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fangirl-dot-com · 8 days

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🪡The Obvious String

*part of the reverse trope series*

Paring: Lestappen x MercedesDriver!Reader Genre: SMAU/Fluff/Humor Summary: The invisible string was so visible that everyone missed it but them. What are they? Rivals? Friends? Emotional Support Buddies? But they can't be lovers . . . can they?

*I took a lot of inspo from people on twitter. I think this is the most work I've ever done for a chapter before. the tweets alone took almost two hours to do. I absolutely love lestappen so this is super self-indulgent. but that's why I'm a writer. I hope you all enjoy!*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Lando knew that there was something between the three of them.

Anyone could see that. Instagram, twitter, TikTok, hell even the Formula 1 app was talking about it. The grid was getting very suspicious, but who could blame them.

Max wasn’t putting out the fire by pulling his two childhood friends in as they posed for pictures. Charles couldn’t help but flash his God-given dimples at the Dutchman or the Briton girl. And Y/n, she was just as bad, blush on her cheeks every moment she was around them.

So yeah, everyone was talking. But, no one truly knew what exactly was going on.

And that’s exactly what Lando was going to find out. (With the help of his fellow 16 drivers.)

His first victim: the French bestie of the non-French man.

“I have no clue what is going on between the three,” was the first thing that came out of Pierre’s mouth when Lando showed up to his driver’s room door. The poor McLaren driver hadn’t even gotten a word out.

Lando rolled his eyes. “You have to know something. And you call yourself Charles’s best mate.”

Pierre threw his hands up. “Non, apparently that is Y/n and Max. I’ve been kicked to the side.”

The Alpine driver definitely wasn’t bitter or anything. He was actually thankful that you and Max had been able to keep an eye on Charles when he couldn’t. Knowing that the Monegasque had frequent delf-deprecating thoughts, he felt better that he had the two of you.

Pierre turned to Lando. “Aren’t you supposed to Max’s best friend as well? How would I know something that you don’t.”

Now that made Lando’s brows furrow. He was supposed to be Max’s best friend. And maybe that’s why he felt a bit peeved to not know what was supposedly going on between you, him, and Charles. His arms crossed in front of his chest.

“I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” he muttered, turning away to the door.

The Frenchman scoffed. “Good luck mate. We’ve been trying since 2019.”

“We?”

Lewis was not expecting the numerous knocks at his door during media day. The Briton held his breath, willing the unexpected visitors to give up and go away. Yet, a sigh left his lips once the knocking started up again. He pulled himself off of his couch and walked over.

When the door swung in, two bodies brushed against his side.

His eye brows raised. “Yes, welcome. Come right in. Oh, thank you Lewis for allowing us to disturb your peace.”

Lando chewed his lip. “Yeah, thanks man.”

Pierre took a look around the room. “Thank you Lewis.”

The papaya clad driver took a seat exactly where Lewis’s had been sitting, which cause Lewis to glare at him.

“And why are the two of you here?”

Pierre huffed, looking at the pictures on Lewis’s wall.

“Ask him.” A finger pointed at Lando, making the Briton look up from his phone.

“Oh yeah. Do you know. . . ”

Once again, Lando couldn’t even finish his sentence because Lewis interrupted him.

“No, I don’t know what’s going on between Y/n, Max, and Charles. Honestly Lando, no one knows and I don’t think they know either.”

Lando leaned his head back and groaned.

“But how could they not? They all make goo-goo eyes at each other. And it’s worse on the podium.”

“At least you haven’t bit on the podium with two-thirds of the groups. It’s insufferable man. They can’t go without talking about each other for more than a few moments.”

A laugh left Pierre’s lips. “Oh yeah. It’s always ‘Y/n was so strong on corner 2’ or ‘Pierre, did you see how Max overtook Checo?’ And then ‘Oh Charles was told to stay behind again. He really needs to ignore them.’ It makes me want to puke every time.”

Lando scratched his chin. “Now that I’m thinking about it, you’re right. It was like how Max and Charles completely ignored me in China. They kept looking at Y/n below!”

The last few words had a slight whine to them. Charles had been quick enough to catch Checo on the last lap, and placed himself in P3 after Lando.

The Alpine driver looked lost. “Lewis, you’ve been Y/n’s teammate for almost three years. How can you not know anything.”

All he got was a glare back.

“Like I said, Gasly, I don’t even think they know something is going on. It’s pathetic honestly.”

Lando put his head in his hands. “She must be pining. Don’t you two do girls night or at least something like that?”

“Lando, she spends all her free moments with Max and Charles. How can she be pining to me if she doesn’t leave their side.”

It was quite for a moment before Lando snapped.

“I’ve got it. If we want grid gossip, we got to go to the source.”

“No Lando, I don’t know if Max, Charles, and Y/n are in a secret relationship. And I don’t think they think of each other like that.”

The groan that Lando let out was so loud it made a couple of people look their way. George, the tall, lanky Briton was set to take Lewis’s seat for 2025 after two years in Williams. The driver pool was going crazy.

Logan was returning to Formula 1 with HAAS after a brief sabbatical and would be a teammate pair with Oliver Bearman. Nico and Daniel of all people were going to Audi. Liam was set to take the second Red Bull seat. And Carlos, well, no one really knew, but rumors said that he was going to return with Audi when they caught up with the regulations in 2027.

The McLaren driver was close to pulling his curls out.

“But George.”

Lando was now full on whining. George seemed exasperated and shrugged.

“We’re not that close anyway. We aren’t even teammates yet. And you knew how she yelled at me that one time that my car scraped a hole in Max’s car.”

The group of four winced at the memory.

Max had just finished yelling at George, calling him every name under the sun. And then you had shown up to double it. The Williams, well, now Mercedes driver, was thankful that Charles had shown up to drag the two of you away.

Lewis looked a bit pale.

“Yeah. I don’t think she’s fully forgiven me for Silverstone 2021.”

Lando turned to Lewis. “But they were all still fighting at that point. Remember the whole unfollowing they did in 2019?”

Pierre snorted. “Of course we remember. That doesn’t mean that they didn’t still care about each other. You know that Charles and Y/n were the first ones to congratulate Max after he won the championship in Abu Dhabi. And then her and Max practically tackled Charles in Japan in 2022. I don’t even want to imagine when Y/n wins her championship.”

Lando ran a hand down his face.

“Well, if Pierre doesn’t know, Lewis and George don’t know. Then who would?”

George cocked his head.

“Have you asked Daniel? You know that he and Max are pretty close.”

Lando’s eyes widened. “Why did I not think of that. George I could kiss you!”

George’s face scrunched. “No thank you. I don’t want to be anywhere near your lips.”

Lewis was already at the door, wanting to get a move on. “Let’s go. George you’re coming too. If we get to the bottom of this, you’re going to have to learn how to deal with all three.”

A shudder ran down George’s spine. He did not want to imagine the horror of sharing a podium with all of them. He’s heard enough stories.

When they got to Daniel’s motorhome, the Australian was peacefully talking with Oscar. Lando had run up to them and was currently hunched over, trying to catch his breath.

“Do,” inhale, “you two,” exhale, “know if,” inhale and heave, “there’s something,” exhale, “going on,” inhale, “with. . .”

Daniel sighed. “Max, Charles, and Y/n?”

Lando shot up, eyes full of hope. Lewis nodded next to him.

“Yes! Do you?”

The older Aussie wanted to smirk as he saw hope fill the group’s faces. He nodded a bit, and Lando looked like someone told him that his birthday and Christmas had come early.

“No.”

The McLaren driver fell to the ground. Pierre smacked Daniel on the shoulder.

“Why would you do that!”

Now Lewis was the one whining.

“Because it was funny. Mate, they’ve been like this since Max joined in 2018. Even then, it was worse than whatever this is.”

The Mercedes driver of the group let out another groan for what felt like the millionth time in that hour.

“Max was insufferable in 2018. Taking his sim everywhere so that he could game and race with them online. And the multiple phone calls. I think Max partied harder for Charles’s F2 champion win and Y/n’s F3 championship than his first race win.”

“Ok, but that’s kind of cute.”

All eyes landed on Oscar.

The younger Aussie’s eyes bulged. “What?”

Daniel pointed a finger at him. “If Max hears you say cute in any way, shape, or form that is distinctly near his name, he will come after you.”

An audible gulp was heard.

Lando had begun to pace. “Well, if I don’t know, Pierre doesn’t know, Lewis doesn’t know, George doesn’t know, Oscar doesn’t know, and Daniel doesn’t know, then who would know?”

Everyone looked a little lost.

“Aha!”

The two papaya drivers jumped out of reflex. Lando’s head turned violently toward Lewis.

“What!”

He held his phone up with a contact showing.

“We call Seb.”

“Lewis, like I’ve told you. Charles hasn’t told me anything.”

For the sake of everyone around in the paddock, they held in their groans.

“But Seb, you were practically Charles’s grid-dad. You have to know something!” Daniel said, face nearly in Lewis’s phone, as if Sebastian could hear him better.

A sigh was heard through the speaker.

“Charles was nothing less than a terror in 2019. I think the calmest anyone has seen him was 2018 when his car didn’t go fast enough for him to catch anyone.”

Lewis hummed. “That’s true.”

“Because everyone there should know that 2019 was the year of them. Every headline was all about them. And don’t get me started on when they had that big fight. I had to hear everything about it every. single. weekend.”

Daniel nodded. “It was the same with Max. If Fernando was here, he could say the same for Y/n since she was still racing with Alpine at the time.”

Oscar had completely forgotten about Fernando being Y/n’s teammate for half a season before she made the jump to Williams to replace Kubica to race alongside Nicholas Latiffi. The young Aussie had looked up to the older female when he was making the decision to leave Alpine. She had personally congratulated him on the move and gave him a wink. Well, had tried to before Max and Charles dragged her away.

Sebastian had gone quiet over the phone.

“Has anyone actually asked them if they’re together or not? Instead of just asking everyone else about a matter that deeply involves the three of them?”

Their silence had answered for them.

Lando grabbed Lewis’s phone out of his hand.

“Thank you Seb! We’ll get right on it!”

“Hey!”

It was too late and Lando had already hung up and was passing the phone back to his fellow Briton.

“Guys, we can’t ask them.”

“What!” Pierre yelled.

“Think about it. If we just go and ask, they’re going to make excuses. We won’t get a right answer.”

“Lando, you’re being unreal. Let’s just go ask them,” George said.

“Ask them what?”

The six of them jumped out of their skin at the new arrival of a familiar voice. Lando froze before slowly turning around, to come face to face with you, Charles, and Max, all looking cozy for media day.

“Uh, nothing?” Lando squeaked out, eyes darting around so he wouldn’t have to look at the trio.

Max snorted. “Doesn’t sound like nothing to me.”

He took a sip of his Red Bull.

Daniel looked panicked. “We were just wanting to ask, uh, Lewis and Nico if they had forgiven each other yet?”

“Hey!”

Charles raised his eyebrows. “Why do you seem so unsure? And Lewis is right there mate. Kind of rude to talk about his problems in front of him.”

“Thank you Charles.”

The Monegasque hummed as he turned to Max. His mouth dropped.

“Max, I thought I told you to stop drinking that stuff. It’s bad for your heart.”

The Dutchman shrugged and took another sip, just to spite the Ferrari driver. You rolled your eyes, knowing a playfight was just around the corner.

Oscar’s eyes narrowed as he looked over the trio’s choice of outfits.

“Y/n, are those Charles’s cloud pants? Charles is that Max’s cap? And Max is that Charles’s Monza hoodie.”

The arguing that was beginning to build between the two male drivers suddenly stopped. Your eyes widened as you jerked your head toward them.

Sure enough, Charles’s hat was not bright red and it had the number 1 on it, something that Charles lost to Max in 2023. You leaned back to look at the hoodie Max was wearing, and indeed it had the iconic podium scene on the back of it. The two males looked toward your pants. The bright white clouds seemed to stare back at them.

“Uh, yes?” you asked. “But we share clothes all the time. It’s not a big deal.”

Max and Charles nodded before Charles was hit with a thought.

“Oh, chéri, I forgot to tell you that your dry cleaning was picked up a few hours ago and is back at the hotel,” he said as he looked at his phone, completely missing the six pairs of wide eyes that were now looking at him.

Max smirked as he leaned over and kissed the top of Charles’s head.

“Thank you schatje.”

This time, a whine came from you.

“I’m being left out,” you muttered, crossing your arms. However, the two were not having it and quickly brought you into their arms.

Lando stared, blinked, and stared some more before he rubbed his eyes. He completely believed that the three would disappear when his hands lowered, but he caught Max in the middle of kissing your lips.

“WHAT?”

You turned back to the group.

“Are you all fine?”

Lewis threw his hands up. “I’m done. Call me when we need to go to the media.”

The door opened quickly, allowing Lewis to slip out.

Pierre looked a bit pale. “What? When? Where? Why?”

Charles shrugged. “We’re together. After my championship. The hotel. We love each other.”

Daniel sighed. “So you’ve been together since 2022?”

Max rolled his eyes. “No.”

“But Charles just said his championship!” Oscar explained, hands outstretched.

It was your turn to smile. “His F2 championship. We’ve been together since 2017.”

A long sigh came from Lando. “I think I need to sit down.”

Daniel’s door swung back open, revealing Lewis once again. He also seemed out of breath. His hands were on his knees for a bit until he straightened back up.

“You’re telling me that you three have been together SINCE 2017!”

You nodded. “Yes.”

Pierre pouted. “But what about 2019?”

The three of you winced in a synchronized matter. With a quick look, Max was the one to sigh. His hands dug into the front pocket of the cozy, black hoodie.

“Long story short, we took a small break until Y/n won in Brazil. We all got our heads out of our asses and apologized.”

Oscar rose an eyebrow. “Then why haven’t you followed each other back on Instagram.”

A snort from you made the two men chuckle. You simply shrugged your shoulders.

“Too lazy? We don’t feel like breaking the internet.”

Lando took a seat on Daniel’s couch. “Why haven’t you told anyone?”

Charles ran a hand over his face. “Lando, we race in countries where people are killed for being homosexual. We can’t risk anything.”

The air suddenly took a solemn turn as the McLaren driver nodded, truly taking in the situation. Charles chewed his lip in anxiety, while Max picked at his fingers. You were looking at the group.

“You won’t tell anyone right?”

Suddenly, everyone felt bad for wanting to find out. They had pushed the three to confess something that they might not have wanted people to know about at that time. What a group of friends they were.

Lando hung his head. “We won’t. I’m sorry that we asked about it before you three were obviously ready to tell someone.”

Another snort left Charles’s lips as his hand rested on his mouth. Max had a shit-eating grin on his face, you had one to match.

Pierre looked at them with a skeptical expression. “Something to tell us?”

Max’s shoulders raised. “People know. You aren’t the first ones to know.”

Lewis sighed, shoulder sagging. George put a hand on the older Briton’s shoulder, trying to offer some comfort. Lando looked close to losing it. His hazel eyes narrowed at the trio.

“Then . . . who knows?”

Charles’s eyes looked up a bit as he started to count.

“Uh, Christian, Fred, Toto, Kimi.”

You pulled out his fingers and counted.

“Jensen, Mark, uh, Nico.”

Lewis looked like he wanted to pass out.

Max smirked.

“Oh, and Seb.”

There was silence amongst the group.

“Oh he is so dead.”

“Lando you can’t kill Seb!”

“Sorry Lewis, but this is his fault!”

“Calm down Lando. You’ll lose your seat.”

“Oscar, I just want to talk to Seb. Who has his phone number?”

“I am not giving you his number Lando.”

“I’m not asking you Lewis. Daniel, I know you have it.”

You smiled in Max and Charles’s arms as Lando started to get physical, trying to grab Daniel’s phone.

You leaned up, immediately being engulfed in Max’s aftershave. “Should we stop them?”

Charles leaned a bit forward to look at his two lovers. A soft smile formed on his face, before a smirk replaced it.

“Nah.”

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assassinsblade · 3 months

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Arrows and Ashes | 3

Azriel's determined to help you get better. You are determined that you are fine.

WC: 3.6k

Warnings: Pining, friends to lovers, injuries, fluff, some brief unhealthy coping, self-deprecation.

a/n: If you would like notifications for my writing, you can turn on notifications for the blog @assassinslibrary where I reblog all my fics!

Part 1 Part 2

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Azriel couldn't sleep. All night, he stayed by your side, watching your back rise and fall with each breath. He counted them, making sure you were getting enough air, that you were alive and well. And when that didn’t quell the pounding of his heart and the trembling of his hands, he moved closer and listened for the air leaving your lungs and the heartbeat in your chest.

He tried to read to pass the time, picking up the book he had brought in from your bedroom. But the words refused to sink into his brain, and he found himself unable to focus on anything other than you.

Any time his eyes wavered from your form, anxiety pooled in his chest. His eyelids had even become heavy with sleep, but he forced them open again, his shadows swirling around him in irritation.

He realized while sitting in silence that this was the first time you had been in his bedroom for more than a few minutes. He had known you for centuries, since he had been a child, yet he kept his room very private. You would enter occasionally when dropping something off to him, calling him down for dinner, needing to tell him something, or asking him to accompany you somewhere. But spending a longer amount of time together? Normally that occurred outside of either of your bedrooms.

Now, as you laid in his bed, your hair fanned out on the pillow, Azriel couldn’t help but feel like you were meant to be there. You occupied this space like it was your own, despite the aesthetic contrasting so deeply with your vibrant personality. It made something warm pool in his chest, a feeling that reminded him of coming home after a mission or falling asleep after a long day. A feeling he had pushed down until the past few days. One he had tried to ignore out of fear.

A soft groan pulled him out of his thoughts, and he immediately sat up straighter, his heart faltering.

You started to roll over to face away from the wall, your body moving toward him instead. But Azriel jumped to his feet, laying his hands gently on your arm to keep you from turning onto your back.

“Don’t move too much.”

His voice came out as a whisper, as if the volume could pierce you and cause you more pain.

“Azriel?”

“It’s me,” he clarified, scarred fingers stroking soft circles on your bicep. “I’m here.”

You swallowed, and he could feel your body start to tremble beneath his touch. Adrenaline shakes, he surmised -- your body still recovering from the pain and trauma it suddenly endured.

“You don’t have to say anything. You’re in my room, you’re safe. You’ve just been resting.”

Blinking as if trying to orient yourself, you tried to turn again. His strong hands kept you in place.

“Could you-“ you coughed lightly. “Could you help me turn? I want to see you.”

One of his hands moved beneath your knees and the other cradled your back, just beneath your wounds. He lifted you from the bed slightly, moving your body toward him before releasing your legs and encouraging you to turn on your right side to face him, keeping pressure off your back.

When he finally released his hands, his hazel eyes stared into your own.

“Hi,” you whispered.

“Hey,” he spoke softly in return. His fingers gently moved your hair behind your ear.

Your eyes traced his face in silence before you finally moved your gaze away from him, noting where you were.

“Your bed is cozy.”

Azriel had to control his facial expression so as not to reveal his confusion and concern. That was the first thing you thought upon waking?

He gave you a soft smile instead. “Can I get you anything?”

You shook your head, burying yourself further into the blankets. “No, I’m okay.”

There was no way.

But you didn't elaborate and seemed content enough to stay laying there in silence, no acknowledgement of the life-altering event that had occurred to you.

Azriel didn’t like this at all. He had expected you to wake up in pain, whimpering, asking for him or Cassian or Rhys. For you to have been in a panic over your wings, sobbing and mourning them. He had been prepared to comfort you and hold you and explain how you were safe and that those males had been torn to pieces for hurting you.

But you were acting like nothing had even happened.

It was unnerving, and the shadowsinger for once had no read on the situation.

He eyed you carefully. “I’m going to have to change your bandages in a bit.”

You stiffened, your body tensing at his words before relaxing, your eyes feigning nonchalance.

“Later,” you challenged, closing your eyes again. “Is everyone coming for dinner?”

Azriel couldn’t mask his uncertainty over the situation, his brows furrowed and fingers twitching at his sides. “I’m not sure. Are you hungry?”

“You know I’d never turn down something sweet. Do we have any of those chocolate croissants from our cafe?”

“I’ll check. If not, I’ll have Rhys bring you some.”

You smiled, and he stood from where he was sitting by your form, looking at you one last time before crossing the threshold into the hallway so he can check for something to appease your unexpected sweet tooth.

Your entire behavior was unexpected. You wanted to eat. You were smiling. Not at all hinting at the trauma you had been through.

Azriel’s job was to inflict torture onto those in the dungeons (among other tasks). He knew the trauma it caused — the pain, the nightmares, the way it would permanently break some fae. He wasn’t sure if what had happened had not caught up to you yet, if you were in shock still, or if you were pretending to be okay, unwilling to show weakness in front of him.

Both possibilities made something twist in his stomach.

He forced his feet to move away from where you curled up in bed, shutting the door softly behind him and making his way to the kitchen. It was empty still, save for the bundles of daisies Rhys had dropped off at Azriel’s request. The high lord hadn’t questioned the order for the flowers, only leaving a note with them that said they all love you.

The two large bouquets looked silly now to the shadowsinger. Of course, he was hoping they would make you happy based on your past joy from flowers, but with everything that happened? They seemed so small in comparison.

He shook the thoughts from his head, instead looking around the counters and cabinets for any sign of your favorite treats. When he found none, he wrote a letter to Rhys seeing if he could deliver some of those chocolate croissants per your request. Once the high lord knew you were awake, he would probably do just about anything you asked.

Azriel sighed in defeat, bringing one of the bouqets back to the room with him so he wasn’t empty-handed.

He paused outside of the door, trying to settle his nerves. His shadows only swirled around him in agitation, and he tried to soothe them back to his sides. Only when he went to shush them, though, did he realize why they were unsettled.

A quiet whimper sounded from the other side of the door, followed by a sniffle and a small choked sob.

Azriel immediately opened the door, not hesitating to knock or make sure you were decent. His eyes scanned the room hurriedly, noting the tossed blankets on his bed and the light spilling from the bathroom.

He walked into the entryway, body instinctually turning toward your presence, guiding him toward the cracked door on the left. You shouldn’t be out of bed without assistance, and he definitely didn’t want you to be in there crying alone. He quickly placed the flowers on the desk next to the door before he peered into the open doorway, eyes immediately drawn to your red rimmed ones. You weren’t looking at him, though. Your eyes were turned over your bare shoulder, looking at the reflection of your back in the mirror.

Your back. Azriel's stomach dropped at the sight.

He hadn’t seen it all cleaned up without the bandages yet. It was still somehow just as gruesome as when it was splayed open and bloody on that table.

The wounds were large. Crescent-shaped and still healing. They were deep, gouged into the skin, and anyone else would look at them and call them ugly, an eye-sore, a blemish marking what would have been beautiful skin. Not Azriel, though. Never Azriel. Not when he still ran his own fingers along his scarred palms when nervous.

He slowly inched the door open further, the movement catching your eye and causing you to quickly turn your back to him, your arms crossing to cover your bare chest.

It was silent, your startled eyes searching his own for some sort of reaction. Did you expect him to be disgusted by your? By your scars?

In a way, he was. He didn't think you were disgusting in any way, but the act that was committed against you, the pain you had gone through in those moments, Cassian's memories still flashing in his mind -- that was what disgusted him.

You swallowed, and Azriel was moving before you could say something. He walked around you in a way that was cautious but attempting to be casual as to not put you on edge. He didn't face your back right away, especially as he felt you stiffen as he passed your side, and instead reached toward the counter where one of Madja's creams sat.

Unscrewing the lid, he finally made his presence known close behind you, pausing to let you breathe through your nerves before gently moving the hair that had fallen back over your shoulder. You shivered at the movement, but you didn't flee. You didn't tell him no.

So he gently dipped his fingers into the medicine, bringing it carefully up to the first of your wounds, still red and angry and glaring at him as if he were an enemy. He so very gently covered one edge with the white substance. You flinched at the feeling but still said nothing, so he continued, holding his breath and waiting for you to either lash out or break down.

Neither came though.

You stood still as can be, letting him apply the cream and dress your wounds, even taking the wrap from him and around your front to help hold the gauze in place. When he finally finished, he pulled your hair back from where it laid over your shoulder, letting it flow beautifully down your back, no longer suffocating the space by your neck. Then he walked back around to your front, meeting your gaze immediately and refusing to let it go.

Azriel tried to read what you were thinking, what you were feeling. But you only blinked away the remaining tears as if you were breaking out of a stupor.

You stood up taller, putting a faux smile on your face. "No chocolate croissants? I'm disappointed, Shadowsinger. You know Cassian wouldn't have returned without them."

A sharp pain twisted in his chest at your deflection, at your so obvious false display of contentment.

"Daisy-" he started, voice low and quiet.

"Why don't we go pick some up? You can use your shadows to get us to the gate right?"

"Daisy-"

You made your way toward the door, stumbling and moving slowly with your body's new imbalance and soreness. "Then you can go see everyone else. You shouldn't have to babysit-"

"Daisy."

You halted at his tone. The strong, demanding voice filled with such concern and care.

"You don't have to do this," he said.

He couldn't see your face, but he could almost picture your haunted look as you took a moment to collect yourself, your voice shaking when you finally spoke.

"Do what?"

"Pretend." He sighed. "You don't have to pretend with me."

Taking a deep breath, you shrugged. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"You don't have to say anything. I just want you to feel what you need to feel. You have been through a lot, and it's not good for you to just pretend like it didn't happen."

He walked closer to you, approaching you from behind, but you whirled around before he could get too close, gripping the doorway to stop yourself from stumbling.

"Of course I can't pretend like nothing happened. My wings are gone, Azriel. They are gone. My back feels like its been shredded -- like someone took me down to the butcher in Velaris to play with. And every day I will see those scars, feel those scars. I will watch as Rhys, Cassian, and you all fly, and I will forever be grounded. I will never again feel the wind in my hair or leap from the balcony. My body is changed; half of who I am has been taken from me, so I'm sorry if I don't know who I'm supposed to be after that."

By the end of your outburst, you were breathing heavy, choking on sobs that threatened to come up. Azriel watched as you swayed, your still healing and exhausted body needing rest, and he stepped closer.

"You aren't supposed to be anyone," he started, tears filling his own eyes. "You will always be Daisy, no one can take that away."

When he reached where you were standing, you shook your head, backing up into the bedroom as tears began to fall down your cheeks.

"You don't understand-"

"You're right. I could never understand. But I still want to help. Let me help, please."

"You can't help me. You can't go back in time or reattach my wings. I’m no longer me, I’m ruined.”

Azriel lunged forward at your words, propelled by something deep in his chest to correct you, to defend the sweet girl in front of him. His eyes were wild with hurt as he grasped your face between his palms, guiding your teary eyes to his own.

“Don’t you dare say that. You are the same girl who walked out of this house days ago. You are strong and brave and selfless, and everything you have lost is proof of that. You are not ruined, you are everything.”

You only looked at him, lip quivering as you tried to listen to him and hold back your sobs.

You shook your head slightly. “I’ll never be able to fly with you again.”

“I’ll take you.” Azriel vowed, voice deep and resolute. “I will carry you wherever you’d like.”

“I can’t even walk balanced-”

“My shadows will help support you while you recover. I will help support you.”

You looked away from him, tears filling your eyes once again. The words that came next were small, insecure. "No one will want me like this."

It took Azriel a few seconds to realize what you meant, because he could never dream of not wanting you. They all had trauma and nightmares, but you were referencing your scars, your forever-marked body. Madja had been able to close the wounds, but the worst ones had scarred. The lashings that had become infected in those dungeons had scarred. Only days ago you had been scar free save for a few. Not, you had hills and valleys of rough textured skin on your back, abdomen, thighs...

And you were the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Every scar a testament to your love and devotion to your family, a testament to your strength. He wanted more than just you, he wanted to worship you. He wanted to lay you down and cater to your every need, to massage and kiss every inch of your healing body, to show you just how beautiful he found you.

He swallowed, passion and an overwhelming amount of love filling his chest. It nearly ached. He directed you to look at him again. Nearly commanded it with his grip on you.

"I want you. In every form, in every life, in every universe. You are everything."

His words were strong, confident, and warm. He was pleading with you to believe him, to see and hear the truth that was right there.

You looked at him, studied him. Azriel knew your teary eyes were watching closely for a crack in his resolute stance. You would find none, though.

Eventually you sniffed, your eyebrows furrowing slightly as you asked in a sweet but broken voice, "What if your mate had these faults?"

Azriel didn't even have time to be shocked at the question, because he was immediately retaliating against your self-deprecation. "They are not faults. They are a part of you, of your story, and of your selflessness. They encompass so much of your beautiful heart in them, they could never be a fault."

The insinuation made him angry, but he tried to tamp down those feelings. You needed reassurance, not a reprimand.

You didn't even flinch at his response. Instead, you held his gaze and tried to cover the meekness making its way into your voice by standing up straighter. Azriel held you firm, steadying your balance with his shadows and his own feet against yours.

"And you'd still be saying this? If it was your mate?"

He was surprised the question didn't have that much of an effect on him. Anyone else bringing up mates normally had him tensing, snapping, getting defensive and changing the subject. From you though, It was comforting. Natural.

"Especially if it was my mate. But they would be able to feel all of this from me too. I would make sure they always knew they were wanted. I'd tell them everyday how beautiful they are, I'd get them sweet foods to make them feel better, I'd surprise them with flowers..."

As if the words summoned your eyes to them, he saw you see the giant bouquet of daisies sitting on his desk by the door. Your eyes widened slightly, your brows furrowing and chest rising a bit more rapidly. Azriel tightened his grip on you to steady you further.

He tilted his head to bring your gaze back to his own. "You are wanted, Daisy. I loved you before this, and I love you now. I will continue to love you always. Because you are you."

His words cracked something within you, because the next thing he knew, he was catching your weight against him. Your cheek pressed against his chest and your arms wrapped around his back, and then you were letting out such a heart-wrenching sob that Azriel immediately held you as tight as he could. He wished he could take all of the pain away, all of the haunting memories and nightmares. Any threats or fears, he vowed to fight them for you. Do anything until a smile was back on your pretty face.

"I want you too. I love you too," you mumbled into his chest.

It was only a few minutes before your sniffs subsided, and you pulled back with red splotchy cheeks and swollen eyes, skin wet with tears. Azriel cleared the hair from your face, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"You're my mate."

The words were so quiet, Azriel almost missed them.

But he couldn't. How could he? Mate, you had said. Him.

He was shocked enough at the acknowledgement of a physical bond between the two of you that he probably looked absurd, but he wasn't that shocked at the Cauldron deeming you two well-suited. After all, he had cared for you as more than a friend for months now, even if he had tried not to acknowledge it in fear of rejection.

He breathed, allowing his love for you to fill his veins, fill his very heart and soul. And then he met your sparkling eyes, still slightly watery from minutes prior.

And he felt it.

Deep within his chest, it's presence slowly becoming more prominent, was a golden thread. A tether that thrummed inside of him and brought him to you. A tug nearly sent him reeling.

"Your mate," was all he said.

"Yes," you whispered, still a little sniffly. "And I'm yours."

He let out a wet, happy chuckle, tears beginning to coat his own cheeks.

"You're mine," he repeated.

He made sure you were stable before grasping your face in his hands once again, bringing his lips to your cheek, then your forehead, then your other cheek, then your nose, and then your lips. He peppered them all over your face and arms, over the lacerations. He let the warmth in his chest take over and sing a song he had never known. The song escaped his lips in the form of kisses, in the form of I love you, my beautiful Daisy, and I'm so glad you're safe.

Only once he had regained control of his actions, he let his forehead rest on your own.

"You're mine," he said once again. "My everything."

And he knew you felt it.

#writing #acotar x reader #acotar fic #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel angst #azriel fluff

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normspellsman · 1 year

Text

Tidal Wave

part one | part two

pairing: lo’ak x fem!human!reader

genre: angst, more angst, comfort (from tsireya to lo’ak + from spider to reader + from kiri to reader), & fluff (at the very end)

word count: 14.4k+ (holy fuck)

warning(s): suggestive content, crying, yelling, familial arguments, secrets are spilled (😬), neytiri + lo’ak arguing, mentions of violence + self inflicted injury (reader rubs skin raw), mention of incident at ta’unui clan, slightest lo’ak x tsireya, reader having self-deprecating thoughts, lo’ak being lovesick for reader, mention of lo’ak being sad, major character death, sprinkle of miscommunication / misinterpretation of actions, blood, slightest spider x reader, kiri + reader are bffs!, heartbreak?, cursing, & mentions of having little appetite

taglist: @bewbz2110 @httpjiikook @aonungsmate @cheyehc @ihave500hubbiez @heart-an0n @omnifanfic @toomuchtime02 @bigdikzaddy @anxietydrogz @myh3artttt @ancientbeing10 @yourusername1 @dearstell @goodiesinthecloset21 @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @arminsgfloll @optimisticblazetrash @liyahsocorro @universal-s1ut @amortencjja @sweetirilly @blushhpeachh @alohastitch0626 @btsiguess-kpop @ithinkimaslutforharry @zootymcnooty @zeeader @reallysparklychaos @zeida @coffeehurricanes @manumanulau @pumpararapam @ipang @willowcxmilee @audigay @sagaonpandora

word bank: sa’nok — mother, sempul — father, eywa / great mother — goddess deity that the na’vi believe in, tawtute — human; sky person, ikran — four winged creature used for hunting + flying, kehe — no, palulukan — thanator, sìlpeytsyìp — little hope (idk if it’s an accurate translation since i just put the words hope + little together), tulkun — whale like creatures, ilu — sea creature used for hunting + riding, yawne — beloved, & nga yawne lu oer — i love you

songs that i drew inspo from: a match into water by pierce the veil, gilded lily (sped up version) by cults, mr. forgettable by david kushner, & reflections by the neighbourhood

note: huge shoutout to @neteyamslovrr for helping me proofread this! ilysm baby 😭🫶🏼🤍 mentions of readers birthday takes place around 3-4 months after her & spider were kidnapped (so reader, kiri, spider, & lo’ak are aged up to 17-18). i imagined the events of atwow happening over a couple of months due to the fact that ronal is more visibly pregnant towards the end than when we first see her. so, just for clarification :)

Lo’ak had begged his parents the morning after to save you.

He pleaded and begged, getting on his knees as he sobbed into his Sa’nok’s thigh, covering it in his warm tears and snot. But, Jake’s answer stayed persistent: “They are strong kids, son. They will be alright,”. Of course, Jake wasn’t aware that Lo’ak and his other siblings heard what he had to say about you and Spider the night before during he and Neytiri’s heated discussion.

( “The kids know everything! They know where we live! Spider knows our whole operation. We are not safe as long as they have those two. They both can lead him right here! We are no longer safe staying here.” )

Lo’ak knew that neither you or Spider would ever give up the location of High Camp or of the Sully family. The both of you were loyal to a fault. Perhaps too loyal for your own good. It hurt to hear that his own Sempul would ever think that you would betray the family you grew to think of as your own. Lo’ak knew you better than anyone else.

Having to leave the Omatikaya and not even attempt to save you made Lo’ak resent his parents, his heart completely breaking into two as he got farther and farther from his home and essentially you. It was days before he had spoken to his parents after arriving at Awa’atlu, but it wasn’t like his parents sought out to speak to him either.

The more time he spent on the island, the more time he found himself yearning to have you by his side. To experience all of this with you. There was a constant hole in his chest that never left, deepening every time he thought of you. He had no way of knowing if you were being tortured at the current moment or even alive. He didn’t trust the RDA to keep you alive, especially once they saw how loyal you were to Jake and his family, disposing of you like you were nothing. You are everything to Lo’ak and it pained him to not know how you were doing or what was happening to you during your time in the enemy’s hands.

He could only pray to Eywa every night to keep you safe and spare you, fully aware that if she answered his call, she’d need something in return. And he was fully prepared to pay the price with his own life.

———

The torture they put you through was something you’d never would wish upon your greatest enemy.

They had ceased the torture on Spider, the orders being given to them by Quaritch. So, Ardmore turned to you and inflicted all kinds of pain and continuous torture onto you. The human boy begged Quaritch to put a stop to this, demanding him to let you go. But no matter how much Spider pleaded with the man or how many times he went over it with Ardmore, the woman didn’t budge. She was insistent on getting something out of you. But all she really got was memories and flashes of a tall Na’vi teen boy and nothing else. Things that were useless to her, so she punished you every time.

The first time you arrived at their base, their doctors had pulled you aside and assessed you. They deemed that you had multiple fractured ribs and a mild concussion, ordering Ardmore to let you heal before she decided to do anything. She agreed to it at first since she had Spider to get information out of, but once Quaritch told her that he was off limits and was going to comply with him and his team, she began to drag you out to the interrogation room and leave you in there for hours until you passed out.

It was the same routine for weeks. Wake up, get dragged to the interrogation room, receive endless amounts of torture for hours, pass out, repeat. Days began to blur together, not knowing where one began and the next stopped. It was all the same.

The first time you realized you had been in the RDA’s grasp for too long was the night Spider had snuck into your room and gently sang happy birthday to you. It must’ve been months then. Your seventeenth birthday was celebrated nearly a year before being taken hostage by Quaritch. Ardmore had deemed it best to separate Spider and you from each other, breaking down both of your support systems. That night, as you and the boy silently cried into the dark of your room, you lost all hope that Lo’ak was coming back for you.

It hurt too much to think about. But you knew, you knew that eventually, it was never going to work out. You were too different. Something was bound to happen sooner or later, ripping the two of you from each other and essentially ending the relationship you had with one another. You loved Lo’ak dearly but you knew that your love was never in the cards. It was something taboo, forbidden. You only hoped that Lo’ak was able to find comfort within someone else during this time. For you doubted that you’d ever see each other again. He needed someone like him. Not you.

———

Lo’ak had done everything he could to keep his mind off of you.

He needed to keep his mind off of you if he didn’t want to break down in the middle of the beach twenty-four-seven. So, he often spent more time training with Tsireya and got into meaningless fights whenever he could, angering his parents to no end. It worked at times, but often not, his mind always wandered back to you. Always.

“Lo’ak, what are you doing?” A soft voice asked, pulling the boy away from his never ending thoughts of the one person he desired to see.

“Moping,” he mumbled, crossed legged on the shoreline as he picked at the soft sand beneath him.

“I can tell,” she replied, taking a seat next to him. The boy next to her looked like a wounded puppy, ears drawn back as his tail laid limp beside him. Plus, he had a frown painted onto his face as he blankly stared at the sand below. “What is bothering you?” She asked, calmness etched into her voice.

Lo’ak hadn’t told her, or any other Metkayina for that matter, about you and the kind of relationship you shared. Sure he mentioned you and Spider and what happened before he and his family left to seek uturu from the reef people. But he never gave anyone the idea that he was in love with you. He didn’t know how any of them would react.

“Is it about the humans you mentioned earlier?” She added, filling in the silence that was growing between them as Lo’ak didn’t answer her previous question.

The boy only hummed, poking his fingers into the damp sand. He really didn’t want to talk to Tsireya about this. It risked the chance of his Sa’nok hearing or a stranger eavesdropping and telling everyone else in the village about how much he cared for a tawtute. It also hurt to talk about you. Because he knew once he started, he was never going to stop.

“I am sorry that they were taken. I know they meant a lot to you and your siblings,” Tsireya commented, truly feeling sorry for the young boy. She could tell that Lo’ak deeply cared for the humans and she couldn’t imagine losing someone that close to her like that.

A shrug from Lo’ak was his only response to the girl’s comfort, tears beginning to prick his eyes as he began to crave your touch and soothing lips against his. He began to forget what it was like to have your hands and lips on his own skin, making the hole in his chest increase in size.

“What were their names again?” She delicately asked, genuinely curious. Foreign things always interested the girl and she had never seen a tawtute before. So, befriending people that have, made her want to ask all of the questions she’s been dying to ask. The girl knew that her chance of meeting a human was extremely low before the Sully’s arrival, but that still didn’t stop her from wondering.

A small smile etched itself onto the corners of Lo’ak’s lips as he thought about you. Your name was probably his favorite thing to utter. It becoming a prayer during the darkest hours of the night, with you being the only one to answer his mumbled words. You were Lo’ak’s salvation and he never hesitated to remind you.

“(Y/N) and Spider,” he replied, fingers now fiddling with the anklet around his foot. You had made it for him for his fifteenth birthday. The poor boy had been so flustered while trying to tie it around his ankle that the woven material kept slipping through his fingers. You offered your help with a giggle, your soft fingertips causing fire to erupt against his skin as they trailed from his ankle bone to his calf in a teasing manner. If Lo’ak closed his eyes and tried hard enough, he could still feel the tingly sensation your fingers left behind in their wake.

“Those are…interesting names,” Tsireya giggled, testing out their names on her tongue, attempting to enunciate every letter and vowel to the best of her ability. “Humans have such weird names,” she comments, reflecting back on the time she briefly met Norm and Max when they came to visit after Kiri’s seizure.

Lo’ak only hummed in response, smile still on his face as he recalled all the memories he has of you. He missed you so much. He felt empty without you. He felt as if he had half a soul with you gone. His whole being ached to be with you, touch you, love you.

The Metkayina girl noticed Lo’ak’s almost blissful smile on his face, copying his actions. She could only assume that one of you meant more to him than the other. That the other held a special place in his heart. “Which one is it?” She asked, not trying to sound like she was prying. That was the last thing she wanted to do. She was just curious.

Lo’ak’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, “What do you mean?”.

“Which one has you wrapped around their finger?”.

The question itself made Lo’ak blush, bottom lip going in between his teeth in an attempt to stop an even wider smile from making its way onto his face. Damn, he thought, she can read me like a book. You got to be more subtle man.

The boy gave her his answer, tail perking up and swaying to and from at the mention of your name, his body betraying him at trying to hide his affection for you.

“Can you tell me about her?” Tsireya asked, enthralled at how just the mere mention of your name influenced such actions from the Omatikaya boy.

Lo’ak didn’t need to be asked twice before he began to talk about you, barely taking any breaths in between each word he uttered. If only his Mother and Father could see how much love Lo’ak held for you. If only.

———

“Ready kid?”.

You’d rather throw yourself off the highest floating mountain than go with Quaritch and his team on their mission to hunt down Jake and his family. But, alas, you had to go. You had to go unless you wanted to continue to be tortured by the old blonde Captain. You hated that woman with everything you had in you.

Quaritch had promptly requested Ardmore to cease her torturous treatment on you, stating that he finally got a lead on where the Sully’s might be and that you were crucial to the plan he and his team were putting together. He needed you to go with them and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He saw how Jake’s son had reacted when he was teasing the boy about you. The boy cared for you and Quaritch was going to use it as leverage somehow.

“Don’t have much of a choice, do I?” You replied, eyes narrowing at the man in front of you. You absolutely did not want to go wherever they were going, but you didn’t want to stay behind and be tortured to death. So, you took the lesser of two evils (if you could even call it that).

Quaritch chuckled at your response, shaking his head, motioning you to follow after him. The man had taken a liking to you, much like he did with Spider. You weren’t afraid to express how much you disliked the man nor did you hesitate to express your distaste for the whole situation he put you in. He liked your bluntness and admired your loyalty to the Na’vi, even if it was a major inconvenience for him and his team.

You had only ridden on an ikran a handful of times before, Lo’ak only being able to convince you with his little pout and big pleading eyes. You never were a fan of heights and having to spend Eywa knows how long on an ikran to the next base Quaritch was heading to made you want to cry. At least with Lo’ak, you knew that he’d always catch you if you began to slip. But with Quaritch, you were confident he wouldn’t give two shits if you slipped off the flying creature.

“I am not getting on an ikran with you,” you commented, hands on hips as you approached the RDA Avatar soldiers and their ikrans. You were very surprised that the whole group managed to, successfully, claim an ikran within only months of being on Pandora whereas native Na’vi trained their whole lives for this. It all left a bitter taste in your mouth when you thought about it.

“You’re not, sweetheart,” Quaritch answers, turning back towards you once he reached his bonded companion.

The ikran was probably the most beautiful you’ve seen, even with your limited experience with the creatures. The whole body of the animal was a deep navy blue, streaks of gold and orange decorating its wings. The animal itself was gorgeous. It was ironic how someone so evil and ugly had managed to tame something so beautiful.

“Spider’s riding with me. You’ll ride with Z-Dog,” he continued, clicking his tongue towards the tall Avatar woman, gently petting his ikran as he did so.

Your eyes were torn from the navy creature in front of you to the woman. Your blood went cold as you made eye contact, her hard stare boring into your eyes as she robotically chewed at the gum in her mouth. Great, you thought, I’m definitely going to die.

“We don’t have all day, kid,” Quaritch commented, already mounted on his ikran as Spider sat in front of him, eyes worriedly scanning your figure as you stood there frozen in place.

Your eyes then drifted from the woman to her bonded companion behind her, its face gently nuzzling into her side affectionately. Your heart clenched at the sight of the animal. It looked almost identical to that of your boyfriend's ikran. Lo’ak’s was an almost dark blue, gold swirling around its neck and wings. His companion shared many similarities to the one of his Father, the only difference being the black patch on his protruding lower jaw. Memories of when Lo’ak took you out for rides on his ikran flooded your mind, making the hole in your chest double in size.

“Let’s go,” the woman said, snatching your forearm in her grip as she placed you onto the creature, placing herself behind you as she made tshaleyu with the animal. The winged creature chirped in delight at the sensation and shrieked once it readied itself to take flight, wings twitching.

You braced yourself for the ride, both hands tightening around one of the ikrans queues, thighs tensing in anticipation. The rides you had with Lo’ak were much more smoother and gentler. Lo’ak made sure to put emphasis on how he dismounted from the ground, trying to make it as smooth as possible for you. His bonded animal always complied, never rushing when he pushed off the ground and into the skies above. You found yourself missing that process as you desperately tried not to slip off the poor animal as it ascended into the blue sky. It was rough, to say the least.

Once you reached an appropriate enough altitude, Z-Dog steadied and leveled out her ikran, halting the rough turbulence you experienced moments prior. The creature chirped once again, smoothly gliding through the wind.

You always loved the feeling you got whenever you were up in the sky with Lo’ak despite your anxiety regarding heights. He always made sure that you were okay throughout the ride as well as before and after the fact. But with the stranger you were assigned to, you found yourself wanting to hurl in anxiousness. You only hoped that this was going to be a quick and fast flight to wherever the hell you were heading to.

———

The minute you stepped into the small room the tulkun hunters had allowed you to occupy during your stay, you fell to your knees. Sobs racked your body as your mind replayed the scenes that you witnessed only minutes prior. Arriving at the Ta’unui village. The gathering of their people like they were sheep to slaughter. Quaritch threatening the Tsahik and Olo’eyktan of the clan. Lyle shooting and killing a sea creature on his Colonel’s order. The burning of the peoples homes. The killing of a Mother tulkun. It all kept replaying in your head, even when you moved to the even smaller shower.

You tried so hard to rid of the memories in your head, of the smell on your skin, of the guilt you felt. You rubbed at your skin until it was raw and hot and bleeding. The permanent reminder of just what your race is capable of slamming to the forefront of your mind. It all felt wrong. It feels wrong being here. Feels wrong to live on Pandora where its native species had to experience the pain and constant attempts of colonization from a different species. It all felt like you were contributing to whatever Quaritch had in mind. Even if he didn’t tell you any details, you still chose to come along. Maybe staying behind with Captain Ardmore would’ve been a better option. After all, it wouldn’t have mattered if you were alive or not at the end of it for you already felt dead inside. Nothing and no one would be able to bring you comfort from what you just saw and gone through.

“(Y/N)?” A familiar voice asked, it cracking from the amount of emotion the owner felt.

“Spider,” you whispered, curling in on yourself as you saw his figure standing in your doorway, tears streaming down his face.

The boy made his way to your bed, laying on it, facing you on his side. Not a word was uttered between you two, not needing any to communicate the type of comfort you both seeked from each other. And you stayed like that, facing each other and grasping onto each other's hands for comfort as you unknowingly fell asleep, slumber welcoming you into its embrace. But even your dreams weren’t a safe place. You dreamt of fire, of blood, and of death the whole night.

Maybe Neytiri was right. You should’ve never befriended the Sully children. You should’ve stuck to your own kind.

———

The second Lo’ak heard that a boy and a girl had been with Quaritch and his team during their attack on a nearby village, he began to ready his ilu for the trip. For getting you back.

The boy had paced back and forth from the edge of the mauri to his swimming companion, bending down to slip on the various of saddles the animal needed for riding. The creature chirped up at him every time Lo’ak bent down, seemingly encouraging him as he did so.

“What are you doing?” A voice asked, confusion laced in their tone. Lo’ak knew who it was before they even spoke. His Sa’nok had a bad habit of sneaking up on everyone, being too quiet for her own good. The hairs on the back of his head always stood up on end whenever he felt his Mothers presence behind him, alerting him of the potential rage he was going to face from the woman.

“To save them,” Lo’ak mumbled, too focused on saddling the right equipment on his companion, fiddling with the straps as he tightened them. The boy knew that his parents never really cared for either of your well-beings, it being evident in their body language and actions whenever he or Kiri talked about the things they did with the pair of you that particular day. If they weren’t willing to save you, then Lo’ak would take it upon himself to. He finally knew where you were after months of not knowing and he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to have you in his arms again.

A growl emitted itself from his Mothers lips, her hand coming out to grip her son's bicep into her grasp, “Kehe!”.

Neytiri didn’t know why her son was so infatuated with you, a tawtute. She was always against her children from befriending you and Spider, glaring at your figures everytime you walked by at High Camp. Her son seemed to be closer with you than Spider. The fact always bothered her, making her skin crawl with anger. Angry that you were occupying her son's time when he could be doing other things, meeting other people, and talking to other appropriate women of the clan.

“You will not,” she continued, scowl painted onto her face as she glared down at her son. She knew that if Lo’ak were to continue with his plan and make it to wherever you were, that Quaritch wouldn’t hesitate to shoot or take him prisoner. She couldn’t have that. Neytiri needed all of her children within eyesight so she could look over them and make sure that they were safe. She wouldn’t be able to do that if her son went to you.

Lo’ak growled back at his Mother, ripping his arm out from her tight grip. The boy had his mind made up and nobody was going to stop him. He needed to get to you. He needed you.

“I will. Why do you even care? You haven’t bothered to talk to me the whole time here. The only time you talk to me is to yell or scold me for doing yet another thing wrong,” Lo’ak hissed out, teeth tightly clenched. “(Y/N) and Spider care about me more than you ever have!” He added, whole body shaking in anger.

Neytiri gasped at her sons exclaimation, lightly hissing at him, “How dare you think that? I love you, Lo’ak. But they, they do not! They are demons! They aren’t capable of such things as love.”

Lo’ak’s ears drew back to press up against his skull and his lips drew up to show off his pointed fangs, a very loud hiss escaping from between his teeth. The hiss sounded almost roar-like, drawing attention from inside the Sully mauri, ears and tails perking up in interest.

Another gasp escaped from Neytiri’s throat. Her son had never hissed at her like that. Sure he had hissed at her playfully when he was younger or out of annoyance whenever she tried to get him to open up to her. But he had never hissed at her so…possessively. The only time she had heard a roar like this was when her husband was fighting off Quaritch during the Great Battle and he threatened everything he worked so hard to build during his time in the Avatar program.

“They do! She loves me. She’s capable of it and so much more. But you are too stubborn and stuck in your ways to see her the way I do. She cares for me, loves me. That I know,” Lo’ak grumbled out, fangs seeming to get even longer as he brewed in his anger. “I see her and she sees me. Something you and Dad never do,” he finished, turning away from his Mother as he reached out to grab the final thing he needed for his ride to you.

“What do you mean, Lo’ak?” Neytiri asked, anger laced in her voice. She knew what he was insinuating, but she needed to hear it come from his mouth. To confirm her suspicions. To confirm or deny what she had been thinking for years.

“I mean that she is mine. She is the only thing that I was ever able to have. I see her. She has taken me heart, body, and soul,” he slightly hisses out, not daring to look at his Mother as he spoke. He knew that once the confession of his sins slipped from his lips, there was no telling what his Mother would do. He didn’t want to be in the crossfire once she decided to act upon whatever she was feeling, her not being a top priority in his life at the moment. You were the priority and he’d be damned if anyone stopped him from getting to you.

“No,” Neytiri whispers, “You did not. Tell me you didn’t!”.

There were many things that his Mother could be referring to, but he was pretty sure he knew what she was hinting at. It was something that he had planned on doing with you once he properly courted you and way further into the future. But, nothing ever goes according to plan in Lo’ak’s life. The first time you guys had engaged in such an act was months before you were taken hostage. You had never been to the Tree of Souls, it being nearly impossible for you to get to without proper assistance. Lo’ak had decided to take you to it as a surprise on your weekly date night. The two of you had been dating for a while but never went as far as kissing or wondering hands against skin. It all happened so fast. One minute Lo’ak was describing the connection to you, how it all worked and the next, you were under him squirming and calling out his name in pleasure. He knew that once such an act was done, he’d be tied to you forever. That in the eyes of the Great Mother you two were mates and forever bound to one another’s souls. After that, the two of you often found yourselves engaging to be together. Lo’ak felt as if it was another way he could feel connected to you without being able to perform tshaleyu. He never took the act for granted and always put your pleasure before his, worshiping every inch of your body before you could do the same to him.

Her sons silence was Neytiri’s answer resulting in her loudly hissing at her youngest son, almost matching Lo’ak’s moments prior. That was the final straw to have Jake interfere between his arguing son and wife.

“You gave yourself to her? To a demon? Agh! Shame! You have brought shame upon this family and yourself. You tainted yourself with a human. Someone who can’t give you a future!” She yelled out, angry tears running down the expanse of her cheeks. Intercourse before mating wasn’t something that was taboo in the Omatikaya culture, but it was expected of the Olo’eyktan and his family to save themselves before then, demonstrating their loyalty to the people and their future spouse. So to hear her son, the second born of the Olo’eyktan, engage in such an intimate act with a human nonetheless, made her want to pluck his eyes out from the sockets that held them.

“Woah! Woah! Hey!” Jake said, jumping in between his son and wife before either of them could jump at each other's throat. His front faced Neytiri while his back faced his son. “Hey! What’s going on?” He gently asked, bringing his wife’s face into his hands as he tried to get her to focus his attention on him and not Lo’ak.

“Your son has mated with a demon!” She spat out, disgust interlaced in her tone. The way she felt towards the situation was evident enough on her face. Her lips were drawn back to flash her fangs and her nose was scrunched as if she just smelt a pile of Palulukan dung.

Jake froze at the words his wife spat, eyes darting to his son behind him. Although he froze at the words, he wasn’t surprised. He had a feeling that you and Lo’ak were more than just friends. He often caught his son gently rubbing at the marks you left on his skin during dinner, a smirk dancing across his youngests lips. Jake’s not stupid. He was Lo’ak’s age once and understood the urges he faced. But, he was human then and the Na’vi have a completely different way of thinking and going about things like this.

Jake didn’t question Lo’ak about whether or not what Neytiri said was true, already knowing the answer. He only sighed in response and tried to coax his wife to calm down.

“Go back in the house, son. Now,” Jake demanded, shooting him a look that told him he wasn’t taking a no for an answer.

Lo’ak wanted to argue and continue with his plan on rescuing you, but he knew that his pleading would be worthless, especially after his confession. So, he begrudgingly desaddled his ilu and made his way into the pod, ignoring the looks of his siblings as he made his way to his side of the house, throwing something against the woven wall before settling down in the corner. Tears left his eyes as he sat there. He was frustrated. All he wanted to do was see and hold you, but it seemed as if Eywa wasn’t on his side once again.

Why Great Mother? Why do you do this to me?

His heart further broke at the fact that you, yet again, slipped through his fingers. It seemed as if the whole universe was against the two of you. But, the universe be damned. Lo’ak was going to get you back no matter what it took. He’d burn down villages for you, destroy planets for you. He’d do anything for you.

———

“They found out?” A soft voice asks, pulling Lo’ak out from his zoning out episode.

He only hummed in response, eyes puffy from all the crying he did that night. His Mother screamed and cried at him after she talked to Jake, calling him what everyone else does, a disappointment. He desperately tried to get her to understand how he felt about you and how much he cared for you. He wouldn’t fall in love with just anyone, so you had to be very special to be the one to hold his heart.

Neteyam had been the one to comfort him that night as Jake and Kiri consoled Neytiri, trying to get her to calm down so she didn’t disturb any other Metkayina trying to sleep or seek shelter from the storm. It had been the first time in years that Neteyam had held Lo’ak in his arms, turning him away from the sight of their Sa’nok as the elder practically held the younger in his lap. Neteyam felt bad that their Mother was acting like this. Like she too hadn’t fallen in love with a tawtute. No matter how long Jake stayed on the planet and mingled with the natives, he would always be a human at heart. It’s hard to break out of old habits and it seemed as if their Father began to fall back into his sky people ways as of recent.

( “It’s okay, tsmukan,” Neteyam had whispered, Lo’ak barely hearing over the dramatic wails of his Mother. The boy had long been done with his crying, just blankly staring at the anklet wrapped around his foot. The last remaining thing he had of you.

“She doesn’t understand,” the older brother continued, stroking Lo’ak’s braids with such a gentleness, he thought for a second that it was you who was holding him. He only ever experienced such a gentle touch with you. It felt wrong that it wasn’t. That it was coming from his brother and not you.

“She does not,” Lo’ak confirmed, burying himself further into his brothers body, actively seeking his warmth to combat the shaking of his own body. “She never will,” he continued, eyes hardened to a glare as he stared at the intricately woven floor. She will never understand, he thought to himself, anger and sadness erupting in his chest. )

“A lot of the people heard your Mother last night,” Tsireya spoke up, sitting next to the dark blue boy. She felt bad for the teen. To be in love with someone you could never have must be heart wrenching. “I am sorry she acted the way she did. I hope she soon comes to the realization that you do truly love her,” she continued, trying to offer up the best comfort she could.

“I don’t think my Dad cared. Probably already knew before I told them. But,” he croaked out, voice coming out coarse as a result from his crying the night prior, “He didn’t do anything to stop Mom from saying those things about her, about me.”.

Having his Father allow his wife to continually insult his lover and him had made Lo’ak bitter. How come he wasn’t able to defend the one he loved but it was alright for Neytiri to throw such hurtful words to her own son? It all seemed hypocritical, backwards.

Tsireya frowned at Lo’ak’s words. She truly felt bad for him. She didn’t think that it was fair for his own Mother to react that harshly to the news. Didn’t she too fall in love with a human? It didn’t make sense to her.

“Oh, Lo’ak, I’m so sorry,” she whispered out, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder in hopes to comfort him.

Nothing about this situation was ideal. Lo’ak wasn’t able to go and rescue you from the clutches of the RDA. Neytiri had scolded and reprimanded her youngest son for being in love, calling him all sorts of colorful names in the process. Jake hadn’t done anything to prevent his wife from her onslaught of scowls and hisses towards their son. The whole clan now probably knew about how Lo’ak was a sky demon lover. And Tsireya is the one comforting the boy when it should be his own family that we’re bringing him solace. It all became a mess so fast, everything crumbling down towards the ground within seconds.

Lo’ak only hummed in response to Tsireya’s sympathetic tone, too tired to give her an actual response. His eyes were bloodshot from all the tears he’s expelled over night. Lo’ak’s face was practically swollen from how hard he cried last night. He looked like a complete mess.

Eywa had to be punishing him for something for the deity that he grew up hearing about wouldn’t have allowed any of this to happen. Was it really that bad that Lo’ak loved you? That he loved a human? Surely the Great Mother held all of her children dear to her heart. So, why was she letting this happen? What was the bigger picture? What was the reason? Lo’ak wanted to know the answers to these questions so he could figure out why it was so wrong to love you when it felt so right to.

———

Pain spread throughout your lower back and hip, becoming warm as the nerve endings communicated with each other and the crushed blood cells came to the surface of your delicate skin. The minute Spider hijacked the ship and the vehicle surged forward, your body made harsh contact with the metal table in the middle of the room and the floor once it crashed amongst the jagged rocks.

“(Y/N)! You okay?” The human boy yelled out, scrambling up to his feet to get to your position against the floor.

A groan was your only answer, pulling yourself up the best you could before the soldiers and ship crew could grab you. You could feel the bruises already forming on your soft skin, heat spreading throughout the areas.

“Get them off the ship!” A voice demanded, catching your attention. Your heart dropped to your stomach upon hearing the words. They were going to take you somewhere farther from Lo’ak once more. Although you hadn’t gone down with Spider to see him and the others being held hostage at the front of the ship, you still didn’t want to be taken somewhere else where you most likely wouldn’t be able to see him again.

Hands wrapped themselves around your biceps, roughly pulling you up from where you kneeled, guiding you to the exit.

“Let go of me!” You hissed, ripping your arms from out of the strangers grip just in time to catch the mask being thrown at you by another.

“Put it on,” they demanded, putting on their own mask before looking at you as you put yours on, a scowl on your face as you did so.

The same person pushed you forward in front of them, urging you to walk forwards and down the metal stairs. You desperately wanted to push whoever was in front of you down the stairs and run towards wherever they were keeping Lo’ak and the rest. You only wanted to see him and make sure that he was okay. That he was still breathing.

“Make sure it’s tight,” a man commented, tugging on the side of your mask.

“She’s fine, dumbass,” Spider spat, pushing the man’s hand away from your masked face, putting himself between the man and you.

The man before you both scoffed and continued forward, leading the two of you somewhere on the ship where they kept their smaller boats.

Spider could sense your apprehension, grabbing your hand as the group of you continued to walk along the metal surface of the ship, shaking his head down at you as he dragged you besides him. He knew what you wanted to do, he wanted to do the same, but he knew that if you gave into that urge, they wouldn’t hesitate to shoot either of you on the spot. He needed to keep you safe not just for Lo’ak’s sake but for himself too. You were his lifeline throughout this whole awful experience. Your presence itself helped him in more ways than one whenever he felt himself start to slip through the cracks while with Quaritch and Ardmore. If the two of you were going to make it out this afternoon, he needed you safe and alive.

Another man had exclaimed for the group to hurry up before the last of the boats left without them, getting cut off at the end of his sentence with a sharp exhale and groan as his body was thrown up against the wall of the ship.

Two large blue bodies had dropped down from above, pushing and punching the human men surrounding you and Spider, effectively killing them as they jumped from body to body.

“Lo’ak,” you whispered out, Spider pulling your back into his chest, away from Neteyam and Lo’ak, being wary of their size and strength.

A smile painted itself across your lips once the familiar amber eyes you dearly missed made contact with your colorful ones, time seemingly coming to a halt as the both of you took in each other's presence.

Lo’ak seemed to have filled out a bit, his biceps and thighs much larger than they were the last time you saw them. His hair was pulled back, showing off his sharpened jawline and defined shoulders and collarbones. Back in the forest, he rarely ever had his hair up, preferring it down so your fingers could have easy access to them whenever you wanted to run your smaller hands through the braids. His midsection seemed slimmer and tighter, displaying his developing abs along his stomach. Lo’ak seemed more confident in his physique as he stood there in front of you. You could practically feel it oozing off of him. The reef clan must’ve prioritized his training during his stay, you concluded.

As you gawked at the significant changes to your boyfriend's physical body, he too had his eyes glued to your figure.

Although much hadn’t changed, you still looked beautiful as ever. You had your hair down, different from your typical braid or usual hairstyle. You deemed having your hair out of your face more practical during your time in the forest. It just made everything easier as you explored and ran about. Due to Ardmore’s negligence to your physical needs, you figured it was easier to have your hair down most of the time, having no energy to do it yourself when she gave you a break from her torturous pursuits. Your hair had gotten longer during your time away from each other, inches longer than it previously was. It framed your face beautifully Lo’ak thought, smiling at you.

But before either of you could run to each other and embrace, a soldier had begun to stir and get up, a gun clutched in his grasp.

Lo’ak whipped his head towards the noise, bringing up the gun in his right hand up without thinking, finger squeezing the trigger as multiple rounds of bullets penetrated the human in front of him. The man slumped back, falling dead to the floor.

The air then became tense, the moment processing in everyone’s head for a second. Then, Neteyam had gently grabbed Lo’ak’s forearm and urged him forward, walking backwards as Spider pushed you in front of him, following the Na’vi boy.

The two boys in front of you had effortlessly jumped down from the top of the stairs to the ground below, swiftly standing up from their crouch afterwards. Sensing your hesitation, Lo’ak wrapped his free arm around your waist and followed after his brother and Spider, holding you close to his side as he jumped down from the height. He only let go of your waist once you regained your bearings.

“Hello, ma sìlpeytsyìp,” Lo’ak whispers, free hand going up to your bare neck, softly grazing his thumb against the delicate skin.

“Hello, Lo’ak,” you whisper back, a smile on your face as you gazed at your lover. Oh how you wished you didn’t need this stupid mask so you could capture his lips with yours.

You missed the boy in front of you so much. It was hard to endure all those months away from each other. He consumed every single thought you had. So to have him in front of you, alive and breathing and not a figment of your imagination, made you want to crawl into his large arms and stay there forever.

Your small moment was interrupted by Spider, him exclaiming a thank you so much man as he turned towards the Na’vi teens.

Lo’ak had tore his eyes away from yours, staring at Spider as he thanked him and Neteyam for saving both of your asses back there. The blue boy smiled at his friend, going to express his welcome but his smile dropped as he saw the same Avatar soldiers from that night come into view, aiming their guns towards the group of teens.

As Lo’ak perked up to shoot at the familiar fake Avatars, Neteyam pulled him back just as quickly, ushering him and the lot of you to run and dodge the bullets as they fired and ricocheted off the railings and other obstacles between you and them.

“Go! Go!” Neteyam exclaimed, pushing the three of you towards a corner by the moonpool, snatching Lo’ak’s gun with a give me that!.

The older Na’vi began to shoot back at the soldiers shooting at you four, shouting at all of you to hurry and jump into the water beneath the opening in front of you. Before you could process Neteyam’s words, Lo’ak took you into his arms and rushed towards the moonpool, jumping over the railing and into the water. Cool water splashed against your body and sealed mask, making you involuntarily hold your breath as a reflex.

Upon breaching the surface, you exhaled the air you held, realizing that there was no need for you to hold it.

“That was insane cuz!” Lo’ak exclaimed, high-fiving Spider as he hollered back an excited hell yeah!. His arm around you had slipped from its grasp in order to hand out the high-five he gave Spider.

The three of you just narrowly escaped death and Lo’ak was hollering in delight from the adrenaline rush. Well, you thought, at least the sea didn’t change that about him.

The hairs on your skin stood on end once you heard the gurgle of Neteyam’s first gasp of breath after following you and the boys, diving into the water. Your body instinctively knew that something bad was bound to happen and you could only pray to Eywa that this wasn’t happening.

Everyone’s world stopped on its axis once Neteyam announced that he’d been shot, struggling to keep himself upright in the water. It was as if his own acknowledgment of being shot stripped him of his refined swimming skills, limbs not being able to keep up with the blood loss and shock of the event.

You were the first one by the boys side after the words fell from his lips, trying to help keep him afloat in the water. “It’s okay, Teyam,” you whispered, head barely above the water's surface as you kept the boy upright, “You’ll be okay.”.

You knew that your words were only empty promises. That realistically, Neteyam wasn’t going to make it. No amount of comforting whispers were going to cover up that fact or bring the boy some kind of solace from death's icy grip.

“Here! Get him up on here,” an unfamiliar voice exclaimed, drawing your attention from Neteyam to the owner.

A beautiful Na’vi girl had broke the surface of the water with a strange creature by her side. She gestured for you and the rest to get Neteyam up onto the animal so you could transport him somewhere where he could be helped.

The strange girls eyes fell on you, making your stomach drop and breath hitch in your throat. She must be of the clan that harbored the Sully family, you thought to yourself as you studied her much lighter blue skin and enchanting ocean blue eyes. Really pretty too.

“C’mon bro,” Lo’ak stuttered out, taking Neteyam out from your grip and into his, swimming towards the girl and her creature.

Spider had pulled you out from your stupor, tugging on your hand as he swam the both of you towards the group, grabbing the side of the creatures saddle as it readied itself to surge forward in the water. The boys hand had let go of your hand and went to grab your waist, pulling you flush to his side in preparation for the resistance of the water once the creature got the okay to take off. Your own hands wrapped themselves around Spider’s neck, muscles in your arms tightening in preparation as well.

Once Lo’ak situated Neteyam onto the creature behind him, he urged the animal to go forward through the bond, it hurriedly gliding through the water as it pushed against the current and new added weight on all sides.

You knew that once the five of you left the scene and headed towards somewhere else, everything was going to change. That it was all downhill from here.

———

Your hands were caked in blood. In Neteyam’s blood.

The red substance ran up your wrists and stopped at your mid forearm. The skin that was covered in it felt like it was on fire. It burned.

Your small hands that were desperately trying to slow down the blood pouring out of the boys chest were replaced by Lo’ak’s, his bigger body pushing you out of the way once Jake noticed your useless efforts and demanded his second son to replace your hands with his.

Tears spewed out from your waterline, falling down your cheeks and gathering at the bottom of your mask. Your throat burned from your suppression of sobs, desperately trying to escape from your sealed lips. You didn’t feel worthy crying and sobbing over the fatally injured boy in front of you. It was your fault he was shot. Indirectly or not, if Neteyam and Lo’ak didn’t come back for you and Spider, then he’d be fine and not bleeding out in front of his family. He wouldn't be laid dying in front of you.

You felt familiar, calloused hands wrapped themselves around your frame, bringing your body into their own.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Spider lowly whispered, bringing your face into his neck as you let out a quiet sob, leaning into his embrace. He knew that you were on the brink of breaking down and knew that you were keeping it in so as to not disturb the Sully family in their growing mourning. He saw the way Lo’ak pushed his way between you and Neteyam’s dying body, replacing your hands with his own against his brothers open chest. He knew that no one else around you would comfort you in the way that you needed, so he scurried to your side and brought you into his arms for the comfort that you craved.

You’ve never seen someone die. You’ve never seen someone die right in front of you. Your brain was scrambling to gather itself and process what was happening. But it was as if your brain couldn’t gather all the working pieces it needed and abandoned you in your own body, leaving you to pick up the pieces yourself and try to process what was happening.

Your body began to shiver as shock and adrenaline coursed through your veins, making your quiet sobs even harder to contain and actually keep silent.

The minute your ears picked up on Neytiri’s high pitched wails and screams, you knew that Neteyam had taken his last breath and finally joined Eywa in his afterlife. From that moment on, everything went by in a flash.

Neytiri, Jake, and Spider had left back towards the ship for a reason your ears didn’t pick up on, still ringing in the aftershocks of Neytiri’s screams. The Na’vi woman left on her ikran, it screeching as she made tshaleyu. The both of them took off in a blur from the speed of the animals ascent. Spider left you with a gentle kiss on the forehead and a promise that he’ll come back, smoothing down your damp hair before following after Jake. And Lo’ak. He only spared you a small glance before telling the reef Na’vi girl to stay with Neteyam’s body, gently patting her cheek before he hurried off to follow his Father and Spider.

Even though your mind struggled to process and piece together what just happened, it was still able to process the soft touch Lo’ak bestowed upon the girl in front of you and the sympathetic look he gave her before he left. How she reached out for him as he walked away and the look on her face as she watched. Oh.

Your heart broke at the realization. Lo’ak finally found someone that was suitable for him. Someone that was able to give him the future he deserved. Someone that was able to give him everything you couldn’t. And more tears fell from your eyes, heart crying out at the heartbreak.

Neytiri was right. You should’ve stayed with your own kind.

———

You didn’t stay long for Neteyam’s funeral. As soon as it ended, you treaded your way out of the water and walked somewhere secluded.

It was too much being there. It was hard watching Jake and Neytiri place their eldest son down onto the orange glowing tendrils. It was hard watching him be absorbed by them, disappearing into the glowing mass. Guilt riddled your consciousness, yelling at you that you shouldn’t be there. That it was your fault that he was with Eywa now. That you took away Jake and Neytiri’s firstborn son from their grasp too soon. You felt that your presence itself was a reminder as to why Neteyam was no longer breathing.

So, you sat yourself in a secluded area on the small island, situating yourself between the large rocks that perfectly hid your smaller frame. You didn’t want anyone disturbing you, especially Lo’ak. You didn’t think you’d be able to face him again after tonight.

“You suck at sneaking away, you know that right?” A soft voice spoke out, making you jump in response from its abrupt reveal. You had been sitting in silence for a couple of minutes before you were interrupted.

Turning your head, you saw Kiri standing there, face still painted in the white substance her Mother lathered onto her face before attending her elder brother's funeral. She held a small smile in your presence, leaning down to properly sit by your side.

You only hum and nod your head in response, turning your gaze back towards the lapping waves against the soft sand of the shoreline. You felt unworthy of the girl's presence. Like you shouldn’t stare at her for too long or else Eywa would strike you down with lightning for it. Unworthy of still being her friend even after what had occurred hours prior.

“I do not blame you, (Y/N),” she spoke up, large amber eyes glued to the side of your face. “None of us do. It was not your doing for what happened that night. You were not the one with the gun,” she continued, her blue five-fingered hand coming to rest up against your shoulder in comfort.

Growing up, Kiri always knew what you were feeling by just seeing the expression on your face. It was a bit weird growing up. She knew what you felt even before you could process it yourself. But, oftentimes, you were grateful for someone like Kiri. For someone who knew you so deeply that they didn’t need words to confirm how you felt. She just knew.

Kiri did truly mean the words she spoke. She did not think that Neteyam’s death was yours nor Spiders' doing. You two were just kids who were taken hostage and desperately needed saving. You are just kids. Your whole lives were a cause of an unfortunate event but that doesn’t mean that everything bad that happens to her family and to the other natives of Pandora were solely you and Spider's fault. The two of you shouldn’t carry that heavy burden.

“But, if Lo’ak and Neteyam didn’t come after us – ” you sputtered, tears already welling in your waterline as your throat began to tighten with emotion.

The Na’vi girl knew where you were coming from. What your thought process was and how you felt. A perk of being one of your good friends she supposed.

“But nothing, (Y/N),” she cut you off, voice firm and absolute. There was no way you were going to change her mind about the situation at hand. It wasn’t your fault. Period.

“Neteyam and Lo’ak chose to come after you and Spider. They both knew of the consequences that came with following after you. No one except Quaritch and his men are to blame,” she said with finality, not needing you to further intrude on what she said. No matter how hard you’d try to convince her that it was your fault, she wouldn’t believe you. Her mind had already been made up and you weren’t the one to blame.

Only more tears began to gather and spill from your eyes at your friend's words. It was nice to hear that she, and most likely everyone else, didn’t blame you for what happened. But it didn’t help ease the guilt you felt. Nothing could aid in the guilt you felt deep within. Perhaps with time it would go away, but even then, you highly doubted that.

“Lo’ak still loves you if that is what’s causing this worry,” Kiri whispered out, only loud enough for you to hear just in case anyone else was wandering around.

During their stay at Awa’atlu, Kiri could tell that your absence had deeply disturbed her younger brother. It was evident in everything he did. Lo’ak always had a frown on his face and found excuses to pick fights with Ao’nung and his gang of friends. It was like he didn’t have a reason to behave accordingly or live anymore. Like his sense of self was lost when you were taken by Quaritch and his soldiers. He desperately missed you and she could tell that the only thing he wanted to do was get you back and have you in his arms once again.

Your stomach turned in knots and your heart stopped at Kiri’s comment. Did he really? What about the girl that helped you that night?

“I – I’m not too sure about that. What about the girl?” You asked, face damp with tears. You saw how Lo’ak treated her that night. How he gently put his hand on her cheek and how she reached out for him with a call of his name before leaving the both of you on that rock with Neteyam’s body. How he barely spared you a glance before leaving.

You were confident that he had finally found the one the Great Mother had destined him to be with. You knew that your time together was limited, the clock starting the minute you confessed your feelings to the teen boy. It broke your heart seeing him act that way with her but you knew that he’d eventually come to his senses about you and want to pursue a Na’vi who could actually give him the future he deserved. If anything, you were pleased that he found someone like him. He would no longer be held back by you.

“What? What girl? What are you talking about?” Kiri asked, shock and concern laced within her voice. She knew that Lo’ak was too in love with you to look at anyone else the way he looked at you. So your words confused her immensely. Why did you think he no longer saw you?

The blue girl ransacked her brain for the girl you were insinuating Lo’ak was into. She kept drawing blanks, until her mind settled onto the one person that was a great comfort to Lo’ak during their stay.

“You mean Tsireya?” She asked, a barely audible giggle coming out of her mouth.

To be frank, Kiri found the situation a little funny. Lo’ak was such a lovesick puppy for you that he often refused to talk to anyone who wasn’t you. He continuously asked about you before the two of you got together, always bothering Kiri as she made her way back from the lab. He also handmade many jewelry pieces for you, even if he sucked at it and needed Tuk’s help. Why would you think his affections would change that fast?

“She’s pretty,” you hum, eyes still glued on the moving waves in the distance. Really pretty. “She’s good for him, Ri. She’d be able to give him the future he deserves. Plus, Neytiri would actually like her. It was never in the cards for us,” you finished, voice now eerily calm and void of the sadness you expressed earlier.

Kiri’s mouth fell agape at your words, eyes widening to the size of yovo fruit. What the fuck?

“(Y/N), you cannot mean that. Tsireya and Lo’ak are only friends. That’s all,” she began, trying her best to save you from your overwhelming thoughts before they consumed you whole. “He still loves you. Please believe that,” she pleaded.

You finally tore your gaze from the water and up towards the glowing amber orbs of your friend. “He left me there, Kiri. All alone with no goodbye. Barely even glanced my way before he followed after Spider and Jake,” you confessed, heart breaking all over again at the memory. It was hours before they all returned to the rock. Spider was the only one to comfort you as Lo’ak was too busy with Tsireya. The rest of the family barely even spared you a glance as they pulled each other into an embrace.

Oh, Kiri thought, ears pinning to the sides of her head. Did she interpret Lo’ak and Tsireya’s body language wrong? Were they more than friends?

Neither of you uttered another word, sitting peacefully side by side as the two of you listened to the soothing sound of the lapping waves against the shore. A war was occurring within your head and walls were built to protect you from the oncoming grenades you were sure would be thrown at you by your lover once he confessed that he was no longer in love with you. If you could even call him yours anymore.

From afar, the subject of your conversation was watching the two of you converse. He so desperately wanted to run to you and gather you into his arms and keep you there forever. But, he knew that you were no longer his. He saw how Spider treated you so gently. How he placed a kiss on the crown of your head before scurrying away to lead Jake to the ship. How he was the first one to comfort you when they arrived, beating him in embracing you and soothing you as you sobbed against his bleeding chest. And even though his heart was breaking at the possibility of you no longer loving him, he only wanted you to be happy and if that was with Spider, then he’d let you go.

———

Days had passed since your conversation with Kiri. She had never left your side since, wanting to be there for you as you navigated your grief and heartbreak. Your words still stunned the poor girl. She was sure that you were wrong but she would admit that it was awfully suspicious the amount of times she saw Lo’ak and Tsireya together. And always seeing them together, especially after you pointed it out, didn’t help. Kiri was so sure of her brothers love for you that she nearly laughed in your face once those words left your mouth. But, she too began to doubt the affections her younger brother held for you.

Kiri often spent most of her time around you, but during the times she wasn’t able to, Tuktirey had no problem keeping you company.

“No! You’re doing it wrong,” Tuk exclaimed, groaning over your lack of weaving skills.

The young girl had been attempting to teach you the new way of weaving she had learned during her time on the island. She was so excited to show you what she had learned over the months that she nearly crushed your smaller, human body in a tight hug upon hearing your agreement. The young girl profusely apologized when she heard your panicked wheeze against her collarbone, quickly getting to work after.

“I’m sorry, TukTuk. Weaving’s never really been my thing,” you apologize, gently smiling at the child next to you. She was so excited to show you how to weave the Metkayina way, her eyes practically glowed in excitement once you agreed.

“It’s not your fault, (Y/N). I struggled with it too for some time. It just takes practice,” she responded, a large gummy smile directed your way. “Plus, that just means I can make you more!” She added, trying to lift up your dampened mood.

It seemed as if everything bothered you these days. Like everything was a reminder as to why you’d never be good enough for the secondborn Omatikaya prince. A reminder of the things you couldn’t give Lo’ak. Of the things you couldn’t do to please your mate. Weaving was a huge part of the Omatikaya culture, allowing one to express their gratitude and affection towards their intended. Something that you lacked severe skill in. Sure you could make a few bracelets here and there but it was nothing compared to those of the native Omatikaya who put so much effort into their weaving, going as far as making their own unique weave pattern for their beloved. Even though you wanted to refuse Tuktirey’s plea, for it was another painful reminder that you could never have Lo’ak, you still accepted it and endured the emotional turmoil you experienced. You wouldn’t allow your own feelings to stump Tuk’s happiness and eagerness to share with you something new she learned.

“You can make me as many as you want, Tuk,” you replied, a small smile gracing your lips as you gently patted her head, ruffling her hair in the process. The young girl shrieked at your action, pushing your hand away from her freshly braided hair, giggling afterwards.

You desperately missed moments like these during your captivity. You missed playing around with the Sully children and hearing Tuk’s high pitched giggle as she ran away from your hands as you reached out to tickle her. You missed Kiri’s wise words as she spoke about whatever came to mind. You missed Lo’ak’s comforting embrace as he enveloped you into his arms whenever you needed it. You missed Neteyam’s kind nature, helping you out whenever you found yourself falling behind. You’d always miss Neteyam, his absence another reminder as to why you would never be enough for the one you loved.

A loud cough from the doorway of the marui pod broke you and Tuk out of your giggling fit, both of you whipping your heads to the figure standing in front of the opening. Your heart dropped at who was in front of you.

“Mom!” Tuktirey squealed, jumping up to her feet and towards her sa’nok.

You could tell that Neytiri wasn’t excited about your presence, her hardened glare never leaving your face even as she bent down to embrace her youngest child. Over the course of the days following Neteyam’s funeral, Neytiri was colder towards you and Spider. She rarely ever let her children see you and often fought with Jake on this matter. She always argued about the same thing. How you and Spider weren’t good for her children. How the both of you deserved to be with your people. How you bring nothing but pain to this family. That if Jake never took the both of you in, they wouldn’t be in the position. You heard most of what she was yelling about almost every night, your shared guilt with Spider growing evermore.

“I…uh…I think I should get going Tuk. I just remembered that Kiri wanted to show me around somewhere,” you awkwardly said, smiling at the young girl before quickly heading out, barely giving her enough time to say her goodbyes to you.

You sped walk out from the Sully’s pod and onto the soft sand of Awa’atlu. You knew that you were no longer welcomed in Neytiri’s presence and you respected her wishes by excusing yourself and making your way out. It was the least you could do considering all that she went through.

Hours passed by with you sitting in the same place Kiri found you days prior, just thinking. Something that you found yourself doing way too often. It was hard to get out of your head and even harder for others to help you out of it. Most days, Spider wasn’t even able to help you with your problem and he almost always was able to save you from your own mind. Today was no exception regarding getting yourself stuck in your head and going around in circles.

“(Y/N)?” A soft voice asked, effectively pulling you out from your stupor.

Your eyes shifted from where they were glued to onto the person standing next to you, making your whole body tense and stomach churn in anxiety. Tsireya.

The light blue Na’vi girl stood in front of you with a look of concern etched on her face. Her skin was covered in a thin line of droplets, a clear sign she had just came back from a swim. You wondered if she felt bad for you and approached you out of pity. If Lo’ak had told her about your past together and if she was approaching you to inform you about their new union. If she was here to tell you about what her and the other Metkayina thought of you, preparing yourself for harsh insults and words.

“Are you okay?” She asks, sitting on her knees as she leaned forward a bit, big blue eyes practically staring into your soul.

Your eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. You were usually very careful in how your body reacted whenever you got stuck in thought. Always giving yourself time to release the tension in your body and relax before returning back to the thought you put on pause. So you were very confused as to why Tsireya was concerned with if you were okay or not.

“You just…seemed lost in thought.” She says, hands gently folding together in her lap. “I’ve noticed that your hair,” she points to your eyebrows, “come together when you’re thinking. Lo’ak does the same thing.”.

Your heart sped up at the mention of Lo’ak’s name, only for it to drop again once you realize who’s talking to you. Keep yourself in check (Y/N), you thought to yourself, you’re in the prescence of Lo’ak’s mate. Of course she knows things like that about him. You shouldn’t act like this.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine!” You reply, a half assed smile creeping up on your lips, not quite reaching your eyes like it usually does. There was no way in hell that you’d tell Tsireya what was going on inside your head. That wasn’t a burden she needed on her shoulders.

The girl didn’t look too convinced at your response but didn’t push it further. She only nodded and continued to look at you, big eyes studying your human features. Tsireya had rarely seen you around and when she did, it was very brief before you disappeared out of sight again. So she couldn’t help but look at you as you sat there. You were very pretty, she noted. No wonder Lo’ak fell so helplessly in love with her, she thought. Your beauty was something Tsireya had never seen before.

“Tsireya!” A gruff and deep voice shouted, catching the girls attention as she turned her back towards the voice. It was her Father.

“Oh. I’m sorry (Y/N), but I have to go. I do hope you feel better soon,” she quickly said before walking away, her tail swinging gently from side to side as she strides away.

The whole encounter you had with the girl made you even more confused and sad. She was so nice to you. She gave you no reason to hate her. But you couldn’t help but feel it as she left you there, longing for the life you could never have.

———

“You’re being so sulky,” Spider murmured, arms crossed as he watched you stare at your food in front of you.

Norm and Max had cooked dinner nearly two hours ago and you were the only one who hadn’t finished your plate. You didn’t have much of an appetite these days either. You were too occupied with thinking or trying to avoid Lo’ak at all costs to properly eat. You knew it wasn’t something you should be doing but you found yourself doing it anyway.

“You haven’t even talked to him! You don’t know if it’s true or not,” he continued, sick of seeing both you and Lo’ak moping around and avoiding each other at every turn. He’s told the both of you multiple times to just talk about it but the both of you were too stubborn for your own good.

You ignored Spider’s comment, rolling your eyes at the boy besides you. You really didn’t need him meddling in your business.

Your silence was Spider’s last straw as he slammed his hands against the metal table, surprising you and making you jump back at the action. Your plate shifted and jumped in its place, the fork clattering onto the floor.

“Fine. If neither of you want to talk this out on your own, then I’ll do it for you,” he exclaimed, jumping up from his seat and hauling you up from yours by your arm.

“Are you fucking crazy?” You screamed, trying to pry Spider’s fingers off of your bicep.

He only scoffed at your response and shook his head, leading you to the entrance of the lab that sat in the secluded parts of the island, tossing you a mask before shoving you out of the metal lab and out into the Pandora air.

Shortly after the events with Quaritch and the tulkun hunters, Norm and Max had decided that it would be best if they put one of their smaller labs on Awa’atlu for the two of you. It was definitely smaller than the lab you lived in at High Camp, but you didn’t complain. At least you had somewhere to go and hide whenever you didn’t want to see Lo’ak that particular day.

“You fucker!” You shouted, banging the flat of your palm up against the glass of the door. Spider only ignored your calls from the inside, eating your untouched food. You groaned in frustration as you watched the boy simply devour your cold food.

Rustling of leaves were heard from your right, making your heart stop in its confines in anxiety. Your breath hitched in your throat as you slowly turned your head to see who or what caused the noise, especially this late at night. Your stomach dropped to the floor once you saw those familiar amber eyes peek out from behind a shrub.

“Lo’ak?” You whispered, not trusting your voice at the moment.

Upon hearing your voice, the culprit perked up, completely revealing themselves to you.

“Yawne?” He asked, unsure if he should move closer to you or stay where he was. Lo’ak had been craving to be in your presence ever since his brothers funeral. He only wanted you in his arms again and even though he had you back, he didn’t completely have you.

The two of you stood there, in front of each other for a while, neither of you daring to move closer or speak up first.

It was strange to see you after not having seen you for months. You looked the same but didn’t at the same time. Lo’ak didn’t know how he didn’t notice the first time he saw you on that ship. You looked more mature. Like you had seen or experienced something you shouldn’t have.

“How are you?” Lo’ak asks, finally breaking the awkward silence between the two of you.

You internally scoffed at that question, shaking your head as you did so. Yeah, I’m totally fine. Leaving me with your dead brother for hours didn’t do anything to me at all.

“Fine,” you answer, beginning to try to open the lab door with all your might, shaking the lock. Spider must’ve locked it from the inside or something, you thought, promising yourself that you would choke the boy out once you got back into the lab.

Lo’ak flinched at your rough voice and repetitive shaking of the door, ears drawing downwards as he watched. He’s never seen you act so violent before. Never seen you so desperate to get back into the lab. Usually, back in the forest, you’d do anything and everything to stay out of the lab for as long as you could. So to see you act the opposite made Lo’ak frown, especially since it was because he was out with you.

“Yawne,” Lo’ak tried again, taking a step closer to you before quickly drawing back as you scowled at him to stay where he was. “What is wrong? Talk to me, please,” the boy pleaded, tail falling limp between his legs.

“I told you. Nothing. Nothing is wrong,” you replied, eyes never leaving the stupid handle of the door you were trying to pry open.

Lo’ak knew you were lying. Something was most definitely wrong. He could see it in your eyes. How badly you wanted to share whatever was bothering you but something withheld you from uttering the words. It made him ever the more desperate to get you to talk to him.

The boy knew that showing up at the lab unannounced wasn’t going to get you to talk to him, especially since he too was also ignoring your existence. That he’d have to try harder in order to get you to speak with him.

“Yawne –”.

“Stop! Stop calling me that! I am not your yawne!” You shouted, ceasing your prying of the locked metal door. Hearing that term come out of his mouth made you want to cry. It made you want to scream, kick, and hit him for calling you that when you knew that he called another it. He had Tsireya to be his yawne. That was no longer a title you held.

Confusion and hurt spread itself across Lo’ak’s face, brows furrowing together in confusion. What did you mean? Why were you no longer his beloved?

“Why? Why not?” He shouted back, anger quickly arising within the teen boy. “What have I done to make you angry with me?” He asked, ears drawing further downward and pressing harder against the side of his skull.

You wanted to pull at your hair in frustration and anger. You just wanted to go inside and pass out before having to face the Sully family again. You wanted Lo’ak to leave you alone in your heartbreak. To stop haunting your dreams. To stop reminding you of the life you longed to have with him.

“Nothing and everything, Lo’ak!” You screamed, finally fed up, “You have done nothing and yet have done everything to upset me. First, you leave me with Neteyam for hours. You left me alone with the body of someone who I loved. You left me alone in my grieving. I had to wash away the blood and grime from his body as you did what? Fight Quaritch? Get Spider nearly killed? Then…then you touched her so lovingly. So gently. When you barely even spared me a glance. You comforted her and hugged her so tight to yourself that I couldn’t tell where you started and she ended.”.

“I only wanted you to comfort me. To hold me as I cried. But you were too busy with her. And I understand, Lo’ak. I do. As much as it pains me to realize and say it. I know that you and Tsireya are together, a thing. It’s as obvious as the mask that I need. And it’s okay. Really. I knew that whatever this was, it wasn’t going to last. I am human and you deserve so much more than what I can give you. I cannot give you children, make the bond with you, or even be properly considered one of the People. You deserve someone who could give you that. Give you everything and more. I mean, Tsireya is Tsakarem for crying out loud! She is much more suited to be your mate than I am, Lo’ak.”.

By the time you were finished with your speech, your chest was rising up and down dramatically, trying to gulp down air as quickly as the mask would let you. You knew that once you expressed your feelings and how you felt, it would change everything. So in order to ignore Lo’ak’s intense gaze and to prevent yourself from succumbing to the need to cry, you began your attempts at trying to open up the locked door or at least trying to get someone’s attention so they’d save you.

Your hands began to hit the door again, switching to messing with the door handle after a couple of beats pass with no one coming to your rescue.

“I confessed.” Lo’ak blurted out, desperation covered his face. His ears were fully up in alert, twitching at the sound of your hands stopping against the hard metal of the lab.

You stopped your movements, standing on the stairs of the lab in shock, trying to process the words that just came out of the boy's mouth. Confessed? What did he mean by confessed?

He needed you to know that what you were saying wasn’t true. That he wasn’t seeing Tsireya and that he’ll never see her in that light as he sees you. That his heart only held love for you and no one else. That your entire being consumed him heart, body, and soul.

“I told my Mother about us. About our relationship. About how much I love you. About how much I adore and see you. About that night at the Tree of Souls. I told her everything,” he rambled, tears clinging to his waterline as he tried to hurriedly blink them away. “She wasn’t happy about it, obviously. But, I didn’t care. I still don’t. Tsireya and I have never and will never be a thing. My heart only beats for you. My lungs only breathe for you. My body and soul only long for you. Everything is only ever for you, ma yawne. I hold so much love for you that it hurts. Did you know that the afternoon I heard of a young boy and girl being held captive at the Ta’unui clan, I almost immediately took off on my ilu to get you back? That I fought with my Sa’nok over you? That’s when I told her. Everyone heard and I don’t care that they did. I would scream out my love for you on the highest floating mountain if you asked me to. I’d do anything for you, (Y/N). Please, please believe that.”.

Lo’ak took in deep breaths once he finished his speech, desperately trying to fill his lungs with air after depriving them of it. He hoped that what he said was enough to get you to see how he felt about you, how he still felt about you. And if you didn’t, then he’d try again and again and again until he ran out of air to breathe. He needed you in his life. He didn’t care that you couldn’t bare him children or make tshaleyu with him. All he needed was you and that would be enough for all of his lifetimes.

“Lo’ak,” you croaked out, hot tears running down your cheeks and gathering at the bottom of your mask. You had no idea that he felt that strongly for you. Sure he mentioned some things from time to time but he never seemed this serious about it. You could feel the emotions of his words as they hit you square in the face.

“I don’t care if you can’t carry my children or that you can’t make the bond with me. I don’t. I only care that you’re in my life and that you love me just as much. You have been such a big part of my life for so long that I can’t imagine you not in it. Nga yawne lu oer,” Lo’ak finally finishes, kneeling on his two knees to get to your height, gently taking your softer hands in his rougher one’s.

All of the doubts you had about yourself and the relationship you had with the boy in front of you vanished the moment he touched you. Like everything else disappeared and it was only you two in the world.

“I am so sorry if it seemed like I had any interest in Tsireya, my love,” Lo’ak whispered, bringing your hands up to his lips as he pecked them with a kiss, “To be honest, I thought Spider and you were a thing as well.”.

At his confession, you bursted out laughing, not being able to hold in your reaction to the ridiculous thought.

“I know, I know,” Lo’ak tsked, shaking his head, “I had asked Spider about it and he had the same exact reaction. He wouldn’t shut up about it either, telling me how ridiculous I was for thinking such a thing. As well as how much of an idiot I was too.”.

“Well,” you hummed, taking your hands out of your boyfriends and placed them onto his blue cheeks, “I guess we’re both idiots then.”.

Lo’ak chuckled at your response, shaking his head as he finally brought you into his arms, immediately burying his head into the crook of your neck as he got a sniff of your dearly missed scent. Your arms wrapped themselves around his neck as he held you close, almost completely enveloping you in his body.

“I’m sorry for assuming,” you speak up, fingers running through Lo’ak’s braids. You felt bad for immediately assuming Lo’ak would move on that fast and get with Tsireya. You knew it wasn’t something he’d do but your overwhelming insecurities took over.

The Na’vi boy only hums, burying his head farther into your neck. “It’s okay,” he said, “I did the same. Nothing to stress about now. I got you back and that’s all that matters”.

The two of you sat there for what felt like only minutes but was hours in reality. The sun had begun to poke through the horizon, sunrise vastly approaching.

“Wanna go inside? We could spend the morning sleeping and cuddling if you want,” you suggest, eyelids getting droopy as your lack of last nights sleep began to catch up with you. You shifted your head so it laid on Lo’ak’s shoulder, yawning as you did so.

Your lover only nodded in agreement, delicately moving into the small lab and removing your mask from your face, placing a kiss on your forehead as you began to snore in Lo’ak’s arms. He smiled down at you before making his way to your established room, content with how the night turned out.

As he gently laid you in the soft bed and tucked the both of you in, he knew that he’d gladly spend the rest of his life with you so as long as you pleased. That there was no one else but you that he truly saw himself with. The teen would do anything for you, no matter what it entailed.

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notjustjavierpena · 10 months

Text

Candy

A/N: A shameless addition to the DILF!Joel universe. This is PWP, enjoy!

Summary: Another sexcapade in Joel’s bed. Lazy day filled with sex.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (MDNI!), PIV sex, unprotected sex, riding, face-sitting, fingering, pussy-eating, dirty talk, Joel smacks your ass, reader is a little insecure about her body

Word count: 2.2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48297466

Candy

Sometimes you and Joel sneak off to your house, telling everyone that you’re going grocery shopping or something just as mundane, just to get it on like teenagers in your still new bed. Sometimes, when Sarah is at a friend’s house, you have Joel’s house to yourself. This time is the latter, and you feel grateful for the lack of a time frame for your sexcapades.

It gives Joel time to really warm you up, take his time, go slow, then fast and then slow again. It’s times for living off of bottled water, ice cream from the tub and having multiple orgasms, placing the tub between your thighs to enjoy the cool it radiates as it soothes your spent cunt.

You’re sitting in Joel’s bed like this now; legs spread out in front of you, tub of strawberry ice cream between your thighs and Joel cross-legged in front of you, one hand on each of your shins, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs into your calves. You’ve been screwing for hours by now.

You feed him a spoonful, practically glowing with all the dopamine flowing through you from your brain to your body. Your heart rate is slightly elevated too but it could be just from looking at him; broad shoulders, naked chest and black boxers. His hair is a mess from how many times you’ve carded your fingers through it, but you swear that you like it much better this way.

“You okay?” He asks after swallowing, reaching for the bottle of water on his night stand. He takes a large sip, offers it to you but you shake your head.

“Fine, just horny and tired… sore,” you say the last word with a smirk whilst digging out the last few bites from the ice cream tub, scraping thoroughly along the sides. You set the empty container aside, “I’ll get a tummy if we keep spending time like this between fucking though.”

“I’d like you even more with a cute little belly,” Joel rolls his eyes at your self-deprecating comment, yanks a little at your legs to signal what he wants; you scoot forward on your bottom to sit closer to him and drape your legs over his hips. He reaches up to cradle your face, pulls you in for a kiss that’s cold from the strawberry ice cream.

“Yeah? You would like that?” You smile against his mouth, and he places his palms on the globes of your ass and drags you flush against him until you’re chest to chest.

“I’d fucking love it,” he rasps before he devours your mouth once more. He tastes deliciously sweet of strawberries and cream, making you lick into his mouth with a newfound passion for making out. You suck at his tongue to make him growl for more, spurring him on to hoist you up into his lap until he can slide underneath your body so you’re straddling him.

“Up. Guess ice cream wasn’t enough,” he says with a pat to your lower back, hinting with his eyes whilst pushing you forward. You know what that means, swallowing thickly before crawling forwards, past his chest until you’re hovering your naked pussy above his face.

You find yourself trembling and use the headboard to steady yourself, feeling Joel’s breath against your cunt and the way it hitches when you look down to find his eyes. You have wanted to ride his face all day, wondering when you’d be desperate enough for it to ask but this is perfect. He is perfect.

“Sit, and don’t take those eyes off me. Want to see you come,” he commands and when you don’t instantly follow orders, he curls two strong hands around your thighs and yanks you down onto his mouth. You take a proper seat, his tongue along your slit and his nose against your clit. It earns him a long, shaky and dragged-out moan.

Whilst looking down at him, you start to feel the first movements of his slick tongue. It slides between your folds, picks up your arousal on its way before wiggling slightly. Joel tenses it up until he can slip the tip of the muscle inside of you, fucking your cunt open in the most obscene way. You’re dripping onto his mouth and chin, wetting his scruff.

“Fuck, baby,” you moan softly, staring down into his darkened eyes and starting to grind down on the arch of his nose. Occasionally, the tip of his nose catches on your clit and nearly has you flying forwards, “Fuck, fuck, hah, fuck Joel.”

He bobs his head too to grind his face into you, determined to not let you do all the work despite how much you know he loves when you use him. His tongue slips from you, and you can feel spit and slick drip from you and add to the shine that’s already on his face.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby,” he mutters underneath you and makes your pussy clench in interest of more, “Fuckin’ love when she gushes on my face.”

Joel’s hands push you around after that, steers you with little care, seeming merciless in his state of hunger, until he can lap directly on your clit before closing his lips around it. Oh God, you think, he is determined today.

Your hands grip harder at the headboard, turning your knuckles white when he sucks hard enough to cause just a little pain amongst all the pleasure. It makes your eyes flutter closed, thighs shake and mouth hanging open in a silent moan.

With a crack, one of his hands comes down onto the fleshiest part of your ass in a stinging smack. Your eyes fly open in surprise and you moan pathetically as you feel your pussy clamping down on nothing.

“I told you to look at me,” he says, releasing you with a pop and relenting for a moment to speak, “Keep those eyes on me while I eat your pretty pussy.”

“Yes— s-sorry, Joel, please,” you release the headboard carefully, but only to slide your fingers through his hair instead, ready to yank, “It won’t happen again, baby. Please. Make me come on your face.”

Joel lets out a pleased sigh as you scratch your nails through his hair.

“Is this okay, baby?” You ask sweetly, referring to your fingers in his hair, but also starting to move on his mouth again.

Joel spanks you again without warning. It stings more this time, but he is back to eating you out before you have time to react, and, additionally, whatever smart thing you want to say disappears from your mind as you lose the connection between your brain and your mouth. It’s all gibberish.

You feel the hand on your ass slide down between your thighs which are shaking at this point, giving him signs of how close you are. He slips a finger inside your cunt, adding a second one only after a few pumps, working you from the outside and the inside.

It’s too much when he rubs against your g-spot, curling his fingers as if to coax your orgasm to come. You yank his hair then, coming on his mouth with a sob and forcing yourself to stare down into his eyes despite wanting to squeeze your own shut. It feels so good. You clamp down on his fingers and Joel holds them still against your g-spot, sucking your relentlessly throbbing clit through your high.

With ragged breath, you push yourself off of him and he lets you. You scoot back to sit in his lap, wet and spent cunt soaking through the fabric of his boxers when you settle there. It takes you a moment to find his gaze again, too busy with feeling his generous, but unfortunately clothed, length against you. Soon, you remind yourself.

Though when you see his whole face again, you gasp audibly; Joel’s eyes are hazy, satisfied and black with desire. His chin, nose and mouth are covered with your slick to the point where he is pornographic to look at, but the best thing is the boyish grin that he sports.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you scold playfully, placing your palms on his chest and scratching a little.

“You taste like fucking candy,” he licks his lips for show, then sucks the fingers that he has had inside of you clean one by one. It makes you impatiently squirm in his lap.

“Better than strawberry ice cream?” You ask, scooting down even further to tuck at the hem of his boxers and reveal his cock, now an angry red color from being neglected too long. You are too lazy to take his underwear all the way off, settling the hem below his balls.

“Better than strawberry ice cream,” he repeats to confirm, looking down at where your hands are now stroking him lazily, “You already ready for more? Greedy of you.”

“Greedy for you, you mean, Mr. Miller,” you correct him and get onto your knees, moving until you feel the head of his cock, slick with precome, nudge at your slit.

The boyish grin fades with that comment, followed by a soft sigh and then Joel’s jaw goes slack as you start sinking down. He places his hands on your hips once more, thumbs pressing down into your hip bones to angle your pelvis.

“Fuck, right there…” You groan, leaning your head back a little as the tip of his dick pokes against your g-spot. You bottom out and it’s amazing to feel your sensitive walls stretched out around his cock, sucking him in the rest of the way with how wet he has made you. When you’ve gotten used to him, you lift yourself up to sink back down again, but just once, wanting him to lose control with you, smack your ass again, “Want me to come on your cock too? Mouth not enough?”

“You better, sweetheart, m-mouth ain’t never enough— oh fuck, I want you to milk my come into your tight cunt,” his eyes glaze over as you start up the first rolls of your hips, drawing a relieved moan from the man’s throat. He has been so good at waiting for you, so you start up a rhythm that is anything but teasing to reward his patience.

When you have him panting underneath you, you decide to take it even further and put on a show for him. You bounce in his lap, your hands going up your body to squeeze your own tits. You press them together as you ride him in earnest, then release them with a moan and catch him hungrily watching as they bounce back into place.

“Fuck, baby,” you keen when his hips snap up into yours for the first time. He grips your fleshy thighs heatedly, smacks them, forces you down on his dick every time you lift yourself off. You reward him with a chant of his name, breathless and bordering on religious worship, “God, you fuck me so well. Joel. Make me come.”

He suddenly sits up and keeps you moving in unison, cups your jaw and pulls your mouth towards his own with desperation in the noises he makes for you. It’s generous to call it a kiss as it is rather a filthy clash of teeth and tongues. You try to say his name again, but he eats it from your hungry mouth, right off your tongue, before you manage to get it out.

When he pulls away to suck in a much-needed breath, you lean back in his lap and reach behind yourself to rest a hand on his thigh. It makes you able to speed up, grind against his pelvis and gain stimulation to your clit that sends sparks throughout your lower body.

“Come for me,” he says lowly, one arm wrapping around your waist to support you and the other groping your ass obscenely. He smacks it again, and your orgasm ripples through your body in the next moment and has you keening loudly, “Thaaaat’s it… Attagirl, there you are.”

You clench rhythmically around Joel’s dick and there are a few more snaps of his hips before he pushes up into you and pulls you down onto him simultaneously. He lets out a groan from the back of his throat, spilling inside of you and causing you to gasp pathetically at the feel of warmth spreading inside your pussy.

“You’ve got me spellbound, baby,” he rests his head against your shoulder when he dares speak again.

“Yeah? Changed your life with this pussy?” You tease, voice exhausted. You can feel him smile against your skin.

“Possibly,” he moves slowly and then pulls out of you with a grunt. He lies down again, pulling you down with him by your upper arm until you are lying with your face in the crook of his neck, giggling softly.

“We should order pizza for dinner,” you think out loud.

“Didn’t you just complain about getting a tummy?” Joel rolls his eyes but reaches to sprawl a hand over your stomach, “Women.”

“You said you’d love me with a tummy,” you argue with a playful slap to his chest but making up for it by kissing along his jaw, “That may be a good enough reason for me.”

“Pizza then.”

“I’ll just buy bigger jeans.”

Taglist: @queerponcho

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel x you #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #my writing #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fanfic #dilf!joel

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rosepascal · 6 months

Text

Lacy || Joel Miller x Reader

summary: Joel has a new girlfriend and it's eating you alive inside, especially when she's so perfect.

warnings: angst to fluff, happy ending!! reader gets minorly injured (cuts hand on accident), jealousy, bad feelings, self deprecation kinda, implied something happened to make reader not want to go on patrols anymore but nothing specific.

a/n: heres my jealousy fic loosely based on Lacy by Olivia Rodrigo. I low key love these kinda fics so I hope I did the trope justice

Perfect Perfect Perfect. She’s just so. Fucking perfect. Your body moves on auto pilot as your brain spirals into the depths of hatred and loathing.

All because of Joel’s new girlfriend.

Your mind is torn between raging jealousy and embarrassment. You and Joel were nothing. Just friends. You worked odd jobs in Jackson and would cross paths with Joel often. He wasn’t very friendly at first but soon enough you managed to break down his initial suspicion.

You became closer than most. At least you thought you were. You’d only seen him joke and smile around Ellie so when he laughed at one of your jokes you felt your stomach flip. He brought you little trinkets he found on patrols too. Small things, things that most people wouldn’t care about but Joel brought them to you so of course you cherished them like they were gold.

Then she came to town.

It was embarrassing how much you let your mind turn to jealousy and resentment. Lacy was beautiful, strong, and the nicest fucking person in town. She’s sweet and helpful and so smart. She’s everything you feel like you’re not. So why wouldn’t Joel be attracted to her? They’re patrol partners too. You see them every morning and come back every afternoon.

You don’t go on patrol. Not anymore. Joel knew that, he never asked and you never told him. He doesn’t care though. You pull your weight just as much as everyone and Joel respects that. Some people don’t. So to have Joel tell you he doesn’t care what you do, it always makes you happy. Still you wonder if he’d like you if you did go on patrol. If you could spend hours with him outside the walls, just the two of you. Maybe he’d compliment your shots or offer his jacket to keep you warm. Like he does for her.

You saw them once coming back inside the gates. His jacket was draped across her shoulders and your heart cracked. You bet it was romantic too. He noticed she was cold and so he happily gave her his jacket. How cute. You walked away from them and buried yourself into kitchen work. Helping stock and prep for dinner. Your brain is still thinking of her.

The worst part is she isn’t someone you can't even hate. She’s only been kind to you. Always offering her help to anyone who needs it. Her smile is so perfect and she makes everyone happy. Especially Joel. Joel always seems to be talking with her which is a big deal for the man who only communicated in noises the first time you met. For fucks sakes she even bakes cookies in her spare time.

You try to avoid seeing them but somehow it’s like they always pop up where you are. Tonight they’re patrons at the bar where you’re serving as bartender for the night.

“Hi there darlin’” Joel’s voice makes your heartbeat a little faster but you see Lacy standing right beside him.

“Whiskey on the rocks, right?” You blurt out without thinking. He looks surprised at first but nods.

“One for me too please.” Lacy asks nicely. You give her a tight smile and nod silently. It doesn’t take long to pour their drinks and Joel takes them both, gesturing to her to go sit.

“Thank you,” He says with a small smile.

“Anytime.” Though other people come and go, you can’t help but keep your eyes on them. Every time they laughed or smiled or got closer, it made your blood boil. You were jealous, you hated this feeling. You hated feeling the anger that burned inside of you. You hated how much you hated her. It made you sick but you couldn’t get yourself to look away. It’s like you secretly wanted to watch your whole world burn. You watch as she says something and Joel leans in closer, his lips barely ghosting her ear as he rests his arm on the booth behind her. The chatter of the bar stops as the sound of a glass shattering. It’s only when everyone’s eyes land on you do you realize you made the noise. The wine glass in your hand is now in pieces on the counter and your hand is covered in small cuts from the glass. You could feel Joel’s piercing gaze on you as someone moves to help.

“I’m okay,” You say quickly, grabbing a rag and putting it around your hand.

“I uh, I’ll be back.” You mutter, humiliation growing as you shrink under the looks of everyone. You rush out the back door. Sighing you put your head down on your knees as you slide down the wall. Your jealousy got the best of you and it feels so ugly. You slowly pick the glass out of your hand.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine.” You look up and your eyes widen. There stands Lacy, the last person you expected to see.

“Are you sure? I can go get you some gauze.”

“I said I’m fine.” You snap. She takes a step back and you immediately feel the guilt.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I…I’m sorry.” You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping she leaves you alone so you can wallow in your misery.

“It’s okay,” She says gently. Lacy walks closer to you and you look up at her.

“I can’t help but feel like we’ve never really gotten along and I just wanted to say that I’m sorry if I did something to upset you.” Her words are so genuine that it makes you sick. She’s just so perfect and nice and it makes you feel awful.

“No no, you did nothing wrong. I promise. It’s all me.” She looks down next to you and you offer her to sit.

“I’m sorry if I came off cold, you’re really nice and It’s something to do with me.” You explain.

“You don’t have to tell me, but I’d really like to get to know you better if you want. Joel talks about you all the time.” She says. That catches your attention.

“He does?” You ask. She giggles and nods her head.

“Don’t tell him I told you but he really likes you, he just won’t admit it.” You can’t believe what she’s saying. It doesn’t make sense. He's so happy with her, and spends time with her. They’re perfect for each other.

“What? I thought you two were dating.” You look shocked as she shakes her head.

“We’re not. Me and Joel were both from the Boston QZ, I helped him out from time to time so we were kind of friends.” You guess that explains why he warmed up to her so fast but still.

“He won’t admit it to me but I know he likes you. He always wonders what you’re doing in town that day and when we go on supply runs he tries to subtly ask about things for you but he’s not very subtle.” She says, smiling as she remembers the shitty excuses Joel would make for picking up the tattered journal. He told her about you, that you used to keep one before the outbreak and you missed it.

“I don’t know, I haven’t really seen him much lately…” You know it's partially your fault for avoiding him but he didn’t really make much effort to see you either.

“I told him to talk to you but he started to get nervous.” She says while rolling her eyes.

“Joel nervous?” You ask in disbelief.

“I know! He totally denied it when I asked. Said he doesn’t get nervous in that crabby voice he does.” She says while laughing.

“Oh my god he really does do that voice doesn’t he. Especially when he’s trying to reprimand Ellie.” You say while laughing with her.

“And she never listens.” Lacy adds. It feels nice to laugh with her. Though now you feel silly for feeling so jealous.

“I think I owe you an apology Lacy, the truth is I was jealous of you. You’re just, so amazing and cool and nice. I thought you were perfect for Joel and I just, I wanted to be perfect for Joel.” You admit sheepishly. "I shouldn't have avoided you the way I did."

“Thank you for the apology and it's okay. As for Joel, you are perfect for him.” She hugs you and it takes you a moment before you hug her back.

“Everythin’ alright?” Joel’s voice makes you jump.

He’s come to check on the two of you. The butterflies you felt before come back in full force as you see him standing there. His eyes darting to your cut up hand.

“You should really get that fixed up.” He kneels down in front of you and checks your hand over. Lacy gets up and winks at you.

“I’ll leave you to it Joel,” She nudges him and he grumbles about something. She smiles and gives you a thumbs up before disappearing back inside.

Even though his hands are rough he handles yours with such care. Making sure not to hurt you as he checks for glass. He reaches into his small bag and pulls out a rag and wraps it around your hand.

“This’ll be okay for now but you need to put some salve on it and wrap it with a bandage.” Joel finishes wrapping your hand but he doesn’t let go of your hand.

His hands are so warm. You notice how tense he seems. He’s nervous. With the boost of confidence from Lacy you bite the bullet and speak.

“I like you. A lot.” You confess.

“I uh-” He doesn’t know what to say as you take him by surprise.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner.” Your voice gets smaller as you speak. Worried that you were right and he doesn’t feel the same.

“I got you somethin’” He reaches into his little bag and pulls out a small book.

“You told me about keepin’ a diary and well I found this and thought you could start again, if you wanted to.” He hands it to you, it's a little ripped but still intact. It’s clearly been patched up. The leather cover has been cleaned and there's a new ribbon around the center.

“Oh Joel, it’s perfect.” You run your hands along the spine in awe.

“I would love to go to dinner with you darlin’’” He takes your hand and kisses the back of it. Helping you up he takes off his jacket and places it on your shoulders.

“Let me walk you back.” He places his hand on the small of your back.

You glance in the window of the bar and see Lacy talking with a few people. She makes them laugh and this time you smile. She catches your gaze and smirks, seeing Joel’s jacket and him so close.

For once it feels like you can breathe, the bitter feelings are gone. It’s a new start, a new friend gained in Lacy and hopefully a new love that will last forever.

“Are you okay?” Joel asks as he notices you in your head. Looking over at him you smile and he pulls you closer.

“I’m perfect Joel, just perfect.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst

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tightjeansjavi · 2 months

Text

the feel of coldness only water brings

A/N: so this is the unplanned part two of this Joel drabble I wrote called wildflowers. I just woke up this morning to some lovely reblogs on it, thus inspiring this piece 🥺 oh, and I also thought of @beefrobeefcal and her beefy, fat! Joel fics that are so so good while I was writing this!

~word count: 1.6k~

Summary: you convince Joel to join you for a swim in a lake while on patrol despite his insecurities

Pairing | joel x f!reader

Warnings: implied smut, fluff, angst (so sorry) non specified age gap between Joel and the reader, body insecurities(Joel), self deprecating thoughts, real bodies, natural body changes with age etc, language, teasing, flirting, body appreciation/worship, peepaw!joel, grumpy!joel, sunshine reader, reader has no physical descriptions (outside of wearing a bra and panties) +18 minors dni!

Sweat beads and drips down from the base of his hairline and slowly seeps into the fabric of his shirt, staining the fabric naturally. His steel toed boots stop at the water's edge, soft ripples lapping at the worn leather with a soft audible swish. The lake is crystalline, and beneath the glass surface he sees a million different rocks, all shapes and sizes and textures. The mountain air is crisp, refreshing as he inhales deeply.

The high noon sun blinds his vision momentarily, but he welcomes it. The fabric of his shirt is beginning to grow itchy, scratching at his skin from the beading perspiration. He kicks a stray rock into water, watching as it sinks into the shallow depths.

“Joel.” Your voice carries over the water, your head and shoulders bobbing like a cork in the middle of the glistening lake. “You said it yourself, there’s no infected out here, and the water is so refreshing. Won’t you join me?”

His shoulders tense beneath the fabric of his shirt, his jaw clenches, teeth grinding. He squints, bringing his hand over his forehead to block out the blinding rays, “M’fine here, darlin.’” He chuffs out, “Besides, one of us has to be on alert.” He added, rationalizing his decision.

“Is it because you can’t swim?” It was a safe assumption to make.

He shook his head, kicking another rock with the toe of his boot. “It ain’t that.”

“Okay, so you can swim? Well, then what’s the issue? C’mon, baby. You’re practically sweating right through your shirt.” You said teasingly, hoping to see the corners of his permanent set frown quirk upwards, just for you.

“It’s silly.” He wavered, eyes casting downwards to his boots. “M’just—insecure s’all. Don’t want you to uh—see me like that.” He was never the best with communicating, but he tried with you, and that’s all you could ever really ask for.

“Joel, it’s not silly. If it makes you feel any better, you can keep your clothes on? It doesn’t matter to me because I think you're handsome, and your real body isn’t gonna suddenly make me stop feeling the way I do for you.” You reassured him with a soft smile.

“If I keep my clothes on m’gonna sink like a fuckin’ rock.” He forced out a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck with a huff. “Y’say that now…” he trailed off, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “But ‘m littered with scars, baby. Got grays on my chest and—m’barely fittin’ in my jeans these days. Should probably hold off on extra—”

“Joel.” You sighed, “I’m gonna stop you right there. Cause everything you just described to me?” You lifted your hands up from under the water in emphasis, “is a real fucking body. More importantly, it’s your body. You’re a healthy man, Joel. Your jeans ain’t fitting the same because you’re no longer in survival mode. You’re getting to indulge in a way that you weren’t able to in over 20 years. You're strong, but you're also soft in the right places.”

He doesn't believe you, of course. He would argue that it was because he had grown old and lazy like a house cat. You didn’t give him the chance, however.

“I love how soft and squishy your stomach is. You know why?”

He shook his head, feeling a flush creep up his neck and face,

“Because it acts as the perfect pillow for my head when we’re napping, and I love to grab onto your love handles when we’re cuddlin.’ Love to feel the way it presses into me when we hug. Or when you’re takin’ me from behind.”

“You’re just sayin’ that.” He scoffed.

“Am I?” You challenged him as you pulled yourself out of the water, dripping wet in just your flimsy pair of bra and panties.

“Don’t.” He warned you, taking a step to the side when you reached out to touch him. As if he was a frightened animal shying away. “M’jus’ a fat old man, darlin.’ Don’t gotta lie to me, sweetheart. I can accept the truth.” He was on the edge of snapping, nearly baring his teeth.

“Joel.” You said softly, “stop that. I ain’t have a reason to lie to you. Never have, never will.”

“You don’t have to protect my heart, darlin.’ S’okay. I ain’t deservin’ of your kindness. Don’t know why you even waste your time with a man like me—”

You looped your thumbs into the worn belt loops of his jeans and yanked him towards you swiftly despite his faint protests. “Would you shut up, please?”

Loose pebbles crunched beneath his heavy boots when you pulled him towards you and his hands naturally found your waist, big palms splayed across your damp skin. “Don’t you think you deserve yourself a real man? Someone who—isn’t like me?”

“You are a real man, Joel.” You gently remind him and slowly slip your thumbs from the belt loops of his jeans. “You’re beautiful, and I just wish you could see what I see.”

“Beautiful?” He scoffed, nose twitching when he felt your hands slowly slide up the expanse of his covered chest, “that ain’t me, sweetheart.” He rasped, tilting his chin downwards so he could watch your fingers gently toy with the buttons on his shirt.

“It is you, Joel. And one day you’ll wake up and realize it. And when that day comes, you’ll look in the mirror and tell yourself that you are beautiful, and you are loved, and you are deserving of kindness and softness for as long as Mother Nature lets me have you.”

He could feel himself slowly begin to cave from your words, tears pricking in the corner of his eyes, and he would claim that it was just from the blinding sun and the irritating sweat dripping from his brow. “Don’t know what I did to deserve you, darlin.’ Don’t think I’ll ever understand it. You could have your pick of men in Jackson, and you choose me?” He stifled a chuckle, dipping his chin down further so he could kiss the edge of your fingertips.

“You’re worth more than the whole damn bunch, Joel. Stubborn ass of a man, but I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

“Undress me.” He murmured, swallowing the lump rising in his throat, “M’yours.”

You smiled, dragging your thumb against his jaw and slowly tilted his chin upwards so your eyes could meet, “Remember, it’s just you and me out here. Nothin’ but miles and miles of wilderness.”

“Kiss me.” He whispered, tightening his grip around your hips, pulling you in closer.

Your lips brush, testing the waters before you fully kiss him. Tasting the sweat from his brow that had trickled down his lips. Soft, chapped, warm and familiar against your own.

Your fingers worked the buttons of his shirt open, exposing his skin to the warm rays from the sun. You pushed the strained fabric down his shoulders, letting the shirt fall to the pebbles below. You traced his scars with delicate movements, detaching your lips from his so you could follow the path your fingers created. You nipped at the softness of his bicep, pressing open mouthed kisses that trailed down his arm to his hand. You kissed each knuckle, each callous with your eyes staying locked on his.

You squeezed the soft plump flesh of his love handles, imagining yourself using them as an anchor when you would ride his cock in the early morning hours when neither of you could sleep.

You dragged your nose against the swell of his belly, feeling him tense up before melting into your touch like a pad of butter on a hot pan. You inhaled his musky scent, dragging your lips southwards through the dark hair of his happy trail, pressing a kiss there, too.

Your fingers moved in muscle memory as you undid his belt, tugging his too tight jeans over his hips and strong thighs, letting them pool at his ankles.

He watches your every move, brows furrowed together at the sight of you on your knees between his thighs. He hopes to god there is no danger lurking nearby. He wants this memory etched into his brain for the rest of his days.

He breathes out a strained puff of air from between his parted lips when you press the tip of your nose against the underside of his heavy cock, and the drag of your hot tongue through the strained fabric.

A groan bubbles up his throat, spilling over and he presses his hips into your face, the swell of his belly brushing against the crown of your head.

You giggle, nipping lightly at the fabric, feeling his cock twitch and harden. You watch his eyes roll back, words tumbling out in tandem.

“Do. Not. Tease. Me.” He growled and you giggled at his response.

“If you want more…you’re just gonna have to catch me!” You rose from your knees before he could grab ahold of you, stepping back with that glint in your eye.

“Hey! That ain’t fair and you know it!” He huffed, already struggling to unlace his boots so he could pull his jeans off completely. He cursed under his breath when he watched you dive back into the refreshing waters.

“Gonna get you back for this.” He grumbled to himself, fighting the urge to grin at the warmth that he felt flooding in his chest.

You heard a loud splash just as you resurfaced, and two dark brown eyes locked onto you like a target as you playfully swam away.

Your giggles and his deep, raspy laughter filled the hot summer air like a song that you would play on repeat, over and over again.

Banners made by the lovely @saradika-graphics 💕

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amandacanwrite · 3 months

Text

The Bear and the Fox - A Halsin x Reader One Shot

Word Count || About 6,000 Words

Scenario || You are a druid adept that has been imprisoned by Kagha for trying to stop the Rite of Thorns in Halsin's absence. He returns to find you and is none to happy to see it, especially after all you have been through.

POV || 2nd Person, ungendered tav/reader.

CW || mentions of entrapment, trafficking, self-deprecation, trauma. (Please let me know if I forgot anything.)

A/n || I have been a little stressed out and have been using this as a distraction/escape. I would appreciate so much if you all let me know what you think! Requested by the lovely @drabblesandimagines, thank you for the idea and I hope you enjoy it!! Thank you for your patience in waiting for this one!

You’re almost certain Archdruid Halsin doesn’t know you exist, but it doesn’t stop you from being devastated when he doesn’t return to the Emerald Grove from his travels to the nearby goblin camp. Even if he doesn’t remember you, you certainly have never forgotten him. Nor have you been able to wrench your heart from the grip of the merciless pining that has plagued you ever since you woke up on a pile of soft hides on the floor of his vault beneath the temple..

The truth is, Archdruid Halsin had saved you.

You’d been captured, at the time, by a troupe of traveling drow with the intention of taking you deep into the underdark to be used for whatever nefarious purposes they deigned. You were one of many captured, but the only druid in the lot.

They’d entrapped you in a cage, preventing you from even taking your wildshape to flee. They’d gone between distressing you in both forms, though. They’d seemed to have a particular talent for making you miserable, and in time you’d lost a bit of your humanity to the shape of the russet and auburn fox you often favored.

When he’d reached in to coax you out with a gentle hand, you pounced on the appendage–far too entrapped in the fear-addled mind of an animal that would sooner gnaw its own foot off than let a hunter find it caught in his leghold trap.

But he hadn’t flinched; hadn’t even grimaced as you sank your sharpened teeth into the thick flesh of his muscled forearm and tore at it. He’d simply watched calmly as you got it out of your system. When you’d realized he was an unyielding mass of man, you’d backed into the farthest corner of your kennel and cowered.

“Fear not, little one,” he’d cooed with that gentle, gravelly tone. “You are among friends now. I only wish to ensure you’re uninjured, and you can be on your way to find your mate or your burrow.”

You’d only blinked and he swapped his bleeding arm for his other one. You’d sniffed cautiously before dropping your head and your ears. He’d not needed any other sign, he’d known the way animals communicate; with gestures and body language rather than sounds.

He’d smoothed a hand over your ratty coat; it was the first kind touch you’d felt in months. You’d leaned yourself into it and he’d used the opportunity to scoop you up into his arms.

Perhaps it was at that moment that you’d fallen for him. Because as soon as you’d registered the strong and tender support of his warm, cradling arms, you’d suddenly realized how exhausted you’d been. You lost hold on your wildshape and changed back to your humanoid form, unclothed and skinny.

He’d started, adjusted his grip a little clumsily as you’d spilled out of the space he’d allotted in his arms for you; but he didn’t drop you.

“You surprised me, child,” he’d said as you’d started to drift into unconsciousness. “I’d certainly thought it was strange to go through such stringent measures for a single fox, but I see now why they’d made such efforts to keep you entrapped.”

He’d reached up to brush your tangled hair away from your face. “I can see you’re exhausted. Rest now; when you wake, you’ll be safe and warm with a meal and a warm bath awaiting you.”

He hadn’t lied, and the Emerald Grove had quickly become your home in the months and years that had passed since then. You’d seen Halsin around, of course. And he always seemed to have a smile to spare for you as you passed like swans floating in a pond. But you’d never quite been able to find a way to speak to him in private.

Perhaps it was your fault, you think, as you find yourself in a new cage, heart broken and aching as it seems less and less likely that he will ever be coming back.

You know Halsin to be strong. He’s a seven foot elf and built like the cave bear he so often likes to take the shape of. But there is only so much a single druid can do on his own, even one as competent as Halsin.

It hurts to be facing the possibility of rotting in the cells below the grove–below the place that had so much begun to feel like home for you, finally. It hurts to realize you may die here having never told Halsin how you feel about him.

But perhaps it’s better this way. Perhaps it is better to die having never faced the awkward acknowledgement of feeling that could never be returned.

Halsin has always been effusive, warm, welcoming…brave.

But there is a reason you chose the fox for your wildshape.

You have always been furtive, timid, too reliant on a single person. It has always been your nature, but you can’t deny the fundamental absurdity of the fox falling for the bear. At best, you could only be an inconvenient pest to him. You’re sure of that much.

Still…you miss the sun…you wish you could see it one more time. You’d always wanted to die bathed in the sunlight, not cold and damp in a stone chamber flooded with three inches of water. You curl into yourself, hugging your knees close, trying to remember the feeling of those warm arms around you as the Rite of Thorns continues somewhere above ground, heedless of your pleas for stalling, uncaring of the courage you’d had to summon to stand up to Kagha at all.

Kagha had never cared much for you; found you weak and miserable.

Pathetic. That was the word you’d heard bandied around when she didn’t know you were within earshot or when you were cozily cloaked by your shadows.

“You should have just kept your mouth shut,” you tell yourself.

But even you don’t really believe that. Not truly. You found kindred spirits in the Teiflings who had come to find refuge in the grove. You’d even played with the children in their little hiding spot beneath the old stone structures.

When the goblins came screaming the name of the Absolute, when Halsin left to learn more about the parasites, you’d been shocked and frightened by the sudden turn of sentiments against them and gotten swept away in your own outrage over it. As far as you’d been concerned, everyone in the grove should have been well aware of what Halsin would have tolerated. They should have known that he’d want any living being to be safe and fed–especially the children.

But it’d seemed that even the Emerald Grove druids were merely people; they were just as vulnerable to intimidation, coercion and power hunger as anyone else in Faerun.

You shiver in the cold and the dank, wishing you could get some rest so that you could take your wildshape and find warmth in the silken texture of your auburn coat.

You think of the nights curled up by the fire in Halsin’s secret cache while he allowed you a smaller space to acclimate to when you’d first arrive. You remember the feeling of large, gentle hands cradling your small, vulpine body in comfort as you slept.

It’s at that moment that you hear the scuff of loud, fast foot fall on the decrepit stairs that lead down to this sodden prison. It’s followed by heavy, hurried sloshing before, as if out of thin air, Halsin stands before you. His hands are wrapped around the thick, stone bars of your enclosure so tightly that they are white at the knuckles. His broad chest rises and falls with exertion; or is that emotion? It is hard to know.

He looks…utterly stricken. So much so that you wonder what happened to devastate him. Did he get back to The Grove to find all of the tieflings slaughtered? Did the tieflings rise up and destroy the grove before the Rite of Thorns could be finished?

He opens his mouth and you expect terrible news–expect the worst.

“A-are you alright?” is what he chokes out instead.

You’re quiet for a moment; the question not making sense to you. Why in the world would he care if you were alright? You were…nobody. A druidic adept that found much more comfort tucked into a nest of blankets than anything else. You’d failed to stop the Rite. You’d failed at almost everything in your life so far.

Has he…is it too dark down here? Does he think he’s talking to someone else?

He grits his teeth and starts to wrestle with the door to your cell.

Its mechanism is like the others in the temple; controlled by a stone tablet which should be placed in the proper slot and then activated with druidic magic. But he’s trying to use his own raw strength to open it.

“Forgive me,” he grunts as the stone actually begins to give way, heeding his command. “I should have never left you here while The Grove was tangled in so much unrest. Had I thought the Kagha…had I known–”

“Archdruid,” you stammer. “You’re going to hurt yourself–”

“I care not,” he says, his tone taking on an almost ferocious quality that has you lifting your shoulders and shrinking into yourself. “It is you I am most concerned for. You had only just begun to smile and I– because of my negligence I find you entrapped all over again.”

Your mouth drops open as you realize that he actually came down here looking for you. Specifically to find you. To save you again.

You are small; practically half the size of the archdruid. Yet, you suddenly recognize that he is trying to free you and you are just sitting there like some kind of dead fish. You stand to your feet and hurry over to the bars, grasping two of the other juts of stone and pulling it as he pushes.

You’re not sure, but for a moment you think you see the barest ghost of a smile before his teeth clench again with effort.

When the door is finally forced open a few inches, you release the stone. You roll your shoulders, shake out the tension in your hands. You will yourself to become smaller, to become lithe. You will your mouth to grow sharp, unforgiving teeth. You become vulpine.

You slosh through the water on four padded feet and dash through the opening.

For a moment, you almost flee up the stairs, ready to retreat to the fresh salty air outside. Ready to resign yourself to life as a fox.

But Halsin drops to his knees and you look at him as he looks at you.

He reaches a hand out to you, and you see the faint, silvery scars on his forearm from where you tore into him on the day you met. You sniff at him for a moment, then you shift back to your human form, carefully cradling his arm in your hands.

“Did it get infected?” you ask. “After I gnawed at you?”

His brow is low and lips turn down at the corners.

“No,” he says.

“I don’t understand,” you say. “You shouldn’t have scarred…you should have been able to simply heal yourself.”

“I was able,” he says. “But I was unwilling. I…I didn’t want to forget.”

You look up at him. “Why?” you ask.

There is the sound of chaos from up the stairs. You turn your head, letting your ears tune into the finer details of it as the quiet ambience of the water dripping and sloshing around you obscures it. As your focus narrows, you hear her.

“She’s back,” Halsin sneers. “Kagha has finally returned.”

You look at him, your eyes wide as if you’re seeing him for the first time. The expression on his face is nothing short of raw, wild fury. He is the snarl of a wolf, he is the crackle of wildfire, he is the dark promise of death in a row of pointed teeth.

He draws his arm back, stopping to take both of your small hands in his. His expression softens. “I will tell all,” he says. “But not before I punish the one who did this to you. Not before I see justice properly served for all of the disarray and cruelty enacted in my absence.”

You try to find a way to answer, but you can’t, settling instead for a dumbfounded nod.

He stands and, once at his full height, shifts the position of his hand to cradle yours; offering you help, but also offering you the chance to help yourself. You grasp that hand and he tightens the muscles of his arms as you use his strength and stability to get yourself back up to your feet.

“I am loathe to leave you down in this terrible place…but if you’re too frightened to face her…” he offers.

“I’m not…” you say. “O-or at least I won’t be…not with you there.”

He graces you with the first real smile he’s given you since he suddenly appeared before you and you think you may no longer need the sun if he can continue looking at you just like that.

“Come,” he says. “I want you to be part of this discussion.”

You follow Halsin, dwarfed in his shadow as you ascend the craggy steps, your soft leather shoes uncomfortably soggy and embarrassingly loud as you go. It feels almost surreal to be acknowledged by Halsin. Even more strange that he remembers you–that he seemed to have come to seek you out before anything else.

There are more questions than answers immediately available, and you’re not sure you’ll have the nerve to ask those questions when all is said and done.

When Halsin reaches the top of the stairs, he stops and looks back at you, giving you a calm smile as you quicken the pace of your last few steps to catch up with you.

Now that you’re in better light, his brow faintly tenses and he reaches out for you. You go utterly still as he places two of his fingertips under the very tip of your chin, using the most minute bit of pressure to turn your face.

“You’re hurt,” he says. “I didn’t see it in the darkness of the cells.”

You’d forgotten about the injury on your face–it’s not one you’d actually gotten to see before you were imprisoned, but you’d felt it throbbing for the entire day you were there.

“It’s just a bruise,” you say.

He removes his hand from beneath your chin and draws those same finger tips carefully over the curve of your brow. You wince slightly as he touches the most tender part and shakes his head.

“There’s a split in your brow,” he says. “It will scar…”

You heave a little breathy chuckle. “Perhaps it will make me look more distinguished,” you say as you meet his hazel eyes. “You certainly wear them well.”

His heartbroken expression eases up and he shakes his head, hesitant amusement on his face. “If I wear them well, then you’ll be exquisite as ever with your own,” he says. “Still–that you were hurt because of my absence–”

“The fox was caught sticking it’s nose where it didn’t belong and was appropriately punished for it,” A familiar, haughty voice interrupts. “Don’t let the little bandit fill your head with untruths.”

Halsin takes your hand in his and pulls you slightly behind him as he also moves to block you from Kagha’s sight. It’s a protective measure, but he doesn’t force you to hide. Instead, it feels like he’s asserting his position as your protector–as the protector of any who are weaker than him–while allowing your agency to remain intact should you wish to take the lead.

“I don’t want to hear about your paranoia Kagha–I’ve heard enough of it to turn my stomach,” he says, that gravelly voice gaining an almost abrasive quality. “Tell me why I shouldn’t turn you out–or hand you over the shadow druids you’ve been cavorting with?”

You watch as Kagha goes pale and your stomach churns with a dizzying mixture of nausea and fear.

The shadow druids. The order of druidic magic that lay closest to the dark. The drow, the deep gnomes, Shar. Everything that represents the terror you’d once experienced crammed into a too-small cage.

How could she? How could she want to work with them?! And then to have a nerve to call you a fox in the hen house.

“I didn’t do anything,” you say, your voice quiet but steady. “I was only looking for a way to convince you that we needn’t go through with the ritee…”

“By snooping in places you DON'T belong,” Kagha says.

“Perhaps it is you who does not belong here,” you snap.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Halsin growls. “You do not deserve to remain here, yet it is Nature who will determine what becomes of you. One thing is certain: my teachings have clearly not made the difference here. You are to start anew—be made a novice once again.”

“You can’t do that—“ Kagha starts.

“I am the First Druid in this Grove and I will do whatever I see fit to protect the people who call this place their home!” Halsin booms. “Kagha, you failed me. You failed everyone who relied on you!”

“That fox is an outsider. Ever since you pulled it in by its scruff it has done nothing but consume priceless resources and shrink into the corner like a frightened rodent. If you so crave balance—“

“Enough!” Halsin barks. “I will hear no more of this.”

“But—“ Kagha says.

“I said enough. Get out of my sight before I lose hold of my humanity and tear you to shreds,” Halsin snarled.

He says it loudly and deeply enough that it echoes in the stone chamber. Even you flinch a bit at the sudden fury coming off of him. You can almost smell it coming off of him–the adrenaline, the willingness to fight and gnash at Kagha.

Kagha has the good sense to dip her head in deference.

“Understood, First Druid Halsin,” she says.

“Good,” he says, his voice a low rumble in his chest. “Now. Apologize.”

Her head snaps up again and her gaze slides over to you, sharp as an arrowhead. The silence between you carries the same anticipatory nausea of waiting for a cobra to strike. You can sense quite well that Kagha may be properly chastened for her actions in the grove, but her opinion of you seems to remain the same.

Pathetic, you remember. That’s what you are to her.

“It’s fine,” you say. “I’m just happy to be free again.”

“No,” he commands. “It is not fine. You did what was right and were punished for it. Kagha. Will. Apologize.”

Your heart stutters and pounds in your ears. You know Halsin means well. You know he is angry on your behalf, and that he wants to see you treated kindly, but you don’t like confrontation.You think that ferocity is meant to be directed to Kagha, but you’re not entirely sure. Flashes of terror and confusion climb out of the burial ground of your mind. Memories of a cramped cage, the smell of blood, the sound of pained mewling, angry shouting in a language you don’t understand and the pain of punishment when a command you didn’t understand was not followed.

You don’t want this display; you do not want to be the vehicle of this lesson. You don’t want to rock the boat unless the situation is absolutely dire; especially now that you’ve proven just how little efficacy you have when you insert yourself into the matters of people who do not like you or simply have more investment in their own interests than in the interests of the collective. It feels like a leg snare waiting to lock down on you and you’re not sure you can escape it this time.

The tension between Halsin and Kagha sings at a tenor that pierces your ears. Or is that your adrenaline? You’re not sure. Whatever it is, your muscles are sore and aching; wound tightly and ready to spring at the first sight of danger; the first sign of movement toward you.

Halsin spares a glance your way, perhaps sensing that growing tension. Your eyes dart up to his as your body starts to tremble, not with fear, but with the urge to act. You are a small, scrappy creature locked in a stand-off with a larger predator.

His expression softens, looking almost apologetic.

“Easy, little one,” he says as he reaches his hand out to touch you.

Your mind is more feral than human by then. Just before he can actually touch you, you drop into a crouch and dart away from him, your heart hammering painfully against your sternum like an animal backed in a cage. You feel that wild urge to scratch, to gnaw, to snarl.

His expression drops into one of worry, his guilt clear in his expression and in the way he bends at the knees, lowering himself and making himself small like one might when trying to calm an injured animal.

“You are safe, dear one,” he says. “You are safe.”

You don’t believe him. It doesn’t feel safe here, not anymore. Perhaps never again.

A sound comes from behind you and you lurch forward, losing your footing on your slick, damp boots, falling hard onto the palms of your hands before you get back up to your feet and fly through the old temple and scrambling out of the door.

You simply run, your mind a blur of colors and raw, terrible fear. You can’t even register and savor the feeling of the sun on your skin or the sweet, salty breeze coming off of the lower cove. You run, and run, and run until familiar sights bleed into unfamiliar ones; until the wound up tension in your muscles gives way to trembling exhaustion.

You don’t immediately recognize where you are, but you find a little alcove tucked into a glen of oak trees, their trunks fat with age and their canopies heavy with acorns and boughs full of leaves.

The sun shines through the eaves, coloring the long grasses in deep emeralds and dappled yellow light. You sit against one of the trees, feeling the steady presence of Sylvanus as you gulp in desperate, exhausted breaths, your heart still hammering loudly in your ears. You rest your head back against the tree and close your eyes for just a moment. You breathe, and then you breathe again. Distance from the grove gives you a moment to realize just what being in that place was doing to you.

The politics, the prejudice, the precarious balance between the available resources and the people who needed them most. You always do better on your own. There’s a reason the form of a fox comes to you most naturally; they aren’t pack animals. As it so happens, apparently, neither are you.

So why had you stayed so long?

The fear of being captured again, perhaps.

Or maybe it was the Teiflings–you’d found a little group of friends among them; enjoyed sharing a drink with Dammon once in a while.

But neither of those seem to ring true for you, in reality.

No, what really seems to be the reason is the other part of foxes that makes the most sense to you.

That they tend to find a mate, have a family, and remain with them for life.

A reality you’d spent the last several years trying to avoid. Because there was only really one person keeping you at the grove. And that person was Halsin.

He’s just…

He’s everything you wish you could be.

He’s everything you wish you could have.

But you can’t. Because at the end of the day you’re just some animal, fleeing the first offer of help and biting down on the hand that feeds you. There’s regret in this moment. Regret that you will never get to inquire about the expressions on Halsin’s face; about the reasons he came to free you so quickly.

But the regret gives way to exhaustion and as you soak in the speckled rays of sunlight, feeling truly warmed for the first time in days–perhaps even weeks–you drift into a dreamless sleep.

It’s the quiet sound of metal against wood that wakes you.

The manner in which you wake is not a lurch; not an abrupt burst of movement that feels like you’re gasping for air. It’s the slow, soft blinking of an afternoon nap becoming an evening laze. In breathe in through your nose, slow and deep, faintly aware of the feeling of soft fur against your bare feet.

You feel swaddled by warmth. Wrapped in the familiar scents of clove, moss and tobacco.

You finally open your eyes and find a fire crackling before you, hemmed in by stones half-darkened by clay, as if someone collected them recently to guard the oaks from the danger of an unkempt flame.

You don’t put it together at first that you’ve been moved; specifically that you’ve been laid down within a comfortable bedroll. That the smell infused into the furs is comforting because of the man sitting not even a few feet away; the source of the sound of metal against wood.

You crane your head up to find him. Halsin Silverbough quietly focused on a block of soft wood, whittling away at it. You just watch him for a few seconds, almost dazed that he’s here with you.

“Is this a dream?” You ask.

His knife slips a little clumsily, he hadn’t noticed you were awake. He drops his hands into his lap and turns his head to smile down at you.

“Do I often visit you in your dreams, dear heart?” he asks.

Hearing that gravelly timbre and that tender pet name sets your blood on fire. You feel a flush rising to your face and you can’t keep from bringing the covers up to hide the evidence. His eyes crinkle with mirth and he lets out a pleasant, easy laugh. The easiest you’ve heard him laugh in…well, ever.

“Forgive me for laughing,” he says, setting his little project aside. “You gave me quite a scare when you ran off like that. But I suppose I can’t blame you for reacting that way…I know how hard it is for you when tension is high. Forgive me for being inconsiderate of those feelings by making you the instrument of Kagha’s repentance.”

You’re quiet for a long time, unsure what to say. You finally settle for, “How far did I run?”

His brows rise a bit and he heaves out a bit of a grumbling breath as he thinks about it. “Hard for me to ever tell how long a distance is, but we’re somewhere near the goblin camp at that old temple of Selune,” he says. “Lucky for us that I cleared it with a group of adventurers today. Otherwise, I fear I would have made things much worse for you by tackling you down before you could get too close to their camp.”

You bite the inside of your lip, trying not to imagine your body tangling with his. Your face is red enough.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you say, still beneath the covers. “I was so devastated when you didn’t come back from the goblin camp.”

“I’ve been worrying about you since I left,” he says. “I was…I wasn’t behaving calmly when I found you. I wasn’t acting in a way befitting a First Druid.”

“No one is above their own natural drives,” you say. “Anger is a natural reaction to disobedience.”

He looks at you, his brow creasing. “You think I was angry because Kagha disobeyed me?” he says.

“It’s as good a reason as any,” you say.

He inhales. Hesitates. Then inhales again before saying, “You asked me about the scars on my arm. Why I didn’t want to forget them.”

“Yes,” you say. “But then Kagha came back…”

“I know,” he says. “But I’d like to answer that question now. Now that I’m calm.”

There’s something in his gaze that feels heavy and significant. You slowly rise from your position tucked away in the bedroll, letting the furs fall away from you. You notice, now, that your damp boots have been placed on the other side of the fire to dry, along with your socks. A small act of care a lesser man may have never thought to do for you.

You turn to face Halsin and he turns to face you.

“When we found you…that day with the drow,” he says. “You…reminded me of something I went through as a young adept. A time in which I was kept as an unwilling guest in a drow lord’s estate. As time goes on, it’s easy to forget those things that have happened to me, or to minimize what I went through.

“In truth, I admired you. I admired how you snarled and gnashed at my hand when you were barely the size of my forearm. I admired the way you reached out for care when I housed you while you got back on your feet…for a while I feared that you were never going to heal. But then I realized that you were strong in a different way…in a way that I was not.”

“I’m not strong,” you say, shaking your head.

“You are,” he insists. “Strength is not only measured in brute force. It’s not measured in violence and demands and power. It’s in how you wake up every day, how you rise out of your bed and try to be better than the day before. What I experienced…I shoved it deep down inside of me until the pain was forgotten, but I watched you facing yours every day.”

You’re shocked to hear this, because in your recollection you struggled each day. In the beginning, you were frightened of everyone and everything, and the only thing that allowed you to function at all was the desire to be worth the effort Halsin made in saving you.

“Then…then I learned of you trying to stop the Rite of Thorns, and of you winding up imprisoned again in the very place you should have been safest,” he says, his anger a quiet undercurrent as he remembers newly. “I was so terrified that you would fully retreat back inside yourself, but then you stood and put your small hands on the stone door, snarling at your entrapments just as you were that day I met you.”

You remember his smile, a brief flash when you came to help.

“Am I still strong if I run away from the grove?” you ask.

“You wish to leave?” he asks.

“...I’ve realized, Halsin,” you say, your voice quivering. “I’m not well suited for the social hurdles involved with remaining with the druids…and that the only reason I’ve stayed is because…”

You swallow tightly, words lodging in your throat. Halsin is silent, ever patient as he waits for you to speak.

“Halsin, I have loved you for some time now, I think,” you say. “I know that I am young and that I can’t hope to compete with your past lovers or even the braver druids back at the grove. I know that you hardly have the time for romance, and that even if you did, you likely wouldn’t spend that precious time with me–”

“Hah…you sound so certain,” he says, his voice quiet and contemplative.

It’s your turn to be silent, now. You bring your gaze up to meet his again and he is smiling so gently at you. “The only reason,” he says finally, “the only reason that I have not invited you to my bed is that I didn’t want to cause you inadvertent harm by placing pressure on you that you wouldn’t have the resolve to deflect. I didn’t want to risk my position as the first druid making you feel as if you couldn’t say no to me.”

You blink, the world coming to a screeching halt around you.

Halsin…wants you? You?

You shake your head, feeling your face begin to blaze like you’ve come down with a fever.

“Well, I suppose it’s moot,” you say. “I can’t expect you to leave the Emerald Grove with me.”

“You don’t have to,” he says. “I’ve already left.”

“What?” you say.

“Did you think I packed a bedroll and a pack just to come retrieve you?” he says through a chuckle before he heaves out a rough sigh. “No, truth be told, my heart, I have long become disillusioned with my place among the druids in the grove and with you and the ache of old pains, I can no longer say that my heart is fully in it. The adventurers who released me…they are making their way to the shadowlands and I hope that if I join them, I can undo an old failure from a century ago. Finally heal the ache instead of simply avoiding it. I’m hoping that I can be more like you.”

You feel breathless for a moment, even more so when his eyes lock on yours.

“It will be frightening, my love,” he says. “The shadow curse makes the underdark look like a stroll after midnight. But if you still feel the way you’ve told me you do and if you can trust me to continue protecting you, I would have you in my tent with me greeting each day together.”

You don’t speak, not because you’re uncertain, but because you want to savor this moment.

Halsin loves you.

The bear has fallen for the fox.

And he wants you by his side.

It is the purest bliss you have ever felt. You think you could die happily in the shadow cursed lands if it is a sacrifice you make for him.

You will protect him.

And he will protect you.

“Dear heart,” Halsin says, his nerves coming through his voice. “You torture me by keeping me in suspense. Please know if you don’t wish for this you needn’t agree. I know what I ask of you is–”

“I’m going with you,” you say freeing him from the discomfort you’ve resided in for years. “Of course I’m going with you, Halsin.”

The smile he gives you is nothing short of miraculous.

“Nature blesses me with you,” he says. “Now come here, I need to enjoy you before I take you to meet the others. I have waited so very long for the opportunity, and I have until nightfall to make good on it, if you will have me.”

The image of your body tangled with his appears in your mind’s eye again. You rise to your feet and stride over to him, slipping your fingers into his wild hair. He cups the back of your thigh with a large hand before coaxing you to sit on his lap.

Where he kisses you for the very first time.

May the oak father bless you with countless others.

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eiightysixbaby · 9 months

Text

personal jesus

word count: 8.6k

pairing: stripper!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: your friends take you out to a strip club for your birthday, and you really hit it off with one particular stripper….

cw: 18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI. mentions of alcohol consumption, billy is in this fic (I promise he’s not in it for very long it just makes perfect sense for him to be a stripper OKAY 😭) lap dances, depictions of sensual dancing/strip routines, oral (m & f receiving), very brief mention of spanking, spit kink, unprotected piv, creampie

author’s note: well. I’ve been working on this for a while now and I’m extremely happy that it’s finally ready to be shared! I highly recommend listening to personal jesus by depeche mode while you read this, considering the entire idea for this came to me while listening to that song! I hope you all enjoy, I put a lot of time into this and I hope it shows.

It’s your birthday. A day to celebrate you turning another year older. Another year closer to death, and another year painfully single and alone.

Okay, so you were being dramatic. Turning 25 doesn’t exactly make you geriatric, but seeing the people close to you hit milestones in their relationships had you feeling a little insecure on this particular birthday. Nancy was engaged, Robin and Vickie just celebrated their 3 year anniversary of dating, Chrissy and Steve had finally made things official a month ago and were sickeningly cute together. It just had you longing for a connection.

You’d had horrible luck with guys lately, and it was weighing on you. You wanted someone special to spend your day with, someone to hold you at night and stick by you forever. Or, at this point, you were even okay with just having a little fun. Any sort of male attention was fine with you, wanting to end the drought you’d been experiencing.

So, it was only natural that the girls decided to take you to a strip club this evening. The car pulls up to the door of the seedy looking building, everything very discreet from the outside. You’re wearing a shimmery silver dress with very thin straps, the fabric stopping above your mid thigh. Sheer black tights with tiny sequins adorn your legs, accompanied by silver heels with straps that you wrap around your lower legs and tie. You step out of your Uber and into the parking lot, heels clicking on the pavement. Here goes nothing.

You pull the door open, being greeted by a rush of blasting air conditioning, and the strong smell of alcohol and cologne. You see all of your friends at a table close to the stage at the center of the floor, and they immediately turn and wave at you. You prance over to them eagerly, receiving hugs from all of them along with shrill ‘Happy Birthday!’s. Robin immediately pulls out a sparkly sash that reads ‘Birthday Girl’ and throws it over your head, letting it rest diagonally across your body. Her and Vickie had actually come up with this idea for tonight, knowing it would be fun for you to let loose a little. You all start to catch up with one another, diving into the latest gossip and life updates.

Conversation lulls briefly, Chrissy taking this as her opportunity to pull out a tray of homemade cupcakes from their hiding spot under her chair, Nancy sticking candles in each one.

“Guys, do we really have to sing?” you groan, smiling despite your reluctance.

“Yes! We have to sing you happy birthday!” Chrissy insists, her delicate hands grabbing your forearms gently and squeezing. “You’re 25! This is exciting!!”

Nancy’s hands hold a small lighter, fingers cupping around each candle as she lights them individually. The diamond on her ring finger glistens in the lights of the club, catching your eye. You snap yourself out of the self-deprecating thoughts before they can even start, remembering where you are and how tonight is about you. Once every candle is lit, the girls gather close around the table, singing happy birthday to you rather loudly and theatrically. You’re a flustered mess as you giggle at them, blowing out your candles swiftly after they finish. They all clap and cheer, Vickie passing cupcakes around on small plates to everyone. You order a drink, your personal favorite, deciding you need to catch up with your friends who already have their beverages.

The lights in the club dim as you take a bite into your cupcake, strawberry icing greeting your tongue. A spotlight shines on the curtain at the back of the stage, and several whoops and hollers erupt from club patrons, including you and your friends. Your drink is placed in front of you by a server, and you take a sip, letting the alcohol sear your mouth. An electric buzz runs through you as the first sip travels down your throat, and the house music cuts. A new song begins and your heart starts racing. As excited as you were, you’d never been to a strip club before, and you felt your cheeks grow hot in anticipation.

The song that plays is ‘Pony’ by Ginuwine, you recognize it instantly. As cliche of a choice as it might be, you can’t pretend like it isn’t the perfect song for something like this.

The curtains flutter and a male figure appears, your head whipping in his direction in an instant. You can’t deny, he’s gorgeous. Big blue eyes, curly caramel hair styled into a mullet, but it totally works on him. His teeth are perfect, and his body, oh his body. He’s wearing leather pants and a white button up shirt. Most of the buttons are undone, exposing his muscular chest. The sleeves of the shirt are rolled up to his elbows, and you can tell his biceps are begging to break out of the fabric. He has a black bowtie snug around his neck, and for some reason it makes him all the more attractive. The crowd cheers as he parades around the stage, holding his arms out in greeting as he walks the perimeter. He makes a show of undoing the last few buttons on his shirt, fingers slowly popping them out one by one. You and your friends cheer excitedly, all of you in fits of eager giggles.

“This one is Billy,” Robin leans in and whispers to you. “I was informed there’d be three performers tonight, and based on the stars in your eyes we’re off to a great start,” she teases you, and you swat her away with a laugh, eyes still trained on the stripper, who you now know to be named Billy.

He trails his hand down his bare chest slowly, grinding his hips into his hand when it hovers over his crotch. You’re practically swooning in your seat and based on the wolf whistles erupting from women around you, you’re not the only one. He takes his shirt off fully, throwing it into the crowd haphazardly. He parades around a little bit more, showing off that spectacular body, before he stills and the lights change color. The song starts to fade out, fading into a different one.

‘Closer’ by Nine Inch Nails begins to play through the speakers, and you notice movement behind the black curtain once more. Another man steps out, a striking contrast to Billy. He’s lankier, very thin, and his energy is far more submissive. It’s attractive all the same, and your eyes turn their focus to him. He has a head of shaggy brown hair and bangs that fall in his light brown eyes. His arms and chest aren’t as toned as Billy’s, but it works for him. He’s also wearing the black leather pants and white button up that Billy came out in, finished off with the same black bowtie. He commands the room better than you’d have expected him to, kneeling on the floor of the stage, leaning back on one hand as he rolls his hips upwards. He moves fluidly, and the way his hand glides down to grab his dick beneath his pants makes you sweat.

“Who- who’s that one?” you ask the table, leaning into their personal space a bit too far - but you’ll blame the alcohol.

“Jonathan,” Vickie smiles, and you’re impressed that they seemingly did their research before coming here tonight.

Jonathan and Billy both walk to the end of the stage, right in front of your table, and they both catch the sash you’re wearing. They wink at you, somehow in unison although it couldn’t have been planned, merely a glorious coincidence, and you give a flirtatious little wave in their direction. Jonathan shrugs his shirt off of his shoulders, throwing it in the opposite direction of the crowd as Billy had thrown his. It’s funny, but until now you didn’t even take note of the shiny metal poles fixed to the stage. Each man positions himself at one, and your eyes are transfixed on them. You can’t wrap your head around the way the two of them spin on the poles, how strong they must be to support their bodies like that. Billy has toned arms and a defined chest, so he fits the type, but Jonathan… you wouldn’t have expected this sort of strength from him. You’re absolutely entranced watching them move, and you don’t know how much time has passed before the music starts to fade again and the lights dim.

Various whoops and hollers erupt once more, wolf-whistles and claps of hands, and you can only assume whoever’s about to come out next is the crowd favorite. You chew on your lip in anticipation, watching as Billy and Jonathan simply walk back towards the curtain, standing in front of it unmoving. The previous song has completely faded out, the room dead silent for the first time since you got here. It only lasts a moment, though, before a new song announces itself over the speakers, without warning.

Reach out and touch faith.

‘Personal Jesus’ by Depeche Mode, it’s not a hard one to clock after that opening line. The curtains open in the dark, a spotlight coming on to illuminate the new figure. Your jaw drops when you see him, luckily catching yourself before your drink falls from your hand. You don’t need any more explanation as to why he’s the fan favorite stripper. He’s gorgeous - long brown curls cascading over his shoulders, a sheet of wavy bangs falling just above his eyes. He has a silver lip ring, and a piece of black jewelry in his left eyebrow. He glides his tongue along his top row of teeth in a smug open-mouthed chuckle, knowing the effect he has on the room. He wears the same leather pants, but he has a black button-up shirt on in place of the white ones the other two men were wearing. The way he moves in perfect time with this song makes you believe he must have lots of practice - this is his song and he’s making that clear. He walks easily to the end of the stage, stopping right in front of your table. He unbuttons his shirt in the most sensual fashion you think you’ve ever seen, nimble fingers drawing out every movement, making it take longer than it truly needs to. You can’t help but giggle when Billy and Jonathan come to his sides, pulling the garment off of him. The shirt gets tossed directly at you, the glowing birthday girl, and you gasp in surprise.

“And this one,” Nancy leans in close to your ear, “-is Eddie,” she winks at you, your hands clutching the shirt as you stare up at the man on the stage.

He’s even more glorious with his shirt off, his body littered with tattoos that you think you might want to lick. He has a tie around his neck, not a bowtie but a standard tie, and he tugs on it with force, dropping himself to his knees as if yanked by a leash. His eyes meet yours, unwavering as he watches you. Deep pools of brown that you feel like you could drown in. He lowers his torso to the ground, reaching a hand out and closing his fingers maybe two feet from your face, as if grabbing something.

Reach out and touch faith.

He’s grinding against the floor now, Billy and Jonathan entertaining different groups in the crowd from different sides of the stage. Eddie leans back on his heels, rolling his hips up into the air, one hand tugging on that damn tie and the other gliding slowly down his body. He grips his crotch, the shiny silver rings that adorn his fingers glistening from the bright lights above. You think you see Chrissy literally swoon beside you, and even Nancy’s biting her lip, cheeks flushed pink. Robin and Vickie are slack-jawed - impressed with the way these three guys know how to command the attention of a room. Your heart pounds in your chest with every rumble of the bass over the blaring speakers, your brain melting into a euphoric feeling.

Just as you think you’re able to catch your breath, Eddie jumps down from the stage. Oh god. He approaches you, standing with his legs apart, leaving room for your legs to rest between his. He bends down to your ear, one hand gripping the back of your chair.

“Think the birthday girl deserves a special show, hm?” he rasps into your ear, and you feel your skin grow hot.

His hips roll in front of your face, you’re eye-level with his crotch. Your skin feels white-hot, you know all the attention in the room must be on this scene and you’re both flattered and a little shy. You have to refrain from reaching out to Eddie, have to refrain from letting your fingers glide up his stomach, feel him. As if reading your mind, though, he grabs your hands, sliding them up his stomach and chest, encouraging you. You’re so taken with him you don’t register that the other two strippers have joined him until Billy’s murmuring in your ear from behind you.

“Happy Birthday, sweetheart,” his honey voice drawls, hands resting on one of your shoulders.

Jonathan comes to stand behind you as well, and in his hand is a shot of whatever liquor the girls had ordered for you. He holds it where you can see it, your head tilted back to look at him. He gives you a smile - one that momentarily shatters the raunchy stripper vibe and reveals his true kindness. He quirks an eyebrow, waiting for you.

“Open,” Eddie says, smirking down at you while he resumes in giving you a lap dance, his hips grinding lower over your lap now. He’s as close as he can be without pressing his full weight on you.

Lift up the receiver, I’ll make you a believer

Your lips part, your whole body vibrating as Jonathan tips the shot glass down towards your mouth. The liquid falls in a single stream onto your tongue, and you swallow it in one go.

“Mmm, she knows how to swallow,” Eddie purrs, and you feel your face heat up under his intense stare.

You can only imagine the looks on your friends’ faces, but you hear their cheers for you along with the rustling of dollar bills that you can only assume are being shoved in the guys’ pants. Jonathan and Billy turn to head back on stage, but not before turning back to get one last eyeful of you. You blow kisses at them, giggling when they pretend to catch them. Eddie’s still focused on you, still invading your personal space. You’re squeezing your thighs together beneath your tight little dress, looking right into his eyes as he laughs to himself. He stands, walking around your chair slowly. Your left hand slips bills into his tight pants, your fingers lingering just a moment too long. Feeling a little bold, you grab his tie with your other hand and tug on it playfully, almost catching him off guard but he steels himself. He quirks an eyebrow at you, now standing behind you. He bends down, gravelly voice rumbling in your ear.

“You have no idea what that does to me, sweetheart.”

Your own personal Jesus

Eddie’s lips nearly touch your earlobe as he speaks. The way his breath makes your skin tingle can only be described as a religious experience. Ringed fingers caress your arm before he picks up your hand, placing a kiss to the back of your palm. He teasingly bites one of your fingers, flustering you for probably the millionth time tonight. He finally retreats, mouthing one last ‘happy birthday’ as he returns to the stage. He’s not done with his show though, joining his costars for a little bit of action on the pole that waits for him. His leather pants squeeze his ass so tight, you hope you’re not drooling as you watch him. You suddenly wish he was back on your lap, murmuring filthy things into your ear, fucking you senseless. But you can’t hook up with the stripper, you remind yourself, and you try to wave the thoughts away as you watch the rest of his little performance.

There’s no denying the way he locks eyes with you any moment he can, strong limbs wrapping around the pole as he seems to effortlessly spin a little. Chrissy reaches out to touch your arm, giggling excitedly.

“He can’t stop looking at you, ohmygosh!” she squeaks, pulling her lip between her teeth as you meet Eddie’s eyes once more, as if to confirm her statement.

“Where do I inquire about adopting a stripper?” Robin asks jokingly. “Yeah, um, I’d like to take that one home please… and can we wrap him in a pretty bow?” she says, pretending like she’s talking on the phone to someone important. “Seriously, I think he likes you,” she says to you, tone serious once more.

“Guys, come on. Do you know how many girls he probably does this same exact routine to?” you say, waving a hand dismissively and trying to be lighthearted, but you can’t deny the sting in your chest when you say the words.

Eddie is a stripper. This is a routine - a money maker. It’s all just a calculated game to him. He probably treats every other birthday girl the same way he treated you. Your mouth feels dry suddenly, and you throw back another shot to hopefully drown out the incoming sadness. Even if it’s a routine, it doesn’t make him any less hot, and it doesn’t mean you still can’t have fun, you think to yourself. You focus your eyes back up at the three gorgeous men on stage, watch as they move in unison, gyrating and touching their bodies and each others’ bodies. Cash is being thrown to the stage around them, raining down as the lights flash and pulse. Eddie keeps catching your eyes, winking at you for good measure. The alcohol in your system enhances the effect he has on you. He’s so close to you yet so far, you want to grab a hold of him and pull him to you.

Reach out and touch faith

The song comes to a steady close, music fading as the guys all bow and blow kisses and wave. You and your friends are all clapping and cheering with giddy delight, your head a wonderful swirl of explicit thoughts. They slip back behind the curtain, one by one, and your heart pangs for a moment when Eddie gives one last pointed wave in the direction of your table before disappearing behind the black velvet.

“Oh. My. God!” Chrissy’s mouth is agape, her lips shiny from her sparkly lipgloss. She fans herself, mock-fainting back into her chair, making the whole table laugh. You must sound like a bunch of schoolgirls, blushing and fussing over a few pretty boys.

“So, like, we’re not gonna drop the fact that Eddie is totally in love with you, right?” Robin asks, turning her body to face you.

You roll your eyes, fingers pressing into her arm as you shove her oh-so-gently. “Stoooop. He is not in love with me,” you say, biting on your lip to hold back a smile.

“You can’t even say that with a straight face! You, at least, are in love with him,” she says matter of factly, nodding her head once with finality.

“I am not!” you meekly defend, taking a bite of another cupcake to avoid talking more.

“Oh come on, babe, you’re not fooling me. I’m not into the guys, I was just watching for your reactions the whole time. You are sooo crazy for him,” she laughs, Vickie nodding along as she talks.

You feel your cheeks heat to an impossible temperature, shaking your head incessantly as you continue to devour your dessert.

“Hey, at least he gave you a little souvenir,” Nancy says, nodding towards the shirt that he’d thrown at you, which now rests on the table top. You’d nearly forgotten about it. The fact that it was once on his gorgeous body, and now you have it, makes your head spin.

The topic of conversation eventually shifts, easing the pressure on you to answer their every question about Eddie. Your thoughts, however, linger on him. You were totally fucking into him, and you’re screwed. All he was doing was acting out a routine, probably something he does for every birthday girl or bachelorette that steps foot in here and has money to offer. That fact didn’t stop you from wanting him, though, your mind wandering to how it would feel to have those rings of his pressed deep inside of you, his lip ring cold against your mouth and the skin of your neck.

“Hello? Anybody home in there? Did you have too much to drink? Oh my god, are we gonna have to take you to the hospital on your twenty-fifth birthday?” Robin’s voice breaks you from your trance, your eyes widening in realization that you’d totally drifted off to outer space for a minute there.

“What? Oh god, no. I’m fine, sorry, just zoned out a bit,” you give them a reassuring smile, not wanting them to press you again about the too-attractive men that were all over you tonight.

“No worries, we were saying we were probably gonna get going, it’s pretty late,” Vickie jumps in, sticking out her thumb and motioning towards the door.

“Oh, yeah, of course! I’m getting tired anyways,” you affirm, moving to stand with the rest of the table.

You bid your friends goodbye, giving each of them a hug and thanking them for setting this outing up for you. You decide to hit the bathroom before you leave, declining Nancy’s offer of a ride home, so they all go on without you. You make your usual promises to text them soon and plan another get together before they leave you, stepping out into the cool night and going home.

Entering the bathroom, you find that you’re alone, much to your relief. You stare at yourself in the mirror, genuinely enjoying your appearance tonight. You wonder if Eddie thought you looked good, too. You let yourself wonder if he truly was interested in you like your friends were insisting. Sighing, you sit down on the toilet, pressing your palms to your cheeks and tugging the skin down frustratedly. You wish you’d been in a setting where you could’ve asked Eddie for his number or something, or even just actually had the chance to talk to him, to hold a conversation.

You’re lost in your thoughts as you finish up in the bathroom, making your way towards the door to leave. The chill of the air conditioning suddenly feels too cold, giving you goosebumps, and you quickly throw on the shirt Eddie had given you to keep yourself warmer. It’s the only cover-up you have, so, what else could you do? You totally don’t think about how it smells like him as you approach the exit. Your palm presses against the glass door, heaving it open in front of you. Heels step onto pavement, your eyes searching your bag to ensure you have everything. But as you’re looking, you bump into another figure.

“Oh shit! I’m sor-” you go to say, but the words evaporate into thin air when you see who you’d run into.

His leather jacket covers his arms and torso, dark brown curls draped over his shoulders. He has a cigarette dangling from his full pink lips, and a silver lip ring catches the light from the parking lot lamps for just a moment as he turns. Deep brown eyes meet yours, a soft expression on them. He recognizes you instantly, of course.

“Oh, hey, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I should’ve been paying more attention,” he apologizes sincerely, eyes raking over your frame, but not in a way that makes you feel small or uncomfortable.

“No, that’s my fault too. Sorry,” you admit, looking down at your high-heeled feet. You’re suddenly shy, and you wish you had some more liquid courage to down right about now.

“I’m Eddie, by the way. If you didn’t catch it earlier,” he says, holding a hand out for you to shake.

“Y/N,” you tell him your name, taking his hand in your far softer grip, bouncing them once in a greeting.

“Nice shirt,” he says, eyeing the black button down that rests loosely on your body.

“O-oh! Did you want it back?” you ask, embarrassment creeping up your spine. He wasn’t supposed to see you in his shirt, it was just to keep you warm until you could get home and change. Your eyes look towards the ground, suddenly too shy to look at him even though he’d quite literally been grinding on you an hour ago.

“Keep it,” he says, smiling brilliantly at you. “Looks better on you, anyways.”

“Thank you,” you say, voice impossibly quiet. A small smile tugs on the corners of your lips. Why is your heart pounding so hard?

“You don’t have to be nervous around me, sweetheart,” he continues as if reading your thoughts, and his deep syrupy voice is reassuring as he places a gentle hand on your arm. “Promise I don’t bite…. unless you want me to,” he says, giving you a cute little smirk.

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth, holding back a giggle. You scrape the toe of your shoe on the concrete absentmindedly, looking down at it as Eddie watches you.

“Did y’have a nice birthday?” he asks coolly, his index and middle finger delicately holding the cigarette at his side as he leans against the wall of the building.

You feel your cheeks heat, and you curl your lips inward to hide your smile a little. “I had a great birthday,” you say finally. You shove your nerves down, reminding yourself of the way he was all over you before. Maybe your friends were right, maybe he really is into you.

You feel like the universe is giving you a chance here, giving you an opportunity to talk to Eddie one-on-one like you’d wanted. Better not fuck it up, you think as you prepare your next words. “There was this really hot stripper that made the day so much better…” you trail off, shyness still evident but feeling more confident under the way he eyes you up.

“Oh? Tell me more about him,” Eddie says, stepping ever so slightly closer to you.

“Well, he’s tall and muscular and so handsome, and he has really sexy tattoos…” you say, flashing him a brilliant smile as he watches you through hooded eyes, “and he just made me feel so special, and it’s such a shame I couldn’t get his number or anything…..” you sigh exaggeratedly, your doe eyes looking up at him.

Eddie smiles, and you swear it looks shy, like he isn’t used to the compliments or the attention. Like he doesn’t do what he does for a living.

“Well, I’ll have you know there was this girl… I hear it’s her birthday, actually, and she just made my shift so much better than it could have been,” he rambles. “She was just the prettiest thing,” he says, not breaking your gaze as he does.

“Oh, yeah?” you reply, tilting your chin up to him.

“Yeah,” he says softly, looking down the bridge of his nose at you. “And I think I can do her one better than just giving her my number,” he murmurs, pulling you against his chest.

“What did you have in mind?” you ask, half-lidded eyes flitting from his lips to his eyes and back down again. He purses his lips in a smirk, stomping his cigarette out with the toe of his shoe.

“Why don’t you come back to my place and I’ll show you?”

“Hm. That depends. You’re not a serial killer, are you?” you ask, teasing.

“Oh, shoot, sweetheart. You caught me,” Eddie says, holding his hands over his eyes and peering through his fingers.

You laugh, and he thinks about how he’d like to hear that sound a lot more. He reaches a hand out for you to take, nodding down at it. “Whaddya say? Care to join me?” he asks, and you meet his eyes as he peers through his bangs at you.

His open hand waits, silver rings catching the fluorescent light from the lamps in the parking lot. It beckons you, asking you to take it. The song from earlier rings in your head.

Reach out and touch faith

You take his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “Lead the way, handsome.”

Eddie’s vehicle is nice, extremely nice, actually. It’s a black Jeep, black leather seats with red details and stitching. The money he makes at the club clearly pays off, you suppose. Hell, you’d seen how much cash he’d been thrown tonight alone - including what you’d contributed. He has a pair of red fuzzy dice that hang from the mirror, and you can’t help but laugh to yourself as you swat them once, making them sway where they hang.

“Are you laughing at my dice, sweetheart?” he asks, shuffling into his own seat.

“Oh, no. I’d never,” you say, biting back a smile.

His sparkling eyes don’t leave yours, pulling you in, refusing to let you go. You notice his tongue dart out to wet his lips, notice the way he leans ever so slightly towards you. The tension in the closed space suddenly grows palpable, like you could slice it with your fingernail if you reached out.

You don’t make it to Eddie’s place. You don’t even make it out of the parking lot.

You’re the one to close the distance between the two of you, leaning over the center console of the car to press your lips to his. He grunts in pleasant surprise, his hands finding their way to your cheeks as he deepens the kiss. Your heart is racing, thoughts going a mile a minute as you process the fact that this is really happening. You can feel the metal of the ring adorning his bottom lip as your mouth glides against his, the jewelry not getting in the way but remaining noticeable. His tongue doesn’t ask for permission, just slides its way past your parted lips. It mingles with yours, swapping spit back and forth in a heated encounter. You bite his bottom lip and tug, toying with the metal ring with your teeth. He whines, pulling away from you the slightest bit, eyes half lidded as he jerks his head to the side, motioning to the backseat.

“Get in the back,” he pants, “need you right here, right now.”

You oblige, opting to get out of the car and actually go in through the back door rather than climbing ungracefully over your seat. Eddie follows suit, crawling towards you like an animal stalking its prey, not satisfied till his face hovers over yours, his mouth dipping down to meet your soft lips. He captures them briefly before pulling away again, moving down further to press kisses to your jawline, your neck, your collarbone. You feel his tongue and teeth against the skin, biting, sucking, licking. You whimper beneath him, raising your hips to brush against his. The chuckle that leaves his mouth sends a shiver down your spine, one of his strong hands coming down to push your hips firmly against the seat.

“Such a needy thing, hm?” he tuts, looking up at you with those big doe eyes before he resumes kissing your neck.

His hand holds you in place like it’s easy work, keeping you still when your body tries to writhe beneath him. The smell of his cologne fills your nose, intoxicating as you breathe it in along with the whisper of cigarette smoke from the one he’d had mere minutes ago. The chain around his neck dangles low, the guitar pick pendant brushing the dip between your breasts that your dress leaves partially exposed.

You remember the way he teased you inside the club, remember the way he let you tug on his tie, the way his hips gyrated above your lap. You grow wetter at the memories, more than ready to actually get to have him now. You pull his shirt off of your shoulders, playfully tossing it at him, mimicking the way he’d tossed it at you. His eyes go wide at it, a hand pressing to his forehead as he pretends to swoon, making you laugh. The shirt gets discarded to the floor, Eddie leaning back over your frame. He shoves the neckline of your dress down, freeing your tits for him. You went braless tonight and you’re thanking yourself for it, the ease with which he takes one of your peaked nipples into his mouth sending you reeling. He sucks on one, then the other, his hand always toying with the mound of flesh that isn’t currently being entertained by his tongue.

“Eddie,” you whine, arching your chest further into his touch.

“What is it, baby?” he purrs, the hand on your hip now skirting down your thigh, reaching the hem of your dress and hiking the fabric upwards.

“Please,” you reply breathlessly, not begging for anything specific but just for more.

He looks at you, leaning back on his calves, hands raking over your thighs as he slides back.

“Look how pretty you are,” he muses, eyes trained on the lace between your thighs. Your dress is pushed up so far, leaving you almost entirely exposed.

He presses his thumb over your clit, just a thin excuse for fabric separating his skin from yours. You suck in a sharp breath, bucking your hips slightly into his touch.

“Oh, she wants me to touch her so bad, huh?” he teases, finger stroking over the growing wet patch on your underwear.

“Please,” you whine again, gasping when Eddie hooks a finger into your panties, yanking them down.

His big hands delicately take your heels off of your feet, setting them on the floor of his car. He tugs your panties completely off of your legs then, letting them land wherever he tosses them. His leather jacket comes off as well, being thrown into the front seat. His black t-shirt hugs his biceps well, the fabric clinging to his body in a way that makes him so much more enticing.

He swipes a finger up through your folds, collecting your slick before bringing said finger to his mouth. He sucks on it, tasting what he can of you and moaning. You’re awestruck watching him, feeling like your heart is going to beat out of your chest when his eyes meet yours, dark and needy. He crouches down swiftly, settling himself so his face is right in front of your waiting pussy. His tongue sticks out, licking up your folds in the same pattern his finger had just followed. You cry out in pleasant surprise as he begins eating your cunt, a present perfectly unwrapped just for him. He presses his tongue inside of you, velvety muscle tasting every inch of you.

His hands grip your thighs, holding your legs open for him. Dark brown eyes look up to meet yours, and the sight is unholy. The way his lips attach to your clit and suck, the way he purposefully makes a show of dragging his tongue through your puffy, swollen lips, never once breaking eye contact. It makes you want to worship him, a divine presence for you to praise.

Someone to hear your prayers, someone who cares

“Eddie…” you whine, screwing your eyes shut when his tongue flicks faster over your clit.

He simply hums in response, a pleased noise that vibrates against your core. He knows what he’s doing to you, he can tell by the way you whimper and writhe beneath him. His tongue stays focused on your clit as he brings two fingers to your entrance, slipping them easily inside of you. You gasp, tugging on his hair in desperation. He groans, a deep, throaty noise that catches you by surprise.

“Keep fuckin’ pulling my hair, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your wet heat. “Wanna know how good ‘m makin’ you feel.”

Your back arches into his touch when he curls those fingers inside of you, perfect pink lips still pursed around your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your orgasm is quickly approaching, tension building and building in the pit of your stomach the more he winds you up.

“Eddie, I- I’m gonna-” you pant, fingers still entwined in his curls, eliciting more pleased sounds from him.

His fingers only move quicker in response, curling inside of you and bringing you right to the edge, letting you plummet into bliss. You clench around him, squeezing his fingers over and over as he works you through your high. You jerk your hips, suddenly overstimulated, and Eddie takes the hint. He removes his fingers, his mouth unlatching from your sensitive clit.

“You taste so fucking good, baby,” he grins, flashing those perfect white teeth at you.

You flush, scrunching your face in embarrassment before he leans down to kiss you again. You can taste yourself on him, and it makes you throb. You suck lightly on his tongue, letting out a breathy laugh when he grinds his hips against you in response.

“Fuck, angel, need to be inside you…” he murmurs, mouth pressing kisses to the shell of your ear.

“Mmm, not yet,” you reply, capturing his lips in another quick kiss. “If I don’t have my mouth on you in the next five minutes I’m not gonna survive,” you purr, mouthing at his jaw, sucking the supple skin of his neck.

He groans, raspy and deep, letting you mark him as your fingers make quick work of the button and zipper of his tight jeans. His erect cock hangs heavy in the thin fabric of his boxers, finally letting you gauge how big he is. You swallow, hand wrapping around the outline of his cock and squeezing. Eddie inhales sharply, dropping his head to rest on your chest. His arms tense as he props himself up, his resolve threatening to crumble with the way your thumb teases his tip through cotton fabric. You can feel the pre-cum leaking from him, sticky strings of it attaching to the pad of your finger as you tease.

“Baby, mmmmfuck,” he moans, looking back up at you with pleading eyes.

“Sit back,” you instruct him, removing your hand from his bulge. “Let me take care of you.”

He just about combusts when you clamber to the floor of the spacious back seat, tugging his boxers from around the taper of his hips. You let them drop to his ankles, pooling around his shoes. His cock springs free in front of you, heavy and leaking for you. The trimmed patch of hair at the base has your mouth watering, his balls hanging beneath like the perfect temptation. You open your mouth, making a show of sticking your tongue out as you tap the tip of his cock against it. You give teasing licks across the head, lapping up the pre-cum and tasting him properly.

He whines above you, his head thrown back and the veins in his neck pulsing. His previously cocky demeanor is gone in this moment, giving in completely to how desperate he is for you. It seems to be a give and take, both of you worshiping each other like the holiest entities.

You take him fully past your lips, saliva pooling beneath your tongue. You bob your head, coating him with your spit. The girth of him stretches your mouth uncomfortably, and you move slowly as you adjust to taking him. One of his hands flies down to your hair, gripping it to give himself some sort of leverage.

The sight of you on your knees for him, tits hanging free on your chest and your perfect lips sucking him right in has him feeling like he could melt into the seats of his car. Your big doe eyes peer up at him, feeling like a shot to the fucking heart.

“God, baby, your mouth feels like fucking heaven,” he praises, watching himself disappear into your perfect mouth.

You hum in satisfaction, picking up your pace. You take him until his head hits the back of your throat, making your throat restrict as you gag around him. The whine that comes out of him is sinful, there’s no other word to describe it, and it has you pressing your thighs together for some relief to your core that already aches for him again. His modest muscles strain against the tight fabric of his t-shirt, every inch of his body trying to maintain composure and failing. You grip his balls with one hand, holding the base of his shaft with the other. You pump his cock in your fist in tandem with how your mouth bobs on his length, other hand squeezing the squishy flesh of his balls simultaneously. He almost jumps off the seat his hips buck so hard, forcing another gag from you as his cock hits your throat again.

Your nose brushes the curly hair on his pubic bone, and you take a deep breath as you pull your mouth off of him, regaining your control. You continue what you’d been doing, both of your hands and your mouth working him closer and closer to release. Strings of curse words leave his perfect parted lips, the hand in your hair guiding the movements of your head ever so slightly.

“Babybabybaby,” he rushes out, a strangled groan escaping with the words. “Don’t wanna - fuck - don’t wanna cum yet. Need to fuck you, pretty girl,” he says, his chest heaving as he catches his breath.

You press soft kisses to the head of his cock, the skin still flushed a darker shade of pink, ready and waiting to be inside of you. He pulls you up onto his lap, hands immediately cupping your breasts and squeezing as he presses a rough kiss to your lips. Your dress remains bunched up at your middle, your glistening pussy rubbing right against Eddie’s cock, sending shockwaves through your entire body.

Eddie stops the slow rocking of your hips suddenly, as if startled.

“What’s wrong?” you urge, meeting his eyes that hold a guilty expression.

“I totally don’t have condoms…” he says sheepishly, biting his lip.

“Oh - I mean, we don’t need to use one, if you’re okay with that. I’m on the pill and I - I’m clean, and stuff,” you ramble, wondering why you’re finding it so fucking hard to get words out now.

“I’m clean too. Promise. I, uh, don’t exactly do this often,” he looks at you shyly, the demeanor unfitting for him. The confession that he doesn’t do this often admittedly makes your heart swell, all of those nervous thoughts you’d had about him earlier, about being part of a routine, washing away gradually. “But if you’d rather we don’t, it can wait till next time,” he continues.

“Next time?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Y-yeah. I mean, I mean if you want to see me again after thi-” you cut off his nervous stammering with a firm kiss, your fingers cupping his chin as you claim his mouth with yours. His nervousness makes him so much less intimidating, taking him down from being this larger-than-life entity, an unobtainable stripper who sees attractive women every night, to just being… a regular guy. A cute, sweet, charming guy who’s also insanely sexy.

Pulling away, he smiles lazily at you, kiss-drunk and awestruck. “Yes I want to see you again. And yes I want you to fuck me, right here right now,” you reassure him, your sultry gaze enough to make him do anything you could ask of him.

“Fucking deal, babe,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head, exposing his chest to you. His tattoos are on full display, and your eyes rake over him, your cunt pulsing with all of your filthy thoughts. He smirks at you, clearly liking the way you drink him in, biting his lip as you raise your hips slightly so he can position his cock at your entrance.

You sink down onto him without a warning, the two of you gasping in unison. You grip his shoulders for leverage, the stretch to fit him slightly uncomfortable despite your extreme arousal. You work yourself down, down, down, slowly until you’re fully seated on him. He sits heavy and thick inside of you, making you ache with an enticing kind of soreness. Your walls flutter slightly around him as you wiggle your hips around, getting used to the feel of him. His hands grip your hips, his lips parted and his eyes screwed shut as you start to find your bearings on top of him. You dip your head down, rolling your hips on him as you suck a brutal hickey into the column of his throat. Your teeth gnash at soft skin, tongue soothing the sting afterwards. A low growl escapes him, fingers squeezing your doughy flesh as he starts to rut himself into your soaked cunt.

Breathy moans leave your lips, your jaw hanging open as he fucks into you faster. Your tits bounce in front of his face, and he wants to take them into his mouth and stay latched on forever. Perfect swells of skin, all for him to touch and kiss and suck. His hands grip the soft globes of your ass as his mouth sucks the skin of your chest, making you moan when his fingers squeeze hard.

You’re so fucking full of him you feel delirious, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with every deep stroke he delivers to you. His name is tumbling from your mouth in a rhythmic pattern, over and over, like a prayer. You really can’t get that damn song out of your head from before, and it makes so much sense why he chose it to be his.

Your own personal Jesus

You want to praise Eddie right beneath the roof of his Jeep. Want to shout his name from the rooftops, make the whole world know how good he’s fucking you right now. You want to follow every word he says, every command he gives you. You want to pray to him every night before you go to bed, you just want to worship him. The way his fingers dig into your skin and the way his lips suck on your neck make you feel like you’re being worshipped, too. He sucks and squeezes and fucks like this may be his last opportunity to, like he’s savoring every possible bit of you and committing you to permanent memory.

You bounce on his cock, gaining some more control as Eddie’s thrusts slow down with fatigue. You take the reins, cupping his face in your hand and kissing him hard. Licking into his mouth desperately, humming when his tongue meets yours. But then he somehow takes control again, making you pliant for him even as you ride him with vigor. He squeezes your jaw, letting your mouth fall open before he spits into it, a string of his saliva dropping onto your tongue. You swallow it, not needing to be instructed, and you swear Eddie gets even harder inside of you. You recall Eddie’s comment from earlier, when Jonathan had given you the shot. ‘She knows how to swallow.’

“Fuck, baby,” he grunts, jaw tight and the veins in his neck prominent as he stills your bouncing on top of him and thrusts up into you.

He goes so deep you’re left seeing stars, lurching forward and gripping his shoulders for stability. Your body feels like it could crumple into itself if you let it, every one of your limbs overtaken with pleasure. You feel a familiar tension building higher and higher in the pit of your stomach. The sound of his balls slapping against your skin and the occasional smacking of your lips against his fills the vehicle, the air growing humid with every hot breath that leaves your mouths. The sounds he makes are downright obscene, any bit of composure he’d had completely slipping away for you. His thrusts get faster, faster, and you let your fingers drop down to your clit, rubbing quick circles on the sensitive bud.

“Ohhhh fuck baby,” Eddie moans, watching the way your head tips back as you pleasure yourself. “Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum all over my cock?”

“Yes, fuck yes, Eddie,” you cry, thighs trembling as your orgasm crawls closer and closer.

His fingers squeeze your hips impossibly tight, one of his hands letting go only to deliver a swift smack to your ass. You whine, cursing under your breath as the pads of your fingers circle your clit again and again. Eddie fucks you ruthlessly, pulling almost entirely out just to sheathe himself inside of you again, taking your breath away. The friction and the fullness is euphoric, your body giving way completely to pleasure as your second orgasm finally rips through you. You’re screaming out for him, chanting his name again and again as you come undone on his cock. You soak him, lewd, wet noises coming from you as he continues to thrust beneath you.

“‘M gonna cum so fucking hard, baby,” he rasps, looking at you through his lashes. “Where do you want it?”

“Inside. Inside Eddie, please,” you rush out, begging him to fill you with his seed. He lets out a strangled whine at this, gripping your flesh even harder.

You swear his eyes roll back into his head, hips stuttering and his cock pulsing as you feel the warmth of his cum painting your insides. His final thrusts are sloppy as he gives you every last drop of his cum, your mouth hung open in a silent moan at the overwhelming sensation of him gliding against your sensitive walls.

His chest is heaving with each breath he takes, his palms splayed out across your lower back, holding you close to him when you slump forward. Your legs feel like jelly, weak and trembling from exertion. Your mind is fuzzy in the best way, a smile on your face when Eddie tilts you to look at him.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his eyes roaming over your entire face, loving how blissed out you look. “Wanted to have you all to myself during our whole show tonight, god…” he continues, smirking a little as he shakes his head.

“I could say the same to you,” you reply, looking at his lips as you talk.

His mouth catches yours in a lazy kiss, tongues dancing together sloppily. His fingers rub soothing circles on your skin, slowly guiding you up and off of his softened cock.

“So, do I have to shove more dollar bills in your pants for all of that, too, or?” you joke, earning a laugh from Eddie that presents itself in a harsh puff of air from his nose.

“Nah, that’s on the house, baby,” he says, giving you a lopsided grin.

You both sit in silence for a moment, your delicate fingers tracing patterns up and down his arms. He looks at you like you’re an angel sent from the heavens, those chocolate brown eyes admiring you in the kindest way.

“Do you, uh, still wanna come back to my place?” he says finally, that ill-fitting nervousness creeping back into his voice.

“Hmmm,” you pretend to ponder, pulling your dress back up over your breasts and tugging the hem to rest normally on your thighs. “What’s in it for me?”

“I have a stripper pole in my living room,” he says with a smug grin. “I’ll give you your own private show.”

“Sold.”

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