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joelsgreys · 10 months

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fall into temptation | one

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter! Reader

series masterlist l next chapter

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56, i know, i know but this is self indulgent because my birthday is next month idk just let me have this one) canon language, canon violence, several mentions of religion, terms pastor and preacher are used interchangeably here and there, mentions of the bible and religious symbols (cross), innocent/virgin reader, very brief scene of attempted sexual assault, no explicit smut (yet). asshole Joel, protective Joel, hints of softish dom Joel (if you squint). reader has two sisters, the only physical description for them is their hair, which they can also braid as well as their style of clothing.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 8.4k

Jackson, Wyoming

Fall 2024

Joel had seen him around the community before.

He’s an older man in his late sixties or possibly his early seventies with thinning, snow white hair and silver, wire rimmed glasses that always seemed to be perched on the tip of his pointed nose. He was a good, kind man from what Joel could gather—offering up warm smiles and friendly waves to anyone who happened to cross his path, stopping to greet and say hello to familiar faces. The hem of his starched white shirt is tucked into pressed black slacks and even from where he stood across the road near the horse stables, Joel noticed the book clutched in his right hand, old and bound in supple, worn black leather with the words Holy Bible etched into the cover in flaked gold lettering.

Jacob, he thinks his name is. Or was it Josiah?

Something biblical—a name fit for a man who was so fucking clearly devoted to the big man upstairs.

Joel knew his own name was a biblical one, but he was the furthest thing from a man of God. After all that he’d done in the past twenty years, there was only one place he was going and that place wasn’t exactly known for its pearly gates or sweet cherub angels playing harps.

Joseph? Was that it?

He couldn’t be certain.

Not that Joel really even cared to know his name.

It’d been a couple months since Joel arrived back in Jackson with Ellie after Salt Lake City and the truth of the matter was that he preferred to keep to himself whenever it was possible. Joel had zero interest in getting to know the people of this settlement, not unless he had to for the sake of patrol duties—and that’s only if he hadn’t been able to weasel his way out of getting assigned with a partner who wasn’t Tommy or Maria, the only two people in the whole fucking community Joel could stand being around. Minus his kid of course, but even he and Ellie could really only take each other in small doses lately. Perhaps it was their tense, strained relationship that was to blame for the fact that Joel Miller walked around this place with a standoffish attitude and a permanent scowl plastered on his face.

Most people were smart enough to scamper off in the opposite direction when they saw him coming. He was never offended by it. It’s what he wanted. He wasn’t here to make friends.

In fact, the closest thing he had come to a friend outside of his brother’s wife was Esther, the woman Maria and Tommy had tried setting him up with when he first got back to Jackson. He wouldn’t go as far as calling her a friend, either. That’s a little too generous. Friend? No, more like a good fuck when he couldn’t drown his bitterness with Seth’s barrel aged bourbon and he was in need of a different kind of distraction.

But there was a reason this particular man piqued his curiosity. Actually, there were three reasons he managed to garner Joel’s attention and all three of those reasons were trailing behind him in an orderly, single file line, each one more fucking gorgeous than the last. He was positive he’d never seen them around before—because how could he possibly forget the faces of the most beautiful women in this town?

They’ve gotta be sisters, Joel thought to himself, his hand resting on the neck of the horse that he’d ridden out to patrol that morning, a dark, chestnut mare named Willow. Although he was supposed to be walking her inside the stables and back into her stall, he found himself far too distracted. While the three women weren’t identical to one another, the similarity in their traits such as hair color and their skin tone confirmed his suspicions that they were related. They all styled their hair in neat halo braids and wore slightly different color variations of the same getup—pressed, long sleeved blouses tucked into knee length floral printed skirts and worn, leather oxford shoes.

Clutching the brown leather strap of his rifle in his opposite hand, Joel leaned himself against Willow and squinted against the bright afternoon sunlight in an effort to get a better look at them.

The first two were slightly on the older side. If Joel had to take a shot at their age, he would guess the women were in their thirties—a man of fifty six, he still had about two decades on them, easy. Joel let his gaze shift, his dark brown eyes flickering to the last one. His breath audibly hitched in his throat and part of him wondered just how fucking dumb he had to be to be drawn to the youngest one of the three. It couldn’t be fucking possible—you couldn’t be that much older than your mid twenties, if that.

Joel’s grip on the strap of his rifle tightened.

All three of you were beautiful beyond words—why the fuck did it have to be you who held over his interest?

“Take a picture,” Maria remarked with a tiny laugh. She dismounted her horse and peered at Joel over the black stallion’s back. “It’ll last longer.”

She’d led that morning’s patrol, her first time back on duty since she had given birth to her son in the spring. Joel had returned to Jackson right on time to meet his one month old nephew, Noah.

He cleared his throat and shrugged. “Just tryin’ to figure out what their deal is, that’s all.” He paused, then remarked, “Didn’t know polygamy was a thing around here.”

His comment must have struck a nerve in his dear sister in law—fiercely protective of the people who were under her leadership, Maria hadn’t found the sister wives implication the slightest bit amusing.

“Watch it, Joel,” she admonished, shooting him a warning glare. “He’s the town’s pastor and those girls happen to be his daughters. So let’s keep our wise ass cracks to ourselves, shall we?”

His daughters? He almost couldn’t believe it. Surely the girls must have taken after their mother because they sure as hell didn’t get their good looks from their old man. They hardly looked anything like him.

“Pastor,” Joel repeated with a small hum. He then remembered her pointing out an old church house back during the winter when she’d given him and Ellie the grand tour of the community. “So he ain’t got a real job like the rest of us?”

Maria rolled her eyes. “His job is a real job, Joel. It might be hard for you to believe, but there are still a lot of people of faith around here,” she explained to him. “He provides them with comfort and with hope—”

He snorted sharply through his nose. “Hope?”

“Yes, hope,” she snapped at him.

“Hope for what, Maria? That things will go back to fuckin’ normal? That the end of the world is temporary?”

Maria crossed her arms over her chest, jutting her chin. “Some people never lose hope, Joel. There’s a lot of people who need this man and he serves a much bigger purpose than what you’re giving him credit for.”

“And what about the girls? They have it easy too? Do they just stand there lookin’ pretty on Sundays while their old man reads verses out loud from the most useless fuckin’ book known to man?”

“If you must know, they work in the schoolhouse,” she answered, tossing him another glare. “They’re teachers. The oldest one, she teaches Ellie’s class. The middle one, she teaches the primary school aged children and the youngest? She takes care of all of our little ones. She prepares our preschool kids for her sister’s class by teaching them numbers and basic literacy. Shows them how to start counting, reading and writing, things like that. She also helps run the commune’s daycare.”

“At least they have real jobs,” Joel mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”

He feigned innocence. “Nothin’. Nothin’ at all.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.” Maria pointed her finger at him. “Come on, let’s get these guys back into their stalls. It was a long ride this morning, I’m sure they could use some rest.” Taking her stallion by the reins, she started leading him over toward Logan, one of the stable hands who helped take in the horses coming back from patrol.

Joel took Willow’s reins in his hands—but before he could even think of moving another muscle, he glanced up and saw the preacher leading his three daughters past the stables and right past Joel. His self control faltered. All that he could do was stare at you, his eyes fixed on you so blatantly that one of your sisters had taken notice. Grinning, she turned back towards you and lifted a hand to her mouth. She used her palm to shield her lips from Joel’s view and whispered something to you over her shoulder.

Shit.

He’d been caught gawking.

He thought about making a beeline for the stables but it was too late.

Perplexed by whatever it was that your older sister had just said to you, you gave her an odd look, but then followed the subtle nod of her head.

Glimpsing over in his direction, your lips parted in complete surprise and you came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the dirt road when you found your gaze meeting that of the much older, rugged man standing there with a gun slung over his shoulder.

Unsure of what else to do, Joel simply offered you a polite nod of his head. The gesture was innocent enough but it startled you. He could tell by the way you let out a small gasp and turned away from him, your eyes falling to the ground as you scurried to catch up to your father and sisters like a spooked little mouse.

Joel couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh.

“Is the preacher aware that his precious little daughters pay frequent visits to The Tipsy Bison at such late and ungodly hours?” Joel quipped. He gestured to a booth nestled over in a corner of the dimly lit bar with a subtle jerk of his chin. “S’gotta be the third or fourth time I’ve seen them here in the last couple of weeks.”

Tommy’s eyes followed his brother’s gesture. “Oh man, not again,” he said with an exasperated sigh. He shook his head. “Those girls, they ain’t got no fuckin’ business hangin’ around this place and much less at this fuckin’ hour. But the middle one, she’s a whole lot of trouble.” He paused, just long enough to nod at one of the three sisters, the one who was wearing her hair loose around her shoulders, twirling a lock of it around her finger as she made flirtatious fuck me eyes at the group of drunk patrolmen sitting a few tables away. “She’s somethin’ of a rebel, that one. Likes to drink a lot, get herself involved with things that she ain’t really supposed to be messin’ with. She’s the one who convinces the other two into sneakin’ out and comin’ to the bar when their old man goes to sleep.”

Joel chuckled in disbelief. “You fuckin’ serious?”

“As a heart attack. And then there’s the older one. I know she likes to drink too, but she’s a lot calmer than the other one. Ain’t gotta worry about her all too much, y’know? She tries to be the chaperone—it don’t always work out that way, though. Her halo ain’t exactly perfect either.”

“What ‘bout the youngest one?” Joel asked in the most nonchalant tone he could possibly muster. “Where does she fall on the scale between angel and devil?”

You’re carefully perched on the edge of the booth, your pretty features twisting in disgust with every sip of the rich, amber colored liquid in your glass. Unable to stomach the burning alcohol, you set it off to the side, abandoning it in favor of a glass of water instead.

“Her?” Tommy grinned, leaning back into his chair as stated, “Oh, she’s an absolute angel. She’s just ‘bout the sweetest fuckin’ thing you’ll ever see in your whole damn life, big brother. She’s gotta be the kinda girl who all the little birds and woodland critters sing to when there ain’t no one around,” he laughed. “She’s real good. Too good. Wouldn’t surprise me if the lord sent her down from heaven himself.”

Joel tossed him a skeptical look across the table.

“She really as innocent as she seems?”

“I don’t think she even knows what it’s like to hold another man’s hand,” his younger brother laughed again and reached for his beer, taking a generous swig.

Joel hummed softly and lifted his glass of whiskey to his lips. The mere thought of you being so pure and so innocent—untouched by anyone else—caused something to stir deep in his lower belly.

“She’s the old man’s pride and joy,” Tommy continued, breaking into his train of thought. “Kind. Polite. Behaves. Doesn’t get herself into any kinda trouble—I mean look at her, she can’t even choke down a glass of whiskey. She’s just too good of a girl.”

Joel proceeded cautiously with his next question. “Any of them taken?”

Surprised, Tommy raised his eyebrows. “Joel, don’t fuckin’ tell me—”

“No, I ain’t interested,” he interjected, rolling his eyes. “Just a curious motherfucker, that’s all.”

He didn’t seem too convinced by Joel’s answer. “They’re all single from what I know. To be honest, there ain’t a whole lot of men around here their old man would approve of,” he remarked. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice man and all, but when it comes to his daughters, he’s real strict. Not that controllin’ has done him much good, though.” He lowered his voice as a fellow patrolman walked past their table. “The middle one’s fucked her way through this entire town and then back again. She even made a pass at me while Maria was pregnant with Noah, if you can fuckin’ believe that.”

Amused, Joel snorted into his drink. Ballsy. “How goddamn drunk was she?”

Tommy ran a hand through his jet black curls. “Wasted. Oldest one ain’t exactly the Virgin Mary, either.”

“And the old man doesn’t know?”

“Nope. Ain’t nobody gonna snitch on grown women in their thirties.” Noticing the amused expression on Joel’s face, he adds, “By the way, just in case you haven’t figured it out, this stays between us, Joel.”

He smirked. “Which part?”

“All of it. And take it from me, those girls? S’best you keep your distance from them,” he warned as he stood up from the table. He picked up the blue denim jacket draped over his chair, shrugging into it. “Don’t go gettin’ any dumbass ideas, alright?”

“Look, if the wild one makes a pass at me, I ain’t gonna turn her down. S’not like I’ve got a pregnant wife at home.”

“Joel, I fuckin’ swear. If you even think ‘bout it—”

He held up his hands to stop him. “Relax. Was just a joke.”

“Right. M’sure it was.” Tommy snorted. “Listen, I gotta get back home. Don’t wanna leave Maria on her own with the baby for too long.”

“How’s she been holdin’ up?”

“She’s been so tired. Jugglin’ motherhood, runnin’ this place, and bein’ back on patrol duty. I keep on tryin’ to tell her to slow it down, but she just won’t listen to me.” He let out a small sigh and waved a dismissive hand. “But anyway. If you’re all good to head out, I can walk you back to your place since it’s on the way to mine?”

Joel looked down at his glass, still half full. “I think I’m gonna hang back for a while longer. I’m on the roster for evenin’ patrol tomorrow, s’not like I’ve gotta be up at the ass crack of dawn.”

“Suit yourself.” Clapping him on the back, Tommy bid him goodnight and started towards the door.

As soon as he was gone, Joel looked over towards your booth. He watched as you whispered into the ear of your eldest sister who nodded her head in understanding. You stood up and said something else to her, then spun around on your heel, long skirt flowing along with the movement. Head down, you hastily made your way across the bar, being careful so as not to bump into anyone along the way.

You were leaving. Alone.

In the middle of the fucking night? While drunk morons poured in and out of the bar?

She’ll be just fine, he tried to convince himself.

Joel frowned to himself, gripping his drink tightly in his hand as he scanned the room.

Sitting at a nearby table was Kent, some idiot he’d been stuck with a time or two for patrol. He clocks the smirk that crossed the younger man’s face, his eyes following you all the way to the door. Leaning forward over the table, he whispered something to his buddies, his smirk widening. His comrades, all who looked and behaved more like teenagers rather than grown men, lifted their beers to him, nodding in encouragement. Drunk off his ass, Kent drained the rest of his own beer, slamming the glass bottle down onto the table before clumsily stumbling to his feet.

Joel momentarily froze as soon as he realized what was happening.

Kent was going after you.

Joel’s lips pressed together into a tight, thin line.

Setting his drink down, he stood up from his table and slipped on his jacket before following suit.

Joel stepped out of the bar and into the night, the chilly evening air nipping at his face. He took a look around.

You were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Kent.

That couldn’t fucking be good.

“Where the fuck did you two go,” he muttered to himself under his breath.

That’s when he heard it.

The sound of muffled screaming coming from the side of the building. Joel didn’t hesitate. Following your smothered cries for help, he whipped around into the dimly lit alley nestled in between the bar and the commune’s mess hall. You’re pinned underneath Kent with your skirt bunched up around your waist. One of his hands was covering your mouth while his other hand clawed its way up your bare thigh.

“Aw, c’mon now, sugar,” Kent slurred his words together. “It’d be a fucking shame to let someone as cute as you stay a fucking virgin. Don’t be coy—I know you’re just like your stupid slut of a sister. She’s got no trouble spreading her fucking legs for me, y’know.”

Red.

It was the color that flashed in Joel’s mind. It was all he could see as he went up behind Kent, letting his hands reach for fistfuls of his leather jacket. He lifted him off of you with ease, slamming him hard against the brick wall of the mess hall. Pulling him forward, Joel slammed his body into the wall once more, knocking all the wind out of his lungs.

“Miller, what the fuck are you doing!” Kent gasped out, frantically pawing at the older man’s hands in an effort to break free. “Get the fuck off me!”

“Takin’ advantage of an innocent girl?” Joel hissed at him, tightening his grasp on the collar of Kent’s jacket. “Think that makes you a fuckin’ man?”

Though he was still intoxicated, the sheer terror of being caught in Joel Miller’s hands sobered him just enough that he started sputtering an explanation. “I wasn’t fucking taking advantage of her! Her and her whore sisters were making eyes at me and the guys all fucking night! She fucking wanted it! She asked me for it, couldn’t even wait long enough to get back to my place—”

The lie came straight through his chattering teeth. The same teeth he would be picking up off the ground in the next minute or two.

Joel knew he didn’t need to ask. Still, he turned to you, his rage only intensifying when he took in the sight of you lying there on the ground, the hem of your light blue floral skirt hiked around your waist.

“That true?” He questioned you. “You wanted it?”

You stared at him with wide and fearful eyes.

A single tear slipped down the side of your face.

“Answer me, darlin’,” he prompted. “You wanted this?”

“No. I didn’t.” Your voice was small, barely audible.

But he’d heard it loud and clear.

“She’s lying!” Kent tried to tell him. “She’s—”

Joel delivered the first punch, a blow so hard he’d felt the younger man’s nose crack underneath his curled fist. He struck him again and again, the blows coming in harder and harder, turning Kent’s face into a bloodied pulp.

If Joel didn’t get a grip, he would kill him. Part of him wanted to fucking kill Kent for putting his hands you—and more so for accusing of you wanting it. Pathetic fucking bastard.

Holding Kent up by the throat with one hand, Joel pulled his switchblade from the back pocket of his jeans with the other. Fingers curled tightly around the hilt, Joel held up the knife into Kent’s view. He had left his eyes purple and swollen, but judging by the pitiful little pleas for mercy, it was clear that he could still somehow see the sharp blade being held an inch or so away from his face.

“If I ever catch you anywhere near her again, I ain’t gonna be so fuckin’ generous,” Joel growled warningly. “I ain’t gonna let you walk away next time, boy. That understood?”

He nodded. “Un—Understood.”

“Good.” Joel released him, stepping backwards as he fell to the ground. “Get the fuck outta my face. Now.”

Kent managed to scramble to his feet and staggered off, disappearing from the alley.

Chest heaving, Joel inhaled a deep breath through his nose, then exhaled it through his mouth before turning to you once more.

Petrified, you still hadn’t moved a single muscle.

You looked fucking terrified. Whether it was from Kent’s assault or the way Joel had nearly beaten him to death right in front of you, it was hard to tell.

Crouching down beside you, Joel caught your subtle flinch. He proceeded to move slowly as he reached for the hem of your skirt. Delicately, he gripped the soft, flowing fabric and pulled it down into place. Joel then held his hand out to you.

You hesitated for a split second, but accepted his hand and allowed him to help you up to your feet.

“You alright, little dove?” The nickname had fallen from his lips before he could even think to stop it.

“I think so,” you replied, nodding your head. You’d started to tremble and even though it had nothing to do with being cold, Joel took notice of it and he shrugged out of his camel colored jacket. He gave it to you, draping it over your shoulders. The scent of him instantly enveloped you—a mouth watering masculine mixture of clean soap, woodiness, and musk. It was far more intoxicating than the scotch you had tried back inside the bar. He didn’t utter a word to you as he wrapped his jacket around your body, both of his hands pulling gently at the lapels to bring them together in front of your chest. That was when you glanced down and saw he’d injured his hand. You gasped lightly. “Are you okay?”

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but Joel hadn’t even noticed that he’d split his knuckles wide open. Giving it a light shake, he assured you gruffly, “M’fine.”

Without thinking it through, you gingerly grabbed Joel’s hand, holding it in both of yours. “It doesn’t look like nothing,” you countered. You inspected it as best as you could in such poor lighting. “You’re bleeding.”

“Trust me, I’ve had a whole lot worse,” he deadpanned.

Ignoring his remark, you asked, “Can you move all your fingers for me? Just to make sure that it isn’t broken?”

Joel felt a strange warmth radiate in his chest.

Fucking hell, Tommy had been right about you.

You really were too good.

“Darlin’ I already told you m’fine—”

“Please?”

That word, and the way you’d said it, sent a shiver up the length of his spine.

Joel started wiggling his fingers in your palms. He winced slightly at the soreness. More than that, he knew his cuts and bruises would be all the fucking proof Tommy and Maria would need to know that he had been the one who rearranged Kent’s face.

“See?” He spoke after a minute as he continued to move his fingers up and down. “Ain’t broken.”

“Let me clean you up,” you offered. Looking up at him, you cradled his hand as if it were a fragile baby bird you wanted to take home and nurse back to health.

“That really ain’t necessary.”

“You just saved me from—it’s the least I can do for you,” you insisted. Seeing him open his mouth just to protest again, you cut him off. “Please?”

There it was again.

Christ. That word sounded too good coming from those plush, pretty lips of yours.

Joel sighed out in defeat. “Alright then,” he relented. “I s’ppose there ain’t no harm in lettin’ you clean me up a bit, little dove.”

Pleased that he had finally accepted, you carefully let go of his hand and took a step back, beckoning for him to follow you. “Come with me,” you said to him. “I know somewhere private we can go.”

When you came to a stop at the old church house, Joel shook his head and took a step backwards.

Puzzled, your brows knitted together. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

He backed away further. “I ain’t goin’ in there.”

You tossed him an amused glance. “It’s a church.”

“Yeah, I know that. I ain’t exactly a man of God.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. “So? What does that have to do with me taking you inside to clean your hand up for you?”

Shuffling his weight from boot to boot, Joel shrugged. “Just don’t think I belong in there, that’s all.”

“Do you think you’re going to melt if you step foot inside?” you teased him. After a minute, it became apparent that he was being serious about it. Joel’s discomfort about going inside the church wasn’t some kind of joke on his part, it was real. “Don’t be silly. It doesn’t matter that you’re not a man of God. That doesn’t mean that you’re going to explode or burn into a pile of ashes for going inside, you know.”

“After all the terrible shit I’ve done?” He looked up at the building, shaking his head again. “I just might burn, little dove.”

You bit back a small smile. You’d already grown to be quite fond of his sweet nickname for you.

“There’s a first aid kit inside I can use to patch you up,” you told him. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

His lower lip rolled in between teeth as he thought it over. “I ain’t too sure about this—”

“It’s only going to take me five minutes to get your hand cleaned up and then you can leave. Okay?”

You were as stubborn as you were sweet. How the fuck was he supposed to say no to you?

Reluctantly, Joel finally agreed to it. “Okay.” He followed you up the creaking, wooden porch steps towards the double doors. He’d just started to wonder how the two of you were even supposed to get into the building after hours when you leaned down, lifting the old mat on the floor to reveal a set of keys. Unable to help himself, he scoffed, “Serious?”

“Doesn’t everyone keep a key under their mat?”

“Yeah at their fuckin’ house. Not their church.”

“Well to be fair, this is kind of like a second home. I spend quite a bit of time here,” you confessed.

Joel raised an eyebrow at you. “So much time that you’ve decided to keep a set of keys under the mat?”

Sheepishly, you nodded. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, I’ll come here alone and sit with my thoughts for a while.” You shrugged. “Maria let me have the spare set of keys. She knows I come here and so does the rest of the council. I trespass with their full permission,” you kidded with a small grin.

Unlocking one of the two doors, you stepped over the threshold and waited expectantly for Joel. But he stood there, making no move to join you on the other side.

“This place gives me the fuckin’ creeps,” he admitted.

You laughed. “It’s only the outside that’s creepy, I promise.”

Grimacing, Joel finally walked inside, his back and shoulders stiff with tension as he stepped into the place of worship.

You closed the door and flipped on the lights, then opened a second set of double doors with another key from the ring.

“Whoa.” He was pleasantly surprised. For as old as this place was, the interior of the church was quite nice. He could tell that it had been well cared for in its lifetime—the former contractor in him had little choice but to appreciate the high ceiling, the large windows, and the satin finish of the white paint on the rustic, wooden panel walls.

There were a total of twelve pews, six on each side of the church. There was an older, antique piano in pristine condition nestled over in one corner of the room and in another, there was a large chalkboard propped up on a wooden easel, biblical verses that had been the focus of the congregation’s previous gathering still scribbled across it in white chalk.

“See?” You nudged his arm with your elbow. “This isn’t so awful, right?”

“S’ppose it ain’t all that bad,” he muttered.

Your eyes twinkled with pure amusement, adding, “And you didn’t burn into a pile of ashes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel grumbled out in response. “Can we just get this over with so I can get outta here?”

You tossed him a playful little eye roll then nodded towards the pews. “Go ahead and just have a seat anywhere,” you instructed him. “I’ll be right back.”

You disappeared down a short, dimly lit corridor.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Joel slowly made his way down the aisle holding his injured hand against his chest. Now that the adrenaline had started wearing off, it’d started throbbing with pain.

There was an altar at the front of the church—if he could even call it an altar.

It was a plain oakwood table with a white fair linen cloth draped over it and nothing else.

Above it, bolted onto the wall, was a wooden cross.

He averted his eyes, turning away from it.

Of all the shit to be intimidated by in this world.

A fucking slab of carved wood.

Joel’s attention shifted over to the chalkboard. He squinted at it, silently reading the verse to himself.

God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability. 1 Corinthians 10:13

“But with the temptation, he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it,” you recited the rest of the verse from behind him.

“No offense darlin’, but it sounds like nothin’ but a whole lotta gibberish to me,” he remarked to you over his shoulder.

“No offense taken, Joel.”

Whirling around on the heel of his worn boot, Joel blurted, “How did you know my name?”

“You’re Tommy Miller’s brother. Everybody in this town knows your name.” You held up the white tin box in your hands. A big, red cross had been spray painted onto the lid. You sat down in the first pew and patted the seat right beside you. “Come sit.”

He sauntered over and dropped down next to you, watching as you opened up the box and started digging through its contents. “You know my name,” he stated after a few seconds of silence. “Sure would be nice for me to know yours.”

Smiling politely, you told him your name.

Joel repeated it. It rolled almost too sweetly off his tongue.

“S’real pretty, little dove. Just like you.”

His compliment nearly knocked all of the air out of your lungs and for a split second, you have to remind yourself to breathe.

Cheeks burning, you murmured a small thank you and plucked a bottle of saline solution from the kit along with a piece of clean cotton. You tried not to think about the way his eyes were fixed intently on you as you unscrewed the cap and poured a bit of the liquid onto the cotton. “It shouldn’t sting,” you reassured him, reaching for Joel’s injured hand. It was rough and calloused, a stark contrast against your own soft and smooth. You set his hand down on your knee, a strange sensation fluttering in the depths of your lower belly when the warmth of his skin seeped right through the fabric of your skirt.

Comfortable silence fell over the both of you like a curtain as you started cleaning the blood off of his knuckles and his long, thick fingers.

“You really believe in all this stuff?” Joel spoke, his question echoing off the bare walls of the church.

You continued dabbing at his cuts, thinking it over in your head for a moment.

“I honestly don’t know,” you admitted.

Your answer took him by complete surprise.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I have always been taught to believe in God, Joel. It’s all that I’ve ever known. I grew up in a religious community,” you explained to him, making sure to keep your eyes focused on his hand. Tossing aside the bloodied wad of cotton, you picked up another piece adding more saline to it. “After the outbreak, things changed, of course. I couldn’t imagine how He could let something like this happen. When we lost our mother to infection about five years ago, I stopped praying. I finally stopped holding onto the ounce of hope I had that He would make the world right again. I refused to believe in God. Sometimes I still do,” you confessed quietly.

“You said you spend a lot of time here. Why come to church if you’re not even sure you believe in any of this shit anymore?”

“I’m always here because there’s still a part of me that thinks there’s a chance for me to believe again. When I told you I come here when I can’t sleep at night, it’s true. It’s my time to be here completely alone, the time that I use to mend my broken relationship with God. Or at least, I’ve been trying to mend it.” Taking a little glass pot of homemade antibiotic ointment one of the women in the town made and traded, you took off the lid and scooped out some of the salve with the tip of your finger. You applied it carefully to his cuts and continued, “But lately, the more that I try to pray and talk to Him, the more foolish I feel. It’s just not working. It hasn’t been working for a long, long time.”

“Then why keep tryin’ if it ain’t workin’ anymore?”

“Because I don’t really have much of a choice.”

“Your old man?” Joel guessed, wincing slightly as you went over a particularly sore spot on his hand, right over the torn up knuckle of his index finger.

“Mhm.” You nodded. “My father never lost faith in Him. He knows how I feel, but he refuses to let me give up on God. He won’t ever let me miss church or go to bed without reciting my nightly prayer. He won’t let me abandon our faith. Not until the day he is cold and buried in his grave.”

“So what I’m gettin’ is that he forces you?”

You finished applying the ointment and wiped the remnants lingering on your finger off on your skirt.

“Force is such a harsh word. I wouldn’t say that—”

“He’s forcin’ you,” Joel said, flatly.

“Joel—”

“You can twist it however the hell you want, sweet girl,” he cut you off. “But if you’re tryin’ this fuckin’ hard to make yourself believe in somethin’ just for the sake of appeasin’ your dad because he can’t or won’t accept how you really feel ‘bout all this, well I hate to break it to you, but you’re bein’ forced.”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly at his words.

You had never thought about it like that before.

Placing the lid back onto the pot of ointment, you put it back into the first aid kit and then set the tin box down onto the floor. You sat back and clasped your hands together in your lap, not knowing what else to say to him.

He was right, after all.

Joel’s fingers lightly squeezed your knee. “Hey.”

You brought your gaze over to meet his. “Hm?”

“Can I ask you somethin’ ‘bout your dad?”

“What is it?”

Joel chose his words carefully. “Has he ever—he ain’t ever done anythin’ to hurt you, has he?” he asked you, earning himself a perplexed stare. He continued to elaborate. “What I mean is, he ever put his hands on you or anythin’ like that?”

Oh. That’s what he meant.

“Never,” you assured him quickly. “He would never lay a single finger on me or my two sisters.”

He gave your knee another squeeze. “Just needed to make sure of it, sweetheart. Back in the day, I used to hear and see awful things on the news ‘bout—”

You were quick to cut him off. “Look, my father isn’t perfect, but he’s not like that. He’s a good man who only wants what is best for us. He’s strict and he can be tough, but it’s only because he cares. He just doesn’t want us running down the wrong path.”

“The wrong path?”

You shrugged. “Life here in Jackson is decent, but there’s a lot of temptations he doesn’t want any of us falling into. He wants to protect us.”

“By controllin’ you.”

It had been a statement, not a question.

Giving him a wry smile, you assured him, “Joel, it’s really not as bad as you’re making it sound. I could be a whole lot worse off than this, you know.”

There was another short bout of silence.

Joel’s dark eyes fell to your blouse, noticing how a couple of the top buttons had come undone.

He caught the slightest glimpse of the soft curves of your breasts—all it had taken was just a peek at them for his cock to twitch against the zipper of his jeans.

Don’t you get hard in a fuckin’ church, Miller.

His gaze wandered down a little further and that’s when he caught sight of the cross hanging from a delicate gold chain clasped around your neck.

Joel expected the sight of it to calm the straining in his jeans. Somehow, it only made it worse.

“Earlier, when we were standing outside,” you had started to say, “You said you might burn if you came inside the church because of all the terrible shi—things that you’ve done.”

“S’right.”

You peered at him with curiosity. “So what exactly have you done, Joel?”

Joel leaned back into the pew, shaking his head at you as he finally pulled his hand from your knee.

“You really don’t wanna know, little dove.”

“Why not?”

His answer was honest. “Don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Angling your body towards him, you placed one of your hands on his thigh. Your fingers burned right through the dark blue denim of his jeans.

Joel’s lips parted slightly, taken aback by the bold move and the sudden shift in your demeanor.

Were you the same girl who’d nearly had a fucking heart attack a couple of weeks ago when Joel had nodded at you back at the stables?

“I’m not scared of you,” you murmured, softly. You gave his leg a squeeze, pulling your plump bottom lip between your teeth. Between that and the wide innocent doe eyes that you were giving him, it was taking every last ounce of strength Joel had inside him to keep a straight face, to pretend you weren’t driving him absolutely wild with desire.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt such an incredible need to have someone.

Want, sure.

He had wanted Tess. He had wanted Esther.

But Joel didn’t just want you.

He fucking needed you.

And he didn’t know why.

“I’m not scared of you,” you repeated, trailing your hand further up his thigh, setting a fire neither one of you would soon be able to contain.

Joel leaned forward, bringing his face dangerously close towards yours. His warm breath fanned over your lips. It was still laced with bourbon. “You sure ‘bout that, darlin’ girl?”

You tried to answer him in the steadiest voice that you could muster, but it was impossible for you to hide the effect this man had on you.

You breathed out a shaky, “I’m sure.”

Lifting his uninjured hand, he reached up to tuck a loose lock of hair that had fallen out of your braids behind your ear. As his hand fell away, the palm of it grazed against the silkiness of your cheek.

Though brief, the contact sent an electric current through each and every last single nerve ending in your entire body.

Exhaling sharply, your eyelids fluttered closed. You nearly whimpered out his name. “Joel?”

“What is it, babygirl? What do you want?”

“I—I want you to kiss me.”

Joel leaned in even closer, stopping only when his mouth was less than an inch away from yours.

You heard him chuckle softly.

“Y’know, I’d expect better manners from a good girl like you,” he tsked lightly, his nose skimming near the corner of your mouth. Closer. “What’s the magic word, little dove?”

“Please.”

“S’much better.”

Your heart pounded with anticipation.

It was almost too much for you to handle.

Joel closed the remaining gap of space, capturing your lips with his own. He remembered his brother talking about you at the bar—how he had told Joel that you had never even held a man’s hand before.

It occurred to him that he was giving you your first kiss. Him. Joel Miller. The town’s resident asshole and a man who was well over twice your own age. He was the one giving you your very first kiss.

The guilt suddenly started to creep in, sinking into his bones.

What the fuck had he been thinking?

And what about you?

Where the fuck had your common sense gone?

Probably ran off together with Joel’s.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling away slightly in an attempt to stop it from going any further. He tried again, mumbling against your lips, “We gotta stop. This ain’t right—”

You were having none of it.

None.

Clutching fistfuls of Joel’s denim shirt, you swung your leg over his thighs and straddled his lap. Your knees rested on either side of him on the bench.

“Please,” you nearly pleaded. “Just kiss me. I want it—I want this. I promise you that I do.” You placed both of your hands on his broad shoulders, sliding them around him as you slowly sank down further onto his lap. “I want this, Joel.”

Suddenly, he realized that you were asking him for more than just his kiss.

Now he knew for sure that all common sense had left that pretty little head of yours.

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

Desperate, you uttered one final, “Please.”

Joel bit back a groan. How could he deny you?

He couldn’t. Simple as that.

“You sure ‘bout this?”

Your fingers toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“C’mere then, darlin’ girl.”

Joel cupped the side of your face in his large palm and tilted his head up towards yours. Your mouths fused together and although he tried to be gentle, it was proving to be much too difficult—how could he be gentle when you were practically clinging to him? Holding onto him with fervor as if you’d been holding onto dear fucking life itself?

Temperatures rising, you quickly shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor behind you with a soft thud before wrapping your arms around him once again. You melted against him as your mouth molded to his in a perfect fit.

His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore the cavern even further.

Eagerly, your lips parted, granting him access. His tongue slipped past them, meeting yours in a slow and sensual heated dance.

You breathed him deeply into your lungs, a little moan vibrating at the back of your throat.

Joel’s hands went to your waist and he yanked the hem of your blouse free from your skirt.

“Can I feel you, baby?” he asked, breathlessly. His mouth abandoned yours and he began to trail hot, open mouthed kisses underneath your jawline.

Dazed, all you could do was nod in reply and utter, “Mhm.”

Joel’s hands slipped under your blouse and he slid them up the length of your sides. “Fuck, you gotta be the softest fuckin’ thing,” he cursed against the delicate, tender flesh of your neck. His lips latched onto your pulse point, suckling at the skin there as his fingertips dug into your hips. He needed to feel more, but he forced himself to wait. The last thing he wanted to do was make a wrong move or move too fast and scare you off.

“Joel,” you mewled his name. “Joel, I need—”

You trailed off, moaning when his mouth released your skin with a loud, wet popping noise.

“Tell me, sweet girl. Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you,” he promised. “Anythin’ you need or want, I’ll give it to you. Just say the fuckin’ word.”

“You, Joel. I need you.”

His hips involuntarily bucked upwards and you let out a startled gasp the moment you felt his bulge, hard as a rock, brush against your clothed cunt.

Tearing away from him, it suddenly hit you. You’re in a church, straddling a much, much older man in a pew—and if that wasn’t sinful enough, the warm and slick arousal pooling between your thighs only proved that you were ready to fall into temptation, give into the lust and give your body to Joel. But it was none of those things that worried you. It was something else.

You pulled yourself out of his arms and jumped up off his lap, nearly tripping over your own two feet.

“Darlin’ are you—?”

You didn’t even hear the rest of his question.

Knees trembling, you somehow managed to make your way up to the altar. Heart pounding and head spinning, you planted both of your hands firmly on the table and steadied yourself. Part of you hoped that Joel would just get up and leave. But a bigger part of you hoped he wouldn’t.

Joel rose to his feet. “Listen, ain’t nothin’ wrong if you changed your mind, alright?”

“I didn’t,” you choked out. “That’s—that’s not it at all.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

Embarrassed, you tried to explain yourself. “I have never done anything like this before. I’m a—”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to say the word out loud.

“You’re a what?”

Blazing heat flooded your face. “Joel, please don’t make me say it,” you groaned. “For the sake of my sanity, don’t make me say it.” You heard the sound of his brown leather boots as he walked up behind you, one heavy footstep after the other.

“Turn around, sweet girl.”

Joel’s command was firm but still gentle.

Swallowing dryly, you obeyed and did as you were told. He stood close and you found yourself at eye level with his chest.

“Look at me.”

You tried, but couldn’t.

“I said, look at me.” Joel gingerly took your chin in between his thumb and index finger. He lifted your face, forcing your gaze to meet his own, timid and submissive meeting bold and dominant in a sweet and tender exchange. “Never known the lovin’ of a man, have you little dove?”

He backed you up against the table, pinning you in between it and himself. Planting both of his hands on either side of you, he caged you in and brought his chest flush against yours, pressing your bodies together.

Close, but somehow not close enough.

Joel lifted his hand to your cheek, cradling it in his palm. His thumb swept over your quivering bottom lip.

You reached behind you, clutching at the fair linen as you tried with every fiber of your entire being to remind yourself that you were standing at the altar where your father preached and delivered all of his sermons to the faithful people of Jackson.

The very same altar where your father encouraged you to kneel and pray in effort to mend the broken relationship you had with God.

You couldn’t help but to think if you were to get on your knees tonight, it wouldn’t be for prayer.

“I asked you a question, darlin’.” Joel’s voice broke into your train of thought. “Need you to be a good girl and give me an answer, alright?”

“My father loves me,” you stammered out in reply. “He loves me and my sisters—”

“C’mon, babygirl.” He chuckled and shook his head at you, lightly pinching your cheek. “That ain’t what I mean and you damn well know it.”

Sighing softly, you finally answered, “No, Joel.”

“No, what?”

“No, I’ve never known the loving of a man.”

Joel slipped the tip of his thumb between your lips and leaned into you, his hardness pressing against your upper thigh. Even through all the clothes, you could feel every inch of him. “Do you wanna know how it feels, baby? What it feels like when a man makes you his own?”

You nearly moaned around his finger. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he prompted, pulling his hand away.

“Yes, please.”

“I can show you.” Joel paused. “But not tonight.”

You stared at him in disbelief. Both of you were so clearly riled up and he was going to take a pass?

He almost laughed at your expression.

“C’mon, don’t give me that face.”

“But Joel—”

“Just don’t wanna rush it, not with you,” Joel said in a tone so soft it nearly threw you for a loop. “M’gonna need you to be real patient for me, just for a little while, alright? You think you can do that, little dove? Think you can be patient for me?”

Your answer came without an ounce of hesitation.

“Of course,” you breathed.

You would wait an eternity for Joel Miller.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller self insert #the last of us fic #pedro pascal characters #fic: fall into temptation

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nebulaafterdark · 6 months

Text

Exile (Part 1)

Summary: Y/N Undersee thought the games were over after becoming a victor. Unfortunately, life outside the arena has become just as dangerous. Prequel to Moves & Countermoves

Trigger warning: forced prostitution, explicit sexual content, alcohol abuse and other mentions of trauma. 18+ ONLY

It’s a crisp autumn morning when Y/N wakes to a pounding at her door.

Bam!

She rushes down, still in her pajamas, flinging open the door to see what the emergency is.

Haymitch, her former mentor.

Haymitch, the town drunk.

Haymitch, her…friend?

“Haymitch, what’s wrong?” Y/N asks, moving away from the doorway as he stumbles in. Clearly intoxicated. Not in his right mind.

“I fucked up.” He snarls, anger rolling off him in waves.

“What do you mean?” Y/N follows him, until he comes to a stop, in her living room, pacing and pacing. Ready to come out of his skin.

“Congratulations, we’re getting hitched.”

“What?!”

“Snow…I don’t fucking know.” Haymitch scowls, “I wasn’t thinking.”

“Haymitch, please, what’s going on?” Her tone is frantic now, to match his own.

“He told me he wanted you to come work in the Capitol and I-“ Haymitch drags a hand over his face. “I lost it.”

“Work in the Capitol? Like as a stylist?” Y/N tries to make sense of it.

Haymitch lets out a bitter scoff, “this is just perfect. You are so- of course I have to be the one to tell you. Of course it has to be me who-” breaks your heart.

“Help me understand.” Y/N puts a hand out towards him. “I need you to tell me. Otherwise I’m clueless and I can’t help you if I’m clueless.”

“Help me? I’m trying to help you!”

“Tell me how.” Y/N tries again. “Tell me how getting married helps me. Or you, or anyone.”

“If I marry you, Snow won’t sell you.” There it is. The truth in it’s horrible entirety.

“He wouldn’t do that.” Y/N gasps.

“He would and he wants to.” Haymitch assures her. “Bad.”

“How do you know that?”

“He told me while I was…”

“While you were what?”

“Do you need me to spell it out?” Haymitch spits, his voice full of venom. “While I was fucking the highest bidder so you didn’t have to!”

Her eyes grow wide, welling with tears. That doesn’t make sense.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that.”

“I’m just,” she fumbles for the words. “I didn’t know. I could’ve married you before and-”

“And what?” Haymitch demands, taking a step toward her. “It’s bad enough that I have to make you my child bride-”

“I’ll be twenty in a few months.”

“And I’ll be thirty.” He says, pointedly. “Before you’re twenty.”

“Ten years and some change is not unmanageable. I’m sure lots of people-”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I get it, you don’t want to marry me. I don’t particularly want to marry you either. But more than that, I don’t want anything happening to you when I have the power to stop it. I know you feel the same way or you wouldn’t have agreed to this when Snow brought it up. If we just work together, we don’t have to be miserable.” Y/N offers, wringing her hands anxiously.

“I want to keep my house.” Haymitch tells her.

“Sure.” Y/N has no qualms about it.

“And my liquor.”

“Of course.”

“What are your demands?” His blue eyes are frantic, wild.

Demands; as though they’re negotiating a business deal. “I want you to be honest with me about what’s happening.”

“Fine.”

“I want you to stop blaming yourself for everything that happens to me. It’s not your fault.”

“I’ll try.”

“And never refer to me your child bride.”

“Deal.”

“One more thing.” Y/N says, it’s more of an afterthought really.

“Name it.”

“I don’t want to be trapped in a loveless marriage. I want it to be real someday.”

He narrows his gaze, “ok.”

“Congratulations,” Y/N repeats his earlier sentiment. “We’re getting hitched.”

————————————————————————

The wedding is thrown together in a flash. In under a week, to be exact. Y/N’s family, Madge especially, doesn’t understand.

I thought you hated him?

When you’re older, I’ll tell you anything you want to know.

She protects her, because that’s what big sisters do.

All through the ceremony, the poofy wedding dress scratches at her skin. As if it knows she doesn’t belong.

The crowd of Capitol witnesses is massive, no family or friends. When it is over, the happy couple is escorted to their ‘honeymoon’ suite. A pristine, white room, with ivory bedding; topped with pale rose petals to match.

On the side table, a sealed envelope.

‘Mr. & Mrs. Abernathy,

tonight is cause for great celebration. One to be shared with beloved members of Panem. You will find cameras against the side walls, set to begin commemorating this joyous occasion, at 7:00pm this evening. I am sure you will perform accordingly, to ensure the safety of those you hold most dear.

Best regards,

President Snow.’

“We have to-“ Y/N chokes over the words.

“Tell me what you like.” Haymitch says, shrugging off his suit jacket.

“What I like?” Not this, anything but this.

“Look, we only have a few minutes to get warmed up before those cameras come on, there’s no time to be coy about it. Tell me how you like to have sex.”

“I don’t,” Y/N stammers, “I don’t know. I’ve never-”

“You’re a virgin?” Haymitch pales.

Y/N nods.

“Ok,” he shakes his head, to clear it. “That’s ok.” There’s nothing they can do about it now.

She’s shaking, trembling from head to toe. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re ok.” Haymitch soothes a hand up her arm. “I’ll never hurt you.”

Y/N nods again, “I know.”

“We’re gonna figure this out together, alright? But I need you to talk to me, let me know if you’re uncomfortable or if you don’t like something and we’ll reroute.” He can’t stop this, but he can make it good for her. He can get her through it.

“Ok,” Y/N sighs. Trusting him. Giving herself over to him.

They start with a kiss, his hands cradling her face as the cameras come to life. There are two, fully articulated and seeming to move of their own accord. But clearly they are being operated to catch the best angles.

After a while, Haymitch pulls back, slightly. His lips brushing hers as he murmurs, “I’m going to unzip your dress.”

Y/N startles at the words, toying with the buttons of his shirt. Undoing them to distract herself. She is trembling again.

Haymitch catches her hands in his, peppering them with kisses to calm her.

When they are both down to their underwear, Haymitch lies her back on the bed, situating her against the plush pillows. “Comfortable?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

“Good,” he half smiles. His lips meet hers, hands coming up to palm her bare breasts.

Her nipples tighten into peaks and she lets out a pretty little gasp.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” Haymitch breathes. “An angel. My angel.” He closes his thumb and forefinger around her left nipple, rolling it between his fingers.

Y/N cries out. She needs- she wants...

“Here.” Haymitch cooes, bringing his thigh flush with her sex.

“Haymitch,” her voice is pinched. Brows furrowed, sweaty and overwhelmed and all but sobbing.

“I’m right here, angel.” He noses at her cheek. “Never let anybody hurt you. Only make you feel good.”

And he does.

So heartbreakingly, mind numbingly good. Lowering his mouth to her right breast.

Y/N works herself to a fever pitch against his thigh. Grinding against him as he licks and plucks at her nipples. Coming apart against the coarse hairs of his leg.

“So pretty,” he encourages her to ride out her high. “My pretty wife.”

Oh. That’s right. She is his wife. The word twists uncomfortably in her gut. She isn’t supposed to like it. But she does. Haymitch is her husband and she is wife and the rest…really just semantics.

Through the cloud of lust fogging up her brain, Y/N registers that he is moving. A peck against her lips and then lower, lower, lower, “oh!” Her back arches, head pressing against the pillow.

He’s going to kill her, Y/N realizes. He’s going to kill her softly, with his face buried between her thighs. With his mouth on her…

“Haymitch,” the sound of her voice is light, dreamy and he sighs into her wetness. She’s going to kill him. God, she tastes like heaven. And sin. Her hands find his hair, holding him tight to her cunt.

“You can move, angel.” He whispers the reassurance into her heat.

Y/N whines, bucking up against his tongue.

“That’s it, sweet girl.” Fuck my face. Use me. Let me make it better.

“That feels so good.” Her brows pull together and her breathing hitches as his fingers join the exquisite torture. Stretching her open, getting her ready for him. Because Haymitch will never let anyone hurt her.

He sends her careening over the edge a second time.

How many times could she possibly-

She’s so wet by the time he poises himself at her entrance, any nervousness nearly lulled to submission.

“Just you and me.”

The head of him slides in easily, her eyes the size of saucers as he reaches her hymen.

He eases a hand between them, thumbing at her clit, soothing her, distracting her. “Just a little pinch.” He coos, feeling her tense. “I need you to relax.”

To her credit, she does try. Y/N is no stranger to pain but this is different, so different. He’s splitting her open, on the inside. “Ahh,” she squeals as he bottoms out.

“There you go.” Haymitch murmurs, sealing his lips over hers in a haughty kiss. He doesn’t move, only his fingers do, brushing her clit incessantly.

Her orgasm catches them both off guard. Haymitch affords her an appreciative grunt as her muscles spasm around him. But he never stops kissing her, drinking her in.

“You can move,” she says, after a long moment.

He fucks her so sweetly her heart aches. Like he loves her, like she’s the most precious thing in the world. Coaxing her slowly towards another climax.

Oh, no, no.

“It’s too much.” Y/N whines.

“I’ve got you.”

“I can’t,” she wails, feeling the coil tighten in her belly.

“You can, I promise.” Haymitch presses his forehead to hers, drawing gentle circles on her swollen bundle of nerves. “Nice and slow.”

Her fingers are in his hair, desperately clinging to him. “I’m-“ going to cum. Y/N realizes, much to her dismay.

“Good girl, angel.” Haymitch kisses her, swallowing her pleasure. “Such a good, sweet, girl.”

She’s overworked, overly sensitive, but his fingers circle and circle her bundle of nerves. Aching and slick with her arousal, the obscene sound of Haymitch moving inside her makes Y/N dizzy. It’s too much, too good and she’s too full.

Hot tears spill from the corners of her eyes and she’s sobbing. Cumming hot and hard all over his cock. Squeezing him, milking him for all he’s worth as she keeps cumming and cumming and cumming…

“Fuck,” Y/N cries, “holy fuck.”

Haymitch presses sloppy kisses to her damp cheek. “That’s fucking perfect, angel.” He empties himself inside her. Slumping against her, hiding her from view of the cameras. Not that it matters now.

She runs a hand along his back, absently.

When the cameras turn off and fold in on themselves, Haymitch pulls away.

Staring at her face, long and hard. Inspecting her for damage. But she looks content, sated.

“How did I do?” She asks, sweetly and he wants to die.

Rolling off of her without explanation and making a mad dash for the toilet. Managing to lock the door behind himself, before emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

When he returns, Y/N is curled in on herself, shoulders shaking. This is it, what he’d been afraid of.

He comes around, kneeling on the side of the bed, taking her hands in his. “I’m sorry, angel.”

“I’m sorry. I was just nervous, I’ll do better next time.” Her bottom lip quivers.

Oh, honey. Sweetheart. Angel. Don’t fucking do this to me. “You were perfect.”

“I made you sick.”

“No, please never think that I- that wasn’t because of you. Nothing you did. Just this whole thing is fucked. I didn’t want…to take anything else from you. It’s bad enough that you had to marry me, you shouldn’t have had to- and with the cameras-“ Haymitch breaks off again, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“So you didn’t hate…being with me?”

He shakes his head.

Y/N draws in a shuttering breath, attempting to settle her nerves.

“Come on, let’s get you in the bath.”

————————————————————————-

At her request, Haymitch doesn’t leave her alone. Instead he insists on bathing her.

She hisses as she leans up, the soreness between her thighs making itself known.

“I’ll get you something for that.” Haymitch frowns at the discomfort etched into her features.

A pill. Something for the pain.

“I’m ok,” Y/N shakes her head. I don’t want you to leave me.

“I know.” Haymitch assures her, “but you don’t have to be.” I’m going to take care of you now.

She leans into his touch as he continues running the damp cloth over her skin. “That feels nice, thank you.”

“Anytime.” He won’t let her rub her skin raw, the way he had after the first time he had to- Anything for you.

“I still want it to be real one day.”

“You tell me when it’s real and I’ll ask you to marry me again.”

“K.” Y/N tucks her bottom lip between her teeth.

Haymitch knows he’s in trouble then. When she’s looking at him like that. He knows it as he dries her off, dressing her in an oversized shirt meant for him. Knows it as she cries herself to sleep, curled up against his chest. He’ll burn this world to the ground for her.

Part 2

#haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch x y/n #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy smut #haymitch x reader #thg haymitch #haymitch smut #haymitch abernathy #moves & countermoves

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thelov3lybookworm · 2 months

Note

Lucien and Night Court Emissary Reader who were falling in love pre-UTM but she had to break it off/start being cold to keep the cruel High Lord and Court ruse up/Velaris secret safe. Now he's come back with Feyre and sees the truth, is being rejected by Elain, and Reader can't bear to watch him pine after someone who doesn't want him when she's still miserably in love with him.

Angsty but happy ending please ❤️

Anything.

Summary: She's ready to do anything to get him back.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: babes. anon. my darling baby. marry me plis. i LOVED THIS IDEA so much i wasnt ready to write it because i thought i might never do it justice, but i think i like how this thing came out, so thank you thank you THANK YOU anon for this request 🥹🥹🥹

anywas, enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Y/n watched him watch her.

Elain.

Soft, gentle Elain.

Nice, beautiful Elain.

Inconsiderate, unaware Elain.

Elain, who either did no care for who she hurt with her lack of decision making skills, or she genuinely had no idea that she was hurting her mate as she strung him along. Maybe it was just because of the sheltered and happy life Nesta provided for Elain, always keeping her away from the harsh truths of life, and while Y/n had admired that habit of her new friend, she could not help but resent her a little for it.

Y/n took a slow sip of the wine she held in her hand as she stared down from the dimly lit balcony at the ballroom floor, the twirling and swaying couples, wondering how the hell Lucien had changed so much.

So much that he'd gone from being hounded by pretty females falling at his feet and shoving their breasts in his face to get him to give them attention to begging for attention from someone that probably would not be able to tell if she was paining someone.

With a sigh, Y/n made to turn away, deciding that the sweet obliviousness was better than drowning herself in wine and bitter jealousy.

She felt his presence a moment before she smelled the night court high lord.

"Sister." He stepped forward, leaning his elbows onto the balustrade next to her. "Who hurt you?"

Y/n rolled her eyes, immediately relaxing in the presence of her older brother. "What makes you think someone hurt me?"

"Oh, are you telling me that you've decided to take up Azriel's job of brooding and glaring at people from a dark corner just for fun?"

Y/n said nothing, her eyes flitting all over the dance floor absently before settling on a head of fiery red that stood against the far wall, holding a champagne flute.

Rhys turned his head to glance at her when she sad nothing, then followed her gaze. "Oh. Did he kill your cat?"

Y/n released a frustrated breath. "Rhys."

"What?!"

"I don't have a cat."

"Oh my, I am sorry your highness."

Y/n was tempted to shove her middle finger in his face, and he might have read it on her face, as he huffed out a laugh. "Sorry. But come on. What happened? You know that you can tell me anything, right?"

Y/n turned away from the view she had been staring at, instead leaning her back against the railing, letting her head fall back as her arms came to rest on the expensive wood of the balustrade.

"I do."

Silence settled around the two siblings, comfortable and welcome, heavy with internal thoughts, filled with the music from the orchestra in the corner and soft humming from Rhys.

Before long, Y/n started humming along with him, almost subconsciously. She hadn't even realised it until after a few moments, and she smiled at the wall she now stared at.

"Y/n. I've known for quite some time now that you have been hiding something from me. If there's anything I can do for you and whatever you are doing, then please let me know. You don't have to tell me what it is-"

"It's Elain."

Rhys fell quiet, and Y/n sighed. "Come. Let's go somewhere more... private."

Rhys followed her quietly down the stairs and out into the hallway, letting her lead him to her room.

He did not ask anymore questions, nor did he speak, but Y/n could feel the intrigue and curiosity rolling off of him.

Y/n did not speak even when the two of them arrived to her bedroom, walking over to the small cupboard in the corner she stashed her favourite drinks in, including pineapple juice and champagne. She also kept a bottle of whiskey there in case her brother decided to give her a visit.

"So... what happened with Elain?" Rhys spoke as Y/n was pouring him a glass of whiskey, and Y/n steeled her resolve. There was no way she could keep it to herself anymore, because if she did, she would very likely explode.

And anyways, this was her brother. She could tell him anything.

"So... you remember how you sent me to that spring court ball to represent night court?"

Rhys nodded, his attention rapt.

"Yeah well, I met Lucien for the first time there." Y/n busied herself by popping open the bottle of some bubbling champagne, letting it slowly trickle out and into the flute she held, her eyes fixed on the little bubbles that floated from the bottom of the glass.

"He, of course, being the charming male he is, got me running after him. We talked that night. We talked till it was morning, till we knew I needed to return or else you would worry." Y/n smiled softly as she remembered the way she had made Lucien laugh till he was telling her to shut up because his stomach hurt.

"Oh." Y/n could see the pieces falling in place for her brother.

"Everytime after that when I told you I was going out to party all night, I was just travelling to the outskirts of spring court and just talking with him the whole night." Y/n blinked away the prickling in her eyes at that. "I started to fall for him, and he reciprocated."

Y/n let that marinate in the air a little before continuing.

"But then Amarantha came, took his eye. He pulled away, drawing into himself and shutting off anyone who tried to comfort him."

"But how come I never saw you with him?"

Y/n smiled sadly. "He had returned to spring with Tam, and I was trapped under the mountain. When he did visit, he would always hide in shame because he thought I would hate him after he lost his eye." She downed the rest of the liquor left in her glass, grimacing. "He did approach me once, and I..."

"Fuck." Rhys mumbled under his breath after a moment of silence, staring at her. "You told him to leave you alone, didn't you?"

Y/n closed her eyes, leaning back into her chair. He cursed again.

"He probably thought it was because of his eye. Or maybe that I was playing him all along. I don't know why, but he accepted it. Did not fight back. I let him believe it. I did not want him to get any more unnecessary unwanted attention from Amarantha. That was the only way that felt right."

Y/n opened her eyes to find Rhys bowed, his elbows resting on his knees as he clutched his head in frustration. "Fuck Y/n. I thought you were smarter than that."

Y/n sighed. "Apparently not."

Rhys reached out to grab the bottle of whiskey from the low table in front of them, drinking directly from the bottle.

Y/n simply watched him.

"Why are you getting so worked up over this? I thought you didn't like Lucien?"

Even just saying his name made her heart ache in longing.

Rhys stayed silent for a moment before standing, extending his hand towards her. "I might dislike him, but I can tell how much you like him. And your happiness comes above all else."

When Y/n stared at him and his hand, unmoving, he wiggled his fingers. "Come on, let's go get you your knight in shining armour."

Y/n's eyes widened. "What?"

He gave her a wicked grin. "Trust me baby sister."

Y/n thought over it for a moment. She knew whatever her brother's unhinged brain had come up with would probably be uncomfortable, but it would definitely help her out.

So, with an exasperated sigh, she stood, slipping her hand into his. "For everyone's sake, Rhys, I hope that whiskey hasn't gotten to your head yet and that you are not planning something stupid."

"Me? Stupid?" His grin widened. "Never."

Now that, concerned Y/n.

•○🌑○•

Y/n knew she made a mistake when trusting Rhys the moment he led her to a secluded room in the house of wind.

He opened the door, shoved her in and then locked it behind her. She turned, slamming her fists on the door as she cursed at him. He only laughed, telling her to wait and be patient.

Y/n huffed, folding her arms across her chest as she took in the room he had brought her to.

It was a cosy, intimate place, with a circular table in the center of the room, two chairs on opposite sides of it. There was a huge spread of food on it, most of it she'd already seen in the living room earlier in the evening.

The entirety of the room was covered in nothing but candles, giving the darkened room a soft, romantic glow. And slowly, things started clicking for Y/n.

Rhys had gone to get Lucien.

Shit.

Y/n whipped around, frantically searching for a way out.

While she was still in love with him, in no way was she ready for the confrontation.

She knew he hated her for breaking his heart. There was no way he didn't. She hated herself for it. She did not know how she would go about apologising without it looking like she only wanted him after he'd found someone better.

The glass doors leading to the balcony were thrown wide open, the soft gauzy curtains fluttering gently in the breeze. Y/n stared out at the night sky mournfully. She had taken more after her father than her mother, and so while her brother was half illyrian and could summon wings, she could not.

Now, more than ever, Y/n cursed her father for not being a winged male.

The door was locked, and winnowing was out of the question. Begging someone to let her out would tire her out and make her get angrier, so that had to be scratched out too.

Looking around defeatedly as she accepted her fate, Y/n found a full body length mirror against a far wall.

Meeting her own eyes, Y/n walked closer, knowing that her brother would have left no exit way for her to run from the situation at hand. So there was only one thing she could do, and that was prepare herself.

She studied her own figure, turning this way and that as she smoothed down the nonexistent wrinkles from the skirts of her dark maroon gown that reminded her of Lucien in all his glory.

"You can do this." Y/n muttered in the silence of the room, staring intensely at herself as she pushed back her shoulders and took in a deep breath. "He deserves to know."

Not a moment later, the sound of a lock clicking open echoed through the room, and Y/n winced, turning in time to see Lucien stumbling in and then the door being pulled shut.

He grumbled under his breath, fixing and pulling on his sleeves. He glanced up, then stilled, his eyes filled with surprise.

"Y/n." He addressed her as he straightened.

"Lucien..." He stared at her, his eyes slowly and leisurely roaming her figure. The look in his eyes was just like the way he used to look at her fifty years ago, when everything had been right, perfect. It made Y/n blush, and she had to swallow in an attempt to peel her tongue off of the roof of her mouth. "How- how have you been?"

He met her eyes. "I've been good. Good enough to not die I guess. How about you?"

Y/n swallowed the guilt climbing up her throat like bile. Maybe it was bile. Damn, should not have drank that champagne. "I'm good. As good as I can be without you-"

"Don't."

Y/n looked down at the floor, her blush increasing in embarrassment as he took a look around the room, his golden eye clicking softly. "I'm sorry-"

Then his eyes flew to hers, accusation written in every angle of his beautiful face as his metal eye whirred. "Why did he bring me here?"

Y/n swallowed. "I- if you're saying that I made him drag you here, stop. I did not tell him to bring you here."

Lucien glanced around the room again with a skeptical look. "So he just decided that putting the two of us in the same room with such a setting would be funny?"

Y/n closed her eyes, forcing herself to speak the truth. "I... was just talking to Rhys and he found out that we were seeing each other before under the mountain happened, and he did this by himself."

Lucien scoffed, making her open her eyes to look at him. "And did he tell you why?"

"Lucien-"

"Of course, his brother's happiness matters far more than a bond to him. I just know he's doing this to keep me away from Elain to give Azriel a chance-"

"My brother is strictly against Azriel and Elain getting together-"

"Oh yes, your brother is a fucking saint who can never-"

"Lucien!"

He turned away with an incredulous laugh, walking to the balcony and leaning against the railing. "You've made your feelings very clear Y/n. You've hurt me enough for one lifetime. Leave me alone now. Let me wallow in hope and defeat."

Y/n followed him out. "You don't have to wallow alone." She mumbled, her voice quiet.

"And who will be with me? Feyre? Elain? You?" He laughed, a humourless sound that shot sadness straight to Y/n's heart like a bolt. "I'm always meant to be alone."

Y/n's heart broke right alongside his voice. "Lucien that's not the case."

"Then tell me what is, because as I see it, everyone seems set on hurting me or leaving me. Tell me. Tell me what the case is."

Y/n looked away from him, staring out over the twinkling light of the rainbow and the snake like Sidra cutting through Velaris.

He huffed, his disappointment evident as he followed her gaze. "Exactly."

Y/n was silent for a moment, contemplating the best way to explain without having him leave.

The best answer was to let all her thoughts free.

So she took a deep breath, composing herself, and began in a soft, calm voice.

"I still love you, more than anyone ever could. I hope you know that." Y/n felt his gaze returning to rest on her face, but she did not look away from the glittering Sidra, knowing she would lose her nerve if she did.

"Amarantha? She had taken a special interest in Rhys and me. Anyone who was found even remotely close to us, whether it be a courtier or someone we just talked to that day, ended up dead, tortured and beaten."

She swallowed, trying to not let those memories resurface. "You also had dug up your own grave. What were you thinking, telling her to crawl back to the hole she crawled out of?"

She finally removed her eyes from the Sidra, using them to glare at her past lover. He was not deterred, lifting his chin as he turned his body to face her fully.

"Nothing other than the urge to get you to safety. I was dumb. I know. But I don't regret it. Even if it cost me my eye." With a meaningful look, he mumbled out softly. "But it was no use, as it cost me you too."

Y/n stared at him, her nervousness long forgotten. "Lucien... why do you think I told you to leave me alone?"

"Because I lost my eye?"

Her eyes widened, and her brain practically stopped functioning. All she could do was whisper, "What?"

He gave her a look. "What? You told me to leave you-"

"Lucien I- no." She facepalmed, releasing a frustrated sigh. "No Lucien. That was not the reason why."

Lucien shifted uncomfortably, not saying anything. "I- thank you?"

Despite her efforts, a smile made its way onto her face, and she slapped his chest. "You dumbass. I pushed you away because I did not want Amarantha and her cronies targeting you because of our relationship."

Lucien blinked. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh." Y/n sighed. "Look Lucien. I... I know there were better ways to tell you to stay away, but I knew you would try your best to stop me from my instincts to protect you, and when you did not put up much of a fuss or even ask me for a reason, I thought you'd been waiting to get rid of me."

Lucien laughed then, a soft, pained but genuine sound. "Looks like we need to learn how to communicate."

Y/n smiled up at him, her eyes prickling a little.

He said nothing for a long time, just staring at her, his eyes swirling with an emotion that Y/n desperately wanted to name but was too scared to.

Y/n waited for him to speak, to move, to do something, with bated breath. He just looked away, releasing a breath.

"Lucien?"

He shook his head.

Concerned, Y/n went to touch his arm.

He recoiled, an Y/n instantly pulled her hand back, her heart breaking again.

"I- I didn't mean to make you uncomfotable-"

"No."

Y/n paused. "Um... No?"

"Why Y/n? Why now?"

"Because I can't watch you pine for someone who does not care while I'm still miserably in love with you!"

He shook his head, his eyes fixed on something in the far distance. "That's not- no. Y/n, I... you know I'm a mated male now."

Y/n reared back like he'd slapped her, and if she was being honest, it would have been better if he dd, because there was nothing in the world that hurt more than hearing that.

Y/n stared at him, trying not to feel betrayed.

"You- you're not mated, Lucien."

His jaw clenched, but he remained quiet.

"You, are not, a mated male-"

"Well I know that-"

"Then why do you pretend that you are unavailable for anyone-"

"I have a mate now-"

"Who does not want you!" Y/n screamed, her chest heaving. A dark look crossed his face, and his eyes hardened as he turned away.

"Thanks for the reminder that I'm unwanted, Y/n. Its almost like I'd forgotten."

Y/n kicked herself mentally, reaching for him. "Lucien, I did not mean that-"

"Oh you for sure did. Don't lie." He mumbled softly as he was stepped through the threshold into the warm interior of the house, like he was defeated, and Y/n wished that he'd screamed at her, fought with her, because that would definitely have been better than this torture of watching his shoulders curve inwards.

She stepped forward, her dress swishing around her legs, tears slipping out of her eyes and rolling down her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around his waist. She pressed her cheek into the defined muscles of his back, knowing her tears were going to stain the fine threads of his navy blue jacket.

"Lucien please." Her voice broke as she spoke, and he froze, letting her squeeze him tighter with every sob that ripped through her.

The two of them remained in that embrace for far too long and not long enough, unmoving and unspeaking, the only sounds her soft cries and his breaths.

With a jolt, Y/n realised he was crying too.

"Lucien, I need you. I need you so bad." She turned her head, digging her face harder into his back.

He took a deep breath, his chest expanding under her fingers from where they'd climbed up his body as the two of them cried.

"Y/n-"

"No. No, let me finish." Y/n sniffled, trying to get her voice to stop wobbling. "I love you Lucien, and it pains me greatly to see you get hurt by her."

"I'm used to it by now." He whispered. If it was even possible, her arms tightened around him more.

"Lucien I love you. I need you back. Come back to me, let her go." Y/n cried.

"It's not that simple my love."

Y/n's heart- whatever shattered remains were left in her chest by this point- froze at the term of endearment. He didn't even seem to notice.

Y/n just absorbed and basked in the normalcy in which he spoke, as if the two of them were back when everything had been okay fifty years ago. As if the last fifty years had never happened.

Like the two of them were not standing so close but were still so far away from each other.

"It could be if you wanted it to be." Y/n mumbled into his back, wondering if there was any way she could press closer still.

He sighed, his body relaxing as he let his head fall back. Then he turned.

Y/n had to force herself to breathe so as not to pass out as his eyes met hers again. They now swirled with so much more emotions than they had before.

He lifted his hand silently, letting his fingers trace the apple of her cheeks.

She did not let her arms fall from where they were now wrapped around his waist.

Moments passed.

Months, years, millenia.

Still, they stood in their embrace, quiet, lost in thoughts in the arms of the person they loved most, sacred bond or not, the moment only broken by him parting his lips to speak.

Y/n tracked the action eagerly.

"I... guess you're right."

Y/n blinked, her brain slow to process as she was so busy trying not to bite the soft flesh of his lips.

When she realised what he said though, her eyes flew to his, alert.

"What?"

He swallowed. "I just have to... tell her she can be free. That I won't bother her again. That will do it, right?"

Y/n blinked again, shocked at how easily he'd agreed.

He rose a brow at her.

"What, you think I don't love you still?" Her lips parted in shock at that, and his lips lifted at one corner. "You will need more than a few harsh words to make me hate you-"

Y/n did not let him finish.

His lips were soft against hers, moving in a rhythm more familiar to Y/n than the back of her own hand. And the fact that he kissed her back without any hesitation made her melt.

And, maybe, if possible, fall more in love with him.

The both of them were reluctant to pull away, but air was also a necessity, as much as Y/n was loathe to admit it.

She blinked open her eyes, finding him already staring at her, a small quirk to his lips and a blush on his face.

She smiled up at him shyly, as if she just hadn't been the one to initiate the kiss. She tried to hide her face in his neck, just like she used to do before, but he caught her chin between his fingers.

Just like he used to do before.

He grinned at her, nudging his nose against hers. "Look at that facade, getting all shy."

"Shut up." She mumbled.

His smile softened.

"We might have to start all over again."

She straightened, nodding. "I know. I'm ready to do anything it takes."

He smirked at her. "Anything?"

She matched his expression, standing on her toes to kiss his nose to emphasize her point.

"Anything."

•○🌑○•

Whore hive (because yall bitches need to read this): @artists-ally @thehighladywrites @berryzxx @clairebear08 @riddlesb1tch @cupidojenphrodite

General taglist Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @eve175 @starsinyourseyes @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium

Lucien Vanserra Taglist: @mirandasidefics @fell-in-luvs

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mediumgayitalian · 3 months

Text

part three

———

The first step should, in all likelihood, be the easiest.

(“I’m not sure this is something you can really plan,” Annabeth had suggested gently, “as much as my mother would disown me to hear it. I mean, everything I did with Percy kind of just…happened.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure the five years of pining misery and fighting off several other people — one of whom was literally me — was a real walk in the park for you.”

“…Plan on.”)

It is not the easiest.

“You’re telling me the flowers…say things.”

If Nico reaches back into the farthest recesses of his memory, as in things that are shoved somewhere between his sister’s soft sobs the one time he got sicker than he’d ever been and has ever been since and the time he’d walked in on Alecto skinny dipping in the Phlegothon, he can vaguely remember a lengthy rant from his stepmother on something called the language of flowers. He had, at that time, assumed she was simply trying to convince him that everything had voices again, and ignored her.

“Yes,” says Miranda from Demeter Cabin patiently. “Every flower has an assigned meaning. More than one, usually. You can say very rude things with flowers.”

Nico perks up, intrigued. “How do you say ‘you’re a fucking c—”

“Okay,” Jason interrupts, plastering a strained smile on his face and slapping a hand over Nico’s mouth. Nico bites him, hard, and the smile becomes even more strained. “We are actually looking for much nicer things to say with flowers. Kind things. Appreciative things. Feelings, you know. Nico?”

He lifts his hand, looking at him in warning as if Nico is going to be quelled by his Stare of Judgement, of all things. Nico stares back at him until he starts to look appropriately cowed, satisfyingly afraid of the horror that lives inside Nico’s eyes, except he — doesn’t.

He doesn’t look scared at all, actually, which is — which.

Nico takes all thoughts pertaining to the issue and shoves them away.

“I need,” he says haltingly, looking back at Miranda. She looks at him encouragingly.

She doesn’t look afraid of him, either, although she glances quickly down at the circle of grass he’s killed by virtue of standing on it and says, politely, “If you could maybe stop that, I would appreciate it.”

Nico swallows, stepping back. “Sorry.”

“No worries.” She swoops down, hands outstretched, murmuring something too soft for him to pick up. Under her gentle fingertips, the grass blooms slowly back to life, tiny strands uncurling and swelling with virility, stretching towards the sun. Even the dirt smells sweeter, like churned garden soil rather than graveyard dirt.

Something dark and bitter crawls up Nico’s throat — he will always need people to clean up after his messes. No matter how hard he tries. Miranda with the plants, Solace with every one of his endless injuries, Bianca with — everything. She cleaned up after him a lot.

She was only twenty-seven months older than him. He wonders how she would have liked being fourteen, and has to choke back the sob that tries to claw its way out of his trachea.

“Not a lot of people have flower language memorized,” Miranda says, dragging him roughly back to the present. Her large brown eyes are back to focused on him, so he forces himself into normalcy and stares back. “And it’s kind of vague, so I need something to start with. Who’s it for?”

“Classified.”

Nico considers, once again, opening up a chasm beneath his feet. His geokinesis is no bene so he’d probably take Jason and Miranda down with him, but. Necessary sacrifices, et cetera.

“Understandable,” Miranda responds without so much as a beat. Huh. Suddenly, he feels bad for considering her collateral. “Just this then: friend or foe?”

Nico looks at Jason. Jason looks back at him, like, dude, seriously. Nico scowls at him and his uselessness.

“Friend,” he says begrudingly. “…More.”

Miranda nods in understanding. “Ah. Will, then.”

Nevermind. Chasm it is.

“Man, I hoped you guys would finally do something,” Miranda continues, oblivious to the ground trembling slightly under her. (Jason, however, appears alarmed, so Nico summons a tiny skeleton hand to grab his ankle in revenge.) “I love Will to pieces, but there are only so many times I can hear him wax poetic about you before it starts to get embarrassing. When we were twelve you saved his life and he actually cried because he didn’t know how to form the words. Just weeping everywhere about your sword and your hair and how you look a little crazy when you smile in battle. Did you know there are, like, a million syllables for brown? I do. He thinks your eyes are a tie between moonstone and agate, in case you were wondering.”

“I have actually heard that,” Jason mumbles, as Nico’s brain whites out and leaves him, tragically alone, to suffer. “I thought he was just super into geology.”

“Oh, he is. He’s a little into everything. There’s a bi joke, for you.”

“Oh, ha, I get it.”

Is that his body, stranded somewhere below him? Hi, body. Good to see you. You look like hell. Feel free to summon your soul back into yourself at any time, that’d be great.

“I am generally bad at functioning,” he admits, once his essence has begrudgingly reattached itself to his cells and his blood stops ringing quite so loudly in his ears.

Miranda shrugs. “I think you’re pretty okay. Once Percy had to get five stitches on his lip because he was half asleep and mixed up his plate and pizza and bit clean through his plate. It only really needed four stitches, but Will laughed so hard he couldn’t focus right and tore the wound a tad before fixing it. By accident.”

Nico tries very hard not to picture that laughter, not to remember the first time he heard Will laugh, not the hundreds of times after; a loud sound, a musical sound, despite his insistence that he has no talents. Laughter like olive oil laughs in the pan, like wind laughs as it rushes through the poplar trees.

Jason nods sympathetically. “Mondays are hard.”

“Please,” Nico begs the both of them. The nerve he’d summoned after the encouragement of his friends is slowly leaking out of his eyeballs and soaking the ground. “I just need —”

He can’t finish that sentence, either. I need to give Will flowers so he knows I have….intentions, with him, is the most embarrassing sentence ever to be conjured by man, and if he has to say it aloud he knows his father will smite him out of pity, as is their deal. It must only be implied, and even then, he could get egged by any member of Cabin Eleven and turn into a breakfast buffet, his face is so godsdamn hot.

“Will, is, like, unbelievably dense,” Miranda says, taking pity on him. She waits for Nico to finish choking, patting him firmly on the back before continuing. “I guess that’s not fair. He can be quite observant, he just has worse self-esteem than you, even, no offense, so if you are trying to seduce him you’re going to have to be very obvious.”

The wheezing that she has just circumvented starts all over again. This time, Jason joins him. Miranda has no qualms or shame — fitting, since Nico has met her mother, who also has no shame about anything. Nico will never be able to forget that she is the goddess of fertility.

“Who the fuck said anything about seducing,” he manages, finally, lungs chilling somewhere on the grass.

Miranda ignores him. “I would usually say something simple like daisies, but they can be representative of friendship and he will for sure assume they are friendship flowers. Hyacinth can communicate a much deeper breadth of emotion, but, uh —” she glances at the Apollo cabin — “I would avoid Hyacinth.”

Nico sobers. Yeah. That would be wise.

“I think roses send a little too strong of a message for your purposes, so I’m thinking carnations. Pink ones.”

Recovering from the implications of the roses — he’s a little out of time, not stupid, he knows what they mean — he looks at her curiously. “What do pink carnations mean?”

She shrugs. “Love and affection, really. Sometimes gratitude, and in some poetry their colouring is compared to a pleased flush.”

Although he expected much more agony in this particular step of the journey (not that their wasn’t a good, healthy amount; can’t feel good feelings for too long if you’re Nico di Angelo, Cursèd, Son of Hades, Prince of the Underworld, Ghost King, Et Cetera, Et Cetera), pink carnations seem surprisingly…right. Love and affection, he can handle that, and if there’s one thing he always is, regarding Will, it’s grateful. Maybe the whole damn camp should be giving him pink carnations.

“Here.”

Sensing Nico’s hesitant acceptance, Miranda swoops down to the ground, digs around a second, shoots a quick prayer to her mother, and waits. A moment later, several blush-pink flowers shoot from the dirt, along with — Nico squints to read it — a book about the history of grain cereals. Miranda looks confused about one of those two things.

“I am constantly plagued by the Ancient Greek Theoi and their various whims,” Nico explains.

“Your life confuses me,” Miranda responds. She hands him the book and the flowers. For once, Demeter’s gift seems to be the less volatile object of the two. “I’m going to go meditate about it.”

“Good call,” says Jason.

“Thank you,” Nico calls, belatedly, to her retreating back. He glances down at the flowers in his hand. “Jason,” he says, voice strained.

He sighs. “Oh, here we go.”

“Jason, I have to move.”

“You’re fine here,” Jason says patiently. He places a hand on Nico’s shoulder and begins to steer him towards the Big House. Nico, distraught, refrains from judo flipping him into a tree.

“I ruin everything I touch, Jason.”

“You helped out with the strawberries just fine last week.”

“Strawberries are not people, Jason.”

“The kids seem to like you. You let them keep weird skulls and rocks and shit they find in the woods, and they like that.”

“Children are not completely incomprehensible sons of the sun, Jason.”

“Will likes you. By his own admission. He thinks — and I’m quoting here — that you’re gorgeous, even when you’re glaring at him and rueing your own existence.”

Nico has nothing to say to that, because he still can’t quite believe that’s true. It’s — surreal. He had no arguments against it, because he knows, objectively, that Will was not lying, and he can see, with his eyeballs, that Will smiles every time they make eye contact, unless Nico did something stupid in which case Will is huffing and muttering about patients and demigods and how increased power is directly correlated with increased stupidity.

Mostly smiling, though.

At Nico. With love and affection and oh, gods, he is going to ruin things so bad.

“Look,” Jason says, stopping them in front of the porch. Nico takes the pause with equal parts relief and panic, turning to him with the flowers clutched to his chest. “You have — issues.”

Nico blinks, waiting for more sentence. Surely that cannot be all of it.

“…Yes,” he acquiesces, when no sentence is forthcoming. “I am an interloper in this timeline. I am an omen of death. I am —”

“Gods, you’re dramatic.”

Nico agonizes.

“You will be fine, Nico, please, I don’t even know what the hang-up is. He said he likes you, there is literally not a single soul in this camp unaware about how much he likes you. Right?”

The rickety screen door of the infirmary bangs open, slamming against the frame, startling them both so hard they cause a slight earthquake.

“Oh, you got them, you got them!”

The overworked and overstressed whirlwind known as William Andrew Solace bursts out of the infirmary, tripping over his own shoes and nearly landing on his face had Jason not caught him.

“Woah, dude,” he says, steady hand on his waist. Nico reacts to that totally normally and Jason’s shadow does not at all try to swallow him. “What’s wrong?”

Will barely responds. “Nico, you are the best, I owe you forever —”

Stumbling out of Jason’s hold, he lunges over to Nico, plucking the flowers out of his hand and spinning right back to the infirmary. In total bewilderment, Nico and Jason follow him, watching as he tosses the bouquet in the air, hands glowing golden, and mutters a quick hymn. The flowers begin to droop, then wrinkle, then fully shrivel up, totally dead as they land back in his hands.

“What the fuck,” Jason whispers.

“Sun-dried is better, but I don’t have time,” Will frets. “Son of sun will have to do. Ha. You, and you, over here.” He points to the nurses desk with the yellowed stems, no trace of a question in his voice. The two of them scramble to comply, ducking under the half-door and standing awkwardly behind the counter as Will clears it off.

“That stupid prank — remind me to kill Cecil tomorrow, Nico, if you don’t mind — has three whole cabins covered in skin welts. I don’t have enough beds for them all, and they need to be quarantined, anyway. I haven’t had time to go get more ingredients in between cabins, let alone time to make more ointment.” Two massive stone mortars slam the counter, making both of them jump, followed by pestles with blunt heads roughly the size of Nico’s fist. “Pulverize the petals as fine as you can.” He splits the dead bouquet in half, handing them each six flowers each. “Petals only, no stems or seeds. I’ll be back in twenty minutes to gather it. Oh, and Nico —”

He pauses for a moment, taking a breath. Hesitantly, Nico reaches out and places a gentle hand on his wrist. Instantly, the worried line between his eyes melts away, and he smiles; tired but radiant.

“I owe you one,” he says softly. “You always know just what I need. I’ve been using rose, ‘cause that’s what we have, even though pink carnations is better, but we ran out an hour ago and I’ve been freaking out cause I —”

“Solace,” Nico interrupts. He squeezes gently. “Breathe.”

He does. Inhale, hold, exhale, breath tickling the hairs in Nico’s arm, causing goosebumps to bristle all over his skin. (The grateful smile pointed towards him at full power has nothing to do with that. Obviously.)

“I’m good. Just — thank you, Nico. You knew exactly what I needed.”

A loud groan sounds from somewhere to the east, in the vague direction of Cabin Ten, and Will rushes off without another word, medical bag stuffed to bursting. There’s a thump, and a quick, “I’m good!” and then the sound of running in flip-flops. Nico ducks his head to hide a smile, turning to the dried flowers.

“Well,” says Jason after a moment. “You tried.”

Nico shrugs. He starts plucking the petals off and dumping them in the mortar, Jason quick to follow his example.

“I’ll just have to try harder next time.”

———

part five

221 notes · View notes

kyleoreillylover · 6 months

Text

Protectors

Jey Uso x Sami Zayn x Fem!Reader

Summary: As the youngest on the roster, you are used to the protective antics of the older members of the WWE- specifically Jey and Sami, who took you under their wing and see you as their little sister, who deemed themselves as your protectors- despite you thinking you can take care of yourself. But tonight, after wanting to experience being a normal teenager and sneaking out to a party you get ditched and stranded at, you call them for help. And Jey is not happy with you.

A/N: This is very self-indulgent. Not that I get stranded at parties, but I wish Sami and Jey were some of my college besties, especially as a first year, and could comfort me, don't we all 🥹 Hope ya'll enjoy!!

tag list: @southerngirl41 @venusesworld @jeysbae @reci1996 @tbonesteakwithasideofmashngrav (if you wanna be added to the tag list just lmk!)

Word Count: 4,631

The rational part of your brain knew it was a stupid idea ever since your friends suggested it- you had to be stupid to not think that -but the irrational part of your brain wanted to finally act your age and have fun with the friends you barely saw ever since being called up and constantly on the road 300 days a year.

As a college student who also happened to be a WWE superstar and the hottest act on WWE.

And at a mere 18 years old.

Any other person your age would have jumped at the chance for a wild night out. And you finally wanted to live up to your age.

Which is why you didnt tell anyone on the roster that you were planning to attend the party. Sneaking out from the tour bus was easy enough, slipping away from the watchful eyes of your older colleagues who often acted as your guardians whenever you were on tour. You were grateful for their protectiveness, but tonight, you craved a taste of freedom, and you weren't gonna get that with them breathing down your necks.

But now, with the bitter cold air biting at your skin, and the distant sound of music fading behind you, you found yourself regretting your decision. You hadn't anticipated how quickly everything could turn sour. Your friends had scattered away a few hours ago to god knows where, leaving you stranded and uncomfortable in a sea of drunk idiots (there was no way you were trusting the drinks of a bunch of college boys) that were either trying to get in your pants or trying to get you into their friends’ pants.

And to make things worse-you got recognized. An over-zelous frat boy took one look at you from across the room and literally screamed out your name over the loud music, which in turn made his other over-zelous frat boy friends turn towards you with recognition in their drunken-hazed eyes and run over to you and wrap their sweaty arms around you and beg you for selfies, which in turn made everyone else realize you were there and do the same thing.

You quickly dipped before shit could hit the fan and managed to slip away and run far away from the house without anyone following you, but now you had no idea where you were, it was getting colder by the second, and you were nervous that a fan would eventually find you.

You navigated through dimly lit streets, shivering in the cold, desperately trying to remember the route back to the main road to get the hell out of here. The unfamiliar streets twisted and turned, leading you deeper into a residential neighborhood you didn't recognize. Panic began to well up within you as you realized you truly had no idea where the fuck you were going.

You groaned as as frustration mixed with the cold night air. You had two options now. Either suck it up and keep walking, hoping to stumble upon a familiar place with using google maps, or call one of your friends for help.

You started mentally weighing the pros and cons of each option to call. Cody was finally spending time with his family, you weren't close enough with Seth to ask him for help, Rhea would chew you up and spit you out for being this stupid and leaving without telling her, Bianca was spending time with Montez and busy dealing with Damage Control, Nia hated your guts…which left you with two options...

You reached for your phone, feeling the chill of the night biting at your fingertips as you dialed the numbers of the two people who you defineltey felt the most guilty about not telling about your plans because they were the closest to you and the most protective of you, but you had no choice now. The phone rang, each ring and every second you waited for an answer amplifying your anxiety.

After a few agonizing moments, the phone finally finally clicked, indicating that someone had picked up.

"Why the hell you calling at 1 am? I ain't getting you no food uce." Jeys groggy voice greeted on the other end of the line, sounding slightly annoyed at being awakened. "Hey...." You answered back nervously, knowing he'd be even more irritated.

"Jey, be nice." You heard Sami's equally tired voice chastise Jey. Sami was always the sweetest between the two of them, even though Jey was also syrupy sweet with you and being protective hell over you. Sami was always spoiling you despite Jey's teasing and gruff exterior. You were like the little sister they never had.

"But why are you calling at this time, kiddo? Shouldn't you be sleeping or something, all that teenage angst catching up to you?" Sami teased lightly.

You let out a nervous laugh, the sound slightly shaky from the cold, your breath visible in the chilly night air. "Uh, yeah, about that...I kind of need your help," you admitted, rubbing your arms in an attempt to generate some warmth.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Jey spoke up again, this time more alert. "What kind of help? What the hell you do?" Jey's voice was filled with concern yet tinged with a hint of scolding.

You let out another nervous laugh, knowing he was going to get more angry. "Don't get mad..."

"Don't get mad?" Jey's voice rose a notch, and you could practically hear the skepticism in his tone. "What. Did. You. Do?"

"Well, you see, I may or may not have snuck out to a party without telling anyone, and now I'm kind of lost in the middle of nowhere," you confessed immediately at his demanding tone, cringing at the admission.

There was a moment of silence, followed by a deep sigh from Sami. "You did what?!" Jey's disbelief was evident, and you could almost picture him running a hand through his hair, a habit he had when he was stressed or frustrated.

"I know, I know, but I called you now, shouldn't that count for something?" You babbled out in a rush to quell his frustations, your teeth chattering slightly from the cold.

Jey let out a frustrated growl. So much for quelling his rage. "You should've not done this shit in the first place, that would've counted for something! You know better than to do this shit-"

"Alright, alright, let's not make her feel worse than she already does." Sami interjected, his tone softer as he put a hand on Jey's shoulder, trying to calm his friend down. "We'll figure this out kiddo, okay? Just send us your location."

You quickly fumbled with your phone to send them your location- hoping they wouldn't notice you turned it off, but Jey's angry growl indicated that he probably caught on. "And you turned off your location, didn't you?" Jey's voice was stern, and you winced at the disappointment you could feel emanating from him.

"I...uh, didn't want anyone else to track me down," you admitted sheepishly, knowing it was a feeble excuse.

Sami sighed. "Look, just turn it back on so we can find you. We'll be there in a few minutes."

You followed Sami's instructions, turning on your location sharing. As you waited for them to arrive, you couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and anxiety. Relief that you wouldn't have to be in these cold, unfamiliar streets alone and would have company soon and anxiety about facing the inevitable lecture from Jey and Sami.

True to their word, Jey and Sami showed up shortly, wearing sweatpants and hoodies, looking more like they were ready to sleep than to show up and get you.

Jey's face was etched with anger, disappointment, and concern, while Sami's held a more understanding and sympathetic look, but also had a tinge of disappointment in his face. They both stepped out of their car, and Sami pulled you into a tight, protective hug. The warmth from his hoodie was a stark contrast to the chilly night air, and you couldn't help but sigh in relief.

"Are you okay?" Sami whispered, concern evident in his voice as he pulled away to examine you. You were wearing a low cut black dress that was definitely not suitable for the cold weather, and Sami's worry deepened as he noticed your shivering.

"I'm fine, just cold," you replied, trying to brush off the concern, but the chattering of your teeth betrayed your attempt.

Jey, who had been standing there with his arms crossed, finally spoke up, walking over to you and giving you a jacket."We're taking you back to the bus. This was a stupid idea, and you should know better. Now get in the car."

You nodded solemnly, slipping into the jacket, but Sami frowned at Jeys stern tone. "You don't have to yell at her, Jey. She's already scared and cold." Sami shot Jey a disapproving look that Jey shot right back at him. "Then what the hell am I supposed to do, Sami? Be happy like you that she's almost a grown ass adult that decided to play hide and seek in the middle of the night in some random neighboorhood?"

Your frown turned into a glare as you looked between them, understanding where Jey was coming from but nonetheless still hurt by his words. "You're right. I am an adult, so I shouldn't have to listen to you yell at me like I'm a child," you retorted, crossing your arms defensively.

Jey scoffed, rubbing his temples. "Yeah, your such an adult that you got yourself lost in the middle of the night," he muttered under his breath, but Sami shot him another warning look.

"Enough, Jey. Yelling at her won't change what happened. Let's just get her back to the bus and talk about this when we're all in a warmer, less public place," Sami suggested, guiding you towards the car.

You were about to go into the car, but a voice yelling out your name made you freeze in your tracks. "Y/N!!" The three of you turned to see a big ass frat boy running towards you, phone in hand, with a wide grin on his face.

"You didnt listen to me ask you for a selfie earlier!" he exclaimed, clearly still drunk. "So now that I finally found you, are you done being a bitch and will take a selfie with me?" He barely finished his sentence before Jey grabbed the collar of his shirt and lifted him off the ground, a low growl escaping his throat.

"You need to learn some damn manners, you fucking fool!" Jey snarled, his grip tightening on the guy's shirt. "You talk to her like that again I'ma stick my foot up your ass and make sure you can't talk at all, uce."

"Jey, let him go!" Sami intervened, trying to pry Jey's fingers off the frat boy. You watched, wide-eyed, as the frat boy stammered out an apology, fear etched across his face as Jey chocked the life out of him. "Nah, he gotta learn to keep his fucking mouth shut!" Jey's grip tightened on his throat as he pushed him against a nearby car. "You wanna talk that shit to her, you deal with the consequences, uce." Jey's tone was deadly serious, and the frat boy nodded frantically, struggling to catch his breath.

"Jey, seriously, let him go. We don't need trouble," Sami pleaded, still attempting to calm his friend down.

"Jey please, let him go. We don't need you getting suspended for hurting a fan over me." Your voice softened as you approached, placing a gentle hand on Jey's arm. He turned to you, his expression still filled with anger but softening slightly at your touch. He listened to you and released the frat boy, who stumbled backward, coughing and trying to regain his composure.

"Get lost," Jey growled at the frat boy, who nodded vigorously before stumbling away, casting frightened glances over his shoulder.

Sami shot Jey a disapproving look, but Jey just shrugged it off. "You didnt have to fight him. You could've just ignored him," Sami scolded gently, shaking his head at Jey's temper.

"I ain't gonna let anyone disrespect her like that, Sami. You know that." Jey replied, still seething but slightly more composed now. You took a step closer to Jey, looking up at him with a mix of fear and love in your eyes. "Thank you, Jey. I'm sorry for causing all this shit." You looked away from him guiltily, not waiting for a response as you crawled into the car, missing the way Jey sighed heavily, his anger slowly dissipating as he met Sami's gaze, who was giving him a knowing look. "Lemme guess, now you are feeling bad and wishing you listened to me?"

Jey sighed again, running a hand through his hair in frustration. 'I fucking know, okay? I shouldn’t have blown up on her like that." Jey admitted gruffly, his voice laced with guilt.

Sami placed a reassuring hand on Jey's shoulder. "I know, man. But now, let's bring her back to the bus, make sure she's good, and then you can talk to her, okay?”

Jey nodded a mix of concern and remorse on his face as he got into the drivers seat, Jey's grip on the steering wheel tight and Sami sitting quietly beside him, occasionally shooting concerned glances at you in the backseat, where you were shrunken back into your seat, scrolling on your phone to avoid the tense vibes in the car.

The silence was thick, only broken by the occasional sigh from Jey and the sound of Sami shifting in his seat. You glanced up from your phone just in time to see you pull up to the tour bus.

As soon as the car stopped, you hurriedly exited, hoping to avoid the tension inside. You were met with the chilly night air once again, and you wrapped the jacket tighter around yourself, then felt anther arm wrap around you and looked up to see Sami by your side. He gave you a gentle squeeze, silently comforting you as you stood there, feeling the cold night air prickling against your skin. "You'll be okay," he murmured softly.

As you turned to head towards the tour bus, you noticed Jey lingering behind. His expression seemed torn between frustration and worry, his hand running through his hair as if he was battling an internal struggle. His eyes met yours briefly before he turned away, heading towards the bus after you and Sami, making your heart drop in guilt.

You sat down on the couch, pulling the jacket closer around you, trying to shake off the chill that had seeped deep into your bones, the heat emanating from the tour bus a welcome relief. You glanced up as Sami settled down next to you, offering a warm smile in an attempt to ease your n nerves as Jey stomped to the kitchen, his movements tense and agitated. He was trying to mask his concern with a facade of indifference, but it was evident in the way he kept glancing in your direction.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, breaking the silence, your voice barely audible. Sami's face softened at the sadness in your face. "I didnt mean to make you guys scared, or worry you both, or try to prove that I am independent. I just wanted to have fun for once."

Sami gently placed a hand on your shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze.

"It's okay, kiddo. We understand that. But you have to realize, sneaking out alone wasn't the safest way to have fun," Sami replied, his voice calm and understanding. "Jey and I were worried sick when you called. You are like our little sister, and we care about you, and we want you to be safe."

You nodded, feeling guilt weighing heavily in your chest. "I know, and I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to cause so much trouble."

Sami paused for a moment, his gaze sympathetic and filled with concern. "I know. And I know the pressure can be overwhelming, trust me, I can barely handle it and I am twice your age. But are you not having fun? Are you not happy with Raw and Smackdown? I don't want you to crack under the pressure this young just because you feel like you have to prove something to yourself or others."

You sighed softly, feeling a mix of relief and guilt wash over you. "I am, Sami. I really am happy when I'm with you guys. I'm happy with everyone. I am happy with me life. It's just... sometimes I feel like I'm missing out on being a regular teenager. Everyone else my age is out having fun, and I'm constantly on the road, living this extraordinary life but missing out on ordinary things."

Sami's expression turned into an understanding and his eyes had a pensive glint in his eyes as he pulled you into a tight hug. "I get it, kiddo. I do. I know how tough it is, but I also know that you're strong enough to handle it. You accomplished so much that others can only dream of doing, and youre being a badass while dong it."

You giggled softly at Sami's attempt to lighten the mood, and he smiled back, happy to have finally made you turn back to your normal self. "But you shouldn't be worrying about what you are missing, you should be proud of what you've achieved. You're not missing out on life; you're living it differently, and that's okay."

You smiled into his neck, his words and warm embrace being exactly what you needed. Sami was always so sweet to you. "I needed to hear that. Thank you, Sami.”

Sami pulled back slightly, giving you a warm smile. "Anytime, kiddo. Besides, who else would I be able to spill drama and gossip about with you're not here? Sami chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood further.

You giggled again, nudging Sami playfully. "You have Jey to gossip with."

Sami laughed heartily, the sound echoing through the bus. "Ah, he's got his moments too, but you know, you're the one who keeps things interesting around here."

The two of you turned towards the kitchen when you heard a clang, seeing Jey, rummaging through the fridge with unnecessary force, his back tensed.

Sami turned back to you, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Look, we'll talk more, but I think Jey needs a moment. He's just worried about you, and it's his way of showing it. He needs you more than I do right now."

You nodded your head understandingly at Sami's words; Jey might've had a hard exterior, but underneath all that he needed you right now, needed to make sure you were safe.

"I'll go talk to him," you said softly, standing up from the couch. Sami gave you an encouraging nod as you walked over to Jey, who had his back turned to you, who was aggressively fixing things in the kitchen. You approached him cautiously, knowing he was on edge.

"Jey?" You spoke softly, hoping to get his attention without startling him. You saw his back stiffen, but he didnt turn around. You took a deep breath and continued, knowing he was listening to you. "I'm really sorry about what happened tonight. I didnt mean to worry you or cause any trouble. I just wanted to..." You trailed off, unsure how to express your feelings without making things worse.

Jey finally turned to face you, his eyes red and tired, but full of concern. He didnt say anything at first, just observed you with a mix of emotions flickering his face. His expression softened slightly as he took in your nervous stance, and he let out a heavy sigh.

"Look sweetheart," Jey began, his voice surprisingly gentle despite the frustration lingering underneath. "I ain't mad at you because I wanna ruin your night or make you feel bad. I'm mad because I care about you. We care about you.

He gestured toward where Sami was sitting, still looking in your direction. "You mean a lot to us, and seeing you like that.." He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "You're not supposed to be sorry, you know? You're supposed to be safe and sound, not running around in the middle of the night and scaring the hell out of us. And you like my sister, so of course I'ma feel some typa way about it."

You felt your throat close up at the genuine concern in Jey's voice. You moved closer to him, reaching out tentatively to touch his arm. "I... I understand, Jey. I didn't mean to cause so much worry. I just... I wanted to let loose for a night, to feel like a regular teenager, " you admitted, your voice wavering slightly with emotion. “I won't do something stupid like that again, I promise." You looked up at him, sincerity shining in your eyes.

Jey's expression softened at your words, and he sighed, pulling you into a hug. "You better not, or I'ma beat your ass," he said, his tone serious but laced with affection. You giggled into his neck when he lifted you up slightly in a bear hug, your laughter easing the tension between you both. "Okay, okay, I promise! No more sneaking out without telling anyone," you assured him, hugging him back tightly.

"And no more partying alone somewhere you have no idea about."

"Okay!"

"And no more hanging out with friends that ditch you."

"Okay!!"

"And no more stealing my snacks from my locker room when I go out for a match."

"Aye, now you doing too much!"

You both chuckled at your comment, and you pulled away from the hug to look up at Jey.

"I love your protective ass, you know that?"

Jey smirked slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. "Of course you do. Who else is gonna keep you in check, huh?" You nudged him playfully, smiling up at him. "You and Sami are the best. I don't know what I'd do without you guys."

Jey's smirk softened into a genuine smile, and he squeezed your arm affectionally. "We got your back, always. Just promise me you'll have ours."

You smiled back at him, your eyes softening with gratitude at having the greatest support system ever. "I promise, Jey. I'll always have your back, just like you have mine."

Jey nodded, a sense of relief washing over him, his demeanor shifting back to his usual protective yet playful self. "Good. Now go back and sit with Sami, your hot chocolate will be out in a minute."

You raised your eyebrows at his words, a grin creeping up on your face. "Hot chocolate? You're spoiling me now, Jey," you teased, feeling a sense of warmth spread through you despite the chilly air outside.

Jey chuckled, pushing you playfully out of the kitchen. "Yeah, yeah, just go before I change my mind."

You grinned and hurried back to the couch where Sami was waiting, a smile on his face as he watched your interaction with Jey. "I take it everything's okay?" Sami asked softly as you sat back down next to him.

"Yeah, everything's good," you replied, leaning against Sami's shoulder. "Jey's just being Jey, you know?"

Sami nodded, wrapping an arm around your shoulders comfortingly. "Yeah, I can tell." He paused for a moment before continuing, his voice filled with warmth. "Jey may not always show it in the best way, but he's fiercely protective because he cares deeply. We both do. You're like family to us."

You smiled gratefully, feeling a surge of emotion at Sami's words. "I'm lucky to have you guys. Don't tell anyone, but when I got called up to the main roster… I was scared. I didnt know anyone, and everyone was so much older and experienced, so I thought to just shut myself off and focus on wrestling. But you guys… you made me feel welcome, like I belonged."

Sami's smile widened at your confession. "Aw, kiddo." He pulled you into his arms again, holding you close. "You fit in right from the start. I saw potential in you from before Cody introduced us, and I knew you'd be something special. You've proved that and more. And don't tell Jey I told you this…"

Sami leaned in to your ear conspiratorially. "But he told me when we first met you that he thought you were the most talented person he had seen in a while, and that it was crazy NXT didn't capitalize on you when they had the chance." Sami pulled back to see the surprised expression on your face, chuckling softly at it.

"He really said that?" You asked, surprised and touched.

Sami nodded, his smile warm and reassuring. "Yeah, he did. But don't spill the beans, he has a reputation to maintain." You laughed as you leaned back onto the couch, smiling up at Sami gratefully. "Thank you for telling me that. And don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

Just then, Jey came into the room, carrying three mugs of steaming hot chocolate. He handed each of you a mug and settled into the seat across from you, a small smile on his face. "Here you go, kid. Don't burn your tongue," he said in a teasing tone.

You rolled your eyes at his teasing, taking a cautious sip of the hot chocolate, reveling in its warmth. "Thanks, Jey. This is perfect," you said, shooting him a grateful smile.

Jey leaned back in his seat, taking a sip of his drink and shooting a knowing look between you and Sami. "So, what'chall taking 'bout?" he asked casually.

You and Sami exchanged glances before chuckling nervously. The two of you were the worst liars on earth. "Oh, nothing, just catching up on some stuff," Sami replied smoothly, trying to cover up the conversation.

Jey raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Ya'll were talking bout me, weren't you?"

You were a little worried Jey had caught on, but Sami was quick on his feet. "Of course not, man. Why would we talk about you when we have more important things to discuss?" Sami flashed a mischievous grin.

Jey squinted at Sami, clearly not convinced. "I know when you're lying, Sami. spill it."

You chuckled nervously, deciding to take the plunge. "We were just talking about this hot guy from school hitting on me at the show one time." you said, trying to divert the conversation with a playful grin.

Jey raised an eyebrow, looking between you and Sami skeptically. "Hot guy, huh? Should I be worried?" he teased, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

Sami laughed, playing along. "Oh yeah, definitely. He was so into her, it was unreal. I had to swoop in and save her from his charming ways," Sami joked, nudging you lightly.

You giggled, grateful for Sami's quick thinking. "Yeah, Sami's my hero," you said with a wink, trying to keep a straight face.

Jey chuckled, shaking his head at your antics. "Yeah, in your dreams, cause ain't no way mans took a look at Sami and got intimidated." Jey smirked, taking another sip of his drink. You laughed at the offended look Sami wore, his hand over his heart in mock hurt.

And as you sipped your warm hot choclate, your heart felt even warmer. You might not have been a regular teenager, but if being a regular teenager meant you couldn't have these friends looking out for you and having your back, then you didn't mind missing out on regular teenage normalcy at all.

BONUS

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luimagines · 9 months

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Oh!! I have a request! How about some magic shit happens and the boys are turned into kids! And reader has to take care of them! It can be one at the time or all of them at once, whatever you prefer. And maybe they remember what happened when they're back to normal? I love your writing, take your time to write and stay hydrated!!

Oh sure! How cute!!

Masterlist

Part one will include Wild, Sky and Legend

Content under the cut!

Wild

The giggles were contagious. You found yourself on the verge of laughing hysterically next to the small child.

Somehow Wild got hit from a wizzrobe to be no older than five years old and yet he's as if he hasn't changed. Stranger yet, you've gathered that he either must have been displaced in time or he was the only one to time travel. His scars are gone as well so it's not as if he was shrunk.

"Ooh! An apple!" He sprints towards the tree, running up the truck and latching onto the first branch he can reach. He then swings his body up and over it before he shimmies over to pluck the apple for the branch above.

"He's just as bad." Four laughs to himself.

"And yet he claims that he was the perfect soldier." Twilight frowns, standing under the branch to catch the kid in case he fell.

"I'm ok!" He calls down to the rancher. "You don't have to catch me! Papa lets me do this all the time."

You snort with your hands on your hips. "He must have had a lot of training."

"Or pressure." Warrior mutters.

That dampens your mood a bit. He makes a point.

You were having soo much fun just messing with the kid that you didn't stop to think about what his attitude actually meant. Was his carefree spirit beaten out of him? You hope not literally.

You hear him hit the ground and he runs straight to you, b-lining around Twilight to avoid him. You laugh at the Rancher. You didn't think he would take it to heart but he looks as if the kid just offended his entire legacy.

"Here!" Wild cheers, holding out a bright red apple in your direction. "You didn't eat breakfast. So you should eat too."

You flush and take the apple. "Thank you."

"You didn't eat?" Sky raises an eyebrow.

The little boy nods. "I saw them. They pretended they weren't hungry so they didn't have to eat the food."

You flinch. It was Hyrule's turn to cook. You had hoped to have gone unnoticed. Tou stand mistaken.

"Well... thank you, Link." You bite your lip, holding the apple up higher. "I was feeling a bit peckish."

He giggles and takes a bite out the apple he got for himself. "Aryll likes apples too. So I get to climb our tree to get them for her."

The group all relatively freeze. Wind especially.

"Aryll?" You try to keep the conversation going so that he doesn't catch on. "Do you take care of her?"

He nods, his face full of pride. "She's my baby sister! I have to take care of her, just like Papa says!"

"I bet you do a good job at that." You swallow your spit.

Does this mean he's unlocked memories too? You don't really want to think about it. Looking at the poor boy is starting to make you feel emotional. He doesn't deserve what he gets.

You take a bite of the apple.

It's bitter.

Sky

You stared and stared and stared.

Boyish laughs fill the camp as the others are also just at an lost to do. The only ones with any chance of corralling this kid are Wind and Twilight.

The group was down a member but also added the new challenge of dealing with said down member.

"Hello." The little boy stops running right in front of you, holding out a single pale purple flower. "This is for you."

You blink and take it gently. He can't be much older than six or seven years old. Much younger than any other in the group. Younger than the average age they all took up the mantle of hero. Young enough to have to idea who he is or what he will become.

"Thank you, Link." You say just as softly, placing the flower behind your ear. A few others squirm at the mention of their name. But you have no other choice to use it. The young boy wouldn't respond to Sky and he would have no inclination to abide by the unspoken rules they've set up.

He smiles back and hugs his arm close to his body. He's a shy boy but kind and just as gentle as he grows to be. He's innocent and curious but doesn't ask questions. He's incredibly trusting.

Your jaw flexes at the thought, but you won't let it change your facial expression. Sky seems to be waiting for something. You tilt your head down, meeting his eyes. "What is it, Link?"

He bites his lip. "....Would you....like to play with me? ...Please?"

You would never tell Sky that he has the most adorable puppy eyes in the history of existence. You never stood a chance. "Sure thing, Buddy. What do you want to play?"

He beams. "Hide and seek!"

"Maybe not." Twilight winces. You wince as well, especially when you see how Sky suddenly seems chest fallen. You're in the middle of no where and he has no way of coming back to you if he gets lost. Twilight explains it as such. "There's just not a lot places to hide, buck-o. So if you get lost, we'd have no idea how to find you again."

Sky pouts and looks upset enough to cry.

"We can draw." You blurt, wanting to save the moment.

"Really?" Sky perks up and looks around. "...But there's no paper."

You turn around and pick up a stick, snapping it in half and giving him the bigger half. "We'll draw in the dirt!"

Sky looks at the stick and pokes the ground with it. "...I used to do this with Zelda when we were bored. I don't think they have sticks at the Academy though."

"Yeah?" You plop yourself onto the ground, patting the spot next to you. "Tell me about it."

He smiles and sits down next to you, poking and dragging he stick through the dirt. "My loftwing is big and pretty but I'm too little to ride him yet. That's what Gaepora says."

You shoo away prying eyes and nosy ears.

Wind grabs his own sticks and you. "What's a lofting?"

Sky freezes. He's looks so lost. "You don't know what a loftwing is? Don't you have them on your island?"

Wind shakes his head.

Sky frowns and looks around. "I thought Skyloft was the biggest island and everyone knows what loftwings are."

He stands, looking towards the horizon. "But this is also a pretty big island."

You flinch. You didn't even consider that he wouldn't remember that he's on the surface.

Who's going to tell him?

Legend

"Where's my uncle?" The little boy asks. Once the smoke had cleared and the monsters were defeated, you had to take a look at the damage. This little boy stood where Legend once did. It seems that his clothes were changed with him, at least. Otherwise you don't know what you all would have been able to keep him from swimming in fabric.

You bite your lip and share looks with the rest of the group. The little boy looked scared and lost. He kept wringing his little hat between his hand as he looked for someone to answer him.

You gulped and got on your knees to meet his eyes. "What does he look like? Maybe we can try and find him together?"

You know where his uncle is. It was something had told you under the comfort of night, something he didn't really tell any of the others. But you can't look into his little teary eyes and tell him the truth and you certainly can't do it in front of everyone else.

"He's tall and strong." The boy looks more comforted now he gathered that you were going to help him. "He lost his hair but it grows on his chin instead."

"Bald with a beard. Can you tell me his name?" You smile and say your name. "What's your name?"

"I call him Uncle." He tilts his head. That's a no. "He calls me Link."

"Well Link, it's very nice to meet you." You're giving yourself extra brownie points for holding yourself together. "How old are you, Link?"

He frowns and lifts up once of his hand, sticking up four little fingers.

"Oh wow! You're already four years old." You try to keep things light. "Your uncle must trust you a lot since you're so big."

He smiles and giggles, covering his mouth with a small fist. "I get to help Uncle take care of the house. Sometimes he lets me help with dinner."

You smile back, trying to not let the image pull at your heart strings. Less you start crying on the spot. "I guess he'll need his little helper then. Come on, we'll all help you look for your uncle, ok?"

"Ok."

You stand up and stick your hand out. "Don't get lost now. Come on. We'll start looking."

Little Legend takes your hand and you look to others, finally, for assistance. You receive none. Only a few poorly hidden thumbs up from the others members.

"Traveler." You whine. "Tell me we can fix this."

He stares before nodding slightly. "Let me think of something."

You can only nod. This might take a while to fix.

Legend tugs on your hand, bringing your attention back to him. "Is uncle really faraway?"

"Uhh..." Your brain stalls before you figure the answer can't be so bad. "More like, we're really far away...From everyone. But we'll get back to find some people and then maybe we can find your uncle."

"You hear that Traveler?" Four says. "You have until we reach the next town."

You ignore the groaning. Legend looks so happy. "Good! He'll be worried about me!"

You tear up. "Let's fix this then, buddy."

Part 2

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #accidental angst!!!!#whoops #.....i might not be able to cover the entirety of the ask ^.^*#they're just too cute!#i'll just try to get the vibes #it might needs a sequel

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neverchecking · 11 months

Note

Hi I love you wirk

And I love how you call totk link sage

Also the cold attack boost outfit I love it my favorite The open back and showing his hips 🤤😋 hot

And I love the zonia

And I have a request

Can I request yandere sage x ruyla ( autocorrect Keeps fixing his name) king of the zonia daughter reader

Smut

Like the reader was sent to the future from her dad with out anyone knowing

And tells link to find his daughter who asleep not to far away from his shrine and go to a the time temple top and the zonia worker will show him the way

And they reade is a sweet flower but looks up to Link.

And link falls for her.

And won't let anyone take her even if it mean Baby trapping her please and thank you

And I love you.

At first I was like Raylu???? Then I noticed you mentioned autocorrect and I was like ah- Rauru.

You absolutely can. I love every part of this idea. I feel like a perfect companion to Sage is one that is just such a sunshiney baby.

Anyway, I meant to get this out last night after work, but I got high instead and spent an hour watching the ceiling fan. I also wrote like the weirdest draft ideas and I'm deciding if they're worth fleshing out at all.

(Sage is TotK Link!)

Also smut so MDNI! 18+

Smut CW: Breeding kink, baby trapping, reader is a little naive. Sage. He's a crusty little bastard. (affectionately) Dumbification.

It had many names, the Legend of the Dragon's Daughter. Many of which titled it as either a legend or a story. A myth. Some warned of great dangers surrounding the aura of the spirit the legend told about. Other's told of the pure divinity that this being held in the palm of their hand. The grace and adroitness that lined their very pores was spoken of so fondly by the older generations who had heard the story from their own grandparents, who had heard it from theirs and so on and so forth. The older Zora especially spoke of her in such a tone he found himself lending a little belief to the legend.

The story told of a daughter, blessed to the first King and Queen of Hyrule by the Three Goddesses themselves. A princess bestowed with the gift of beauty and grace, a beacon to the budding kingdom. There were even carvings under Hyrule Castle, hidden by toppled boulders, that portrayed her image.

And he would admit. She looked like a being having been blessed by the heavens above.

The carvings had showed an ugly side to an already bitter story. How this princess, this goddess sculpted muse, was struck down by the Demon King as a means to get back at both King Rauru and Queen Sonia. The carvings from there had been too worn down to get a clear reading, but it was enough to pique his interest. Besides, what else did he have to do? Save a princess who had no issues with leaving him to die? Deal with monsters that the people of Hyrule already knew damn well how to deal with and were no longer scared of them? Traverse the depths and all the lightroots he had already found?

At least this way, he may get some new power out of it. If nothing else, at least he had a good story for Traysi.

His first area to investigate was the sky island he woke up on. He could still spot Rauru's spirit in certain areas, understanding the solemn look he seemed to wear much more than he previously did.

It was also much easier to travel around the island this time around, which was a bonus.

When prodded for answers, something complicated flashed over the spirit's face before it settled into a Grim acceptance. One Link had worn too often right after remembering the untimely demise of the Champions.

"She was gravely injured. My precious sunshine. I almost lost her that day." He had spoken in a grave echo, eyes glazed and far off, as if seeing his daughter right in front of him. "My sister, Mineru, had offered her services in an effort to preserve her soul. I am unsure if it had worked. I haven't had the heart to look. I would be such a disappointment to her fiery heart and iron strong will to shine in the brightest ways possible. She was kept in the Temple of Time if you are at all curious."

He was. He was curious. He wanted to see this being for himself. If Rauru spoke so highly of you, it had to be worth it. And it was either this or go save Zelda, and he figured she was fine doing what she currently was for a little while longer.

At least until he looked further into this.

Walking into the temple, he hummed to himself as he looked around, spotting the blue glow of Rauru near a wall closer to the exit. He nodded solemnly when Link approached. The hand that matched his own raised to the wall, pulling forth one of those green symbols that chimed at his hand. The bricks shuffled and moved while Rauru faded out, leaving an unactive construct in front of him. It rattled to life, chirping up at him before recognizing that he was friend and not foe. The Construct explained that he was designed to protect the chasm the Princess was being kept in, but since Rauru had deemed him worthy, he would escort the blond to the place. It wasn't a long journey, not at all, just down a spiraling staircase with stone walls curtained by moss.

But the moment he laid eyes on you, he understood why you were hidden.

You face was lax in such a peaceful expression as your body remained weightless, suspended in a bubble of seafoam green and ocean blue. Your hair was splaying up behind you as if you were underwater with your hands clasped around a hilt of a sword. Even the sword itself was divinity in a blade, glowing a bright white from it's place in front of you. You were clad in white robes trimmed in cold with a stone necklace laced around your delicate neck, those same white earrings hanging from your ears.

You were...ethereal. From the curve of your jawbone to the plump flesh of your cheeks, he was enthralled by your very essence. The curve of your shoulders and the toned flow of your arms, even the dip in your collarbone-- all of it had his eyes trailing every bend and curve of your body.

What he wouldn't do to get a piece of you.

He ached to just touch your sun-kissed skin, to feel it under his palms as he held you. To feel the run of your hips, fingers gripping at the dips that decorated them. To paint them a splattering of blues and purples in a lasting reminder of who he was and what he had done to you. To bite and nibble at the flesh just to hear the kind of cries you would make.

Goddess, he couldn't imagine what your voice sounded like, but he wanted to. He wanted to hear what it sounded like while you breathlessly gasped out. To hear what it sounded like when you cried out his name in pure ecstasy as you withered underneath of him. To hear you give yourself to him entirely.

He wanted to feel your weight on top of him, to experience your hands in his hair (Or cupping his cheeks if he chose to allow himself that vulnerability), to live in your orbit, worshipping you as his one true Goddess.

His eyes landed on the same green symbol that unlocked everything pertaining to the Zonai. He raised his hand in response. It lit up a bright green before fading. The bubble shined brightly before growing, eventually popping and exposing you to the elements. Which why? You were so vulnerable like that? Why not just give you to him directly? You were at risk like this. Couldn't they SEE THAT-

Whatever invisible force keeping you suspended gently laid you on your feet, which were bare, only adorned with an anklet matching your necklace. The tip of the sword in your hand clinked against the stone floor. The echo of it made your eyes, your gorgeous, gorgeous eyes, snap open. If he thought seeing you before was captivating, this was downright...enchanting. The light of your irises positively glowed as your silently gasped, hands tightening around the hilt of the weapon. He rushed to your side as he saw your balance falter, cradling you in his arms as one of your hands came to gently hold your own temple. Even just the sound of your groan made him swallow hard, fighting the blood threatening to rush to his (dick-) cheeks.

You blinked before realizing that he was not someone you knew, pushing him away with much more force than he would expect from someone fresh out of a comatose state. The only thing stopping him from wrapping his arms around you once more was the tip of the very blade now prodding at his neck. He swallowed.

"Who are you?" You demanded, hold on the weapon shaking just a tad.

(Which was so adorable. How someone like you, all soft skin and doe eyes, expected to make someone like him, rugged scars and gnarled morals, bend to you was beyond him.)

(But he'd love to see you try anyway.)

"Where are my people?! Or Queen Sonia and King Rauru?!" Oh, you were so cute.

He wanted to decimate that innocence you carried.

With a careful hand, he gently pushed the blade aside with the back of a hand, letting a smug smirk settle on his lips. Your cheeks immediately reddened as your attention remained on him. Just as he liked it, he decided then and there. He liked having your attention (and only yours) on him. But having you acting so hostile towards him just wouldn't stand. But you didn't know any better, not yet anyway, so he'd let it slide.

He gently explained that you had been fatally wounded protecting your people, something that your parents were endlessly proud of you for-- even in death. While it was a direct shot in his, admittedly lacking, heart to be the one to tell you of the passed time and the death of your parents (The sacrifice of your father and the betrayal that lead to your mother's death), he was evidently the best and only option. He understood, on an intimate level, what it was like to loose so much time, healing yourself, while the rest of the world carried on, carrying the loss of friends and family with it. He knew what it was like. It had to be why you two were so perfect for each other.

He held you as your cried, soothing down your hair as your tears (Which should never have been shed) soaked his shoulder. While he was never interested in defeating the Demon King for Zelda's sake, he may have just found another motive.

One much more worthy of his time and attention.

<><><><>

When he first saw you, he understood why you were hidden, on a surface level.

He understood why much more on a deeper, more intimate one now.

You were so bubbly. Even when faced with the devastation of your home, you remained optimistic, greeting the constructs that roamed around happily. Bestowing your cherished kisses (Those should belong to him.) upon their cold exterior while wiping them free of dirt. Even the wildlife that had squawked and charged at him crooned and chirped under your touch, hankering for the scratches you gifted them under the chin. You saw beauty in the overrun weeds and fauna, taking great interest in the new species that had popped up.

When he took to the mainland, via shrine travel because he would be damned before you got down the same way he originally did, it seemed like you couldn't see everything fast enough. You loved exploring the caves, despite the Like-Likes baring their disgusting teeth and innards (Which he quickly disposed of), ached to get as close as possible to the chasms (Which wasn't very as he refused to risk you falling in), yearned to traverse the mountain peaks and snow dunes of the mainland (Which killed him on the inside since didn't you know how dangerous those were?!).

You were quite the adventurer, full of inexperienced naivety and unpoised curiosity. The exact opposite of the princess he knew. He forgot you were royalty have the time with your mannerisms, nothing like Zelda. Which was so refreshing.

If only you weren't so fragile. He would never admit it (Too your face at least) that he's thought of just tying you down and keeping you in his (He saw it as your shared home these days) home. It was on the far outskirts of Tarrey town (Far enough no one would hear your cries for help should it come to that) with a pasture out front so you could keep a horse nearby as a friend (Should you behave).

(It wouldn't be a young, steady horse. No, most likely an older horse who had long since retired from any sort of running or getaway attempts.)

He just needed a way to keep you stationary.

And it hit him like a Hinox. You two were walking around Hateno (It was deemed safe and far enough from Tarry Town that it was still new to you), when you stopped, let out a high enough squeal his ears pinned to his head as his head snapped towards you. You were always in his peripheral, but now you were right in front of him with his hands quickly holding your arms, checking you over for injury. There were none, but you were beaming like someone had handed you a million rupees (He would. He could. He'd do it just for you), instead redirecting his attention with a call of 'Link, look!'. He had followed your line of sight just as you began squeezing his own hands, expecting you to be aweing over a cow or goat or, Goddess forbid, a dog again (You very nearly took one of stable dogs home last time). But you weren't.

And that's when it hit him.

You were loosing any semblance of a mind you had over a small infant, strapped to their mother's back by a wrap of some sort. The babe smiled at your reaction, letting out a small cascade of giggles that had you squealing in pure joy.

That was it.

The answer was right there! How could he have been so blind?! It was right there. If he gave you a baby, his baby no less, you would have no choice but to remain dormant. You would have to stay right where he put you to not only protect yourself, but to your protect your child. He had no doubt you would do it. You were too kind, too naive, for any other option. Once you figured out you were carrying his child, you'd fall for thing, claiming it as your own before it was any bigger than an apple seed.

And from then on it would just be a matter of formalities. You'd be his for the rest of your lives.

Exactly what he wanted.

Exactly what had led up to this moment. You were nothing but a babbling, crying mess underneath of him, pulling at the roots of his hair as he folded your legs against your chest. You were pleading with him, some mindless demand that he wasn't even sure you knew what you were asking, but it was background noise. He was too focused on watching the way he disappearing into your cunt, a milky sheen coating the shaft of his cock as heavy dollops of past loads dripped past your gaping opening. It was mesmerizing the way your body reacted to him, sucking him in and fighting him every time he pulled out. Even on an unconscious level, you ached for him. Not nearly as much as he breathed for you, but that would come with time. He knew it would. He'd ensure it.

The cry of his name on your lips had the coil in his gut steadily tightening as his pace picked up, thoroughly hammering your insides. He needed to make sure he was prodded right against your cervix for this to work. He needed to get this right. He needed to father any and all of your children. Starting here and now.

Whether you knew about it or not.

You had babbled something about him pulling out too long ago, but he had...distracted you with long laps at your clit and soft nipples along your thighs. He didn't even think of truly ruining you until you were clenching your thighs around his head and drenching his bottom jaw, too gone to properly process anything going on around you.

And he'd keep it that way.

His thumb, rough and calloused, rubbed harsh little circles into your clit, feeling it pulse in time with his ministrations. You whimpered beneath him, chest arching up to push against his own as you cried out, squeezing around him. You were positively milking him for every drop he had to offer.

There was no way you didn't want his children. Not with the way you were clenching around him as he jutted as far as he could go, filling your womb once more. You laid boneless beneath him, hands dropping to hang around his neck as he took a moment to breath. Your cunt spasmed once more and his cock twitched inside of you.

"You're not done yet, are you, Princess?" He purred into your ear, making it flicker as he rolled his hips against yours, even if overstimulation rocked his entire system in a flash of shot nerves.

None of that mattered to him. He had a mission. A mission he would do anything to accomplish.

Anything to keep you as his.

Yes, the reader was holding the Light Sword. Yes, I know that's not how you get it. I just thought it would be a cool tidbit bc YES, Sage seems like the type to get turned on by a hot princess threatening with a sword.

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #linkeduniverse #yandere legend of zelda #legend of zelda #loz #link x reader #cindersins #yandere sage #yandere sage x reader #yandere lu sage #yandere lu sage x reader #lu sage #sage is totk link

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jflemings · 7 months

Text

— like ribbons in your hair

pairing: kyra cooney-cross x raso!reader part 2

summary: kyra finds herself filled with envy whenever she thinks about her fellow matildas player. a chat with charli clears a few things up for her

warnings: none

a/n: fics inspired by songs might be my fav thing to write !!

kyra just couldn’t understand it. it didn’t matter that the two of you were close, how good you were with harper or even if you had scored a game winning goal, there was just a bitter envious feeling that she couldn’t shake.

at first she had thought that maybe it was because you were just a more naturally gifted player than she was. the way you effortlessly glided across the pitch with the ball at your feet seemed almost superhuman to her, almost like you had actually been given powers by the football gods that made you this unstoppable player. the fact that raso was the last name printed on your back didn’t really help, either.

at first, people had asked if you could even live up to hayley as a player, wondering if you could keep up with your older sister on the pitch. you had proved to everyone that you were not to be underestimated when you scored your first international goal from a distance, giving the matildas the win. kyra still remembers how she felt when she watched you score that goal. the pride that she felt had been so overwhelming that she needed to catch her breath and it only got worse when you ran at her with a wide grin, throwing your arms around her in celebration.

she also won’t forget the sight of you jumping into hayley’s arms after the penalty shootout against france in the world cup. matching hair ribbons fluttered in the air amongst the excitement, kyra’s eyes always managing to find you through the adrenaline.

even now, sitting in the change rooms before the first qualifying match in perth, kyra’s stomach is in knots. as hard as she tries to avoid it, her eyes keep finding you and that damn ribbon in your hair. usually she found it endearing that you and hayley wore matching ribbons every game. except for right now when all it’s doing is drawing her eyes to you.

kyra huffs in frustration before wringing out her hands and wiping them on her shorts in an attempt to let loose some of the pent up energy. charli, ever observant, sees kyra’s actions and furrows her brows in confusion. she takes note of the nerves that have settled themselves on the young midfielder’s shoulders but chooses not to say anything, deciding that after the game would be a better time for that conversation.

soon enough the team is walking out to the screams of keen fans, every player hyper-aware of all the eyes that have been on them since the world cup. even through the screams, anthems and kick-off that stupid yellow ribbon still catches kyra’s eye.

—

the game against iran had done a bit of a number on the team. with play constantly stopping and starting, everyone had been growing frustrated and tired by the end, just wanting to wrap it up.

kyra felt sluggish the whole way back the hotel, wanting nothing more than to have a shower and crawl into bed. her head rolls on her neck tiredly as she gets settled into her seat on the bus, her eyes wandering over all the faces of her teammates until it lands on yours.

despite being visibly tired, you were still smiling as you talked with mary, alanna and mackenzie. the lopsided grin currently spread on your face only widens as you laugh and alanna and macca’s tired banter, the four of you giggling at practically nothing.

maybe it’s the way kyra’s eyes soften, or the small smile that was slowly creeping onto her face, but something about kyra catches charli’s attention.

the blonde elbows the girl sitting next to her, evidently snapping her out of the trance you had put her under

kyra’s brows furrow in confusion “what?” she asks, rubbing her left bicep “what’d you do that for?”

charli tilts her head “what’s wrong with you today? it’s like you’ve just been going through the motions”

adjusting her sleeve, kyra leans further into her seat and away from her friend “it’s nothing” she mumbles, embarrassed that she’s obviously been caught.

charli clicks her tongue “you were fiddling before the match and as soon as it ended you were stuck to mini’s side like glue” she points out, lowering her voice “do you have a problem with y/n?”

kyra’s eyes go wide and she immediately squeezes charli’s wrist before trying to subtly look at the rows behind them, conscious of the fact that your older sister sits just two rows behind her.

she spots hayley drifting off, airpods in and eyes half-lidded and sighs deeply, turning back to look charli in the eye

“it’s not a problem” she emphasises “it’s just… a feeling”

the defender frowns in confusion “a feeling?” she questions “what type of feeling?”

kyra seems to lean further into her seat, now sitting with her back leaning against the window next to her “not a good one? i don’t know!” she exclaims as quietly as she can, trying to hide her embarrassment “it’s like everytime i look at her my stomach ends up in knots! i get this, like, jealous feeling in my chest and i hate it.”

you can practically see the lightbulb go off in charli’s head “jealous?” she asks “why didn’t you tell me you felt like that?”

“because it’s embarrassing!” kyra rushes, keeping her voice hushed “it makes me feel weird knowing i’m embarrassed of one of my close friends”

charli leans her head on her seat, now almost fully facing kyra side-on, and she smiles “are you sure it’s jealously, kyra?” she asks softly, not wanting to confuse or freak her friend out.

kyra scoffs and shakes her head in disbelief “i don’t know what else it could be” she grumbles “like, for instance, whenever she laughs with sam or when she ran straight to mary after she scored in the world cup my heart feels like it’s folding in on itself” kyra explains dully, clearly ashamed of this negative feeling she holds towards her friend “i hate it.”

charli soaks up kyra’s words, wary of what she says next “wanna know what i think? i think that you’re not actually jealous of y/n” she says softly, ducking her head in an attempt to catch kyra’s eye.

kyra looks at her confused “you really aren’t making any sense”

huffing, charli shift her weight “maybe you’re just trying to convince yourself that you’re jealous of y/n because you don’t want to admit that you actually have feelings for her.”

a pregnant silence overcomes the duo as kyra processes what charli has just suggested. her brain is completely frozen and she can’t meet charli’s eye, choosing to instead direct her attention elsewhere.

her eyes once again find you, because of course they would, and she begins tracing your facial features with her eyes from afar. she follows the line from the top of your forehead to the bottom of your chin, focusing on how peaceful you look even when you’re half asleep.

the revelation comes slowly, charli’s hushed words turning over and over in kyra’s head until she’s dizzy. her eyes widen ever so slightly, and her mouth goes slightly agape as kyra reminisces on your friendship and everything that has lead to this conversation in the quiet of the bus. unfortunately, as quick as it comes, it goes. the bus coming to a stop pulls the midfielder out of her crisis and back into reality, the quiet now slowly being filled with tired groans and moans of players stretching their limbs and shaking the pins and needles out of their legs.

charli’s eyes don’t leave kyra’s face as she stands, careful not to bump into mackenzie behind her. the blonde leans down, getting right in kyra’s personal space, and whispers delicately “just think about it, okay?”

all kyra can do in that moment is nod, aware that she probably looks more dazed than she feels, and stand in her place. she gathers her things and waits for charli to begin to walk down the isle of the bus, following her teammates into the comfort of the hotel with you on her mind.

#pegs woso #pegs tillies #pegs writes #kyra cooney cross #kcc #kyra cooney cross x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #matildas x reader

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lilibethwrites · 2 years

Text

Growing Pains

Aemond Targaryen and Y/N ‘Velaryon’ grew up together. They played and stumbled and fell in the halls and empty chambers of Red Keep, retreated to study tomes under the God’s Tree in the courtyard, and took turns distracting the cooks as their pockets pulled at the seams with the stolen lemon cakes. As Y/N and Aemond’s mothers drifted apart, the young prince and princess grew closer—much closer than either of them thought was possible.

This is a slow-burn, multi-chapter fic that will be (heavily) canon divergent at times. Both Aemond and Y/N are 18+.

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 (Finale)

Warnings: None for this chapter

Word count: 2180

A.N: This was in the works for a while, but only as a vague idea. Aemond being a total diva and enamouring everyone pulled it out of the drafts and put it together at lightning speed.

“Mother, please. This is not necessary,” Y/N stood still in front of a polished mirror as her soft protest fell on deaf ears. Behind her, Rhaenyra Targaryen held a brush gilded with delicate, gold dragons, and the soft bristles glided through silky white hair.

Rhaenyra would never admit it to anyone but herself in the safe retreat of her mind that half the tears she had wept the night Y/N was born were because she was blessed with a head full of white hair like a true Targaryen and Velaryon. Rhaenyra was relieved. She was relieved that at least one of her children would be spared the cruel jabs and accusations wherever she went. True, their words couldn’t be called accusations if they had truth to them, and what set Y/N apart from her older brothers was not blood, for they shared the same father, but a bit of luck or perhaps an intervention from the old Gods or the new. But the specifics eluded Rhaenyra, and no one needed to know any further.

Y/N had servants doting her from the moment she took her first breath—and not only because they had to, but because she was, not unlike her mother, a delight to be around—and yet for the ten and eight years she’s been alive, her hair was gently brushed and braided by her mother. Despite the fact that Y/N loved nothing more than to run around and come back to her chambers come afternoon with scrapes and dirt across her face and her hair a dishevelled disaster, Rhaenyra carefully brushed and braided her hair unceasingly, morning after morning.

So, a dismissive—loving, but dismissive nevertheless—hum was all Y/N got out of Rhaenyra.

“Two or one? Perhaps one over, and one under?”

“Only one, please. Leave the rest as is, I’m to take Tessarion out of the pit soon.”

Rhaenyra, in curiosity, cocked her head to the side to catch Y/N’s gaze in the reflection of the mirror. Meanwhile, her deft fingers dove in and out of strands of white hair, creating a tight, single braid that would soon twirl into a simple bun with a few pins.

“Have I not told you? Apologies. She hasn’t flown in days, and the weather seems well. It would do her good to—”

“Flying alone, are you?”

“No,” Y/N’s voice came out weak. A stronger “no” soon followed. “Vhagar is coming, too.”

“You mean Aemond,” Rhaenyra’s shapely brows furrowed into a disapproving frown.

It didn’t take a Sister of the Faith or the Spymaster of the court to know that Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent weren’t what they once were. A collateral of their bitter falling out was her somewhat sudden disapproval of how much time Y/N had spent with Aemond. “That boy’s nothing but bad influence,” she’d complain over dinner. Daemon would hum in agreement, though the agreement, Y/N knew, did not come from his heart. Y/N always had her suspicion that Daemon and Aemond had mutual respect, and perhaps a slight hint of admiration for one another. Though both were too proud to ever be anything other than reverential to one another whenever they crossed paths. Even so, Daemon saw Y/N with Aemond several times, and reassured Rhaenyra that she only spent time with the servant girls, helping them fold heavy tapestries all day long.

Y/N however, felt differently. Despite her childish cruelty towards Aemond before he’d claimed Vhagar for himself, he was nothing but sweet and kind to her. She was in on cruel pranks played on him, parading around a much smaller Tessarion whilst asking him why did he not have a dragon, and could he perhaps be a bastard himself since his egg hadn’t hatched.

“You know, Tessarion was a goddess in old Valyria. Mother helped me choose a name for my dragon. From the tomes of our Maester. When will you get a dragon? You’re older than me. Besides, everyone else has one. Except for you,” Y/N once pressed Aemond as a child, instigated and encouraged by her brothers and Aemond’s.

“Perhaps never,” Aemond responded quietly, unbeknownst to both himself and Y/N that things would change quite soon.

And change they did. Aemond claimed the biggest dragon in the known realm. He changed, too. He hopped off from his first flight as a man: colder, calmer, more distant and cruel. Yet he always reserved a warmer, softer place in his frozen heart for Y/N.

Aemond never regarded himself handsome, and he was too smart to fool himself with Alicent’s excuses as to why young ladies around Red Keep avoided her. But not Y/N. Never Y/N. She beamed up whenever they sat across from each other at the breakfast tables and dinner feasts. Though their games changed, the time they spent together never lessened. She seemed almost *happy* to see him, but Aemond took great care to remind himself it was a kind, friendly gesture from a well-behaved lady. Though he couldn’t dare say it out loud unless he risked a playful slap to his broad shoulder with a feigned-stern warning that Y/N was not a lady.

“By the Gods! I’m NOT a lady. I’ll wear an armour, like you. Don’t laugh. You will see. I will never get married. I won’t fall in love. It’s absurd. Mother says she said the same thing once, but she ended up fighting in the same battlefield all women do,” Y/N stomped her feet to the pit just last week with Aemond following behind with a lopsided smile.

“And what battlefield is that, my not-a-lady?”

“The birthing bed, of course! It’s absurd. Truly. It’s a horror! I’m never falling in love.”

Aemond only hummed, nodding as Y/N trailed off, nearing the end of another one of her rants about the perils of ladyhood. Though that time, his face fell. There was a stinging ache inside him, as if Ser Criston finally got him in one of their training sessions. Why did it matter if Y/N disavowed love? So what if she was sworn off marriage? Didn’t he do the very same as he stared at the grotesque scar that ran across his face? Besides, if she were to fall in love, it would be with a handsome and flirty Lannister, or a ravishing Velaryon who would whisper promises in her ear that he’d sail her across the whole realm, showing her palaces and gardens from the comfort of her own ship. Y/N grew into an attractive lady, and while Aemond himself grew taller and muscular, he was not fortunate enough to grow another eye in place of the one he lost. Though the trade was far from fair, sometimes a certain thought snuck into his mind, especially when he was with Y/N: he would trade Vhagar back for his eye, and then, perhaps Y/N would see him differently. It was a silly thought, and he chased it off as soon as it came, but by the Gods it was persistent.

“Good morning,” Y/N squinted an eye to stare up at the man with his back to her. She needn’t see his face to know her dragon-riding partner. Not because almost all her waking thoughts were plagued, in one way or the other, with him—it was indecent and quite frankly went against what she’d promised herself—Gods, no! But, well, he was tall and stood a certain way and shifted his weight from one foot to the other a certain way and his hair blew in the tender morning breeze a certain way and that breeze carried a certain scent that Y/N could distinguish from a feast hall full of smells—only because they grew up together. Perhaps Maester was right and reading too many romances was indeed perilous for a fresh mind like hers.

“Morning? Is it not past noon?”

“No. Perhaps you have suffered a blow to your head.”

Aemond smiled first. He always let Y/N win their playful bickering.

A gentle tap on his arm signalled him to follow along, though with his long legs he could’ve easily caught up with no warnings. His arms were folded behind him. Perhaps it was a feeble attempt at ensuring that his hands didn’t defy his mind and reach for Y/N’s, or perhaps, they were just comfortable like that.

“Are you excited?” Y/N broke the silence, stepping closer to Aemond, who always had to arch his back or crane his neck to meet her height. It amused him how petite she was in comparison. It reminded him of the times he carried her behind his back, with her legs locked around his waist and her arms almost suffocating him with how tight she’d clutched his neck from behind.

“What for?”

“The wedding, of course. Gods, you behave as if Aemon is not your brother sometimes!”

“Can you blame me?”

“No…” Y/N trailed off. She found that she couldn’t blame him for much, but perhaps for coming into her mind and filling her ears each time a suitor introduced himself to her, or when the Maester bored her to death with another history lesson.

“Well, are you?”

“No. I suppose not. Frankly, I’m not certain why I even asked,” Y/N chuckled. She could be herself the most and speak with no reservations or designations when she was around Aemond. The idea that he would soon follow after Aegon and marry a woman infuriated her. They could no longer spend as much time together as they could now, and they couldn’t be as close as they were either. The grass-green dragon of jealousy got the better of her. Oh, how she wished he’d let his arms idle by his side as he usually did. She would take his arm and tell him if she absolutely had to marry someone, she’d choose him, and she wouldn’t hate the notion of giving him a baby or two who would look exactly half like him and half like her. And despite telling herself this exact tale almost every day, she never quite gathered enough confidence and courage to do such a thing.

So instead Y/N flew alongside Aemond as usual. He showed off and she admired whenever she thought he didn’t look. High up above the clouds, Y/N thought about never landing down again. She fantasized about taking off with Aemond. She had once read in a tome about how the old Valyrians got married, and the words turned into pictures in her mind as she watched Vhagar glide through a flock of birds. The blood was first drawn from a palm she thought about pressing against hers whenever sleep eluded her. Then, the sharp Dragonglass cut hers, and the flow of their blood united in a mysterious Valyrian magic. Then—then, Aemond pulled Y/N out of her sweet fantasy and back to the clouds they were flying above.

“It’s getting late. Your mother might worry.”

“Or perhaps you’ve had enough of my company? Would you rather be elsewhere?”

The smile faded from Y/N’s face as the silence went on. It was a “yes”, then? Aemond did want to be elsewhere, perhaps with someone else, and she would find out through a silly tease.

“No. But I would rather you were not in trouble on my account.”

The delayed, stoic answer didn’t do much to comfort Y/N. So, that’s what he would come up with as an excuse to cut our time short? Might as well admit that you would rather be anywhere but here, why won’t you, Aemond?

“Actually, yes. We should land. I forgot I have a suitor coming all the way from the Eyrie.” That was a lie, and an immature one at that, but Aemond didn’t need to know.

He looked back over his shoulder. The hiss laced with disappointment and fury was swallowed up by the wind raised by Vhagar’s wings.

Back at the Pit, Aemond was courteous as always, hopping off Vhagar first to hold his hand out to Y/N, helping her off her dragon. Though this time, his hand didn’t reach for her waist to aid her in her small jump, and the lack of his touch through his gloves and her heavy brocade riding coat burned her flesh from the inside out like scorching iron. His face was turned to the side, his hands idle with the saddle on Vhagar as Y/N idled, praying to all the Gods she knew to pry a word of assurance out of Aemond’s mouth. A sweet, warm confirmation that they are still—well, friends. Yet it never came. A quiet, almost distant “Be well, princess,” was all that she got and a sharp piece of Dragonglass cut her open from neck to the heart. Far more painful and deadlier than an open palm, and no matching cut to bind their lives together, either. Perhaps the idea of marrying the very next lord that asked for her hand and getting away from King’s Landing—a place that once held much hope and happiness but now nothing but anguish—once and for all wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #hotd

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

Note

Was I the asshole for burning the bridge w my half brother last xmas?

(pls read to the end, tw for drug use mentioned and death mentioned, r slur mentioned)

So I (23, agender) am the youngest of 4 siblings, all my older siblings are from my mom's first marriage and I'm from her second. I grew up with my 3 siblings as my siblings, no half sibling language bc it doesn't matter. However, the one who was born before me, S (31, m) has never particularly liked me, he was kind when I was very small, we played hockey together briefly in the gym of my old church, he showed me miniclip games, etc. but at one point due to my oldest brother's (would be 35 this yr, rip) drug problem S was sent to live w my grandparents, my grandfather is very against hugging or crying for men and just caused S to bottle everything. Plus, my mom suspects that S felt abandoned understandably by the family. But my mom had a bipolar husband, a son w undiagnosed BPD and a c-ke addiction, my sister was, iirc, either in another province with her bio dad and I was under 6 years old. She was going through it and just physically couldn't handle any more than she already had. She had a nervous breakdown a few years after the whole older brother thing. After my oldest brother died, and I came out as agender I just kinda became bitter, I was raised in a very conservative christian environment so I wasn't encouraged to be queer and my initial coming out caused a lot of pain. A few years later I got into a relationship with my fiance and just overall started wanting to run away, something I'd been thinking for years, but it was even stronger. Even my sister ran away in her way. My brother too. My dad passed away last year in March, and that was just...the last straw for me. My dad, despite all his flaws was always there for me, and now he was gone. Throughout all this time (the 13 years sibce we were last a happy family), anytime I'd express interest in something, S would call it r-t--ded, he'd put down anything and everything I liked, I'll admit I always was a cringey kid, but it's no excuse to call me that. Over this time, he'd make little comments and things and my dad would also make small mentions that led me to believe that some of the gifts he'd given me were stuff he didn't want anymore, so he just handed them to me. One bday he gave me his old gameboy and a few games. No wrapping or anything, just my mom reminding him it was my bday and him calling me over and handing it over. I loved that gameboy mind you.

Cut to last xmas! I was bitter and feeling petty. S at this point had never bothered building a relationship despite my attempts. Relationships, family or otherwise, are a 2-way thing imho.

So, I gave him some candies, this reindeer dog thing he had given me when I was like 10, and wrapped it up w a card I wrote that said "I burn this bridge" and a few other things. He was disappointed with the plush, I thought it was bc he had actually put thought in that one. He said "no it's just the principal of things!"

So, Tumblr, am I the Asshole?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #slur cw

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ladykailitha · 4 months

Text

Look, considering I've only gotten involved in Stranger Things after season four and therefore haven't been around the fans during other new season filming starts, but my brothers/sisters/nb in fandom what the honest fuck is going on right now?

I have been a part of other fandoms when new seasons started filming and the worst I'd seen was BBC Sherlock. And you lot are behaving worst then they did.

And Jesus fuck, that's a fucking low ass bar.

(Again I am ship and let ship, kinktomato, and headcanon free for all)

But this is just what I've seen in my small deliberately secluded corner of the internet so forgive me if I get some things wrong.

Ronance fans have turned on Steddie fans.

Steddie fans are trying to eat each other over who tops and who bottoms between two horny, barely out of their teens, men.

Eddie is confirmed dead.

Dustin is trying to become Eddie.

People want Will dead because Noah Schnapps said some stupid shit regarding genocide.

And Argyle isn't coming back.

I'm going to give you my feelings on these so buckle up lets go:

1- Steddie and Ronance fans have turned on each other. And I know this because I doom scroll through steddie tag. That Ronance fans think Steddie fans are delusional and that they're going down after season five airs and there will be more Ronance fans because they're perfect for each other.

Where to even begin on this? First, never tell a shipper that their ship is never going to be canon because they don't care. Just ask all the Destiel, johnlock, and merarthur fans. Steddie fans are just going to ignore all but the most salient parts of season 5 if Eddie doesn't come back and write AUs for the rest of their lives. You know, like they have since the last scene on the Piggyback faded to black?

Secondly, I don't think I've seen much Ronance without Steddie. Granted I only read Steddie, but it seems that the two ships are tied pretty heavily together. The fruity four comes to mind. So maybe it's that they're getting tired of being a side ship next to a massive one like Steddie. Who knows. But apparently they're bitter.

And I say that because they keep tagging their anti-Steddie posts as Steddie to make sure we see it. Honestly, I just block them and go about my day. But seriously, I've never understood people's need to be shitty like posting hate on the tag for that thing. If you don't like it, fine. Block and move on.

Thirdly. Lastly. Maybe. I don't like Ronance. I saw the charms when I first joined the fandom and it was cute. Until the more I read and I realized that most of the time they don't bring up that Jonathan is even a person let alone Nancy's current boyfriend. That most of the time Steve is written wildly out of character about not caring that they're a couple and that he just wants them to be happy. Like, one Jonathan is severely under used in the fics I've read. Like Will doesn't have an older brother anymore. It's all Steve or Eddie. Which considering how you like your flavor of queer for Eddie or Steve (gay/pan/bisexual) Will talking to them about being gay makes sense, but Jonathan showed us in the last season that he is going to protect Will no matter what. Then blip! in fanfics, he's gone.

And then the whole Steve being okay with Robin not only dating an ex-girlfriend of his, but the ex. The one he thought he was going to marry. The one he dreamed a whole fucking future on. That was still hurt by two fucking years later. You either think very lowly of Steve or you just don't care. Because if you think Robin and Steve are the same person/share the same braincell/ride or die for life, there is no way even if Nancy threw herself at Robin would she even consider it. (I can write a whole ass post just on this by the way, don't get me started.)

2- This is the most recent bullshittery due to a current event about Sub Eddie. This is the worst discourse in any fandom and the worst offenders on either side tend say the most homophobic shit imaginable.

And it's pointless. Whether you think Steve is a top or bottom, whether you think he's dom or a sub. Same with Eddie. Everyone has their own flavor they prefer and they won't always match up with yours.

Personally I write them whatever feels natural for the story. But here's the major crux of the matter. I don't believe a little nerd in Bumfuck, Indiana has any idea what flagging is. I'm sorry. Left pocket, right pocket. Doesn't matter. The likely of him even knowing what BDSM is is pretty slim. I grew up in a small town. There will be some people that know, but that's because they know adults in the scene.

Don't like, don't read. Seriously, guys. Let people enjoy what they want to.

My personal feelings on the matter is that Steve is a bottom/sub because he deserves to be taken care of and Eddie would absolutely want to be that person for Steve, in and out of the bedroom. Again, you do you, beau.

3- The tombstone. Sigh. It was hard to see that. Not just because it confirms he's dead, but because it's been defaced. Most likely like fans have said, "BURN IN HELL" the poor bastard.

Having a tombstone doesn't necessarily preclude Eddie's return. There are several ways he can still comeback Kas! theory not withstanding. But the wank here is people jumping on Steddie shippers and Eddie fans in general pointing and screaming "see!"

Like we didn't have campaigns for Barb and Bob and (Billy). If someone's favorite character has died, don't be dicks when they want them to be resurrected a la Jim Hopper. Because that right there is the main reason people will still hold out hope until the final scene fades to black, okay?

I guess this one is just be nicer to each other, okay?

4- *sob* like holy fuck. Dustin you sweetheart. The long hair, the torn Hellfire t-shirt, the rings. The horns and sticking out his tongue. That poor boy needs several hugs STAT! And of course, people can't leave well enough alone on Facebook, I couldn't tell you how many of the comments were "steddie fans are going to make this all about them, aren't they?" Even though there wasn't a single comment by a Steddie making it about Steve/Eddie. But so many eye rolls. The other half were death threats against Noah Schnapp.

Which brings me to...

5- Noah Schnapp said some really shitty things about Zionism and the attack on Gaza. There is no escaping that. He said them. He double downed on them. And while yes it sucks he said those things, let's not forget he's still young and stupid. He's barely 18/19 years old. I remember being that age and saying stupid fucked up shit, and hoo boy does this make me grateful I was well into adulthood when the internet became a thing (24ish).

There are a lot of reasons to be upset by his comments and I get that. But death threats and calls for his dismissal/boycotts just seems excessive to me.

One, because the story began with a kidnapped little boy and a runaway little girl. If you get rid of one of them especially this close to the end it would fuck up the story. Now if there was more than one season left, sure. But this is literally the end. And for all we know, Will's character may already be doomed by the narrative. So calling for it now isn't go to do anything. Especially since they already had all the scripts written and would have finished filming if it hadn't been for the strikes.

Two, one person on the cast said something stupid and hurtful and you want to boycott the entire show for it? Like, what did David Harbor, Joe Keery, Maya Hawke, Millie Bobby Brown and all the others do to deserve you boycotting their show? If the last season tanks it could seriously hurt their careers, but hey Noah Schnapp said something bad, so fuck them?

I'm going to stop there, because this is another one I can go on and on about, but yeah. Don't hurt other people in your rush to vilify an 18 year old.

6- Eduardo Franco recently said that he didn't get a call so he didn't think he would be back. He was sure that ship had sailed.

Fans are upset, naturally. Argyle was a sweetheart and deserves better than to be cut from the story like that.

But thanks to the incident with David Harbor and Jim Hopper supposedly being dead, a lot of fans are saying he's only saying that because it's a "secret" he's coming back. Which would make sense for Eddie or any of the other character died. Martin Brenner, for example, but not Argyle. There would be no need for subterfuge. Plus, he would already be out in Georgia if he was coming back.

It's sad that he was done dirty this way, but if they split up the filming like they've done before there is still a chance he might get to come back, but as far as the current filming is concerned, yeah Argyle isn't coming back.

***

Just... be kind to each other. Remember that the other people on the end of the URL is an actual person with feelings. That people can like what they like so if they aren't hurting you, don't hurt them, okay?

#my writing #stranger things #ladykailitha rants #tw wank #fandom wank #season 5

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rootingforbada · 5 months

Text

Crimson Snow: Mistletoe and Memories ❄️

disclaimers: this story contains angst, sad, tension, literally no happy ending feels, drama and it's bada's pov. remember it's a work of fiction, none of this represents what i truly think about bada's/bebe's character or nature! it is meant for fun and entertainment purposes only. also, i'm not a native english speaker and this is my first ever fanfiction so keep that in mind and be nice please. thank you 🩵

Summary: "Old flames, city lights, and buried memories — Bada Lee, against her own wishes, returns to Incheon for Christmas. Amidst the moonlit whispers and the unyielding snowfall, she's compelled to confront a past she believed buried beneath the frost."

WC: 2.1k

"Yes, mom, i'll be there for Christmas," i muttered into the phone, my voice tinged with a hint of disdain.

"This city gives me the creeps," i ponder.

Incheon is like a patchwork of bitter memories; every street corner bears the weight of choices made and opportunities lost. This place represents a chapter of my life I struggle to bury.

Regrets, disappointments—I tried to shove those aside a while ago, or at least attempted to.

Nevertheless, i made a promise to my mother about being there for Christmas. What foolishness it is to commit to something i might not fulfill. Yet, is it too late to reconsider? Can i claim i couldn't secure a flight on time?

Idiot; no turning back now. I wonder how much longer i'll keep evading my past.

"I just wish i don't run into her there," i murmur with a slight tremor in my tone. I knew all too well whom i was talking about.

It's exactly 9 o'clock, my train departs in about 30 minutes. Unfortunately, i'll be in Incheon in a few hours.

"I can't believe you're finally coming back here! I guess i'll have to spend Christmas at your mom's house if that's the case," a sharp, loud feminine voice speaks over the phone; Lusher, a childhood friend.

Lusher has always been with me throughout our high school years and even into adulthood. Despite me moving to Busan a few years ago, we've kept in touch. She always mentions how much she misses me and that i should visit more often, to which i consistently reply, "Maybe someday."

It seems that day has finally come.

"Stop. Don't get too excited; i don't intend to spend much time in this place," I retort, my tone indifferent.

"The entire city already knows you're coming back, Bada."

Briefly, i freeze and fall silent. I only plan to make a short visit to my family, precisely.

"Incheon is wide-ranging; i doubt everyone really knows," I reply, an attempt to reassure myself that my plans won't change.

"Lin knows."

As soon as she counters, i instinctively hang up the phone, my back colliding with the seat of the moving train.

This definitely cannot be happening.

I was praying fervently not to encounter her during my time in Incheon, and i hope it stays that way. Regardless, she wouldn't want to see me after all these years... no, she hates me. I hope she hates me.

It felt like time stood still; i couldn't tell whether i had plunged into a deep sleep during those four hours of travel or if i had ended up in a temporal lapse. I open my eyes, and there's Incheon Station outside the window.

The time has come to face this city once again, with people bustling around, knee-deep in Christmas preparations just hours away.

I step off the train, grab my luggage, and find myself compelled to smile at strangers who somehow recognized me, waving as they passed. Perhaps they did, considering i gained some visibility after opening my dance studio in Busan. Or maybe it's simply because i am notably taller than the average Korean women; either of these reasons would be plausible.

My eyes scan the surroundings, searching for a familiar figure in the crowd. Mom said she would be waiting at the end of the station, my next stop.

"Bada!" Someone yells my name amid that human sea, resembling canned sardines.

My older sister came to greet me, slightly shorter than me, with a delicate and sweet appearance framed by her impeccably cared-for dark brown hair and welcoming smile.

"Haeda!" i respond, happy to see a familiar face, rushing to hug her.

"Mom couldn't come; she's busy with preparations for the dinner later," she shares, helping me with the luggage. "Lots of people are excited to see you, little sister! We're glad you've come back."

"I haven't come back; i'm just joining you for this Christmas season," I respond seriously, making it clear my stay won't extend beyond Christmas.

"You've always been a bit grumpy, haven't you?" she laughs, teasingly.

Finally out of the station, we settle into a taxi. During the ride, we chat casually and laugh about things that happened during our time apart. I'm trying to have some fun as much as possible.

"So, how's your love life?" she asks, innocently.

Oh, crap.

"I don't really want to get into that," i reply, slightly irritated by the question. The fun and nice atmosphere that surrounded us moments ago seems to have abruptly evaporated.

"Seems like you still think about Lin," she murmurs softly to herself, sighing calmly, yet i hear her loud and clear.

I arch my eyebrows, surprised and bothered by Haeda's comment. I plan to stay silent, but i can't resist.

"Why do you always bring her into everything? It's been years since we last spoke; she was just a kid. Now, forget about it," i assert firmly aiming to put an end to the subject once and for all. The silence in the taxi becomes deafening.

Not even five minutes pass, and i ask the taxi make an unscheduled stop.

"Aren't you going home?" my sister inquires, confused.

"I promised to have lunch with Lusher; there's a café around here," i reply, still maintaining a slight arrogance in my voice.

"I'll drop your bags off at home then," she understands, nodding.

I step out of the vehicle and grab my phone, immediately calling Lusher, asking her to meet me where i am. She agrees without a second thought.

A short time passes, and i spot a girl of average height, black hair, always smiling, with a high-pitched voice that stands out in the crowd. She runs towards me as soon as she sees me.

"Is that really you, Bada? It's been ages since i saw you. Have you grown even more?" Lusher enthusiastically hugs me, talking without even taking a breath.

"Looks like you're still talkative... and no, of course, i haven't grown more. I'm already 26. Now I'm just going to shrink," i reciprocate her warm hug as we head to the café.

"Tell me, how's Busan? How's your studio doing? I want the whole scoop!"

"We don't have time for me to give you the full rundown. Overall, the city is comfy, and the studio is doing well," i say, a bit curt; i'm not one to drag out my words.

"That's it? Nothing interesting happening?" she says in a frustrated sigh, still curious about my life.

"I know where you're going with this, miss Lusher, but i'm not commenting on that. I'm kind of fed up with this topic," i respond, making my exasperation clear.

We lapsed into silence for a few minutes until someone finally spoke up; she seemed nervous.

"Listen, i messaged Lin yesterday." She pauses, intending to continue talking.

Lin, Lin, Lin—I'm tired of hearing that name.

"She seems to want to talk to you," Lusher finishes, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Unfortunate. I've already stated that I'm only here for Christmas with my family," i halt, clenching my fists, wanting to say more but finding myself unable.

"Bada, you know she was deeply hurt after you left." Lusher attempts to ease the situation. "After all, you left without telling anyone, not even me."

"I didn't have to tell anyone. I've said that before; new opportunities arose, and that's what happened. Am I to blame for considering my future?" I say, feeling a slight warmth in my body due to the anger this topic brings up

"There's no issue with you wanting to pursue your dreams; the problem was leaving her in the dark out of nowhere. I think you should talk."

"Lusher, i've had enough. I don't owe her any explanations, it's over. I've paved my own way, and she's chosen hers, end of story." Rising abruptly, i toss money on the table for Lusher to settle the bill and i make a swift exit.

I sense Lusher's gaze on me, even though i haven't cast a glance back after leaving the place.

This is why i hate this city—the people, the environment, everything reminds me of her. I despise it; I despise being so coward and weak, unable to endure an environment where her name lingers. Tears stream down my face as i silently reassure myself, "The past is the past; it'll be fine."

It won't be fine.

For quite a while, i just roam around the city, immersed in the festive Christmas decorations and the chilly yet pleasant atmosphere. Families stroll along snow-covered roads, little cafes are buzzling with events, and everyone radiates happiness, caught up in the joy of being together—while i meander alone. I'm the odd one out here.

The city lights gradually begin to flicker on, signaling the encroaching darkness. It's time to head home for the Christmas Eve feast, but before that, i need something to ease my stress.

I head to a nearby convenience store, searching for a pack of cigarettes. I randomly choose any available brand, pay, and head towards a secluded alley.

Turns out, i'm not the only one there; a woman next to me doing the same, and i can't quite see her face. I shake my pockets, searching for my lighter.

"Fuck..." i mutter softly as i lean against the wall, frustrated.

Suddenly, i notice something fall to the ground, accompanied by words.

"Pick it up," the woman, slightly mysterious but oddly familiar, says, tossing the lighter onto the snow-covered ground.

I quickly bend down to grab it. "Thanks," I express promptly, attempting to say something more. "Do you come here often?"

"Sometimes, only when i think about my ex." She pulls the cigarette calmly, allowing the smoke to envelop her face in a thin mist. An ephemeral cloud of smoke slowly wafts around me.

"We're in the same boat," i muse, giving a little laugh at her comment. "Does your ex smoke?"

"Since I've known her. She was always cautious so i wouldn't end up like her; nevertheless, here i am," she narrates with a tense tone.

"You shouldn't smoke; judging by your voice, you've quit for a long time. You should stop while you still can," i suggest while lighting my cigarette with the borrowed lighter.

"Look who wants to give me a moral lecture," she laughs, mocking. The whole situation is ironic.

"Pfft, you don't even know me; you probably think i'm a hypocritical smoker," i admit, in a casual tone.

"Definitely."

"Maybe i really am, but I still have feelings!" I laugh, playfully.

She seems serious now, and we stay silent for a few seconds.

"Have you ever thought about your ex's feelings when you two broke up?" she inquires, finishing her last drag before dropping the cigarette on the ground and crushing it under her foot.

I remain motionless, confused, and unsure of how to respond.

"I'm just messing with you; after all, i don't even know you." She lets out a nervous laugh before completely disappearing into the darkness of that dimly lit alley.

"I'm home," i announce, slipping off my shoes and opening the door.

My mother greets me with a smile as she sets the dining table with the help of my father and sister.

"You're here! It's so good to see you, dear," my mother smiles warmly and hugs me. The scent of kimchi fills the air; she must have been cooking for a long time.

"What's that smell of smoke..." She makes a disgusted face, and i quickly plan an excuse.

"There were some delinquents smoking in the streets; the smell must have clung to me," i say cautiously.

"Looks delicious," i observe the meal on the table after greeting everyone present, trying to change subjects. Despite my reservations about Incheon and the memories this city brings, i feel welcomed and relieved with my family by my side.

"Let's eat!" My father exclaims, excitedly, sitting down and preparing to enjoy the eagerly anticipated tteokguk, a unique skill of my mother.

A few minutes were left for the long-awaited December 25th, and the countdown unfolded gradually.

"I'm eager to know what you brought for us from Busan, little sister!"

"Did i have to bring a present?" I laugh ironically, joking. "Just kidding, i'm sure you guys will like it!"

1 minute to the 25th.

"Wow, i can already hear the neighbors starting the countdown," my sweet and dear mother says.

A sound echoes at the door.

"Knock, knock."

30 seconds to the 25th.

"Oh, let me get that!" I quickly get up from my seat and head to the door.

10 seconds to the 25th.

I grab the keys and swiftly unlock the door, while my family had already started the countdown.

"5... 4... 3... 2... 1..."

I can't believe who is on the other side of the door.

"Lin?"

"Merry Christmas!" the whole family celebrates in unison as i stand there, paralyzed, looking at my former love standing right in front of me.

aaand we're done! i don't know if i should make it a series or not since i'm the lazy type but lmk! also tysm for @/kiyaedits for the dividers. i hope you enjoyed this as much as i did, thank you for reading. ❄️

#bada lee x reader #bada lee #angst #light angst #swf2 x reader #swf2 #bada lee swf2 #bada x oc #bada x reader #sw fic #bada lee au #bada lee fanfic

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sotwk · 8 days

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Hi! I saw you mention that you have some headcanons about why Celebrían left Middle-earth. I'd love to hear them if you want to share them! I love hearing people's headcanons about her 💕 — @emyn-arnens

The Fate of Celebrían

According to the "Sons of the Woodland King" AU

In the SotWK AU, Celebrían is perhaps the most beloved friend of Thranduil's wife, Elvenqueen Maereth (more info on that here), so she is a significant supporting character in the stories I have planned for the Greenwood royal family. (She's already appeared in a couple of my fics, if you look closely.)

Canon details are sparse when it comes to Celebrían's abduction, torture, and passing over the Sea. Here are the headcanons I have developed to fill in the blanks of the "how's" and "why's":

Content warning: Brief but non-graphic discussions of violence, torture, and character death.

SotWK Fancast: Connie Nielsen as Celebrían ("older" version)

The Abduction and Attack

Celebrían was not alone when she was abducted by the orcs at the Redhorn Pass. Besides having the strong escort of Rivendell guards, her cousin Nimeithel (oc, younger sister of Nimloth and niece of Celeborn) was with her.

The attack was not random; Celebrían was specifically targeted by these orcs under the orders of Sauron himself. Hurting her was a strategic blow to two of the Dark Lord's most hated and feared enemies: Galadriel and Elrond. However, there is reason to believe that Sauron hated and feared the power and light of the Lady of Imladris herself.

Nimeithel and half the escort were killed fighting in the initial ambush, while the rest were incapacitated.

The orcs took special care to immediately drug and weaken Celebrían, for they wanted to keep her alive but also prevent her from using the powers they feared her to have. They were afraid of her, except they feared Sauron more.

Poisoned and bound, Celebrían was certainly physically tortured to the brink of death, but what has been less mentioned is the emotional/psychological torture of the orcs methodically torturing and killing her friends one by one in front of her.

The Rescue and Aftermath

Celebrían was found on the third day of her abduction which, all things considered, was a swift rescue. But by the time her sons Elladan and Elrohir got to her, unspeakable damage had been done. She was also the sole survivor of the travel party.

Needless to say, not a single one of those orcs made it out alive either, as the wrath of the Peredhil fell upon them.

As has been canonically stated, Elrond succeeded in healing his wife of all physical injuries she sustained. Additional help came from Galadriel and Elvenqueen Maereth. Within weeks, Celebrían's body was healthy again, albeit scarred.

In regards to how she "lost all delight in Middle-earth", I think this is most commonly interpreted as an unshakable and deadly depression. My AU's take however, is that Celebrían felt herself becoming overwhelmed not by grief and despair, but by bitterness and hatred and rage.

The experience did not leave Celebrían weepy and quailing, but angry, vengeful, and vindictive--a very far cry from her peaceful, compassionate self.

The Decision to Leave

Celebrían had always been spiritually strong and very "emotionally intelligent" (high E.Q.); arguably more so than even Elrond. She was quick to realize that her heart and the core of her personality had been compromised and irreversibly damaged.

Memories and nightmares of her abduction plagued her, and despite her best efforts, she could barely contain their effects on her behavior and demeanor. She became prone to angry outbursts, sullen and withdrawn, and tempted by violent thoughts and fantasies.

Elladan and Elrohir, the children most closely bonded to her, were most affected by this, and it drove their unquenchable hatred towards orcs for the rest of their lives, long after their mother departed.

With her intuition and foresight, Celebrían saw that the growing darkness inside her that she could not restrain would only poison the rest of her family (parents, husband, children), if they continued to watch her suffer and struggle.

She knew they all had very important parts to play in the coming battles and the final stand against the Dark Lord, and she refused to distract them or become a hindrance to their destinies.

Celebrían made the difficult decision to ask Elrond to let her sail to the Blessed Realm, where she would be incapable of hurting or adversely influencing anyone, and where she could rest and wait for him in peace.

At first Elrond could not bring himself to let his beloved wife go, but Galadriel's counsel about the future and advice to trust Celebrían's judgement eventually convinced him.

Elladan and Elrohir had to be persuaded by their mother NOT to sail with her, but both vowed that they "will see her again", hinting that they had already decided on their own fates.

Celebrían consoled her grieving family by telling them that in staying, they will "know the joy of seeing Hope reborn"--her foretelling of Aragorn's birth 400 years later.

Thank you for the thoughtful Ask, @emyn-arnens! <3 I loved sharing these with you and I am honored you care to know about my headcanons/AU.

I have many happier ones about our beloved Lady of Imladris, including how powerful and skilled and talented she was, and her tremendous influence and contributions to the foundation and growth of the Last Homely House. Not to discredit Elrond or anything, but I refuse to believe that was all just HIS doing. :)

For more SotWK AU headcanons: SotWK HC Masterlist

Elves HC Tag List: Tags be added in comments temporarily while Tumblr tags are malfunctioning.

#sotwk answers #sotwk headcanon #celebrian #elrond #elladan and elrohir #elrond peredhel #peredhil #lotr #tolkien #lord of the rings

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letsgetrowdy43 · 5 months

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Timeline—

Au Masterlist!!

Evangeline "Angie" Chandler is from Dallas, Texas. She was raised there by her mother and father, alongside her older and younger sister.

Her mother played hockey alongside Ellen when they were little and remained one of her closest friends up until graduating from college, the two of them lost contact as their lives got busy and they both gained a career and families.

But they got close again when a scout reached out to the Chandler family and offered Angie a position on the USNTDP team, while they were searching for a suitable Billet family they saw Ellen and Jim's names on the list of available rooms and knew that Angie would be in good hands.

Ellen had quite the house full, Quinn was at Umich, Luke and Jack were still at home, and Angie and Alex Turcotte moved into the remaining spare bedrooms as Billet kids. It was hectic, but was so much fun.

Angie loved living with the Hughes, and Ellen quickly became her idol as the mother helped her through the acclimation to playing on an all-boys team, she helped with the tears and the breakdowns, talking her out of quitting her sport when her actual mother couldn't be there to help her through it all.

Angie finishes out her two years with the program, makes an insane name for herself, and suddenly she gets a call from the NHL inviting her out to the combine

The Combine goes well, she is obviously athletically gifted so she does all of the testing just fine, her interviews with teams were a little disheartening, but her ones with the Devils and the Sabres both felt really promising.

Now that it's known throughout the league that a girl was invited out to participate amongst the boys she's getting a little anxious about how real this all is

People either hate her or love her, her stats were impeccable so many hockey lovers are really rooting for her, whereas some people just absolutely hate her

So it becomes a lot, ESPN does a little documentary on her life and achievements, NHL does one on her impact within the program, its a lot of positive media where she's sharing her struggle to be seen as an equal.

She sat through many sexist interviews and read many disgusting tabloids about her that all lacked the conversation of hockey and focused more on literally anything else

But people still really hate her, her 'softness' is not the type of thing the league is built for blah blah blah, misogynistic bullshit.

Anyways, the draft comes around and she is a part of the League "Welcome to the NHL" video along with Cole, Jack, and a few other draftees.

She wore a lavender suit with a list of Women who pushed and fought to get her where she is in life on the inside of her jacket along with a tiny Ellen Hughes quote that said "Give 'em hell," an homage to the woman who pushed her the most.

She was trending on Twitter the second she stepped on that carpet, she was so obsessed with reading how much people hated her as she sat in the stands, that her dad had to take her phone to calm her nerves.

Jack went first like she knew he would, and she was the first person he went to hug after he went through his whole family, whispering a short "I owe this all to you," as she shook her head and hugged him tightly.

She wasn't drafted in the end, and she was so upset, but she was more upset with herself for even thinking that being in the NHL was a possibility.

She ends up crying in Ellen's arms outside of the arena, realizing that nothing she could do would ever be good enough.

She almost quits hockey that summer, but Quinn calls her outraged when she doesn't show up for the first summer training session.

"So that's it?" he asks over the phone. "I don't know what else I can do Q, I've done everything I can at this point, it's not worth the fight anymore" He let out a bitter laugh, "So you just let them win?" she sat for a second in silence before he spoke up again, "I'm not allowing that Chandler, I better see you tomorrow or I will show up to your house and drag you here myself." It was safe to say that she went the next day, but the real emotional moment was when Jim texted her telling her that he missed her at practice to tell her he was proud of her for pushing past it all

Then she was off to university, much like most of the USNTDP boys, Jack and Quinn are both now in the League playing their rookie years

Her collegiate rookie year was the same year as covid so it's pretty bland, her team and roommate are the only people she gets to be around so she felt very isolated by the end of the year

Before the entire world shut down though she got a chance to visit Jack during her reading week, and this is where she meets Nico for the first time

It was literally just a week of him and her giving each other heart eyes, Jack was over it the second it started, he wanted time with his Angie and Nico was ruining it.

By the end of her trip, Jack had practically locked her in his room and said that she couldn’t leave until it was time to go home cause he wanted to hang out with just her for a few days, with no Nico, and no distractions.

Luke got drafted in 2021, and she was asked to join Quinn and Jack in a video tribute for him and the Hughes for ESPN, she gladly reached out and accepted the interview.

It was at that time that a producer told her that if she ever wanted to give up her pipe dream, she could always have the backup of reporting or journalism. She was not a fan of that comment.

She was also there to witness Jack’s over-the-top reaction, which she still relentlessly bullies him for.

She spoke a little to Pat Brisson that night, and he hinted that shortly, the league is gonna do some growing and he wants to be the one to represent her if there ever comes a time that she needs it. She tells him that she’ll reach out if she ever needs to.

She became an Assistant/Alternate captain in her second year (2021-2022) and she loved it, she really grew into her role as a leader and her team was amazing.

Nothing happened over the summer of ‘22 other than training, and a summer fling that she meets at a bar in Michigan.

Fall semester 2022 starts and she’s back in Minnesota, but around a month in she gets a call from the devs asking to meet with her.

Nico, Lindy, Tom Fitzgerald, and a few other legal and coaching staff representatives are the few people in the room as they go over the terms and conditions of her joining the team.

It was summed up to her that she was being brought in as that “glue” character in their locker room, that she was to bring that close-knit family structure that they were missing. The staff had heard from many sources that she was the girl they were gonna want to bring this feeling to, so the devs were the first to take a chance on her.

Nico asked her out a few weeks later and it was a hard no, she was almost a little offended that he even attempted.

So there starts the heat of awkward tension between them, they have amazing chemistry, they play the same line, and they spend nearly every waking second in each other's presence, but there is still some tension between the two of them that seems a little less than friendly and slightly flirty.

Angie is not looking for romance whatsoever, she has a shot at a career, and to her, it seems like Nico is trying to jeopardize her place on the team, or that he doesn't see her as a teammate so she is not only mad but also really hurt that he would act like he wants her there but also through his actions shows that he doesn't.

He doesn't get that, he's a man, and he worked hard to get where he is but he's never faced the same challenges as her so he doesn't see how the weight of his actions could affect her shot at a professional career.

She attended the 2023 all-star weekend in Florida with Jack, and they had a blast, she's the one who sunk Sidney in the dunk tank which was a “mega slay” as she explained it to the reporter on sight (her media training went right out the window the second she saw Crosby)

Her being a locker room staple on the team obviously worked cause they make playoffs!!

She plays a really good run too, with 12 points in her 10 games, but she gets injured in game 4 against the Canes and she didn't play game 5

She sprained her knee and broke her wrist from a hit to the boards and was actually distraught when she was told she couldn't play for the rest of the run. She thought the boys would back her up, and she wanted to prove that she wasn't soft and could continue, but Nico put his foot down and told them that they had to think about her health first and not the possibility of a win.

She somehow found herself at the Stanley Cup finals a few weeks later, helping with commentary for ESPN, she was on a panel with Biz and Gretzky which was both equally terrifying and hilarious.

Angie also attended her first-ever NHL awards ceremony, she was a finalist for ‘Rookie of the Year’ and she won!!!

Nico saw her in her gown and was literally like 😻😻😻 the entire night, Lindy would not let him live it down either, he was relentlessly bullying the Captain every time he even glanced at the girl who was basically the fan favourite on the carpet.

Her summer is spent with a strict physical therapy regimen, but she still has a lot of fun, even attended the Tkachuck wedding with the Hughes’

She spends a week in Sweden with Jesper cause his mother really wants to meet this girl whom both Nicole and Jesper raved about during the season.

Going into her sophomore year she was so scared of ending up in a slump, and she did absolutely that from stressing about it so much.

Her sophomore year is also the year she realizes just how loved she is by the team, because of this slump all of the boys are doing everything in their power to get her through it.

It's also the year she realizes that she might be in love with her captain, but she definitely pushes that thought far to the back of her mind, not willing to think or reflect on it cause she needs to focus on herself and her career.

At this point, Nico has accepted that she views him as a teammate and nothing more so he is just focused on the betterment of the team, but deep down he knows that he will never meet someone more perfect for him than her.

Luke puts him into perspective during training camp while he's bitching about how he doesn't understand why she just won't let him be happy. And Luke being the basically little brother he is just sits up and rips into Nico for being so blind.

"It's like no one in this locker room realizes how much harder she worked for this than we all did?" he looked at the captain as everyone quieted, "she has a point to prove, you just have to play hockey, she has to show that she is worthy to even ben considered equal" and with that, he headed out to the ice, stunning Nico, his brother, and literally everyone in the room.

So that's why he has dropped any type of advances for her that he was trying to pursue, realizing that he was only harming her by trying to chase whatever feelings he had.

Angie on the other end is dealing with a mental battle, cause she never wants to be known as that girl who gets on this team and starts sleeping with her captain, having a reputation followed by a negative connotation is the last thing she wants.

But it's the holidays, they are in Ohio and are celebrating a win against the Blue Jackets in one of the hotel conference rooms, and Nico and her have not left each other's sides all night. The two of them decide to step out for a second of air, cold air filling their lungs as they just quietly stare at each other. The night had been filled with fleeting glances and quick moments of physical touch as they sat next to each other, thighs brushing against each other and hands momentarily touching. So now they are standing outside with this thick tension between them, and she just kisses him.

It's safe to say that she runs straight to her hotel after profusely apologizing to him, his eyes wide as she steps away from him with shaky hands and then just leaves him in shock.

She calls Quinn immediately, she doesn't know why, but she needs to tell someone, and she can't tell Jack, she sure as shit can't tell Trevor or any of the other USNTDP boys, so she calls her basically older brother.

Quinn assures her that she isn't going to get kicked off the team for a simple kiss, and Nico will surely be fine in the morning

Nico is just absolutely gagged, so he's fine, just shocked.

She literally can't look at him for weeks, and he's going insane from her ignoring him, so he pulls her aside and is like 'This needs to stop'

Nico stops her on her way out of Lindy's office and says he needs to talk, she is literally frozen in fear as they walk to an empty room. "Are we okay?" "I am so sorry," they say at the same time as they just stare at each other. "Why are you sorry?" "I kissed you? and it was weird and unprofessional?" "It's fine, just stop being weird about it, it happened, we move past it," he said, trying not to smother her with the feelings that he's still trying to keep it at bay, "do you regret it?" "Yes," is all she says before sighing and watching him nod and leave the room.

They both know she doesn't actually regret it, she is just doing what is best for her and for her name.

I have no idea how they get together just yet, so if you guys have any ideas lmk!!!

#neveragodau!!#nico hischier blurb #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier #nico hischier fluff #jack hughes #luke hughes #nj devils

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satansapostle6 · 4 months

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Kids | Rodrick Heffley

Spotify Playlist Link

Rodrick Heffley becomes obsessed when he finally meets his thirty-five year old band mate, Bill Walter’s, younger sister.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Drug use. Sexual content. Violence.

“The Perks of Being A Disappointment”

“Meet the Fuckers”

Rodrick was so nervous for his parents to meet Sara as his girlfriend for the first time, he had to change his shirt a second time because he sweat through it. Greg certainly wasn’t making the whole situation any easier on him, so he had to cope on his own.

“Mom! Have you seen my tie?!”

Greg looked out into the hallway at his older brother in confusion.

“Why do you need your tie?” Susan questioned. “You do know, you’re not the one meeting us, right?”

“Mom, will you just tell me where my tie is?” Rodrick whined, running around frantically.

“I don’t know, honey, I have to finish up dinner.”

Sara arrived at the Heffley house for dinner about a half hour later. Too nervous to allow her to speak to either of his parents right off the bat, Rodrick ran towards the front door once she texted him saying she’d arrived.

“Thank God you’re here early,” he sighed.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Sara demanded, stepping over the threshold.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Greg remarked as he came down the stairs.

She had showed up to the house wearing jeans and a black, long sleeved sweater that was both simple and conservative. Rodrick noticed she had even gone through the trouble of removing all of her makeup, still managing to draw attention even with just her thin, fluffy brows, long lashes, and septum piercing.

“What, you don’t like it?” Rodrick’s eyes widened in a panic.

“No, baby, I love it.”

Realizing just how worried he’d been this entire time, Sara took his face in her hands, lightly kissing his lips.

“Wait, so you two really are dating?” Greg stated.

“Yeah,” Sara nodded, waiting for it to sink in.

“Is he paying you, or something?”

“Fuck off! I’m trying to have a conversation with my girlfriend,” Rodrick growled.

“Rodrick! Language!” Susan Heffley appeared from around the corner, taking a moment to realize Sara had arrived. “Sara. Hi,” she said in embarrassment, looking flustered.

“Hi, Mrs. Heffley,” Sara greeted her amiably.

“Dinner will be ready soon… You kids just stick around,” the woman smiled awkwardly.

“Did you need any help in the kitchen?” Sara asked politely. “I can help you with whatever you need,” she said hopefully, trying to form a bond with her boyfriend’s mother.

“Um… That’s very sweet of you, honey, but I think I’m okay,” Susan smiled.

“Sure, no problem,” Sara responded, awkwardly smoothing back her shoulder-length blonde hair.

“Food will be ready in a minute. Rodrick, set the table.”

Rodrick turned back to his girlfriend, letting her follow along as he grabbed utensils for the table. Eventually, the rest of the Heffley family gathered around the table as Susan set the food on the table. Sara sat beside Rodrick, feeling him reach for her hand, feeling nervous as he watched his family settle in, hoping they wouldn’t completely embarrass him.

“Mmm. The mashed potatoes are really good, Mrs. Heffley,” Sara commended.

“Thank you,” she smiled as she ate.

Eventually, the conversation between Sara and Rodrick and the adults came to another natural lull.

“Say, how’s your Mom doing, Sara?” Frank spoke up, anxious about the silence. “I heard she left her job at the bank a while back. How long was she there, like, thirty years?” he asked, impressed.

“Yeah, like thirty, thirty-one years,” Sara nodded, “Randy wanted her to work from home,” she cleared her throat, not expecting the topic to affect her.

“Randy… That’s your stepfather?” he recalled.

“Yeah,” Sara tried to force a smile to hide her bitterness.

“What?” Frank asked curiously, not meaning anything by it. “He’s not a nice guy?”

“Dad…” Rodrick warned.

“Rodrick, he’s only asking a question,” Susan sighed, “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Rodrick scowled, about to mouth off before Sara wrapped a hand gently around his bicep, trying to pacify him.

“It’s fine, uh, Randy’s… He’s my brother’s dad,” Sara tried to find a way to be positive.

“You know, being a step-parent isn’t easy,” Susan pointed out, unnecessarily contrarian. “I’ve covered that in my column.”

“What do you know about step-parenting?” Greg interjected, before earning a pointed glare from his father.

“My friend’s husband is good friends with Randy Sharpe. He’s a very pleasant man,” Susan offered.

“Have you even met him?!” Rodrick asked impatiently.

“Rodrick. It’s fine,” Sara brushed it off, already uncomfortable and overstimulated.

“You should appreciate him,” Susan offered, “I’m sure he makes a lot of sacrifices for your family.”

In spite of what she felt on the inside, Sara just nodded, her face twisted with discomfort.

“Appreciate that asshole? Really?” Rodrick felt offended at the idea. “The same douchebag that made her mom give up a good job just so she could do his dishes?!”

“Rodrick, I said it’s fine,” Sara gritted her teeth.

He just looked at her, a mixture of rage and anguish on his face as he realized a scene wasn’t what she wanted. Every bone in his body told him that retaliating was the right way to stand up for her, but he went against his better instincts in an attempt to respect her wishes.

“This is going well, huh, guys?” Greg remarked with a smile on his face, amusing no one.

“Mommy! Juice!” Manny interrupted, as Susan immediately turned to tend to him.

“So, Sara, do you have any plans for after high school?” Frank redirected the table conversation.

“Uh, not exactly,” Sara thought, “I just kinda need to keep working… I thought I’d stay at the restaurant until I can find a good apprenticeship.”

“Apprenticeship?” Frank looked at her with curiosity. “What kind of an apprenticeship?”

“At a tattoo shop,” she told him. “I’ve been working on a portfolio.”

“You’re… planning on doing tattoos for a living?” he asked her, having to adjust to the idea.

“Yeah,” she nodded with a smile.

“She’s really good, Dad,” Rodrick piped up, “Like, really good. It’s the best art I’ve ever seen.”

“Okay,” Frank murmured emptily, eyes far away as he tried to process.

“Rodrick, you also think Beavis and Butt-Head is the best show you’ve ever seen,” Susan reminded him.

“It is!” he shouted defensively.

“So Sara, do you have a backup plan?” Mrs. Heffley asked. “I mean, in case things don’t pan out?”

“Yeah, I have my job at the restaurant… I could probably make manager soon enough. Those positions open up pretty often, and I’ve been there a while, and I do some of the same work now,” Sara replied.

“You’re not… going to college?” Susan asked, looking as if she were about to have a small aneurysm.

“Well, I… I know I probably should, but I don’t really do well in school environments. I have ADHD. I’m better at just… being paid to do things,” she said more softly.

“I can understand that,” Frank chuckled, looking at his wife to find a dissatisfied scowl on her face. “I mean… College is good. It’s the way to go,” he corrected himself quickly.

“You really don’t think you can try, just… focusing a little harder?” Susan asked her thoughtfully.

“ADHD kind of defeats that purpose,” Sara thought.

“You can’t confine yourself to these labels, honey… I mean, for years, Rodrick’s teachers have been telling me he’s got ADHD, but with proper time management and structure, he could do well in his classes,” she informed her. “ADHD, anxiety… These are just tactics, to get people to turn to shortcuts and medication instead of actually helping themselves.”

Sara just stared at her blankly, at a complete loss for words. She figured it was like she almost got to the right conclusion, but took a sharp left. Sara glanced over at Rodrick trying to gauge how he was doing and now, he was still completely silent, just staring down at his lap.

“I, uh… I don’t know, Mrs. Heffley, I just don’t think school is good for me,” she tried to phrase her words as delicately as possible.

“How can school not be good for you?” Susan Heffley asked her. “A bachelor’s degree, at the very least, can help you get jobs you’d never be able to get without one.”

“Mom, she could become the manager of her restaurant soon enough if she wanted to. And her mom became assistant manager at the bank without a college degree,” Rodrick recited, remembering every detail about her life that Sara had given him.

“Yeah, but I mean, is that what you want?” Susan asked her. “To become a bank teller at eighteen, and never leave?”

Sara tried to contain the way her words started to actually sting. She’d heard a lot growing up, about her family and family history. She’d been looked down upon by a lot of people, but never before had it actually mattered to her. Knowing she needed to get out before she said or did something she regretted, Sara slammed her fork down on her plate, letting it clatter loudly as she stormed off.

“Mom! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Rodrick jumped up in anger.

“Rodrick!” Frank yelled at him.

“Why would you say something like that?! All of it! All night, all you’ve done is be rude, and mean to Sara. What the fuck did she do to you?!” he scoffed. “She made an effort, the kind of thing you go crazy for! She was nice to you, and she went out of her way to forgive you every time you said some bullshit! Maybe Sara’s not the one who’s bad for me!” Rodrick shouted, running off after her.

Mortified, Susan looked at her husband, unsure of what to do. Despite not appreciating the outburst, Frank Heffley still saw exactly why Rodrick and Sara were both upset.

Rodrick anxiously searched the house, inside and out, for Sara, not sure where she would go. He initially thought she might’ve gone out for a smoke, but instead, he found her alone in his bedroom, sitting on his bed as she wrapped her arms around herself, looking broken.

“Hey, baby,” Rodrick said worriedly, putting his arm around her as he tried to make her feel less cold and alone, “Are you okay?”

Sara held back her tears as best as she could, breath shaky as she spoke.

“I… I tried so hard to make her like me. And I never do that with people,” she shook her head at the idea. “I thought it would work…”

“I’m so sorry,” Rodrick apologized, feeling guilty, “I really didn’t think she’d actually treat you like that, I thought she’d see how sweet you are, and how smart you are…”

“That never seems to be enough,” she murmured, understanding the bitter irony.

“No, no, baby…” Rodrick desperately tried to find a way to comfort her, holding her head against his shoulder to try and make her feel better. “You’re more than enough. You’re perfect,” he promised her.

“It doesn’t matter. People never seem to think so,” Sara scoffed, “They don’t want to. It doesn’t matter what I do; people just want to hate me.”

“Then they’re stupid,” Rodrick didn’t miss a beat, “Even if they’re my mom.”

“Rodrick, honey?” Susan rushed into the room.

Sara didn’t look up as Rodrick glanced at her in anger.

“Mom! Haven’t you done enough?!” he yelled. “This whole time, all you’ve done is find new ways to insult Sara! Even though she’s been nothing but nice to you, even when you didn’t deserve it!”

“Rodrick, Sara…” she said quietly. “I came to apologize.”

“I don’t want your apology!” Sara exclaimed frustratedly, finally breaking her silence. “I don’t wanna hear it anymore! I don’t wanna sit here and take your pity any more than I want the insults. I get it. You don’t like me, you don’t like my lifestyle. You don’t have to. If you wanna just never talk to each other again, we can just do that.”

“No, honey, I don’t want that,” Susan promised her. “I wanna get to know the girl my son’s dating.”

“Well, it seems like the more you know, the less you like about me.”

“No, that’s not true,” Susan said, clearly distraught. “I didn’t mean all those things I said… I just… I don’t know, I’ve never seen someone understand Rodrick the way you do,” sighed in defeat.

“So what, you thought you’d push me away?” Sara guessed.

“No… I just… I thought if I could find something wrong with you, then the way you help Rodrick wouldn’t mean anything,” Susan admitted.

“Wait, you think she helps me?” Rodrick demanded, shocked to find that she actually recognized that.

“Yes. I do,” she insisted. “I think Sara gives you a sense of self worth, and motivates you to do things. You haven’t even known each other all that long, but I think Sara’s actually a good influence on you. You seem happier, and more awake.”

Both of them were left silent, for different reasons.

“Sara, what I said to you was rude, and unforgivable. I understand if you can’t find it in you to forgive me, I wouldn’t either,” Susan reasoned. “But… I really want you to know you shouldn’t listen to what I said. I’m sorry for what I said about you, and your family. Those were inexcusable things to say to another person.”

“Yeah,” Sara admitted, her voice somewhat hoarse.

After the full apology, she found that she no longer really cared about what had been said.

“I don’t care about it anymore,” she decided. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” Susan said earnestly. “If you want to scream at me, I completely understand.”

“No. I don’t,” Sara stated. “I just… hope you know that Rodrick’s the person you should be apologizing to,” she reminded her.

Susan looked up at her oldest son, realizing the damage that had been inflicted, that night, and even before that.

“Oh, Rodrick… I’m sorry. You were trying to do a nice thing, a really nice thing, for us, and… your girlfriend, and I wish I could’ve been more mindful of that,” she sighed. “I know I probably don’t deserve to be… but I’m really proud of you, and who you’ve become. Trying to get us all to be polite, when we meet your new girlfriend? That’s a very mature thing to do.”

“It’s… It’s okay, Mom,” Rodrick decided, feeling bad for his mother as Sara squeezed his hand to offer him security.

“Okay,” she said in surprise, not expecting to be forgiven, “Why don’t I… give you two some privacy? You’re both welcome to come back down whenever you’re ready, but Sara, if you just want to leave, without saying goodbye to any of us, I totally understand. Door stays open, though.”

“Mom!”

Susan disappeared downstairs, as Rodrick flopped down on his bed, arms behind his head as Sara gently nuzzled into the space beside him, her head resting on his chest.

“Why are all families like this?” Rodrick sighed exhaustedly.

“I don’t know. But, if you have one that’s actually willing to apologize, you’re not totally fucked,” she supplied.

“You know I care about you?” Rodrick said suddenly, as the tears burned his eyes. “Like, so much?”

“Hey, I know,” she promised him, hurt by how worked up he seemed. “I feel the exact same way about you.”

“But, I hate when anyone does anything to you,” he professed, “I wanna punch someone in the face any time you don’t have the best day ever. You deserve everything, so much more than I got.”

“But I could never want anything more than you’ve got,” she reminded him. “I like the way you care for me. And only you.”

“Really?” he asked, knowing she could have a million better boyfriends if she wanted.

“You’re the one I wanna be with. First thing in the morning, last thing before I go to sleep,” she promised.

“Come here,” he sighed, snaking his arm around her frame as he held her close, never to let go. “One day…. I’m gonna be famous, and you’re gonna be a princess. For real.”

“Okay,” Sara agreed, closing her eyes dreamily.

“I mean it. I’ll be able to buy you anything and everything. I don’t even know what I could buy you… But I’ll buy it all.”

“I think you’re starting to take up space in my heart,” Sara admitted.

“I think I’d rather trust you to keep both of ours safe.”

French Inhale

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