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#when dream talked about his idea thought process and how he ''did it in front of george the other day''
fleurriee · 10 months
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— the one ; neteyam sully
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pairing ; neteyam sully x fem!reader
synopsis ; neteyam was beginning to court you, much to your elation. each time he showed you how much you meant to him, you only fell more in love with him.
word count ; 10.3k (we don’t talk about it)
themes ; fluff, soon-to-be mates
warnings ; tooth-rotting fluff, vv brief mentions of worrying over someone’s well-being, uses of y/n.
author’s note ; i can’t tell if this got slightly worse as it neared the end but we’re just gonna leave it bc i do like it. i mean, who doesn’t like the idea of neteyam courting them??? also, this is my longest fic yet & it wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near this long but i just got carried away bc i love neteyam so much. sue me. 
main masterlist  request a fic!
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For a short while now, yourself and Neteyam were in the courting process of your relationship.
It wasn’t too long ago when the male Na’vi asked your permission to do so, along with your parents’, and the thought always caused butterflies to roam in your stomach, no matter how much time passed in between. Neteyam was the perfect Na’vi - a mighty warrior, a caring gentleman, someone who knew how to properly lead, something that would one day aid him when he took over as Olo’eyktan. 
So, in short, you simply couldn’t believe your luck when he asked you.
You could argue that you saw it coming with the way he always sought you out in a crowd, the gentle smiles he sent in your direction, but you’d be lying to yourself. Having Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan choose you to be his mate was something you never would have imagined possible in your wildest dreams. Of course, it was something you did imagine - you were pretty sure every other Na’vi your age did, too - but to have it play out in front of your very eyes was a whole different experience.
His family were welcoming, too, letting you safe in their warm embrace and treating you like one of their own - because you would be, someday soon. Neteyam’s family and your own got on well which was a huge relief to the both of you, making his progress just slightly easier. 
His aforementioned progress in courting you was something that caused a blush to rise on your cheeks, filling you to the brim with elation. Each time you saw him, you were sure you were close to combusting; each time he spoke, you were sure your heart was close to melting. Everything about Neteyam was godly, otherworldly... how in Ewya had you managed to get him to choose you as a mate?
You were forced out of your jumbled, overthinking thoughts when Tuk let out a loud gasp. The young girl was situated in front of you, comfortably placed on top of your crossed legs, twiddling away at the carved wooden toys her eldest brother had gifted her a while ago. She had come to you earlier, asking you to braid her hair with some of the beads she had recently collected with her sister, Kiri. Of course, you couldn’t say no to her - you were sure Tuk could ask anything of you, no matter the circumstance, and you’d still say yes. It was those big eyes looking up at you, all pure and innocent of the dangers surrounding them with the war brewing nearby. You’d do anything to shield her away from that.
When Tuk gasped, for a split second, you thought you’d hurt her. Your eyes were frantic as you looked over her figure, but then another sound pierced through the atmosphere - a horn. Following Tuk’s line of sight, that’s when you spotted the group of ikran’s beginning to descend back into camp, chants from the warriors filling the air with their victory. 
That meant Neteyam was back, too.
Lightly brushing back Tuk’s hair, the braids practically finished, you patted her back to ensure her she was okay to run over to her returning family. She doesn’t even pay you any mind and you laugh at her reaction, watching as she screams out in exclamation, her feet rushing over to where you watch her parents descend. 
Standing up from the ground, you jump down from where you were seated, landing softly and jogging over, following after Tuk. The idea of seeing Neteyam again - even though it hadn’t been that long since you last saw one another - had you full to the brim with excitement. He was your future mate - it was practically your job to feel like this at the prospect of seeing him, even if you had only been away for a short period of time.
But, when your eyes finally land on who you were looking for, the smile drops from your face and replaces itself with worried features. Just a couple of steps away, you watch as Jake stands in front of his two sons, his back clearly showing off his agitation. You don’t hear what they’re saying, but you can tell it’s nothing good - both Neteyam and Lo’ak have their heads hung low, ashamed at the obvious lecture they were receiving from their father.
At the sight, you can’t help the way your heart aches for the two boys. Since Neteyam had started to court you, you had spent a lot of time with his family, meaning you got to know each of them pretty well, including Lo’ak. You got on with him great, despite your stark differences in personality, but you could tell everything he did was just to live up to the shadow of both his father and older brother. He just wanted to be like them.
And, Neteyam - he was always the protector, whether it was for his parents, his siblings, for you. If Lo’ak had done something reckless and dangerous, you knew Neteyam wouldn’t have been too far behind him, watching his every move and ensuring his younger brother’s safety. It was both a strength and a weakness of his.
Your eyes scrape over your future mate, checking every inch of his body until you spot a cut at his side that he’s trying to hide from everyone else’s view. It’s clear no one else has spotted it, or else you were sure they would’ve sent him straight to a healer to get it treated. Thankfully, the wound didn’t look too bad, but you could tell it was hurting him - from the signs of him fidgeting from foot to foot, keeping his hand pressed firmly against his side in a weak attempt to dull the pain, his eyes frantically searching about the place to find an opening of escape.
You know him too well.
That’s when your eyes meet, and if it wasn’t for the worry currently eating away at your very being, it would’ve felt as though the whole of Pandora stopped around you, just the two of you in a world of your own. That’s how it always felt around Neteyam, and knowing you had more of this to look forward to for the rest of your lives was enchanting.
In a bid to reassure your future mate, you send him over a soft smile, one full of care and admittance. A small nod of your head accompanied it, too, ensuring him that you would be there for him when he was finished with his father. You understand the weight bearing down upon his shoulders after the several times he would open himself up to you, and you’d be damned if you let him drown. No matter the circumstance, no matter the cost, you’d make it your life’s mission to pull him out when he started to struggle.
A tense smile in return is your only response, another subtle nod of his head with it, too, but you can see the way his body moves stiffly, as if afraid of more reprimand, as if hurting. His eyes held all the love and adoration he had for you like they always did, and seeing such a sight made you feel a little calmer about the situation.
Neither yourself nor Neteyam were conspicuous in your looks towards one another, it seemed, for Jake immediately noticed the way his eldest son’s attention was snagged somewhere else. He watched as Neteyam’s ears twitched a little, tail perking up from its once ashamed downturn, a smidge of light coming back to his eyes. It was obvious what the cause of such a demeanour was, and when he turned his head to look behind himself and found you, standing your weight from one foot to the another, fingers mindlessly playing together in a bid to calm your nerves and tail swishing in anticipation, he was proved correct. 
He sighed deeply, turning back around and talking to Neteyam, words being shared that you couldn’t hear, but as he gestured over to you, you stood straighter as you realised he was dismissing his son. The young Na’vi in question doesn’t move quickly, something you can decipher from his wounded side he continued to clutch away from any possible prying eyes, but he does move eagerly, wanting to get over to you as soon as he can.
Not even ten steps between the two of you, and your feet are moving of their own accord, hurrying closer to his figure. You reach your arms out to him, hands grasping against his arms with care to help steer him in the direction of a healing tent. Your eyes wonder seamlessly back down to his wound, looking over every inch of it to ensure it’s not entirely life-threatening. In conclusion that it isn’t, a small breath of relief escapes your lips, shaking your head - still, it looks painful.
Looking back up at him, your eyes filter from one of his to the other in a bid to garner his full attention whilst the two of you continue walking. “Are you okay?” you question, your voice coming out breathy. 
“It is fine.” His words are short and sharp, and if it wasn’t for the piercing wound aching at his side, you’d assume he was mad at you. But, that obviously wasn’t the case - Neteyam rarely got angry, and if he did, he swore it’d never be at you.
You scoff before you can decipher your own response, eyes trailing back down. “It doesn’t look fine.” When he doesn’t say anything in return, you look back up at him, finding his gaze already trained on you, a small, graceful smile painting at his lips. It makes your heart flutter, knowing that such a rare beauty is entirely for you. Trying to bite back the reciprocating smile desperate to show itself, you shake your head at your future mate and his antics, wanting to stay annoyed at him for once again throwing himself in harm’s way for the sake of others. But, when he looks at you like that, you find it difficult to do anything.
The healing tent you had intended to take him into finally appeared in front of you, sounds of chatter and winces coming through to your ears from inside. You weren’t a fan of such places due to the pain and misery it brought the people of your clan, but as the mate of the future Olo’eyktan, you knew you’d eventually have to suck it up and put on a brave face for those around you. You’d be spending more time in there than you’d like to admit.
Bringing your arm up and leaving the other one clasped tightly around Neteyam’s bicep, you go move the tent flap away, but another beats you to it. Despite the obvious pain he’s in, Neteyam reaches out, opening the entrance up for you and gestures you in. You stop in your tracks, looking over at him pointedly, but he doesn’t acknowledge the way your eyes reprimand him - even when in agony, he’s still adamant to be a good future mate in courtship.
You sigh, almost a little agitated that he still felt the need to prove himself to you, even when your heart beats rapidly in your chest at such a domestic gesture, the determination of Neteyam Sully peaking through his pained actions. As you step inside, you feel him grab a hold of your hand from behind you, his warm and callous skin juxtaposing against one another, but have you shivering in affection all the same. He allows you to guide him through the tent, weaving around those moving hurriedly to others sitting and waiting for their treatment, before you finally find a somewhat-secluded area towards the back.
With his hand still firmly in your grip, you turn to him, moving your other one around his bicep again and begin helping the both of you steadily to the ground, each of you guiding the other with delicacy. You didn’t want Neteyam to be in more pain than he already was, and Neteyam always treated you like you were fragile glass - something that didn’t bother you, although you have had others say it would bother them, but you paid no mind to them.
Once the two of you were as comfortable as you could be in a tent crowded with other injured people, sat cross-legged and facing one another, you gently pried his hand that had continued to cover the wound in his side. You were slow with your movements, sending him a look of reassurance that you would be tender. He winced slightly when the cool breeze smacked so suddenly against the now-rough skin, his head hanging low and shaking from side to side to tell himself that the pain was nothing. Neteyam never did like to come across as weak - especially in front of you.
You can’t help the way your eyes narrow up at him, a frown on your lips. “I wish you were more careful...” your voice is barely a whisper, not wanting anyone else to hear in on your conversation. With thoughtful touches, you begin to clean away at the wound, wanting to make sure the blood is washed away and nothing made its way in that could make it worse. 
“I am always careful.” There’s another wince, another strain when he speaks, the sensation of your fingers against his skin both sending delightful shivers down his spine and causing his tail to stand on end from the pain.
Stopping in your movement, you sit up in front of him, watching as he slowly lifts his head once he realises you’ve paused. “This,” you say, pointing directly to his wound, “says otherwise.”
Neteyam doesn’t say anything as you immediately go back to your previous work of cleaning him, knowing that whatever he says will only be argued with a firm answer you no doubt have ready to fire at him. He understands you, though, because if the situation was switched and you were in his position, he knows his head wouldn’t be in the right frame of mind, either. Neteyam would be imagining different scenarios where you’d ended up worse, more injured, or even... If he didn’t like to think about it, he couldn’t imagine the feeling of going through it, and you did, every time he went out with the war party. You didn’t know what condition he was going to be coming back to you in... you didn’t know if he was going to be coming back.
Neteyam understood.
So, rather than biting back, the Na’vi instead smiled down at your working figure, pure love shining bright in his eyes as he watched your concentration prevail through your hurried movements, your gentle fingers, your narrowed eyes. Everything about you was so beautiful to Neteyam, even when you were surrounded in a crowded room by others who didn’t deserve to witness such a sight. He couldn’t believe his luck of getting to call you his own.
While you work, moving one of your hands back in the direction of his wound, you feel it get snatched away. You look up at Neteyam, about to tell him off for not letting you work, when you watch him place a firm, tender kiss against your knuckles, his eyes never once leaving your own. 
You can feel yourself blush profusely at his actions, tilting your head to the side subconsciously as he only smirks at your reaction - he always knew the best ways to get you right in the palm of his hands. Instead of previously wanting to reprimand him, your words are but a murmur when you speak, eyes continuously flickering from his eyes to somewhere behind him in order to distract yourself. “I’m trying to concentrate, ‘teyam.”
His heart is full, ready to burst, when he hears your nickname for him, something he loves from only a select few people, with you being right at the top. Keeping your hand in his own, his thumb beginning to run smoothly where he kissed you against your knuckles, he chuckles at your attempt to stay focused. “I know,” he nods lightly, eyes bright and fangs pointed in bliss. “That’s why I kissed you - you look adorable when you concentrate.” 
As soon as the words left his lips, your head sharply snapped back over to him, irises blown wide, ears high upon your head and tail curling in on itself from the compliment. No matter how many times he’d talk to you in such a way, or did certain things that made you feel all mushy inside, it’d always gain the same reaction from you. And, he loved it. 
You plaster on a playfully annoyed expression, trying to fight the smile dancing at your lips. Chuckling, you shake your head. “Do you want me to help you, or not?”
He laughs, breathless, tongue flicking out and running along his fangs as his eyes make a point of looking over every inch of your figure. It makes you cower in on yourself, and this time, you allow your lips to curve at the edges. Neteyam doesn’t say anything in return, just shrugs mindlessly like he hadn’t been internally torturing you beforehand, letting you get back on with healing your future mate. 
Not once does he move his gaze away from such a beautiful sight.
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Your hands moved in a hurried motion, eagerness and anticipation beginning to eat away at you. You moved from one side of your tent to the other, the empty space allowing you to rush around without having to worry about bumping into or getting on your parent’s nerves. The both of them would be out all day - your mother spending the day with the younger Na’vi in your clan, and your father helping out with training the soon-to-be warriors. 
With the day ahead seeming so empty, you had decided to take it upon yourself to go out into the vast forests of Pandora and collect some fruit for your family. Foraging was something you always enjoyed, ever since your mother took you out for the first time. There was something about just carelessly exploring the lush greenery whilst stumbling upon something new - it brought you happiness and peacefulness. 
Of course, you couldn’t go out there unprotected, making sure to stop by your mat where you kept your bow and arrows and tying them around yourself. Going out into the forest alone wasn’t uncommon, but it was something the clan didn’t like to do often. However, you did - just for the tranquillity of being alone for a little while when you were constantly surrounded by the hustle and bustle of so many people at once. You knew there was always going to be a chance of you running into something dangerous whilst you were out there, so, to calm the nerves of your friends and family after finding out about your little lonesome adventures, you assured them you’d always take a weapon with you.
Sighing, you stood tall, looking around your tent then to your body, making sure you were definitely prepared before setting off for the day. You looped your mother’s empty basket through one arm, hoping to be full to the brim with an array of fruits by the time you returned in a few hours, your bow was tucked over your neck and hanging against your shoulders, and your arrows were placed firmly upon your back, ready for their use. You just hoped you wouldn’t have to resort to using them.
With a nod of your head, you turn around, beginning to walk out the entrance of your tent. You kept your eyes trained to the floor, hanging your head low so as not to bump it against anything and have an embarrassing story to talk about later on, when you ended up bumping your entire body into something anyway.
You gasped in surprise at the sudden sensation, the solid material in front of you hitting against you fairly harshly. Stumbling on your feet, you were sure you would’ve fallen down like a sack, but your saving grace came in the form of two hands, gentle yet rough in texture, catching onto your upper arms, wrapping their fingers against your biceps. 
Looking up, you spotted Neteyam. The morning sun hit against his back, painting him in an ethereal glow, and you swore you had never seen anything so glorious in all your life on Pandora. He had a cheeky smile on his lips, eyes roving over your features, his hands still holding tightly onto you - he knew you were steady on your feet now, but he simply didn’t want to let you go.
When you made eye contact with Neteyam, you were so entranced, you couldn’t look away. The way his eyes caught against the light began to suck you in until you were his entirely, no one and nothing else mattered in the world because Neteyam was right here, looking at you. The close proximity between the two of you made the heat rise against your cheeks, painting you in a darker blue, but your eyes never strayed from his. How could you, when he looked like this? You could feel his breath fan against your face, the feeling sending shivers to your skin.
“Hi,” he said, voice low and teasing, that stupid smile never once leaving his lips as he looked down at you like you were some sort of prey and he the predator. 
“Hi,” you whispered, voice sultry and soft, struggling to find the correct words to say to him due to your stuttering heart and how close you were, feeling every slight move he made against your own body. “What are you doing here?” You were happy to see him, but confused by his presence - you knew he had training with his father early that morning (part of the reason why you decided to go out), and if he was here with you now, you were sure he was going to end up being late, something Neteyam did once in a blue moon. 
He shrugged carelessly, like he didn’t have a care in the world. “I wanted to say good morning.”
You look up at him expectantly, waiting, but when he only continued to look at you adoringly, you narrow your eyes in confusion. “Are you going to say it...?” Your words are still a whisper, but this time, there’s a teasing lilt to them as you watch his smile grow wider when he realises his mistake.
Neteyam began to laugh at your sudden cheekiness, something you didn’t do often but he absolutely cherished, silently wishing to himself that you did it more. Maybe he’d just have to do things like this a little more. “Good morning, yawne (beloved).” As he spoke, he leant down towards you, giving your cheek a feather-light kiss, you had to run the sensation over in your mind again. When he pulled back, you couldn’t hold his eye contact, too flustered to look up at him, knowing that if you did, your cheeks would only continue to darken from their original colour. Neteyam found it endearing, smile so bright his fangs were pointing out, before eventually spotting your attire. “Going hunting?”
“Foraging,” you corrected him, lifting the basket higher on your arms to accentuate your point. Your heart finally finds the confidence to look up into his intense gaze, swelling with both care and devotion. “I need to get some more fruits.”
At your admittance, Neteyam’s entire demeanour lights up at an opportunity beginning to present itself right in front of his very eyes - his ears stand high upon his head, eyes shining and tail elevated, anticipation peeking through his system. “I can get them for you if you want.”
You swoon at his eagerness to help you, the domestic part of Neteyam showing itself off to you. If it were any other time, you would’ve gladly took him up on the offer, loving the idea of spending more time with him despite truly believing your heart would explode if he continued to look at you like you were Ewya herself. But, you knew Neteyam was important to your clan, even before he was to become Olo’eyktan - you couldn’t keep him from his duties, from his purpose. 
(Neteyam would strongly argue that you were his purpose.)
“‘Teyam,” you start gently, hate having to turn him down when his features slowly start to fall. A sympathetic smile lingers against your lips, head tilted to the side but your eyes spoke more than your words could convey. “You have training with your father...” you find your eyes trailing your surroundings at your reminder, instantly spotting Jake in the near distance behind your future mate. He stands tall, proud, but you can tell he’s only moments away from calling his son out as he eyes him up, impatient. “...who is right over there and definitely does not want you to be late.” 
In an instant, Neteyam’s head shoots around to follow your gaze, a grumble slipping past his parted lips when he spots his father. Like a child, he hangs his head low in defeat, allowing it to fall against your shoulder when he turns back around. He lets his weight bear down on you teasingly, chuckling through his chest at your struggled attempts to stay steady on your feet. 
You pat his chest in mock sympathy, giggling to yourself as he only continues to be his dramatic self, head nestling closer into the space between your shoulder and neck. But, when he begins to press kisses against your skin, you tense up, feeling your spine straighten out and eyes look around for anyone watching. 
His father continues to glower at his eldest son, hands on his hips and shaking his head, obviously disgruntled. “Neteyam,” you warn, patting his chest again, a little harsher this time, more so in warning. Neteyam doesn’t seem to care, however, only continuing on his journey as he travels his lips from your shoulder to the crevasse of your neck. “’Teyam, your father-”
“Neteyam!” Jake’s voice is loud and clear, piercing through the clan until it makes its way to the two of you. In an instant, Neteyam jumps up and detaches himself from your shoulder. You look over his broad shoulder, seeing his father beginning to storm his way over. A harsh, fast-paced kiss is placed roughly against the side of your face, before you watch Neteyam run sheepishly over to his father, not wanting him to make a big scene. When your future mate arrives at his father’s side, the older Na’vi grabs his son against the back of the neck, forcefully pulling him further away from you before the guides of Ewya could will him back to you.
You can’t help but chuckle at their antics - the more time you spent with the Sully family, the more excited you felt at the prospect of finally being a part of them. Of course, they’d argue that you were already an honorary Sully, just from being betrothed to one of them, but you knew it’d be entirely different when you finally mated with Neteyam. 
Shaking your head, you noticed a few stares sent your way from the scene Neteyam had previously created before leaving you to deal with it. The only response you could give them without wanting the ground to swallow you whole was a sheepish smile, before securing your basket tight against your chest and running off into the forest.
The rest of the day went by quicker than you had imagined - you were simply so emerged in the beauty of the forest around you that time seemed infinite, like it was laying in the palm of your hands for you to do whatever you pleased with it. And, you did - you spent majority of your time marvelling at the pure life around you, the way everything seemed to pulse like it had its own heartbeat, and you liked to imagine that it did. After all, this was all apart of Ewya, too.
You had managed to collect a good amount of fruits, filling your basket almost to the top with a variety of tastes and colours to show off to your parents. Walking back into the clan, your chest swelled with pride at the few gratifying looks you were receiving from your collection, but you were also feeling proud of yourself for not having to use your weapon, either. Whether it was just your good intuition, or Ewya herself guiding you in a direction to ensure your safety, you steered clear of any potential threats that could’ve been lurking around the corner, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. Either way, you were grateful you never ran into anything.
Arguably, you were a good hunter, someone who could hold their own if they needed to, but you weren’t entirely confident in your skills enough to fight off something bigger than you if its intentions were to kill you. You’d never had to fight against such a creature, thanks to adventuring out with others that knew what they were doing, or going to specific places you knew would be okay for you. Plus, there was something about killing the creatures of Pandora that didn’t sit right with you - after all, they were also children of Ewya. Of course, you understood the clan had to eat in order to survive, and if you were being attacked, no Na’vi would judge another if they needed to defend themselves or their family. That’s why you were always the one to volunteer to collect the fruits out of your family, enjoying that particular experience more. It also helped that you received offer’s from Neteyam’s family - and Neteyam, especially - to share the meat they had hunted. You could turn down the meats his family offered you, arguing that it was for them, but you couldn’t disagree with Neteyam - what’s mine is yours.
Nodding to another Na’vi who had done the same to you in a small gesture of congratulations, your cheeks hurting from the prideful smile against your lips, you hadn’t spotted the figure rushing to jog over to your moving figure until they stop at your side. You already know it’s Neteyam - not from the sight of him, but from the presence of him. His scent infiltrates your scenes immediately and his aura oozes itself around you, enshrouding you in a protective layer. 
How your knees haven’t buckled out from swooning will always be beyond you.
No words are able to leave your mouth before Neteyam takes the basket from your hands, relieving your lower back from the pressure it was previously feeling with the weight of the fruits. He holds it firmly in his grasp, matching your pace as he walks beside you, taking note of the amount you collected before his gaze lands on you. “How was it?” 
You don’t bother arguing against his wishes of holding the basket for you, knowing it would only be a losing battle if you tried. Instead, you allowed your heart to flutter wildly in your chest as it begged for release, wanting to cover Neteyam in all the love it had to offer. Your head tilts in affection as your features coo. “It was good - I managed to get quite a bit.”
He hums in acknowledgement, eyes hurriedly scanning over your figure from top to bottom. His gaze makes you feel warm, but you know he’s checking you over for any potential injuries. “You didn’t run into any trouble?”
“Nope,” you state proudly, beaming like a child would with a new accomplishment. “I’m too good at sneaking.”
A laugh tumbles from his stomach at your answer, embellishing in the way you proudly stand and tell him of your day’s achievements. This is what he’s always wanted - the two of you, talking about your day and everything in between, before finally coming back together to rest for the night. 
All he’s ever wanted was you.
With only one of his hands now holding onto your full basket, he brings his other up to grab hold of your arm, stopping you in your tracks. When you turn to face him, your smile slowly begins to fall from your lips at the seriousness in his gaze. Only when he cups your face in his larger palm do you soften, features lighting up once more. “You did well, my muntxa (mate).”
The nickname makes you bite your lips to stop you giving away your true feelings, but you know Neteyam, and you know he knows you inside and out, like you were his other half - because you were. Snuggling your face further into his palm, you stand higher on your toes, wanting to bring him closer despite the rapid beating of your heart. “Not yet...” you remind him.
He hums in acknowledgement, but doesn’t say anything more. Rather, he presses a light kiss against your forehead, his lips lingering there for a while longer, like he didn’t want to part from you in such an intimate way. As he stays there, his lips ghosting over your skin, he whispers an almost-inaudible soon. The implication makes you shudder in delight, feeling him separate away from you, now intertwining his hand in your own and gesturing his head for you to follow him. 
Soon.
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Tonight was a normal night within the clan, although it somehow seemed more alive.
Every night, the people of the Omatikaya would come together to celebrate the day’s achievements, even if nothing too celebratory had happened. It brought a semblance of togetherness that you couldn’t get anywhere else - one you wouldn’t trade for the world. 
You could hear the hustle and bustle of many Na’vi even from the tent furthest away from the main area, your body filling with brimming excitement already at the prospect of everyone being there. You weren’t a huge fan of crowds, but growing older had taught you to appreciate such a feeling - these people were your family, after all, and with such an impending war knocking upon your doorstep too often than you were comfortable with, you learned to enjoy what you have already, before it was too late.
Training with the Tsahik had increased tenfold in the last couple of months - you were working from sunrise until sunset alongside Mo’at and Kiri, aiding them in their tasks and ensuring you were close to knowing everything off by heart. Eventually, you would be taking over, with Neteyam at your side as Olo’eyktan. It wasn’t long until the two of you would finally be mated before Ewya, and whilst it would still be a while until you stepped forward as leaders, there would always be more preparing to do. As a mated pair, the clan would slowly start looking to the two of you.
With such a pressure lingering upon your shoulders, you began to make your way through the main crowd, leaving behind your duties in their wake and allowing yourself a moment to breathe. There were Na’vi everywhere, no matter what direction your gaze trailed to; smiles adorning each face, tails high in elation and chatter loud in excitement. There was a large woven table to the side that held the hunting party’s food they had caught during that morning’s hunt, piles high of fruits and meats that had your stomach growling in anticipation. You hadn’t had time to eat much when training, your mind too focused on remembering every little detail shown before you.
But, you couldn’t help your own smile beginning to dawn upon your lips as you attempted to make your way past people at the sight of their happiness. For a moment, it almost felt like there wasn’t a raging war so close to home, ready to kill you all just to say they had won. 
You shook your head at such a thought, willing it away from your head and forcing yourself to enjoy the moment before you. There were several people you accidentally bumped into on the way past, your mind foggy as it searched for someone, but no one was too bothered, too caught up in the blissful atmosphere lingering within the air. 
Eyes trailing over every figure you came across, you struggled to spot a single Sully. You stepped higher onto the ends of your toes, head poking out over the tops of other’s heads in an attempt to locate them, but you kept coming up short. It was obvious they would be here, of course - they were the Sully family, the leaders of your clan, and if they didn’t make an appearance at just a regular gathering such at this one, you knew they’d be more panic around you.
Thankfully, before you could be swallowed by the crowd and lost to the world around you, a hand clasped itself securely within your own, fingers intertwining together. The feeling of his hand against yours caused your brain waves to kilter off edge, the rough but warm sensation of his palm meeting your own so similar to home. 
When you look up at him, Neteyam’s happiness is evident upon his features, grin broad and so unbelievably handsome-looking. Before you can get too caught up in him, him, him, he nods his head in the direction behind him, where you guess his family had set themselves up. He doesn’t take his hand away from your own, keeping a strong grip against you to ensure he doesn’t lose you, leading you through the crowd until you come up to his family.
They’re all already seated comfortably together, Lo’ak, Kiri and Tuk already eating away to their heart’s desires whilst Jake prepares the food for himself and his mate. Upon seeing your breathless figure, they greet you with smiles and nods in your direction, never surprised to see you with Neteyam anymore as they used to be. The bond between the two of you was only growing stronger as the days tilted by, the time dwindling down before you were mated and you truly became a Sully. His family were your family.
Neteyam’s arm is almost forcefully ripped away from your own when a much smaller body crashes into you. Tuk, in all her pure and giddy glory, has her arms wrapped strongly around the tops of your legs, her height not allowing her to go any higher. Her chin rests against your legs, looking up at you with her deer-like eyes and the biggest smile you have ever seen. The sight has you melting. 
“Hi, Tuk,” you greet her softly, bringing your hand up to gently caress the top of her head. She giggles at the sensation, lightly hopping up and down on her feet. Whilst you were definitely close with Neteyam’s family - more so Kiri, than anyone else, due to the amount of time you spend together - Tuk would always be your favourite. You looked to her like she was your little sister, and you hoped that one day she’d look at you like her older one. The idea of having someone as adorable as Tuk look up to you, feeling comfortable enough to come to you should she ever need to, was heart-warming. 
“Tuk!” Neytiri called, her tone harsh but understanding as she beckoned her youngest child back over to her, watching her bound away from you and back into her mother’s arms.  
You laugh quietly to yourself at the sight, finally making your way to the free seat next to Neteyam. When your comfortable enough, you go to reach over for the contents already splayed out before you, but a soft slap against the back of your hand has you recoiling away. Next to you, Neteyam reaches for everything you’d need, already beginning to do it for you.
He doesn’t look at you, although you know he can feel your gaze zoning in on his every movement - he’s too busy concentrating on making sure everything’s perfect for you, even if you are going to devour it just moments after receiving it. Your heart flutters like a swarming butterfly and you’re positive your cheeks are starting to redden as they blush. You don’t say anything to him, knowing it’s an argument you won’t be able to win - instead, you continue to watch with hearts evident within your eyes, a faint, loving smile present on your lips.  
It’s then you remember you’re not completely alone, too caught up in Neteyam. When you look up at the family surrounding you, you instantly spot his parents’ gazes already trained on the two of you - Neytiri’s expression is fond, whilst Jake’s is most definitely teasing.
Whether he can begin to sense your slight unease at being caught, you’re not sure, but Jake decides to speak up, hands moving subconsciously as he now starts to prepare his own food after giving the finished one to his mate. “So, y/n,” he starts, “how is Tsahik training going?”
You briefly look back over to Neteyam next to you, biting back a smile as you allow him to continue his work - his eyes are narrowed in on making everything flawless, making sure it’s exactly how you’d like it. Turning back to Jake, you offer him a nod, breathing out. “It is good - there are a few things I’m still struggling with, but the Tsahik believes I just need to continue with my training before I am able to do it with my eyes closed.”
Shrugging at the end of your admittance, you let out a sheepish laugh, almost a little embarrassed. Tsahik training is hard - no one ever said it was going to be easy, especially when you would be guiding the clan spiritually through Ewya, helping them heal and celebrate important ceremonies. But, you know you don’t have anything to be embarrassed by for several reasons - Neytiri understands from her brief time of training alongside her mother before mating with Jake, but this is also Neteyam’s family, your family, who have never once stopped to judge you for a single thing. In fact, you’re sure they’ve only ever supported you through the things you do, because now you’re as much they’re daughter as Kiri and Tuk.
“You will be an amazing Tsahik, y/n.” Neytiri speaks up, clearly noticing your hidden embarrassment and wanting to ease your worries. Tuk is still in her lap, happily chomping away at her food as her mother braids her hair. Her smile is doting, motherly. “The clan already loves you.”
The compliment from your mother-in-law only causes more embarrassment to flood through you, feeling yourself slowly begin to curl in on yourself. The love you were receiving not only from the family, but also from the rest of the clan, helped ease your tensions, but you never really took to taking such praise well. You appreciated it like any other Na’vi did, but sometimes you struggled to show a natural reaction, becoming slightly uncomfortable. That was something you would have to work on - the Tsahik couldn’t be embarrassed.
Your tail had previously nestled itself against your side when Neytiri complimented you, shying away from the attention, but it began to perk up suddenly when Neteyam lay a kind hand against your shoulder. His thumb was absentmindedly rubbing soothing circles against your skin - you didn’t know whether it was in his natural persona to do so, subconscious taking over, or whether he took notice of your change in demeanour, but either way, it calmed you. 
Looking at his other hand, you can see your prepared food, wrapped neatly together and gesturing for you to take it. With a grateful smile sent his way, you do so, speaking softly. “Thank you, ‘teyam.”
His grin is wide as he looks down at you. “You do not need to thank me, narlor (beautiful).” Heat passes over your cheeks when he calls you beautiful, the sincerity behind his eyes showing you how much he means it. You try your best to focus on your food when his attention doesn’t waver away from you, the warmth of his gaze piercing into your skin and making your entire being feel all tingly. Despite taking note of your attempt to shutter yourself away from him, taking a bite of the food and savouring every mouth-watering flavour it has to offer you, Neteyam is relentless - the same hand that was formerly rubbing against the top of your shoulder now snakes around the back of your neck, bringing you further into his side and pressing a tender kiss against the side of your temple. His lips linger hotly against your skin when he pulls away. “I would hunt down the most ravishing creatures and prepare the most delicious meals just for you, muntxate (wife).”
For a moment, you know nothing else but him - the way his eyes bore into yours completely, unseeing of anything else going on around you; the way his breaths steady with each one, like you bring a sense of calmness to his very being; the way his hand doesn’t move from its place against you, like doing so would cause him extreme pain. You’re sure you can feel your heart soar to the sky when he calls you his muntxate (wife), never wanting to hear him call you anything else ever again. You’ve been down the road before - Neteyam has been calling you his mate boldly as of late - but hearing him call you his wife, such domesticity has you feeling completely brand new, like you could conquer the world, face the most dangerous beast and win, just to come home and see him smiling at you like you hung the stars in the night sky. 
You’re scared it’s obvious that your tears are beginning to show against the line of your eyes, a nervous but oh-so adoring chuckle escaping your parted lips. Neteyam brings you foreheads together, the heat of his skin sending waves of the temperature into your own, his hand still clasped firmly against the back of your neck, and you notice his eyes never once falter from their stare into your own. There’s so much love, so much devotion and worship in his gaze, you can’t believe for just one brief moment in your past, you had thought Neteyam wouldn’t want you to call his own. It’s clear to you now that he’s only ever saw you.
So suddenly you’re brought out of your reverie when you hear a gagging sound coming from the direction of your other side. Reluctantly pulling away from Neteyam, you spot Lo’ak pretending to throw up the contents of his meal, no doubt having seen the intimate moment between his older brother and yourself. In any other instance, the embarrassment would be clawing away at you - and, you won’t deny the little semblance of it still making its way to the forefront - but the endearment you held for Neteyam in that moment, when you truly saw how much you meant to one another, overrides anything else. You laugh at your younger brother figure, looking up at Neteyam with nothing but comfort and passion in your eyes, watching as he rolls his eyes and shakes his head at such dramatics. But, he doesn’t pull away - no, he keeps you closer.
Another sound is brought forward to your senses - this time it’s Neytiri, smacking the back of her youngest son’s head, her words a hushed scolding. You faintly hear her tell him that someday soon, that will be him and his own mate, but the voices drown out when your attention is pulled back to Neteyam. He’s not looking at you this time, rather he’s laughing at his brother’s grumbling of having to put up being like Neteyam, and as your eyes drown in everything he has to offer, you realise the whole world had started to disappear, until all you see is him.
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After a long day spent with the younger Na’vi within your clan, you’re finally finding the time to slip away and relax. Your time had been filled up with helping teach the children different aspects that Pandora had to offer before they go their separate ways and start heavily training on what they wish to do in order to provide for the clan - whether that be foraging, hunting, healer, weaving... You and a few others had taken the children out into the forests, showing them the plants, the fauna, the creatures, the life that constantly emanated around them. 
This was arguably one of your most favourite things to do - teaching the children the way of Ewya was such a beautiful experience when you got to witness their eyes light up in awe, fascination cleaving at each and every one of them, wanting to know more, to explore more. Spending time with them made your heart grow fonder, the images conjuring in your mind of the day that yourself and Neteyam get to do such things with your own children. You’re still unsure as to how many you’d like, but you know that Neteyam would be the best father, without a shadow of a doubt.
Such thoughts stay lingering within the corners of your mind, unrelenting in their leave and it has the corners of your lips turning up in a subtle smirk. The walk from the tent you had just visited after dropping off the last child wasn’t such a distance from your own, and you couldn’t stop the sigh of relief breathing through you when you spotted it. Already, you were picturing yourself laying down in the comfort of your mat, eyes closed as the worries slowly start to slip away, your dreamland beginning to take to the forefront of you mind. 
Lately, your dreams had only been filled with Neteyam, and you wondered what else they’d have you thinking about that night. The time of your bonding with Neteyam was just around the corner now, on the precipice to being the next chapter in your life, and both nervousness and excitement filled your entire being. You wanted it to be special, you wanted to be everything Neteyam ever wanted in a mate, and that’s where your nerves started. But, the moment you thought of them, they were shut down by your excitement - you knew Neteyam, and with the way he had been treating you all this time was only further evidence to how much he cared about you. You truly didn’t have anything to worry about.
“Y/n!” Your name pierces through the clan, senses heightened when you recognise the voice, such a sound being the cause of your craned eyes and elevated tail, like they had a life of their own and were looking forward to seeing him, too. You stop in front of your tent, watching as Neteyam slowly jogs his way over to you, his hands hidden behind his back.
“Hi, ‘teyam,” you greet him, an affectionate smile playing against your lips.
He sends you one back, but this one falters a little towards the end, like he’s unsure of yourself. It has you feeling nervous again, but this time, the nerves are understandable - he’s beginning to fidget from foot to foot, nodding to himself as though he’s telling himself everything’s going to be okay. “Hey,” he replies, voice low and quiet, so unlike the Neteyam you’re used to. One of his hands points towards your tent behind you, still keeping the other one hidden away from your prying eyes. “Can we talk inside for a moment?”
Such words only make you feel worse, so many jumbled thoughts and suspicions bouncing from one side of your intrigued mind to the next, concocting different possible outcomes of what could be the source of his anxiety. You repeatedly tell yourself that it can’t be anything too damaging - after everything the two of you have been through together, even before finding out you were to be mated, it’s practically impossible to pull you apart, now. Without yet being mated, you know the two of you are bonded for life, and nothing can ever come in between that. Still, a small part of yourself feeds off his apprehension and you can’t help but wonder if going inside your tent with him will change the course of your life as you know it.
With a tense smile, trying your best to muster up the courage and pretend that he’s not worrying you, you nod, moving towards the entrance. Neteyam’s quick with his movements - instantly, the flap is pulled open for you, his hands holding back the fabric and allowing you to usher yourself inside. That’s a good sign, you tell yourself - if he’s treating you like this still, whatever he wants to talk about can’t be too bad, right? Unless he’s being a gentleman so the idea of tearing you down doesn’t seem as harsh.
You walk over to your mat, placing yourself down in a hurry, looking up at Neteyam and gesturing for him to do the same. He does so, and his body movements of sitting down opposite you are stiff, too. You notice his hand still firmly placed behind his back. Suddenly, the air feels uncomfortable, too much to bare as it continues to envelop you more, his worry stifling every one of your senses. Sucking in a breath, you let out a nervous laugh, hoping to ease the tension, wanting to get it over with in the chance it’s something bad. “’Teyam, you’re worrying me.”
As soon as you speak, he’s on alert - his head shoots up to you, finally able to properly look at you directly, his pupils blown wide. Tension steadily starts to dissipate from his figure, a brittle chuckle parting from his lips as he shakes his head slightly. “I’m sorry, I do not mean to worry you, it’s just...” he pauses, takes a big breath like he’s preparing himself for something monumental and steadies himself. “I made something for you.”
The strain of believing Neteyam was going to be telling you bad news disperses and it’s like it was never there in the first place. You feel your ears wiggle as they come to understand exactly what he said, your tail swaying back and forth in anticipation. “For me?”
He breathes out a soft laugh, eyes lighting up at how adorable you look to him. “Of course, am I courting someone else?”
It’s like the nervous Neteyam has completely disappeared, and finally you’re looking at the one you know and love - the Neteyam that is brave, and proud; the Neteyam that enjoys teasing you just to get a shy reaction out you; the Neteyam that can’t help but be sarcastic despite being a nervous wreck just moments beforehand. You hate the way he teases you, and yet you love it at the same time. You shake your head at his sarcasm, in slight disbelief at how he had managed to change his demeanour in the matter of a split second, a velvet-like giggle breaking out before you have the chance to force it back in. Now, he knows he’s got you right where he wants you.
Slowly, with both precision and care, he moves his hand from behind his back, palm outstretched and showing off what he has to offer you. Your eyes land on a beautifully woven necklace, all different colours, shapes and sizes of beads and feathers and small intricacies tied all into place to make it perfect. It’s completely caught your attention, and you can’t seem to train your focus away from it. Subconsciously, your hand covers your mouth, smile wide and tears beginning to brim along your waterline. “Oh, ‘teyam. It’s beautiful.”
He brings himself closer to you, body shifting over until you’re now sat side by side, legs touching. He holds the necklace delicately in his hand still, bringing it further into the light to show it off, to show you how it looks in its true element. A beam plays at his lips now that he’s finally at ease, seeing the way you look so adoringly upon the object, so intense and ethereal it surely can’t be real. 
With a slight shake to his hand, he points to one of the beads, a watercolour blue that glistens when it shines perfectly against the light. “This bead is to represent when we first met - when you tripped and fell into the water.”
The memory comes back to you so quickly, it felt as though it happened just yesterday. You had been stood by the water, so close your toes were tipping in to the cool liquid, watching the fish as they swam in their habitat, blissfully happy and fascination clear on your features. Neteyam had unintentionally snuck up on you, scaring the life out of you as you fell into the water in surprise. Instantly, Neteyam felt bad, helping you out of the water and making sure you were fine, but as time went on, Neteyam loved to casually bring it up in conversation, if only to tease you.
You playfully smacked his arm, features recoiling before gasping out at his remark. “I did not trip - you scared me!”
He laughs, eyes imploring straight into yours, and you can see the hearts filled lovingly within them. Shaking his head, he bites back his smile, moving onto the next one, this one a darker brown, almost rusty in colour with different edges of tones. “This one is to represent the time when I started to help you with your bow.” As another memory filters through your mind’s eye, of two younger looking Na’vi practicing in the midst of the forest on how to correctly aim, you start to realise that this necklace your future mate had made for you is personal. He didn’t choose these specific ornaments just based on their beautiful colours or their variety of textures... he’d chosen them to portray each pleasing moment you had spent together, right from the very beginning. Your attention doesn’t falter, eyes trailing slowly from the necklace up to him, watching as he continues to talk through each one; so in his element, so in love. “This is a feather I found that looks similar to the colour of your ikran, and this one is supposed to represent when I asked to court you-”
You couldn’t help yourself - his voice was drowning in your ears, a ringing sensation taking over until silence deafened you and there was nothing else important in the world. Whilst he’s still speaking, you take his face gently within your grasp, holding onto both sides of his face, turning him to you and smashing your lips against his own. You kiss him passionately, as though it was the last one you may ever share together. It isn’t usually you who initiates moments like this one, but the more he spoke about every moment you shared together, concocting them and making them into something you’ll wear for the rest of your life proudly, all you wanted to do was show him how much the gesture meant to you, how much he meant to you.
When you eventually pull back, your lips linger against one another, breaths mingling together. You press another soft kiss to his lips, thumbs absentmindedly rubbing the apples of his cheeks. Looking up at him, you watch as his eyes start to open slowly, dazed, hazy, in love. A grin rests along your features at having been able to get him so drunk on you in such a way. “Nga yawne lu oer, Neteyam (I love you, Neteyam),” you breathe out, pecking his lips again, even lighter this time. “Oel ngati kameie (I see you).”
A vast smile is obvious upon his features now, uncontainable, but it wasn’t like he wanted to contain it anyway. For as long as the two of you were together, he’d show off all of himself to you, no matter the circumstance. Such a sight before you - all for you - has your heart fluttering. Neteyam presses his head impossibly closer to your own, trying his hardest for the two of you to become one, kneading his face against your own, wanting his scent to be all over you, for everyone to know that you belong to him. “You have no idea how much you mean to me, yawne (beloved), and how eager I am to finally be all yours.”
Your cheeks are hurting from how happy you appear, but there’s so much love being shared between the two of you, you simply don’t care. “And, I cannot wait to be yours, muntxa (mate).”
It’s the first time you’ve admittedly called him your mate - after all this time, it’s usually him to call you such a name. But, seeing him today, presenting you with a gift of such beautifully personal memories, you finally give into yourself. Even if it is still some time before the two of you mate as one before the eyes of Ewya, but all in all, Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan will always be your mate. 
A laugh bubbles in the back of his throat at finally hearing you call him such a name, pearly fangs on full display as the two of you show off your eagerness to come together as one - of how much you care for one another, how much you yearn for one another.
You truly cannot wait to be all his, because there was no doubt in your mind that Neteyam was always the one for you.
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taglist ;
@bakugouswaif @andraga12 @draiochtwrites @teyums​ @neteyamslovrr @tinkerbelle05 @netesanrr
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chaotic-mystery · 4 months
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Pairing: dbf!Joel miller x f!reader (no outbreak)
Summary: You kissed Joel after you had that terrible fight with your dad and you have no idea what Joel’s thinking now. Did you just ruin everything or will he finally admit he likes you just as much as you do him? What about Michelle?
Content warnings: my blog is 18+ so mdni! Eventual smut, age gap (readers in her twenties and Joel is in his 40s) dads best friend, enemies to lovers, slow burn, infidelity, family issues and daddy issues, talks about emotionally absent parent and effects it has, reader not feeling good enough for someone to love them, talks of healthy father daughter relationships, as well as a brief mention of being drunk. Let me know if I’ve missed anything!
|| wc: 4.2k || notif blog @chaoticnotifs || I love u ||
Within a few short moments, Joel was pushing you off him, his breaths shallow and the look on his face was already telling you something before his words did. “Darlin’, I-” He started, and he sighs deeply, great.
“Baby, I think you’re a little drunk. We can talk about this tomorrow, okay? Cmon, let’s getcha inside and get some sleep, lord knows you need it after all that cryin’. His hand smooths down his jeans over his thigh while his other hand takes yours gently, giving it a slight shake. You were sober as one could be but there was no more fight in you to argue, especially not with him.
“Yeah, probably right. Thanks for today, Joel. I appreciate it, more than you’ll ever know.” A soft smile grew on your lips before climbing out of his truck, walking to your front door. You wanted to turn around so badly and follow him into his house to his room, climb into his bed and just be held by him. Instead, you were faced with your cold, empty bed you dreaded laying in because Joel wasn’t there. It didn’t even dawn on you about Michelle until you noticed the last clean shirt you had with the bar logo on it that was hanging in your closet. The last you knew he wasn’t really with Michelle, more so on a break after everything at White Pony.
All night you tossed and turned, constantly looking out your window to Joel’s bedroom window who had a lamp on each time you glanced over. Your dreams were flooded with him, he suddenly consumed your every thought, awake or asleep. He was haunting you, the ghost of his fingertips on your skin, the way his soft lips felt on yours before he pushed you away. To be in the truck again and do it over, to kiss him longer and touch him, feel his skin and how his strong hands felt around your waist, to sit on his lap and just have him hold you right against his chest until he was content.
“Sarah cmon, you’re gonna be late, girl!” Joel shouts from the porch and you're awake, eyes fluttering open slowly to look at the ceiling. Sarah climbed out of who you assumed was her mother’s car and shut the passenger side door, running up the sidewalk.
Dad, stop! I’m coming, don’t eat all the pancakes!” Her giggle echoes between your houses and up your window, causing you to smile subconsciously.
Joel went inside before she made it to the porch, and her laugh got quieter as she shut the front door behind her. Soon enough it was quiet once more and you were left alone with yourself. Before you left to come back to Texas, one of your good friends mentioned to you about journaling and how healing it can be for you. With every intention of making it work, you started to dig through your drawers to find the little dyed green leather journal you got from the book store. It’s been through a lot, the way the pages are wrinkled from when it fell in the bathtub one night, some of the corners burnt from sitting next to an open candle flame for too long. Everything on its pages are things from being a kid you’re trying to process, doodles, everything you wish you could say to your dad. Journaling was sometimes helpful but most of the time it left you feeling empty.
If you didn’t harbor the feelings inside and constantly think about it, what were you supposed to feel? Is it normal to feel this empty on a day to day basis and was that something you really looked forward to? You sighed and tugged on your hoodie and pants, walking out into the hall to go downstairs and start your day with a cup of coffee. Ever since Joel watched you make coffee once at work, he hasn’t let up since. Every time he sees you with a travel cup he asks if it's hot or iced, knowing what the answer will be and he’s disappointed every single time.
With your glass almost empty by now and four pages scribbled on, you finally felt comfortable to stop. It was almost like you blacked out writing, not really sure what exactly you wrote down but it brought you that same empty feeling once more so that must’ve meant you were done for the day. A knock on your door takes you from zoning out and you’re met with Joel’s face, a plate of pancakes, and a glass of orange juice.
“Before you start, the orange juice was Sarah’s idea. I know you hate eating breakfast when you first wake up so I figured you’d nibble on these until you’re hungry enough to eat them normally.” His small smile makes your heart skip a beat and you reach out to grab the plate from him, along with the orange juice and you take a small sip, tipping the glass to him with a nod.
“Give Sarah my thanks, yeah?” The awkward silence was killing you and you were hoping he’d bring up last night. He just shoves his hand in his pocket and clears his throat, looking around at the neighbors homes as Joel racks his brain on what to say.
“Joel I-” you start but he cuts you off.
“Darlin’ it’s fine, you were drunk. We’ve all been there before.”
You groaned in annoyance and walked to the kitchen island with the front door wide open, signaling him to follow.
You leaned your ass against the counter top and folded your arms across your chest, glancing out the window above the sink to the left of you. “I wasn’t drunk, okay? I was perfectly sober. I wanted to kiss you, I’ve thought about it a lot and it was something I wanted. I’m sorry if you didn’t feel the same way. I know you’re with Michelle and I know she doesn’t trust me around you and I just gave her all the proof she needs to keep thinking that.” You were rambling out of nervousness and he just stood there and listened, his hands were on his hips while he looked at the floor. The bundle of anxiety was growing in the pit of your stomach and you were worried you just fucked everything up even more by bringing up Michelle.
“I-I just…I needed to know what it’s like to kiss you, Joel. I’m sor-”
“Honey, jus’ stop,...’kay? First of all, Michelle not trusting you isn’t because of you, it’s because she caught me one too many times checkin’ on you at work and she didn’t like it. You are a smart, funny, sarcastic woman and you’re beautiful but baby, you’re so much younger than me, not to mention my best buddy's daughter. This would never work, you and I.” Joel barely whispers the last part of his sentence and his shoulders drop, eyes finally meeting yours. The same rejected feeling crept up and bit you in the ass once more, a common feeling for you from almost every person you’ve met in your life.
“Not to mention you slept with Tommy, couldn’t do that to him.”
You roll your eyes and scoff, shaking your head at Joel. “Oh suddenly you and Tommy care who you share and pass around between the two of you? That’s really rich, Joel, considering he dropped that little nugget about you two tag teaming a girl while his drunk ass had to come get yanked out of my bed?”
Joel’s jaw clenched together and his nostrils flared slightly, the anger in him rising the more you called him out.
“Be careful if you’re gonna run your mouth about shit you don’t know.” The look on his face gave you a slight jumpstart to your heart and excitement in your tummy. He’s sexy when he’s angry but telling him that right now would only make him even more upset.
“So are you saying if I didn’t sleep with Tommy, wasn’t my dad’s daughter, and about twelve years older, I’d have a shot with you?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him and walk over to him slowly with your arms behind your back, trying to look innocent.
Joel however, sees right through your bullshit and chuckles at your attempts to get more answers from him. “Did I say that?” He cocks his head to one side and watches you get close until you stop right in front of him.
“I might be reading between the lines, but oh well. Was I at least a good kisser?” You smirk at him and see the sparkle in his eye, Joel tries to fight back the corners of his lips from curling upwards.
“Why is it so easy for you to piss me off and then you wanna be sweet? You’re a damn sour patch kid.” The annoyance in his tone was only masking the laugh he was containing.
“That doesn’t tell me if I was a good kisser or not, Mr.Miller.” You grab the collar of his flannel and fix it so it laid flat and Joel’s breath hitched when you brushed against his skin.
Joel cracks his fingers in nervousness and hesitates before answering quietly, “I don’t remember, honestly. It was short.”
“Aw, is the age catching up to you, old man?” You tease, batting your eyelashes up at him.
Gently but firm enough to feel it, Joel’s hands meet your hips and squeeze firmly as he leans in, lips ghosting over yours. Now it’s your turn to have your breath hitch and the nervousness bubbled in your stomach.
His eyes close for just a moment before he grumbles,”Yeah I bet you wanna kiss me again. Does it get you all excited, baby? Kissin an older man like me when you’re not ‘sposed to?” He pulls back, standing up straight this time with the evilest grin on his face.
Joel could see you panicking to find an answer, an excuse, something. Without waiting for your answer, he turns on the heel of his boot and heads for the door, leaving you speechless and heart racing in the middle of your kitchen.
“What’s wrong sweet girl, cat got your tongue?” The door was shut before you could come up with a smart ass response to retort. Even worse than a cat having your tongue, Joel Miller had your tongue. If he wants to play this game with you, he’d soon be figuring out how much better at it you were than him. With the warm plate of pancakes calling your name from the marble counter behind you, you pulled back foil and watched the small amount of steam roll up into thin air.
Tearing into the fluffy pancakes, you rip a piece off and put it in your mouth, the butter soaked into the layers but still present. It was good at first and it had been a long time since you had a homemade breakfast. Before you can understand what’s happening, your fingers grip quickly and pull apart piece after piece and shove it in your cheeks as you close your eyes and feel the tears sting. To be cared for by a man who’s old enough to be your dad but isn’t your dad will always be hard for you. Why was it so easy for them to do kind things for you without a second thought but it was like pulling teeth for your own blood? For just a second you felt the jealousy of never having what Sarah and Joel have, that connection and inseparableness of father and daughter. The hot tears fall down your cheeks as your arms drop, no more soft pancake shoved in between your teeth as your brows furrowed in sorrow… anger, confusion…jealousy. It was almost as if a switch flipped and you were yanked out of your dark mindset over a kind gesture from your neighbor.
You grab a napkin from the holder in the middle of the counter and quickly spit out the mush, your vision so blurry and fuzzy from the tears. Your home was quiet with only the fridge buzzing softly and your runny nose sniffling subconsciously. Cold fingers wrap around the orange juice and you bring it to your slightly puffy post-cry lips, taking a small sip and letting the tangy liquid roll down your esophagus. You try to swallow your feelings and bury them deep inside once more to hide away the things you don’t dare talk about with anyone.
What little bit of jealousy still inside you causes you to push the plate away from the end of the counter, groaning in frustration at the meltdown you thought you had controlled.
~
Weeks go by and you haven’t heard much from Joel. His truck was gone when you got up early in the mornings trying to find a new job and his driveway was still empty by the time you were going to bed. Not a single phone call returned to you from him, your red landline phone he made fun of you for buying at a garage sale hardly rang unless it was someone trying to sell fake insurance. Thanksgiving came and went and it was like nothing happened between you and your dad, or at least no one brought it up when you gathered with the rest of your family at his house. They were all surprised to see you since you left years ago with your mother and never visited for the holidays but no one wanted to ruin the day of pretending you were a big happy family. The only people you called while you were away were your grandparents. They were like your best friends, always knew what was going on with you and they wanted better than what you got, they even knew their son made many mistakes when it came to the way he parented you. Even at your age now you still need them how you did as a little girl, clinging to their side when you felt overwhelmed by all the people swarming you asking millions of questions while you’re trying to get a plate of food. You sat in the corner in an uncomfortable chair while you ate your food but all you could seem to think about was Joel, where he was or who he was with, was he even celebrating today? He was probably with Michelle and her family, talking away about how great she is to her parents while the reality was that she was still upset with him over Halloween. They were just like your family, everyone pretending to be something they weren’t. Luckily it went okay without anything bad happening this time but there was still Christmas to come.
With the holiday just passing a couple days ago and still no sign of Joel, you decide to call him just to check up on him. Three rings into the call and you were praying to the universe he didn’t answer, not because you didn’t want him to be okay but you didn’t even know what to say if he did pick up. Just as the fourth ring starts, Joel’s deep voice fills your ear canals.
“H-hello?” He sounds confused at first but then it fades to irritation quickly.
“Joel..? Hey..” You stutter out as you shove the red handset into the crook of your shoulder and ear while you fiddle with the cord.
“What do ya want, kid? Somethin’ wrong?” You can hear muffled voices behind him but all you can focus on is Joel and the way his voice sounds like velvet over the phone.
“N-no, no nothing wrong I just..” your voice wavers for a moment and something inside your mind tells you to be honest with him even if it’ll blow up in your face. “...I miss you..and you left without saying a word…was it something I did-” You stop yourself from babbling on and cut the risk of looking even more dumb to him. Joel’s end was consumed by the muffled voices and laughter, a door being shut silenced the noise and it was just you and Joel.
“It’s kinda hard to talk right now, honey. I went with Michelle to her parents in Kansas for Thanksgiving. You didn’t do anything wrong. I'm just trying to get all of this sorted out, okay? You gotta remember I’ve been with her for a long time and it’s not just somethin’ I can just leave out of the blue.” Joel sighs deeply and your heart starts to get heavy inside your body, the phone cord tangled in your fingers.
“Okay, sorry for bothering you. Have fun and have a safe drive back, guess I’ll still be here waiting for you.” It wasn’t your goal to get annoyed with him but this was how you coped. You’d shut down as soon as something bad was happening and acted like it didn’t hurt. Like it didn’t make you want to curl into a ball of embarrassment when he didn’t say he missed you back. Before he could respond you hung up on him and unplugged the phone line from the handset so he couldn’t call back, not that he even would.
With the kitchen clock reading almost nine o'clock at night and your head in a mess, you figured it was more than needed for you to go to bed. Your bedroom window seemed so incomplete with the safe sight of Joel’s lamp lighting up the window it sat in. Before getting into bed you thought you’d feel better if you put on the Wizard of Oz, your favorite childhood movie. Tucking yourself right between your pile of blankets and pillows, you laid there watching the house spin and spin in the tornado but you couldn’t resist not looking over at Joel’s house every two minutes like he’d suddenly be back and throwing rocks at your window like those corny rom coms. Even imagining it seemed too crazy, you and Joel could never be like that. The ruby shoes were sparkling on your eyes as your lids got heavy and you were asleep within seconds, dreaming of Joel once again.
You wake up hours later to the DVD menu on loop and your front door being pounded on. With your heart racing you look out your window and see Joel’s truck in the driveway with the engine still running, driver's side door wide open. You wrap the throw blanket around your shoulders and practically run down the stairs to look through the peephole. A messy haired, sweaty, disheveled Joel was leaning against the door waiting on you to answer. Swinging open the front door, he yanks back the screen door that was separating you two and stepped inside, grabbing your face and walking you backwards.
“What the hell do you think you’re doin’? You unplug your phone after throwin’ a tantrum and I can’t call you back, don’t know what’s goin’ on with you?!” Joel’s voice rattled you even though it was caring, it was still coated in frustration.
“I’m sorry I went to bed, I meant to plug it back in I’m- I’m sorry..” You look at his face and it dawns on you just how freaked out he was. He drove ten hours straight just to come see if you were okay.
“What did you think I was gonna do? Hang up and just go about my time in Kansas not knowing what happened to you? Bein’ a goddamn brat making’ it hard for me to get in touch with you.” Joel’s jaw clenches as his hands tighten on your face. His eyes haven’t relaxed yet and it’s almost like he’s searching in yours to find some truth to your actions, to find some reason.
You were speechless at him. Every time he did something it surprised you even more that someone cares about you that much to go the mile for you.
“Did you really drive all night to come back and check on me?” The hint of excitement in your voice makes Joel roll his eyes and a small smirk grow on his face. His face finally softens and he pulls you against him with his hands rubbing your back.
“Of course you wanna hear me say I drove ten hours just for you, crazy brat. Don’t ever do that to me again, understood?” Joels scruff softly brushes against your ear and you finally feel safe again, even if your relationship was up in the air.
“Would you maybe wanna stay with me, just until I fall asleep?” It kind of came out of your mouth before you thought about it but there was no more hesitating.
“I can, yeah. Let me go shut off my truck and I’ll be back in a second.” He kisses your forehead softly and walks back outside to his driveway, pulling his keys out of the ignition and locking the door. His black suitcase rolls against the pavement behind him on the walk back to your house. The sun would soon be up and shining through the tree branches but you had a hard time accepting this wasn’t a dream. He leaves his suitcase by the door and sits on the couch, sighing as he gets comfortable. Joel’s eyes watch you closely as you walk back to him with a water bottle directed to him to grab.
“Just try to be quiet when you leave, okay?” You mutter as you lay your head on his lap while tugging the blanket over you as you curl into a ball like a cat. Joel chuckles and rubs his chin slightly as he adjusts and gets comfortable with the pillow behind his head. It came as no surprise to yourself that you were already preparing for the heartbreak you’d eventually have to feel when he left while you’re fast asleep no matter how much you tried to enjoy Joel being there in the moment.
“I’ll try my hardest, baby girl.” He teases, softly running his fingernails against your scalp. Joel’s breathing slows to soft snores that fill the living room, the only sound that was audible as the sun came up and soon drowned the room in warm rays.
Joel’s watch on his left hand read just a little after eleven and the house was still, your light snores getting his attention as he rubs his eyes of sleepiness. You looked so peaceful to him and he didn’t want to leave you just yet.
He grabs onto your shoulder and shakes you awake gently, brushing the hair out of your face that fell during your nap.
“I’m starving and I know you don’t have enough food here to feed the both of us. Cmon, let’s go eat…I’ll buy.” Joel was trying to bribe you and you hated that it was working. You sit up and look at him with barely opened eyes.
“Really?”
Joel stands up to stretch and his midriff is exposed by his shirt, causing your eyes to glance at the skin you hadn’t seen until now.
“My offer is good for another thirty seconds, clock is tickin’.” The playfulness in his voice makes you grin and you grab your house keys from the bowl of clutter near the front door. Your head nods towards his truck and he strolls outside, shaking his head at your outfit.
“You really gonna wear that? Don’t think the waitress would take too kindly to a shirt that says, “Cougars” with a heart…” His fingers pinch the fabric and he lets go, a small indent left on the shoulder piece.
While you both buckle in, Joel looks around for anything you could use to cover what he thought was a god awful shirt. He tosses a black hoodie at you to wear and you begrudgingly tug it on when you notice his company’s logo on the back.
“There’s nothing wrong with showing cougars love, Joel. Would you rather it say dad’s best friend?” You can see his eyebrow raise as he cocks his head slightly to glance over at you.
“Don’t push it.” He mutters and starts to head to the diner.
You both decide on a booth and look over the menu before ordering and Joel sips his coffee, taking in the strong notes of the blend to prepare clearing his throat.
“So uh- think it’s pretty obvious I can’t leave you alone no matter how hard I try. I need to get some stuff sorted out but I’m really not trying to string you along, kid.” His brown eyes flick up to meet yours and he extends out his hand to grab your arm across the worn table.
“I know I just…I hate not knowing if you’re with Michelle or not. We need to be careful around everyone, ya know- pretend that we still hate each other..” You lead on and cough slightly at the hand laying on your arm.
Joel nods understandingly, knowing exactly where you’re coming from.
“No, I’m not with-“
“Michelle, hi!” You finish his sentence as your eyes meet her piercing stare as she stands behind Joel. Her arms were crossed and nostrils flared, not understanding entirely what she walked in on.
“Michelle..”
fuck.
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naomihatake · 6 months
Text
In search of freedom (Ch. 2)
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2. The wheel of death
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Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3
⠀⠀⠀⠀She's been searching for freedom her entire life and everytime she thought it was laying right in front of her eyes, she was mistaken. She was running around the East Blue, seeking herself and her dreams, meeting people she never forgot. No matter how much she traveled, she could only catch a glimpse of peace before realizing everything would crumble at her feet.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Maybe it was destiny that brought her on that ship with three strangers — foolishly, that's what she tried to believe when the moon shined beautifully and hope settled in her chest, squeezed by the same ribcage where feelings were blooming.
Pairing: female!reader x OPLA Zoro Roronoa. This chapter follows the events of the second episode.
Warnings for this chapter: canon typical violence, kidnapping
Word count: 3,1k
Theme song: “Haunted Isles” by Derek Fiechter (click on the link)
A/N: I almost didn't believe I wrote so much considering the process felt so slow and kind of annoying. Not the best chapter I've written so far, not something I'm necessarily proud of, but I wanted to follow OPLA's plot. I know 3k words isn't much, but I already prepared pieces of the next chapters that I'm genuinely excited to share with you. Half of this part is filled with action, meanwhile, the next chapter will be full of psychological analysis and a lot of thoughts + more interactions between the reader and Zoro.
The reader will be referred to as "Witch" from now on, because I have no intentions of using "Y/N".
I'm open for comments and opinions <3
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The view made her smile as she looked at the dark blue nuance of the sea, her eyes sparkling just like the moon that was hidden by the gray clouds at that time. Her heart beat so peacefully, in sync with the waves of the water, and with every inhale she could feel that sensation taking over her senses. Everytime she got on a ship, the feeling grew stronger and stronger and she doubted there was a limit.
Freedom had no limit and she wondered if that's what it felt like.
"We're not a crew," Zoro and Nami — the woman with orange hair — said in unison.
Luffy was dead set on calling four people a crew, despite the fact that it was a decision he kind of made on his own.
Zoro's tall figure disappeared inside the cabin, where he intended to nap. She was intrigued; it was the same man who made a fool of those marines back at the tavern. The witch was confused about the soft clinck sounds coming from him, until she realized it was just his three golden earrings hitting one another at each move.
Luffy's last crewmate smiled, endeared by the unfaltering enthusiasm their supposed captain was radiating. He was like a ball of energy since they got on Nami's ship and sailed away with help from Koby.
"So, you're a witch," Luffy excitedly turned towards her.
"You could call me that, I think," she shrugged.
"Do you do magic? Like, potions in a cauldron and spells with candles—"
"I think you know too many stereotypes," she let out a long sigh.
Nami was on her knees in front of the safe box, ear glued to the locker as she rolled it between her fingers.
"So you won't chop us into pieces and boil us?" She arched her eyebrow, unintentionally feeding Luffy's crazy ideas.
"You—!"
"No, I don't."
She rubbed at the bridge of her nose with her thumb and pointer finger.
"What about you two talking after I finish unlocking this? I need silence."
The witch sat down, resting her body against a barrel as she watched Nami's careful actions. Now that she thinks about it, she never saw someone so sure of themselves while opening up this kind of locker, which meant it wasn't the first time she did it either. She presented herself as a thief.
Luffy was agitated, roaming around and stretching, a big smile on his lips. He was holding back from babbling until he forgot he had to keep his mouth shut.
"I almost can't believe I already have a crew and we got our hands on the Grand Line map."
"Luffy," the witch whispered so she wouldn't disturb Nami. "You do know none of us promised to take part in this adventure, right?"
She was trying her best to be gentle about the topic, especially since he seemed so happy he couldn't hold back at all. Luffy had no filter anymore, saying whatever came to mind, but she supposed he's always like that.
"Maybe you'll change your mind," he beamed.
"I appreciate your help a lot, kid, and I'll try my best to help you if I get the chance until we get to the next destination, but I don't know about that," she shook her head.
"You said the same thing at the tavern: that it's dangerous."
"And I still didn't change my mind. It is dangerous."
"Can you be silent?" Nami accentuated her words in annoyance.
"Sorry," the witch muttered.
The orange haired woman glued her ear to the lock again, eyes narrowed and brows pulled together in concentration. One strand of hair fell over her blue eyes but she didn't mind it while she continued opening the locker up.
A small click vibrated shyly through the air and Nami snapped up.
"It's open!" she shouted.
From inside the box, Nami took a long cylinder and opened it. The witch moved behind her and looked at the map of the Grand Line, inspecting it with the eye of someone who wasn't an expert at all. She was focusing on the navigator's explanations so intensely, she didn't notice when the other two approached. Zoro's swords brushed by her leg, moving her entire attention to him.
The sound of fireworks filled the air.
"The marines? When did they find us?" Nami furrowed her eyebrows.
"What's with the red smoke?" the witch found herself asking right after she started seeing in nuances.
"It smells weird," Luffy muttered.
She found out it was true only after she inhaled it and her vision was getting blurry. Everything happened so fast: Nami falling first, then Zoro saying something she couldn't hear. Her body got soft and in less than a few seconds, she fell unconscious after she caught a glimpse of a pirate ship.
•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈
The witch rubbed her wrists together, but her attempt to escape from the rope digging into her skin was futile. She was sitting in an open chest, her knees pulled close to her chest; both her legs and wrists were tied and she was growing tired of it.
They were kidnapped by some pirate clowns and thrown into what he called the Green Room. Luffy was still in the main tent, and what was happening to him was a secret between the clowns and the dozens of people who had their legs chained like animals.
The Green Room was filled with strange things and old furniture and cushions. Golden bulbs shined and reflected into some square mirrors and another large one with skulls as ornaments. There was a chair in front of a desk, where cups were placed next to some photos. A creepy white mannequin stood right next to the chest she was sitting in, wearing an elegant purple scarf. Something that imitated a chandelier was hanging in the middle of the roof, made out of big flower cups of white thin material. Zoro's swords were left against one of the cushions, where her two identical guns were.
A barely audible groan left the swordsman's lips as he struggled against the rope that glued his wrists to a big wheel.
"They're too strong even for you," Nami commented in a shallow tone.
Both of her hands clutched at the metal bars of the wide bird cage she was stuck in.
"I need to get out of here and kill some clowns," he muttered, focused on escaping. "I've got out of worse."
"With that I have to agree," the witch sighed.
"I saw a town when I got out of the tent… what was left of it after Buggy destroyed it."
"You mean, when you tried to leave us for dead?" Zoro grimaced after pulling at the ropes again.
The witch was like a bystander, her eyes running from one to the other. They were seriously insane, ready to argue in a life-or-death situation.
"You were picking up a fight you couldn't win," Nami snapped her head towards the swordsman.
"I know your type: if there's nothing to gain, you're out."
"Says the one who runs after Berries—"
"Shut it, you two," the witch intervened, letting out a groan. "We can argue and throw venom at each other after we get out of here."
"If we get out of here," Nami retorted.
"We do because I have too much of an ego to play in a circus created by a maniac," the witch mumbled.
After a few moments of silence, no sounds coming from outside the room they were left in, Nami got a lock pin out of her boot.
"Didn't they take all of them?" Zoro asked.
"They only took three," she smirked for a brief moment.
The witch leaned her torso forward and, despite the painful tug of the rope, she tried to raise them to the belt of her pants. She snuck her fingers between the two pieces of clothing and bit at her bottom lip when her skin started stinging painfully.
Finally, she got a small pocket knife out and grinned.
"I thought you were a witch," the swordsman gazed at her.
"You'll see magic once I get out of here," she joked.
A loud scream ripped through the air and it made all of them snap their heads towards the door.
Was that Luffy?
The witch's blood froze in her veins.
"You better hurry," Zoro whispered.
The witch gulped and wielded the knife between her fingers until the sharp edge grazed the rope around her wrists. She moved the knife up and down, putting as much pressure as the position allowed her. Nami, on the other hand, continued rolling the lock pick into the padlock.
Now that the woman stared intently at the mannequin while cutting the rope — even if way too slowly —, the doll had a scary smile painted in black on its porcelain face. Why was it looking back at her?
Minutes of unsuccessful cutting ropes and rolling lock picks, after another groan coming out of Zoro's mouth, he spoke:
"Someone's coming."
"Keep them talking, I need more time," Nami turned her head.
"Same here."
"I don't talk, I hit things," he grunted.
"Then change your hobby," the witch huffed.
The witch's eyes widened and she leaned back against the chest, so her arms and pocket knife would be hidden. Her heart was beating painfully fast in between her ribs and it was almost ridiculous, how she was sweating and the clothes started getting uncomfortable.
A monocycle creaked under the man who just got inside the room. He passed right by her when he came in, which sent her into an inner crisis. Wearing dark colored clothes and an unbuttoned coat without sleeves, the man hopped off and let the object fall to the floor.
She had no clue why the pirate chose to get close to the swordsman, who looked at him dead in the eye.
"Remember me?" the pirate spoke.
"No. Must be some other homicidal, unicycle-riding clown."
The witch was reminded you pay for the audacity of speaking up to your enemy when you're locked up; Zoro got instantly hit by the pirate's fist into the stomach. However, he didn't give that clown any satisfaction, his lips glued.
She eyed Nami, who was turned with her back at the lock of her cage, trying to open it without even looking at it. Damn, it wasn't good.
The witch couldn't hear whatever the fuck that clown was muttering at Zoro's ear, her fingers moving the knife faster, a tight knot settling in her throat as adrenaline pumped through her.
Nami made eye contact with the swordsman and the pirate who called himself Cabaji turned towards her.
"I've never met a clown. I thought they're supposed to be funny. Do some acrobatics on your monocycle, maybe it can help the time pass."
The witch shouldn't have opened her mouth in the first place, but if Nami was caught, it could've ended badly. Maybe it was the fault of the adrenaline, but pissing off that idiot with three strands of mint green hair made her smirk victoriously.
People who get angry when you step on their ego have always been the funniest creatures alive.
Of course, the reaction she received wasn't a good one. The pirate took two knives from his belt and stepped closer. She refused to look away and nothing could erase that grin off her face.
"Still doesn't ring a bell," Zoro caught his attention again.
Bad move. One of Cabaji's knives cut through the air and sunk into the wood the swordsman was glued to. Any other sounds have immediately been silenced.
"You followed us day and night for weeks through the Goa kingdom, never relenting, like some kind of demon."
Oh, so that's who Roronoa Zoro really was; the witch dared to allow her curiosity to act like a sponge about the new information. Interesting. The swordsman was a demon and a bounty hunter. Amazing combo.
He was probably hated by every pirate on the sea.
The woman tried her best to focus on the pocket knife between her fingers, but she couldn't help the fear crawling up into her skin. They had to get out of there alive and, preferably, with their limbs attached to their body.
After a few heavy steps, Cabaji gripped at the edge of the wooden wheel and in less than two seconds, the swordsman was rotating like a toy. The pirate walked roughly two meters away and then continued tossing knives, each time managing to avoid Zoro's flesh.
Nami and the witch looked at each other for a brief moment and then continued with their previous work.
When the rope finally got cut, she looked at the maniac pirate who didn't stop with his play yet. She held back her reactions, instead choosing to look at the swordsman who was rotating in the air and it made her pale. Time passed by too slowly and she slowly let out a long sigh when the wheel stopped from moving.
"You really don't fear death, do you?" Cabaji huffed.
He wasn't satisfied by the lack of reaction he received from Zoro who looked like he's gone through that three times a day for years. How did he manage to keep such a poker face?
"No, I just don't fear you."
Good, make him corner you.
The pirate didn't think twice before he threw a knife that aimed right above the swordsman's wrist. Their enemy wasn't careful enough, since the rope could now be easily cut.
Cabaji walked towards Zoro — another mistake. Nami already opened her cage and she was silently getting out. The witch didn't hesitate when she stopped pretending like she still had her wrists tied together. Clutching at the knife between her fingers, she raised her hand and tossed the sharp object through the air, aiming at the man's back.
"Thinking you're the only one who can play with knives, clown?" she huffed.
Cabaji turned and it was Nami's opportunity to kick his stomach with her foot, which made him fall on his back, the knife digging further into his flesh, cutting through his ribs and lung.
Finally, the witch's anxiety lowered now that one of their men was down. Now, who knows how many more they had to defeat.
"I didn't take you for a criminal."
Nami took one of the knives stuck in the wheel and cut Zoro's rope and then came to her other crewmate, helping with the rope around her ankles.
"I was desperate and he was annoying," the witch shrugged while she rubbed at her aching wrists.
When she found the freedom of moving again, she got out of the chest and took all the knives she found, including the ones from the wheel.
"What's the plan?" Zoro asked as he arranged his swords back at his hip.
"I say we beat the shit out of every clown we see," Nami grinned.
The witch smiled after she put each knife at her belt, rolling another one between her fingers. With her guns sitting at each side of her hip and the bonus of adrenaline, it felt like nothing could stop her.
•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈
The sharp edge of the weapon broke the glass after she threw it right in the middle of Luffy's aquarium — or whatever that thing was supposed to be.
"Luffy!" she shouted his name.
The glass wall of his cage shattered and the water splashed around, the straw hat coughing, his face pale. He was on the floor, soaked to the bone. His straw hat was so close to him,yet so far away. Luffy vomited the cylinder with the map and despite the nausea he was experiencing, he crawled to his hat.
He put himself in danger this entire time and chose not to let go of the Grand Line map, but that object held much more importance to him. The witch froze for a mere moment, confused, but when she wanted to get closer and get the map away from Buggy, a pirate with a sword came sprinting towards her.
"Witch!" she heard a gruff voice.
She dodged it before her head could get cut off and sank a knife into his stomach, only to raise the agony after she hit the man in the same spot, blood gushing out of his wound and soaking his clothes.
With a swift motion, her fingers grabbed at one of her revolvers. She fired at Buggy who was a breath away from touching the map, but didn't pay enough attention to another attack towards her.
A sword's edge shone in the corner of her eye and no matter how fast she was, she couldn't dodge that. Her eyes widened and she waited for the pain to inflict into her body. The pirate froze in place and his sword slipped between his fingers. When he fell to his knees, from behind him there was Zoro who was using a three-sword style.
Definitely a demon; but in a good way.
The witch nodded at him. She didn't train properly in the past year and she lost some speed on the way. She hasn't been in such a situation for a long time.
With other two pirates attacking them from the sides, she protected his blind spot while he killed another enemy with a mere flick of his swords. Another loud shot rang through the air and another man fell down, the center of his heart pierced.
"Buggy needs to have a weakness," the witch said.
"And what is it?"
The answer was right before their eyes: Luffy managed to get back to his feet while they were busy. He used his ability to elongate his arm and grabbed at the leg who was moving in the air, only to throw it in a chest. Nami closed it and grinned mischievously.
That was it.
The witch rolled another knife between her fingers and analyzed the detached hand that was rotating around her. At the perfect time, she threw it in the middle of its palm with enough force to send it into another chest, Nami locking it.
They focused on getting each part of Buggy's body stuck in any suitable place, be it a chest, a barrel or under a bucket. For as long as they got rid of that maniac, everything was fine.
She let out a sigh when only the clown's head remained intact, now laughing pitifully. Zoro bent down and grabbed the head, locking it into a box and putting a rock on top of it.
"Let's get the hell out of here."
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A/N: Thank you so much for the comments and the support <3
Tag list: @emelia07 @dimplewonie @tfamidoingwithmylife @murnsondock @the-skys-musical-echo @conspiracy-crows @hallow33nz @ramae17 @gaslysainz @bunntsu @katt58
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once-upon-an-imagine · 2 months
Note
Also, I do have an idea for a post-azkaban Sirius.
He gets released and stays at Remus', they don't know how to tell the reader (who is always been a good friend, but they secretly have feelings for each other) so Remus casually brings Sirius up to see the reader's reaction.
She starts rambling about her feelings for Sirius, and in the end, Sirius comes out and is like "you love me? Too?"
I just can see Sirius coming out of his hiding spot with his puppy eyes 🥺😍😍
this is so cute! (I'm not sure if you sent a previous email since you started this one with 'also' but I didn't get it so, if you did, please send it again, love 😊 Warnings: none, I think Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter 😊 gif isn’t mine 😊
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You Love Me Too?
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"So, I take it you're not seeing him again?" Remus asked, making you almost choke on your tea.
"Why would I see him again? Did you not listen to the story? He's a stupid, selfish, prick!"
"You always say they're stupid selfish pricks" Remus chuckled.
"Because they are" you insisted. "Maybe it's me? Maybe I have a magnet for these idiots" you sighed.
"It's not you" Remus assured you. "I know what it is, but you're not gonna like it" he said, taking a sip of his tea.
"I know what you're going to say" you sighed.
"Am I wrong?" he smirked as you glared at him. "You keep comparing everyone to Sirius" he shrugged.
"I do not!" you complained, completely oblivious to someone hearing your entire conversation. "I just... miss him" you admitted. "It's not my fault that he's perfect!"
"First of all, he's not perfect" Remus rolled his eyes. "Secondly, you haven't seen him in a long time-"
"That doesn't matter. And he is perfect. At least to me. And it doesn't matter how long it's been, I still-" you stopped as Remus placed your hand in his.
"You can say it" he encouraged you, but he saw a few tears in your eyes.
"I don't think I've said it out loud in a really long time" you chuckled wearily.
"What's the worst that can happen?" he smiled. You took a deep breath and then finally said it.
"Fine. I still love him. I'm still in love with Sirius. I love Sirius Black, are you happy?"
"Well" Remus said, nodding his head to the side, making you turn around and find Sirius standing there.
You had to be dreaming. Sirius couldn't be there. Sirius was standing there in front of you. After all these years. He looked so different but at the same time, he didn't. His hair was longer. He had tattoos all over his arms and body. He had a beard. But his eyes. They looked haunted but they were still his. You could still see the old Sirius in there.
"S-Sirius-?"
"You love me too?" was the first thing that came out of his mouth.
"I uh-" you felt your voice caught in your throat as it dawned on you. He had heard your entire conversation with Remus. "W-wait, did you do all this so Sirius would know that I love him?!" you asked, turning to glare at Remus.
"He wouldn't believe me when I told him, so, I thought he needed to hear it from you" he smiled.
"W-uh-" you stuttered, still processing all of this information as Sirius walked into the room. "How long-? Uh- w-wait, did you just say too? You love me too?"
"I'm gonna give you two some time to talk" Remus said, getting up and leaving.
"Hi" Sirius said, smiling a little. "I'm sorry about this whole thing, I didn't think Moony would actually do it" he chuckled. "Um... I'm sure you have a lot questions" he said.
"A few" you said, with new tears rolling down your cheeks. "H-how are you?" was the first thing you could think of. "Sorry, is that a stupid question? I don't-"
"Is not a stupid question, love" he said, walking closer to you and holding your hand, pulling you to him. "I'm okay" he nodded, placing his arms around your waist. "I've been out for a few weeks and... I wanted to see you but... I wasn't sure if you'd want to see me" he said, looking down. You gently placed your hand on his cheek to make him look at you again.
"I missed you so much" you smiled as he brushed some of your tears away.
"I missed you too, darling. So much" he smiled.
"And... just so you know, I am and always have been very much in love with you, Sirius" you said, making him chuckle a little.
"Well, just so you know... I love you too. And I've always been in love with you" he assured you.
"Good to know" you said as he started getting closer.
"Yeah, I'm glad I'm not on your list of stupid selfish pricks" he said, making you glare at him. But at the same time you were extremely happy to have Sirius back.
"You can still be" you threatened.
"I wouldn't dream of it, love" he said, pulling you to him and kissing you.
The End
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* A/N: hope you loves liked it!
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spicyllewyn · 6 months
Text
Kinktober 3. - Breeding / degrading.
Bud Cooper x F!Reader.
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Tags & warnings. Breeding + degrading + age gap. (Early 20's + late 30's) (+18)
Important writers note. Since Suburbicon is set in 1959 you can guess it right, this is kinda misogynistic lol, there's a bit of dub-con with the breeding part.
Word count. 2k.
Summary. Bud is dying to make you a mommy.
Kinktober masterlist.
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Bud was sweet, well, most of the time. You just weren't used to accepting the idea that sometimes he seemed to be obsessed with you.
Flowers, cards, expensive gifts. Having a boyfriend with a job was more fun than you thought, but at the same time, you had to deal with the burden of an older man with completely different aspirations from yours.
You loved him, and he undoubtedly loved you, but did you love him enough to set aside your life plans?
Attending college was a huge privilege, the idea of getting a job, your own apartment. You never saw yourself as a housewife, although you didn't judge those who made that choice; many of your girl friends were living a dream life that way.
And you weren't a fan of kids.
Oh, and weddings were too expensive to even consider.
Needless to say, it was the opposite of what Bud wanted for you. Well, for him. Or should you say, for the both of you, maybe?
"How was work?" Your arms wrapped around his neck as you kissed his lips. As usual, the only thing between you two was a bouquet of flowers. Beautiful sunflowers that matched the aesthetics of your room perfectly.
"They're considering me for a promotion." The tip of his nose rubbed against yours, making you laugh. "You should think about... you know, what we've talked about."
You pursed your lips, shaking your head afterward.
"No." You had lost count of how many times you had to repeat this. "I've already told you, love. No marriage, no engagement, no living together, and no kids until I finish college." You knew the dialogue by heart, and he probably did too.
He groaned, a little pout appearing on his lips.
"People talk," he whispered before kissing your lips again. Ah, you knew that by heart as well; it wasn't very difficult for him to distract you from the main topic.
Ever heard the popular saying "Small town, big hell"? Turns out, for the whole neighborhood, your relationship was more than scandalous. Bud already had a reputation due to his recent divorce, and you had managed to make it even worse with what everyone considered "progressive" ideas for the 50s.
You weren't married, everyone knew that, and you weren't in the process of getting married because every time you attended a boring neighborhood party, they always checked your hands and your partner's hands as a way to confirm that there was no ring yet. But still, you never hid the liberties of your relationship.
You spent whole nights at his apartment, the old lady from the house around the corner always spied on you when you left in the early hours or even in the mornings, with disheveled clothes, messy hair, and smeared lipstick all over your mouth.
The public displays of affection were on your part, although it was difficult for him to give in a little, he later understood that you did not have to be a prude in front of people, in fact, he started to enjoy the way in which people stopped to look. how you devoured his mouth against his car and how it brought moans from your throat because of the way his big hands squeezed your waist as if you were going to get away from him.
He loved your cherry flavored lip gloss and letting everyone know you were his.
"They've always talked." You lowered the bouquet of flowers, placing them on the dining table as his hands traveled the same path over and over, from your hips to your waist. "You know it's not what I want."
He sighed but gave you the same defeated smile as always.
"I know." He took just two steps closer until your body was against the table. "I've got the migraine of the century."
You chuckled. You already knew what that meant.
"And how could I solve that?"
With little effort, he sat you on the edge of the table, and your hands traveled down his chest, brushing his abdomen until they reached the edge of his pants. You tugged at the fabric until his hips were comfortably positioned between your legs.
“You know well what I want.” It was the last thing he whispered before his mouth was on yours, kissing you wetly and desperately.
It was no different than other times, you would never have guessed that Bud had a mission for that night.
While he was nibbling on your lower lip your hands quickly unbuttoned his shirt, you were never going to get tired of admiring his body, muscles and tanned skin were the perfect combination, although this time he was so focused on your mouth that you couldn't move away to do it this time.
His fingers slowly lifted the hem of your mini skirt, the one that made older women look at you with disdain in the streets, the one that he loved so much. Bud only pulled away from your lips when he wanted to, looking down as his thumb brushed the center of your panties.
"Look at that." He whispered, applying more pressure with his thumb. “You're wet from just a couple of kisses."
You nibbled on your already swollen and red bottom lip, your eyes not leaving him for a single second.
“You are such a whore, you know that, sweetheart?” You whimpered as his thumb began to trace small circles over your still covered clit.
You felt how your little pussy throbbed around nothing. 'Whore' was a word that you knew was constantly floating around town to refer to you, it was fucking hot when your boyfriend used it before fucking your brains out.
You nodded slowly and bit back the urge to smile.
“So desperate.” You felt him teasing your hole with his middle finger, wetting your underwear even more as he pressed the fabric against the exact spot your slick ran from.
You sighed and your hands rested on the table for some support while you held your legs open for him. His gaze was still fixed on his hands against your puffy little pussy lips, marking the line between them with his fingers.
“People talk.” He repeated what he had said minutes before. “They talk about what a whore you are for letting yourself be fucked without being married to me.” You thrust your hips forward in desperation when his hand finally slipped under your underwear. You needed him.
“I know y-you love it.” You whispered with a breathy voice. “Letting everyone know I'm nothing but your slut.”
That was enough for him, you knew how to drive him crazy with a flutter of your eyelashes, even more so with a couple of words. He stopped touching you, and you were about to complain until you saw him unbuttoning his pants to give you what you really wanted.
It was your hand that delicately helped him position his cock between your legs. The head pressing against your hole after only pushing your underwear aside.
"This is what you want?" No matter how much he pressed he just didn't thrust into you, a few nights ago you had realized how much he liked to push you to your limit.
“Bud, p-please.”
"Sorry?" You saw the corner of his mouth twitch with the threat of a smile.
"Please please." You whispered, your pleading eyes boring into him.
"Please what?"
“Please fuck me, please, please.” You pushed your hip further to the edge of the table, not even with the pressure of your body you could make him continue. "I need it."
“Yeah? You do?” He cooed, a mocking pout on his face.
“I beg you.” You whimpered, your high pitched voice getting more demanding.
He clicked his tongue and in one thrust he buried himself in you, fulfilling your pleas in one expert movement.
“It doesn't matter h-how many…” He stammered as his fingers dug into your thighs. “How many damn times do I try to stretch you out.” He started with a slow rhythm, strong and deep, enough to use his own hands as a method to keep your body from sliding back on the table. “You are still so fucking thight, baby.”
Your hands traveled to your breasts, squeezing them over the fabric of your sweater, giving him a bit of a show before taking it off.
Ah yes, the fact that you didn't wear a bra was also something that attracted glances on the streets.
“Look at you, pretty girl.” He leaned enough so that he could bury his face between your breasts, licking his lips before beginning to place wet kisses on your soft skin. “Fuck, I want to marry you.”
His voice almost sounded pleading as your fingers ruffled his hair and pushed him even closer to you. He took one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking on it as his hips slammed into you again and again in a desperate rhythm.
“Please, please.” He whispered against your skin. “Please, marry me.” You were too cock drunk to think or speak clearly, you just nodded even though he couldn't see you.
It didn't take long for Bud to find that spot inside you, you moaned as loudly as you wanted, your back arching as if your body was begging to be as attached as it could be to his.
“Be my wife, baby.” You recognized well the way his voice broke, he was close.
He rested his chin on your chest and looked up. His eyes looked bigger from that position, it was stupidly adorable.
“P-Pull out.” You whispered between whimpers, your forehead resting against his.
Who were you trying to fool? You both loved each other so much it hurt.
He didn't obey you, his movements became more abrupt and you heard the table creak under your body along with the slap of your skin against his.
He was fucking you merciless.
“B-Bud.” You patted his cheek, trying to get his attention. “A-Ah, shit. P-Pull out.”
He dragged his hand up your thigh slowly until he reached between your legs, he pressed his thumb against your swollen clit making you see stars.
“Bud!” You exclaimed loudly, your entire body trembling with pleasure. “Yes, y-yes, God, yes.”
“You are going to be such a pretty mommy.” His nose brushed against yours as he straightened his back, seeking to be at your height.
You wanted to refuse, you really wanted to tell him to stop but your body was at his mercy, begging for more.
Praying he wouldn't get out of you.
“You want me to pull out, sweetheart?” He took your bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling on it and giving it a little tug before releasing it. “Tell me, do you want me to?”
Only moans came out of your mouth, shouting Bud's name and the word 'more' over and over again.
"I thought so." A delicate kiss on your lips. And another, and another, and another, and another. “You want my baby, don't you?”
You weren't thinking, you really weren't when you nodded.
A smile appeared on his face, accompanying his flushed cheeks and bright eyes.
It only took two more thrusts for you both to reach the limit, for the first time you felt the pleasure of being filled to the brim by him as your walls squeezed every last drop out of him. The warm liquid running down your thighs as your insides couldn't take any more.
“You are such an…” One more thrust silenced you, the way he pushed his spend deeper inside you. “Idiot.” You whispered, closing your eyes at the sensitivity of your body.
“You should start thinking about names.” His teasing smile made you want to punch him, but the soft, slow movement of his hips made you want to ask for more. “What do you say, love?” He pretended to pay attention to your babbling. “Yes, I think so too.”
He kissed your lips once, twice, three times.
“I'm not sure one is enough either.”
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Tag list. @ninebluehearts @shousha133 @unear7hly @onefinnedwonder-fm @automnepoet @lokisremainingsanity @uncle-eggy @just-a-nightdreamer @spktrgantenk
Remember to comment if you want to be on the kinktober tag list!! <3
ngl, i kinda liked this one lol
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fourstarsoutofnine · 6 months
Text
To get away.
Chapter one; out of the woods.
(Player is farore reincarnate au)
A/n:(in the fashion Of that old disney blue-Ray commercial)here we goooooo! Please lmk what you think. Reader uses she/her pronouns per the poll winnings.
Warnings:feelings of dread. Talk of anxiety.
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12:22 am. Swapping through the same four apps, you felt stuck in the dreaded reality you lived in. Sure, your life wasn’t bad by most means, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a looming, general sense of malaise and doom that hung over you like an ugly tapestry of unease. You hated this feeling with everything in you. It made you want to scream and run, despite not knowing what exactly it was you were running from. You supposed that was that old “fight or flight” reaction everyone talked about. You always figured that was reserved for extreme situations like a kidnapping or mugging or that sort of thing, not your usual run of the mill anxiety. Yet, here you sit with your thoughts and music playing in your ears to try to drown them out. And though the effort was valiant, it was no match for the ever-trumping anxiety and need to leave. You went to sleep that night figuring it was just another normal bad night. You prayed to who or whatever would hear for a way out. You had no idea you’d be answered.
You woke to the sun shining in your face and birds chirping awfully loud. It was odd, considering the sun was never this bright in your room and you could never hear the morning birds so clearly before. Then, something blocked the sun from reaching your face. When you opened your eyes and put your hand up to block the remainder of blinding sun from your vision, a boy faded into view. Bright blonde hair, blue shirt with a lobster, and a confused grin.
“You alright, lady???”
“What?” You respond, confused. You knew who this was. You figured it to be a dream.
“I asked if You’re Alright! We found you just laying here!” Who you knew to be the hero of the winds said and helped you sit up.
“No noticeable wounds, so that’s good.” A man knelt by you. His hair was roughly the same color, but a bit lighter. He had strange markings on his face, which you knew to be from the fierce deity mask. This was the hero of time. “Do you remember how you got here?”
“Anything you could tell us will help. Anything at all.” Another said. Pretty boy, tall in stature, slender, and what you thought to be the textbook definition of devilishly handsome. The hero of warriors, no doubt.
“I—uhm—“ you stuttered out dumbfoundedly, trying to process everything. You felt shellshocked and didn’t know what to do.
“Let’s back up away from her, she’s clearly overwhelmed…” a soft voice said, which was all too needed to your anxious ears. The hero of the skies pulled them back and you sighed, resting your elbows on your knees as the ends of your palms dug into your eyes in an attempt to wake yourself from this wild dream. This was crazy. Of course it was a welcome escape, these men were your heroes—a title they knew all too well and some carried like a burden—but they’d helped you in ways they could never know, and ways you could never tell because they weren’t real….so why are they standing in front of you, looking worried? You sighed deeply and opened your eyes. “I don’t know how I wound up here. At all… the last thing I remember is going to bed, and—then I woke up here… that’s it…”
“Strange… but oddly enough, not the strangest we’ve been through.” The hero of time helped you to your feet. “Well; looks like you’re along for the ride, stranger. What’s your name?”
“Y/n…”
“Y/n. Well, you’ll be safe with us. We’ve got ground to cover, so we should get back on track.” He led you back to the path. You were met with the sight of the other heroes of hyrule. They, however, were met with a sight that looked more like doe-eyed fear. Innocent and frightened.
The hero of twilight offered kind a kind and welcomed you into the group; as did the hero of wild, and hyrule. The hero of warriors looked at you with a smile, but it was easy to tell he was more trying to gauge your character. He was a captain, and knew all too well from the hero of the wild that often traitors to the crown disguise themselves as innocent travelers down on their luck. When he saw no sign of that he was quick to welcome you and check to see if you were alright. This, of course, left only the veteran and smith. The smith was kind, but a bit cautious of you. The veteran was cautious and indifferent. According to your story, it seemed like someone just picked you up at night and dropped you off here, which was a little sketchy if you asked him. Also filed under odd and sketchy was the marking over your hand. The triforce.
“Old man.” The veteran called. “I gotta talk to you.”
The old man looked at you, a silent ask if you were alright. Upon your offer of a nervous smile, he nodded and smiled back, walking over. You turned back to your quiet conversation between yourself, the traveler and the champion. They were asking you plenty questions on how you wound up asleep in the forest, each of which gave you no room to answer before another one arose.
“The mark on her hand.” The veteran pointed out.
“I noticed it too.”
“Is she a Zelda? She’s clearly not a Link. Not to mention, the mark is on her right and not her left hand.”
“Precisely. I don’t think she’s a Zelda, but there is something odd about this.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for anything off about it. It’d be good to tell the captain, too. He’s observant.”
“Right. I suppose we’ll talk again once we make camp tonight.” He nodded and went to the head of the group, saying something to the captain that you couldn’t hear, and waving a hand in the air that signaled the group to continue moving. This would be an interesting adventure, you determined. You couldn’t wait to see where it leads.
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yjhariani · 6 months
Text
Just so we could realise this idea a little bit, let's have a little bit of infected!Simon and doctor!reader moment.
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You tried so hard to not sigh in disappointment first thing upon unravelling the bandage that was badly covering an ‘amputated’ arm. You took a moment to assess the damage before looking up at the man sitting in front of you.
“So, what’s goin’ on here?” you asked, getting your tools ready to clean up the stump.
The masked soldier took a moment before saying, “I got shot.”
“You got shot,” you nodded. “Close proximity?”
“Too close,” he said.
“How close?” you asked.
“Do I need to answer?” he asked back.
“You do know you should never lie to a medical professional, right, sir?” you teased casually, raising an eyebrow at him.
The man only looked at you for a moment, weighing on how much he liked the way you addressed him like that.
“Direct contact,” he finally said. “Almost direct.”
You looked at him in understanding because you already knew what happened. This soldier was probably alone when it happened, seeing that if he had at least one companion he would have had his limb cut off instead of shot clean off.
“Okay, uh… sorry, what’s your name?” you proceeded.
It was a rare thing for people to ask that. Hell, one look at his mask and people knew who he was. Sometimes they did not even need to know his name, they just needed to be very respectful towards him.
So, he said, “Simon.”
“Simon. Alright, Simon, do you wanna talk about it?” you offered.
“No,” he sternly said. “It’s stupid.”
“If you’re still here, then, it’s not,” you shrugged.
The man only looked at you for a moment.
“I might have… accidentally shoved my whole fist into the mouth of a zombie,” he carefully said.
“Oh,” you hummed in response.
To be honest, he was surprised by your nonchalant reaction. He thought you would have laughed at him. He was so glad you did not.
“Yeah,” he said. “It clamped my hand in. Took a force to get my hand out. Ripped my glove in the process.”
“You’re lucky the infection didn’t kick in sooner. Else you would’ve been one of them,” you said.
“I suppose, yeah,” he nodded.
From there, you thoroughly took care of his stump. You even told him afterwards how to properly take care of it. Then, you told him that he was good to go.
“You’ll be here tomorrow?” he asked as he stood up.
“Yeah,” you nodded.
“Alright,” he nodded and started to step away. “Just making sure I know who to seek in case I run a fever or something.”
You smiled at him.
“Let’s hope you don’t,” you lightly chuckled.
I’ll make an excuse, he thought to himself.
So, the next morning, once Simon woke up in his private quarter he brainstormed with himself on the excuses that he might use just so he could see you again in the infirmary. Maybe he could say that he had trouble replacing the bandage of his stump. Or maybe he was not feeling good, having a bad dream about it—something that was not entirely wrong.
This quarter—though not as spacious as the time before the apocalypse—was a little luxury that his rank gave him. He could sleep with his mask off and not have to share a bathroom with anybody.
Deciding to start his day, Simon got up from the bed and headed to the small bathroom. He thought about starting his day per usual, with a quick shower, brushing his teeth, then maybe getting some food and eating them in his quarter.
However, right after his very carefully done shower, Simon was frozen in front of his sink as he looked in the mirror. His right eye had turned milky like the infected, there were patches of skin that looked rotten on the right side of his face and body. His gaze descended to his right arm, seeing rotting looking skin. When he lifted a little bit of his bandage, he could see how much worse the skin around his stump looked.
For a few moments, Simon tried waking himself up, but soon he had to accept that he had been awake for quite some time. Though he was not a stranger to the thought of death, seeing that his time would come soon made him uneasy and a little anxious.
Well, Simon did not need to make an excuse to see you now because he had a very real reason to.
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nicoline1998enilocin · 3 months
Text
Special assignment
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Pairing ⇒ Professor!Tony Stark x College student!Fem!Reader
Word count ⇒ 1.1K
Summary ⇒ You've had a crush on your professor since the first day you followed his classes, but little did you know you didn't precisely escape his mind either. When he asks you to go to his office for a 'special assignment,' you instantly get excited, looking forward to being alone with him.
Warnings ⇒ Large age gap (Reader is 21+), mutual pining, use of nickname (Dollface)
Smut ⇒ Porn with little plot, dirty talk, daddy kink, fingering, choking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), cream pie
A/n ⇒ @ccbsrmsf1 GIRL, I cannot thank you enough for sharing his delicious new photos in this outfit; it made me instantly want to write a smutty professor fic for everyone to enjoy. You're an angel for sending them and giving me this absolutely filthy and amazing idea in the process 🩵
A/n 2.0 ⇒ This isn't proofread. Any and all mistakes are my own.
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Banners: @vase-of-lilies ⇒ Divider: @firefly-graphics ⇒ Photo: Source
Main Masterlist ⇒ Tony Stark Masterlist
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You still remember the first day you stepped into Professor Tony Stark's classroom like it was yesterday. He was dressed in a simple outfit, but it suited him well. He filled up his dress shirt and black dress pants nicely, but the bulge inside his pants didn't go unnoticed by you. Little did you know back then, you also caught his attention that day.
Today, Tony is finally reaching his breaking point; the man can only hold out for so long. As the bell rings to notify you that class is over, he asks you to go to his desk.
''Miss Y/L/N? Can you swing by my office around 6 PM? I have a special assignment for you,'' he tells you with a wink, and you can feel the arousal coursing through your veins already. You clench a little at the thought of being alone with him in his office, your mind going into overdrive.
''O-Of course, Professor Stark,'' you stumble out before quickly turning around, heading to your dorm room to prepare for your visit to his office later. You opt to wear a low-cut shirt that leaves nothing to the imagination and touch up your make-up a little.
By the time 6 PM arrives, you find yourself in front of your professor's office door, and you suddenly wonder if it isn't too much. He only said he had a special assignment for you, after all. Since it's too late to wonder about that, you raise your hand to knock on the door, being called in shortly after.
''You wanted to see me, Professor?'' you say as you walk into his office, and he looks up from his computer, his breath hitching as he takes in your form. The shirt that has your boobs threatening to spill out at any moment, tight jeans that accentuate your thighs and ass beautifully, and a simple pair of boots to finish the look.
''I do, and I have to say, you're an absolute sight for sore eyes, Dollface,'' he tells you, and a warm feeling spreads over your cheeks, a light tremble going through your body at the nickname. He gets up from his chair and walks over to you, towering over you as he locks the door before pushing you against it, framing your body with his arms.
''Been dreaming of this moment since the first day I met you, touched myself to the idea of how good you would feel wrapped around my fat cock stuffed in this tiny pussy of yours,'' he tells you, his warm breath ghosting over your neck as his lips place soft kisses on the flesh. His hands wander down to your waist to pull you closer, your hands wrapping around his neck to pull him to you.
A slight whine escapes your throat as he nibbles softly on the flesh where your neck meets your shoulder, his hips rutting ever so slowly against yours to seek a little relief.
''D-Daddy, please,'' you moan, his hands reaching to pull off your shirt; the fabric quickly disregarded as your lacy bra is now on display, your hard nipples poking through the fabric.
''Look at you, Dollface, begging so sweetly for your Professor,'' he says in a slightly degrading tone, which only adds to your arousal right now. His long fingers find your nipples through the thin lace of the excuse you call a bra, tugging and rolling them slightly as a louder moan falls from your lips.
It doesn't take long for him to undress you, and before you know it, you're sitting on his desk with your legs spread, pussy on display as he runs his fingers through them, teasing your entrance and clit in the process. Your hands claw at his biceps to ground yourself, not wanting this to end before it even begins.
''Such a perfect pussy for me to play with, Dollface, nice and wet for Daddy to play with,'' he whispers in your ear before you turn your head, capturing his lips with yours for the first time. His graying stubble feels rough against your face as your tongues fight for dominance, a fight Tony ultimately wins before you pull away, your breath caught in your throat.
''P-please, fuck me already,'' you beg, and Tony listens without a single second of doubt; his cock quickly revealed from his pants, which is when you see he wasn't wearing underwear. As you look down, you gasp at the sight of a thick, long veiny monster of a cock being slowly jerked by his skilled hand, a bead of precum leaking from the tip that has you salivating.
He lines up with your entrance before pushing in, breaching your entrance with a shared moan, his lips crashing down on yours to swallow your noises down before he pushes further in with careful, shallow strokes. The slight burning, stinging feeling quickly subsides and makes place for a nearly blinding pleasure.
''Jesus, fuck, Dollface! Such a tight, perfect pussy for me to fuck, Daddy's perfect little slutty pussy,'' he growls before sliding out and slamming back in, his hand wrapping around your throat and squeezing the sides, allowing enough oxygen to enter your lungs while still toying with the edges of pleasure.
His pace quickly picks up before he licks into your mouth, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. Your mind has gone completely fuzzy from the pleasure taking over, and you barely notice his thumb finding your clit before your orgasm washes over with you, and with a strangled shout, you cum on his cock, choking it for everything he's worth.
''Oh fuck, that's it, Dollface! Keep squeezing me like that, and Daddy will cum in this pussy. Do you want that? Need Daddy's cum to fill you up until it leaks out of you? Be your Daddy's personal cumslut, huh? God, this tight pussy will be gorgeous with my cum dripping out of her,'' he tells you, and all you can do is nod in response.
His pace falters, and before you know it, you can feel his cum coating your pussy, and a satisfied grin lays on your lips before he pulls out, ready to clean you up.
''You're such a good girl for Daddy, Dollface; I think you've done such a perfect job on this special assignment that I'll just have to give you more,'' he says before kissing you again, and you hook your arms around his neck.
''Please, Daddy, I'm yours,'' you whisper before letting yourself get cleaned, and he helps you get dressed. He plops down on the couch in his office and pulls you into his lap, allowing you to straddle him. He can't get enough of your kisses, and before you know it, you're entangled in a steamy make-out session with your professor.
Eventually, you get up to head back to your dorm room, and as you unlock the door, you look back, giving him a sultry look. ''I can't wait for my next assignment either, Professor.''
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taeraemisu · 7 months
Text
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in every lifetime ; gyuvin zb1
synopsis ; in every lifetime, no matter what, reader and gyuvin always find their way towards each other.
genre ; soulmates !!, i-love-you-in-every-universe, i wasn’t definitely going to write something way sadder, different timelines, mostly fluff
pairings ; gyuvin x reader
a/n ; i’m pretty sure it’s clear i love writing about loving-you-in-every-universe kind of things :) and i may write the original sadder version i had planned for another member if anyone would like to see it !
word count ; 1.5k words
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lifetime 241 . .
“do you think we know each other?”
gyuvin looks at you, all confused. of course you both know each other. weren’t you guys dating? was he hallucinating the whole relationship?
you laughed, seeing the confused expression on his face. the both of you were sitting on your desks, in your classroom after school for a ‘study date’ which had clearly turned to anything but studying. gyuvin was playing games on his phone, while you said every little thought you had out loud.
gyuvin put his phone down, giving you his full attention. he loves hearing you talk, even if you had the most insane idea known to mankind.
“no, no, i meant,” you paused, gathering all your thoughts. “i meant, do you think, we know each other in other lifetimes too?”
gyuvin tilt his head, processing your question. “like the movie doctor strange?”
you thought about it. that was one way of seeing it. “yeah, something like that!” you giggled. “do you think we love each other in every single one?”
gyuvin smiled at you, stretching your cheeks. he finds you and your thoughts so adorable. “i mean, there’s so many different possibilities. infinite number of lifetimes …” his voice trails off. “there’s probably one lifetime where we don’t even know each other.”
you mock-gasped. “you think we don’t love each other in every single one? how could you?” you said in the most sarcastic tone possible.
gyuvin chuckled, shaking his head. “i meant—” he clears his throat. “—there’s so many different possibilities. so many lifetimes, anything is possible.” he glanced at you, staring into your eyes in a way that made you blush slightly. “but i bet, we love each other in majority of those infinite lifetimes. we love each other in our current lifetime. that counts, right?”
you smiled at him. you thought about his words, yes there was a possibility that you both don’t even know each other in one lifetime. but your current lifetime was the best in your opinion.
“you are not wrong …” your voice trails off. “i bet there is a lifetime where you are an idol and i’m just merely loving you as your number one fan. i’m still loving you there, right?” you knew how much gyuvin loved to dance, and he was insanely good at it. you were usually there when he practices, admiring the way he danced. how could one be so good? you were basically his number one fan, supporting him to pursue his dreams.
gyuvin looked at you. “isn’t that now?”
you shook your head. “i mean, of course now but i meant, a lifetime where you are an idol, performing for fans all around the world while i am in the crowds, supporting and loving you as a fan.”
gyuvin thought about what you said. a lifetime where he was an idol but he did not know who you are? that can’t be right. he loved you the most in the world, besides his lovely dog. he could not bare to imagine a lifetime where your existence wasn’t know to him.
“then …” his voice trails off, thinking of the right words. “i hope that in another lifetime, you are an idol and i am your fan too, returning all the love you once gave me.”
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lifetime 944 . .
you were at the convenience store, getting yourself a quick midnight snack. deadlines getting nearer and nearer, you needed a break.
you were waiting to use to the boiler, the guy who was in front of you taking his time. you groaned in annoyance. what’s taking so long?
the guy turned to look at you, hearing your groaned. you looked at him, awestruck for a moment before looking away. wow, he was gorgeous.
you admired his back for a moment before looking away, feeling too much like a creep for staring. finally, the guy was done, holding his cup noodles and carefully walking away when he loses his grip on the cup noodles, all the contents spilling all over you.
you have got to be kidding me, you thought.
you yelped, the hot water scalding your hand. “i’m so sorry!” the guy apologises, his ears turning red and feeling so, so bad. he finds a napkin and tries to wipe the soup off your shirt. you stopped him, grabbing the napkins and wiping it off yourself.
“i’m terribly sorry!” the stranger apologised. he had a bag and was looking through it, before pulling out a hoodie. “here, change into this. there’s a toilet at the back.” he points to the door at the back of the store. “i’m so sorry, i will pay for your food!”
“i already paid,” you said, a little annoyed, eyeing the hoodie that was clearly way too big for you. you throw the napkin away. thankfully, you did not sustain any burns. the guy looked apologetic, putting his hoodies into your hands. “go change, i will think of something in the meantime.” he takes the cup noodles off your hands, nudging you to the bathroom. you reluctantly did as he wanted, changing out of your shirt and wearing his hoodie instead.
you took a sniff. oh, the stranger smelt good. you came out of the bathroom, seeing the stranger sitting down on a set of tables with your cooked noodles. “i’m so sorry,” he apologises again and takes your dirty shirt off your hands. “i will wash this.”
“it’s fine,” you said as you start to take a bite out of your noodles. you looked at him, who was still sitting with you. “as an apology, give me your name and number.”
he stared at you, a little shock of how bold you were cause he was planning on getting your number first.
“i’m kim gyuvin.”
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lifetime 1101 . .
you were in a dance studio, preparing for your upcoming performance. it was a school dance competition and you were determined to win. usually placed second, you were determined to help your school win first place this year round.
while practicing and fixing your mistakes, you see a head peaking into the studio through the door. you looked at the disturbance through the mirror, raising an eyebrow before walking towards the door. just as you did, the figure runs away.
you peak out of the studio, looking up and down the hallways for the mysterious figure but you could not find anyone.
weird, you thought before you returned back to practice.
this happened multiple times for the next few weeks. where you will notice someone looking at you dance but runs away before you even get the chance to figure out who it was.
one day however, when you saw the figure again, you immediately went to the door, opening it to find the culprit but again, the figure disappears. you were so sure that you were hallucinating at that point when you looked down and saw a tiny box on the floor.
picking it up, there was a tiny note and a keychain of a dog in the box. you read the note, chuckling to yourself.
‘hey you !! amazing dancer !! we should collab together one day :)) i’m kim gyuvin, text me !!!’
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lifetime 613 . .
“no! we need to get this dog food! it’s the only one eumppappa eats!”
“but it’s way too expensive!”
you and gyuvin were out grocery shopping together, trying to finish your errands before the weekend passes by. the both of you have been happily married for a little over a year now, so now your usual weekends were spent by trying to finish up errands and household chores.
“okay, how about this,” gyuvin thinks of a solution. “let’s take one box of what eumppappa usually eats and another box of whatever you want. if she likes mine better, we will only get that from now on. if she likes yours better, i am sending her to the vet for a checkup.”
you playfully hit your husband’s shoulder. he laughs at you, putting the two different boxes of dog food into the cart. “i’m kidding,” he smiled sheepishly. “but we will see which eumppappa likes better. she obviously loves me more.”
you shook your head, disagreeing. “she loves me more!”
by now, the two of you were bickering in the middle of the aisle of pet supplies about which parent your dog loves more. eventually, you carried on with your groceries, getting the things you really need, and by that, meaning you disagreeing on whatever gyuvin wanted to get that wasn’t on the list.
you stare at your husband while he decides which packet of chips would taste better. you feel content with life. you were merely shopping with gyuvin, finishing an errand with him. but yet, why did you feel so happy? it was a normal everyday task. how did grocery shopping suddenly made you so happy?
“i can feel you staring,” gyuvin says, walking back to you and putting a packet of chips into the cart. “my face is hard to resist, right?”
you rolled your eyes. “as if.”
you stared at gyuvin a little longer while he walks off to get other items. you realised why you felt so happy grocery shopping.
you were grocery shopping with gyuvin, and doing anything with him makes you unbelievably content and happy. it was a simple task, but doing it with gyuvin made it a hundred times better.
in every lifetime, you were in love with gyuvin. and gyuvin was in love with you.
and nothing could change that.
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© taeraemisu do not copy my works !
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w1ldthoughts · 1 month
Text
Groomzilla
A/n: Some Valentine’s Day heartbreak❤️
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“Do you think the place cards should be scarlet or crimson?”
You sigh, rubbing your temples with your index fingers at Jack’s eighth question in the last hour. “They’re both red babe, pick whichever one you want.”
He stands up and shows you the different pieces of paper like that’s going to spark your interest. “These are very different. Scarlet is a lot brighter and crimson is more warm, which one would look better?”
“What does Monica think?” Your fiancé and your wedding planner had been practically attached at the hip since this who process began. He definitely had her on speed dial which made you laugh, only until he inevitably asked you another random question. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to give him your opinion on things, it was just that he desperately wanted to give you the wedding of your dreams and his micromanaging along the way really had you counting down the minutes until he went back to normal.
All you could do was laugh to yourself at his inability to relinquish some control over the planning, even if that was Monica’s literal job. But at the end of the day you couldn’t wait to spent the rest of your days with him, even if he was driving you a little insane. You stood up to meet him at his spot on the couch, taking the laptop from him to look at the screen.
“Well…the crimson looks a lot nicer with the pink and white flowers on the side. Scarlet looks a little too orange.” The light in his eyes when he looks at you sometimes is something you want to bottle up and keep forever. Everyone should experience a love like this in their life and you can’t believe that you’re one of the lucky ones to say that you get to be with your soulmate, for the rest of your life.
You’d always thought about your wedding, making Pinterest boards or taking mental notes whenever inspiration would strike. And then you met Jack and all of the plans you had began to fall into place. This fantasy became an unreal reality. He nodded his head at your suggestion and placed a peck on the side of your head and continued working on other stuff. He had plans to head to a studio to work on some new music this week and hoped that some inspiration would strike to help him write his wedding vows.
The idea of writing your own vows was his and the thought of having to compete with an MC, a literal lyricist in front of all of your friends and family as you poured your heart out to him really made you want to crawl into a hole and never come out.
Jack left early the next morning and would so you tried your best to get some writing done of your own. It wasn’t like you had a lack of feelings, it was finding a way to articulate all of these overwhelming emotions without one, embarrassing yourself by bursting into tears in front of God and everyone but also letting him know how he’d changed your life for the better and gave you a love that was worth a thousand love letters. You spent the first day doing anything to distract yourself, going over the seating chart and making sure that the menu for your bridesmaid lunch the day before the wedding was everything that you wanted.
After practically going over every task possible, you headed to the store to distract yourself even more. You did need to eat dinner at some point. Going up and down the aisles, you really wished you’d made a list before leaving the house and you decided to look on Instagram to find an easy recipe to replicate. For some odd reason, you were inclined to open up your DM requests too. There was a message, a thread of messages actually from some girl detailing an intimate night with your fiancé only three months prior.
I’m so sorry to be the one to tel you this but the guilt has been eating away at me. I saw a TMZ article on Twitter talking about your upcoming wedding and I just couldn’t let you do this without giving you the full story.
She had met Jack in Vegas when he was performing and was somehow invited to the after party. He’d had some shots with her and his friends, dancing the night away. Some time later she found herself making out with him in his presidential suite. One thing led to another and she had been trying to figure out a way to contact him and let him know she’s pregnant.
You probably read those messages 100 times and each time a piece of your heart sank into your stomach. Your mouth went dry and your grocery shopping was forgotten. There was no way you couldn’t confront Jack about this. Without even bothering to pay for any of the stuff in your cart, you left the store and headed to the studio immediately.
Jack was sitting at a large table in a room outside the recording booth and some of his friends were hanging out on the couches. The look on your face must’ve told everyone that this was a serious conversation because the room cleared out almost immediately.
“Baby…” he whispers, “what’s going on?” He stands up to look you over, placing his hands on your shoulders, getting increasingly worried at your void stare. Like you were looking right through him. “Can you tell me what’s going on please? You’re scaring me.”
You handed him the phone and all of the color in his face was drained. “Y/n, I have no idea who this girl is. I promise you, it’s not what you think.”
“Jack there are multiple pictures of you with her at the club. I don’t even know how someone can come to me with this much evidence and I’m not supposed to believe her?” The tremble in your voice was horrifying to you but it devastated him.
“Okay yes, maybe I took a couple pictures with this girl. I take pictures with fans all the time but that other shit? You know I would never ever do that to you. Ever.”
“Do I?” You scoff. “Because I love you Jack but there are still things about your life and career that I’m still getting used to. It’s not easy.”
Jack runs his hands through his curls, feeling his frustration growing but not wanting to fuel the fire. “I get that but you also have to trust me. How are we supposed to be getting married if every time someone messages you, you run to me with these accusations? It creates unnecessary problems and that’s what these girls want.”
He reaches out for you and you can’t bring yourself to let him off that easily. “I’m sorry but this is just a lot. How am I supposed to just get over this?”
“Because that shit isn’t true! And it’s really pissing you off that you don’t believe me.” His body was stiff, limbs suddenly feeling a lot heavier with this invisible weight continually placed on his shoulders. He always felt like he had to prove himself in life and in his career, but it hurt that now he also had to prove himself to you. “I’m not doing this with you. I have to work and if you don’t believe me, then you don’t. I don’t really know what else to tell you.”
Something about him leaving you that room alone felt final. It felt like some sort of goodbye and you really wished that you’d gone about this conversation differently. Maybe the stress of planning a wedding and going through this massive life change had manifested in different ways for you than it had for Jack. He threw himself head first in the planning, controlling every detail and you pushed your emotions and your stress down, until you cracked today at a simple Instagram DM. You knew deep down that he would never hurt you but could you really live the rest of your life wondering if one day he would? Could you handle being the wife of a celebrity and deal with the women would inevitably try to get in the way of what you’d worked so hard to build? Because those 5 messages almost destroyed several years of the best relationship you’ve ever had.
That was all it took. Was your relationship that fragile? Was your trust in him that little? Could your marriage even survive big things if you couldn’t handle these small bumps in the road? The disbelief and pain in Jack’s face when you accused him of cheating was something you’d be replaying in your mind for a long time and you wish you were surprised at the text you received that evening.
I’m staying at Urban’s for the next few days. I think we need to take some time apart and figure out what we really want and if we want those things together. I love you more than anything in this world but if you can’t trust me with the little things, I don’t know if you’ll ever trust me with the big things and that’s what I want in a marriage.
It was gut wrenching but he was right and you had a lot of things to reevaluate. And this was a problem that you would need to navigate alone, not knowing if Jack was ever going to come home to you.
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gardenofnoah · 2 years
Text
waiting up for you
one thing about me is I go feral for the idea of big, strong bakugo needing softness and domesticity at the end of a long day. of him having no idea how to cope with how good it feels to be loved. augh i love him. wc: 1k
Bakugo Katsuki opened the front door quietly, careful not to make too much noise, assuming you’d gone to bed already. He set his gauntlets down, grimacing at the clink of the metal against the hardwood floor. He stood up straight and paused, taking a deep breath into his chest, and holding it until it ached. He let the breath out slowly, head tipping back as he did. It hadn’t been a horribly bad day by any means, but his nerves were still fried. He willed the tension out of his shoulders, and felt it pool into his chest instead. Figured.
He dragged himself up the steps, unsurprised at the dark living room that welcomed him home. What did surprise him, though, was the soft light flooding from the open bathroom door down the hall. He heard the faint sound of the melody of your voice, and he let a gentle smile creep across his face. It was just like you not to listen to him when he told you not to wait up for him. He was glad you did, every time.
He let his feet follow the sound of your voice, coming to stand in the doorway of the bathroom. You had candles sitting on the sink, each flickering flame sending warm light dancing around the room. His eyes drifted to where you faced away from him, feet propped up on the edge of the tub, the rest of you nearly submerged in the bath water. His eyes followed your dark hair as it spilled over the edge closest to him. He didn’t bother saying anything—you were still humming softly to yourself, but he knew that you were aware of his presence. Still, he didn’t want to disturb the peace you’d so carefully crafted for yourself.
He watched as you reached an arm out of the water and slung it over the edge, water dripping off your fingers onto the tile. You beckoned toward him silently, knowing he would come. He waited a beat, watching the candle light lick over your skin. You looked ethereal like this—angelically beautiful and certainly too good for him. He didn’t dare blink, lest the moment be a dream his brain conjured for him as a reward for making it through the day. He wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, either way.
He padded over to you, regretting the way his boots clanked off the tile. He sat down on the lid of the toilet next to the tub, reaching a hand out to thread his fingers through your hair. A soft smile graced your lips, and he thought he’d do anything to burn the image of it in his mind.
“Hi, angel,” he said quietly, leaning over to press a kiss to your temple. You rolled your head to the right to look at him, still smiling at him as you opened your eyes.
“Hi,” you whispered back, arm bending at the elbow to reach the back of his head, scratching his scalp lightly. He let out a long breath and let his head drop to your shoulder. You kissed the top of it and let your face linger in his hair, breathing him in. You would never tire of the way he smelled— like pine and earth and smoke and him. He pulled back and propped both elbows on the edge of the tub, eyes meeting yours. He could barely breathe when you looked at him like you did— all love and forgiveness and warmth, like he’d never done a wrong thing in his life.
“Rough day?” he heard you ask, and he shook his head, not knowing how to talk about it. You hummed in understanding and went back to massaging your fingers through his hair. He was grateful you didn’t pry it out of him—you never did, always letting him process how he needed to before he could talk to you about it. He knew how much you trusted him, knew that you knew he’d always need you, even if he couldn’t accept it right away. You really were too good for him.
“You wait up for me?” He asked, and if he was honest, he was unsure what answer he was hoping for.
“Not a chance,” you told him, but the way you looked at him, with so much vulnerability and love, told him otherwise. You pulled him forward by the back of his head and pressed a devastatingly gentle kiss on his lips. He had to fight not to let out the whimper that crawled up his throat. His emotions swum behind his eyes and he blinked rapidly to keep them at bay.
“Dinner is in the fridge,” you murmured, still running your fingers through his hair, “I’ll be out in a few, if you want me to warm it up for you while you shower.”
He dropped his head to your shoulder again, squeezing his eyes shut as a last ditch effort to stop the flood from dragging him out to where he surely couldn’t touch. This feeling threatened to pull him under all of the time—he had no idea what he’d done to deserve the love that you gave him so freely, as if it was as inherent and involuntary as a heart beat. He couldn’t stand it, and he couldn’t get enough of it. It would rush into his lungs and drown him if he let it—and he knew that, because he did. Often.
He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, and then picked up his head to press another to your temple, and then a final peck to the top of your head. He spared you one more glance, noticing your eyes had fell shut again as he lingered, unable to look away from you. He turned on his heel and made for the doorway, a last ditch effort before he choked on his love right there in the bathroom.
“Katsuki?” Your voice made him pause, head turning to look back at you.
“Mm?”
“I love you,” you told him, and he nearly lost it, “more than you know.”
He felt the burn in his eyes and he took in a breath, silently begging his voice not to shake. “I love you so much.”
this fic belongs to me (@b-writes-things). i do not allow anyone to repost, edit, or reproduce this work.
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spideytingle616 · 2 years
Text
Tastes So Sweet | S.R.
Minors Do Not Interact!!
Ao3 Version
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader Summary: He knew what romantic feelings felt like, but what about sexual ones? Word Count: 1.5K Warnings: innocent reader, semi-naïve Steve, sexualizing of mundane activities? And overall inappropriate themes/situations
A/N: First time writing Steve, second time writing smut... wow look at me go.  Also bakers, do not come for me. I know some of this terminology isn’t correct, but to prevent redundancy I interchanged some words. I researched enough to know my faults; however, desserts are desserts to me. Love you though.
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Steve believes his feelings for Peggy were considered romantic. After all, she was beautiful, and her natural leadership drew him in. The war was a constant toll on him but having her by his side made it bearable, even enjoyable at times (ignoring all the bloodshed and trauma, obviously). If things went differently - as in, if he didn’t get frozen for seventy freaking years- he would have most likely married Peggy, creating that picket fence dream many craved.
But his feelings for Peggy never went past that admiration. When he actually pictures that picket fence dream, it’s vague and splotchy. He can see the simple ranch home, one with a large picture window like he saw in some (now considered vintage) magazine. But occasionally, the dream has a child or two running in the front yard, and his mind quickly confuses itself and blurs the image altogether.
The hypothetical children themselves weren’t the problem, but it was more of the process of having said children… Steve couldn’t see himself doing anything more than kissing Peggy, and that picture stopped at a dry peck or two.
Despite being a hot debate among many- no, Steve was not a virgin. He’s not going to get into the actual details of it, but he’s had sex a few times since being in the 21st century. However, it was mainly due to stress and pushing himself to find some normalcy in this life, so the experience of sexual attraction was still foreign to him.
At least, until now.
Steve sat at the dining table, sugar cookie in one hand and icing pipe in the other. He’s not sure who brought up the idea of a baking night, nor does he remember ever actually agreeing to it. Nonetheless, the kitchen smelled strongly of cinnamon and chocolate, and Steve feels like he was getting a sugar high from the scent alone.
Maybe that’s why his body is feeling the way it does. Why it’s so receptive to the image that’s right in front of him. Something that’s so innocent, that no one except him is batting an eye.
You. Licking and sucking the frosting off your fingers.
He’s been staring at you for the past ten seconds while he watches the thick, frosted sugar touch your tongue and disappear into your mouth, all with a smile on your face as Wanda talks about a Sokovian recipe she’s been meaning to make for the team.
Luckily, you don’t notice his gaze, too engaged in your conversation. If you saw Steve staring, you might have noticed how his eyes darkened at the sight of you licking your lips, revealing your now shiny, wet mouth.
Out of all the things to be his sexual awakening, this had to be the silliest one out there. And to top it off, it was all because of his teammate; all whilst his other teammates surrounded him and iced cookies.
“If there is a god out there… fuck you,” Steve thinks.
Don’t get him wrong, he did find you attractive. Many might think it’s because of the close working environment and trust you put in one another, but even if you weren’t a team, you would’ve instantly caught Steve’s eye.
You had that charm about you, a kindness that stretched to everyone and anyone. You had the same need for justice that he did, and the drive to stop at nothing to get it. It also didn’t help that your smile was utterly heartwarming; he thinks it might have been the first thing that he liked about the new century.
Steve liked you, he knew that much. He often thought about asking you to get dinner and a movie with him, something slow and steady to ease into a relationship with a coworker. Between the constant old man jokes and the lacking need to procreate, he thought that gentle and easy were the only way to satisfy him.
Oh, how wrong he was.
He replays that moment over in his head again. He remembers how your cheeks hollowed ever so slightly as you sucked your finger clean, trying to get every inch of your sweet skin. He pictures you doing the same action but on your knees, his skin instead of yours.
Steve’s thick cock in your hand as you teased his tip, sucking gently as your tongue wipes the sensitive area. Your hands grip the remaining length as you take your time, eventually spreading and holding his thighs as your lips travel towards the base. You suck your cheeks in as your hands squeeze his legs tighter, your nose tickling the hairs on his abdomen. He can see your eyes water as you gagged on his dick, trying your best to take every inch down your greedy throat.
“Shit- doing so well for me, sweetheart. Love using that dirty mouth of yours,” Steve groans, his hands trailing to the back of your head and pulling you deeper. You moan at the praise and scape your nails against the thick muscle on his thighs, overwhelmed by the fullness.
When you finally push yourself off for a breath, a trail of drool still connects from your lips back to Steve: evidence of how sloppy you’ve gotten on his cock. The sight makes his erection twitch, ready to dive back into your mouth- or whatever hole you were willing to offer.
You must have noticed his neediness as you proceeded to get up and straddle Steve in his chair, rubbing your bare core against him. His mouth gasps at the feeling of your wetness while his hands quickly reach for your hips. You let a moan of your own, causing Steve to dig his fingers deeper and move lower towards your ass.
“Please, Steve,” you whimper, dragging his cock between your soaked folds. “-Want you to fill me up nice and deep.”
It was all the encouragement he needed before sinking into your tight heat, eliciting a sweet cry from your lips as you leaned into his hold for support. A low hiss escapes from Steve’s mouth as he bottoms into you, and he lets himself relish in the feeling of your pussy squeezing him.
Your lips trace from his collarbones up his neck, sucking on the stubble on his jaw. You take his hand in yours, bringing it up towards your face. Instinctively, he wraps it around your cheek and cradles your face, enraptured by how you can look so innocent yet so fucked out. You offer a small smile at the gesture, placing your hand back overtop his.
The tables quickly turn on Steve when your grasp pulls your hands lower. You use your fingers to push his thumb away from his palm and closer to the center of your face, letting the pad of skin brush against your soft lips before pushing between them.
You grind yourself on his length as your mouth parts wider. “Want you in both my holes,” you whisper. Steve doesn’t have the time to fully process your words before you wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking hard enough for your cheeks to hollow just like they did earlier. Your eyes never leave his as your rhythm stays steady, and at this point, Steve’s brain feels absolutely clouded with lust. His free hand is on the small of your back as he pushes you to meet his thrusts, groaning at the sounds of your skin slapping against his.
You let his thumb go with a pop as you continue to mewl at Steve splitting you open. “Fuck baby, I’m so close. Make me come on your cock, please,” you beg.
“Mmm, I’m gonna come with you, baby. Gonna make sure you’re nice and full with my come,” Steve growls back, now using both his hands to fuck harder into you. He can feel the pressure building up and he was so close to toppling over, ready to give you all his spend and leave you begging for more…
“Dude, you’re creaming everywhere,” a familiar voice chuckles. Unfortunately, it didn’t sound like yours, and it takes a moment for the image of you on the brink of orgasm to fade away.
“Huh?” Steve responds.
Bucky motions to the cookie in his hand. “Did you space off or something, punk? You overdid it and got buttercream everywhere.”
Steve fully snaps back into reality and follows his friend’s gaze. The once fresh, bare sugar cookie now had an off-centered, tall glop of white icing that was spilling onto his hand. It even splattered the table underneath.
“Shit…” he mumbles, carefully placing the cookie back down on the tray.
The curse makes you turn your attention away from Wanda and to the table, where you see a flushed Steve struggling to get wipe the stickiness off the table while his other hand hovers above, still covered in icing.
You chuckle at the sight before turning back to your friend, a smirk on your lips. “Nat was right… it is so easy to seduce a guy,” you mutter, scooping another dollop of frosting with your finger.
Tagging some of my favorite Steve/Chris Evans writers and mutuals cause I love them so much:
@ozarkthedog @onsunnyside @drabblewithfrannybarnes @selfcarecap @the-iceni-bitch @anika-ann @angrythingstarlight​
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erathene · 13 days
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Safe with You (Part 2)
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Summary: Strider turns up unexpectedly at The Pony, wounded and needing help. You're a barmaid, not a doctor, but right now he doesn't have much choice, and emotions are running high from his last visit.
Word count: 2.6k
Pairing: Aragorn x Female!Reader 
Warnings: LOTS of swearing and cursing, again. Graphic descriptions of blood/injury, (probably inaccurate) descriptions of medical treatment, sleep deprivation, emotional outbursts, SFW intimacy (again, it's very tame).
AO3 Link: Safe with You
Author's note: Special thanks again to DocFigureskaterM for being my beta reader. This story follows on from my previous Aragorn x F!Reader series called F*ck It; whilst there are references here to that story, both works can be read independently. I am still trying not to swear in front of my toddler so I couldn't resist continuing with the feisty curse-laden reader I developed in F*ck It. Enjoy!
Part 1 is here.
......................
Dawn was breaking. You squinted against the beams of sunlight that were beginning to light your bed chamber, your eyes puffy and purple with exhaustion. A few stray hairs tickled your cheeks, having escaped your hastily tied-up bun. Numbness had crept into your glutes a while ago, but you hardly noticed; it had been so good to finally sit down, even if it was on the hardwood floor, and from here you could easily watch the ranger as he slept.
Strider had caught a fever in the night. It hadn't really come as a surprise, as you had no idea how long he had gone without treatment before he had stumbled through the Pony's doorway the night before. However, you were no medical expert, and you spent the night blindly working with common sense and gut feelings. A damp cloth on the patient's forehead and a blanket to keep them from shivering seemed a good course of action, so this was how you treated him. Tucking the woollen throw back over him when he was thrashing in his sleep. Wringing out the cloth with fresh water when his forehead had burned through all the moisture. Periodically reaching to his neck to feel his temperature. Shushing him and humming lullabies when he spoke aloud during fever dreams. Holding his hand. 
Fuck, you were so tired. Your eyes drifted away from Strider, satisfied by the even rise and fall of his chest. Luckily for you, the fever had broken quickly, the unnatural heat in his skin dying down just before dawn. Your gaze fell upon your hands resting in your lap, the reddish-brown colour of dried blood becoming clearer in the morning light. His blood. Having completed the stitches of the large incision on his chest, you had found several rolls of clean bandages in the healing pack. Getting these wrapped around the prone man was another challenge entirely, and you ended up tearing two of the sutures in the process. You had then cleaned his head wound, which fortunately was shallow and looked worse than it actually was. By this time, you had run out of face cloths and started using any spare linen from your cupboard to soak up the ranger's vital fluid. You deliberately ignored the heap of blotchy red laundry that had slowly grown in size as the hours had passed. 
Fuck. After the night you've had, you could really use a drink, or even a shot of one of the Gaffer's stronger spirits. You worked around alcohol daily, and for the most part you never felt the need or desire to partake in its consumption. Now, however, you felt differently about that belief. Perhaps if you could persuade your limbs to move, you could sneak down to the bar before the Gaffer would be up. 
You were dragged back from this thought by the sound of Strider stirring. The shirtless man on your bed grimaced and clutched his bandaged side as he awoke. You saw his eyes darting about beneath his eyelids, before they cracked open, scanning the room as he remembered his surroundings. 
"Did you finish them?" he asked, his voice slightly hoarse from slumber.
Assuming he was talking about the last time he was properly conscious when he was overseeing your initial stitches, you nodded. "I had to fix a few that tore, but yes," you confirmed to him. It felt like such an effort to speak.
Strider nodded but said nothing. Now that he was awake, your thoughts turned once more to how he had ended up with such grave injuries. "What happened to you, Strider? Please," you begged from the edge of the bed. "Tell me." 
You watched as he closed his eyes and exhaled at your question, but he offered you no response. You gave him a minute or two, in case he was composing himself against a wave of pain, but the longer you waited the clearer it became that this was not the case.
You sighed loudly and rose to your feet. It seemed he was about as willing to give up details as he was last night. After all you had done for him, you firmly believed you were owed an explanation. "Folk around here don't just rock up looking like they took a spoon to a knife fight."
"I'm not from around here," Strider said through gritted teeth. In your exhausted state, this comment only made you feel more irritated.
"I know that," you snapped back. Fuck, why was he making this so difficult? "Just tell me-"
"It's really nothing for you to concern yourself with," he interrupted your plea. 
"Look," you said forcefully, your temper rising further. "I've been up all fucking night, stitching you back together, bringing your fever down, keeping you warm, and generally trying to make sure you were okay. If you continue to shut me out, there's the fucking door." Okay, opening the door and showing him the deserted hallway beyond was perhaps a bit dramatic, but in that moment you couldn't have cared less. 
Strider stared directly at you, his grey eyes wide open. "You were.. up all night?"
"Yes," you bit back, slamming your chamber door shut again. "You heard correctly. I was up all fucking night. Want to know what no sleep in twenty four hours looks like? Well, this is it, Strider." Your voice trembled slightly, the lump in your throat had returned with a vengeance. 
He continued to stare open-mouthed as you spoke. "But.. why?" 
"Because.. Because.." The pitch of your voice peaked as your heart pounded your chest, your bloodied hands balled into fists. The fact of the matter was that you cared a great deal for this ranger. Yes, you were just a tavern girl and there was zero possibility of being anything more to him than that. Yet you couldn't get him out of your head. The thought of his dirt-ridden boots haunted your every step, and his silver-grey eyes looked into yours every time you caught your own reflection. You couldn't enter your own room without recalling the kiss you had both shared here. That kiss. It was replaying in your mind right now. You weren't seeing Strider on your bed; he was standing before you, hands in your hair, lips pressed against your own. You couldn't stop.
The truth left your lips in a strangled scream. "Because I didn't want to lose you!" 
An uncomfortable silence hung in the air. Your chest heaved as tears rushed down your cheeks. Fuck fuck fucking fuck. You faced away from him and ungraciously wiped your face and nose with the back of your sleeve. This was it, the end of your friendship. No chance in hell he'd want to know you now, the blubbering tavern girl who lost her fucking mind whenever things got hard. 
Strider was first to speak, pushing himself up on his elbow so that he could sit and face you. "I'm sorry, y/n. I put you in a difficult position, turning up here in the manner I did. I beg your forgiveness." His expression showed genuine remorse. "As for the exact cause of my injuries, I'm afraid there is little I can say. Divulging too much information about where I was and what I was doing would put the rest of my company of rangers at risk. I do trust you," he added, seeing how hurt you looked. "But I cannot compromise our mission."
You nodded. That was fair. You wouldn't want four or five rangers turning up at your doorstep the same way he did.
He shifted on the bed before continuing. "What I can tell you is that I took a risk, which as you can see was a slight miscalculation." 
You scoffed. "I wouldn't call a eight-inch slash to the chest a miscalculation." 
Strider gripped his side once again as your sarcastic comment slipped out. "Nevertheless, as soon as I knew I was in trouble, I came here. I needed to get myself to a place of safety, and I knew that I would be safe with you." 
Well, you weren't quite expecting that. He felt safe with you? You were running out of mental capacity to process exactly what he was implying by this statement. The guilt and shame of your outburst still hovered over you, and unable to respond to him you began fussing with the end of your apron. That uncomfortable silence was back again, hovering in the air like the fog of a winter's morning. You wished it would fuck off. 
Strider's soft voice cut through your thoughts. "You should get some rest." 
"You should get some rest." Coming to your senses, you bent low to gather up the pile of bloodstained cloths. "I have these to sort before the punters start showing up."
"It can wait."
"No, it can't," you sighed. "Gaffer will wring my neck if I'm late." 
The ranger suddenly glanced at his left hand in terror, blanching as though his stomach had dropped right through him. Without even hesitating, he swung his long legs off the bed and forced himself upright, his focus unmistakably set on his travelling pack in the corner. 
"Don't you dare get up," you dropped the laundry where you stood and rushed to his side. You should have known Strider would be leaping out of bed as soon as he saw the opportunity. Sure enough, his disregard for his injuries resulted in a bout of light-headedness and he faltered, right into your outstretched arms.  
"Barahir!" Strider was on the verge of hysteria, his grey eyes wide as tried to blink away his dizziness. The grip he had on your forearms was so strong you thought it might bruise your skin. "It's gone! I need to check-"
"You don't need to do anything, you need to rest! I'll get your pack. Just sit down, sit!" You forced the panic-stricken man back to bed, your stomach surging as you caught sight of how your hand rested on his bare chest as you kept him seated. Not now, fuck not now. The feelings you harboured for Strider had been buried all night under your concerns for his condition, and you really did not need them to be resurfacing at this moment. Shit, keep it together. Once you were certain the ranger was staying put, you crossed the room and retrieved the worn leather satchel, handing it over to him. Strider began frantically searching through the contents of the bag for whatever he had lost; fuck knows what a Barahir was to ordinary people like yourself.
"No, no, no, no.." the ranger whispered to himself as he failed to locate his missing item.
You winced at his desperation. "What are you looking for exactly?"
Strider did not look up as he continued his search. "Only the symbol of my birthright, passed down through countless generations of my bloodline." Seeing your look of total confusion, he added, "Barahir is my ring, I always wear it. If I have lost it in the wilds, my father will be most displeased." He ran a shaking hand through his unkempt hair, the worry creasing his features. 
At the sound of Strider's words, you suddenly remembered the emerald-lined silver ring you had retrieved from the floor of the bar the previous evening. It was still in the pocket of your apron. Pulling it out, you noted in the dawn light how the inside of the metal was marked maroon with dried blood; it must have slipped off his finger whilst his hands were wet with his own fluids. You smirked inwardly. Time to fuck with him a little bit. 
“So you're telling me," you said, taking a seat next to the ranger and holding the ring up to the light in mock examination, "if I kept this ring, you wouldn't be able to reclaim your throne? The long lost heir to the faraway kingdom would be stuck here with me for the rest of his days? Huh, sounds like an interesting proposition.." You smirked at him, holding out the ring. 
Strider looked in awe at the object in your hand, before he laughed aloud heartily, relief washing through his features as he placed the ring back on his finger. "You see, y/n," he gently wrapped his hands around your own and looked straight at you, his silver-grey eyes sparkling with delight. "I am always safe with you."
Your heart practically melted at the ranger's words. The contact of his hands sent you into a reverie, where nothing else in the world mattered except you and him. You delighted in his touch and yet you wanted more; you wanted to replicate what he had shared with you once before, when he had needed to feel something real. The kiss. It might have pulled Strider back from the brink of desperation, but it had left you only desperate, and that moment of intimacy was what you had craved and needed ever since. The pull of your own desires was now absolutely undeniable. Worse still, there was nothing in the world stopping you. No rational thoughts materialised. No resistance.
Slowly, inch by inch, your head leaned inwards towards his, until your lips were almost touching. Your eyes fluttered shut.
All of a sudden, an abrupt knock at the door made you almost jump out of your skin. Gaffer's voice boomed through the key lock. "Y/n! Are you up yet?"
FUCK. 
The moment shattered. Hauled back to reality, you quickly pulled away from Strider, stealing a glance at his expression as you did so. Fuck, you had been so utterly blinded by your own infatuations you had never even thought about what he wanted. Not for the first time that morning, you fretted about whether your actions had severed your friendship with him entirely.  
To your relief, however, the look on his face betrayed his amusement. "But not safe from interruptions, it would seem." 
You snorted. Fucking Strider. Trust him to try and crack a joke at a time like this. 
Before the Gaffer could return and hammer on your door a second time, you hurried to make yourself ready for what was likely to be a gruelling day's work on very little rest. You ordered Strider to turn away as soon as he reclined back on the bed, allowing you some privacy to change out of your bloodstained garments. With the little water that remained in your water jug, you did your best to quickly scrub away the blood from your palms. A little remained under your fingernails, but you could tackle that later. You then re-did your hair how you always fashioned it, before catching a glance of the man on your bed who was watching you intently.
"What?" you asked, your fingers weaving through your hair.
The ranger's eyes were lit with a warmth you hadn't really seen before, and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Nothing," he whispered. His coy smile did not disappear.  
You raised your eyebrows and your eyes rolled slightly as you finished working on your hair. Smoothing out the creases in your fresh apron, you were ready to leave for the tavern downstairs and the many tasks that were demanding your time and attention. You made for the bedroom door, but came to a pause as your hand rested on the door knob, a flutter of courage blooming in your stomach. Turning quickly, you strode over to the bed where the prone ranger lay, and without hesitating, you planted a tender kiss on his forehead.
"Get some rest, you dumb fuck."
It might have sounded like an insult, but behind those words were so many feelings of endearment and affection. There would be no interruptions later.
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beanghostprincess · 3 months
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Ok I'm gonna talk about the trans parent meet trans kid post along with the she like me fr posts I made earlier
(l love reversal the angst to fluff moment by the way)
But ussop has no idea his dad is trans. Whenever he brought it up to his mom she would just state 'they wanted to be free and finally allowed themselves to do it' usopp thought for a long time it meant free from them, Free form responsibility, he started kinda resenting his dad. I say kinda because his mom didn't see it that way she would always talk fondly about his dad and reassured it leaving was in no ill will towards her or usopp but the opposite.
He never understood what she meant. When she passed and figured out his gender he needed to leave. The syrup village is great but very traditional and he needs to go in so he can transition and live how he wants. He also met his beautiful trans girlfriend sanji who would kill and die for him. And would kill his dad if he asked (she'd do it anyway)
Two years later and they meet up with the red hair pirates. Seeing his dad after years of questions were answered. She was trans like him, he understands what his mom meant by being free. The reunion was private she's already stressed enough having to come out to her child she doesn't want to make it worse in front of strangers (except for Luffy. Luffy didn't know yasopp pre-transition he honestly thought usopp just had two moms and they produced a baby somehow)
After hugs, kisses and long needed apologies they really started to rekindle something especially since both are trans I mean what are the odds? She is living her dream and living her truth like he is.
He introduced her to his wonderful girlfriend sanji. She was ready to tear into yasopp for abandoning usopp. Then she actually met her and it all clicked, she understands more than anyone why she left. Saving herself from ridicule and also protecting her family's images in the process. She did the exact same thing running away from home getting away from her brothers who don't understand and her father who doesn't want to understand. She understands her completely
Sanji ends up talking to her longer than usopp did much to his enjoyment
This is,,, So sweet. Healing my soul.
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soleilceirinen · 6 months
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Renaissance | teacher!Cillian Murphy x fem!Reader - Part 9
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Summary: you are an Art History student in your last year at university. Cillian is your teacher. A/N: in this story Cillian is about 20 years older than the reader. Everything happens in an alternative universe where he is not an actor or famous, he doesn't have a wife or kids like in real life. English is not my first language, sorry if there are mistakes. Thanks for reading! Cillian Murphy Masterlist - Part 8
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The next morning you woke up with the first sun rays of the day directly in your face. Opening your eyes slowly, a sudden uneasiness flooded you when you didn’t recognise the bed or the room. But it didn’t last long, the moment you heard a soft snort coming from your back and noticed the arm hugging you around the waist, everything made sense. 
Your cheeks turned red at the memories from last night and you couldn’t help but start to panic, unable to control the intrusive thoughts that landed in your head. 
The first time Cillian and you kissed, he stopped talking to you for weeks, ignoring you as if you were not there anymore. How would he react now? You did more than kissing the previous night… A faint snore followed by some movement behind your back brought you back to reality. Things didn’t have to be like the last time, they could change for the better. 
Cillian was awake, or at least, he was in the process of waking up. He hugged you tightly and buried his face in the space between your shoulder blades, his eyelashes tickled your skin making you shiver. Slowly, you turned around in his arms until you were facing him. He looked peaceful with his eyes closed, although you weren’t sure if he was awake or not. 
With the tip of your fingers you started touching his face, tracing his sharp cheekbones and the shape of his eyebrows, going down the bridge of his nose to end up brushing his plump lips with the pad of your thumb. The corner of his mouth rose slightly, so he wasn’t sleeping after all. 
“Good morning,” he said hoarsely. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes,” you whispered, brushing the hair out of his face, “and you?” 
Cillian opened his eyes meeting yours and nodded before burying his face in the crock of your neck. Him being all cuddly in the morning wasn’t what you were expecting at all, but you kind of liked it. A pitiful moan from the other side of the door broke the bubble you were in. 
“Scout wants his morning walk,” he murmured against your skin. You hummed in response, caressing his hair. 
-
After taking Scout for a walk and having breakfast, Cillian drove you to your apartment. You would have liked to spend the day with him but you had to go to work. The idea of calling Maureen and telling her that you were feeling unwell crossed your mind but you dismissed it as it came, you weren't that kind of person. 
Cillian parked in front of your building. Before you could open the car door, he gently grabbed your wrist. When you looked at him, he held your hand in his and gave it a little squeeze. 
"I really enjoyed what we did last night," he said as he caressed your hand with his thumb. “I’ll call you later, alright?”
You stared at him and nodded. "Alright, but I'll tell you something Cillian. Don't you dare to disappear on me this time because I promise you I will haunt you day and night, even in your dreams." You muttered without breaking eye contact. 
He let out a chuckle and squezzed your hand again. "I promise you I won't, even if I tried I couldn't. I'm already haunted by you, every time I close my eyes all I see is that beautiful face of yours."
“Oh, wow.” You giggled, feeling your face getting warm and turned to look out your window in order to hide your blushed cheeks from Cillian. 
He put his hand under your chin to make you look at him and contemplated your face as if he were searching for your approval, however, it was not necessary. You leaned towards him and placed your free hand behind his neck to pull him closer to you. 
You indulged in a long and sloppy kiss that left you catching your breath. With a last peck to his cheek, you grabbed the handle door and got out of the car. You looked back as you walked away and waved goodbye to Cillian, he was touching his swollen lips with a lost look in his eyes, as if he were focused on something important.
At the front door of your building you found Brad. He was standing there with a shopping bag, probably after coming back from the store. You sighed in resignation. There was something about the way he frowned in the direction of Cillian’s car that you didn’t like. 
“Who is that?” he asked with a sullen attitude. 
You bit your lip and looked at the car. From that distance you could tell that someone was sitting inside but at least it wasn’t easy to see his face through the window. Suddenly, you realised that Brad had seen your kiss. 
“Nobody,” you said shortly, pushing him towards the door. 
He followed you after casting one last glance in Cillian's direction. You mentally prayed that Brad wouldn't remember Cillian from the charity book market. 
Inside your apartment, he headed to the kitchen to drop off the bag and called your name before you could enter your bedroom. At the same time your phone vibrated with a new message. You stood in the hallway and stared at your flatmate. 
“We need to talk, Y/N. There’s something I need to tell you,” he started saying, leaning against the kitchen counter.
You felt a wave of cold sweat just thinking about the last time you two spoke. “Hurry up then, I have to get ready to go to work.”
“I’m leaving the apartment this week,” he told you while looking at the floor. 
“What? But the rental contract doesn’t end until June,” you commented, calculating the months that were still left.
He shrugged. “The landlord already knows, so that’s it. If you want, you can find someone else to live in my room or talk to the landlord yourself to see if he will let you continue on your own as before, but I don't think he will.” 
You looked at him in disbelief. Neither of you was supposed to leave the apartment without noticing it to the landlord at least a month earlier. From the tone in which he spoke, you got the impression that he already had it planned and was just telling you now. “Really, Brad? Perfect timing, as always.” 
Before he could reply something back, you got into your room slamming the door. You took a few deep breaths and looked at your phone. Cillian had written to you, asking if everything was okay after seeing Brad at the entrance. Maybe that was the reason why he was still there while you and Brad talked at the door. 
You wondered if he was still parked outside, with the wish to rush out and get back to the warm interior of the car, without worries. 
“What a mess,” you murmured, thinking of everything that was coming your way the next few weeks. 
You would have to spend time researching for your final project, although with Cillian's guidance you could get through it, without forgetting that exams were just around the corner and soon you would have to start studying seriously.
To that, you had to add going to work at the gallery and now start looking for another apartment at this time of the year, you didn't have much hope of finding something that you liked as much as the current one. You would stay if you could, but you couldn’t afford it by yourself. Besides, your landlord was a bit of an asshole and wouldn’t even consider letting you stay paying only for your room, so there was no point in talking to him. 
Just thinking about all that made you want to cry with rage. Although thinking about it, at least one of your problems would be solved, you wouldn't have to cross paths with Brad anymore. You grabbed your phone and opened Cillian's chat. "Good news: Brad is leaving the flat for good; bad news: I can’t stay."
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garbagevanfleet · 2 years
Text
Pink Lemonade (series)
PART FOUR
Pairing: Sam x female!reader
Word Count: 8k words
Summary: Being a counselor at your childhood summer camp had been your dream since you were little and you had a specific vision of how it would go when it finally happened. You had not, however, planned to make an immediate enemy.
WARNINGS (this chapter): alcohol consumption, tobacco use 
Special thanks to @gardenvanfleet​​ for being the very best editor and friend
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Special Playlist here (highly recommended as it fits the vibe immaculately) 
The day that the kids left was bittersweet. You had been worried you’d cry, but you were able to hold it together as you got the kids reunited with their family members. Then, all you had to think about was how you’d spend your few days off. You could drive home, but it was a bit of a hike at roughly two and a half hours (one way), so you decided you’d save that trip for mid-summer.
Dinner that night was quiet without the kids. Even though you’d experienced a couple of meals there before the kids had first arrived, you’d gotten so used to (and fond of) the chaos, that sitting in a relatively calm dining hall felt a little off. 
You waited for Josh at the table that had kind of slipped into the status of “yours”, but after a few minutes went by, you decided that the idea of eating cold french fries wasn’t as appealing. You’d picked the side of the table that put you facing the doors, so you, unfortunately, met Sam’s eyes the second he walked in, Josh at his side. 
Because the room was so disturbingly quiet, you were easily able to overhear the snide comment Sam made to him over the sound of other counselors’ conversations melting together. 
“Rude of you to keep your girlfriend waiting.” He gestured vaguely toward you, and the smirk he was wearing as he did so had you flushing pink. Simply because you knew pretending to not have heard him was the least embarrassing route, you reached for the cup of lemonade in front of you and buried your face in it. 
Josh seemed genuinely confused until he followed Sam’s eyes, and then he shot his brother a glare. You’d never seen that expression on his face before, but to his credit, it was rather cold and sharp despite how soft of a guy he was. 
“Grow up, Sam,” he bit back, expressing a feeling of exhaustion for his brother’s behavior rather than one of genuine anger. You were left to wonder how many times he’d had to put him in his place growing up - what that would even look like.
As they went through the line, you heard them talking about their campers, and Josh - bless his heart - made sure to remind Sam of his responsibility to clean the cabin, which was met with a deep eye roll, you’re sure. In your opinion, Sam was the last person you could think of that would deserve such a soft, guiding hand. 
You’d love to see him get smacked. Not hard but hard enough. 
After they’d gotten their meal in order, Sam started to head for the front doors, but Josh grabbed for his shoulder, nearly losing the balance of his tray in the process. 
“You can’t keep eating meals in your cabin. Why don’t you try to make some friends?” he suggested, barely managing to keep a kind tone to match the faux-patient expression painted across his face. 
“For what?” Sam scoffed, though something about the interaction told you that he thrived under the negative attention. 
Seeing them stand next to each other was uncanny. Sam had a few good inches on him, but he still wilted defensively as Josh’s posture hardened and he took a step closer. He kept it hushed enough that you couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, but their body language made it clear that Sam was receiving a stern lecture. 
Suddenly concerned you’d be caught spectating, you fixed your gaze on your plate while still absorbing what you could from your peripheral. You’d thought Sam would storm out, but instead, you just heard him give an inconvenienced sigh, and then you snuck a peek just in time to see him nod before turning on his heel and continuing on his way for the doors. 
You were trying to look inconspicuous by popping a section of a mandarin orange past your lips as Josh settled in across from you, but you were positive you fell short by a mile by the way he gave you an apologetic smile. 
“Sorry if you had to hear any of that,” he quickly offered, slumping forward into his elbows. 
Instead of prodding into that dramatic scene like you were going to, you abandoned the idea to instead ask, “Are you alright?” 
He nodded convincingly, looking grateful for your interest in his well-being as he replied, “Yeah. I’m missing my kids already.” After a brief pause, a solemn look reached his brown eyes as he absently ran his fingers through his curls. “A lot of them were crying leaving today and I’m just too soft for that shit.”
Because you were unsure how to portray your sympathy, all you could really offer in consolation was an apologetic look. 
“I shouldn’t be taking it out on anyone though.” After a second, Josh glanced over his shoulder with a remorseful little frown playing on his lips, making the subject of his statement obvious despite the fact that Sam was already long gone. 
You hummed noncommittally, and when he turned back around he shook his head and huffed a laugh at your weak attempt at disguising your opinion on the contrary. 
After a second, you shrugged and stated, “I mean...I’m surprised you don’t snap at him more, to be honest.”
He picked up one of his french fries, and just before popping it into his mouth, he smiled and nonchalantly explained, “I’m just not that kind of guy.”
“Well, then you’re a better man than I.” You sipped out of your cup and then chanced to ask, “Is he like this at home too?” 
As if he were trying to remember, Josh’s eyes flitted around as he pondered the answer. “No. Well, at least, not as bad as he is with you.” After you gave him a look that prompted him to follow that thought, he continued. “He’s a really interesting kid actually. He’s smart - like, smarter than anyone else in our family. Maybe with an exception for our sister, but she’s just confusingly street smart.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at the playfully puzzled timbre that he employed. 
“I know he had big plans for this summer, and I really think he’s more upset with himself for getting himself into this situation in the first place. And, frankly, I think he’s using rage as a tool to deflect and dissociate - to distance himself from the deeper issue, you know?” 
Without letting your impressed state come off as condescending, you raised your eyebrows at him and admitted, “That’s very insightful of you.” 
He shot you a cheeky smile and then, after a beat of comfortable silence, you worked up the courage to sheepishly ask, “What did you say to him?” 
Josh glanced up at you and asked, “Just a few minutes ago?” After you nodded at him in confirmation, he smiled to himself and fixed his eyes on his plate for a moment before looking back up at you again. “Well, whatever it was, I think it got my point across.”  
You wanted to press him further - you were pretty sure he’d tell you given enough badgering, but you decided against it. Rolling your eyes in the most annoyed fashion you could muster forth, you closed the subject with a simple, “Here’s hoping.”
❀❀❀
You spent the rest of the evening playing a card game with Josh and his co-counselor, Ashley, in the boys’ Maple cabin. Unsurprisingly, Josh had spent his free time that day cleaning it, so by the time you showed up, it was spick and span. 
In preparation, Josh had walked all the way back to the rec hall to pop a bag of post-dinner popcorn, and the room smelled like butter mixed with the Strawberries And Cream candle Ashley had thoughtfully brought from her room. 
It hadn’t occurred to you until Josh was walking you back to your cabin around midnight that you’d be spending the night alone. Normally, that would be a nice treat, since you still lived with your parents back home, but after having fallen asleep to the hushed giggling of your campers for the past two weeks, the idea of being all alone in an unfamiliar room was suddenly a little off-putting. 
Like he could sense your hesitation, Josh paused with you when you stalled in front of the path up to your cabin. 
“What’s wrong?” 
It was embarrassing, and you could feel your cheeks flushing as you tried to figure out the least humiliating way to say it. “I just realized how weird sleeping tonight will be.” 
He gave you a sympathetic smile and nodded in understanding. “I don’t really like it either, which is why Ashley and I are having a sleepover in my cabin in the camper beds. You wanna join us? The best part is that we can all have a top bunk.”  
You snorted a laugh at the incredibly charming but absurd proposition, so he enthusiastically stated, “It’ll be like we’re the ones at camp! We could tell ghost stories, and I think Ashley mentioned that she brought pore masks - whatever the hell that is.”
Since you still had your nose scrunched up in an unsure expression, he teasingly added, “I mean, it’s either that or see if Sam would have you.”
The accusing look you shot in his direction was venomous enough that he held his hands up in defense of his grinning face. Still, you couldn’t really argue, because he was right - you were left with limited options. 
He patiently waited for you to pack your pajamas and toothbrush away into your backpack, and on the way back down the trail, you cleared your throat to speak again. “Thank you for walking my ass all over camp.”
Josh hummed, and despite your sincere gratitude, a smug little smile found his lips. “Having a good rapport with your co-counselor really pays off. You should try it.” 
Dubiously, you replied, “You don’t think I’ve tried? I’m clearly not the problem.” 
He nodded in allowance and fondly assured, “I know you’re not, but there’s gotta be times when he’s not quite as cold with you, right?”
After chewing it over, you shrugged as best you could with your backpack around your shoulders. “I guess. There was one time where he actually joked with me - no hostility or anything.” 
Your admittance had Josh’s smile stretching a little further. “That doesn’t seem like something I’d do with someone I hated.”
The notion made your stomach twist, so you sidestepped his statement in favor of, “I don’t think I believe that you could hate anyone.”
“That’s not true,” he objected, but it took him a second to conjure forth an example. “I hate people that litter.” 
“Valid,” you giggled. “Pure trash.”
❀❀❀
You’d been concerned that you’d have trouble falling asleep in the Maple cabin, but you woke up to Josh gently grabbing your shoulder. You peered over the edge of the bunk to find that he was standing on the bed frame to be able to reach you. 
He breathed a laugh, presumably at how disoriented you were as you surveyed your unfamiliar surroundings. 
“Morning. Ash and I are headed to breakfast,” he informed you. “Actually, she already headed that way. You gonna join us?” 
You sat up and fought your protesting muscles as you stretched. There was a kink in your upper shoulder that you prodded at as you informed no one in particular, “Okay, I won’t be sleeping in a bunk anymore.” 
He hummed in amusement and then hopped off the side to pad towards his room in the back of the cabin. “Yeah, somehow I woke up in my own bed, so I’m guessing sleeping Josh is in agreement with you.”
With an accusatory glare aimed in his direction, you climbed down to the creaky wooden floor, but you could hold no contempt for him. “Shit, I forgot to grab a fresh set of clothes for this morning.”
“You want me to walk you back to your cabin so you can change before we eat?” he offered, firmly cementing your previous thought about him as he dusted the wrinkles off the fresh shirt he’d changed into in his absence.
“No, no, that’s okay. That’s like a twenty-minute walk. I’ll probably take a long shower after I clean up my cabin today.” As you talked, you made your way to the little bathroom to brush your teeth, and when you came out to retrieve your clothes from the day before, he asked, “Do you want me to help?” 
“Help me clean?” you laughed. “Josh, you don’t have to clean my cabin with me. You already cleaned yours, and I’m positive you helped clean Ashley’s too.” 
The fondness behind your chiding tone made him smirk at you. Instead of confirming your accusation, he leaned back against the post of the bunk closest to the door, propping himself up with his foot as you disappeared around the corner to change. 
Since the space was so compact, you were sure he could still hear you perfectly when you added, “What I’d like is some enthusiastic assistance from my own partner so you don’t feel the need to offer to help clean a third cabin.”  
“I really don’t mind,” he assured, wearing a smile that you could hear from the other room. “It would not be my recommendation to wait for Sam to offer his labor in any way that’s not expressly required of him.”
Once you met him back in the main room and headed for the door, you assured him, “Don’t you worry about that - I’m not quite that stupid.” 
The cafeteria was sparsely populated at best, which, if you had to guess, was a result of oversleeping on the part of most of the other counselors. Since you could do just about anything on your free weekends, you imagined a lot of your colleagues were sporting impressive hangovers, despite the fact that the counselor guide stated that alcohol on the grounds was frowned upon and strictly forbidden while campers were present on the grounds.
“Sheesh, everyone’s looking a little rough today,” you jested, gently nudging your elbow into Josh’s side as he ushered you into the line ahead of him. 
“Don’t laugh,” he suggested in a smug timbre. “That’ll be you tomorrow morning.” 
Throwing a glance at him over your shoulder, you hoped he could see your quirked eyebrow as you challenged, “And why would that be?” 
“Because every Saturday that the kids are gone, we go absolutely bananas.” 
You physically couldn’t stop yourself from barking a laugh, and you didn’t even have to turn to gauge his expression - you could practically feel how proud he was to have gotten the reaction he was aiming for. 
“Josh. Say the word fuck,” you requested, making him snicker behind you. He reached past you and grabbed an apple from a neat pyramid of them to deliver to his tray. 
“No,” he quipped in childish defiance. 
It didn’t take the two of you terribly long to make it to the end of the line, and you continued to jest with him until you turned to find a seat. Not a single word needed to be spoken once your eyes landed on Sam, sitting by himself in the corner of the room; you knew instantly that Josh was going to make his way over there. 
     “Nice of you to join us this morning, Samuel,” he greeted in his usual chipper cadence, but Sam barely acknowledged him other than to give an indifferent hum. There was a book taking up the space on the table in front of him where his food should have been, and his brown eyes didn’t stop thoughtfully scanning over the pages until Josh settled into the seat across from him. Sam was shockingly quick to swallow the reality that the two of you weren’t going to just disappear, no matter how deeply he (and also you) wanted it; he closed the cover of his book with an equally surprising lack of hostility in the action. 
“Are you not having breakfast?” you asked, simply to keep the conversation going. His eyes were watching your hands as you absently situated your silverware, only flicking up to meet yours once he was good and ready. 
“No,” he replied simply, and you thought he’d leave it there, but he took you off guard a third time by finishing with, “I had a Pop-tart in bed.”
Before you could think to stop yourself, you blurted out, “What flavor?” 
He raised one of his eyebrows at you but obliged. If you tried really hard, you could almost pretend that there was a smile hidden behind the intentional tight line that his lips were set into as he informed you, “Cherry.” 
You had never had such a casual conversation with him; it felt like uncharted territory, so you practiced a liberal amount of caution as you nodded. “Solid choice. Easily the best kind, in my opinion.” 
“My favorite were the Strawberry Milkshake ones, but they got discontinued,” Josh chimed in as he worked to stab the tines of his fork through a green grape with a charming amount of difficulty. “So, tragically, I settle for Wild Berry.”
“They still make those. I saw them at the grocery store a couple of months ago, and I remember because I thought about how gross they looked,” you informed him fondly. 
He set his fork down completely so he could fully turn his head and look at you, eyes narrowed. “I’m happy to hear that they’re back, but the Strawberry Milkshake Pop-tarts slander has to end.” 
“No, she’s right because you’re supposed to put them in the toaster and who the fuck wants a hot milkshake?” Sam quipped, somehow maintaining a faint sneer despite how shallow the content of the conversation was. “The Cinnamon Roll ones you like are gross too.” 
Josh shot a look in his direction, just to make clear the depth of his distaste for Sam’s opinion. You hummed through a crooked smile. “I actually like those ones.” 
Sam adopted a cheeky tone as he retorted, “Well, you had to go back to being wrong at some point - I see you’re choosing sooner rather than later.” 
Huffing a laugh, you rolled your eyes at him. “And here I was just about to offer my help cleaning your cabin today.” 
As if it were the most satisfying moment of his life, he made sure the words had an edge as he smugly informed you, “I already cleaned it.” 
You had a forkful of eggs on the way to your mouth, but you momentarily abandoned them to meet Sam’s eyes. “You what?” 
Judging by the way he nodded at you slowly, holding onto that shit-eating smirk, you were able to surmise that he was thriving in that moment. “You heard me. I cleaned it last night.”
You weren’t entirely sure how to react, so you looked over at Josh for a hint, only to find that he was doing a very poor job of pursing back a smile as he pretended to be very interested in his tray of food. 
“Don’t tell me you didn’t clean yours right away,” Sam pressed in faux shock, though it was crystal clear that he was somehow already aware you hadn’t. Your features were schooled into an unimpressed glare as you opted not to respond - not that you had to. Just to drive the knife a little deeper, he delighted in adding, “I’d say that constitutes as out-counseling.” 
It took your brain a couple of seconds of lag before you realized you should snap back at him, so in the most sarcastic tone you could dredge up, you drawled, “Oh, does it, Sam? Because you cleaned your cabin a few hours before me?” Without your conscious permission, your hips lifted off the plastic seat as you heightened yourself to him, and in the most annoying, smug way, his eyes followed the action as if it were a clear indication that he was winning the undefined argument. 
You realized you might be overreacting when, out of your peripheral, you could see Josh quickly glancing back and forth between the two of you, as if he were waiting for it to come to blows. The heat was rushing to your face as you sat back down and let out a quick breath. 
Pleased to hell and back, Sam was smirking devilishly as he noted, “Wow, that was quite the reaction for someone that’s been bitching at me to be a better counselor for two grueling weeks.”
After a few long seconds of you keeping your eyes anywhere but in Sam’s direction, you looked up at him and muttered, “I hate you.” 
“Good.” That was apparently where he wanted the conversation to end because he wordlessly tucked his book under his arm and made his way to the front doors. 
Both you and Josh watched until he was completely out of sight, and when you were able to push past the embarrassment of the moment to meet his eyes, Josh was wearing an expression that hinted at his alarm and amusement with the display he’d just witnessed.
He didn’t say anything until he realized you weren’t going to. 
“I know you didn’t ask for my opinion, but I think you two might need therapy,” he stated surely, setting his elbow on the tabletop and then using it to prop himself up casually. 
You glared at him out of the corner of your eye. “You’re right,” you agreed, and then quickly added, “I didn’t ask for your opinion.” 
An abrupt laugh bubbled past his lips, but he decided to leave it there, which you found yourself grateful for. The two of you finished your breakfast in relative silence, though it wasn’t uncomfortable - Josh had never given you a single reason to dislike his presence the way his brother had. 
One last time, he’d offered to walk you back to your cabin so he could help you clean, but you’d politely declined, telling him you could benefit from some alone time before the grounds were swarming with excited children again. 
The weather on the walk back coaxed you into a euphoric state, so you took your sweet time to drink it in. A Pinterest mood board couldn’t have painted a more perfect picture of summer than the warmth of the sun, paired with the smell of freshly cut grass carried on a light breeze and the sound of the treads of your sneakers chewing the dirt path with every step. 
The tree line surrounding your cabin was littered with little wildflowers that peeked their pretty faces out of the thick grass, so you spared a few seconds to duck to your haunches and say hello to them. You thought about plucking a couple to liven up your cabin until the kids came back, but you realized they’d look a little silly sitting in one of the paper Dixie cups the campers used to rinse the toothpaste from their mouths. Instead, you left them undisturbed. 
Sam had been so quiet that you hadn’t noticed him until you were standing only a few feet from where he was propped up against the wood siding of his cabin, his long legs stretched out in the grass and crossed at the bare ankle. He had the sleeves of his t-shirt rolled up to the tops of his shoulders, letting the oft-forgotten skin get as much sun as he could absorb. As soon as your eyes landed on him, you fixed your expression into a glare that he just breathed a laugh at. 
“Did Josh not walk you back?” he inquired, his tone giving away the lack of good faith behind his question. “Not very gentlemanly of him. What if you got lost?”
Keeping a cold demeanor, you replied, “He offered, but I declined. And what would you know about being a gentleman?”
He didn’t seem affected in the slightest; he held onto the cheeky smile as he disregarded your snide remark. “Getting sick of him already?” 
“Of course not - he’s my only friend here,” you objected, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “I had wanted to be friends with my partner, but that hasn’t been working out for me.” 
You’d been hoping to see even a hint of guilt in his expression, but the faux sympathy you found instead didn’t taste the same. “Tough luck, huh?” 
The moment fell silent, save for the off-beat chirping of the songbirds in the surrounding woods, and you left him to marinate in his uncertainty as you stared at him in consideration. 
Finally, once he’d grown bored of waiting for you to say something, he expectantly quirked an eyebrow at you and muttered, “What?” 
Something had clicked into place in those quiet seconds as you absently surveyed his face. Why had Sam come to breakfast that morning? If he’d already eaten, and he disliked being around the masses as much as he claimed, there really shouldn’t have been a reason for him to show up at all. 
It felt like a piece of the puzzle he hadn’t meant for you to put together - like he’d been counting on you being so shocked to see him that morning that you wouldn’t even think to question it. 
But you weren’t ready to let him in on the thought yet. Instead, you just huffed a laugh and wordlessly sauntered past him. 
You threw all the windows open as you cleaned your cabin with a sense of self-satisfaction. The kids had all packed their bedding into a couple of large laundry bags, which eliminated a good chunk of work in your opinion, so once the floors were mopped and the entire bathroom was scrubbed - top to bottom - all you had to do was haul the bags down to the mess hall. 
Unfortunately for you, they were heavier than they looked. As you slung one over each shoulder, you found yourself suddenly regretting not letting Josh stick around. 
In an even more unfortunate twist of fate, Sam was still taking up space outside when you stepped out the front door. The book he’d had that morning was open in his lap, and he didn’t look up from it as you passed him, but the smug look he wore told you he was well aware that you were struggling. 
He didn’t offer his help, and you sure as hell didn’t ask, so by the time you got the bags to the laundry room, you were covered in a light sheen of sweat. There was a kind, middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair that did all the laundry there on the weekends, and he informed you that you could pick up fresh sets tomorrow whenever you had a chance. You thanked him sincerely and headed back to your cabin, still trying to catch your breath. 
Josh was standing on the path, looking down at Sam as you came up the hill, and when he saw you, he gave you an apologetic smile. 
“Hey, sorry. I was going to text you but I realized we never exchanged numbers,” he explained and then flicked his eyes over at his brother, who was still lounging in the same position you’d left him in. “I was just telling Sam that there’s a bonfire tonight at the Birch cabins. I would have told you earlier, but Ash and I just found out.” 
Bypassing all of his charming apologies, you warmly stated, “That sounds fun. So anyone can come?”
“Yeah, any counselor. Do you know where Birch is?” When you admitted with a shake of your head that you didn’t, he informed you, “They’re the ones by the archery range. Do you want me to come get you?”
As subtly as you could, you glanced over at Sam out of your peripheral to find him wearing a little smirk as he kept his attention fixed on his book. 
“No, I’m sure Sam and I can find our way,” you declined sweetly, knowing full well that he’d have an issue with you signing him up for the event without any indication that he wanted to attend. His eyes were narrowed challengingly as he laid them on you. 
“And what the hell does this have to do with me?” he retorted sourly. 
Feigning innocence, you smiled down at him. “Well, after you expressed your concern about me getting lost earlier, I figured you’d want to make sure.”
“Well, you were wrong,” he informed you flatly, pointedly adding, “Again.”
Josh huffed, rolling his eyes, though the gesture still held a certain amount of fondness to it. “Christ, Sam. I’m sure you were going to go anyway, so just walk with her.”  
Sam shot him a sharp look but didn’t bother arguing the point any further. 
“Great,” Josh declared, adding a finality to it by clapping his hands together. “Everything usually starts up around eight, but I’ll see you both at dinner. Try not to kill each other before then.”
❀❀❀
That evening, the cafeteria was abuzz with anticipation. You hadn’t been expecting it to be such a big deal, but you figured out pretty quickly that this was what most counselors lived for - those few hours on the free weekends when they could really let loose. 
You’d spent undeniably too long in the shower, loving the feeling of lukewarm water on your sweat-damp skin, and you had decided to let your hair air-dry during dinner instead of heat-treating it.
Josh had asked what you were going to wear in between bites of his tacos, but you hadn’t been sure until you were riffling through your clothes and came across a pair of daisy-print denim shorts that you’d forgotten you’d packed. You were proud of yourself for having the foresight to bring some beauty products for this exact occasion - you’d gone back and forth on the idea as you were packing your bag to leave home, but in the end, you’d correctly decided it was better to be safe than sorry. 
Since you knew it would likely still be warm, even at night, you didn’t go overboard, but you thoroughly enjoyed yourself as you swiped some mascara onto your lashes with your favorite pop playlist acting as a soundtrack for you. 
Two sharp knocks on the door around eight told you Sam was ready, and before he’d even given you a reasonable amount of time to cross the room, he impatiently repeated the raps against the wood. 
You slung the door open to find him with a cigarette hanging from his lips that you judged with a quirked eyebrow for a few short seconds before he finally stated, “Let’s go.” 
You knew his willingness to play along with this stunt you’d arranged was dubious at best. It wasn’t like you actually needed him to escort you there - you’d only signed him up to do so because you knew it would piss him off. That’s why, instead of making any kind of snide remark, you just smiled at him and said, “Yeah, let’s.” 
The walk down to the archery range usually took about twenty minutes. You knew there were certain shortcuts you could take, but you weren’t confident enough to navigate them yet, and Sam was either in the same boat or oblivious to them because he stuck to the main trail as he walked a couple of paces ahead of you. 
He didn’t say much of anything, which was okay - you just tried to focus on the way the waves of his long hair caught the moonlight from above. It was pretty rare that you got to see it down - more often than not, it was tied back into a bun, but tonight he’d opted to let it hang around his shoulders. 
He was in a pair of plum-colored shorts and a cut-up tank top that had clearly once existed as a band tee, and if you didn’t have such a nauseatingly unstable relationship with him, you’d compliment him on it. 
Then again, what did you really have to lose?
“You clean up nice,” you chanced, receiving a hum in return as he glanced back over his shoulder, which was obviously not what you were expecting. After a second, you sheepishly asked, “Are you mad at me for volunteering you for this?”
“No,” he stated simply and then added, “I’ve come to expect you to take every possible opportunity to be annoying.” 
 Even though there was no way he could possibly see it, you lifted an eyebrow at him. “Then why are you so quiet?” 
“I don’t have anything to say.” 
You considered it for a moment before requesting, “What’s your favorite thing to order at a coffee shop?” 
Surprisingly, when he spoke, his voice was void of hostility - rather, he sounded almost entertained. “What?” 
“I asked you what you order at a coffee shop.” 
“Why?” 
You rolled your eyes but fondly instructed, “Answer my question, Sam.” 
Whether he was thinking over his response or deciding if he wanted to ignore you, his reply was delayed. “I like nitro cold brew. Sometimes I have them add unsweetened almond milk.” 
“That sounds kinda awful,” you admitted, making him huff an audibly amused laugh. 
“I usually need the caffeine.” 
After a short silence, you cheekily asked, “Aren’t you gonna ask me what I get at coffee shops?”
You should hear the smirk he was wearing when he said, “I won’t have to. I know you’re going to tell me anyway.” 
Maybe under different circumstances, the cocky statement would have made you feel ashamed to the point of clamming up, but as it were, you were only wearing a thin shade of blush. “You’re right - I am. There’s a cute place in my hometown that makes these brown sugar lattes that are so yummy. I like mine iced in the spring and summer.” 
You could hear that, despite himself, he was smiling at your response. “Great.” 
Neither of you said anything else for the rest of the walk, but it didn’t feel tense like it had in the past. It wasn’t too long before you could start to hear a bouncy beat filling the night air. People were dotting the area all around the Birch cabins, but most of them were congregated around a building fire, so when Sam took a seat on a vacant log that was acting as seating, you placed yourself next to him. 
You hadn’t even thought to be unsure of that decision until you realized he was looking over at you curiously. “What are you doing?” 
Anxiously, your eyes flicked down to the generous space between the two of you before you earnestly asked, “I’m sorry. Should I not sit here?” 
As if he were trying to figure out whether or not you were teasing him, he gave you an unsure frown as he looked you over. “Why would you want to? I’m sure Josh and that blonde girl are around here somewhere.” 
You breathed a laugh at him. “Her name is Ashley.” 
“Fine- Ashley.” He rolled his eyes. “Go find them.”
It was more of a suggestion than a demand, but you decided you’d better listen to him before you really started to step on his toes. 
You found Josh by the drinks, which were housed in multiple coolers just inside the front door of one of the cabins. He was chatting easily with a group of guys, but when he saw you, he waved them off, presumably with the promise that he’d find them later. 
“You made it,” he stated happily. “Did Sam come with you?”
Nodding at him, you flicked your eyes over your shoulder. “He’s out by the fire.” 
His features took on an impressed expression. “I’m not going to lie, I was expecting him to blow you off.” 
“Me too,” you admitted. “I’m counting it as a win.”
You didn’t stay by Josh’s side the entire night, instead deciding it would benefit you to get to know some of the other girls. Luckily, Ashley seemed to know just about everyone despite being one of the rookie counselors, and you were able to seamlessly slip your way into a couple of different groups throughout the night. 
Unsurprisingly, drunk Josh was just regular Josh but somehow more bubbly. He was so naturally charming that, multiple times, you found him sneaking his way into one of your circles and effortlessly holding conversations with girls he’d never met and had no intention of knowing. 
It hadn’t taken you very long to feel buzzed off of spiked seltzers, but by the end of the night, you were well past tipsy and having a great time. For the first time in your life, you danced with people you didn’t know without a care in the world, and you kept it up until your legs felt floppy from the repetitive motion. 
You even made the mistake of letting a guy settle his hands on your hips while you bounced around, which was fun in the moment, but became considerably less so once you got roped into one of the most boring conversations of your entire life. Since you weren’t sure how best to ditch him without causing any damage, you listened to him talk about his car and his college on the east coast for what felt like hours before Josh’s hand on your arm rescued you. 
“Thank you, thank you so fucking much,” you gushed dramatically as he lead you away, making him snicker at you. 
“Are you ready to go back to your cabin?” Josh asked, having to raise his voice to speak over the music. 
“Are you going back too?” 
He shook his head with an apologetic smile. “No, I just told a guy I’d play beer pong with him.” His eyes flicked up and, after a brief pause, you followed his line of sight to see Sam standing by the treeline, a beer in his hand as he chatted casually with a couple of other guys. 
“C’mon,” Josh prompted and started toward him, checking over his shoulder every couple of seconds to make sure you were still there. Sam had the bottle on the way up to his lips when he spotted the two of you and then let it fall back to his side. 
“Sam, would you mind taking her back?” Josh requested, his voice slowing to a sweeter cadence. 
You could feel a heat rise to your face as Sam’s eyes landed squarely on yours. “Really? Are we gonna keep pretending you can’t walk anywhere on your own?” Sam prompted, and while he was obviously annoyed by the idea, his tone wasn’t outright cold.
“Normally, yeah, but tonight she could actually use the help,” Josh replied for you. 
Sam gave you an appraising expression, mellowing further when he realized the state of your sobriety. You tried not to feel embarrassed that he could tell just by looking at you. 
“Okay, yeah,” he agreed, thrusting his bottle of beer toward Josh and nodding at you to follow him as he started off towards the path.
“Text me when you get her back safe,” Josh added, firming his tone to let Sam know that it was more of a requirement than a request. 
“Yeah, yeah,” Sam muttered, quietly enough that you knew his brother wasn’t meant to hear it. “You’re not too drunk to walk, right?” 
You declined through a laugh, and just for good measure, assured him, “I’m not that drunk. I maybe might have even been able to make it back alone.” 
“I don’t know about that,” he quipped, the smile on his lips making it sound kind of low and silky to your fuzzy brain. 
Without putting any thought behind it at all, you inquired, “If I told you I was too drunk to walk, would you carry me all the way back?” 
He let a sharp, sarcastic laugh slip. “I wouldn’t carry you all the way back if you were dying.” 
“Is it too late to go back to the party then? I’m pretty sure I could have talked that guy that wouldn’t shut up about his Audi into carrying me back.”
“If he could afford an Audi, why the fuck is he counseling at a summer camp?” Sam mused. You looked over at him to find the corner of his mouth tilted up into a smirk. 
“I mean, I’m sure his parents are the ones that ‘afford it’. But, sometimes people just do stuff because they want to, Samuel,” you retorted and then took on an air of consideration as you added, “Or, maybe he’s also a criminal and he just knows how to have fun and talk to people.”
He shot you a look, though there wasn’t any animosity behind it. “Did you not see that I was having fun and talking to people before you and Josh put an end to it? Now I’m having no fun because I’m talking to you.” 
You rolled your eyes at him. You wanted to say something light and silly - something that could easily fade from your memory by the morning - but you seemed to be experiencing some sort of mental block. It was almost as if your brain was no longer in control of your mouth, which is why, instead of saying something quippy and dignified, you blurted, “You keep acting like being around me is such an inconvenience, but then why did you come to breakfast this morning, Sam?”
The only reason you could tell he was affected by the question was that he stalled his stride for a split second; otherwise, he just glanced over at you and cooly asked, “What do you mean?”
It certainly wasn’t too late for you to back out; you were pretty positive he’d just chalk it up to an inebriated half-thought and let you move on as if nothing happened. But, of course, that wasn’t an opportunity that your mouth let you take. 
“I mean, if you had already eaten a Pop-Tart, why would you have come to breakfast?” He didn’t respond instantly, so you reached out and caught his bicep, bringing him to a halt. “Admit that you somehow knew I hadn’t made it back to my cabin last night and you went out of your way to bump into me so you could rub it in my face. That’s the opposite of what someone who couldn’t care less what I think would do. I think you do care. You might even like me.” 
Over the course of a few, slow seconds, his lips tugged up into a darker kind of warning smile. “You’re out of your mind.” 
It wasn’t technically an admission, but something about his body language spoke a surrender for him. He glanced down to where your hand was still wrapped around his bicep before meeting your eyes again expectantly. 
“You gonna let go of me?” he prompted.
It was then that your brain caught up to you. As soon as you released your grip, you realized everything you’d just said, and you could feel your cheeks super-heating. You hoped it was dark enough that he couldn’t see the undoubtedly red shade you were turning. 
“Sorry,” you breathed, anxiously clasping your hands behind your back to keep them out of the way. 
After looking you up and down for a second, he breathed an amused laugh through his nose. “Good to see even little miss perfect isn’t immune to saying stupid shit when she’s drunk.” 
He started off down the path again, and it took him a few seconds to realize you hadn’t continued following him - but you couldn’t. That last comment he’d made felt like he had you by the throat. It wasn’t until he paused to glance back at you and prompted you with a “c’mon” that you were able to coax your muscles into moving, and even then, it was only because it would have been more embarrassing to just stand there.  
For your sake, you sincerely hoped you were both drunk enough that you’d just black out the whole conversation, but you had a feeling it would haunt you for a while, every time you looked at him. 
❀  ❀  ❀ 
You hadn’t ever been a big drinker, even back before you legally could, when it was still fun and exciting. Sure, you’d have a couple of glasses of wine with dinner or during a movie, and sometimes you’d even have a few hard drinks while you were out with friends, but it was so rare that you ever got truly drunk.
For that reason, you frequently and blissfully forgot what hangovers were like. You could remember the nausea and the headache, but some symptoms always snuck up on you. 
The morning after the party, you woke up to a throbbing in your head. It made the edges of your vision ripple and blur with each exaggerated pulse, so you tried to keep your eyes closed for as long as possible, but eventually the urge to pee won out. 
You had to move at a snail’s pace as you coaxed your body towards the edge of the mattress, but as soon as you tried to stand, your legs protested. It wasn’t just that they hurt - they obviously did - but the thing that really put a damper on your progress was the way they seemed to refuse to hold your weight. 
As you slowly worked your way to standing, you could remember dancing the night before. You could even remember making the conscious decision to push past the fatigue so you could keep moving to the music.
Once you were completely vertical, you decided to play it safe and cling to the wall as you stumbled through your cabin and into the bathroom. 
You weren’t in there for more than a couple of minutes - just long enough to pee and then brush your teeth in an attempt to suppress the nausea that washed over you in waves. 
By the time you were opening the door, you felt a little better. Not good, but you were at least confident you’d survive the morning. 
You let out a pitchy yelp when you saw Sam sitting on the bottom bunk in the corner of the room. He didn’t look great, but it was clear he was managing better than you, even in spite of the dark circles under his eyes that he tried in vain to rub away. 
“What the hell are you doing here? You almost gave me a heart attack,” you accused in outrage as you clutched at your chest. 
He gave you a side-eye, sneering as he informed you, “I stayed out here in case you fucking fell and hurt yourself or something. You were a mess.” 
His fingers were rubbing over the back of his neck as if he were trying to work out a knot as he turned to look at you completely, and then he huffed a self-satisfied laugh. 
“Correction- you are a mess.” 
You glared at him but despite your efforts, you felt your cheeks run warm and you glanced down at your legs. “I couldn’t have been that much of a mess - I was able to change into my pajama shorts and get myself in bed.” 
“You changed into your shorts after throwing up last night, and then I made you get into bed,” he informed you, his words thick with a forced annoyance. 
After a second, you worked up the courage to nervously squeak, “You put me to bed last night?” 
He hesitated but then nodded, rolling his eyes for good measure. “Josh asked me to after I texted him that you got back alright.” 
“Oh,” you uttered awkwardly, but then remembered you should thank him. “Well, thank you, but you don’t have to hang around anymore. I’m good.”
He let out a breath as if he had been holding it while awaiting your verbal dismissal. With significantly more confidence in his body than you had for yours, he promptly stood from the little bunk and grimaced as he stretched his aching limbs.
He didn’t say another word before he stiffly made his way to the door and exited your cabin, leaving you with a feeling you couldn’t quite place. 
You prevented yourself from thinking about it too hard by trying to comfort yourself back into feeling like a human. You brushed your teeth one more time, just for good measure, and then hopped into the shower to wash the night from your skin. You had just finished dressing for the day (in the comfiest clothes you’d packed), when a knock on your door pulled your attention away. 
It was Josh’s voice that called your name, and he was wearing a concerned expression until he got a good look at you and saw, with his own eyes, that you were okay. 
“There you are,” he said with a sympathetic smile. “Did you have a rough morning?”
You nodded at him, huffing a dry laugh. “I have no idea how you’re okay - I saw you drink like double what I did.”
Triumphantly, he grinned at you and quipped, “I’m good at partying.” 
You wanted to be happy for him, but you could only conjure up envy as you looked him over. “Yeah, well, I’m not, apparently. Can we go to breakfast?” 
All he could offer was a deeply sympathetic smile, though there was a visible humor behind it. “It’s almost noon.” 
Once it sunk in, you groaned at him, making him have to bite back a laugh to spare your feelings. “Luckily, I had the foresight to grab you what I could.” 
The pocket of his loose pants seemed to contain a portal to a liminal space, because, from it, he was able to produce an apple, a yogurt (without a spoon), and a little carton of orange juice, effortlessly. 
Before you could thank him, he placed the items into your cradled hands and then held a finger up as a gesture for you to wait. He left you standing in the doorway as he stepped over to the boys’ cabin and rapped on the wood.
After a few, prolonged seconds, Sam swung the door open. His hair was also heavy and wet, indicating that he’d come up with the same idea to quell the hangover. “What?” 
“Morning,” Josh chirped, obviously proud to be doing visibly better than either of you. “You still got Pop-tarts?” 
Sam’s features slipped into a look of deep annoyance, but Josh just exaggerated his grin in response and held out his hand. Sam’s eyes flicked down at his open palm before he wordlessly disappeared back into his cabin, and a couple of seconds later, a little foil package came flying through the doorway.
Mostly unphased, Josh had little trouble snatching it from the air and then handing it over to you victoriously. 
With a laugh, you popped the seam on the packaging as Josh pulled the door to Sam’s cabin shut, leaving him with the rest of the morning to recover on his own. 
“You look like you could use some fresh air and sun. You wanna eat outside?” Josh asked thoughtfully. 
After a moment of consideration, you nodded in agreement and slipped into your sandals. 
He led you to one of the sitting areas by the soccer field and you both posted up on the same picnic table as you cautiously tested out your breakfast. 
“How late did you end up staying last night?” you asked, to which he answered, “Not super late. I think we played a few rounds of beer pong before I stumbled home.”
“Did you make sure Ashley got back okay?” 
“She ended up staying with someone else, but I checked on her this morning to make sure she was okay. I thought about sneaking in to stay in one of your bunks last night, but I didn’t want to run the risk of waking you up.”
“So you delegated it to Sam?” you questioned in a playful tone. “Poor guy looked so sore this morning, I almost felt bad for him. Almost.” 
Josh looked over at you with a blank smile plastered across his mouth as his eyes tightened around the corners. 
Suddenly concerned that you’d let something slip you shouldn’t have, you nervously bit your bottom lip. “What? Was Sam not supposed to tell me that?” 
In a tone that was both curious and coy, Josh cautiously prompted, “Tell you what, exactly?” 
“That you asked him to stay with me last night,” you repeated in confusion. 
After a prolonged second, Josh seemed to catch up; he shook his head. “No, it’s obviously fine that he told you,” he agreed, eliciting you to release a tension in your muscles you didn’t know you were holding. “So, he did stay with you last night though?”
You snorted a laugh at him, unsure as to what the miscommunication could be. “Yeah, Josh,” you laughed around a conservative bite of the cherry Pop-tart you found yourself in an odd relationship with. “I’m not sure how else you want me to say it, but he stayed in one of the camper beds like you asked.” 
The idea seemed to finally sink in as a little smile tugged at the corners of his lips. 
“It was sweet of you to worry about me like that,” you stated gratefully, nudging your shoulder into his.
He hummed in obvious amusement that you could only credit to how humorously difficult it was for you to get your point across to him. 
“No need to thank me.” 
Thank you for reading! <3 If you want to show your appreciation in a monetary way, you can do so here. https://www.buymeacoffee.com/garbagevanfleet
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