of water #avatar x reader #avatar 2 #na'vi x reader #na'vi x human #terato #alien x human #avatar 2009 #awow

[unwantedtomost]

Pls pls pls 🙏🙏🙏

You miggy and your dad all go out the the fair and some dirty shit goes down

so needy — miguel o'hara

dbf!miguel x fem!reader

word count: 659

summary: dirty things happen at a carnival and you wonder if this is how it has to be. part ii to so dirty.

warnings: slight angst, fingering (f!receiving)

a/n: thank you so so so much for all the attention on so dirty! i was definitely not expecting for it to get that much attention. i do think i'll be coming out with a part three that fits the themes. thank you anon so much for this request it definitely gave me much needed inspiration. keep sending in requests!

You couldn’t believe what you were doing.

You don’t know why on earth you would agree to something like this. Being trapped between your father and Miguel for an entire day. You were almost positive the night would end with tragedy. Someone would say something, you would slip up, then your father would be aware of your little affair. That’s exactly why you ended it after the little stunt Miguel pulled during the neighborhood cook-out.

You knew it was going to be hell and it was.

Your father wanted to go to the carnival. It was a tradition, you couldn’t say no. Miguel was a lonely bastard and your father’s closest friend, so of course your father invited him to tag along. And of course he said yes. Bastard.

He was trying to get you under your skin, trying to worm his way back into your heart, back between your legs, but you weren’t going to let him. You were positive you were strong enough not to give into him. Absolutely positive. You never felt that confident about anything, that’s how you knew it was a lie.

Miguel’s eyes were on you the entire day, you could feel it. His gaze burned your skin, you sadly invited the heat. Every time you tried to catch him, make him admit just for a second about what he was doing, but it was no use. He was too quick.

You started to wonder how you had avoided giving in for so long. You had pushed him away for two weeks but in five hours you started to melt at every glance. It was so easy to forget about him when you tried to forget about his existence but now that he was in front of you, there was no hope.

Everything started to boil over when you were finally trapped alone with Miguel.

Your father insisted you and Miguel enjoy the ferris wheel while he waited in the long line to get corn dogs for everyone. You were at an impasse: either you act weird and risk getting caught or get trapped alone and possibly give into the one thing you’ve been trying to avoid.

There was really only one option.

Now you were trapped at the top of a ferris wheel with your face pressed into Miguel’s neck and his hand buried between your thighs.

“Baby, why have you been hiding from me?” he whispered into your ear.

“This is wrong, so … wro...” your thoughts drifted off as two fingers entered your dripping heat.

You missed him. You missed him so much. How could it be so wrong when it felt like heaven? You loved him, you wanted him. Who cared if it was taboo?

“But you like it, don’t you, amor?”

“I love it,” you whined. You would feel embarrassed if you weren’t so needy.

“Tell me how much you want me,” he cooed in your ear.

“I need you, Miggy. I want you forever. Don’t care who knows anymore. Just need you forever.”

His fingers pumped into you harder, his other hand rubbing fast circles on your clit. The coil in your stomach was about to snap. You hated how good he could make you feel, hated how he had you cumming in minutes.

“I love you,” he whispered and continued like a chant.

Suddenly, you were gone. You bit his neck, trying to hide the loud moan bubbling in the back of your throat. Your thighs clamped around his hands. Despite the pressure, he tried his best to continue his motions, helping you ride out your high. 

The ferris wheel started moving and you sat up straight.

“Let’s get out of here, Miggy,” you said as you fixed your hair. “Let’s figure this out.”

He smiled at you and you felt warm everywhere. For a moment you realize that you didn’t have to be Romeo and Juliet. The story didn’t have to end in a tragedy.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #oscar issac #oscar isaac smut #smut

[thefallennightmare]

The Coyotes Cry-One

*gif made by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: MafiaBoss!TattooArtist! Noah Sebastian x OFC.

Warnings/Tropes: violence, death, swearing, smut(very mature), angst, fluff, forced proximity, forbidden love, dark romance, mafia themes, arranged marriage, tattoo artist.

Summary: Centered on the story of a young bride whose fairy-tale vision of the Concrete Jungle is shattered when her father, part of the Irish Crime Family; McManus strikes a marital peace deal with the mafia head of OMNS, Noah Sebastian. Scarlett is faced with rage and conflict, as she is forced to work alongside her new husband in his tattoo shop that fronts for his mafia dealings. Devastating events leave Scarlett with the realization that there is more to Noah than meets the eye. "I would willingly, lay down my life for you if I had to." The power of love is thicker than blood.

Authors Note: Here is chapter one! I don't think this series will be more than six parts but you never know with how often I'm always adding things. This series will have mature themes throughout as a warning.

Tags[OPEN]: @thescarlettvvitch @sammyjoeee @happi-goth @lma1986 @iknownothingpeople @vinyardmauro @malice-ov-mercy @concreteemo @wheezybrenda @thisbicc @malerieee @mrs-zimmerman @srorgana1 @miserylovescompany1195-blog @embracethereaper42 @lizzieseveride @eclipseeetop @sundamariis @calleyx13 @krisslee18 @princessgh0st @aprosiacperson @xxrainstorm @ourdiabolikal-rapture @iamamatus @klutzy-kay24 @cookiesupplier @bngurngheart @idwt-money @rain-down-on-me

NOAH

The screams were muted due to the concrete confines of the room, the cold, moist air circulating us in a suffocating grip. But none of that mattered, the only thing that did was strapped to the chair in front of me. Cleaning the sharp blade on the once-white handkerchief, I clicked my tongue at the raw screams. 

“Scream all you want. No one can hear you all the way down here,” I said while pointing to the concrete walls. “I mixed the concrete myself with a special formula. Think of it as soundproof.” 

The man spat blood at my feet, nearly missing my black boots. “Fuck you!” 

A chuckle to the left of me and I glanced over to one of my right-hand men, Joakim. Although, we in OMNS always called him Jolly. 

“I applaud the fire in you,” Jolly nodded at the man. “You’ll need it.” 

Twirling the knife between my fingers, I yet again asked the same question that I asked three times previously. 

“Who killed Vincent?” 

“I already told you fuckers, I don’t know!” The man, Barry, choked out on a mouth full of blood. “You’re asking the wrong guy!” 

As Barry fought against the bindings, the chair scraping against the ground at our feet, I hummed in mock disappointment. “No, Barry. I don't think we are. My intel tells me that someone in the Irish Mafia killed a dear friend of mine.” 

“I hate to tell you, your intel is wrong,” Barry said with a dry chuckle. 

Suddenly his screams of agony sounded like music to my ears as I dug the knife deep into his thigh directly above the previous wound that Jolly had given him with the screwdriver. My hair fell into my eyes and I hastily brushed it back with my large hand, blood smearing in the dark strands. I’d been due for a haircut for the last few weeks but haven’t found anyone able to give me the correct Levi cut since my older barber passed away. 

“My intel is never wrong,” I gritted out through clenched teeth while twisting the knife deeper.

Barry was a blubbering mess, dark tendrils of his hair covered the agony on his face so with a sharp nod from me, Jolly stood behind Barry and ripped his head back so I could watch in pleasure. 

“Now, I’m only going to ask one more time,” I twisted the knife deeper. “Who killed Vincent?” 

He did his best to writhe away but with my knife piercing him in place and Jolly’s tight grip on his hair, there was nowhere for Barry to run. Blood dripped from his mouth, his nose, and the cut on his eyebrow. Before we captured him, he had the looks of a movie star but now, I couldn't help but cringe. 

“I already told you,” he sobbed, a mess of blood and snot. “I swear.”

Jolly and I shared a look for a brief moment before we pushed away from Barry to slink over to the far end of the room to have a conversation. 

“Do you believe him?” Jolly tied up his hair into a messy bun. 

I placed my hands on my hips and sighed. “I don’t think he knows who killed Vincent but he knows the right direction we need to look. We need to crank it up a notch and show him that OMNS isn't going to back down from this.” 

Instantly, he understood and while he retreated up the stairs to my office, I titled my head at Barry. 

“What family do you work for?” I asked. 

His breathing was shallow and unsteady thanks to the hard blows of Jolly’s fists to his ribs but I had to marvel at this kid's drive to remain loyal. 

“The Walsh’s,” he eventually answered. 

My brows furrowed in confusion. “The Walsh’s haven’t been around since they moved their operations back to Boston. Why are you still here running the streets for them?” 

Barry lifted his heavy head and wore a smug smile. “Call me committed.” 

“No, I don't think that’s it,” I shook my head and took two large steps towards him, him shrinking back into himself. “I think it’s the fact that you’re lying to me and I fucking hate liars.” 

“Fucking shit!” 

He cursed when I ripped out the knife from his thigh to press the blade against his neck. 

“You’re insane,” Barry shuddered when he noticed the playful gleam in my eyes. 

“Maybe,” I shrugged. “But I also don’t like liars. Now, I’ll ask again. What family do you work for?” 

“It’s a new family on the rise called O’shove it up your ass,” he spat in my face. 

Literally. 

His saliva and blood dripped down my cheek but I didn’t even flinch and made no effort to wipe it away. Instead, I broke out into a wide smile when I heard Jolly returning with something special in tow; something that made Barry’s eyes widen in fear. 

“Wh-what the fu-fuck, man?! Do you just have that lying around?” He stuttered. 

Glancing over my shoulder, I extended my hand to Jolly who in turn placed the handle of the katana in my palm. Standing straight now, I studied the old sword with careful precision. 

“This used to be my great-great-great grandfathers; passed down through each generation. It might be old but I have the blade sharpened every once in a while, just in case,” I said while slowly removing the blade from the sheath. 

The dim light overhead cast its faded yellow glow on the sharp blade and something inside of me twinged with sheer delight. 

“Ju-ju-st in case fo-for what?” 

Jolly snorted at the stuttering mess of Barry while leaning against the concrete wall. 

“Tell us what we want to know and you won’t have to find out.” 

The sharp tip of the katana pressed lightly against Barry’s jugular, all it would take would be one flick of my wrist to end it all however I refrained, not wanting to end the fun before I got what I needed. 

“What family do you work for?” I asked again, this time with less patience than the last time. 

Barry’s eyes glanced down from the long blade at his throat to Jolly then finally up to me as I towered over him. His bottom lip wavered as he finally nodded. 

“Okay, okay. Promise you won’t kill me?” 

He tried to wager but to humor him, I gave a curt nod. “Tell me what I want to know and I’ll think about it.”

“Fuck,” Barry sobbed. “It doesn’t matter. I’m good as dead anyway. The McManus family don’t like rats and a low-level drug dealer like me isn’t worth saving.” 

My grip on my katana slipped slightly at the name but I was quick to recover. “The McManus?” 

He nodded widely. “ Yea. I work for the brothers; Connor and Murphy. I deal their drugs and run their errands.”

“So you’re their bitch?” Jolly asked. 

Barry’s shoulders fell. “Essentially, yes.” 

“Did the McManus brothers kill Vincent?” I asked while tightening my grip on the handle of the katana. 

“No,” he shook his head, the blood from the wound above his eye now pooling into his eyes. “But they might know who did it. I can try and set up a meeting with them, on your behalf. Maybe they can lead you in the direction you’re looking for?” 

Jolly gave me a look and I held up a finger, not quite finished with my conversation with Barry. 

“Why the fuck would they listen to you if you’re just their bitch?” 

This brought a wicked smile to his face as he used his shoulder to wipe away the blood from his chin. 

“Because Murphy McManus doesn't like it when his daughter is threatened.” 

A loud rumble erupted in my chest, like a ravenous growl, as I dug the blade of the katana deeper into Barry’s neck, blood now oozing from the fresh wound. I ignored his wails of pain, now only seeing red. 

“You’ve got some balls kid to threaten the daughter of one of the most feared Irish Mafia families,” I said. 

Barry shrugged in his binds. “I didn’t say it would be coming from me. Word on the street is that McManus' grandfather had issues with your grandfather some odd years ago. They’d believe me if I said the great Noah Sebastian was looking to start a turf war.” 

With a scowl, I snapped my head at Jolly. “Get this piece of shit his phone so he can make the call.” 

Never once faltering the blade from Barry’s neck, I watched with narrowed eyes as Jolly removed one of the binds around his wrist and tossed the phone on his lap. 

“Make the meeting. If I hear one threat on the daughter, I’ll end your life before you even hang up the phone,” I seethed behind the mask of my hair as it fell into my eyes. 

My heart beat like a thunderstorm in my chest at the thought of the McManus daughter. No one knew of her and what she meant to not only the family but me as well; besides my closest allies. 

Barry’s fingers worked fast to type out a message before showing me the screen and with my free hand, I snatched it from him to read it. 

Barry: The brother's food will be delivered at six p.m. tonight. 

Unknown: What’s on the menu? 

Barry: Japanese with a side of Swiss.

“Joakim is Swedish,” I corrected Barry. “I’m assuming this whole dinner rous is to keep the authorities off your back if they go snooping?” 

“Look at you! I think you earned yourself a gold star,” Barry joked. 

Jolly’s fist collided with his face, his neck snapping to the side, and the faint red mark from his ring began to rise on Barry’s cheek. 

“Let me guess, he’s the muscle between the two of you?” Barry spat out a chunk of blood. 

Not bothering to look away from his phone as a new message came in, I answered his question. 

“No, that’s Ash. Trust me, you don’t want to meet him.” 

Unknown: Dinner will be served in the study.  6 o’clock. 

“It’s set,” I tossed the phone to Jolly who dropped it to the ground seconds before his boot came crashing down on it. 

“What the fuck! You guys owe me a new phone!” 

Placing the sheath back over the katana, I set it on the table along with the other wide variety of weapons and turned back to Barry with my hands crossed behind my back; grasping the weapon tightly. He glanced between Jolly and me and noticed the sinister gleam dancing behind my honey eyes. 

“Hang on,” he began thrashing in the chair, free hand swinging widely. “You said I could live.” 

“I did. But watch what you say next.” 

Quickly, Jolly grabbed Barry’s free arm to drag his still-bound body over to the table behind me and held his wrist down. His hand was on display for my wicked plan. 

“Barry, I have a question for you. If you answer wrong, well-,” I pulled out the hammer from behind my back and shook it in front of him. 

His eyes widened in fear but I paid no mind to it, simply asked my question. 

“Will Murphy’s daughter be there tonight?” 

“Fuck no! Dumb broad never leaves her bedroom,” Barry answered. “She’s holed up in there all hours of the day. The only time she leaves is at 8 o'clock for her nightly walks.” 

Jolly sucked in a breath just as I raised the hammer, bringing it down on Barry’s pinky, whose cries were overshadowed by the noise of his bones breaking.

“Why are you so obsessed with this broad?!” 

I brought the hammer down again, this time breaking his ring and pointer finger. Now he was practically having an exorcism with how he was moving about on the chair, struggling to break free from the binds. 

“One more question then I’m finished with this game,” I said while craning my neck to the side before getting eye level with the man. “Do you suspect the McManus family killed Vincent?” 

While he stayed silent, the look that flashed over his hazel eyes told me everything I needed to know. Turning on my heels, I dropped the hammer on the table and began walking upstairs to leave Jolly to clean up until Barry’s voice halted me in my tracks. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the broad pulled the trigger herself. She’ll do whatever she can to get Daddy’s attention since she was never the favorite..” 

My shoulders went rigid and I could faintly hear Jolly mutter under his breath something in Swedish before I grabbed the gun from behind my back that had been tucked in the waist paint of my black slacks and fired two rounds straight into Barry’s chest. 

“Noah,” Jolly started. 

I waved him off before dropping the gun on the table. “Let’s be real, Jolly. We weren’t letting him walk out of here alive anyway. 

“McManus,” he sighed while rubbing his jaw. “Why does that name sound familiar?” 

I cleaned the blood from my fingers and rings before letting out a long breath. I knew he wouldn’t remember the name but that name haunted me for years, plagued my entire existence in more ways than one. 

“They’re one of the most notorious Irish Mafia families. Their lineage started in Ireland generations ago before relocating to Boston where the McManus brothers were raised by their grandfather, Fergal. They moved to Los Angeles when the brothers were in their mid-twenties.” 

“Wait,” Jolly’s head snapped over towards me. “The twins that went on that killing spree all those years ago in Boston. The last anyone heard from them is when they shot Yakavetta in open court.” 

“Exactly why they moved here. Fergal didn't appreciate the hot trail on them so they hid out here for a few years. But Fergal couldn’t handle laying low for long because he began building the ranks here. Overstepping on my grandfather's turf, because he was still young at the time.” I grabbed the weapons we used on Barry and tossed them into the bucket of bleach in the utility sink. 

“You know a lot about this family,” Jolly noted. 

I hummed. “My grandfather told me all about them growing up. He wanted to make sure I was well versed in the McManus family once I took over.” 

Glancing down at myself, I hummed again in displeasure when I noticed the blood spatter all over my white turtleneck.

Should have worn the black one, idiot.

I went about cleaning up the mess, ignoring the slumped-over body in the chair for a moment. 

“The daughter. Do you think she did it?” Jolly wondered. 

I halted unraveling the plastic we used to wrap the dead bodies for a few seconds before letting my shoulders drop slightly. “I don’t believe so. While the McManus brothers do hire hitmen to do their dirty work, there’s no way Murphy would make his own blood do it.”

“I know there’s some sort of history between you and her. With all of us-” 

His words trailed off when I snapped my eyes over to him. “There is no history, Jolly. She’s just someone who went to high school with us. That was years ago and I doubt she even remembers that we went to the same school. She was too busy being preoccupied with other things.” 

All of us in OMNS grew up together since we were twelve years old, Jolly moved here from Sweden when he was ten. We’d all been inseparable for the last sixteen years in the schoolyard and now the streets of the Concrete Jungle. 

Not saying another word, the two of us busied ourselves cleaning up our mess and by the time we returned upstairs to my office. The staircase to the hidden basement was located behind a bookshelf and while Jolly closed it, I rummaged through the drawers of my desk to find a different shirt. 

Now dressed in a fresh black t-shirt, we stepped out of my office and the sounds of tattoo machines reached my ears and I smirked walking into the open lobby. Every one of my artists had someone in their chairs and my most sought-after artist, Nicholas, glanced up at me for a second before returning to tattooing his client. 

“How’d the meeting go?” He asked. 

“Didn’t work out. We have another one set for 6 tonight,” Jolly informed. 

I went up to the counter of my tattoo shop and glanced down at the book. It was a full day of appointments not to mention the group of girls that came in for a walk in. They were chittering like birds about how it was the blonde's bachelorette party and she specifically wanted me. 

In more ways than one. 

While she was cute, she wasn’t my type. 

Roger, the receptionist of Under The Right Lights Tattoo Parlor, and newest recruit of OMNS glanced at me over his shoulder. 

“Oh hey, Noah. Are you ready for the walk-in?” 

I shook my head. “No, I’m not tattooing today. But I do have a job for you.” 

His eyes lit up. “Yeah?” 

“Tonight when the shop closes, stick around. We need your help with something,” I patted his shoulder. 

“You got it, boss,” Roger nodded with a wide smile. 

Turning on my heels, I stuffed my hands in my pockets to glance at my studio. I opened Under The Right Lights about six years ago and even though we had a slow start, once word got out that Noah Sebastian and Nicholas Ruffilo tattooed here, business flowed in through the doors. 

I took over my grandfather's other business eight years ago but needed something to cover those dealings so that's when I thought of opening a tattoo shop with my best friends; my brothers. While Nicholas tattooed, Jolly ran the financial side of things, and Nick, or as we called him Folio, ran the motorcycle shop right next door. He was a mechanic, one of the best in town, and he often frequented here through the door to the left of Nicholas’ booth when he wasn’t busy fixing bikes.

Above my tattoo shop housed thirty apartments, all owned by me, and I lived in the penthouse on the tenth floor. Everyone in OMNS also lived in their own units so we could always be close to each other, in case something came up. With nine of the units being occupied by us, I rented out the other twenty-one for another form of income each month. 

I treated everyone as an equal with the tattoo studio and OMNS but they also respected me enough to know that I had the final say with both. Things didn’t get approved unless I gave the okay. 

Glancing down at my watch, I noticed that it was only four in the afternoon meaning we had a few hours until we met with the brothers. So I walked over to the back area of the shop where we used a private section to make a small gym where I knew Ash and Byran would be. 

Ash was not only my bodyguard but he was also my trainer and Bryan took photos of the tattoos and ran our social media account. 

“Tonight, six o'clock,” I said while crossing my arms. 

Bryan wiped the sweat from his forehead and nodded. “I’ll make sure the SUV is loaded up.” 

“Thank you,” I then turned towards Ash. “I’ve got a body downstairs. Do you mind?” 

He shook his head. “Not at all. I’ll bring Matt. He needs a break from managing everything. Get out and smell the trees in the woods. Or the salty brine of the ocean.”

With a snort, I bid them goodbye before retreating into my office and ignoring the preposterous waves of the blonde in the waiting area and instead thought of a certain redhead. 

SCARLETT

With a longing sigh, I brushed away the fire-red strands of hair from my face and adjusted my position on my bed to continue reading the book in front of me. It was the book Wolves: Behavior, Ecology, and Conservation by L. David Mech. This was the third time I’ve read but every time, I somehow learned something new. 

I've been out of college with my degree for four years now and although I haven’t done anything since then, I still tried to keep up with my studies. The possibility of opening up a wildlife rescue still weighed heavy on my mind but I knew my father would never agree to it. His money was to be used for other business opportunities.

The spiral notebook was filled with my chicken scratch handwriting and after tossing down the pen, I shook out the cramp from my hand to glance at the clock on my nightstand. It was nearing six in the evening and when it would be time for dinner with my father and uncle, they had to cancel due to a meeting that seemed to come out of nowhere. 

Next to the clock was a picture that made my heart drop to my stomach like it did every time. It was of me, my father, and my mother back on my eighteenth birthday and high school graduation; the last picture we took together. 

Because she was murdered that night. 

Eight years later the tears still burned in my eyes when I thought back to that night. We were driving home from dinner when someone crashed into our car and ran it off the road into a ditch. My father managed to pull me from the wreckage before the car burst into flames; my mother however wasn’t that lucky. We never found out who ran us off the road that night and whenever I asked about it, my father would wave me off and say one word only. 

Revenge. 

The relationship with my father was never the same since that night and once my Uncle Connor moved in, I retreated into myself. I loved them both dearly, but I blamed their life in the Irish Mafia for my mother's death. I did my best to remain respectful because I still lived in the McManus estate and knew I couldn’t make it on my own; not yet. My father had made it clear more than once that the only way I was to move out was either if I had my own money or married. 

Hence why I was doubling up on my studies, I needed to find some kind of job with my degree, a simple job at a store or fast food place would not be enough to survive on my own. And clearly, my relationship with my boyfriend was nowhere near marriage level yet; we’d only been together for less than a year and never spoke about getting married. 

I checked my phone and noticed Cory texted me a little while ago. 

Cory: I have to cancel tomorrow night, sorry. Work is sending me out of town and won’t be back till Sunday. 

I rolled my eyes knowing damn well he wasn’t the slightest bit sorry. 

Me: OK. See you then, I guess.

I locked my phone, the sound echoing in the quiet of my bedroom, and I busied myself once again with the book in front of me until there was a soft knock on my door. 

“Yes?” I called out. 

The door cracked open slightly and a head of white curls popped their head inside and I instantly smiled. 

“Hi, Dortha.” 

“Hello dear,” our housekeeper smiled, resting her frail hands in the pocket of her apron. “I know your father and uncle can’t make dinner but I still made your favorite. If you’re hungry.” 

My stomach growling gave way to my answer so with a chuckle, I let my studies be to follow Dortha out of my room and down to the dining room where I knew she already had a plate of food set up for me.

NOAH

The car ride across town to the McManus estate was filled with the ramblings of the other members of OMNS while I sat quietly behind the wheel, mind filled with more pressing matters. I gripped the wheel so hard that my knuckles were turning white, something Nicholas, who sat in the passenger seat, noticed right away. 

“Are you alright?” 

I nodded. “Just going over what I’m going to say.” 

Pulling the car to a slow stop at a red light, I drummed my fingers against the dashboard, trying another thing to calm my nerves since the deep breathing exercises my therapist recommended weren’t working. 

“Hey boss,” Roger spoke up from the back seat between Ash and Bryan. “Maybe someone else should drive. You seem nervous.” 

My eyes sliced into him through the rearview mirror. “No one drives my car but me.” 

With a shaking hand through his golden locks, he nodded and kept his head down the rest of the drive once I hit the gas again. 

“Do you know what you’re going to ask them? Folio wondered from the seat behind me while tapping the wooden drumsticks he always carried on his lap. 

“I’m thinking of coming out right and asking if they have any idea who killed Vincent,” I answered. 

Jolly shifted in the seat behind Nicholas and without having to gaze over at him, I knew he wasn’t too thrilled about my idea. 

“I’d say we just pop these fools. End this turf war once and for all,” Roger pipped up again. 

His excitement for being brought along tonight was evident but I was suddenly regretting my decision. 

“Chill, we need to be smart about this,” I said. 

“We can’t go in there with guns blazing,” Jolly added. 

I came to a stop in front of the large, gothic-like gate, and rolled down my window so I was able to click the button on the intercom. 

“Yes?” A thick Irish accent responded. 

I cleared my throat. “I have the brothers' dinner. Japanese with a side of Swiss.” 

Only static came from the speaker for a long moment until the loud creak of the gate caused Roger to jump in surprise and Byran to stifle a laugh behind his hand. The SUV glided up the long drive with ease as the setting sun spilled inside casting all of us in an orange and purple glow. We all piled out as soon as the car was parked in front of the McManus manor and I nodded towards Bryan, Ash, and Roger. 

“You three hang back in the foyer in case the brothers don’t want all of us in the meeting,” I said while clicking the safety on my gun before stuffing it in my back waistband. 

While Ash and Bryan agreed, both double-checking their weapons, Roger on the other hand made his distaste for my orders known with a low scowl. 

“All due respect, Noah,” he began. 

I adjusted the peaky hat on my head and raised a brow. “Is there a problem, Roger?” 

He shifted on his feet. “I’ve been the recruit for six months now, don’t you think I worked up being involved in one of these meetings?” 

I bit the inside of my cheek to my snarky remark to myself but Folio was quick to respond in my place. 

“Kid, calm down. It took Bryan six years to work up the ranks. Ash, it took him ten years.” 

Roger gaped at the two of them who seemed to have played along with Folio’s joke and agreed with a nod. 

“Can I atleast get a gun?” He outstretched his arms. “You guys are sending me into the warzone with no weapon!” 

“It’s only a warzone if you make it one,” Ash said. 

“No weapons for recruits,” I said. 

Not wanting to waste any more time out here, I led the group of us up the crumbling steps and came to a stop in front of the door. Motioning to Roger, I waited for him to ring the bell, and glanced around the vast grounds of the McManus estate while stuffing my hands deep into the pockets of my black peacoat. 

“Nervous?” 

Peering to my left, I nodded to Nicholas. “A bit.” 

He clapped my shoulder. “Let’s keep our questions short. Try to get the info we need then we can leave.”

“Yeah,” Folio agreed while shivering. “This place gives me the creeps. It looks like it's days away from caving in.” 

Glancing up at the old brick mansion, I had to agree with him. It looked as if neither of the McManus brothers bothered to keep up with the maintenance of the home and the overgrown grass on the other side of the driveway was proof of that. 

Suddenly the front door opened with an eerie creaking and all of our eyes met with an older lady with a head full of white curls. 

“Yes?” 

I stepped forward. “My name is Noah Sebastian. OMNS has a meeting with the brothers.” 

Her brown eyes shifted between all of us before she slowly stepped to the side, letting us all pile inside the grand manor. While the outside needed some work, the inside was marvelous with expensive pieces of art and not a speck of dust anywhere. 

“My name is Dorthea. I will let the brothers know you’re here,” she said with a thick Irish accent. 

Movement from the corner of my eye caught my attention and when I gazed up at the top of the stairs landing, all of my breath left my soul when those familiar hazel eyes met mine. All of the hairs not only on the back of my neck but on my arms stood straight with the buzz of electricity that shot through me when I noticed her eyes double in size. The brightness of her gaze struck a chord in my heart, playing a soft melody that only the two of us could hear. 

It had been a long while since I’d seen her last but fuck, she still looked absolutely breathtaking like she did the night of high school graduation.  

Her hair was deeper red than the last time we saw each other, now it cascaded down her back, and when she outstretched her arms on the wooden banister, her head tilted to the side in a way to assess all of these strangers in her home. 

Although four of us weren’t strangers to her. We all went to high school together even though she wouldn’t remember us. She was always with the group of kids that were rich, too good to be seen with the bottom dwellers like us. 

I removed my hat to hand it to Roger to hold onto it then shook out my hair from my eyes before slicking it back and I could have sworn I heard someone’s breath catch in their throat. 

“Noah Sebastian, standing here in my house. I must say, I almost didn’t recognize you without the long hair.” 

Well, shit. 

“Saoirse McManus,” I hummed in response to her sarcastic tone. 

A low scowl pulled on her lips before she pushed herself away from the banister and quickly scurried down the hall, disappearing around the corner. 

It was almost bittersweet seeing her again after all this time. While I wish it had been under better circumstances, I knew that I couldn’t allow myself to get wrapped up in Saoirse McManus; not again. I had built an empire since dropping out of high school and I couldn’t let anything tear it down, especially a silly little crush. 

It never was a silly crush. It was always more than that. You’re just bitter that she never felt the same.

Why would she ever have feelings for me? In her eyes and her financial stature, OMNS were nobodies; the gum on the bottom of their shoe. While they ran their empire up in the rich estates of the wealthy, we ran ours in the slums of the Concrete Jungle. There may have been a point in my life when I wanted to be in the same stature as her but now having earned my wealth, I realized that all I needed was my brothers. 

Bullshit. 

If that were the case, seeing her tonight wouldn’t have taken my breath away and cock twitched with such a dire need for her. 

“What was that about her not remembering you?” Jolly asked. 

I ran a hand over my mouth. “I didn’t think she would.” 

“Hey,” Roger’s head popped in between Jolly and I. “That’s the daughter, right? You know, rumors are going around the CJ that she’s the one that killed Vincent.” 

My eyes sliced into him and Jolly had to press a hand to my chest to keep me from wrapping my hands around his throat. 

“The CJ?” I spat out through a clenched jaw. 

Roger swallowed thickly. “Yeah. The Concrete Jungle. I thought you would understand the nickname since you were the one who created the Concrete Jungle. I spend a lot of time in the tunnels with groups of guys who tell stories of OMNS success. Why do you think I wanted to join so badly?”  

“Do me a favor, kid. Stop lingering in the underground parts of the jungle because you don’t know what dwells underneath there. You don’t want to find yourself in a situation you can’t sweet talk your way out of,” I said. 

“What?” He let out an airy chuckle. “Are you hiding a tank full of sirens? Or creating your own artificial intelligence?” 

With a dark look filling my eyes, I gave him a smirk before giving him my back when I heard the faint footsteps of Dorthea returning.

“Just the Japanese and Swiss,” she pointed to us. 

Jolly let out a groan. “I’m Swedish.” 

“Follow me,” she hooked a finger at us, ignoring Jolly. 

Giving the rest of my brothers a nod, we followed Dorthea down a long wide hallway, and I took in the sight of all the pictures lining the wall, noticing that they were family pictures of the McManus family. 

The first picture was of the man who started it all over one hundred years ago, Cillian McManus. It continued for a long while until Fergal’s familiar face caught my eyes, followed by his son, then Connor, then Murphy with his wife and Saiorse. 

Coming to a brief stop, I studied the picture for a long moment, before Jolly pulled me along. 

“The brothers are allowing you five minutes of their time,” Dorthea informed as we stopped in front of a set of double doors and her hands wrapped around the golden knobs. 

“How generous,” I grumbled under my breath just before the door opened. 

Inside was a huge library/office combo. Three out of four of the walls were just bookshelves full of books, the smell of old literature tickling my nose. Thick black carpet covered almost every inch of the floor and in the center of the room were two long burgundy couches that sat horizontally to an old fireplace that was blazing with hot flames. I felt the warmth on my face when Jolly and I stepped inside.  

On either couch sat the brothers, both having a glass dangling from their fingers, and their hushed conversation seized when they noticed our presence. 

“Ah,” the taller one with shorter hair muttered as he slowly stood to his feet and extended his free hand toward me. “You must be Noah. An acquaintance of mine said I’d be expecting you. I’m Conner.” 

After we shook hands, Connor motioned to the other man on the couch, who still had yet to stand up. “That is my twin brother Murphy.” 

Giving him a curt nod, I clasped my hands behind my back. “This is Joakim. We won’t take much of your time. But we do have one question to ask.” 

While Murphy muttered something in Irish under his breath, Connor urged me to ask. 

“About six months ago, a dear friend of ours Vincent Riquier was murdered, his body being left on the doorstep of my tattoo shop. I had some intel point me in the direction of someone in the Irish family.” 

Connor's brow raised as he took a small drink of his amber liquid. “Are you saying we had something to do with it?” 

Jolly shook his head. “Not at all. We were just wondering if you could let us know if our intel was correct since it came from one of your men.” 

This caused Murphy to snap his head towards us and brushed away the long hair from his face; blue eyes boring into us. “One of our men?” 

“Barry,” I said flatly. “Movie star looks. Although, I must say that was before.” 

The twins shared a look before Murphy rose to his feet with a roar. “You killed him?” 

I stood toe to toe with him, not showing him an ounce of fear because I knew guys like this could smell it. 

“Never said I did,” I answered with a shrug.

“Imigh leat,” Murphy waved a hand in my face before turning on his feet to face the fireplace. 

Connor let out a displeased noise at his brother before giving Jolly and me a tight smile, the lines in his face creasing. “You must ignore my brother, he just argued with his daughter before you arrived.” 

Saoirse’s face crept into my mind but I did my best to push away those feelings. I couldn’t give away my feelings for her; the ones that stayed buried for so long. 

“Again with this foolish dream of opening an animal rehab facility. Why she wants to work when she has all the money I can give her if she just stays here is beyond my thinking,” Murphy muttered after downing the rest of his drink, slamming the cup on the table next to the couch. 

“About Barry,” Connor ignored his brother while stuffing his hands in the pockets of his dress pants. “If you did kill him, one less thing for us to worry about. He was a pain in our arses anyway.” 

“So then, as a token, you’ll give us the direction we need to look into for our friend's death,” Jolly tried while scratching the facial hair on his chin. 

With Connor’s silence, his gaze locked in on us with his hand on the holster on his hip, and Murphy’s back still to us, I nodded towards Jolly, who understood and we bid the brothers goodbye. 

“Thank you for your time,” I said before ushering Jolly outside of the room before me. 

Once we were back in the solitude of the hallway, we rushed back to the foyer with a burning feeling at the back of my neck. Something wasn’t right, their silence told us way too much and I needed to get far away from here. 

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Jolly noted. 

I agreed with a low rumble in my chest, placing my hat back on. “I know. They were quick to dismiss us and I didn’t like how Connor reached for his gun.” 

Hearing our footsteps echo loudly on the marble floor, Bryan glanced up from his phone with furrowed brows. 

“That was quick.” 

“We’ll discuss it in the car,” I said while ushering everyone outside quickly. 

One by one we all piled out of the house and before I stepped through the threshold, I dared a glance back up to the stairs landing, hoping to catch sight of her but instead, I locked eyes with two large guards who had their guns in their grasp. 

“Boss, this doesn't make sense,” Roger turned swiftly on his heels and blocked me. 

“Roger, not now,” I said sternly. “Get to the car. Now.” 

“All these rumors, they had to start somewhere,” he continued to ramble on. 

I backhanded his chest and then threw a thumb over my shoulder to the men who were now descending the grand staircase. Finally, when Roger noticed them, he scrambled out the door, me swiftly following behind him. 

All of us gathered around the SUV to discuss what our next plan of action would be. There were other Irish families I could talk with but they all had connections to the McManus brothers so they wouldn’t give me anything. 

As I was chatting with Nicholas, Roger began pacing in front of the car, running a hand through his hair. 

“What’s his problem?” Nicholas mumbled to me. 

“He thinks the brothers are hiding something,” I informed him while shrugging. “I must admit, I feel the same. They were too closed off in there. And the way those guards were staring at me, I swore they were looking for a fight.” 

“In retaliation for Barry?” 

“Could be,” I ran a hand over my chin. “Or they don’t appreciate us showing up tonight. Either way, we need to get out of here.” 

Everyone began loading into the SUV, besides Roger, who was still pacing. 

“Roger, get in,” I demanded from behind the driver's door. 

"They're a bunch of liars. all of them. I bet you that broad upstairs knows something.” 

All I saw was read for a few moments before I realized that I had Roger pinned to the hood of the car by his throat, my tattooed fingers cutting off his oxygen. Strands of my hair fell into my eyes but I made no effort to let up my grip. 

“Watch how you speak about her,” I spit out. 

Roger’s eyes were white as he struggled to fight me, his nails digging into the skin of my wrist. 

“Shit,” Ash muttered while scrambling out of the car to wrap his arms around my chest, trying to pull me away. “Let him go, Noah. You’re going to kill him.” 

With an effortless grunt, I tossed Roger to the ground and did my best to fix my hair when Ash let me go as the front door of the manor opened; Saiorse walked out with the two guards following closely behind her. 

She paid us no mind as she trotted down the steps and began walking the opposite way of us. Glancing at my watch, I noticed that it was 8 p.m. 

“The only time she leaves is at 8 o'clock for her nightly walks.” Barry’s words from earlier rang in my ears. 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I grumbled while adjusting my jacket. 

Roger quickly scrambled to his feet and when he finally noticed the two guards who had stopped walking to watch us with careful eyes, something switched in Roger’s mind. My jaw began to drop when I saw him reach for something underneath his shirt, my next words came out slow, almost inebriated. 

“Roger, no!” 

The sound of gunfire erupted, and all of us dropped to our knees around the car for some sort of protection. Bullets ricochet off of the car, one nearly missing my forehead as it blew the hat clear off my head. I strangled out a vacant cry while pressing my body closer to the car. My heart was beating widely in my chest and my hands shook but I didn’t have time to dwell on almost dying, I needed to stop this before it became worse than it already was. 

“Mother fucker!” 

Glancing over my shoulder, I cursed when I saw Folio go down to the ground clutching his thigh, his gun skidding halfway down the long driveway. I crawled over to him, keeping my head down when I noticed that a couple more McManus guards had emerged from inside and now we were outnumbered; seven to nine. 

Blood oozed out from the wound on Folio’s thigh and I grabbed a handful of his shirt, ripping a large piece from it. 

“You’re alright; just a flesh wound,” I reassured him while fixing the makeshift tourniquet. 

“Where the hell did Roger find a gun?” Folio asked through clenched teeth when I squeezed too hard on his wound to stop the bleeding. 

“I’m about to find out,” I patted his cheek before ripping my gun from behind my pants and clicked off the safety. 

Using the open door of the SUV as a shield, I peered around it to see that four guards were lying dead on the ground, two were hiding behind the pillars of the manor for their own protection, and one was coming towards us. 

Firing off two rounds, both hitting the mark of the guard's chest, I watched him crumble to the ground and then gave a sharp whistle towards Jolly who was firing his weapon in the car through the shot-out back windshield. 

“Two on the porch!” I yelled over the sounds of gunfire. 

Jolly nodded and I gave him protection against the other two guards who were firing their weapons from behind a bush, he snuck up to the two guards hiding on the porch, their lives ending before they even noticed him. 

Now the numbers were in our favor so slowly rising to my feet, I stepped out from my shield and called out to the last two McManus guards. 

“You’re not walking out of this alive!” 

“Imeacht go fánach ort féin is ar do chnapán miúlach!” A deep voice rumbled out from behind the bus. 

A flash of red caught my attention and I forgot for a moment that Saoirse was outside when the shootout began. I could hear my heart in my ears with worry if she’d been hit but when I saw her slowly rise to her feet due to one of the guards pushing her to farther safety, I breathed a little. 

Until a gun went off to my left and with sharp eyes, I watched as the bullet hit Saoirse in the arm, blood splattering against the fading white paint of the house. 

“Bitch! That’s for Vincent!” Roger bellowed his victory. 

I let out a vicious growl as I tackled him to the ground, laying fist after fist into his face. Poor kid never saw me coming and gave no fight against me. By the time I finished, my knuckles were broken and raw, covered in not only my blood but his as well. Roger’s face was a mangled mess as he rolled over to his side, spitting out chunks of spit mixed with blood. For a final measure, I laid a swift kick to his stomach making sure he wouldn’t get up for a while. Through the white noise in my brain, I did my best to calm my breathing when I gazed over my shoulder to the carnage that lay in our wake; all thanks to Roger’s trigger finger. 

Besides Folio, all of my men were unharmed and it seemed as if Folio would be fine. However, out of nine McManus guards, only two remain. One held something to Saoirse’s arm while the other tossed his gun to the ground, showing us he surrendered. 

“Is she alright?” I called out to them. 

“Fuck you, Noah!” She spat, eyes almost as red with fury as the color of her hair. 

Yeah, she was fine.

Through the eerie silence of the night air, I watched as the front door carefully opened then both the McManus brothers stepped into the carnage. 

“Saoirse!” Murphy’s voice boomed. 

“She’s over here!” The one guard who was tending to her wound called out while pulling them out from behind the bushes. 

I sucked in a breath when I saw all the blood staining the gray long sleeve of her sweater as the guard quickly whisked her inside, her father right on her tail. The look of pure hatred was on Connor’s face as he ran a hand through his hair. 

“Whose bullet hit my niece?” He asked. 

I pointed to the broken body of Roger, who was still struggling to rise to his feet. “I’ll take care of him, I promise you.” 

Conner gave a curt nod before hooking his finger in my direction. “You. By yourself. Now.” 

Licking my lips, I nodded and handed over my gun to Ash, who looked at me with bewilderment in his eyes. 

“Are you insane?” He demanded. “You can’t go in there by yourself.” 

“If they wanted me dead, I would be,” I said with more reassurance in my voice than I was feeling. 

Giving a soft smile to the rest of my men, letting them know I’d be fine, I stepped back inside the manor with Conner close behind. 

SCARLETT

“What the fuck!” I screamed while pushing myself away from the table, but hissing as pain shot through my arm.

The doctor we had on standby informed me that it was merely a flesh wound I suffered and closed it up with a few stitches and some pills for the pain. 

“Watch your tongue,” my father warned while not looking away from his plate of food. 

“You just told me that I’m supposed to marry Noah Sebastian! How the fuck can I watch my tongue?! This is absurd! You can’t make that decision for me.” 

He pushed away his plate with a sigh and then steepled his fingers together. “I can because I am your father. And for the price of peace, I couldn’t deny his offer.” 

I nearly fell back into my seat at the dining room table. “His offer? This was his idea?” 

My Uncle Conner nodded. “That man is quite the negotiator. He didn’t want any more bloodshed and for a truce, he asked for your hand in marriage; we agreed on one condition.” 

“Oh, I can't wait to hear what this condition was,” I placed my hand on my hip. “Does he want a baby in a year? Do I have to abide by his command? Am I to be locked away in a castle for the rest of my life?” 

“Far from that,” my father lit his cigar, puffing the smoke into the air. “We agreed that you can marry him as long as he kill the man that shot you.” 

My eyes widened. “The kid? Fucking hell, dad! He can’t be more than twenty years old!” 

“Then he shouldn’t have been involved in a game that was designed for men!” My father’s fist slammed on the aged oak of the table. 

I didn’t even flinch, being so used to his outbursts like this. Instead, I fought back harder against this offer. 

“What about Cory?” I questioned. 

“Who?” My father’s thick brows furrowed as the age lines in his forehead creased. 

“The boyfriend,” my uncle informed him while swirling the ice cubes around in his cup. 

My father did a double take. “How the fuck do you know?” 

“Fuck you, I know shit,” he shrugged. 

“Very well,” my father sighed. “It’s not like this relationship would have worked out anyway. You will end it and move in with Noah by Friday.” 

“FRIDAY?!” I screeched. “That’s in two days!” 

“The wedding will be at the end of the month,” my uncle informed me. 

Too much information had been thrown at me all at once and I pinched the bridge of my nose to keep myself from crying. I typically wasn’t a crier but from the moment I laid my eyes on Noah Sebastian in the foyer of my home, all of my old feelings came rushing in like a tidal wave and I still didn’t have time to process that. 

“If I say no to this deal?” I shot back. 

Neither my uncle nor father said anything, simply motioned to the guns that lay next to their plates. Now, I knew they didn’t mean they would kill me. Instead, they would kill Noah and every last mother fucker who had anything to do with tonight.

“This is unbelievable!” I yelled while throwing my hands up and storming my way up the stairs to my bedroom. 

The sound of my door slamming shook the old bones of the manor and I yanked the ends of my hair with a scream. I despised not only this life but also the fact that I couldn’t do anything about this arrangement. Not when the lives of innocents were on the line. 

Innocents? They shot you! 

Shaking the thought from my mind, I fell back onto my bed with a groan. It was easy to tell that the kid was the one that started the unnecessary gunfight. Noah was only doing what he could to protect his people. 

Those gorgeous almond eyes haunted me for years, plaguing my entire existence since I first saw them freshman year of high school. I never could do anything about it, however, knowing that we ran in different circles and it was forbidden. His family ran the slums while mine ran the prestige wealth. 

The last I saw of Noah or any of those guys was the night of high school graduation. While Noah dropped out three months before, the rest of his friends walked across the stage and he was there for support. Our eyes locked across the vast space of the room. His hair was long but pulled back into a high bun, showcasing the sharpness of his cheekbones as he gave me a gentle smile. Of course, I had to ignore the pull of my heart strings, no matter how strong they were. 

If someone had told a teenage me that now, eight years later, I’d be marrying that man who captured my heart so long ago, I’d laugh in their face. 

Running a hand over my face, I sat up in bed and quickly dialed Cory’s number so I could deliver the news. On the eighth ring, he answered almost breathlessly. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi,” I played with the ends of my hair. “Do you have a minute to talk?” 

There was some rustling on his end before his breath came through. “I suppose.” 

Ignoring the tone, I took a deep inhale to prepare myself for breaking the news to him. “There’s no easy way to say this. But my father just informed me that he arranged a marriage for me. I have to move in with the guy on Friday. I tried to fight it, tried to fight for us, but I didn’t have a choice. It’s something I have to do.” 

There was a very long beat of silence on Cory’s end before his voice broke through. “Ok. Thanks for letting me know.” 

My heart dropped to the pits of my stomach. “W-what? That’s it?” 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Scarlett? You said it yourself, you don’t have a choice in this. Why fight for something that has no end in sight?” 

I bit down on the inside of my cheek hard to not snap at him but eventually failed. 

“You know, you’re right. What’s the fucking point,” I seethed. 

Before I could hang up on him, I heard the click and stared down in disbelief at my now black screen. 

“What a piece of shit!” I bellowed while tossing my phone onto my bed. 

My knee bounced in anger, that conversation adding more fuel to the fire, and as much as I wanted to scream out my frustrations I knew that it would be futile. Instead, I dragged my feet into the large walk-in closet and began packing up things that I knew I would need in my new life. 

NOAH

Wiping away the blood from my rings, I stepped into the lobby of the quiet tattoo shop and noticed Nicholas closing up his section. 

“How’d it go tonight?” I wondered after tossing the rag into the bag he had opened. 

The one we planned on burning anyway so any evidence would be gone in the flames. 

“Slow night but those aren’t bad every once in a while,” he answered before motioning to the door I previously walked through. “All finished?” 

“Yeah, Jolly and Folio are cleaning it up. This one was messier than I would have liked. I’ll admit, the kid put up a hell of a fight,” I said while leaning against the wall with crossed arms. 

The tattooed muscles in my forearms flexed. 

“Did he say where he found the gun?” 

“Bought it off of someone on the street before we left that night. Apparently, he had a feeling I wouldn’t allow him to have one and he felt like he needed protection,” I informed Nicholas. 

Who, in turn, snorted while packing up his tattoo gun. “A lot of good it did.” 

My lips parted to speak but with the sound of the bell dinging above the door, revealing that someone had stepped inside. 

“Sorry, we’re closed,” the words died in my throat when I saw who walked inside. 

Her hair was pulled back into a tight braid, her green eyes standing out amongst everything else about her. She carried two suitcases behind her and one large duffel bag on her shoulder. 

“Hi,” I said while standing straight up. 

All of the breath inside of me left me with a whoosh of air as the excitement of our arrangement finally filled me. When I first brought up the idea to the McManus brothers, I fully expected them to deny it. Much to my surprise, they agreed almost immediately with the exception that I take care of Roger, as promised. 

Not even an hour after sending the picture to Murphy, his daughter was standing in front of me; bags in tow.

“Hi?” Saoirse scowled. “Do you know what the fuck I had to go through to get here? The number of times I had to circle the building to find somewhere to park? Two blocks away. Not to mention, how many homeless people stopped me along the way to ask for either money or drugs? And all you can say is hi?” 

Biting my lip at my smile, I walked over to the receptionist's desk to rest my elbows on it. 

“Are you finished?” I teased with a playful gleam in my eyes. 

She scoffed, appalled. “Am I finished? No, Noah. Far fucking from it. How dare you bid for my life without my consent? This isn’t the 1900’s where this was a common thing! I have a say in who I should marry!” 

“Then why are you here?” 

Saoirse pursed her lips and when I realized she had nothing to say back, I pushed off the counter to close the distance between us, my height towering over her. 

“Let’s get one thing straight. I didn’t pay for you. I don’t plan on holding you prisoner here. You have a say with anything and everything however to keep the peace from stumbling into my empire, if I had to arrange for your life, you bet your fucking ass I would do.” 

Her lips mimicked a fish and when her shoulders slumped in defeat, I held out my hand to her. “Keys.” 

“Excuse me?” She raised a brow. 

“Give me your keys. OMNS Legacy Villas has underground parking. There’s already a reserved spot for you,” I informed her. 

Shoving the keys in my hand, she sliced her eyes into me. “If it says Saoirse, change it.” 

I quickly tossed the keys to Nicholas, who understood and slipped out of the shop to retrieve her car. 

“Change it?” I repeated her words. 

“The only people who call me that are my father and uncle. Everyone else calls me Scarlett,” she tossed her bags on the ground at my feet before crossing her arms over her black sweater. 

This sass that fell from her blood-stained lips made me want to toss her onto the counter, rip off that sweater, and attack every inch of her skin with my teeth but I refrained. Instead, I brushed a hand through my hair and smiled. 

“Scarlett it is.” 

Scarlett glanced out the large window in front of the shop, watching as people walked past, every single one of them dealing with something in their own lives. The trash that littered the street was figuratively and literally. I had to admit that when I first opened up my empire here, the slums were extremely bad but with my help and funding, the streets had been cleaned up immensely; with a few stranglers still lurking around. 

Especially in the underground. 

“I don’t understand how you live here. The homeless, the drug deals, and the illegal activities I saw walking in here. It’s disgusting,” she shivered. 

I stood next to her now, stuffing my hands in the back pockets of my pants. “Welcome to the Concrete Jungle, Scarlett.” 

She turned her head up to me as I bent low towards her, my warm breath fanning those beautiful lips. “Where I’m the fucking king.” 

#noah sebastian #bad omens #noah sebastian x ofc #mafiaboss!noah sebastian #tattooartist!noah sebastian #the coyotes cry noah sebastian #noah sebastian fan fictions

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Traitor

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: a big thank you to awesome and incredible @little-diable for having the wonderful and crazy idea to write this together. I loved it so much! You are such an amazing writer.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, angst

Summary: you thought you had been prepared for everything as you were sent to spy on Uhtred, until the moment you met a certain Danish warrior

Word Count: 4,8 K

Headers and dividers by the lovely @arcielee

If you want to be added to or removed from the tag list - write to me.

I'm not sure if this letter will ever get to you or if you'll even want to read it. But I couldn't leave without saying goodbye.

You probably already know, and it's true. I was sent to spy on Lord Uhtred, on orders from Lord Wihtgar, Uhtred’s cousin and the current ruler of Bebbanburg.

I came here as a spy and an enemy, full of suspicion, hate and disdain. I was sent to spy on a traitor of his own kin, on a heathen teamed up with the Danes to try and bring down my Lord, the rightful ruler of Bebbanburg.

But now, as I'm leaving, I want you to know I'm going as a friend and an ally, even if you can't quite believe it, even if you all rightfully see me as a traitor.

These past few months have taught me so much - about trust, relying on others, feeling accepted, and being valued. But most importantly, I've learned what it means to be loved.

I'm sorry. I know it's not enough, and it never will be…

"It's all blurred and smudged from here. I can't decipher it," Osferth looked up from the small piece of vellum he held in his hands. His gaze wandered around the dimly lit room before settling on the silhouette seated at the table, with elbows propped up and head resting on hands, fingers entwined in hair.

"Read it once more," Sihtric growled, his voice rough and slightly trembling.

"I've already read it to you five times. What do you expect to uncover?" Osferth shrugged. The sound of the bench falling echoed as Sihtric suddenly sprang to his feet, knocking it over and grabbed the cup from the table, draining it in a few hasty gulps. He stood there for a moment, examining it in his hand. Moments later, the cup was hurled to the ground with such force that it shattered into countless small pieces, causing Osferth to flinch.

"Nothing," venom dripped from Sihtric's voice, "I'm a fool, a damned idiot. How could I not see it? How could I be so blind?" he roared before storming out of the room.

It had been surprisingly easy, much easier than you had anticipated. It appeared that Uhtred had a soft spot for taking in masterless dogs and those less fortunate. All it took was a heart-wrenching tale of being captured by Scots as a child and raised as a warrior to win his acceptance. You couldn't help but feel a sense of disdain for his kind-heartedness and naivety. He truly didn't deserve to be called a Lord.

A Lord should be stern and ruthless, someone who instilled fear in their subordinates, devoid of the lower emotions like love and compassion that made people vulnerable to manipulation. This was what you had been taught, ingrained in you since childhood, nurtured by your mother's milk, and enforced by your father's strict hand.

You happened to be the sole child of Bebbanburg's commandant and the trusted right hand of Lord Ælfric Uhtredson. Your father had always yearned for a son, but fate had dealt him a different hand – a daughter, a fragile and small creature with large, inquisitive eyes and infectious laughter.

The carefree and joyful days of your childhood came to an abrupt end when your father finally acknowledged your existence. Around the age of ten, as it became apparent that your mother would not provide the male heir he so desperately desired, your father’s attention shifted to you.

And now, here you were – a grown woman, a trained warrior, and a cunning spy, with deep and sorrowful eyes, and a laughter that had been absent from your life for years. This was how you entered the service of Lord Uhtred.

“You’ve got a knack for it,” Finan chuckled approvingly, and you saw his hand extending towards you to help you up from the ground. You hesitated, uncertain if he genuinely meant it, half-expecting him to withdraw his hand at the last moment, his warm smile giving way to a mocking grin. He had bested you fair and square. Again. Finan the Agile, they called him, and rightly so.

He had the appearance of a large, affable bear, with warm brown eyes, that always seemed to twinkle mischievously. What a deception! That man moved as swiftly as lightning. Despite investing all your strength, skill, and effort, you found yourself seated in the dirt, gasping for breath. The surprise in your eyes was impossible to conceal as you kept glancing at his outstretched hand. Even though you knew by now that his hand would remain there, that you could rely on it and you could trust it not to turn against you, old habits died hard, etched into your very bones, causing you to hesitate once more. 

Finally, you mustered the courage to grasp it, allowing Finan to help you to your feet. "That move earlier, when you suddenly changed direction and lunged to my left, almost caught me off guard. That was impressive," the bearded Irishman continued, his genuine smile unwavering. He retrieved your sword and handed it back to you. "Ready for another round?"

You thought you were prepared for anything. You were ready to fight for your place among the warriors, anticipating challenges and the disdain that comes with being an outsider, a newcomer, and a woman. You were prepared for the sly glances, whistles, and crude remarks, for unwelcome advances and dirty hands trying to grope you. Having been raised in the world of men, you knew their ways well.

"Hey, let the lady catch her breath," Osferth's ever-cheerful voice echoed across the yard as he approached with a pitcher and ale mugs in his hands. The shy former monk was undoubtedly the most peculiar addition to the pack around Uhtred. Why was he even carrying a sword? He seemed clueless about how to use it. Initially, you assumed he might be warming someone's bed, but it soon became evident that this was not the case.

There was no logical explanation for his presence in a warriors' camp, but there he was, offering a bashful smile as he filled the mugs with ale and handed the first one to you. You couldn't deny the calming and radiant aura that accompanied him, something intangible, something elusive that defied explanation. Always courteous and attentive, unwavering in his faith in God's benevolence, he carried the weight of being born out of wedlock with quiet dignity and bestowed genuine kindness upon those around him.

You had believed you were prepared for anything – ready to endure contempt and hatred, to withstand pain and humiliation, to employ your body as both a weapon and allure. You had experienced it all, endured it all, and each time emerged stronger. But there was one thing you hadn't been prepared for – to be accepted just as you were, to be treated with respect and appreciation. Friendship and loyalty had taken you by surprise, and above all, you had never anticipated being cared for and loved.

Love. It had been an empty word, devoid of real meaning to you. In this cursed world where power, authority, and control were the sole currencies of worth, there was no room for something as seemingly foolish as love. How could you have prepared for it when you had never felt it?

Love didn't strike you suddenly, nor did it assault your senses and reason. You might have recognized it then if it had. Instead, it arrived slowly, subtly, through tentative glances and concealed smiles, in the hesitant brush of fingers. It infiltrated your everyday life as helping hands to maintain your weapons or carry your saddlebag, as a casual shift to the side, making room for you at the fire, as unassuming inquiries when you appeared tired or unwell. The genuine care and attention that the reserved and initially withdrawn young Dane with that stern and piercing gaze framed by two mismatched eyes offered so effortlessly and unpretentiously wrapped around you like a soft, welcoming blanket. It dulled your wariness, dazzled you like freshly brewed ale, and you fell for it without regret.

“Fuck,” you moaned, eyes squeezed shut, hands pressed against the cold ground. You were lying flat on your back, unable to take another step. It had been a foolish mistake, really, one second you had tried to prove to the guys how easy it was to balance one too many cups of ale in your hands, the next you had found yourself on the ground. One of the other drunken guys had rammed into you, forcing you to the ground without another warning. 

It had taken you a few seconds to realise what was going on, blinking the tears away that welled up in your eyes due to the pain sticking to your foot. Voices had echoed in your ears, growing louder by the second, forcing you to at least try and sit up. All you could do was watch how Finan had to hold back Sihtric, who was about to tear the guy to shreds. 

You had murmured Sihtric’s name, hoping to catch his attention. If there was one thing you hated, it was being the centre of attention – and being the reason for a fight amongst the guys would definitely put you further into the said centre. It had taken Finan a few moments to get some distance between Sihtric and the guy, forcing the Dane to finally focus on you. 

“Can you stand?” Sihtric had kneeled in front of you, worried eyes flickering between yours and the hurt ankle you pressed your hand against. A whimper had left you as you had to rise, plopping back to the ground with a huff. There was no use in denying the shame thumping through your veins, filling every inch of your body. Only as Sihtric had placed his hand on your chin, redirecting your gaze towards him, had you managed to look at the handsome Dane again, sending him a smile. 

“Up you go.” Without another warning, Sihtric had picked you up, strong arms wrapped around your cold body. The shriek that had clawed through you had left Finan and Osferth laughing, watching Sihtric carry you towards the tent he was supposed to sleep in. 

And now here you were, placed on the warm fur, eyes studying the Dane’s every move. You could tell that something was holding Sihtric back, not daring to touch you for more than a handful of moments, pulling away whenever his eyes found yours as if your mere closeness set fire through his body. It frustrated you, seeing him this weary, scared to touch your already battered body. 

“Sihtric,” you murmured his name, once again sitting up to be closer to him. Your hand darted out to find his warm cheek, trying not to pay the way he seemed to hold his breath too much of your attention. Slowly your thumb began to move, stroking his soft skin, the small marks and scars littering his cheeks, marks you couldn’t help but admire. He emanated strength and danger, and yet you felt awfully safe around him, knowing that he’d always protect you – should you need it. 

With your breath hitched in your chest, it took you a moment to realise what was happening. Sihtric had pressed his lips against yours, hand placed on the back of your head to keep you close, not daring to let you go. Your heart was racing, torn between excitement and confusion, since you had hoped you’d eventually find yourself in a situation like this, and yet you haven’t dared to overthink it much. 

“I am sorry.” Suddenly he pulled away, trying to get some distance between the two as if you were some addicting poison he needed to stay away from. Your wide pupils followed his every haste movement, not understanding what was going on. “You’re hurt, I shouldn’t touch you, not like this.” 

A soft laugh broke out of you, hand reaching out for him to pull Sihtric in for another kiss. The moan that clawed through him left you grinning against his mouth, slowly parting your lips to deepen the kiss. You found yourself pressed against the fur, with Sihtric hovering over you. Neither of you dared to break the kiss this time, not as his hands began to work on your clothes, not as you fought against the need to arch your back to let go of a deep moan. 

“I want to take care of you, take away your pain. Will you let me?” His raspy voice shot shudders down your spine, eyes rolling back into your head the second his warm mouth found your chest. All you could do was moan his name, teeth running along your lower lip to somewhat try to be quiet, not wanting to attract the attention of nearby drunkards. Expectedly he sucked on your hardening nubs, grinning whenever you choked on his name. “My pretty shieldmaiden, the fiercest warrior I aim to claim.”

“Gods, Sihtric, more. Please.” Sihtric blindly followed your choked command, kissing his way down to your heat. You were dripping for him, needing to feel his hands and mouth on you before he could fuck you like you had dreamt of him doing for a while now. The way he groaned at your taste left you clenching around nothing, fingers holding onto the furs to try and ground yourself. 

His colourful eyes watched you intently, not wanting to miss one single expression, telling him all about how you felt buried beneath him, with his mouth on you. You felt as if you were drowning, clinging to every breath you were allowed to inhale, close to passing out. But Sihtric was determined, wanting to push the most sinful yet most beautiful sensation through your body. 

“I must have pleased the Gods for being allowed to feel you this close, you’re mine now.” A hum left you, unable to reply with words as he forced two fingers into your tightness. Your walls clenched around him, telling him that you were already close. The grin he wore on his lips was devilish as he spoke up once again, “Say it, say that you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, fuck, only yours.” Your eyes rolled back into your head as you came on his fingers, whimpering his name. Sihtric’s thumb kept circling your pulsing bundle, prolonging the intense sensations for a few more moments. For a second it felt as if you were reborn, heart racing too fast, palms sweaty from the way you had tried to hold onto the furs. 

You tried to rise from your position, wondering what he’d do next, but Sihtric kept you pressed to the ground, looking like Loki himself, the trickster with a grin that could fool anybody. With wide eyes, you watched Sihtric undress, leathers plopping to the ground to expose his carefully chiselled muscles, gracing his stomach, his arms, and his thighs. All you could do was choke on your breath as your eyes focused on his hard cock, begging for your touch, to feel you wrapped around him. 

“I promised to take care of you, but I won’t be gentle, not when I’ve got you buried beneath me like that.” Sihtric’s voice dripped with possessiveness, lust, and excitement, once again leaving you covered in goosebumps. You nodded, unable to speak up as his mouth found yours, kissing you breathless while he aligned himself with your cunt. “Hold onto me, mark me up.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, clawing your fingernails into his warm skin, adding more scars to the ones he had collected on battlefields. And yet he’d be prouder of the ones you added than any other, he’d fight any war if it meant getting to be with you. The both of you moaned in unison as he pushed into you, forcing your walls to adjust to his size. 

Sihtric hadn’t lied, he wasn’t soft, wasn’t sweet, no, he fucked you like a man on a mission, a man who followed his lord’s commands. And you loved every moment of it, every rough thrust that managed to set your body ablaze, every thrust that left you choking on the air you were desperate for. Your nails left bloody marks down his shoulders, holding onto him as he fucked you on the fur, hoping that this was the first of many nights you’d spent on this fur together. 

“You feel so good around me like the gods have crafted you for me, mine to own, mine to love.” Sihtric’s words almost drew tears to your eyes, desperately wanting to reply, to tell him about your feelings, but you couldn’t. You were too far gone, once again close to falling off the edge. With one last kiss pressed to your lips, you came, moaning his name into the cold night. Sihtric fucked you through your release, groaning into the crook of your neck as he came only a few seconds later. 

You both panted heavily, slowly coming down from your highs, as your foggy mind gradually cleared, and your hazy gaze locked onto Sihtric's mismatched eyes.

This was the moment you always hated the most - the moment of harsh and uncomfortable truth, filled with awkward glances, whispered words, and hurried, clumsy movements. It was the time when one inevitably left, fumbling for clothes and murmuring promises that were never meant to be kept.

You had been on both sides often enough; it was neither new nor unexpected to you. However, for perhaps the first time in your life, you felt an inexplicable emotion creeping beneath your skin. It drove you to dig your fingers into the plush, sweat-soaked furs beneath you, restraining the impulse to pathetically wrap your arms around Sihtric's shoulders in a desperate attempt to keep him from leaving.

Sihtric crushed down beside you, his breath ragged, and his strong arms instinctively encircled you, pulling your back flush against his chest as though he feared you might disappear.

"Will you stay with me?" a hoarse whisper brushed against your ear, igniting a new sense of life within you.

"I couldn't leave even if I wanted to," you chuckled softly.

"Do you want to?"

"No, I don't," you whispered, turning to face him.

"Good, because I don't want you to either," Sihtric murmured, pressing his lips against yours.

I'm sorry I never found the courage to say these words to you. I always thought there would be enough time for that.

I just hope you felt it, I hope you sensed it, how much I loved you. And I still do. I want you to know that will never change. I will always love you, until my very last breath.

Tears welled up in your eyes, falling onto the vellum before you.

Muffled noises from outside caught your attention, and you hastily rolled it up, inadvertently smudging the ink where your tears had fallen. Time was running out; you had to leave. There had always been rumours of Uhtred having his own spies in Bebbanburg, though no one had ever managed to prove them. Today, you had seen him - the blacksmith from Bebbanburg, here in Rumcofa, in Uhtred’s hall. You had tried to hide, but it had been too late. He had seen you, his eyes glued to your pale face, as your heart frantically drummed against your ribs. He had recognized you, just as you had recognized him, and in that moment when your eyes met, you knew your mission had reached its end.

It was too late to confess your true purpose for coming here. You had wanted to reveal your real identity so many times, but the right moment had never seemed to come. And now, it was too late. Your past life had caught up with you, its cold, bony fingers slowly closing around your throat. You didn’t want to leave, but you couldn't stay.

Silence, absolute silence enveloped you, devoid of any sound—no voices, no footsteps, no creaking doors. There was nothing to attract your attention, it was as if the world itself had stilled, allowing your thoughts to flutter through your mind like startled birds, beating against the cage of your consciousness. You had never imagined that silence could be so agonisingly painful, so suffocating.

He will not come! He hates and detests you! You deserve it! The cruel voice echoed in your head, driving you to cover your ears with your hands. Growls of frustration escaped your lips, reverberating against the thick walls of Bebbanburg's dungeon, as you attempted to silence the relentless taunting.

Bebbanburg had fallen, or rather, it had been reclaimed by its rightful owner. You had always known this moment would come, understood that Uhtred would never relinquish his birthright, his lands, or the fortress of his ancestors. You had simultaneously dreaded and longed for this day, aware that it would spell both your doom and your salvation. And now, it was a reality.

God as your witness, you had tried to forget him. You had attempted to banish him from your thoughts, to expel the longing from your mind. For a time, you had even believed you had succeeded, drowning your yearning and hunger for Sihtric's touch, for his commanding yet gentle voice whose orders you had been so eager to obey, for the stern yet loving gaze of his mismatched eyes that seemed to follow you wherever you went.

But the moment you laid eyes on him and Finan on the upper walkway, flanked by guards, you knew it had all been an illusion. You knew you had failed utterly. Your hand shot up instinctively, covering your mouth to stifle the scream threatening to erupt from your chest. 

As if in a haze, you recalled following the guards, sneaking into the dungeon—this very dungeon whose walls you had been pounding in anger and despair for the past few hours, leaving your knuckles raw and bleeding. Then, like a bolt of lightning carrying God's wrath, like a spear hurled by an enemy's hand, it struck you. The coldness in Sihtric's gaze as he lifted his eyes from the lifeless bodies of the guards on the floor to meet yours froze the words forming on your lips, causing them to hang in the air before shattering into a thousand pieces upon the ground.

"You?" was the sole word that escaped Finan's lips as you swiftly cut through the ropes binding their hands, yet even that was laden with disdain and revulsion. You had shown them the way out, the concealed passage to the main hall, and they had left—no words exchanged, no glances shared, no turning back—just silence, relentless silence. The same oppressive silence lingered as Ælfwynn and Hild departed the fortress through the small, secret door you had revealed to them. Traitor, her eyes had silently screamed at you.

You could have fled, escaped, started anew far from this cursed fortress, far from everyone who governed your life. You could have been free. Yet, as tempting as it was, you knew there was no escaping yourself, no escaping the searing shame and longing that had gnawed at you from within all this time. You couldn't leave, not again.

It was Sihtric's hands that seized you, wrenching you to your feet and twisting your arms behind your back when they found you seated in the main hall, awaiting their arrival. You offered no resistance; the touch of him, even as his eyes blazed with hatred, sent shivers down your spine, and you allowed yourself to be dragged to the dungeon in silence. What could you say? How could you explain the inexplicable?

Leaning back against the cold and unforgiving stone wall, you felt the rugged surface digging into your skin even through your clothes as you slowly sank to the ground. Here you were, locked up in the dark and soundless cells beneath Bebbanburg, waiting for something you knew would never come. Closing your eyes, you let the silence envelop you, to become a part of you, to seep into your soul. You were alone, yet strangely, you felt free. No more lies, no more disguise. Just you.

A creaking sound reached your ears, and you slowly, almost unwillingly, opened your eyes to meet whoever had decided to disturb your silence.

“I should have known.” You’d always recognise his voice, wrapping itself around you like the warm summer breeze. But now it wasn’t warm, no, it was set on freezing you, leaving marks that would forever remind you of your betrayal. Your eyes watched his every move, wondering, perhaps even fearing, that he’d step even closer.

God, how could you have betrayed the man who owned your heart? Why did you keep quiet, when he was right there to hold you, to take away your pain? 

“A traitor, good for nothing. I should be ashamed that I touched you.” At first, his words hurt you, cutting deeper than the swords he had held before ever could. But the more you pondered on them, the more you found yourself focusing on the “should” that had rolled off his tongue. 

“Should?” It was just a whisper leaving you, and yet it was enough to draw a sigh from Sihtric. He unlocked the cell and stepped into the small space you were forced to call your own. 

“As much as I want to hate you for betraying my lord, for betraying my family, for betraying me I can’t. The Gods know how much I tried to.” Sihtric crouched down in front of you, his differently coloured eyes wandering over your features, unable to bite down the smile that tugged on his lips as you leaned closer. Carefully he cupped your cold cheek, pondering on his next move. 

“I am sorry, so very sorry.” All he did was hum, dipping his head down to kiss you. You knew that he wouldn’t forgive you easily, but yet you hoped that he’d learn to, no matter what it took, you’d do it if it meant regaining his trust. Within seconds you were pulled to your feet, front pressed against the cold stones, away from him. 

The whine rumbling through you left Sihtric chuckling, a sound so familiar and yet it dripped with something you weren’t used to, something dark, something that left your body covered in goosebumps. You wanted to look at him, it had been too many hours since you had last gotten the chance to, but Sihtric didn’t loosen his grip, not even as he freed you from the fabrics and leathers covering your body. 

“You’ll take my cock and you’ll thank me for it. It’s the least you can do.” The sob that left you was almost pathetic, torn between the arousal thumping through your veins and the fear holding you hostage. Would he ever forgive you? Would he ever ask you to tell your side of the story? Thoughts that were lost the second he pushed into you from behind. 

It had been too long since Sihtric had last touched you, and yet your body clung to him, begging him to keep on going, to fuck you like you were his. God, how much you wanted to be his, the one to care for, the one who’d hold you close whenever you needed him to. The way he moaned into your ear, hand placed over your mouth to keep you quiet, made you shudder in need. 

“Fuck, they could hang me for humping a traitor, but you feel too good, you always have.” His pleasure-drunken words made you clench around him, eyes squeezed shut to keep your tears from rolling down your cheeks. This was your fault, your wrongdoing, and now you were paying the price, taking the cock of the man you loved, while he called you a traitor. 

You whimpered his name, unable to keep on speaking as his cock nudged against the swollen spot, making you see stars. With your hands pressed against the cold stones, you tried to ground yourself, hoping that you wouldn’t pass out from the intense sensations, especially when he had you on your two feet. 

The sounds of your bodies meeting grew louder as Sihtric felt your orgasm nearing, already done for, set on pushing you over the edge. Tears now dripped from your eyes, guided by the intense pleasure only Sihtric made you feel. Another choked gasp left you as you came on his cock, begging him to follow. 

Sihtric came moments later, imprinting himself on your walls with a groan. The both of you were heavily panting, but while you had your eyes squeezed shut, Sihtric already pulled out of you, wordlessly redressing himself. Slowly you turned towards him, eyebrows furrowed, eyes glassy. 

You wanted to beg him for forgiveness, once again desperate to regain his trust, but he kept on studying you, wordlessly. And without another word leaving him, he turned from you, leaving you behind, with the cell unlocked. He was giving you a way out, a test, nothing more than a test. 

Taglist: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek @alexagirlie @gemini-mama @verenahx @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @willowbrookesblog @thenameswinter99 @ellabellabus07 @mcbuckyyyy @kirtseinw

#sihtric #sihtric x reader #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric x you #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic #tlk fanfic #sihtric smut

[smooth-perceval]

“Make the world go away”

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Summary: The reader is struggling after going public with Charles- reader has a breakdown when Charles returns home.

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of depression, reader hating herself a lot- a lot of body shaming, death threats, Charles being so sweet, a lot of tears, fluff, my bad writing.

Word count: 2,041

Music: Make the world go away- Duffy.

Key: Y/N (Your name)

A/N: I’ve been feeling a bit off lately- and there was no other song to describe how I felt than the one I have tagged- it’s a cover by Duffy, original singer Timi Yuro if I’m correct <3

THIS WAS RUSHED I HAVE A VERRYYYY GOOD CHARLES SERIES THAT IM STARTING AND IM EGER TO GET THE FORST CHAPTER OUT BY TOMROROW EVENING!!

Enjoy!!

Charles and me went public roughly 3 weeks ago- not officially public, but I mean it’s official in the sense I had been spotted with him during race weekend- and not exactly in a friendly manner, wrapped up with one and another at the back of his garage- stealing sweet kisses and adoring smiles.

I’ve attended races before- been in exact same spot before yet this time we got caught, and well-

My, oh my you should’ve seen the headlines…

-Charles newest trophy,

-Leclerc at it again,

-Leclerc’s mysterious girl.

-The Ferrari driver and the other woman.

The other woman? It’s been a year since his ex and him announced their split- somehow I’m the other woman? I mean give me a break…

Seriously, give me a break- the hate I’ve received for liking a boy was just unreal. Charles was a saint in their eyes- but me? Oh I was the wicked witch of the west, I somehow bewitched this boy into wanting me- it was all my fault!

Overtime the hate as always gets too much, and now I find myself every night finding a new flaw on my once perfect body. A new feature on me I didn’t realise was so disgusting until that one user online commented about it.

I found myself stuck in rotation infront of a mirror I used to once love admiring myself in. The same old mirror that now shows a broken girl, struggling to breathe like I was drowning in a pool of hatred. The world weighing me down sitting like devils on my shoulders, always reminding me that I am not good enough for the world.

Not ever good enough for Charles.

And just like a routine I was stuck in crying myself to sleep every night and ensure Charles that I was fine, “I’m just tired” I was tired truthfully, I was tired of it all, I couldn’t take it anymore- I hated myself for not loving me more, I hated me for not loving Charles more, I hated me for not being perfect for him. I hate me.

I finally urged myself to get in the shower tonight. Not only the fact I needed one- but because Charles was soon to arrive home, and I had to wash off every piece of evidence that I’ve been feeling so lost and alone.

As the night rolled on more, I laid in bed- Charles robe tied tightly around my body hiding the matching black underwear set, hair still wrapped up in a towel. The mirrors were avoided- I knew for a fact I looked terrible, but couldn’t bring myself to confirm it. My eyes were glued to the time on my phone, expecting the guy I need is such desperate times to walk through the door.

Another 10 more minutes and his back to being mine. Sighing to myself I rolled my head to the side the towel coming loose and sprawling across the bed, finally catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and like a trance I found myself sliding off the bed and over to the exact mirror, watching myself like I was hunting me down. The girl in the mirror wasn’t getting away again, she had to be judged.

My damp hair dripped behind me leaving a little trail from the bed to the mirror, some wet strands sticking to my face. With a huff I brushed them back before untying the robe, revealing my semi-naked self, my bra strap sliding down with the robe- and like my hair I brushed it back up with a defeated sigh.

Moving side to side, I observed every crease in my body, every mole, every dent, every scratch. I observed everything- stepping away from the mirror I took in my entire body, it was horrid. What did Charles see in me?

The girls he could have and he chose me- I feel sick looking at myself, I don’t know how he must feel… I hate me. I hate that nobody thinks I’m perfect for him, perfect for their Charles.

Lip quivering, and my cheeks slowly getting wetter by the moment, I slid my hands over my stomach and hips- my skin feeling rough, biting my hands at every movement.

Eating me alive- and with shallow breaths I glanced away from the mirror trying to regain some control over myself. The shallow breaths soon eased, and I finally felt like I could breathe again.

Like I wasn’t suffocating anymore, or that the room wasn’t getting smaller and as soon as I could breathe I looked back at myself once again.

“mon chéri-” (my darling)

Spinning around on the spot- caught in the act I stared at a very confused Charles.

“What are you doing?” A little smile on his face as he stepped in the room, forgetting his suitcase and bags behind him.

“I didn’t hear the door go-” swallowing the lump in my throat I quickly crouch down scrambling to grab Charles robe from the floor.

Charles had moved further into the room crouching down to my height. “And even so you still haven’t welcomed me home.” His smile grew even more teasing as he placed his knee onto the robe holding it down.

“Charles move over-” a fake laugh left me as I tugged away at the robe, more self conscious by the second.

“Where’s my kiss?”

“Two seconds let me just cover up-”

“Do I have to kiss you hm?” Raising his eyebrows he brushed my damp hair over my shoulder.

“Charles move.” Looking up at him with a glare, I pulled hardener at the fabric underneath his knee.

Now furrowing his eyebrows, he lifted his knee watching me, like a lion stalking his prey, eyes glued to me just like I was not long ago in the mirror.

Quickly scrambling away, I pulled the robe over me quickly tying it even more tighter around my waist, abruptly standing up.

“Sorry… I didn’t meant to raise my voice.” Chewing my lip anxiously, looking down at Charles, still knelt on one knee, on the floor beneath me.

“What was that all about?”

“What? Me raising my voice?”

Shaking his head, he now knelt on both knees raising himself up a little, his head at waist line as he looked up at me.

“You practically begged for this robe.”

His face showed no emotion. Truthfully he looked like he was still piecing together what just happened. “I was just getting cold that’s all- come stand up so I can welcome you home-” rubbing my hands through his hair, I slid my hands to either side of his face.

And like in a trance guided him to his feet, him now standing tall above me.

“Welcome home” leaning up onto my tip toes I kissed his lips softly.

Charles lips didn’t move against mine, they was stiff. He was now stiff.

“You’ve been crying.” Closing my eyes, I pulled away from him stepping back.

“No I haven’t long showered Charles.”

“I know what this is.” Nodding his head with surety he stepped closer. Guiding his hands to my hips and pulling me in, both of us now inches apart.

“Take it off.” His hands now found the strings of the robe pulling them loose.

“Charles-”

“I’m not asking Y/N.” With tired eyes, they silently begged me to re-undress. Mine? They filled with tears once again, lip trembling as I tired to hold it all back.

“I’m so sorry Charles…” looking down at his hands watching him intently, them now brushing the robe back off my shoulders and back onto the ground, kicking it aside.

Gulping to myself Charles now moved, looking up quickly wondering where he had gone, I then felt his presence behind me. “Look at you.” He brushed my hair over the other shoulder, now resting his head on the bare one, hands now resting on my hips again.

“Look at you mon chéri.” (My darling)

“I am looking at me…” sighing I tilt my head slightly, the tears making their way down and dripping off my chin.

“Why you crying?” His hand reached around wiping both cheeks and cupping my jaw, bringing my head to tilt his way.

“Because-”

With a delicate kiss to my cheek, he then stared at me through the mirror.

“Use your words Y/N”

With another loud sigh, I finally gave in. Pushing my back closer into his chest, his arms in an instinct manner wrapped securely around me holding me tight.

“I’m not good enough for you Charles.”

“Who said so?”

“Everyone says so-”

“My maman thinks your perfect.” Smiling a little at me his hands started caressing my body.

“I think your perfect.” He placed a gentle kiss to the top of my spine and slowly trailed kisses down it.

“I just want them all to leave me alone…” looking up at the ceiling I bite my lip, to stop more tears, and to suppress any other emotions wanting to escape.

“Who?” While once again knelt on the floor he grabbed my waist softly twirling me on the spot.

“the whole world.” Subconsciously my hands now rested on his shoulders squeezing them tight.

“Make the world go away.”

Smiling sadly up at me, his head placed itself resting against my stomach, arms hugging my legs, like a child.

“Get it off of my shoulders.”

Wrapping my arms protectively around his head I bent slightly trying to lower myself to his level. He was quick to move, now throwing me over his shoulders and moving over to the bed, and ever so softly placing me down. Throwing the towel that was once wrapped around my head somewhere else in the room.

“ma jolie fille” (my pretty girl)

Charles started placing sweet kisses over every inch of my body, whispering sweet nothings between each kiss.

“Do you realise, how absolutely gorgeous you are?” Now hovering above me, one arm supporting him up, the other tracing small circles on my inner thigh. Clouding my thoughts.

“Do you realise, that no matter if you was a worm-” pausing he rolled his eyes with a smile, reciting when I asked him a few weeks ago if he would still be with me if I was a worm.

“You do realise I would still love you with my whole entire heart and soul?”

Leaning down his lips brushed mine, hand now stopped moving- but gripping onto my thigh kneading it slowly.

“I’m not good enough for you Charles…” breathing hitched, not for holding back tears- better yet holding back a moan, Charles had me wrapped around his finger always, and the way his making me forget the such hate I have had, and the emotions I have shed. Made me love him.

“You right.” Like a shot to the chest- I started to close up.

“You more than perfect for me.” Sighing a breath of relief, my arms wrapped around his neck pulling him a little closer.

“Je t'aime Y/N.” (I love you Y/N)

Once again my breathing hitched, and my heart skipped a beat.

“I love your smile, your eyes, your nose, your lips, your ears, your neck, your shoulders, your chest, your stomach, yours legs, your feet, even your toes. I love you.”

Eyes welling up I sighed in a bliss.

“I don’t think I can ever stop the hate mon chéri… I wish I could protect you from the world truthfully. But I make you a promise that for every day I’m breathing I promise to love your heart- and fill it with pure utter happiness and love. Whatever them people are saying are wrong, and even if you looked like your little worm, I will still love that caring heart of yours.” (My darling)

Leaning down to my chest, he kisses just between my breast so gently, like if he didn’t my heart would break.

“je t'aime aussi Charles.” (I love you too Charles) Finally with a genuine smile on my face I rest my head back comfortably into the cushions.

“Now let me show you how much I love you.” Biting down on the middle of my bra he pulled at it teasingly. Causing me to giggle.

“let me welcome you home mon beau garçon.” (My pretty boy)

A/N: Okyyy it was very rushed but like I said I have a Charles x Fem!Reader series coming outttt and I wanna let you all have the first chalter as soon as possible!!!

Masterlist

#f1 imagine #formula one imagine #imagine #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc

[writingforstraykids]

I owe you a kiss Pt.3

Pairing: Minchan x femReader

Word Count: 2420

Summary: Whilst Minho and you grow closer his relationship to Chan is strained, suffering from all the responsibility he has to carry for the group. You want nothing more than your boys to work things out..

Warnings/Tags: angst, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, soft!min, mention of blood

A/N: I already know you guys will hate me, but I promise there'll be more in a week🥺🖤

PART TWO | PART FOUR

Two months later

You giggle softly as Minho pulls you into his arms and sways you through the kitchen. A sappy love song starts playing in the background. He pulls you in as close as he can, humming along to the tune, and rests his head against yours. You know, he had a long day, organizing their group's schedules and deciding what would happen now and what would wait until Chan was back. You let him take the lead and feel him relax, his breathing calming against your chest. Minho turns his head a little, planting soft kisses on your cheek, and you can feel him smile. “I love you, honey,” he whispers.

“I love you too, darling,” you whisper right back and turn to look at him. Your breath hitches at how soft and in love he looks. “I’m proud of you.”

“Hm?” he hums in confusion, still swaying softly. 

“I know how hard it is to manage everything without Channie at the company. It’s not what you signed up for,” you tell him gently. 

“He’s my husband, I’ve signed up for it the minute I let him love me,” he smiles tiredly.

“I know, but never alone before,” you remind him gently. “You’re doing great, darling. Chan and I are very proud of you.”

He smiles gently and brushes his nose against yours. “Thank you, baby.” His phone rings, and you can instantly see the stress flooding his face. It's a little worrying to see him dripping with the same exhaustion you only knew from Chan so far. You gently ease it from his pocket and smile, showing him the screen. “Oh,” he smirks and gives you an apologetic smile before taking the call. “Hi, Channie love,” he says, giving you a kiss and quickly going upstairs. You watch him with a soft smile, glad Chan has called at this very moment. The three of you worked out a rhythm with calling quite quickly; one day Minho, one day you, one day the two of you. This allowed you all to keep your personal relationship with Chan, as well as your marriage, intact.

“Hi, kitten,” Chan says sweetly.

Minho throws himself onto the bed with a soft grunt and stares at the ceiling. “How are you? Had a nice day?”

“Yeah, Hannah and I are about to go for a drive, she said she knows a nice place for dinner,” Chan tells him and shuffles through his old bedroom, searching for his sweater. “I'm good, actually.”

“That’s nice,” Minho smiles and turns to his side, trying to keep his eyes open. He realizes too late that he's been silent for too long. 

It’s quiet for a moment before Chan speaks up again. “How are you holding up?” he asks gently. “I hope the kids are supporting you well?”

“Don’t worry,” he chuckles. “Felix is hovering, Hannie and Changbin are busier than ever, Innie and Seungmin are getting on my nerves as much as they can, and Hyunjin took over most of my work with new dances.”

“Crazy as always then,” Chan giggles, and Minho’s heart hurts at the so dearly missed sound. 

“When are you coming back?” he asks quietly after a moment and bites his lower lip hard. Dumbass. “I don’t want to stress you, just wanna know.”

Chan is quiet for a while after that, and Minho closes his eyes, growing frustrated as tears well up in them. “I-I don’t know, Min,” he confesses.

“Mhm, okay,” is all he manages to say, trying not to start crying right here on the spot. He misses him so much that it’s getting a little too much lately.

“You’re mad.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” Chan huffs. 

“I said I’m not,” Minho insists. 

“Stop lying,” Chan tells him, sharper than he had intended to. “You’re pissed you have to work double while I’m having fun out here.”

“I’m not…Channie,” Minho says firmly and sits up. “I’m too tired for this bullshit, seriously.”

“Mhm, okay, fine then,” Chan grumbles. “Sorry for calling.” 

“Chan,” Minho snaps. “I was asking because I fucking miss you,” he bursts out.

“If you miss me so much, you could just visit, you know,” Chan says, not really knowing why he’s so pissed either. 

“I can’t just disappear right now and leave them all hanging,” Minho argues weakly. “We're already behind.”

“If you’re so busy then what’s the point in me visiting, huh?” Chan asks sourly.

“Visiting? Is that what we’re calling home now? Is that all your husband and wife are now? A visit?” he snaps, tears finally falling down his cheeks. “Seriously, Chan?” he asks, voice cracking.

“Okay, you have five seconds to calm the fuck down, or I’m ending this call,” Chan says calmly. “I don’t know when I’ll come back, Minho, because honestly, I don’t feel like it right now. And if that is all that’s waiting for me, then I don’t know if I want to.”

Minho hangs up on him and sits still for a moment before throwing his phone onto the floor forcefully. He hears the screen cracking and winces softly but doesn’t bother to pick it back up. 

You race up the stairs and rip the door open, blinking at him, confused. “What was that?” you ask, speaking of the loud thump his phone made.

“My phone,” he says, and you glance down at it lying on the floor.

“What’s wrong?” you ask worriedly, spotting the tears in his eyes.

“Nothing,” he snaps at you. “Your husband is an asshole, that’s all!”

“Which one?” you ask calmly and raise your eyebrows at him. 

He takes a deep breath, reminding himself that you're not his enemy. “Both,” he says sourly. “But your Australian one in particular.”

You chuckle softly and make your way over, stopping in front of the edge of the bed. You soothingly run your hand through his hair and watch him thoughtfully. “He's not coming back yet, is he?”

“No,” Minho whispers and stubbornly stares at the mattress. “I know I was the one saying he should go, but-it's too much.”

“What is?” you ask patiently, wanting him to voice his thoughts. 

“Y/nnie,” he sighs softly. “Not now, please. Now I just wanna be pissed and sulk a little.”

You hum gently and brush back his hair. “Need some time alone?”

“Yeah,” he nods and flashes you an apologetic smile. You both know he'll get rid of his frustration more quickly if you don't see how shitty he feels. 

“That's okay,” you tell him and cup his face, kissing his forehead. “I'm taking you out for dinner tonight, yeah? Just us two at that place downtown you love.”

“Okay,” he smiles weakly and squeezes your hips for a brief moment before letting go of you. He watches you leave before falling back onto the mattress. Staring up at the ceiling, he thinks back to their conversation, and his throat tightens up painfully. Tears burn in his eyes, and he curses at himself quietly. “Stop being so fucking dramatic,” he tells himself and blinks them away. 

You glance up from your spot on the sofa as Minho comes downstairs only minutes later. “That was fast?”

“I won't ruin our date night,” Minho announces as he makes his way over. He stops in front of you and timidly tugs at his sleeve. “Also, I need a hug.”

Your smile softens, and you gently pat the space next to you. A surprised giggle leaves your lips as Minho places himself in your lap instead, burying his face in your shoulder. You soothingly rub his back and hug him tight, gently rocking him in your arms. “I love you, Minnie.”

“I love you too,” he says softly. 

“And Channie does as well, yeah?” you ask, and your heart drops as Minho doesn't answer. You gently pull him back, spotting tears in his eyes. “Oh, darling, that bad?”

Minho shakes his head and lowers his gaze. “I'm tired as hell. That only makes it worse.”

“Wanna tell me what happened?” you ask gently, and Minho gives in and tells you about his argument with Chan. 

“I know I was overreacting, but he pissed me off,” Minho sighs as he's done. 

“You were a little. But so was he,” you chuckle. 

“You're married to two idiots, I'm sorry,” Minho chuckles weakly and sighs. “Okay, come on.”

“We don't have to go if you're not feeling up for it,” you assure him. “We can order in, watch a movie or something.”

“No, if my beautiful wife wants to go out for a date, that's what she gets,” he shakes his head and smiles at you sweetly. You blush a little, which gives him the opportunity to kiss you fiercely. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you smile. 

-

Minho's gentle fingers brush against your skin as he laces up your dress in the back. As he's done, his eyes meet yours in the mirror, and they instantly soften, as they always do. His hands find your hips, and he leans down, pressing a small kiss on your shoulder. “You're so beautiful.”

You blush softly and chuckle at yourself for still getting flustered after all those years. “Min,” you say sweetly. 

“Don't even try to deny it,” your husband giggles and pulls you against his body. “I love you so much, never forget that, yeah?”

“How could I?” you ask, amused, and cover his hands with yours. “You're unforgettable Min, in every way,” you say and turn in his arms to face him. “My sweet Minho.”

A beautiful smile tugs at his lips, bunny teeth showing as he gives in to the feeling. It travels to his eyes, makes them sparkle so prettily, and you can't help but mirror his smile. He gently caresses your cheek and pulls you into a soft, loving, tender kiss. “My beloved Y/nnie,” he whispers against your lips. 

-

Not much later, you're at the restaurant and Minho seems to cheer up, chewing happily on his food. You giggle at him fondly. “You're so cute.”

He looks almost offended and quickly swallows. “Ey, I have a reputation.”

“Forget it,” you snort. “Everyone who could see you like that would agree with me.”

“Stay always agrees with you when you write those stupid little captions,” he snorts and takes the next bite, doing a little happy wiggle in his seat. His eyes widen as he catches himself doing so, and you start laughing. “Oh fuck off,” he laughs.

You giggle adoringly, and the two of you exchange a soft smile. “You're pretty.”

“Will you stop now?” he asks softly, slowly blushing. 

“Never. You're too cute,” you tease him. 

“Do I have to remind you again why we have two chopsticks and two eyes?” he threatens you jokingly. 

“No, thank you,” you laugh and glance down as your phone pings with a message. Channie. 

Minho notices you hesitating for a moment. “Go on,” he urges you gently. 

Channie angel❣️: Hey there, my beautiful baby, hope you're doing alright. Don't tell Minnie, but I'll be back for his birthday in two weeks. I love you so so much and can't wait to see you again!🌹🖤

You: Oh, that's exciting!!! I won't tell him a word, promise❤️

You:…but you should text him, Channie angel, he's hurt🥺💔

Channie angel❣️: I'll call him as soon as I'm back at my parents’ place. Enjoy your night out, baby🖤

Channie angel❣️: Tell him I love him. 

You look up from your phone and swallow softly, seeing Minho glancing at his broken screen timidly. “Darling?”

“Yeah?” he asks and puts on a warm smile for you. 

“Chan says he loves you,” you tell him, and Minho's smile falters a little in surprise. “He wants to call later.”

“Okay,” he nods gently. “Thank you.”

“You'll be okay?” you ask him worriedly and reach for his hand across the table. 

“Always,” he promises and brings up your hand to his lips, kissing it. “He can act stupid all he wants, I have you right here tonight.”

You chuckle, amused, and squeeze his hand. “Don't give up on him, yeah? I know it's not easy at the moment…but he still loves you.”

“I know,” Minho assures you gently. 

“You two are at your best when you're working together,” you tell him and search his eyes. “He loves you, no matter what.”

Minho nods gently, not wanting to get emotional out here in public. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Any time,” you smile at him softly. “Let's go home, cuddle?”

Minho's face breaks into a beautiful, soft smile, and you study his features as if you'd want to engrave this picture in your brain forever. “Let's go home,” he nods. 

-

Chan barely steps into his room as his phone rings with Minho's signature tune. He frowns softly, wondering why he was calling him now when he told him he would. Chan takes the call and braces himself. “Hey, Minho.”

“Channie,” Minho sobs into the phone and Chan's throat tightens at the broken sound. 

“Baby?” he asks worriedly. 

“I'm sorry, I fucked up. Fucked up so bad,” Minho rambles through tears, pacing the bathroom. “I swear I didn't mean to.”

Chan frowns softly, and he stops in front of his bed. “Minho, it's okay, it wasn't that bad, hm? It was just a small fight.” he tries softly, and a high-pitched sound leaves Minho's lips. Minho sinks to the floor, breathing heavily, and pulls his legs up to his chest as his shock takes over. Chan picks up on it and sits down at the edge of his bed. “Can we switch to a video call?” What the hell? 

“O-Okay,” Minho sobs and accepts the call. 

Chan's heart drops to his stomach as he sees him. Tears stream down his face, and he looks terrified. Truly terrified. There's blood on his shirt, there's blood on the hand he uses to try and wipe away his tears. “Minho, fuck, where are you?”

“Hospital” is all he gets out. 

“Why, what…Minho, where's Y/N?” he asks, his stomach tightening in fear at the pained sound that leaves Minho when your name is mentioned. “Min?”

Minho's breathing picks up, and he clutches the fabric of his pants tightly, trying to steady himself. “Someone crashed into our car, I-I swear it wasn't my fault. T-The airbag didn't open a-and-,” he breaks off with a sob. “Channie, there was so much blood,” he whimpers. 

“Where's Y/nnie?” he asks, barely audible, blank fear taking over him.

PART TWO | PART FOUR

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

@atinyniki @kailee08 @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaasia111 @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @malfoygalaxies @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland

#stray kids #skz #chan #minho #minchan #skz fic #chan fic #minho fic #minchan fic #minho angst #chan angst #minchan angst #minho fluff #chan fluff #minchan fluff #minho x reader #chan x reader #minchan x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids x reader #skz fluff #skz angst #skz x reader

[astermath]

nemesis

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: you made carmen’s life hell in culinary school, except you had no idea. now he finds out you run a restaurant in Chicago, and he’s confronted with the emotions he projected onto you.

word count: 2.9K

notes: kinda got inspired by the lyric "I'm the sweetest girl in town so why are you so mean?" by lana del rey but this was prompted by this ask!!! anyway this starts off in carmy's culinary school era and then goes to somewhere around the start of S1. this will def get a part two!!

♡ LANDING PAGE ♡

warnings: cursing, slight mention of suicidal thoughts, angst

comment if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content! 

You were like the average person's depiction of an angel.

You were so incredibly good at what you did, excelling in every class they got, you were unanimously liked by everyone, always helping out your peers and taste testing, and for all he knew you probably fucking rescued baby polar bears in your spare time too.

You were perfect.

And he couldn't stand it.

Always saying good morning to him, with that sickeningly sweet smile, soft hands easily preparing the dishes he struggled to perfect. And that wasn't even the worst part. Because the teachers loved you too.

"Such an interesting spin on the use of this ingredient."

"I can tell you've really perfected this technique."

"What a unique combination of flavors..."

And they were right. Of course they were right, it's like you were a machine crafted in some kind of lab to outcook him in every way possible.

And it was stupid to be jealous, to almost hate you over it, because he was excelling too. But you were excelling more. His praise seemed worthless compared to yours, and he couldn't even dream of making the kind of connections you seemed to make with the other students.

So he grew to resent you. Even when he went to go work in New York, he couldn't shake the image of you standing in the corner of his kitchen, humming softly while chopping vegetables as you received all the praise he longed for. Some would say his hatred bordered on obsession, he would tell them it’s none of their fucking business.

Over the years, he’d managed to at least slightly shake the image of you in his kitchen, though at his lowest points, he couldn’t help but think of you. Of course Mikey was his primary motivation, but he couldn’t help but feel like possibly surpassing your success spurred him on too. But then again, what success? For all he knew, you quit cooking altogether, he hadn’t heard from you since he left for New York. That was, up until a few days ago.

It had been so busy already, and Carmen was spent trying to keep up with the pace of this business running on its last legs. He groaned into his hands, before going back to chopping tomatoes for his sauce. 

“Hi! Can I just get a braised beef sandwich to go?”

Your voice made him flinch. He almost cut into his finger, that honey dripping sweet familiar voice sending a jolt of anxiety over his entire body. No way, no fucking way you were here, in Chicago, in the Beef of all places. He thought he must have hallucinated it, stressed out of his mind from the intense lunch rush they’d just had. But he had to know, he had to find out if you were there, setting foot in his establishment.

So he turned his head to peer over to the counter, and there you were.

Angel of the academy.

Arch nemesis of his nightmares.

Ordering a sandwich from his run down restaurant.

You barely looked any different, and the sight of your smile made his stomach drop. Or flutter. It did something to his stomach at least.

He was just going to let you leave, pretend like he imagined it so he could continue to live his life and believe you were out there pursuing anything besides cooking. But he couldn’t. He had to know, something deep inside him forced him to put his knife down and walk to the counter as you were heading to the door, and call out your name in questioning.

You turned, and when your eyes met he remembered how uncomfortable your eyes made him. How they’d make his face get hot, stutter, think about every mistake he’s made, like he was having an allergic reaction to your eye contact. 

“Carmen?” Your voice was soft, unsure, as if you were coaxing a wild animal out of its cage.

Richie looked at Carmen, confused as all hell as to why his colleague was having a nervous staring contest with this random customer. “You know this chick or somethin’?” 

He voluntarily ignored Richie’s question, getting from behind the counter and walking up to you. A part of him wanted to bolt, slam the door and tell the others to kick you out. Luckily for him, he’d become the more confrontational type recently. 

“Holy shit, it is you!” A bright smile adorned your face, and he swore you were about to go in for a hug when you moved your arms, only to awkwardly cross them when he pulled away a bit. “What are you uh... Doin’ around here?” A stupid question, you were aware, but anything to make conversation with your long lost classmate.

The question made Carmen tense up. Although it was obvious he worked there, the Beef was not... In its prime condition, to say the least. He was a bit embarrassed to admit he owned it, but he wasn’t about to lie to you and make even more of a fool out of him in the long run.

“Makin’ sandwiches.” He sighed, looking down at his shoes for a moment, desperately trying to avoid eye contact. “So uh, what about you?”

“Ah, I run my own place like 25 minutes away from here.” 

Ugh.

Of course you fucking did. Of course you, star student that you are, owned your own restaurant in Chicago. He bet it was running so well too, and you didn’t have to worry about half the shit he dealt with on a daily basis.

“Ah, wait, here,” You reached into your purse and pulled out a business card, handing it to him. “We’ve been up and running for only a few months, but it’s going pretty well!” You clutched your hands together, excitedly awaiting his response. 

“Cool, cool...” He held the card, carefully reading over every letter. Sunrise diner... Huh. “A breakfast place?”

“You got it!” You chuckled, slightly nervous as you moved back and forth on your heels. You hadn’t seen Carmen in ages, and besides the added tattoos, he truly hadn’t changed that much. He’d matured, surely, but his demeanor remained the same. Curt, bold, something distrusting about it.

“If you want, you could uh... Stop by, maybe?” You fidgeted with the sleeve of your jacket.

Your question made him look up from the card, and a million answers ran through his mind. Did he want to? On one hand, he felt like if he spent any more time with you, he’d start feeling like even more of a failure than he already did. On the other hand, it wouldn’t be bad to scope out the competition, and who knows, maybe the place was shit, and he could sleep at night knowing at least both of your restaurants weren’t doing well. 

“Sure, why not.” He shoved the card into his back pocket, crossing his arms. “I’m kinda swamped right now, but I’ll let you know. Maybe this weekend or something.”

“Sure, yeah, totally! My contact info’s on the card!” Your excitement almost made him distrust you even more. Were you planning something? Was this part of some elaborate scheme to drive his business into the ground? Either way, he’d find out sooner or later.

“See you around!” You waved him goodbye, heading outside as he stood there, no reply as the last thing that was heard was the jingly of the bell above the door. 

Carmen took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair before turning back around, seeing Richie lean against the counter with a shit eating grin. “Ex girlfriend?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows at him.

“Fuck off cousin.” 

God, he wished you were just an ex girlfriend. 

You were his biggest competition. 

Usually when Carmen was up this early, it was to get some preparations done for the restaurant, or if he just hadn’t slept at all during the night.

But now he stood in front of your restaurant, and fuck, he had to admit, it looked good.

From what he could see from outside, the place had a very cozy feel to it. The theme was a mix of a 50′s diner and a casual breakfast spot, and from what he could tell so far, there was no lack of customers either. But that didn’t say much, maybe they were paid actors, right?

He entered and made eye contact with the barista behind the counter who offered him a warm “welcome” and a smile, before looking to the side and waving at someone in the kitchen. Not long after, you walked out, bright smile plastered over your face. He always wondered how you could be so energetic this early in the morning.

“Hey,” he said, hands in his pockets, “nice place.”

“Aw, thanks Carmy!” Your chest warmed at the compliment. “Saved a seat just for you, just follow me.”

He was seated in a booth just for him, and he had to admit, he liked this setup. He could eat his food in peace at least. The vintage feel of the leather cushioning of the benches was pleasant, and the jazz music playing made for a pleasant atmosphere. He’d almost say he would visit a place like this outside of work hours, if you weren’t the one running it.

He looked over the menu, noticing a wide array of breakfast sandwiches, pastries, milkshakes, and the usual coffee arrangement. Nothing too crazy, though he secretly wished he could have chosen something difficult for you to make.

He ordered an eggs benedict sandwich with smoked salmon, a coffee, and a cherry danish. Should be a pretty good test to the culinary quality of the place, he thought.

A waiter came by to drop off his food soon after, and he hated to admit his mouth watered at the sight of it. Everything looked so fresh, and the plating was very pretty too. But cuisine isn’t about how stuff looks, if it was, the Beef would have never existed, that was for sure.

He dug in with his knife and fork, and started eating. He sat through his entire meal in complete silence, simply going through the motions of enjoying a normal breakfast. The barista watched him with careful eyes, as if he was Gordon Ramsey and they were a shitty bakery on the verge of bankruptcy.

He put down his fork, taking a deep breath. 

It was fucking delicious. 

And every moment he’d spent enjoying it made him angrier and angrier.

So he got up, seemingly in a bit of a hurry, and stormed outside, the door hitting the wall with a loud thud when he exited.

You watched it happen from the doorway to the kitchen, face painted with worry.

“Carmen! Carmen wait!” You started to catch up with him as he walked over to the parking. He didn’t like it, you thought, no, he hated it, he hated it so much he couldn’t even dignify you with a moment of feedback. 

Carmen’s face ran red as he could practically hear the blood rushing around his ears, hands starting to reach for his pack of cigarettes as you approached behind him. 

“Please, just tell me what was wrong, I-I’ll change it, I can make you something new, off the menu, w-whatever you want, I--”

“God, do you ever shut the fuck up!?” He turned around, yelling loud enough to have you frozen in your tracks. His pack of cigarettes was squeezed tightly in his hand, crumpling the cardboard packaging under his grip. 

You felt the paralyzing effect of his loud and furious voice, a cold sweat running over your body now. Before you could even open your mouth to say anything else, he stepped closer, and you didn’t even have the guts to back away.

“Every day in culinary school, you made my life hell! The one thing I have ever fucking excelled at, been noticed at, felt like I should have been alive for, you overtook me in!” His ears rang, and any noise besides his own yelling was muffled. 

“You, with your perfect knife skills, endless patience, and your little angel fucking face, always at the back of my heels, the corner of my damn kitchen, making me feel inferior! And then-- then I finally get away from you, think I’ve got some direction in my life, feel a sliver of confidence in my abilities, and what do you fucking do!?” He points at you, finger just an inch away from poking into your sternum. 

“You enter my city, my restaurant, and just come and remind me about how much better you’re doing! Because you love to make me feel like I’m worthless, liked I’m always 5 steps behind, don’t you?” He furrows his brows. “Tell me! Tell me that’s why you’re here, because you want to shit on my work, and make me feel worthless!”

You can feel his hot breath on your face, and your knees start to feel weak. You open your mouth, and the tears that had long been building in your eyes start to roll down your cheeks. The first noise that comes out of your mouth is barely half a word, strangled between the knot in your vocal cords that had formed out of fear. You swallow, and finally manage to speak up.

“Carmen, I-I’m... I’m so sorry...” You sob.

The person you’d looked up to since day one of culinary school thought of you as a bully. And you had no clue.

You knew Carmen didn’t like you, but you never knew he hated you this much. You’d noticed the tension in his jaw as you received good critiques, the strengthening grip on his tools when you got close to his station, the lack of eye content he provided when you did briefly talk. Just as much as you noticed his amazing instinct for flavor profiles, his ability to improvise, his insatiable urge to keep going. 

It inspired you. So you kept going too. Even though deep down, you’d wish he acknowledged your work.

And now he did, he finally did, but not in the way you’d always hoped for. The man you’d always admired, who was awarded Chef of the Year the same year you considered giving up entirely, was currently inches away from your face, watching you cry.

His expression softened just a bit, and the surrounding sound of cars passing by and distant jazz music finally came back to him. You were sorry. So sorry. You looked like it too, hands clutching the fabric of your apron, shaking slightly, cheeks stained with tears. Shit. Shit, he’d really messed up.

“I-I didn’t... I didn’t know, I swear, I never meant to, I was just--” Your voice broke between sentences, “I was trying to keep going, keep holding on, and you were so... You inspired me, y-you’re...” You swallowed, looking to the side, afraid to face his scowl. “You’re the reason I settled in Chicago. I wanted to-- to work with you, or for you.”

You remembered trying to reach him, but he’d changed numbers, and with his severe lack of social media, trying to find him was damn near impossible. By the time you were ready to start cooking again, the year you heard he won Chef of the Year, you found out he was based in Chicago. You searched online, but to no avail. You figured your best shot was to try and start something in the city, and pray to whatever god would answer that maybe you’d cross paths again.

He stood still, head still reeling and processing what you were saying. This was new information for him, and that changed... A lot. You, the person he’d spent like half of his career trying to catch up to, admired him. He’d almost think you were lying if it wasn’t for the tears streaming down your face, he started to realize just how badly he’d acted out just now.

“I--” He started, taking a step back to get out of your personal space. “Fuck, I should-- I should go.” 

You stood there, arms crossed, enveloping yourself and avoiding his eyes like a wounded animal. And the best thing he knew how to do at the moment, was flee the scene. He sucked at his emotions, hell, he could barely even handle his own, how was he going to help you after just cussing you out.

So he backed away, leaving to the nearest metro station to get out, leaving you alone outside. 

Carmen got home that same day, back against the door as he sat on the floor of his apartment. He felt horrible, like there was a gaping hole in his chest, and he imagined you felt about a hundred times worse. He couldn’t believe what he did, all because he projected this horrible false narrative onto you, stemming from his own self hatred. 

He sighed shakily, pulling out his phone and calling his older sister, Natalie.

“Hey, what’s up Carmy?”

“Hey Sugar-- uhm-- so you remember--”

“Are you okay?” She questioned, clearly worried at the shakiness of his voice.

“I’m fine, I promise, please can you just-- just send me the info for the therapy thing. Please.” He sighed. “I’m uh... I’m startin’ to believe I might actually need it.”

A pause remained for a moment, and he almost thought she hung up.

“...Bear?”

“Yeah?”

“What happened?”

tag list <3

@beebslebobs @thatone-brightstar   @spr3id   @deadandstill   @777iii  

#aster writes the bear #carmenmath #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fic #jeremy allen white imagine #jeremy allen white fic #the bear #carmen berzatto writing #carmen berzatto the bear #the bear fic #the bear writing #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto imagine

[melodygatesauthor]

Painted

Laurent LeClaire X f!Reader

Not Beta Read

Summary:

You're a woman alone at the bar and you witness an argument between a husband and wife. The wife leaves, and you're left alone with her sexually frustrated husband.

Tags/Warnings (for entire series):

NSFW, dubious consent (reader doesn't say yes to Laurent but it's clear that she's into it), smut, a tiny sprinkle of angst, pussy eating, blowjob, playing with cum, p in v creampie, sex with a stranger, unprotected sex, semi-public sex.

Word Count: 2.7k

You saw the whole argument unfold. The man shouting at his wife in the busy Paris bar. She, clearly filled with disdain for her spouse, climbed on the table and spread her legs for him. He undid his belt, pulled his thick cock out and tried to bring it to life. You wondered if he was struggling because he’d had far too much to drink, or if the couple hated each other so deeply that she didn’t pique his desires any longer.

Either way, after she left, you were the last person in the bar, and he looked right at you.

He sauntered over, wiping a bit of drool off his chin as he got closer to you. Your breath hitched in your throat and you felt your cheeks burning. He chuckled, breath stinking of alcohol as he brushed the back of his index finger over your neck.

“Your skin is soft,” he commented, biting his lip. “I’d love to paint you.”

You didn’t protest as he lifted your rear onto the table behind you. His fingertips brushed over your inner thigh, trailing along until they reached your underpants. His breath trembled as his face drew closer to yours.

“You wouldn’t tell me no, would you?” He tucked a finger into your underwear and started pulling them down your legs carefully, as if he were still waiting for you to push him away. He discarded them, putting both hands on your knees and parting your thighs wide. “You’ll always keep these legs open for me, won’t you chérie?”

“Mm,” was all you could mutter as you felt the fat tip of his cock pressing against your entrance.

It had been so long since you’d been in the company of a man, and your eagerness was made apparent by the slick arousal dripping out of you. It clearly wasn’t the drunkenness that made him flaccid, the man had no issue spearing through your tight hole like it was his. He breathed out a moaning sigh, rolling his hips at an even, lazy pace.

He leaned in, mouth closing over yours as he shoved himself deeper, hand reaching under your leg to push it back, spreading your thighs wider for him. You gasped, mouth open over his while the bar was filled with your sounds. He nipped at your bottom lip, his other hand sliding up to grab your breast which was still trapped behind the bodice of your dress.

“Your body is so beautiful, sweetheart. Such a shame I don’t have time to really admire it,” he chuckled, slipping his tongue past your lips and entangling it with yours.

He pushed you back, mouths parting before you could protest, so your spine was flat along the table. With a swift tug, he gripped where your dress concealed your breasts and pulled it downward. Both of your tits spilled out, bouncing in time with his thrusts. His flushed cheeks became more prominent with his drunken grin. A low groan emerged from his lips as he leaned down to catch one of your nipples in his mouth.

“Oh, sir, oh god!”

He sucked and bit at your nipple like he was desperate for it. His body moved faster, both hands reaching down now to hold onto your hips for leverage. You couldn’t feign modesty anymore, your pleasured screams filling the empty bar and likely spilling into the back streets of Paris.

“Oui, mon chérie, keep squeezing yourself around me like that and I shall paint your insides white,” he whispered against your breast.

You grabbed the edge of the table, spine arching backward and legs spreading wider as he drove deeper into you than before. You felt him reaching the deepest parts of your center, the tip of his cock brushing in a smooth motion against that spot inside of you that made your body tremble. You were weak, a distinct tingling pooling in the pit of your core and spreading all over every inch of your skin.

“Oh god, oh-my-oh-oh!”

In an instant you came. Your entire body gave in to the sensations around you: his mouth over your breast, his tongue flicking masterfully at your nipple, his hand holding onto your outer thigh and squeezing it tightly. You felt everything as though every nerve ending in your body had caught fire.

“Your face is perfection at the height of your pleasure,” he whined, the tone of his voice heightened as his orgasm drew nearer. “The next time we meet, I s-shall, oh-for-god’s-sake, I shall have you touch yourself so I can paint the exact moment when you…”

His hips slammed into yours one final time. A series of choked gasps filled the bar as he made good on his promise to paint your walls white with his hot spend. You liked that feeling of being filled up, even if it was just a stranger at a bar. Perhaps you enjoyed it all the more because it was just a stranger at a bar.

He remained for a moment longer with his body leaned over yours, lips peppering sweet kisses along your sternum as he worked them back up to your neck, your jaw, and then your mouth. His drunken kisses were still sloppy, but you never wanted them to stop.

“What a sweet little muse you are,” he whispered. “I’ve not felt this warmth in my heart for a woman in some time, chérie. I will come back for you every night until my legs no longer work, and you will let me paint you every time, won’t you?”

You nodded, feeling his cock fall out of your hole as it softened. The sound of cum trickling from your cunt tapped like a leaky faucet on the stone floor. With another feather soft kiss, the man stood back from you, looking down at your body with a hooded, lusty gaze. He hardly managed to button his pants, let alone replace his belt, eventually giving up on it all together. 

Without another word exchanged between either of you, he stumbled out, leaving you there on the table to wonder if he would ever come back to ‘paint you’ again.

~~~~

To your relief, he did come back, and this time when he saw you he was sober. He had an artist's satchel with him, and he led you to a back room of the dingy bar where no one wandered. The lighting was dim, and you could smell something foul, but you were happy to see the man again. You tried to kiss him, but he interrupted you with a finger to your lips.

“I want you to remove your clothes and sit in that chair for me,” he said sweetly.

Without a word you nodded, beginning to remove your clothes. You dropped your dress and undergarments in a heap on the floor. You walked over to the chair and sat as instructed.

“May I know your name, sir?” You asked.

He chuckled, “and ruin the allure that comes with such mystery? I think not, chérie.”

You had to admit that there was a bit of added appeal to the man when you didn’t know his name at all. He could be anyone, from anywhere, who had done anything, and you’d never be the wiser. There was something very exciting and tantalizing about that prospect.

He set up his kit, several brushes and pigments at the ready. You wondered if the barkeep let him paint in there regularly, as he seemed to have an easel and canvas ready to prop up and start his work. He walked over to you, kneeling down by your feet and running his fingers up your calf and to your knee. You felt your breathing grow shallow as those daring fingertips made their way between your closed legs, his other hand coming up to do the same.

“Open,” he cooed, assisting the spread of your thighs with his large hands prying between them. “Wow,” he mused, “what a wondrous beauty.”

He looked up at you, pretty brown eyes glistening in what little light the dim room afforded you both. He kept your gaze while he leaned forward, the tip of his distinguished nose brushing against your already swelling clit. Your lips parted for a wavering breath. Your hand instinctively moved to tangle in his dark locks. His hot breath melted over your folds.

A moan rolled through him as his lips made contact with your cunt. His tongue slid between your slit, and a sharp gasp punched out of your lungs. You gripped his hair tighter, your hips arching into his mouth as if what he was giving you wasn’t enough. He hummed, facial hair brushing against your thighs softly while his head moved to hit all the right spots.

“S-sir I…oh I can’t…oh-god!”

Save for your pleasured panting, the only other sound in the room was his messy slurping as your arousal coated his face. Every now and then the man would look up at you, eyes caked in a pussy-drunk hunger unlike any you’d ever seen. His grip tightened on your thighs, and his nose continued rubbing in delicious circles around your sensitive clit.

Two of his delightfully thick fingers worked between your pussy lips, sliding slowly forward until he was curling them inside of you, all the while he was working his tongue around your swollen nub. You thought you might fall over, using his hair and your grip on the chair beneath you to establish some sort of stability as your body shook.

He added another finger, somehow managing to fit all three inside you and pump them into your hole until you were nearly choking on the air that filled your lungs. It was all so much, the sensations overwhelming until they washed over your body in waves. You felt your cunt contract, juices gushing around his knuckles and coating his hand while your walls squeezed over him. You moaned, eyes rolling back and you struggled to keep yourself from falling over. 

The man looked up at you again, rising on his feet just enough to catch your mouth in his. You could taste yourself on him and after enough hungry kisses, your flavor was gone. He pulled back from you, lips swollen and glossy in the light. He stepped back, unbuckling his pants quickly.

“I bet I can make you look even prettier for your portrait, don’t you think, sweetheart?” He asked, running his fingers over your arm and down to your hand, guiding you off the chair and onto your knees.

The floor was cold and the rough surface made your knees ache, but you didn’t have much time to think about your discomfort before his cock was in your face and distracting you from your thoughts. You knew what he wanted, of course. After all, there was a reason you were on your knees. You wrapped your fingers around it as best as you could, not quite able to meet your thumb on the other side. You lapped the tip, gulping down a sweet bead of precum that had collected there.

“I know you won’t disappoint me, chérie. I’ve had enough disappointment to last a man a lifetime. Take it all for me, and don’t hold bac-k-k.”

He moaned deeply the moment your mouth wrapped around his dick, lips sliding down until you reached the base, relaxing your throat to take the entire length. The thickness of him throbbed inside you, and you felt his hand reach to the back of your head to guide you back. He started churning his hips against your face, gagging you on every inch as his length stretched and filled your throat again and again.

You felt tears start to slip down your cheeks, the salty flavor landing along his cock for you to taste while you kept going. The smell of his musk made your mind go numb with desire every time your nose brushed along his soft tuft of pubic hair.

“You’re going to make the prettiest little model for me when I’m finished aren’t you? Oh this mouth, this mouth of yours is divine.” 

You hummed in acknowledgement while he continued fucking your throat. You felt your clit burning with arousal, begging for your touch. Your fingers wandered, slipping between your thighs to quell the ache as it grew. With a gasp your lips slipped off his cock, the strings of your slick saliva connecting you to his red tip. He thrust back into your mouth, his pace even faster.

“Don’t do that again, I need to feel that sweet tongue along every inch of me, sweetheart,” he rasped, a distinct whine playing in harmony with his usual baritone.

You kept your mouth on him, moving your fingers in circles around your clit in time with his thrusts. You could feel him twitch inside of you, cock leaking more of that sweet and savory taste you craved. You felt his body shaking, his movements becoming sloppier as he got closer to spilling into you. There wasn’t anything you craved more in that moment than to have him fill your belly with every bit he could.

Again you found yourself a mess, eyes rolling back in your head and body quaking as your orgasm ripped through you. You kept your mouth around him, the feeling of his cock in your throat felt even better when you were in a mind-numbed state of ecstasy. He fucked faster, the bruising pace gagging you and causing more tears to fall down your cheeks in streams.

He was there. He was right there…

You were shocked, and mildly disappointed when he pulled out of you, shooting hot spurts of his precious cum all over your body. Your face wasn’t the only part of you painted by him, he covered your tits, your neck, and even your thighs.

“There,” he sighed, licking his lips as satisfaction washed over him. “Now go back to your chair, my precious little muse. And keep those pretty legs parted, I want to make sure I get all your best features.”

You slowly stood and strode back in your chair, spreading your legs like he’d told you to. He pulled his pants back up, walking back to his canvas where you saw him grab a small dish and a brush before walking back over to you. He knelt down, holding the dish under your cunt and using the brush to collect your arousal into the porcelain bowl. 

“W-what are you–”

“Sh,” he smirked, looking up at you with a mischievous grin. “I’m trying out a new medium, chérie. Keep quiet and let me work.”

He collected your slick until he had a small amount in the dish. He took a bit of his own cum, still decorating your skin in various areas of your body, and he began mixing it with yours.

“Now don’t move, oui?”

You nodded, “oui.”

You watched as he painted, using both your juices to mix the pigment powders he’d brought with him. His eyes darted over the top of the canvas from time to time, narrowed in concentration as he worked. His spend dried on your body and face as the time went on, and you started to feel a bit chill, though you didn’t dare ask to put your clothes back on.

After quite some time he stopped, stepping back with a proud grin sporting his handsome face.

“Come see,” he whispered excitedly.

You walked over to see the painting the man had made of you. It truly was breathtaking, though it was clear the medium wasn’t binding well with the pigment. There were cracks from the dried slick, causing the paint to flake. A heartbreaking sight, but something about it made the creation all the more beautiful. The art piece was temporary, like a quick and wonderful thing that was never meant to last.

Like two strangers meeting a couple of times in a bar only to one day part ways, never to meet again.

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#laurent leclaire #in secret #oscar isaac #laurent leclaire fanfiction #laurent leclaire fanfic #laurent leclaire x reader #laurent leclaire x f!reader #laurent leclaire fan fiction #in secret fanfiction #oscar isaac fanfiction #oscar isaac fanfic #oscar isaac fan fiction #oscar isaac fan fic #laurent leclaire fan fic #laurent leclaire smut

[koenigami]

Just a little longer Nanami Kento x fem!reader synopsis : In which you have to save him from his own altruistic self. wc : 1,1k tags : angst, hopeful ending, mentions of injuries, spoilers for upcoming episodes

Breathless pants fill the quiet void of the restroom that you and Nanami have retreated to. Your heart is racing at a speed that makes you wonder whether it is even supposed to beat that rapidly. There is a light shake in your hands as you fist the loose material of your trousers, a poor attempt to ground yourself after all the vicious things that you have witnessed in the last hours.

A low grunt pulls your attention away from the flashbacks that keep playing in front of your eyes in repeat. He was so close to-

"Where do you think you're going?" you hiss and tug at Nanami's pants, his body so weak it almost knocks him off balance. His weapon clatters to the floor while he leans against the wall, refusing to sit back down on the cold tiled floor with you.

"Where I'm going?" he breathes through the pain, a deep frown etched on the unharmed side of his face as he shoots you a deathly glare. "Itadori is still out there, all alone with that goddamn curse."

He groans again as he leans down to pick up his sword, the polka dotted cloth in which it is wrapped is stained with mud and blood. You don't dare to think about how much of it was his own. Before his hand can even reach it, you kick it with your foot, the weapon clinking as it slides and lands somewhere in the far corner of one of the many restroom stalls. He stares at you dumbfoundedly. But you can't. You can't look at him because another look of his damaged body would make you break even further.

"Y/n, what do you think you're doing? Have you gone insane?" his words echo in the dark humid room, sounds of dripping water fill the silence that follows afterwards.

"Probably." the dry answer makes Nanami's fist clench, his veins bulge, yet you interrupt his attempted scolding. Your eyes are glazed with unshed tears when you finally look at him. "But how could I not? Kento, look where we are. Look at you!"

Your mind briefly wanders to moments prior when you found Nanami face to face with a patch faced curse.

You remember its wicked grin, you remember the approximate distance its hand had left for it to touch Nanami's torso. You remember Nanami's serene expression. As if he had accepted his fate. As if beyond that moment everything would get better, more beautiful. A fleeting thought passed your mind that made you consider whether saving him would be selfish.

Even though it was not you who was on the brink of death, your life flashed before your eyes. Shared moments between you and Kento; the first time you met him at Jujutsu High, the first time he offered you a genuine yet shy smile, all the times that he bought you flowers, all the time you spent together in his bed. You could smell the fresh scent of his sheets, feel his gentle and warm hands trace the curves of your body, hear his soft voice as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

A curse as twisted as love could indeed be selfish.

You hadn't even realised that you had sliced through the curse's arm before you saw it crumple to the floor, its bodily fluid oozing out of the injury.

"There's a child out there fighting for his life!"

Your legs had carried you here to this restroom as if they had a mind of their own. As you look at the man in front of you, who's still spewing reproaches at you, you wonder how he even complied to follow you, or why he didn't simply tear his wrist out of your hold while you dragged him to this place. He must have been in shock himself. Shock that he was still breathing. That he still got to see you one last time.

"If you-" your voice is by far quieter than his. Yet he hears you, he wants to hear you and wants to let you speak because, fuck, even fighting with you feels like heaven amidst this hell. "If you want to hate me for looking out for you, then go on. Please, do."

Your footing is unstable as you get up from the floor, and only then does he notice the stain of blood on your thigh. Despite the lack of his own strength, his arms reflexively shoot out to steady you.

"But I won't let you die, Kento." the familiar feeling of his hands on your waist break the dam inside your chest. You nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck, still being mindful and making sure to not put any pressure on the burns of his injured side. "You can't fight like this, y-you just can't. That would be suicidal. I don't want you to leave me, because if you do I'll follow you., no matter where you go."

Nanami tightens his hold on you and pulls you further against him, ignoring the searing pain in his face and the uncomfortably tight feeling of his burned skin. "Just let me get you out of here, please. I-If we get you to Shoko soon enough, she might be able to fix your eye-"

The sight on his right eye is getting blurry. He blinks and feels something wet trickle down his cheek. The sound of your desperate voice is killing him, and he swears dying by Mahito's hand would have been more bearable than seeing you like this. Like a little girl imploring her parents to get her out of a scary and overwhelming place, crying for safety and peace.

"Kento, please, I'm begging you." you weep as you carefully place your hands on his cheeks, letting him feel how violently they are shaking. "We have to let your wounds get treated, otherwise-"

You don't have it in you to say it out loud. All these years of working as a sorcerer, of witnessing deaths and bloodshed day by day, and yet you don't dare to think about a life without your Kento. Such a coward, you think of yourself.

"Okay." you barely hear him speak between your ragged breaths and sobs, and once you take a proper glance at him and his pale skin, you realise that it is also due to his deteriorating state that he simply can't speak any louder even if he wanted to. "Okay, just-"

You wince at the sudden heavy cough that emanates from him, a small trickle of blood slipping down his lips that you carefully wipe away with your thumb. His hand on your cheek makes you nuzzle into his palm and you really have to pull yourself together to not let yourself fall to your knees and full on sob like a toddler. "Let's go, just don't- don't cry, okay? I don't like seeing those tears."

And you smile and nod, and unfortunately, keep on crying because you're thanking whatever almighty power that's watching over you for allowing you to keep your dear Kento for a little while longer.

#{ kento <3 } #nanami kento #kento nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami fluff #jjk nanami kento #jjk nanami #reposting bc I didn't like it at first and had to change a few things -

[brisquad-unit-4402]

sitting with vox and the truth

(spoilers obvs)

happy the demon hungers everyone :D i did two watchalongs with my friends i hope we all show our appreciation to vox. he’s worked very hard and he’s very considerate of us his fans

this is all just to say that after a long, long, long two weeks i would like to rest so nicely on his chest. naturally i walked into this planning to write that but it turned into another vox breakdown fic which, really, couldn’t be a better description of unit 4402 if you tried

tags: gender neutral reader, angst, themes of self-hate, vox has a breakdown, spoilers for the demon hungers and the truth, ambiguous relationship (romantic intended but can be read as platonic; reader says “i love you”)

⚠️ spoilers for the demon hungers / the truth, vox akuma.

⚠️ contains self-deprecating dialogue

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

wings of melded leather and flesh writhe in the home of vox akuma. a dethroned lord, a wretched infernal. such a a wide reach. the talons of the wing threaten to scrape the ceiling with his greater height, while the membranous tatters hang loosely. if he represented Hell it would be a king’s robe. under wall and lamplight the sheet of skin is his chain.

gravity weighs down his voice all the same. it sinks his shoulders, drips off his hair and down his back. seven feet tall, with a shadow to cast over your body so small in comparison, and yet wind could knock him over as he stands his ground. the familiarity of gold within his eyes is gone but the guilt behind it is all the same, tainted in burning-coal. the smoke around his mouth and the embers along his tongue match the char. there is no fire. he’s put that out long ago. but what was scorched refuses to dwindle down to ash, remaining orange and red and that pink you swore you could see when there was nothing good on his mind.

nothing good, you thought, jokingly and enticingly. lightly. you see now that you were right, but without the fortune of intimacy.

he is scared, if he would be willing to admit it, and he is protective which he does. it’s why his hands are buried close to his chest, the swirling black-red, clasped together as if they were weapons. they are.

“do you understand?” vox asks. “i don’t deserve your pity.”

his frame is full with rage and power held dormant.

“i don’t deserve your attention, or your patience. or your love.”

a bead of ember rises from between his teeth. it fades to room dust as he grits them together.

when they snap apart an arc of flame accompanies it.

“It’s never been deserved. It’s never been okay. I have never been okay!”

the flames curl out of the air, following where the ember once went, room dust and hot air. without his hair in his face he can’t hide from the firing squad.

he can’t hide when you step forward, either.

“Don’t.” that’s what gets him to quit yelling. it’s replaced by inhaled cinder under his breath. “No, no, don’t. Don’t. Don’t.”

and quiet, you say, “you’ve held me before.”

“Don’t. Don’t. You can’t. No. Don’t.”

“and i’m nowhere near death.”

he backs away. “You don’t know that, you don’t know that, you don’t know, you don’t.”

“we don’t choose the bodies we’re born in. or the biology we function by.”

another step back. he doesn’t trip on anything. it’s the pure magma under his blood that sends him to his knees. “Get back.” a hiccup. “Get back!” his hands form tighter to his body. “Get away from me!”

“i trust you.”

“Don’t! Don’t! No! Away!”

“you aren’t hungry anymore. and i’m not in danger. i love you.”

vox’s back thumps against the corner of the wall. his hands tear apart. a prominent vein glides down the oil-slick arm. they tangle themselves into his hair. pale fingertips along bloodied streaks. white knuckles pulling at black locks.

he screams.

he screams again when you place yourself next to him, up against the wall, and bump your leg to him.

“if you could hurt me…” your eyes lower to where your legs are placed upon his. “then this would count. but i’m still alive.”

you look up to the ceiling. his talons didn’t scratch it but his horns certainly did. “and i’m still alive, and my soul is where it should be, with me.”

you cannot recognize the sound the voice demon emits.

“so i’ll stay with you. and we’ll figure things out.” with river under your hands you rub his arm. “do you remember this? it’s what i always do when you want me to help calm you down.

“that’s what i’ll do. just let it out. and i’ll be right here, and i’ll always be here no matter what.”

it’s a guttural, throaty cry across his register. a frog scratch.

“come on.” his blood twists under your touch. veins alight as live wires. “i have all the time in the world.”

“But I have been nothing but a blight.”

“i love you as you are.”

you place your head over his chest.

the first thing that happens is the draft from his wing wrapping around your face. your vision colors red. branches of uneven membrane along the wing’s flesh. so tight around his chest you don’t see a glimpse of the outside.

the next is how vox wracks himself over the lava within his throat.

your free hand takes over attending to him as much as you can, swaddled close to his chest.

through the wing, you can see how he forces his head away when he spits a flamethrower.

when the unpredictable flames raise to you and the wing-shield, it suffocates against the flesh. you don’t feel a shred of heat.

each fire is a bellow of pain gone unacknowledged for years. you don’t think he realizes his instinct to cover you. it would be a welcome validation if he weren’t lost in his own grief.

you spend the night beside the voice demon, listening to the shred of his screams. when he finds the courage to open his eyes, he shrieks for every moment that passes with your hand upon him, and soul within your confines.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi

#vox akuma #vox akuma x reader #vox akuma angst #the demon hungers #luxiem #luxiem x reader #nijisanji en #nijisanji x reader #4402 writes #vox akuma headcanons #vox akuma imagines #the demon hungers spoilers #wrote this so sleepily… i hope. snnrk. hope it makes sense… nodded off a few times almost #it’s funny bc i told my friend i would go to bed early so i could take a break after all this hecticness! #…and then i wrote this. i’ll see if i can get a cuter monsterfucker appreciation post out at some point since clearly that was the goal #and failed

[mylovelies-docx]

Sorry, I Love You - Part 11

Ooooof. Sorry for this. But I'm also double sorry for what comes after :)

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: Angst, HYDRA experiments, blood, wounds, disturbing visions, mentions of death.

Word Count: 1,085

Tag List: NOW CLOSED! If you'd like to keep up with this story, please follow my blog and turn on notifications! ❤️ you :)

[Prologue][Part 1][Part 2][Part 3][Part 4][Part 5][Part 6][Part 7][Part 8][Part 9][Part 10]

You stumble inside, gasping for breath.

The wound on your side needs immediate attention but you scramble around the abandoned home instead, blood and gunk oozing down and drip, drip, dripping onto the rotten wooden floors. You riffle through the drawers in the wobbly oak desk and come away with a blunt pencil before moving on to the bookshelves along the walls, dust covering the dry, cracked spines of the novels. You love books so much that you hate to even dog-ear your copies, but you proceed to rip out a few title pages and epigraphs, needing clean space to write.

You know there’s not enough time to both patch yourself up and write down your final words, so you can only hope that you’ll be cognizant enough to get down what you need to.

You clutch the papers and pencil in one hand and begin making your way to the small table and chair set off to the side of the kitchen. Pausing at the entryway, you use the other hand to apply pressure around the arrow jutting from just under your ribcage. 

You hiss at the pain, looking down at your blood-covered fingers and noticing rivulets of bright blue that had been hidden within the hollow shaft of the arrow. You had noticed a hollow pop when you snapped the fletching off back in the woods. You were still clear-headed enough at the time to realize that the inside had a coating of blue liquid. There wasn’t enough of it on the ground to fill the shaft, so the rest of it must have already been injected into your body – the arrow must have been triggered to inoculate upon penetration. 

You only had a limited amount of time to figure out what was going to happen to you, but knowing how HYDRA operates, you’ve decided to err on the side of caution and assume that death is imminent. Despite working at the facility for the past couple of months, you can’t determine what the blue liquid is. It could be any number of hallucinogens, anticoagulants, euthenasia agents, or something you hadn’t encountered yet.

You had run until you found this house, a good twenty miles from the facility and even further from your pre-determined evac point with Bucky in case shit hit the fan. Your pounding heart had only exacerbated your problems, increasing your blood loss and quickening the circulation of the substance through your bloodstream. You’d grown paranoid on your journey here, flinching at every sound and jumping at figures that seemed to leap at you from behind the trees. Darkness descended upon the forest and the shadows grew spindly fingers that seemed to snatch at your ankles. 

You come back to yourself, standing under the archway only a few feet from your destination. You shake your head, clearing away the spiders that had started to spin webs between your eyelashes. Without them in the way, the shadows only grew bolder – whipping out and slashing you to ribbons. The sleeves that had been protecting your arms are torn to shreds, small welts and bloody cuts evident through the holes.

Focusing back on the task at hand, you finish hobbling over to the rusty metal table. You slam the writing materials on the bumpy surface, bending over to pick up the fallen chair. You settle yourself onto the moth-eaten cushion, the wooden posts against your back creaking in protest. 

The shadows crawl over your shoulders and perch there, staring down at your hand as you try to write. The paper rotates under the pencil, turning your letters unintelligible. You hadn’t wanted to mar the letter with your blood, but you reluctantly pull the hand staunching the flow of warmth from your side and press it delicately to the top of the page, holding it in place.

As you write, tears pool along your lower lashes. The spiders titter happily, poking at the salty water and causing it to spill over onto your cheeks. The little creatures don’t appear interested in mopping up the liquid on your face with their little hairy bodies, because you see tear stains appear on the paper underneath you as the droplets collect on your chin and rain down.

You need to get this all out before you lose the one train of thought that still remains unscathed. The one topic inside your head that still makes sense, that you can still understand. 

Well, one that you used to understand. Bucky had been the one constant in your life until he wasn’t. Until you ruined it. Your conversation that was supposed to fix everything today never happened. So everything left unsaid between you and Bucky will remain that way, unless you get these words down. 

You’ll never know what Bucky was going to say, but at least he’ll be able to hear your side.

You can’t help but watch, fascinated, as lights begin to dance over your hand and the letter. Looking up, you can see that the entire table and wall opposite the window next to you also flicker brightly. The shapes dazzle your eyes, reflecting off the tears still gathering, and blind you intermittently as they bounce around.

You close your eyes against the lights wreaking havoc on your pupils, but the images that flash behind your eyelids are even more torturous. 

It’s your life before Great Fuck-Up. 

Bucky’s smiling face as he laughs at one of your sarcastic comments, his intent eyes and cocky smirk when he knew you were thinking about him, all the silly little moments you spent together that meant so much to you.

But then the images switch and you recognize immediately that you’re now in The After: the cold blue eyes, grimacing mouth, and the loneliness that came along with your confession. The anger and pain in Bucky’s voice when he turned you down, when he said he regretted the time spent with you. 

You inhale shakily as a sob tries to make its way up your throat and past your molten lips. Your hands tremble uncontrollably and the pencil slips through your fingers and rolls, rolls, rolls across the neverending table until it disappears over the edge that hadn’t been there seconds ago. There’s nothing to do except look back down at the page.

There’s only a few lines written, but if this is all you can manage then it will just have to be good enough. Knowing that these are your last moments, you’re glad that you could at least get these words off your chest. You hope that these last few words will be a consolation. To Bucky, to Nat, and Steve, and Sam, and Wanda, and, and, and a million other people that you’re going to miss – that will miss you.

Thinking of all the people you’re leaving behind brings into sharp relief just how lonely you are. You’re stuck in a long abandoned home, freezing, bleeding out, and unable to call for help. Even during your time away, you’d never felt this agonizing loneliness. This pain that manifests as a hollow feeling that echoes in your abdomen, as invisible hands grabbing and twisting at your heart. 

God. What is Bucky going to do now that you’re not going to be able to complete the mission? You did all you could, downloaded and scrubbed all the data before setting the self-destruct sequence into motion, but was it enough? You don’t remember a big fireball in the sky and quaking earth under your feet as you ran away, but maybe you were just too out of it to notice. 

You can’t help but feel guilty that Petre and his family got wrapped up in the situation, that their only way to move forward and help Sasha was to join that horrible, awful institution. But honestly, death is probably the best outcome for Sasha after everything HYDRA has done to her, whatever they’ve made her body dependent on.

Sharp pain flares from your chest and ricochets behind your ribs, forcing a cry from your lips. The pain continues to grow and spread, encroaching on your organs and traveling through your limbs - but all the sudden it’s gone and a crawling, slithering, pulsing numbness takes its place. Your bones and muscles and ligaments turn to jelly and you slide sideways out of the chair, landing hard on the rotten floor but not feeling it.

The pain is gone, but your emotions remain. You can’t help but remember all the time you spent training, spent getting to know the team, spent making life-long friendships. You just didn’t realize that life-long would be so short.

The lights on the wall grow more intense, more numerous, and you can hear howling, baying, snarling monsters sprinting to your final resting place. You can only hope that you’ll be gone by the time they sink their vicious fangs and terrible claws into your soft and squishy flesh. 

You thought that you would take any company over the aching loneliness you feel, but you realize that maybe being alone isn’t the worst thing in the end. At least no one has to see you cry, and shiver, and shake, and watch as your chest refuses to rise and your heart refuses to pump and the light leaves your eyes.

Yeah, no one should see that. You want them to remember you how you were: happy sometimes, a pain in the ass a lot of times, and – hopefully – as a good friend, a good teammate, a good person. You know there’s so many things you could have done differently, but does it even matter now? 

You can see the clothes piled on your floor back in New York, the cereal bowl left on your nightstand from a midnight snack, all the makeup scattered across your counter from girls’ night out. The pillow slumped against the door and tear stains soaking your bed sheets at the house you share with Bucky only a handful of miles away.

You see the half-finished books on your shelf, the unsung songs on your playlists, the stories you never told and never heard, and the conversations left unfinished, the words left unsaid. 

You wish that your last thoughts before you die were happy, that you could watch your life back over and not regret so much, that you could see your family and friends and Bucky one last time.

But that isn’t in the cards for you. The monsters from outside have finally reached the house, slamming open the door and shattering what’s left of the windows. Shadows converge on you from every angle, crowding your eyes and compressing your lungs more and more and more until there’s no room left to expand. Until you can’t take in any air. Gasping, gasping, gasping. Until the room fades out and so does your heartbeat.

Part 12

Tag list: @jackiehollanderr @rabbitrabbit12321 @12345sebby @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @lauraashley93 @themorningsunshine @happinessinthebeing @nash-dara @calwitch @stany0url0calwh0res111 @pono-pura-vida @learisa @introverbatim @kentokaze @marvelogic @kaz11283 @terry2227

#sorry i love you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fic

[shygirl4991]

Chapter 2 Artistic Ringmaster

Art done by @alianarepasa do not repost Summary:  After the event of Splits into Three everything felt like things were back to normal, that is until Three’s boyfriend kicks down his front door announcing he has fallen under the same spell he did. Together they will learn the secret of the cherry potion and with SMG4 splits put an end to the evil gang's plan.  Sequel to Split into Threes Last Chapter Next Chapter

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Comedy, Romance, action and adventure

SMG4 sits there wide eyed at the story, Producer nods taking notes trying his best to take all the information in. Four gets up looking at his boyfriends face, now that he was told the story he started to see the difference in Three’s appearance. He gently touches Three’s face “You do look softer with a bit of sharpness…so the reason you really were pink was because I was talking to your heart. Heh explains why you seemed so open, I was literally talking to your emotions haha!” 

Four starts to do a panic laugh, Producer gets up and holds on to Fours arm “It’s okay original, i know…it's scary since if we mess up we lose everything but T-three did it so maybe we can to?” Four turns looking at his personality studying his appearance. This is what he acts like when those thoughts take over, the sleepless night and panic that his next video won't be perfect. The thought causes an image to flash in his mind.

“IT’S GOTTA BE PERFECT!”

He stands up straight holding his breath while Producer holds his head “Ah OH GOD!” Three panics running over to the personality to make sure he was okay.  He talks gently to the personality helping him relax before turning to his main boyfriend “Hey uh..everything okay you both just freaked the hell out.” Four opens his mouth to answer only to be interrupted  by a cheering crowd, they all turn confused as the crowd gets louder. Then they hear a voice “WELCOME EVERYONE TO THE MAIN EVENT I RINGMASTER 4 SHALL BRING YOU A SHOW YOU WONT FORGET!”

Three and Four exchange a look before running out of the castle, where they saw a huge stage was set up in the middle of the showgrounds. On the stage was a red SMG4 dress like a showman, he smirks at the crowd as he tips his top hat and twirls his cane “Remember folks like what you see then like, comment and subscribe to my amazing channel!”  He hits a button making the cannons on the stage shoot out youtube pillows with the channel link on them. Three catches one and stares at the pillow, his face going blank “I see..you have a showman personality, why am i not surprised.” Four blushes as he watches the personality doing tricks. It was impressive how resourceful this personality was, any mistake he made he just twirled his cane and went with the flow of it making it into a joke.  SMG4 walks closer to the stage, red eyes looking right at him “Ah a shame i must end the show folks, it seems the main character of the story is here and needs me!” the crowd boos and starts leaving the showground, he jumps off the stage with a flourish “Ah Chang Noi! Happy to see you will be with us on this journey. I see producer is here,” Producer does a small wave as he anxiously messes with a page of his notepad. 

Ringmaster smiles at them as Three stands there confused as to what the personality called him, Four lets out an awkward smile offering his hand “um nice to meet you?” the showman chuckles as he shakes SMG4 hand “Pleasure i'm Ringmaster your Imaginative side!” Producer scoffs “More like a walking Ego.” The comment surprises Three as he turns to see the personality pouting as Ringmaster glares at him, Four notices looking at the two worried “um is everything alright with you two?” Ringmaster walks up to Producer and lightly smacks his back “We are fine! Producer isn't wrong…I may be labeled as egocentric but that isn't all I am!”  SMG3 nods hearing the annoyed tone dripping from Ringmaster. Seems something Four hates more than anything is someone pointing out his ego, shame they weren’t rivals this would have been a gold mine of information. SMG4 lets out an awkward chuckle “I mean I may have had one when I was younger but there is no way I have a huge ego now right?” he turns to his boyfriend who was standing next to  Producer. They both blink at him before they exchange a look, Three gives a small smile “You uh have gotten better…you know till you decide to be an asshole about things,” Four’s eyes go wide. Then he and Ringmaster both put their hands on their hips and in sync yell “When the hell were we assholes?!” Four blushes as Three points to his cafe “My opening?”

Four bites his lip as Ringmaster chuckles “Please we explained to you, it’s what we do, we tease and fight only now is it wrong to do since you became our corazón!” Three facepalms feeling a headache grow as he talks to the red personality. He just wished something would happen to get everyone on track to the mission of finding all the splits, they were so close just one more and they could try to figure out what's wrong with Four. SMG4 stared at the cafe frowning as he remembered how he took things too far, could it be he has been blind to the way he treats others. He could feel eyes on him, turning, Producer was looking at him, eyes glowing. He could feel a flutter of anxiety grow in him ‘what if i'm not good enough for SMG3’  with that thought he turned away fast only to catch the sight of purple running around the cafe. 

Producer noticed SMG4  looking at something and followed his line of sight to catch a glimpse of someone , slowly he started to walk over to the spot. Seeing this Four walks after him leaving Ringmaster and Three to fight, they get closer and get hit with a strong smell of paint. That's when he saw himself in purple, he had his tongue out and was covered in paint. Looking closer he had a sweater tied around his waist and like ringmaster the hat was different it was beret. He was humming as he moved the brush on the wall of Three’s cafe, he wasn't sure what to say given how lost in his world the personality seemed. Three noticing the pair left he walked over “WHAT THE HELL WHO IS PAI-,” he freezes as the artistic personality turns looking into Three’s eyes.

His eyes flicked violet as he stared at the man in front of him, looking around and noticing what was going on he laughed “OH! You found me haha sorry about that. I was feeling a bit sketchy today haha get it?!” he winked at the crew making Three’s face go red. The purple personality fixes his hat “Well hello everyone im Artist! Without me SMG4 wouldn't be so creative and funny, ah speaking off your cafe needed a little something Mcdreamy so i painted dead memes on your walls to celebrate you!” 

Three looked at the mural and gasp “Terrance…you painted Terrance and the others on the wall..” his eyes watered. Four smiles softly wrapping his arm around his boyfriend for comfort “Thanks Artist.” He nods, pleased to see that he managed to make their partner smile, Ringmaster looks at the art and scoffs “You really think this can bring attention?” Artist glares at him “Remember your place red, you think you can do half of what you do without my humor?” Producer was panicking and grabbed onto SMG3 for comfort. SMG4 lets out a chuckle “So this is what you went through with your three huh?”

SMG3 frowns watching the fight, his splits never acted like this. They all acted like siblings since they all seemed to get along, that's when he remembered something Book told him, making him wrap his arms around Four and Producer. He sighs “Hey scrub…are you doing okay?” his boyfriend gave him a confused look, Three looked at Ringmaster and Artist fighting about making content stressing out Producer “Four, these guys are you. Looking at the three of them they can't stand each other, it's okay if you need to talk to someone about what's going on in your head but you can't brush aside that none of your personalities like each other!” 

Four shakes his head “I’m fine three, now we have to all get along and this will be done shouldn't be hard!”

Ringmaster smacks Artist with his cane making the purple personality growl “All right you egomaniac, you may think the world is all about you but SMG4 needs us!” Ringmaster chuckles “Cute you call our Original by his name, must be nice to be liked.” Three was hearing the conversation and it clicked, he accepted Spade and Book easy that is until heart came into the picture. He almost killed his emotions, Four seems to be having a hard time accepting these parts of him. Letting out a sigh he lets go of four and turns to producer “Hey PD i need to know something, is something holding you three back?”  

Producer looks down “I…he..” seeing the personality was going to break down he takes a step back and comforts him “Whoa okay its fine PD was just making sure.”  Four eye twitches hearing the fighting, taking a deep breath he walks towards Ringmaster “Look I do understand you're a part of me, it's just hard to process everything. Let's just relax and figure this all out.” He gives them a sheepish smile then shows a meme on his phone hoping to stop the pair from fighting. The pair exchange looks and sigh after watching the video, Four wasn't sure what the reaction meant but was pleased to see the fighting had stopped. 

Three gentle touches the pins on his overalls thinking, this wasn't going to be a one day thing. There was something his boyfriend isn't telling him, whatever it is seems to be making it hard for his personality to connect. He stands there thinking about what the missing link could be until he hears a shout from the Personality holding him “M-my notes! Oh no, without them we cant do the video and no video is going to disappoint all our viewers!” Looking up he sees the page has been blown away and landed on the roof of his cafe.

He gives a pat on Producer's head “It’s fine i can go get it, just sit here and don't…uh pass out okay?” while Four attempted to get Ringmaster and Artist to get along Three started to climb the ladder to get the page. Producer looks up nervously catching the Artistic personality attention he turns and looks wide eyed at Three “Uh hey Three the ladder isn't really stable i broke it when i was messing with paint!” Four looked up in panic “THREE!” Not hearing the group due to the winds Three grabs the page and smiles at them waving it, the wind picks up knocking SMG3 hat off and making him lose his grip as the ladder bar snaps. He closes his eyes as he feels himself fall “I SHALL SAVE YOU MY FAIR MAIDEN!” with that yell he felt warm arms catching him. He opens his eyes only to scream “THERE'S MORE THEN THREE!?” 

#smg4 #smg3 #smg34 #shygirl4991 #smg4 smg3 #smg43 #alianarepasa #split into three #six splits for fours #smg34 fanfiction #fluff

[444rockstargf]

Can you make a kappa or euro fic where they absolutely hate each other and it’s like brothers best friend and it’s just hate sex PLEASE

"you're my cult leader." | kappa

ultraviolence. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @si1nful-symph0ny @livingdead-materialgirl @vanlisbon @oliviah-25 @livingdead-reilly @yungbloodsuxca @imoonkiss @lankysimp @xxbl00d-cl0txx @k1ll3rh0rr0r @wildathevrt@mommymilkers0526

female!reader x kappa

word count: 1.2k

contents: kappa & reader are exes, unprotected p in v, a little degardation, a little praise, manipulation, angst if you squint

typical gang activity became complicated when your cult leader just so happened to be your ex-boyfriend. you used to be his eye candy, his dumb little baby, and his most prized possession. but he had decided that it’d be best for him to keep his eyes on what really mattered, and it wasn’t you.

that’s where the ups and downs of being in his cult came in. you couldn’t escape his occasional glances, the sound of his hypnotic voice that had whispered such dirty things to you, and the way he acted like a complete manwhore, dressing in rags that specifically gave you a view of the toned biceps that used to wrap around your neck.

but you could fuck around with whoever you wanted a could be one hundred percent certain that it would circle back to him, making him green with envy even though he could never admit that.

he acted nonchalant and bitter, which hurt you even more considering the way he used to open up to you about every little thing. you hated him, but you hated the thought of being the one to crawl back even more. so you couldn’t help but wonder how you had gotten in the position you were in now, face shoved into a drool-stained pillow with kappa’s gigantic rod drilling into your cock deprived hole.

you could tell he was livid by the way he thrust into you, bruising your gooey walls as he landed a harsh slap onto your ass.

“good to know i can make turn my baby back into a dumb little bitch with my cock.” he growled as he shoved his fingers down your throat, making you gag around him. his voice dripped with suppressed bitterness and you couldn’t help but feel proud of yourself for riling him up to this point.

you’d been at a normal heist, dressed like a slut from a bad porn. that would’ve been more than enough to catch his eye, but you decided to take an extra step and walk into the room with epsilon’s hand on your ass as an act of rebellion. as predicted, your plan had worked. after weeks of not interacting with you, he grabbed you by your wrist and dragged you into an empty bedroom, slamming the door shut and pinning you to it by the neck.

he could’ve killed you right there, but he picked you up bridal-style and tossed you onto the bed, kissing you roughly as he tore off the pieces of your minimal clothing one by one, whipping out his rock-hard pistol and wasting no time as he shoved it into you.

he had been tossing you around like a worthless sack, using your body as a way to release months of tension. you were sitting on his lap with his cock deep in your stomach as bubbles of your spit cascaded down his fingers, all the way down to where his other hand gripped your breast until it went pale.

“how many other people have you fucked, huh?” he flipped you around, shoving you into the mattress as you sobbed and whimpered out inaudible words as a response. he cock throbbed inside of you. yes, he was angry, but the sight of you in such a submissive and vulnerable state made his heart flutter. 

“i’ve been goin’ fucking crazy, y’know? seeing you get hotter every day while i’ve been falling apart without you.” he pulled his fingers out of his mouth, spitting on them and moving his hand under you to rub sloppy circles onto your pulsating clit.

you were a mess underneath him, nails clawing at the mattress and your back arching as his cock hit that sweet spot inside of you. his hips slapped against the sore skin of your ass as his groans echoed through the room. “you’ll never find anyone more perfect for you than me, you hear? no one will ever be able to make you feel the way i do, to touch you the way i do, to make your body feel the way i make it…”

you screamed into the pillow as his words rang through your mind. you hated that he was right. that he had you completely at his mercy like a doll, but he had also revealed that you had been on his mind ever since.

his manipulation tactics always had you wrapped around his finger, and you thought that you’d finally broken free. how foolish you had been. he pulled himself out of you, making your hole feel the loss of his cock. he flipped you around again, but with a little more care. he met your large, teary eyes with a look that could be mistaken for remorse or pity with just a sprinkle of hatred on top.

he grabbed your jaw roughly, bringing your face less than an inch away from his as he spoke darkly to you. “spit it out, bitch. you already find someone better than me? have you found someone else that’ll put up with a goddamn whore like you?” the tip of his cock teased the entrance of your hole, making you shudder.

you spoke, your voice thick with tears. “y-yeah, maybe i have. maybe i’ve found someone that’ll treat me better than you ever have!” his eyes clouded with hostility and he shoved you back onto the bed, landing himself on top of you and shoving his fist into your tight pussy, making you scream out.

he fucked you vigorously with his fist, his hot breath hitting your ear. “listen to me and listen good, whore. you can hate me as much as you want for whatever fucking reason, but no one will ever love you as much as i do.” his words sunk in as you felt a familiar sensation bubbling through your core, legs shaking as you felt yourself reaching your climax.

his rhythm was torturous. you wanted to beg him to stop but secretly hoped that he never would. with a few more pumps, you found yourself crying out, moaning slurred words as you came all over his arm. tears ran down your face as you tossed your head back, nails digging into the toned flesh of his back, surely drawing blood.

all your senses disabled temporarily as you felt your body emptying itself out onto him, your entire figure trembling from the stimulation. he pulled his fist out of you, giving your puffy clit a slap as he grabbed your jaw once again, this time to kiss you.

it was a needy, desperate one. one that told you how much he really missed you more than his words ever could. his thumbs gently wiped the tears off your cheeks as cum poured down your thighs. 

he was never the type to perform any aftercare, but he left the room and gave you some time to rest, collect your thoughts as he had said. you lay there in a puddle of your own fluids, mind racing with thoughts of what you had just done.

nothing had changed and you knew that the resentment between you two was there to stay. but he was right about one thing: no matter what had happened between you, he still loved you more than anything.

author's note: sorry for losing sight of the plot yall

#444rockstargf #rory culkin #rory culkin smut #smut #rory culkin kappa #kappa black mirror #kappa x reader #kappa smut #ultraviolence era #ultraviolence vibes #ultraviolence album #ultraviolence lana del rey #ultraviolence #lana del rey