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blackvahana · 1 day

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I sat and plucked the strings, I called him in. All his waves, all the tides to the shore. A call so strong, a siren so big, that even the ocean itself is pulled.

Eyes are great spheres with central dots, gelatinous, liquid, strange substances both there and not. Fish eggs, babies seen in the light when held to eclipse the sun. That's what I watched, that's what I called; it wasn't just the sparkling core but the peripheral hagfish expulsions - and those expulsions' expulsions. All the world brought to me, all the limbs held with puppet strings.

I called, he was brought to answering. Fate, mind, thoughts, personality, the repetitive learned states, the state-learning, ideas, future possibilities, the gentleness of flesh, the sharpness of consciousness-bone. Echoes, but simultaneous. Thunder at the same time as lightning, brought together not because one must follow the other but because both were brought together.

I still fail to understand, but at least I understand that that lack of understanding is a willed ignorance born from... understandable things.

There, you said, was the place you last were, just below the surface. When I wake it will be there. This is a Creator's act, a Creator's mind, a Creator's reverence for the Created. Understanding of the Trinity, embodying it. The siren call emanates from the deepest, most fertile underwater volcanoes, the point at which my face presses against the surface.

There was a reason we went up there in the first place. The revelation and self-destruction was wanted all along. Apotheosis, they call it; even those who have reached it need to play this game through again and again and reach it again and again. This is... Old God re-apotheosis, the eyes opening to another truth, more eyes across your scales, more revelatory bliss, and I am that. Nothing is lost when all is lost. All is gained when all is lost. Nothing is lost, all is had. All is had and all is gained.

#ramblings //#astral diary //#Aspect: Siren //#Again just a temporary tag #Not an aspect. Idk what my relationship is to this. I mean I do know but calling myself The First Siren is a title that uh #I don't feel like explaining and without explanation seems absolutely inaccurate and self-centred #But the Sun is the first siren. The Black Hole that positions itself as vagina and mouth at front and end of every universe #that births creation and immediately starts singing to call it home... Nataraja. Death. Sleep. The mouth who sings Time #Alluring. Swallowing. Always always singing #Unavoidable. Inevitable.#The metronome. The clock. This is a solar system. We spin around the sun. This is the land of the Sky Children.#The Sky sings creation into existence.#And even still through all this talking... This is fingertips brushing along the surface of the lake as we ride a boat across it #Shallow. This is not claws into the flesh of the heart of the ocean. This speaking is not down here with me. This is my echoes becoming #shallow and bright. Down here... Immensity. Inevitability. The Unspeakable. The lining of the Black Sky is my skin.#The Primordial never dies nor ages it remains fresh even beyond the amniotic waters of existence... Every single thing that exusts #exists* holds that state - holds the external shallow waters of the expanding universe in other forms - every atom holds #the Old-New. Holds me. I am the face pressing on Creation.#Anyway. Actually I won't make fun of myself by putting something silly here to wave away the mood I created and the image #of myself I put forward. I will not scramble any serious glimpses of me

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lightingfiresinthenight · 1 year

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#metronome #Clock

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shotmrmiller · 14 days

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The cool air that sweeps over your skin once you board the train feels like a gentle splash of water on a sweltering summer day. The sudden temperature change sends a shiver down your sweat-slick back, the hair on your arms standing on end in sharp relief. You press a hand to your chest, feeling the drumming of your heart against it.

You almost hadn't made it.

Everything had gone awry from the moment your alarm went off. First, you'd snoozed the clock. Half an hour later, your eyes snapped open, the horizon that'd just started to blush with the first hint of dawn giving way to a vibrant, limpid morning blue.

Shit.

You had called a cab while you were hastily getting ready, brushing your teeth, washing your face, only for it to arrive within 5 minutes. Five.

With the honking outside, you quickly threw on the first piece of clothing you found.

As you sat in the car, deliberately ignoring the driver's heated glare through the rearview mirror, you'd patted down your crinkled dress before crossing your legs, and realized—

You've got no knickers on. Double shit.

Whatever. It'll be fine. You were taking an overnight train across the country and even got yourself a private little room to sleep in. All would be well. But you had to get there first and boarding would start in 15 minutes.

Navigating through the aimless crowd of people had been excruciating. Children weaving in and out coupled with elderly folk stopping to chat up their friends with zero regard for foot traffic. Agony.

(You're fully aware that no one is at fault here but yourself.)

Almost hadn't made it but almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.

Your heartbeat's still pounding in your ears as you walk down the narrow aisle, arms burning with the weight of your luggage bag and the tote slung around your shoulder. The thought of settling into your cabin and finally taking a breather propels you forward, albeit sluggishly.

The metronomic clatter of the wheels on the tracks smothers that burning sense of urgency you've felt since you woke. Weariness seeps into your bones once your cabin door comes into view. There's no other thought in your head apart from putting your stuff away and getting off your feet as you fumble for the handle.

In your fatigued haze, you hadn't noticed someone already inside. The world, once fuzzy around the edges, sharpens to cutting clarity in your shock. He's a big man. Very big. He looks like he's been carved out of oak— broad and solid. His shoulders are wide, stretching the seams of his shirt. His thick arms are draped along the backrest of the seat. The breadth of his chest— should, probably does— defies anatomy.

He's got legs like tree trunks. And they're sprawled outward, taking up a lot, if not most of the room. There's a bag resting against your seat even though the overhead space is empty. A bulky, grey jacket lays about.

You're tired, not blind. This is definitely the cabin you paid for with your measly income. But you're scared witless at the mere thought of trying to kick him out. He'll eat you. Gnaw your bones with his molars to dust for the offense.

You tug on the ends of the knot that is lodged in your throat, hoping to get some words out, but it only seems to tighten. The man's keen eyes lock onto yours, unblinking. Heavy with a weight that presses down on your back, your shoulders. Even the air itself.

The gentle click of the sliding door shutting behind you has your heart trying to crawl out of your mouth. (Possibly your arse, too, but you're not sure of anything right now, other than you're about to burst into tears because his gaze followed the motions of you shakily hoisting your bag up higher on your shoulder.)

His voice is a deep rumble— rich and resounding. You swear you could feel the air vibrate as he spoke.

"Sit down 'fore ya hurt yourself." It startles you into action, like a starter's pistol before a swim race. Quickly rising to the tips of your toes, you put your luggage bag away, giving it a couple of smacks to push it all the way back.

You mumble out a garbled 'scuse me as you traipse past his outstretched legs, carefully stepping over them, only to brush against his knee. You flinch, he doesn't.

"Sorry." Heat blooms beneath your cheeks. Embarrassing. You shove your tote into a little corner, its humble size dwarfed by his frame. With trembling fingers, you pull the back of your—very thin, now that you think about it— dress down, trying to compose yourself, before taking a seat.

Directly in front of him.

And he's still staring. Vaguely, you wonder if he can see your fluttering pulse beneath the delicate skin of your neck.

There's a lot of people on the train. That unbearably long line you had to stand in to board it was the proof. Yet it's unnervingly silent. Not one distant tinkle of laughter. No gentle hum of murmured conversation. Clinking of spoons against coffee cups.

Just a sharp, high-pitched whistle of the wind outside the window. Even he isn't making a sound. No rustling of clothes, no shifting around. Motionless.

You nervously grab at the skirt of your dress, clammy fingers curling, fabric bunching within your tightened fist, white staining your knuckles. The hem of your dress is frayed, like your nerves at this moment.

Oh no.

You flash your eyes to the guy's face but he's no longer paying attention to you. He's now looking straight at the apex of your legs. Your very naked apex. Amusement dances across his rugged features. His ash-blonde eyebrows quirking slightly, corner of his thin-lipped mouth curling.

The room tilts slightly, a dizzying sensation that leaves you momentarily unbalanced. Mortification pricks at your nerves, gathers in the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill. An ear-grating squeak escapes past your clenched teeth as you jerkily tug down the skirt, the hem settling against your shins.

A tiny hiccup punctuates the moment.

His mud-caked boot taps the outside of your foot, demanding your attention. "Now, now. Nothin' to be ashamed of, birdy," he grunts. Then, with casual ease, he slides it in between yours, this time nudging the inside of them.

A recognizable gesture.

Open up.

(there's no getting a staff member to remove him. they're all half his size. and can he at least shut the blinds on the window????)

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley #cod mw2

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caedogeist-rights · 2 years

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thinngs i lov e in music

1. ticking, rhythmic steps

2. clock

3. static

4. gang vocals

5. noise :-]

#benny speaks #listen. the clock is. good #or metronome #love an audible metronome

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mysunshinetemptress · 3 months

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I’ll crawl home to her

Alessia Russo x singer!reader

Warnings: robbed vows from fluffy fluff

You were sat in your studio sighing as the blank page in-front of you began taunting you, the hours seemed to tick by. The clocks ticking metronome played in your head as you cursed yourself for not bing able to think of words that described the feelings swirling around your stomach and for a moment you thought would words ever be able to describe the feeling you had for your soon to be wife.

Alessia Russo was a girl you had known for many years and loved for many more and come 2 pm tomorrow you would be able to love forever and a day. Alessia had begged and begged for you both to incorporate vows into the ceremony and you stupidly thought that being a singer/songwriter it would come naturally to you yet here you were six hours until your mother would be banging on your door to get you up and ready and no vows had made their way on to the blank page.

You threw the pencil across the room before resting your head in your hands, your fingers tapping to the beat of the clock before looking up and sighing, the clock seemed to beat a second faster then usual and you shook your head as you tried to regain your focus on the task at hand only the little voice in the back of your head wouldn't shut up and you found yourself picking up your guitar tapping your foot in time to the clock you began strumming different chords trying to figure out the tune to whatever vision was filling your head. Slowly you moved from the guitar to the mixing table in your small home studio and began lining everything up before heading back over to your guitar picking it up and laying down the base chords for the song that had began playing in your head.

You were now stood at the top of the alter talking to Gio and Luca as they took up their roles of being your best men, being an only child and one of divorce left you lonely as a child, that was until a certain half Italian blonde footballer socked a ball right at your head and suddenly you had two brothers like you once wished for and a girl who found you at one of your darkest moments in life and some how showed you the light. You felt your breath hitch as the opening chords for hear comes the bride began on the organ as you turned finally looking at the many guests that had arrived, Alessia's side so full they seemed to spill into your side but you couldn't help but smile at your now mutual friends Mary sending you a thumbs up mouthing you've got this sat beside the rest of the lioness squad as you waved at all of them laughing as they waved excitedly back, before you turned to see Ella walking down the aisle smiling at her softly before your eyes were pulled to the blonde girl walking down behind her. Your eyes pricked with tears as you felt your lower lip wobble emotions began taking over as you felt to pairs of hands grab your should squeezing them. Your eyesight began to cloud with tears as Alessia approached pulling your hands to your face you tried desperately to wipe the falling tears stopping when you felt a soft hand grab your cheek, shaking your head you relaxed as Alessia pulled you into her body your head falling into the crook of her neck "Oh amore mia" you tried shaking your head softly kissing her neck as you pulled your head back from her "Im ok, I'm ok, sorry your just so gorgeous and I can't believe I'm marrying you but please promise me if this is a dream you won't wake me up." Alessia laughed stroking her thumb over your cheek "Its not a dream amore but I promise." you let out a breath turning to look at your guests "Sorry, but if you were marrying someone as amazing as her you would cry too" the church erupted in laughter, Alessia squeezing your hand softly as you nodded to the priest to begin.

You had both spent the ceremony hands locked together constantly sending soft squeezes here and there allowing the other to know you where ok. "Now the couple will read out their wedding vows." Alessia looked back at Ella as she passed her the card sighing she realised your hand before starting to speak "Y/n, amore mia, I promised you all those many years ago to be your guiding light in the darkness, here in-front of our friends and family I vow that to you again for you are the luce della mia vita when we were younger you told me give me your hand and i'll give you forever and today I vow to hold on to that hand forever and a day, quanto sono fortunato a chiamarti mia.” You felt your eyes prick with tears once more “oh Tesoro mia.” You let out a small sorry shaking your head before grabbing her hand “my Less, without you I am nothing and with you I am some how more then myself, I love you more then any metaphor can ever express, today is the day we get to start forever and although I can not promise you forever I can promise you that when death does take my hand, I will hold you with the other and promise to find you in every lifetime after” Alessia couldn’t help but let out a soft whimper trying not to cry “Do you Alessia Mia Teresa Russo take Y/n Y/L/n to be your lawfully wedded wife.” Alessia smiled happily at you “I do.” “And Y/n Y/m Y/l/n do you take Alessia Mia Teresa Russo to be your lawfully wedded wife” you pulled Alessia impossibly closer “I do.” The priest laughed at the excitement across both your faces “well then by the power vested in me you may now kiss your wife.” Pulling her face towards yours you spun Alessia dipping her lightly before passionately kissing her “ti amoe amore mia.”

You smiled looking around the sold out stadium as sweat caused your hear to stick to your forehead before strumming the guitar walking up to the microphone “Hi Wembly.” The crowd seemed to roar louder than before “I got one more song if you have time.” Once again they cheered as you strung out a few chords turning to look at the royal box “so for those of you who don’t know, I’m married.” You held up your left hand showing off your engagement and wedding rings “yep exactly.” You laughed at the cheers “to the most incredible woman, La mia luce guida.” You smiled at the royal box “hi mia ragazza dagli occhi azzurri.” You strummed the opening chords of the song you were about to play “at our wedding we wrote vows to one another and I’m only admitting this now but, I wrote mine the night before.” The crowd let out a laugh as you felt your cheeks redden “I couldn’t find the words to express how much I love her then, my girl I mean she’s my guiding light through my darkest days and so.” You looked back at the royal box smiling “so I procrastinated and I wrote this song that very night too and I’m going to play it for you here tonight for the first time.” The crowd let out a roar as you smiled eyes squinting as you searched for Alessia “words still aren’t enough to properly describe how much I love you but one thing I have told you before, that I speak about in this song is that not even death will be able to keep me from you in this life and all the rest to come I’m yours.” You smiled as you caught sight of your friends and family in the box, Alessia’s teammates shaking her gently at your words as she held her arms wrapped around your mum who from where you were standing both looked to be crying “so lessi .” You began strumming lightly again as your band began to count themselves in “no grave can hold my body down I’ll crawl home to you.” With that your band began playing and you sang the song you had written the night you had written your vows and all over again Alessia fell in love with you.

#awfc #woso #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso community #woso soccer #woso couples #woso x reader #alessia russo x y/n #alessia russo x you #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo #hozier #work song

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the-modern-typewriter · 1 year

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Hi! Super super in love with your writing. Completely just *muah*! I don’t know if you’ve ever done it before, sorry if you have, but would you be interested in writing a little scene where the villain approaches the very tired and very under-appreciated hero (who was once bright eyed and full of love) and offers to make everything better for them. To make the city regret not seeing how much of a savior they are and all the hero has to do is say yes (and maybe even a hint of romance). I’m super in love with the way you write villain and hero dynamics, you’re like amazing! Thank you either way!

"You look worn down to the bone."

It was probably true, but the hero didn't even find themselves jumping or tensing at the unexpected voice. It may as well have been another inevitable shit show that was going to happen one way or another. They did turn, though, after a beat to clock the villain standing a few rows behind them.

The church was empty, somewhere between peaceful and eerie in the solitude, heavy with dust and expectation.

"Am I interrupting your praying?" the villain asked. Their lip quirked, as if amused.

The hero shook their head, and turned forward again, turning their face up to the light filtering through the stained glass windows. A kaleidoscope of sacrifice and martyrdom and suffering.

The villain moved closer, stopping behind their pew, fingers curling into the wood on either side of the hero's shoulders. The hero stayed as they were, leaned back, feeling the back of their head brush against the villain's chest as it rose and fell with metronome breaths.

"People never come and talk to me in here," the hero offered, after a moment of silence.

"I'm not people."

"If you're here to fight, I'd rather take it outside."

"I'm not here to fight."

The hero glanced up at them.

The villain's hand rose immediately, palm tracing the air an inch above the line of the hero's throat, not quite touching. Mapping. "I remember that you used to pray," the villain mused.

"I remember that I used to do a lot of things."

"Mm. You were a bright eyed thing - all shiny. All new. So hopeful."

"I can still kick your-"

The villain laughed, softly, and curled their fingers around the hero's throat. Gently. More like they wanted to cradle the hero's pulse in their hands, like a baby bird, then do anything especially untoward. Or, perhaps, more like they wanted the hero's eyes on them instead of the icons and the saints and old hopes of the city before superheroes came along.

"Yes," the villain said. "You could."

The hero stopped talking, more out of surprise than anything else.

The villain looked down at them with such blazing, breath-taking fondness.

"I told you they'd wear you down," the villain said, and their kindness was almost cruel, or maybe their cruelty was almost kind. The hero wasn't sure which was which, only that the villain loomed over them with enough presence to fill entire cathedrals. "I told you that the tide would turn, and as the miracle of you became mundane, everyday, they would stop appreciating you." The villain squeezed, just slightly. "All gods die. All pedestals crumble. All heroes must fall."

"Ah, I see." The hero kept their hands at their side, unafraid or perhaps uncaring. "You came to gloat."

"Not especially."

"You sound like you're gloating. It's very speechy. Did you practice?"

The villain's lips quirked again. "I have...considered approaching you many times, if you would like to call that practice."

The hero's brow furrowed.

The villain's grip loosened once more, but the hero kept their head tipped back lazily against the bench, watching the villain inverted and upside down.

"I come with an offer," the villain said.

The hero raised an eyebrow.

"You have saved this city from me time and time again," the villain said, "more times than anyone can possibly know about."

"It's in the job description, yeah."

"But they know enough. Enough to know better. Enough to treat you better."

The hero's head tilted. They blinked up at the villain and (perhaps, always perhaps) there was - if not fondness in the hero's eyes, than something more enduring. Understanding. "And you would make them pay for that," the hero said. They finally moved their hand, but only to set it atop the villain's on the edge of the pew. They squeezed, too, gently. "You're always so ready to make someone pay."

"They deserve it."

"Maybe," the hero shrugged. "But I don't."

The villain frowned.

"I didn't work this hard to help them, just to let you have them now," the hero said.

"I know you're tired."

"So you thought you'd try me when my defences were down?"

"That's not - I'm not-"

"No," the hero said, a little wondering, "you're not, are you?"

The villain yanked their hand back. Their jaw clenched.

The hero twisted on the seat, so they were facing the villain properly.

"You're a fool," the villain spat.

"It's the one bit of me I haven't lost yet."

The villain closed their eyes.

The hero's lips curled in a smile. They reached out again, taking the villain's hand and winding their fingers together. "But, in defence of my foolishness, you do give me hope occasionally."

"One day you'll say yes."

"One day you'll say no."

The villain did laugh again at that, seemingly despite themselves, a bitter thing. Their eyes opened and they looked at each other - both exhausted and both relentless.

"I would be your dark side."

"And I would be your good."

"They don't deserve you," the villain said, again.

"And do I deserve you?"

The villain, it seemed, had nothing to say to that.

The hero pulled the villain's knuckle to their lips, and pressed a kiss to it, before letting go.

"Thank you," the hero said. "For offering. Really."

"I'll ask again tomorrow."

And, every day, the villain did.

#hero x villain #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #heroes #villains #writing #story #fic #ficlet #creative writing #original fiction

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dooberific · 7 months

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❝ 𝘓𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘕𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 ❞

wriothesley x afab!reader

genre: domestic fluff

summary: Long days and late nights are fickle problems when something sweeter waits at home

The house was quiet when he stumbled through the front door, the day still heavy on his shoulders. He liked to think he wasn’t one to complain, that a few extended hours at the Fortress without a break was no sweat, but the walk back to his home felt excruciatingly long as if each step filled his legs with molten lead.

The only thing disturbing the nighttime darkness that filled each corner was the soft yellow glow from the kitchen, a sink light left on in anticipation of his arrival home that hardly cast enough light to traverse the downstairs. That was fine, the exhaustion settling into his body was wringing the last of his will to move an inch further anyways. He collapsed into an armchair, groaning deeply as he stretched his legs and relaxed into his seat. He leaned his head back, eyes drifting shut as a yawn passed his lips.

He could hear the lightest pattering of rain on the windows from an evening shower, the distant and monotonous metronome of a wall clock ticking somewhere deeper in the house. It was almost strange to not hear the slow groan of the old metal walls creaking under the currents, the sound of boots pounding over hollow floors. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla met his nose, a comforting smell that now seemed to invade every inch of his kitchen and overwhelmed the previously burnt one.

Since when did he have time to keep up a decent abode and it not reek of dust and disuse?

“You don’t intend to sleep like that, now do you?”

Oh yeah, this wasn’t just his home anymore-

He hadn’t realized he had drifted off till he startled violently at the kind voice that met his ears, his muscles tightening as he sat upright, fingers digging into the upholstered arms of the chair as if he intended to rip them right off. He let out an amused yet tired sigh, a hand rising to rub his sleep-bleared eyes as he offered up an exhausted smile.

“Of course not, just resting my eyes.”

You smiled from where you stood, arms crossed comfortably over your chest as you leaned against the doorframe. The feeble kitchen light shone like a halo behind the crown of your head, as if he needed any other reminder of what an angel you seemed to be.

“Did I wake you?” He pressed, eyes tracing the silk nightgown that hugged your body under the loose robe draped across your shoulders and your disheveled hair.

You shook your head and yet part of him was confident you were lying. “No, I was waiting for you to get home. Let’s get you to bed.”

You closed the space in a few strides, sinking gracefully to your knees. He seemed to anticipate your next actions, quickly withdrawing his legs. “Baby, it’s fine I can do it--,”

You swatted his thigh with a huff, shooting him a good natured glare. “Absolutely not, now stop being stubborn.”

As much as he wished he could win against your own attitude he knew there was no arguing his way out of it now. You could be thought of as equitable to a mule, stubborn as all hell when you chose to be, and after weeks away he wasn’t egging for a fight with you in the middle of the night. So he relented, slowly stretching his legs back out as a pleased grin teased your lips. You were quick, hands latching to the heel and toe of his boot and with practiced ease you slid it off and tossed it aside, the same treatment given to the other as he groaned lightly at the stretch on his sore legs.

“See, was that so hard?” You teased as you rose back to your feet only to seat yourself on his lap, a hand carding through his mussed hair as his eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into your delicate touch. The mighty Duke of Meropide was as docile as a lap dog in your arms, his face buried into the crook of your neck, his breathing deep and slow as your fingers worked through his scalp, down the back of his neck and to his shoulders, massaging the day out of his muscles.

A hum of laughter passed your lips as he pressed soft kisses against the column of your throat, his dark lashes tickling your skin as you slowly helped him undress, unclasping the many belts of his uniform and sliding the wraps off his forearms. You pressed soft kisses to his bruised knuckles, slowly slipping off his lap as you dropped his hands despite the dissatisfied noise that rumbled through his chest, twirling his tie around your fingers as you tugged him forward.

“Come to bed, Wrio.”

You would never have to tell him twice.

Rey, 2023

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact #wriothesley x reader

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gg-pedro · 5 months

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can you hear the music (ch. 2) - joel miller x reader

masterlist

summary: everyone in jackson is trying to distract themselves from something. you teach ellie piano and find yourself trying to help more than one miller settle into their new world.

chapter 2: navigating joel’s heart is a bittersweet thing. mostly sweet, though.

warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson!era, joel x reader, AFAB!reader, platonic!ellie x reader, implied age gap, fingering, unprotected piv (don't do that tho), fairly tame aside from that, brief descriptions of an injury, mentions of blood, hurt/comfort, angst, weird feelings (and there's more where that came from!)

words: 2.5k

a/n: I wrote the majority of this while listening to clocks by coldplay. hope this helps. (also thank you for the love on chapter 1! glad I'm not the only ooey gooey joel miller lover.)

Joel, yes. Joel, yes. Joel, please.

Repeating his name like a metronome, a 2/4 time signature, the beginnings of a beautiful song coming from your lips and melting against the warm skin of his bare shoulder.

Your clothes had vanished somewhere in between the hall at the top of the stairs and the entrance of your bedroom. Joel grabbed you, nudging you back against your own creamy bedsheets. He took you in, all of you. He was between your thighs in an instant, head bowed between your parted legs like he was praying at the base of an altar.

“You’ve done this before, right, baby?” He pulled you by your hips, his big hands settling perfectly into the indentation of your waist.

You rolled your eyes and brought a hand up to cup his scruffy cheek. The answer was yes, you’d had sex before, but this? No, you had never been so wildly attracted to someone, so soaked from the start, so certain that your partner’s touch was the closest you were ever going to get to God.

“You don’t have to be gentle with me.”

“‘M gonna be gentle with you, darlin’. Tell me to stop and I will, alright? I will, you don’t feel bad about nothin’ here.” He bowed down to kiss you again, sloppy and warm, his fingertips ghosting the length of your torso. He made you shudder and gasp against his open mouth.

He found your slick entrance, teasing you with two calloused fingers whose grooves made your back arch and your mouth fill with saliva. You reached down to stimulate your aching clit as he pumped his middle and ring finger in and out of you, speeding up, slowing down, testing your reaction from the strangled sounds of pleasure escaping your lips.

You fell right into it, your form turning to putty underneath him. His fingers curled and hit that ribbed edge inside of you until your hand on his shoulder blades turned into a pleading vice grip, begging for more.

“Joel… Joel, I–”

He stopped immediately, unsure if your mumblings were that of pleasure or uncertainty. He hovered over you, his lips ghosting across your jawline. “Say it, baby. What do you want?”

“You,” you said without hesitation. You wanted to come undone with his dick inside of you. Just him, pure and raw and carnal.

His belt had already been undone, and he forced down his worn jeans and boxers to reveal his stiffened cock. You licked your fingers, bringing your hand around to stroke up and down the frontside of his length. It was a biblical sight: throbbing veins clearly visible, looking almost too oversized for you to take properly.

He grabbed your middle and pulled you upright against his body, legs bent and slightly parted on the bed. You fit perfectly between him, wrapping the two of you together as your lips found each other’s in another desperate fervor. You sank down onto his cock, your walls clenching around him immediately and involuntarily. Twin moans sounded from both of your throats, and Joel didn’t give you more than a few seconds before he was thrusting upwards into you.

The two of you shared the work, with him setting a sweet pace and you grinding your hips to meet it. Your bodies were both slick with sweat, faces reddenned; two burning silhouettes against a backdrop of patchy orange light.

Joel was gentle and balanced at first, his motions coordinated and purposeful. In your warm, tight walls, you knew he was unraveling. When his thrusts grew jerky, he forced you back onto the bed, nipping and biting at the skin across your neck and collarbone while you clawed at his back.

Joel. Fuck, yes. Please, I’m–

There it was again, that chorus you couldn’t sweat out.

“I’m here, baby, I got you. Drivin’ me up the fuckin’ wall with those little sounds.”

You couldn’t hold out any longer. Tears fought their way out of your eyes as you muffled uncontrolled moans into his shoulder. You saw white, and then things were fuzzy until the black faded from the corners of your vision. He’d fucked you blind, you were afraid.

That sent him tumbling over the edge after you, his entire body slowing and twitching as he gave the last few thrusts into your over-sensitive, aching hole. When he pulled out of you he cupped your cheek with one of his hands, swiping away the trail of tears with the pad of his thumb.

He kissed you again, and again, kissing you breathless and dizzy. He rolled over to the other side of you with a low grunt and pulled your body in close to him.

“Y’alright? Didn’t hurt you or nothin’?” He propped himself up to take another good look at your face. He was cataloging it– memorizing you.

You smiled and gazed up at him in the warm light. “No. You’re perfect. Stop worrying.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He smiled. It was a real smile, one you hadn’t seen before.

You both tended to yourselves in the bathroom afterwards before collapsing back into bed together. You slept for the first time in months. It didn’t matter how many nights had passed with you curled up in a warm bed in Jackson, away from the bitter wilderness or outside threats, you never could shake that nagging feeling that you were one wrong move away from death. You slept restlessly everywhere, waking up drowning in your quilted comforter and drenched in sweat in the still morning.

But this time, when you were startled awake from a restful sleep, sunlight dripping through the curtains–

He was awake, too. He cracked a grin as your fingers found their way into his unkempt hair.

“Go back to sleep, baby,” he whispered.

He pulled you close to his chest, hand placed protectively on the back of your head until it trailed down to your neck and shoulders, nails raking lightly over chilled skin.

Yeah. This was going to kill you. Both of you, more likely than not.

You slept anyway.

Joel came to you. Often.

The two of you had improvised a system. Of course you had, you were having sex with Joel Miller. You would leave your bedroom light on after curfew if he was free to come. It worked out well. Clearly, because he was sharing a bed with you more nights out of the week than not.

He would come in, a little more than tired, and melt right into your arms like liquid mercury. He wouldn’t say much at first, just mumbling that he missed you and couldn’t stop thinking about you while he was gone. Wanted to make sure you were alright. He’d pull back for a moment, scanning your features and any exposed skin on your body.

“I’m fine, Joel. Stop worrying about me.”

Tucking his head into the space where your neck met your shoulder, he sighed. “I know, I know. I can’t.”

That was true, you knew it was. And it was sweet. And it was reason enough to keep him wrapped in your arms all night.

Sometimes he fucked you, sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes, though, he fucked you raw and shaky and teary-eyed. It was always a surprise, but a welcome surprise, something that you could look forward to throughout the days in Jackson that tended to bleed together.

On one particular night, a few minutes past 10 o’clock, the front door knob turned, opened, and clicked shut in one swift motion. You came down the stairs to meet him, unbuttoning the cardigan you had thrown on over clothes. The expression on his face gave you pause for a moment. He was holding his left arm in an unnatural way, a little stiffened and sort of awkward. He looked exhausted and there was a pinch between his eyebrows.

You smoothed a hand over his bearded face and took the arm gently into your hand to examine it. His jacket had a slash through it and a mixture of dried and fresh blood had seeped into the fabric of his flannel beneath it. He pushed you away, instead curling his good arm around your lower back and pulling you in.

“What happened?”

He looked away from you, inhaling sharply as you twisted out of his embrace to examine his arm again. “Fucked around too much with an old hunter’s trap. Clipped me good. I’m fine.”

You smacked his shoulder before turning to gather supplies from the kitchen. A wet washcloth, soap, and a stash of bandages you took from the clinic. Look, these were hard times, and you had yourself to think of, too.

“You’re an idiot,” you said from the other room. “I thought you could’ve been bit. Why didn’t you go to the clinic? Someone should’ve been on staff. Who were you with?”

He came to take a seat at the kitchen table, a shuddery little sound escaping his throat as he shed his jacket and rolled up one sleeve. Ignoring all of your questions, he said, “Bit? I wouldn’t fuckin’ come here if that happened.”

You thought about that scenario and what it would entail for a brief moment before shutting it out of your mind. Joel was here, with you, mostly in one piece.

“You’re still an idiot.”

You sat down in the chair next to him and brought his arm up so that it was flush with the table. It wasn’t so bad, just a few punctures. The part that concerned you was where he had evidently pulled it out from the metal and the skin had snagged.

The moment you started dabbing at it with soapy water, he flinched and pulled back. “You don’t have to do this. I ain’t asking you to do this,” he clarified.

Ignoring him this time, you situated yourself to access the wound again, dabbing away the dried blood around his arm. “Well here I am, Joel. If you aren’t gonna take care of yourself, I’m happy to do it. Tommy would. Ellie would. You don’t go to them, though.”

You go to me.

You cleansed the jagged tears with fresh water and patted it dry. “What did you think was going to happen? You come here, I ignore the gaping hole in your arm, we fuck and then you leave?”

He sat back and his eyes were glued to the ceiling. “No. I don’t fuckin’ know, alright? Ellie’s a kid, and Tommy… I don’t know what I thought.”

He raised his voice and you stared at him. When he met your eyes again, they were tired and glassy.

“‘M sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I just–” He brought his good hand up to your face, his thumb gliding back and forth against your skin. “I ain’t gonna be a burden on you. You’re too young, y’shouldn’t have to take care of me.”

Shaking your head and fighting back tears, you unwound a long strip of bandages. “Shut up. What’s gotten into you? You can’t just say shit like that.”

“–if somethin’ happened to me, I wouldn’t want you to–”

“Jesus fucking christ, Joel, I said shut up.”

If something happened to Joel, you were pretty sure the world would stop. Nowadays, yours was so small to begin with. You couldn’t just forget about him. Pretend like none of this had ever happened. You couldn’t unfeel the way he touched you, or unhear his voice, or unsee his silhouette reflected in the constellations as he laid next to you at night.

Joel’s face faltered. “Hey. Hey, shh, c’mere.” He pulled you into him, disregarding the sting as he held you in his arms. “I’m just worn out, sweetheart. It ain’t you, It’s me.”

You just nodded. Your breathing synced up with his, and for a second, everything didn’t feel so heavy.

“I’m sorry.” You said into the crook of his neck.

“Don’t say sorry.” He rubbed his wide hand up and down your back. “You’ll still finish fixin’ me up?”

And you did. Of course you did. You wrapped the gash up in 20 year old gauze, kissed his forehead and made him promise he’d get it checked out in the morning. You both knew he wouldn’t, but he smiled and promised you anyway.

Such was the way of your promises to each other. You couldn’t guarantee anything, but you could pretend. At least while you were in each other's arms.

Joel could hear piano music pouring out from every edge and crack of your home when he came by to walk Ellie to dinner. It almost made him smile– there was a distinct shift between Ellie’s playing and your demonstration to her.

He listened for a while before finally knocking hard on the door. He heard Ellie shifting around, and then flinging the door open to greet him. “Hey, Joel, have you ever seen Star Wars? The music is super cool.”

He could see the sheet music entitled ‘Princess Leia’s Theme’ resting on the stand. Something twisted in his heart, something mournful and nostalgic, and he had to push it back down before it started hurting.

“Thanks for the lesson! Can I come tomorrow, too? I’ll forget all that by next week,” Ellie said, turning to face you once her shoes and coat had been tugged on.

You smiled, leaning against the doorframe. “Sure, as long as Joel doesn’t mind me stealing you away again.”

Joel kept his eyes on Ellie. “It’s fine.”

Joel kept it curt with you, especially around her. You didn’t need to try to argue with his reasoning. A part of it hurt a little, if you were being honest. Your relationship was harmless. It would be even more harmless if the two of you weren’t sneaking around after dark like two teeagers. But you understood, as much as one could possibly understand Joel Miller.

“Good. See you then.”

Ellie still noticed. While the two of them walked away from your house after a successful session, she posed the question to Joel.

“Did something happen between you guys?” She kicked some snow up off the ground with the toe of her boot.

“No,” Joel replied.

“Then why’d you barely say anything to each other?”

He gave her a look, one that would signal to any other person to fuck off and stop prying, but she ignored it. “Don’t have to. You got a problem with that?”

“Yeah. I mean, it just seems like… pretty weird that you didn’t even say bye.” She went silent for a moment, mulling something over. “Does this have to do with that time you didn’t get me from Tommy’s? Or when I couldn’t find you at the stables? Or when–”

“–Stop yourself right there, Ellie, I’ve already answered too fuckin’ many of your questions,” he interjected.

That only made her grin. She laughed a little and smacked him in the shoulder. “Oh, man. Oh, this is good. You’re fucked. I totally know.”

“You don’t know anything,” and then, under his breath, “little shit.”

“Defensive and quiet? Fuckin’ hell, dude, you suck at this,” she said, laughing. “She’s too cool for you, man.”

Joel, trying his absolute best to fend off the smile at the corner of his lips, just shook his head.

“Shut up.”

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joels6string · 1 year

Text

Never Enough

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: After a long day out on a patrol, Joel returns home to a soft place to land.

Rating: E

Word Count: 2.2k

Content: established relationship, soft, happy fluff, nothing but love and care for the gruffest man, minor wound care, smut, minor nipple play, unprotected p-in-v, oral f-receiving, slight Joel with a praise kink, cockwarming

Here he felt the perfect dichotomy of vulnerable and indestructible, there was nothing that could taint him here, no pain, only the shattering of walls and a warm embrace.

The crickets’ summer song had droned on too long, a melody that was usually so welcome haunting as you sat alone at a dining table that was too large, a plate of uneaten food still set in front of you, a meal made to share. He was late. Too late.

After 2 hours of waiting, panic had tried to convince you to search out Maria and beg her to send out a search crew. You’d go out yourself if you had to. As you entered the third long stretch, busying yourself around the house had proved a dismal distraction and by the fourth despondency had taken over. He was gone. He had to be.

It was closer to midnight than his usual hour of return now, tears dripping into ice-cold tea, your fingers trembling around the ceramic of his favorite mug. Had you taken a sip you’d have wrinkled your nose at the slightest hint of coffee evident over the chamomile, he never scrubbed the dishes well enough.

The ticking of the clock made the slow progress of time an audible horror, the thud of each flick of the second hand like a metronome to the terrifying scenarios playing out in your mind. Bitten. Lost. Dead. Which one was it? Would one be easier to grieve than another? It was always a risk, but that was a fact easier to face entwined in strong arms in the comfort of your bed.

Heavy boot steps had you leaping to your feet, your hand wrenching the door open questioning who would be on the other side. Was it Tommy, here to deliver the bad news? Was it him? Was it someone else tasked with speaking to you and Maria alike?

“Jesus Christ,” you cried out as you crossed the threshold, his pack falling from his hands onto the wooden deck with a thud.

His forehead was still soaked with sweat when it buried into the skin of your neck, your arms pulling him into you as he wrapped you up tightly with his own. The sight of dried blood caked on one side of his face hadn’t been missed, nor was the way he collapsed as soon as the refuge of your embrace had swallowed him, his sigh of relief hot on your throat as his fingertips dug into the plushness around your waist. Tears had begun to fall when your fingers tangled in graying strands, his body still somehow too far away to comfort you.

“M’alright,” he mumbled, making no effort to pull away just yet, “M’alright, darlin’.”

With every attempt to speak your tongue was strangled by relief and fear alike, the sounds battering against your throat giving you away, and despite the fact you were supposed to be comforting him, the tables had turned.

“Don't cry,” he soothed, tugging you impossibly closer, “It’s all over.”

“Go sit,” you finally instructed, releasing him too quickly for both of your liking, “Let me clean you up.”

It had taken time for Joel to relinquish some of his stoicism to you. Years ago he’d have batted your hands away when you fussed or fret, done the work himself while you watched on with guilt and concern. But as time had worn on, he’d slowly started giving in. It started with accepting meals prepped for him when he got too busy carving in the studio, followed by bandaging hard-to-reach areas, and now, he was more than willing to accept every one of your affections.

Your gentle fingers felt better than his own ever could on sensitive flesh, the throbbing side of his face relaxing as your featherlight touch softly turned him at the jaw. You were close enough that he could feel your heat radiating off of you, the faintest hint of floral and earth mingling in his nostrils. You’d been in the garden all day, your beloved blooms and greenery keeping you safe in his absence. Without a word, you pulled his blood and dirt-stained shirt over his head, your hands and eyes assessing the rest of him for damage and thankfully finding none.

“It’ll sting,” you warned as you did every time, his response nothing more than a single nod.

A scotch-soaked rag brushed over his lips first, your own coming to taste the amber liquid lingering with the welcome home kiss he’d been fighting to return for. It was too short, too fleeting, and he was desperate. A palm cupping behind your head redirected you, the way you crashed back into him breaking open floodgates both of you had been doing poorly to maintain. He grunted in approval when your knees trapped him on the couch, your body sliding into his lap as you anchored yourself to him by the hair once again, his tongue sliding along the seam of your mouth begging for more of what he thought he’d never have again.

Lack of food was starvation he could endure, but losing the slight sting of the crescent moon stamps you were pressing into his chest was a famine he would never survive. The way you whimpered as he pulled the will to live right from your swelling lips could cure his melancholy, the tension melting from his weary form as you soothed every ache and pain with nothing more than a brush of your lips and fingers. No matter how many years he was able to swindle away from the grips of death that had stalked him for decades he would never get enough of you.

“Let me finish,” you giggled, breathless and flustered, the smile ticking at your lips easing his guilt for the turmoil he’d put you in.

A peck to the scar marring the bridge of his nose came before the brush of the rag to his temple, a hiss of pain he’d only grant you the gift of seeing coming when you pressed it to the cut decorating his hairline. Meticulously you worked as he kept you firmly in his lap, kneading into the velvet beneath his calloused fingers worshipfully, your body following as he relaxed back into the cushions when the exhaustion became too much to battle against.

“You don’t need stitches,” you informed, the way you brushed his hair ever-so-gently sending a shiver up his spine, “Just some food and a shower.”

“Yes ma’am,” he slurred, the loss of your heat a worse discomfort than the burn of the alcohol still prickling at his wounds.

Despite his protest, you warmed a plate and rushed off to begin heating water, leaving him to eat alone where the sight of your still-full plate wasn’t lost on him. He picked at enough to appease you before trudging up the stairs and stepping into the stream of warm water you’d prepped, rushing through the motions to join you in the bed he knew you’d already settled into.

However, he found you ready and waiting with a clean rag and a towel, the taste of copper dripping into his mouth as you sat him down and pressed against his now throbbing head again. You’d changed into one of his t-shirts and nothing more, a sight that riled him up no matter the state he found himself in. Your thighs were free to explore, he could see your lips lifting into a smirk as he dipped his finger beneath the leg of your panties.

“Aren’t you exhausted?” you asked with a mischievous lilt, inspecting the current state of his head.

“Nothin’ I can’t fight off,” he answered as he roughly grasped each cheek of your ass in his palms, your body responding immediately with a pathetic mewl.

Strong arms lifted you around his waist, his towel falling to the floor without regard as he carried you to the bed, his pillow soft behind your head as he laid you down gently. Your panties were discarded, the loose tee draped over your frame pushed up to reveal your nipples already pebbling in arousal and need. That was where he began teasingly, challenging your already threadbare resolve as he pressed his lips everywhere but the place you needed him. Your spine arched searching for his heat, but every time he denied you, grazing his nose along your skin in a taunt until you were writhing in what felt like agony.

When his mouth finally locked over the hardened bud and you trapped his head in place, your core began pulsing with need as his tongue swirled, his fingers tugging and pulling on the other side until you could bear it no longer. Spreading your thighs wide, you pushed his hand down and pressed his thumb to your buzzing bundle of nerves, crying out loud enough for the neighbors to hear you through the open window as he wrestled his head to your opposite breast. He worked you over in sync, his circles and presses to each sensitive spot simultaneous until you tensed and threw your head back, a wave of white-hot pleasure washing through you.

Choking and sputtering on his name you settled him between your legs, his whispered promises of “I got you” and “I’m here” brushing against your lips and erupting like butterflies in your stomach as he fisted himself. He was here, he was home, he was safe.

Joel liked to be close, foreheads and chests pressed together, breath shared, and tonight was no exception. Your soaked channel took him easily, but he still went slow, enjoying every second of your cunt pulling him in, the softness of your inner walls, the quivering of your thighs as he filled you. Here he felt the perfect dichotomy of vulnerable and indestructible, there was nothing that could taint him here, no pain, only the shattering of walls and a warm embrace. He kissed you when his hips notched with yours, pausing to take in the sensations he’d never tire of. Your heat, the way your thighs parted in trust and devotion and gripped him as if you needed him as much as he did you, the heaving of your chest and the fluttering of your eyes as you stretched around his girth, you would always be his undoing. He’d never fight it, either.

With the first gentle rock of his body into yours, you tangled your fingers into his hair, it was no secret to either of you how much he loved it. You knew he wouldn’t last long, his face was already contorting as he pushed back the heat coursing to his middle, the pressure already bearing down and begging to be relieved. Your lips pressed to his eyes, his brow, his cheeks, his lips, dipping lower to lavish the scars on his throat and over his pulse; if you only you knew his heart beat only for you.

He was whimpering now, weakened further than usual by his flirtations with death and the sheer respite of sharing your body, his pace picking up as he fucked you like it was the last time. In his mind, maybe it was.

“You’re okay,” you reminded him as his face twisted, “It’s okay.”

The loss of him had you gasping on air that caught in your throat as his mouth cinched over your clit. Without shame you lifted your knees to your chest, giving him access to dive into your dripping hole, your juices sweet on his tongue and soaking his beard as he devoured you. It was sloppy and unhindered, he wanted every drop you gave him, each moan into the dark and tug on his locks fueling him as he suckled and lapped until your vision went black and the elastic holding you together finally snapped.

Boneless and spent, you felt him pecking his drenched lips along your inner thighs, the sensation guiding you back to him and somehow craving more. With fingers beneath his chin, you guided him up, his body sliding behind you as his cock slipped into your cunt again. He tasted like you, his beard still damp as your mouths moved tiredly in tandem, your sweat-soaked skin pressed together as he rut into you harder and faster than before.

“Come on, baby,” you urged, reaching behind you to cradle his head, “Come me for me.”

“Not yet,” he grunted, needing this longer, he wasn’t ready to lose it, he needed more.

“Always so good for me, love. So good.”

That did it. The praise, it always sent him metaphorically to his knees. He may have thought it was a deep, dark secret only he knew, but you were well aware. His pace stuttered as he spilled hot and thick deep in your soft heat. He was panting now, his body limp as he fell to the mattress in a heap, your own following along with him. With a sigh, he began to pull himself free until you stopped him, pulling his arm around your middle and pushing your hips back to sheath him once again.

“Just go to sleep,” you said softly, his shocked whine as he thrust his sensitive shaft into you like a reflex, his spendings easing his way, “Just like this.”

“Okay,” he sputtered, burying his nose in the hollow behind your ear.

Moments after breathless I love yous, sleep overtook you both, the crickets outside no longer a haunting hymn, but a lullaby.

Joel Miller Masterlist

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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blackopals-world · 1 year

Text

"The Colors I Understand"

Blind!femYuu x Dorm Leaders

Yuu can't see colors but she still knows what they are.

Riddle- Red

"Red." Yuu said to herself as she bit into a strawberry "I'm certain."

Riddle's gaze flickered up from his teacup to Yuu who gazed blankly forward. Her lips tilted downward.

"What did you say?" He was confused.

"I feel red." She said again.

"You feel a color?" Riddle asked.

"Do you not?" She asked " You are very red."

Riddle couldn't argue, he was in fact red. Everything around here was red.

"I suppose." He said simply still not understanding how she would understanding the concept of colors.

"Red is heat like the sun. The feeling of a burn. The heat on your face from anger. The feeling of embarrassment. Red is sweet though like the smell of roses or the taste of strawberries and chocolate." Yuu explained.

"Oh, you mean you like the strawberries?" Riddle asked placing a few more fruits on her plate.

Riddle didn't want to come off as the negative parts of being "red". He never yelled around her and kept his voice calm. She would get startled so easily otherwise.

"Yes, but I like red. I feel red when I'm with you. Warm and sweet." Yuu smiled taking a sip of her lukewarm tea.

"I-i feel red too." Riddle blushed.

Leona-Orange

Leona recognized the weakness in Yuu but never talked about it. She was blind but she was still a person. He had no interest in toeing the line around her.

She didn't need to be treated like a doll.

Still, for some reason, he let her do as she pleased. When he napped in the greenhouse he let her cling to him. She enjoyed stroking his ears.

"Orange." Yuu said softly as she buried her cheek into Leona's shoulder.

The lion didn't bother to ask as he grunted in response

"You are orange." She mumbled sleepily. "Not mild, intense, but warm. Like a tropical day. It sounds loud and chaotic. It tastes like orange, sweet but tart. Stinging but good."

If Leona heard he didn't respond but he did pull Yuu down to nap properly with him. He didn't admit that he was purring happily.

Azul-Gray

Dining with Yuu was always am interesting experience. She had a palette unlike anyone else's. She can't judge based on appearances.

"Glass at 2:00 north." Azul said placing Yuu's cup back on the table after refilling it. He had read a guide about eating while visually impaired after an awkward lunch together.

Yuu smiled warmly. At some point during dinner their hands overlapped while they talked.

"Grey." She said thoughtfully to herself.

Azul's quickly looked at his plate to check if the meat had gone bad before remembering the Yuu wouldn't be able to see if it was.

"Sorry, I was just thinking out loud. I just thought you remind me of gray. At first, I thought blue but it's grey." Yuu explained " Not in the way they say boring. You're like a foggy mist or the air after a storm. The scent of ozone. A secure silence. A compromise between extremes. A brokered peace. The steady beat of a metronome or ticking clock. The comfort of a constant place of rest."

Azul took in her words as he held her hand and gently stroked his thumb across her knuckles.

"I see...so why not blue?" He asked.

"You are blue as well. Like when I put my hand in the ocean and it feels cool. Calming and relaxing. But that isn't enough to describe how I feel about you. I like grey."

"You know, I like grey too." Azul smiled, she had no idea that her eyes where that very same color.

Kalim-Yellow

"I like yellow." Yuu said as she sifted her hands through the sand.

Kalim immediately turned to see her from his spot on the lounge chair. They were spending the day at the oasis having their own little beach day. Unfortunately, Kalim didn't know that Yuu didn't like swimming.

She liked the water but would never go further than her hip in the water. She was too nervous to swim even when her peers who also had impaired vision would love the pool.

Kalim tried not to sound too embarrassed but he had a habit of not considering Yuu's needs. Like when he invited her to a party and set off fireworks too close to her. She left almost immediately. She didn't like wild parties or fireworks. He learned to be calmer and that they could still have fun together. Like today. They could still enjoy the water and play in the sand.

"You can see it?!" Kalim yelled esthetically as he rolled off his chair and onto the ground. Right onto Yuu's lap as she yelped.

"No. No. I can't." Yuu said pinching Kalim's cheek as soon as she figured out where his head was.

"Aww,sorrwy." He said apologetically. "But you identified the color of the sand. It's kind-of more yellow-ish."

"I was being more metaphorical."

"Like yellow in spirit?"

Yuu paused for a moment.

"Yes, yellow in spirit."

"What does yellow look like to you?" Kalim asked with wonder in his voice.

"It doesn't have a look. It has a feeling. It smells like mangos or lemons. It sounds like laughter and kids playing. The buzzing of bees The feeling of running against the wind. It tastes like lemonade with honey at a picnic. I like yellow." As she said this she had begun to bury Kalim in the sand.

Kalim listened obediently as she treated him like a corpse being put in a shallow grave.

When she finished burying him up to his head she pressed a kiss to his cheek before heading towards Jamil who was holding her lemonade.

"Are you going to dig me up?" He called.

"I can't find you, I'm blind." She joked.

Vil-Purple

"Did you get dressed in the dark potato?"Vil asked teasingly.

"Actually Vil, I did."Yuu returned the jab.

They had an interesting relationship. Vil is someone obsessed with appearances and Yuu can see said appearance.

Vil felt comfortable around her because when he feels at his worst she can't see it. He pitied her even when he knew he shouldn't. He relied so much more on his sight than on other senses and couldn't imagine being born without it.

Yuu didn't notice or care about her appearance. She relayed on textures instead when it came to clothes.

That being said Vil got her a gift, a silk dress.

"It's like you Villy. Purple." She said.

"Did someone spoil your surprise? Also, don't call me that." Vil said sternly as he heared Yuu giggle.

"No, it's just that it feels like you." Yuu corrected herself but couldn't convey what she meant.

"What?" Vil said with a raised brow.

"It's purple like you are. You know smooth, softer than expected. Rich and expensive. Deep and strong. Purple is like that. Cool to the touch. It smells like lavender and incense. It symbolizes pride and royalty. All of it is like you." Yuu ran her hands over the silk fabric enjoying the feeling.

"Naturally, it suits us well." Vil said giving Yuu a pat on the head for her appropriate praise.

He loved seeing how her head worked.

Idia- Black and White

Yuu was lost. She had a run-in with a bunch of jerks and got pushed off her usual path. She was still trying to reorientate at get back but she was completely lost. She couldn't even find her cane. The best she could do now was wait for someone to walk by to lead her back.

"Yuu-chan! I found your cane!" A familiar voice called. There were no footsteps but there was a low mechanical buzz.

Ortho.

"Ortho, thank god! Can you take me to the main hall?" Yuu reached out tentatively for her cane as Ortho came to a stop in front of her.

Her hand only met with Ortho's firey hair as he pressed against her for praising headpats.

Ortho ended up taking Yuu to class and sitting with her. He was a great aid. Yuu used a braille slate and stylus to take notes and recorded lectures. She wished she could also use online sources and could read more stuff in the library but even in a magic school was impossible. Professor Divus felt appalled by that fact but was firm about keeping Yuu from taking part in making potions.

If Ortho sensed Yuu's inconvenience he didn't say anything at the time.

Ortho was white to her. Like the clouds they tried to describe to her when she held pieces of cotton. Like blank unmarked paper, pure. The whistle of a cool wind rushing past her ears. The taste of fresh water at night. Full of potential and change.

Later the robot boy dragged Yuu to his dorm.

"Can you make Yuu-chan a braille tablet?" He asked.

"W-why? Did you have to come here for that?" Idia said panicked at the sudden intrusion. Even if she couldn't see him she probably didn't need to hear him. The less she sensed his presence the better. She probably had super hearing and stuff like that like in comic books.

Yuu felt nervous. Idia made her feel that way. It wasn't like she didn't like him. It's just she feels like she wants to cry when she sees him.

He was covered black. A heavy oppressive color. The sound of an echo in a cavern. The color of grief and solemn pain. Bad memories. Bitter food. Long silent nights. It was unsettling for her but she tried to understand.

It took time for Idia and Yuu to warm up to each other. After her tablet was finished they learned to play games together. Yuu was really good at rhythm games by listo the sounds.

The black that once scared her became something else. It felt comfortable like a heavy blanket at night. It tasted like dark chocolate, bitter and rich. Smelled like black coffee. And felt like the first few seconds of waking up in the early morning as she came out of a dream.

Black wasn't so bad.

Malleus- Green

"Not there!" Malleus cried pulling Yuu's hand away from a thorn. "You could hurt yourself. Can't we react at the gazebo?"

They had been on a walk and as always the dragon fea guarded her like a hawk.

"Alright, alright. I just wanted to pick a few flowers." Yuu said hooking an arm on Malleus's as he escorted her to sit in the arching stone gazebo.

As she sat relaxing in the shade a leaf floated into the palm of her hand, as Malleus returned with an armful of rainbows of flowers. She curled her hands around it as she felt the waxy leaf.

"I love green." She smiled.

"Green? You can sense it?" He asked placing the bouquet down on the table.

"Can't you? Here." She reached out for Malleus's hand who obediently gave it to her like a puppy. She lightly placed the leaf in his palm and curled his fingers around it.

"It's green. You can feel it. I can smell the flowers you brought are green too." Yuu smiled.

"Oh, what else is green?" He asked.

"The sound of a river over rocks. Animals rustling in a bush. The sound of wind in the trees. The smell of grass. The taste of apples and tea. The feeling of going on a walk. The feeling of a calm day." Yuu picked up a flower and breathed in its scent "I love green, it's my favorite color."

Malleus grabbed Yuu's hand and placed it on his cheek.

"My eyes are green." He said pleading as he caressed her hand.

"Then they are probably the loveliest shade of green. I love them too." Yuu said softly as the dragon purred in delight.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland yuu #twisted wonderland x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #vil shoenheit x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #kalim x reader #idia shroud x reader #leona x reader #malleus x reader #ortho shroud

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theturtlelovers · 2 months

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Can I request a sentence prompt with mikey? Number 4 please where mikey is asking for female so's attention while she's doing some work so she let's him sit in his lap.

𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚔-𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

Pairing: Mikey/fem!Reader Rating: Everyone Contents: Mikey wants some attention, so the reader sits on his lap while they work. Warnings: Nothing major, implied established relationship, Mikey is a sweetheart that deserves love, the reader is requested to be fem but can be read as gender neutral. Wordcount: 858

Notes: Boom! More content! Probably gonna burn myself out by accident, but oh well! ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

The clock ticked relentlessly in the quiet room, a soft metronome marking the passage of an afternoon steeped in silence and concentration. You were deep into your work, papers spread out like a fan in front of you, laptop open and buzzing softly with the hum of productivity. The only light in the room came from the soft glow of the desk lamp and the fading daylight that managed to seep through the blinds.

Outside, the world continued without pause, but inside your small sanctuary, time seemed to slow, bending around the focus of your tasks. It was during one such moment of deep concentration that you felt a presence looming near the doorway.

“Hey,” Mikey’s voice cut gently through the quiet, a soft but firm reminder that life wasn’t all about work.

You looked up, slightly startled, your train of thought breaking like a string of pearls scattered across the floor. Mikey stood there, a sheepish grin spreading across his face, his eyes filled with a playful gleam that you knew all too well.

“What’s up, Mikey?” you asked, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite the slight irritation at being interrupted.

“I need some attention,” he admitted, his tone light but his eyes searching, almost hesitant as if he expected you to turn him away.

You sighed, your gaze sweeping over the expanse of papers and the digital clock blinking back at you. There was still so much to do, yet the earnest look in his eyes was too hard to resist. Pushing aside a stack of papers, you patted your lap, a silent invitation.

“C’mere, I can sit on your lap until I’m done working.”

Mikey’s face lit up at the offer, and he didn’t need to be told twice. He moved across the room with that grace unique to him, despite his size and the robust build of his frame. The chair creaked under the combined weight as he settled down, his body cool against yours, a solid presence that radiated comfort.

His arms wrapped around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. You couldn’t help but lean back slightly, the familiar scent of him, a mix of his natural musk and the faint hint of mint from his shower earlier, filling your senses.

The keyboard lay forgotten for a moment as you allowed yourself to enjoy the closeness, his presence a calming balm to the frenzy of your workday. But reality couldn't be held at bay for long, and you soon turned your attention back to the screen, your fingers resuming their dance across the keyboard.

Mikey was quiet for a while, simply content in being close to you. But as minutes turned into half an hour, you could feel him shifting, his body starting to fidget as he struggled to keep still. Every so often, his fingers would draw small, absent-minded patterns on your side, or his toes would tap lightly against the floor.

“You okay?” you murmured, not turning your head but speaking softly.

“Yeah, just…” His voice trailed off, and he squeezed you gently. “I just like being here with you, even if you’re busy.”

“That’s sweet, Mikey,” you replied, sincerity lacing your words. “I like having you here too.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence once more, punctuated only by the soft clacking of the keyboard and the occasional shift of paper. As you worked, Mikey’s presence became a grounding force, his steady breathing syncing with your own.

Hours seemed to compress into moments, and when you finally hit 'save' on your document, the realization of time passing so swiftly made you blink in surprise. You stretched, feeling the slight stiffness in your back from sitting too long, and turned to Mikey, who was watching you with a patient, adoring gaze.

“All done?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you.

“All done,” you confirmed, a sense of accomplishment flooding through you, made sweeter by his company.

Mikey helped you tidy up, his large hands making quick work of the scattered papers, aligning them into neat stacks with a precision that always surprised you. Once everything was put away, he stood and offered you his hand, pulling you up into a tight embrace.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” he murmured, his voice muffled as he spoke into your hair.

“Anytime, Mikey. You know that,” you responded, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing back just as tightly.

As you both stepped out of the room, the weight of the work left behind, you felt lighter, the evening ahead promising relaxation and the simple joy of being together. Sometimes, it was these quiet, seemingly mundane moments that deepened your bond the most, the silent affirmations of presence and support weaving a stronger connection between you.

As you walked hand in hand, leaving the confines of your workspace, Mikey’s warmth by your side reminded you that no matter how busy life got, there was always room for a little more love, especially from a turtle as special as Mikey.

Tagging: @whygz, @brightlotusmoon, @mrghostings Interested in getting tagged? Come check it out!

Like what you read? Check out my masterlist to see if you find anything else!

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt donatello #tmnt raphael #tmnt leonardo #tmnt x reader #tmnt donnie #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt mikey x reader #tmnt bayverse x reader #tmnt 2012 x reader #tmnt mikey #tmnt michelangelo x reader #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2007

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