He Just Be

fugking love it here!!!!!!!!!

Just a Thug || Jake Lockley x Reader

Summary: Jake breaks into your apartment just so Khonshu can ask you for your help

Rating: 🔞explicit, minors DNI! 

Warnings: unprotected sex, Jake being an asshole

Word count: 6918

Pairing: Jake Lockley x fem!Reader, Khonshu & fem!Reader

Authors: Cass & Rouge

A/N: orange italics - Jake speaking Spanish; blue italics - Khonshu We have a non-linear story here, you’ve been warned :) 

Jake was unsure of what he was even doing here. It seemed the bird-head wanted him to enter one of the flats. 

Jake began to pick up trinkets, decorations, and pictures hanging on the walls to gain an understanding of who lived there. Apparently, it was a pretty, young woman. "What the hell are we doing in here, huh? Are you falling in love or something?" Jake chuckled lowly, shaking his head in disbelief after taking a look at the bookshelf.

"Don't ask me such a stupid question," Khonshu commented, appearing right next to the man. "The woman that lives here owes me a favor."

As you slept on the second floor, you were blissfully unaware of strangers intruding into your home downstairs. It wasn't until you shot your eyes open after hearing a noise like breaking glass that you realized you had closed all the windows, making it nearly impossible for the wind to knock a vase off the windowsill. You sat up and listened for a moment before hearing a voice. A thick, masculine voice. You felt a cold shiver run down your spine as you wrapped a silver robe around your almost naked body. You walked barefoot down the stairs slowly and quietly. Your eyes swept over the living room as you emerged from the stairwell.

"Hope that wasn't too significant," Jake muttered, shrugging off the broken vase's elements off the windowsill. He simply walked around, wondering where the owner was. He removed one of the frames from the wall with great curiosity. "Y/N Y/L/N..." He hummed your name and read the rest quickly. As Jake put the diploma back up on the wall, he inquired, "Are we really getting help from some know-all with diplomas on her wall? I bet she's got a stick up her ass." Jake then made his way further into the flat.

"Don't you dare question my decisions!" Khonshu roared with anger.

In response to the man's remarks, you frowned and opened your mouth wide. "Excuse me?! Who are you? What are you doing at my house? I have a gun and the authority to kill you for invading my property without my permission, so back off, bastard!"

"Sweetheart, you wouldn't be able to pull the trigger even if I showed you how," the man told you before turning to look at you. In all honesty, you didn't look bad, but he was already annoyed by your screams. "Don't ask me, ask the bird skull. He talks about a favor you owe him."

"Bird skull... Did you fucking... Wait. Khonshu? What the fuck?!" You raised your voice, walking to the light switch to turn the lights on.

Jake frowned at the bright light spilling over the room. "I am his avatar and he dragged my ass here, and stop screaming, woman."

A harder frown appeared on your face. You glared at the man in disbelief. "Unbelievable. Of course, Khonshu couldn't pick someone classy. Ey, birdie, what the fuck? Can you come here and talk? Because I'm not willing to speak with your fucking friend."

Jake honestly felt offended by you now. He had more class than some academic woman so sure of herself just because she got a paper or two, framed it, and hung it on the wall.

"Silence! Both of you!" Khonshu ordered, manifesting himself in the corner of the living room.

You crossed your arms over your chest as you tightened your robe around your figure. "What is this ridiculous action about? What's that crucial that you drag some random...," you gave Jake a glance, "thug here?"

"Thug? You better apologize, woman." Jake warned, pointing his index finger right at you.

"You must know why I am here. Don't pretend you don't, Y/N," the Moon God said, looking at you.

"Don't talk to me," you raised your hand to silence the stranger as your attention returned to Khonshu. "I am not willing to help you gain entry to the Council again. You fucked everything up last time."

"Eres una puta," Jake muttered, taking a seat on the couch.

"You are obligated to do whatever I ask you to, human," Khonshu demanded, growing annoyed.

"I'm not your avatar. Ask your kind companion," you pointed at the stranger and gasped, seeing him casually taking a seat on your couch. You turned to him and walked closer. "Uhm, excuse me? I don't recall letting you take a sit."

"I don't recall asking you," Jake concluded, putting his legs up on the coffee table while looking straight at you. "Listen, sweetheart. I don't want to be here, you don't want me to be here either, so let's just get this done with the bird skull so I can leave without getting rid of you."

You gasped again. "Don't call me sweetheart. Unbelievable. Y/N, wake up," you muttered to yourself, leaving the room to reach the kitchen to pour yourself a drink, containing a few ice cubes and some whiskey. You returned to the living room and sat at the dining table standing beside one of the windows. "How am I supposed to do that?" You asked looking at Khonshu. "I don't have any special powers or skills. You're asking the wrong person. And I owe you nothing."

Jake said wryly. "You are not only a whiny brat but also a disgraceful host. I would also like a beverage."

"You always knew your way, Y/N. You are the smart one," Khonshu said, and Jake laughed at this.

"Seriously, one more comment and I'll drag ya out myself," you grunted and jumped off the table to get a drink for your unexpected guest. You returned with a glass filled with whiskey and ice and handed it to him without a word. After returning to your place, you crossed your legs nicely, scoffing. "Even if, I will need time to organize everything."

"Then better get to it, Y/N. Take as long as you need, Jake will help you."

Jake choked on his drinking. ”¿Estás bromeando? ”

You sighed, stopping yourself from commenting more. You let your eyes roam along with his features - he was a handsome fella, but his attitude and rudeness were more outstanding than his physical charm. "Great."

"I'm not happy about this as well, sweetheart, but work is work," Jake shrugged, taking a sip of his drink which wasn't tasty but he decided not to mention it.

"I'm done for now. I need to think. I'll let you know once I have everything prepared," you replied to Khonshu. After getting off the table, you looked at the stranger. "If you want, you can stay here, since we have to work together. Ridiculous."

"I didn't plan to leave, sweetheart. I need to keep an eye on you to be sure you aren't trying anything funny." Jake said, giving you a nasty smile.

You replied with the equally same grin, "You sleep on the couch. I'll bring you a pillow and quilt."

"Nah, I'm fine. Don't bother your pretty small head about it," he waved his hand at you. "I'll be fine without."

Naturally, you didn't give a damn about his words, and a few minutes later you returned with a fresh set of bedding. You placed it next to him on the couch, checking twice whether Khonshu was still present, but the Moon God was long absent. "If you need anything, feel free to use the kitchen and bathroom, but I'm begging you, don't destroy my interiors. The vase you broke was an ancient vase from the Ming dynasty," you explained, your tone saddened as you went to clean the shattered porcelain from the floor. "You're not allowed upstairs, it's my bedroom and private space, so keep yourself downstairs if you don't want to listen to my screams again."

"Sadly, I have to listen to your whining now," Jake scoffed loudly, rolling his eyes.

"Be grateful I didn't call the cops."

"Be grateful I didn't shoot you," Jake replied with a wry grin glued to his lips.

You rolled your eyes and left him downstairs, returning to your bedroom, making sure to lock the door.

Jake chuckled to himself, hearing the click in the door. If you only knew that lockpicking was child's play, you wouldn't be so sure of it.

Due to the fact that he didn't feel like sleeping in a random girl's apartment, he decided to snoop around the flat, just to find out more about who you even were.

Knowing you had an unwanted guest downstairs wasn't comforting, so you were tossing from left to right, trying to catch some sleep. Eventually, you sat up, groaning and rubbing your temples, and decided to leave your room for the bathroom to take some pills to help you fall asleep.

"Trouble sleeping? I don't bite," Jake commented as soon as he saw you. Currently, he was sitting in the kitchen, smoking.

"You're not allowed to... Whatever," you rolled your eyes, as you grew angry with him smoking inside. Tightening your robe, you crossed the kitchen and reached the bathroom, took one pill, and swallowed it, leaning forward to the sink to drink some cold tap water. "I'm not sure, you broke into my flat after all."

"If I was so sinister, I wouldn't snoop around but go straight up to get rid of a sleeping beauty," Jake explained simply. "Meanwhile, I sit here, like a good boy, so don't complain."

"I say nothing," you told him, opening the fridge to pull out a bottle of water. "Your name is Jake?"

"Yup," he nodded, shaking the ash from his cig into an ashtray he somehow found. "And you are Y/N."

"Correct."

"You are some kind of professor and what? Are you a cute, history professor in a pencil skirt and glasses when you're working, but you do some Indiana Jones shit when you're off?"

"Let's say you're correct," you said, sitting next to him, unscrewing the water. "And you? Why did Khonshu pick you for his avatar? You have the appearance of a real-life thug."

"I can steal, break into places, and kill. Khonshu has everything he needs to take care of dirty businesses with ease. I bet you don't smoke?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I do," you nodded slightly, "But I don't smoke indoors. I don't like the scent lingering on the furniture."

Jake laughed at that. "So you smoke, but the smell bothers you. Okay, mademoiselle,” the man shook his head, putting out a newly started cigarette in the ashtray. What a waste.

You raised your eyebrow but kept yourself from making further comments. "I have no idea why Khonshu needs my help when he has you," you claimed openly. "Do you need anything for now?"

"I am fine and don't ask me that. Apparently, you can do something I cannot, so it's your problem, not mine," Jake shrugged, scratching his head.

"If you'd like to refresh yourself, the bathroom's on this floor, at the back of the corridor," you informed him, getting up from your place. "Since you're going to be my guest for God knows how long, I can close my eyes on that smoking thing. But please, do it in the kitchen. Deal?"

"Don't worry. I already know where is what," Jake sighed and listened to you with an eye roll. "Smoking only in the kitchen, you got that, lady."

You patted his shoulder briefly. "Thank you. Sleep well," you said before returning upstairs to your room.

He didn't stop himself from checking out your ass as you walked away. The fact that Khonshu put him in such a position meant he could at least get some pleasant views.

You got up in the morning, stretching your back lazily. You picked some fresh clothes and headed downstairs to take a shower.

As it turned out, Jake wasn't just some kind of a thug.

He was a thug who knew how to do something more useful every day than dispose of dead bodies since when you came downstairs, breakfast was waiting for you.

You blinked, entering the kitchen while drying your still wet hair, you had a simple, white t-shirt and pair of fitted shorts on. "Oh, oh, okay, I'm fucking surprised..."

"I can cook. Magic, right? I am more than a stupid thug you thought I was," Jake muttered, wiping his palms on a rug.

"I apologize for my outbursts last night," you admitted to being wrong as you sat at the table, looking up at him. "I was surprised by an unexpected visit. I am not a bitch if you get to know me better."

"I haven't changed my mind about you yet," he said and sat down to eat his portion. "Hope ya will like it."

You didn't reply, just observed him for a second before you started eating your meal. He not only knew how to cook, but he also made the most delicious meal you had had in a very long time. After breakfast, you got up from your place and began to wash the dishes. "I'll leave you alone in the house today, I need to venture out to a few places to get things done on Khonshu's behalf."

"You don't need help getting those things?" Jake asked, blowing softly at a mug full of coffee. "I can help if you don't want to break a nail."

You smirked to yourself. "Don't worry, I'm not one of those whining chicks. But, actually, if we speak about that, I'll need your assistance at the evening gala. It'll be easier to get there with a plus one to not get too much attention."

"Yesterday you whined like crazy," Jake chuckled, taking a sip of the coffee, but stopped as soon as he heard the word gala. He raised an eyebrow, putting away the cup. "Excuse me?"

"First, I need to somehow get there. And Khonshu mentioned you're a competent driver. It takes place in another city and I'm not keen on catching a taxi. Second, I'll have to vanish in the service room from there after a speech I'm about to deliver. So having a plus one will make it better because you'll get all of the attention on you."

"How do you expect me to get all the attention, estúpida? "

"You'll make a fuss, partner."

Jake was not happy with the idea of making a fuss. "Do I really have to go there? Can't I just wait outside on some signal or something?"

"No. You need to be inside to clear a trespass for me."

"Well, then I'm afraid you'll have to find someone else. Maybe one of your friends will be glad to go," he said simply, adding quickly, "galas aren't my thing."

"None of my pals know how to use a gun, sadly," you said. "But okay. I'll do it on my own."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Fine. I will do it."

You walked to him after drying your hands and briefly kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

"Stop right there, girl. A kiss on the cheek ain't enough for such a thing."

You were about to leave the kitchen but stopped when you heard him. "What do you mean?"

"Ya want me to humiliate myself at some gala? Ya kiss here," Jake smiled nasty, tapping his lips.

You licked your lips as you stared at him. Having placed the towel you held in your hands on the counter, you returned to him, took his cup of coffee from him, and put it on the table. Straddling him, you cupped his cheeks and offered him a heated, french kiss. "Satisfied?"

Jake wasn't expecting you to do that, but he was not inclined to complain. In his book, you simply added one point for yourself. He grabbed your hips and squeezed them a bit. "Maybe if you wear a nice dress and do it again, I will be content."

You licked your lips looking at him before placing a few kisses on his jawline. As much as you didn't want to do it, this fella was having some strange influence on you. "I hope you'll help me pick one."

"I will but be aware you won't look like a princess but a slut. I simply like when girls show a lot," he warned in a low tone.

"I don't mind it at all. I'm not a princess, my dear," you told him, getting off his lap, and tapping his shoulder.

"Perfecto," he hummed and returned to his coffee.

You spent a half-day out of the house, running errands and digging things for Khonshu as well.

You returned late afternoon and quickly decided to refresh yourself with a shower. You put make-up on and did your hair by waving it with a curling iron. Last but not least was the dress you were about to choose.

Jake got as ready as he could while you were away. He picked up some decent outfit he had stuffed in the trunk. All he hoped was that it would be enough for the party. "What about your dress, cariño?"

You get downstairs with two dresses in hand. One was a regular mini black dress, the other was a lacy red dress. "No idea. Which one?" When you saw him in a suit, you smirked. "Wow, look at you. Sharp."

He muttered, pulling at the collar, "I don't fucking feel so sharp." He glanced at the dresses and hummed. "Don't you have anything lacy but black?"

"Give me a second."

You put the dresses on the couch and headed back upstairs. After a long moment, you returned to him. "It's a bit tight here and there as I remember." After putting it on the sofa, you walked over and helped him adjust his tie. "You're fucking sharp, trust me, all the girls will be head over hills for ya."

Jake said, ignoring your comment, "Get in that dress. I want to see if it is tight here and there. cariño."

Nodding, you took the dress with you back to the bedroom. You wore a black-red set of lacy underwear beneath, as well as black stockings with garters. By checking yourself in a mirror, you improved your tits in the dress. After that, you returned to him.

As he waited for you to return downstairs to him, he tapped his knees out of boredom.

"And?" You asked, stepping into the room.

Jake finally looked at you, smiling. In a few places, the dress was too tight, but in a good way, he liked it already. "Te ves tan bien que te follaría aquí y ahora," Jake smiled proudly, scratching his chin.

You smirked at him. "I'll take it as a compliment." Walking to him, you offered him your palm. "Shall we, Jake?"

Sighing deeply, Jake took your hand and nodded. Even though he didn't like it, he didn't know what else he could do. "Yeah. The car is waiting outside."

Your excitement burst once you saw his car - a long, white limousine. "Oh, dear Lord, what a beautiful car!" You squeaked loudly, eyes opened wide as you circled the car twice. "Where did you get this beauty from?! What's under the bonnet? 300 horsepower or more?"

Jake frowned a little, listening to your squeaks as he walked to the door. "Something like that," he muttered opening the back door. "Get in."

You got in, making sure your dress wouldn't roll too high up your thighs. "Forgive me. I like cars, and sometimes I can get all over them. I know you probably think I'm a stupid chick, and that's fine."

Jake shut the door with a loud slam before getting into the driver's seat and saying, "Whatever you say, sweetheart." The small window behind him rolled down. "If you need a beverage, there are glasses and bottles. I bet you will find everything," he informed you briefly, before rolling the window up.

Despite the long ride, you two ended up at the gala.

It took place in a building that probably was built for rich people to have their fancy parties.

Jake already didn't like the people that surrounded him; all those men and women thought that they were someone because of a few papers and money. "What's the plan, little one?” He asked, holding your arm as the two of you walked in.

You were reluctantly getting out of Jake's car. You already felt very comfortable there and the thought of joining the gala actually made you feel sick. All you used from the miniature bar in his limousine was a mini bottle of water.

"See that door?" You asked, gently pointing in the direction with a nod. "The service room is there. As you can see, simply walking there would gather the curious eyes of at least several attendants, not to mention the guards on the upper floor," you said, stopping with him as if you were about to improve his collar so he could take a look at the balconies on the second floor of a huge ballroom. "All of them have guns, so sneaking past them is impossible. My first idea was to seduce one of them, grab the keys, cause some light failure, and run there to get their computer hacked but it's too risky. Now, go have a drink and I'll get prepared for the speech," you patted his chest.

Jake raised his eyebrow and asked, "Are you sure? Because this seems a bit extreme, even as security."

"The thing they're guarding requires some special resources," you told him.

"And what is that?” He laughed softly.

"I'll show you once I get it in my paws. Deal?"

"Deal," Jake nodded and kissed your cheek. "Go get ready then, niña pequeña. I'm gonna make a fuss later."

The kiss was completely unexpected and when he walked off, you placed your palm on the cheek, breathing sharply in. You found yourself enjoying his presence more and more.

The speech about ancient Egyptian culture and gods you gave met with huge applause from onlookers. Thanking the gala host, you got off the podium slowly.

Lockley watched it and listened to your every word. You actually manage to make boring stuff sound interesting. "Well done, cariño," Jake hummed, smiling at you.

You nodded at him a little, slowly proceeding to the service room with a glass of champagne in your hand.

According to plan, Jake decided to make a fuss and he did it right, getting everyone's attention without putting much of it on himself - he got into a heated argument with one of the guests, which ended into a tiny fight with few blows aimed at man's stomach and chin.

You could work freely.

After the entire mess caught people's attention, you slipped into the room unseen, plugged your USB flash drive into the computer, and infected it with a virus. Only then you gained an access to hidden folders and files you've been looking for.

As unnoticed as before, you left the room after everything was copied to your drive and any signs of hacking were removed. With a swing in your hips, you left the huge ballroom, and nodding your head at a few people, you headed to the exit of the building, slowly.

Jake also got himself out of the building, after being asked by the security to leave after the fight, sighing happily as soon as he exited that fucking gala. The moment he spotted you, he joined you. "How was it?”

"I have everything," you told him simply. "You did a great job. Can we get back home?"

"I dream about nothing else but that," Jake nodded. "Khonshu will be glad. What do you even have there?”

"It's a file," you told him. "Encrypted file with the location of date of other avatars which would be needed if Khonshu wants them to meet in Giza."

"You think it will help?"

Getting into the car, this time on the front seat, you explained, "I think that's the only way to find other avatars, which normally would take months or not be possible."

Jake watched you, more surprised by where you chose to sit than by what you were saying. "You don't want to ride on the back?"

"If you don't mind, I'd like to sit in the front to watch outside a little."

"I don't mind at all. It will be a pleasant ride," he nodded. "Ready to get back or do you have any other plans?"

"No, no, I don't have any other plans. I simply want to get back home."

Jake nodded and started the engine. Without saying a word, he drove you home. The job was done, so there was nothing left to say.

Once the two of you made it to your place, Jake left the limousine as the first to open your door.

"Thank you," you nodded at him. "Since your job is done and since I got everything Khonshu wanted, I think we'll part ways."

"I'm afraid he will decide and I know this simple thing won't be enough for him so I have to stay longer," Lockley declared.

You nodded. "Maybe you're right. Nevermind. Come on then." You opened the door with the key and asked, "Ya want a drink?"

"I would kill for a good whiskey. All they had was some shitty, fucking champagne," Jake murmured as he flopped on the couch to remove the tie that had been driving him crazy the whole evening.

"I only have Johnnie Walker or Jack Daniel's. Which one then?" You asked, closing the door on the lock and heading to the kitchen, still in your high heels. "You want some ice, too?"

Jake raised an eyebrow and responded, "Who drinks Whisky without ice? Whatever you choose will be fine."

"Actually, I do," you said, shrugging a tad. After putting a few ice cubes into a round glass, you poured the coppery liquid into it. You returned back to the living room to pass the glass to your guest.

"Well, you really are a weirdo," he said, accepting the glass. "At least you are la chica más hermosa."

"Thank you," you told him, taking a seat next to him.

Jake did not say a word as he drank from his glass. Lockley seemed curious if you would do anything interesting or if you would just sit and play the saint.

"Can I have a strange question?" You tapped his knee.

"Claro," Jake nodded, looking at you.

"Uhm, I don't want to sound desperate, but since you're here... Uhm, could you sleep in my room tonight?" You asked, blushing a bit, biting your lower lip.

Jake raised an eyebrow as he watched you. It was an interesting request. "You want a thug with blood on his hands sleeping in your room tonight?"

You improved your position on the couch, pulling your legs under your chin. "If you don't mind... And stop it, I apologized for being mean, Jake."

Smiling, he moved closer and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. "Ask nicely and I can think about this."

You rolled to your knees and looked at him. "Ask you nicely? Like that?" You asked, slowly straddling his lap, wrapping your shoulders around his neck. Only then did you lean forward and plant a kiss on his lips. "Is that okay?"

Pulling away Jake hummed, licking his lips while wrapping arms around your waist. "Well, I am not really sure. I did everything I could and this now? A kiss seems insufficient."

"What can I do for you to agree?" You whimpered kissing his jawline. "Please?" You gasped a bit at the firm grasp of his hands on your waist.

"Beg a little more and I may agree," Jake chuckled, playing with the material of your dress.

You whined quietly, next to his lips. "Jake, please. I don't want to sleep alone… I need ya..." You kissed him again, slipping one of your hands under his shirt.

"First of all, you could remove these hands," Jack said, simply grabbing your wrists and pulling your hands up. "I don't remember you getting permission to touch me."

You nodded and looked up into his dark eyes. "I'm sorry, Jake."

"Buena niña. I hope you are really sorry," Lockley nodded, giving your wrists a strong squeeze. "Now. Get that ass to that bedroom of yours."

You jumped off his lap and off the couch, grabbing him by his large palm and leading him upstairs with you. You opened the door and got inside first, clicking off your high heels. 

"Look at you. So eager," Jake laughed softly. "What has gotten into you?”

"Nothing. I just, uhm, I'm so glad you agreed to join me," you smiled at him. "Do you want something to change into?"

"No, sleeping naked will be enough for me," Jake unbuttoned his shirt and threw it to the side before climbing on the bed with you. The man towered over you. "Hola muñeca."

You blushed at his words - imagining his naked form right next to you in your bed made you shiver a tad. "Hi," you whispered, watching his naked chest. "You're so handsome..."

"Conozco esto muy bien y cariño, eres tan sexy deja hacer que te vengas," Jake leant down and pressed his lips to yours, grabbing the back of your neck to be sure you won't pull away.

You moaned into the kiss. The way he manhandled you made your heart beat faster and your blood turn ice. Being drunk was the fool's anesthetic. It always put the primitive self in charge when it was the worst captain of all, and you cursed yourself because you had two or three glasses of champagne too much. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you gave him a messy kiss back. It was probably the worst decision of them all to invite Lockley straight to your bed, yet you didn't care.

With a loud hum, he pulled away, licking his lips. "Look at you. So needy suddenly, I need to get you drunk more often." Your arms were easily untangled from around his neck as he began to move down your body, tease you through the material of your dress.

A sad whine escaped your lips at the lack of contact with his lips. "Jake..." You murmured, writhing a tiny bit beneath him. "Do you want me to take the dress off?"

Jake kneeled between your legs, thinking. He wouldn't mind fucking you in the dress, but ripping it in the process would be such a waste. "Go on. Be a good girl and take it off for me, Y/N."

You knelt as well, right in front of him only to get off the bed. With a gentle swing in your hips, you opened the zipper on the back, slipped the sleeves off your shoulders, and pushed the material down your legs, revealing the black-red set of underwear, stockings, and garters. Soon, the dress was kicked off your legs and you crawled back on the bed.

Jake was pleasantly surprised with what he saw, so maybe this job wasn't as terrible as he thought as long as you worked with him. "Look at you, Y/N. So pretty, but that's not enough. Underwear goes off as well."

You reached to your back, unclasping your bra took a brief moment, and it ended somewhere on the floor. Not being willing to get off the bed again you laid down on the mattress, raised your hips, and slipped your panties off.

"Not only pretty but also obedient. What a beautiful mix. I think I can say I am lucky tonight." Jake praised, towering over you again. "Tell me what my girl needs."

"I want you to get me wasted, Jake. I want ya to fuck me until I choke myself on moaning your name."

He returned to your stomach to place some more kisses on your skin before moving down. "First full of herself, now begging me to fuck her," Lockley mocked. "¡Es tan bonito!"

You looked at him, shivering slightly. "Jake..." Observing him descend on you made your heart race faster, and your breath became shallow.

Jake just hummed, waiting for you to continue whatever you wanted to say, but he never stopped moving until he got comfortable between your legs.

"You don't have to," you told him, propping yourself on your elbows, looking down at him.

"Are you trying to tell me what I can and cannot do?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

You shook your head quickly. "No, Jake, of course, I don't... Don't get angry."

Your legs were tightly clasped in his hand as he placed them on his shoulders. "Then don't make me angry, Y/N. I decide what I will do. Got it?"

At that point, you were shaking all over your body as you said, "Yes, Jake, I understand."

"Are you scared?”

"A little... it's been a long time since I shared my bed with a man."

Jake chuckled and shifted between your legs, wrapping his lips around your clit.

You laid comfortably on the bed, arching your back a little, gasping softly, sucking, and biting your lower lip. "Jake, oh my..."

"I ain't gonna play with you," he smiled and spat down on your pussy before his finger started teasing your entrance.

A moan rolled off your parted lips as you fisted the sheets, relaxing in his arms. "Jake!"

He teased you for a longer while, only to slip two of his thick fingers inside of you, groaning softly at your tightness.

You moaned his name loudly, feeling your eyes became watery as his fingers stretched you out. "Oh, Lord, Jake! So good, don't ya fucking stop."

While his thumb started to tease your clit, his fingers scissored inside of you.

You caught his hand, moaning. "Baby! Please, oh God, stop! I don't want to cum yet!"

"Since when you're the one making decisions, cariño?”

"Jake, please! Oh, God!" You screamed, arching your back more. "Please! I want to cum all over your dick, not fingers!"

"Who said you wouldn't? Do you think that one time will be the end of it?" He chuckled and replaced the thumb on your clit with his mouth.

"Oh my God!" You rolled your head back on the pillow again, slipping your hands into his locks. "Just like that!" You bucked your hips a little, trying to get as much friction as possible while he was eating you out.

Adding a third finger to your tight pussy, Jake continued to abuse your clit. He wasn't going to give up so easily.

With a loud cry, you cum all over his fingers, begging him to stop, panting loudly.

He hummed as he savored all the sweet juices you gave him. Then he pulled away, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. "Such a sweet mess."

"Let me repay," you begged. "I wanna suck your cock."

Jake shook his head as he got up from the bed to remove his pants. "Some other time, sweetheart. A few more minutes and I'll be fucking cum in pants like a fucking teenager."

Whining unhappily as you watched him getting undressed, you slipped your hand between your thighs to rub your slick folds. "Do I make you that hot?"

Jake sighed heavily as he looked at you, enraged. He reached for his pants and took out his leather belt. "I swear to fucking Khonshu, you will never learn to keep your hands where they belong, right?" Muttering this, he held your hands over your head and tied them together. "Brat."

You bit your lower lip, gasping. "I didn't do anything wrong, Jake!" You protested and a blush covered your cheeks. "I'm not a brat!"

As he joined you on the bed, he said, "You touched yourself without my permission so shut up."

You nodded eagerly, observing him, pressing your legs together.

Jake shook his head and grabbed your legs to wrap them around his waist. As he pushed his whole cock into you in one motion, he rested his hands on either side of your head. "Fuck," He growled. I love how tight you are."

You shut your eyes, cursing loudly as he stretched you painfully out. "Jake!" You wished you could wrap your arms around his neck, but it was impossible since he tied your hands up above your head.

"What? What is it?” He asked with a nasty smile, pushing his hips into you harder, torturing you even more.

"It's so fucking good, but I wish I could touch you," you whimpered slightly.

"I don't think you deserved that, cariño. You pissed me off a little when you tried to tell me what to do, and you touched yourself without my permission. Good girls don't act like this."

"I want to be a good girl," you moaned loudly, breathing hard as his cock was stretching your inner walls up.

"Do you really?” Jake questioned, rolling his hips into you a tad slower.

Rolling your head back, you could only scream his name, whining and moaning like a whore. "Yeah."

As he fucked you at a rough pace, he smiled and reached up to free your hands.

You cried his name on and on, looking him directly in the eyes, trying your finest to kiss all over his jaw while grasping onto his nape as Jake set a very rough pace. "I'll cum, love. I'll fucking cum!"

"Good. Bring it on, cariño. Cum all over my cock," Jake growled right into your ear. "I want you to milk my fucking cock with your sweet cum, cariño."

As your hands moved to his back, you pushed your nails into his skin, leaving red marks, while your legs tightened around his hips, trying to drive him deeper into you. When he called your name, you milked his dick with your juices, shaking all over your body. Your vision became blurry.

As Jake continued to fuck you hard, chasing his own release, he whimpered praises into your ear. He soon filled you up with his warm, thick cum with a loud growl escaping his lips. "Fuck."

You nuzzled his neck, moaning, stroking his nape slowly. "Jake... Oh, Jake, oh God."

"The next time, I think I need to get you some kind of gag. You whine so much that it gets annoying," Jake concluded, pulling away from you and taking the place by your side.

Looking at him sadly, you put your head to his chest. You knew he was mocking.

Jake wrapped his arm around you and hugged you tightly.

You kissed his cheek. This is what I need. Thank you. I promise not to be so whiny anymore. Cigarette?"

"La respuesta es afirmativa."

Despite your nakedness, you slipped out of his arms and left the room, returning with an ashtray and a pack of cigarettes, offering one to him.

Jake took a cigarette and sat up. "You're a good girl now."

As you sat next to him, you glanced at him slightly. "Can I do anything else for you?"

As he kissed your temple before focusing on his cigarette, he concluded, "That was enough."

You made heart eyes and laid your head on the pillow, gently stroking his tummy. "Jake?"

Lockley only hummed in response.

"Have you had many women before?" You asked shyly, making yourself comfortable on the bed.

He shrugged, letting out a cloud of smoke as he replied, "Most of them were random whores I picked up when I felt like fucking. Why? Don't worry, I am clean."

You whispered, "I'm sorry, that's not what I meant. You're just so skilled..."

Chuckling he nodded. "Muchas gracias. Glad you liked it."

When you finally got off your peak, you nuzzled your pillow, letting your breath get back to normal.

"You don't want to smoke?” Jake asked casually.

"Actually..." You smiled, sitting up.

"Here," Jake said as he offered you his cigarette.

Blinking, you took a drag and exhaled the smoke through your nose while returning the cigarette to him. "Strong ones."

He chuckled, "Not too strong for my little one?"

When you heard him use this particular word, your heart skipped a beat. You shook your head eagerly. Inhaling his scent, you moved a bit closer and rested your head on his shoulder. "No. Jake? Can you stay?"

Jake shrugged, taking another drag from his cigarette. "You mean tonight? I didn't even plan to leave the bed."

"I didn't mean tonight only..."

"Sorry, little one, but it's not my decision. The stupid bird drags me around. All I can promise is that I'll be coming back here as often as possible."

"Thank you," you replied, looking at him with heart-filled eyes.

"Probably because you drank too much, that's why you acted like a schoolgirl on a high. It had to be that, right?" Jake joked, stroking your hip with his calloused palm.

He put the cigarette out in the ashtray and turned to you to kiss the top of your head. "Time to rest. My little one needs her beauty sleep."

You smiled a tiny bit and put your head back on the pillow like the good girl you were. You tried to stay awake as long as it was possible, to adore his features just for a little longer, but in the end, you drift into the peaceful slumber. Jake soon laid down himself and pulled you close against his chest, hugging you tightly. "Buena noches, nena."

A Sense Of Lightness || Neteyam x fem!Omaticaya reader

Summary: After being accepted as a new Na’vi couple, you decide to mate with Neteyam before Eywa; the ache to be his lifetime partner has been burning inside of you for quite some time

Warnings: smut 🔥(first time)

Word count: 2970

Author: Rouge

A/N: Prior to reading, it’s important to know that: the reader is female Omaticaya ✤ characters are aged up (Neteyam is 20, reader is 19) ✤ a few things are in Na'vi language ✤ you'll find a glossary underneath the fic

The transition from childhood to adulthood is marked by customs and rituals in many cultures. A child who participates in a rite of passage has passed from childhood to adulthood. In this regard, the Na'vi were no exception. It has been said that every blessing and independence comes with a price. The blessings and independence of adulthood require emotional self-containment when faced with stress. The mature adult is able to contain and release stress in a safe and healthy way that protects vulnerable others. 

Neteyam, though, continued to feel unprepared - instead he felt like letting everyone down continually on a regular basis, even though his parents seemed to favor him over his siblings. 

The only person who really understood him seemed to be you. The two of you grew up side by side, becoming increasingly close over time. It was because of your persistence in walking to the Utral Aymokriyä that Neteyam realized you were considering something important.

During your conversation, you noticed that he seemed to be zoning out. It's possible that you've scared him; you weren't planning on doing this. As you sighed and gently tapped him on the shoulder, you tried to get his attention back. "Hey, did you hear what I just said?"

"Yes, I heard. You chose your profession. I'm glad you chose art. You have a lovely voice, and when you sing for us, everyone is mesmerized," Neteyam replied as he walked with you through the woodland.

A smug smile spread across your face as you teasingly whispered, "Even you, I hope."

The forest was the protective mother, a holy sanctuary away from curious glances of other tribe members.

Trying to grasp the idea he thought was floating through your mind occasionally, he asked, "So, why are we getting there?"

As you looked away, you took a moment to collect your thoughts before looking back at him. "You know..." You started softly, "Nga yawne lu oer, and I don't ever want to be apart. I want to be yours and yours only."

Holding your hand while walking, he squeezed your palm slightly and halted after he heard your confession. "Y/N... Are you sure about that?"

Your gentle nod was accompanied by a low whisper of ‘yes’ as you looked into his eyes.

Neteyam dreamed of sharing this moment with you because you were his beloved one, but he was scared about taking such a step at the same time -he was inexperienced and unconfident on this particular field. Neteyam had overheard older boys talking about these matters, and he was concerned - all he wanted to do in the end was provide you with the best experience possible. His hand squeezed your palm harder and he smiled softly, telling you, "You know how much I love you. I promised you once that no matter what, we'll be together, forever. If you truly choose to spend your lifetime by my side, my deepest gratitude goes out to Eywa for setting you on my path and blessing me with the gentleness of your heart and soul.”

A little gasp escaped you as you stared at him with your best doe-eyes. "Oh, Neteyam! It surprises me that you can be so open about your feelings, since you've always seemed somewhat secretive…”

"You know, yawntutsyìp, normally I show things that need to be shown, but those which are more private sit here," he touched his temple. "And here," Neteyam moved his palm and touched his heart. “I can only be myself by your side, only by your side can I reveal who I really am, and only by your side I don't have to hide my true feelings, and I will never cease to be grateful for that freedom you constantly provide me with.”

The bonds of love were stretched by all the things he said, and as your eyes fixed on his, you only let a single tear flow down your cheek. This moment brought you to realize that you loved Neteyam not only for his outer shell, but also for who he was - a friend, a partner in crime, a shoulder to lean on, and hopefully your mate, soon.

It wasn't long before you reached the Tree of Voices - an important spiritual site of the Omaticaya clan. Through neural queue contact with the tree, you could hear the voices of your ancestors, so it was named after its extraordinary feature.

As Neteyam sat on the grass, its bioluminescence, glowing in purple and bluish hues, responded immediately to his touch.

You soon did the same, at first just nuzzling your face against his chest while remaining silent, listening to his heartbeat, losing yourself in the sweetness of the moment. Soon, you spoke. “Although I am not an expert on these matters, I am aware of the pain it can cause. I am not trying to impugn your honor, Neteyam, nor am I trying to presume you are a monster, but until I know more, I cannot suppose myself secure."

"It is frightening, as is everything we don't know," Neteyam remarked as he traced the grass tufts with his thumb, his fingers were never quite touching the flesh of your leg, which was intertwined with his as you sat next to him. "It's going to be quite different from anything we've ever done before. I have been worried about it for a long time. I am concerned about hurting you."

It was becoming chilly as the eclipse approached, so you rolled a little in his arms and crossed your own over your chest. "I trust you so much, Neteyam. I'm afraid of pain, yes, but I know there's more."

Shivering, you felt the cold air on your skin. "Pxìm, when we kiss, our bodies move without us thinking about it. It feels terrifyingly pleasant, but I'm terrified," you said with a shiver. I'm afraid of losing control of my body, that tiny niche of control that I've carved out for myself despite everything." For several moments, he was silent, long enough for you to consider whether you should have spoken that way. 

Neteyam suggested, "Let's explore each other tonight. Each moment we agree to, and each moment we can ask to quash it all." In this way, we won't cross the boundaries we don't want to cross."

There was an intoxicating sensation in your heart - his idea of sharing joy, of discovering, enticed you. If this intercourse was indeed a means to growing closer to each other, you desired it. You gripped his hand tightly and said, "All right, I accept this idea. I wish to explore with you. However, both of us must be in control here and I urge you to ask me before performing any experimentation."

A lusty sparkle ignited in Neteyam's eyes as he moved so close you could feel his breath on your cheek as he spoke just one word - ‘undress’.

In a slightly shy manner, you kneeled next to him, eyeing him attentively. First, you took off the brown fabric covering your breasts and crossed your arms instinctively to cover your flesh. Neteyam gently shook his head ‘no’, and you, regaining your composure, slowly let your hands move down your chest, exposing your privates to his hungry eyes.

When his strong arms wrapped around your almost naked body, you gasped. His hands conformably encircled you, pinning your body to the ground. Neteyam traced circles from your shaking shoulder to your skinny waist, sending goosebumps erupting all over your skin. You could feel his breath pooling on your neck, his fingers abruptly stopping at your hip. As his hands continued down your thigh, a low mewl escaped your lips. The firm grip on your hip, the trace of your knee, the hard thumbs pressed into your flesh - each left you shaking. This reminded you of the passionate kisses you had when you lost yourselves in the divine passion of each other. Your head lifted as you caught Neteyam's lips against yours. You felt blood rushing through your body as skin touched skin. Although the kiss was blissful, there was something searching about the way his tongue brushed against yours. 

Getting confident, Neteyam tugged gently on the strings that kept the cloth covering your lower parts, looking you directly in the eyes.

A silent 'yes' accompanied your nod. As you watched him caress your body inch by inch as he kissed down your chest, the sparkles in your eyes grew brighter. As much as the idea of having Neteyam's hand where you were so vulnerable concerned you, once you started fantasizing about it, you couldn't stop - it wouldn't be anything you hadn't done before though, especially while imagining things the oldest of the Sully brothers would have done to you… You were surprised when he first touched your exposed collarbone rather than between your legs. The kisses retraced the trails left by his hands as they moved from your shoulders and down your sides. The moment his lips touched your legs, you felt a wildfire in your core that demanded to be quenched. As his weight settled over you, his lips layered yours, and then heavy hands slipped beneath the piece of fabric, nestling into the warmth waiting there, then sliding into the awaiting wetness briefly. He gently untied the strings of the cloth, taking it off of you and placing it beside you. Then, his lips locked on your aching mound. Your mouth dropped open - the feeling overwhelmed you, and you seemed as if his hands were carrying you upwards, towards some uncharted destination. “Oh, Neteyam,” you sighed slightly, rolling your head backwards a little, nesting it on a soft grass tuft. “It feels so divine…” The sensation of his softness on your slick folds made you shiver - the feeling was strange, and shameful, because you found yourself wanting more. The repeated pressure at your opening soon transformed from an alien feeling into an inviting one. You groaned into the grass, then moaned loudly, as your pussy lips spread apart, his attention deepening as his index finger gently touched your clitoris.

As Neteyam raised his head, he disengaged his lips from your vulnerable spot, gently running the tip of his tongue along them. "It feels good, doesn't it?"

“Yes,” you whispered, barely moving your lips while looking him in the eyes.

With no unnecessary words, he continued eating you out, exploring your private parts with both his tongue and fingers. In just a moment, he slipped a digit gently into your pussy. His tongue flattened, pressing to your clitoris as his finger moved slowly in and out of you.

Moaning was the only logical reaction, and so you did, becoming a little, moaning mess, begging Neteyam for more.

Neteyam discovered with amusement that your pussy soon became incredibly tight, and your inner, soft walls began clenching rhythmically around Neteyam's finger, milking it with your warm wetness. When the overwhelming pleasure became unbearable, you instinctively slipped your fingers into his hair, gently tugging on his braid as a loud whimper rolled over your parted lips. You rolled to the side, panting - you didn't react as Neteyam came to lie beside you, the limbs tossed in a tumble of warm skin; it was a scene you couldn't have ever imagined.

Taking your time to enjoy so craved closeness, the two of you snuggled together, caressing each other solemnly.

"I guess it's my turn to pay the favor back," you whispered teasingly as you kissed Neteyam's lips passionately while his cloth was being taken off.

Neteyam did not flinch when you rolled to him, just blushed a little - he did not complain when you began your investigation - a truly scientific look at a part of man you had never encountered before. Neteyam's penis was long and curved, too turgid to bend, and his scrotum was soft to hold in your hands; his testicles shifted slowly as your fingers gently caressed them.

Straddling his legs, you felt the muscled calves support your ass. "Have your penis experienced pleasure while your mouth was inside me?" You asked curiously.

He grinned at you and replied, "Your pushes against my head were so vigorous that my shaft thrusted the grass, growing larger, so the answer is yes.”

Seeing Neteyam lying still beneath you, you ran the tip of your tongue across your lips and smiled widely, showing off your teeth. It dawned on you that you no longer felt ashamed of your nakedness.

Daintily, your neat fingers brushed up against his shaft.

A deep sigh was emitted from Neteyam, his eyes becoming large as he jerked a little.

"I see you appreciate such contact," you teased, feeling your embers rekindle. When you encircled his shaft in your smooth palm, he began swearing out loud. 

Feeling him twitch and squirm beneath you, totally subordinate to your whimsy was intoxicating.

A cat's grin spread across your face as Neteyam groaned in response to your touch.

Several minutes passed before he spoke, "Feels so good... But quite sensitive. I need some moisture."

"I think we should do something about that." As you licked your lower lip and nestled yourself between his legs, you lowered your head; initially, accommodating his shaft in your mouth seemed difficult, but once you relaxed your throat and muscles in general, it became easier.

A fistful of your hair was seized by Neteyam, who cursed out loud, "Fuck."

As you slowly bobbled your head, you kept in mind that you had to also work your tongue - girls had said that this way men were losing their senses completely.

While massaging your scalp with his long fingers, he managed to whimper quietly, "The pleasure is unbearable."

After quickening your attempts to please your beloved boyfriend, he began leaking precum; the salty taste was left on your tongue, but you loved it.

His cock fell out of your mouth with a loud pop, and you moved a little to kiss his lips while stroking his shaft and circling his leaking tip with your thumb. “Did you like fìkem?”

A hand was placed on your cheek by Neteyam as he nodded eagerly. "I loved every moment you gave to me, oeyä yawntu."

A mischievous grin danced across your lips as you decided to try something much more intimidating. His cock was grabbed and jerked several times before being rubbed against your pussy. From bottom to top, Neteyam's cock brushed against the wetness under your labia. You couldn't resist shifting further up his legs, which caused Neteyam's cock to pass your second lips. The experience was strange, it was too much, but it was all you craved for so long.

Suddenly, your grinding turned from exploratory to utterly necessary - your strokes collided your sexes and white-hot explosions in the back of your skull made you moan loudly. 

When Neteyam's cock collided with your needing wetness, he instinctively grabbed your tail, caressing its tip, cursing both in Na’vi and English.

"Do you want..." You whispered, slowly grinding against his penis, looking him in the eye. It was hard for you to fully express your desires. "My confidence has never been stronger than now, Neteyam. I need you to be mine fully.”

Neteyam nodded, still playing with your tail, which was wriggling vigorously from the emotions you were experiencing. "I've been dreaming about it, Y/N."

Taking hold of your braid, you swung it over your shoulder, waiting for his reaction.

In a few seconds, Neteyam took his braid into his palm, and soon your neural queues were connected.

The unbearable pleasure now became more intense and welcoming as the warm feeling filled you from within; you felt as if you were drowning in it; your pupils widened rapidly. “Dear Eywa! Neteyam!” 

Upon connecting your queues, Neteyam grabbed his shaft and stroked it briefly before slowly pushing himself into your wet core, causing you to roll your head back in a rapture.

Neteyam's hips were bucking up, and his cock was spreading your insides painfully; his hands were placed on your hips, guiding you back and forth, encouraging you to move faster.

Initially bucking your hips slowly, you allowed yourself time to fully accommodate his member; the curve of his penis filled your pussy to the brim, leaving you panting as your hands stroked his bare chest. "Oeyä Neteyam."

His cock was coated with your slick wetness, which made it more sensitive. In a husky voice, Neteyam warned, "I won't last much longer, baby.”

Nothing could stop you from riding your orgasm against his cock as the pleasure shot through your body. “Neteyam!”

The tightening of his grip on your hips was accompanied by sloppily moving hips as he chased his peak. As soon as your name rolled off his lips, he delved his cock deeply into your pussy, cumming within you, milking your inner walls with his seeds.

As you continued to buck your hips several times, you moved your hand down your body to caress the place you were still connected. “I love you, Neteyam. Once and for all.”

As you got off him, Neteyam whistled, nestling you in his arms immediately. "Irayo for taking me to Eywa."

You kissed his nose lovingly and claimed, "I think we didn't do that badly for our first time."

Having agreed with you, Neteyam chuckled softly, "Yeah, we did a really good job. We're an excellent team, aren't we?" While his fingertips brushed against your sweaty skin, his strong arms held you close to his chest.

Instead of replying, you placed your head on his chest and closed your eyes, listening to his mighty heartbeat. There was a sense of lightness - you attributed some of that to your first orgasms, but you knew your joy reached deeper than that.

Glossary:

oeyä yawntu - my beloved

oeyä - my

Utral Aymokriyä - Tree of Voices

yawntutsyìp - darling

nga yawne lu oer - I love you

irayo - thank you

pxìm - often

fìkem - this (action)

Lake Natron. Ewaso Ngiro delta.

I blogged about our experience with @onetouchlive in this place. It was just a one nighter but oh boy, the stories. The best thing is that the blog post got picked by Getaway magazine. A travel magazine in South Africa. So I guess you can now say I’m a travel writer. Woop. Woop.

#OnetouchLive #OnetouchLive_Natron

Everyone's Watching Him (But He's Looking At Her) (4)

Actor!Bucky Barnes × Assistant!Fem!Reader

< < PART 3 | Series Masterlist

Summary: Bucky begrudgingly undertakes his press tour and PR relationship with Sharon as you question if you can continue your job whilst watching him fall in love with someone else.

Warnings: shy & insecure reader, angst, idiots in love, miscommunication, soft fluff and an extremely happy ending 👀

Word count: 4.0k

A/N: photo credit by @bwsebastianstan, dividers by @vase-of-lilies

Main Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

You can’t even look at him.

That’s what destroys Bucky the most.

The past week he’s been completely deprived of the soothing comfort he feels when your eyes meet his in a crowded room.

You’re seemingly so disgusted that he would stoop so low as to fake an entire relationship to promote some stupid movie that you can’t even look at him.

Between all the cameramen, producers, make up artists and rotating allotment of interviewers, whose eyes are all focussed on him, you’re the only person in the room who isn’t gazing in his direction, when your attention is the only one he cares about.

Each time he looks up, eyes instinctively searching for you, it feels like a dagger twisting in his heart to find you’re still acting as if he’s not there. Bucky’s found himself perpetually stuck in your blind spot, and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt as alone and desperate for someone to notice him whilst simultaneously being the centre of attention, in all his life.

No one’s interested in the movie, the intricate plot, the dynamic between the characters or even the difficult stunts he performed himself, all anyones asking questions about is Bucky and Sharon’s supposed relationship and the manner in which they got together after months of filming.

He can’t blame Sharon for playing the part perfectly, like the extraordinary actress she is, this is her chance to create a name for herself in this ruthless business and she’s pulling out all stops to make it count.

But Bucky hates it.

This is not why he became an actor and it would mortify his younger self to think this is all his career boils down to.

“And cut!” Someone yells and all of a sudden the room bursts to life again. He’s barely focussed on the questions being thrown at him, opting to let Sharon take most of them because it feels less dishonest that way. The fewer words he says, the less lies come out of his mouth and it makes him feel ever so slightly less guilty lying to the entire world.

Sharon squeezes his hand to grab his attention and gives him a look which screams ‘try harder’, but because they’re surrounded by a hoard of people she can’t actually say it aloud.

Maria’s on the phone beside one of the cameramen, and even through all the bustling noise, he can hear the distinct sound of her making arrangements for ‘the happy couple’. Dread settles in his stomach which sinks beneath the floor like an anvil.

To top it all off, he looks beyond where Maria is standing to find you busy discussing something which much be exceedingly important with some other crew members. Normally you’d be watching on with a reassuring smile, and when his gaze would meet yours, everyone else would melt away and it would seem like you were the only two people in the whole world. But he can’t exactly blame you for doing your job.

Bucky suddenly feels extremely claustrophobic, caged in by the bright lights, cameras and people working in the limited space provided by the set. It’s like his body is viscerally holding in his last breath until you turn around and look at him, and he’s suffocating waiting for something he intrinsically knows won’t happen.

He stands up, waving off the make-up artists who are rushing over from their station to ensure Sharon and himself look perfect for the next interview.

“I’ll be back in a minute.” He mumbles, not waiting for permission he knows he wouldn’t receive before trudging away to his dressing room.

Bucky relishes the moment alone, away from the mayhem, having the space to take a breath and calm the swarming anxiety in his chest. It’s not as effective as the comfort you provide whenever you are in his presence, but he knows it’ll have to do for now.

At that moment Becks’ name flashes on his phone and guilt pangs in his stomach that he’s forgotten about until now. He’s been ignoring her calls all week - his excuse is that he’s been insanely busy since the premiere, but he knows the real reason is because she’ll be disappointed he hasn’t told you what she could so plainly read on his features when the three of you were in the same room.

He hits ignore once again with the internal promise that once he summons enough courage to disclose his feelings for you, he’ll return her call. Ringing with either fantastic news, or in need of consoling a broken heart.

“Bucky?” He hears your voice call his name and he immediately turns around to the source, heart skipping a beat seeing your eyes land on him for what feels like the first time since under the dim light outside the premiere venue a week ago. He takes a couple seconds to commit your features to memory, knowing burning the image in the back of his mind will help him gather the strength he needs to return to the monotonous stream of interviews.

“Yes?” Bucky enquires to break the silence, something that even now, when he’s positive you’re avoiding him because you’re opposed to his promotional methods, has never been awkward between the two of you.

“They need you back out there.” Before he can even so much as thank you for the instruction, you’ve closed the door and he’s all alone again.

He can barely function only seeing glimpses of you. There’s a certain quality about you that no matter how tired he is of answering questions and interacting with people, he’s never too fatigued to be around you. Time spent with you allows him to recharge, and without that it feels like he’s running on empty.

Bucky takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and picturing how he felt the night after the infamous Alexander Pierce interview when you stayed up with him until the early hours of the morning, laughing at old movies and throwing popcorn in each others mouths, before he carried you to bed and seriously considered climbing in next to you.

Those are the memories with you he cherishes, even more so now that you’re giving him the cold shoulder, and is what will keep him going for the rest of the day. Probably even the rest of his life.

And with that happy thought, he’s ready to take on the next interview.

* * *

You feel your heart sink below your stomach for what feels like the thousandth time this week.

Each interviewer is asking the same damn question, ‘how did the two of you get together?’, which of course prompts Sharon to deliver the same damn response each time. You could recite her answer word for word at this point, but it doesn’t make hearing it yet again any less painful.

It’s a recurring nightmare you’re unable to wake from.

You do your best to keep busy, which isn’t all that difficult when there’s a million different interviewers rotating through who you need to provide copies of Bucky’s ‘no go’ list in an attempt to prevent a repeat of what happened on Alexander Pierce’s late night show.

But Bucky and Sharon are the eye of the storm, everything revolves around them, so it’s impossible to avoid their relationship altogether, nor the hollow, sinking feeling settling in the pit of your stomach when you catch a glance of them lovingly smiling at each other.

With each rotation of interviewers your resilience dwindles further. It’s only been a week, but you’re just about ready to break. The doting glances, the constant stroking of his arm, the intertwined fingers, adoring hand kisses, are each an additional stab to the heart which brings you closer to your demise.

You really would think of them to be such a cute and affectionate couple if one half of the pair wasn’t the beginning and end of your whole world.

You want to go home and cry your eyes out until the headache you get from being dehydrated is worse than the ache in your chest from your breaking heart.

As someone yells ‘cut’, the room coming to life with a frenzy, you do your best to fight the urge to look at the main stage where Bucky is currently sitting. All your instincts tell you to sneak a glance, but you know deep down seeing them together will bring about a heartache you’re sure you’ll never recover from.

So as arduous as it is to avoid staring at the same eyes that bring you a never ending supply of comfort and reassurance, and that seem to soften each and every time they notice you, without fail, you choose not to. Because at this point, the fear of more agony outweighs the morsel of solace you might find.

Why are you subjecting yourself to this?

To him, you’re just an assistant. Someone to do the organisational tasks that he either doesn’t have time for or purely doesn’t want to. A job multiple people who aren’t life shatteringly in love with him are qualified for.

You’re positive there will not be a day that goes by in which you will not be in love with James Buchanan Barnes, but quitting as his assistant would allow you a small fragment of peace that constantly being around him and Sharon will never allow.

That even if he isn’t yours, you wouldn’t have to watch him be someone else’s.

Perhaps that’s the most tranquillity this cruel world can grant you now.

Are you really about to do this?

In your moment of reservation you make the mistake of looking over to Bucky, in hope that seeing the handsome face which never fails to give life to butterflies in your stomach, will remind you why you do this job, but what you see instead does the exact opposite.

Sharon leans over the minimal space between the two chairs and kisses him, lingering for a few agonising seconds before pulling away, all toothy smiles as they intertwine hands.

Your heart crumbles into irreparably small pieces and you have to force yourself to heave a shaky breath.

It is unfortunately not the first time you’ve seen the two share a kiss, but you determine to yourself it will be the last.

You’ve made your mind up. You can’t endure this any more. You’re done.

After the last interview tonight, you’ll hand in your resignation.

* * *

As you knock on the door and twist the handle in response to Bucky’s mumbled ‘come in’, you feel yourself approaching the bottom of the seemingly eternal abyss you’ve been falling into since learning that Bucky is dating Sharon.

When you feel the sensation while sleeping, you get the relief of waking up, but the past week has been a nonstop, agonising plunge.

Though you’re nervous about how he’ll react, and petrified that in a moment of weakness you’ll disclose romantic feelings you want to keep secret in order to justify your departure, you’re certain this is the right decision, and that provides you the drop of courage you need.

“Hi.” Even in just the single syllable you can tell he’s completely worn out, but there’s a hope and longing in his eyes at the recognition it’s you who’s entered his dressing room that even his exhaustion can’t quell.

He hasn’t even put up a defence to what you’re about to do, but even just by looking at him, at those damn steel blue eyes which shine bright enough to illuminate even your darkest days, you question if you can go through with it.

Bucky looks at you expectantly, knowing you must have come in for something. There’s a small part of you, despite what you’re about to do, that makes your stomach clench at the thought that even though you’ve been avoiding him the last week, he still smiles when he sees you.

“I’m handing in my two weeks.” You manage to say, but your voice is weak and lacking any kind of conviction. It sounds more like a question than a statement.

“What?” His smile turns into an expression of shock in the time it takes you to blink. He stands, knocking his chair backwards, but his eyes are wide and only focussed on you. “I don’t accept your resignation.”

“Well then it’s a good thing it’s technically Maria’s management company that employs me. I just came here as a professional courtesy.” You turn to leave, unable to look at the undeniable hurt in his eyes and on his features you’ve caused. That will be your legacy to him, your last action in his life will be wrought with the agony of abandoning him.

“Is that all I am to you? A formality?” His words make you pause. As much as you need to move on from your own heartache of watching him in a relationship with someone else, you can’t leave knowing he believes he means so little to you.

You turn back to look at him and it feels like you’ve been shot in the chest, seeing desperation and hopelessness brimming in his eyes. You’re the cause of that.

“Not even close, Bucky. You mean so much more to me, that’s the whole point.” You put all your effort into making your voice level and believable. You might be leaving him but the reasoning behind it is because you care too much about him, not too little. With time, you hope he can understand that.

“The whole point of what?”

“Why I’m quitting - do you really think I’d be leaving if you meant nothing to me?” There’s a flash of something in Bucky’s eyes that you can’t quite place, perhaps something of a revelation, but so much more profound.

“Then why are you leaving?” You can feel tears stinging the corners of your eyes. You are dangerously close to revealing deeper feelings you promised you’d keep to yourself, that you wouldn’t divulge to Bucky and put him in the awkward position of having to turn you down because he’s already in love with another woman.

The searing pain of vocalising your devotion, the inevitability of being rejected by him overcomes you and you find your heart won’t let the words of affection leave your lips.

You take a deep, steadying breath and find yourself staring at the floor merely because you don’t have the strength to look into his bewitching eyes.

“It doesn’t matter now.” Is what you say halfheartedly, though you do believe it. Surely it’s too late now to be of any consequence. He’s fallen for another woman, you’re just the expendable assistant, nothing can change that now.

“Yes it does! You matter to me, so why you’re choosing to leave my life matters to me.” Your heart aches. You might matter to him, but not in the way your heart needs. Not in the all consuming, life changing, inescapable way that plagues every second of his life as he does yours.

You can feel your heart beating in your throat as you respond to him.

“All I want is for you to be happy, Buck, and you’re happy with her. I’m not going to jeapordise that, but it doesn’t mean I need to torture myself by having a front row seat to your love story.”

“Doll, you are my happiness!” You try to ignore the way your stomach flips and heart clenches as a result of his words. He’s just trying to make you stay… he doesn’t truly mean that. But then he continues and your world comes to a complete standstill. “If you’re referring to Sharon and I, that’s all fake! I’m not dating her, I’ve never been interested in her like that, it’s all for PR.”

Your hands start shaking and knees feel weak as your mind works to process his words. This can’t be happening. It was all fake? But then your mind flashes back to the fondness in Bucky’s eyes as he looked at Sharon at the premiere, as well as the way your heart ruptured when Maria confirmed their relationship and you can’t give your heart permission to believe him.

“No… no, that’s not what Maria said.” You stammer, replaying her words in your mind as you had done continuously since that infamous night to ensure you hadn’t misinterpreted them.

“What did Maria say?” Bucky’s voice has an edge of irritation which is hard to miss.

“She said Sharon was your girlfriend, real girlfriend… that you’d started dating while filming together.” Maria had been sure, unwavering, almost clinically so. She left no room for doubt.

“I’m gonna kill her.” Bucky mutters, almost to himself. “Doll, none of it was real, purely written into the contracts for promoting the movie. I think Maria saw how I feel about you and for her own twisted reasons wanted to push us apart.” You have to remind yourself to breathe because every single cell in your body is so overwhelmingly focussed on Bucky’s words that even your vital functions have stopped.

“How you feel about me?” You repeat his words breathlessly, unable to process their true connotation for if you’re wrong, it would surely end your entire existence.

Bucky’s eyes stare into your soul in a way that they never have before. He looks resolute, but somehow simultaneously vulnerable. Though you’ve seen him at his lowest, the fragility he’s openly displaying makes you suspect that there was always one last wall he kept part of himself concealed behind, shielding himself from one last heartbreak he just couldn’t bare to endure.

You observe in his eyes he’s pulled that wall down, and it’s like you’re seeing him, all of him, for the first time. And you’ve never been more in love.

“I was gonna tell you last week, after the premiere, but then you left and…” He shakes his head as he gathers his thoughts. When he looks up his eyes are filled with intent and don’t leave your gaze as he steps closer. You allow him to grasp your hands in his, his thumbs swiping over the backs of your hands affectionately and it takes every ounce of strength in you not to melt into his warm, musky scented embrace. When Bucky speaks there’s a crack in his voice. “The thought of you leaving takes away all my air, I can’t fucking breathe thinking that in two weeks you’re going to walk out of my life and never look back. I need you. You are absolutely everything to me. You are in every moment of my life, regardless of if you’re actually present for it. It’s you I will always search for in a crowded room. Whose eyes I find solace in and whose smile gives my life purpose. I live to be the reason for that beautiful smile. You are who I want to tell every good piece of news to first. Whose hand I instinctively reach for when I need the reminder I’m not alone in this isolating spotlight. Every moment of my life revolves around you. You are the nucleus of my world that I cannot live without.”

“Bucky…” You feel like you’re about to collapse. Your mind is racing too fast for any coherent thoughts to form, but warmth and adoration fills your entire body like a sugar high.

“Doll, please, you are it for me. There is no one else, even if you do choose to leave. You are my definition of love. You will be the person who I compare everyone else to, and I can already tell you with absolute certainty that none of them will even come close. There will never be anyone else for me, because it always has been and always will be you.”

You feel like you’re floating on a cloud, euphoria flowing in your veins and a warmth blooming in your chest so fiercely it almost feels like an ache. Tears sting behind your eyes, but you compel yourself to not let them blur your vision. You want to remember the pure love and devotion in Bucky’s eyes, how he’s looking at you like you truly are the only one in the world for him. As if, when he looks at you, everything else becomes hazy and you’re the only thing he sees.

All those moments, all the shared tender glances and lingering touches, all the generously sweet words you hope implied more than a simple boss-assistant relationship, it wasn’t just your imagination wishing he reciprocated your feelings.

Bucky had felt it too.

It was all real. So earnestly real.

“Bucky…” You reach up and cup his cheek, wiping away a stray tear which gently trickles from the corner of his eye with your thumb. He leans into your touch, closing his eyes and savouring the care in your contact. His prosthetic hand, which is still holding yours, gives you an encouraging squeeze, and when he opens his eyes again, his gaze is overflowing with adoration. “You are my home. The only reason I was going to leave was because I didn’t want to watch you fall in love with someone else. Loving you comes as easy as breathing for me. There is no one else in the entire world that I will ever love in that way, only you.”

You don’t even have time to breathe, for when those words leave your lips Bucky decides he simply cannot wait a second longer before kissing you. Though, you’re not complaining, it’s an urge you’ve been supressing constantly since you started working for him.

This kiss starts fast and frantic, you’ve both waited entirely far too long to express your love that you’re eager to feel as much of each other as possible. Bucky’s hands roam around your back, pulling you flush with him as yours start by cupping his face, before tangling in the long strands of his hair.

But when the realisation hits you both that you don’t need rush, that in fact you’ve got the rest of your lives to explore and memorise the intricacies of each other, the kiss slows to a sensual make out, taking your time to enjoy each other and what you’ve been longing for since the moment you met.

“Bucky?” You mumble his name against his lips, but he doesn’t allow you to say more then a single word and take a quick breath before his lips have covered yours again. You’re not sure how long you’ve been kissing him, but he’s clearly not done with you yet.

“Mhmm.” He hums into your mouth, hands slipping below the hem of your shirt, gliding over the smooth, bare skin of your back, sending shivers down your spine. He touches you gently, like you’re a precious flower he doesn’t want to crush, but rather preserve and admire for years to come.

“Take me home.” He pulls back, and your lips already miss being connected to his. You’ll never get enough of him, even if you were to kiss him for the remainder of your days.

He looks at you with a fondness and amazement that makes you think he can’t quite believe you’re his, even though your heart has belonged to him for as long as you’ve known him.

You tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear so you can have an unobstructed view of how he’s looking at you, soaking up the confidence which inflates in your chest when he gazes at you as if you hang the moon and stars in the night sky.

“As you wish, my love.” Bucky affirms, the twinkle in his eye makes excitement surge in your stomach - the night is far from over. He kisses you once more, savouring the feeling and to tide you both over until you make it back to his place.

Bucky takes your hand and refuses to let go as he proudly walks with you by his side through the studio, not giving a damn who sees the two of you together.

If you’d like to see more of these two, make sure to let me know ♥️

Add yourself to the series/AU taglist to be notified of any additions to this AU

Everyone’s Watching Him (But He’s Looking At Her) [Actor!Bucky Barnes] Taglist: @sunnyjane4 @valhalla-kristin @learisa @crispysublimecupcake @iamfandomwasted @blackwidownat2814 @hailey-holt @rosepetalsinwinter @wifeofbarnes @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @vicmc624 @oliviagreen99 @gabshouse @raging-panda @priya212 @highlyintelligentblonde @buckyseddie @erynnnn @endless-summer-soldier @one-shot-plus-size @takeabreathdearh @its703pm @nefelibatansoul @theweekndhistorybook @albinotigerpython @goldenharrysworld @buckyslove1917 @supersanelyromantic @gothkitteh @ahrahrahraha @hopelessromantic423 @misshale21 @happeevacationday @farfromjustordinary @blackgirlbydna @mrsgweasley @readreblogfics @ashenc-blog @redbarn1995 @thewackywriter @missvelvetsstuff @broadwaybabe18 @buckys2lut @arny-montana @calirindo @justfic @crazyunsexycool @helpishouldstudy @alluringsirensworld @sarahyk27 @aya-daydreams @hotleaf-juice @kareish @yukio369 @hjzmwoodz @sabbbsstuff @vespercarmichael @fanfic-freak-cevans @marygoddessofmischief @cevansswhore

𝐌𝐮𝐥𝐞 || 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Summary: A betrayal causes both you and Joel to fight for your life.

Word Count: 5.1K!

CW: In order: Horror themes. Bodies. Gory imagery, fighting infected. Wearing Joel’s clothes. Fluffiest, softest, sappiest, most tooth rotting smut. Orgasm denial. Fingering. I have been a fan of the game for YEARS, given it is the first episode of TLOU TV I am basing most of Joel’s character off game Joel. Gif credit unknown.

Tease: “… You’re not wearin’ anythin’ under that, are you?” He whispers.

The static firework-like display of spores ejecting from the corpse slumped against the opposite wall had captured your attention despite the delicate situation you found yourself in. The tendrils of fungus creep up the walls, painting them with streaks of muted peaches and reds, not unlike human flesh. It bursts from the fruiting body as violently as a bomb going off. You suppose that’s what it is, a bomb detonating slowly, killing those that breathe in the cordyceps spores.

Your gas mask sits tight on your face, digging into the skin of your nose to effectively create an airtight seal to prevent the malignant disease from entering your lungs and turning you from the inside out. Even through the dirtied visor of your mask, you can see that the corpse has fused to the ground and wall it was once sat up against, calcifying to the brick and plaster. It’s reaching its final stages of the infection: complete takeover, encroaching upon any space it can find. You didn’t doubt that in 6 months it would fill the whole room.

Despite the crawling sensation that itches across your skin at the idea of fungus creeping from your body in the cover of darkness, you couldn’t deny the morbid beauty of the scene before you. It oddly reminds you of different breeds of coral, like the kind that clings to the Great Barrier Reef. There are tan-coloured, fan-like protrusions, long strands of crimson and tubal fungi that bust directly from the chest of the deceased. Silvery dust spores glisten under the beam of your flashlight, giving the abandoned house you had entered an almost glittery effect.

“Oi. C’mon.” Your smuggling partner's Texan typically cold baritone cuts through the uneasy hush in the room. “We stand in this shithole any longer and we’ll be ambushed.”

Peering up from the putrefied body, you find Joel Miller gazing back at you, jerking his head to the door in a silent order to urge you out of the rotten room. Stepping away from the body, you walk towards the exit.

“How much longer?” You ask, studying his weary expression. The two of you had been travelling for hours, on red alert for infected or human danger alike. Outside of the quarantine zone was a death trap, and Joel always insisted you both never get too comfortable. Always be cautious.

“Half an hour tops,” Joel rumbles, holding the door open as you step through. His hands smear it with blood as you walk by, the ghost of his fingerprints leaving ribbons of crimson against the surface.

The blood had belonged to a medicine dealer called Cain. Joel had been working for him, the two of you smuggling the precious supplies into the quarantine zones in return for ration cards and weapons. You and Joel must have made ten, hell, fifteen runs for this crooked fuck, only for Cain to send the two of you on a dodgy mission. You’d both been jumped by the middlemen who were meant to hand off the medicine- when under duress, they admitted to ‘just following orders’.

It hadn’t taken you both long to find Cain and took even less time to dispatch him. Joel had taken his time and, as always, you turned your back on the shrieks of agony as Joel delivered justice. Though he had been particularly brutal this time around, the crunching of bones and cartilage was loud enough to be heard over the dying screams.

Said cries of pain and the extended period of torture had drawn the attention of several Runners and Clickers. They’d overrun the smuggling tunnels somehow, obstructing your return to the quarantine zone and safety. It had been the fight of your life, and the two of you were damn near out of ammunition and energy to battle the waves of infected.

“You okay?” You croak, almost afraid to speak into the silence between the two of you as you stumble through the darkness, navigating using only the dying light of Joel’s torch. A small reprieve from the onslaught of runners.

“Yeah,” he grunts, his eyes drifting over in your direction. “Wanna get home. Think I hurt my ankle back there, fighting the clicker.” If it hurts enough to admit it, it must be bad. Yet Joel maintains a strong pace, refusing to allow the pain to slow him down. He was stubborn like that, the two of you always arguing about his thick-headed disposition.

You nod in silence, eyes on the floor and focusing on not tripping over loose bricks despite running this smuggling tunnel with Joel for years. It was probably so familiar that you could walk it blindfolded. The walls of this small passage had seen the slow and subtle changes in the dynamics of your relationship.

It had seen the beginnings of your partnership and witnessed you constantly vying for Joel’s approval to extend the coalition you had fought so hard to convince him for. The cracks in the walls had observed the slow-growing kinship between the two of you, jokes told and three-sentence conversations shared. The shards of glass swept into the corners of the floor had heard the difficulty you both had continuing those discussions after you had stupidly gotten drunk on this old whiskey Joel had found, kissing him in the early hours of the morning when he finally carried you to bed.

That was a few weeks ago, and he still hadn’t been able to maintain eye contact with you for more than a few seconds. Like a child unable to look into his mother's eyes when telling a lie.

Grabbing ahold of the cold handle of the metal door ahead of you, you force it down to open it. The door jams on the opposite side, not moving despite putting all of your weight behind it to the point the edges of the handgrip leave a rectangular imprint in your palm.

“Joel?” You call him, “Gonna need you to open this.”

“Yes Ma’am,” he responds, the same way he always has. He steps forward, the soles of his boots scuffing the floor as he approaches.

Joel shifts his shoulder against the flat of the door, hooking the handle downwards with his calloused, bloody palm and uses his strength to push against the blockage. The hinges of the door strain under the pressure, squealing in the silence as Joel grits his teeth.

He grunts loudly, heaving the door so the obstruction falls away from the entrance, clattering to the floor with a racket that ricochets off the wall. It echoes all the way down the corridor. You freeze, the deafening sound causing the hair on your forearms to stand on end.

The chill on your skin only intensifies with the blood-curdling groans that sound from the blackness.

“Fuck-“ you stammer, Joel’s hand quick to settle between your shoulder blades to push you forward through the open door. Adrenaline courses through you like a live wire, singeing your extremities and curdling your stomach as Joel forces his way through the door and pulls the pipe from his backpack.

Amongst the panic, you still manage to note that a metal storage unit that had once been set against the wall had been tipped on its side, forcing the door shut. Joel had used it just this morning to grab ammo before heading out for the medicine drop. Someone had forced it over- didn’t take a genius to figure out who.

“Gonna have to run,” Joel pushes you forward, causing your feet to stumble as you desperately grasp for your rudimentary shiv. It slices your fingers open as you grab for it in the darkness, terror pushing your body forward in a sprint. You can hear the thudding of Joel’s boots just behind you, and the screams and wails of the infected as you chase you down the tight corridors.

It feels as though seconds and hours pass simultaneously, your lungs burning as you suck in gasps of air through your gas mask. Your muscles are seizing, cramping up and your fingers sting with the cuts that you sustained from your blade. Over the all-encompassing sound of shrieking from the creatures and your sharp, shakey inhale, you can hear Joel urging you forwards. “Go Go Go! You got it darlin’ keep goi-“

It hits you like a runaway freight train at top speed. Thundering into you, a Clicker knocks you from your feet with an utterly horrifying scream. Pain shoots up your ribcage as you slam into the uneven floor, a discarded glass bottle shattering beneath your body and cutting into you. You’re scrabbling with the beast, its nails digging into your flesh as you stab blindly at its shoulder, your other palm on its sternum to hold it away from your throat while you scream for Joel.

“Joel, fuck!” You sob in fear, the clickers jaws gnashing at your exposed jugular, growling and snapping. In the pitch blackness, you can smell the damp, mouldy scent weeping from the fungus on its skin, the metallic, bloody twang of human meat on its tongue that wafts over your face as it heaves its breath onto you.

Your biceps scream under the strain of its weight as you feel the fungal growths on its face lightly brush at your throat as the creature goes in for the kill. Just as you feel its teeth skim your flesh, a sickening crunch sounds, and a hot splatter of viscous blood drenches your face as Joel removes the blade of the shiv he had plunged into its skull.

“Fuck, y’alright?” His gruff voice shouts over the din the approaching runners make from down the hall. He doesn’t really give you the chance to answer him, grabbing ahold of your hand and wrenching you out from underneath the limp body of the Clicker before pulling you along in a sprint.

You sob with relief as you both turn the corner to the exit. Joel wastes no time, running ahead to force the door open so it’s ready when you approach. It swings open so easily as if it senses your desperation, and you launch yourself into the safety of the building that serves as an entrance to the tunnel. Joel isn’t far behind, slamming the door shut on the hoard and bolting it shut with a thick wooden plank that you’d both been using as a stopper.

The room swims, the image of the door swirling in your vision as you lean your back against the wall, taking deep, heaving breaths in what both was an attempt to feed oxygen back to your lungs and also to alert your body to the fact you were alive.

You barely have a moment to thank God when Joel is on you in an instant.

“Good Christ,” he heaves his gas mask off his face, blood-soaked palms taking ahold of your chin as his deep, earthy irises flit over you, searching for damage with a panicked expression. You note it’s the longest he’s looked at you in weeks. “Sure you’re okay? Jesus fuck, I thought-“

He’s twisting your head from side to side, checking your throat for bites. The infected are pounding on the secured metal door, but the noise is drowned out, faded as you watch Joel tend to you. You like him this close, you can see the freckles under his eyes. You’re not sure whether it’s the adrenaline of survival or if there was a crack in your mask and the spores had driven you crazy, but you are almost certain that Andromeda lies somewhere within the constellation of the minute spots of melanin.

“Joel,” you whisper, breathless for a whole other reason than the fact you just fought for your life, “Joel, I’m okay.”

You watch your partner hesitate for a moment, checking over you one last time before setting his lips in a firm line, his panicked eyes growing protective in an instant. “Don’t fuckin’ scare me like that again. Y’hear?”

Cross-legged in Joel’s bathtub, hours after escaping the tunnels, you use rainwater and a sponge to scrub the Clicker blood from your skin. Even now, years after the outbreak, you found yourself silently pining to the walls in the bathroom for hot, running water. They were no genie, and never responded to your wishes, but your wordless complaints often made you feel better as you scrubbed cold water over your body.

The droplets are tinted maroon as they run down your legs, seeping down the drain beneath you as you meticulously work each disgusting patch of blood from your skin. Despite telling Joel that the Clicker hadn’t bitten you, it still came as a palpable relief to scrub away the grime and not see a single mark in the crescent shape of teeth anywhere.

You did, however, have some brutal cuts across your ribs from falling into the glass bottle in the tunnel. They’re like lightning slashes, open and sore as you run a fresh washcloth over the wounds. At the very least, they were superficial and didn’t need stitches. The last thing you needed was to be burdensome right now.

Stepping out of the bath, you wrap yourself in a towel, scrubbing at your face with your sore hands. At least the slices on your fingers from your blade had stopped weeping blood. You’re sore, and mildly damaged, but otherwise alive. Alive. The proof is in the reflection that stares back at you when you glance in the bathroom mirror. Though- you certainly look as though you had just stared death in the face.

You open the door of the bathroom slowly, tentatively stepping into Joel’s bedroom. He’s sitting on the bed, slowly easing his boot from his sore ankle with a hiss of complaint. It does look painful, swelling until the definition in the bone was encroached upon by inflammation, and you have no doubt it’s been throbbing with pain inside his boot the entire journey back home.

“I think you’ll need to take a break for a while,” you gently urge Joel from your place in the doorway, who nods simply in return. Yes, he was stubborn, sometimes downright pigheaded, but he would never be stupid enough to go outside hindered by an injury. There were more than enough ration cards to tide you both over until Joel was fit enough to do another run safely.

“You can- uh, grab some’a my clothes from my closet, if you need,” he rumbles, moving to untie the boot on his other foot and avoiding your gaze. “Don’t want you to have’ta put your clothes back on. They’re covered in clicker brains.”

“Thanks, Joel,” you whisper, despite the shiver of disgust that runs down your spine. Slowly padding your bare feet across his wooden floor, you approach his closet. All of the shirts and flannels he owns are thread-bare, soft to the touch from wear. You grasp at a grey and black flannel, dropping the towel to the floor as you pull the comfortable clothing over your head.

Joel is silent, his back turned to you as you dress. Perhaps it’s from years of knowing him, or it’s seeing how tight the muscles of his back are through the fabric of his shirt, but you know something is amiss. The discontent rolls off him in waves.

Wordlessly, you climb onto the mattress, approaching Joel from behind. He seems to tense up further, even if momentarily before his muscles ease again. You stay seated firmly behind him, just outside of his peripheral vision as you attempt to breach the topic of conversation in a way that the stubborn mule of a man won’t shut down.

“Is it the pain?” You ask delicately, voice soft as a feather as you watch him feel his swollen ankle with the tips of his fingers.

“No. No, it ain’t, I just-“ he exhales sharply, as though he’s urging the words from his mouth, expelling them from his lungs. “No I just really thought that I’d lost you for a minute there, ‘n’ I just…” He trails off, leaving the unspoken words to admit what he couldn’t.

That he couldn’t bear to lose you.

You nod slowly, despite knowing he can’t see you, as the realisation sets in. He cares about you more than he shows, more than he lets on.

Softly, you lay your palm against his back, between his shoulder blades. In the low light of the bedroom, Joel’s silver hairs gleam as he turns his head around to look at you. You feel his nerves before you see them, feel the shaky exhale he lets out against your hand.

“I’m still here,” you whisper to him, capturing his gaze as you attempt to bring him down from the fear that must have seized him. You drag your palm down his back slowly, and in turn, he leans his body towards you at an achingly slow pace. Your stomach is doing somersaults thanks to the way he gazes at you, watching the nervous trail of your tongue over your lower lip.

“I know,” he answers back, his gruff voice so much softer sounding in this fragile moment. He inches towards you, and you can see the fine creases in the edges of his eyes, the constellations of his freckles even in the limited lighting. “I know I just-… Wanna feel it.”

It’s almost as though there’s a static moment, fizzling in the air as the tip of his nose brushes yours. He parts his lips softly, ghosting them over your own in a touch CW that’s barely there but sets your blood ablaze. His breath, exhaled through his nose, tickles your red-hot cheeks and you grip onto his t-shirt until your knuckles turn white. You wait for the plunge, for the powder keg of your heart lodged between your ribs to burst with his kiss.

Cautiously, Joel touches his lips to yours in a kiss that sparks up your spine. His lips are slightly chapped, his moustache and beard scraping gently against your skin as you lean into the kiss, letting out a soft moan of relief.

Your fingertips are tingling as you brush them up Joel’s neck, cupping his face to hold him there. He’s so gentle with you, like he’s afraid you’ll turn to dust in his hands. Joel has lived the past 20 years surviving, trying so desperately to stay alive. You’re not sure what that meant for him- the horrid things he had to do- but in this moment he’s so delicate with you, his knuckles brushing across your jaw as if those same fingers hadn’t squeezed triggers for two decades.

Working your own fingers into his curls, you feel the vibrations of Joel’s moans against your lips. It isn’t overtly sexual, it’s as though it’s a sound of comfort- of appreciation for being shown some tenderness. He responds to your touches by tracing his tongue over your lower lip, deepening the kiss and pulling you closer.

“Joel,” you whisper against his open mouth. He’s panting softly, hands moving to your hips to hold you in place like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. “Joel, lay back.”

“… Yes Ma’am,” he murmurs, a hint of a smile spreading against your lips. You find yourself relieved he didn’t argue, finding this nerve-wracking enough. It’s as though the two of you are inexperienced teenagers, fumbling with each other and fighting the butterflies in your guts. As brutal as the world you both fought to survive in was, there’s an innocence settling between you, nervous laughs shared as Joel lays back slowly against the pillows.

He gazes back at you as the crown of his head settles, holding his breath as he awaits your next move. Swallowing thickly, you watch Joel’s hand slowly reach for your knee. He swirls his thumb in uneven circles over your patella, gently coaxing you out of your shell. “You good, darlin’?”

“Yeah,” You whisper breathlessly, the soft and innocent touch leaving tingles in its wake. “Yeah ‘m fine.”

Joel, the hardened bastard that he is, doesn’t give much away. However, you see the edge of his lips lilt upwards at your less-than-convincing answer sliding his palm up the bare skin of your thighs. His hands are warm, calloused from hauling ass across the country and slicing open Clicker throats to protect you.

Swallowing thickly, you loop your thigh over his hip to straddle his waist. He watches you, his dark lashes dipping low as he witnesses you seat yourself across his abdomen. As you sit, the leather of Joel’s belt bites into the soft skin of your flesh.

“… You’re not wearin’ anythin’ under that, are you?” He whispers. It’s less of a question than it is a statement, those dark, mahogany eyes gazing up at you with a knowing expression. It’s intimidating, and you find yourself unable to answer with anything other than a slow shake of your head.

Joel responds with a low chuckle, tutting slightly as he brushes his palms further up your legs. They disappear under the worn fabric of his flannel, settling against your hip bones as his fingertips brush the curve of your bare ass.

Ever the gentleman, Joel stills his movements there and awaits your next orders, his eyelids heavy. You let a shaky breath escape your lips despite trying so hard to appear cool and collected, and you can practically feel the amusement emanating from the man beneath you.

Taking control, you trace the hem of Joel’s shirt and ease your fingers beneath it. Again, he’s warm to the touch, a human bonfire. It reminds you of the same level of comfort, the heat of the flames licking the skin of your cheeks in the cold autumnal air and providing relief from the numbing chill.

You don’t rush this, dragging the shirt from his body achingly slowly. Scars litter Joel’s skin, silver against the melanin. Sometimes large, wide and brutal across his ribs, others small and circular, barely noticeable. You notice them. You love them all.

Joel lifts his arms for you to raise the fabric over his head, and you reward him by pressing gentle kisses to the exposed skin of his neck. He hums softly at the gentle touches of your lips, his fingertips squeezing into the soft flesh of your hips. You’re almost certain he can feel the way you’re smiling.

“Mhm, Darlin’” he grumbles softly, using his hold on you to slowly grind your hips down over the soft flesh of his stomach, angled perfectly. It causes you both to stutter to a halt, your own pause caused by the spark of arousal that blooms through your abdomen at the friction to your clit.

Joel slowly uses one of his hands to grab the back of his flannel that you wear, sitting you up. His irises are inky black as he looks up at you, startling you into submission. Stoic, he says nothing, but looks pointedly down at his stomach to divert your attention. Uncertain, you follow his gaze.

It’s utterly mortifying. Across the tanned, freckled skin of his stomach is a silvery-pink scar. Following the same direction, a wet steak of your slick traces where Joel had pushed your hips down onto him. Shock and humiliation flood you all at once.

“Oh my God, Jo-! I’m so sorry-,” you stammer quickly, but Joel is grabbing ahold of the collar of his flannel with both hands, using very little of his impressive strength to pop the buttons on the stupid thing. The buttons go flying, rattling as they roll across the wooden floor and banging as they ping off the wardrobe. He exposes your breasts to his eyes, drinking in the view like he does whenever he sees a beautiful sunset while smuggling across the state. He stops and stares and takes it all in, just like he does with you.

“Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry about,” he insists, not allowing you to feel embarrassed a moment longer as he uses his grip once again to push your hips against him. Perhaps it’s the shock of his unfiltered satisfaction, or the arousal he draws from you once again, but you don’t find yourself fighting with him. Instead, you lean your head back as he directs your body exactly where he wants it, pushing your cunt against him and drawing delicious swirls of pleasure throughout your abdomen.

“That’s it Darlin’. Just relax,” he murmurs, clearly pleased as you begin to match his movements by rolling your hips along with his touch. Your palms rest against his muscular pectorals, nails digging in whenever he catches your clit just right. Sometimes he hisses in pain, sometimes he groans in delight.

The muscles of your thighs clench against his waist as the walls of your cunt flutter around nothing. Your jaw is slack, your mouth falling open as you crease your brows together and feel the surge.

“Fuck,” you hear Joel curse, the gravel of his voice tipping you ever closer, “I can feel your pulse.” He sounds incredulous.

“D-Don’t-“ you gasp, teetering on the edge of an utterly devastating orgasm. Your eyes are squeezed shut, focusing on that feeling that barely holds the seams of your soul together when he shocks you completely, using his strength to lift your hips from him just as your release bubbles up.

A sound of utter anguish reaches your ears, and it takes a moment for the pulse of your heart in your ears to subside before you realise it came from you. Joel is chuckling, kissing your trembling hands in an uncharacteristically soft move. Though- you suppose all of this is out of character.

“Nuh-uh,” Joel chastises you gently, in an almost mocking tone. He’s enjoying seeing you fall to pieces for him, even if it is just because you look so pretty over him. “I want you to look at me. Want to see it in your eyes when you cum.”

“Joel,” you wail, in utter disbelief as he shakes his head at your complaint. He’s not listening. Instead, he draws tight circles on the inside of your thigh. His touch is wet, your slick drenching the inside of your legs and showing how desperate you are if your impassioned whining wasn’t enough to convince him of your need to come undone.

“Listen here, Darlin,” he orders in that same tone he uses when on supply runs, the kind that makes you warm and fuzzy, “I ain’t gonna ask you to do nothin’ for me. Want you to feel good. The least you can give me is that pretty face.”

You swallow again, like you’re parched and only he can quench your desperation. Silently, in bitter defeat, you resign to a nod.

“Yeah?” He urges, wanting to hear you say it.

“Yeah,” you choke out.

“Good girl.”

Again, you moan out like you’re in pain, Joel rewarding your vulnerability by slowly slipping two fingers into your drenched cunt. You’re so worked up, so slick he doesn’t need to open you up. Your cunt takes the intrusion of his digits greedily, and your thighs begin to shake at the intense relief it grants you.

Agonisingly slowly, Joel eases his fingers out of you before plunging them back in. He doesn’t need to go fast, the drawn-out drags of his fingertips against the walls of your cunt enough to work up your arousal, but you know that he’s setting this pace to watch the micro-expressions on your face.

Your brows pinch together, and your lips form subtle shapes that indicate his technique is working. He’s watching your pupils dilate, your nostrils flare as you inhale sharply when he touches that spot inside you that makes your vision go fuzzy.

“Joel,” you wheeze, the dexterity of his fingers driving you very quickly to the precipice of something soul-shattering. The pads of his finger focus on that spot that makes your body tremble, and you’re sobbing above him, tears streaking your face. “Oh God, Joel, I can’t last-“

“It’s okay,” he urges you, so calm that he almost appears lazy as he curls his fingers inside you. “You know what to do.”

The bastard hurls you over the edge of the cliff he’s built for you, pushing the pad of his thumb against your clit. The most intense burst of pleasure explodes beneath your skin, streaming through your blood vessels as your body crumbles inwards. You’re not sure if he’s even circling your clit, if he’s moving his fingers because it’s so visceral that you can’t see, can’t hear, don’t experience anything other than the liquid heat that drips through you.

When you come to, Joel is humming softly, stroking his palm over the back of your head and easing you down from the clouds he sent you to with a gentle touch. You’re lying across his chest, his arms seemingly having pulled you against him during your blinding relief. You’re sticky with sweat, as though you’re coated in honey.

Joel smells like the apocalypse. Like earth and mud that has been wet with rain. The sharp smell of gunpowder clings to his skin, having coated the shirt he wore only minutes before. There’s the musk of his sweat, the tang that sticks to his skin despite the rain that you had walked home in after leaving the tunnels. It had washed away the smell of the blood and the grime but left every part of Joel.

“Oh fuck,” you choke out, and Joel can’t help but chuckle at the way you sound so fucked out. He presses a gentle kiss to your temple as he soothes your aching muscles from their contractions.

The rise and fall of his chest ease you down from your heightened state of shock, and your partner slowly peels the destroyed flannel from your skin. The thin bed sheets float across your body to give you some privacy, Joel wanting you to feel comfortable and respected despite him utterly destroying you literally moments before.

“That good, mhmm?” It’s said with Joel’s typically flat intonation, but you know he’s amused.

“Shut up Joel,” you whisper, still breathless. God, had he just stolen the air from your lungs? It’s as though every functioning part of your body has stalled, taken up entirely with bliss.

“Hell, you’re stubborn,” he mumbles, and it’s like he puts a spark up your ass, body jolting into action.

“Excuse me?! I’m stubborn-?!”

END

🏷️ Taglist: @hoeneey @howaboutcastiel @welcometostayingawake @syrma-sensei @ethanhoewke @polaroidpetal @foxilayde @bookfrog242 @wh0reforbucknasty @zakizigekwe @ahookedheroespureheart @buckys-other-punk @anxious-sappho @alexloveskili @captainrexstan @astroboots @knights-power @southcrnbelle @niallsbunny @ofmortems @hold-our-destiny @xcatnapsx @vermillionwinter @stormkobra-5 @erenbissexual @alwritey-aphrodite @maggotzombie @deadpige0n @bakerstreethound @whatthehekko @moonnaught @cottagebunny9 @bit-dodgy-innit @peachyproserpina