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#i just really wanna love on y'all and give something back for the support of running a fun easy blog
fuckyeahhellcheer · 1 year
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We hit a milestone today with all of you lovelies supporting this blog! I’ve been mulling over the idea of a giveaway, but I’d really like to find some artists who are okay with me possibly buying prints (specifically Hellcheer) and then sending them to someone special by random selection. The reason I want permission is that it’s not my art to giveaway, even with a purchase of it. 
So. My question is if any of you lovely Hellcheer artists out there are okay with me possibly doing this to just celebrate a ship we all love and enjoy bouncing around in. However, if anyone (I mean anyone) has better ideas for a giveaway of some sort that can still be Hellcheer themed let me know! 
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hoshigray · 11 months
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Just thinking about hate sex with Toji and how fucking exhilarating yet unforgiving it would be to experience such a thing with that man.
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A/n: (Reuploaded bc I forgot smthn my bad) A little something for y'all so I can whip up something in my drafts to celebrate 50+ followers and getting 1k notes on my daddy toji drabble!! Tysm again for the love!!! :')))
Cw: mean dom! Toji x fem! reader - spanking (1x) - doggy style then switch to missionary position - degradation (Toji calls you a "lil' girl," "bitch," and "ho") - pet names (dollface, baby, baby cakes, sweetheart) - Toji biting your shoulder - slight bondage; the reader has their hands tied behind them - the reader feels humiliated while Toji is his cocky egotistic self - mention of blood.
Wc: 575
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Toji's so ruthless with you. Your face's kissing the cold floor, hands tied behind your arched back for Toji to do whatever he wants with your ass on full display.
The pace of his hips is so absurdly harsh your legs feel as if they're about to give way, and you can do nothing but receive his irrational treatment. You can feel his dick use your swollen cunt like a toy, his girth stretching your poor southern lips, and it hurts along with the merciless rhythm.
You try not to cry as tears prickle under your eyelids. The fucker of a man already has you in a humiliating position, and his hands leave crescent markings from his fingers on the side of your hips. Seeing your face in tears is the last thing he needs to see.
Toji bends down to your ear, his body weight pressing down on yours, and it has to take you biting your lip hard to suppress a moan from your lips. The taste of blood sits on your taste buds.
"What's wrong, dollface?" The husky voice almost makes you squeeze hard on his cock. God, you hate this man so fucking much. "You were talkin' some high and mighty shit not too long ago, where'd that pretentious bitch go? Wanna — hnngh! Shit, shit… Wanna hear that sweet voice again."
You peer at him through your shoulder. The aggrieved glare isn't taken seriously by the older man. "Hmph, pretentious? Quite a big word, didn't think a brute like you knew i- Iiiyaaaaah!!!"
A hard smack to your ass has you gasping for air, followed by your pussy gripping his manhood, and Toji has to use your shoulders as leverage to not cum in haste. You feel as if you can't breathe with all this pressure and weight on top of you. A tear finally comes down from your face and smears onto the ground.
"I'm not playin' games with you, ho." Toji gnashes his teeth and draws downward to bite your shoulder blade, earning an ear-piercing shriek from you. That outta teach ya a lesson. "Got anythin' else smart to say, lil' girl?"
You can't fight the tears at this point, letting them slide down your pretty face. The pathetic and humiliating atmosphere clouds your senses so much so that crying is the only thing left to do.
"Hic…N-No…" Your sobs come out naturally, and you do what you can to hide your face from Toji.
That didn't seem to be in your favor because he heard the weep, bringing himself up to switch your position. Your front is now facing him as he can see the tear-stricken face, and the glare you give him is through squinted eyes filled with anger and misery, proof that your dignity is broken.
Toji whistles and smirks. "Heh, if you could see the look on your face, baby. I'd love to have a picture of it in my wallet."
"F…Fuck you." Your spat with words that still possess venom, even if you're physically restrained.
"News flash, baby cakes:" An unforeseen thrust has you yelp aloud, so harsh and savage that your back arches towards Toji. He sneers. "Already am."
His pace returns at its relentless tempo, his dick bullying your insides, and you moan in helpless whimpers. Toji leans down to grab your face before he kisses you to shut your cries. "And I'm gonna enjoy every moment of it, sweetheart."
⋆⁺。˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚。⁺⋆
Again, tysm for the support!! It really fills my heart when y'all like my stuff, and I hope to continue writing things I like~~
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Before the request I just wanna say that I love your writing SM!! I love how you write really cute fics without disrespecting the members like other writers might do SO KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK BABE!!
Anyways I was wondering if you could write a fic about Tom and reader where reader is an actress and Tom is watching one of her new movies that came out and he’s just Simping over her the whole time?? I feel like that would be so cute 😭
(Hello! Thank you sm for reading and liking my stuff! I really appreciate it! How do others disrespect the other members I don't think I've seen that, except for smut which is...bleh. anyways, I hope you enjoy!)
Tom Kaulitz x Actress!Reader
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Tom is so interested in the mf movie only because you're playing a main character
He is asking over and over again "Now? Now?" bc he is impatient and wants your character to show up at that moment
Is legit fawning as you pop up in the movie
No matter what type of movie if is he is so proud
You guys maybe went to a premiere
Hand on your thigh the whole time as he whispered commentary to you
Whispering "That's hot." Every three seconds
If you cry in the film he actually gets so into it
Is holding back tears because he feels the pain and you have to remind him you're fine
"But you're not in there!"
He's a very supporting boyfriend
When the movie is over and y'all are answering questions or taking photos he is legit you be center stage
He's the arm candy now
And he's proud to be it
Bragging all night that you looked at him and went "I want that motherfucker. I can change him." And you did that
And you did it well
He is on the edge of his seat if you have fight scenes in the movie
Is asking so many questions about behind the scenes and your stunts
He literally cannot shut up about anything because he is so excited about your part in it
If you have any scenes like kissing and romance scenes he is cringing the whole time
It gives him an illusion of what a relationship you could have without him and he is like
"No, ma'am. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever."
He didn't even know there was kissing I'm it until it got to the scene and your all giddy and can only laugh as he is staring at you with the most fed up and annoyed face
If you wear anything tight in the movie and slightly revealing he is fawning and simping
They get to look but bro can legit touch you so he fucking won
Is kissing you and kissing your hand and congratulating you the whole time
He is so proud of you and likes to share the happiness on something you made
Does not take any of your criticism towards yourself and your films
He will not stand for it
During filming he helped you however he could and likes seeing the scenes he helped you rehearse in
Is a big fan of your character not just because you play them
He is your biggest fan and biggest supporter
He loved seeing the love of his life succeed
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atinylittlepain · 11 months
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Apothecary - Chapter Four
joel miller x witchy!reader
series masterlist
questions are answered and truths are revealed. and they both cross lines they won't be coming back from.
warnings | 18+ canon-typical violence, angst, canon-typical descriptions of gore, smut (shhhh don't tell anyone) annnd spooky times, of course
a/n | y'all fucking rock for loving and supporting this series so much <3 my inbox is always open and i love to hear your thoughts about it. also i should mention this chapter is just a little bit longer, so get comfy before reading :)
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The sun is only just rising when she sees him out of her house. Joel finds himself squinting in the faint morning light as he steps out on her porch, his eyes bleary from a night without sleep. 
“We’ll talk more later, right?” She leans against the doorframe, arms crossed as she asks him. He can see the worry lining her furrowed expression and he impulsively ducks his head to press a quick kiss to her lips, wanting to smooth out any uncertainty in her.
“Tonight, after my shift. Can I come by then?” Her expression eases into a smile and she nods, untucking her hand from where it was crossed under her arm to offer him a small tin– of what, he isn’t sure. 
“Salve made with comfrey root. For pain and swelling in those knuckles of yours.” Joel is starting to accept that knowing her is being constantly surprised by her, so he just nods and mumbles a soft thank you, taking the tin from her with his hand that isn’t all bandaged up.
“I’ll see you tonight, Joel.” 
“I’ll be here, darlin.” He’s still getting used to it, being able to reach for her and her reaching back, so his motions are a bit disjointed when he shuffles closer in search of another kiss. She makes it easier, though, bringing a hand to his jaw, a steady guide drawing him in. His nose barely brushes against hers when he jerks away in a flash, biting back a yelp as something brushes up against his ankles. He can tell that she’s holding back a laugh as she smoothly scoops Stevie up in her arms, the feline nuzzling up against her chin immediately.
“I think someone might be a little jealous.” Joel finds himself mirroring her easy smile, shaking his head before leaning in to steal that kiss he had been set on. It’s a quick little thing, Stevie letting out an indignant meow between them as he pulls away.
“You better go before Tommy comes looking for you.” One more look, one more smile, it feels like pulling away from a magnet as he leaves. He moves through town not fully there, his mind swirling with everything she told him last night. But the haze he finds himself walking through quickly clears when he makes it to the gate, finding his brother talking to Mason, who is clearly wound up judging by the way he’s in Tommy’s face. As Joel gets closer, Tommy’s eyes dart over Mason’s shoulder to him, prompting the man to turn around, revealing a clearly broken nose. Mason scoffs, looking once between Tommy and Joel before storming past them.
“Got something you wanna tell me, brother?” Tommy cocks an eyebrow at him, eyes glancing down to Joel’s bandaged hand before settling back on his face. 
“He got what he deserved.” Tommy snorts at that, crossing his arms over his chest. 
“Oh, I know. It’s the talk of the town. Joel Miller went where no man has gone before– the witch’s lair.” He knows his brother is joking by the way he can barely get the words out behind a laugh, but Joel is having a hard time finding it amusing, huffing as he shoulders past Tommy, heading toward the stables to mount up and head out.
He and Tommy work well together, always have, and today is no different as they ride out for patrol, but what is normally a comforting quiet only gives Joel more time to stew over her dizzying story.
As far back as we could trace it– we’ve always been like this.
It’s energetic, really. Where others are closed, we’re open wide. 
I see the world in threads. Everything is tied together. What I do– what people call magic– is pulling on those threads.
He knows that he still doesn’t fully understand, but he reckons that she doesn’t fully understand either. What she could tell him, she did. 
She told him about growing up in Wyoming with her mother, how she first told her about these abilities when she caught her talking to a bird, and it seemed to be talking back. 
She told him how her mother was both revered and repelled in their small town, much the same way she is in Jackson. 
She told him that her mother had a vision the summer before everything fell apart, and took her out of her senior year of high school and up into the mountains to hide away while the world crumbled. 
She told him how they lived well like that for many years, until her mother had another one of her visions behind now milky eyes. A vision that it was time to go. 
She told him about the night before they were planning to leave, raiders coming in the dark and a stray bullet finding a home between her mother’s ribs. She wandered on her own for weeks, willing death to rejoin her with her family, but was instead found by Maria and one of the Jackson patrol groups. 
She told him about her time in Jackson. The people she helped. The lives she got tangled up with. And the men whom she always kept at a distance, beacons of grief and reminders of what people really thought of her.
She spoke as if in a trance, her eyes and voice unwavering save for the shuddering breaths she took between words. And when she finished, Joel had risen from his seat and coaxed her up with him, pressing her close in his arms until the shake in her shoulders steadied. 
He’s gotten the truth now, and he spins it over and over in his mind, his thoughts flitting up into the thin mountain air.
She’s being followed. Has been since she set out on her rounds this morning, paying house visits to folks in Jackson that need her care. Stevie lets out a sour hiss from her place tucked in her satchel, and she chances a glance over her shoulder. Sure enough, the black dog is following behind her at a close but respectable distance. If it hadn’t been going on since she left her house this morning, she probably wouldn’t even notice. But it had been sitting right next to her mailbox, head tilted at her as she stepped down from her porch, and she knew then that this wasn’t just a random visitor. It was an omen.
“Go on, get!” She waves her arm behind her, uselessly trying to shoo the dog away, who only looks at her with that same head tilt. 
Four other times this had happened. 
The first time, it had been an inky black crow, squawking and hopping along from house to house, trailing behind her. They brought him back that night, slung over the back of one of the horses, a smear of bullet wounds in his back.
The second time, it had been a rat that skittered along fence posts and wove between people’s feet. He didn’t even make it out of the gates that morning, trampled to death by a newly-trained horse. 
The third time, it had been a beetle, a creature certainly not indigenous to Wyoming. She kept picking it up in a glass jar and taking it outside, but everytime, it found its way back into her shop. A freak accident, people said, for someone so young to have a heart attack so suddenly. 
The fourth time, it had been a black dog, the same black dog following her today, though it’s now much grayer in the face. They didn’t even bring his body back that time, not after he was infected.
Finishing her last house call, she jerkily makes her way toward her shop, trying to ignore the icy prickle shivering up her spine at the sound of paws padding behind her. She’s trying not to look like a freak, but judging by the glances people are giving her as she walks through town, she isn’t doing a very good job of hiding her mounting panic. 
“I said go away.”
“Woah, I thought you told me you needed my help today, but I can go I guess.” She whips around from where she had been scolding the mutt at the sound of Ellie’s voice, finding her waiting in front of the store.
“I’m sorry, Ellie. I wasn’t talking to you, I was– well, I was–” She motions vaguely behind her to the dog that has now sat on its haunches, panting lightly and looking at them. Ellie, however, is entirely unbothered by the animal, walking right over to it and crouching down to pat its scruffy head. The sight makes her feel a bit sick, knowing exactly what the presence of this animal means.
“C-c’mon, that thing probably has fleas. Let’s go inside and get to work, alright?” Ellie smiles up at her, nodding with a sigh as she walks over to where she is unlocking the door to the shop. She keeps her eye on the dog over Ellie’s shoulder, even as she opens the door and motions for the girl to go inside. 
“You’re acting– weird.” She mutters something about not sleeping well, and although Ellie doesn’t seem to buy that, she shuffles inside. Before she follows after Ellie, she sets her satchel down just inside the door, Stevie stepping out and running to the back of the shop in search of the girl. She turns around to face the dog who has now inched closer to her, and does the only thing she can think to do.
The people of Jackson got quite the show that afternoon as she chased the scruffy mutt, her arms waving and muttered curses loosing from her lips, as far away from her shop as she could. 
“You stay. Do you hear me? He’s coming back– h-he is.” With a final huff, she turns on her heel, stomping a direct path back to the shop and slamming the door behind her, Stevie’s and Ellie’s heads whipping up at her blustery entrance. She just huffs at their wide-eyed stares, her shoulders slumping when she glances back through the shop door window and sees that damn dog sitting on the stoop, head eternally tilted.
It’s been a slow day of patrol. They rode up around the dam, relieved to not find any raiders, a seemingly perpetual nuisance. It must be late in the afternoon when they decide to start heading back through the thickening woods.
“So, you two are really making a go of it, huh?” Joel glances over at Tommy, grunting at his brother’s prying question.
“Suppose we are.” Tommy chuckles.
“You never did take any of my advice. Good luck, brother. But please, try not to make a habit out of busting people’s faces for her.” It’s meant in jest, but Joel shoots him a hard look from atop his horse.
“You would’ve done the same if you had seen what he did to her.” When Tommy’s brow furrows, Joel lets out a bitter laugh.
“What? Did Mason leave out that detail? I watched that fucker slam her head against a wall, Tommy. If I hadn’t stopped him, he would’ve done much worse.” Tommy mutters a low jesus christ under his breath, shaking his head at Joel’s words.
“Fuck, Joel– I’ll talk to Maria about this–”
“Don’t. Asshole like that– best to just let it go. I think I made my point. But if he tries anything again, I won’t hesitate, Tommy. I just won’t.” Tommy offers him a faint nod, both of them settling back into silence as they continue riding. 
It happens in a flash. Someone– or something– comes bounding out of the trees, spooking Joel’s horse enough that he gets thrown right off. He groans, scrambling to get to his feet as Tommy wheels around, but before Joel can get his bearings, he’s tackled back down to the ground. 
Snapping teeth and garbled shrieks, a disorienting mix as he struggles to push the clicker off of him. He can’t hear anything else, no clue if Tommy is alright, if they have any shot of making it out of this alive. All he can do is flail on the ground with this snarling creature, his bare hands doing little to repel its staggering force.
A cool fear starts to trickle in. A fear that this might be the time he doesn’t make it back.
She’s watching the clock, face scrunched into a permanent scowl of worry. The beds of her nails had all been picked raw several hours ago, and she had only stopped when they started to bleed. In her spiraling state, she had sent Ellie off early, not wanting to draw any more attention to her obvious anxiety. Stevie sits in the storefront window, hissing and clawing at the dog who has now laid down in front of the store.
It isn’t her fault. She tells herself this, over and over. She knows that it isn’t her fault. That it hadn’t ever been her fault, not now and not before. Deep down, she knows this, but the nagging voices of Jackson, and what people believe contrarily, seeps in around the edges of her mind, a sour poison that settles thick in her thoughts. And she braces herself for the worst, a full body tensing, waiting for the news to come.
Five o’clock. He should’ve been back an hour ago. But just as the clock rolls over into the new hour, Stevie stops hissing altogether. She gets up from her stool behind the old checkout counter, craning her neck to look out the window, but finds no sign of the dog that had been following her all day. 
She moves before she thinks, leaving the door to the shop ajar as she stumbles out and starts walking briskly toward the town’s gate. When she rounds the corner and the gate comes into her line of sight, the slow creaking of its opening resounding in her bones, her feet kick up into a stilted jog. It barely registers to her that she’s crying, the cool slip of it running down her cheeks. When she only sees Tommy riding in, she stops in her tracks, heart stuttering still in her chest. But she breaks into a sprint when Joel comes into sight, riding in just behind his brother. 
She lets out a yelp of his name, his head jerking up at the sound. A sob breaks in her ribs when his eyes meet hers, and he’s quick to slip down off his horse, taking a few tentative steps forward before she’s crashing right into him. 
A hard breath is pushed out of him as he stumbles back a few paces, his arms wrapping firm around her as she presses her face into his chest, her hands clinging to the fabric of his shirt. When she finally pulls away, she brings her hands to his jaw, holding his face still as her eyes search his.
“Are you– are you ok?” He nods, clearly caught off guard by her frenzied greeting.
“I am, but– how did you– I mean, I’m fine. Just a little bruised. But I’ll live.” His words make a laugh bubble up in her throat, and when she lets it loose he really does look at her like she’s gone crazy.
“The dog was wrong–” She lets out another bright laugh.
“The dog was wrong!” His brow creases in even greater confusion.
“What dog? What’re you talk–” She cuts him off with a hard kiss, a smooch really, the kind that would make a cartoon character’s head explode in a shower of confetti hearts. But Joel’s blush when she pulls away with a sweet smack accomplishes much the same effect.
“I am so glad you’re back.” 
“Damn, is this soup magic? Because it’s way better than anything Joel cooks.” 
“Kid.” Ellie looks up at him from where she’s all but face-planted into her bowl of soup, shrugging at his scolding. She takes it in stride, though, laughing at Ellie’s exclamation.
“Not magic– but I’m glad you like it.” It’s a strange sight, her sitting at his kitchen table. It had been even stranger watching her flit around his kitchen, cooking for him and Ellie like she had done it hundreds of times before. But she had insisted after he told her what happened on patrol, not letting him get another word in edgewise as she led him first to her shop to pick up Stevie and that satchel of hers, and then to his house where she had immediately gotten to work with whatever odds and ends she could find in his fridge. Joel would never protest at the promise of a hot meal that he didn’t have to make, and he has to admit that the kid is right, the soup is really fucking good.
The rest of their meal passes quietly, the continuous purrs of Stevie sitting in Ellie’s lap being interrupted only when Ellie finishes her bowl with a contented groan.
“That was so fucking good, seriously. Can you come over more often? Because Joel’s idea of cooking is opening a can of really old chef boyardee beef–”
“Kid.” Joel is entirely mortified, but once again, Ellie just huffs, coaxing Stevie off her lap and standing up to take her bowl to the sink, glancing at them over her shoulder.
“What? It’s true. Anyways, I gotta run– Dina and I are going to movie night together.” Ellie wiggles her eyebrows as she leans back against the sink, but before Joel can even tell her to be safe, she’s already bounding through the house and out the front door with a loud “don’t wait up!” All he can do is slump back in his chair with a huff.
“That nudge you gave Ellie is going to send me to an early grave.” She snorts at that, sitting back in her own chair across from him and crossing her arms over her chest.
“I think it’s sweet– a little young love could do this world some good.” With that, she gets up, grabbing her own bowl as well as his and heading over to the sink. He goes to get up, protesting at her cleaning up after them, but finds himself sitting back down with a wince that catches her attention.
“You feeling alright?”
“I mean– no. Feel like I got thrown off a horse, probably because I did.” She offers him a small smile, tilting her head.
“Let me get this cleaned up, huh? I think I can help with that.”
Just a little while later, when she has him lead her up into his bathroom, Joel reckons that her idea of helping may give him a heart attack.
“Do you like the water really really hot, or just warm?” He has to clear his throat and pull his eyes away from the soft curve of her jeans where she’s bent over the tub, fiddling with the faucet, before he can answer.
“Um, I don’t– I don’t know. I guess I’ve never actually used this thing.” She whips around at that, brow furrowed.
“You’re kidding, right? You have this super nice tub, and you’ve never used it?” When all he does is shrug, she sighs.
“Well, I’ll just have to show you what you’re missing out on then. Can you go grab my bag? I left it right next to the stairs.” He pads out into the hallway, finding her satchel slung over the top of the railing of the stairs just as Stevie comes slinking up the steps. 
“She asked me to get her bag for– Jesus christ, I’m talking to a cat.” He swipes a palm down his face, letting out a long sigh, only slightly shocked when Stevie lets out an inquisitive mrrp that sounds a whole lot like a response. 
“You stay, alright? Go– be creepy somewhere else.” At that, Stevie lets out an indignant mroowww, tilting her head at him. It’s certainly a first for him, having a staredown with a cat, but he assumes he wins when Stevie turns away with another little mrrp, padding silently back down the steps. 
When he reenters the bathroom, a haze of steam has filled up the room, and she’s sitting on the edge of the tub, checking the temperature of the water with her hand.
“There you are, thanks for grabbing that. You didn’t happen to see Stevie out there, did you?”
“Hmm? Oh, um, no, I didn’t. “ Luckily, she buys his answer, shaking her head with a light laugh as she takes her bag from him.
“Probably slinked off to find some trouble for the night. Anyways, let me finish getting this ready for you.” She pulls out a cloth sack from her satchel, digging her hand in and sprinkling what looks like salt over the bath. Before he can even ask, she explains it to him with a smile.
“Epsom salt. There’s a lake up in the mountains that dries out every summer and there’s always tons of this stuff on the lakebed. Mixed with a little lavender and chamomile to calm down inflammation.” He speaks before he can really think about it, feeling like a fool the instant the words leave his mouth.
“You’re amazing, d’you know that?” She laughs, keeping her eyes turned down as she swirls the water a few times with her hand before standing up to look at him.
“It should be all set. I recommend staying in there for at least a half hour, but really, if you can soak for more like an hour that’d be best.” She’s moving and talking so fast, slinging her bag over her shoulder and heading for the door, that Joel can barely stutter out his response, the flush creeping up his neck only burning brighter when he does.
“Wait– I thought you– um, I thought– would you– stay?” Fucking hell, just bury me now, why don’t you? Her eyes widen first, but then soften as a grin crooks across her lips.
“Joel Miller, are you asking me to join you?” 
“Only if you’d say yes.” Her grin broadens, beautiful and blinding. 
“Well, since you asked so nicely.”
She realizes a bit too late that she’s nervous, her fingers trembling at the button of her jeans as they both silently undress. Her ears prick to the sound of a belt buckle clinking, the clean sweep of leather being pulled out of belt loops, followed by the quick thrum of a zipper. But she doesn’t look at him, not yet, to save what little nerve she still has worked up.
And then, when they’re both standing in a puddle of clothes, she wills her eyes to peel away from the tiled floor. She sees him in fragments, darting glances over sun-faded skin and soft strength, a thatch of dark curls that she tries not to stare at for too long. She finally looks at his face, and sees that he’s doing much the same, darkened eyes collecting her. She lets him.
“We should, um, we should get in– before the water gets cold.” She mentally kicks herself for the wobble in her voice, but Joel doesn’t seem to notice. In fact, he doesn’t seem to notice at all, his eyes still roaming over her. She says his name, and his focus snaps back to attention.
“Um, right– I’ll just–” There’s nothing graceful about Joel Miller getting into a bathtub, and that’s how she knows she’s really taken with him, because somehow she still finds it endearing. And she just about swoons when he holds a hand out to her over the lip of the tub. 
She doesn’t let herself think too hard about it, sinking into the warm water, her back facing him as she sits down between his legs. A careful hand slips over her hip, causing her to peer over her shoulder at him.
“This ok?” She hums her affirmation, letting him guide her back until she’s pressed up against the warmth of his chest. His palm skates over the top of her thigh, arcing out of the water to rest on top of her bent knee. 
“Just relax, darlin.” “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who’s supposed to be relaxing.” She feels the vibration of his hummed response running up her spine, and it coaxes her to slump further against him, her head resting back on his shoulder.
“Oh, I am, believe me.” She laughs at that, though it fizzles out when his hand dips back down under the water, fingers curling at the crux of her thigh.
“Can I ask you something?” She’s a little too distracted by the way his thumb is rubbing circles into the soft inside of her thigh to be embarrassed by the breathy uh-huh she responds with.
“Heard a rumor about you from some of the women in town.” That makes her stiffen in his hold, only melting a little when he presses a sweet kiss to the side of her neck.
“I bet you heard a lot of rumors from them.” He hums again, low and gravelly.
“I did– but I really wanna know if this one is true.” She tilts her chin up, neck crooking to look at him and the faint smirk he’s sporting.
“They said they’ve seen you out in the middle of the night, dancing naked in your backyard.” Water splashes up against the sides of the tub as she laughs, squawks really, at his words, quickly turning in his hold and tangling her hands behind his neck. She can feel him, warm and hard, resting along her thigh as she straddles him, and she revels in the pretty flush that spreads across his cheeks. She’s got Joel Miller flustered, and she likes it. Taking him for all he’s worth, she leans in, letting her lips trace the shell of his ear as she speaks.
“Only on Halloween, baby.” His fingers grip a little tighter along the plush of her hips, and she has to giggle at the spluttering exhale he lets out.
“Jesus christ– are you serious?” She sighs, tilting her head at him as she tugs lightly at the curls at the nape of his neck.
“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, huh?” He swallows her laugh, lips finally slotting with hers, his palm trailing up her spine to press her closer, and it’s right then that she realizes how badly she had been jonesing for a kiss from him. This one is different than any they’ve shared before. It’s a kiss that takes its time, a slow exploration punctuated by murmuring sighs and wandering hands. She finds that he’s a stubborn kisser, always trying to get the upper hand, his tongue swiping across her lip before licking into her mouth. But she doesn’t let him have it for long, her teeth grazing his bottom lip, reveling in the little groan he lets out and using it to her advantage as she presses closer to him, the peaked slopes of her nipples dragging across his chest. 
He shifts his hips down and away from the back of the tub, giving her space to wrap her legs around his waist, ankles grazing his low back and she thinks briefly that his bathroom is going to be a mess, water sloshing out over the sides of the tub with their increasingly frantic movements. Though she doesn’t have much time to worry about it when he ducks his head down, pressing a sweet kiss to her sternum that is starkly contrasted by the subsequent drag of his lips over one of her breasts, teeth grazing over her nipple before he laves his tongue over the bud. She lets out a gasp of his name when he sucks the delicate skin into his mouth, no longer trying to hold back the grind of her hips into the coarse hair covering his pelvis, his cock brushing up against her ass with the movement. Seemingly satisfied with his ministrations, he pulls away with a sweet little pop, his eyes impossibly darker as he looks at her.
“Want you, darlin, so bad. Can I– fuck– can I have you?” Afraid of what her voice might sound like, her response to him is another bruising kiss, tugging just a tad unkindly on his hair as she shifts her hips back, both of them groaning when her cunt grazes the underside of his cock. 
“Want you too, Joel, please.” She doesn’t care that it comes out like a whine, too preoccupied with chasing the pleasure of his cock rutting against where she wants him most. But she stills when Joel places a firm hand to her hip, her brow furrowing at him.
“We’re not doing this in a fucking bathtub, not the first time.” She splutters out a laugh at his very serious expression, but she realizes he’s not kidding when he gently untangles her legs from around him, tugging her up along with him, water going everywhere as they step out of the tub in a slipping tangle of limbs. She’s finding that she can’t get enough of him, stealing whatever kisses she can get as he pulls her into the bedroom, her lips dragging down the column of his throat and over the top of his chest. And then a quick blur and breathy oof from Joel has them tumbling back onto his bed, her palms splaying out over his chest as she straddles his hips. They don’t stay like that for long though, Joel squeezing her ass and rolling them over in a surprisingly smooth move, slotting himself between her spread thighs. 
All of a sudden, things start to move slower, thicker, as he drags a palm down her torso, flipping his wrist around when he reaches her pelvis and cupping her heat in a flat press. She cants her hips into his hold, sighing at the firm grind of the heel of his palm over her clit. And while it feels good, it isn’t what she really wants.
“Joel– don’t tease. I just, fuck– just want you.” He grins, the bastard, shifting his hand to dip two of his fingers against her entrance, the stretch sweet and stinging when he pushes in. 
“Not gonna tease you, darlin. Just wanna get you ready f’me. Fuck– you’re driving me crazy.” She knows that he’s not just being arrogant, having gotten a good look, and feel, of his cock, but the steady rhythm of his fingers pumping inside of her is only making her want him more.
“Please, please– I’m ready, I swear. Just, fucking–” He shushes her with a quick kiss, and by giving her what she wants, moving his hand away and hovering over her, the heavy heat of his cock resting against the apex of her thighs. 
It’s all quiet communication. He draws one palm along the outside of her thigh, coaxing her leg up, her knee resting against his waist as she opens up even more for him. She drags her hands down his chest, the soft pudge of his belly, before hooking them under and around to press into the shuddering muscles of his back. It’s a languid motion, her hips tilting up to meet his rolling forward, both of them letting out broken sighs as he fills her completely. 
“Fucking– s’perfect- you’re perfect– I can’t– I– christ.” He breathes out a hard exhale, resting his forehead against her sternum, hips still flush with hers. She presses a smattering of kisses to his hairline, coaxing him to look up at her.
“Don’t think christ has anything to do with it, baby.” His chuckle at her smug words turns into a low groan when she flutters around him, both of them going a little sick with the pleasure of it all.
“Can I move, darlin? Shit– I’m not gonna last like this– feels too fucking good.” All he needs is her jerky nod for him to arc his hips away before snapping back, deep and slow, finding a push and pull that has them both sighing with each thrust. It feels like he’s everywhere, his mouth open and hot across her chest, his damp hair tickling the skin over her collarbone, his murmuring groans mixing with each of her sighs, and his throbbing length, every inch of him spreading her open again and again and again. She has half a mind to be embarrassed by how quickly she’s tipping over the edge of pleasure, but she doesn’t care, not when Joel is coaxing her into it with low drawling praises.
“That’s it, honey– so good like this– so beautiful– shit– come for me, please– need to– need to feel you–” He brings a trembling hand down over her pelvis, deft fingers drawing circles over her clit and it becomes too much all at once, his name leaving her lips in a quiet cry as she falls apart around him. He fucks her through it, his pace slowing into more of a deep grind that jostles them further up the bed with each stroke. All she can do is hold on, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades, her hitched heel pressing into his low back as he chases after his own high. She pieces herself together enough to drag her hand through his hair, pulling his face down so she can murmur in his ear.
“Want it so bad, Joel– please, baby– wanna see you come for me– let me see you– let me have it.” He groans out her name, sounding more like pain than pleasure as he pulls away, leaning back on his haunches to sloppily stroke his glistening cock. She moves in a haze of desire, scrambling onto her hands and knees, her face coming level with his flushed length as she drops her jaw and sticks her tongue out, spit pooling from want as she looks up at him through her lashes. 
She watches him closely as he comes with a slur of curses, breathless as the salt of his spend spurts onto her tongue, smudging across her lips and dripping down her chin. His shoulders slump, chest heaving as he runs a trembling hand through his hair, eyes not leaving hers as she sits back and swipes up the stray come on her skin, sucking her fingers into her mouth with a low hum. She’d never call that taste appealing, but the fact that it came from him, a sign of his pleasure which she had been sovereign over, sends a shiver up her spine as she swirls her tongue over her fingers. 
She’s trying to kill him, she has to be, with her little smile and the lewd pop of her fingers leaving her mouth.
“You’re fucking unreal, goddamn.” She laughs at his exclamation and he swallows the sound, pulling her in for a kiss, his mind going fuzzy at the taste of what he assumes is himself on her lips. Even though he feels like he just ran a marathon, he can’t help but deepen the kiss, their mouths molding and moving as they lay down in a close tangle. 
When they do pull away from each other, it’s with a shared sigh, and she rests her cheek on his chest, right where he knows she can hear his racing heart. She presses a kiss to that spot before tilting her chin up to look at him.
“I’m really glad you came back today, Joel.” His brow furrows, thinking back to earlier and the strange things she had said, her frantic greeting, and the relief that had been clear in her eyes. Another piece of her that he doesn’t quite understand. But he’s ok with that, with not knowing everything about her, at least not yet. She’s already unfurled so much of her life for him, and he’s prepared to wait patiently for whatever else she’ll offer him. As long as he gets to have her like this, warm and soft, keening into his touch, eyes hooded with a shared pleasure. 
No other words are needed, not right now. He coaxes her chin up with a gentle press of his fingers, stealing one more kiss before they both settle down in each other’s arms. 
................................
taglist (i added some folks i thought would like to be, let me know if you want added or dropped lmao) : @boofy1998 @misspascaliverse @jasminedragoon @beskarandblasters @daddy-din @subconsciouscollapse @avidreader73 @pedgeitopascal @littlelou22 @wannab-urs @hannahlupinblack @whoiscaroline @leeeesahhh
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auteurdelabre · 4 months
Text
SOMETHING TO FIGHT FOR (SERIES) Part 15
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Word Count: 1.6
Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no physical descriptions)
Warnings: fighting, violence. Wanna read the rest? Pinned post on my account has my masterlist!
AUTHORS NOTES: Comments and reblogs make me really happy. Thanks y'all for reading so far!
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You, Tommy and Maria stand in the play area, looking out at the groups of children. Maria has followed you out here, seeing your splotchy face.  She pulls you to the side, asking Tommy to watch the kids while you chat.
"You didn't tell me," Maria says lowly, her arms crossed.
"Tried to when you were here last time," you say swallowing. "Chickened out I guess."
"Kinda says something don't you think?"
"Yeah, that I didn't want my best friend saying shitty stuff about the guy I was getting married to,” you say, dropping your voice when a random child in the ball pit gives you a worried look. “You know how happy I was for you when you got engaged to Tommy?"
"Tommy is a fucking dream, he treats me amazing," Maria insists in a hush.   
"The thing is Maria I was happy because you were happy," you explain. "I don't see why you couldn't be that for me."
Maria's mouth opens and closes, not ready for that. 
"Paul isn't perfect," you relent. "But neither am I."
"I can't stop you from marrying Paul," Maria says after a moment, her eyes troubled. "And if you do, I will support you and love you. But we’ve been friends a lot time. You’re the person that I can be real with and ever since you got back things have been weird with you, and I get that, I really do. But I feel like you're rushing into things with Paul." 
"I just want to be happy."
"But you're not you with him," Maria says softly. "I don't know who this person is, this meek woman who goes along with all his shit." 
"Maybe this is me," you say in a defeated voice. "Maybe this was really me the whole time."
“I really hope that isn’t true,” Maria says.
And then she’s gone, rushing from you back into the restaurant and into the toilets. You know that she’s just waiting you out. Waiting until you leave so she doesn’t say something ugly here at her future niece’s party.
Tommy is quiet, his eyes troubled. He keeps darting looks from you to the kids and then back again.
“If you want to say something then say it,” you grind out, summarily furious with so many people at once that you can only breathe hot anger at everyone in your proximity.
Tommy turns facing you, about to speak when he pauses, his gaze dragging over your shoulder and through the window into the restaurant. His brows furrow.
And then it’s like you’re supposed to see it. A flash of movement catches your eye and you watch as Joel’s strong arm twists and his fist connects with Paul’s jaw. It’s like it all happens in slow motion because you can see every detail. The clench of Joel’s teeth, the fury in his dark eyes, the way his shoulder ripples under his shirt as his fist finds purchase.
And then life resumes its normal pace and Paul is on the ground.
“Watch Sarah,” you tell Tommy with wide eyes. “Don’t let her come inside for a sec.”
Paul is on the ground, his split lip bleeding heavily.  Tess is standing with her hand balanced on a nearby table for balance. Her face is white and her eyes are owlish in her face.
"What the fuck - Paul are you okay?"
Joel’s eyes dart over to see you rushing in from the play area, your face horrified. He glances back down at Paul and realizes with a heavy heart that there is an understanding in Paul's eyes. A dark, ugly understanding because his lips curl into a knowing sneer, even as he wipes the blood from his mouth 
"I'm fine, baby," Paul croons, his eyes still on Joel.
Joel wants to shrivel up and die at the look you’re giving him now. A mixture of horror and disgust crossing your normally gentle, soft features. You drop to your knees, your hand going to his mouth before you twist around to glare up at him
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Joel?”
Joel is so thankful Sarah is in the playroom with Tommy and Jessie. Having the horrified looks of you and Tess is enough for him to wish the ground would swallow him up whole. The back of his neck feels like it’s on fire.
"Think we should go,” Paul says, affecting a wince as you help him to a stand.
"I agree," you say in a huff. 
Joel takes a step towards you instinctively, but you shoot daggers at him.
"Stay away from me," you hiss. 
Joel can only watch in misery as Paul's hand slides down to cup your ass as you walk away. His eyes are so pained, his entire body cold with despair. When Tess comes up to him, her hand going to his cheek he pulls back sharply.
“Stop.”
“She’s gone, Joel.”
And there is a curl of victory in her mouth that he can’t see, but feel. She tries to hide it under concern and sadness.  It makes him bristle, the way she can affect false emotions so easily. He scans her face and decides it’s now. No waiting.
“It’s over Tess,” Joel says flatly. “It’s been over for a while now and I think you know it. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.”
“Joel.”
“You did nothing wrong,” Joel assures her, not wanting to hurt her. “I just. . . I was never in all the way. Its my fault, Tess it is. Please don’t think it’s you.”
“You’re not serious,” Tess says, her hands stemming on her hips.
Maria has come back from the bathroom to find you and Paul gone and Tess and Joel at the start of what looks like a showdown. She considers leaving to give them privacy before she settles into a nearby chair, watching as she pretends to look through the photos in her camera.
“I am,” Joel says dimly. “I can’t be with you. Not when I’m. . . ”
He can’t finish it. Can’t say the words aloud because it already hurts to think them knowing now you’ll never be his. He looks wounded, his eyes trailing to the door that you exited through minutes before.
“You’re kidding,” Tess says, her head shaking. “For fucks’ sake, she’s engaged Joel. And honestly now I’m glad I said what I did to her. I knew that this would end up bad for Sarah and for-“
Joel’s eyes aren’t wounded anymore. They’ve gone sharp and they slice through the air to land on Tess’ features.
“What?” Joel’s voice is quiet. Dangerous.
Tess doesn’t realize the danger though. She stands there confidently digging away at him, ignoring Tommy who has seen the tension and comes into the restaurant looking concerned. Maria waves him over to her, silently telling him to shut up with a finger over his mouth as he takes a seat next to her.
“What did you say to her exactly?” Joel is demanding of Tess.
“I told her to back off a bit,” Tess says crossly. “Give me some time to bond with Sarah. I knew she wasn’t going to stick around and-“
Maria nearly leaps off her chair, held back by Tommy.
Joel recalls the way you’d backed off moments earlier, silently urging Tess to take your place with Sarah and a bitter fury that he can almost taste goes through him. His hands are in fists, his spine straightening as he towers over Tess.
“You told that sweet woman to stay away from my daughter?” Joel says in a voice so deep Tess visibly twitches. “You took a person my daughter loves and tried to isolate them from each other? You thought that was a good thing? A kind thing to do to Sarah?”
Joel doesn’t notice Maria behind held back by Tommy until her voice rings out from behind Tess, startling her.
“How dare you do that?” Maria shouts, angry tears starting in her eyes as her fiancé holds her arms, stopping her from swinging at the taller woman. “You selfish fucking bitch!”
“Maria,” Tommy warns because people are starting to look over from their Big Macs and Cokes. Tess looks chagrined at the unwanted attention, coming to step closer to Joel. She lowers her voice, her eyes on his.
“I love Sarah, Joel.”
“No.” Joel shakes his head. He points in the direction that you left, all but shouting your name in her face. “Her. She loves Sarah. She would do anything for Sarah, even listen to you because she thinks that’s what’s Sarah needs. Because that’s love. But she doesn’t realize that Sarah doesn’t need you. All Sarah needs is her and me.”
Tommy feels Maria jerk back at this, her eyes wide at Joel’s words. He peers into Maria’s face to see tear running down her cheeks but she’s smiling. He holds her, folding her against him.
Joel knows he’s shouting and feels too angry to care, but he also knows that he doesn’t want to start a scene. He gives Tess a disgusted look, shaking his head. He just wants her out of his sight, out of his life.
“Get the fuck outta here, Tess.”
He wants the entire world to fuck off so he can just go lie down and mourn the fact that you’re growing further and further from him.
“Excuse me?”
“I said get the fuck out of here,” Joel says, emphasizing each syllable with crisp and aggressive tilts. “And don’t you dare talk to Sarah. Just get your kid and your shit and go.”
Tommy and Maria are standing there awkwardly watching this interaction. Maria is looking at Joel like he’s something out a Marvel comic whereas Tommy just looks horrified at the way Tess isn’t backing down.
“Joel,” Tess says, swallowing nervously. “C’mon now, we can work on this, it’s-“
“Don’t make me say shit I’m gonna regret Tess,” Joel warns. “Please. I’m not in the mood. Just fucking go. We’re done.”
He turns, busying himself with packing the rest of Sarah’s gifts into the bag he brought. He can’t stop thinking about you and that look on your face. But apparently Tess isn’t going down without a fight before she grips Joel by the shoulder, forcing his attention to her. He shrugs her off, appraising her coolly.
“So what, you’re gonna run off after a practically married woman Joel?” Tess defends. “Or are you gonna do what you did with Michelle and pine for a few years and then just pretend she didn’t exist?”
Tommy jerks forward and now it’s Maria holding him back. “You watch your fucking mouth.”
“She didn’t pick you,” Tess jeers at Joel, ignoring the couple behind her. “She picked Paul. I’m still here and –“
“And you aren’t her,” Joel jabs back, his voice like a thunderstorm. Tess is halfway through her rant when Joel’s words settle in her mind and she stops with her light eyes widening.
“You aren’t her,” Joel repeats icily. “You never were. You never can be. So just fuck off and don’t contact me or my kid again.”
It’s an ugly thing to say, and he realizes this the minute the words leave his mouth. He wants to feel bad but he’s so fucking angry at Tess for saying what she did. So furious that anyone would want to sever that connection for their own advantage.
Maria and Tommy are standing  glaring at Tess and now Sarah has rushed in from the play area, flushed and happy looking, oblivious to what’s happened. She scans the room for you, calling your name before glancing up at Joel.
“Where is she daddy?” she asks.
Tess lets out a scoffing sound of disgust before gathering her purse over her arm.
Maria urges Sarah away with the suggestion of taking some photos outside in the sunshine with the digital camera. Sarah so is over the moon with this idea she doesn’t even notice when Tess retrieves Daniel from the play area and exits rapidly, her heels clicking angrily as she goes.
Tommy approaches his brother, realizing now is as good a time as any. His brother is high strung, each muscle tense.
"I've tried to stay outta things Joel," Tommy says, his head tilted to the ground. He's always felt inferior to his older brother and giving Joel advice feels foreign. "You always looked out for me so I wanna look out for you. She loves you, man. And she's gonna marry that fucking musician if you don't get your head outta your ass and just tell her."
Joel steps back from the table to look at Tommy. He does so without malice, but also without emotion left in his dark eyes.
"She doesn’t love me, Tommy,” Joel says without energy in his voice. “Don’t know that she ever did.”
“But you love her.”
“Yep.”
“Have for a long time.”
“Yep.”
“So fight for her, then.”
Joel slants an exasperated look at his brother. The brother who always fought, the one who Joel continually had to bail out of jail. Fighting isn’t what Joel does. When he does, things like punching Paul happen. Things that drive the people he loves away.  
“It’s not really love if you have to force it,” Joel finally answers. “She made her choice and I want her to be happy. And after today Tommy, I really don’t wanna talk about it.”
Tommy stares at his brother for a moment, taking in the hollowness of the eyes, the defeated slump to his shoulder. He realizes that Tess for all her horrible comments hit the nail on the head. Already Joel is shutting things out, thinking of how to erase you from his life. If he doesn’t talk about you, it’s a good start.
“Why don’t you fight for things anymore?” Tommy asks, devastated to see this shell of his brother. “You used to-“
“Because I don’t deserve them,” Joel tells his brother flatly, stopping all further conversation.  “Now please, let’s just go home.”
///
You're vibrating with anger right now.
What the fuck just happened? Why would Joel punch Paul? Thank Christ Sarah had been distracted in the play area.
You glance over at your fiancé, feeling a wave of guilt go through you. Paul’s sitting next to you in the car, driving but one hand is on yours. His jaw is swollen and you wonder if something is broken. 
"He just punched you out of nowhere?" you ask for the third time since you started driving home. You're so shocked by this development that you’re having trouble processing. One minute you’re looking at photos and realizing that maybe there is something there with Joel and the next second the man is slugging Paul for no reason.  
"I told you, I just thanked him for letting you spend time with Sarah," Paul shrugs. "Maybe he didn't like that I was there at the party?"
Or that you're engaged.
"I should call him," you consider pulling out your phone and screaming at Joel right now. You're so fucking angry at him. How is this friendship? How can you be in each other's lives if he does shit like this? 
"Baby, no," Paul insists. "Look, I'm fine. Guy was just having a hard day."
You feel a wave of affection go through you at Paul's words. So understanding even after being punched in the face for no reason.
"It's no excuse."
Paul shrugs the picture of unbothered and for a moment you feel like you can relax.  "But I don't know how comfortable I am with you babysitting for him."
Your brows crumple. "What?"
"I just, I don't really feel comfortable with you being around him. Now that I know he's violent."
"Joel isn't-" you start, pausing only when Paul slants you a meaningful look, motioning to his swollen jaw. 
You look at all of this and you think of Tess words and the way Joel kissed you and it all bundles together to spell it out in bright neon letters: you and Joel need to stay away from each other. 
"Okay."
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Text
Hey. So let's talk about "narc abuse" some more. I wanna dig deep and discuss an awful truth hiding within the darkness of that term/concept. It's something I've talked about on here before, but I need to really get into it.
I've read more narc abuse blogs and books than you'll ever know. I've been deep in the trenches, because I started out my narcissistic journey thinking I had suffered from "narcissistic abuse" after a bad breakup, and let me tell you, there's something weird going on in that world.
And that weird something is this:
A huge percentage of the "victims" are narcissists themselves... and they have no clue.
They deny, project, blame, name-call, cry, whine, and trauma dump all over the place, demanding to be seen as poor, innocent victims who don't have any blame whatsoever. They're almost always very obviously control freaks who require inordinate amounts of attention and will write full-ass novels in the comment section screaming at everyone to listen to and validate their weird fucking problems.
It's always something like: "My narc stole all my money and spent it on prostitutes all because I loved them too much and was too perfect. I sat at home alone on Christmas crying and holding my newborn child, cursing God for making me so fragile and good. My evil, monstrous narc was off with his new bitch whore girlfriend who is very, very ugly and mean. She doesn't have a nice body or even wear makeup. She obviously doesn't take good care of her body like I do, and I know she is on drugs because my newborn baby (who I believe is an HSP-empath like myself, and maybe even has special powers like I did as a child) doesn't trust her and cries every time she walks into the room. I have never done drugs and never will!! This skank didn't even graduate high school. I have five master's degrees! I hate narcissists. They're not human. What did I do to deserve this??? I'm so pissed. How can I get him back????????? Please help me I need him to worship me like he used to!!!!! I'm begging you."
Like. I made this story up for dramatic/comedic effect. But for real, this is what almost all the narc abuse blogs comments look like. Have you read them? They're very literally insane. These people are off the rails. They're clearly suffering from undiagnosed NPD (and a bunch of other stuff) and spiralling into madness from a lack of understanding/awareness/knowledge about their own disorders. And they will likely never get the help they need because they (because society) hate narcissists so much, they literally cannot bring themselves to accept the fact that they are the ones with NPD.
We gotta destigmatize personality disorders, y'all. Shit's crazy out there.
And as much as it pains me to admit it, these narc abuse victims need compassion and support. Yes, undiagnosed narcissists are the worst. I can say that, because back before I realized I have NPD, I was a pain in the freaking ass. I mean, I still am, don't get me wrong. But at least I now know what I'm working with... and against. And I can try to make better choices. Or not. (As a little treat.) But knowing I have NPD is sooooooo liberating. And empowering.
You see, knowing you have NPD gives you the ability to see what you're doing and why, which means you can adjust your actions to have better outcomes. And after realizing you have NPD, you no longer have to be a victim of circumstance. You don't have to be a helpless little meow meow getting crushed and abused all the time by everyone you meet. Unless you wanna be. I know I still play that card a lot for fun. No judgement. But at least it's almost always my choice now. I usually know when I'm doing it and can stop it when it starts hurting me and others(!!) more than it helps. (Can only happen with proper awareness and coping strategies, though.) It's amazing.
Having NPD and knowing it (and getting help for it) makes for a truly fulfilling and interesting life. Having NPD and not knowing it, is just day after day of misery, agony, and endless struggles.
So, let's get our shit together, people.
Having NPD is actually kinda cool. Yeah, it's hard. (Understatement.) But I'm serious when I say... NPD is a very powerful and fascinating thing to have. Don't be ashamed to accept that you might have it. Don't be afraid of it. Learn how to wield it properly, and I promise you, there will come a day when you come to realize how blessed you are to have it.
Narcissists get elected as world leaders. Narcissists start revolutions. Narcissists create life-changing, culture defining art. And music and movies and fashion and books and on and on. Narcissists make history.
Narcissists. Get. Important. Shit. Done.
So stop whining about narcissists. We're forging the future. You need us. And if you hate us, consider the fact that hating narcissists is how you end up with contemptible assholes like Donald Trump. He didn't get to where he is because of love. He wants to be loved. More than anything. Embarrassingly so. But hatred is what made him. And hatred is what continues to fuel and empower him. Remember that.
And look. If you're endlessly whining about narcissists, consider the fact that you might actually have NPD yourself and just don't know it. Wake up. Accept that you are what you hate, and then stop hating it. Start using NPD as a tool to better yourself and your world. Use its terrifying power to create the life you want to live.
It's difficult. It's excruciating. But it's possible.
NPD will feel like a curse. But I swear you can turn it into an incredible gift.
You just have to know how to use it.
The first step is accepting you have it.
(And if you don't have it... don't be an ableist dick to people who do.)
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sissylittlefeather · 8 months
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Hi!! Can you write an Elvis x reader smut where they meet after one of his performances while he's still supporting Hank Snow and he takes her back to his hotel where he finds out she's a virgin. At first he tries to stop everything, not wanting to pressure her into anything but she reassures him that it's what she wants and he's really sweet and making sure that she's okay the whole time? Sorry it's so long!
Sorry this took me so long! I had a lot of fun writing this! Thank you for asking for it 😁. I hope it's everything you wanted it to be!
Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut, f/m p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, cussing, unprotected sex, reader is a virgin, small mention of blood
A/N: you can go with Austin!Elvis or Real!Elvis, it's totally up to you, as long as you like him Sweet!Elvis.
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Anywhere We Want
Wow. You'd heard that Elvis Presley was an impressive performer, but you never dreamed watching him would make you feel this way, with this heavy, twisty feeling in your stomach and your heart beating so intensely. Something about him just made you feel things you've never felt before. It occurs to you that you're the last of your friends to be a virgin. You've kissed boys, but never anything more. Now this man dances on stage and the place between your legs is reacting in the strangest ways. Everything feels warm and slippery. Still, you do your best to ignore all of these new sensations and follow your friends to the carnival before your mom's favorite singer, Hank Snow, takes the stage.
"Y/n let's ride the Ferris wheel!"
"No, let's play games!"
"Actually I'm hungry."
Your friends are busy trying to figure out what to do next when you spot Elvis. He's standing in a dark corner alone, leaning against a wall, watching the carnival happen around him. He looks kind of lonely and sad. You wonder if he has anyone in his life that doesn't fawn over him constantly, anyone who truly knows him as a person and not a performer.
"Y'all go on ahead. I'll catch up. I just need to find a bathroom." You say to your friends as you turn your back to them and walk away. You don't walk directly towards him because you don't want them to follow you. Instead, you go a roundabout way and manage to come up on his dark corner from a different side.
"Are you okay?"
He jumps a little and puts his hand on his heart.
"Geez, darlin' you scared me. I must've been lost in thought." You watch him rearrange his face to be the mask of a performer. "You want an autograph or something?" His smile is distractingly attractive and you almost just say "yes" and walk away. But something inside you pushes you to ask again.
"Nah, I don't need anything. Are you sure you're okay?" You tilt your head slightly and look him in the eyes.
"Oh yeah, I'm great, kid." He smiles again, a little less brightly this time. Then, he looks at his shoes for a bit before bringing his eyes back up to meet yours.
"Actually, I don't know why I said that. I'm not great. I'm tired." You nod your head reassuringly.
"I bet you are. Everyone wanting you to be on all the time probably gets really old." He relaxes his shoulders and his eyes soften a little bit.
"That's exactly it. I have to be on all the time. Everyone wants Elvis Presley. No one wants me." Your heart breaks for him a little bit. There's something tragic about this man that everyone loves feeling so unloved.
"I don't know why I'm telling you this. I don't even know your name. You must've really caught me off guard." He laughs a little bit and his smile is more natural than you've seen it so far.
"I'm y/n. And people always tell me I'm easy to talk to. I guess it's true." You shrug and give him a small smile.
"Yeah, it is true. Thank you for listening, y/n." He puts his hands in his pockets and looks out at the carnival.
"You wanna get outta here?" It's a cheesy line, but something makes you think he just wants an excuse to escape. You're happy to be his excuse.
"Sure. Where should we go?"
"Somewhere quiet, where we can keep talking. I like talking to you. That okay with you, honey?" You get goosebumps all over when he calls you honey. You hope he never calls you by your actual name. He puts his hand out for you to hold.
"If we hurry, we might get out unnoticed." You grab his hand and he takes you around to the back side of the carnival to a parking lot of sorts. He walks to the passenger side of a yellow Cadillac. You have a brief moment of panic as you realize you're about to get in the car with a stranger. He notices your apprehension.
"We don't have to go anywhere if you don't want to. I know you don't know me from Adam." You can't explain why, but you trust him.
"No, I'm okay. We can go." He raises his eyebrows as if to ask if you're sure.
"Really. I trust you."
He opens the passenger door for you and you slide into the front seat. Everything he does makes your heart beat faster and you feel hot all over. What is it about him that is making you act so crazy? He positions himself behind the steering wheel and starts the engine. When he turns around to back out, he puts his arm on the seat behind you, inadvertently putting his arm around you. You feel yourself blush, but you look away to keep him from noticing.
"So you know my dark and lonely secret. Tell me something about you that no one else knows." He puts his arm back down so that he can shift gears, brushing your shoulder on the way down. You shiver a little and rack your brain for something to share with him.
"I'm afraid I'll never get out of this town. I want to go places and do things and be a person before I settle down. I'm afraid I'll just marry someone here soon and never get to be a person." You've never said that out loud before. You've always just assumed your dreams would die unspoken on your wedding day, like your mother's did. But now that you've said it, you feel the fear and the desire and the drive to be something more all at once.
"Why not both?" His voice pulls you out of your fantasy. "Just because you get married doesn't mean you have to settle down. You could be a wife and a person at the same time." You've never thought of it like that before.
"I can't marry anyone from this town then." You laugh. No one ever leaves this place.
He parks the car and looks at you. His smile is warm, almost affectionate.
"We're here". You look out the car window and realize you're at a motel. Your stomach does a flip flop, but you try to play it cool. He asks,
"Is this okay? It's the only place that's quiet and away from everything." You nod your head.
"Yeah, of course." He opens the car door for you again and the next thing you know, he's opening the door to his room. The walk here was surreal as you wondered how you got yourself in this position. You're about to be in a hotel room alone with Elvis Presley.
"It's not much, but it's home. For tonight at least." He chuckles, obviously trying to make you feel more comfortable. The room is simple, with a single bed and a couple of lamps. He sits down on the bed and pats a spot on the quilt next to him.
"You can sit down. I ain't gonna hurt ya." He's so endearing that you can't help but believe him. You sit next to him, close enough to be friendly, but far enough to make sure he can't get to you too easily, just in case.
"I think if you want to get out of this town bad enough, you will. And even if you do find a husband along the way, I think you'll still be your own person. I'll punch him in the mouth if he tries to stop you." There's that wide natural smile again that makes your legs feel like jelly. You decide in that moment that you'll let him kiss you if he tries.
"And I think you can be Elvis Presley to the world and still find people to love you for who you are."
"Sitting here with you, I believe it." You see him glance at your lips a couple of times and your heart flutters in your chest.
"Y/n, can I ask you somethin'?"
"Anything."
"Can I kiss you?" He's already leaning in as he asks, but you don't care. You whisper "yes" just as his lips reach yours. It's like fireworks are going off inside you. There's electricity shooting all over your body, but it seems to be gathering in the place between your legs. His kiss starts softly, and he kisses you a few times with his mouth closed before he parts your lips with his and dips his tongue into your mouth. You match his motions and let your tongue move around his. Sure, you've kissed boys before, but it's never felt like this. Your whole body seems to ache with wanting him to touch you more. Seemingly reading your mind, he puts his hand on your neck with his thumb on your cheek. His other hand rests on your knee. You want both of his hands on your body, touching the places no one has ever touched before. You scoot your body closer to him and put your arms around his neck as he moves his hands to your waist and your back. Now you're pressed up against him as he holds you close, still kissing you passionately. Slowly, he lays you back on the bed until he's on top of you. Your hands start shaking a little. You know what's supposed to come next, but you've never done it before. His hand makes its way to the zipper on the back of your dress. As he starts to pull on it, he notices you're trembling. He pulls back from kissing you and watches you carefully.
"Honey, have you never...?" He trails off when he sees the slight fear in your face. He sits up suddenly.
"No. We're not doing this if it's your first time. I can't take that from you."
"You can't take something that's being given." He looks back at you as you lay on the bed.
"I really don't want to be that guy."
"What guy?"
"The guy that hurts you."
You think for a second while he sits with his head in his hands. Finally, you sit up next to him and put your hand on his thigh.
"Remember how I told you that I want to live my own life?" He looks up at you.
"This is part of that. I'm choosing you, here, now."
"And you're sure you won't regret it?"
"Regret making my own decisions for myself? Never."
He puts his hand on the back of your neck and looks into your eyes.
"I've never met anyone like you before." You barely get out "I should hope not." Before he's kissing you again. You're not trembling anymore. Instead, this time you put your arms around him and pull him down on top of you. His hand goes back to where it was on your zipper and he pulls back from kissing you.
"You're sure? Because once this dress comes off, I won't be able to resist you." He smiles playfully. You kiss the end of his nose.
"I'm sure. Take it off." He pulls the zipper down and gently removes your dress. He looks at you laying there in your bra and panties waiting for him.
"Damn, baby."
He takes your bra off easily and moves his hands all over your body, kissing you gently as he goes. His hands are so big and warm and his kisses are light and playful. It's the perfect combination to light a fire inside you. He stands up and takes his shirt off. You know he'll need his pants off, so you go to unbutton them, but he stops you.
"Not yet, honey." You're puzzled by this because what else could he possibly have planned? He lays you back down on the bed, kissing just below your belly button. Then, he takes your panties off and drops them on the floor. He positions himself between your legs and you're still confused about what he's wanting to do. You've talked to your girlfriends about what it's like before and none of them have mentioned this. He slowly spreads your legs further apart. Then, he slides one finger inside of you. You gasp and arch your back at the sensation of something inside you. Surprisingly, it doesn't hurt. It feels good. Really good. Just when you get used to that sensation, he starts moving his finger in and out and in again. You bite your lip to keep quiet.
"There's no one here but us, baby. You don't have to be quiet." You let a small moan escape your lips. Then, he does something you never expected. He puts his mouth on you. He moves his tongue rhythmically around and over you and it feels like you might die with how good it is. Still, you can feel something else building and you brace yourself for what might be coming. Your heart beats faster and your stomach gets that twisty feeling again. Then, you go over the edge and it feels like falling and flying and crashing and singing all at once. You're shocked at the sounds that come out of you as you ride this new high. Your body shudders and pulses and you can't decide whether you should laugh or cry. Instead, you just lay there breathing heavily. He moves his mouth back off of you and slides his finger out.
"How was that?" He asks, wiping his mouth with his hand. You mumble something unintelligible and he laughs.
"Good. That's how I know I did it right." You nod your head vigorously and pull his body close to yours. You need more of that feeling, more of him inside you. Now, he stands up and lets his pants fall to the floor. He climbs back on top of you and kisses your neck.
"This part might hurt a little bit. If you want me to stop, I will. Just let me know if it's too much." You nod again, still not fully confident that you can speak. He uses his hand to line himself up with your entrance and looks back up at you.
He slowly pushes the tip of himself into you. He watches you carefully as he continues to push into you slowly. It starts to sting a little bit as he hits some resistance inside you. You squeeze your eyes shut to keep the tears from building up. It hurts, but not so bad that you can't stand it. He's watching your face carefully and as soon as he senses that you're in pain, he stops pushing.
"Do you want me to stop?"
"No. Don't stop. It just hurts a little."
"See, this is what I meant. I don't want to hurt you." He starts to pull out slowly, but you grab his face with both hands.
"Elvis. Don't stop. I want this. I want you." Something about what you said is exactly what he needs to hear. He kisses your cheek and goes back to pushing into you. After a few more seconds, he pushes himself into you fully and lets out a moan.
"Oh fuck, y/n. You feel so good. Do you think you're ready?" He kisses your neck and shoulder while you prepare yourself for the pain.
"I'm ready." He pulls out and slowly pushes into you again. To your utter shock, it no longer hurts. It feels good. Really good. Again. You moan, this time with pleasure instead of pain. He pumps out and in again and again and you feel like you might explode with how good it feels. You wrap your legs around him and he grunts quietly at the change in sensation. He seems to be enjoying this as much as you are. He's kissing your neck and your jawline and your cheek and your lips, all while he continues his rhythm.
After a little while, he slows down and puts his forehead on your shoulder, sweat dripping down his face.
"Okay. Now I need to finish. It might feel... different."
"It's okay." You push his hair back off of his sweaty forehead and kiss him on the cheek. He smiles, kisses your lips, and then speeds up his pace again. To your surprise, his faster speed triggers something in you too and you feel yourself approaching another release. Just as you tumble over the edge, he pushes into you hard and you feel yourself fill up with warmth. You both climax together, taking turns cussing and kissing each other. He shudders and finishes pumping a few more times. He lays on top of you for a while with his head on your chest and you put your arms around him. After laying like this for a bit, he lifts his head up and looks at you.
"So, do you feel like a person?" You laugh and run your fingers through his hair.
"That's one experience I can check off, at least."
He rolls off of you and goes to get you a towel from the bathroom. You assess the damage on his sheets. Not too much blood. Just enough to get the maids talking tomorrow. He tosses you a towel and sits down next to you on the bed.
"You should come with me on tour."
"Elvis, I..."
"You said you wanted out of this town. And you said you can't marry someone here. I don't live here. Come with me."
"I did say both of those things." Did he just mention marriage?!
"Okay then. I'll come with you. Where to next?" He smiles that natural smile that you can't resist.
"Anywhere we want."
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cod-sins · 8 months
Text
𝑫𝑰𝑽𝑰𝑵𝑬 𝑪𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵
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.ೃ࿐ Paring: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Black!Artistic!Reader
.ೃ࿐ Ratings: SFW. Very Fluffy.
.ೃ࿐ Reader: Undisclosed.
.ೃ࿐ Format: HCs .ೃ࿐ Word Count: 536.
[A/N: What started out as drabble in my notes turned into full headcanons :>. Also non-blacks y'all are allowed to interact with this post just don't be weird.Also I didn't proofread n just kinda threw these out there.]
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Going to start this off by saying Ghost supports you 100% whether you do it as a hobby or as a full-time job. He isn't going to be going around bragging to everyone about it but he would definitely look at some artwork and be like 'Huh, Y/n could make something 100x better.'
If you work with clay/pottery he likes to watch your hands carefully dip and curl shaping whatever object you're making. He also asks you stupid questions.
"Why are you fingering it?" "Simon." - 😐. "Just wanna know why you're trying to give it an orgasm love." Feel free to kick him out.
Got really jealous when he found out you made Price a custom drinking glass. He never told you but he always glares at it whenever he's in the room with his captain.
Ghost has a lot of money from working in the military so he has no problem buying you new art supplies. Even if you insist on getting a new sketchbook despite you having several others that you didn't finish. Ghost is still pulling out his wallet for you.
Suffering from art block? Ghost is your muse!
You'd have so many drawings and paintings based on him. He's so amazed at the way you're able to capture every little detail. You actually end up boosting his confidence/ego because of this.
Would pose naked if you asked, but he gets jealous if you use other naked people as art references. "Simon I love you but I need a female body. Not a six-foot British man." "Use your imagination."
If you're a digital artist Ghost is constantly telling you to get up and stretch. You only agreed to this because he wouldn't stop calling you shrimp-related nicknames.
"Oi, shrimpy ya need to stand up for me." "Hey shrimpback time for you to stretch for me." "Your back looks like the letter C."
'It's you. 💻🖋️🦐' He would text you.
Doesn't understand why you're crying head down on your computer until you tell him your program crashed before you could save your progress.
Ghost is so amazed with your ability to create masterpieces just by using your head and references.
Would let you color on his tattoos and draw on his back and arms. He enjoys watching you doodle little crossbones on him. Or when you go all out and draw bones on his hands
If you were a painter Ghost would hang some of your artwork around his house. It would be such a surprise when you came over to visit. He'd smile softly watching you get all excited over it.
Ghost however can't tell the difference between different tones and shades.
You frowned slightly and furrowed your brows as you picked up the small tube of paint from the white bag. "What's the matter?" He asked. "I wanted lime green this is yellow green..." "Bloody fucking hell mate what's the difference? It's just green." "Pfft, what's the difference? Simon, there is a huuge difference," you exclaimed before continuing on. "It's like trying to use a sniper optic for a pistol." He chuckled at your shitty analogy before kissing your forehead and promising you to buy the right one next time.
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bearsbeetsbeskar · 6 months
Text
Somebody to Heal, Somebody to Hold
(Joel Miller x dispensary! reader)
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Chapter 3: Blue Dream
Chapter 1 here || Chapter 2 here || Main masterlist
Pairing: Joel Miller x dispensary! reader, AU (no outbreak) Word count: 4.7K Rating: 18+ MDNI, will be changed to explicit in future chapters (slow burn, eventual smut), swearing, discussions of drug use, discussions of disordered eating, age gap (reader is early 20s and Joel is late 40s) Summary: Joel can't rely on pills anymore for his back pain, so his doctor prescribes him medicinal marijuana. But he's not happy about it.
A/N: It's here y'all! Peepaw got high, and now he has the munchies. For food, as well as for the reader 🌚. This chapter was so fun to write, I loved fleshing out their progressing relationship. PEEPAW gets teased endlessly for being old (I couldn't resist), and he gains a smoking buddy 🥹. As always, thank you to my main hype woman, my ride or RIDE, @iamasaddie for beta'ing. Your excitement and support means the world to me!
Please comment and reblog if you liked it and want to see more of this series! I'm so in awe and appreciative of all the lovely comments and support I've received so far, you guys keep this story going!
❤️ 🌹 - N
In the midst of smoking with Joel, you had forgotten how long it had been since you last ate. The rumbles coming from his stomach reminded you pretty quickly though. You hum and chew the inside of your cheek as you think of possible food options to satisfy the munchies.
Although pretty much anything tastes better when you’re high, thanks to the way that THC heightens your senses, especially taste, you want to get something he will like. You’re not sure why you care so much but you want him to enjoy it, as part of his first smoking experience. 
Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you start to scroll through UberEats to see what’s in the area. 
“Feel like eating anything in particular?”
Joel purses his lips together and hums. “Not really, I ain’t picky.”
You’re inclined to believe him but you still wanna mess with him, just a little bit.
“Ouh, there’s this really good vegan place in town that has good reviews and lot’s of options!” You look at him sideways and raise your eyebrows. 
“Uh,” He grimaces slightly before he can school his expression, “sure that sounds-” 
“I’m just fucking with you Joel” You lean in to shove him again as giggles start bubbling up from your chest. “I’d never eat that shit either, I love real food and meat too much to give it up”
“Thank fucking God,” he breathes out and runs a hand over his face. “I can’t stand it, everything is vegan this, vegan that. What happened to normal real food?”
You snort in response, still scrolling. And then something catches your eye.
“Oh shit! Apparently there’s a food truck festival happening at Bellwoods Park, just a couple minutes from here. There’s lots of different vendors, and it’s probably a lot cheaper than ordering take out. We’ll have to walk over but it’s not too far”
“Yeah, I’m up for that.” He perks up a bit and smiles at you.
No less than 20 minutes later you and Joel arrive at the food truck festival. You’re immediately surprised by how cozy and ambient it is. There’s numerous picnic benches in the middle of the grassy area and a few carnival games on the far end of the field for the kids. Twinkle lights are strung like a canopy over the entirety of the park, casting a molten amber glow over the festivities, complementing the warm hues of paper bunting strung from vendor truck to truck. People flock to the vendor trucks flanking the outside of the park perimeter. The smell of various fried foods and grills being fired up has your mouth watering and stomach growling again.
“Huh.” Joel whistled lowly, taking in the surroundings. “Been here for almost 20 years and I didn’t know this existed.”
“It looks like a seasonal thing that the city puts on every year, maybe there’s just more hype around it this year.” You surmise, following his gaze and looking around. “That or you just live under a rock.” A smirk sprawls across your face as you look back at him. 
He huffs out an exhale. “Wouldn’t be the first time I heard that.”
“Well, now’s your chance to explore,” gesturing to the lineup of trucks. The various vendors sell everything from shaved ice to burritos, to Korean bbq and Philly cheesesteak sandwiches. The options are endless. You’re about to suggest something to him when one truck in particular catches your eyes. 
“Oh my god, Smashburgers!” You make a beeline for the food truck, not even waiting to see if Joel follows you. The smell of charbroiled meat and greasy french fries fill your nostrils, creating another twinge of hunger in your stomach. It’s been ages since you had a good burger, and Rick’s Smashburgers was the best in town, you weren’t about to pass it up now. Sensing Joel’s broad presence approach your right side before you can turn around, you nod your head towards the menu plastered on the chalkboard against the side of the truck.
“Ricks has the best burgers in town by far. Trust me.” 
“Smashburgers? How are they any different from regular hamburgers?”
“They’re just better in general” you answer him as if it was obvious. He raises an eyebrow at you. “The patties are basically flattened or smashed and it makes them crispier and just better overall. Trust me.” Giving him your most pleading look, he sighs and looks at the menu, and then at the plates of burgers lined up at the window to be given to customers.
“They do look pretty damn good. Only-” he shifts his jaw and hesitates, “my doctor told me to stay away from red meat, and eat more veggies,” he grumbles defeatedly, staring at the menu like he wanted to burn a hole in it. 
You frown for a split second but it slowly morphs into a smile. Joel Miller is cute when he is grumpy. And for whatever reason, it actually warms your heart that he’s trying to be compliant with his doctor's orders. Still, you nod.
“Okay, well, we could always get something else. Althoughhhh” you pause for dramatic effect, “technically the burgers are thinner than regular burgers so there is less meat, and there’s lettuce and tomatoes on the burger.” You look sideways at him but he’s already shaking his head, a smile tugging at his lips.
“Who woulda thought I’d experience more peer pressure for eatin’ a burger than smokin’ weed. Jesus, I’m losin’ it.” The smile turns into a grin and there’s a glimmer in his eyes. 
“Sure darlin’, a smashburger sounds good.” 
—---------------------------------------------------------
If anyone had told Joel that in his lifetime he would eventually find himself at a festival surrounded by throngs of people, after smoking weed for the first time, with a woman he had just met, he would have told them to fuck right off. 
All because of his back pain. His godforsaken back pain. 
Admittedly, he had no idea what to expect when you said you would come over to show him how to smoke, but he definitely said a silent prayer when you offered, seeming to understand that the whole situation was embarrassing for him. You were so nice and personable. Just like you had been the day before when he came into the dispensary like a lost puppy.
The irrational part of him wanted to believe that you were just pitying him. Pitying a helpless middle aged man who’s geriatric aches and pains were running him into the ground. But your patience with him and calm reassurance about his concerns dismantled that theory. That, and the fact that you offered to come over after you got off work, during your free time. It didn’t seem like you were getting commission from going above and beyond with your customer service skills at the dispensary. What business would you have hanging out with a man who was at least two decades older than you?
Joel wasn’t stupid, and he certainly wasn’t blind to your beauty. Despite the playful banter you shared with him, and your wandering gaze that he caught dipping down to his lips and his body, he knew that he wouldn’t have a shot in hell with you. Regardless, he was buzzing with nervous energy when you knocked on his door.
Surprisingly, the actual smoking wasn’t as bad as he anticipated. Marijuana smoke tasted somewhat better than cigarette smoke. Weird, but better. The tang of the herb settled on his taste buds more easily than nicotine did during that one time he tried it all those years ago. 
It was actually enjoyable if he was being honest with himself. Although, he’s not sure if that’s because of your added presence or the weed actually doing its job. The monotony of inhaling and pulling from the joint, holding his breath for a few seconds and then exhaling slowly became muscle memory. The THC settled into his bloodstream as he felt the mellow warm buzz permeate his body and seep into his bones. The once aching flare of pain that was his constant companion no longer reared its ugly head, as he stretched beside you on the couch.  He genuinely couldn't believe it. 
He anticipated he would cough up a lung at one point or another, which he did. And he anticipated the back pain would be subdued, which it was. You also warned him of dry eyes and cotton mouth once the marijuana took effect in his system. Nevertheless, he’s caught off guard when his mouth goes bone dry and his eyes glaze over as he watches you do that trick. 
The french inhale. 
Seemingly mesmerized by the way the smoke pours out of your lips like viscous liquid, and the way you inhale it through your nose again, he all but loses it when you show him how to do the smoke rings. The way your plush lips pout, forming an O shape as you push the smoke out of your mouth, your cheeks slightly hollowed. You’re so close beside him that he can faintly smell the tropical notes of your shampoo and see the glassiness in your doe eyes when you smile at him. 
It’s the cruelest form of torture, he surmises. You're the sweetest siren, making the simplest gesture look sexy as hell. 
Caveman brain bouncing off the walls as he flexes his thighs, his left hand remains in his lap over his crotch while he curls his right hand into a fist. The sting of his nails digging into his palms keeps him tethered to reality, while he tries to ignore how tight the crotch of his pants are. 
But fuck, it’s a challenge when you keep looking at him like that, with a Cheshire cat grin plastered across your face.
His lust is interrupted soon enough when he feels his stomach let out the loudest rumble. And to his surprise your smile only gets wider in response.
It’s almost the same smile he’s witnessing in this moment, as he watches you take another big bite out of your burger and moan, almost pornographically. 
You both get burgers and decide to split some french fries for good measure. Nevermind the fact that you asserted, "a good burger isn't complete without a side of fries."
Trusting your judgment, Joel orders the same as you; a smashburger with crispy onions, lettuce, tomato, cheese and their special house BBQ sauce. Only no pickles for him, and extra bacon, cause why the fuck not?
Technically he’s following the doctor's orders. He’s already smoked the weed. The low cholesterol diet can start tomorrow.  
The burger is delicious. Like ridiculously delicious. 
“Damn” He says in between the first couple bites, “this is fucking good. Best burger I’ve had in a while actually.” Humming in agreement, you pop a couple fries in your mouth.
“I know right? I told you. Better than regular burgers.” 
They’re messy as hell but it’s worth it the minute the flavor of charred meat hits his tongue, the crispiness of the onions, coupled with the special sauce creating a mouthwatering combo.
You finish your burger at an alarming pace. Popping the last bite into your mouth, you grab a handful more of fries, dunking them into some ketchup. 
Christ, he thought he was hungry. You must have been starving considering it had been well over 5 hours since your lunch break. Before you can shove the fries in your mouth, you pause and raise your eyebrows at his ogling.
“What?”
“Nothing.” When you look at him expectantly he shakes his head. That small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Just surprised you have a big appetite, s’all.”
Somewhat bemused by his words, you tilt your head. 
“Most women I know, they just eat salads and healthy crap. Always watching their weight and being picky with their food.” He smirks, nodding his chin towards your plate. “It’s just nice to see a woman who can actually throw down.”
Shaking your head, you snort. “Please, life is too fucking short to deprive yourself and worry about the shit you eat. I’d rather die with a full belly of food that I enjoy than eat like a rabbit.” 
At that he lets out a loud guffaw. Not only do you have a decent appetite but you also got quite the potty mouth on you. He shouldn’t find that so attractive but he does. 
“Also,” you flippantly wave a fry around in your hand, gesturing to the near empty tray of food sitting on the table between you two, “who wouldn’t want to eat when the food is this fucking good?” 
Clicking his tongue against his teeth, he rolls his shoulders back and reclines in his seat with a wink. “Can’t argue with that logic darlin’.”
Over the next hour or so, you get to know bits and pieces about each other while picking at the remainder of fries.  Bouncing between topics, from food to work, to each other’s personal histories. Joel learns that your favorite food is pasta, grinning at you while you go off on a tangent about how pasta should be included as one of the main food groups. Doesn’t matter what kind of pasta, just pasta. 
His favorite meal is anything home cooked and southern. Of course, nothing beats a good old sirloin steak with roasted potatoes. He’s a sucker for cornbread too. Sweet desserts are his weakness he reveals, but he never usually gets them for himself, only bringing home treats when he knows his daughter Sarah will be in town. When Sarah isn’t home he’s usually at the mercy of fast food joints due to his work hours, “hence the high cholesterol,” he grumbles. 
That leads him to tell you about Sarah, how long he’s been in Austin, his job as a contractor. In return you tell him about going back to school and getting the dispensary job through Stef, just to have some money on the side. 
“I needed to throw myself into something after my ex and I broke up.” You sigh defeatedly and cross your arms, elbows resting on the table as you look down. “Naturally, I figured going back to school and getting a job would be the solution, only now it feels like I’m barely keeping my head above water.”
At that confession, Joel raises his eyebrows in disbelief. Guilt and shame wash over your features.  It makes him frown, his eyebrows pinching together. Sadness isn’t a good look on you, and even though he’s known you for less than a day, he doesn’t like seeing that look cloud your face. 
“Fuck him,” he quips, “his loss.”
Huffing out an exhale, you fiddle with a crumpled napkin on your side of the tray. Ripping up small bits of the crinkled paper and rolling them between your fingers. “You don’t know the whole story.”
He shrugs nonchalantly. “Doesn’t matter, still sounds like he lost out.”
When you don���t look up at him, just continuing to rip up the napkin, biting the inside of your cheek, his voice softens.
“Sorry. It’s none of my business,” he backtracks, “you don’t have to tell me.”
At that you finally look up at him, “no, it’s okay Joel. Really. It’s been a while since we split.”
He nods slowly, waiting for you to continue.
“In the end we both wanted different things. He was ready to settle down, get married, buy a house, and start popping out kids. It took me a while to realize that that was far from what I wanted.” You stare off to the side, watching the kids at the far end of the field run throughout the maze of festival games. 
“I guess you could say we split amicably, but we were together for a long time," you continue on. "When it was over he didn’t hesitate to tell me that I would never find someone like him, that I’ll never find someone who would love me as much as he did, and how he did so much for me, blah blah blah. That kinda bullshit” You chuckle hollowly, folding your arms across your chest. 
“I’m sorry.” He apologizes again, silently cursing at the asshole who managed to convince you that you wouldn’t find someone better. 
Wishful thinking claws at his chest as he swallows. He knows he probably wouldn’t be that much better for you either. You’re warm, caring, funny, gorgeous with a sharp wit that he finds painfully endearing. Who wouldn’t want you?
He swallows before he speaks up again. “It happens that sometimes people grow apart, realize they have different values and want different things. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. It hurts but better you figure it out now rather than later. I learned that the hard way,” he says with a regretful smile. 
You shake your head, giving him an out before he says anything else. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.”
“Nah, it was a while ago. A long time ago. My ex and I, we had Sarah when we were real young.” He chuckles without any mirth. “Young and dumb. We had no idea what we were doing, but we both knew deep down it wouldn’t work. I was working ridiculous hours to make ends meet for us and she wasn't happy about that. We realized how different we truly were and figured it was for the best that we split.” 
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” There’s concern in your eyes but you give him an empathetic smile. “But in the end, you got Sarah, right?”
Exhaling deeply, he nods and smiles softly. “Yeah. Thank God. She’s my whole life honestly. Gives me a reason to get up in the morning. She’s crazy smart, sometimes too smart for own good, but she has a heart of gold. Always wanting to help out others.”
He stares off into space, recalling his daughter's bright eyes, halo of curls, and her wide grin. God he missed her.  It’s only as he’s telling you this does Joel realize that he doesn’t really have a life outside of Sarah. She’s not at the age anymore where she needs constant care, she’s independent and living away from home. The only people he really sees regularly are Tommy, when he deigns to drop by the house, or when they work jobs together, and the guys on his team. But outside of work? He doesn’t really do much of anything or see much of anyone. It dawns on him that he leads quite the obstinate life.
“You mentioned she’s away at college?” Your question pulling him out of his placating thoughts.
“Yeah, she started last semester. She comes home when she has breaks and during holidays. It’s quiet without her around.” He isn't aware of the somber look that washes over his face, but you quickly pick up on it.
“I’m sure she misses you just as much.” You look at him earnestly and give him a small smile. 
He scoffs, “yeah right,” leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “She’s living that freshman life. Classes, studying, partying,” he adds the last part hesitantly, with a bit of a bite. “She ain’t thinking about her old man too much.” 
Clicking your tongue, you give him a reprimanding look. “You keep saying you're old Joel but that’s a fat lie.”
He goes to interrupt you but you hold your hand up in front him. “I saw your driver's license back at the dispensary Joel. You’re not old. Just because you’re over 40, doesn’t mean you’re a fucking fossil. C’mon.” 
Seemingly accepting that he won’t be able to win this argument with you, he huffs and smirks, his arms still crossed over his chest.
“Whatever you say darlin’”
At that, you bite your lip and look down. The small terms of endearment fluster you. He likes seeing you flustered.
You pull your phone out of your pocket to check the time, and he feels himself deflate at the notion that you would have to go and that this night would come to a close. He hopes that you won’t tell him that you have to go. Already anticipating that disappointment he clears his throat and starts to stack the garbage on top of your tray.
“I’m pretty stuffed after the burger. Wanna walk around for a bit? See what else is around here.” You bite your lip, gauging his response.
Trying not to sound overly eager and excited, he smiles. “Yeah alright.”
No less than 30 minutes later, he finds himself strolling beside you around the perimeter of the festival lawn, a cup of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream in his left hand, while you both take turns scooping spoonfuls. 
The tips of his fingers prickle from holding the frigid paper cup as he hums around another spoonful. “Chocolate chip cookie dough is okay, but I still think maple pecan is better,” he grumbles.
You groan. “Ugh, I’m not getting into this again Joel,” glaring at him out of the corner of your eye as you lick the back of your spoon. “I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt with the whole old man thing but maple pecan is an old man flavor. Sorry not sorry. You might as well suck on a Werther’s candy”
“Jesus,” he scoffs. “A Werther’s original? Why don’t I just put on some suspenders, get some bifocals, and sit in the park with the paper every morning.”
“Mmm, you never know. I think bifocals would really suit you,” Your tongue pokes the inside of your cheek. Giggles bubbling up in your chest, while Joel shakes his head.
“I’m just saying, even plain vanilla would have been a better choice. A redeemable choice. Maple pecan is almost as bad as..” you wrinkle your nose while thinking of a comparison, “rum and raisin.”
Just as you go to scoop another spoonful out of the cup, Joel stretches his left arm up and back behind him, holding the cup out of your reach. You don’t bother to jump up to reach the cup as He shamelessly enjoys the sight of how he dwarfs over your tiny frame. 
“Hey! Joel-” 
He says your name in return solemnly, but the corners of his mouth curl upwards ever so slightly. “You take that back right now. That’s a classic.”
“It has raisins in it! You can’t be serious! Dried up grapes have no business being in ice cream man, it’s criminal.”  You huff out a breath and look up at him in exasperation. 
“Didn’t know you were so passionate about ice cream.” He has a shit eating grin on his face at this point. Completely enamored by how cute you are when you’re annoyed. He can’t help but tease you a bit more. 
“You know I was havin’ a real good time tonight darlin’ but that’s my last straw.”  
Rolling your eyes, you smirk. “Just like that huh? You’re stone cold Joel Miller. Alright then, but good luck finding another smoking buddy who can teach you really cool tricks”
At that, he relents. Dropping his arm back down to his side. 
“Smoking buddy?”
You’d want to smoke with him again?
The term you coined has his mind melting into mush, and his stomach doing flips at the possibility of seeing you again. 
“You’d wanna do this again? I mean- you'd want to smoke together?” He asks pensively, his amber eyes rounded as he looks down at you.
“Yeah,” you peek up at him through your lashes. “Why not? I’m always down to smoke. Plus I still gotta teach you how to roll your own joints, and maybe how to do some tricks as well.”
Winking at him you add on, “save you some money so that you don’t have to keep coming to the dispensary for your pre rolls.”
He presses his lips into a thin line before he can spit out the Pavlovian response on the tip of his tongue. Joel knows he would have come to the dispensary anyway to see you, regardless of if he was going to buy anymore weed. Hell, he would use any excuse he could to see you again. But he decides against telling you that.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, and licking his lips, his mouth opens slightly as his gaze dances across your face. From your eyes, down to your lips, and back up again. You’re so close. So close he could reach out, curl a finger into one of your belt loops, pulling you closer until your bodies are flush. 
“I’d really like that darlin’”
You tilt your head and gaze up at him. “Good.” You glance briefly at your phone and frown. “I do have to go now though. I’m opening at the dispensary tomorrow so I should get some sleep. As should you,” you give him another playful shove, “old man.”
He grumbles in response.
You exchange numbers before heading your separate ways, sending him off with a warm smile. The same smile you greeted him with when he first stepped into the dispensary and nearly had a panic attack. “This was fun Joel. Text me next time you wanna smoke.”
Pausing for sec and squinting your eyes in mock concern, you ask him “Wait, you do know how to text right?” 
You attempt to bite back a laugh with no success as he swats at you like a fly, and you jump backwards, dodging the swipe of his big hands. “Yes little miss, I know how to fuckin' text.” He makes a noise of disapproval and narrows his eyes at you. "Cheeky." 
You’ve only known him for less than 24 hours and you already know how to push his buttons. 
Though he's not really annoyed in the slightest. He allows it. What's more is that he actually likes it. Really likes it. The playful banter and flirting that you throw his way, he’s more than happy to return it. 
Your chuckles die down. “Alright alright, just checking, relax.”
You send him a quick text with your name, and his phone pinging right away. 
“I’ll see you around Joel.”
“See ya around darlin’” He drawls with a grin as he watches you turn to leave.
There’s a pep in Joel’s step as he walks back home. Contentment mixed with anxious excitement. The effects of the high have faded quite a bit, and his head clears as he continues down the sidewalk to his house. He’s pretty happy. Unreasonably happy for someone who just spent the evening with a woman he barely knows. But he felt like he got a deeper glimpse into who you are. What’s more surprising is that he wants to know more. He wants to know more about you. Wants to do more things with you.
Do more things to you.
But again, he keeps that to himself for fear of ruining whatever is slowly building between you two.
Trudging up the porch stairs, he glances at his watch.
10:02 p.m.
He considers texting you to see if you got home safe. 
No. He didn’t need you thinking he was a desperate creep. As he crosses the threshold and closes the door behind him, he leans back against it, his head thudding against the wood. 
Just then, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, the familiar ping sound resounding through the empty front hallway of his house.
[You]: “Hey! Just wanted to make sure you got in okay, seeing as it’s much past your bedtime 👴🏼”
Huffing out a chuckle, he rolls his eyes and tries to ignore the flutter in his chest that you texted him first. His fingers fumble as he squints at the screen to type out a response. 
[Joel]: “Could say the same for you. What happened to getting sleep because you work early tomorrow?” 
He could leave it there and just see what you say. But the excitement from the evening as well as simmering current of lust running through his body has him feeling bold. He wants to push a little bit more.
[Joel]: “Naughty girl.” He bites his lip before hitting send.
The three little dots appear and reappear a handful of times as you start to type and then stop.
Shit. Was that too far? Did he just fuck up any chance he had at seeing you again because he has no self control? Probably. It was so hard to restrain any sort of control when you made it so easy to tease back. Your playfulness and doe eyes are a wicked force to be reckoned with, and it only made Joel want you more. 
Waiting for you to text him back and tell him to fuck off, or politely shut it down, his mouth gapes open when you do finally respond. 
[You]: “Never said I was a good girl 👀”
He exhales harshly. “Fucking hell.” His fingers tapping furiously as he sends the next message.
[Joel]: “That so? I don’t believe that. You’ll have to prove me wrong next time darlin.”
Your response comes lightning fast. Nothing else aside from a series of suggestive emoji's.
[You]: Goodnight Joel 😈 🍃 🔥 💨
Joel clenches his jaw and exhales deeply. He shoves his phone back in his coat pocket, and rubs his hand over his face.
What has he gotten himself into?
101 notes · View notes
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Heyyy could you write where Erik obviously takes over the throne & gains the queen ( tchallas wife) in the process, after weeks of disdain for Erik.. she caves in/let him have his way with her
To everyone else, T'Challa was the King. He was the Black Panther, beloved by all and adored. Honest, brave, elegant, and caring. He put the welfare of his people before his very life. That was the miracle of T'Challa's rule.
To you, he was your life. He was your partner, your teammate, your support, your lover, your husband. Photos and mementos lay scattered before you as you reminisce, bitterness and twisting thoughts causing you to sear in your anger. You can't help but think that he should still be here. There's no good reason why he isn't.
There's a knock on the door that you ignore. Every time someone in the palace speaks to you, it pisses you off. They are traitors, living comfortably in a palace they don't deserve, serving a murderer.
They knock again, asking if you'd like to come out for dinner with the new King. Everyone seems to have moved on, you think angrily. Everyone but you.
"I'll come to dinner when that imposter you call a king is in chains and beheaded. Serve me his head on a platter and my appetite will have returned sevenfold."
You pick up a polaroid you took of T'Challa and look at the date. It hasn't even been a month since it was taken, only 9 days since T'Challa's death.
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When the news travels back to Erik that you still refuse to comply with his requests, he isn't surprised.
"Who's been giving her food behind my back?"
You should've been crawling to him, begging for something to eat.
"If I ask again, none of you, including your families, will eat. I'll make sure of that."
Erik noticed the chef look at a Dora.
"You."
His finger curved, beckoning her near to his throne. When she was close enough, he threw a blade, striking her directly in the forehead. Her body thudded to the ground.
"And that wasn't even vibranium."
The cook lowered his eyes in horror. The Dora couldn't decide whether to hold their positions or fight back. The palace staff was broken.
"What," Erik challenged. "Y'all look like y'all wanna do something! Come'on," his lip curled under ferociously, bearing gold fangs.
No one stepped forward.
"The next person I hear stepping foot near Ms. Queen without my permission? You can look forward to joining your friend in the afterlife. Am I CLEAR?"
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Typically, Asira would sneak into your corridor, and you'd unlock your bedroom quarters to accept fresh and sweet warm yeast bread and water, but she hasn't shown in two days. You're famished, sleeping it off between bouts of mourning.
Finally, there's a quiet knock. You rush to unlock and open the bedroom door, but it's not Asira. Killmonger pushes the door wide.
"So this is the king's suite."
You start to walk out, but remember your chest of memories and dive to gather the scattered photos, putting them back inside. He steps on one as you grab it.
"You really loved him, huh."
You freeze, weighing your response.
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"I used to have love in my life. It was taken from me. Three times. First time, it was my father. Airships from Wakanda came down from the sky, and by the time I made it in the house... he was dead. I'd never seen so much as a sign of visitation before then. Lost my uncle in the same night. Of course, you called him Zuri."
Your lip twitches, the hint of a snarl forming.
"Uncle James was a traitor just like his nation. Just like all of you. You're all cowards!"
One drag of his boot rips the photo.
"Why should you be happy..."
Angrily, he pulls you up by your shoulder and captures your ornately twisted afro bun in his grip, turning your face so he can look at your cowardice up close.
"You married into a family of murderers and you have the nerve to judge me?! Look up at me!"
Something sharp plunges into his chest, piercing him with familiar pain.
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Your dark brown eyes are vengeful and shining with all the grief and fury you've felt the past few days. Killmonger took your husband, your shared dreams, and the one true king.
You look directly into his eyes, your face scrunching while you push your letter opener into his heart with all your strength. Panting, you look down on him as he labors.
"For my husband."
Turning your nose up at his dying gasps, you turn away. The Dora should've done this. Anyone with allegiance to Wakanda should've done this.
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With labored breathing, Erik looks down at the blood around the jeweled letter opener lodged in his chest cavity. Direct hit.
You step back slowly, thinking you've done something, but all you've done is turn a battle into an all-out war. Not a war between territories, but a war between his will and yours.
"You think you can kill me?"
His eyes on you, he chuckles.
"Cute."
This is the first pushback he's gotten since T'Challa. He watches you closely, grimacing and sweating as he pulls the letter opener from his chest. It's costed in blood, but thanks to the powers bestowed on him by the herb, he'll heal.
Pulling himself to his feet, he goes to take the corner of your pure white duvet, cleaning the blood from the small blade. He pants silently, still in recovery.
"You understand why I killed him..."
He swings the knife low with his gait as he approaches you. "Up until now, your leaders have been content in doing nothing, at peace with the bare minimum. T'Challa-"
"Don't you DARE insult T'Challa in MY presence," you point, stopping him in his tracks.
"T'Challa," Erik stresses, looking you in the eye. "As noble as he was, he needed to be replaced by someone with some real fire."
"You can go to hell," you nearly whisper, enraged.
He steps forward.
"There's one person in this entire palace with the guts to oppose me, and you’re not even a trained fighter... I can take you down at any point. You and I both know that."
"So why don't you?"
"I have other plans. I'd like you to remain Queen to convince our citizens to trust in my efforts. I'd like you to join me as an advisor at my side. Afterall, everything I do as King is for the advancement of Wakanda and the African diaspora."
"I'll never join you. You may as well kill me."
"Tempting," Erik's eyes narrow. "But no. I believe in my vision, and that vision includes you. You have the opportunity to use that anger to help a lot of people. I believe... after you've spent a few more days in here without food or water, you'll either come to the same conclusion or you'll waste away quietly. Either way."
He looks you up and down. Whatever you choose, he's prepared.
"As long as I live, so will his legacy. I will never stop fighting you."
"I believe you," he nods. "Even as I approach you with a knife, you don't run. You're not suicidal. You've been planning your next attempt on my life."
He stops inches from you and trails the bejeweled letter opener from your cleavage up your open and smooth brown chest, up your neck.
"I like it. You tough."
The light bounces off of your supple skin. It looks soft and bouncy, covered in a layer of raw shea butter.
He brings his face close enough to your neck to smell your gentle fragrance.
He doesn't acknowledge the sound of your gurgling stomach or your glare of hate as he dangles the blade in front of your face.
"Whether you join me or die is completely in your hands, but as for this? I'm keeping this."
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He leaves, and the door closes behind him. When you open it, the Dora you once loved are blocking you in. They stand firm with their spears, shame on their faces as they avoid your look of judgment.
Asira isn't among them, which means she's probably dead.
You close yourself back into the room as you resign yourself to join her and your husband.
The hours are long. The hunger and thirst is strong. You patch the ripped photo and stash it safely with the other memorabilia, meditating and sleeping as a distraction. It's already been a couple of days with no food or water. Still, you hold out.
Four days in, you're dying slowly in a torture that feels unbearable. As honorable as your intentions are, T'Challa wouldn't want to see you suffer this way. You imagine he's with you, lying next to you. Right after teasing you about your body temperature being too high for cuddling only to bring you in closer, he'd tell you to take the food. Live at any cost. It feels selfish when you know T'Challa can no longer enjoy these things with you, but you know it's not. You're doing it FOR HIM.
If you're going to kill Killmonger. You have to eat.
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When the news travels to Erik that you've finally come to your senses, his elbows prop on the dining table in wait of what's sure to be another interesting encounter.
You arrive in a modest white dress and matching headwrap, the traditional mourning color. He killed your man, and you want him to feel guilty seeing you as widow. He doesn't. He doesn't even really care.
"Sit closer."
He stares, watching you play musical chairs to keep your distance until you're right beside him. You look perfectly weak, tired, and hungry... More willing.
He doesn't miss the hesitation as you consider using the dinner knife as a weapon. Part of him hopes you'll give him a reason.
"I'm not your enemy."
The subdued murderous rage seeping from you despite your exhaustion is admirable.
"You are my sole enemy as far as I'm concerned," you mutter.
He turns to you fully, having been thinking about telling you something specific since he last saw you.
"I've done nothing but try to show you a system that's been broken from the start. I didn't SNEAK into the borders, though I could have. I EARNED passage by killing the black market arms dealer who murdered Wakandans and somehow eluded not one but two of your black panthers. I did that, and I didn't SEIZE the palace, though I could have. I followed your protocol and let you arrest me, taking me straight to the King who I defeated by YOUR OWN customs. You wanna vilify me? Go ahead. I didn't start this. You did when you killed my parents. I'm finishing it."
You stab at the food as he watches the conflict in your mind. His words are reaching you even if you hate him.
"I haven't been challenged in my power and authority since T'Challa," he repeats. "You're the only one who seems to give a damn that he's dead."
You look up quickly.
"-and that's a broken system. I've been where you are. Even being from the Panther Tribe, these people destroyed my family, betrayed my father's memory, and abandoned me. They are the weak links who, out of fear and tradition, won't challenge authority. They won't stand up for what's right. They wouldn't know right from wrong. They are selfish, and they are cowards. They are the traitors."
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His words reflect how you feel. Everyone has fallen in line to the new regime as if T'Challa wasn't just here a couple of weeks ago, walking the halls. They smiled to his face then, but act now as if he never existed.
"We're not so different." He holds up a finger for you to listen. "Our responses have been to rebel. To honor the memory of our loved ones. But this goes deeper than us and our pain. I'm asking you, will you remain Queen and fight alongside me to change this broken system for good?"
You hesitate, wondering how it would look. Despite that, having the power to supervise Killmonger and affect change is appealing.
"As long as it's made clear that we are not together, I will agree... to keep an eye on you."
You watch him closely as he's watching you.
"What is your plan?"
"First, we have to unite the tribes," he says without thought, but the tribes are already united as much as they can be. The council exists. You kiss your teeth.
"There's tension with the border tribe... You haven't had contact with the Jabari in decades."
You look him up and down, rolling your eyes back to your food. You wonder about his approach to politics.
"How would you unite the tribes?"
Days turn into weeks as you listen to Killmonger's wild ideas that border on treason. He seeks power, that much is clear, but he has a plan for reform that you're beginning to believe in. You've been walking the palace and even traveling the country alongside him, training and directing him, showing him the ropes. He's adapting quickly and surprisingly open to your suggestions, quick to adapt your corrections.
"Yes, queen," has been his public response when you've chastised him. He's made good progress. It almost makes you not want to kill him anymore... Almost.
"When are we doing something about the ritualistic combat component in the road to becoming king?"
"I'll let you think of that," he says, leaving it to you. You'll have to think about it and come back.
You head back to your quarters to think alone, passing the treacherous Dora who only guard the throne. You haven't forgotten. Turning your nose, you close yourself into your vast bedroom and sigh, removing your dress and headdress. Lying down, you're in your thoughts for a while until you fall asleep with dreams of T'Challa.
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You've been away for a couple of hours, and it's time for dinner. Erik looks up from his work load. You haven't returned to the discussion. He needs you to look over a new idea regarding vibranium, and you can do that over dinner, so he goes to your door and knocks.
When you don't respond, he confirms with the Dora that you are in fact in there. They unlock the door with a spare key. Clearly, he announces himself on his entrance.
It's not enough. You're asleep in lingerie, a peaceful expression on your face. He's never seen you without lines in your forehead.
Sitting on your bed, he strokes your face, watching it turn more and more angelic. You must be having a good dream. Slowly, he leans and kisses your lips. You'll never know it when you wake. He leans off of the bed, but in your sleep, you reach out, so he sits back down.
"Ms. Queen," he whispers, trying to wake you before deciding, "Fuck it."
He pulls off his black robe that he'd been sitting in all day along with his black pants and loafers. Sliding under your duvet, he lays in what must've been his cousin's spot, holding you against his chest. Your skin is soft and the gentle smell he's gotten accustomed to fills his nostrils.
He remains awake, lying there through dinner until he realizes you're not getting up. Then he can sleep.
Something suddenly doesn't feel right. He feels your body shift from his arms. At this point, he's been asleep a few hours. Instead of opening his eyes, he waits. He can feel you hover as if you're hesitating. You're probably going to stab him. He prepares mentally to sense where your blade might go. How big is it this time? Is it a kitchen blade? Did you get your hands on a spear? You're stronger now. Still not strong enough to actually kill him.
He waits and waits, but the blow doesn't strike. Opening his eyes, he finds you sitting on the side of the bed with a defeated look in your eye. When he sighs, you flinch and look over. You thought he was still asleep.
"Well... Don't feel bad," he grumbles, still groggy. "It's always harder to kill someone at their most vulnerable."
"That's not it..."
Oh? He waits for you to elaborate, but he can see it the more he looks at you and tries to put himself in your shoes. You're conflicted about more than just killing him.
"There was so much life left in him; so many dreams we shared and planned to live out. I wanted children. I wanted to travel the world with him as parents. I wanted us to grow old together. I never once considered that I'd lose him so soon. I thought you had time. And YOU killed him," she looks back suddenly with a growl. "You took that from me."
He lays still, watching your expressions as tears drop from your eyes. Either you're venting or having second thoughts. If it's the latter, it means damage control.
"So then... why," you gasp. "Why do I feel like this? I should hate you."
It wouldn't be wise to move. Letting you vent would be best. Again, he'd been there to know exactly how you feel.
"Look at me!"
He's already looking. His eyes widen in apology. He can't give you the one you want and you know why. He isn't sorry for killing T'Challa. He'd do it again if he could.
Your face scrunches as you crawl back in the bed, and after assessing the situation, he decides to put his hand on your arm to show you you're not alone.
To his surprise, you pull his arm to hold you for comfort. He does and for a while the two of you lie there until you turn over, seeking something more to dull the ache in your heart.
He knows exactly what he can offer for that. Gently, he kisses your expose skin. Your shoulder, your arm, your stomach, your thigh, your knee, your leg. When your thighs fall open, he kisses up the inside of your leg and thigh up to the outline of your panties. He looks up to check in.
"You sure?"
'Cause ain't no going back. You grab his locs, guiding him down and he pulls your panties off, tossing them off the bed. With one last look, he goes down.
You sigh and moan under him, ultimately whispering T'Challa's name. You must be thinking of him, but Erik doesn't care. Not yet.
Right now, it's T'Challa, but with time, it'll change. With careful guidance, YOU will change... just like everyone else in this palace who's come under his submission.
@dashhoney25 @lettidarawest @soufcakmistress @ljstraightnochaser @princessstevens-blog @eye-raq @thiccdaddy-mbaku @destinio1 @iamrheaspeaks @hidden-treasures21 @bidibidibombaclaat @forbeautyandlife @blowmymbackout @misspooh @thotyana-in-this-hoe @purplehairgawdess @thegucciwaffle @goddessofthundathighs @theegoldenchild @thadelightfulone @sultanabby @mysticalblackhottie @baekhyunbabybunni @fd-writes @richonne4life @tgigoldie @thehomierobbstark @capswife @blackpinup22 @harleycativy @lishabaybee @playgurlxoxo
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entertainmentgirl80 · 5 months
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Cowboy's Date With A Georgian 😍🤠👨🏼‍❤️‍👩🏾‍🦲
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Jake Hangman Seresin X OC (Nickname: Sweetheart)
Warning: Just Fluff.
You waking up from the sounds of birds chirping outside on a nice sunny day in the morning, you have on a old but oversized Texas University shirt that Jake let you borrow from last night, and so you got up from the bed, putting your dress back on from last night, then went downstairs. And come to see that Jake is cooking breakfast with no shirt on while country music is playing in the background.....
"Morning, darlin," he said to you with a smile on his face.
"Morning, how are you?" You bit your lip while blushing.
"I'm good, can't complain, and how about you?" He fixing some coffee.
"I'm doing fine, thanks for asking, but hey, what day is it, though?" You ask Jake.
"It's Friday." He drinking his coffee.
"Oh shit, but hey, do you have to go to work today because I'm don't wanna get you in trouble or -"
"Relax, I'm told my boss that it's okay. That I can get a day off for today, so you're good?" Jake cut you off.
"Oh well okay." You were cool with it.
"Yeah, so since I'm off today, do you wanna go sightseeing around the town to show you stuff?" He ask you.
"Yeah, sure, no problem but first, I'm have to go home, wash up, and change clothes." You eating your food while talking.
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After y'all two finished breakfast, he took you back to your apartment, so you can freshen up, to start the day, so after he take you back to your place, he killed the engine in his truck and y'all went inside to the apartment and Jake sit down in the kitchen...
"This is my place, it's really not much, so make yourself at home, while I'm changing clothes." You said to him with a smile.
"Okay, well thank you, darlin', appreciate it." He give you a smile back.
So while you washing up and changing new pair of clothes, you been thinking about that you never thought you would were invited a handsome stranger that whom you just met from yesterday and he let you spend the night at his place since last night. So you guess that you have been blessed that you might find someone who you can trust, respect, but treat you like a queen like any woman wants in a man.
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So, afterwards, you already just got dressed and went to the front room to check on Jake. He is looking at the picture of you and your dad admiring you that you have no idea how blessed you are to have both parents who support you regardless the ups & downs what you and the family been through in life. And so while you standing there, Jake broke the silence to ask you something.....
"So, it's this is your dad in the picture?" He ask.
"Yes, that my father, he was a good man and sweet guy, you will like him." You said to him with a softer voice.
"Let me guess, he passed away, right?" He guess it.
"Yes, he passed away since 2017, from health problems." You trying not to cry and thinking about because that was your father, the man who cares and loves you till the end of time, but he will do everything regardless of how the situation is. And so Jake step forward to you and give you a shoulder to cry on. You felt it because the hug was warmest but full of love but empathy as well.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mea-" she cut him off
"No, you okay, it's just I'm miss him every day when I think about him, you know?" Your voice felt some sadness to it.
"I'm understand darlin', so uh, you gonna be okay if I don't mind asking?" He asked
"Yeah, I'm will, so you ready to go then?" You ask
"Yeah, sure darlin', ready as I ever be." He give you a smile.
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So after your little sympathy session, you and Jake went to the park for a minute to have a nice walk, then he ask you what your favorite restaurant to go to and you said Chili's, so later on that evening the two of y'all went to Chili's and you couldn't help that feeling that this man have been with you all day and never leave your side and he hang out at your place while you changing your clothes. So after dinner, you told Jake can you stay over at his place just to have company and he nodded (meaning he say yes), so you went back to your apartment to pack up some of your clothes, your toothbrush, and everything else you needed it to make sure you straight.
"Thank you for everything, Jake. This is nice, and I'm glad I have someone to talk to. I'm also sorry you have to miss work too."
"It's no problem darlin', it's been my pleasure to hang out with you as well, even though it's was our first date." He said to you with a grin on his features.
"Mhm, I didn't know it's was a date till you said it." You chuckled
"Yeah, well I am glad that I'm met you and also I know this is a random question but do you wanna move in with me? And I know we are still getting to know each other and -" she cut off what you gonna say
"Yes, I would like that, thank you." You give him a big smile, and a kiss on the cheek.
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A/N: Here is another one-shot story, and I'm sorry for taking it long, but I always take my time to make sure I'm trying to do it justice. But overall, I hope y'all enjoy it. 😌🫶🏾🤠🤘🏾
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neomujinjja · 5 months
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Eric Boyfriend Headcanons
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Pairing: Eric Sohn x reader
Genre: Fluff
Warning: not edited, mention of diet
eric's your cutie
if it was possible, you'd keep him in your pocket
you can't help squishing his cheeks and kissing him all over his face
he does the same thing back to you
eric is so supportive
if you're on a diet then so is he, if you're not on a diet then neither is he
you're his biggest fan after his family
even sending him proof of you streaming, voting and pre-ordering/buying their release
(eric says you don't have to, and that if you really want one then he'll get you a copy)
if eric has doubts then you talk about it with him
going over multiple reasons and scenarios until he feels confident in making a decision
lots of travel dates
he loves you and is proud
for example, eric isn't ashamed to give you phone kisses in front of others
eric knows how to make you laugh, even if you're upset
though don't get him wrong, he'll try to understand the reason why you're upset (whether it's with him or just in general)
speaking of your laugh, he loves it
there's lot of kissing between the two of you
neither of you can stop yourself
you're his muse
eric's spent hours turning his love into words and melodies
you guys get each other silly little gifts for your anniversary
eric gave you an 'i love my boyfriend' tee with his picture on it with an angry toast plush
and you gave him a buff shark plush with a best boyfriend trophy
he loves to spoil you
this man is gonna treat you like royalty
you wanna go somewhere, eric's driving; you see something you like, eric's buying
you pamper him as well
he wants to eat something, you're cooking it; he feels tired/sore, you're massaging him
Eric steals 2-4 of your hoodies for when he's on tour
it reminds him of you and he likes to have your scent with him when he misses you
in return, you've got 2 of his jackets
y'all are just so utterly in love with each other
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residenthughes · 10 months
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shushhhh 🤫 this was in my drafts and considering we just hit 101 followers, i decided it was a cause for celebration 😈 this is nowhere near being finished, but i really wanted to post something to thank y'all for all the love & support that you give me :) thanks again for 101 followers and we shall celebrate with a big BANG soon! 🥰
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You’re exactly where you meant to be. There’s no plain, no event - not a sliver of the Earth that requires your being right now. Limbs tangled and heart full of joy. It’s your favourite feeling in the world. 
Like every other Sunday, midday brings a halt to any and every activity that requires your attention. For two hours a week, you curl up on your favourite person’s lap, eyes gazing up at Leon as your legs stretch across the expanse of your couch, the occasional graze of your scalp lulling you to sleep as Leon reads to you. You’re not sure how this all started. Perhaps this was a result of your endless ranting - going on and on about the book Leon just had to read. Maybe it was that one time you mentioned in passing how sweet and intimate it was for lovers to read to another, because Leon is just like that. Remembers the small things and does them with such ease. Does them because he cares, and because he loves you.  
It’s something pulled from fiction, his love. 
So, here you lay, seven Sundays in and still overjoyed with your most cherished hours of the week. Leon seems to enjoy it too. Rarely spared the opportunity to fully unwind, his shoulders raised with apprehension - Leon finally gives himself just these two hours to let go. Lose himself in the words of make believe with you right by his side. He considers it a gift, both to you and himself. The one luxury he’ll allow himself to indulge in (besides yourself, of course.)
You’ve gotten around to reading Benjamin Alire Sáenz’s beloved story, ‘Aristotle and Dante Discover The Secrets Of The Universe’ and despite you having read it before, you could never pass up the opportunity to turn back time and flick through those pages again. It’s Leon’s first time ever reading it and he remains just as engaged as you were, voice just above a whisper as he reads those words that engulf your heart with a warm fondness.
You’re somewhere in the middle of the second book, ‘Aristotle & Dante Dive into The Waters of the World’ and your heart feels hollow. Despite the tenderness of your shared activity with Leon, the pain and suffering that seeps through the pages hangs heavy in the air. You grip onto Leon’s trousers just a bit tighter when the heartache is too much, teeth sinking into the flesh of your lips to bar the cries that want to leave. Leon notices - he always does. Soothes your pain away with a warm hand that goes up and down your arm. You see his Adam's apple bob and his eyelashes flutter - this is painful for him too. 
There’s something so inexplicably intimate about the moment. 
Leon lends his voice to you, pools of blue skimming over words that hold so much weight and fondness in your heart. A brand-new experience intertwined with the ever euphoric nostalgia. 
“Your father was the only man I ever loved. And I was the only woman he ever wanted to love.”
Your heart shatters all over again. You knew this part was coming, anticipated it with the nervous heartache building in your chest. But, it still hurts the same. A loss in love can do that to you.
“Baby,” Leon calls, calm and soothing. His thumb, with all the tenderness in the world, swipes the tear escaping your eyes. You hadn’t realised you started crying.
“Wanna take a break?” he hunches over, eyes filled with his own heartbreak yet still gives you his undivided attention. 
Your lips wobble and tears fill your vision. They escape with a quick blink and Leon’s shutting the book, long gone from his grasp as your bodies mould into each other, arms circling around one another as you collect yourself.
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pocketgalaxies · 1 year
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wrote a transcript for the imodna conversation below for your/my/everyone's convenience:
I: Hey.
L: Hi.
I: I don't–are you sleeping?
L: No. I was just staring at the wall with my eyes open.
I: Um...big night.
L: How are you feeling?
I: Um......good?
L: You don't have to lie to me.
I: No, I know, yeah, no, it's terrible. I mean, this is scary as hell.
L: Yeah. I'm worried about you.
I: Yeah.
L: This is a lot.
I: Yeah. I feel like, um...I dunno, like I haven't talked to you in a while.
L: Well, we've been busy.
I: No, I know, I know. I just, um...I dunno, since you–since you came back, I've been almost scared to say anything.
L: Say what?
I: ...
I: We want this. Right? We want to do this.
L: Preventing a god-eating god...
I: It's not good.
L: I understand the appeals of how it all sounds. I don't think there's anything wrong in considering what could be with that type of change. I really don't. What makes me nervous about all of it is the unknown unknowns. It's the...the things that we could lose as the cost of some sort of perceived freedom.
I: Yeah. If it takes away all of our, uh...our magic. Anything gifted to us from something greater. Yeah.
L: We still have the chance to live a normal life. If you wish to have a quiet life in a cozy cottage in a field, raise horses, and just be. No gods or fates or destiny can keep you from that. Can keep us from that. The gods have never kept us from our ability to have choice.
I: Yeah.
L: You have a choice. A very difficult one. But that is just as much of a real power as your abilities to fly or speak in people's minds. If anything, it is the most important power that you possess. Don't let them get in your head or try and claim otherwise.
I: Yeah. All right.
L: I know we haven't talked much here recently, but I think in a way, it's just...I feel so comfortable and so bonded with you, and...we transcend words, our relationship. You'll always have me. I'll always be there to support you.
I: Okay.
L: No matter what you choose. And you don't have to make these choices alone.
I: [I give her a hug.] I love you so much.
L: I love you more than anything.
L: You know, I had an amusing conversation with Ashton the other night. And they asked, or commented, about how odd it is that I'm the more grounded and secure one.
I: Between the two of y'all?
L: Mhm.
I: *laughs* Yeah.
L: I think it's because...I feel like I have a strong foundation. And that's you.
I: Yeah.
L: It's you and the rest of these...crazy borderline murderhobos.
I: *laughs* Yeah. You're my tether, Laudna. Sometimes I feel like I'm about to float away, but as long as you're there...
L: You quite literally pulled me from darkness and death. That tether goes beyond this realm and this life.
L: You've got this.
I: We've got this.
L: You're very capable.
I: *laughs, nods* Yeah. My mom was trying to show me a world that would, um, would be freeing, if I just went back to being normal. But...I feel like......I feel like our weirdness is what makes us right. Is that dumb?
L: Not at all.
I: This locket, it says "the better halves make a better whole." You have to love it all.
L: I don't mind being your better half!
I: *laughs*
L: And I think you're absolutely right. Look at us, do you really think we're destined for "normalcy"?
I: No. No.
L: That's boring anyway.
I: These weirdos are gonna get shit done.
L: Hell yeah we do.
I: All right.
L: Wanna cuddle up?
I: Yeah. Yeah.
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2aceofspades · 4 months
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I have a serious question. So, do you fully comprehend how awesome you are? Because damn. You’re legit one of my fav artists. You just consistently churn out these heartfelt masterpieces—sketches, doodles, finished or unfinished, they all MEAN something. You’ve also ALWAYS been so nice to talk to. I often get discouraged by the lack of interaction I get on platforms when I try to go outside my comfort zone and reach out, especially on Twitter. But any time I’ve asked a question or made a comment, you always take the time to respond and that’s just…so kind of you. So considerate. You don’t have to do that, but you do and it’s just lovely.
Anyway… I randomly remembered you saying that you didn’t feel as comfortable drawing Donnie and I just have to say that, whether it feels more comfortable now or not, he looks fantastic! Then again, every character you draw does! And of course Leo is my fav—my comfort character—so I’m not going to lie, it’s fun to see you draw so much of him.
I just can’t get over all the details in your work. I’m no artist, but I can appreciate how much emotion goes into your art. The squiggly lines when someone is nervous, the specific looks in their eyes, small details like scratching when anxious (I know I commented on that on a previous post)—you’re just so great with showing emotion!
Okay, okay. Gushing done… for now. Hope you have a fantastic week and thank you for being your awesome self!
Oh my stars waaaah-
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When I tell you that I was not prepared for such a lovely and sweet ask oh boy-
I'm like...literally almost speechless oh my shining stars in the sky 🥹 like, I'm struggling to respond without blubbering too much oh jeez-
Just...thank you so much, seriously. Putting emotion and meaning into my work is what I always strive for, so for someone to recognise and compliment that...it just means the world to me. I am so honored.
I also have definitely felt discouraged at times when interacting with posts and such. I do my best to not take it personally, but I understand that sometimes...it's difficult. I do my best to respond to asks, comments, etc., even if I'm a bit late with responding. I know I'm not perfect and I can be a little scatterbrained, but I really do enjoy engaging with y'all. I have such a lovely following, and I love giving back to y'all as well <3
Ah, yes...Donnie...my sweet sweet Donald. I still think he looks very stiff and wonky when I draw him...especially f!Donnie. His shell...confuses me. But! Thank you for your kind words and your support! It definitely helps pep me up to draw him some more hehe 🤗✨
Also, I have to comment on Leo cuz he's also my favorite and my comfort character as well :3 I love drawing him even if sometimes he gives me such grief. I don't wanna think about how many times I've drawn that goober 😶
Anywhizzle!
Thank you again so so SO much for such a wonderfully kind and thoughtful message 🥹 I really appreciate you taking some time out of your day to send so much kindness my way. It really means a lot to me 🙌💙✨ Gah- I hope you have a fantastic week as well!
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thepaintedlady00 · 8 months
Text
Burden
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Chapter 14 |
Chapter 15: Forget Me Not
TW: some awkwardness, confusing visions, Daniel makes an appearance, mentions of major character death and spoilers for the comics, a bit of Dark!Munin, The Fates, some intense memories and mentions of violence, pain, and allusions to assault, a bit of trickster god energy (I'm not super familiar with Puck and Loki from the comics, so please don't crucify me if they're not great!), threats, some cryptic shit from Destiny, a pretty big revelation, and finally, some soft fluffy goodness to give our story a happy end before the rewrite.
I really struggled with this last chapter! 😅 I think because I already know I'm going to rewrite it the words just didn't wanna cooperate with me and I'm overall not super thrilled with how it came out. I do really hope y'all still enjoy it and are looking forward to getting the rewrite whenever I have the time to get that going. Thank you all so much for your love, support and patience with this series!
Awkward felt like an inadequate word to describe the stiff silence that now consumed Hector's home. You quietly took a sip of your drink, eyes darting back and forth between the two men as they stared one another down across the living room. You’d quietly hoped that the two would use this time to let go of the strenuous circumstances they’d previously met under.
Hector finally leaned back and spoke, “Make any pregnant women cry today?”
Or not…
Dream’s face tensed slightly, but his voice was steady as he replied, “No.”
“You could’ve given us a minute to say a proper goodbye, you know,” Hector insisted with a sneer. “She had to go through so much all alone… we didn’t even get a chance to talk about baby names. I don’t… I don’t even know how they’re doing.”
This made Morpheus soften, and for a moment, you wondered if he was thinking about his own son, that had been long lost to him. “Daniel. Your son's name is Daniel, and he is doing well. I’ve had my raven check in with them on occasion.”
Your friend smiled and looked out toward the trees. “Daniel. What about Lyta?”
“She’s been more…” Morpheus chose his word carefully. “Restless as of late. A just reaction, I suppose, after learning all she has.”
“Couldn’t you help her with that?” Hector asked. “Isn’t that your job or something?”
“I could, but she does not wish for my help.”
“Sounds like her,” his smile was soft and sad but filled with a restfulness you’d not seen in him for a long while. “Lyta was always the stubborn one between us.”
Morpheus glanced at you, an invisible smirk plain to your eyes. “A struggle I understand too well, spirit.”
Your eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me stubborn?”
“I said no such thing,” he insisted with a wicked gleam in his eyes that answered the question for him.
Turning your head away, you smiled at Hector. “Apologies for bringing up such painful memories. It was not my intent, my friend.”
He shook his head and waved your concern away. “It wasn’t so bad.”
Morpheus allowed the man to show him the home he’d built, taking in details he’d missed the first time in his haste, and, you thought, the two seemed less at odds with one another by the time you departed. Your beloved remained as long as he could, spending time with you to tell the children stories while you held Sirius and got lost in the sound of his silken voice. A loud screech and a string of curses echoed from the wood, bringing you and the Dream Lord to your feet, shielding as many ears as you could reach from the vile things being shouted.
The Corinthian stumbled out of the woods with Kat hot on his heels, talons bared and clawing at him with every swoop. Her feathers were ruffled, and the noises she made were ones you’d never heard before. “Kat!”
She heeded your voice, halting her attack on the nightmare to settle on a branch beside you. The Corinthian shook his clothes off, looking at the deep tear in his suit. “Your beast owes me a new suit!”
Kat’s eyes burned. “The only thing I owe you is a slow and painful death, nightmare.”
“What is the meaning of this?” You demanded as Morpheus distracted the children.
“Is this not the nightmare that betrayed you, my lady?”
“It is,” you answered honestly. “But he has been remade now. He will not hurt me again.”
“Once is more than enough,” She bit back. “This was something you knew once.”
Your eyes narrowed, and you tilted your head at her words. “What do you mean by this?”
Kat shook out her feathers. “Nothing, my lady. If you say the nightmare means no harm, then I shall trust you.”
“Thank you, Kat,” you answered, her words still rattling around your mind, but the golden owl took to the skies before you could question her further. 
The Corinthian bared his teeth at the shredded suit jacket. “Daunty, love the new realm and all, but you gotta get a tighter handle on your greeters.”
Rolling your eyes, you shook your head at him. “Relax. I’m sure your maker would happily repair your suit if you asked nicely.”
He scoffed. “I’d rather live with the tears.”
“Stubborn.”
“Always,” he replied with a grin. “So, you gonna give me the tour, or are you too busy for little nightmares now?”
Linking your arm with his, you smiled at Morpheus, who continued telling the children stories beside the fountain. “I always have time for you, dear Corinthian.”
*
It had been a few days since you’d spoken with Hector, but the sad look in his eyes when he’d mentioned not being able to see his son had stuck with you. You approached the young tree with a gentle touch and kind gaze upon the face carved into the trunk. Hector's son was still quite young, and his tree of memory reflected such. It was smaller than his mother's that stood beside it, but the roots were strong and ran far deeper than any mortal. Daniel, you quickly realized, was special. Different. Like you.
The face seemed to stare back at you, white leaves peeking out from beneath the lush green canopy. You approached slower, urging the roots to lift and open the young one's mind to you. His memories would be few, but there was no doubt much you could learn within them. Veins of white stood out in the darkness. Some roots, the ones that borrowed deeper, were pale and sung with power and immortality. The song of The Endless. But, the tune wasn't Dreams, or Deaths, or Desires. It was its own song, still unfinished.
You walked through the light, lush still forming along the walls of his memory, focusing on the memories he found joyful. You intended to share them with Hector, a gift to show your gratitude for his hard work and kindness. That, however, was not where the tree led you.
Stumbling into the blinking light, you found yourself kneeling in deep sand. Sand scratched your palms, sticking to you like sap, just as it had the first time. Except now that sand, once a deep void of black, was white. It sparked like tiny perfect crystals in your palms as you stood and looked out at the miles of glistening sand and bright cerulean waves.
You knew this beach better than any save its creator. You knew the placement of each stone and the feeling of the sand as it molded to your steps. This place felt different… All at once, the beach you knew and not. It was old and new and entirely confusing.
The fragile ground beneath your feet seemed to remember you as you walked toward where the Gates of Horn and Ivory should have been. The sand didn't swallow your feet or try to slow your steps. It felt as though you were walking on nothing at all. Before your eyes, the entrance stood, an entrance that was not the gates you knew at all.
Glossy white marble caught the light and cast an ethereal glow all around you. An aura of both light and color, beautiful and bright. The gates stood open, revealing a sight you'd grown to know well. "The Dreaming."
As you passed through, you admired the fine craftsmanship of the carvings in the marble gates. A story familiar and also not… Something that had not yet been told. Familiar things were more abundant here as you walked through the town and admired the dreamers. Dreams and Nightmares, old and new, greeted you like a friend and wished you good fortune as you made your way to the palace.
The regal and beautiful palace of The Dream Lord was quite similar to the one you’d known. Only some small changes in the stone and the statues caught your eyes, but as the doors opened to the throne room, a wave of unfamiliarity washed over you at the sight. The white marble of Dream’s palace was pristine in every sense of the word, reflecting the array of light and color that swirled around the room, drawing your gaze to the tiny crystals that hung in the air like drops of frozen rain. It was beautiful, marvelous, but not what you knew to be.
The stairway leading to the throne was wrong as well, far more winding and long, a path of almost transparent crystal. The stained glass windows above the throne shifted to reflect you, a perfect vision of white mist and black dogs and golden leaves. It was as if The Dreaming was trying to welcome you… trying to lull you into a feeling of peace or comfort at all that was not as it should be. And there, in the place of the throne, you knew Morpheus to have was something entirely not his. It looked far more organic, like a split geode holding an uncontainable cosmos of stars and cosmic clouds inside it. And sitting on that throne was a being that was not Dream of The Endless. Not your Dream.
The pale being lifted his head, and not a single strand of his cloudy white hair strayed. His black eyes consumed you entirely, two small slivers of starlight shining brighter as they looked upon you. The robes he wore were white, adorned with golden designs, and there, sitting proudly upon his chest, was a glowing emerald dreamstone.
“It is a great honor to meet you at last, Munin of the Emerald Wood.” His voice was silken and light, Dream’s but not his. 
“You are not my Dream… are you?” You asked with tears building in your eyes.
With a soft sigh, he rose from his throne slowly, almost as if he thought doing so any faster would scare you. “No, I suppose I am not.”
You didn’t dare look away from him as you asked, “Then who are you?”
“The name you would likely know me by is Daniel. Daniel Hall.”
Lies. “Daniel Hall is little more than a child. You could not possibly be him.”
“Not as you know him to be,” he said, slowly descending the winding staircase. “But, as you’ve already noticed, none of this is as it was. A future carved in stone, written in Destiny’s book of things, a future only you can stop.”
“Future?” You questioned, looking around at The Dreaming. “You mean to tell me I’ve stumbled into the future?”
“No,” Daniel replied with a light chuckle. “More of a vision.”
You watched him carefully as he stood before you, hands clasped and a soft, childlike smile on his lips. “So this is what is to come then? You mean to steal this realm from Morpheus?”
His brows furrowed. “I’ve stolen nothing. The Dreaming and the title Dream of the Endless was given to me by he who came before.”
“Morpheus would never just give his realm or his title away,” you insisted. “Unless…”
“He did all he could to stop it, but The Kindly Ones were relentless in their attack. His sacrifice saved The Dreaming and those that remained.” Daniel could see the pain in you, and with a sigh, he added. “He did not suffer. Death greeted him and showed him the way. He was at peace in the end.”
You shook your head, tears rolling down your cheeks. “And what of me? I did nothing while he perished?”
“There were… things complicating your involvement.” He shook his head. “It matters not. You are here now.”
“You’ve been expecting me?”
He smiled, chuckling softly. “No, more… hoping you would find a way here so we could speak.”
“Speak of what?”
"If the love you bare him is even a fraction of the love that lingers in me still…" he lifted a hand to your cheek. "Love he bore for you. Then you'll save him. You’ll ensure this future never has to be.”
With narrow eyes, you asked, “You would give up his power… his title, and his kingdom?”
Daniel nodded. “All I ever wished for was a normal life with my mother. Plots larger than me… Larger than him made that impossible. But you, you could change it.”
“How?”
“Seek out Loki and Puck. The end of your Dream Lord began with their plot and… my mother’s misguided actions.”
Loki and Puck - two tricksters that you’d only met in passing. Gods that were notoriously difficult to track down. “And how do you suggest I find them? They’re not known for making such easy.”
“Visit my mother,” he urged. “And myself, I suppose…” he chuckled again. “The two should be close by.”
You paused, listening to the faint sounds of The Forest calling you home. “What happens if I fail?”
Daniel only smiled, reaching out to lift your hand to his lips. “Then I hope this is not the last time we meet, Lady Munin. And that the next is under better circumstances.”
*
Lyta Hall lived in a modest apartment in a bustling city. Though you’d ventured into the mortal world before, it looked vastly different from what little you could remember. She was surrounded by those she loved, Rose Walker and Ged, and many familiar faces - faces you knew from memories alone. And while the apartment wasn’t large or lavish, she appeared to be happy aside from the large bags that hung beneath her eyes, telling you she’d not found any peace in her dreams.
For a while, you simply watched them, searching for some sigh of Loki and Puck’s coming mischief, but the longer you looked in, the more you felt compelled to venture closer. You wanted to speak with her, to reassure her that her husband was safe and loved. And so you found yourself in her apartment, standing in the kitchen and admiring the little notes, photographs, and memories each held. Lost in your own examining, you barely heard the sharp gasp and the sound of wood scraping against the floor as Lyta hurriedly rose from the table at the sight of you.
Suddenly you were reminded that it was not normal for people to appear in mortal homes simply, and you bashfully bowed your head to her. “Apologies. I did not mean to startle you.”
“Who are you?” She demanded, forcing her voice to sound firm and dangerous.
“We have met before,” you answered softly. “In a dream.”
Her face softened slightly. “You… you’re the one that took Hector.”
Nodding, you answered the question she had not asked. “He is safe. He misses you,” your eyes drifted to the small child in his high chair. “Both of you.”
“What do you want?” She demanded, wiping her eyes. 
“I simply wanted to apologize for my coldness that day. I was… I was not myself.” You sighed. “Were it within my power, I would have let him remain with you.”
“But it isn’t,” she answered bitterly. “It’s his power, isn’t it?”
You realized Morpheus was the he that she spoke so sourly of. “It was out of his power as well. The Dream Lord means you no harm, Lyta. This is why you’ve not slept, isn’t it?”
Lyta looked at Daniel and shook her head. “I don’t want him to come for my son… not while I’m under some spell and can’t defend him.”
“Dream of the Endless would not steal your son,” you said gently. “He means neither of you harm.”
“You don’t know that,” she replied bitterly.
“I do,” you assured her. As you watched her move to the child's side, you felt an odd power humming around her. The song of the Endless echoed from the boy, swirling around her, but beneath his song was power. A power that you knew. Lyta and Daniel froze, time halting as mist rolled in from unseen places, and their power engulfed the apartment.
"You are meddling in dangerous things, lost one." Their combined voices sent a chill up your spine, but not one of fear or anger… A feeling of familiarity.
The Mother tutted softly as she moved around the frozen figure of Lyta Hall. "Fate is not something easily changed, dear sun."
The Crone lifted her head, glaring at the babe in Lyta's arms. "And this fate is one you should not even attempt to alter."
"I won't let you do it," your voice was cold as mist rushed beneath your feet. The Forest bled into this illusion they thrust you in, dark, twisted trees casting long shadows over the three. Black engulfed your fingertips, and you could feel the darkness, the daunting power of it bending to your will. "Morpheus is mine. And none shall have him while I draw breath."
The Maiden tilted her head, eyes shining back at you in admiration. "You always were so determined."
"So headstrong and unafraid," The Mother continued, her eyes bearing a deep sorrow that surprised you.
"It is what led you to your doom the first time." Though The Crone's eyes were stiff, guarded, and unwilling to bend beneath your steady gaze, her voice trembled, lips quivering as she uttered a single word. "Mneme."
All at once the darkness vanished. You felt your power stripped away, leaving you trembling and bare before The Fates. Breathlessly you fell to your knees. Sparks of golden light and a searing, unbearable pain engulfed you until all you could do was scream.
Not a word. Flashes filled your vision, swarming like molten gold in water. A name. Fire blazed, and a burst of sickening laughter echoed in your mind. Your name.
Their hands offered you some comfort, albeit temporary. The Mother smoothed your hair back. "Do not fight it."
The Maiden stroked your cheeks. "Let it come."
The Crone looked down at you with tears in her eyes. Her palm pressed to your forehead. "Remember."
*
The first thing you saw once the blinking light faded from your vision was the orange hues of the sun setting over the ocean. You sat upon the edge of the cliffside, wind combing through your golden locks of hair, and a peaceful feeling settled in your chest. You were home.
"Mneme!" The Fates’ voices called out as one. 
Turning your head, you smiled at them. "Not too close to the edge, I know!"
The Maiden offered you a smile back. "The fall would be terrible indeed, even for one such as you."
The Mother waved, gesturing to you to come to them. "Come down from there, sweet child!"
The Crone rolled her ancient eyes and scoffed. "She won't fall! Our Mneme is far too surefooted to do something as foolish as that."
"Accidents still happen, sister self." The Mother reminded.
You squeezed her hand. "I'll be more careful."
"More careful!" The Crone laughed. "She's been careful since the day she was born, I doubt she's capable or more."
The Maiden lovingly braided a strand of your hair. "There's no harm in having fun every now and then."
The sky above had begun to shift to the deep star-filled night, your favorite. "I have to go."
"Back to that tree of yours?" The Crone asked.
"Back to the humans?" The Mother's question was far more bitter.
You kissed all their cheeks. "I'll be home before the sun rises!"
More light flashed, more voices echoed in your mind as your body felt like it would burst apart. You saw it through the slightly golden haze. The Great Tree standing tall amidst a bustling village. Its trunk was a rich reddish brown with golden leaves glistening in the low light of the fires the humans had lit to illuminate their festivities.
In the blink of an eye, you were in the tall branches, looking down at the bodies that moved below, watching the humans with wonder. You and the tree had been linked from the moment of your birth. A tree with roots that spanned across realms and lifetimes and a little spirit born of fate and memory. 
A rather simple pair when compared to the billions of other supernatural and immortal beings and creatures that existed. But, you were fine with simple. You enjoyed your time spent on Mount Helicon and watching the humans, quietly gifting them with long memories and thus making their marvelous stories last forever.
It had been centuries since you'd heard the lovely tune for the first time. The first song ever made. A simple and beautiful thing that planted a seed deep inside you. A longing for something real… Tangible… Something wholly yours. You had no idea what it would be, this thing, but some nights you could hear The Fates whispering. They must've known. There was little they did not see. So, you waited, hoping that it was something marvelous.
The memories raced by, quicker and more painful than before. You could feel the raw ache in your throat, a result of your screaming, but you could only hear the voices. It was all still fragmented, flashes of a happy life with The Fates that all shifted… The sour smell of decay stung your nose. These flashes were darker, the fragments blurry and hazed. 
You felt fire cracking under your skin, nails clawing at the wrong flesh that caged you. A laugh… A wide and villainous grin letting down at you. Unfamiliar hands touching you… Defiling you… The human's bright beauty slowly diminishing before your very eyes. You could taste the salt of your tears and feel the ache in your knees as you bent to the floor and begged. "Harken to me!" Your voice sounded so broken… Desperate. "Please, I beg of you! Deliver me from this place!"
The gentle hands that touched your head bore a somber tinge that answered the question you did not even ask. "Enough, dear one."
"You should rest," The Maiden said.
"You will need it for what is to come," The Crone finished.
"Help me," you begged them, lifting your drowning eyes. "There must be something you can do… Someone to intercede on my behalf."
The Crone's eyes turned cold as she sighed. "Foolish child. You are awfully bound. There are none that can deliver you from this place."
The Mother's eyes were filled with tears. "Not now, at least…"
The Maiden braided a strand of your dull hair. "Not when so much of you has been spent."
"I am so sorry, dear one…" The Mother pressed a kiss to your head. "Your prayers were wasted."
"No!" You cried out, rising to reach for them, but they were already gone. The chain binding you to this place scratched against the stone floor. "Do not leave me…"
The pieces fragmented further. Shattering like glass when you tried to hold onto them. All you could truly recall was a knife, blood, screaming, and fire. Darkness that felt warm and safer than what you'd known for so long and then breathlessness. You could see a rippling surface, bubbles floating away from you as the air abandoned you. 
As you sank deeper into an unknown abyss, you could see the golden strands of your hair fade to white, and a voice echoed in your mind as all else began to fade away. "You will never be rid of me!"
*
"Mneme," The Maiden's voice called out to you.
"Stop," you begged, voice raw and hardly understandable. This wasn't true… This was a trick. All of it. Their hands, cradling your head, felt too heavy. "Don't call me that."
“Mneme…” The Mother cooed softly as you shook their hands off you.
“Do not call me that! I… I cannot deal with this now. I… There’s…” You wanted nothing more than to sob, to let the information you’d just regained swallow you whole. 
Morpheus needed you. The events Daniel spoke of could still be years away, but you’d not risk it. Especially not now. Forcing your body upright, you looked into the eyes of The Fates. “I am going to change what is written. Morpheus will not perish, least of all at the hands of you.”
The Maiden’s tears were like diamonds upon her cheeks. “We take no pleasure in this.”
Your sound of disbelief caused The Mother to sigh, “Not much pleasure in it.”
“You cannot change this,” The Crone said, cold as ice once again. “Try as you might, what is will be and what will be is.”
“The only one you shall harm is yourself,” The Maiden replied.
"You will spend your power," The Mother warmed. "Spread yourself thin until all you are withers."
"Lost again to Lethe," The Crone finished.
“If anything happens to him… anything at all, it is you that I shall harm. Consequences be damned.”
You didn’t give them the chance to speak again, vanishing from the apartment and from their presence with a mere thought. The world felt both heavier and lighter, and with it, you felt both more powerful and less. Forcing the memories… the past from your mind, you put your plan into motion. It was just as you’d told The Fates. None would have Morpheus.
The meadow was quiet. From what you’d seen of the human world, there were few places like this that remained. Calm and untouched, reeking of old fairy magic and buzzing with godly power. Two tricksters lurking in the shadows. The combination of their power was dizzying and stunk of mischief. A warning to any that drew too near to turn back and hope you’d not caught their eye. You, however, would not be so easily deterred.
“What have we here?” An old and giggly voice purred from the shadows.
“A little witch?” Another chimed in, smug and prideful and filled with echoing laughter.
You showed no emotion as you addressed them. “I am Munin, Queen of realms of memory.”
A figure appeared a greenish beast with scales and fur and long pointed ears. Sharp teeth gleamed back at you as the deep red eyes of the spirit Puck glowed. “Queeny, Queeny, Queeny… why are you so far from your castle?”
Bright hair and an angular face examined you closely from a safe distance away as Loki grinned back. “Come to play with the old tricksters, have you?”
“More like come to talk sense into you,” you replied calmly, urging the wood around you to slowly shift.
The two laughed loudly, clutching their guts as they looked at each other. “Sense? Oh, we’ve not had sense in ages!”
“So I’ve been told. But, kidnapping a dream-touched child is a new sort of stupidity I thought even you two would be above.”
“Careful now,” Puck growled. “I’d surely hate to have to get blood all over that pretty white dress, Queeny.”
“It would be quite the shame,” you agreed. “Though the dress could be a trophy of sorts stained with your blood.”
Puck giggled, deranged and gleeful. “I like you!”
“Focus,” Loki insisted as he languidly stalked forward to circle you. “What’s this about a kidnapping?”
You followed him for a moment but chose to keep your eyes on Puck; he was the one you’d have to be most mindful of. “Your little plan to kidnap the boy… Daniel Hall.”
“How would you know about that?” Puck questioned.
“I have my ways.” That was the only answer you offered them. “The how is hardly the point. I’m far more interested in skipping it all together so we can focus on the bit where you both use your brains and forget about this half-baked scheme.”
Mist slowly began to seep between the trees, a low groan echoing in the air that signaled your plan had worked. Loki shook his head. “We aren’t exactly known for listening to threats from little girls.”
You smiled. “I’ve not even threatened you yet, Odinson.”
“Do not call me that!” He hissed, pointing a long elegant finger at you.
“I’ll call you whatever name you see fit after you’ve agreed to leave Daniel and his mother alone.”
Puck tutted, clawed nails digging into the branch he leaned on. “Greedy, greedy. You’re getting boring, Queeny! Perhaps we should just be done with you… After all, you look so tasty!”
Sirius dove out of the mist and snapped at the spirit. “Mind your tongue, beast. Though I shall gladly rid you of it should you insist.”
Loki pulled two daggers from their sheathes as The Corinthian appeared somewhere off to the side of you, calm and collected as he casually leaned against a tree. “Naughty puppy!”
Rolling your eyes, you lifted a finger, calling forth the tree roots to bind them. “Enough of this.” The trees wound around their limbs, squeezing hard enough that were they not immortal beings, their limbs would have snapped. Loki sneered while Puck laughed. “It’d be in your best interests to leave the child alone.”
“Best interests,” Puck laughed harder. “I care little for interests.”
“You may not care,” you began, eyes turning to the god. “But he does.”
Loki shook his head, chuckling at the notion that he cared about anything at all. “You think you know me, little wood witch?”
You shook your head and walked along the tree roots. “I do not care to know you, trickster. But, I see more than just your eyes…” Memories swirled inside them, good and bad, joyful and not. “We may not have met more than in passing, but make no mistake, Loki, I know you.”
Puck was the wildcard, the mischievous being that none could reason with or bribe unless he so sought, but Loki was a god. He was shrouded in golden pride and a deep-rooted desire to make Odin love him. Loki was the one you needed to convince. Puck would follow, or he would die, a choice you’d not have to spell out for him, especially with Sirius’ watchful eye and menacing teeth gnashing in the sprite's face.
“Why do you care so much for this runt?” Loki pondered with a wide grin. “Have a soft spot for dream-touched mortals?”
“Why does not concern you.” You sat down on a high-up branch and stared the god down. “No more questions, Loki. Will you leave Lyta and her son alone, or will you die here in my little woods?”
He attempted to shrug against the branches that held him. “It’s not me you need to worry about.”
Puck rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t need to fear me! This game has gotten boooorrrriiinnggg! One little mortal, dream-touched or not, isn’t worth this kind of fuss.”
Loki glared at the sprite, clearly displeased by his so-called partner in crime's words. “Fine then. We’ll leave the kid alone. Happy now?”
“Swear it.”
“I swear it,” he sneered back. “Now let me go.”
You waved your hand, and the roots released. Puck was gone in a blink, no promises made or extra words exchanged. Here then gone, just like you’d expected from the trickster. Loki remained, anger and some ugly, wounded pride shining in his eyes as he glared at you. Sirius growled. “Leave this place, trickster. And pray you never return.”
Suddenly all emotion drained from the god's face, and he laughed. “You know, I don’t much like being humiliated, especially not by insignificant little girls. Do you think you're suddenly untouchable just because you have some new realm and a bit of power? Well, you aren’t.”
Lunging for you, Loki found himself face to face with The Corinthian, who smiled as he brandished his blade. “I believe my lady released you. That means you leave.”
“I’m not scared of you, nightmare!” The god shouted.
“You should be. Hold him down for me, pup.” Sirius surprisingly heeded the nightmares command and pulled the god down while The Corinthian worked with his blade. The screams were drowned out by the trees cheering and laughing at the now mutilated god. You stood high above it all as The Corinthian finished his work and turned, presenting you with the eyes he’d plucked from Loki’s skull. Bowing his head, he chuckled. “Any other body parts I should take, my lady?”
You accepted the eyes and shook your head. “No. Kat has already sent word to Odin. Someone will be here to collect him shortly.”
The Corinthian glanced at you. “You alright, Daunty?”
Your mind was plagued with the past that you’d still not fully regained, a thing you now had broken and confusing fragments of. “Yes. There’s just something I need to do now.”
“Need a nightmare?”
Smiling at him, you shook your head and placed a loving hand on his cheek. “Not this time, dear Corinthian.”
*
Upon Mount Helicon, a secluded cabin stood overlooking the sea. The cabin was not what you’d pictured when you thought of The Fates. You’d imagined they’d live in some large palace or a winding maze, like Destiny, but there the three stood, looking out at the sea as you quietly approached. “Such a lovely sunset.”
The Mother smiled at you. “It used to be your favorite part of the day.”
The Maiden laughed softly. “You’d sit here until the yellow faded from the sky entirely.”
“One sun,” The Crone said. “Watching another.”
"Whatever the reason for this… Fondness, you bear me…" you stopped yourself, pain that you could not yet confront boiling within you like the fires in your vision. Shaking your head, you met their gaze again. "I urge you to cease these schemes against the Dream Lord."
The Maiden nodded, "Painful as this may be, you cannot run from the truth forever."
The Mother took a step closer with a sad smile. "Oh, dear one… Is this truly your wish?"
"It is."
The Crone stood before you, cold eyes slightly less so as she wiped your tears. "Very well. If it is your wish, we shall honor it. So long as Dream of The Endless does not bring harm upon you, then we shall not harm him or his Dreaming."
“Thank you… my mothers.”
The Three smiled sadly and watched you go. The Forest greeted you as it always had, offering you soft handing leaves to dry your eyes and a melodic rumbling to ease the ache in your heart. You did not know when you would be able to accept what you now knew fully, nor did you know if you’d ever be strong enough to remember the full brunt of the pain your past life had lived through, but you did know that The Fates had spoken at least one truth. You would not be able to run from it.
A dark figure emerged from the trees, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of you. “There you are.”
“Morpheus,” you breathed, the pain easing as air filled your lungs.
His eyes narrowed as he took a step toward you. “Where have you been?” His arms wound around you, pulling you into the embrace you’d fought so hard to preserve. You buried your face into his chest and breathed in his scent. “I’ve been worried.”
With a soft noise, you smiled. “Forgive me, I did not mean to worry you. There were some things I needed to take care of.”
“Is all well?” His breath hitched at the mere thought of something being wrong. 
You smoothed your hands down his chest and smiled. “All is well. I… I learned many things these past few days and have many questions that need answering.”
Morpheus nodded, soft hands caressing you. “I trust you will tell me your meaning when you are ready to?”
“Of course,” you answered. “It would be rather cruel of me to keep you in such suspense.”
“Cruel is not a word I’d use to describe you, my love.”
You wanted nothing more than to tell him of all you’d learned and everything that had happened in your time apart, but instead, you simply smiled. “Would you walk with me?”
He seemed to understand the gentle gleam of tears in your eyes and quietly offered you his arm and a kiss upon your head. “Always, my love.”
The two of you walked through the misty forest until you found the cave of crystals and the lake that you’d once danced upon. Without needing to speak any words, he stepped out onto the water and swept you away into a starlit dance. With your head laid against his chest, listening… feeling the steady beating of his heart, you finally spoke, “Do you think we will remain together in whatever existence comes after this?”
“I should think so,” he answered with a soft laugh. “We’ve found one another against impossible odds thus far.”
"Well, if it should come to an end, this immortal coil we find ourselves in..." You pulled away from his chest and gently held his face in your hands. "I should like it to end by your side, that we might turn to stardust together or be bound in the roots of the earth as one. I shall not pass to whatever existence awaits us in The Sunless Lands without you, my dearest Morpheus."
With the software of smiles, he pulled a small thing from his cloak and held it between you. A ring. The stone in the center was an ethereal array of thinking stars with a branch-like band of roots twining around it. He lifted your hand to slide the ring on your finger, kissing it and whispering a soft oath, "I vow that no matter what comes, nothing shall ever part us again. I am yours, Lady of The Forest, Distress, Discourage, Daunt… Munin. In every existence, every realm and lifetime, I am yours."
"Just as I am yours, Prince of Stories. Always."
Beneath the starry skies and amidst the groaning echoes of your realm, you and the Dream Lord shared a kiss, soft and bright and beautiful. For that one moment, the past didn’t matter. Not Daunt or Mneme… you were Munin, and you were here. You were loved. And as you stared into the eyes of your lover, you knew you always would be.
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