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#but she falls out of a tree and lies there
gretavanlace · 1 day
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Feels Like Gold
Jake Kiszka x reader
18+ only! Minors do not interact!
Warnings: graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, language, dirty talk, breeding kink, Jake drives a car (the most dangerous situation of all), extremely mild degradation, etc
Okay, in honor of our collective jakedown, I rooted around in my unreleased work and then did a little revamping. This one is for you, @piratejakesgf thank you for your request ❤️ *loosely edited, fair warning
And kisses to @jake-kiszkas-smirk and her brilliant mind for titling this when I was at a loss 💋 xoxo
“Fuck, these are so uncomfortable!” you hiss with exasperation, tugging at the itchy nylon hell encasing your legs.
“Told you not to wear them.” Jake reminds you, flipping on his turn signal before switching lanes, though the freeway is dark and nearly deserted.
“You know how my family is.” you remind him right back, annoyed with his flippant attitude. “If I’d shown up to that wedding in a dress with bare legs I’d have been labeled the whore of the family tree. My branch weighed down with bad choices; exposed skin and a degenerate rockstar on my arm.”
“I mean, to their credit, I actually am a degenerate so they’re just calling ‘em like they see ‘em.” His eyes are locked on the road, but a tiny smirk tells you he’s pleased with his cleverness. “Plus, your aunt tried to fuck me, so you aren’t the only whore in the family.”
An abrupt laugh trills out of you. “Right. Which aunt?”
“Does it matter?” he shrugs. “She told me she slept with Joe Perry and it left her with a taste for guitarists…I told her Perry could suck my dick because I could stomp his riffs any day, but that only turned her on even more.”
“And then what happened?” you giggle, falling into his little pretend world.
“Well,” he sighs wearily, “Promise you won’t be angry with me?”
You’re solemn and stoic, as if this is very serious business, “Scouts honor.”
“Then, I excused myself and wound up fucking your uncle in the bathroom, instead.” he squints at an upcoming exit sign to be sure you’re headed in the right direction, and then settles back into a more relaxed state, wrist guiding the steering wheel casually.
“Was he any good?” you ask, mock sincerity laced through your tone.
“I’ve had better.” He shrugs.
“You’re so stupid.” you shake your head with a doting roll of your eyes, and reach under your dress to roll the torturous hose down and off.
He watches out of the corner of his eye, stealing glances as safely as he can while driving.
“Jesus, they were thigh highs all this time?” he sounds a little like he’s considering jerking the car over onto the shoulder of the highway to drag you into the backseat.
“All this time.” the garment in question lands in his lap.
“Lemme see.” he orders quietly before you have a chance to remove the second.
Up the hem of your dress travels until he can get a good look at the black lace resting at the top of your thigh. “Fuck, pretty girl.”
“You like that?” you tease in a silken voice.
He nods, tightening his grip on the wheel.
You push a little further with, “Are you hard?”
“I’m gonna kick you out of this car and make you walk home.” he lies, reaching out to snap the elastic lace against your skin. “Take this one off, too…it’s doing unspeakable things to me. Especially since you’re only wearing the one. You look sloppy - like I just rocked your shit in the back of a tour bus.”
“Jacob Thomas..” you gasp lightly, as though scandalized “Someone seems a little worked up.”
“I might be, if only I didn’t have such a firm grasp on the power of will, my darling.”
He’s being untruthful, but he does it so elegantly - in that soft, slightly British lilt of his, you decide to grant him a very gracious pass and drop the second into his lap.
“You don’t look so bad yourself, Kiszka.” You wiggle your polished toes, enjoying the freedom. “My baby cousin, the one you let dance on your feet? She asked me if you were a pirate.”
This tugs an honest laugh out of his chest…a gorgeous sound that colors your cheeks pink. “You told her yes, I expect?”
You hum in confirmation, “I did. And I told her that you have a special sword with strings on it and it makes beautiful, dark music that people come from far away lands to hear. Just like the sirens in Peter Pan.”
His face visibly softens in the flickers of light shed by the street lamps whipping by. “You always did know how to paint a lovely picture, pretty girl.”
The low purr of the engine lulls your head against the window, but just as your eyes begin to grow heavy, he pulls you back to him with a quiet, “Hey,”
Turning your head against the seat, you study his profile, charting the map of your favorite face, “Yeah?”
”Whose baby was that you were holding? The tiny, tiny one,”
It seems such an odd thing for him to ponder, and you have to mentally sift through the reception a bit, you held a great many babies tonight…it seemed like every cousin and second cousin in attendance was weighed down by a diaper bag stuffed full of diapers and pacifiers.
”The one with the little headband bow-thingy.” He clarifies. “She was so small.”
“My cousin’s. He and his wife’s third in almost as many years. She’s only like a month old and smelled like heaven.” You draw in a breath and wish her silken tufts of hair were still pressed to your cheek, “Why?”
”I don’t know,” you know him well enough to know that’s a damn lie. “I just- I don’t know…do you ever think about it?”
Caught off guard, you opt for a little joke, “Does Jakey have baby fever?”
He smiles, and there is a touch of shyness that lives there, “Shut up. Do you think about it?”
“Do I think about having babies? Well, I-“
He interrupts quickly to set you straight, “Do you think about having babies with me?”
Oh.
Where is he heading with this? Will a bit of honesty scare him? Will it scare you?
Deciding to take the plunge, this is simply a conversation after all, and a subject that he broached to boot, you choose truth. “Yes, I’ve thought about babies with you. Although that whole twin thing is fucking terrifying.”
Again, you joke. Again, he doesn’t take the bait. “Identical twins aren’t hereditary. We’re just an accidental fuck up. When you think about it, what do you think?”
”A lot of things.”
Smoothly, he guides the car onto the off-ramp that leads to home. “Very informative, darling. A veritable treasure trove of information.”
He hasn’t tipped his hand and you aren’t about to let him off so easily. “”Do you think about it?”
”Honestly, not before. I mean, I think about how you’ll look in your wedding dress and if you’ll wear your hair swept up the way I like, and I suppose that’s sort of the same thing. Or headed in the same direction, anyway. But watching you hold that baby tonight…”
Your chest suddenly feels a little tight. You’re touched by his admission.
And how endearing that he wonders how you’ll wear your hair. You reach out and stroke the back of your hand along the cut of his jaw, “When the day comes, I’ll wear it up for you.”
~
Later, he’s draped across the bed watching you glide about the room in your bra and panties. Earrings unfastened and placed gently on your jewelry tray, necklace hung carefully, hair let loose and shaken out at long last.
Hands folded behind his head, he speaks up, breaking the spell you have unknowingly cast over him, “You said ‘a lot of things’. Elaborate.”
You turn, eyes drifting over the king lounging about upon the bed you share, in nothing but the dress pants he hasn’t yet bothered to shed. “What?”
He cocks his chin, summoning your attention further ”Babies. You said you think about a lot of things.”
He looks so fucking sinfully delicious…a sickeningly sweet cake sent from the bewitching trenches of hell to rot your teeth. “The normal things. Baby things.”
The heavy wooden frame creeks quietly as he pulls himself into a sitting position to study your expression, “Liar.”
”Oh, I’m sorry,” you dance around the accusation, “I just happen to be looking at a disgustingly attractive little shit waiting for me to climb into bed beside him. Forgive me for looking flustered.”
”Don’t be coy, darling,” he tsks, clicking his tongue against his perfect teeth. “I can see it written all over your pretty face. You’ve got a secret.”
He’s moving towards the edge of the bed now, drawing you in closer with his devilish stare. “Tell me.”
”I don’t have a secret.” Whose voice is that? Surely it’s much too quiet and meek to be your own.
”Tell the truth.” He hums, a knowing twinkle flashing in his gaze. “What do you think about?”
Your eyes refuse to meet his own as your stomach knots, warm and vibrating. “I guess…sometimes I - sometimes I think about the trying part of it all.”
He’s watching you closely, you can feel it like warm fingers dancing across your blushing skin. “So you think about fucking?”
He almost sounds disappointed. He had expected more judging by your hesitancy to share.
”Well,” your fingers are plucking at the comforter now, rooting out a loose thread to spin around your finger, “Yes, but it’s kind of more than that. I think about you… inside me.”
At last, you peek up at him. He looks curious, as if he can’t quite figure you out. “Why are you being such a little mouse about this?” His palms are cupping your face now, calluses soothing you like a song. “I’m inside you all the time, and I think about it all the time, too.”
Shaking your head gently, you find your footing…at least a smidge, “Not like that. I think about you inside me. The way you would have to be if we were trying.”
Your birth control rendered condoms unnecessary ages ago, yet he has always pulled out - ever cautious and responsible. Confusion is still painted across his features…until it isn’t.
“Oh,” a lascivious grin appears and you long to curl your tongue over his lips, “you fucking filthy little thing.”
In a blink, you’re dragged onto the bed and into his arms, tossed down with your back against the sheets. his body heated and flush against yours.
Mouth suckling and nipping at your throat, he rasps into your skin, “Is that what does it for you? Pretty girl wants my cum?”
Your body’s reaction is visceral, primal, and almost embarrassing. You’re arching away from the mattress, desperate to be even closer than you already are.
“Answer me.” He huffs, sinking a bite into your jaw.
”Yes…” your hands are in his hair, thighs around his waist, “I want it.”
”Say it.” He’s rocking against you now, hard and straining against your panties. “Say what it is that you want. What you think about.”
”I think about you fucking me,” once again, whose shaking voice is that? “I think about the way you sound when you finish, and the way your cock throbs and twitches in your hand, and how it might feel inside me.”
”Keep going.” He orders, soft and wavering in your ear.
”I think about how warm your cum would feel inside of me, and maybe I wouldn’t be able to keep it all in. Maybe it might tickle a little when it leaked out.”
”Fuck, baby…” his hands are everywhere, yanking your breasts from the cups of your bra, winding your panties down your thighs, fingers sinking into your soaking, clenching cunt with a groan that sounds pained.
He seeks out your favorite spot and tucks up into it, wrenching a wanton moan from your lungs “You want me to fill this little pussy up? Keep you dripping wet with me all day long? Fuck baby after baby into you?”
”Jake…” you’re clawing at his bare shoulders, fucking yourself hopelessly against his hand. “More.”
He slips a third finger inside you, “Is that why you get a little whiny when I pull out? My girl wants me to do it inside?”
”More,” you urge through gritted teeth, eyes locked in on his face and the lust so evident in the set of his features.
”You want four?”
”Please, Jake…” tears are threatening at your lash line, “more, more, more,”
“You’re having some trouble listening tonight, aren’t you?” he sounds diabolical, and turned on beyond belief. “I asked you a question.”
His thighs prise your legs open wider as he squeezes his pinky into your warmth to join the rest of his drenched fingers, “Do you want my cum inside you? You want me to give it to you? Keep it all safe and warm for me?”
With a mournful wail you’re reduced to a million little pieces beneath him. Rocking frantically into his touch…the heel of his hand grinding quick circles into your clit as his fingers fuck you through it. He’s covered in you, it rolls down his wrist and beads against his stomach like early morning dew, anointing him as you thrash and writhe like a beautiful, fluttering leaf in an autumn wind.
When the hazy fog clears, allowing your sight, it’s his face - stunning and beaming - you find, “Hey, pretty girl.”
Now that you’re coming down, your diffidence returns and you close your eyes in a pathetic attempt to hide.
He’s having none of it, “No, no, darling…you stay with me. Right here, baby. You look so pretty with my cock inside you, imagine how fucking beautiful you’re gonna be when I fuck you full.”
“Please, jake…” it’s pathetic really, and maybe you should care about that, but you don’t. “I need it, I need it so bad.”
“Yeah?” The gravel in his tone makes you shiver with frantic desire. “Pretty girl just wants to bounce on my cock all day? Just using me to get what she wants?”
Rather than answer, you elect to begin wrangling the button on his pants.
“Someone’s eager.” He teases softly, lifting up on one elbow, easing your struggle. “You want it that bad? Are you gonna let me cum wherever I want? Gonna let me put a baby inside you?”
“Fucking do it!” Frustrated and sparking with electric desperation, you give up and tug on his waistband feverishly until he takes over, popping the button with ease and kicking them off.
His cock is fisted in his hand now, with your eyes fiercely focused on it. Hard and beautiful and yours. “You want that inside you?” He whispers, watching you stare. “You want me to fuck you? You want me to fucking breed that pretty pussy? Make you a mama?”
You should be ashamed of yourself, you well and truly should be…but fuck if you don’t want more, “Keep talking while you fuck me,” you breathe, somewhere between imploring and begging, “Dirtier, come on…”
His cock slips inside. Just the cashmere tip teasing at you, “Dirtier?” He nudges in a little deeper, just enough to make you whine, “well what should I say, pretty girl? Should I tell you that you’re my beautiful little cum slut and if I’d known it sooner I’d have been stuffing you full all this time?” Deeper still he glides, “Or that I want to cum inside you and then fall asleep with my fingers buried in your cunt to keep it where it belongs?” He’s fucking you harder, faster…the pillowy head of his cock kissing your cervix in a divine dance between pleasure and pain. “Or should I tell you about how I think about licking it up? Kissing you with my cum on my tongue because I know you’d suck it off like the greedy little baby you are.”
“I-“ a pitiful whimper escapes you, but his fingers are suddenly grasping your chin, grounding you enough to collect your scattered thoughts. “I’m gonna cum, tell me where you’re going to cum. Tell me where you’re going to put it. Please, I want it,”
Hips rolling into a succulent grind against your swollen clit now, he begins “I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve got every last drop, pretty girl. It’s all yours, are you gonna take it for me like a good girl? Are you going to be a good little mama and take it all?”
His name is all you can manage as you shatter. It’s primeval and animalistic, sounds that would make you want to crumple in on yourself if anyone heard them besides your Jacob.
“You’re so fucking tight and wet..” his perfect cock is pounding you through it as he inches closer and closer, “are you ready for me to make a mess of this little beauty right here? Hmm? Ready for me to fuck this cunt all full and dirty? You want it?”
“Jake…” you trail off, eyes fighting to stay open and locked in on his face while you shake against him, twisting and clenching around his perfect cock, “you’re so fucking hard.”
He nods furiously, burying his face in the crook of your neck to lick your pounding pulse “That’s all you, baby. You make me that hard.”
Your hips begin rocking up to meet him even faster, hungry to please. “Good girl, you keep fucking that cock. Are you gonna take what you want? Gonna make me cum? Gonna help me fill this pretty little cunt?”
In response, your nails dig into his skin, raking your mark, claiming him. You’re almost there again, though you can’t imagine how. “I’m so fucking close,” you’re sighing and shaking the words into the room, offering confession.
“Again?” He’s mocking you so sweetly, teasing dirty words into your ear like lullabies, “Already? Is my pretty girl gonna cum on this cock? Squeeze and suck the cum right out of me to steal it away? You want it that badly?”
You let go, with a trembling breath of his name, and feel his body tense against the feverish grip of your orgasm.
”That’s it, baby,” his words are but a sigh skittering across your cheek, “That’s it. Feels so good. Feels like gold. My pretty, pretty girl…”
He fucks you faster even as you melt into a puddle within his arms. “Gonna cum for you,” he promises, “I’m gonna cum so hard for you. Who’s going to take it? Who’s gonna take every fucking drop?”
”I am,” have you even made a sound? You can’t be sure, you’re so lost.
”Yes, you are…” his forehead, slick with exertion and need, nods against your own. “You’re going to take it just like you take this cock. My good fucking girl…pretty pink baby doll just begging for me to wreck her.”
Without warning, he collapses into your arms, moaning and crying out, shuddering as he releases inside you. Warm and perfect, everything you’ve ever imagined and so much more.
His fingers sink into your muscles, clutching and pulling you closer still, “Baby…” he sounds raspy and pained, “Baby, baby, baby, fuck..fuck…”
And when at last, he calms, it is with his cheek pressed to your chest, clocking the wild metronome that is your heart with your hands sweeping through his hair.
Soon, you’ll both crawl out of bed, maybe into the shower…perhaps into the warmth of a bath, but for now it is simply you, and Jake, and this tranquil bliss.
Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @lvnterninthenight @paintmyhouse @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @gretavangroupie
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radiantcrown · 2 years
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wolken-himmel · 1 year
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In which (Y/n) meets Leona's family at NRC Parents' Day. However, it's not his parents that come to visit him but instead his older brother and his family.
Request by anon.
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"Uncle Leona! Uncle Leona!"
The Savanaclaw common room was quiet except for the constant yelling of an all too familiar small boy. An unruly ginger mop of hair seemed to dart around the area. That was until the boy came to a halt in front of the grumpy dorm leader. His youthful eyes sparkled when he gazed into his uncle's eyes, even if they were jaded and indifferent.
Leona rubbed his temples in dismay. "Quit it, Cheka," he whispered and did his best to shove him away with as much care he could muster. His eyes darkened in annoyance, and he pushed the boy into the direction of his sister-in-law. "I'm not some tree you can climb..."
Falena and Nali smiled at the tenderness that the younger prince tried to handle their son with. The queen let out a little chuckle and beckoned the young boy to her. He begrudgingly stopped his attempts of climbing onto his uncle's lap. "Well, Cheka. If your uncle says no, then please respect his decision," she said and extended her arms to the energetic boy. "Come to me, honey."
Although a look of disappointment flashed across Cheka's face, he nonetheless obeyed his mother with flattened ears.
"Thank you..." Leona breathed out gratefully.
"So," Falena began slowly, "how is school life treating you, brother?"
"Hmpf, the usual." No more came out of the dormleader's lips. Even when the air turned stagnant and awkward, he stubbornly kept his mouth shut. With his arms crossed in front of his chest, he tried to hide his clenched fists. In his head, he counted the seconds he would have to sit here and entertain his brother's family.
His counting was interrupted by a firm knock against the door to the common room. Without waiting for a reply, the door was pushed open gently. A small slit of light allowed your head to peek out from behind the door. "Hello, I hope I'm not interrupting—" you exclaimed in a friendly yet hasty tone. "I'm just here to check on you, see if everything's alright. You know, Ace and his brother started a fist-fight earlier..."
Without even realising, Leona's eyes lit up when they recognised your face. "Herbivore," he said smugly and waved you inside. Perhaps this was his ticket to surviving his family's visit successfully. The indifferent expression on his face was no more, and his gesturing somehow had the most energy he had summoned today. "Come in. Quickly."
You tilted your head in confusion, but upon noticing how pressing his gaze was, you hummed in defeat. "Sure..." With the door falling into its hinges behind you, you approached the empty chair next to the Savanaclaw dormleader. Your hands loosely resting on the backrest of the seat, you shot the two unfamiliar adults a smile. "Hello, I'm (Y/n), prefect of the Ramshackle dorm. It's nice to meet you."
Before you could make an attempt of sitting down, a small boy came bounding towards you. "(Y/n)! (Y/n)!" he cried out and immediately wrapped his arms around your waist with utter excitement. "It's been so long since I've last seen you! I missed you."
Your smile widened upon recognising the little boy. "Oh, Cheka! Right, it's been ages since you visited NRC," you cooed and ruffled his hair affectionately. There were a few times when Leona had been visited by his nephew, much to his dismay. However with your help, babysitting Cheka had become much more tolerable. And you couldn't deny that you had a soft spot for his adorable nephew.
The queen eyed you up and down in curiosity, but her eyes bore no ill intent when your gazes finally met. "Cheka talks about you all the time, dear," she said, accompanied by an amused smile. Despite the warmth of her eyes, she exuded an aura of elegance that almost seemed intimidating to you.
Her eyes remained on you even after you had taken a seat next to the dormleader. "It's a pleasure looking after Cheka," you exclaimed and lifted said boy into your lap. A little giggle escaped his lips when you wrapped your arms around his stomach and began swaying him back and forth. "He's a little bundle of sunshine."
Leona rolled his eyes. "As if..."
"It's nice to finally meet you, (Y/n)," the king piped up in a friendly tone. "I'm Falena, Leona's older brother. This is my wife, Nali. And you already know Cheka."
"Can we take (Y/n) with us?" Cheka asked his parents and wrapped his short arms around your neck. "Please!"
"No way." At once, Leona had lifted Cheka off your lap and set him to the ground again. "You're not taking the herbivore with you," he grumbled under his breath.
"I sadly have to attend lessons here at Night Raven College, Cheka," you told the disappointed child. "But perhaps you can visit me sometimes, or I could visit you during the next school break?"
The royal couple sent each other a meaningful look that went unnoticed by the others. Falena then spoke up, "We would be delighted if Leona could bring you around for the next school break, (Y/n)."
"Maybe," Leona muttered. "I'll think about it."
Nali chuckled and propped her elbows onto the table between you. A mischievous glint appeared in her kind eyes. "So, (Y/n), you two seem like an unlikely pair of good friends," she asked smoothly. "How did you meet?"
Laughter spilt from your lips at her question, and you immediately turned to Leona in amusement. For the first time today, the beginnings of an amused smile became evident on his lips. After your chuckles were nothing more than echoes, you began, "Oh, I stepped on his tail when he was napping in the botanical garden. It was friendship at first sight." Your eyes shimmered with a nostalgic glint, but you never noticed the way Leona's ears twitched unreadably. "No, I'm just joking. I feared for my life when I realised I had awoken the mighty lion from his sleep."
"As you should," he huffed and grinned.
"But, we got along pretty fine afterwards! I had to do a large project with Jack, a fellow first-year in Savanaclaw, and thus stuck around the dorm for a few weeks." Your genuine smile turned devious when you playfully drawled, "People always told me to never poke a lion with a stick, but it was way too tempting with Leona. And what can I say? It was worth it."
The queen broke out into loud laughter at your remark. "Hah, you're fierce. I like you already."
"You're lucky I didn't bite your head off." Leona's grin turned haughty.
His expression drew soft chuckles from your lips. Your eyes softened again as they gazed into his. "Well, I am very grateful, Leona." Just as you were about to lose yourself in his emerald eyes, the vibration of your phone snapped you back to reality. A surprised gasp escaped your lips as you rose to your feet. "Oh, would you look at the time? I need to leave already to check up on the next student."
"Please don't leave—" Cheka cried out and clung to your leg like a lifeline. His grip was frighteningly strong for a boy his age.
Leona furrowed his eyebrows in dismay. "Yeah, don't leave," he echoed, although his voice sounded more commanding than his nephew's.
With a heavy heart, you pried the young boy off your leg and gently pushed him towards his parents. You sent him and his uncle an apologetic look. "I need to go, you two." With a solemn sigh escaping your lips, you turned to the royal couple. "It was nice meeting you, Falena and Nali! I hope to see you two around sometime. Goodbye."
They each muttered a goodbye of their own. With newfound haste, you exited the common room at the speed of light. The door slammed close behind you before the room was overtaken by silence again. The king and queen had smiles etched onto their faces as they stared off into the distance. The silence was no longer awkward, and Leona found it a little more bearable.
"You should keep that one," Nali suddenly said out of nowhere.
Leona almost choked on his spit. He immediately whipped his head towards his sister-in-law and looked at her with narrowed eyes. "With all due respect, but what do you mean?"
A chuckle escaped her lips. "I said what I said."
Her husband took her hand into his and gave it a firm squeeze. Once again, the two shared that meaningful look from earlier that the dormleader couldn't quite decipher.
Falena shot his younger brother a teasing smile. "A young love... Isn't it a beautiful thing?"
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writing-fanics · 2 months
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Lucifer Morningstar x Reader
[Before Lucifer got cast out of Heaven]
[prompt by: @saturncodedstarlette
[warning: self-harm: major angst: blood: mentions of panic attack]
You were angry and heartbroken, and felt betrayed by someone you thought to be yoursoulmate. Feeling used by them, having just found out that Lucifer and Lilith are together.
You stormed over to Lucifer outside the gates of the garden, hands balled up into a fist. “You lied to me!” You shouted angrily, and he turned to look at you.
Lucifer who you thought to be your soulmate, a red string tying the two of you together. Your face red and tears rubbing down your cheeks, “You told me that I am your soulmate!” You screamed, and he just stated at you almost annoyed that you were, taking his time away from being with Lilith
You guarded the gates of Eden, and Lucifer flirted with you and toyed with you just so he could see Lilith. “Just get back to that other woman!” You were angry fuming and felt used.
He just stared at you arms folded across his chest, as he raised an eyebrow and scoffed. “Don’t you understand? You’re the other woman.” said Lucifer, looking at you.
You shook your head vigorously, your frustration apparent. "No no!" you exclaimed, your voice rising in anger. "You're supposed to be with me!" You pointed in the direction of the garden, your true form as a seraphim revealing itself with multiple eyes on your head and wings.
Your figure seemed to grow in size and stature, towering over him and filling the space around you with an awe-inspiring presence.“She’s the other woman!” you shouted, glaring at him.
Lucifer rolled his eyes and saw Lilith in the distance. She had heard the commotion and was walking closer to the gate. "Why can't you understand?" he said, looking down at the ground and clenching his fists. He glanced over at her for a moment.
“It was a mistake, I would never be with you—” He said, Your entire body froze in shock, and you stood there motionless with your arms falling limply to your side. Your lips slightly parted, forming an 'O' shape as you struggled to comprehend what he had just said.
As soon as the words left his mouth, you could see the regret in his eyes. He looked like he wanted to reach out towards you, but then suddenly pulled his hand back and turned away. He entered the garden and walked away with Lilith, leaving you alone.
You couldn't help but fall to your knees, gripping your chest where your heart is. It hurt so much - not just the physical pain, but the emotional pain of being betrayed. You had broken the rules to let him into the garden, thinking that he cared for you. But this is how he repays you - by ripping out your heart and leaving you to suffer.
The words seemed to rip your heart out of your chest, leaving you feeling completely devastated. As tears began to trickle down your cheeks, you couldn't help but sniffle and sob softly. Your lower lip quivered as you looked at him, trying to make sense of the situation and find a way to process the overwhelming emotions coursing through you.
He used you. He fucking used you just so he could be with Lilith, he toyed with your emotions your feelings and your desires. To get what he wanted in the end. You saw a future and hoped he'd be there to fill that empty spot, in your immortal life. Be he saw as nothing but a obstacle, for his true goal. Lilith.
Your angelic weapon dug into your flesh drawing yellow blood. As you tried to carve the L off of your hand, the inital of your soulmate. That was on your hand when you were first made by angels. Your very own soulmate wanted nothing g to do with you, he never wanted to be with you. Only wanted to use you for his own selfish needs.
Your wound would just heal and the initial stayed, as much as you tried to dig it out. Nothing, it would appear again and again. You screams and cries of frustration being heard by Lucifer and Lilith, but he did nothing just sat there with his lover underneath the tree.
You wailed, staring yo at the sky and sobbing. Yellow blood seeping from the gash in your hand, you couldn't breathe unable to take a full breath. All you wanted was for Lucifer to comfort you, but he didn't. Your vision started to blur as you breathed heavily, gripping the fabric of your clothes.
“I would never be with you”
“I would never be with you”
You whimpered, curled up on yourself, and cried. You didn't know how long you were there for and eventually passed out. When you opened your eyes, you saw a bracelet that you had given to Lucifer a while ago. You stared at it blankly for a moment, not noticing someone approaching you from behind. Suddenly, you felt cold and shivered.
As you turned around, you heard a giggle coming from behind you. Suddenly, the grass around you withered and died, and an ominous presence leaned over you. "Has that little dreamer shattered your heart?" the voice asked as you looked up to see the personification of evil itself - your sister, Roo. She had a Glasgow smile on her face as she stared down at you.
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undiscovered-horizon · 8 months
Text
"Finnish polka" - Ivar the Boneless x Reader
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SUMMARY: After helping one of the northern Jarls, the Lothbrok brothers attend a celebratory feast. There, they're faced with a tradition of warriors catching flower crowns that belong to young women. How surprised Ivar is when you almost shove your crown into his hands.
WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.1k
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Ivar is tired.
Of course he's glad that Jarl Thorstein came out victorious. And that his brothers are fine. Still, he feels weary as the adrenaline leaves his body. His legs start to ache. Ivar downs the rest of his mead in hopes it makes him a little more deaf to his mood.
The upbeat, bright music fills his mind like an obsessive thought. His heart beats to the rhythm tapped by the feet of dancing women. They spin, jump and run around with flower crowns sitting atop their heads. How the wreaths remain immovable, he can't quite say.
Ivar is also angry.
As the local tradition entails, when the song ends, all the dancing young maidens will throw their flower crowns to the crowd. Whoever catches it, is believed to be the girl's lover chosen by the gods. However, whether the couple indulges and trusts gods' judgement is a different story. But if the wreath falls to the floor, the girl is said to remain unmarried for the next five years.
Ivar knows the chance of him somehow catching one of those is near zero. He's sitting quite far from the dancers. Even if he did catch it, he's disillusioned about the imminent dissatisfaction of the flower crown's ownert. Not only is he disabled in a way that almost entirely excludes him from fighting but he's also infamous for his ruthless nature and vengeful heart. Hardly a man who invokes desire. Still, some naive piece of him remains hopeful that maybe he's wrong. Maybe he can be terrible and loved all the same.
He shakes those weak delusions away from himself before they sour his mood further.
His piercing eyes have been following one of the dancers for the better part of the song when he catches himself. Her movements look effortless even when the musicians pick up the tempo. Clearly, she's done this dance one too many times to have any doubts about what she's doing. Joy beams from her in a way that makes her appear almost shining. The wreath on the top of her head is mostly green with white and red flowers. It makes Ivar think of the woods surrounding Kattegat; it makes him think of home.
Ivar leans toward Oddleif, one of the Jarl's men, who's sitting next to him.
"Who is she?"
Oddleif looks at Ivar out of the corner of his eye. He scoffs, takes a large sip of his drink and only then decides to answer:
"If you're thinking of catching her flower crown, don't." His blond braids dance slightly as he shakes his head. There's a hint of laughter hiding in the back of Oddleif's throat. "Half of the surviving army wants it."
"I have no care for flowers," Ivar lies through his teeth. "They have no use. They wilt and die and soon no one remembers them. I am simply curious about her."
"Her father is the blacksmith. You might have seen him in the battle, swinging that damned sledgehammer." Ivar silently nods. He remembers that man - tall as a pine tree and wider than a stable. The blacksmith invokes respect even when he's not decimating enemies like a troll equipped with a tree trunk. "He said once that he'll let any man marry his daughter but only if he can lift an anvil. Tried it once myself. Not that I had any success as you can imagine." Oddleif laughs bitterly and continues drinking. His eyes are glued to the dancers but Ivar knows that right now, the two of them are admiring the very same girl with a flower crown like a forest.
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The melody continues to quicken. Despite being out of breath, you don't want it to end. Your feet ache but they do not falter nor do they stumble. It seems that their muscles know the dance better than your mind. There are a dozen girls dancing with you but you do not see them. Not really. They appear worlds away from you and the song of bagpipes and strings.
And then appears he.
A slouched, dark figure flies before your eyes as you're doing another pirouette. The man simply sits there, in the corner, but his presence is overwhelming. Or so you think. He does nothing and yet he tears his way into your microcosm of quick footwork, turns and lively polka.
You recognize him. Of course you do. Many whispers, equally frightened and amazed, have spoken of him. You have believed in all of them until the moment you met his gaze for that split second. Right then, somewhere between blinks and breaths, you renounce every gossip you've ever heard about him. A voice in the back of your head, a trickster or an oracle, nags at you to learn the truth yourself.
When the lively, fast melody comes to a stop, you find yourself shaken awake from the thoughts about Ivar the Boneless. The end of the song seems somewhat abrupt to you as you've been letting your fantasy run wild without paying much attention to what's going on around you. Dancing the last part purely by the memory of your muscles. The moment musicians stop playing, a small crowd begins to form in front of you. Men of different class, age and ancestry reach out their hands. Each one of them is more determined than the other to catch your wreath. They start to yell something but considering that the inside of the long hall is awfully loud anyway, you can't make out any words. Reading their lips, you can only tell when they're exclaiming different variations of your name.
They're only pushing towards you, shoving each other away. You keep taking steps backwards but the distance you create with each step is quickly shortened with the men calling out to you. You knew there would be many of them in front of you but never assumed that many. Instead of somewhat flattering, the siege is terrifying and imposing.
Looking for help or advice, just something that will ease your tension, you silently look around the long hall. Your gaze falls on the same slouched, dark figure. Strange peacefulness washes over you when his eyes meet yours.
The dim candlelight seems to bend around Ivar, making his corner appear darker than anywhere else in the long hall. He's simply sitting there. Maybe he's not interested? But the way he's staring at you shows nothing if not burning curiosity. The sons of Ragnar aren't know for their patience. No, they're said to take whatever they want the moment their desire sparks. Despite that, the youngest of them, and arguably the most famous, appears to be waiting. But for what exactly?
The fresh pine needles prick your skin. You furrow your eyebrows. Your gaze falls to the wreath and then comes back to Ivar. Could it be...?
It isn't much of a throw, really. You toss the flower crown towards him without looking anywhere else but into Ivar's eyes. Without as much as blinking, he catches the wreath with ease as though he has been prepared for that. Low murmurs hit your ears but quickly the sounds of disappointment fall silent as it's made clear who caught your wreath. Despite their initial determination, the men who had been reaching out to you suddenly disperse like fog does in the early morning. They knew better than to get under the skin of a Lothbrok. Especially that one.
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"I believe this belongs to you."
Ivar is holding up the wreath. Despite his words, he makes no effort to offer it back to you. His eyes are bright and glistening, the corner of his mouth is tugged ever-so-slightly upwards. He appears amused.
At first, it was nice to finally sit down after dancing for what seemed to be hours on end. But now, when you're facing the consequences of your spur-of-the-moment decision, the tension sets in once more. This time, however, it doesn't feel threatening. In turn, the nervousness is somewhat welcome like the jittery state before a surprise is revealed.
"If I wanted to keep it, I wouldn't have thrown it," you answer in a light tone.
"And why should I keep it?"
The blue eyes study you for a moment. It's a strange feeling - you can't help but think that the longer you are in Ivar's presence, talking or not, he's reading your mind and soul. He stares at you in a way that tells you he already holds all the answers but wants you to confirm them.
"It's said to bring good luck." You shrug your shoulders. "Until the wreath wilts and dies, Freya and Freyr will look after you."
Ivar looks at the flower crown again. Only now, when he's holding it, does he realize that for a flower crown, there aren't many flowers. A few sandworts and poppies, yes, but the wreath is made mostly of evergreen plants. It might take weeks until the crown wilts.
The microcosm seems closed again. Now it's not you and the bagpipes but you and him. It's strange and it's new but it's not threatening. It's not the kind of presence a man of his infamy should have. Or perhaps you've simply fallen for his honey trap.
"Why did you throw it to me?" Ivar tries to make the question seem unimportant, just curiosity brought to light. But he can't quite convince himself that he doesn't care. There's a hint of something vulnerable and genuine when the words roll off his tongue. It's easy to miss like a dandelion clock carried away by a gust of wind.
You wish you knew the answer yourself.
"I don't know really," you say honestly. "Perhaps it was one of the gods that threw the flower crown for me." You make a pause. Ivar's face is unreadable. "Or perhaps I have no interest in urgent, desperate men."
Ivar chuckles. A deep shadow is covering part of his face, making him appear kind of sinister. For a moment, you question whether he's laughing with you or at you.
"And what exactly makes you think I'm not urgent or desperate?" he continues. You notice his smile is growing wider. That glint of amusement in his blue eyes has changed in mischief. "What if I'm worse than all of them? You surely know who I am."
"Of course I do, Ivar the Boneless," you drone the words. In a barely noticeable fashion, he clenches his jaw when you say his name. It makes him feel a strange, burning sensation in his stomach but Ivar is left unsure whether he likes it or detests. "The whispers of your ruthless character are unending."
"But you're not afraid?" he asks with both disbelief and suspicion. A girl with a flower crown doesn't necessarily strike him as fearless in any way. Or this whole strange situation is a little too good, too dream-like, for him to accept it at face-value.
Ivar's smile falters when your face takes on a confident, maybe even arrogant, expression. He's taken aback.
"I'm a woman of the North," you say while leaning towards him on the table. The distance between your faces shortnes. "The only person I fear is my own reflection."
The sudden closeness makes Ivar inhale sharply. The strong smell of pine needles fills his nostrils. For a moment, his imagination runs wild but it's not his fault - he has no grasp on it:
How those big eyes glistened in the semi-dark of the long hall as you were staring at him. Your smirk, somewhat challenging and beckoning him to push on. Then, the smell of conifer that shakes all senses awake. His fantasy leaves the northern snows and travelles to forests, to him brushing pine needles from your hair and your naked, flushes skin smelling of evergreen trees.
But quickly his shaken awake, to his utmost displeasure, by you:
"Well, if you don't want it, I suppose I should take it back, no?"
Your hand unsurely reaches out for the wreath in Ivar's hand. He's quick to pull his arm back.
"It's bad luck to take back gifts," he states plainly. In an act of nonchalance, Ivar is playing with the wreath, spinning it around his finger. "I should like to keep it."
Sometimes you come back to the night you've met the infamous Viking, when you're rendered sleepless while he's calmly breathing next to you, getting the rest he desperately needs. How funny all of it seems - that a flower crown in bloodied, merciless hands could lead to having a genuine crown on your head. Maybe you were right, after all, and it really was the hand of one of the gods that threw the wreath for you.
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lxkeee · 3 months
Text
⋆.˚ . FLY ME TO THE MOON ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚.
—PART THREE
Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Archangel Raphael! Fem! Reader
Fandom: Hazbin Hotel
Notes: Lucifer and [y/n] will see each other again next chapter 👁️👁️
PART ONE | PART TWO | PART FOUR | MISC.
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A lot of timeskip...
[Y/n] sat in her office chair. Bored out of her mind. Hand fluidly moved in motion as she signed her signature in each document. Paper works. So much paperwork. Just because she finished her duties on the mortal realm for this week doesn't mean she doesn't have work to do back in heaven. She needs to do countless paperwork. Writing down every detail of what happened during her time on earth.
She groaned, placing down her pen on to the table. Throwing her head back lazily against the comfort of her chair.
It has been years since Lucifer's fall. Years after the meeting he asked for that concern about his hotel to redeem sinners.
Thinking back about it. She regrets the harsh words she has said to him during that meeting. Rather too cold for her liking.
She can't blame past her either. She was mad at Lucifer, who wouldn't?
Your best friend stopped spending time with you as he spent most of his time learning about the newly made humans God created.
And once he got the time to spend with her, he always talked about the mortal woman that God has created.
It was very annoying.
Then suddenly, he did what she warned him. Giving the fruit of knowledge to Eve that caused his fall from grace.
[Y/n] loved him, she still does.
She was mad that Lucifer neglected her. She was mad that an angel as beautiful as Lucifer chose a mortal woman.
She was... Jealous.
Now, she heard he has a family now.
She sighs, eyes looking down on her hand. The wedding ring she used to wear is now on her middle finger. She and Azrael are still married to each other platonically for shits and giggles.
They still loved each other platonically. Often having sleepovers at each other's houses.
She wondered, Azrael is such a great man. Everything she'll ever need in one. Smart, funny, sarcastic, intelligent, incredibly handsome, and loving.
It's truly unfortunate her heart lies within another.
She sighs softly. She's been doing that often lately.
As she was about to continue working, the door to her office bursts open and her ex-husband flamboyantly announced his grand entrance.
“Wifeyyy, I have tea to share. I know you'll be interested.” Azrael asked, [y/n] had to look up as the man was literally taller than her. His slicked back black hair shined against the chandelier lights. His eyes are half-lidded—showing off the golden eyeshadow he's wearing, a smirk on his mischievously attractive face. Pulling back a chair across her desk, he sat down.
[Y/n] raised an eyebrow at him, curious what gossip he has to share this time.
“What is it?” she asked lacing her hands and placing her elbows on the table and placing her chin on her knuckles.
Azrael smirked, playing with his staff.
“Luci has a family right?” he asked and [y/n] just looked at him with curiosity. Surprised that Azrael brought the topic of the fallen angel up.
“Yes, what about it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at the angel in front of her.
“I heard his daughter is coming up here for a meeting, Morningstar's daughter wanted to propose an idea to... Redeem sinners. Reminds me of Lucifer.” Azrael says with a smirk and small chuckle.
“The apple doesn't fall far from the tree after all.” [y/n] says with a small shrug. She wondered if Lucifer's daughter would propose the same idea like his.
“Indeed. So, are you going to attend the meeting? I heard Sera is handling it this time. Lucifer's daughter sure is lucky she won't be having a meeting with the seven.” Azrael says with a smirk before pouting a little.
“When will it be?” [y/n] asked, picking up her pen once more as she resumed working.
“In two days.” Azrael says with a shrug.
“Unfortunately I have work, all seven of us do.” [y/n] says with a shrug, a bored tone in her voice.
Azrael sighed and nodded, “Unfortunately, but... We can still attend but not physically. Eavesdropping as what others call it.” Azrael says with a grin, snapping his fingers and two eyeballs with wings appeared out of nowhere.
“We can use these. Both of us can have an eye.” he suggested and [y/n] looked at him with a raised eyebrow, curious why this man is so interested in listening to a meeting that is probably a repeat of history.
“I can see that look in your eyes that you're wondering why I'm so eager to listen to this meeting. I have a feeling that something will be revealed during this meeting and I am curious to what it is. My instincts are never wrong.” Azrael says, eyes staring outside [y/n]'s window. He has a feeling that the Seraphims are hiding something and he wants to uncover that.
“A secret?” [y/n] asked, curiosity piqued.
“Yes, I have a feeling that the seraphims are hiding something and that is a no-no especially if a high seraphim is hiding something.” Azrael says, his voice becoming serious. [Y/n] looked at him, her eyes narrowed at the possibility. The seven virtues are barely in heaven and that means the seraphims are in charge of the order up here. Lately, Sera has been acting strange but they just dismissed it thinking it was nothing. Now that Azrael mentioned it, they need to find out the truth.
“I assume we don't need to tell them we'll be attending the meeting then?” [y/n] asked and Azrael smirked and nodded.
It was finally the day where Lucifer's daughter would visit heaven for a meeting. [Y/n] sat on her couch in the comfort of her home, a third eye on her forehead. It means her consciousness is connected to the flying eyeball Azrael allowed her to use. It is currently the courtroom, hiding from plain sight.
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Lucifer's daughter is really a copy of the said fallen angel. Same ideals too.
The meeting seems to be a bore, Charlie as what she learned the girl's name is, just proposed the same idea Lucifer proposed years ago.
The meeting was nothing but boring, annoying as she has to listen to Adam and Lute.
[Y/n] is still confused why that is in heaven and why he's being favored. The man is literally a walking asshole with a shit personality.
Azrael is probably in the same boat as her but he's back on earth doing his duties while simultaneously listening to this meeting.
The seven does not like Adam very much. Adam is too privileged.
Though, her views on the hotel changed as Charlie showed the progress of her guest, a demon named Angel Dust. Perhaps this silly hotel might actually work.
[Y/n] was about to stop listening and watching the meeting when Adam said something that caught her interest. Something that made her heart drop.
Exterminate... Extermination...
Of human souls.
Based on the reactions of other angels in the court, it was only Sera, Adam, Lute and other exorcists who knew about it.
Demon or not angels have no reason for doing this.
She's pissed and she could feel Azrael's annoyance from the eye she was using.
Who gave Sera the right to play God?
And the fact she didn't let the seven know about it is inexcusable.
The meeting ended and the two eyeballs remained hidden, eavesdropping on Emily and Sera.
So she's doing this because the demons were uprising?
Didn't they like to took care of it years ago? This just showed that Sera has no belief that heaven can handle a mere uprising of demons.
If the seven wanted to they could wipe out the entirety of hell. But no, there's no need for that. They have far more important matters to deal with such as trying to minimize the evil slowly growing on earth.
Hell couldn't steal heaven, they'd be dead before they could even enter the gates.
The third eye on [y/n]'s forehead closes and disappears. The others needed to know about this.
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The others were concerned about this, angry even. Heaven does not need to do this yearly cleansing but apparently it has been happening for a few years already. So many human souls are killed by the hands of angels.
The seven talked about this with their creator and of course, he didn't listen to their concerns about this. Though, he did promise that if a soul is actually redeemed then the cleansing isn't necessary and Sera would be placed on trial as the seraphim didn't tell the seven nor god about this decision. The seven virtues didn't tell Sera they knew and just continued doing their duties. They trust their creator, based on his voice. He knew something that they don't.
[Y/n] has a feeling that this silly hotel might even work and she can't wait to finally put Adam, the exorcists, and Sera back to their place. To remind them where their power lies within the heavenly ranks.
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TAGLIST:
@adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata
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iloveavatar · 1 year
Text
A mothers instinct (pt. 2!)
neteyam x fem!reader
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if you were to ask neytiri how she felt about the na’vi named y/n. she would gladly go on and on about her.
she saw y/n as one of her own.
she also saw how neteyam looked at y/n. even how y/n looked at neteyam.
watching the two of them grow up into beautifully grown adults was bittersweet for neytiri.
bitter, due to the fact they’re no longer little na’vi that like to look for animals in the forest. however sweet, because she got to witness the two fall for each other obliviously.
the two were around the age where they would be finding mates. they both completed their rituals to become adults…all except finding their other half.
noticing this, neytiri decided to play…oh what was it called… a…a matchmaker! she decided she would send the two to go find something at the Tree of Voices.
when she asked the pair to find this special “root” of a plant that only so happens to grow near the tree, they gladly accepted.
“of course we can help! i’ve been wanting to see the Tree of Voices for a while now!” y/n happily said with a giant grin on her face.
neteyam studied y/n’s smile for a second, almost as if it caused him to go into a daze. “sure yeah yeah we can go to the tree” he mumbled, still staring at y/n.
neytiri smirked. “alright then go! take your time trying to find it. it’s rare” she stated with a smile as she strutted away.
“come on neteyam! first one there gets bragging rights!” shouted y/n as she started to sprint.
“wha-hey! that’s not fair you cheated!” screamed neteyam while snapping out of his daze and trying to catch up to her.
the entire way to the Tree of Voices you could hear the laughter coming from the duo.
y/n eventually won.
only because neteyam wanted to see her smile longer… and because he happened to think she looked cute whenever she was proud of something she did.
“i won! who’s the mighty warrior now!” y/n laughed.
neteyam watched her strut around the tree as if she was accepting a prize with a fond smile on his face.
“alright you won! now come on, we need to find this root for my mother” stated neteyam as he was admiring the tree.
“oh come onnn, why can’t we admire the beauty eywa presents to us neteyam? i mean, just look how beautiful it is here!” she said while spinning around.
neteyam however wasn’t focused on the beuaty of the tree. “yeah…beautiful” he mumbled in a daze as he watched the glow from the tree reflect onto y/n’s skin, giving her this ethereal glow.
the two walked around the tree “looking” for the root of the tree that neytiri needed.
“hey neteyam? do you ever think we’ll find our mates?” y/n questioned with a slight frown.
“hm? what makes you ask that?” neteyam wonders.
“well…it’s just that i know your mom and dad mated here… before eywa. do you think she could tell us who we’re destined to be with?” y/n asked while reaching for her queue behind her.
“i think you’re right. we should check…but i have a pretty good idea of who i want to end up with” he mumbled with his freckles glowing slightly.
they both took their queues and let the pink tendrils connect with the glowing stem of the tree. the two then closed their eyes to accept the vision.
y/n noticed she was still in the forest. the first thing she heard was laughter, but not any laughter. a child laughing. y/n walked toward the sound and saw the back of a male na’vi.
she noticed the na’vi was tickling the child that was sitting in his arms. she slowly stepped around and got a proper look at his face.
it was neteyam.
neteyam noticed her standing there and looked up, away from the child.
“hello my love. you’re back early? did something go wrong with your hunt?” he questioned nervously.
“uh- no! no everything is ok!” y/n stuttered out while looking at him in shock.
she couldn’t believe that eywa was showing her the future. her future with neteyam.
she slowly squatted down next to neteyam and the small little girl that was previously laughing in his arms.
the little girl seemed to notice her there when her ears perked up and a small glint appeared in her eyes. “mommy! you back!!” she lightly screamed as she stumbled into y/n’s arms.
she was no older than 3 years old. she had the looks of y/n, but one could easily tell she was just like neteyam.
you could also easily see that she was a daddy’s girl.
“hi baby.” whispered y/n, still in shock that she and neteyam have a future together. plus a whole child.
neteyam looked at them with a find smile on his face.
the vision slowly faded away as y/n was brought back into the present where she was still at the Tree if Voices with neteyam next to her.
she turned her head to see if neteyam was still in his vision.
however once she turned around she saw that he disconnecting his queue with a giant smile on his face.
he turned his head to make eye-contact with her.
the two of them made eye contact for a while. then they both rushed towards each other to embrace the other in a passionate hug.
the hug spoke the words they were scared to speak.
“…did you see it too?” neteyam hesitantly asked her whike tightening his grip on her.
“yes. i saw us. with a beautiful baby girl.” y/n spoke breathlessly. she had slight tears in her eyes knowing she had a future with her long time friend, soon to be husband.
“wait you only saw one daughter? i saw our two daughters and a son!” neteyam spoke with wide eyes.
the two of them pulled away from the hug with their jaws dropped.
“we need to speak to your mother.”
“we need to speak to my mother.”
the two spoke at the same time.
neteyam then grabbed y/n’s hand and started the trip back to their home.
the two spent the rest of the walk smiling and laughing, knowing that they would end up to together.
they then started to try and guess what they would name their children.
neytiri saw the two walk into her tent with giant smiles on their faces, their hands linked together, and their tails swishing in glee.
“i take it you didn’t find the root?” she smugly asked.
the two made eyecontact with her and saw her smirk. they dropped their jaws in disbelief.
“there was no root to find was there!” y/n stated in awe.
neytiri just laughed.
the two teens then started to laugh along with her.
neteyam was speechless. his mother knew they would end up together.
curse those damn mother instincts.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
there’s part two!! hopefully everyone likes this🤞
please send in more requests or comments abt what i should write next!
love you guys
~S!
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shiftertech · 3 months
Text
"Can I tell you something?"
The girl sat by the campfire, lazily stoking it with a stick doesn't remove her gaze from the licks of flame. "Depends. Are you going to give me an explanation as to why we're here?"
"I—," you sputter out the short noise before clamping your mouth shut. It'd be better if you showed her. She pokes at the crumbling logs again, a dance of embers bursting upwards in drifting spirals.
"Because I know we're not here just to camp," she continues, eyes tracking upwards with the glowing specks. "You've been anxious as fuck since we arrived. I have eyes. Your fingernails look like shit with all that biting." Ah, fuck.
"W-well, it's something you should really know about me." You shuffle between the fire and the foldable chair placed beside it, eyes stinging as you catch a face full of smoke on your way to her side. You take a knee on ashy soil, still slightly damp from showers the prior day, and steady yourself with your hands.
She doesn't look at you. You dig your fingers into the dirt.
"You know what I've been thinking this is," she finally asks after a prolonged moment.
"What, hun?"
"The moment since we've got here, I've been thinking, 'This is it. This is the part where he breaks up with me.' I been thinking this is your intricate, fucked up way of separating." She waves her free hand in the air, continuing, "And how would I know! I can barely tell what's on your mind most of the time!"
That's not what this is. Not at all. Your heart breaks to even comprehend she's felt like this.
Perhaps it shows on your face because she gives you a peculiar side-glance, eyes glinting with curiosity.
"No!" You reach for her but she flinches, your hand halting in place mid-reach, going slightly limp. Softer, "no, that's not it. Why would I—"
"You're a mirror."
The first time she says it, it sounds like a profound realization.
Silence. The crackle of fire, the chirping of night critters, the cacophony hiss of wind swept tree branches, gone. She sits there, an infinite stare piercing the flames once more.
"What?"
"A mirror. You take on the mannerisms, the patterns, the emotions that others show you, and give it right back." She hangs her head low to the dirt as if she's espousing some fatal truth. "It makes you so easy to love but impossible to know.
"Because, love? Your mirror is cracked. I've known you long enough to tell it isn't you.
"And that was okay for a while. It was so simple to be with you... until the past month.
"You've grown distant and quiet, and I'm worried that you've been a mirror for so long that you haven't noticed your cracks were growing to the point of you being unable to reflect me anymore.
"I'd like to know what lies behind the broken shards but...
Is there anything even there?
Her head turns to you, golden fire-lit eyes landing on your face. You can see your perfectly blank face reflected in them. Hairline cracks decorate your face in an intricate web, crumbling shards falling from your glassy cheeks.
Your hands find their way to your face, fingers landing on the smooth surface with a hard clink. More cracks form at the points of contact, branching to other splits in the material of your smooth skin and knocking more shards loose.
The dirt beneath you is littered with ash and glass. Pieces of you, sharp and fractured, sunken into the earth. Your glass fingers try to pluck the shards out of the ground but only manage to break them further, chipping away at intricately painted details of soft skin and nails bitten away to the false skin. Soon your struggling to bend your fingers at all, stiff as can be in a straightforward posture.
Soft, fleshy fingers gently grab your flaking chin. She turns your emotionless face towards her. Her eyes glow brighter, no longer permitting reflection.
"I'm sorry." A hand is placed upon your chest, just over your heart. "It's too late to go back, you already saw it..."
Another hand combs through the thin glass hairs on your head, shearing them off as she goes. A soft smile tugs at her lips as she says, "but it'll be okay. I've been here before too you know."
She pushes with an inhuman force upon your chest...
And your glass shell shatters.
Emptiness prevails in the sensation of your chest, a million shards falling inwards and disappearing into your void. The gaping hole spreads further as your internal gravity wins over the failing integrity of your body.
Before you, a known but undefined entity kneels onto the dirt with you, in a body of its own design. Her perfectly crafted hands place themselves upon your cracked thighs, thumbs gently tracing circles over the smooth surface. She leans forward, lips next to your broken left ear, its top half snapped off. She speaks in a voice she spent much time perfecting.
"It's almost done, sweetest. Just know I'll love you, whatever you decide to be without your shell. I'll be by your side."
With a quick movement, she shifts all of her immense, impossible weight into the hands on your thighs. They shatter instantly, and take the lower legs and feet folded beneath with them, shards falling upwards into your core. All that remains of you after a few moments is a wispy void. And then...
"Oh. Gorgeous."
An ember from the campfire strays from its upwards path, drifting towards the void of you.
And then another.
And another.
Unlike your shattered shell, these embers do not flicker out of existence in your gravity well. Instead, they begin to wrap around your core in a tight orbit.
The campfire dims as the void of you draws out bursting flecks of glowing carbon, drawing more and more into your orbit, until you are just a sphere of spinning ember light. A sparking fire ball of potential.
Potential. You can feel liquid potential circling around you, currently formless. Potential you can control, shape and mold into whatever the void of you desires. You're not sure what to make of it.
"Whatever you want. This is for no one else but you. Don't hold back," your loving entity replies to your wordless question.
You begin with a small movement. An arc of flame goes wide of the sphere before falling back into the fold. Okay. Maybe you can put more strength behind it.
A minor explosion is the result of that effort, as you learn the extent of your shaping strength. The entity leaps back, a few nasty embers leaving burns across her skin, which are quickly overtaken by a golden glow from inside that fades back into unblemished epidermis. You feel larger, embers leaping off of molten liquid hissing and bubbling in the brisk air.
"Okay, now shape it!"
For lack of a better template at the moment, you try to form the liquid with invisible hands into curves just like the contours of her body. The torso comes into definition, followed by limbs shooting out, and finally a head filling out a rather obvious replication of her, made of the caustic liquid. Your molten feet touch the ground, boiling the water trapped in the soil beneath into steam.
A bubbly laugh comes from her. You look up from your glowing body to see her head thrown back. She's actually crying of laughter, what the hell? She said anything!
You place liquid hands upon your liquid hips, annoyed at the obvious judgement of your choice of form, which only serves to make her double over again.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, it's just..." she pauses to wipe a tear from her eye. "I should have expected you'd try to be me first! Shattered one mirror for another, eh?"
Another bout of laughter. You'd consider her an ass if it wasn't so cute. Well, no, she is an ass, but a cute one at least. This sudden flow of emotion-laden thought comes with new curiosities.
You look down at your body once again, and decide you like its curves, but start to make simple alterations. Simple begins with changing your height, material expanding with a deep thrum and burst of heat until you're towering over her.
"Wow, that's like, a lot more than professional athlete height!" The comment wavers in tone, as if the size is affecting her. You lean in close and her face turns red—and not just from the orange glow of your molten body.
Having had your fun with height, you shrink back with a sharp hiss of escaping pressure and heat, much to her apparent disappointment. There are other things you try, like proportions and weight, but some things stay the same, like having breasts, which feel so right it feels wrong. You make this form your own.
It's pretty clear that you've settled on a feminine body, which makes so much sense to a certain part of you. You are a bit tired of being a humanoid light bulb though.
"We can work on that now. Imagine what you want to be made of, and reach for it."
The lava that makes you starts to cool off, flickering light ebbing away to dark basalt. You feel it crack and reform as you bend your arm at the elbow. A new idea strikes you, and before long, the rock crumbles away all across your body as if it were just a thin crust, revealing a shiny metal skin beneath. Neat.
After definitely not an abundance of playing around with this (you really liked being a sentient humanoid water thing, that was cool), you returned to what you knew best, with human skin and hair.
You test your voice for the first time, a feminine lilt, saying, "what happens now? Once I find what I want to be, will I be stuck like that forever?" The lightness of your tone gives you a fluttery feeling in your chest.
Her hands find her way onto your hips as she pulls you close. "That's the best part. What we want to be isn't a static thing," she says. "As we grow, as we learn, as we experience, what we want to he changes. You and I are gifted with the knowledge that we are malleable things. Entities of change. One's who can embrace it with no restriction."
You look at your hand, you shape it. Scales chase up the wrist and previously bitten down nails slide out into avian talons. You flip it over, and in the midst of the motion consider another form. Tufts of fur burst from the gaps between scales, and leathery pads swell upon your fingers and palms. The talons shrink back into canine claws, that you could easily imagine digging into the dirt to pull you into a sprint.
You let it return to a human shape as you look back at her, emotions overwhelming you.
"I had something I wanted to tell you," you say, tears pooling in your eyes. She tips her head forward, your foreheads touching. "I think... I'm a girl..."
"I know, baby. I know you are."
She wraps you in her arms as you let it all out, sobbing into her neck. She doesn't let you go even as the campfire simmers and cracks, no more flames licking up into the sky. She doesn't let you go as the night critters resume their chirping. She doesn't let you go as the wind swept trees bristle under the growing light of dawn.
Not even as you both let sleep take you, no more mirrors and broken shells keeping you apart.
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ilovepedro · 4 months
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mistletoe kisses | joel miller x f!reader
Main masterlist
Rating: M - 18+ MDNI
Word count: ~2.6k
Summary: You decorate the Christmas tree with some help from Joel and Ellie.
Warnings: established relationship, post-outbreak, Jackson era, canon divergent bc nothing bad ever happens to them ever 😁, sickening fluff, pet names (honey, darlin’, baby, babydoll, etc), allusions to smut, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N.
A/N: surprise!!! i know i said this would be up on the 22nd, but i’ve got something else that will be up on saturday 🤭 and i just couldn’t stop thinking about giving this man a happy ending, including healing and starting new traditions with his family 😔 i wish joel was real 💔 anyway, i hope y’all enjoy! not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍♀️
Divider by @/saradika
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Grumbling, he treks behind you, snow crunching beneath his work boots as he cautiously lugs the saw in his hands.
You’re rambling about finding the perfect tree in front of him, Ellie asking a million questions about the tradition.
He hadn’t expected, intended, to find a partner in Jackson. That is until he saw you, lugging a heavy crate of harvested crops across the town, your wagon having been broken. Tommy had told him about you, how you were single.
“She’s sweet as pie, brother. She might be good for you. Real pretty too.” Joel recalls the conversation he had with Tommy before he stormed off to the barn.
His Southern hospitality lay dormant until he saw you struggling. The urge to help creeped up on him. His typical quite observant demeanor tossed out the window as he approached you.
“Need some help?” He asks.
You wipe your brow, huffing before laying your eyes on the broad, handsomely rugged man in front of you - it’s Tommy’s brother. His name escaping you briefly.
You beam. “Oh. Sure. Thank you…” you trail off, slightly off guard by his kind gesture. His large gloved hand extends out towards you.
“Joel,” he finishes your sentence. “Thank you, Joel,” your hand shaking his, giving him your name. It rolls off his tongue with a certain sweetness, sending a flurry of butterflies to swirl in your belly. You knew of him, but knew he was also not a man of many words. You had yet to make acquaintances with him and who you assume is his daughter.
“You’re Tommy’s brother right?” You curiously ask, attempting to make small talk as Joel grunts while picking up the crate.
“Yes ma’am.”
Smiling at his Southern drawl, you run to help him carry one side of the heavy crate, feeling bad letting him do all the work.
“Uh uh, what do you think you’re doin’?” He asks, brow raised as you both stop in your tracks. “Helping you,” you state. He chuckles, shaking his head as he begins to walk.
“I asked if you needed help, darlin’. ‘Sides, what kinda man would I be letting a pretty girl like you carry all this shit by herself? My momma would have me by the head, ‘s for damn sure.”
You open your mouth to detest the notion that women need any assistance from men, but he stops you before you can.
“‘N I know ya don’t need any help from any man. You women are tough as shit, met a lota you over the years. Jus’ wanna help, ‘s all.” He kindly explains. You don’t understand why he wants to help, why he’s approached you specifically.
You’re aware that he’s typically very reserved, not leaving his house if he doesn’t have to. You’ve heard things about his past, and Tommy having confided in you at times, but the world has gone to shit. Who are you to judge? Everyone’s done some horrible stuff to stay alive.
He’s also painfully handsome. Opting to not object to his help and company, you sigh.
“Well, at least let me take some of the vegetables,” you protest, grabbing bunches of carrots. He chuckles quietly.
“Sure thing, darlin’,” he mutters. The nickname catching you both by surprise as a sort of tension falls over you two.
Flashing him a grateful toothy grin, you gather the vegetables in your arms. He gives you a small smirk in return.
“So how are you liking Jackson? I don’t see you ‘round much,” you ask as you begin the trek to the dining hall.
“‘S good. Big change, learnin’ the ropes of patrol. Makin’ sure Ellie’s settlin’ in,” he states. “And Ellie’s…”
“My family,” he says firmly. You nod, internally assuming she’s not his biological daughter.
“Well, I hope you both settle in nicely.” He feels his heart soften at your kindness.
He thought you’d have shied away from him, that you’d have listened to what people are saying about him around town.
But you didn’t. You took to him kindly, warmly.
He’ll be damned if he told Tommy he was right about you, He’d never hear the end of it… but shit, was he right. You were so kind and open-minded, and so beautiful.
The both of you making small talk as you trek to the dining hall, Joel lugging the crate into the kitchen for prep as you follow behind. He places the crate on the floor with a grunt. You drop the carrots in the box afterwards.
Rising to his feet, he sighs as he wipes his hands on his jeans, you copying his actions.
“Thank you again, Joel. I really appreciate it,” you tell him again. “Ain’t no problem, darlin’.”
Silence fills the air, save for the clanging and clattering of utensils in the kitchen.
“Would you… would you like to have a drink sometime? As a, uh, form of repayment for helping me today,” you timidly ask. A small smile breaks out onto Joel’s face.
“You ain’t gotta repay me, darlin’. But I’d love to grab a drink with ya,” he says.
Smiling from ear to ear, you nod happily. “It’s a date,” you say, before slapping a hand over your mouth as your eyes go wide. “I-I’m sorry. It’s not a date, it doesn't have to be. I mean, u-unless you want-,” you nervously ramble before Joel cuts you off.
“‘S a date,” he rasps. A soft smile on both your faces. The rest is history.
He wouldn’t trade that moment for the world, as he’s got you by his side now. He just didn’t expect that drink to lead him to trudging through the woods in the freezing early morning to cut down a tree.
He’d much rather be sleeping right now on his day off, but he can never say no to his girls.
Making your way through the woods, you and Ellie wind through the path while Joel stands and watches. There aren’t many trees, but just enough to scour from.
Not seeing any you like, you continue to walk down the path. “What about this one?” Ellie asks, standing next to a fir no taller than Joel.
Your eyes light up, a sparkly smile illuminating your face.
“It’s perfect. Great find, Ellie!” You yelp, high fiving the girl who’s equally excited.
“Hey, Joel!” Ellie shouts through her hands, her cheeks rosy and nose frosted. He clambers through the trees, saw in hand with his signature scowl. “Find one?”
“Mhmm,” Ellie says while beaming, you nodding in agreement. Joel sighs as he begins to saw down the tree. The trunk’s not very thick, the branches skinny, but still full enough to mimick the times before.
It falls to the snow covered ground, you and Ellie taking a few steps back. Joel stomps over to it, hoisting it up over his shoulder.
“Thank you, honey,” you whisper against his ear before placing a kiss on his patchy beard. His body flushing hot red from heat despite the cold air.
“Sure thing, baby,” he says bashfully, smiling a smile only reserved for you. Lacing his fingers with yours, you walk hand-in-hand back to the house with Ellie rambling ahead of you, vibrating with excitement.
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“Joel, could you move it a little to the left?” You ask, hands clasped together over your lips. Joel grunts, red in the face as he shoves the fir to the left.
“A little more, please?”
Another grunt.
“A liiiitttllleee more.”
With a sigh, he shoves it once more.
“Perfect!” You clap. Joel rises to his full height, groaning as his bones crack and ache. You stride to him, leaning in for a kiss.
He could never stay annoyed at you.
“Thank you, honey,” you mutter with a dopey grin. Joel mirrors your expression, wrapping his hands around your waist and pressing his lips against yours. A saccharine kiss, your fingers curling in his grays.
His heart flutters as you sigh into him, your contentment radiating through your chest and into his soul.
When the fuck did his heart ever flutter?
“You guys gonna do that all fucking day or what?!” Ellie shouts, cutting ribbon and twine for the decorations.
You both startle at the sound of her voice, jumping in Joel’s arms. Joel glares at Ellie as laughter bubbles over your lips.
“Sorry, Ellie,” you call out. “Seriously, thank you, honey,” you tell Joel with a pat on his broad chest.
“No problem, darlin’,” he says softly with a swift kiss to your forehead before releasing you from his grasp. Joel strides into the kitchen to heat up some milk, with you rushing over to Ellie who sits at the dining table with an array of supplies.
You’re so good with Ellie, so patient with her while gently explaining how to string the dried oranges on the twine. She gets the hang of it pretty easily, holding it up and beaming with pride. Your giddiness mirroring hers, praising her as you waltz into the kitchen with Joel.
Placing a chaste kiss to his cheek, you flit around him as you pop some kernels in a hot pan. Transforming them into popcorn to make more garlands, and working in comfortable silence alongside each other.
You dump the popcorn into a bowl, you place a tender kiss on his shoulder before returning to Ellie.
Joel feels warm, and it’s not from the heat of the stove.
He preps mugs of hot chocolate for all of you, the chocolate powder stale but still good - the novelty of the gesture still there and just as sweet.
Padding into the living room, the sight of you two making decorations at the table and placing them on the tree tugs at Joel’s heart strings. Remembering how he’d help Sarah decorate their tree every year. Swallowing his grief, he allows himself to enjoy this moment while remembering his daughter.
That’s something you’re teaching him - not to take moments, things, people for granted.
Despite the pain, he knows he’ll confide in you later tonight about it when you’re alone. He sets the mugs on the table, making you pop your head up to flash him a dazzling smile.
“Thank you, honey.”
“‘Course, baby,” he says with a wink. Your smile grows wider, Ellie looking up and rolling her eyes. She playfully gags, Joel smacking his lips as his smile morphs into a scowl.
“Knock it off, kid,” he scolds.
“You knock it off, old man. We’re working here, and you keep distracting my partner,” she retorts. He scoffs, rolling his eyes. You can’t help, but laugh at their banter.
“Sorry, Ellie. I promise I’m listening,” your laughter dissolving into giggles. Joel rolls his eyes before getting a fire going in the fireplace.
Standing back and taking in the scene playing out in front of him. Hot chocolate, a tree, decorations being strung upon it - how is this possible? What did he do to deserve this?
He shakes the thought from his head, not questioning the good thing – the very good thing – in front of him. Instead, he enjoys watching his girls flit around the tree.
Ellie excitedly attempts to place the makeshift star on the tree that she crafted out of some stray branches and extra paper she had in her sketch pad.
She can’t reach, being significantly shorter than the tree. Huffing in defeat, she shoots you a look - both of you thinking the same thing. She whips around, paper star in hand.
“Joel, wanna do the honors?” She asks, holding out the star. Joel swallows thickly, never having thought he’d be doing this again.
“Sure,” he softly says, taking the star from Ellie and setting it atop the tree. The three of you stand back, admiring your hard work in silence, as you tightly wrap your arms around Joel’s middle. He holds you tighter.
“Looks good,” he mumbles. You nod, soft smile on your face.
“Hell yeah, it does!” Ellie giddily yells before cutting off her next thought. “No way, is that hot chocolate?!” She shouts, rushing to the table to grab a mug.
“Yeah, careful kid, it’s still hot,” Joel warns, still wound up in your arms. Ellie blows caution to the wind as she gulps it down.
“Ellie, slow down! You’re gonna get a stomachache,” you scold lightly. “It’s hot chocolate! When the hell am I ever gonna come across this again?!”
“I’ll find some more, jus’ slow down! Gonna be all fuckin’ hopped up on sugar,” Joel begrudgingly says. Rolling her eyes, she glances at the clock. Her eyes bug out of her head.
“Shit! I told Cat I’d meet her at 6!” She shouts before gulping down the rest of her hot chocolate, slamming the mug on the table.
“Be back later!” She says, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.
“Be back by 9!” Joel shouts. “Mhmm,” her tone dismissive. “I mean it, Ellie,” he warns.
“Sure thing, old man!” She says before reaching for the doorknob. “Ellie, 9 o’clock, okay?” You chime in, asking.
She turns around, taking in the both of you. “Okay,” she says with another roll of her eyes and an exasperated sigh before heading out the door. It slams shut, making you and Joel wince.
Joel rolls his eyes. “Girl don’t listen,” rubbing his face as he grumbles.
“She’s just excited, can you blame her? Besides, she’s safe here, Joel,” you say, comfortingly rubbing your hands up and down his broad flannel-covered chest.
“I know. Just still getting used to all this,” he rasps. The two of you still stand in the doorway, wrapped up in one another before a grin breaks out on your face.
“Oh, could you help me with one more thing?” You beam at him. His brow quirks up in confusion. “‘Course, baby. What do ya need?”
You unravel yourself from his embrace, padding into the kitchen. He hears you clambering, his curiosity peaking. You return with something behind your back, smiling wider now.
Whipping the sprig of mistletoe from behind your back, you hold it above your head. His features softening.
Joel immediately recognizes what you’re holding, beaming at your antics.
“Could you help me hang this up please?” You ask, drawing out the last syllable, batting your lashes at him with a sly smirk.
“Y’know, if ya wanted a kiss, all ya gotta do is ask, babydoll,” he rasps as he takes it from you, not missing the chance to place a teasing kiss on your cheek. Waves of heat run through you from head to toe.
Joel hangs the mistletoe with ease on a nail that’s been conveniently placed above the kitchen entryway, right where you’re both standing.
You must’ve put it up there when he was on patrol a few days ago.
The red ribbon you tied around the plant stands out against the dark framing, the fire crackles in the background and illuminates the house.
“Well would ya look at that,” his voice low and husky as he locks his gaze with yours. A goofy grin on your face. “Huh. Guess you gotta kiss me now.”
“Don’t need mistletoe for that, babydoll,” he whispers. The two of you connect your lips with each other’s. Sighing into him, you finally have a moment alone with him today. You card your fingers through his hair, a satisfied groan escapes him.
You pull away breathlessly, both yours and Joel’s eyes heavy and glazed over.
“Ya know… Ellie won’t be back til 9. We’ve got some time left,” you teasingly whisper in his ear while he places a kiss to your neck.
“Lead the way, darlin,” he rasps, the two of you rushing upstairs.
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just felt like writing some tooth rotting fluff for my Joely, i love him sm 😔
i hope y’all enjoyed! 🫶🏼 thank you for reading 🩷
tag list: @gracieheartspedro @sapphic-gardn @undrthelights @javierpena-inatacvest @nostalxgic @party-hearses @mandoisapunk @tinygarbage @bastardmandennis @janaispunk @persephone-girl @harriedandharassed @its-nebuleuse
493 notes · View notes
futureman · 4 months
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you're a mean one, mr. miller
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pairing: joel miller x f!reader
summary: you and ellie decide the solution to joel's grinch-like approach to the holidays lies in finding him the perfect gift
warnings: jackson era, grumpy old man!joel, significant other!reader, fluff, mild angst, gift giving, christmas at the miller's, so many polaroids
word count: 3.8k
12 days of pedro masterlist - ty to @hellishjoel for organizing this project <3
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The Miller household always gets a little tense around the holidays. When the days shorten and snow begins to fall, Joel throws himself into patrols and plans for winter-proofing Jackson, and it's all he'll talk about for months. It's obvious he does it on purpose. 
Christmas is basically an unspoken no-no under his roof, and there might as well be a swear jar for the word if his reaction is any indication. He refuses to acknowledge it and only tolerates the day itself because he knows it makes you and Ellie happy. 
You just wish it made him happy, too. You know it used to. Every year, Tommy regales stories about their Christmases in Austin as kids, and later with Sarah. Joel loved Christmas. 
They used to visit the tree farm, pick the tallest, fullest tree they could fit in their living room, and decorate it the very same day. Their attic and even parts of their garage were home to lights and tinsel in every color you could think of, and ornaments Sarah brought home from art classes and the yearly holiday fair at school.
All of that changed after the outbreak. It wasn't just her passing that did it. It wasn't even the threat of death or worse lurking around every corner. It was time. 
Joel just got used to life without it. After 22 years of missed holidays, he decided he didn't actually miss them at all. He couldn't afford to spare precious resources or energy on anything that wasn't necessary for survival. But that isn't the point of Christmas, is it? 
You celebrate your loved ones and their joy. You celebrate life. Here in Jackson, he finally has all of that, but if Joel is anything, he's a stubborn man set in his ways. You can tell he's still resistant to the idea because he genuinely believes there are better uses for his time.
You can also tell he's afraid to let his guard down. You just haven't figured out a way to show him he doesn't have to be. No one's safety is guaranteed in the world you live in, but you're protected now. And that responsibility isn't solely on him anymore.
If you could give him anything for Christmas this year, it would be peace. One day, even just a few hours of tensionless shoulders and a wrinkle-free brow would be a gift for all of you. He deserves to enjoy something merry and cheerful again, just for the sake of it.  
So, you ask the person who knows him best in the world for help.
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"What do we think about getting Joel a Christmas gift this year?"
Ellie glances up from her guitar with the most incredulous look you've ever seen on her face. 
"Depends. Do you have a death wish?" she jokes, draping her arm over her instrument so she's sitting more comfortably. She's settling in—you both know this is about to be a painful conversation.
"No, but—," you sigh, leaning against the door behind you. It's still chilled, even through your coat, from when you barged into the shed and interrupted her practice. "I don't know. He wouldn't make that big of a deal, would he? It doesn't have to be anything flashy, just something small. Something nice."
"So, you wanna get Joel something nice for a holiday he hates? That makes total sense," she says, rolling her eyes.
You don't appreciate the sarcasm, but you expected it. She knows as well as you do that Joel won't be thrilled by the gesture, if he even accepts it.
"El, come on. I could really use your help here," you try to appeal to the part of her that usually can't say no to you, and thankfully she's starting to cave. "If there's anyone who can come up with a present Joel will actually like, it's you."
She sighs. Her fingers drum an arrhythmic beat on the wood grain while she thinks, a habit she must've picked up from Joel.
"Look, Joel's not really a 'thing' kinda guy," she replies, and she's probably right. He's never been the kind of guy who has physical attachments. "When's the last time he actually gave a shit when something broke or got lost? Even his watch is broken."
"Yeah, but that's different. You know it's different," you counter softly. But you can see the point she's trying to make. "Okay, so we don't get him a 'thing'."
She nods, waiting for you to offer another idea, but you're even more stumped than you were when you got here. 
"Maybe you can draw him something?" you grimace, grasping at straws now.
"His house is full of shit I've drawn," she deadpans. "Plus, I thought this was an us gift. That sounds like a 'me doing all the work' gift."
You let out a frustrated groan, and your head thunks dully against the door. You knew this wasn't going to be an easy task, but you thought it would at least be possible. Joel's a complicated man—it's one of the things you love most about him—but his wants and needs are surprisingly simple. 
He loves a home-cooked meal, especially meat and potatoes. He enjoys cold beers with Tommy on the porch during the summer and walking Ellie through complicated picking patterns when she's stuck on a song. He likes relaxing on the couch and watching old Westerns or cheesy action movies, and craves your body, soft and pliant, under his after a frustrating day on patrol.
But you want this to mean more than any of that. A special something that goes beyond the norm to loosen some of the springs that keep him wound up tight and constantly in motion. 
You glance around Ellie's space as your hope begins to dwindle, and the corkboard above her bed catches your eye. It's always been there, covered in doodled-on scrap paper and photos of her family and friends, and you're positive you've seen it hundreds of times since you've been in Jackson. But this time, it gives you an idea. The idea.
"That Polaroid camera you found in Eugene's basement—the one in the library. Does it work?"
Ellie's brows furrow at your sudden question. She clearly didn't expect it, but you're hoping she'll be on board once she finally catches on.
"Uhh, yeah, Cat and I were messing around with it the other day. Worked pretty well for us," she replies hesitantly, pointing at the entertainment console next to you. "It's next to the PlayStation."
Humming in response, you squat in front of the shelf to inspect it. It's in great condition, even better than you expected. Even the flash button lights up and whirs just like you remember. 
Before she can protest, you whip around and snap an extremely candid, brightly lit photo of her. If the look on her face is the same one you just caught on film, then you're already off to a great start.
"Dude, what the fuck? What was that for?" she groans in annoyance, blinking the bright spots out of her vision.  
"A scrapbook," you grin. "For Joel."
She's still glaring at you as she rubs her eyes, but she bites back whatever retort she was about to say. You watch her expectantly as she chews on the idea, relief blooming in your chest when she finally nods.
"I guess that could work," she says slowly, still thinking over the logistics in her head. But then she frowns. "When exactly did you plan on taking all those photos? Not to be a downer, but Christmas is in like, a week."
Damn, she's right again. It'll be hell in a handbasket to fill an entire scrapbook in that amount of time, and even if you manage it, it'll be a half-assed attempt at best.
No, if you're going to do this, then you're going to do it right. No rushed or slapstick presents for the man who already hates Christmas—Joel deserves better than that.
"What if we let Joel do his bah-humbug thing one last time? That's probably his idea of a perfect gift, anyway. Then next year, it'll be this," you hand her the fully-developed Polaroid.
It shows Ellie hugging the guitar Joel made for her, but there's no sign of the shocked annoyance that followed the camera flash. Instead, she's smiling. She has that rare, unguarded expression on her face, the one reserved only for people she trusts. It's a tender moment of peace, forever frozen in time.
She looks up at you, and you can see it in her eyes. She gets it, now.
"You do realize it's still a 'thing' present though, right?" she interjects playfully, and you have to resist the urge to grab the wood polishing cloth on the table next to you and swat her with it.
"Yeah, but it's a sappy thing. Admit it, Joel's a huge sap and you know it. You said it yourself, his house is basically a glorified fridge with your art magnetized to the walls."
She rolls her eyes again, but you can see the smile tugging at her lips. She knows it's true.
"So, you'll help me?" you ask, daring to hope that she'll agree.
"As long as you don't pull this shit again, I'll do whatever you want," she lifts the Polaroid, shooting you a dirty, but affectionate look before handing it back to you.
A grin breaks out across your face, and you bolt across the room to hug her awkwardly around the instrument still sitting in her lap. She places it down so she can wrap her arms around you properly. 
Physical affection has never really been Ellie's thing but if you catch her at the right moment on the right day, you might get lucky. Today, you do.
"So, when do we get started?" she asks, pulling away.
"Right now," you reply, unable to contain your excitement. For the first time in over two decades, Joel Miller might actually have a merry Christmas, and that's something to celebrate. 
"Now?" she gapes at you, looking over her shoulder longingly at her guitar as you drag her out of the shed. She barely has enough time to grab a coat before you're out in the cold with nothing but each other, a camera, and a plan.
"Now." 
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ONE YEAR LATER
Jackson in the spring is one of the most beautiful things you've ever seen, even among your memories of the world pre-outbreak. Snow remains on the mountain peaks in the distance, but the foliage below blooms with the promise of warmer weather. Somehow, you managed to capture it all—fresh flowers in the shop windows, friends and neighbors shedding their coats and congregating in the streets, and the post-winter excitement that spreads more and more with each sunny day. 
You hid the stack of photographs in an empty jumbo box of tampons in the hall closet, positive they’d be safe from Joel’s prying eyes while you and Ellie continued your mission.
In the summer, two new foals were born, and Ellie and Maria spent almost every day at the stables to help out where they could. They even named them—Shimmer was Maria’s choice, and Ellie named the other Callus just to piss off Joel. Not only did it work, but it resulted in some of the cutest pictures of the season. 
Joel and Tommy built a porch swing for Maria and their rambunctious toddler and spent countless balmy nights drinking Tommy's extra-strength whiskey and shooting the shit. They even broke out their guitars every so often and managed to bully Ellie into playing with them once or twice. You caught that on camera, too. 
Slowly but surely, the memory box filled up, and the photos were transferred to a scrapbook you and Ellie made yourselves—with a little local help. One of the school teachers happened to be a former librarian with a bookbinding hobby, and graciously gave you a treasure trove of old, tattered books that were perfect for your project. 
By autumn, everything was falling into place. Ellie adorned those pages with painted leaves in shades of red, orange, and yellow to complement the photos you took at the town’s annual Harvest Festival and Thanksgiving potluck. You hopped around from booth to booth, table to table, and thanked your lucky stars that Eugene was a hoarder and held onto every pack of film he found over the years.
Now, it's the night before Christmas and you have a single shot left. One last photo intended for the final page, but you can’t think of anything you haven’t already documented. Looking around Tommy’s living room, there are plenty of moments you’d love to capture, and yet none of them feel like the moment. 
How the Grinch Stole Christmas plays in the background while you sit on their couch, curled into Joel’s side with Ellie’s head on your lap, but you’re barely paying attention, still lost in your thoughts. Joel isn’t paying attention, either—he was unsurprisingly averse to the movie to begin with—so when you don’t laugh along with everyone else at the Grinch’s antics, he immediately knows something’s up. He kisses your temple, careful not to jostle Ellie.
“What’s got you so in your head you’re not even laughin’ at Jim Carrey? I thought you loved this movie,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear. His familiar Southern twang somehow warms you up more than the fireplace crackling next to the television. 
“I do. I think I’m just getting a little sleepy, is all,” you reply softly, sagging into him. “Winter dance prep sucked this week. It’s like everyone conveniently forgot they volunteered to help.”
He nods, mumbling an apology into your hair.
“Guess that makes sense. All that runnin’ around you’ve been doing with that camera of yours probably ain’t helpin’ either,” he says offhandedly, and your brows furrow in response.
It’s not the first time he’s mentioned your sudden interest in photography, but with his gift sitting less than 10 feet away under Tommy and Maria’s Christmas tree, it seems more than a little suspicious. You catch Ellie glancing up at you in your peripheral, and you meet her gaze as discreetly as you can.
“Yeah, maybe,” you laugh it off, hoping it doesn’t sound as tense to Joel’s ears as it does to yours.
“What are you doin’ with all of those photos anyway? I swear, you take ‘em and then they disappear into thin air,” he presses on, none the wiser.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you joke, shaking your head as if that’ll shake off all of his incoming questions. But it doesn’t work nearly as well as you hoped.
“Y’know, I was wonderin’ that myself,” Tommy interjects from the recliner to your right. “You’ve been takin’ photo after photo for almost a year, and I don’t think I’ve seen a single one.”
Maria scoffs next to him, coming to the rescue before you’re forced to come up with a believable explanation. 
“Mind your own damn business,” she smacks him in the chest, then shoots you a sympathetic look. 
You asked for her help not long after you and Ellie started planning Joel’s gift, so she knows how important this is. The last thing she’s going to do is let her husband’s need to stir the pot ruin it. But Tommy’s not the type of guy to give in that easily.
“I’m just sayin’, might be nice take a look at ‘em. You probably got some good ones of the kids in there, ‘specially from birthdays and holidays—,” he manages to get out before Ellie cuts him off.
“Can you guys have this conversation somewhere else? Some of us are actually trying to watch the movie,” she sits up from her spot on your lap to glare in his direction. 
Then, Tommy abruptly stands like something just occurred to him and strides across the room to the mantle above the fireplace—right where you set the camera down earlier. Your heart leaps into your throat. 
“Hold up. This thing’s still got one shot left, don’t it?” he asks excitedly, and you’re not sure how to shut him down without drawing too much attention to yourself or sounding mildly hysterical.
“Well, yeah, but—“
“Oh shit, s’got a timer and everythin’,” he continues, fiddling with its limited settings. He turns back towards the rest of the group and holds up the camera with a grin. “C’mon, everybody get together. We’re takin’ our first official Christmas card photo.”
“But, Tommy—,” you try again, but you’re drowned out by Joel’s sad attempt to leave the room.
“Look, I said I’d watch the movie, but I sure as hell didn’t agree to take a damn Christmas photo,” he grumbles, moving to stand, but you latch onto his flannel before he gets too far. He softens at your downtrodden expression and settles back in.
“Just to be clear, m’doin this for her, not for you,” he amends his previous statement gruffly, throwing an arm around your shoulder. You kiss his cheek gratefully, and Ellie pretends to gag as she shuffles to sit between your legs.
“Whatever you say, big brother. All you gotta do is sit there and look pretty. Think you can handle that?” Tommy teases him, making one final adjustment to the camera's placement. “Alright y’all, here we go.”
He sets the timer, then runs to the couch, squishing into the only available spot between Maria and an armrest. Everyone huddles together with varying levels of smiles and grimaces on their faces while you wait for the camera to go off. Except, it doesn't.
“Wait, how long did you set the timer for?” you peer around Maria to see Tommy looking genuinely dumbfounded.
“…Does it not just go 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, shoot?” he asks sheepishly.
"Oh my god, are you kidding me?" Ellie groans, leaning back against you, and the entire couch bursts out laughing. 
And in that moment, the flash goes off.
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Yeah, this is the one.
The photo in your hands feels like the culmination of every memory you made and preserved in the past year. Five faces—and one tiny sleeping one—look up at you, fully developed and as happy as you've ever seen them.
Tommy and Maria sit side by side with their son in her lap, their heads thrown back in laughter. Next to them, Ellie sits between your legs, mid-knee slap, as you cackle with your chin resting on top of her head.
And then there's Joel, grinning from ear to ear as he looks on at the family he's fought so hard to protect. The family that's safe and sound, and enjoying an ordinarily special day, just for the sake of it. You can only hope that a book full of photos and everything it represents will be enough to convince him once and for all that it's the truth.
As you slide the final Polaroid into place, Joel sidles up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist.
"What's all this?" he watches curiously as you close the book and swipe your hand lovingly across the cover. Then, you pick it up and turn in his embrace, leaning back against the kitchen counter. 
"A gift," you reply carefully, hugging it to your chest. 
You glance over to where Ellie's still sitting in the living room, but she shakes her head and offers you a small smile, her delicate way of telling you that you're on your own. You take a deep breath before continuing.
"It's a Christmas present from me and Ellie," you explain, hoping to convey even a fraction of what this means to you. "Look, we know this isn’t necessarily your favorite day, but...we still wanted to do something nice for you."
He nods, his expression frustratingly unreadable. But then he does something unexpected.
"Y'gonna keep huggin' it or are you gonna show it to me?" he drawls jokingly, and your brows shoot up in shock.
"You wanna see it?" 
His face falls, and you immediately feel terrible at the brief wave of hurt that crosses his features. You didn't mean to sound so surprised, but you didn't anticipate this easy acceptance.
"'Course I do. The two of you spent a whole year workin' on this thing, why wouldn't I?"
That grin you know he loves lights up your entire face, and you turn to place his gift back on the counter. Flipping to the first page, you step aside and let him explore it for himself.
He takes in each moment of each season slowly, running his fingers across Ellie's doodles between photos and in the margins. Spring is framed by butterflies that you're somehow just realizing are painted in all of Sarah's favorite colors. 
Ellie added so many painstaking details you'd never talked about. You're not even sure how she knew something like that, but you're grateful it's there. Joel notices it too, and reaches down to take your hand, gripping it tightly for the rest of the book. 
He's silent as flips through summer and fall, and when he finally reaches winter, you feel him begin to tremble beside you. 
The last page sits open in front of you, the photo from earlier flanked on either side by notes from you and Ellie. As he reads, then rereads them, you can see the cogs turning. He's starting to understand why you did this—and how something as simple as a photograph isn't just a look back on a life well-lived. It's a reminder to keep living.
“This is…,” his brows furrow as he tries to find the words to express the conflicting thoughts racing through his head.
“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t get you anything," is what he ultimately settles on, but when he looks up at you, his eyes are wet. You immediately drop his hand to cup his cheeks.
"You didn't need to. I have everything I've ever wanted right here," you tell him gently, brushing away the tears threatening to fall. 
You glance over at the familiar faces in the living room, the same ones looking up at you from the page below, and he follows your gaze. The tension in his body begins to bleed away the longer he watches them, and you learn the wrinkle in his brow isn't actually the permanent fixture it always seemed to be.
He reaches up to cover one of your hands with his own, and you can feel his heart racing through his fingertips. In the back of your mind, you wonder if this is the moment it happens. If his heart grew three sizes bigger today, and if he's finally ready to give himself the gift of peace.
“Merry Christmas, Joel Miller," you whisper, kissing him deeply as the sweet voice of Cindy Lou Who brings the movie credits rolling in the distance to a close.
thanks for reading and happy holidays!
dividers by @saradika-graphics
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putellas14 · 4 months
Text
Home for the Holidays (Alexia Putellas x Reader ficlet)
18. "cancelling all other plans so they can spend the entire holidays together."
Hope you don't hate me for being a few weeks late. This one's not the best but covid really took me out. Merry Christmas, dear friends. I hope 2024 is full of magic for you all.
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"Are you excited to go visit your family for Christmas?" Lola asked you at the end of the last training before Christmas. This was your third year in Madrid and every Christmas, you left Spain to visit your family in Denmark. You usually looked forward to the time with them since you didn't get to go home often.
"Yeah!" you lied. "We're going to make cookies like we do every year and I've been on a crafting kick, so I made a bunch of pinterest-y crafts to give them." You hadn't told anyone but you were dreading going home this year. Not because you didn't love your family but because you didn't want to leave Alexia alone. Her mom and sister had gone on a vacation for a week to Japan and due to a volcanic eruption, they had gotten stuck there. So far, there was no news on whether they'd make it back this weekend for Christmas.
Not that anyone knew you and Alexia were dating. That you wanted to throw your traditions to the wind and start building new ones with Alexia.
"When do you leave?"
"In the morning. I have the first flight out at 6am."
"That's too early," Lola said, fake shuddering. "Merry Christmas, Y/N," she said, picking up her bags. "I hope you have a great time."
"Thanks, Lol. Merry Christmas." You smiled warmly at her as she walked away. You finished packing your bag and walked out to the parking lot. On the drive back to your apartment, you  tried calling Alexia. They had finished training  for two weeks yesterday and had a team Christmas party tonight. It surprised you to get her voicemail. Hanging up, you sighed, hoping she was alright. She loved Christmas normally and you knew it was incredibly hard for her to be without her family.
Once you were home, you turned on all the Christmas lights you'd put up. Bright colors and twinkly white lights illuminated your home, bringing a huge smile to your face. The Christmas tree in the corner was filled with the ugliest ornaments you could find. Garlands and tinsel were hung over every window. The older you got, the more time you spent away from home, the more you reveled in tacky Christmas décor.
An hour later, you were curled on the couch with a large bowl of soup, a cheesy Christmas movie on the television, and your puppy sprawled out next to you on the couch. As the couple on the screen slowly fell in love, your mind drifted to the woman you loved. And you started to plan. There was no way you could leave her alone at Christmastime. The thought of her alone dampened all your Christmas spirit.
The next morning, you packed up your bags and the puppy and made your way to the train station. When you should have been touching down in Copenhagen, you were stepping off the train in Barcelona. Although Zazu had only been to Barcelona once, he led you right to her apartment, tugging you along behind, anxious to see Alexia. You had a key to her apartment but this surprise felt worth knocking and waiting for her to open the door, so you kept it tucked away in the side pocket of your backpack.
She answered, a hoodie pulled down over her forehead, hair that had escaped her bun poking out around her face. The initial frown she had at being awoken broke into a smile and then tears.
"Oh, honey." You stepped into her and wrapped your arms tight around her. She burrowed her head into your shoulder, making her hood fall off. Zazu jumped onto both of your legs, barking in excitement.
"I needed you. And here you are," she whispered.
You brushed her hair back and kissed her forehead. "Come on. I'll make you some breakfast."
She hugged you from behind while you made food for both of you. Her arms tightened when you started pulling plates out of the cabinet. All you could do was giggle. Hungover Alexia was always so cuddly. Sad Ale was clingy. This Alexia was a combination of both of them.
“Are you going to let me go so we can sit at the table or do you want to sit on the couch?”
“Couch,” she mumbled.
"Carry this for me," you said, handing her one of the plates. You picked up the empty plate and took her free hand in yours for the short walk to the couch. Zazu had made himself comfortable on one end. His tail wagged excitedly when you walked closer to him. Skirting the coffee table, you put your plate down and then took Alexia's to set down. Sitting, you pulled her down next to you, letting your thigh rest against hers. Picking up her plate, you handed it to her. "Here you go, babe," you said gently.
You ate in silence, enjoying each other's presence after all these weeks apart. After breakfast, you both took a lazy shower. You washed her hair for her and let your hands wander. She told you she was beginning to feel half human by the time you got dressed. She asked to go for a walk with Zazu and you gladly agreed. After sitting on the train all morning, you needed some fresh air and exercise.
As you walked down the street towards Alexia's favorite coffee shop, you looped your arm through hers. Barcelona at Christmastime was a magic and you felt like you were walking in a dream. Zazu tugged excitedly at the leash even though he didn’t know where you were going. Multiple times, Alexia had to tug the leash to bring him back to the correct direction.
You took your coffees to the park, so Zazu could run freely for a bit. You cuddled up next to Alexia on the bench. The wind had picked up and you hadn't worn enough layers. She took her hat off and pulled it down over your ears.
"Thank you." You'd also made the mistake of getting an iced coffee. But when he said their special was an iced cardamom lavender latte, you couldn't resist it. It was also so good that you couldn't stop drinking it, despite how cold you were.
"So, what time do you leave for home?" she asked suddenly.
"I have a flight this evening." You traced small patterns on her arm.
"Today?" she asked sadly. "That's so soon."
"I know. I know. My mom was very annoyed that I pushed it even that long."
"Well, I'm really glad you were able to make this pitstop." She kissed your cheek, letting her lips linger a second longer than she should have in public. "I hated the idea of being alone."
"I hated the idea of you being alone too. Which is why I booked two tickets from here to Copenhagen. If I have to go home, you're coming with me."
"What?" she asked, sitting back in shock.
"Come with me," you said, taking her hand in yours. "I want to show you my life in Copenhagen. I want to wake up with you on Christmas morning."
"You're adorable." Throwing her arms around, she pulled you close. "Merry Christmas, Y/N."
"Merry Christmas, Ale." Before putting your arms around her, you let your fingers dance over the little velvet box in your pocket. Christmas in Copenhagen wasn't the only surprise waiting for Alexia this year.
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wileys-russo · 5 months
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I’m having such a bad day PLEASE anything cute with Leah 🥹🥹
i hope your day gets better bby! have something short and sweet two wheels II l.williamson
"-so this time, i'm gonna let go." you warned as leah tensed, knuckles turning white as she gripped the handlebars like they could fall off at any second. "no you're not." the blonde shook her head frantically as you bit back a smile.
"yes I am."
the two of you stood together in a vacant lot behind the adidas training centre, leah only agreeing to the lessons so long as no one would be able to see her.
there was a thin dirt road that lead in and out of the lot from the rest of the complex, though most of your team mates tended to use the main paths out front so it was unlikely anyone would come through and interrupt the two of you this time of day.
"baby you're going to be fine. you've got this alright? just pedal." you affirmed calmly, sounding leagues more confident in her than leah actually felt.
getting the older girls cautious nod of approval you began to run, hands wrapped tightly on the cool metal of the bike as leah started to pedal.
"okay lee, go!" you shouted, releasing your grip on both leah and the bike, lips curling into a smile as leah furiously pumped her legs.
"baby you're doing it!" you cheered proudly, launching your fists into air with a yell of approval. leahs laughter echoing around the air at the surprise that she was actually riding a bike.
the defenders face spread into a shit eating grin as she sped up, heading away hard and fast from the lot they'd started in.
sprinting off after her your own laughter echoed around, bouncing off the trees and raining down around leah as a smile built on the older girls face, reality whizzing past her in a chaotic blur of greens, blues and browns as she ventured further out into the complex.
"go on, you're really doing it! you're riding a bike again lee!" you hopped onto a fence post and cupped your hands over your mouth, yelling out proudly after your girlfriend, who made the unfortunate mistake of glancing over her shoulder with a wolfish grin at your encouragement.
the blonde suddenly careered left toppling over at high speed, both her body and the bike skidding sideways along the road before coming to an abrupt halt.
"oh shit she's not doing it!" your eyes widened at the crash before scrambling off of the fence post you'd climbed onto and racing over.
"love are you okay?" you asked breathlessly, eyes wide with worry as you dropped to her knees beside her. "oww." leah managed to groan out, pushing the bike off of her and slowly sitting up.
"well, you were riding a bike." you joked in an attempt to lighten the mood, biting down on your bottom lip to hold back a smile.
"don't." leah warned seriously, face twisted into a grimace of pain, holding her leg where a large gash had opened, sweats ripped in bloodied tatters around her right knee.
"i'm not." you lied, cheeks sucked in to hold back your amusement as even leah's own lips began to twinge into a ghost of a smile, and with one shared look both your resolves cracked.
your combined laughter encompassing the space around you you fell onto your back, holding your stomach which was beginning to hurt from laughing so hard. leah laid down beside you laughing just as much, both of you reaching out to find one anothers hands.
"oh baby you were going so well!" you managed to get out as your chest heaved, taking shallow breaths to try and control your amusement.
"yeah till my fucking body and the ground decided to become acquainted." leah groaned out, holding her sides which burned both from the fall and her laughter. your bodies still vibrating with amusement you heaved yourself onto your stomach, crawling over to her and picking the leaves from her hair.
"i love you." you smiled, laughter ceasing into small giggles as you ducked down and feverishly kissed her, leahs hands wrapping around your back and holding you tightly.
"most of the time you would use your brakes to stop though, not your body." you pulled away and corrected seriously, leah throwing her head back with a bark of laughter and a groan as you pulled a twig off her training top.
"oh god babe please stop making me laugh, it hurts!"
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bumblesimagines · 6 months
Text
Imagine:
Escaping The Woods
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Request: Yes or No
Finally giving my fem!readers some crumbs
~~~
"Sam, you need to go! Now!" She had no idea where this strength came from to shout at the boy. They constantly sedated her, keeping her numb and tranquil against her will, even when they claimed it was for her own safety. They feared her, just as they feared every other student trapped below the school. She knew well that her food had been tampered with, tainted with a sedative that would keep her from fighting when they did blood tests. The sedative would kick in soon and she'd be left to sleep for hours until she awoke with the hope that Sam finally escaped. 
"But- I can't leave you!" Blood dripped down his cheek, hands and clothes stained with the blood of the guards who had tried stopping him. He'd escaped his cell, just as he had done numerous times before, but he had a chance to finally leave and never return. Her eyes watered and he swallowed, punching in numbers into the pad on her door. It clicked and she gasped softly, wide eyes watching the door slide open. At her feet lied a puddle of blood and a guard with his jaw broken clean off. 
"Sam..."
"Come with us." He pleaded softly and she spotted what he held in his hand. A small supe. A girl. Drenched in blood and sound asleep in the palm of his hand. He held her carefully, as if afraid he'd hurt her with his superstrength. "Let's get out of here."
A chance at freedom. A chance to go home and far away from the corrupt humans keeping her trapped. She swallowed and took his free hand, a wide smile breaking out on his face. He led her down the bloody, corpse-ridden corridor and held the small supe close to his chest, his legs turning corners automatically and leading them to a dead end. Her brows furrowed but then Sam released her hand and braced himself, ramming his shoulder against the wall and making the hidden door burst open. He turned back to her, panting and smiling with his floppy brown curls falling over his forehead. 
"Almost there, (Y/N). Come on!" He took her hand again and they hurried up the stairs, leaving the building and stepping out into part of campus. The fresh air hit her like a truck and she inhaled deeply, the first breath of clean air she'd taken in years. Sam ran out into the field and toward a forested area, the grass beneath her worn sneaks crunching. Real, living trees. She was back in nature. But it wasn't enough. Her hand slipped from Sam's and she collapsed on her knees with a low groan. 
"Sam," She breathed out, feeling the grass against her palms. So soft, so comforting. The grass blades grew and wrapped around her fingers, the use of her powers only straining her more. Sam stepped toward her and offered his hand again.
"It- It's okay, (Y/N). I'll carry you-"
"No, you have to go." She pushed his hand away. "I'll only slow you down. If- If they catch you, who knows what they'll do to you. Save yourself and the girl. If they come, I'll hold them back for as long as I can." 
Sam hesitated, his lips beginning to tremble with anguish and eyes flooding with tears. He nodded and wiped his tears away with the bloodied sleeve of his sweater, turning his back to her and running forward before taking a leap into the air that left a small crater behind. She watched him disappear into the night and sighed, praying to whatever higher power above to let Sam go. To let him finally live a life outside four walls. To let him find Luke and run until nobody could find either of them. 
Headlights suddenly shone behind her and she swallowed thickly, staggering up onto her weak legs. The sedative. She could feel its effects beginning to set in. Her world began to turn and twist but she couldn't let it deter her. She had to protect Sam. She had to. (Y/N) took another deep breath and tried to focus, trying to summon the last of her strength. Nature was all around her. It was her strength, her power. But her vision became blurry and her movements became sluggish. 
"Hey, you okay?" A hand grabbed her elbow and she spun around, swinging as hard and fast as she could but even then, her wrist was easily caught. Her vision grew blurrier and she stumbled right into the chest of the stranger before her legs gave out and her vision went dark. 
Jordan stared at the girl passed out on their bed, teeth anxiously chewing on their bottom lip. They recognized her. She'd ranked 8th in the Top Ten before disappearing, or per Brink's words, 'dropped out due to pressure.' Yet there she was. Weak, delirious, and in the worst state they'd ever seen another person in. Famished, dehydrated, and likely tormented. "Fuck," They cursed softly and ran a hand over their face in frustration. Maybe if they hadn't been so meek back in freshmen year, maybe if they had gotten the courage to speak with her... maybe she wouldn't have been taken. 
She groaned and their heart nearly skipped a beat, shooting up from the couch and watching her closely for signs of consciousness. (Y/N)'s head lolled from side to side, slowly rolling onto her back and carefully sitting up with her eyes cracking open. Jordan slipped into their femme form, their smaller and softer form where they wouldn't be as intimidating. She'd almost cracked their cheek the previous night when they'd been in their masc form, and they'd rather not risk it again. (Y/N) slumped back against the wall with furrowed brows, her fingers curling around the sheets and comforter. 
"Where..." Her voice sounded hoarse. Jordan quickly moved around the bed and bopped open their mini fridge, snatching the first bottle of Vought Water they saw and opening it. They returned to the bedside and held the bottle up to her cracked lips, slowly tilting the bottle so she could drink and refresh her throat. She drank the water without protest before gently pushing their hand away, wiping her wet lips and chin with the tip of her fingers and finally getting a good look at her surroundings. "Where am I?"
"You're in my dorm. I-I'm Jordan Li." Jordan licked their lips and sat down on the edge of the bed. 
"Jordan? The... the freshmen that always tried sucking up to Brink?" Their skin flushed and they chuckled sheepishly, screwing the cap back on the bottle. She'd noticed them back then. Butterflies fluttered around furiously in their belly. Oh, how could she still affect them so much after three years? She tiredly rubbed her eyes and leaned forward a bit. "You look... different."
Right. She knew them before they came out and fully accepted their two forms. "Yeah, I..." They pressed their lips together and slipped into their masc form before going back to their femme form. Her brows raised and they braced themselves for a reaction that would shatter their heart. But instead, she nodded and leaned back, content with the wordless explanation. 
"Dorm.." She repeated quietly and her eyes widened, suddenly ripping the comforter off her legs and swinging them over the edge of the bed.
"Woah, woah, easy!" The bottle slipped from their hand and fell to the ground, arms shooting out to steady her before she could stumble and fall. She braced herself against the nightstand and took in short breaths, one hand gently pushing away their arm so she could stumble toward the broad window and peer out of it. She gasped sharply and jerked back. 
"I-I can't be here, Jordan." 
"I know, I know." Jordan's hands found her waist, digging their fingers into the fabric of the grey sweatpants to steady her. Her hands bunched up their jacket as she held onto them, the fear in her eyes making their heartache. 
"No, you don't know. If- If they find me, they'll take me back to The Woods and they'll wipe you so you forget about me. They hurt Sam but he's too valuable to them. I'm not. Jordan, they'll kill me." Her eyes flooded with tears and she shakily inhaled, voice trembling with each word she spoke. "They are going to kill me." 
"I won't let that happen," Jordan assured firmly. "I won't let them hurt you."
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I keep going to the river to pray
Written for the March pop-up challenge of the @steddieholidaydrabbles
Prompt: spring
Rated: M
Tags: Italian Steve Harrington; naiad Eddie Munson; past lives
CW: child molestation (not from MC); nudity; fade to black sex
Notes: Moooom, hype is turning the blorbos into water creatures again!
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Steve is five years old and the water whispers to him. 
“Steven, come back inside,” Mom scolds and yanks sharply on his hand. “Nonna told you the woods are off limits. The water is too dangerous. Heavens, I can't leave you alone for two seconds, can I?” 
Steve wants to cry. To thrash and kick and scream at the injustice of it all.
Because she is leaving him alone. All alone in this strange country where there's nothing fun to do and where nobody speaks his language, for an entire summer. How's he even supposed to listen to Nonna when he doesn’t understand her half the time? 
The only place where he finds comfort is the spring. The little pond with its crystal waters surrounded by crumpled pillars. He doesn’t know why, just knows there's something here that calls to him. 
Mom doesn't understand, and Steve is too small to fight as she drags him away. Something splashes behind them, like a large stone sinking underwater, but by the time he turns, all he can see is ripples on the surface. 
He doesn’t know why he says it, because there's nobody here. Nobody he can see. It feels like the right thing to do, though. 
“Don't worry,” he whispers to the water. “I'll be back, promise.” 
The water whispers back. 
*
Steve is thirteen and a man follows him into the woods. He's been lurking in corners and doorways in the village all day, smiling, staring, speaking saccharine words in broken English. 
Pretty boy, sweet boy, come here. 
By the time Steve notices he's trailing behind him on the lonely road in the fading daylight, it's too late to cry for help. He ducks into the shelter of the trees without thinking, not looking back when he hears the man give chase. Darkness is falling around him, but he doesn’t need to see. 
All he needs to do is follow the pull. 
The spring reflects the moon and stars, silver waves bouncing off the trees and pillars. 
“Help me,” Steve whispers, just as a hand grabs his wrist and spins him around. 
The man's face is a mask of primal hunger. His eyes glint, dark and unblinking- 
-and then they catch on something behind Steve's back and bulge. All the color drains from his face. He stumbles back, releasing Steve’s wrist, muttering a word in Italian that he doesn’t understand. Then, he turns and runs. 
Steve stares after him, heartbeat roaring in his ears. By the time he remembers to look behind him, there's nobody there. The spring lies silent in the starlight, but the water isn't smooth anymore. A circle of ripples is spreading, not far from where he's standing, waves lapping against the shore. Steve imagines he sees something slipping out of sight in the water, like dark tendrils of seaweed. Then he blinks and it's gone. 
Steve smiles.
“Thank you,” he murmurs softly. 
*
The water murmurs back. 
Steve is eighteen and everything is bullshit. He perches on a fallen pillar, toes dangling in the water, watching the sunset behind the trees, and feels sorry for himself. 
He can't protect his heart from being broken, can't get into college, can't even get his parents to love him. They probably believe they're punishing him by sending him back here, he thinks with a laugh. Idiots. They know nothing about him, nothing about the pull he feels towards this place. He's been feeling it more and more lately, even with an entire ocean between them. 
“Have you finally come to stay, sweetling?” 
Steve doesn’t startle. Simply blinks back from his thoughts and lowers his gaze, like it's always been the two of them out here. Maybe that’s true. 
“You're not scared,” the boy from the spring observes. His head is poking out of the water between Steve’s legs, long dark hair brushing his ankles. He's naked under the water, skin pale and smooth as marble. “Do you not fear me?” 
“Why would I? You've never given me reason to.” 
The language that slips from his lips is strange. Not English. Something closer to the butchered Italian he's picked up over the years. He frowns, briefly, but the boy's lips - pink and full and glistening with tiny droplets - curl into a smile and he forgets to wonder about it.
“Clever child.” Long fingers curl around Steve's calves, sliding up his legs. “I'd never harm what's mine.” 
The fingers slip under the hem of Steve's shorts, gracing his inner thigh, and he gasps. 
“Yours?” 
The boy hums, pulling himself from the water a little, so that his shoulders emerge. His hair is a dark, tangled halo around his pretty face. It tickles Steve’s skin as the boy noses along the inside of his knee.
“Yes, mine. You feel it, do you not? The pull.” 
Steve nods breathlessly and the boy smiles against the soft flesh of his thigh. 
“Of course you do, sweetling. It has been forever since I met someone as responsive, but you? You remember, don't you?” 
Steve pauses. Is that what pulls him here? Memories of a time he shouldn’t recall? Of a place far more splendid than the crumbling ruins around them, a place filled with song and laughter and the strange but familiar language that keeps tumbling from his mouth? 
The boy - the god - watches the shift in his face and smiles. Nimble hands settle on his hips, pulling him closer, and Steve slings his arms around slender shoulders as the pillar slips out from under him. 
His god's eyes are bright as he walks them to the middle of the pond. 
“It has been so long, sweetling, and I hunger for worship. Will you give yourself to me again?” 
“I do not need to,” Steve smiles as he is slowly lowered into the cool waters. “You've always had me.” 
His god smiles and pulls him in, and Steve sighs against those beautiful lips. 
The water welcomes him home. 
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In Roman mythology, naiads (better known under the name of their Greek counterparts, nymphs) are nature spirits most commonly associated with water, guarding rivers, springs and the like. Some were worshipped as local deities, with shrines built in their honor.
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nvrsaidiwasinurcloset · 2 months
Note
could you do ethan x fem reader smut where they aren’t allowed to see each other due to their families feuding??
like real romeo and juliet kind of this where he climbs up into the window while she’s doing skincare or something. i can literally imagine them just talking about how much they missed each other (because they aren’t allowed to be together) then it ends up escalating into like dom ethan smut 😋😋
sorry if that’s confusing!!
Hi! I hope you like this!💕 I had the worst writers block for the last few days and I'm trying to get back into it haha
Check Yes, Juliet - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader
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This contains SMUT - Minors DNI
Summary: Your forbidden to see Ethan after some drama between your family and his, so he sneaks through your bedroom window to see you.
Contains: Fluff, a hint of angst, Dom!-ish Ethan(Nothing super rough), I used "good girl" in this because I feel like Ethan would totally say that. oral - m and f receiving, p in v, Unprotected sex(Pulling out though:) Jesus, If I missed anything, let me know 💕
A/N: Ya girl loves pop-punk, especially from the 2000's so that's where I got the title for this lmao.
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You grew up with Ethan, quickly becoming best friends because your parents were so close to his…until they weren’t. They had this huge falling out after Richie’s killing spree in Woodsboro. When you were both told you couldn’t see each other, you rebelled, and it only made the two of you even closer. So close that it turned into a secret relationship.
During summer break before you were both getting ready to start college, it got so much harder to see Ethan. Your mom worked from home, and your dad saved up his PTO so he could take time off to spend time with you before you left for university. It was the same one Ethan was going to, and you felt a little relieved that you’d finally have the opportunity to be with him without worrying about what your parents thought. They probably wouldn’t even let you go if they found out he was going to the same school, especially after they forced you to block his number and all of his social media. Ethan found his way around it because he couldn’t just not talk to you.
You’d just gotten home from dinner with your parents, excusing yourself to get ready for bed. You were so tired after a long day with them, and you couldn’t wait to talk to Ethan. You had this app your parents had no idea that you used to message him. You let him know that you were home, and waited for him to respond as you took your makeup off.
When he messaged you back, your eyes widened, wondering if he was crazy when he said he was outside of your house. You walked over to your window and opened the curtain to see your boyfriend standing in your front yard, a sweet smile on his lips as you quietly opened the window.
“What the fuck are you doing?” you whisper-yelled, as he held his finger up to your mouth for you to be quiet. He walked over to the tree beside your window, easily climbing up it as he made his way to you. “Ethan, this is crazy,” you said, as he crawled inside, his feet hitting the floor harder than he expected them to. You soon heard someone running up the stairs. “Shit. Hide under my bed.”
“You okay, sweetheart?” your mom asked as she opened the door. She glanced at the opened window behind you, a curious look on her face as she turned her attention back to you.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Just tripped over the pile of laundry I’ve been refusing to put away,” you lied, as she rolled her eyes.
“I told you to clean that up. Goodness, I thought someone broke in here when I saw the open window,” she said, doing a double take of the room.
“No, I tripped on the way to close it. I forgot to before we left earlier,” you said, as she nodded. “I need to get some sleep if we’re getting up early tomorrow.”
“Okay, don’t forget to set your alarm. Wake up as early as you need to. Your dad is sleeping with the sound machine, so we won’t hear it,” she said, as you innocently smiled at her. You could only imagine the ideas your boyfriend had running through his head as he listened to your mom. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” you said, as she walked back out of the room, closing the door behind her.
You quietly walked over to the door and locked it as Ethan crawled out from under your bed.
“Hey, baby,” he said, walking up behind you and wrapping his hands around your waist. “I missed you so much.”
You turned in his arms to face him, “Ethan, have you lost your mind? If you get caught in here, we’re dead.”
“I thought you’d be happy to see me,” he said, pulling his hands off you. “I can’t believe this shit. We’re both eighteen and we’re still letting our parents control our lives.”
You sighed as you reached over to grab his hands and place them back on his hips before putting yours around his neck. “I am happy to see you, babe. I just don’t want our parents to not pay for school. That’s the only thing that’s kept us apart.”
“We could always run away together,” he said, before leaning down to kiss you. “I’d rather drown in student loan debt than keep doing this shit.”
“Just three more weeks. We’ll be a few hours from here with no parents to keep their eye on us,” you smiled, “Just think of all the dates, all the fun things we can do-“
“All the sex we can have,” he said, cutting you off as his hands started to rub against your hips. You started to blush as you thought about it. “We could do that right now…,” he suggested, gently squeezing you. “As hot as the nudes are that you send me, you have no idea how bad I’ve been craving the real thing.” He leaned down to start placing kisses on your neck, making you whimper. “I can’t wait to taste that sweet pussy.”
“Fuck, Ethan,” you gasped out, as his hand started to rub your pussy over your pajama bottoms.
“I know you missed this, too. How many times have you fingered yourself and wished they were mine?” he questioned, sliding his hand inside your pajama shorts. “You’re so wet, baby.”
“My fingers aren’t as good as yours,” you whimpered, as he slid one of his fingers inside you. He angled his hand just right so he could hit that spot inside of you, your legs almost giving out when he pressed against it hard enough. “Can you use two?”
He started to laugh a little, “You can barely stand up with one. I don’t know if you can handle two.”
“We could go to my bed,” you suggested, as he shook his head.
“No, babe,” he said, pulling his hand out and backing you up against the door. He slid your pajama shorts and panties down at the same time before he dropped to his knees in front of you. “Put your leg on my shoulder,” he said, as your eyes grew wide.
“What if I hurt you? Or what if I fall? My mom will definitely come back up here if she hears anything else,” you said, your tone nervous as Ethan smiled up at you.
“You’ll still have one foot on the ground. And you can put as much weight on me as you need to. I just need your legs spread enough for me to eat you out, babe.”
“Fuck,” you whispered, before doing what he asked. He teased your clit with his tongue before he started to sloppily eat you out. “Baby, that feels so good.”
One of your hands tangled in his hair as he pleasured you, making him groan into your pussy.
He kept going until your legs started to shake, letting him know how close you were. He pulled his mouth away as you pouted in response.
“I’m going to get you off, baby. Hang on,” he said, gently sliding your leg off him so you could fully stand up. He stood up in front of you, sliding two of his fingers into your pussy. You grabbed his shirt, pulling his body closer to you yours as he fingered you.
“I’m so close,” you whimpered, his face inches from yours. “I’m so scared I’m going to be loud.”
“Shh, you won’t be,” he said, leaning in to kiss you. His mouth caught all your sounds as his fingers pressed harder on that spongy spot inside you.  His free hand went to your hip to hold you against the door as your walls started to flutter around his fingers. You were tugging on his shirt so hard you knew you’d stretch it as the feeling washed over you, your legs turning to jell-o as he got you through it.
He pulled his mouth away from yours after you stopped whimpering, your hazy eyes connecting to his dark ones. Your hand reached down to start palming him over his jeans, the feeling making him gasp.
“Let me return the favor,” you smirked, dropping to your knees in front of him. He watched you, his breathing getting heavier after you freed his hard cock from his boxers.
You lazily started to stroke him as you looked at him through your lashes, your bottom lip in between your teeth. You looked so innocent in front of him, but he knew you were far from that.
“Look at you, being such a good girl down on your knees for me,” he said, running his hand through your hair. You whimpered at his praise, your pussy starting to throb. You leaned forward, licking the underside of his cock before swirling your tongue over his tip. “You seriously give the best head.”
He meant what he was saying, but he also knew what his praising did to you. Some of his best orgasms have come from you just sucking his cock, especially when he praised you the whole way through it.
You started to take him further into your mouth, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked. “Yeah, baby, just like that,” Ethan said, his grip tightening on your hair once his tip was far enough back to make you gag. “You make me feel so good.”
It didn’t take long for tears to be streaming down your cheeks from all the gagging, his cock soaked in your saliva as he started to thrust into your mouth. You knew he was close, his groans getting whinier.
“Fuck, that perfect mouth is going to make me cum,” he said, “Where do you want it?”
You grabbed the back of his thighs to keep him close, letting him know that you wanted him to cum in your mouth. His thrusts started to get erratic as he groaned, releasing into your mouth. His hand in your hair was shaky as your mouth kept moving, the slight overstimulation feeling so good for him.
“Baby, you gotta stop,” he said after a few more seconds. When you pulled away, your chin was covered in your spit as you wiped it on the back of your hand. “Did you like that?”
“Mhm,” you said sweetly, nodding as you took your shirt off.
“This sweet, innocent shit you do during sex just does something to me,” he groaned, pulling his own shirt off.
“Oh yeah? What does it do to you?” you asked, as you laid down on your bed to wait for him.
“It makes me want to not take it easy on you, because I know you can take it,” he smirked, as your hands started to massage your breasts.
“What if I can’t take it?” you asked, your voice soft as he stared you down.
“Then I’ll make you take it,” he said, as he crawled on the bed beside you. “You know if you tell me to stop, I will, but I think you’ll just beg me to go faster or fuck you harder.”
“Fuck,” you sighed, as you felt his hand cup over your pussy. “Just don’t make me be too loud.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” he said, as he started to crawl on top of you. Your legs instinctively spread for him as you waited for him to fuck you, but he just teased you. He dipped the tip of his cock inside you, then pulled it out to rub it against your clit. He kept doing it until you finally started to whine. “You want it?” he asked, smirking at you as you started to squirm.
“I fucking need it,” you said, your eyes pleading with his. “Please, baby.”
“Only cause you asked so nicely,” he said, as he stuck more than the head of his cock inside of you, the feeling of him stretching you out making you moan. “So fucking tight,” he gasped, filling you up further with each small thrust, until he was fully inside of you.
He wanted to tease you with slow thrusts, but he couldn’t. You felt so amazing around him as his hips started to move faster.
“That feel good?” he asked, as you moaned in response. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
You were wrapping your legs around him so he could go deeper when he pulled them away, pressing your thighs against your tummy. The new position had him hitting the right spot, his cock filling you so good that you couldn’t hold in your whimpers.
“So deep,” you moaned, as his face tensed up, a feral look in his eyes as he started to pound into you. “Oh fuck!”
“That’s it, baby. You can take it,” he grunted. Your jaw dropped as you were on the edge of your orgasm. “Fuck, you’re already squeezing my cock. You gonna cum?”
“Mhm,” you whimpered, as you felt your legs being spread a little from the position he had them in.
“Rub your clit, baby,” he said, as both of his hands on the back of your thighs gripped you tighter. You did as he said, the euphoric feeling hitting you so hard that you cried out. “Fuck,” Ethan groaned, “Try to be quiet, baby.”
“I can’t” you whimpered, as he chased his own orgasm.
“Bite your lip, cover your mouth, do something. I’m so close,” he said, “I thought you didn’t want us to get caught.”
“I, fuck..I don’t,” you got out between your whimpers.
“Gonna cum,” he said, pulling his cock out and shooting his cum all over your thighs. His eyes kept fluttering as he caught his breath. “I need to find something to get this off you.” You felt his release start to drip down your thighs, towards your ass.
“Uh, I have tissues on my dresser,” you suggested, as he took a couple more deep breaths.
“I can’t wait to do this all the time with you,” he said, as he stood up to grab some tissues.
“Yeah, because dorm sex is going to happen all the time,” you joked, as he smiled.
“I don’t know, maybe my roommate will be cool,” he said, cleaning you up. “Shit, I’ll get to introduce you to people as my girlfriend.”
“You can’t wait for that, can you?” you asked, smiling at him as he shook his head.
“For real though, I think I’ll get so used to spending all my free time with you that I’ll just lose my mind whenever we’re home on break,” he sighed, throwing the tissues away before he laid down beside you.
“You could always just sneak through my window again.”
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romanceyourdemons · 1 year
Text
here’s a second century warlord followup (3.2k words)
By Strategem, Huang Mi Turns Aside an Army of 100,000
Huang Mi cut down the hill to the south of the city and realized four feet down how poor an idea that was. The hill, steep enough that he had to descend in zigzags, had seized into a stone-hard lump with November frost, and the glazing of snow spread across the unyielding dirt denied his shoes any purchase at all. He managed to slide directly down for several feet, his knees bent and his skirts hitched to his knees in an already unsuccessful attempt to keep them free from winter muck, but his right foot caught on a stone, turning his controlled glide into an unplanned splits and then into a reeling, careening half-tumble down the rest of the hill. He was glad the blank south wall of the city was the only thing bearing witness to his humiliation. He was less glad when a man caught him, and less glad still when he recognized the man as the one he least wanted to be embarrassed in front of. “Lord Yue,” he said, bowing before his liege to keep his flushing face angled toward the snow. He would have much preferred breaking an arm against a tree.
“Yuzhi,” said Lord Yue, helping Huang Mi up. “You’re hurt?”
Huang Mi shook his head. 
Lord Yue wrapped his scarf around Huang Mi’s shoulders and neck. “You’re cold, then. Where’s your horse?”
“Still up there. I couldn’t figure out how to get it down the hill.”
“You just take that footpath around.”
“Oh.” Huang Mi turned to make the long trek up to where he had left his horse tied to a branch, but Lord Yue took his arm and turned him back.
“I’ll send someone up to get it. Let’s get inside first and discuss.”
Huang Mi barely remembered to give Lord Yue back his scarf before they entered the room where General Chou, General Wu, and Governor Han waited to hear the results of Huang Mi’s expedition to the army camped thirty li to the south of the city. That army should be the only thing on their minds. Huang Mi would have gladly kept Lord Yue’s scarf and maybe slept holding it, but he could not allow anyone in that room suspect that his feelings for his liege were anything other than appropriate loyalty. That he could not let Lord Yue know went without saying: he had great trust in Huang Mi as his advisor, and anything that damaged that trust put their entire army at risk. Neither General Chou nor General Wu particularly appreciated Huang Mi’s quick elevation in the six months since he swore loyalty to Lord Yue. They were brilliant warriors and valuable generals, General Chou highly capable in frontal attack and General Wu with a skill for ambush, and between the two of them Huang Mi did not doubt they could take care of him cleanly enough. And of course he could not let Governor Han know: she was Lord Yue’s wife. He tried to make himself look presentable as he sat to deliver his report.
“The army is a hundred thousand strong. They are trying to reach Lord Liu within the week, and they are demanding two-thirds of our grain.”
Governor Han interrupted incredulously: “They expect us to survive off a third of our stores?” Between the citizens, the army, and the four households of refugees they had accepted earlier that month, it would be difficult to make their grain last the winter as it was.
“They were very specific. They claim they will accept the gift of two-thirds of our grain, or they will sack the city and take all of it.”
“I certainly hope you didn’t take them up on that.”
“I told them they should save their efforts. We’ll burn the grain before letting it fall into their hands.”
Lord Yue nodded proudly, the way he nodded proudly at everything Huang Mi said. He had too much faith in Huang Mi. The generals had just the right amount of faith and muttered bitterly between themselves. In fact, Huang Mi had not intended to make such a bold statement at all. His plan had been to stall and make a break for home as soon as possible, but his “there’s no need” had turned into a fierce statement of opposition before he fully planned the sentence. He wished Lord Yue didn’t trust him so much. He really wasn’t much of an advisor at all. 
“I hope you have some kind of brilliant plan, Advisor Huang,” said General Wu. He articulated the title with acid precision, and, even though Huang Mi did not particularly mind having lost the command he once held, he knew a barb when he saw one. He smiled, though, and assured the generals that the situation was under control, and Lord Yue suggested they have some supper first, if Yuzhi’s plan could allow for such a delay. Huang Mi’s plan certainly could: it did not exist yet. He wished Lord Yue wasn’t so good to him. He wished he could tell Lord Yue that he was as good as he claimed.
Governor Han drew Huang Mi aside as the group broke to prepare for supper. “You don’t have a plan, do you?”
Huang Mi went very still, like a cornered deer. Governor Han had been Lady Han until the city’s erstwhile governor became bedridden with a sudden illness in September and asked Lord Yue to manage civil affairs until he recovered. Lord Yue had no training managing civil affairs, but his wife did, and she had filled the post flawlessly. The title “Governor” had originated as one of the generals’ low blows, but Governor Han not only allowed but preferred it. Her skill in governing certainly merited it. She and Lord Yue, Huang Mi had pieced together from confessions and rumors, had been espoused in an effort to prevent the war that broke out between their fathers and killed them both regardless. Proper spousal affection had never developed between the two, not even when she traveled to the front to be with her husband after he suffered a grave injury, and especially not when, more than eight months later, she was still unable to return home. She preferred to speak to him as Governor Han and Lord Yue, rather than as his undesired wife and her undesired husband. Huang Mi did not understand how she could not love Lord Yue—after the many long nights he had spent with Lord Yue playing chess and discussing schools of strategy, he had determined that there was no one in this world better, kinder, braver, more intelligent, or more gorgeous than his sworn liege lord—but that was Huang Mi’s own problem, not Governor Han’s. For now, Governor Han’s problem was Huang Mi. “You don’t have a plan,” she said efficiently. “Tell me what you think your plan should be.” 
Like a whirling leaf catching on any tree in its path, Huang Mi’s whirling mind caught on anything that looked like a plan. “General Chou can pin them against the bend in the river, and then General—”
“River’s frozen. Won’t work.”
“General Chou can lead them into Hawthorn Pass, then a contingent led by General Wu can burn—”
“Everything’s wet. Won’t work.”
“General Chou can guar—” Huang Mi noticed Lord Yue approaching and quickly changed his tone. “General Chou will divide his men to guard the north, west, and east gates, making as much a show of force as he can. A hundred archers will hide out of sight on the south wall, and, after dark, we will boil snow on a bonfire inside the walls. The enemy will see this and think that we are burning our grain, and that we are relying on the protection of the hill to defend us on the south side. They are desperate for grain, and will pour down the hill into the pits full of sharpened sticks that we have dug. The archers will also shoot them down, and General Wu will have led his men around behind his camp by way of Hawthorn Pass to rout them from there.” 
Lord Yue smiled, apparently completely satisfied with this made-up plan, but Governor Han frowned. “Why will they go directly down the hill when there’s a footpath?”
“We’ll block it with boulders. I got a look around the enemy’s camp—they’re eating every third day. They won’t be too careful.”
“And do you really think we can have your pits dug by nightfall?” Her skepticism seemed softened, but it was certainly far from appeased.
“If Governor Han will let us requisition wagons from the city to transport the earth away, I am sure we can manage it.”
“Excellent,” Lord Yue said. “I’ll inform the generals, and we’ll get to work.”
If the generals received Huang Mi’s plan with their usual sidelong remarks, Huang Mi did not hear them. They began work, and they worked as evening bled scarlet over the cloudy skies, and it was not until twilight grey muddied the sunset that Governor Han pulled Huang Mi away from Lord Yue once again. “It’s not going to work,” she said. “The ground is too hard.”
She was right, of course. Even with pickaxes the work was too slow. Huang Mi sought refuge from the obvious in ill-advised bravado: “If we had my hometown men here, the pit would already be ten spans deep.” He missed his men. He had not been a good commander to them, and he was glad that they were safely in the service of the shrewd and competent lord they had intended to swear loyalty to from the start, but there were times when he felt very, very alone in Lord Yue’s camp, and there were times when he lay awake at night to worry about the inevitable day when he would have to strategize for the man he loved against the men he loved. If he cared for Lord Yue less, he would be able to forget his lord. If he cared for Lord Yue more, he would be able to forget his men. He knew he would never forget his hometown, cradled by soft green mountains where immortals liked to hide and full like a cup with the scent of plum blossoms. He knew that he would likely never see his hometown again. He would likely never see a springtime again. It would have been better for everyone if he had never laid eyes on Lord Yue.
“This stops now.”
“What?”
Governor Han crossed her arms. “Advisor Huang, listen to me. When I was young, I was in love with my tutor. I might still be. I’d have to see him again to know for sure. I wanted him to admire me, so I would say just anything in answer to his questions. And he was just as infatuated with me as I was with him, so he would accept my wrong answers. My father heard me give a completely incorrect recitation, and he said that to me: ‘This stops now. You can marry your tutor and I’ll get you a new one, or you can get yourself out of love with him and continue your studies.’ That’s what I’m telling you now. Get yourself out of love with Lord Yue or get yourself into something real with him, but this—” An eloquent flick of a fingertip summed up Huang Mi’s past six months of agony. “This stops now.”
Huang Mi wanted to say something to stall, but he could not come up with even the most meaningless of platitudes.
“I don’t mind and he won’t mind,” Governor Han continued mercifully. “He doesn’t mind my lover. I think he minds that you’re not already his. I only care that, short of some flash of genius from your famous mind, my city is going to be ruined by morning. Make your decision.”
“I…” This decision was too big to make. This decision was more daunting than the army a hundred thousand strong camped beyond the hill. “I need some time,” he said, leaving Governor Han before she had a chance to call him back and struggling directly up the hill, relishing the sting of cold and bark tearing at his hands as he pulled himself up by roots and stones. He balanced himself on the ridge, windmilling his arms to keep himself from falling backwards as he shuffled to a more sure footing and turned around. Through the gloom and heavy flakes of snow, the archers on the south wall could not be discerned at all. That was good. The line of trees and brush at the bottom of the hill broke up the shape of the pit and made it difficult to identify from this height. That was good. But the pit was hardly a forearm’s length deep, and the twilight was already tightening into dusk. They did not have time. He squatted and contemplated falling onto his side as he watched snow gather on their two dozen wagons of dirt. This snow fell so heavily, so fast. Already some of the wagons looked like they were filled not with frozen soil but with—
Huang Mi bolted to his feet quickly enough to make his cold knees ache and began pelting directly down the hill with violent abandon. He did not care what it cost. He needed to get to his lord as soon as legs would take him. Running calculations on the fingers of one hand as he poured himself over the uneven snowy ground lost him his balance, and he traveled the rest of the hill on his stomach and face, but he had his answer as Lord Yue helped him up a dozen yards from the hill’s base and half-carried him to even ground. “Tarps,” Huang Mi said. “Governor Han, we need tarps! We need to act quickly, my lord. Have the men shovel snow onto the wagons, enough to cover all the dirt. Full to heaping. Then have them cover the wagons with the tarps, but tack them down carelessly—leave snow showing. General Wu will lead the wagons by the high road through Hawthorn Pass. Two torches in front, no other lights. Then he’ll dump the wagons—” A dark look from Governor Han made Huang Mi hastily amend his plan— “the wagons’ contents into the gorge, extinguish his torches, and return as quickly and stealthily to the city as possible, keeping off the main road and hiding the wagons in woods for safekeeping.”
“Is that all your plan?” asked General Wu. He wanted to pick a fight, but Huang Mi did not have time.
“Three more things,” he said shortly. “General Chou will rearrange his men to guard this gate as well, and Lord Yue will prepare a force to attack the camp once General Wu informs us of the completion of his task, and if General Wu loses a single man before sunrise then on sunrise he may personally kill me any way he wishes.”
Lord Yue made a sound of acute concern, and Huang Mi certainly did not enjoy having to put his neck on the line to make his word good, but it was almost dark and there was no time to bandy words. He smiled at Lord Yue and shook his head, and Lord Yue sighed. “Do what Yuzhi says,” he said, “or the consequences will be the same as if you had disobeyed me.” General Wu pressed his lips together to smother his mouthful of words and bowed to accept the instructions; Governor Han raised her eyebrows expectantly at Huang Mi and permitted his reassuring look; and Huang Mi’s new plan ground into action, shovelful by shovelful. 
“My lord,” Huang Mi said on their return to the city, once he and Lord Yue were safely alone between four walls. He had an ultimatum to meet. It frightened him more than rebuffing the ultimatum of the enemy, but Governor Han had been right. This had to end now.
“How many times will I have to ask you to call me Ziyi?”
“My lord, this may be the last plan I make for you.”
Lord Yue shook his head emphatically. “I won’t let General Wu hurt you, Yuzhi. I won’t even let him scratch you.”
Huang Mi’s heartbeat pushed and tugged at his fingertips, hidden inside his sleeves. He resisted the urge to chew his knuckle. “It’s not that. It’s…” Any words he might have followed these eluded him, so he tried again: “I wouldn’t mind dying, either, if I—could kiss you first.” The sentence stung the air. He had preferred his cowardice. He finished his confession as lamely as he had begun: “And I am afraid that makes me an unfit advisor.”
“I’m not.”
Lord Yue let silence spool out after these words for so long that Huang Mi began to wonder what they meant.
“I won’t lose you, Yuzhi,” Lord Yue said. In the firelight his eyes looked more green than gold, and his hands already enclosed Huang Mi’s cold hands as he spoke. “Not as an advisor, not as a lover. You’re the only one I really trust.”
“The generals say I’m a rabbit trying to lead a pack of wolves.” Huang Mi wanted to bolt.
Lord Yue smiled, a smile that suggested the generals were going to receive a lecture soon. “A rabbit, perhaps, but a rabbit with the instincts of a tiger and the good fortune of a phoenix—and the looks of a very handsome man. I’ll even kiss you if you call me Ziyi.”
Huang Mi felt light-headed. This was not something that was supposed to happen. This was something he had wanted to happen for—for his whole life, it seemed to him now, but it was not something that was supposed to happen. He made himself nod. He made himself ignore his racing heart and say, “Okay… my lord.” He did not realize his error until Ziyi began to laugh, and then he smiled too and corrected himself—“Ziyi, Ziyi, Ziyi”—until Ziyi’s lips got in the way of his voice. 
General Wu returned before long, his men still unharmed, and Ziyi took reluctant leave of Huang Mi to lead his crack troops to the deserted field of melted snow where the enemy had recently been. The enemy, mistaking the ill-lit wagons of snow for all the city’s grain, had followed General Wu to the gorge, where they had seen the destruction, it seemed, of the grain they so desperately needed. Caught between the options of finding a way to the bottom of the gorge to salvage what had not been washed away by the river and crossing the bridge to the next stronghold, already distantly visible, they chose to break camp and move on. 
When Ziyi saw Huang Mi again, he picked him up and twirled him around; when the generals saw Huang Mi again, they grudgingly nodded respect. When Governor Han saw Huang Mi again, she congratulated him and told him that she wanted every borrowed wagon returned undamaged by the end of the next day. General Wu had hell to pay when he could not find one of the wagons again. But that was not a problem Huang Mi had to solve. For seven days and seven nights, Ziyi never once let him feel cold.
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