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onlyswan · 6 months

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summary: in which jungkook is one of your greatest fears and you’re his achilles’ heel.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / fluff, angst / word count: 4.1k

content/warnings: i love you i want us both to eat well T_T sigh. oc has abandonment issues pls protect at all costs + oc is worried bc jk is working so hard :( + a worm (???) cameo. ily protective and hopeless romantic iw!jk <3 the ending 🥲💔 this drabble literally goes 📈📉

> in which masterlist!

note: *insert my melody mugshot scene* me if planting puzzle pieces in my drabbles + making oc cry (IM SORRY) were a crime. this was sm fun writing <3 i cried and laughed they’re so precious </3

—

��jungkook, baby?”

your silky voice fills the quiet apartment as you pad across the floor. you’re carrying your heeled mary janes by its straps, leaving you only in your white socks.

“babe?”

you frown as the seconds pass and you receive no response from your lover. there’s no music playing, no rustling somewhere in the kitchen or the living room. the lights are dim like they usually are, but the vivid colors are absent.

him? asleep at 9pm? jeon jungkook? it can’t be, but you’d be delighted to finally see him resting early if it was real.

and so, spurred by that tiny glimmer of hope, you carefully crack the bedroom door open, as if you’re fifteen again and you just came back from sneaking out of the house.

but you’re grown now; you live in a building with complete strangers for neighbors. you just got home from work, and you’re no longer used to sleeping alone because you share the bed with another person.

you find it empty. devoid of any creases, sign of life. as neat as a hotel room’s make believe that no one lived there until two hours prior.

the disappointment weighs down on your shoulders, causing them to drop.

he didn’t tell you he was going somewhere else after practice, you think to yourself as your lips permanently shape into a pout. what happened to going out with you for dinner?

agreeing, your empty stomach grumbles angrily.

maybe he got caught up at work. maybe he’s on his way home. maybe he’s on his way to the restaurant and he’s about to text you to come over. maybe he forgot about your plans and he’s having dinner with somebody else.

whatever the reason is, you’re too lazy and tired to whip up something edible on your own. with or without him, you’re going out and you’re stuffing your mouth full with rice and meat. after all, autumn is here, your dear old friend.

in search for a coat that will accompany you in your late-night stroll, you enter the walk-in closet and flip on the lightswitch.

you can count them with just your fingers— the amount of times you’ve felt this type of fear. absent eyes, melting spine, chills running to the top of your head down to your fingertips, mind racing with an overload of thoughts (it appears as a blank page, the same way that white is the presence of all colors of visible light). this fear… you associate it with impulsive mistakes, fire, police and ambulance sirens, and… empty closets.

jungkook’s side of the closet is empty.

clothes. shoes. bucket hats. beanies. belts. everything. gone.

but the floor is scattered with random pieces of clothing that look like they accidentally fell while someone was in a rush to pack them all in a bag. so in a rush that they didn’t even bother to pick them up.

your weak knees almost give way, but you force yourself to stumble backwards until your back hits the doorframe— you refuse to let yourself look like you’ve been carelessly discarded too.

not again. not again. not this goddamn vicious curse you thought you’ve already broken out of. not. again.

you blink away the tears threatening to spill as you scramble to open the zipper of your bag, but they spill anyway when your shoes clatter to the floor. you flinch at the thunderous sound, clutching your phone tightly against your chest. you keep your eyes closed throughout the defeaning silence that comes after.

the empty space mocks you. it knows your intricate design was not meant to live in an empty home.

you guess nothing much has changed. you’re still afraid of jungkook and his power to take away the sun, just as he did before, and you deeply despise being afraid. you don’t like it when the walls are closing in on you, poisoning your mind into believing that you’re small when the heart inside your chest burns with a fire brighter than that of the damn sun.

anyone would be foolish to leave you; it’s only jungkook who could have you mourning the death of the garden you’ve given the past five years of your life to.

—

jungkook returns to the apartment half an hour later. despite the long, grueling hours of dance practice he nearly didn’t survive, the excitement vibrating through his body is manifested through the lightness of his movements. he’s finally seeing his lover for the first time today… awake.

when he brought his natural body warmth along with him to the bathroom this morning, you sunk yourself further into mattress, beneath the thick blankets and against the soft pillows. by the time he had to give you your obligatory goodbye kiss before he leaves for work (or else you’d sulk about it for the rest of the week), half of your face has been hidden from sight. he was only able to press a loving kiss on your forehead, and then your eyelids that were fluttering as you dreamt.

night time comes and he is still deprived of the sight of your beautiful face? he somberly wonders as he finds you slumped over the dining table; he swears that there is a dark rain cloud hovering above you. your arms are thrown over the hardwood as they serve as a makeshift pillow for your vessel— his little firefly curiously bleak.

“baby? are you sick?” he asks, voice dripping with concern as he tenderly rubs your back.

the legs of the chair screeches against the tiled floor, neglectedly pushed behind.

“kook?” you manage to choke out, frantically sitting up once your muddled brain registered the familiarity of his touch on your bare skin.

his heart drops to his stomach as your tear-stained face comes into view. this isn’t how he envisioned your greeting; it usually came in the form of a bright light not harsh as the sunlight, a softness that begs to be held.

“are you crying?!”

your reply only comes out as a pitiful whimper. he stumbles a step backwards when you unceremoniously jump into his embrace, wrapping your arms over his shoulders. he gets a whiff of your sweet perfume, and then it becomes the air that he breathes, but he doesn’t have much time to revel in it.

“baby!”

he squeezes your waist taut against his body, affectionately nosing at your cheek before giving you a kiss. “did something happen? tell me- tell me.”

“jungkook,” your voice cracks as you utter his name, sounding almost like a plea, and then an endless string of heartbreaking sobs comes out muffled against his shirt. “where have you been?”

this sends him into a state of panic. seeing you in pain— it’s his biggest weakness. after all, you are his achilles’ heel.

“why? why, why, why?” you’re weak and pliant as he pulls your arms down, collapsing against his chest when he envelopes you in his embrace. he cradles your head in his palm, soothing you with gentle pats and shushes. “shh, shhh- it’s okay, i’m here now. everything’s okay, you hear me?”

his efforts prove to be fruitless, because you only seem to cry harder as he slowly rocks your bodies back and forth.

you shake your head, hands attempting to hold on to the back of his shirt to regain sensation in your limbs, but they miserably fail and fall on the sides of his hips.

“talk to me… please, mhmm?“ he hums quietly, pressing his soft lips to your temple. “tell me what’s wrong and your boyfriend will take care of it.”

from your sniffles to your hiccups, you remain unable to form any coherent response, and it leads his imagination to construct the worst possible scenarios. he feels his stomach turn with uneasiness, jaw clenching as he carefully pulls away to meet you eye-to-eye.

“did someone touch you? hurt you?” he spits out with urgency, and the unparalleled care he displays puts you in a daze, simply dumbfounded as he strokes your face. “huh, baby? just tell me and i’ll take care of the rest.”

now that you’re being reminded that jungkook could quite literally kill a person with his bare hands if they ever inflict harm on you, the fog is clearing up and you feel so incredibly… stupid.

but that’s more the reason why it’s difficult not to be sensitive when it comes to him; his absence proves to be lethal.

“shit, you’re scaring me.” he breathes out shakily as he taps your cheek lightly to bring you back to him, the distant look in your eyes triggering the emergency alarms in his head.

he unconsciously licks his lips and he tastes your tears; he doesn’t want anybody else to ever come this close.

“okay, okay- let’s put that aside for now. what do you need? should we go to bed and rest instead?”

“i thought you left,” you whisper as you hang your head in shame.

he blinks at you in confusion. “to where? my flight isn’t until next week, baby.”

fantastic! now you sound like the most dramatic, clingiest bitch to ever grace the planet. you bury your face in your hands to hide the battle zone between your heart and mind, but your boyfriend seizes your wrists because he can’t bear another second of it.

“is-is that why you’re upset…?” he asks with not a trace of malice or ridicule. he is only filled with guilt as it dawns on him then— how you’ve only gotten used to always having him around four years into your relationship, when he was taking a break from work.

the changes in his life are also changes in yours, but they still affect you in many different ways.

“then just come with me. i’ll make it work. maybe we can extend for a bit, spend an entire day by ourselves- there’s a lot of museu-”

“i thought you left,” you repeat yourself, exposed and vulnerable, vision swallowed by the darkness because you can’t make yourself look at him. “your clothes… they’re gone, and i was calling but you… you weren’t answering my calls so i thought…”

“my clothes?” he exclaims, eyes going wide as he realizes that they’ve accidentally slipped from his mind. “ahh, i thought about cleaning the closet while waiting for you so i moved everything to the other room!”

you open your mouth to speak, but much to your chagrin, no words come out. you purse your lips as your chin wobbles— the new wave of tears in your eyes mimic shiny crystals.

“____!”

and at the stern mention of your name, you know that you’re about to receive a (loving) scolding from your boyfriend. your lips curve into a frown before a sob inevitably escapes past them.

“why would you think that? why would i leave you? that doesn’t make sense at all, does it…?”

you shake your head, hugging him so tight, possibly tighter than you’ve ever done before. between your bodies, his heart is being unbearably wrung.

“i’m sorry, baby. seeing you cry like this breaks my heart…” he closes his eyes with a heavy sigh, resting his cheek on the side of your head. “but why would that be the first thing you think of…? i must be doing something wrong, right? have i been too busy with work? am i neglecting you?”

you’re breathless, a little dizzy— bloodshot eyes meeting his that are now gleaming with sadness. “no, it’s not like that! i just panicked, i couldn’t think straight.”

“are you sure?”

he looks at you skeptically, scanning your face.

“baby-” his voice breaks, then he pauses with his gaze still trained on you. “okay, i’m sorry. i… should’ve thought about what cleaning the closet would look like.”

“i was just being stupid.” you give him a small smile, rubbing your eyes to chase away the burning sensation. “sorry for scaring you.”

“stop, you’ll hurt yourself.” he tuts, pushing your wrists aside to cup your face in his hands, much gentler in comparison to your own self. his thumbs draw shapes on your soft skin, and then out of the blue, he curiously squeezes one of the space buns on top of your head. “wow, this is so pretty?”

“huh…? oh, thanks.” you mumble, still feeling out of it.

“this, too.” the white silk ribbon wrapped prettily around your neck, he means, which he hooks a finger on to tug lightly. it matches the lace straps on your shoulders that falls across the underbust of your dress, tied together to form a ribbon in the middle of it. that makes two, so clasically you.

and while it may be partly true that he’s trying to lighten the atmosphere, he just can’t defy the urge to express his admiration for you, even in a situation like this. he’s perpetually love-drunk.

“thank you.” you nod, shyly looking away to sniffle. “but you’re the reason why my makeup is ruined… need to wash it off before we go.”

“you’re beautiful either way, baby.”

“i know.” you scoff. “would you date me for five years if i wasn’t?”

he releases a throaty chuckle, capturing your lips in his with a smile of endearment that he fails to subdue.

“you’re so fucking cute. i love you-” he says with merely an inch of distance between you.

he grunts in melodramatic anguish, overcome by the insensity of his affections overflowing past the brim of his very being, leaning so close that the edge of the table digs into your lower back, surely to leave a temporary mark.

and he carries on to kiss you so many times that you lose count; you can only melt as you collect them in that bottomless pocket located somewhere in your soul, where all the love you’ve received across lifetimes is recorded to prove i was once here.

“i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you. i’m never leaving. you’re stuck with me and bam forever.”

if the time comes that the two of you break up, who would bam come home to? jungkook stubbornly refuses to have that conversation.

however, you still can’t let go of something, and you pout as you shove him lightly. unsurprisingly, his strong build doesn’t budge at all.

“but why didn’t you answer my calls?” at last, you gain enough energy to complain, but your face grows hot as the urge to cry returns. “i mean, what else was i supposed to think?!”

jungkook is struck by yet another lightning.

may the heavens have mercy, he’s been making you angry more than usual lately.

“shit, i forgot. i turned off my phone.” he mutters under his breath, feeling extremely regretful that he was not reachable when you needed him most to be. “i wanted to focus only on you tonight. what do they call it again…? leaving work at work?”

he winces guiltily.

“i’m sorry. maybe it wasn’t a smart idea.”

“no, i like that.” you almost interrupt him from talking because of how fast you are to brush off his apology.

he makes a mental note of it— the way you’re gripping at his shirt in small fists. you’re tense and overwhelmed; you need him to stay close.

“leave work at work. focus on me, and let me be your rest.”

unbeknownst to you, jungkook bites back his tears then. after all this time, he still gets mesmerized by the tenderness that naturally governs your every word and action; he thinks that he needs you more than you need him.

—

“just eat, baby. i’ll cook the meat for us.” jungkook coos at you as he cuts more meat into bite-sized pieces using a pair of kitchen shears.

“okay, then i’ll make sure that you eat.” you grin excitedly, dragging your chair closer to his.

you set down the tongs, grabbing your chopsticks to pick up a cooked piece of pork belly from the grill. you don’t forget to blow on it, mindful of burning his tongue.

of course, you don’t want to hurt him, but it would be especially painful for him as a singer.

“ahhh-” still busy with cooking, jungkook opens wide at your cue, catching the meat in between his teeth.

“rice,” he demands as he chews.

you scoop up rice from your bowl, and he devours it happily as he continues to flip the strips of pork belly lined up across the grill.

“mmhmm, it’s so delicious!” he dramatically says out loud. his eyebrows are knitted together and his legs are bouncing under the table, tell-tale signs of him enjoying the food.

witnessing this kind of reaction, any chef would be happy to slave away in the kitchen to serve him a meal. you recognize it in the smile of the owner after jungkook ordered more side dishes, and the way he dashed through the door to reduce the waiting time.

“yah, feed yourself, too!” jungkook chides you after you feed him meat three times in a row, but with an open palm that catches the juice that drips from the kimchi, you still tap your chopsticks against his lips. he spares it a glance before catching it using his tongue.

“i am!” you then rush to wrap a piece of pork belly in lettuce, dipping it into ssamjang before stuffing it into your mouth.

“good job, baby.” he grins in satisfaction, rubbing your back as praise. this makes you preen. “make sure to eat lots, got it?”

but then you’re back to spoiling him rotten, this time with an egg roll. so far, he has only touched his own chopsticks twice.

“i just told you to eat first!”

you glare at him, pouting. “but you worked so hard practicing today and you haven’t even eaten properly yet.”

he is too busy with work, and it’s not news that you’ve been worried sick about his health. it’s difficult to watch him work himself to the bone, but no one truly has the power to stop jungkook from doing what he wants, sometimes not even himself. and you find it impossible to fault him for it when you know that everything he does is done out of love. from the vigorous vocal and dance lessons, and to the deep cleaning of the apartment because his baby has been developing an allergy to dust.

“you need to make it up to your body. here, please?”

he loves being loved, jungkook thinks to himself as he eats the egg roll whole.

—

you were already prepared to go home after dinner, but your night owl for a boyfriend insisted on going on a walk at the park because he wanted to, and you quote, ‘see you awake for a little while longer,’ or whatever the hell he meant by that.

with his tattooed arm protectively swung over your shoulder, you’re engulfed in a wave of nostalgia. for the first two years of your relationship, before you started living together, you only met with each other at night, save for the very rare day-offs that he got. the only places that are still open after midnight are nightclubs, fastfood chains, convenience stores… and well, parks.

and he would always hold you close like this to make you feel safe, and the rest of you melts away while the side of your ribcage that he is pressed against remains to shelter your heart. on the contrary, you also remember how your bodies used to be so tense. you wanted to sacrifice more sleep and to walk to the other side of the park, of the street, to that other convenience store five blocks away because this one didn’t have the flavor of ice cream you wanted, anything… just… anything so you could be with each other ten minutes more.

and it was cold. it was always cold.

“what do you mean ‘it exploded’?”

“it seriously exploded! it was on fire! that’s why i went out to buy a new extension cord!”

“jungkook, it’s because you plug in too many things at once!” you cry out in frustration, your steps becoming heavy stomps. “i told you to stop doing that!”

“what do you mean? if it has six slots, doesn’t that mean six devices is the maximum?” he continues to stubbornly defend himself, and you can only hang your head in defeat. “otherwise, it’s a scam!”

“it is a scam! see…? they made you buy a ne-”

your sentence is cut short as your tongue gets paralyzed.

a dark and striped, long figure approaching ahead, slithering its across the grass.

your mind immediately registers it as the animal you fear most.

oh, no. no, no, no, no, no.

“jungkook,” you utter his name with a tremble.

the same fear you experienced only two hours ago holds you hostage once more, add all the hair in your body standing up and you’re as frightened as a cat.

“what’s wrong? yah! what are you doing?! baby, ba- fuck!” he sputters out as you forcefully pull him back along with you, displaying a type of strength and agility he doesn’t normally see.

the two of you continue to stumble backwards as you struggle to maintain balance, and somehow jungkook manages to switch your positions so that you’re the one who lands on top him instead of the other way around when you eventually end up as a heap on the soft earth.

he begins to feel his throat closing up at the sight of pure, genuine fear in your eyes.

“jungkook, snake- it’s small bu-”

you interrupt your own sentence with a high-pitched squeal, garnering looks from strangers moving and unmoving. in the blink of an eye, your boyfriend has swept you off your feet as if you’re light as a feather, driven by the instinct to protect the love of his life.

you cover your mouth in shock, your other arm coming up around his neck to keep yourself from falling.

you think you may have fallen for jungkook all over again.

“are you spiderman?”

he was too busy searching for the subject of your fear under dim lights, and so he looks at you in bewilderment to ask, “what was that?”

you shake your head with your wide eyes shining with faux innocence. you squeak. “nothing.”

he releases a sigh, followed by a chuckle of obvious relief and amusement as he squeezes your body closer to plant a kiss on your forehead. “aigoo, my ____! why are you so scared today? what am i going to do with you…? it’s just a worm.”

“are you sure? i swear i saw it raise its head!“

“i’m sure,” he lulls you. “i think worms can do that, too?”

your face twists in an expression of mixed bewilderment and distrust.

“that i’m not sure about, but it’s really just a worm! would i still be standing here if it wasn’t?” he clicks his tongue sharply. “we need to get your eyes rechecked.��

you roll your eyes with a huff. you’ve have had enough of his teasing before it even starts.

“uh?! i’m serious over here!”

this is new— you mean bickering with jungkook in a public place isn’t, but being carried by him like a bride while it happens definitely is.

“fine, i’ll go this weekend. happy?” you fake an obedient smile. “you can put me down now.”

he blinks, and then he adjusts the way he’s holding you to ensure that your dress won’t show what’s for his eyes only— for a split second, you were flying.

“i’ll go with you,”

“okay. now put me down.“ you tap his shoulder repeatedly to prompt him to heed your words. “babe, this is embarrassing!”

“nope,” he ignores your protest with nonchalance as he resumes to walk the path you’re on, evidently enjoying the attention he’s stealing and the way you’re curling yourself smaller to hide.

“oh my god! weren’t you just complaining about your body hurting?!”

“you were scared of me leaving,” he smiles, glancing down at you. “so now i’m gluing you to myself.”

that made you quiet for a while. inside your tote, the container of kimchi, wrapped in a plastic bag, rattles with his every stride. you noticed that jungkook loved it so much, so you ordered it to go when he went to the bathroom before you were to leave the restaurant.

“you know, we used to just hold hands,” you mumble with a childish pout. “like normal people?”

“this is very normal,” he argues.

the scenery becomes more familiar as he takes the long way home.

“some would even say romantic.”

a wave of nostalgia hits, and you visibly shiver.

you don’t know if he would remember, but he has said the same exact words once before.

you scrunch your nose, supposedly to give him a look of disgust, but a giddy smile betrays you. you are five years younger again, and the night ends with the moon bidding you an adieu.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

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#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook one shot #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

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jacazull · 4 months

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🌟🌟DTIYS TIMEEE🌟🌟

It’s time to do something fun to thank y’all for being here! If any of you follow my sister @vi050iv then you might be familiar with the band au doodles she posted a year ago on insta. Casey, Junior, and April are in a band managed by Sunita, and they sing about triumphs and rising against odds. They’re called The Underdogz 💥I referenced the cover of an idw issue I really like when drawing this~ (pretend I drew a z instead of an s in their banner)

Anywaysss I will doodle some prizes, so there’ll be a deadline (I’ll give plenty of time). Of course you’re free to keep doodling for the band au long after the date passes.

‼️DEADLINE: MARCH 31ST‼️

RULES:

- Please use the hashtag #jacazull1kdtiys and tag me

- MUST HAVE Casey, Junior, April, and Sunita doing something band related (signing autographs, costume fitting, practicing, battle of the bands, posing for an album photoshoot etc)

- You’re free to add other characters or ocs as long as The UnderDogz are there

PRIZES:

1st: Fullbody of any character

2nd: Halfbody of any character

3rd: Bust of any character

All prizes will be lined and colored in flats!

As an additional gift, I’ll be sharing the spotify playlists my sisters and I made for Rise over a year ago. Some songs may be a bit silly or out of place, but we had to compromise a lot LOL. Songs are taken out and added every now and then, but I hope y’all can enjoy them.

Casey: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2cxt5JGKkv5bziUFWF6JAE?si=hU-A4oBoRzqy1Pl6zcsHKQ&pi=u-BT8s5FrWT3CU

April: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6g850asOOGeF4OsPi1Bb8J?si=lEa0b6aASMi7P5OdvApR8Q&pi=u-fq7uj8oLSZGf

Junior: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1j6Rf7mt7Yl5TfMpBRwTOw?si=cBxlZ3KhQxmEQ2aBKxhPqQ&pi=u-ATNIY-fKSwez

Raph: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7Kt2htp2OpXDQgEFiRZnih?si=8q-kCtnBTTmCRQSJLNnMWw&pi=u-aToiW0YOQcSv

Leo: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2ZAWkn0QDysAXZgX7KqNuM?si=JYrB-Dx2Qoqnas-FEl4rUg&pi=u-240kik8DTgO_

Donnie: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5LaxNqoN451ErZQTAb0GUu?si=cdTNkIvjThe_2X15c1aKvQ&pi=u-uR1PkEe4QrSc

Mikey: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/08dBF9Eq6Ouj7yI0NB9zUQ?si=jxkXATyeTB-8bUGrIamR4Q&pi=u-C_fx-iF2TJeB

Okie I think I covered everything. Have lots of fun!!!

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sooniebby · 7 months

Note

hey I just recently found your blog while scrolling through tags and I’m so in love with all your ocs (especially Yubin and mind reader’s guy) I love reading your works :) sometimes I even reread them cause they’re just so *chefs kiss*

So far, I’m really looking forward to the mind reader since there’s so much tension and it’s just such a neat idea. Just imagine if the two got paired up for a group/partner project 👀 the poor guy is going to lose his mind while the mind reader gets front row tickets to it

(not necessarily a request but you’re free to write about it if you want to!! I just wanted to mention the idea since I’ve been thinking about it a lot ever since I read about the two)

Aw thanks so much! Glad you like them, your idea is really good, I had to use it! As usual, bottom male reader. Based on this post.. added more characterization

Xavier Young.. that was the name of the pervert plaguing your thoughts. Just like right now, while you desperately tried to pay attention to the girl in front of you—talking about what part you’ll have for the group project..

But there’s just this nagging sound filling your head. Xavier.. thinking about fucking you.. again.

It was even worse this time. At the table, he sat directly across from you, practically staring you down.

‘Ah… he’s so cute. Wish he’d look at me instead of her..’

You made sure to never glance his way.

‘He was blessed with such pouty lips… shit, I wanna bite them’

You pursed your lips heavily so it was just a thin line.

‘I’ve never seen him in a short sleeved shirt.. or shorts for that matter.. shit, why’s that hotter than him just showing himself off?’

You contemplated taking off your jacket but decided you just weren’t comfortable enough to do that. Oh well, you’d just let him have that perverse thought.

“So… (Name) and Xavier can take the pictures...”

“Excuse me?”

And here you were, forced to walk around the university taking pictures with just Xavier. Standing beside him, he was tall.. he practically dwarfed you. Briefly, you thought about seeing just how much size he had compared to you.

And it seemed Xavier was thinking the same thing.. although obviously, dirtier. Much to your dismay, his thoughts were filled with fucking you in the library (gross!).

“You’re so small… this bump in your belly is from me, yeah?” His inner self said, tracing his.. much larger hand across your stomach, lightly pressing down on the obvious bump from his cock.

You wanted to kill yourself. And the fact that you.. kinda.. sorta.. wanted to know if that would actually happen if he were to fuck you.. hey, it’s just curiosity!

You tried to push his perverse thoughts away and filled your head with your own thoughts.. though they kept going back to wondering if.. everything about him was big.

Though in your head, you knew he probably just liked you for sex. Nothing more. All of his thoughts on you have been about sex—you felt a little disappointed at that but brushed it off. At least someone thought you were sexy.

You bent down for a moment to take a picture of a group of squirrels when you heard the sound of the camera going off. You looked up and Xavier was looking away with a sheepish grin on his lips.

Did he.. take a picture of you? You shook your head. No way… you pushed the thoughts away and continued taking any picture that you could from the constantly moving animals when out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Xavier take a few pictures of you before turning around to take pictures of the nearby lake.

Holy shit.. he did! You moved a bit closer, wanting to see what he was thinking when he took those photos. But he wasn’t thinking. He was totally blank. It took a moment before he thought about anything.

‘I’m so fucking hungry… hope (Name) won’t mind if we take a break..’

Sure enough, Xavier asked if you guys could get something to eat. Soon you found yourself sitting across from him as he ate his cafeteria pizza

It looked fucking disgusting.

‘This is nasty… but I’m so hungry.’

You couldn’t help your snicker from his thoughts. Xavier looked up at you and raised an eyebrow, wondering what was so funny about him eating pizza.

It was mainly silent for the rest of time. You listened randomly to other people’s thoughts as Xavier’s seemed to just be about how nasty his pizza was.

“You dating anyone?”

“Huh?”

You look over at Xavier as he wipes his mouth clean with the back of his hand.

“Dating?”

“Uh… no. Why?”

Xavier only grinned and looked at camera, checking his photos that he took. That was the end of it but you could hear his thoughts.

‘Hm, he’s cute but I could’ve taken better ones.. ah, can’t wait to take nudes photos of him.’

You choked for a second, coughing heavily in shock. Xavier handed you his water and lightly patted your back.

‘Damn. He coughs a lot… would he cough like that if he deep throats my cock..?’

Well, his dirty thoughts were back. But you still really wondered, why the hell did he like you?

Your head was suddenly being filled with Xavier’s thoughts again. Mainly sex, of course. He seemed to really love sex in semi public areas.

In a weird idea, you listened to his fantasy closer, wanting to see how far he would go.

And.. it’s pretty far. Spanking seemed to be a favorite, judging by how he kept dreaming about spanking your ass. His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing it lightly to earn your little whimpers.

But, something new was a dream in what you could only assume was his bedroom. He was doing something on his computer, playing a game maybe. But you were there on his lap but not in a normal way. You were sitting on one of his legs, his muscular leg, mind you.

You were rutting your clothed cock on it, maybe chasing your own release by how loud your whines were. But he wasn’t paying you any mind. He was just playing his game. A few times, he’d look at you and look as if he’d touch your aching cock but then just go back to his game.

It was like you were using him but even then he was in control.

And you liked that. Even though it was just a dream, you felt your real cock twitch in your jeans. Fuck, another boner.

“Liked it?” Xavier suddenly asked.

You looked up at him in shock, noticing just how close he was to you now. You parted your lips to ask what the hell he was talking about when he shamelessly pressed his hand against your growing boner, earning a gasp from you.

You couldn’t even control yourself as you bit your lip tightly to muffle your moans. Xavier’s hand so easily engulfed your cock, teasing it slowly. It was like he was trying to wake it up even more.. and you could only think about someone accidentally seeing this and the fact you wanted him to continue.

He leaned down and pressed his lips close your ears, to make sure only you heard what he had to say.

“I said… did you like it? It was really hard to think of a dream you’d like.. but I’m glad you like me being in control. It’s certainly my favorite.”

Mother fucker… he… he knows you could read his mind?!

Just who the fuck was this guy?

Heheh~ how was that? I wasn’t sure if i should go through with it but i think i like this turn of events. Sorry if this wasn’t as smut heavy, don’t worry, the next part will be 🤭

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @mello-life69 @chill-guy-but-cooler @nakedtoasterr @kiiyoooo @ofclyde @smellwell @millecka @bowieisbored @iwishtobeacrow

(Ask to added to my tag list for all posts or just for part 3 of mind reader!)

#bottom male reader #uke male reader #sub male reader #oc x reader #smut drabble #mlm ns/fw

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s-4pphics · 4 months

Text

click!: in frame. 2 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you crave redemption more than love. [idk au]

WORD COUNT: 11.5k

WARNINGS: professionalphotographer!ellie, strugglingartist!oc who’s black, ANGST!!, daddy issues, SA/victim blaming :(, homophobia LOL, anger issues\violence, bad parenting, anxiety, joel standing on bidness, FLUFF!! :3, SMUT… MDNI, ellie bottoms YAAAS, virginity mentions, jealousy😂, dubcon (they’re high), more fingering, brief mentions of cunning lunning, squirting, mult. big Os, err dassit

A/N: YYYYAASSSSSSSS hi… bye

APRIL, 2014

Happy birthday, babe, you whisper in your girlfriend’s ear, arms wrapped around her neck from behind. Ceniyah’s giggly thank yous fill your ears and heart as you press smacking kisses on her cheek.

I made you something… You reach behind and grab the rolled-up poster paper sticking out of your backpack, making sure Ceniyah doesn’t turn around. She seems giddy and your heart soars. You hope that all-nighter was worth it. Please, you pray to yourself, please love it.

Close your eyes and gimme your hand, you say and she listens, palm open in front of your face. You place the scroll in her hand and she gasps. She whips around to face you, shock written all over her, and you giggle. She unrolls the painting and her head instantly falls back, tears jerking behind her glasses.

Are you seriously crying right now! You pull her tight to your chest and she sobs into your neck, C’mon, baby, stop cryin’! S’okay. You coo and her arms tighten around your waist.

D-D’you like it? Your face burns when you whisper.

Are you fucking serious! She squeaks into your neck, It’s beautiful, baby, I love it. T-Thank you—

I love you so much, you mumble, and she says it back.

You haven’t slept at all. Your body’s going to collapse soon. You hope it’s not during this phone call.

You ogle at the small card in your hand, pressing the digits into your device before hitting the call button. It rings twice before a bright voice answers.

“Hello, this is Lisa Meyers speaking. How can I be of service?”

… Interesting intro. “Good morning, um, Professor Meyers?”

“Yes, how can I help you?”

“I… we spoke at the coffee shop yesterday. About the… assisting art professors alumni thing.”

“Oh, of course! How are you, dear?”

“I’m good. Um… I was wondering if you’d have some time to speak with me about it... If that’s cool.”

You can hear her wide smile through the line, “More than cool! Would you be able to come into the office tomorrow?”

An extra day in the city wouldn’t hurt (it would), “No problem. What time were you thinkin’?”

“My mornings are always open! How does ten sound?”

“Sounds like a plan. Uh, thank you,” you say with twitchy fingers.

“Course, hun! I’ll put you in and I’ll see you tomorrow!”

You never expected to end up back here.

The campus art studio looks exactly the same, only now the old portraits, sculptures, ceramics that were lined up on shelves of the display case are all replaced with new, nameless ones. You’re not used to seeing projects that you couldn’t attach a name to in the classroom. Your university years never feel that long ago, but the randomly placed structures are proof of your long-term absence.

Time is an illusion… Or you’re getting old as fuck and about to be lowered into the ground. Freshmen make you sick(affectionately).

Professor Meyers explained the position well enough for you to manage on your own. The work you’re doing isn’t difficult: oversee, assist in grading, oversee some more, oversee, and guide. You’re practically getting a check for being the already observant individual that you are. It’s a steal!

The position only lasts around a month, but Professor Meyers was convinced that it would only take someone as talented as you (her words… although you agree) a week to get on her toes. You vowed to bring your sketchbook every day from here on out, both to yourself and to her, in case you get the inkling of inspiration that you desperately need.

The job’s a small win. That’s all you could ask for right now.

Fuck all that shit you said at the start of the week. TAing fucking sucks. And you still haven’t had any inspiration despite all the efforts from the students! Whenever you pick up a utensil, you stab through your paper. You’ve officially lost your touch. You’re a regular bitch with no talent! What the fuck is going on!

You’ve had numerous breakdowns in bathroom stalls since Monday, and you’re bound to have another one in the next fifteen seconds. Why the fuck did so many students leave their filled water cups on the fucking tables. Guess who has to clean all that shit up! You! Fuck freshman(unaffectionately).

You’re so happy the halls are empty in between rotations. No one needs to watch you sobbingly wipe down tables splattered with paint.

After Professor Ronson’s room is tidy, you start prepping the board for the next rotation of students. They’re learning about anatomy today; There’s bound to be at least three students that scribble tiny dicks in the corner of their starter pages. You hate it here.

You open the drawer to retrieve all the sharpeners, only to find the container completely empty. You’re sick of the animators not putting shit back. You begrudgingly make your way back down the hall and into Professor Lacey’s room… You should’ve never left.

Your lungs constrict with your gasp and you almost drop your keys.

A just as shocked Ellie gawks back at you, laminated name tag with YEARBOOK dangling from the camera strap around her neck.

What the fuck.

Ellie’s either hallucinating or dead. Yeah… She has to be dead. The haunting of your email was too much and she died and now she’s seeing shit—

An angel disguised as you is staring back at her, fist clenched under the sleeves of your sweater, brown eyes just as stunned as hers. Ellie barely has time to gather words before the chains hooked onto the pockets of your jeans jingle as you step out of the room and scurry down the hallway. Ellie’s feet are flying before she can even register their movements, hot on your trail as her camera bounces on her chest.

She manages to get close enough to grab your bicep, ignoring the stuttering in her heart when she sees the former light in your eyes replaced with something darker. The flourishing storm in your pupils is uncontrollable.

Ellie drops your arm when she realizes you won’t run, “W-What are you doing here?”

Your gaze is locked onto the tile squares on the ground. “I-I’m, uh… just enjoyin’ the weather— “

Ellie’s brows pull downward, eyes flicking towards the badge wrapped around your neck. Do you work here? “We’re indoors.” She mumbles dryly.

“Nothin’ like… the spring rain hittin’ the windows, am I right?“ You huff with a nervous smile, eyes flitting around the hallway as you search for an escape. Ellie’s not having that.

“We needa talk.”

You sigh, “I can’t. I’m working.”

“So am I. Take your break,” Ellie grabs your wrist and drags you back down the hallway, leading you to the bathroom and pushing you into a stall, locking the door behind her.

Her voice is quiet when she presses, “The fuck are you doing here?”

Ellie expects you to snap, to push the same questioning back onto her, but you don’t. Your mouth gapes like a fish as you stumble over words. Ellie’s eyes soften when she sees a shaky hand come up to pin a loc behind your ear. You’re shaken up and she instantly notices something off. Your demeanor has shifted immensely since she last seen you and it’s making Ellie’s stomach twist with discomfort. She's never seen you this stunted.

“What.” Ellie asks when you mumble to the floor.

“I’m sorry about the email,” You sound winded, “I thought… I dunno. I’m sorry about everythin’.” Your lip starts to quiver as you ramble, “I would’ve never come if I knew, I’m sorry— “

… What the hell are you talking about? And why are you crying?

You sniffle and wipe your tears with your sleeves and Ellie’s fingers itch to comfort, to dry your face herself, but she doesn’t. She watches you weep into your palms for what feels like hours, the air of the restroom suffocatingly tight.

“I didn’t mean to ruin anything you h — had going on, okay? I’m sorry… I’ll leave right now! You’ll never have to see me again— “

Your sobs are stressing her, “G-Gimme your phone.” Ellie blurts.

You're already digging in your pocket for your device to unlock it, “W-Why— “

Ellie snatched it from your hand, heart pulling when she sees a photo of younger you being carried by a woman shoved in your case. The same face that was littered all over your apartment, “You wanted to talk so bad, right?” Ellie presses her new number into the pad and calls herself, “You have my number. My…”

When she looks up, her words get swallowed up; Your eyes still manage to glow under the… horrific bathroom lighting, glittering like stars in the late night. She clears her throat to catch herself, “My shift ends at four. Call me any time after that.”

Ellie hurries to unlock the stall before leaving you in the bathroom, heart in her throat as she heaves all the way down the hallway to the lounge, shaking her hands to get the jitters out.

She knew she should’ve never accepted a call from the alumnus association. Fuck the yearbook.

You clock out with a heavy, anxious heart.

Three students came up to you and asked for advice on their starter shapes. They were a bit upset when their circles didn’t come out perfect, and you almost cried. It was too sweet. Your bag bounces off your back as you descend the staircase to exit the building. The droplets hit your hood with fever as you skip to your car. You jump into the driver’s seat to turn the heat on, teeth chattering from the evening breeze.

You check the time on your dash and… it’s way past four. You hope Ellie’s willing to meet. You dial the most recent number and tremble as the phone rings. She answers after the second tone.

“Hello?”

She sounds so relaxed, and your shoulders unlock, “… Hi. It’s… me?”

A lengthy pause, “… Me who?”

You hide a snort, “Um… ex-roomie?” She chuckles lightly. “Hi.”

“… Hi.” You whisper, “Did you, um… still wanna talk to me?” You think you hear the click of a lighter.

“Mhm. I’ll send you where I stay at.”

“Okay… I’ll see you soon?”

“Yup.” And with that, the line goes dead. Ellie’s location delivers not even a minute later. Her hotel isn’t far from here. . . and fuck, it looks like wealth. Your nerves are nowhere near settled after your last attempt at reconciliation, and paranoia is itching beneath your skin.

You open your GPS and blast your screamo playlist, hollering your way down the street with your windows down, rain be damned.

You’re burning holes through Ellie’s hotel room door.

You haven’t knocked, you haven’t rang. . . you're not even sure if your text of arrival went through. You just stare at the peephole with a clenched jaw. This big bag of Cool Ranch Doritos is doing an excellent job as a stress ball. It’s bound to pop from your grip soon.

Your bladder almost lets loose when the door gets pulled open, nostrils instantly hit with wafts of that forbidden flower. You’re pulled through the small crack by a strong grip before the door is shut and locked behind you.

Ellie faces you, bare arms on display, and leans back against the door… in those fucking grey sweats. After all this time, they still cause damage to your soul, “Sorry. I don’t wanna get kicked out.”

“It’s… you’re good.” You point behind her, trying not to gawk at her tattoo, “How’d you know— “

“You breathe loud.” She says simply, tone hushed and raspy. She nods behind you, “Sit down.”

She follows you to the lounge chairs that face each other. You sit, still tense, suddenly back in therapy, “I-I brought you somethin’.” You push the crumpled bag of chips towards her as she relights her joint.

Her pink, doe-eyes flit between yours and the bag before she mumbles, “Thank you.”

“No problem…” You awkwardly set them on the windowsill, swallowing your guilt and deciding to take initiative, “I… I know you have a lot of things going on and I don’t wanna take up too much of your time… I’m just…”

The loud splattering of raindrops is nerve-wracking, “I wasn’t… I didn’t treat you well. College was a very hard time for me and I didn’t really know how to deal with it without being a bitch—”

Carbon leaves her nose, “Is that your excuse?”

“N-No, no! I’m not… I’m not tryna avoid blame. I was terrible and you — no one deserved what I put them through… I-I’m really sorry, Ellie… From the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry.”

Ellie’s silent. You have no idea what she’s thinking; She could be plotting to get you kicked out of her room right now and you wouldn’t know. Her stare isn’t angry, it isn’t anything… she just watches you. Every squeeze of your hands, bounce of your knee, every tic photographed in her memory. Just like before.

“Why're you back on campus?”

You exhale the breath you’d been holding, “Um… I gotta, like, TA job, I guess. With the art profs.”

“Still doing art, then, I guess.”

You stare down at your lap, “Yeah. Trying to.” You croak.

“Trying?” She asks, brows furrowed. Your shoulders bounce in a shrug. “I, err, hadn’t made anything in a while so… yeah. I thought it’d get me back into it.”

“Are you?”

“Hm?”

“Are you back into it?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Why were you so upset when I moved out?” Ellie’s tone shifts into something much more delicate, ready to crack and bleed open at any given moment. You can’t tell her, your brain bellows over the pleads from your heart. You can’t tell her how much you missed her!

Your jaw slacks dumbly as you search for a believable explanation, mind blanking under her scrutinizing stare.

“I was drunk. I-I don’t remember…”

“You were drunk and don’t remember.” You cringe at her tone.

“Ellie… I don’t wanna— “

“Don’t wanna what? Actually be fucking honest?” Your babbles are silenced as she rants. “You reached out to me and you can’t even answer one question honestly. Why’d you even come?” She seems so disappointed in your response, but what can you do? Tell her how every part of your body yearns to be next to her? How you almost collapse when you saw her for the first time in what felt like an eternity? How manipulative would that be after everything you’ve done?

Ellie’s index finger jumps on the armrest as silence takes over once more. She’s deep in thought, it seems, teeth nipping at the skin of her lip.

“Ellie— “

“When I moved out…” She repeats sternly, “you told me you didn’t want me to go. Why did you say that?”

It’s on the tip of your tongue: because I’m weak and I like you! I’m sorry I didn’t fight! I’m sorry, I'm sorry, I’m sorry!

“B-Because I didn’t want you to go…” You whisper between sniffles, wiping your nose with your sleeve.

“Why's that?”

“I… really liked having you around…” You chose your words very carefully, but they’re not a lie. “You’re… you’re really nice.”

That seems to satisfy her a little, “I’m really nice?” Ellie’s brow quirks, a tiny smile blossoming on her face.

“And funny.” You sob, “Like, I laughed a lot.”

“You’re funny, too,” Ellie says awkwardly while scratching her ear. Your heart pulses.

Her eyes search yours, “I didn’t know how I would react when you got here. The thought of seeing you really… fucking freaked me out.” She scoffs to herself, and your shoulders begin to droop. “But… um...” She pauses and your pulse pounds in your neck. Tears brim in your ducts. This is when she tells you to leave. To fuck off. To drop dead, for fucks sake—

“I’m glad you reached out.”

You gawk in disbelief before your bottom lip trembles, “Really?” You ask meekly. She simply nods.

“Me, too.” You’re really trying not to cry right now, but the softness in her gaze isn’t helping. She’s too sweet. You change the topic before you say something you’ll regret. You point to the bag of chips, “I really hope you like that flavor. I just grabbed it because I was overthinking.”

“I don’t know why you bought those. I still owe you a bag from what I remember,” She grabs them, squeezing the end until the other side pops open. She grabs four ships and crunches them all at once before extending the bag to you. You follow her lead and munch to your heart's content.

“I was never mad at you, y’know.” Ellie sets the bag down and reignites her roach. “I wasn’t, uh, innocent, either. We both fucked up,” She puffs and hands it to you. You've never smoked bud before, only stole a couple of Abby’s edibles a while back. She vowed never to smoke with you since you’re a tweaker.

You accept the charred-to-hell baby jay and stare at it. You shrug, “Wasn’t worse than me. How do I do this without burning my finger off?”

“Err… just breathe in and hold it.” She instructs. “Have you never gotten high?”

“I have. I don't— “

“Oh, yeaaah. Non-smoker. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you mumble before bringing the remnants up to your lips and sucking in. Nothing happens. Ellie snickers, “Not like that. It’s not a fucking lollipop. Just, like, fill your cheeks up and hold it.”

… Are you an idiot? “I don’t know what that means.” Ellie cackles like a witch at your lost expression, nearly falling over in her chair. Your cheeks burn and you try again, cheeks expanding to fill in the smoke. The second you inhale, you start choking, eyes bulging out of your skull from the burn in your chest.

Ellie finds your near-death experience fucking hysterical as she hollers from her seat. Tears stream down your face and the veins in your neck are bulging as you gasp for air. You’re never doing this shit again. Your lungs finally decide to spare you when Ellie passes you water from her dresser. You gulp that shit down like no tomorrow as Ellie’s giggles dwindle.

“What the,” cough, “fuck— “

“Fucking baby lungs,” Ellie mumbles with a grin. “You’ll be fine after a couple tries.”

You chug more water, “Girl… fuck you.” You gasp. Ellie’s grin turns cocky when her head tilts.

“Fuck me?” Her voice lowers and goosebumps rise on your skin. Your heart stops in your chest and your gaze falls to the floor as your tummy swirls in delight, cheeks fiery. You stand and Ellie sits up at your sudden alertness.

“Um… Like I said, thank you for taking the time to talk to me today. I really appreciate it.” Ellie stands to grab your arm when your feet slowly start backing towards the door.

Her smile drops, “I-I’m sorry. I was just kidding—”

“No, it’s fine! It’s not you! I just, uh… y’know what I mean?”

“… No.” She mumbles, “You don’t… have to go yet. You just got here.” She chuckles weakly.

“I just… don’t wanna… pry.” You whisper like it’s shameful. Ellie’s head shakes in denial, “You’re not! I’m… inviting you.”

Your eyes beg her to understand where you’re coming from. It’s not like you don’t want to, but the two of you just got back cool three seconds ago. The last thing you want to do is force yourself back into her life. Your relationship needs time to marinate and heal before anything else happens… if she allows it.

“I… I still miss Pickle?” You suggest with bright eyes, and Ellie’s soften despite her confusion. “Would it be okay if I see her?” You ask quietly.

Her mouth turns upwards, “How long are you in town?”

“I don’t know… These hotel bills are runnin’ my credit in the fucking mud.” You sigh.

“She’s with my dad right now. Come this weekend. I’m outta here on Friday, anyways.” She suggests, cheeks glowing in the dimming room. You hope Ellie doesn’t notice your dejection at the mention of her father… It still stings. Her eyes are so hopeful, meadows flurrying with excitement… and you can’t say no.

“…Okay.”

“Yeah?” She confirms, smile widening. You nod. “She misses you like crazy.” Ellie notes and tears get to cooking. You think about Pickle every day. Little munchkin.

“I miss her, too.” You sniffle. The hand that rests on your bicep slowly slides down your sleeve, closing around your wrist. Not strong, but her hold is steady. Ellie whispers your name.

“Hm?”

“I’m glad we’re… okay.” Your heart soars with adoration. Her eyes explore your face in admiration, and your body glows.

“Me, too. Thank you.” Ellie’s gentle gaze drops to your lips and you stiffen. Your hands clench when she moves an inch closer. It kills you to move away, and an inkling of hurt overcasts in her forest. She lets you go and backs away, “Sorry— “

Your head shakes desperately, “S’okay, I just think we should… move… slower?” You never fail to sound like an alien who just arrived on Earth, but Ellie seems to get it.

“Yeah, I… yeah.” Ellie stares at her sock-covered feet, red dusting her cheeks. You try to hide a smile while she walks you towards her door. She opens it for you, propping up against it.

“See you Friday?” You throw over your shoulder and Ellie grins. “See you Friday.” She parrots. You can’t stop cheesing even after she closes the door. You make your way back into your driver’s seat, heart bleeding with relief.

MAY, 2014

Her record is clean! I would’ve never expected this from such a great kid, your professor says to your father, But violence, especially to this extreme, is completely unacceptable—

What about what he did to me! You shout, and your father glares at your tone, He put his hands on me first! H-He—

Your body shudders in disgust at the recall of your classmate touching you the way he did. You were on your way to class when hands enclosed around your chest in a tight squeeze, all oxygen leaving your body. It was abrasive and made your skin crawl, and you swung. Your arms moved on their own until you were on top of him, his nose gushing blood while his friends attempted to pry you off.

There was laughter when he groped you. So many people — students that you see every day — all watched it, and no one came to your defense.

Your principal sighs with his palms up, I’m just trying to get to the bottom of what happened—

No, you’re not! I already told you what happened and you’re tryna make it seem like I’m lying! You stand and grab your bag off the floor, stomping towards the door to the office, Y’all can choke—

Your dad calls out for you, and your fingers twitch at his tone, but you keep walking, pushing past the double-doors of the school and towards the bike rack. Tears flood your eyes when the double doors slam shut, your father berating you about making a scene in public. You unlock your ride, blocking out his rampage that draws the security guard’s attention.

He put his hands on me, dad! You shriek as loud as you can between your cries, He put his hands on me! Why’re you yellin’ at me?

I’m not yelling at you! I’m yelling in general! You scoff and swing your leg over your bike, strapping your helmet on, I’m tryna understand what happened! You broke his goddamn nose! They’re boutta suspend you!

Imma be at Maya’s, you say, monotone. I’ll see you later.

Amaya isn’t even home. Your dad’s hollering his lungs out as you ride down the sidewalk, but you block it all out until the wind fills your ears like a monsoon. You’re not sure where you’re going, but it’s somewhere.

Hopefully somewhere you can cry to yourself without disturbance.

It’s your first day back at school since being suspended. Fuck everybody… except Amaya and Ceniyah. You probably would’ve switched schools if it wasn’t for them. You can’t wait to see them during lunch and tell them how fucked up it’s been staying at home.

Today has been weird as fuck, to say the least. Friends that you’ve grown used to talking to in the hallways have either disappeared or ignored you. It’s quiet around you, now, and you’re on edge. What the fuck is going on?

Walking into the cafeteria is frightening. It’s always loud, rowdy, hectic, but the minute you step foot inside, everything seems to stop. You grip your tray so tight; you think it’s about to snap, frantically searching for your girlfriend.

But your two favorite people are nowhere to be seen. You wander and come up empty-handed. Where the fuck are they—

Your thoughts are cut when a shoulder shoves right into yours. You throw your tray onto the nearest table. Laughter surrounds you before a snarky voice shriek in your ears.

Watch where the fuck you’re going,

No, you watch where the fuck you’re going. Dumb ass bitch, You spit. You're about to get suspended for knocking this broad out. Who even is this?

Coming from the slut who cheated on her girlfriend! Are you sure you’re a lesbian? Or are you going back to dick?

The entire room seems to collapse from top to bottom, crushing you beneath clutter in attempts to suffocate. You freeze when everyone turns to stare at the scene, some standing to surround you, hoping to see a fight. You release a shuddering breath as your fist clench.

… Cheated on your girlfriend? You love your girlfriend. You’re in love with your girlfriend, and she’s in love with you! What the fuck is this bitch talking about.

I think she’s going back to dick! One of them laughs, and the rest follow, and the entire room glows red.

Your knuckles are drenched in the color when your dad comes to pick you up.

PRESENT

Maybe being a TA is helping. You’ve finally pulled your sketchbook out of your work bag.

The point of your fine liner hovers over a blank page of your sketchbook. You can’t stop thinking about Ellie, and you don’t have many distractions.

It’s been so long since you’ve created anything, and frankly, your ass is clenched with anxiety. Never in your life would you think that creating art would wrack your nerves in such a way, but your insecurities are working hard. Probably the hardest they ever have. Once upon a time, your sketchbook was your safe haven, and now the feeling of blank pages feels like needles.

What if you’ve… lost your talent? You can see everything you want to make clearly in your head but your pen isn’t moving. The attempts at reigniting your passion would be pointless if you can no longer fucking draw. Your fingers are itching.

Maybe you should try that corny shit from the movies where they close their eyes and move their utensils on pure muscle memory… Maybe you should do fucking shrooms! Visuals always peak on psyches, according to the experts. At this point, why the fuck not—

“Son of a fucking — this is fucking stupid, bitch, jus’ fuckin’ draw,” you mutter to yourself in agitation. Just fucking draw! You do this! You do this, you do this!

Minutes pass and your paper is mussed with smudged, small ink marks from constantly moving your pen around, trying to find the right angle. Another piece of paper gone to waste. You fucking suck. You slam your pen down on the table.

You stand and start to pace, “Positive affirmations only,” You remind yourself aloud, “You got this shit, like, what the fuck. Everything’s gonna come back to you. You’re in a funk and tha’sit. It’ll pass, it’ll pass— “

Whoever your hotel neighbor is… Praying for their sleep schedule.

It’s going to be a long night.

“Hello?”

“Hi, kiddo. Sorry I missed your call. Your pet knocked out on my hand.”

Ellie giggles, “It’s cool. How ya been?”

“Fine… She’s a rascal, ain’t she? I found her head first in one of my flower pots. Her tiny legs were wiggling tryna get herself out,” His chuckles are like warm hugs, “How’s work?”

Ellie’s cackles calm, “Also fine… Err…Um… speaking of Pickle…”

Her dad hums, and Ellie sighs, “Remember when I told you about how I found her?”

“Yeah… You and that girl found the poor thing freezing to death outside… Why?”

“… Would you believe me if I said we somehow reunited by the grace of God and she’s coming back with me tomorrow?” Ellie squeaks, and her confidence drops when he exhales. It sounds heavy.

“Um… for what?”

“To see Pickle…”

“…Alright.”

“What’re you thinkin’,” She nips at her nails.

“Nothin’…”

“Dad…”

“I dunno what you want me to say, darlin’… Everything you’ve told me about her so far wasn’t… great to hear.”

Ellie rolls onto her back, “Yeah… I dunno. Something’s different about her now.”

“How so?”

She can’t tell him how badly your shielded eyes have taken a toll on her. How desperately she wants them to revert to the shining rivers they used to be. How badly her chest ached when you left her room last night, “I dunno. It just is…” She mutters weakly. Another heavy sigh.

“I mean… You’re an adult. I can’t tell you what to do anymore.”

“Don’t be like that, please.”

“Not being like anything. I can only accept.”

Ellie’s hand drags down her face in exasperation. The rants she relinquished onto her dad about you are making her nauseas.

“Just… be nice to her, please.” He hums begrudgingly.

“Dad, I’m serious. I feel like we… could be friends.”

“Friends… Alright.” He sounds skeptical, but he isn’t combative. She hopes he’ll keep it together when he sees you, “How should I plan for this friend when she gets here?”

Ellie smiles sadly, “Make eggplant parmesan…”

Her dad snorts, “… Since when do you like eggplant?”

Ellie grins, “I don’t.”

Why can’t black roses be real?

Ellie doesn’t seem like a flower girl, but she has a gigantic leaf imprinted on her arm for the rest of her life; She must appreciate the autotroph kingdom. Your mother always told you how fucked it is to enter people’s homes empty handed. Walmart usually pulls through with the awkward housewarming gifts, but they’re slacking in their garden selection today. Fuck your life.

You’re forced to settle on peonies… They’re pretty and all, but you’d prefer alliums for her. Maybe even a carnation. Plus, Amaya always told you to never buy flowers that sound like penis.

Amaya… Are you really about to break down in the frozen food section? Maybe. It’s time to go. You're shocked to find out you have more than ten dollars on your card. Fuck hotels, from the depths of your soul.

You set your purchase in the passenger’s side and pull up Ellie’s pinged location. She left way earlier than you. You would’ve carpooled, but you couldn’t miss these hours for this paycheck. How are you a struggling student and not even in school?

The drive is going to be long.

At least you have time to scream out your frustrations.

“Hey, Siri.”

… UH HUH?

“Play This Cold Black by Slipknot.”

PLAYING THIS COLD BLACK BY SLIPKNOT.

Your head thrashes as you back out of your parking spot.

“WELCOME HOOO— “

The ride wasn’t long enough, actually. Ellie’s dad’s house is right there. Like… right fucking there, and your voice is almost gone. Clouds are beginning to roll in over the neighborhood. The universe is fucking with you. Great.

You dump the last bits of water into the thirty-dollar, peony-stuffed vase before exiting your car, backpack strapped over your shoulder. You climb the brick staircase with a pounding heart.

“Okay,” You croak, “Hi. Nice to meet you, Mr. Miller. I heard my — our cat was with you—“ You rehearse and cringe. Why are you pressing him about a cat in his domain?

“Fuck, okay, wait,” You try again, “Hi, Mr. Miller, I’m Ellie’s, uh, friend. We were roommates some time ago— “

Some time ago? Who the fuck are you? Shakespeare? Emily fucking Brontë? Get a fucking grip.

You almost drop the fucking vase when the door opens. Your coughs are uncontrollable when you see Ellie, eyes flicking between you and the ring light camera. Why the fuck does she look so good? Cartier watch, black button up and slacks, hair… neat. She’s about to trigger your asthma!

“Uh… you okay?” She questions flatly. You’re still choking on your own esophagus, but you send her two thumbs up anyway. You’re great! Terrific! Immediately scared shitless when a… big ass man holding a black furball creeps up behind her. He’s not as dolled-up as Ellie and it makes you less insecure. Why the fuck do you have this hoodie on? You should’ve at least worn some trousers!

“Nice to meet you.” His voice sounds like grovel. Gravel? You can’t fucking think right now! He adjusts Pickle in his grasp so he can extend a polite hand out to you, “I’m Joel. I’m Ellie’s father,” He sounds courteous, but there’s something simmering beneath his pupils as he stares at you.

His grip is strong when you accept it. You’re going to vomit, “I-I’m — I mean, hi, I’m, uh… Me’n Ellie used to live together—“ You sound like a frog who just learned how to speak.

“I’ve been told.” He hums.

Meow!

You almost start bawling at your baby’s cry. She's so big now and her coat is so shiny! She’s eating well. Ellie accepts the flowers with dusted cheeks before stepping aside and allowing you entry. You’re instantly hit with the smell of garlic… Can the whole bloodline throw down in the kitchen?

“Nice home!” You crack and cringe. You cringe so fucking hard. They both say thanks in unison, but her father’s is gruff while Ellie’s is delicate like petals. She can’t stop staring down at the flowers. Joel finally sets Pickle down so he can head back into the kitchen, and she follows him without hesitation.

She doesn’t remember you. Your heart shatters.

“Thank you for the flowers,” You hear Ellie say from beside you. You swallow the lump forming in your throat with a smile. “No problem… You look, um, great.” And you smell like heaven. Like clouds before the rain.

Her face gets redder and she grins behind petals, “Thank you. I got called in today. For… editing and whatnot.”

You snicker, “Whatnot?”

“Shut up. C’mon.” You follow her into the kitchen where she sets the vase in the middle of the dining table before waddling towards her dad, who stands over the stove. You stand back and watch as she playfully punches his upper arm while he stirs the simmering pot, cracking jokes amongst themselves while Pickle paws at Ellie’s calf. Your doting smile vanishes at their laughter; What a little happy family. Are you breathing?

You turn to face the living room and breathe in as deep as you can, eyes glued to their maroon couch. You crack your knuckles and release the wind in your lungs before repeating.

“You’re okay, it’s okay. You knew what it was before you came,” you whisper to yourself. Ellie mentioned how close her and her dad were way before you got here, so why is the pain in your chest so sharp?

A hand comes down on your shoulder and you jump, “Sor — fuck, sorry — “

“Are you okay?” Ellie asks, concerned.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine! Jus’ looking around,” You laugh shakily and note the large paper crane on the TV stand. You point at it, “That’s so cool! Did you make that? I love origami.”

“No, my dad did— “

Fuck, “Oh— “

“Yeah, um— “

“D-Do you have a restroom?”

She observes with worry, “… Yeah, right down that hall, to the left— “

“Thank you, BRB,” You’re practically running to the fucking bathroom. The door closes and locks and you pace. They have a nice shower curtain: black and white stripes. You count them all from top to bottom.

“Your dad’s dead, fucking relax, it’s been like that, it’s been like that,” You exhale shakily, tremors building in your hands, “You’re fine, you’re fine, calm the fuck down.” You unzip your hoodie and ball it up before shoving your face in it. Your screams into it are muffled.

You come up for air and stare into the mirror, “You’re fucking fine. The food smells good as fuck and you’re gonna eat and you’re fine.” You open the door and… kitty’s staring at you. She’s sitting pretty and inspecting your disheveled appearance.

“Hi, baby. Remember me?” You squat and stick your hand out to her. She sniffs curiously before nipping at your pinky. “Ow,” you coo with a smile.

“She remembers you.”

Ellie’s leaning against the wall with her arms folded over her chest. You need her to stomp the fuck out of you with affection; She looks so fucking good, fuck—

“I hope,” you squeak and cough. It scares the shit out of Pickle and she runs.

Ellie’s gaze lingers on your bare arms. “Can we talk for a sec?”

“Yup.” Sound casual, you think. You sprinkle a shrug in there. She nods before heading down the hall and entering the last door. You can’t hide your shocked expression at the scenery.

Every inch of the room is covered in posters, most of them about galaxies and all their intricacies. There’s a red racecar bed covered in Regular Show sheets and pillowcases and a bunch of stuffed animals, dresser covered with discarded sticker papers and seemingly empty polaroid cameras. There are fairy lights dangling from the ceiling before coming down and around the bed frame, across the closet, and finally slung over her dresser. There’s little action figures and trinkets everywhere.

The door closes behind you, “… Is this your room?”

Ellie snorts, “It was. Not anymore.”

You laugh, “I’m fuckin’ with it. That bed is crazy, though.” Ellie joins in, scratching at her ear. She takes a few steps until she’s in front of you, still at a distance. Thank God; Any closer and your celibacy goes down the drain.

“Sorry I only brought flowers. I would’ve brought fucking… cake or something if I knew y’all were gonna cook.” Ellie waves you off.

“The flowers were pretty. Thank you.”

Your entire face is on fire, “Y’know what I mean…” You cough.

“Um… I just wanted to talk to you about something. About my dad.”

There’s a hole in your chest that’s expanding. She takes your silence as attentive, “He can be really overprotective… like, he’s kinda stubborn.”

“Oh… I see where you get it from,” You laugh weakly, clearing your throat when Ellie doesn’t. “Sorry.” You mumble. Ellie looks down at her feet, “Does he not… like me?” You ask quietly, embarrassed out of your fucking mind.

“It’s not that, he’s just… I told him a little of what happened between us. Not everything, just some of it!”

“The… bad part, I’m assuming?” Her silence is enough confirmation.

Ellie looks like Pickle when she’s guilty. You remember when she hopped onto the counter and knocked over your water cup, eyes large and pleading for forgiveness over the mess she caused.

“M’not mad,” You mumble, “I probably would’ve done the same thing.” Probably is used very strongly.

“I’m sorr— “

“It’s okay— “

A knock comes from the other side of the door.

“Come eat, you two!”

“Coming!” Ellie yells back before rubbing her hands together. “I’m really— “

“Ellie, it’s fine,” You reassure her with a light slap on her bicep… It’s quite hard. “C’mon, uh… I’m hungry?” You brush past her and head towards the door, holding it open for her. “After you?”

Ellie reminds you of a strawberry milk squishmallow when she eases past you, trying to hide her smile and pink cheeks. Your cheeks puff as you release the air in your lungs, shutting her door behind you.

This is the best eggplant parmesan you’ve ever tasted in your goddamn life. Too bad you can’t enjoy it due to Ellie’s hardcore mobster dad sending you deadly glares from across the table. He hasn’t said a word this entire meal, and you’re not anticipating the minute he does. He’s going to blow a gasket.

“D’you like it?” Ellie says lowly from beside you. You nod your head with two thumbs up. You can’t hide your smile when you notice all the gooey cheese and noodles eaten off the pieces of eggplant.

“It’s delicious. Thanks Mr. Miller.”

“Don’t mention it.” He sounds like he means it. Your heart drops and Ellie scowls at him. Your fingers clench around your fork and you scarf down what you can. It’s so good and you’re so scared and you want this meal to be over.

You're the last to clean your plate so you stand in a rush, gathering all of the plates and spoons off the table before scurrying to the sink.

Ellie pads close behind you, “Oh, you don’t have to— “

You cut Ellie off with a nervous laugh, “The least I could do.” The dishes clatter and you grab a sudsy sponge. You waste no time, scrubbing the living hell out of these dishes.

“Go sit down, Ellie.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand at his stern tone, “Wha— “

He slices through her refute, and still manages to sound calm, “Go.”

You continue to scrub, sighing at Ellie's descending stomps. Joel creeps into the open space in front of the sink, grabbing a dish and another sponge.

“Ellie told me you’re an artist.” He mutters over the running water.

“Yeah. Sorta.” You reply as calmly as you can.

“What are your intentions with my daughter?” He gets right to it, it seems. You scrub harder.

“Just… tryna make things right between us.”

“Why's that?”

Word vomit. You can’t help yourself. You’re so fucking nervous. “I-I fuc — sorry — I screwed over someone that was… really great. Your daughter’s a sweetheart and I feel awful with how things left off.” You stumble with a heated face. You catch the arch in his eyebrow and back pedal, “Not like we were — we weren’t dating or anything! Like, not like that! We just — “

“I was a student once upon a time. I know how these things go.” He snickers humorlessly. Your shoulders relax a smidge before he asks, “Why now?”

“Hm?”

“Why’d you wait so long to talk to her? The two of you graduated forever ago.” His tone is much calmer than it was seconds ago, but anxiety surges in your gut at his questioning.

“I didn’t wanna reach out without being in the right headspace. I had… a lot going on and I had to handle it. Therapy’s hard as fu — heck,” You sigh, “I still don’t think I’m doin’ a good job, but… I dunno, it earned me a Michelin star eggplant parm. Must be doing something right.”

You don’t expect Joel to laugh, but he does. It’s hearty and deep. Very dad-esque. Your heart crushes to dust all over again.

“Look, kid,” Joel sets the clean plate in the rack before grabbing another, “I wasn’t gonna say much, but Ellie seems to like you… a lot. More than most people.” Your heart flurries back into shape at his observation. You want to ask what a lot means exactly, but he continues.

“She’s… she gets very attached to people. I know it’s hard to believe but she’s very… sensitive,” His voice is low, but he’s not bullshitting in the slightest. The protective aura has returned and it’s radiating back onto you, pushing you back. Keeping you at a distance from him. From Ellie, “I’m never gonna shit on anyone’s journey, but frankly… if you’re not here to stay, I’d suggest leaving her alone now.”

This is definitely a threat. But you don’t feel threatened. You feel… sad. Joel is doing what any great dad would when faced with an outsider: armoring his cubs by any means. Something you’ve never experienced. If meeting Joel has shown you anything, it’s been what you’ve missed out on your entire life. Little does he know the last thing you want to do is separate from Ellie a second time. Another breakdown is bound to crash into you very soon. You forgot where the bathroom was.

You’re not going anywhere. Your heart won’t allow it. “I’m— “

You’re interrupted by a loud rumble, instantly followed by the heavy droplets of pouring rain. It sounds like pebbles are being thrown at all windows of their home; Is it hailing?

“Holy shit,” Ellie calls from the living room window, “Was it supposed to storm tonight?”

“Yeah, it was on the news,” Joel confirms. Ellie rushes over and points her eyes to you.

“You’re not driving in that.” She breathes out. Your heart fist pumps, but you maintain nonchalance.

You shrug awkwardly, “I don’t wanna pry— “

“Nah, she’s right. We have a guest room.” Joel sighs, “Ellie, show her where it is. I’ll finish up in here.”

Ellie’s hand closes around your wrist before guiding you down the hall. The bathroom’s right across from the guest room. On the left side, you note.

“Fuck a guest room. You’re staying with me.” She mumbles and opens the cupboard. She grabs you some sleep shorts and presumably her father’s sweatshirts. You try to convince yourself that the strong pounds in your chest are from fear of the storm, and not at all from a lesbian slumber party.

… Fuck.

The storm is roaring outside. And Ellie’s chiefing in neon astronaut jammies. This feels like a fever dream.

“They glow in the dark.” Ellie hums around a cloud of smoke from where she sits across from you on the bed. You pause your gawking, “Huh?”

“My pjs glow in the dark. Wanna see?” Her eyes sparkle and your heart sprouts legs and sprints around in your ribcage.

“Fuck yeah.” You gasp. Ellie’s teeth shine before she puts her joint between her lips and leans across her bed to shut her lamp off. Every fiber of your being tries to not lock onto the smidge of skin that appears from under her sweatshirt when she stretches. The room goes dark around the neon pink and green outlines of the design. You choke out a laugh at the pigmentation; How the fuck are they so bright!

“Sorry if this is boring. I’ve never had a sleepover before.”

“Shut up, that’s cool as fuck! You gotta battery pack in there or somethin’?” Ellie giggles out a no. A smile stretches wide across your face when you look up at her, hers just as bright. “Are you sleepy?” You ask.

“Not at all,” she hums as she switches the lamp back on.

“We could play a gaaame,” You suggest sing-songy.

“Oh, fuck. Like what.” Ellie huffs a laugh.

“Truth or dare is a sleepover classic— “

“I’m not licking a toilet seat.” Ellie states flatly. Laughter explodes from you at her face. “I’m not a crazy dare-er like that. The most you’ll have to do is prank call an ex or some shit.”

“I don’t have an ex.”

“Oh… Well, a family member.” Ellie nods in acceptance. “Can I ask first?” She asks.

“Mhm. Lay it on me.”

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“Show me what’s in your backpack.”

“…Fuck.” You sigh, and Ellie cackles. “Were you planning this shit?” You ask and stand, walking over to the dresser where your bag sits. You grab it and hand it to her. She wastes no time, stubbing her joint out before rummaging through your shit, sifting through loose-leaf paper and markers used for coloring. You plop down onto her bed and she pulls out your sketchbook.

“Is it okay if I look?”

“I dunno,” You smirk, “Can I finally see your fucking portfolio?”

“Come home with me tomorrow,” she says instantaneously, “It’s there. You can see it.”

“… Then yes.”

She flips through pages and pages of visuals you’ve created before your father’s passing. They range from sloppily scribbled orchids, to immaculately shaded depictions of eggplant farms. Ellie giggles when she finds a small comic of Pickle playing with her favorite mouse toy.

“She still has it.”

“Good,” you whisper. You watch as she studies each page to her heart’s content, fingers dragging across lines that catch her attention. “You’re so good,” she says softly, awestruck and eyes sincere. Your gaze drops to your lap.

“Thanks,” you match her volume. She hums and flips to the next page. You eye the ashtray on her bed before snagging it, snatching her lighter and igniting the joint. Ellie eyes you like a hawk.

“I watched a tutorial on how to become a professional pothead… I think I got it down.”

“Show me.” She whispers and your stomach jolts.

Smoke leaves the lit end of the J and you flick the lighter off. You bring it to your lips and puff your cheeks full of smoke, inhaling as deep as you can before your lungs squeeze. You cough and heave tearfully and Ellie leans in to rub your back.

“That was better.” She says softly. “I was gonna dare you to hit it anyway.” Your coughing fits calm and you swallow.

“Shit,” You say. Ellie takes the joint from you and hits it like a fucking pro. She's much closer than she was seconds ago. You examine how her lips curl around the roach, cheeks expanding around carbon before inhaling, allowing the remainder to leave in a bunch of circles.

“You really blowing O’s right now?” You think you hit it right this time. The jitters you’ve had all day are beginning to dwindle.

She smiles mischievously, “Mhm.”

“Truth or dare?” You mumble.

“… Truth.”

“Did you think about me… after you left?” If you were to lean forward an inch, Ellie’s nose would touch yours. Nose hug. Her face spots are so adorable.

“Yeah. A lot.” She passes the J back to you and you accept it boldly. You’re releasing your stress with every exhale. Ellie was right; Smoking does feel good.

“What’d you think about?”

“Isn’t it my turn?”

“No.” You smile.

She shrugs, “I dunno. Just…” Her gaze falls onto her stuffed tabby cat.

“I feel like you’re boutta say something nasty.” You snicker.

“Wha — no! The fuck— “

You mock her, rubbing all over yourself, “I thought about your hands, ooo, aaa— “

Ellie smacks your arm a bunch of times before pushing you back onto the bed. You’re howling laughter over her whining, “Bitch, that’s you! Don’t think I forgot about that shit you pulled in the car!”

“You have nice hands! What can I say,” You slur with a dumb grin, “You have, like… classic lesbian hands. All you need is some Hot Topic rings and all the hoes gon’ flock to you.” You take one last toke before the lit end can reach your fingers, stubbing it on the ashtray.

Ellie seemingly ponders with the theory, “… Is that why a milf ate me out at the club?”

Your neck almost snaps when it cranes to look at her, “What the fuc— “

“Yeah. Craziest experience I ever had. Like, in my life.”

“Fuck, Ellie…” Your head flops back onto her Lightning McQueen blankets. “Was it good?”

“I… I guess. I came.”

You stare at the star stickers on her ceiling. “You guess?” She only hums.

“But…”

“Hm?” You urge her to continue.

“She didn’t… kiss me.” She whispers like it’s dirty to say out loud. You slowly blink at the opaque walls. “I mean, she did, but it wasn’t a real one.”

“Shame on her.”

Ellie maneuvers so she’s lying on her back beside you. “Yeah…”

“Ellie?”

“Hm?”

“Were you a virgin before I touched you?”

You expect her to slap the shit out of you again, but she doesn’t. She takes one deep breath before muttering, “Yes.”

You stop yourself from melting into her bed, turning on your side and propping yourself up on an elbow, gazing down at her. Her eyes are wide as saucers as she looks up at you. You can see her fingers twitching around her pillow, squeezing the fabric of the case. Right on Rigby’s nose.

“A-Are we still playing truth or dare?” She whispers, her breath hitting your face. She smells like oranges. You shake your head, tongue rolling over your lips. “No.” Your free hand lands on her hip and squeezes. Her jaw slacks around a gasp.

“… Oh.”

“Oh?” You want — need to kiss her so badly. Steal all the oxygen from her lungs so that she has no other choice but to breathe from you. Only you. Your vision is hazy with each travel over her face. She looks so soft, so pliant, so ready and prepared for you to take from her. Just like you hoped.

Your hand travels, pushing her sweatshirt up just above the waistline of her pants, fiddling with the knot right under her bellybutton.

You pull at the string until it loosens, “She gave you head?”

“T-The milf?”

“Yeah. The milf.” Aggravation seeps through your tone. Ellie’s hips twitch.

“… Yeah?” She coughs. You hum and hook your thumb under the band and inch them down. They aren’t even off all the way and you can tell she’s naked underneath.

“How good was it?”

“I don’t… know?”

“Yeah you do. How good was it?” You snip, and Ellie winces. “I-I squirted.” She trips over her words and your clit jumps. You don’t say anything, and she seems sad.

“… Are you mad at me?”

“No.” Your tone says otherwise. You’re not mad. You don’t know what you are. You don’t like what she’s telling you, though. Fuck milfs… You love them with your entire heart, but fuck them.

… Yeah. You’re high as shit.

You sit up and she moves to follow you, but you push her down and she goes limp under your touch.

“Don’t move. Just lay there.”

She pouts and you almost kiss it, “Don’t be mad.”

“I told you I’m not.” You swing a leg over her waist and she sighs dreamily. “How many times did you come.” You’re not asking; She’s going to tell you. You raise her sweatshirt up over her breasts.

“T-Two — Two.” She moves to throw her sweatshirt over her head but you snatch her wrists, pinning them right on the cushiony mattress. She doesn’t fight you.

“I want you quiet. Your dad’ll kill me if he hears you.”

Her eyes go glossy and twinkle, “Okay— “

“I mean it. Don’t say shit.”

“M’not gonna,” She whines before her mouth clamps shut. You give her overlapped wrists one last threatening squeeze, watching her fingers go lax before releasing her. You cup her tits and her eyes flutter shut, teeth sinking into her lower lip. You mouth at the valley between her tits and her back arches to follow each swipe of your tongue.

You kiss all over her ribcage, almost feeling each erratic thump of her heart under your tongue. She keens when your tongue flicks over the rising bud of her nipple, thighs squeezing around your hips. Your mouth latches onto the skin right above her areola, teeth sinking into it before sucking. Her hips raise and she’s breathing like she’s about to faint, and you grin like a fox.

You don’t let up until a wet maroon mark is left on her tit before swiftly switching to the next one, leaving a much harsher spot on the raised skin. An eager hand scratches down her torso until it brushes the patch of hair that peeks out from under her pants.

You shove your hand beneath the light cloth and your fingers are drenched in seconds. Your walls squeeze around nothing when you feel her clit jump in excitement. Her squishy lips spread around your middle and index fingers, her throbbing bundle of nerves cinched between them. She keeps making fucking noise and the walls seem to shake.

“What’d I say.”

“I — m’sorry, can’t h-help i— “

“Be quiet, Ellie.” Your fingers slip over her messy clit in slow, teasing circles. You release her skin until it’s blistering and bruised, quickening the pace of your fingers and she pulses in your hand. Your tongue swirls around her nipple once more, cheeks hollowing when you suckle.

Your eyes search for hers but her head is thrown back, neck strained and veins popping from beneath her skin. Your lips release the skin and your drippy hand leaves her pants. Your nipples harden under your tee when she reaches for your retreating form, fingers digging into your sweats.

Her pants are yanked down and tossed across the room, her toes curling in her rainbow-striped socks when your hands hook under her knees to push them up to her chest. Her arms entangle under her bent legs to hold them out of your way.

“I could fuck you right now with no problems.” You exhale in a daze, “S’fucking drippin’.” You envision how good her pussy will swallow whatever pops in, how easy it’ll stretch around something thick—

Ellie’s eyes shine like you offered her candy and her hole clamps down hard. You chuckle. “You want that?”

Her head bounces off the pillow in rushed nods. If your mouth wasn’t so fucking dry, you’d be slobbering all over her pussy. “Remember what I said?” You remind her, and she plants a heavy hand over her mouth. You kiss her ankle in appreciation.

Your fingers move on autopilot, massaging her clit a few more times before inching down, your index pushing past the tight, gripping muscles. Your finger’s swallowed whole in an instant and Ellie’s trying her hardest to mask her squeaks. “Fuck me,” you sigh when she takes another finger with no hassle, walls engulfing your digits in wetness. Her scent is surrounding you and it’s intoxicating.

“Missed you s’bad— “

“Missed you more, baby. Missed this pussy,” You’re pussydrunk and you’re slipping. That spot in her cunt becomes plumper with each press of your fingertips, “She fucked you better than me?”

Ellie’s denial is convincing, but that sick part of your brain doesn’t believe her. She loved being touched by someone, wanted by someone. Someone who wasn’t you, and you’re livid, “Nooo— “

You slice through her whine, “No?” Your smile is sadistic and your fingers are relentless, “You said her name like you said mine?” You grit and her eyes cycle into her skull, her hair sticking to her forehead. She’s trying to keep her voice down when she whispers how she only thought about you when she made a mess. She wanted you there, she says, she needed you there to take care of her.

“Y’fuck me s’good, fuck— “

Your eyes are dead, “I’ll hurt you. Be quiet.”

Fear flashes beneath her desire and she listens, keeping her sobs to a minimum. The sloppy, wet sounds of her pussy overtake the entire room the harder you fuck in, her nails tearing into her Pikachu stuffie on the corner of her bed. A string of drool dribbles from her bottom lip to her sweatshirt, her eyes glowing under the dimly lit lamp.

Her walls shake and throb on you, “Gonna cum, baby?” You grin manically at her dumbed-out expression, cheeks wet and eyes droopy. You coo at her and force in as deep as you can, curling your fingers up, fighting against the tight contractions of her walls.

“Make a mess on me, baby, I gotchu, c’mon— “

A long, drawn-out moan escapes Ellie’s lips, and you’re so hypnotized by the heavy spray of juices that lands on your thigh that you don’t even bother to shut her up. She’s drenching her sheets and blankets and you and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. You’re fucking wave after wave out of her and she’s practically riding your hand, groaned curses and dazed squeaks of your name bouncing off the walls.

It feels like minutes pass when her orgasm slows, inner thighs drenched and dripping with slickness. Ellie’s entire body shakes and her thighs squeeze around your hand as she attempts to catch her breath, but you’re not done. You’re not satisfied. She didn’t give you enough.

You climb onto her and your lips connect in a simmering kiss, her wet mouth smacking against yours. Her cold hands land on either of your cheeks and your hips roll downward on hers. She whines into your mouth and tries to meet your hips but you force them back onto the mattress. She yanks at your shirt in attempts to rip it off but you don’t let up, lips slipping down to connect with her neck.

Your wrist twists downward until you're met with her sticky bush once more, spreading her lips apart and shoving your fingers back inside her. She chokes a wet gasp when they hit right where she needs, her arms wrapping around the back of your neck to hold you close. You’re babbling nonsense in her ear as you work her, telling her how she’s stuck with you, how you’re never leaving her side again, demanding that she says you're the best she’s ever had. And she does, and either you’re fucked out of your mind, or she means it.

You barely catch how your hips move like you're fucking her, driving into her as hard as you can and she takes it, stretches her legs wider so you can reach the spots she’s never been able to on her own. She’s saying your name like a prayer, like it’s all she’s ever known, and it’s breaking you down, only to build you back up so you can crash back into her. You missed her so fucking bad and you’re unleashing all of your feelings on her body and she eats all of it. How could you leave her when she fucking needs you this badly? You’ll never forgive yourself.

She’s warning you, crying about how you’re going to make her squirt again, begging you to slow down because she can’t take what you’re giving her, but you feel so good and you know she does, too. You can’t stop even if you want to. You want to drain her, live inside her for the rest of your days on Earth. You’re forcing space for you inside her.

Her nails dig into your shoulders as she cums. She’s unapologetically loud and it flows directly in your ear, and your own noises leave your mouth and land onto the clammy skin of her throat. The jets of fluid that leave her are stronger than the last, and you laugh. Laugh in ecstasy and joy and pleasure that you can’t even feel, but it’s there. Right in your chest.

You’re not done. You’ll never be done with her.

The night evaporates with you in between her legs, slurping every bit of cum and stress that you may have caused since knowing her from the source until the sun shines through her blinds, drinking from her like you’ll die without her taste on your tongue. She lets you do whatever you need to feel satiated, but it’ll never be enough now.

You’ll never be done with her.

Ellie’s naked form jolts awake when ticklish breaths hit her shoulder.

You’re beneath her, slumped, pantsless legs entangling hers and arms twisted every which way as you slobber and snore. A smile grows on Ellie’s face at your peaceful expression; She’s never slept that good in her own bed. She doesn’t want to wake you, but she has to pee so fucking badly.

She shifts in her position and instantly cringes at the soreness in her legs. Warmth coats the crests of her cheeks when she sees the discarded sheets and pillowcases that were changed only hours ago on the floor, head plopping onto your shoulder to hide in your neck. Your snoring gets cut by a guttural cough and Ellie laughs to herself when your snores pick up again.

She’s not a morning person in the slightest, so why the fuck is she so happy? Is this the post-sex glow that her friends always tell her about? Is she still considered a virgin if you only used your fingers and tongue? She doesn't feel like one… Sex rules are fucking dumb. She stops stressing before she ruins her morning.

The pangs in her bladder are getting on her nerves; She wants to cuddle. She sighs and shifts on top of you, trying her hardest not to disrupt your deep slumber. She manages to separate and clothe herself before waddling down the hall and into the bathroom, trying to ignore the aches in her thighs. You wrecked her shit… What the hell.

The second she leaves the bathroom, she smells coffee. Her dad’s up. She might vomit.

The two of you weren’t that loud. Definitely not. He couldn’t have heard. He didn’t hear! Ellie’s stealthy as she tiptoes through the hall… until the fucking floorboards croak from beneath her and she nearly faints.

“Come out, dipshit. I know it’s you.”

Her eyes squeeze shut and she curses to herself. She reluctantly appears from behind the wall, her dad sitting comfortably on the couch with a filled mug and newspaper, Pickle napping on his lap. He peeks from above his reading glasses.

“Think we needa talk.”

“… Fuck me.” She whispers before shamefully limping into the living room. She flops onto the couch and glues her eyes onto the decorative rugs under the coffee table.

“She seems nice.” Her dad sips his mug. Ellie’s face burns.

“She is.” She mumbles. You took such good care of her after last night. You got her in the shower, brushed her teeth for her when she was damn near sleepwalking, watched her down two bottles of water. Her heart flutters at how soft your eyes turned when you kissed her to sleep.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

“… I dunno.” He hums and sips.

She doesn’t know. You’re not dating, but Ellie thinks you like her… She thinks. She likes you… a lot. She bites at her nails.

“You like her?” He asks lowly; She knows he knows.

“Yeah…” Ellie whispers, cheeks rising on their own. She covers her face when he smiles.

“Just… take your time.” Joel advises gently, “Did she tell you she’s in therapy?”

Ellie’s ears perk and her brows furrow, “No.” She sits up. Her dad’s gaze softens, “Wait til she brings it up, then. Y’all should talk before things get serious. It’s only been a couple days.”

Ellie knows her dad is right, but it’s hard to control herself when she’s around you. She naturally gravitates towards your aura; It’s comforting and she doesn’t want to lose it again.

A gentle clatter comes from her bedroom and she stands. You’re awake.

“I love you, kiddo,” Joel says, and she smiles softly. “Love you, too.”

She scurries down the hallway and enters her bedroom, seeing you sprawled out on the floor, all wrapped in sheets.

Your eyes are droopy when you croak, “Hello.” Ellie snickers.

“Hi. What happened.”

“I was reaching for, like… an orb in my dream and I guess I did it in real life,” Your voice gets so raspy in the morning, and it tickles her ears. Ellie can’t stop laughing. She helps you stand before kissing your cheek.

“Good morning,” she wraps her arms around your neck.

“M-Mornin’,” You squeak, eyes flitting around, “Uh… How'd you sleep?”

“Good.” She’s lost in your brown eyes. They’re warm like the sun. Why won’t you look at her?

She follows your line of vision down to your fiddling hands before whispering, “You okay?” You simply nod. Ellie’s heart stutters nervously.

“Do you still wanna come over later?”

“… Yeah.” Your attempts to disguise your stiffness fail. Ellie feels a lump forming in her throat when she detaches from you, and you search for the new pair of pants she gave you before you went to bed. Ellie watches silently, crestfallen. Something she did triggered your aloofness, so she turns to leave the room.

Her voice cracks, “I’m gonna… shower again— “

“Ellie.”

She turns, “Yes?”

Her fists clench when you walk until you’re standing in front of her, warm hand coming up to hold her cheek before kissing her. It’s soft and makes Ellie’s fingers thrum with excitement. It only lasts seconds before you pull away, and Ellie chases your mouth.

“I’d love to come over. I think we… should talk about some things.” You say quietly, and Ellie silently agrees. You let her go and she wants nothing but for you to pull her in once more, shrouded in your warmth.

You’re making her bed when Ellie leaves for the bathroom, body falling against the door to calm herself down. You’re not upset with her, and you want to come over… to talk, whatever that means.

The hot water burns her skin; She spends her entire shower thinking about how she can make you as happy as she feels.

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#in frame ✎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･#ellie williams smut #ellie williams au #ellie williams angst #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #the last of us 2 #black!oc #black!reader #lesbian #works 𖧧࣪

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imauselessartist · 3 months

Text

02.7.2024

Valentines 💌 overall fits :)

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rennorthernlights · 4 months

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Breaking You In

Ghost X Reader/OC——————————————————————————————

Brief Summary: Hiding your identity as an Omega is nothing new but hiding it in an Elite Taskforce is harder than you thought.

Your callsign is Mustang due to your stubbornness and the “Fuck You” attitude that you tend to embody. You take your heat-blocking pills religiously until they don’t come in anymore.

Just what you need… The beginning of Pre-heat is starting to show and your losing your mind with how annoying the Lieutenant is being.

(There’s no description of what Mustang looks like. I just wanted to name her that.)

——————————————————————————————

MINORS DNI+18 AND UP ONLY Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Non-Con to Dub-Con, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Aggressive Behavior, Aggressive Sex, Spanking, Dom/Sub, Forced Submission, Overstimulation, Ghost Ain’t A Good Guy In This But He’s Hot, Forced Bonding, Forced Mating, Semi-Public Sex, Semi-Clothed Sex, Breeding Kink, Ghost Tryna Be A Dad And Daddy, Choking, Hands On Throat, Tell Me If I Missed Any

MINORS DNI+18 AND UP ONLY

——————————————————————————————

The world has a love for Alphas in the military, they’re stronger and aggressive, good for the firefights and the bullets. Dominant and steelier compared to the Betas. Many of the Alphas tend to hold the higher positions in the military just due to their second nature alone. Leading most of the military fields save for the Betas that manage to keep up with them. Even the elite Taskforces are no different due to them being chalk full of Alphas and a handful of Betas. Only the best of the best is needed after all.

Omegas on the other hand… now that’s a different story. Most Omegas that choose to work have more of the “Less-Stressful” jobs. At least that’s what the unspoken rule is supposed to be. Some old-fashioned Alphas and even Betas would say that a good Omega is an Omega with their legs spread for a knot and filled with pups. Made to only raise the young and be good for their better mates. Depending on who you talk to it’s practically looked down upon if an Omega has a job.

Docile. Sweet. Easy.

That is what the world expects of Omegas. At least that’s what THEIR world expects. When you first presented as an Omega at the young age at 12 years old you refused to stay seated. Not surprising since your moms an Alpha and your dads a Beta, if anything they were more surprised that their daughter turned out to be an Omega.

“Just keep your head down.” Is what your mother would say to you over and over again. Snapping at you when you started doing things an Alpha or Beta would do. Their own views on how to train up an Omega became demeaning and suffocating. Even going so far that when you turned 18 years old your mother set you up with an old Alpha suitor.

With no foreseeable way out and your future hanging by tiny threads you did the only thing you could think of. Something drastic and life changing that could take you far away from your parents and that would-be suitor.

You signed up for the military.

18 years old and you dived headfirst into it. Inhaling nearly every heat-blocking pill on the market to hide what you are. Going against the rules and forging your documents. It’s amazing that you haven’t been caught but as long as you keep taking the pills there’s not much to worry about. Besides your CO’s would’ve blamed you if you caused the alphas to go into a rut if you chose to keep your heats. So what if you have to take some experimental pills? It keeps you safe and keeps you far away from your parents and the old Alpha your parents wanted you to mate.

Now, that was 5 years ago. 5 years of putting blood, sweat and tears into your military career. 23 years old and you gained the nickname “Mustang” for being far too stubborn and forward for your own good. Having an argumentative streak with your CO’s and calling them out for shitty plays on the battlefield. It’s no wonder that when the Captain of the 141 read over your file that he immediately requested for you to join. Seeing the potential in you and fire in your eyes reminded him of his Beta, Gaz.

At first you thought it was a joke, a jest that he’d want someone with only 5 years of experience, at least until you realized that he was dead serious in his inquiry. The Alpha Captain became deadset on taking you under his wing to help mold you into something better.

Upon meeting the team, you got along like dry leaves in a fire when you met Gaz, a kind and ever-patient Beta Sergeant. Nearly had your minds meld together when meeting Soap, the demolition Sergeant, and in time he told you with complete trust that he’s an Omega. The 141 treat him normally and as if he’s not just his nature was very eye opening to say the least, to see a fellow Omega be treated so well nearly made you come clean. But you digress, you trust them with your life but not something like this.

You got along well, building up lifelong bonds all except for the Lieutenant… he’s as Soap likes to call him. “A spooky bastard.” Hard and tough around the edges, as prickly as a cactus and even more of a hardass when it comes to drills.

Though it’s to be expected especially from the way he’s always in a corner, brooding with hardly a tell of an emotion with that skull mask of his on. Doesn’t help that he’s always quick to spot your mistakes. Every single mistake. Quicker to growl a sneer when you butt heads. Though you hate to begrudgingly admit that you’ve learned more under his watchful eyes. Amber brown eyes that always seem to be on you the second you’re in sight.

Though it’s been like that for months; you’ve had an easy rhythm with the Sergeants and you fall right into step with the Alpha Captain but for some reason. You and the Lieutenant? It’s like the two of you can’t see eye to eye. Doesn’t help that he’s been constantly hovering over you, being an unwanted guardian as he wards off the other Betas and Alphas. His scent always around you and sometimes on you much much to the increasingly teasing Sergeants. An almost knowing look in Soaps eyes when he smelled Ghost on you… again.

Your clothes somehow carry his scent like as if he’s rolling around in it. You swear that if it wasn’t for the pills you take you would’ve gone into heat a couple months ago. It’s annoying that the Lieutenant, the bane of your existence, gets his scent on you. Wards off the guys and ladies that you used to have one-night stands with. The soldiers fearing the wrath from a man who isn’t even your mate and you hate that he’s fucking with your ability to get laid these past couple months.

It reaches a boiling point when the Captain is put on a month-long bedrest, no longer able to play mediator between the two of you. Hell, even the Sergeants have a hard time breaking up the yelling matches you both have.

“Have some fucking respect.”

“Maybe try earning it.” You growl back, postering at him like an Alpha would. The other soldiers already leaving the breakroom to not have to deal with whatevers going on between the two of you.

The latest argument you’re having is over something useless that you can’t be bothered to remember. All you know is that he said something that’s pissing you off. Doesn’t help that the latest request for your heat-blocking pills haven’t been cleared just yet. You told Price in confidence a couple months back about what your second nature is, course you got an earful, but he swore he’d keep it to his grave. Normally he’s is quick to have them sent in but since he’s been on bedrest the paperwork has just been sitting in his office desk drawer collecting dust. You’ve already been off it for a week, swallowing your immense pride, you had sent in the request to a higher up that Price trusts but for some reason they never come in.

Your body is going through the drawbacks. That scent of yours has been jumping from sour to sweet throughout the days making your hormones shoot up dangerously. Hindbrain starting to encourage your pre-heat to flush out the remaining toxins of the pills. Any other team and you’d be scared but due to how well Soap is treated, you’re not too worried. So far no one has called you an Omega or even tried to imply what you are, and you would prefer to keep it like that.

The Lieutenant scoffs at your audacity pulling you from your thoughts as you shake your head of them. “I think I’ve earned plenty of your respect since I’ve saved your hide more times than I can count,” dark amber eyes narrowed as he stares down at you. “Omega.” Smelling out your second nature and it makes you freeze up. Your hands balling into tight fists as you fight the instinct of running away. A whisper in your ear that you should just stop antagonizing him but no. No, you press on.

Standing up straighter and if your glare could deepen any more then it would. “Don’t call me that, Ghost.” Distain towards him as your scent spikes up in a sweetening anger. Pre-heat befuddling your mind as you nearly bared your throat when he called you by your nature.

“What should I call you then, Mustang?” Taking a large whiff of the room. His eyes darkening, “You smell like an Omega.” Taking a step forward and you feel more acutely aware of how it’s really just you and him in the breakroom. “Smell just like one in pre-heat too.”

He lunges forward. “Hey! What are you—?!” An alarm goes off in your head to get away as he moves far too quickly for you to scramble and evade him, large hands grabbing and shoving you against the wall. “Let go!” You yell and throw your fist forward that he easily catches. Gripping hard and snatching your other hand to force them over your head. His thigh sliding hard between your legs as you breath in sharply. “You fucking basta-“ thick fingers shove into your mouth, you gag and cough at the sudden intrusion. Eyes watering in response and you see the blatant amusement in his eyes. Anger riling up so you bite down on the fingers forcing him to yank them out.

Guess he didn’t like that as grabs your neck with the same bitten fingers. “Feisty little Omega.” Squeezing your throat causing you to gasp as his grip hardens until you start to see spots. “No wonder you’ve been acting the way you’ve been. Heat coming up now that you ain’t downing those pills. Just need an Alpha to put you in your place, yeah?” The muscles in his thigh tense as grinds it against your core. Releasing just enough pressure from your neck that makes you gasp and gulp for air. If your brain worked faster you would’ve caught on to the fact that he knows you take pills.

“F-Fuck you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” brown eyes rolling, “Always such a mouth on you.” Moving his hand down your throat, ghosting over the mounds of your breast till he cups one through your shirt and squeezes. “Maybe a knot will make you easier to work with. Make you nice and pliant. When’s the last time you’ve been fucked anyways?” A grin under his mask as he knows exactly how long it’s been for you.

Your heart beating wildly as your teeth nearly stab into your lip to bite back a moan. His thumb pressing on the nub of your nipple through your bra and shirt. “No smart mouth, no snippy remark? Guess I finally shut you up.” Smirking under his mask as he spots the table in the breakroom before looking back at you like as if he’s been given the most amazing idea. His hand moving to the back of your neck and forcing you to move.

Jerking around and fighting uselessly as he bends you over the table stomach down. Hiking your ass up to present even as you try an squirm away. Almost successful in your attempt until a hard smack resounds in the room. Eyes bulging wide as he pulls his hand back and does it again. “Ah!” Screaming out as he smacks your ass with purpose. His hand on the base of your neck keeping you face down as you squeal and pant.

A meek, defiant growl from you as he responds with another harsh smack. “Behave, Mustang. Be glad I’m not making you count them.” Tears pricking your eyes as they shut tight, having mentally lost count of it ten slaps ago.

Tears falling down your face wetting the table as you half expect another smack and yet he cups your burning ass, your pants have done nothing to shelter your cheeks as you felt every sting of the assault. “There we go.” Gasping quietly when his large fingers grasp and fondle to soothe the ache, “Already bein sweet for me.” Taking a lungful of your enticingly sweet smell, “Can smell your slick,” he states downright devilishly as you tense. Your ass stiffening while your thighs shift tightly together, your body betraying you as you hate how right he is.

Tutting disapprovingly and reaching his hand around and dipping inside your pants right when you start to protest weakly. Sliding a gloved finger harshly against your soaked panties. “Soakin my glove.” Cupping your soaked cunt as it seeps into his glove. “Naughty, naughty Omega.” Purring against your ear making you wail louder. You’d try to escape if he wasn’t pressing his whole weight down on you. Kicking your feet apart with his boot and thrusting forward, canting his strong hips against the flush of your clothed ass. Something impossibly hard pressing and rubbing against your bottom that makes your eyes roll back as his fingers graze harder on your panties in time with his thrust.

“S-Shit.. ah s-stop! Please,” you beg as it’s too much, you haven’t been sexual with anyone in a while. Especially with your hormones out of whack, his scent smells stronger, dominating and thickening in the room. Invading your nostrils, intoxicating and encouraging more wetness out of your disloyal cunt. The sensitive walls clench when he presses a finger inside, your hole clenching around the cotton, the fabric of your panties rubs against your throbbing clit. You can’t stop the moans that fall from your lips even if you wanted to.

A coil starting to curl within you. “No, no, no, ah!” Your pleas fall on deaf ears as he continues humping more aggressively. Grinding and circling his hips against yours, the table creaking under you as his strong body keeps you under him. Trapped and forced to just take it as the pleasure he’s giving you is mixing up the signals in your brain.

You don’t even realize his hand on your neck has left in favor of shucking his mask up, latching his hot mouth against the glands on your neck. Teeth grazing on the sensitive gland as the heat of his mouth sends shocks through your body. “This what you needed, pretty girl?” Whining in response when he removes his hand from inside your pants. His glove soaked with your juices. “S’why you’ve been such a brat. Had to keep pushin and pushin me till I had to do somethin about your problem.”

“N-no I-“ breath hitching as he bites on your throat, sucking harshly as you can’t find the words to speak coherently. Small mercy that he didn’t bite down too hard on the mating gland, merely sucking bruises on it. A grin etching into the skin of your sensitive throat. His tongue lapping and circling as he feels you shake and mewl under him. Having a harder time to not give into your baser needs. Body betraying you as you buck back in time with his canting hips as your hands move and fist near your face.

Finally letting up as he leans back, you breathe so hard as you look behind you through half-lidded eyes. Sweat beading around your forehead causing your hair to stick to your skin. His hands working fast to unbuckle his belt and pants. Pulling them down past his thighs and his boxers following suit. Eyes widening as you see his large thick cock already leaking pre. The flare of his knot making him seem much thicker. Cock slapping against his stomach and you know that a knot like his won’t fit. Blood pumping faster as you fear you can’t take that size in you.

Watchful molten eyes noticing how you try to shift away from him. A thick hand landing forcibly on your back to keep you still as he works on undoing your pants. Pulling them down as you stutter and beg for him not to. “No, no, no, darling. Gotta give you my knot.” Panties falling down, the ever increasing shame burns on your face as your slick slides down. “See? You want it. Need it from the looks of it.” Arms shaking and you try to hit behind you as he just laughs cruelly. Grabbing both of the flailing arms and pinning them against your back with one hand.

Your thighs instinctively try to close but he’s having none of it. Forcing your legs apart with another kick of his boot. A firm grip on your hip before sliding it under a bit to make you lift your reddened ass up. Slotting the meat of his cock through your glistening, fluttering folds. Sliding in between over and over, slowly teasing your engorged clit with the head of his thick tip.

“So fuckin wet for me. Haven’t even fucked you yet and you're pouring on my cock.” Moaning embarrassing louder as he inches the tip into your tightening hole.

A forceful push, heading deeper inside as you plead for him to pull out, to stop what he’s doing but he doesn’t hear you. Too lost in the feeling of your warm, tight cunt squeezing so nicely around him. Even with the gush of your wetness easing a bit of the stretch, it still burns. Ghost is by far the thickest you’ve ever taken. He doesn’t stop until he’s buried all the way to the hilt. “Fuck!” He murmurs lowly while his eyes shut just as yours do from the feeling of being so full.

Pussy gripping him hard, “Relax for me.” Grunting hard as he circles his hips. The hand under your hip lifts you a bit more as your mouth parts to suck in air. “You can take it. That’s a good girl.”

Hardly giving you the time to adjust as he pulls back, his tip not escaping your heat before slamming back in. Whimpering due to the electrifying shot of pain and pleasure, “P-Please, it.. it ah hurts!” Ghost murmurs something rough as tears begin to prick your eyes. His hand moves from your hip and instead of stopping his thrusts, he circles a finger around your wanting clit. Your eyes opening wide as more slick starts coming out more. Easing his large cock in you as your body starts to take him better.

“That’s it, that’s a good little slut,” slamming his hips fast as his fingers work a slow torturous pace on your bundle of nerves. “Doin so good for me Omega. Clench ‘round me baby.” Heavy balls slapping with each harsh thrust. His mouth latching against your glands, muddling your brain further as your Omega nature preens in response of being taken by this strong alpha. “Knew you’d be perfect for me. Just had to stop the pills from coming in.” His damning words not heard as he keeps up his brutal pleasuring pace. The smell of the heady sex permeate the breakroom, filthy sounds of wet slaps of thigh against thigh only enthralls your Omega nature more.

Becoming pliant as you moan and keen high in pleasure, mouth hanging open as the tip of his cock bullies into your tight cunt, making a home inside your gummy walls. His grunts and dirty words sinning against your ear as he growls about how you’re his now. That you’ll never escape him. A possessiveness scent seeping into the room as you babble useless words. His fingers, nearly forgotten due to the mind-numbing pace of his burrowing cock, start to move faster and press harder against your clit. Sliding his finger side to side just as fast as the hard smack of his balls intensifies the pleasure tenfold. “Cum for me, Omega. Wanna— agh,” grunting deeply behind you, “Wanna feel it.”

Your traitorous body gives in when he angles his hips and slams against that spot that makes you scream. Stars blurring your vision as you cum, squeezing and milking his cock as he pounds into you with renewed vigor. The tightening walls suck him back into your greedy pussy. “Gonna breed you good.” A heavy-laden promise as his eyes darkens with dangerous lust. His upper body hunching over as he presses his forehead against the side of yours as you plead for more. His hand moving from your pinned arms, placing his elbow beside your head to give himself more leverage as pistons his hips faster.

Hammering into your pussy as the wood of the table screams from the exertion and scraps against the floor. Your words bouncing against the walls, “Pl-Please, please, please!” Begging for it now. Begging for more, for his cum and his knot. Too lost in the pleasure to really understand what you’re saying. “Alpha, Alpha please!” Crying out as it’s too much and yet not enough. Overwhelming animal instinct to be bred by your strong Alpha. Arching your hips in time to feel him growl loudly, the vibrations tingling up and down your spine.

“I’m going to, Omega, I’m going to.” pulling back suddenly before slamming back into you full force with his damning vow. “I’m gonna breed you till you can’t take it.”

Pulling back out and forcibly turning you around, back now on the hard surface of the table. He looks downright predatory as he licks his lips. Yanking the rest of your pants and panties off, ripping them off even with you wearing your boots in wanton abandon, discarding them out of sight and out of mind.

His hands grabbing your ankles and placing them over his shoulders. Your boots scraping the skin of his flesh be he could give less of a fuck right now. Maneuvering your knees against your chest to fuck you deeper, feeling deliciously constricted since his body is blocking out everything from your sight. Everything but him.

“Gonna give you my knot. Make you mine in every way.” The newer position makes him feel even larger inside you. Pounding into you as your moans sound heavenly to his ears. Pressing more of his weight into you, caging you in as if his only thought is to fuck into your fertile womb. An animalistic need in his eyes as he gives into his own nature to claim the Omega under him. “You want it? Want my knot? Beg for it.”

“Want it! Want it s-so bad! Please, Alpha!” Wasting no time as you work hard to form the words. Jumbling and spilling over it but you don’t stop in your mindless pleading. Your pleading flipping a switch in him as he no longer cares about the consequences. He’ll deal with them later because right now all he wants to do is fill your pretty pussy till it overflows.

Surging forward, his teeth bites down harshly against your mating gland. Mine. Mine. Mine! Eyes rolling back to your skull as you cum faster and harder. The build up of the dam inside the both of you breaking as the swell of his knot starts to catch. Teeth digging into your neck as he intends to make the binding claim as deep as he can. Tears springing out your eyes as your legs shake in the tidal wave of pain and pleasure.

“Mine.” Growling aggressively in affirmation as he moves away from your throat and kisses you roughly, “Mine.” Mouthing the word against your swelling lips that can’t keep up with him. His hips stuttering as his muscles clench, the need for him to cum approaching faster. Balls tightening up as he forces home his thick knot inside your sensitive walls. “Mine!” His forehead falls against yours as he roars out that soul-claiming word. Hot spurts of cum filling your greedy and welcoming womb. His knot expanding wide and locking you to him for now.

“G-Gho— mph!“ his lips dominating against yours, shutting you up as he grinds his knot while his balls empties the rest of his thick seed in you. Moans being swallowed by the other in response. Tongues wrestlings as he takes hold of your boot and eases it off his shoulder. The other following suit as he wraps them loosely around his waist. Your mewls being swallowed by the hungry kiss that he gives you, possessive and devouring as he doesn’t let up. Moving his mouth down, trailing kisses and nips gently against your chin and then to your throat where the mating mark is on your neck. His permanent mark on you.

Chest against chest as you both pant heavily. The clothes worn sticking almost uncomfortably due to the sweatiness of each other. His warm tongue lapping lovingly against the mark he made before he finally leans back. His knot still keeping the both of you connected as it won’t deflate for a bit longer. The smell of the intense coupling is sure to deter anyone from even getting within 30 feet of the breakroom. Not that he’d ever let anyone see you like this. Not his pretty little mate. No, no, no, this sight is for him and him only.

Drinking in the vision of you, mellowed out and soft on the hard table. Hair spread around you like a halo, tired eyes shutting to a close, mouth open and panting. The bulge in your stomach scratches at the delicious size difference between the two of you. His cock twitches from inside you as he wonders how you’ll take him if he took your plump ass. Though an animalistic instinct demands that he not waste his seed, preferring to keep his Omega filled with his warm seed. Snug and protected safely in your precious womb.

“Ghost,” your words softer than he’s ever heard it, eyes opening as you shiver from the shift in his touching, his scent smells more welcoming. More warmth, like firewood on a cold night and the bourbon that he likes. The rare gentleness throwing you off a bit as he rocks his hips forward. A low hiss from your mouth as you’re far too sensitive and yet a slow build of pleasure starts to grow as your overstimulated pussy clenches in response. Your head turning up with a needy whine.

His lips pull back into a wolfish smile. Needy Omega he muses to himself. His Omega. “Simon.” Stating his name and he places a large warm hand over the bulge of your stomach. A primal instinct lighting up at the thought of the seed catching on the first try. Imagining you round with his pups is a black hole that he’ll gladly fall into. He didn’t mean to bite you, didn’t mean to claim you but what’s done is done.

He just wanted to fuck and get rid of his obsession over you but if he did this all over again he wouldn’t stop himself. He’d gladly bite you over and over again.

“Call me Simon.” Your breath hitching as he says his name firmly, commanding you to him by a name he rarely gives out. “Want you to say my name from now on.” His knot starting to deflate. “After all,” He may not have meant to bite you but that doesn’t mean he won’t uphold it. You’re his now. He won’t let go of you no matter how much you’ll kick and scream once your senses finally come to and the high of pleasure fades. Slowly pulling out as his potent cum spills out. Your head scrunches up, sighing pathetically from the loss of his cock.

“You’re mine now.”

His hand sliding between your shaking legs that still wrap loosely around his waist. Scooping up the cum that tries to escape, to go where it shouldn’t. A rumble in his chest, his second nature demanding to keep his Omega filled and sated. His fingers push it back in eliciting a sharp gasp. He can’t help but grin at how sensitive you are.

He leans close and as he uses his fingers as a plug. “Now be a good little mate and keep’em safe. Gotta make do on my promise to breed you after all.” His cock already starting to harden, his stamina has always been the best and he’s never broken a promise.

Ever.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #alpha simon riley #Possessive Simon Ghost Riley #cod smut #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #alpha/beta/omega verse #Alpha/Omega #Your smart mouth lands you in trouble #non con #non con to dub con #READ THE TAGS #minors dni #breeding k1nk #kn0tting

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akoyaxs · 6 months

Text

˚༄ Tìyora Pt 1

༊ Aonung x Fem!Sully!Reader ༊ Enemies to Lovers ༊ 4.4k words Warnings: competitive violence, bet, kuru pulling, p in v, reader hates Aonung THIS WILL BE A SERIES!!!! *Note that reader is practically Neytiri's twin, like mother like daughter. I chose this photo bc when writing I like picturing an OC or different face in my mind, and this one looks different enough from Neytiri's other scenes, but similar enough that reader has all the good Sully genes*

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It’s not like you’d never felt annoyance before. You had, of course. You couldn’t have survived your entire life with Lo’ak as your brother without having felt annoyed, trying to clean up his messed. You wouldn’t have survived your entire life without being annoyed by being berated by Neteyam for cleaning up your messes.

But now, you’re pissed the fuck off. It’s not just that you’d been held hostage by a stupid group of avatars, or that now you’d needed to leave your clan and fly a million miles to seek uturu in the fucking ocean, but it was the people.

Tsireya was a sweetie, Tonowari admired your bravery, and Ronal found your determination endearing (though she kept it to herself). But Aonung was a whole other story.

You could count on your five-fingered hand how many times you’d gone a minute in his presence without wanting to punch his smug stupid face. You could count with no fingers. Because you hadn’t gone a minute without wanting to punch him.

And now here you are, face to face with the fucking skxawng once again. There’d been several interactions like this. When Aonung and his ugly ass skxawng friends were teasing Kiri, you had been the first to throw fists, and the last to be dragged off. When Lo’ak had been left stranded by said skxawng and accomplices, you had come so close to murdering the next Olo’eyktan, several warriors had to drag you off.

You had grown quite the reputation in the week you’d lived in the reef. Furious, violent, unapproachable, dangerous, attentive. And of course, an excellent fighter. The thing was, the Metkayina had yet to see you fight, given that the instances you smacked the shit out of their precious little prince had been out of the public eye.

Which is probably why they’re now watching with bated breath and eyes wide as the moon as you circle the stupid skxawng around the Metkayina training grounds. It was Tonowari’s idea for you to start training with the warriors of your new clan. As he delicately put, it was a good way for you to let everything out without inflicting any damage for non-training reasons.

Across from you, Aonung shifts slightly, tilting his head cockily and gripping the spear in his hand more tightly. He looks determined; it wouldn’t be a great look if he lost to you in front of the whole clan, after being beat up by you twice.

You’re determined too, you guess. Not to prove yourself, no, it doesn’t make any difference to you what all these Metkayina think of you, not when you could fight them even easier than Aonung. But you want, just once more, to beat him.

You’re not completely sure why but beating him gives you this crazy thrill of pleasure. It probably has something to do with his annoyance and squirminess and coldness and sullenness. He’s embarrassed when you beat him, and it’s perfectly clear to you that Aonung isn’t someone who gets embarrassed easily.

You glance across at the watching Metkayina quickly. Tonowari and Ronal are watching expectantly, little smiles on their faces. Tsireya and Rotxo look slightly worried (bless their sweet little souls), but your siblings are watching with broad, confident grins on their faces. Lo’ak looks especially ready to watch you beat up Aonung again.

He makes the first move, the moment you glance at the onlookers. It was an anticipatable offence, and you step quickly aside, ducking under his swing. You move around behind him and kick his leg, bending it and sending him to his knees.

“You look so pretty on your knees,” you grin teasingly. “You should stay down.”

Aonung’s eyes narrow somewhat, obviously not taking kindly to your little taunts. It’s evident to everyone watching that this is just a little game for you, and you’re taking the opportunity to have some fun with their prince. Aonung seems more determined, and he growls and jolts forward.

He stabs his spear towards you, which you parry, slashing and spiralling, ducking and stabbing. Eventually, he tosses you to the side and your spear goes skittering away. You feel the audience sit up slightly, not expecting this to happen.

Aonung approaches slowly, a cocky little smile on his fishlips. You roll your eyes at his overconfidence, before ducking under the next stab so you’re pressed between his body and his spear, before ripping it from his grip and tossing it out of the circle.

He hisses with annoyance and makes to shove you away, but you’re already ducking under his legs and flipping him over your back. Groans come from the crowd as Aonung slams into the floor, but you hear a delighted whoop from Lo’ak, followed by Kiri stifling a laugh and Neteyam shushing them both.

Aonung clambers to his feet and you crouch a little lower. His eyes are blazing now, looking absolutely furious. A shiver of anticipation runs through you as he tilts his head, eyes narrowing to icy slits. Finally.

“Going to actually fight now?” you ask, smiling tantalisingly, tauntingly. You weren’t really expecting an actual fight, any real competition, but this is even better than the fun little tussle you’d anticipated. With the way he’s looking at you, you just know he’s ready. He’s furious and humiliated and he’s dangerous.

You trail the circle, eyes fixed on one another. You wait, unhurried and unworried, so he gives in and makes the first move again. This time he goes for your legs, and you leap over him, pushing his shoulders down so he stumbles and you roll to the ground and spring up again.

You exchange punches and kicks, and he doesn't hold back. He tackles you to the ground and jabs his elbow at your gut. He’s strong, very strong, and there’s a moment where you realise you forgot to factor in just how stupidly, ridiculously tall and muscular the infuriating skxawng is. You jab him back with your elbow, and he grunts before pinning you down with one arm, his other hand closing around your throat.

The warriors, your friends and your family are watching with bated breath as you struggle under him for a moment, eyes flicking in wide fascination between your twisting form trapped underneath his. You can feel the pressure of their gazes, and the thought that they think he might actually win is more than you can bear.

“Kinky,” you manage to whisper, throat starting to ache under his grip. His face twists for a moment, which you don’t pause to read before you move your knee up to smack him in the groin. You roll over him, legs wrapping around his neck and squeezing his head between his thighs.

“You’re one to talk,” he grunts, trying to shove your legs apart. You tighten your legs together around him, and he gasps.

“Go on,” you breathe, looking down at Aonung, between your legs, face filled with frustration, hands scrabbling at your thighs. He doesn’t say anything. Everyone’s watching expectantly, and you reach down to tug his head back further by his kuru, neck trapped between your legs.

The moment your fingers close around his kuru, he hisses. You glare at each other for a moment, his eyes blazing with frustration, your own eyes a clear message: give up.

“Fine,” he hisses, trying to twist away from you.

“Louder,” you snap, tugging his kuru harder, and he growls.

“I give up!” he explodes.

For a moment, you just stay like that, the crowd watching silently as you stare down at his irate face. And then, with movements that even to yourself feel like they’re in slow motion, you let go of his kuru and open your legs, Aonung toppling onto the floor between them.

Then Ronal is standing up, Tonowari is smiling, and Lo’ak is cheering. The crowd follow, smiling and applauding and grinning at one another. Amidst it all, Aonung has clambered to his feet, ears pinned back against his face and face bitter.

“I hope this has settled things between the two of you,” Tonowari says, as everyone starts to finally fuck off out of the training grounds and back to the village, chattering excitedly and shooting glances back towards you all.

He looks between the pair of you expectantly. You’re both slightly flushed from the fight. Aonung still looks ashamed and frustrated, tail flicking agitatedly behind him, absentmindedly and violently drawing in the sand with his toes. You just avoid eye contact, and Tonowari sighs.

He signs to his son, who scowls and signs back. They continue in this way for a minute, exchanging what is clearly a heated debate in the unspoken language you have yet to learn properly, while you stand on the side and wonder absentmindedly if you’ve been dismissed. Just as you’re about to try and slip away, Tonowari clears his throat and you freeze.

“The two of you will train together,” he says in a voice that makes it clear it isn’t up for debate. Aonung tries anyway, clearly protesting in their signed language, and you wait with a frown on your face. “It is decided. I’ll leave you too to sort out your… differences.”

Aonung glares after his father, and you fold your arms. Finally, he turns towards you, eyes blazing with irritation. You glare at each other in silence for a few moments.

“What’s your problem with me?” Aonung says bluntly, finally breaking the tense quiet.

“What’s my problem?” you hiss, brows raising in disbelief, eyes narrowing conversely.

“Yes,” he scoffs. “That’s what I just said, isn’t it? Are you deaf, as well as a freak-”

“Are you serious right now,” you cut him off, swallowing hotly before your fist accidentally slips and he ends up with a broken nose. “Are you really doing this again, after I just rocked your skxawng ass in front of your whole clan?”

Aonung scoffs again, eyes narrowing as well, and you take a step in, not in the least intimidated he’s a good foot taller. Or by the way he straightens to glare back from his full height, waiting impatiently for you to speak your mind. You’re quite impressed with yourself that you’re only now about to insult him; it’s been a good minute long since you last did.

“Fine,” you concede. “You’re entitled. You’re rude. You don’t give a single fuck for anybody but yourself. You are the most close-minded person I ever met, and I’ve been held at gunpoint by artificially revived humans. You are so egotistical you clearly think the world revolves around you. You except us to sit back while you taunt and ridicule us, you picked on my siblings for the hell of it then had the nerve to act surprised when I fought you over it. You think you deserve everything you deserve everything because you have it, but I promise you this; you are so much less important than you believe.”

Aonung blinks slightly. You don’t step back, and when he exhales shakily and his rage flares up again, you stand your fucking ground as he steps in as well.

“You’re a fucking brat, you know that?” he growls, glaring down at you.

“And what are you, then?” you snap. “Entitled prince of the clan. Who gets whatever he likes. Who can’t handle me calling him out on what he actually is.”

Aonung hisses, and you suddenly find yourself inches away from him. It takes you a moment to realise he’s dragged you there by your kuru, neck tilted dangerously back so you can still make eye contact with him when this close given your stupid fucking height difference.

He’s breathing heavily, eyes blazing. You’re breathing heavily too, eyes wide as you stare back at him. It’s less of a glare now, you’re just waiting to see what he’s going to do. When he realises you aren’t fighting back for once, not pulling away from him, his pupils widen to large black slits, eyes still narrowed and blazing.

And you stay like that. Neither of you move. Neither of you dare too. Neither of you can guess what the other will do. You half expect him to toss you away, or maybe cuss you out. He’s one hundred percent sure you’re seconds away from cursing him out and certain violence.

“What are you doing?” you whisper. It doesn’t come out as you meant it, nowhere near as warning, as fierce, as dangerous. Because this is. It is dangerous.

Dangerous to be this close. Dangerous for you to be thinking what you’re suddenly thinking. Dangerous of him to be holding you this close.

With a small shiver, you realise he’s still holding your kuru in his fisted hand, your body so close to his that when you breathe, your chests nearly brush. You try not to swallow; there’s no way you’re going to let him see how dry your throat suddenly is.

His eyes are roving over your face, which he still holds facing up towards him with his grip on your kuru, tilted so far to keep him in your sight that your throat is tight, and your heart is pounding slightly. Because of the pressure on your throat, because you can’t breathe. Obviously.

Your question hangs in the air. Silent. Aonung doesn’t answer. You can feel his breath fanning across your neck. It’s hot and heavy and you try your best not to make another sound, to make sure he can’t feel how hot and heavy your breath is suddenly feeling.

It never struck you how sensitive a kuru is, but when he pulls you closer by another inch, you feel your whole body tense. Your pupils blow wide and to your horror, you moan. It’s soft, breathy, and you pray to Eywa it was soundless, that it was just some horrific, mortifying figment of your imagination summoned by the oddness of your situation. Even more shamefully, there’s an undeniable twist in your heart, and a certain wetness in your loincloth at the tug of your sensitive kuru.

But then Aonung squeezes his eyes shut, breathing deeply. With his eyes closed, you quickly let your eyes dart over him. You’ve never seen him this tense, not when fighting him, not when shouting at him, not even when you had to wait for Lo’ak to be found when left at Three Brothers Rock.

Every muscle in his neck is tensed, jaw clenching tightly, throat bobbing and chest moving with each strained breath. With another surge of your heart, your eyes drop to the rippling muscles of his arms and shoulder. His veins are evident in those smooth teal arms as he grips your kuru. Then he’s looking at you, eyes opening and instantly falling into your own. They’re dark, not just by his pupils blown wide as the fucking moon, but something deeper, darker, hungrier that has your heart clenching.

You breathe like that for a moment, eyes wide and gazing at each other, hearts hammering and breath heavy, before he wrenches his gaze from yours and quickly lets go of your kuru. And then, your heart stops hammering and your annoyance is rushing back and you forget that strange, infuriating rush from before.

“What was that?” you growl, pulling your kuru back and scowling at him.

Aonung just swallows, still avoiding your gaze and shifting slightly, and you look down. Immediately, your gaze darts up to his slightly flushed face, which looks mortified and frustrated now.

“You fucking hypocrite,” you breathe, eyes wide. “Taunting us, teasing us, when you are hard just by hearing me moan.” Aonung flushes deeper, and you scoff.

“Do you get like this when Kiri shouts at you?” you ask derisively. “Or even when Neteyam gets mad? Or is it just me that has this effect on you?”

Aonung’s glower is answer enough, and your eyes widen further, mouth parting in shock.

“Shut it,” he hisses, shifting again in an attempt to hide himself, and you laugh.

“Are you serious?” you deride. “What happened to me being a repulsive hideous freak? Or do you secretly like that- getting shouted at by a foreigner? Do you like it when I’m mean to you, Aonung?”

“I said shut it freak,” Aonung growls, though you don’t at all miss the way the tent in his tewng seems to grow as you trail closer.

“What do you want then?” you ask, raising your brows. “Surely it’s not above the prince to ask for help, if he really isn’t an entitled brat.”

“As if you would be any use,” Aonung snarls. “As if a freak like you could make me cum.”

“Oh?” you say with narrowed eyes, stepping closer. Aonung blinks, stepping back. He’s reluctant to stay so close to you, you realise. Which is fair, given that last time you were inches apart was what made him hard in the first place. “Do you want me to moan again for you, that seems to do the job well enough.”

You shoot a pointed look at his still growing bulge, and he pauses.

“I have my doubts though,” you say tiredly, trying to hide your amusement. “I don’t think a fishlipped brat like you would be able to make me moan anyway.”

“Is that a challenge?” Aonung says.

“Was it?” you raise your brows. “I feel like I’ve already put in some effort, at least I’ve done something for you.”

“One final challenge,” Aonung says through gritted teeth. “Settle this once for all.”

You consider it. You, of course, had already proved yourself over and over again, proved yourself superior to this skxawng. But on the other hand, your tewng was still wet, and you have this massive, horny ass man in front of you, clearly desperate for anything, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

“Alright then,” you concede. “Because I’m not losing. I’m going to prove myself, you’re going to be eating your words, and then all will be good.”

“I do not understand eating your words,” Aonung says bluntly. “Is it some demon-”

His words are choked off when you reach out and press your palm into his bulge. A minute later, tewngs are disgarded, you find yourself pressed against the sand and he’s all over your body.

“You don’t need to,” you say quickly, when his fingers swipe along your slit. “I’m wet enough.” Aonung looks like he’s about to make some snarky comment, and you growl. “You’re going slower than my grandmother. I hope you’re-”

Suddenly you're lifted up and you're on your knees right there on the sand. You can feel Aonung's breath hot and heavy as he nips at your neck, folded over your much smaller, arched body and sliding your tewngs away with quick hands.

You feel yourself being stretched open, small stings of pain shooting through you as you drop your forehead to the sand. You sink your teeth into your lip, determined not to make any noise. This is different to before, bent completely over with your face pillowed against the ground.

“Alright princess,” he says snarkily, pausing for a moment, buried deep inside you. His voice sounds shaky.

“Thought you’d be bigger,” you lie, scrunching your face up as you try to adjust to his size. Aonung just lets out a deep, amused laugh, before pulling out to the tip and pressing down on your back to arch you further down.

When he starts to move, it completely knocks your breath out, so you're left gasping for air you never manage to catch as he thrusts again. His grip on your waist is bordering on strangling, yet you find yourself unconsciously following him, pulling yourself back to meet each one of your thrusts with a choked moan.

His sudden roughness and hunger and desire is startling. So this is what it's like when he's unrestrained, hot and animalistic, rutting fast and hard, pushing you into a further arch while his sharp teeth nip at the back of your neck and shoulders.

Eywa, if he’d worked this hard, this determinedly, this fiercely whenever you fought, maybe you’d actually have respect for him.

It's starting to get too much, the coil in your stomach growing too close too soon, and your moans are starting to border on lewd whines and whimpers as you sink your teeth into the flesh of your arms. You're clutching the ground for dear damn life, arms attempting to pillow your face as your whole body rocks forward with each rough, almost ruthless thrust.

Pearls of blood are collecting from where your fangs are sunk into your smooth skin, but you ignore it, much rathering the pain than Aonung having the satisfaction of knowing how long you’d be without it. Aonung too, is tense behind you. You can sense the effort he goes to keeping quiet.

It’s a fucking game, pretending neither is impressed by the other, when he’s punching every breath out of you with deep thrusts, and each clench of your walls around him is about to drive him insane. You’re both close, and you both know it, given the way he’s twitching inside you, and you’re fluttering around him.

“Go on then,” you groan through gritted teeth. “I promise, I’ll be gracious about my win.”

“You wish,” he huffs, but you can feel him twitch inside of you. Each rock of his hips knocks every breath, every thought out of you until your heart is pounding in rhythm with each increasingly rough, deep, animalistic thrust of his cock rutting between your legs.

You just bury your face deeper into your arms, hoping that they'll be enough to hide the moans knocked out of you with each of his deep thrusts. He has you pinned firmly beneath him, yet it feels snug and comforting despite the pain of his grip. It feels like he's fucking everything into you, even his scent, so each thrust is enveloping you in his warm, tropical smell.

And with a surge of panic, you feel that familiar heat to growing again, and by the way Aonung is hissing and groaning and burying his face in your neck, you can tell he’s close too. With a final chance to finish this, you’re suddenly rolling over and pushing him back against the sand.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting to see from Aonung; you had no idea what he looked like when you were ass up with your face half buried in the sand. But you certainly weren’t expecting those blue eyes dark and wide and hungry, his lips to be parted in a silent gasp.

His hands fall straight to your hips, slowly rocking you on him. You stare the whole time. With narrowed eyes and shallowed breaths, it’s all a challenge. And you’re determined to win.

“Go on,” you hiss, attempting to grin down at Aonung despite your flushed face and hair spilling anywhere. He looks like he’s about to protest, and you know you have one move left to pull. You finally unsink your teeth from your lips and let it all out. The moment your moan rents the air, Aonung tenses below you. And when your head tips back and your back arches, you both know he’s a goner.

It never occurred to you, just how gentle he’d been, until he’s completely let go, allowed the crushing desire to overcome him. He's half thrusting up into you, half picking up and slamming down your body onto him. If you didn’t know better, you’d almost think you could hear him moaning your name.

You yelp as he speeds up now, brutal and animalistic as the last tenterhooks of his final restraint snaps and he buries himself deep inside you. And finally, you can’t hold it any longer, flopping forward against his chest and doing your best to ride out your high.

“Holy shit,” you pant, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to breathe properly. Aonung doesn’t reply, and when you look up, you find him inches away, staring blankly at you. You quickly scramble off him, snatching up your tewng and covering yourself up. You try your best to ignore the come dripping between your legs, or the flush on your face. “I won.”

Aonung’s face stills, back to his regular, blank stare, though you weren’t sure what you were even reading in it before.

“Yeah whatever,” he grumbles. “Still a freak.”

“A freak who had you fucking moaning my name,” you mutter under your breath, making sure you’re all covered up again. “And you are still an entitled, bratty, fishlipped sore loser.”

“Fuck off,” he grunts, smacking you hard with his tail, and you straighten up, glaring at him. He just glares straight back, both of your chests heaving as you still fight for breath, eyes narrowed and tails flicking agitatedly.

Finally, you just huff and turn, storming back along the beach away from the training grounds and Aonung, and back to the village and the marui you share with your family. You ignore their delight at your win in the fight; they have no idea what happened after, and you fully intend to keep it that way.

For some reason, you don’t feel as satisfied by your other win as you thought. It had been gratifying to watch as Aonung just completely lost control, and maybe you even enjoyed watching him lose his temper and toss and pull you around like you weighed nothing. You scowl and slump onto your sleeping mat.

Stupid skxawng, not admitting you won, when you both knew he was practically whimpering your name. The trouble was how difficult it had been for you not to do the same, moan out his name. And then there was the other trouble. That it had been nothing like you’d ever experienced, being stretched far further than ever before, him reaching places you didn’t even think were possible.

It was harder than anything. Harder than your iknimaya, harder than escaping Quaritch even. It was almost physically impossible, not to just collapse against him, not to moan your pleasure for Eywa to hear. And certainly not for Aonung to hear. If he knew how shaky you feel, how sore your legs are and how faint your head is, the stupid skxawng would never let you hear the end of it.

So you just slump back against your sleeping mat, trying not to think about how you have to train with him the next morning.

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༊ Taglist: @hadesbabygurl @wavesarchive @kqlopsia @tadomikiku @ntymavtr @mommyanddadskiller @thehoneymushroomhealer @tsireyax @integers @tiyawnyana @whatevenisagrapefruit @oakbuggy @sunsetviper @blue-slxt @simplyawh0re Okay let me know if i forgot someone hope you pookie pies enjoyed 🙃

#aonung #aonung fanfiction #aonung x reader #aonung x female reader #avatar smut #aonung fic #avatar fanfiction #avatar fandom #avatar the way of water #avatar #enemies to lovers #rivals to lovers #slow burn

509 notes · View notes

bunnyhugs77 · 2 years

Text

Tokyo Drift

Pairing: Street Racer! Jungkook x CEO Daughter! Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Content Warning: street racing, sneaking out (even though oc is 21), jungkook is secretly whipped, secret relationship, sexual themes, talks about getting a tattoo, speeding, oc wears pretty skirts, victory lap.

Other Content: size kink, manhandling, oral sex (f! receiving), just porn without plot tbh, oc has big titties, oc squirts, wall sex, strength kink, teasing, crying, fingering, sloppy makeout sesh on the hood of jungkook’s car ;)

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"I’m serious, Y/n. I want you staying home tonight, I don’t want you anywhere near all that reckless street racing.” Your father instructs but it was going in one ear and right out the other.

“Daddy, they’re not reckless, they know what they’re doing--” He rolls his eyes as you tried to reason with him.

“Bullshit, Y/n. If they really knew what they were doing, putting their lives in danger just for some cash, they would have realized by now it's idiotic and pointless.” He shakes his head as he approaches your bedroom door, “Do not leave this house.” That’s the the last thing he says to you before shutting your door behind him.

You could not believe him, you’re twenty one for god’s sake, twenty-two in a few weeks actually, he couldn’t boss you around like you were still a kid. Despite his words, you waited up like you usually did, this was not the first time you had this argument after all.

You waited until all the house lights were turned off and you made your way down the grand staircase that posed as an inconvenience to you in the dark while you headed for the front door; assuring the alarm was silent for your escape.

Finally free, you took a breath of fresh air as you got into your custom porsche parked right outside the house. You’re unable to deny yourself of the bubbling excitement that grew in your stomach as you got closer to the parking lot of the diner where the cars typically met up on race night.

Your car was practically nothing compared to the others on the lot; you took note of this as you stepped through the array of cars until you found who you were looking for, leaned up against the hood of his sleek black and blue corvette.

You failed to contain the smile that spread across your face the moment you saw him, “hey princess,” he gently cups your face in his hand, straightening his posture before leaning down to peck your lips.

A cool night breeze flew past the both of you causing you to shiver slightly, his eyes analyzed your clothing, mini skirt and an off-the-shoulder top. His face immediately washed over in concern as he took your hand in his, loving how small and warm yours felt in his much larger one.

“baby, it’s chilly tonight. I don’t want you to get cold.” You couldn’t believe he was real. He was always putting your needs first which is how you found yourselves in the diner’s bathroom, door locked, skirt pushed up and your ass on the edge of the sink with his hands on your hips as he kissed you deeply.

Your hands roaming over each other’s bodies radiating with more desperation and need for one another the longer you were in each other’s presence. “j-jungkook-- your race,” you had to pull yourself back out of his hold in order to look at him straight, your hair was already a little disheveled and eyes hazy as you looked at him.

he takes a look at his watch, a mischievous smile spreading across his red and abused lips, “we’ve got 15 minutes,” he clarifies which still doesn’t have you convinced, “but that’s not--” if only you knew what you were getting yourself into with those words.

“I can make you cum in forty-five seconds if i wanted to. we have time.” his voice so brash and deep as if it was a growl as he worked at raising your top over your bra before pulling the latter down to let your full tits spill over, 00revealing themselves to him.

a strangled groan was caught in the back of his throat before he began marking your chest, lips puckering around the buds of your nipples as his tongue lapped over them, sending chills down your spine.

“mmm, feels so good,” you moaned your legs spreading to make more room for him as your hands crawled their way to his hair, tightening their grip as he nipped lightly at your sensitive buds. “you’re so fucking stunning, you know that?” he hums as he kissed down your abdomen where he made sure to leave a trail of hickeys behind.

he slowly crouched lower to his knees, the sink being the perfect height for his intentions with you. You helped to raise your hips making it easier for him to pull down the soaked fabric of your underwear down your legs. another shiver running down your spine as you watched him pocket them.

“so so pretty, hmm-- my pretty girl.” the vibration of his voice against your bare and exposed cunt sent your legs flying shut to which he kept pried open with one hand.

“keep your fucking legs open or I won’t let you cum.” the thought of not being able to release the burning heat that built within your core shook you to the bone. you shook your head fearfully, that being the last thing you wanted but you couldn’t seem to move at the sensation of his wet, warm tongue working against you. “i’ll be good, p-promise,”

“i know you’ll be good, you’re always such a good girl for me,” he coos before continuing his sinful attack on your pussy with his mouth. your vocabulary was failing you as you his tongue flicked over your bud, lapping up at your folds, he was so fucking filthy with his tongue it had your eyes rolling back.

Your eyes tightened in his hair eliciting a deep groan to erupt from him which felt like it was bouncing off the walls of your cunt. “fuck- jungkook-”

“feels so good,” you say breathlessly, feeling as though he was eating you out within an inch of your life. he chuckled darkly, looking up only to be met with the sight of your head hanging back, with one hand in his hair and the other gripping the edge of the sink for dear life.

the feeling of his tongue prodding at your entrance had your legs shaking, welcoming an indescribable feeling to consume you before you could even identify it, “s-stop stop-- gonna” you weren’t the only one caught off guard by your orgasm, you’re sure jungkook would’ve liked more time to prepare before you squirted on his face.

He pulls away from you slowly, not breaking the eye contact he had with your sopping cunt. “holy shit, y/n. did you just--” your face was red in embarrassment, “i’m sorry--” before your apology could even fully leave your lips jungkook had risen to his feet, manhandling to get you off the sink and against the nearest wall.

you’ve never seen this look before, as if he wanted to consume you whole. “don’t fucking apologize. that was so hot-- shit, do you feel what you do to me?” With one hand holding your leg up by his waist he used his other to guide your free hand to feel his rock hard cock from beneath his jeans.

your face returned to its previous shade of red. he checked his watch, he was running out of time but he would much rather be balls deep in you than speeding down the street.

“does your daddy know you’re out here at this time, princess?” he was teasing you, he knows how much your father hates you coming to his races but something about you breaking the rules to support him just makes him strive to see you fucked out all the more.

the second your mouth opened to respond you feel two fingers plunge into you knowing you were more than wet enough to take it, “hmm? what was that? I didn’t quite catch that?” He laughs wickedly, seeing those familiar tears pool in your eyes, the same ones that drove him insane. “n-no, he doesn’t know-- ah.” you yell at the stretch of his third finger joining the other two.

“such a bad girl i have here, how disobedient of you.” his teasing was only adding to heat that was burning inside you, bringing you closer and closer to your high before it was ripped away from you along with his fingers.

you whined loudly in protest, “you didn’t think i wasn’t going to fuck you, did you?” he questions you, letting you down for just a moment to pull his jeans down along with his boxers, letting his cock stand tall and proud as it his toned abdomen after he discarded his shirt.

you watched with a hungry gaze as he pumped himself a few times, sucking in a sharp breath between his teeth before lining himself up with your soaked cunt. he didn’t have the time to tease but he wished he did. ‘next time’ he thinks to himself.

it’s a breathtaking stroke, quite literally as it seems to have sucked the air from both of your lungs the moment he bottoms out. your nails leaving intricate details on his back, sure to leave slight welts by tomorrow morning. “fuck y/n, this pussy is a dream.” he groans, his pace picking up significantly, hips jackhammering against you as he holds you up against the wall with both hands under your thighs, gripping them tight enough to leave bruises.

Sometimes when you don’t get the chance to see each other what really gets him off is the thought of you tattooing his name onto your inner thigh. subconsciously gripping them tighter at the idea. For you, it was thinking about how big and strong he was, the way he could hold you in this position for hours with absolutely no struggle, the thought alone made you clench around him.

“jungkook! slow down,” your words sounded more of a question than an order making him laugh as he knows you’re already feeling a little sensitive after your previous orgasm, “yeah? that’s what you want? want me to move like this?” he slows down, rolling his hips to the pace that it was slow but deep.

initially he only did it thinking it would piss you off but the way it made you spasm around his length made him reconsider the pace until he remembered how little time he had. leaving you winded as he suddenly resumed his inhumane pace, your tits bouncing like the girls in his wildly explicit animes.

“j-jungkook, i’m gonna--” in the end it was jungkook’s vocality that brought you to the edge and pushed you over, this time somehow feeling even more powerful than the first with the added sensitivity leaving you screaming.

with your hair all over the place, tits out, and wet cheeks jungkook couldn’t hold himself back from blowing his load, “shit shit shit,” a string of profanities slip past his lips as he reaches his high before coating your velvet walls with his hot cum.

your foreheads rest against each other for just a moment as you catch your breath, coming down from your highs with a few small kisses here and there until reality settles in that jungkook has no more than 2 minutes to get to the starting line.

the two of you had never moved with such speed, you did your best with your slightly altered walk credit to jungkook’s energetic thrusts to your poor pussy.

he made it in the knick of time, you watched from the sidelines in the large crowd as jungkook and his competitor drove up to the line until they were side by side.

there was a girl who stood in the middle of the two cars with her hands high in the air, by the time she brought them back down the two cars had completely vanished, speeding down the strip far out of view.

It was no more than 5 minutes before the high maintenance vehicles came racing back into view, it looked almost as if it was a tie but anyone could see jungkook had crossed the line mere milliseconds before. the cheers roared to fill the street, the people behind you celebrated loudly, music suddenly beginning to play from speakers that others had brought.

Just as jungkook pulled into the parking lot once again you hardly gave him enough time to park before running towards the vehicle, he stepped out, picking you up from the back of your thighs, your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips as he spun you around.

“Congratulations!” you cheered, letting out a small puff of air as you felt him place you on the warm hood of his car, his large hands snaking back down around your waist as he kissed you passionately. It was all adrenaline and tongue, your hands swinging over his shoulders while he deepened the kiss before he pulled away.

“wanna go for a victory lap? let me take you for a ride.” he grins.

#jungkook #jungkook smut #bts #btssmuts #bts oneshot #jungkook oneshot #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #jungkook ff #jungkook fic recs #jungkook fluff #BTS jungkook #jeon jungkook

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 2 months

Text

The Danger Zone (Part 21) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 3.3k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY.

Warnings: Breast Feeding; Life with a Newborn; Hospitals; Post-Labor; References to Mental Health Issues; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: You and Jake enjoy your first few days with your daughter.

Series Master List

Master List

Jake walked out of the maternity ward, causing your extended family to quickly get to their feet. He let out an incredulous laugh as everyone moved to gather around him, still not fully believing that he was officially a father now. There were a handful of questions thrown at him, but Jake was still lost in his own world.

He was a dad. He had a little girl waiting for him.

“How are they?” Penny asked, her hand on his shoulder bringing him out of his stupor.

“They’re both healthy. She did great and there weren’t any complications. Baby Girl came out kicking and screaming. She’s six pounds, three ounces. And she's sixteen inches long.”

“And her name?” Maverick asked softly.

“She wanted to tell everyone all together,” Jake replied with a wide smile. And it was going to be near impossible to remove the smile from his face. That awestruck, completely in love smile was practically permanent at this point. “So, she told me to come and bring you all back.”

The group left the waiting room, starting the short trip down the hall to visit you and your baby. Coyote quickly pulled Jake into a bear hug, squeezing the life out of his best friend. Releasing him, Coyote smacked Jake supportively on the back.

“I knew you’d make back it in time,” Coyote replied with a grin.

You were cuddling with your daughter on the hospital bed when there was a light knock on the door. You looked up and smiled softly when you saw your family. And even though you were clearly exhausted, you were absolutely radiating joy. And with the beautiful baby girl in your arms, it wasn’t hard to figure out why.

“Hi, everyone.”

“How are you feeling?” Penny asked, moving to sit beside your bed.

“Tired. But she’s finally here.”

You smiled contentedly as you rested your head on top of your daughter’s, still soaking it all in. Sitting up more, you shifted your hold on your daughter, gently rolling towards your family so that they could all see her. You shared a smile with Jake before staring down at your daughter.

“Everyone, meet Sara Seresin.”

“Sarah . . . Seresin?” Maverick repeated slowly, seemingly wincing as he did so.

“After Sarah Kazansky?” Emma asked kindly.

“No, there’s no ‘h.’”

“Well, that makes a huge difference,” Coyote replied, bobbing his head up and down as he shared a side-eye look with his wife.

“Sara Seresin,” Phoenix stated, staring at you like you had grown two heads in the process.

“That’s . . . a beautiful name,” Penny assured you, pinching Maverick in the side.

Jake snapped a picture of everyone’s reaction before turning back to you and your daughter. You tried to fight the laugh at your simple prank, but soon enough, a giggle escaped your lips. Ignoring everyone’s incredulous stares, you adjusted your daughter’s hat.

“We didn’t name her that,” Jake told everyone, earning a series of sighs of relief.

“Oh thank god,” Maverick stated, holding a hand to his heart. Patting your brother on the back, he added, “No offense, Bradley.”

Your brother shot Maverick a look as Jake leaned down to pick up your daughter. Jake carefully took your daughter into his arms, holding her gently against his chest as he turned to the crowd. Everyone seemed to hold their breaths as Jake slowly moved his gaze from his daughter’s face to them.

“We named her Maisie.”

"Maisie Caroline," you added softly.

“Oh, that’s so beautiful,” Penny cooed, squeezing you into her side.

“Much better than Sara Seresin,” Coyote stated under his breath, earning a side-eye look from Bradley. “What?”

“Who wants to hold her?” Jake asked, looking around the room.

Maverick urged Bradley forward and stepped to the side, eyes already brimming with happy tears. Bradley held out his arms and Jake carefully placed your daughter into them. Bradley gently cradled your daughter against his chest, staring down at her with wide eyes as he felt her wiggle.

“I was expecting her to be bigger,” Bradley admitted quietly, turning back to you.

“I’m glad that she wasn’t,” you replied, earning a round of quiet laughs.

“She’s so beautiful,” Emma praised, looking over Bradley’s arm at your daughter.

You and Jake shared a look before you smiled and nodded, reaching out to gently nudge your husband forward. Jake turned back to your brother as Bradley adjusted your daughter’s blanket. He stared down at your daughter as he came to stand beside Bradley.

“Meet your goddaughter,” Jake stated quietly, causing Bradley to turn to him with shock.

“You’re serious?”

“If you don’t want to be—”

“—Thank you,” Bradley interjected instead before Jake could retract his statement. Glancing down at his niece, who was peacefully snuggling into her blanket, Bradley turned back to Jake. “Really, thank you. I know that I wasn’t very supportive of your relationship in the beginning.”

“That might be an understatement,” Jake deadpanned.

“And we didn’t get along for a long time.”

“Since we met.”

“And I stand by it.”

“As do I,” Jake agreed, ignoring the fact that you were rolling your eyes at them.

“But Emma and I are here for you guys if you need anything. Babysitting. Deployments. Anything. Really. You’re a part of our family now. Forever, actually, because of Maisie.”

Jake nodded in appreciation before Bradley turned to give your daughter to Maverick. Although Jake trusted both men with his life—and already had—he couldn’t help but hover during the transfer. His hands were practically itching to cradle your daughter as Maverick carefully took her into his arms.

“He’s already not letting her out of his sight,” Penny whispered to you, amused.

“Not if he can help it,” you agreed with a smile. “She’s got him wrapped around her tiny little finger.”

Maverick cradled Maisie against his chest, holding her protectively. Bradley walked over to give you a hug as Maverick took in the fact that he was holding Goose and Carole’s first grandchild. Goose was a grandpa. Carole was a grandma. To the most beautiful little girl that Maverick had seen since you were born.

“She’s so beautiful,” Maverick croaked out, sniffling as he tried to not let his tears drop down onto your daughter. Turning to you, he added, “Your parents are so proud of you, sweetheart. And they’re here.”

“I know, Mav,” you returned, trying and failing at not crying at his words. Bradley hugged you tighter as you dried your tears.

Turning to Jake, Maverick offered your daughter. Jake quickly accepted your daughter back into his arms and immediately smiled wider as he held his daughter once again. Jake greeted your daughter softly, as if he had been parted from her for too long. Maverick nodded to himself, very proud and thankful that Jake was ecstatic to be a dad to your daughter.

That little girl was going to be loved, that much was certain.

“Congratulations,” Maverick told Jake, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you,” Jake returned softly.

Maverick walked over to check on you and Jake walked over to where Javy and Nat were standing, waiting patiently for their turn. Javy squeezed Jake’s shoulder supportively, staring down at Maisie with a wide smile.

“She’s beautiful, Jake,” Javy replied, giving his wingman a side hug.

“She gets it from her mom.” Jake shifted his hold on your daughter as he turned back to Javy. “Do you want to hold her?”

“Of course, I want to hold her.”

Jake maneuvered your daughter safely into her Uncle Javy’s arms. Javy had plenty of nieces and nephews, so he wasn’t a stranger to the move. Javy smiled down at Maisie and cooed softly, watching her nose wrinkle as she wiggled in her pink blanket. She stuck her tongue out, causing Javy to laugh.

“Yeah, she’s your daughter alright.”

Phoenix walked over to your hospital bed with a paper take out bag. Holding it out to you, she offered a supportive smile as you shot her a questioning look.

“Your post-baby meal. As promised.”

“You’re amazing,” you breathed out, happily taking the bag from her.

“And whenever you stop breastfeeding, I’ll drop off some wine. You’re going to need it raising Hangman’s kid.”

Everyone stayed for a little bit longer, but no one wanted to intrude on your and Jake’s time with your daughter. You fell asleep not long after Penny and Mav left, leaving Jake and Maisie alone in the hospital room for the first time.

Jake laid down on the couch and rested your daughter against his bare chest again, taking the nurse’s advice on skin-to-skin contact. Maisie’s little head had a surprising amount of hair and Jake slowly ran his finger through it to keep her soothed. Smiling down at his daughter, Jake looked over to see you still peacefully sleeping.

“You scared your mom earlier today, coming early like that. And me too. I thought that I had time to surprise your mom. I was going to get her some nice flowers, set up your nursery, and the rest of the house. But nothing went according to plan with our entire relationship, so I should have expected that you would pull something like this.”

Your daughter wiggled around against Jake’s chest, curling into his body warmth as he continued to brush her hair and back softly.

“And you’re the best welcome home present that I’ve ever received, sweetheart,” Jake added, unable to stop smiling. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before leaning back again. “I’m always going to be here for you, okay? Don’t you ever forget that. I love you. I love your mom. And I’ll do anything to protect the both of you, alright? From anything.”

Jake laid there with your daughter, content to simply watch her, until she started to get fussy. Wiggling and feeling around, Maisie started to try to feed on him. Jake gently rolled to sit up and held Maisie in his arms. Trying to placate her, Jake hoped that you’d be able to sleep for a little longer.

But then Maisie started to cry even louder, and Jake could hear you shift on your bed.

“Jake,” you called, cracking open your eyes.

“I think she’s hungry,” Jake stated, getting up and walking to you.

Nodding tiredly, you sat up and pulled your hospital gown down. Jake handed over your daughter and you tried to get her settled. After some time, Maisie latched and started to feed, allowing you to lean back and close your eyes, still half-asleep.

Jake kept a supportive arm under yours, knowing that you were exhausted. Staring down at Maisie as she suckled, Jake pressed a kiss to the side of your head. You hummed, but Jake could tell that you were tired. Actually, tired was an understatement.

When Maisie finally had her fill, Jake took her into his arms again. Holding your daughter with one arm, Jake readjusted your hospital gown and pulled the blanket up further.

“Go back to sleep. I’ve got her,” Jake told you softly, gently brushing your hair out of your face. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” you mumbled back tiredly.

~~~~~

Your time in the hospital flew by and before you knew it, you were being released. Jake helped you into the back of your car, where your daughter was already safely strapped in. You were still exhausted, but glad to go home to your own bed. You wanted to finally settle into your home with your husband and your daughter.

Jake gently closed the door to the driver’s seat, not wanting to startle your daughter, and looked back at the two of you over his shoulder. He glanced up at the little mirror attached to the head rest that you had been gifted at your baby shower, which allowed him to look down at your sleeping daughter.

“How’re you doing?” he asked you, causing you to smile softly.

“I’m ready to go home."

“Me too,” Jake agreed, returning your smile.

Starting the car, Jake backed up out of the parking spot and began to drive home. You kept a close eye on your daughter, but Maisie was content and slept through the short ride. Well, it would have been short, but Jake insisted on taking the backroads, driving the speed limit, and yielding to just about everyone or everything. But the three of you eventually made your way home.

“Welcome home, Maisie. Welcome home, Jake,” you stated with a small grin.

Jake got out of the car first and walked around to grab your daughter's car seat. And then the three of you walked into the house together as a family for the first time ever.

Jake quietly noted the boxes that were still piled up around the place but didn't comment about it. Breaking away from Jake’s side, you slowly made your way over to the kitchen and picked up the note that someone left for you.

Your fridge and freezer are full of meals for the two of you. Enjoy this time with your daughter and don’t worry about cooking. Just focus on your family. And you know that you can always call me if you need help. With Love, Sarah.

“I should call her,” you stated, showing Jake the note. He picked it up and noted the writing on the back.

“And don’t worry about calling me, I know you’re thankful,” Jake read aloud, causing you to laugh to yourself.

“I wonder when my mom-senses are actually going to kick in,” you mused, looking down at your daughter.

“They’re already there,” Jake insisted, setting your daughter’s car seat on the ground gently. “Now, what did you want to do while she’s still sleeping?”

“We should probably put her crib together.”

Jake found the box among the stack and pulled it out. You sat on the couch, keeping an eye on your sleeping daughter. Jake opened up the box and handed you the instructions before he started to lay out all of the different pieces.

“Did you want me to read them to you?” you asked, flipping through the instructions.

“I can figure it out,” Jake insisted, causing you to look up and raise an eyebrow at your husband.

“You’re just going to figure it out?” you repeated slowly.

“How hard can a crib be to put together?”

Twenty minutes later, you were sorting through all of the baby clothes that you had been gifted to pull out the size that fit your daughter as Jake quietly muttered to himself. Knowing that he would stubbornly refuse to admit that he was struggling without the directions, you decided to try and shift his focus.

“Now that I think about it, did you want to set up the bassinet first?” you suggested.

“Which box is that?” he agreed, standing up.

“The one sticking out on the right side,” you stated, trying not to laugh at your husband.

Jake, however, could hear the smile in your voice and turned back to you. Walking over to you, he leaned down so that you were eye level.

“I will figure out the crib,” he insisted softly.

“I know you will,” you assured him, running your hand down his cheek. Pressing a soft kiss to his lips, you added, “You’ll look at the directions while I’m asleep, won't you?”

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

Jake pecked your lips again before straightening up and moving to grab the box with the bassinet in it. You smiled to yourself before looking down at your daughter. You leaned down a little bit, placing your finger in her curled fist.

“Your dad is really stubborn. Please tell me that you didn’t get that trait from him.”

“I can hear you.”

“Shh, this is a private conversation,” you teased, causing Jake to smile and shake his head.

~~~~~

Jake set Maisie down in her crib, which he built while you took a nap. If he used the directions or not, he would never admit it aloud. Not unless you gave him a pout, anyways. You walked into your bedroom, having put away some milk for Jake to grab in the night for Maisie, and smiled tiredly when you saw Jake hovering over your daughter.

“How is she?”

“She’s asleep.” Turning to you, Jake walked over and grabbed your hands. “Now, it’s time to take care of you.”

You and Jake stepped into the adjacent bathroom. After you anxiously rambled to Jake about leaving Maisie alone, he very gently pulled her crib over to be next to the door—but not blocking it to avoid steam and just in case there was an emergency—and placed a baby monitor receiver on the towel rack beside the shower, just in case you couldn’t hear her.

Jake gently undressed you before undressing himself. Testing the temperature of the water, Jake stepped in first before offering you a hand. You couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped as the hot water hit your sore body. Leaning against your husband, you curled your head into his chest.

Being very gentle with you, Jake lathered your hair with shampoo before washing it out for you. Rubbing his hands together with body soap, Jake carefully washed your skin, knowing that the residual hospital smell was bothering you.

“I could get used to this,” you murmured, running your hand through his hair.

After applying conditioner to your hair, Jake held you in his arms as you leaned against his chest. He rubbed your back as the water rained down on the two of you. Pressing a kiss to your head, Jake rested his head against your own.

He didn’t want to bring it up with you yet, not until he could assess the situation himself. But he was worried about you.

When he would check in with Coyote and Phoenix while he was deployed, they mentioned that you weren’t like yourself in the last few weeks of your pregnancy. And Penny confirmed that for him, when he had a moment to talk to her privately at the hospital.

And he hoped that it was just part of your pregnancy and was now nothing to worry about, but he wasn’t just going to dismiss it.

You were his wife. You just had your baby girl two days ago after finishing up your third trimester without him. You moved into this house without him. You had your baby shower without him. You did a thousand things without him because you were forced to just deal with what life threw at you.

And he wasn’t going to let anything happen to you or Maisie. The past nine months, you had been doing the heavy lifting. And now it was his turn to do that.

Turning off the water, Jake stepped out to grab a towel. He dried you off and after helping you into some pajamas and pulling on some shorts, Jake led you back to your bed. He helped dry your hair as you applied some moisturizer.

“How do you feel now?” Jake asked, causing you to smile up at him.

“Better, thank you.”

You leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips that Jake was happy to return. Jake put the TV on and the two of you cuddled in bed as you quickly started to fall asleep. Jake held you into his side, rubbing his thumb on your hip.

“I love you,” he told you softly, causing you to hum.

“I love you too, Jake.”

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370 notes · View notes

trevuorzegras · 29 days

Text

━╋ SHE WAS BORING

✿ umich cheer au part one ⬚͒ㅤㅤㅤ♪

ⓘ all works for this series can be found on the #wrong time is an inconvenience au tag! ❤︎

fem!reader x mark estapa

mentions of fem!reader x cole sillinger

mentions of mark estapa x fem!oc

faceclaim: jules leblanc

find the series masterlist, here!

colesillinger

colesillinger: my girl. ❤️

liked by adamfantilli, bluejacketsnhl, and others

user1: uhh did y/n dye her hair??

↳ yourusername: i very much did not. still very much a brunette. 🙃

↳ user2: wait what? yourusername

user3: i’m so confused

user4: dude did you mean to post this.. cause..

jadewinters: what the fuck??

↳ colesillinger: is there a problem jaden?

jadewinters: watch yourself sillinger.

user5: what is going on??

user6: isn’t y/n back at uni..?

↳ user7: yeah y/n is also NOT A BLONDE.

liked by yourusername

user8: he just openly posted about him cheating.. ok..

user9: y’all act like a man can’t have friends 🤣🤣

↳ user10: they’re kissing, if that’s friends then 💀

user11: interesting.. 🙃

(PINNED) colesillinger: coming at me like i care, she was boring so i traded up 🤷‍♂️

↳ user12: you’re so fucking odd bro

yourusername: good to see where you stand. this definitely could’ve been handled privately; but if this is how you want it, so be it. have a good life, and an amazing nhl career, cole. 🩷

↳ user13: this is actually so upsetting. she’s genuinely too kind to be treated like this.

user14: i thought you guys were end game wtf

adamfantilli: yk i love you dude, but what the fuck is wrong with you bro

↳ user15: even adam knows ts is wrong

this post has been deleted.

yourusername

yourusername: been a very productive day! 1) got cheated on. 2) went to a hockey game! 3) went to a post hockey party! 4) met some of the team 5) got absolutely shit faced with jadewinters oh! and i took this beautiful picture of dylanduke5

liked by edwards.73, luca.fantilli, and others

(PINNED) yourusername: i have practice tomorrow, and jade let me do this. whatever #goblue 〽️

lhughes_06: i really shouldn’t have left you alone at umich. 💀

↳ yourusername: can’t believe you never introduced me to your team, especially since they’re this fun to be around

↳ lhughes_06: ?? that’s EXACTLY why i didn’t introduce you to them. yourusername

user16: THERES ABSOLUTELY NO WAY

user17: SHE MET THE TEAM?

user18: cheerleader meets hockey players

markestapa: hope to see you again y/n

↳ yourusername: boy i gave you my number

↳ jadewinters: oh did you now 😏 yourusername

lhughes_06: so it’s YOUR fault that y/n met the hockey team. jadewinters

↳ jadewinters: shut up mr nhl

user19: they seem like such a fun group 😭

user20: DUKER 💀

umichcheer: the second slide is correct! (also we’re ignoring the caption.)

↳ yourusername: oh… thanks guys love you

user21: the cheer account being in the comments LMFAO

user22: ETHAN AND MARK

user23: y’all on about the umich guys when y/n is RIGHT THERE HELLO???

liked by yourusername

user24: can’t wait to see more of y/n at the hockey games 🥅🏒〽️

luca.fantilli: OH YEAH

user25: the picture of y/n and jade awe 😭

user26: hope you had fun!

user27: puck bunnie

↳ yourusername: i prefer umich fan but thank you!

↳ user28: LMFOOAOAOOA yourusername

dylanduke5: oh i look dashing!

↳ yourusername: of course you do duker pooker 🥰

edwards.75: me and y/n become bestfriends if anyone is wondering

↳ yourusername: he accidentally drank my drink three times and kept apologizing, + said he’ll be my bestfriend & buy me whatever i want if i forgave him

user29: so many unexpected duos omg

user30: beauty

user31: WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THE CAPTION??

↳ user32: SHES SO UNBOTHERED IM CRYING

user33: cole fumbled and she’s living her best life LMFOAOAOA

rutgermcgroarty: no one talk to us we’re doing hot girl shit *hair flip*

↳ yourusername: boy go to BED 😭😭

user34: y/n it’s 3 am. 💀

its 5 am i’m so tired but i wanted to get at least one chapter done since i haven’t really worked on anything recently. find my masterlist, here!!

taglist | @wnderify (comment 2 be added)

also little psa! i love cole, so don’t even start with that please, it’s for the plot guys trust!

199 notes · View notes

scuttling · 11 months

Text

Flicker in the Dark - Jacob Black/Reader

Fandom: Twilight Saga Pairings: Jacob Black/Female Reader Word Count: 12,598 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Pining, Unprotected sex, Slightly aged up (Jacob is 20), Fix it fic Summary: My take on New Moon, if all of the characters were a bit more mature and Jacob got his girl. A/N: This is a third-person story that pairs Jacob with a girl who isn't Bella but who fills her role in the story; Bella doesn't exist in this universe because I find she's not as interesting to write as an original character, for me personally. The character has no name and no physical description, so treat her as an OC or a "reader," your choice there. :)

Keep reading below or link to AO3!

Bringing the idea of fixing the bikes to Jacob was the best thing she’s ever done: the best, and one of the dumbest, by far.

They both have adult obligations now—she has class, and a part-time job, which are thankfully both online, and Jake works full time—so when the stars align and they’re free at the same time, they spend every moment in his garage like a couple of bored kids. They listen to music on his dad’s old radio, eat pizza and tacos standing up much more often than they should; Jacob isn’t twenty-one just yet, but they’re on the rez, so they sip beers sometimes, especially on the rare warm days where the sun shines into the garage and sweat prickles at their hairlines.

He’s taller at twenty than he was when he was younger, broader and more filled out, like he’d said back on her birthday; she notices, sometimes, things like the tightness of his t-shirts stretched across his back, the way his jeans fit just, extraordinarily well. Those kinds of things you can’t help but notice, even if you’re emotionally, physically, and mentally unavailable, the way she is.

He pokes fun at her age—forever a sore spot, especially when Edward is and will be twenty-two forever—but she catches him noticing her, too, sometimes, so she’s not a total embarrassment at least.

It doesn’t happen right away, like magic or anything, but hanging out in his garage does make her feel better; he makes her feel better, if she’s being honest with herself. He quiets the chatter in her brain, the anxiety, the self-doubt, and she smiles more when she’s with him, laughs more, gets out of her own head. She’s happier when she’s with him, too, bikes or no bikes—though the roar of the restored motorcycle engine certainly doesn’t hurt—and he’s good for her, there’s no denying that.

She remembers her dad’s advice, even more meaningful now that she’s moved out of his house and living on her own—sometimes, you gotta learn to love what’s good for you—and she even thinks she could, some days.

That’s easy enough to say to herself, but so, so much harder in practice. She can tell Jacob is… interested, when they go to the movies, with the way he lays his hand on the armrest, palm up, in case she wants to hold it. Part of her wants to, really wants to; part just thinks about Edward and she clams up, can’t do it. She feels guilty, like she’s doing something wrong, even though he left her and not the other way around.

She still loves him, will always love him, but Edward made his choice; she just wishes she felt free enough to make her own.

She feels guilty when they ride, too, because the one thing he’d asked of her was not to be reckless, and now she goes out of her way to find a rush wherever she can. Anything legal, be it motorcycles, rock climbing, running, skydiving, really, really big roller coasters—you name it, she’s done it, and though none of it ever worked as well as she’d hoped it would, she never stops trying.

She knows better than to give herself over to things like drugs or binge drinking or meaningless one-night stands, but aside from that the limits to what she will try are almost non-existent. She loves the thrill of it all, loves feeling brave, feeling strong; In the end, she may wind up with a few cuts and bruises, but as long as she’s hurting no one but herself, she doesn’t feel too bad.

When she hurts Jacob, she feels awful, terrible, and she does hurt him—he’s so hurt for a while that he doesn’t want to see her, doesn’t even return her calls. She feels weak for the first time in a long time, like if she’d just been able to be what he wanted, to hold his hand, to kiss him, to get over herself, they both would have been happier. Now she just feels sad, and selfish, hurting the one person who has always been there for her, who’s always eased her pain.

She wants to respect his space, can’t bear the thought of hurting him more than she already has, but her anxiety gets the better of her; no amount of kickboxing or rock climbing has been able to take her mind off of him since that night at the movies, when he left in such a hurry. Even Edward has shifted to the back of her mind, though she has no idea when exactly that happened.

So she goes to him. Against his wishes. In the pouring rain.

She’s so, so stupid.

He’s so, so shredded, even more so than usual; it’s the first thing she notices only because he’s soaking wet and shirtless and that makes it pretty obvious. The second thing she notices is his hair, no longer long and pulled back with a cord of leather, but cropped short, though inky black as always. The third thing she notices is the tattoo, a large, tribal design on his shoulder that looks well-healed even though she saw him less than a week ago.

She catalogs all of that, and then she remembers he’s avoiding her and that she’s here to ask for forgiveness (she’s willing to beg, but it’s sort of a last resort.)

She calls his name, but he doesn’t turn around at first, not until she’s right in front of him, fists balled angrily at her sides.

“Jacob, I’m sorry… I’m sorry about the movie. Can we talk about it?” He huffs an unamused laugh, takes half a step closer; that kind of thing used to be playful, but now it seems almost menacing, between the muscles and the tattoo and the deepening frown on his face.

“This isn’t about that. You–you need to leave. Now.” The tone of his voice leaves no room for argument… but then again, that’s never stopped her before. She steps closer too, more of a challenge than anything.

“Well if it’s not about that, what is it? What happened?” He turns away as if to leave and she reaches for him, fingers latching onto his wrist. She knows right away that when she tugs, and he turns, it’s because he let it happen; there’s no way anyone could force him to do anything now, not with how big he is, how strong, how solid beneath her hand. “Is it Sam? Did he get to you too?”

“I was wrong about Sam. He’s helping me through it—just like he helped the others,” he says, but it sounds odd to her ears. If something was wrong, if he’d needed help, he would have come to her… right? “I can’t do this right now—you have to go. Please go.”

Before, he was stern, but this time he’s pleading for her to leave, and that’s just not Jacob—they’d hash it out before he cut her off without so much as a word, instead of ghosting her and making his father lie for him and keeping secrets with Sam Uley.

“Jake,” she pleads too, but instead of tightening her grip on his wrist she brings her hand up to the nape of his neck, to brush through the short hair that lays there, drenched in rainwater. “Please don’t do this to me.”

He closes his eyes like it pains him, and it very well might; she knows the similarities to the night Edward left are becoming almost too much for her to bear.

Maybe that’s why she came here, after all, because she could, because at least she still knew where she could find him. Because even if he didn’t want to talk to her, at least she’d know he was okay.

“I’m not doing this to you, I’m doing it for you. I’m not who you thought I was, I’m not good for you. You can’t be around me anymore.”

Fuck that, she thinks immediately, because she is so absolutely tired of people telling her what she can and can’t do, what she’s strong enough for, what’s safe.

She doesn’t want safe. All she wants is Jacob.

“I decide what’s good for me; I decide,” she says, voice raised and rough, jabbing a finger in his direction, and he grabs both of her forearms and holds them between them. He looks like he wants to shake her, he’s so frustrated, but his grip isn’t tight. “You think you’re going to hurt me, or something? Because look at us, Jake.” Her gaze moves to his hands on her, holding her still but doing it gently, carefully. “It’s okay. You won’t hurt me, I know it.”

He drops her arms like she’s burned him, like he didn’t even realize he was holding them, and takes two steps back, away from her.

“You’re right, I won’t—because you can’t ever come here again.”

He turns and runs to Sam and the other guys, leaving her standing in the rain, soaked and alone, her stomach in knots. The chatter is back, the self-doubt, louder than ever now; if they could both do this, both leave her so easily, would she ever be enough for anyone?

She’s not sitting around her house moping about this, not again. She did that with Edward and it got her absolutely nowhere, so this time she resolves to just skip to the front of the line. She packs a bag for the trail and goes hiking, plans to take a long path deep into the woods, away from the bear attacks or whatever’s going on out there. Her dad would have her head if she walked headfirst into danger, and she knows better, anyway, isn’t going to actually risk her life just to get Rocky Mountain high.

She hadn’t planned on risking her life, anyway, but how was she to know the formerly peaceful Laurent was back in Forks, red eyes and all, and that he was working with Victoria? That wasn’t on her supernatural drama bingo card, that’s for damn sure.

She listens to him do the villain rambling for a moment, but irritation wins out over fear and she loses her temper, slips up and says that Edward is gone and he’s not coming back, and if he wants to kill her, well no one’s stopping him!

He looks amused by her outburst, but the smile melts off of his face when an enormous black wolf steps out of the trees, followed by several others of all shades, shapes, sizes. She doesn’t get a chance to count them, just runs like hell in the other direction, but when she risks a look back they are going after Laurent with a precision she wouldn’t expect from wild animals just looking for dinner.

She tells no one about the wolves—who would believe her anyway?—just runs back to her truck until she’s breathless, goes home and takes a steaming hot shower to rinse away the cold clamminess of his touch. She makes a cup of tea and changes into a t-shirt, a pair of shorts, then parks herself on the couch with her laptop for the rest of the night.

Until the knock at the door that comes around 1 AM.

It’s Jacob, and she’s so happy to see him that she forgets all about her day up until that point and wraps her arms around him, hugs him where he stands in the doorway. He hugs back, thank god, his embrace tight and warm and comforting, and then she ushers him in, offers to make more tea while they talk.

“About the other day,” she begins, filling the electric kettle with water and plugging it in, but he cuts her off, panicked.

“I wish I could explain,” he says, and he’s almost got those puppy dog eyes that always get him his way; he doesn’t even do it on purpose, just looks like that, and it’s incredibly hard to resist. “But I literally can’t.”

“No, I know, I… I mean, I think I know.” She has a box of tea in her hand and she’s gesturing a bit wildly with it, so she sets it on the counter, walks closer to him, so there’s about a foot of space between them. “First rule of fight club is you can’t talk about fight club—wait, it’s not an actual fight club, right? Because you’d dominate.”

He laughs, a real one, with his head thrown back, and she all but grins. There he is. Her Jacob.

“No, it’s not a fight club, but you’re right. I can’t talk about it, I can’t tell you anything.” His tone of voice hurts her, because it’s clear this is something he wants, needs to share; she moves closer, eyes on his.

“And what if I guess? Is that against the rules?” He shakes his head fervently, rests his palm on the counter beside him.

“No, no—in fact, that’s exactly what I need you to do. Sam can’t stop you, and I know you, you’re smart, won’t stop until you figure it out.” He reaches out with his other hand, tentatively, and links their fingers together like he did at the movies; when he brings their hands up to his chest, this time, she doesn’t pull away. “It would be so much easier if you knew.”

His face is so soft but so serious, his brow furrowed, and she squeezes his hand.

“I’m going to feel really silly if I’m wrong, but I don’t think I am. I’ve been working on it all night.” With her free hand, she pulls her phone out of her pocket, shows him the same screen she has up on her laptop in the other room. It’s a list of all the facts she has, her own speculation, and finally, in size 42 font, one very important eight-letter word. “You said before that Sam was collecting disciples—a pack of them, Jacob, right?”

“Yes. Fuck,” he breathes, and though she’s heard him say it in the garage many times, this one is special because it means she’s right. He slides down to a seat on the tile floor, looks so relieved it makes her chest feel tight, and she kneels in front of him, hands on his bare shoulders.

“You’re a werewolf, Jake, just like the legend—your tribe is descended from wolves. Tell me I’m wrong.”

He doesn’t say a word, and at first she’s afraid she is incorrect, but then he reaches out and pulls her close, crushes her to his body. He breathes hard into her hair, holds her tightly, and she can’t help it, she cries, hot tears leaving tracks down her cheeks.

He brings his hands there after a moment, wipes the tears away with his thumbs, then holds her face like she’s something precious, lips turning up into a half-smile.

“Thank you. I knew you could do it.” He tips forward, presses their foreheads together, moves his hands to her waist. “You don’t know how badly I wanted you to know.”

“Oh, Jake. I’m sorry—I should have caught on faster. It’s obvious, when you put everything together, when you… You know. When you’ve seen what I’ve seen.” He nods his head and swallows, presses his fingertips into her side. She shifts closer, or he does, maybe they both do, so their breath mixes between them, soft and warm.

“It’s okay, you’re here now. You’re here, it's okay,” he repeats, and she pushes fingers through his hair, softer now that it’s dry.

“I’m here, and I don’t have to stay away.”

They don’t quite kiss, because she’s still nervous, maybe even more so now—they were so close to being separated, and now that he’s back in her life, in her house, she doesn’t want to risk breaking this delicate, fragile thing between them. His mouth just brushes over hers, more a swipe than a press of lips, and she turns her head so the rest of it catches her cheek instead.

He sighs, but he’s not upset, and he lifts a hand to smooth through her hair before dropping it altogether.

“I should go,” he says, but she can’t bear the thought of losing him again already. She stands when he does, takes his hand the way he did before.

“Can you stay the night? Please?” She squeezes his fingers, tries her hand at her own version of those sad puppy eyes. “I understand if you can’t, but I’d feel… I want you to,” she’s clear to say, and eventually, he nods.

She makes up a bed for him on the sofa, intends to head upstairs when he’s comfortable; she doesn’t know what stops her, but she stretches out on the other end of the couch instead and they put on a movie, something black and white, volume low. She couldn’t say for sure who’s the first to fall asleep.

She’s the first to wake up, so she takes a quick shower, does some work, brews some coffee. He’ll probably head out the moment his feet hit the floor, so she prepares herself for that—she just hopes that the rest of his pack knows he’s there, that they aren’t worried, or frantically searching the preserve for signs of him like she would be.

She asks him that when he pads into the kitchen an hour later, eyes sleepy, bedhead evident, and he pours a cup of coffee and sits across from her at the table.

“Nah, they knew I was coming,” he assures with a sip. “They know by now that if they can’t find me, I’m probably here with you.” That makes her smile, though she looks down into her mug and tries not to show it. He takes a few more quick gulps despite the temperature and sets down his empty cup with a smack of his lips. “Speaking of the pack, I think you should meet them. We gather at Emily’s—that’s Sam’s fiancee—sometimes, and they’ll be there today.”

“Will they be angry that I figured it out?” she asks, genuinely curious. She wants to meet them, wants to know more about the group of guys Jacob is now supernaturally entangled with, but she’s not so sure a house of angry werewolves is somewhere she’s ready to be so soon after her last brush with death. He breathes a laugh and shakes his head.

“They won’t be angry. They’ll probably be irritated with me, because I couldn’t just let you go…” Their eyes meet, and she thinks of reaching out to touch his hand across the table, though she doesn’t in the end. “But as for you, they’ll probably just be impressed.”

The pack is both impressed by her and slightly irritated with Jacob, but stern glances and eye rolls quickly turn to laughter and playful shoving, as they pile into Emily’s small but cozy kitchen and make introductions around a batch of fresh muffins.

She gets official confirmation on things she’d only read about—like their ability to hear each other’s thoughts when shifted, the accelerated healing, their speed, their power—right from the wolves' mouths, and they learn from her too, everything she knows about vampires like Laurent and Victoria. She doesn’t talk much about the Cullens, mostly because their secrets are not hers to tell, but she can see Jacob’s brain working as she mentions Victoria’s vendetta, as she shows the group the pale, silvery bite mark on her arm.

“If she’s here, she’s here for me,” she tells them, and Jake tenses, his jaw tight, veins visible, shoots Sam a look that conveys they have a lot to talk about when she’s not around.

Later, she suggests to Jacob that he take a walk with her, because she can tell how all of those stories have put him on edge. Together they amble slowly toward the beach, close but not touching, and this time she does take his hand, leans in so their forearms brush.

“It’ll be okay,” she murmurs, tilting her head to look up at him. “You guys are strong, fast. You took down Laurent—I have no doubts you’ll get her too.”

“Before she hurts you?” he says, staring ahead, voice rough because he’s been mostly silent all day, listening closely to her and taking everything in. “Because if she does…”

“She won’t. The others are watching her,” she says, hoping like hell that’s still true, “and even if she finds me… I trust you to protect me.” He stops there, on the wet sand, and she turns toward him so she can see his expression, to get a better idea of what’s on his mind.

“If they come back, I’m not allowed to fight on their land—I’d be breaking the treaty,” he says with a pained look. She understands the words he’s not saying: if they come back, I wouldn’t be able to protect you in your own home.

“They’re not coming back,” she whispers, because she can’t say the words any louder than that, even though they’re true. “He made his choice, and that’s—that’s okay.”

“Is it?” Jacob asks, leaning in, and she gets it, gets why; she hasn’t exactly been positive about Edward’s departure, how his choice affected her, took his family away from her too, and now suddenly she’s okay with it?

It isn’t sudden, though, not really. It’s been a gradual acceptance, something she’s been coming to terms with since the day he left. She knows Edward’s decision wasn’t made easily; she knows he didn’t leave because he didn’t love her, but because he loved her so much he put aside his feelings for her and did what he thought was right.

He went about it all the wrong way, removing every trace of himself from her life, banning his family from communicating with her, taking her choices away, but in the end his heart was in the right place, and she’s found a way to respect that, despite everything.

Maybe it’s just Jacob. He brought her out of her post-breakup shell, made her smile again, laugh again, feel important and wanted and cared for. Maybe he filled in the cracks of her broken heart so she could use it again, without the need for exhilaration and adrenaline to cover up the pain of what she’s lost; maybe it’s just Jacob, bright like the sun they so seldom see, special and rare and wild.

“It’s okay,” she assures him, voice steady with her conviction. She raises their conjoined hands and presses her lips to his knuckles, just briefly, before dropping them back to her side.

Jake nods, accepts her answer, and they walk further along the beach until the sun goes down in a hazy blend of blue and orange and red.

He offers to drive her home, and even though it’s impractical, and she’d usually put up a fight, she wants that extra time with him. Wants to be that close to him. She sits in the middle of the bench seat, neither up against him nor really on the passenger’s side, but close enough for Jake to throw an arm across her shoulders, and they listen to the radio and talk about his pack while cruising down the road.

“I better go,” he murmurs before she can even unlock her front door, and she tries not to let her face fall; she’d been hoping he’d stay over again, or come inside for a little bit, at least.

She must fail at controlling her expression, because Jacob smiles softly, like he’s pleased with himself, and leans in, brushing his fingers over the line of her jaw.

“We’re patrolling tonight—got a vampire to kill. But I’ll call you tomorrow?”

She nods beneath his touch, and he pulls back and turns to leave, jogging down the street and toward the forest that’ll lead him back to La Push.

He does call the next day, but it’s brief; Victoria’s back, just as Sam expected, so they’re running all night, all day, trying to catch her off guard, taking breaks only to eat and sleep when they absolutely have to. Jacob promises to check in when he can, but after three days with no contact—and a voicemail from her father about locals spotting wolves in the woods—she’s on edge again, less concerned for her own safety, more worried about Jake’s.

She’s an absolute idiot for doing it—going to the beach, to the tall cliffs that loom over it—but she needs the rush again, doesn’t feel right when it’s just her own troubled voice in her head. She needs to hear the purr of an engine, the hum of a plane, the crashing of pure, white water against rocks… or maybe Jacob’s heartbeat. But the cliffs are the simple option at the moment, and all she can think about until she’s actually there, looking out over the ocean, the gritty scents of sand and salt in her nose.

She takes several deep, long breaths. That’s the key to these things that bring her so much excitement—using all of her senses, so she’s not just herself but everything around her too. She needs to see the sun on the horizon, taste the spray of seawater and clean, crisp air. She needs to smell the damp earth, touch the frothy bubbles that lap at the shore, hear…

She hears a wolf, actually, howling solemnly in the distance, but doesn’t register the sound until after she’s already jumped.

The waves are choppier than they’d appeared when she was looking down at them, and it knocks the breath out of her lungs when they crash into her body, pulling her down into the dark vastness of the icy sea. Her arms and legs move instinctively, fighting to bring her back to the surface, but the water is deep and heavy and she’s already so tired of trying.

She’s so cold all she can feel is cold, her teeth chattering, so even when she hits her head on a boulder and it starts to bleed, she doesn’t realize what’s happened until everything turns black.

She’s warmer, suddenly, that’s all she knows, though the ground beneath her back is rocky and wet, uncomfortable. She thinks maybe it’s a blanket that feels so warm, but quickly realizes it’s Jacob above her, soaked to his bones, a sigh of relief passing his lips.

“Oh thank god. Can you hear me?” He cradles the back of her head in his palm and helps her sit up, then presses his fingers tenderly to the sore bump beneath her hair. “Your head’s not that bad, but I bet it hurts.”

“Hmm. Hurts,” she mumbles, her throat raw, temples throbbing. She’s cold and tired and thirsty, but ashamed above all else; maybe she really does need someone making the decisions for her, if this is the kind of stupidity she gets up to when she’s alone. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he answers quickly, and he runs his hands over her arms and legs, her neck, her face, checking for further injury. “I’m just glad you’re alright. The waves are bad today; you could have been swept away.”

“I didn’t realize that until it was too late,” she admits sheepishly, and when he brings her closer she rests her cheek against his chest, feels tears stinging her already tired eyes. “I’m sorry, Jacob.”

“It’s okay, I’m here. It’s okay.” His voice is as soft as his hands as they curve around her, holding her against him, and they sit like that for a couple minutes, until Sam runs over and tells him to get her home.

He drives again, but this time she’s even more grateful, because there’s no way she could have done it herself. She feels so much at once—dumb and scared and childish, but also brave and calm, while somehow her mind races with thoughts of the wolves howling and Jacob’s hands in her hair. Her focus is shot, and even though she’s wrapped in one of Jake’s thick, fleece lined hoodies, she trembles, heavy and cold, as she peers out the passenger side window, watching the trees go by.

“Hundred and eight degrees over here,” Jacob says eventually, with a half smile, and she blinks for a moment before giving in; with a sigh, she scoots closer, wraps an arm around his waist. She can feel the heat of his body even through the layers they wear, and she shivers involuntarily at the pleasant but abrupt change in temperature.

“You still want me this close? Not afraid the bad decisions will rub off onto you?” It’s a joke, a self-deprecating one, and an apology all bundled together. “What I did was stupid, I know. I could have gotten really hurt, and you should have been out there with the pack, with Harry, not saving me.”

He tilts his head, leans closer so his cheek rests against her hair.

“Well it wasn’t smart, but we all have our moments. And you couldn’t have known about Harry—don’t be too hard on yourself.” A long beat of silence passes, and she turns toward him, pressing her icy nose to his neck with another sigh.

“Mmm. You’re so warm. It must be nice, never getting cold.”

“It’s a wolf thing,” he says with a shrug, but it’s not, not really, and she can’t let that stand.

“Maybe, but trust me, it’s a Jacob thing too. You’ve always been warm.” She just sits there, breathes him in, lets him warm her hands and nose, so content she almost doesn’t notice when he pulls up in front of her house.

“This is better. Now that you know about me,” he says, tipping his face down, after he turns off the truck. She pulls back just enough to look into his eyes, to try to gauge his intent.

“But?” He swallows hard, looks away for a moment before returning to her face.

“You saw what happened to Emily. Sam got angry, lost it for a split second, and Em was standing too close. He’ll never be able to take that back.” He shakes his head, as if imagining the two of them in the same situation. What he could do to her. What she would think of him. “What if I get mad and I hurt you?”

“You’re new to this—even if you are a natural,” she says, remembering a comment Embry had made when they’d last spoken. “You’ll learn how to control it, how to read the warning signs, and you’ll either stop yourself from turning or get somewhere safe. We’ll be okay,” she promises, resting her hand soothingly against his neck, and he sighs softly.

“Sometimes, I feel like I’m gonna disappear. Like one day it will be all wolf and no Jake.” He leans in, close enough that their noses just barely brush, and the way he looks down at her is something like…

Yearning, she thinks to herself after a beat. It’s a powerful emotion, but she’s never seen it look quite so beautiful before.

“You’re not going to lose yourself. I won’t let that happen.”

“How?” he asks, bringing a hand up to cover hers, and she wets her lips, shakes her head to clear it; it’s swimming again, in this small space, so very close to him—especially when he’s looking at her like that.

“I’ll tell you all the time… how special you are to me.” She looks up, feels like she’s showing her soul to him, like this incident has stripped her down to bare bones and she’s letting him see her, once and for all. He stares into her eyes for a long moment, then leans in slowly, tentatively, and this time she doesn’t stop herself from meeting him in the middle, from pressing her mouth to his.

She can actually feel the relief wash over him when she doesn’t reject his kiss, like he’s been tightly coiled and tense and can finally relax because she wants the same things, feels the same way.

She expects his lips to be warm, soft, but he is scorching against her skin, even more so when he moves his hand to her cheek in a gentle caress. With the palm against his hip, she pushes up his t-shirt, gets her fingers on his body, and they both gasp softly into the kiss, deepen it.

“Jacob,” she sighs when they part for air; he seems okay, if a little shaky, but she feels flushed, eager, almost vibrating with the need to keep kissing him. She wants more, even though her throat burns like the last time his lips touched hers, when he forced the water out of her lungs and saved her life.

That’s what he does best, her Jacob—like a flicker in the dark, he always pulls her away from the dangers of her own making and brings her back into the light.

“Is this real?” he asks, his breath a ghost on her lips; his other hand, on her lower back, pulls her closer to his body, and she turns her head and kisses the palm resting on her cheek.

They kiss again, hands a bit less careful, hers sliding up his back, his weaving into her hair to control the tilt of her head. She gives in to it all, lets him set the pace, gripping him like a life preserver and letting his heat warm her from the inside out. She feels like she can’t get possibly close enough, wants to be pressed skin to skin, but she settles for sliding into his lap, ducking her head so she doesn’t hit it on the metal roof of the truck.

He groans as she twists fingers into his hair, as she pulls him into her and feels the long, hard line of his body against hers. She kisses faster, harder, and he matches her fervor, wraps an arm around her waist and catches her chin with tight fingers.

They kiss for a long time, and the cabin heats, windows fogging up as they share breath and saliva, as they murmur each other’s names like prayer. Her lips are red and raw when she finally needs to pause, and she rests her head against his chest and listens to the thunderous, wild beating of his heart.

“Will you stay the night? Please?” she asks, voice a little broken—rough with need, and soreness from nearly drowning, and breathlessness caused by the most intense kiss of her entire life.

Jacob nods, and he sets her carefully back on the seat, removes the keys from the ignition and climbs out of the truck. She slides out behind him, and he closes the door, takes her hand in his just like she did on the beach.

He locks the front door behind them when they’re finally inside—as if that will stop anyone we need to worry about, she teases with a soft laugh—and she takes the lead, walks up the stairs toward her bedroom with Jacob trailing behind.

Despite his surreal body heat and the thick, warm sweatshirt he’d given her to wear, she’s still cold down to her bones, and wet like a drowned rat, so she pulls off her shoes and socks and sets them down by the radiator. Jacob watches her every move from a couple steps away, eyes lingering as she shrugs out of his hoodie, then pulls her damp sweater over her head.

There’s nothing sexy or seductive about it, it’s not a striptease by any means, but he doesn’t look away when she’s down to her bra, and she doesn’t want him to. He bends down to take off his boots, to line them up next to hers, then bridges the distance between them and leans in for a deep, slow kiss.

It’s not long before they both sink down onto the bed, and her fingers slip open the button of her jeans, then hesitate, wait at the button of his. She looks up at him, and the confirmation is all but written there, in the darkness of his eyes, the swipe of his tongue over his lips, but she needs to be sure.

“I want you, all of you,” she murmurs, and then she brushes a hand through his hair, leans in to just rest her mouth against his. It’s delicate like the first time, but full of meaning, and he presses up into her kiss. “Do you want this?”

“I want this. You. All—all of you.” He nods, licks his lips again, eyes softer but no less hungry, and she flicks open the button and kisses him like she did in the truck: hands on his body, in his hair, her breath all his.

They don’t part, not really, just fall back against the pillows and tug at clothing, pressing kisses to throats and palms. His t-shirt drops to the bedroom floor, then her jeans and underwear, his, and the room is quiet except for the sounds of eager, wet kisses and soft, needy moans.

She sits up, reaches back to unclasp her bra, and Jacob drags the strap down her shoulder, helps her take it off, leaving it somewhere in the bed; his mouth moves to hers, then down her neck, over her collarbone, and finally caresses each nipple with a gentle reverence that makes her ache all over.

“You’re still sure?” he asks when she is shaking beneath his touch, strong arms wrapped around her back, and she nods and shifts up into his lap.

When their lips meet, the kiss is hard, and she curls an arm around his shoulders, weaving a hand into his hair. They’re both panting when she leans up, guides him inside her, and when she sinks down it’s like a flash of tingling heat takes over her entire body.

Jacob groans, holding her securely, thrusting up as she works her thighs above him. They kiss, deep and messy, graceless but passionate, her fingers tugging, his pressing hard into her skin.

It’s not at all how she’d expected her first time to be; she’d imagined it would be with Edward, of course, and slow, but she can’t get enough of Jacob and it seems like he can’t get enough of her either. She’d imagined a cool, pale body above her, but it’s Jacob’s deep, rich, hot skin she presses her lips to, her fingernails against. She’d expected Edward’s hard, marble arms around her, and while Jacob is strong and firm he’s still soft, skin slick with sweat as they move together.

“Jake,” she murmurs, the taste of him on her lips, his scent in her nose, woodsy, clean. “Jacob.” Her body trembles and he holds her tighter, presses his face into her neck.

“I’ve got you.” She sighs happily at that, grabs his hair more roughly, rides him faster.

“You’ve got me. You’ve always got me.”

Jacob looks up at her, eyes fiery, liquid, then pulls her in with a hand on the back of her neck and kisses her like the first time—soft, nervous, sweet. The juxtaposition of that gentle kiss and his possessive grip makes her dizzy, and when he pulls back his face is all she can see, all she wants to see, all she needs.

“I’ve always got you,” he promises, his gaze tender, unflinching. “Always.”

He’s got her when he comes, holding her tightly with one thick forearm and dragging his free hand over her breasts, then lower, to rub her clit as she bounces herself to climax in his grasp. “Oh, god,” she breathes, voice like a shiver, and her fingernails dig half-moons into his biceps as they both slow, slow, slow, then stop altogether.

He eases them both down against the bed, arms around her, their legs entwined, and they catch their breath, just look at each other until the exhaustion of the day catches up to her. Her eyes flutter closed, and pressed so close to him, so warm, all she can do is sleep.

When she wakes, it’s still mostly dark, and she desperately needs to clean up in the bathroom and get a glass of water. Jacob’s t-shirt is the first piece of clothing she sees—or the first she wants to see—and she pulls it over her head and pads to the bathroom for a human moment—a very human moment indeed.

She pauses, while washing her hands, to look over her reflection in the mirror. Rationally, she knows nothing has really changed, but at the same time everything has.

The bathroom water is never cold enough to drink, so she treads down the stairs, across the kitchen, turns on the tap and lets it run until the water is icy and crisp. She fills a glass, takes a couple of sips, then almost drops it when a cool hand is suddenly pressed to her shoulder.

It’s Alice, and she uses her other hand to catch the glass before it can hit the floor and shatter.

“Relax. It’s just me.” Her eyes are soft, and it’s clear she is happy to see her, but there’s something else in her expression, something inquisitive. “You’re alright.”

“I’m fine. I’m… good, actually.” She shrugs, which bares her shoulder, in the large t-shirt she wears, that she’d forgotten she was wearing. She freezes—she knows how she must smell to Alice, like Jacob and like… Jacob—but her friend just shakes her head.

“I couldn’t see you; well, I saw you jump off a cliff, and then you were gone. I thought you died.”

“Alive and well,” she says with a tone that’s hoping for lighthearted, but…

She has no regrets about being with Jacob, not one—she just hadn’t expected to be confronted with a vampire she once considered a sister almost immediately after. She doesn’t know what to say right now, how to act. Who to be.

“I was cliff jumping, recreationally. It was fun... for a minute.” Alice rolls her eyes, but it’s clear she’s happy she’s unharmed—though perhaps irritated by her tendency toward life-threatening idiocy.

“That doesn’t explain why I couldn’t see you, why your whole future went black.” Her golden eyes stare seriously, unblinking for a moment, and then she looks away. “Though maybe I owe that to the wolf in your bed.”

Of all the nights for Alice to come back to Forks, she thinks, a suddenly uncomfortable pit in her stomach. Then she hears footsteps on the stairs.

“Not in her bed anymore,” Jacob says, voice low, from the doorway to the kitchen; he takes half a step forward, an aborted move, like he wants to put himself in between them.

“This is Alice, Edward’s sister. Alice, this is Jacob,” she explains, trying not to focus on his shirtless torso, or the pained expression on his face. She blows out a deep breath. “It’s okay. She won’t hurt me.”

“She’s hurt you before,” he counters, no doubt remembering every heartbroken, aching expression she’d worn in the months prior. He takes a step closer, so he is next to her, his forearm grazing hers, and Alice takes a step back. “I’d like to stick around, if it’s all the same to you.”

He’s posturing, that much is clear, but she can't find it in herself to be irritated, because at least he’s giving her the option, letting her choose.

“I thought you couldn’t protect me here,” she says, turning her face up to look at him, and Jacob’s response makes heat pool low in her belly, just like the night before.

“There is nowhere in this world I won’t protect you—treaty or no treaty.”

She wants so badly to kiss him, but Alice is there, Alice, right in front of her after all this time, and she’s conflicted. Torn. He can tell, she knows, but he doesn’t take it personally, just reaches up to scratch his head, sighs.

“So are more of you coming? Is–is he…?”

“I came alone. And no,” Alice replies after a moment, but she’s looking at her instead, probably knows that he’s just saying what she’s too worried to ask. “He only calls in once every few months. Says he wants to be alone.” Jacob scoffs.

“Great. He wants to be alone, so you all leave her behind, unprotected? That red headed vampire is after her because of him.”

That gets a reaction out of Alice, whose eyes darken protectively.

“Who, Victoria? I haven’t seen her.” She stares off into the distance, like she’s searching for memories, visions, sifting through what she’s seen and trying to piece together what she hasn’t. “Just like I didn’t see you get pulled out of the water. There’s a lot I haven’t seen, apparently,” she adds under her breath, and the other girl presses her lips together, sighs.

Not the time or place for this discussion, and they both know it, but that doesn’t mean it’s avoidable for long.

“So you can’t see around Jacob. The wolves,” she guesses. “I’ve been with them a lot lately.”

“With him a lot lately,” Alice corrects. Jacob huffs, but it’s not untrue, so she lets her think what she wants. Her silence must speak volumes, because Alice takes a deep, wholly unnecessary breath, and gestures toward the door. “Should I go?”

“Please don’t,” she says quickly, nearly begging. It’s the first she’s seen of Alice in almost a year and she cannot let her leave as abruptly as she’d shown up. “If you could just give us a minute…”

“Take two,” the vampire says, and it’s with a half-smile that turns into a smirk. “I’ll go Febreze the living room while I wait: it smells like wet dog.” She turns to leave, a bounce in her step that the other girl can’t help laughing at, shaking her head.

She sobers up when Jacob turns toward her, takes a step that moves the both of them, so her back is pressed up against the kitchen counter. He looks so serious, and her heart beats for him everywhere.

“Do you believe her? When she says she came alone?” he asks, and she tilts her head, nods softly.

“Of course I believe her. She just had to make sure I was okay, that’s all. There’s… there’s nothing for them here.”

Even as she says the words, she hopes they’re not true—hopes that, even if they really aren’t meant to be together, that she and Edward, she and the Cullens, can still be… Friends isn’t really a strong enough word, but she wants them in her life, potential bloody accidents be damned.

“So if he came back,” Jacob says, leaning in closer, his lips hovering over hers, “you wouldn’t go to him?” His tone is light, but she understands the weight of his question, takes a moment to find the right words to answer it.

“If he came back, I’d want to see him. Just like I want to see Alice.” She reaches out to touch him, his warm, bare skin, places her palm over his thumping heart. “But I wouldn’t go to him. Not like this.”

It’s true, and she wants to say more, to promise him, reassure him, but just after she says it, the landline rings. Jacob sighs, his breath on her cheek, and reaches out a hand to answer it. “Hello?” The person on the other end speaks in a low tone she can’t make out, but she can see the tick in Jacob’s jaw, a hard set to his eyes. “He isn’t here right now, but that’s not who you really want, is it?”

There’s another moment of conversation she can’t hear, and Alice walks into the room looking stunned; Jacob hands the other girl the receiver, and she looks from him to Alice and then speaks into the phone. “Hello?”

“You’re alright.”

It’s Edward, his voice cool and smooth but thick with emotion. It makes butterflies flutter around in her stomach, just like it used to.

“I’m alright.” She doesn’t give him more than he asks for, doesn’t take more than he offers. She’s aware of two sets of eyes on her, feels more nervous than before, in her oversized t-shirt and sleep-mussed hair.

She’s glad he can’t see her and wonders exactly what that means.

“Good. Rosalie said Alice had a vision…” He trails off, but they both know what he’s not saying: everyone thought she’d given up and killed herself. She crosses her arms.

“The vision was incomplete. I’m fine. Stupid, but fine.” Edward huffs a laugh down the line, and she can imagine the exact cant of his mouth, the glimmer in his eye that always seemed to be reserved for her.

“You are many things, but stupid is not one of them.” There’s more he wants to say, she can tell; as a man of few words, many of their conversations were punctuated with heavy, meaningful silence. Part of her wishes she could see his face, at least. That always helped. “Who answered the phone? Jacob?”

She looks up at him involuntarily, notes the tightness of his mouth, his arms folded in front of his bare chest.

“Yes, Jacob. He’s the one who pulled me out of the water, the one Alice didn’t see.”

“Hmm. He still doesn’t seem to like me much.” Her lips turn up at that—understatement of the century—and she wonders if Jake can hear him too. Based on the stoic expression he wears, he either can’t, or he’s not paying attention.

“No he does not.” A beat passes, then two. “You should call your family more often, go see them. They miss you.”

“It’s difficult,” he says, swallowing, and she nods at no one.

“I know, but don’t punish them. Please.” She knows how it feels, to be totally cut off from people she loves, to constantly wonder, always fear the worst; she doesn’t say it because she knows he knows.

“I’ll consider it, if you don’t go jumping off those cliffs any time soon.” She laughs softly, surprised at his humor; this was not how she would have ever anticipated a call like this to go, but she likes it. Likes them, like this.

“Deal. Alice is looking at me like she’s going to steal the phone any moment,” she warns, which is putting it mildly. “So I’m going to put her on. You can call when it’s not life or death, you know,” she adds quietly. “It would be nice to hear from you. If you ever want to talk.”

She doesn’t know if he responds, because Alice takes the receiver, winds the cord around her arm, and scolds her brother with love in the way only a sister can manage.

While they talk, she walks toward Jacob, then past him, toward the staircase, but she takes hold of his hand as she goes, and he follows just like the night before. This time, he closes the bedroom door behind them.

“I’m sorry this happened like this,” she says, sitting down on the bed, one leg beneath her and the other hanging over the edge. “I’m not sorry Alice is here, but I’m sorry that’s what you woke up to. If you were… worried.” Jacob takes the space next to her atop the rumpled duvet.

“I was worried when I smelled a bloodsu- vampire,” he corrects quickly, “and you weren’t beside me.”

“I’m sorry,” she says again, this time leaning closer. “But thank you for giving me the phone, letting me talk to him. I’m sure that wasn’t easy.” He shrugs, like it was no big deal, even though she remembers how angry he’d looked at the sound of Edward’s voice.

“I almost didn’t. I mean, technically, he didn’t ask for you.” She rolls her eyes—definitely guy logic—then stands up, scoops his jeans off the floor and hands them over to him. Her face heats at the memory of removing them in the first place, but she snaps out of that for her own sake and grabs fresh clothes, steps into the bathroom to make herself presentable.

When she’s done, she heads back to her bedroom, where Jacob is now clad in jeans and boots, sitting shirtless on her bed. She deposits the borrowed t-shirt onto his lap, and when he thinks she’s not looking he brings it to his nose, inhales long and slow, before pulling it over his head.

That action does things to her, and she wishes for a moment that she had his senses, so she could smell the two of them the same way he does, their scents deeply saturated and blended together.

They head downstairs when they’re both dressed, and while he rummages in the refrigerator for something to make them for breakfast, she treads into the living room and sits down next to Alice on the couch.

“So,” Alice says, and then she gestures to a cup of tea. The other girl picks up the mug and thanks her, brings it to her lips. “How long has that been going on?”

She feels her cheeks heat, and she hides behind another sip of tea.

“Really? I haven’t seen you in almost a year and that’s what you want to talk about?”

“Oh, forgive me for being curious about what it’s like to date a werewolf when last I saw you were grieving the loss of my brother.” Alice’s tone is more playful than it would seem, and her eyes smile even if her lips don’t.

She always knew that Edward wasn’t telling the truth when he said he didn’t want her. He just couldn’t bear it, knowing that being with him put her in so much danger, caused her so much pain. She knew it was worth it, but if he didn’t… there’s nothing she could have done to change his mind, she knows that now. She can’t feel guilty for moving on when it’s exactly what he’d wanted her to do in the first place.

“Okay, you’re right. Let’s talk about how I’m going to comb the woods, find Victoria, and rip her into confetti for threatening to hurt you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jacob says, walking into the room with… a cup of tea. He looks over at the mug in her hand, then sets the one he brought her down on the table without a word. “The pack’s got it covered.”

“All due respect, but if the pack had it covered, she wouldn’t be a threat anymore, would she?” Alice tosses over her shoulder. The other girl sets her tea down and sighs.

“Alright, can we not do this? The age-old vampires versus werewolves thing? Especially if I’m in the middle of it. Maybe you guys could work together for a change; Alice can’t protect this part of the territory all by herself.” She picks up her drink—a drink, the one Jacob made, this time—and takes a long sip, looks up at them over the rim of the mug.

“The pack could help, if you give us the authority to amend the treaty,” Jacob says to Alice, though he’s kind of looking at the ceiling, his arms crossed. “But wherever she is, I’ll be.”

“You can’t be with her every second,” Alice counters, and her exasperation makes it sound like an argument she’s had before. “It’s not good for either of you and could put her in danger; if Victoria picks up on it, she’ll be able to use your scent to track her anywhere. Trust me, yours is a lot stronger than hers is, and it’s all over her.”

She thinks Jacob makes some kind of noise, like a low growl in the very back of his throat, but it’s hard to hear. Alice raises her eyebrows like she’s trying not to roll her eyes.

The three of them discuss potential ways to coordinate with the pack, and Alice mentions calling in Emmett and Jasper to see if they could help with the search; the sooner Victoria is gone, the better, is the general consensus, and Jacob thinks he can get Sam on board with that as well, even if it means more Cullens coming back to town.

She finishes both cups of tea, then a plate of eggs and toast Jacob put together from the bare-bones contents of her kitchen—she reminds herself to make a shopping list, then absently wonders if she’ll have a grand escort to Trader Joe’s.

“I’ll make some calls while you’re gone,” Alice says as she is taking her last bite; she looks up from her plate, confused, and Alice waves a hand. “I saw a glimpse of you at the grocery store, but then it went dark; I assume that means he’s going with you.”

“I thought about it for a split second, as a joke,” she clarifies with a huff of laughter. “I don’t think I need a bodyguard in the produce aisle at eight AM.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Alice and Jacob say, at the same time, and her lips twitch in amusement.

Looks like they’re not so different, in the end.

She gives in and allows Jacob to drive her to the supermarket, though not without a long look from Alice as he walks her to the truck with his hand on the small of her back.

They breeze through the store thanks to the list in her head—she buys a little more than she usually would, because it seems like Jacob plans to be around. She likes the thought of that even more than she’d expected, likes choosing things solely because she knows he’ll enjoy them.

“I think we should talk about last night,” Jacob says, voice low, when they’re nearly back to her house. She cringes internally, because that’s never a sentence a girl wants to hear after a night like that, and he clears his throat. “I know cliff jumping ended up being kind of traumatic for you, and it didn’t feel like it last night, but if I took advantage…”

He looks over at her, his expression pained, and she shifts closer and wraps her hand around his forearm.

“God, no, Jake—that’s not what happened.” He brings the truck to a stop in her driveway, puts it in park, and she presses her palm to his cheek so he’ll focus on her instead of fixing his gaze out the window. “I wanted everything, every moment. I still want it,” she murmurs, and he looks over her face like he’s still not quite sure he believes it.

“You do? Even after… after you spoke to him, and everything?” It’s a fair question, and again, one she answers very carefully.

“I think we needed to talk, he and I, but it didn’t change anything. You’re the one who changed everything,” she admits softly, tentatively, wetting her lips. She hopes her eyes convey the certainty her voice can’t seem to. “Do you want to kiss me?” she breathes, leaning closer, her fingers winding a path through his hair, and he nods his head and presses his mouth to hers.

She gets up on her knees so she can be closer to him, but she doesn’t climb into his lap like before—she does have some self-restraint, despite what it may seem. She curls one arm around the muscles of his back, pulls him in for more contact with the hand in his hair, and it’s a few minutes later when she remembers they’ve got bags of perishable groceries in the back and a vampire with excellent acoustic abilities just inside her home.

She pulls back, smiles a little at the soft, unfocused look on his face, then runs her hand down his chest before lifting it away entirely.

“I know we’re kind of at DEFCON 1 right now, but more of that a little later would be nice.”

“Hmm. Very nice,” he agrees with a nod, his voice slightly rough, and he turns off the ignition and carries all of her groceries into the kitchen with one strong arm.

Emmett and Jasper do come back, with Rosalie and Esme, to her delight and Jacob’s discomfort. Between the pack, who comes to get the vampires’ scents so there’s no friendly fire, and the family, who split time between her house and the one they left behind, the place is a revolving door of the supernatural for the next few days.

All of them take turns watching over her house at night, while the others patrol the woods. She catches up with everyone she’s been separated from—even Jasper gives her a crushing hug, so at least the time away was good for something—and it’s wonderful, but it means there’s not much time to be with Jacob aside from planning sessions and the occasional quick check in. The most time she spends with him is when they attend Harry’s funeral, something somber and intimate, with ethereal music and a glowing campfire and endless stories about the Clearwater line.

She is introduced to Leah and Seth, Harry’s children, and while Seth seems welcoming and friendly his sister is cold, standoffish—though not without reason, she soon learns from the pack.

“She’s not always like that… mostly just when she’s around Sam,” Embry says where they stand on the edge of the forest, away from the thick smoke that burns her very human eyes. She looks over at the pack leader at the mention of his name. “Now that she’s part of the pack, we have to live the Leah/Sam/Emily painfest all over again.”

She turns back to him, to Quil, who’s standing beside him, and tilts her head, curious.

“I don’t think I follow—Sam left Leah for Emily?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not what you think. He hates himself for hurting her, but he couldn’t help it. Emily was ‘the one.’” Quil says it almost sarcastically, with air quotes for emphasis, and she frowns.

“The one?” She doesn’t mean to sound skeptical, but these days she’s not as big a fan of providence and destiny as she used to be.

“Sam imprinted on Emily. It’s kind of like… soulmates, but bigger. Cosmic. They were literally meant to be together.”

“Like fate,” she says, filling in that blank, and then a large, warm hand is splayed across her back, fingertips pressing into the fabric of her dress.

“We make our own fate around here,” Jacob says tightly, and she looks up, regards him curiously. He’s not just upset about Harry, or Victoria… there’s got to be something else making his jaw tense, his eyes hard. “And I think that’s more than enough of the pack soap opera for tonight. Are you ready to go home?”

He turns his gaze to her, and it softens, for which she is grateful; he is her guardian on duty tonight, and despite the solemn evening—or maybe because of it—she wants to spend the night as close to him as she possibly can.

She nods, and after they say their goodbyes he walks her to the truck, opens the door for her, closing it carefully when she’s safely inside. He takes the spot behind the driver’s seat—his usual, now—but doesn’t drive straight to her house like she expects.

“Ice cream?” she asks when he turns off the engine outside of a mom and pop shop selling sundaes, cones, and shakes. She exits the car at his indication, and the two of them walk hand in hand up to the illuminated window that says Order Here. An older couple is ahead of them, pointing at the chalk menu board, and Jacob leans in to speak in a hushed tone.

“This place was Harry’s favorite. You like chocolate, right?”

“Has anyone ever answered ‘no’ to that question?” she asks softly, playfully, and it works as intended, lightens the mood just enough to bring a brilliant smile to his painfully beautiful face. “I think this is a wonderful way to remember him, Jake.” She wraps a comforting arm around his, and Jacob nods, lips pressed together, eyes sad.

“Just kind of feels right.”

He orders for them when it’s their turn, two waffle cones with two scoops of chocolate ice cream each, and they sit at a picnic table on the side of the building, eating their tributes with heavy hearts and looking up at the stars.

The ride home is quiet, contemplative, at least for her; by the time they arrive she has been running through thoughts of mortality, finality, how short life is and how very precious.

These are all normal thoughts for a person to have, and certainly after a celebration of life like the one on the reservation tonight, but she thinks seriously for the first time about Jacob and his desperate need to protect her, the way he puts himself in danger—stupidly, recklessly, completely—every day to keep her safe.

When they’ve made it inside, she exhales deeply, looks up into earnest, curious eyes, and wraps her arms around him, presses close so she can bury her nose in his clothing.

She breathes him in long and slow, his usual scent of crisp air and rain and oak dulled by the smoke of the bonfire, and then his hands are in her hair, tipping her face up for a decadent, passionate kiss.

God, how is he so good at this? she thinks as he sips at her lips, glides his own down the tender line of her throat. She sighs and grabs for his arms, something to ground her as her desire threatens to take over, to leave her a whimpering, begging mess beneath his hands.

Jacob turns them so she’s got her back to the kitchen table, sets her on top of it, and she parts her knees for him, pulls him closer. Her fingers itch with the need to touch his skin, so she tugs at the hem of his shirt and gets her hands beneath it, skims them over the taut muscles of his bare back.

“I can take it off,” he murmurs against her neck, and she nods breathlessly and helps him pull it over his head. His hands bracket her hips, palms flat on the table, and her arms curve up around his back, bringing him closer; she kisses him eagerly anywhere she can reach—his throat, shoulders, face, everywhere.

She whispers his name into his own skin, presses her lips to his biceps, scrapes her teeth over the lobe of his ear, and he shudders at her touch, tilts his head to look up at her, his eyes dark and almost… dangerous.

What does it say about her, that she finds that look so goddamn attractive?

“I’m sorry, I—I need a minute,” he says, panting through gritted teeth, and she lets her hands fall away, leaning back a little to give him space to breathe.

“Take all the time you need,” she assures him calmly, patiently. It’s the first time she’s ever seen his wolf so close to the surface, and she’s completely unafraid, would hold him and help him ride out the tension in his body if she thought he would let her. “It’s just us, Jake, just me and you.”

“Just us,” he repeats, his fists clenching and unclenching, taking a long breath with his eyes closed. She breathes with him, has always found that helpful when she herself is overwhelmed, and after a few moments he presses closer and she runs a soothing hand over his chest. “I’m okay,” he says eventually, leaning in slowly for a kiss as though he’s afraid it will be rejected. She brings her hands to his face, deepens it, so it’s still soft and easy but with enough meaning behind it to convey her thoughts.

“I know,” she murmurs, just to be certain he believes her. “You did so good; so good, Jake.” He nods, pulls back a little so he can look into her eyes.

“It’s not that I can’t control it, I can, but…” He looks away for a moment, swipes his tongue over his lips. “The instincts are so strong and I don’t always want to fight them. Sometimes when I’m with you, I want to let the wolf win.” He says it like he’s ashamed, and she puts her arm around his shoulders and brings him down for another kiss, this one just a gentle press of mouths.

“I understand that more than you think I do.” His breath on her lips makes her crave more of his heat, but she knows it has to be slow now, or he’ll get too in his head and never let himself enjoy their night together. “I may not be supernaturally inclined, but sometimes making decisions with my body is all I want to do. Especially with you,” she adds, just a sigh between them, then touches their foreheads together.

They stay like that for a moment, embracing in their own way, until he initiates a kiss that is so thorough it makes her toes curl. She brings her hands to his waist, guides him closer, and he rests a broad palm at the base of her throat and kisses her, again, and again, and again.

Her arms curl around his body the second they separate for air, and he lifts her from the table, carries her up the stairs with an ease that makes her long for more frequent displays of his strength.

Getting his clothes off is quick enough, since he’s already shirtless, and his hands are tender and gentle as he sweeps her hair away from her neck, pulls down the zipper of her dress, slides it off her bare shoulders.

Neither of them bother to pull back the covers, simply lay back on the bed, her knees apart again, Jacob hovering between them and letting his eyes move over her like he’s committing her body to memory. It makes a wave of heat rush through her, and since tonight is less hurried she does the same, lingers over every curve of muscle, every sharp line of bone. He leans in, lays an arm behind her head, glides his lips over her jaw, her cheek, her mouth.

“I was right, before,” she says after another satisfying kiss, letting her fingers press into the flesh of his hips. He looks into her eyes, tilts his head curiously, and she smiles a little, can’t help herself. “You really are beautiful.”

Jake breathes a laugh, even blushes a little, then kisses her until they’re both panting; her fingertips press harder when he pushes inside, then glide up his back to keep him close while the two of them move together.

Jacob feels so different this way, is so much deeper, filling her in a way that makes it so she really can’t tell where she ends and he begins. He is heavy on top of her, but not uncomfortably so, and when her body shifts up the bed with every thrust it’s thrilling, incredible—she’s never felt so much in her life.

His face is serious, eyes focused, and she weaves her fingers into his hair and catches his lips in a kiss, moans into the end of it when he finds a spot inside of her that takes her breath away.

“Oh, god, Jake.” He leans in for another kiss, deep and wet, nods against her lips.

“You’re perfect—so perfect,” he huffs, breathless; he moves his hand to her hip, runs it over her stomach, then presses his palms to the bed and repeats his previous motion, over and over, her body coiling tight with pleasure. “Can’t believe I get this.”

“We get this,” she corrects in a whisper, won’t let him think for one second that she’s not as completely in awe of him as he seems to be of her. She skims her nails over his lower back, his ass, tightens her thighs on either side of him and tips her head back just as he makes her come. “Don’t stop, Jake, please,” she whines, shaking, holding him so tightly with her entire body—she never wants it to end, never wants to be separated from him again, and he agrees, if the way his body presses down on hers is any indication.

“Can’t stop… need you,” he groans, pushing her leg up further, so he feels almost impossibly thick and deep. Her arms wrap around his back, pulling him closer, holding him there as he ruts into her, scorching flesh pressed against flesh.

“Yes, oh—”

Before she knows it she’s quaking again, gasping when he brings his teeth to her throat, scrapes them over her throbbing pulse. He growls in her ear, a deep, low, animalistic rumble she can feel in her stomach, then comes inside, claiming her with a broken, raspy, “mine.”

He lays half on top of her, half on the bed, after, their skin soft and damp with cooling sweat. She can’t stop looking at his face, his dark eyes, sharp jaw, and he cups her cheek with a gentle palm and gazes just as intently at her.

“Come here,” she murmurs, a soft smile on her lips, and he kisses her slowly, makes her sigh with a pleasure so complete—mentally, physically, spiritually—it feels like she’ll never be the same.

He gets up after a moment, comes back with a glass of water and a towel, and helps her clean up well enough to hold her over until she’s ready to get out of bed. She pulls the covers back while he’s gone, slides in between the cool sheets, and he follows her lead, pressing close to her beneath them.

“Are you upset you didn’t imprint on me?” she asks carefully, propping herself up on her elbow and using the other hand to run fingers through his hair. “I noticed that when the guys were talking about it, you got kind of tense.” He shrugs slightly before shaking his head.

“No, not upset… I was just so sure you were meant for me; I really thought it would happen sooner or later.” She understands that, can picture him wishing and waiting for something that would never come to pass. So patient, her Jacob.

“Do you wish it had? Do you think it would make this more real?” Her hand moves from his hair to his collarbone, down his chest, over his stomach, so very low. “Because when I’m touching you like this… nothing has ever felt so real.”

He presses her against the bed, hovers over her, kisses her breathless, and it goes without saying that he agrees with every word she says. She softens beneath him, tired and pleased, and he shifts into a more comfortable position, laying behind her, that she knows means sleep for the both of them. He drapes an arm over her, and she draws circles into his skin with her fingertips, feels his warm breath on her neck, closes her eyes and revels in the weight of him at her back.

“Anyway,” she whispers, one last thought on her mind before she succumbs to sleep, “I almost think it’s better like this, that we have to fight for each other. No help from fate—just your will and mine.”

A/N: I got my start in fandom spaces by writing Twilight fanfic fifteen years ago, but I never posted it because it was... bad. Last week was a crummy week for me, so I found comfort in watching New Moon, and I literally couldn't help myself from re-writing it in Jacob's favor. There's no Edward hate here, and he'll play a bigger role in the next part I have planned, but Jake took hold of me in this one and didn't let go.

#twilight #twilight saga #twilight saga: new moon #twilight fanfic #jacob black #jacob black fanfic #jacob black x reader #jacob black x female reader #jacob black x original female character

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