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endlessthxxghts · 1 month

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Best I Ever Had

Jackson!Joel Miller x afab!reader | w/c: 2.3k

Summary: Someone tries to hit on you on your night out with Joel, insulting your man in the process, and oh you don't like that. You blow off some steam in more ways than one.

Content/Warnings: Reader is able-bodied, no physical descriptions. Feminine perception of reader and feminine pet names (Joel calls you mama and babygirl), but no pronouns used. Reader's a fucking badass and can hold their own fights (probably Joel's too, tbh). Slight description of reader getting physical/violent with another person (bby has some anger issues). Established relationship. Implied age gap (exact number unspecified). A bit of insecure Joel. 18+ MDNI! Dom!reader !! Sub!Joel !!!! P in V unprotected. Slight breeding kink (reader just likes being filled, no children talk). Joel has a fast refractory period (don't think too much on it, just enjoy). Definitely some overstimulation. Cockwarming. Riding..straddling.. Teasing. Begging. Edging. Sloppy making out. Multiple orgasms. Please let me know if there’s anything I missed that should be up here!

A/N: Some get post-nut clarity, but I get post-nut lust. This was the product of that. Hope you enjoy, my angels. Thank you @honeyedmiller for beta’ing 🩶 also I picture both game Joel or hbo Joel, so it’s entirely up to you what you wanna visualize ;)

masterlist | updates blog

It was a busy night at the Tipsy Bison. Everyone was out. Everyone was mingling, getting to know each other. As if it wasn’t a small town already, but hey, it wouldn’t hurt to make sure you really knew the people living in this little forever-town.

Except, Joel was not one to mingle—especially on nights like tonight. Tommy insisted that he come, it’ll be nice, he tried to reason.

He eventually agreed. Not because of Tommy, though, but because of you.

You knew Joel was a certified grump, through and through. And you love Joel, you really do. But the post-apocalyptic world caused you to react differently than your man. Yeah, you’ve become tougher, harder to break, harder to trust. However, you crave any sense of normalcy you can find. So on occasion, you like to go out and get to know the people of the town. You like human interaction.

And when they say opposites attract, the saying couldn’t have been more true. Joel was absolutely smitten the day he met you. It’s been a long time coming between you two—with his vulnerability, or lack thereof, and his initial unwillingness to accept that he can finally relax and unclench his jaw—but you’re together now, stronger than ever, and everything is worth it.

You are worth it.

Which is exactly why all you needed was to give one raise of your brow during his protesting before Joel promptly shuts his lips and takes a defeated breath, fixing his answer to Tommy. “Oh, hell. Alright, brother, we’ll be there.”

And to be quite honest, Joel would go as far to say that tonight’s little get together was actually decent for once. That is, until he sees you waiting on the bartender for his beer and your old-fashioned, and a man—a boy—approaches you.

“Hey,” you heard a voice beside you say. Not realizing it was meant for you, your attention stays on the bartender. Still, the voice persists. “I was thinking, uh-” you look at the guy then, eyes staring him down in a way he perceives as a challenge.

He clears his throat. “I was thinking I could buy you a drink?”

“No, I’m good,” you say shortly. The bartender comes up to you, pulling you away from the guy’s feeble attempt at flirting. You tell the bartender your order, and before you can take another moment to speak, the guy pipes up.

“Put it on my tab,” he smirks triumphantly, taking a closer step to you.

You pull yourself away on instinct— out of disgust, but your eyes stay trained on his gaze. You’re pissed, but this naïve little boy has no idea. Both of what you're capable of and what the older man, your older man, across the bar is capable of.

“Thanks,” you smile, “my boyfriend’s gonna appreciate the free drink,” you tell the guy, turning to Joel and giving him a sweet smile. You’ve been feeling his stare the second this waste of space walked up to you.

Joel would pounce if you told him to. He knows you can handle yourself, though, and you confirm it through that pretty smile you flash him. He can’t deny the way his cock twitches at the way this scene is unfolding. Part of him is begging for the guy to try something more, to test you—to unleash you.

The guy scoffs the second he sees Joel. “That old man is your boyfriend? Come on, baby,” his hand reaches for the crook of your elbow. “You can do so much better than that,” he taunts.

And that was the something more you needed. Immediately your hand takes hold of his wrist, twisting the man to face the bar in a rough fashion as you lean him over the bar counter, his arm twisted behind his back, shoulder ready to snap out of his socket with the tiniest of movements.

“Wanna say that again?” You seethe, knocking the breath from his lungs as you push him into the wooden counter.

“I said—”

He’s cut off by his own high-pitched scream. You push his arm higher, a sharp pain shooting through every nerve center in the guy’s arm.

“Sweetheart,” a southern twang says softly, but it’s not your man. Tommy. “I know he probably deserves it, darlin’, but it’s not worth it,” he says, not wanting to aggravate you more. Everyone knows not to test you.

Well, apparently not everyone.

You roll your eyes, knowing Tommy’s just trying to keep up the liveliness of tonight. “Fine,” you mutter. Leaning closer into the guy, you whisper into his ear. “Talk about my fuckin’ man like that again, and I’ll snap your shoulder so fuckin’ hard, Jackson’s doctors won’t even know what to do with ya. Ya hear me?” You’re not from the South, and before the outbreak, you’ve never even been. But get angry enough, and Joel’s twang possesses you.

You release the crying boy with a shove, and you back up, wanting to pull yourself away from the situation. Your back is met with something hard, and immediately you know who it is. You soften in his touch as his arms immediately wrap around your waist. “You alright, babygirl?” Joel rasps in your ear. You can feel his fucking hard-on pressed against your back.

The guy looks at you and Joel, chest still heaving as his face turns into disgust, a fuck you muttered under his breath, an aftertaste of jealousy on his lips.

Smiling wildly at the guy in front of you, you snake your hand up to wrap around Joel’s jaw before you turn your head back and tilt your head up, pulling Joel into an open-mouthed kiss, your tongue pushing into his mouth as he eagerly sucks it, lapping up your spit. He groans into you, his arms pulling you impossibly tighter into him.

You pull away with a harsh nip to his lip, feeding off the little whimper Joel lets out. “Baby,” he whines.

You look back to the guy, and the silent audience you’ve accumulated. “Come on, cowboy,” you breathe. “I’m not done with you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies happily, spinning you two around and walking out with you still pressed against him.

The bar stays quiet after a beat. Tommy’s hand slaps the bar counter before he speaks. “Well. Get the music back going unless y’all wanna hear ‘em goin’ at it all night!” The bar roars in laughter, the music coming back to life.

Before returning back to Maria, Tommy turns to the guy. “You. Out.”

He scrambles without looking back.

“Oh my God, baby.”

“Fuck— I- I can’t, baby, I can’t hold it much longer, baby, I need to come.”

“Just one more second, baby.”

“Mama, please,” he cries out, his head lolling from side to side on his sweat-soaked pillow as you grind your hips into his pelvis, lifting yourself on and off him every other moment. His hands hold onto your hips, not in a way to control your movement but to simply feel you.

“Oh, come on, be a good boy for me, baby,” you moan, your hand fixing itself onto his jaw to make him look at you. “Just wanna feel you twitch inside me a little bit more ‘fore you make a mess inside me, okay?”

“Oh, fuck— yes, yes, mama, yes, okay,” he rambles, trying his hardest to breathe through the pleasurable pain as you take and take and take.

A particular grind sends your back arching, his pubes soaked in your arousal nudging perfectly against your clit, sending an electric pulse up your spine. You cry out in ecstasy, your climax hitting you instantly. “Oh fuck, oh shit- fuckfuckfuck, baby, come with me— come inside me, baby, fucking fill me,” you nearly scream, hoping that boy can hear you now.

“Shit, baby, oh my God- fuck- I’m coming, mama, holy fuck- I-” he stutters, his thigh muscles shaking underneath you as you bounce on him through his climax, the mix of his spend with yours bouncing lewdly across the walls of your shared bedroom.

Your hips come to a slow but never stop, your chest heaving as you lean down to bring your lips to Joel. You let them ghost across his lips, but you don’t let them touch. He knows better not to chase it, not yet, anyway. He can still feel you fuming.

You can do so much better than that.

“Can you fucking believe him?” You whisper against his lips, barely audible yet fucking scary nonetheless.

Joel thinks that boy is right, deep down. Even though he’d never want you to leave him, and you’d never want him to leave you. Joel thinks that there’s a crumb of moral rightness in that statement. But he keeps that to himself.

Nevertheless, you know Joel like the back of your hand. He doesn’t need to utter a lick of anything to you. You already know what he’s thinking.

“Joel,” you say again. “I asked you a question.”

All questions must be answered.

Fuck.

“Y-yeah, baby,” he rumbles, too distracted by the comments from the bar, but mainly still caught up in the way his softening come-covered cock is still nestled inside of you.

You sit up now. A whine leaves his throat at the movement. “So you do believe him?”

Only then does he realize what he said. His eyes shoot up to yours. “W-wait, no, baby, ‘m sorry, no. No, I don’t believe him, baby,” he panics.

You quirk your eyebrow at him.

“The fuckin’ audacity on ‘em,” he adds for good measure.

You’re silent for a beat. Then—

“You’re lying.”

Joel’s heart starts to race. “No, baby. Please. Mama, I’m not lyin’,” he tries.

Still straddling his hips, you grab onto his bicep, pulling upward. He gets the hint and sits up. He’s still inside you, his cock slowly growing to full mast again the longer you sit here.

You’re face to face now. His arms are loosely wrapped around your waist, your arms tightly around his neck.

“Look me in my eye,” you whisper, “and tell me you’re the best I ever had.”

Joel audibly gulps.

Slow— so slow, your hips begin to move again. A breathy little moan escapes your mouth, and he lunges forward for you, his tongue dancing along the tip of yours, swallowing your breath. You allow it.

“Tell me,” you groan into his mouth, practically swallowing his tongue as you shallowly bounce yourself on him.

“Baby,” he whines, getting lost in this dance of heat and sweat he’s become utterly addicted to.

You break yourself away from his mouth, not allowing him the option to reach for you anymore. He pulls back, eyes wild and sad. His mouth turned down into a literal pout.

“My poor baby,” you mutter. “Tell me what I wanna hear,” you say again. “Or you’re not getting my lips nor are you coming for the rest of the night,” you tell him, switching back into your grinding motion to stimulate your sensitive bud, letting him feel the way your pussy flutters around him.

“Baby,” he begs again as you grind, your warmth forcing him to another climax. Please don’t make me say it, he’s trying to convince you.

Your fingers find their home at the base of his salt and pepper curls, tugging them in warning. “Tell. Me.”

You force his body down to lay flat on the bed again, towering over him, allowing your body the space to lift yourself off of him, only his tip inside of you. He takes a sharp breath in, knowing what’s coming.

You drop yourself down on him, fucking yourself on his cock at a bruising pace. You grab his hands and drag them up to your chest, wrapping his thick digits around you encouraging him to squeeze.

“Fuck- mama, I’m gonna—”

“No the fuck you’re not, baby,” you moan, lost in the pleasure but still rightfully in charge. “Swear to God, Joel, gonna leave you fucking swollen and pulsing for a fucking week— oh fuck,” you cut yourself off, a familiar sensation building at the base of your spine, sending you convulsing around his length yet again.

Joel’s eyes clamp shut, finally giving into your request so he can finally let go. “I— shit, I’m the—” a rugged moan forces itself out, “—the best you ever had, mama, please, the fuckin’ best, baby,” he cries out, his hips bucking up into you as he covers every inch of you with his spend.

“Shit,” you moan, his words affecting you a lot more than you anticipated, your hips doing overtime, unable to find it within you to stop even as he begins to soften. “Yes, fuck, that’s my boy, shit—” you breathe, “—the fucking best, always make me feel so fucking good, baby.”

His hands finally use their strength, trying his best to slow you with ease, his nerves reaching the point of painful overstimulation. “Alright, baby, alright,” he winces.

Recognizing his limits, you immediately begin to slow, lowering yourself onto his heaving chest. You let him slip out of you this time, giving him an actual break. “I’m sorry,” you whisper into his chest.

“For what, baby?” Joel responds with a kiss into your head.

“Did I go too far?”

He couldn’t help the belly laugh that shakes the both of you. You immediately sit back up, your hands on his chest to keep your limp body up. “What?” you glare at him.

“Too far? Which part, darlin’? Nearly breakin’ that guy’s shoulder or my dick?”

A belly laugh erupts out of you this time. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you respond. “...Both.”

“Mmm…” Joel puts on a fake thinking face. “Maybe to the former, but not at all to the latter,” he hums, his hands finding the back of your head to pull you in for a chaste kiss.

You hum into his lips, a smile stretching across your cheeks.

Resting your head on his chest, you let a few moments pass before you speak again. “Tommy’s not gonna invite us to another one of those, huh?”

“Probably not, mama,” he smiles. “Probably not.”

I’d love to hear what you think!! Any feedback or interactions with you all truly brightens my day. So so so much love for you all. Thank you for being here 🩶

I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links in my navigation + bio to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.

graphics by @saradika-graphics (middle divider in fic by me)

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gejo333 · 1 year

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Jealousy

Miguel x fem! Spider! Reader

Pt. 2

Summary: You spend all your time training the new recruit which makes Miguel jealous. 🤭

Extremely light fluff.

It’s been a while since I did one-shots. But reading so many amazing Miguel fanfics sparked my passion again. I stayed up late finishing it, so I apologize in advance if I made any grammatical mistakes.

Miguel x reader one shots requests are open.

word count: 1.4k

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Miguel began to grow annoyed by how quiet his office at the Spider HQ had become in recent days. Before you came into his life, he liked the silence. But for the past year he has heard your sweet voice echo through these walls. Your laugh, your rants…he enjoyed listening to you.

While he worked, you would usually be near him trying to help in any way you could. You would watch one or two of the screens to help find anomalies to help ease his stress. During your early days here you were lost, which at the time greatly annoyed Miguel. But your persistence on helping him, finally had him cave as he then taught you a few things you could monitor. After that, you became part of his daily life. You always tried to ask him questions about himself, which bothered him at first, but now he cherished the conversations he had with you.

Except, in the past five days you have barely been around. Most likely because you were mentoring the newest recruit, Gwen. You were so excited when Miguel brought Gwen to HQ. Finally someone you can mentor. However, your attention towards the young female spider made another spider jealous.

“I don’t get it. How do you shoot your web like that without looking in that direction?” Gwen huffed in annoyance as for the tenth time she couldn’t do what the older female spider could. You chuckled at her frustration.

“It takes a lot of practice Gwen. It took me months to perfect that skill. I only showed this skill to you this afternoon.” You shot your web out, grabbing a water bottle without even glancing in the direction. You then tossed it to Gwen.

“Let’s take a small break and then we’ll continue your training.”

“Awesome!” Gwen tried again to shoot her web out like you did but she frowned when she heard Pavitr yell in surprise. Her web landed on the side of his face, scaring the poor spider half to death.

“Sorry Pavitr.” Gwen cringed which made you laugh at the scene.

“All good Gwen.” Pavitr chuckled as he removed the web.

“I see your learning from the best Gwen.” Hobie walked over, curious about what the trio was doing.

“Yep! Hopefully I can be as awesome of a spider-woman as her one day.” Gwen smiled. You pulled her into a hug from how adorable she was.

“Aww Gwen! You’re so sweet! But you already are an amazing spider woman.”

“Get use to the hugs Gwen. She’s a hugger.” Hobie chuckled as he saw Gwen slightly surprised by your gesture.

“Hey Y/N?” asked Gwen.

“What’s up?”

“Who taught you all your cool tricks?”

“I’m actually curious as well.” said Pavitr.

“I never told you guys?”

“Nope. But I thought you were just naturally gifted.” said Hobie.

“You’re sweet Hobie, but nope. I was once an amaterr too. I was taught by-” You paused when you saw Lyla appear right next to you. “Speak of the devil.” You mumbled out loud. Your comment earned you a few confused glances from the young group of spiders.

“What does he want now?”

Ever since you started training Gwen this week, Lyla has appeared multiple times a day telling you the same thing. Miguel wanted you back at the office.

When he sent Lyla to do this at the beginning of the week you complied. But you quickly realised he only wanted you back in the office for no particular task. Today it was the fourth time Lyla has graced her presence during Gwen’s training today.

“Same thing. I’m assuming it's the same response?” Lyla sighed.

“Yep.” With that she was gone. You sighed, hoping it was the last time she appeared today.

“Wait, hold up. Miguel O’Hara. Mr. Grump. Trained you?” Pavitr's eyes widened, jaw open.

“He did. And he isn’t a grump all the time. You just have to get to know him a bit better.”

“Oh God, training with him must have been hellish.” Hobie chuckled.

You chuckled remembering the first few weeks of your spider training with Miguel. Hobie wasn’t wrong. Miguel was not the most patient and easy-going instructor. At least for the first couple of months.

“It's ok if you need to go back to the office. He seems like he needs your help.” Said Gwen.

“I don’t need to be at the office. My time is more important here, training you to kick-ass!” You ruffled her hair slightly, which she tried to swat your hand away. Gwen didn't have an older sister. But definitely felt like Y/n was her sister.

“Breaks over! Now let's see how long you can last hanging from your web.”

Gwen began her endurance training as you timed her. Suddenly you felt a hand on your shoulder. It was Jess. She looked nervous.

“You alright Jess? What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine. I’m just worried about what's going to happen to you. Miguel is looking for you. And he looks more annoyed than he normally is.” Jess chuckled.

“Thanks for the heads up Jess. I’ll handle him later when I’m done. You got this Gwen. Hold on a little-” You gasp as large hands grab you by the waist and throw you over a well-built shoulder.

“Miguel! Put me down!” You bang your fists against his back. You gasp from him pinching your cheek to make you stop.

“Y/n?!” Gwen asked, confused why her mentor was slinged over the boss’ shoulder. Jess stopped her from going after you as she chuckled. That poor spider was going to get it tonight.

“Pay up Hobie. I won the bet.” Pavitr pushed out his arm towards Hobie, asking for the money.

“Now hold on. You both lose. I said he would get her in five days. You said a week, Pavitr.” Jess grinned, to which both disappointed teenagers handed her the winnings.

“What just happened…” said Gwen.

…

Miguel enters his quarters where he finally removes you from his shoulder, setting you down. Your cheeks were red, from the embarrassing journey here. Being carried like that in front of all her colleagues. It was humiliating.

You notice Miguel went into his bedroom, coming out a few minutes later already out of his suit and into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt that perfectly shaped him. He handed you a pair of short sweats and tank top that were a part of the few clothes you kept at his place.

After you slipped on what he gave you he gently grabbed your hand as he led you to his bedroom. He got on his side of the bed before you suddenly were grabbed by the waist and laid in between his legs, your back pressing against his chest. Now that you were both settled you finally broke the silence.

“So, what was that all about? Constantly asking Lyla to come fetch me and then carrying me here like a sack of potatoes.”

Miguel knew you were annoyed with him, but this was the first time in a week since he got to see you.

He kept quiet as he left butterfly kisses along your neck. Of course, if you weren’t annoyed at him you would melt into his touch. But he wasn’t going to get away with his actions.

“Miguel.” You groaned as you sat up and turned yourself to face him. “Please answer me.”

“Te extrañé, mi amor. It's been a week since you laid in bed with me. You spent all your time training Gwen.”

Your annoyance with him faded and was replaced with guilt. He had missed you being by his side.

Your breath hitched at the way he sat there in front of you with starved eyes, wanting only one thing. You. You moved back over to him and sat in his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you gave him a loving kiss on the cheek. You chuckled.

“¿Por qué te ríes?” Miguel frowned slightly, eyebrows furrowed. You placed your hand on his cheek which he took and placed gentle kisses on your wrist.

“I think it’s cute that you’re jealous.” You lightly giggle. Your comment made his loving affection briefly stop as he sent you a playful glare.

“I’m not jealous.”

“Baby, you don’t need to lie to me. You totally were.”

Your giggles soon stopped as Miguel flipped you on the bed, now on top of you. You stare wide-eyed up at him as your cheeks were dusted pink.

A grin makes its way to his plush lips. He slowly begins kissing you up from your collarbone to your cheek as he removes your shorts. Now lips right against your ear, he whispers, “You won’t think twice about ignoring me after I’m done pounding myself deep into your pussy until morning.”

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Translations: “Te extrañé, mi amor.” = “ I missed you, my love.”

“¿Por qué te ríes?” = “ Why are you laughing?”

My Spanish is not the best so I needed a bit of google translate to help.

But I hope you enjoyed this light fluff one-shot. There will be plenty more to come!

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #spider man 2099 #oneshot #light fluff #oneshot requests #gwen stacy #hobie brown #pavitr prabhakar #jessica drew #miguel o’hara fanfiction #spider man: across the spider verse

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hard-core-super-star · 9 months

Note

Hello! How are you doing?

Is it okay if I request Hailee Steinfeld x female reader with cold heated(reader) x sunshine(Hailee). Like, where the reader has the soft spot for the actress?

with friends like you, who needs friends? [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: hailee steinfeld x reader

summary: you had always said relationships weren't for you but a certain brunette seems hellbent on proving you wrong.

warnings: party + alcohol = drunk hailee; R doesn't drink, they just get to watch the chaos unfold; one (1) makeout session; hailee's puppy-dog eyes [yes, they need a warning]

wordcount: 1.5k

a/n: this is basically just black cat gf x golden retriever gf so do with that information what you will. hailee's a little bit kate bishop coded in this one but shhh.

* * * * * * *

Was there anything worse than being forced to come to a party you didn’t want to be at? Turns out the answer is yes. Somehow, your friends had all decided to team up against you to turn tonight into an absolute mess.

Okay, maybe you were being dramatic but with good reason.

Your friends had found out about the significant Hailee-shaped soft spot in your usually impenetrable heart and they had chosen tonight to force the evidence out of you. The worst part of the whole ordeal is the fact that the party was technically your idea.

You had jokingly told Hailee she ought to hold more parties considering how gorgeous her house is and she wasted no time in planning one. There was quite literally no reason for the shindig you had been forced to come to but no one seemed to mind. No one except you.

Although you slowly stopped being such a grump about it the more you saw a certain brunette smile.

Unfortunately, your shift from annoyance to heart-eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by your friends who keep sending you knowing looks every time you slip away from them to talk to an increasingly unsober Hailee. You had never been the type to feel protective over the people in your life but clearly, she’s the exception to most of your rules.

Including your rule against relationships.

“y/n!” Hailee’s voice greets you the second you step into her kitchen. “There you are, I’ve been looking for you!”

You bite your tongue to stop yourself from teasing her for the noticeable slur to her words. “I’ve been in the same spot all night, Haiz.”

She makes a face at the nickname. Her disdain for you calling her had been made obvious a few weeks ago but you still didn't understand it. She seems to love it when people call her Haiz, why are you the exception?

“You've been moping on my couch since the party started,” she half-complains, half-informs.

“I'm not the party type,” you reply with a shrug. “And I'm not moping.”

“Then why do you have that look on your face?”

You raise an eyebrow in response which prompts the brunette to attempt to recreate your ‘moping’ look. You’re not sure if she’s trying to make you smile or if she’s making fun of you but you quickly realize you don’t really mind either way. Especially considering how cute she looks with that exaggerated pout on her face.

“I look nothing like that,” you say, the smallest of smiles grazing your face.

She shrugs. “True but I made you smile.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“You’re the one with the crush.”

Your face heats up a noticeable amount, at least, that’s what the smirk Hailee wears tells you. You’re not one to be outmatched though so you do your best to recover. “I think you’ve got that backward, darling.”

Your hands grip her waist and you gently guide her backward until she’s trapped between you and a counter. You stare at her, waiting for the clever comeback that never comes. You worry you’ve crossed some invisible boundary when she practically lunges forward to press her lips to yours.

The action catches you off guard but you quickly recover, stepping closer and pulling her flush against you. It’s not the first time you’ve both gotten lost in each other but it leaves you breathless and trembling all the same. You never thought a kiss could make you question so many things about who you are and what you want yet here you are.

You had always swore off love and relationships and all the stuff that makes most people’s stomach flutter in ridiculous ways. You didn’t want any of that. At least, not until Hailee kissed you for the first time which turned into a second time which turned into many, many, more times. Times that left you wondering why the hell you’re so hellbent on not asking her out.

Right now is another one of those times.

You hold back a groan as Hailee bites down on your lower lip, a silent signal to get out of your head and back into the real world. You’re happy to oblige with her wish.

You part from her wine-stained lips long enough to help hoist her onto the counter you were so happily pinning her against. Her arms go around you in an instant, pulling you between her legs and holding you there as you lean in for another kiss.

You’re well aware of all the reasons why you shouldn’t be making out in her kitchen but they fade to nothing the longer she holds you close.

You’re forced to pull away when your lungs start burning from the lack of air. The tiniest, and most adorable, of pouts crosses Hailee’s face and you find yourself peppering kisses across her face to make her laugh. Your strategy works a little too well and soon the only sound you can hear is her.

You almost forget where you are until the sound of playful whistles and hollers fills your ears. You roll your eyes at the intrusion and reluctantly step away from the brunette, turning around to find Eiza, Billie, and Ella as the culprits. You can’t say you’re surprised.

“Oh no, don’t let us ruin the moment,” Ella says with a laugh. “You looked quite cozy, love.”

“This is why I never visit you when I’m in New York,” you reply, falling back into your usual, more aloof, personality.

“Guys, guys, she’s blushing!” Billie joins in. “I’ve never seen our resident heartbreaker blush before.”

You decide not to reply, knowing whatever you say will just be fuel for the fire of their teasing remarks. While you understand their jokes are coming from a good place, they get annoying quickly so you shoot Hailee a brief look before stepping out of the kitchen and finding your way back to your ‘moping’ spot.

Your peace doesn’t last long, however, and soon you’re joined on the couch by the four people you left behind. You can’t really complain considering the way Hailee curls up against your side.

You wrap a protective arm around her, ready to spring to action the moment she feels sick due to all the drinks in her system. She swears she’s ‘just tipsy’ but she very clearly chugged a few drinks in the moments before she joined you on the couch. It’s especially noticeable in the way she literally clings to you…not that you mind.

You sort of follow the conversation that flows easily between the friend group but you quickly realize Hailee’s been staring at you for the past few minutes. You turn your head slightly to face before you speak. “You okay, Haiz?”

There’s that look again. “I hate it when you call me that.”

“Why?” You find yourself asking, the rest of the party falling to the background.

“Because everyone calls me that.” The slur in her words becomes a bit more obvious this time. “And you’re…special. I want to be special to you.”

A part of you is aware that she’s just drunk and she probably doesn’t even know what she’s saying right now but the vulnerable glint in her eyes melts you all the same. “Hey, you are special to me. I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”

“But you don’t want me,” she argues.

“Who told you that?”

“You. You don’t date anyone. Not even me.”

Her words tug at your heart, mainly because she’s not wrong. You had told her that during your first night out together and pretended you didn’t notice the way her smile fell when you made it clear you weren’t looking for anything serious. A lot has changed since then, though, and suddenly the thought of being in a relationship doesn’t seem so bad.

“What if I told you I changed my mind?”

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, y/n.”

“I’m not lying.”

A few moments pass while her eyes scan your face almost as if she’s searching for signs of trickery in your features. The most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen lights up her face once she realizes you’re serious.

In an instant, she leans in toward you and you force yourself to pull back. Her eyes open when she realizes you moved away, her adorable pout making a comeback. There’s a silent question in her features you do your best to answer.

“Babe, trust me, I would love to kiss you but there’s no way you’re going to remember most of this tomorrow.”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“I know, you’re ‘just tipsy’ but still.” You reach up and run a hand through her hair. “My mind is made up.”

“You do know we’ve kissed before, right?”

“Are you going to spend the rest of the night complaining?” You ask, your tone more playful than annoyed. “I can just go home if you want.”

You don’t make any move to stand up but Hailee reacts as if you had pushed her off of you. She wraps her arms around your waist and practically buries her face in your neck. All you can do is chuckle and pull her closer to silently reassure her you’re not leaving.

You might be forced to endure more of your friends teasing you about how soft you are with the brunette but you don't care. You don't need anything else as long as you've got Hailee. And you know the same can be said for her.

#hailee steinfield x reader #hailee steinfeld x female reader #hailee steinfeld x you #hailee steinfeld x y/n #hailee steinfeld fic #hailee steinfeld fluff #hailee steinfeld imagine #hailee steinfeld fanfiction #hailee steinfeld #hawkeye #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #wlw #wlw fic #writing

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xdaddysprincessxx · 15 days

Note

....thots or drabbles w/ Carnie!Ezra? or Carnie!Joel ?? I feel like Joel would be a meanie. 😈 He'd probably be the head mechanic of the carnival and just angry and frustrated all the time trying to keep the rides running on old grease and a prayer.

Why not both? Both sound good 😈

Here are my headcannons/thots about Carnie Ezra & Joel - honestly this is like a fic outline 🤷🏻‍♀️idk lmao

Smut below the cut, 18+only plz! Does contain p in v, threesomes duh, not edited all mistakes are mine!

- Ezra has missing teeth (due to fighting not hard drugs) def smokes Marlboros, and operates the scrambler. He’s a smooth talker, very social. He joined a couple of years ago, still relatively new to the carnival scene

- Joel is the carnival grump. He’s been apart of the carnival for fifteen years, since he’s been with the carnival so long he’s like the head carnie. He has a delicious beer belly that hangs over his old, worn out jeans. Permanent scowl on his face except when he sees you. Pretty little thing like you, always batting your lashes up at him. He can’t help but crack a half smile at you while his cheeks heat up🤭

-When Ezra joined, he took a liking to Joel and befriended him even tho Joel did not say or act like he wanted to be friends.

-Now Ezra is a flirt. If you got a pulse, he’s interested. You and your friends looked scrumptious while you waited in line to ride. As you stood at the front, you were wearing a low cut tshirt. Noting the way his eyes stayed on your breasts, you made sure to keep your chest pushed out a bit more than normal.

-Joel operates the Ferris wheel. Now while you enjoy the more thrilling rides, you found yourself riding the Ferris wheel quite a bit. At one point you had a sucker in your mouth while waiting to get on. Locking eyes with Joel as you purposefully pulled the sucker out far enough and swirled your tongue around it to show him just what you wanted to do to him.

-You knew Joel was gonna be harder to crack. So you wrote down your name and number on a napkin and gave it to Ezra.

- he wasted no time texting you and made plans to meet up after closing.

- Off in the back, a good distance away from everything, you met Ezra and quickly found his lips on yours and his tongue licking into your mouth.

- his cock felt so good, he was so deep as he bent you over. Had you on your knees in the dirt, fucking you like an animal when you felt eyes on you.

- “Well if it isn’t my old friend Joel. Look at this pretty little catch I got us.” Ezra announces to the dark wooded area as he pulls your head back by your hair.

-With your head lifted up and your eyes adjust, you realize you’ve had an audience this whole time.

-Joel grunts as he looks down at his boots, kicking at some invisible stick before walking over.

-Ezra’s stopped his thrusts as you look up at Joel towering over you. You softly put your hand out and palm his bulge over his pants. Smiling sweetly up at him.

-Joel lets you palm him got a second before swating your hand away and hastily pulling himself out of his pants.

- “Stick ya tongue out girl.” Joel orders you.

-Looking up at him with wide eyes as you stick your tongue out as far as you can, Joel grabs the back of your head, leans down a tad and spits on your tongue,

-“keep that tongue out now” he tells you as he guides your mouth down to his hard cock. Sliding the tip on your tongue, in and out, a few times smearing his spit around before roughly sliding his dick in and hitting the back of your throat.

-You gag as he holds your head down and face fucks you.

- Letting out a little chuckle, “A most wondrous sight we have here under the moonlight. A sweet songbird making the most lovely noises just for us my good friend.”

- You felt so full with Ezra stuffed in your cunt and Joel in your mouth. The two found a good rhythm and quickly you found yourself tumbling down. Your orgasm hit you so hard you could feel your own juices leak out of you.

-Of course you came back the next night to see both men. This time they took you back to their trailer.

-Joel sat on the couch as you straddled him, taking his cock in your cunt this time. Arms wrapped around his neck, holding on tight as he thrust up into you.

-Ezra came up behind you, his hands holding your cheeks open as he licked your tight hole. Pushing a finger in.

-“ That’s it, gotta work ya open just for me.” Ezra left a trail of kisses on your cheek before biting down just hard enough you felt the sting.

- You let out a loud moan as he bit your ass cheek, the feeling of his finger in your ass as Joel keeps fucking you had you on edge of another hard orgasm already.

-That’s when you felt Ezra take his finger out and stand up behind you. Looking back at him, you watched as he spit in his hand, lubing up his cock. He locked eyes with you and just smiled as he stepped closer, rubbing the tip on your puckered hole.

-your eyes roll back as you realize what he’s about to do.

-He pushes just the tip and already you’re overwhelmed with how full you feel

-Joel stops fucking you so Ezra can fully push into you. Once he’s fully buried in your ass your practically creaming from the fullness

-The carnival is only in town for two weeks. And every day you spend it there and every night you go back to their trailer, getting fucked by Joel and Ezra.

-You cry the day they leave, you came very close to saying fuck it and running off with them but they talked you out of it. They wanted better for you. So instead you look forward to the carnival coming back to town ❤️

#I’m so sorry this took me so long to get out #I love you and I love carnie Ezra & Joel #prinnys 800 celebration 🎉#pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #carnie Joel #carnie Ezra #ezra prospect #ezra x reader #ezra x you #ezra smut #pedro pascal cinematic universe

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kitthepurplepotato · 1 year

Text

Summary:

5 years has passed since you lost touch with your explosive best friend.

After your failed love confession your life turned upside down and you ended up as an underground hero with no contact with your old friends. After 5 years (thanks to Kirishima’s eagerness to get a hold of you) you ended up in a bar with all your old classmates.

You really didn’t think you will end up talking to Bakugo about the worst day of your life, did you?

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Genre: Angst with a fluffy ending!

Warnings: Aged up characters, drinking, slightly drunk background characters, mentions of depression? + One sex joke and some swear words. Mentions of other ships (KiriMina, KamiJiro, TodoDeku)

Reader is gender neutral but there are mentions about them almost wearing a dress.

Warnings about the writer (lol): English is my second language so please don’t be rude if something sounds a bit off.

This is my first ever fic for the BNHA fandom and my first ever fic after not writing for 10 years.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

5 years.

5 whole years has passed since you graduated. While most people think back to their graduation with a smile on their faces, you dreaded to even think about the day; it was the day you lost your best friend and your first love at the same time.

You tried not to think about how much has changed in your life since, yet here you are sitting at a bar with all your old classmates, chatting around about your new lives, about all the changes you don’t even want to think about; and while they all make it sound like everything is different for them, seeing your old friends together like this only makes you realize how you are the only one who’s life has turned upside down after graduation.

Kirishima and Mina, UA’s favorite couple (everyone’s OTP, as you guys called it back then) are still walking hand in hand, Kaminari and Jiro are still secretly pining after each other (you honestly can’t believe that no one got fed up with them enough in the last 5 years to close them in a cupboard for an hour to sort their shit out.) and you are definitely not even going to try to decipher the longing looks coming from Deku and Todoroki. You had enough of their bullshit in high school.

As you are looking around the bar seeing all the smiley faces of the people you cherished so much back then, you can’t help but wonder about your best friend, who still hasn’t arrived.

Bakugo and you haven’t seen each other since you confessed your love to him after the closing ceremony. To be honest, you wouldn’t be surprised if he wouldn’t come at all. He might be the biggest grump of the class but he still managed to keep in touch with everyone, while you closed yourself off to the whole friend group and went all vigilante to rebel against everyone and everything until Aizawa smacked you in the head one day and got you a job as an underground hero.

“Get your shit together” he said (really not helpful, by the way) “You can’t throw your whole life away over a heartbreak.”

You clearly remember how you managed to make the perfect replica of Bakugo’s frown, but let the hero help you out of your misery anyway.

“Hey!”

…

“Earth to Y/N”

…

“Maybe Shinso did something to them?”

“Why would he do that?!”

…

“Wake up, shithead!”

Was that Bakugo’s voice?

“Kats?” You look up to see a blonde head looking down at you with worried eyes.

You really don’t know who this man is anymore.

The Katsuki you knew NEVER showed you a single emotion except anger and jealousy, (or at least you thought it was jealousy, until he rejected you on the spot without any hesitation.) yet here he was, the king of explosions, looking at you like you are something worth looking at, worried, soft and… not emotionally constipated - You can’t help but giggle at your own thought loudly, by accident.

“Good to know you still can’t help but laugh at your own inner joke, at least something haven’t changed.” He says while slowly sitting down next to you at the bar.

You knew he wasn’t the same person after he became a full time hero; you do own a TV and you never miss the hero news on social media.

While the first few months of his hero work were kind of how everyone expected them to go; more bleeps than actual words coming from the hero’s mouth when asked about his latest rescue; but after a while he became softer, he became the hero he always wanted to be.

You thought he just got used to being on the screen or maybe his agency gave him a talk about proper behavior, but seeing him now, seeing the softness under his (still) rough demeanor makes you wonder what made him change so much. Did he fall in love with someone? Did he lose someone which made him rethink his actions?

When did you become the grumpy, distant one in the group? Where did your “ray of sunshine” behavior go?

“It’s not about what happened to me, but about what happened to you, Nerd.” The blonde sighs next to you, glaring a hole into your skull with his eyes.

“Glad to see you can still read my fucking mind, Bakugou.” You say grumpily, but giving him a tiny smile anyway.

You can’t help it.

You might be in the middle of a meltdown, but seeing your best friend looking at you like he actually cares still makes your naive heart melt. You would think 5 years is enough for a heart to mend, but you are absolutely aware of the fact that you are still not completely over him.

His name is carved into your heart, bleeding over your mind and body, like a bad curse.

“First you call me Kats, but now I’m Bakugou? Talk about mixed signals…”

“Okay, guys, let’s keep this friendly!” Kirishima calls out to the group and the conversation goes back to normal; you end up learning about all your friends a bit more, Kirishima tells you about the child he saved the other day, Jiro tells you about her new band she managed to find time for.

Bakugo tells everyone about his 2 years long mission in America and about how much of a pain the groupies are and you can’t help but make a snarky comment about him wanting to be Number One just to have free sex. The blonde just rolls his eyes as he always does and kindly asks you to keep your horny thoughts to your bedroom and his comment makes the whole group laugh and the night goes on like it’s the most normal thing in the world to sit beside your ex-best friend and laugh at stupid jokes like he didn’t ruin your whole life 5 years ago.

You even end up talking about yourself a bit, showing off the new tattoo you got on your arm to cover a nasty scar from one of your missions. If Bakugo sees the little explosions around the main design, he doesn’t comment on it.

As the sun sets outside and half of the group gets drunk enough to talk nothing but nonsense, Bakugo leaves your side and goes out to the back yard for “some fresh air”. You stay a little bit longer just to take some funny videos of your old hero friends being absolutely pathetic, but after a while you feel the need to go out a bit yourself - Todoroki and Deku are still sober enough to take care of the group if needed.

As you walk out the back door you end up in a little Japanese garden with a small pond in the middle. You don’t really understand why would anyone put a pond at the back of a bar; it seems like a really bad idea with all these drunk idiots around, what if they fall into the water?

“This bar works as a cafe in the mornings and afternoons, hence why it has a back garden. They usually close the back door after 6, but we rented the whole place out and asked them to keep it open for all the sober people needing some solitude. And yes, I’m sure my quirk is not mind reading.” Says the grumpy blonde sitting on the massive stones near the pond.

You jump from the surprise; you genuinely did not see him sitting there as you were deep in your thoughts again. You might be a great hero, but you’ve always been prone to zoning out when not in danger.

Instead of replying, you thank God for deciding to dress casual instead of going for a fancy dress as you sit down next to BAKUGO with a dramatic sigh. You brush through your messy hair with your fingers to calm yourself down.

“Still not a fan of big groups?” He laughs as he slowly comes closer to your side. This was something you guys did all the time; every time you felt overwhelmed, Bakugo and you went on a stroll nearby and quietly talked about random things until you calmed down. When you told your friends about it, no one believed you that Bakugo is able to speak quietly for more than 5 seconds.

“It’s just a lot, you know. And you left the group first, by the way.” You remind him, ready for him to start a fight with you, but instead he looks away in the other direction, with a hint of red on his cheeks.

“I hoped you’ll come after me this time.” Bakugo says while staring into the distance with the saddest look in his eyes.

What does he mean by “this time”? You never ran away. You stayed next to him even when he tried his best to push you away. You stood your ground and never left his side, even though he made you cry so many times with his rude attitude.

He degraded you so much when you two started to spend more time together just so you give up on him, but you could always see through his facade. You knew he’s only doing these things to you because he hates HIMSELF and he doesn’t want you to go down with him. He might speak ill of you to your face but deep inside, he just wants you to find a better person to be with, because he’s stupid like that.

He would break his own heart just to save you from disappointment.

…

Wait a minute.

“You know I was in love with you too, right?” He says while staring into the distance with a love sick look on his face, reminiscing about the old memories.

… and now, after 5 years of hating yourself over how stupid you were, it all makes fucking sense.

You were stupid indeed. So incredibly stupid you let the love of your life deceive you with his rude words and ignored the tears falling down his cheeks right after you turned around and left him on his own.

“You told me to fuck myself and my stupid feelings, Kats. And I fucking believed it.” You look at him with a disbelieving look, and finally, he looks back at you.

And laughs.

It isn’t his usual ugly laugh, it’s more like a giggle. The self deprecating giggle he learned from you back then.

“Fuck!” You squeak into your arms, hiding your face away, as all the feelings you tried to push away wash over you all at once.

“I was furious. Having a relationship with someone is one thing, but starting a relationship with someone you would die for? I was ready to give up on being a hero just so I can be with you. That scared me. You were my greatest enemy - you were someone who had so much power over me that my dreams meant nothing to me anymore. I had to get rid of you. Or at least I thought I had to. I was stupid.”

“Kats…” you try to say something but the words are stuck in your throat. You feel like throwing up. There is a terrible ache in your heart; you hated him so much for living his best life while yours was in pieces, but in reality, he was living in agony himself.

“I said all those things to you to push you away, but I knew I made a mistake right after the words left my mouth. I knew there is no way back from it. So I held my ground and I let you go.”

You can’t believe how strong he is. The old Katsuki would never admit his mistakes. Yet here he is now, dealing with his own shit from 5 years ago.

You are about to respond but he beat you to it.

“But now that I’m sitting here with you, I feel like you’ve never really left.”

… and that’s it. You can’t stop your tears for falling anymore. With a quick, stealthy move you tackle your son of a bitch best friend to the ground and hide your face in his chest and cry like a baby until his not too steady heartbeat calms you down enough to make a proper (?) response.

“I absolutely despise you right now, Kats, I hope you know that.” you laugh and cry at the same time, looking up to see his face, and to your surprise, his face looks a bit more shiny than it was a few minutes ago.

“Fuck, I love you too” he laughs at your confused face and you both start laughing like the two idiots you are.

If the whole situation wasn’t comedic enough, Kirishima decides to come out and check up on you right in the middle of your laughing fit, holding each other for dear life snuggled up on the massive stones like two love sick teenagers.

Kirishima gives you two the biggest grin you’ve ever seen in your life and walks back silently to the bar without saying anything. After a few moments, you can hear him screaming inside.

“YOU OWE ME A LOT OF MONEY, DENKI!”

“GODDAMIT, BAKUBRO.”

Bakugo and you start giggling as well, and you can’t stop yourself from cradling the blonde’s face.

“Hey, Kats…”

“Hm?” You know he’s not actually listening anymore. His eyes are glued to your lips, and you can’t stop yourself either from giving him the tiniest peck, just barely there.

You don’t want to rush this and neither does he.

It has been 5 years since you last saw each other and there is so much to talk about.

“We are going on a date tomorrow.” You declare, leaving no space for arguing. He lowers his head and puts it on your shoulder so he can look at you from a safe but close distance.

“You know I’m not leaving your side tonight, right?” He argues anyway. Of course he does.

“Okay. Go grab your stuff from your place and we can come to mine. I have a spare couch.”

The look he gives you is worth a billion dollars.

Absolute disgust.

The audacity.

“I’m not a dog.”

“You are clearly not a dog, my dog sleeps with me on the bed.” You wink at him and just like that you two continued your silly little game of being two best friends absolutely in love with each other, but this time, neither of you ran away.

THE END (?)

Bonus chapter ->

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

P.S. Anyone interested to see their first date? Because I AM!

Sorry for not giving them an actual kiss scene in this one, trust me, I had a really hard time writing the end scene, but I don’t feel like there was a proper time for an actual kiss, hence why I want this one shot to have a second part :D

#bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #soft katsuki #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x self insert #bnha x reader #5YearsbyPurplePotato

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grapejuicestyless · 10 months

Text

What Was I Made For?

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Y/n is a photographer realizing she is not who she had always believed she was. Harry is the one thing she can count on.

Y/n had been made to believe that she was the shining star that led the lonely drivers home each night. Made to be the light at the end of the tunnel. The angel from grace that was sent to inflict pure joy to those around her. So she played the part.

A constantly bubbly joy to be around. Her laugh echoing through every hallway. Her smile infectious and radiant as it reflected one of what could only be described as pure happiness.

Just her being near have anyone that warmth within. Heartbeats hard and faster underneath their winter coats. Cheeks flushed and nose scrunched from fits of laughter. It was almost like she was a spell that was cast on anyone who got to close. A foggy haze that was laid over the infected eyes of the lucky soul who crossed paths with her.

That’s what had drawn Harry to her, in the first place. How her laugh carried around the store without a care for the stares burning the back of her head or the eye rolls from the grumps behind her. How her smile was sincere and her attitude polite even in the worst experiences. Her head remained held high and her respectful demeanor never dwindled under the increasing pressure laid on her shoulders to calm down.

A beauty, inside and out. A heart of gold, to be exact. It wasn’t a shock at how quickly they’d hit it off. Harry not only obsessed with her artistry within her passions for photography, but enamored by her essence as a whole. And how soon he’d fallen for her. How hard he’d fallen. The girl had not a single bad bone in her body. Not a single grudge or hatred being held within her. Love and kindness being her only reflection onto others.

And she continued to be strong and enthusiastic everyday of her life as long as she could. Never wasting that gift of innocence she was graced with.

But even the most optimistic, strong willed people reach their breaking points. And the weight becomes too much, tumbling from their shoulders to their feet. That high held chin falls into the slump of their shoulders and the ground becoming a best friend with their eyes. The smiles becoming painful and achy. Not quite reaching their eyes. The color draining from the victim as the real world crashes down around them, innocence ruined and optimism crushed.

Y/n was no exception. The girl who faced everything with a grin permanently tattooed within her smile lines nothing compared to the constant pressures and horrible truths she could not be spared from.

——————————————————————————

I loved the summer, always had, always believed I would. The warmth was an invitation from the earth to soak up the sun and feel the grass between your toes. How the ocean would crash up on the shore and the birds would sing to their lovers early each morning. The hug that was my own lovers resting tightly around my waist, his breathing even and calm against my neck. Sheets tossed around the bed and bodies sprawled around in the humid heat. It was a peaceful bliss.

I used to wake early, turning carefully to not stir my Harry from his sleep. Allowing myself to be selfish for just a moment and keep him from the world and only for myself. My thumb would find the bridge of his nose, tracing the curves like he was a painting. A masterpiece crafted from Van Gogh. I would curl a soft strand of his hair around my pointer, massaging away any potential headaches from his head. Watching as his eyebrows would scrunch up only to relax into the soothing touch and he would press up further against the palm of my hand.

The smile would break out across my face for the first time that day in those moments. The intimacy overwhelming and private in a way that made it special and endearing. Something I could hold close to me. That smile wouldn’t fade for hours, the feeling of my hands in his hair waking him peacefully, a smile drawn on his face as a reflection of mine. His breath always stunk, but I didn’t mind. It only reminded me of how close he was holding me. How close he allowed me to be to him.

We’d dance in the sunlight that poured through the windows, basking in each other’s presence. The smell of breakfast wafting from the old pan on the well loved stovetop and sticking to the walls. He’d tell cheesy jokes and I’d laugh each time. Even if they weren’t funny, to me they were because they were his jokes.

Then, he’d leave for work. A kiss placed to my temple, lips lingering and drawn out from the desire to remain hidden away in our safe little paradise. He’d be off to write songs of his life, both real and made up from his own dreams and imagination. And I would stay at home, tending to the garden and writing down ideas for new projects I could pursue. Scribbling down sketches that I could turn into reality. A series of photos that would become my identity for only a moment of my life, something I could submerge myself in. Each photo either stored away for only myself to know ever existed, or to be shared on a flashy magazine cover. For everyone to see, for everyone to see when they think of that specific article they read. The different endings for each project exciting and interesting each time.

Yet, as time went on, I noticed the ideas were limited to only that. Ideas. I had not attempted to pursue the projects that had consumed me for the past couple weeks. The heavily detailed writings and sketches turning into an unfinished story that would continue to grow with no ending each time I sat alone in my own home.

I had lost that enthusiasm I always had. The overwhelming desire to start an idea as soon as it entered my mind slipping further and further until it was only a distant memory. Any project I managed to start lost all of my touch in them. The colors fading and the grainy texture more and more as any elements that reminded me of myself faded into the background. Each photograph stored deep in my desktop. Buried within a file of photos never to be touched again. It was almost as if I had dropped off the face of the earth. My mind at a mental and physical block that was sticky and thick with heaviness. My art no longer willing to be shared. I fell deeper and deeper into myself. The only thing keeping me grounded was my love. Those intimate moments that assured me I was still the same in some ways. My lack of material did not reflect my heart, as it still best for the same lover.

But that knowledge was never enough, these days. And the story grew lesser and lesser as the days went on. Harry would leave and I would tend to the garden. But I never wrote about my ideas. I never sketched them out for future me. The strong pull and passion I once had in my life gone like a warm summer day.

I used to know, I always wanted to be a photographer. It was like a gravitational forces pulled me towards it. A feeling that assured me that this was what I was made for keeping me persistent in the field. I longed to capture my memories in a photo that could be kept as a sweet reminder to that moment in my life, or shared with everyone to appreciate. To be placed on a magazine cover with bold letters layered on top, or hung on a wall of an art exhibit in a bustling city. I wanted to share my passion with the world so desperately.

But, I’m not sure now. I had lost that eagerness in it. Lost that sure feeling that this was what I was made for. Something I had been so drawn to for so long becoming something of a childhood dream. It was hard to pinpoint the turning of events. The changing in emotions connected to my passion. What was something that made me feel alive becoming something that was merely a hobby.

So when did it end? All the enjoyment? I don’t how to feel. Someday I might, but now I sit in the empty house, the moonlight dancing through the windows just as bright as the morning sun had brought in. The breeze cooler and the air less humid. I sit there, trying to find that desire my heart once held.

I wonder if Harry could see it. See the way the smile didn’t reach my eyes. How the permanent tattoo of happiness that were my smile lines became smoothed out with the weak smiles I gave each morning. How even when we were closest, I was distant. How my notebooks spine wasn’t yet cracked, the pages still white. Not yet stained with the grey of the graphite pencil and smears from my black pens. My camera sitting idly on the kitchen table by the dying flowers and the vacuumed carpet.

We danced just the same each morning and my hands still finding their way to his face. I wondered if he would still love me if I couldn’t be who he fell in love with. If the girl who was continuously happy, careless and enthusiastic in everything she did, didn’t exist anymore, could he still love the remaining pieces of her that were left behind?

He made me feel special, every minute we were together. The laughter and the jokes just the same. The movie nights and the picnics in the park on the weekends just as romantic. I prayed as silent as a whisper that my lifeless eyes and dying happiness wouldn’t drive him away.

My sadness was a secret. A promise to myself that I wouldn’t share my despair and crisis with my boyfriend, a stress I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

My whole identity built around my art and my bubbly mood. Something I wished I still had. But the realization for the lost interest and the loneliness that grew in with it too much to bare. Too much to remain the same. Just for this moment at least. Until I found myself again.

Think I forgot how to be happy. Something I'm not, but something I can be. I can be happy. I can be happy when I’m out. When I’m with my love. When I’m with my friends. When I’m in the garden or at the beach. Being happy is something I wait for.

So, even if it hurt to realize I was not made to be what I always dreamed of, I was still sure about something. When the storm had passed and the waves calmed. When the trees stopped swaying and the clouds cleared, I would always have that relief of happiness that was sure to return eventually.

Being happy is what I'm made for.

Something I'm made for.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles #yn x harrystyles

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phoenixyfriend · 11 months

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Do you want another Jangosoka concept?

Concept is that Boba finds a… something on Tatooine that looks like Weird Force Shit. He does not know any Jedi or Sith, personally, but he knows three people who do have connections to Jedi:

Han Solo, whom he has on speed dial despite hating each other, and losing most of his contacts with his comm when the Sarlacc ate him

Din Djarin, whose kid goes to school Somewhere With Jedi? Maybe? he's not entirely clear on how much contact Djarin has with Skywalker these days

Bo-Katan Kryze, who has Ahsoka Tano on speed dial

Obviously, he goes through Bo-Katan first, because Ahsoka Tano knows more about general Force things than the latest Skywalker, and has less of a Direct Grudge against Boba himself.

So he makes a call and tries to ignore the Weird Force Thing that he just poked. He waits a few days.

Ahsoka shows up. She holds the thing. It is confusing.

They have a stupid argument built on Uncomfortable History at some point, and Boba being a grump, and he snatches it from her, managing to slice his finger on one of the edges.

A few drops of blood get on the weird force thing, and there is a flash of light, and suddenly there's a half-dead Jango Fett in the room.

Like "He has visible burns on his neck from Mace's lightsaber, but still has his head, as if he was pulled through time from the very moment before of his death."

Which Big Oops

Boba is panicking. Ahsoka is trying not to admit she's freaked out. Jango is. clawing as his throat dude stop that.

Ahsoka's the one that had enough brains to call for a medic and keeps sitting at his side to keep a Very Judgemental Eye on him, but she's. You know. Jedi. So Jango is constantly suspicious of her.

(He thinks Boba is a faulty fast-aging clone, like 99, because that's the only thing that makes sense.) (Also he doesn't acknowledge Ahsoka's "I'm not a Jedi" thing.)

Ahsoka's had thirty years to come to terms with the death of her people but she's also, for obvious reasons, still judgmental as fuck and has a lot of questions.

But also this was necromancy, which is Sith Or Nightsister Bullshit, and she needs to make sure he's not about to get possessed and go hunting for Force Sensitive babies or something insane like that.

(The reason the object drew Jango is because of the totally coincidental identical DNA. Turns out the object is intended to bring back the dead using a body sample of the corpse, but identical blood will do if there's a dead person with the same.)

IDK where exactly it goes from here but it's 44yo Jango, 45yo Boba, and 49 Ahsoka Plus Fennec, who's just hanging around

They need to bring around someone Jango actually knows and will trust, because obviously Boba is a fake and Ahsoka's a liar and this is all some weird Jedi trick.

Options are Maz Kanata (who's definitely old enough to remember him), or Bo-Katan herself, except they try Bo since she's closer and it turns out she was still a toddler when Jango went missing so that's not going to help at all.

Mij or one of the other Cuy'val Dar could theoretically still be alive, and Sabine has parents that might have known him before they joined up with Pre.

Fennec knowing him would be a BIT too easy.

I'm imagining that the call goes as Boba explaining that, well, there's this one guy that he knows, that his dad was close with, but the Sarlacc kind of ate his comm unit and he hasn't had the time or resources to hunt down all his contact numbers and whatnot yet, so he's not sure how to go about actually calling the guy, and so they have to politely ask Bo-Katan if she, as Mand'alor, can find the contact information for one Mij Gilamar. Boba's pretty sure he's still running a clinic on Insert Planet Here, so it shouldn't be too hard to get, it's just kind of impossible from Tatooine.

#boba fett #ahsoka tano #jango fett #jangosoka #mij gilamar #fennec shand #bo katan kryze #star wars #the book of boba fett #book of boba fett #the mandalorian #phoenix posts #necromancy

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pascalsbby · 8 months

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The Devil & His Brother / II

Joel x Tommy x You

Prologue / Part I / Masterlist

Summary: “Good, been staring out the window for far too long,” he said. “You can look at something prettier now. Close your eyes, bunny.”

He slipped around on the wetness of your lips before he parted them with one, thick finger.

“Stick out your tongue for me.”

AKA: Bath time with the Millers 😈

Word Count: 7K

Warnings: 18 + mndi, DUBCON DRUG USE: enemies to lovers, heavy talk & use of drugs/pills, morally grey Millers, slow-burn, angst/comfort/sex, age gap, power imbalance, possessive tendencies, major daddy issues (that’s why you need BOTH Miller brothers instead of 1). talk of death, shit-talking god & praying for the devil himself.

I feel like I'm sending out something so personal... and familiar in ways that I know aren't. Maybe that's how memories feel after a while.

God is fucking with my oblivion. If he wants forgiveness, he shouldn't have given us memory.

- Vi Khi Nao

“Can’t do it, Joel.”

“Goddamnit.” His huff was deep and bothered by your apparent inability to do anything he asked of you.

His anger didn't sit with you, but himself. He didn't really know that, though. Doesn't feel too much beneath the thickness of his skull. Hard-headed fucker.

The scent of you hung leaden in the steam-filled bathroom. Iron. Blood. Something saccharine that made him ache as he peeled your clothes from your weak skin. Lately, his temper has been short, and unbeknownst to you he hasn’t always been this way. Even in recent years. You assumed he was always like this, further etching the lines that softened on his face (only after yelling at you), but he would argue that you were acting like a little fuckin’ brat… so his snippy remarks were justified.

"Did all the work of carryin' you here and now you're gonna off yourself? Cause you won't let me help you bathe in the only hot bath water you've seen since you were what.... sixteen? M' not that big and scary, Bunny."

You both had your own ways of dealing with things, you guessed. Verbal expression of any kind besides small, whispered sentences had been scarce. Except for when he was angry. Except for right now.

You stopped listening because suddenly nothing seemed to matter too much. It didn’t all feel so black and white; life-ending like he was making it seem, being a real grump.

“Are you listenin’ to m–?”

His tuneful voice now sounded hollow as it bounced off of your blurring peripheral vision.

You didn’t answer Joel, instead, you listened to the music in your head and wondered how it got there. How you got into his arms.

Joel called Tommy’s name after you stumbled into his warmth. You winced at his raised voice, almost breaking you from a blissful trance. “God damnit Tommy, get in here. I can’t hold her up and wash her at the same time.” Ten minutes of Joel trying to get you in the bath like you were a fucking toddler was enough. He wouldn’t be able to hold your body up and wash you simultaneously, either. It was a two-person job to do it correctly, and gently.

Tommy returned an hour or so earlier, saying whoever had followed them had taken another way around, but they’d seen fresh hoof marks. “It’s weird Joel,” he said.

“Fuck, I just washed these jea-“ his voice coming from down the hallway. He turned the corner, changed into clean clothes, and was taken aback by your bare chest staring back at him from underneath Joel’s veined arm. His skin burns into yours.

“What the fuck did you give her?” He was immediately angry.

Give me? Peace. Radiating warmth, you thought. He didn’t know that you didn’t feel a lot anymore, but you knew deep down that you felt something more for Joel.

“She’s in pain, Tommy. Only thing she’s felt in the past nine years is pain. Help me get her in here and then take off the fucking jeans then, I don’t care. Get some towels and then get in here. Don’t know how much time we have ‘fore it wears off.” Joel growled. Then you close your eyes and let go, swimming through the low buzz in between their thrown bickers.

He’d talked real sweet to you, in hopes of getting you to take a bath. Mostly because being 'somewhere else' would be best when washing your wound, away from the water gripping at your side. Another small reason was that he didn’t want to hear you mumble, “no,” again. You needed a proper bath if you were ever going to get better. Although you didn’t seem too interested in such

That must have been the extent of Tommy’s anger, because he listens exactly to what Joel says. He unlocks his leather-backed metal belt and it hits the floor in the same instance, cling. He doesn’t mention the pills again, just takes his jeans off before he turns the handles of the running bath off and assumes his position outside of it. Joel takes his own shirt off, skin soft-looking and warm. He was sweating, skin slightly glowing from the sweat reflecting the bathroom lights. You could smell him. He kept his boxers on, still maintaining a sliver of his respect. He was willing his cock to follow the same.

He sunk himself into the bathwater with a deep groan, one of relief. Tommy walked you closer and helped you climb into the bath. It burned, felt like it was boiling. You were standing in it now, between Joel’s legs, hands still enclosed in Tommy’s as he helped you keep your balance. Joel was trying not to think about how your core was aligned perfectly before him as you stood. You turned, ass swaying as you prepared to sit on his clothed lap. They both looked away as your body was fluctuating in the prettiest fucking way they’d both ever seen.

“S’okay baby, sit down.” You bent down to hold the sides of the tub, letting Tommy go. You were spread open right in front of Joel’s face, the back of your pussy practically calling to him as it finally came in contact with his lap.

Tommy turns around and sighs before walking out of the bathroom to fetch towels like an obedient dog. Joel shuffled you, with what would have been awkward silence between the three of you if two of you weren’t high. If one of you hadn’t just left the room.

Joel has already swallowed his dusty piece of sanctuary. You had too, in the tea he made you thirty minutes ago. He was dangling another pill in front of you, now that Tommy was out of sight. This time allowing you a choice; rather than remain silent as it swam down your throat.

"Let me help you sum’ more, baby. Gonna give you something to help the hurt. Don’t go running, an’ don't tell Tommy. He wouldn't like that I'm makin’ you feel good."

Telling Tommy would consist of more non-compartmentalized guilt and yet another thing for him to look down upon Joel for. Another bullet point to add to Tommy’s list of Reasons Joel is a Fucking Asshole. And you needed help right now. This is how he could help you. So no, he would not be telling Tommy that he fed the girl more pills, too. She was simply exhausted and needed help bathing. She was in pain and needed him; them. Tommy would have done the same, no?

He slipped around on the wetness of your lips before he parted them with one, thick finger.

“Stick out your tongue for me.”

He notes your lack of hesitation to open your mouth for him. He places the bitter thing there, gently.

“Swallow.”

He smirked as you obeyed.

“You’re a’ good little thing, you know. S'good to listen and mind.” He tucked your hair behind your ear so that it wouldn’t keep falling in your face.

His drugs were now yours. His regrets, too. And he secretly hoped that his desires were burning into your body and being met with the same inner incineration. But he wasn’t regretting it right that moment. Not as he watched your body slacken. He knew your entire being was numb when you were reaching up at him, fingers looking for feeling.

His thumb ran across the plumpness of your bottom lip and his thighs flexed inadvertently. You felt the small jerk of his body, your eyes drawn upwards meeting his. He felt the moment your breathing became deeper, slipping through his skull and resting on the center of his lust. Then he heard the teetering of the old house as it sang. He heard chatter outside, and it all sounded happy, nothing scary around. He returned to your nose, where a little black wish sat, kissing your cheek. He moved his thumb up to brush the eyelash away and whisper his own silent prayer.

You looked around his face before resting your gaze on his lips, and he knew that you were slipping deeper too. The moment ended in a split second torn into a million, and you were looking him in the eyes. Your pupils are already blown, helpless, and in need of strong arms to hold you upright. It fucking hurt. You hadn’t been so willing without the drugs. The pit of his stomach crawled in need as your back rested against it. Your ass was scooted up, and he could feel the break between your legs, could feel the warmer skin of your pussy kissing his thighs.

He loosely assumed that you’d never been in the bath with a man before, either. Probably never been naked in front of one... or two. And he knew that it shouldn’t be something he was proud of, to have you here, safe in his arms and naked in his bath. But he was.

“Feel something?”

“Mhmm.”

He felt your response in the tone of your flexing abdomen. His wide fingertips sink into your cushioned fat and the softness of your stretch marks. It stung, the water, like having his presence near it set it off, simmering around his body, trying to kiss anything of him that it could. The water was pretty pink for a few moments, your body releasing the hold it had on your dried blood and the dirt accompanying it. His hands were occupied by the washcloth he was softly rubbing against your body. Then it was dark, and whenever you looked down it was harder and harder to see the end of his legs, stretching out before and underneath you, holding your body (against his) up. “Fuck me.” It was he who had released that sound.

“Good, been staring out tha’ window for far too long,” he said. “You can look at something prettier now. Close your eyes, bunny.”

You did what Joel wanted of you, and quickly you fell into the heavy light buzzing right outside of yourself like your aura was bouncing off of the smoldering color... like a blanket, maybe. One of blurred confessions and soft, radiating heat. Your arms are heavier but in a slow melting comfort, and it feels like butterflies right above your hip bones crawling right towards your cunt in a low pulse. As if the energy moved and hovered itself into your underwear and is prodding its fingertips into your soaking center, touching every bit of swollen flesh as his fingers disappear into you. But he’s sitting still, you think. He is everywhere but inside of you.

Your memories lilt against your skull, retracting from any indication of themselves. Much of who you were is gone, left in dark patches of shadow and musk. Outlines of a monster (human) ((him)) setting his jaw on your shoulder from behind, willing the air to kiss that spot right under your ear. Your own blood, his sweat. The undulating sway of his plush lips and impending jaw from below. You’d only seen him this way, from below. Like he was something holy, forever above you and rarely looking down. You reach up and feel his face, running the sensitive skin of your fingertips against his stubbly chin and neck.

Most of your time was spent contently sitting in your (Joel’s) favorite chair, the one you hadn't really left or released yourself from, just assuming that it had now formed to your body. Maybe you had melted into the dirty crevices, instead. You wanted nothing more than to sink into it and become a part of the worn and well-loved fabric. No one expected anything of this chair. For it to simply exist confirms its usefulness.

A week or so ago, you had been dying, pooling blood turned your skin terian-like, how the tips of your fingers used to turn in the now-cold bath. He was right– it had been years. This death doesn't feel much different. Just slower. You had been doing better before Tommy left to check the perimeters and outward land of Jackson. They didn’t know that no one would be following you. Or looking for you… needing you. Praying for you.

Joel thinks a lot about the comfort-glaze of your eyes whenever you saw Tommy that day like you’d been happy that he was there to see you off, hold your hand as you looked into the sky and deflate into the ground. He thinks about how you’d probably rather have him here, now.

Maybe that’s what you write in your notebook, still sitting in the chair, but this time with your face turned towards your lap, completely lost under the lamp every night around 10:37.

Maybe that's what is feeding into his mood.

You would have already been in that bath if Tommy were to ask you, rather than Joel. He thinks about how Tommy’s eyes lit up when he first looked into yours, hazel. Gaze flashing as if in recognition of an importance. Joel could see a hint of the brother he once knew, before his world ended. Before all of your worlds ended. He knew in that moment that something shifted for the both of you, but for Joel, it felt like drowning.

He looked at you and he saw the torn, soft skin of a small animal. He didn’t know that the damage was on the inside.

Joel resented the way he was drawn to you, it made him viscerally angry at himself. He was angry at how calling you baby had been so easy, the way he felt his cock thicken at the sound of your grunt in agreement. Or the smell of you, even though you hadn’t bathed in god knows how fucking long. He pretended it was the drugs, but it wasn’t. These were his secrets and the web was already intertwining with itself. He almost feels like if he were to tug on it now, even more shit would fall out, come unstuck and drag him into the ground to a place where he’s surprised he isn't lying already.

How can you hide such a carnal want? He’s unfamiliar with the feeling. Uncomfortable with it.

What would they say? Would Tess say? “One more pussy for you to fuck, Joel? This time it's new and fresh, betcha could teach her a thing or two, huh?” Tess had always been the jealous type, Joel clocked it the first week they met. She hid it well, but you can’t hide from someone who recognizes something in you, because they recognize it in themselves, too. Joel and Tess, Tess and Joel. The town knew there was something happening between the two of them, but no one said anything. They knew Joel was her loyal guard dog. They knew not to disturb Mr. Miller's peace. He was a kind enough man, besides that.

He was hoping for anything other than to hear the question, "You think you can save this one, too?" He knew that he couldn't. He couldn't promise your safety. However, he could sense that you were in need of it. Perhaps not obviously at first glance; you appeared tough on the surface, but there was something in your eyes that begged him, “Release me. Let me rest.” Something calling his name. He was hearing it now, in the cadence of your voice, whispering around his head as he stopped himself from touching you.

He knew that they, you, would get him in trouble if he didn’t stop it and try to pawn it off to someone else before it (his desire) got too bad. “Hey, look, she’s with him, not me. Now let me sit and stutter into the darkness while you take the only thing that has made you feel an inch of something in the past month.”

They would chain him up if he ever admitted the level of his desires. Embarrassed at the way he was already entirely attached to you. Something about, “I almost killed you, but let me be the savior. Love me enough to let me swallow you whole,” probably wouldn’t sit too well.

“Joel?” you questioned, slow and small.

His skin rises instantly, stunned by your sound and the touch of your body. “What did you–?” he softly shhh’s you because suddenly, the way your body hums into his when you speak is too much. Your hand continues to fall slowly against the thicker hair near his jaw, ghosting over unsaid words and lips. His breathing was becoming too heavy for someone who was just there to be a savior.

“Gettin’ clean feels good,” his heavy thumbs pinching deeper into skin, voice far away and muffled under yearning, drowning, “don’t it, pretty?”

You let your arms hit the water, too tired and blissed out to hold them up longer. He chuckled and it rang through every inch of your nude being. The water splashed, and the roundness of Joel’s lower belly retracted quickly from your back, startled by the closeness of your body. You hadn’t felt it before, his whole self pressed firmly against you. The thickness of it. Your thighs oozed over his lap, completely covering him. Your feet ended at almost his mid-leg. He stretched further out in the bath ahead of you.

Joel didn’t need a verbal response from you. Knew you couldn’t give him one anyway. He knew that he should, that’s the right way to go about this. But he had just carried you over his lap for a week, bleeding out on him, screaming. He would help you relieve yourself, too, when needed. Couldn’t pee by yourself the first couple of days. Didn’t bother him much, not after what he’d seen. He’s had much worse cross his hands. He knew the whole ride back that if you were conscious enough to know that you were still alive, you’d be embarrassed to hell that he would help you off the horse, pull your pants down, and hold you. He couldn’t understand why that had shuffled something inside of him. The point is, he’s seen it all anyway. All of you, physically at least. Now he was simply just helping you out some more. Until you could tell him to stop. It's the least he could do if he really did shoot her.

He watched as they pulled the bullet out of your side, Tommy pale-faced in the corner, shrinking.

Joel knew you were out from the pain meds they had stuck into your veins, but that wasn’t a good enough promise that you would sit still through it, that it would be painless.

When you hold more weight, you need a little more.

He slipped you a little something extra before all the men got there that night to see and help. Your body was lying on his kitchen table, sweating and tired, dying. But you– you were asleep with a soft smile on your lips. He held you still, just just in case, hands pushed down into your cushioned stomach. The other was around your wrists, positioned just above your head so that the ‘doctors’ had room to move freely around your side. It was hard not to stare at a body that looked well-fed and healthy, in a world like this. Your breasts were moving softly with every movement of your body from other hands. Your hair under your arms was dark and visible in the way he was holding your hands above your head.

No one dared speak upon your body with Joel around, especially since he was the one that dragged you in here, meaning you were his property, Miller property, now.

TOMMY looked away upon entering, watching Joel retreat from where he was whispering into your ear. He could hear the bass of his brother's voice, slowly echoing in the hallway. He would pretend, for the sake of his sanity, that he didn’t know exactly what was happening before witnessing it. Especially after Joel had mentioned a couple of times that you seemed closer to his age, meaning keep an eye on this one, brother. “She’d probably like ya more anyway, younger n’ more capable. Bigger name in Jackson, too.” This coming from the mouth of a man who even went as far as to say, “Coulda’ made a good wife,” three hours after shooting her.

People all deal with things differently, he guesses.

It wouldn’t be the first time that he secretly craved something that his big brother was dangling in front of him, knowing that somehow he had the advantage. But then Tommy felt guilty thinking that way. Joel had been through so much and lost too many people for Tommy to get in the way of whatever look took over your body as you sat against his chest, halfway immersed in water and looking up into Joel’s face. You looked more peaceful now than you have at any moment since stepping into this house.

“Come and try to get her, Tommy.”

But of course, he won’t show that he yearns for you, too. It feels wrong. That Joel was the one to kill you but you were staying with him; that he was your primary safekeeper and healer. You were sitting on his lap, nipples hard and body at attention, peacefully asleep with your cheek pushed up against the hair on Joel's chest, resting in the arms of the man who nearly succeeded at killing you.

If he were to say anything else, it would be, “I know you fucking drugged her, Joel. N’ you didn’t even give her a choice.” But he didn’t want to wake a sleeping bear, not right now. Not when you looked so peaceful and pain-free for the first time since they grabbed the world from underneath your feet. Not when the very thing Tommy could not stop thinking about was lying on the bear’s chest.

YOU can feel yourself between your legs. It’s the kind of absentee pulse that you almost want to stop, but it feels too good. Light fingertips brushing the hair on the back of your neck. Like that of knowing a lightning storm is crawling its way across the night sky. Or hearing the neighbor roll their trash can down their road, unable to tell if it’s thunder or an earthquake in its deep humming, only to be relieved that it is in fact another human existing in close proximity to you. Although not something that you remember too well now, just the feeling. It’s surprising and suspenseful at the same moment. It’s love and then what comes after.

There’s always an after.

Then you feel the drip running from right inside of you into the hot water, against the fluttering of your thickening lips.

Please. Kiss me here. Hard, hurtful, and sinful. Strip me to my bones and then use them as your toys. Then tell me I’m a good girl and run your hands through my hair. Tell me I fought good and hard and then let me lie here for a while.

Chanting like a prayer.��

You remember the smell of his lap, much different than the smell of his neck, but still devastatingly carnal. You cradled into the warmth of his neck; in the burn of his embrace and you sat there, teetering between consciousness and the bliss of finally being held. You had always been afraid that you would leave the world and not even be able to wrap your own arms around you. But someone was holding you before the ground will be— forever. This didn’t feel like dying through.

This felt like something else. Similar, but different.

You sat on top of Joel’s lap in the bath for at least an hour, resting your head on his shoulder, turning and resting it against his chest, too. They both washed you, silently eating you up. Tommy stood outside of the bath, combing your hair after Joel ran his gruff hands through it, pawing at your scalp and rubbing the dirt (hurt) from your scalp. No one talked, everyone inside their own thoughts.

Joel was stuck thinking about the small bags of things you had lost grasp on whenever you fell (were shot). It looked like time-worn items that meant something, from before the world was this way. One is an old driver's license- your smile, happy, content, young. Your name, now repeating in Joel’s head over and over, and over and over, coating every inch of him. He still hadn’t heard it come from your lips.

9 years ago, this all started. You, now in your mid-20s. How long had you been all alone? No one had come running to your corpse.

They had come to the conclusion that you were doing well on your own. You weren’t skin and bones like most of them who are lucky enough to survive and find their way to Jackson. You were thick, and heavy in the most beautiful way. Heavy meant healthy, able to hunt, and useful. It meant maybe being able to carry children. It meant handfuls of skin and whispered praises. It meant more to wash, to take in, and try not to touch. It was too much for both of them. The only difference is that Joel knew he was a weak man. He wouldn’t be able to control himself if he kept feeling this way.

After they removed you from Joel’s lap, they towel dried you and you slowly became more aware of how different four large hands felt grasping at your body, taking care of you. Helping you.

An hour or so had passed and Tommy was lying in bed next to you, reading something. Joel turned the corner and leaned up against the doorframe.

“Tommy.” There was tar in his throat, dripping down the back of his tongue and settling in his chest. He was a million pounds and his legs could no longer bear the weight of her. Of you. Of his guilt for slipping your drugs and undressing you in his bathroom.

He looked into you, bounced off the sides of your mind, and then straight into the bed you were lying upon, sleeping so peacefully next to his brother. Tommy sees the pain in Joel's eyes, hung lower in embarrassment.

He did this to you. He took the life of someone who had the rest of this fucked up world ahead of her. And it was a slow and painful death, too. You were someone’s daughter. It’s fucked up how the world works like that, huh? It wasn’t enough losing his own daughter- he had to kill someone else too. Does your dad, husband, or mother, feel you slipping from the world? Do they hear hushed whispers in the night of your name leaving something tongue?

Joel stopped believing in God a long time ago. He was slipping from his grip, facing the fall, and Sarah’s last moments solidified his feet on the ground. Almost under. Still surprised it’s not under.

“I’ll take her, Joel. In the mornin we’ll pack up some things and go back to my house.” He said softly, nodding and looking down at the ground in an unspoken, “I know.”

It's Tommy who steps forward, taking charge and offering to care for you. He can sense his brother’s connection to you, why he wants to save you so badly. So much so that he can’t. He doesn’t trust himself for what will happen if someone else dies under his watch, because of him. Someone innocent. “I know she’s sleepin’ but can we have a moment?” Joel asks.

Tommy doesn’t question him, he marks his page, sets down his book, and carries his body from the bed to the hallway. Joel waited a moment and assured me that you were tucked in well, warm from the bath. He sighed, one of pain.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice was stern in the way that held back his tears. “You have to believe me,” he whispered your name, the first time it left his tongue and he wanted to say it over and over again. “I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have done that to you without askin’.” He caressed your face, watching as your body reacted to his touch, stirring, before the bed creaked with the weight of his body leaving, and then he was gone. You had heard everything, felt him leaving. The room felt entirely too empty.

The Devil was begging you to forgive him, and you wanted to. You wanted to bring your palms together and whisper his name through the cracks, hoping he would hear your silent prayer. “Let me stay here, with you.”

Tommy entered the room again and sank under the covers. He moved his body closer to you and you decided to bask in it, instead.

You wake up, unclear but clean. You don’t remember last night in great detail, or at least a few hours of it, at all. He slept peacefully despite the world’s end, cocooned in a haven his mind crafted. Your mind was far less forgiving— or maybe you still hadn’t learned how to ‘deal with it’. You always felt like everyone dealt with It better. The room lay shrouded in darkness, your thoughts raging, Joel’s words echoed in your mind, etching against the soft inside of your head, deeper with each repetition. His guilty confession and desperate plea for forgiveness replayed. But forgiveness was no longer something you believed in. The world had ended, shattered, and reassembled without remorse. You are sober now. You fall back asleep.

Your eyes opened again to Tommy caving the bed closer to him, moving your body closer, too. You closed your eyes quickly, away from him, and pretended you hadn’t been awake and listening to the lull of his deep breathing, trying to gain your standing. You felt comforted, waking up next to his freckled shoulders. The hazy light of morning was trailing in from the window and laying out on the carpet, stretching itself in the morning confusion.

There was one thing you were absolutely-fucking-sure about, and it was that Joel Miller had drugged you, and it had secretly awakened something unknown inside of you. It tickled, but it was shoving its way up your stomach and relentless, neverending in its pursuit of something.

Tommy Miller had saved you. At least he had put you to bed, it seems. And with him, too, rather than the one who seems to be dissolving into his own. Your hair was wet and you smelled like Joel, but you were shrouded in Tommy’s clothes. Slightly more fitting, and better kept together.

You’d never slept in a bed with a man before. And then all of sudden there were two, interchangeably. Brothers. One that smiled above your eyes and one below. Ones that rocked the bed differently each time their body swam through the damp covers.

You’d never taken a bath with a man either. Never had anyone's brother ever pulled your sinking body out of bathwater. You remember the inward push of the water and the hands that followed, reaching through it, pushing you forward to Tommy.

There’s a quick assessment you’ve always done, automatically but unintentionally, “Would this one stop if I asked him to?” Most are ‘no’s. Tommy was a yes in your mind. He would put away his soft, white wings and free you from his divinity if you were to ask.

He was sipping his coffee, dressed in his usual, alone at the table. He had opened the blinds he made sure three times he shut last night. The smoke billowed from the base of the cup into his face and hair, mixing with the silver tuffs. They shone against the darkness at the nape of his neck and the bottom of his chin from the emitting light.

He looked calm sitting there, as content as a devil could. He felt you before you had even turned the corner upstairs, but he didn’t say anything. He never really did.

That being said, you can't remember much of anything besides wondering if it was indeed your body that rustled the ground that day. It was, and then you felt a man. A few days could have been weeks, and suddenly you were sitting in a town. A word that didn’t mean too much for a long time, but it did again; sitting at the breakfast table of a man, undulating under his gaze and between the blank spaces of your memory.

An animal caged inside itself looks for relief in any way it can. Even if the relief is a different kind of pain masked as want. It meant throwing away your expectations and doing what it took to survive.

You intended on speaking first. Rather, you reached the bottom of the stairs and tucked Tommy’s red flannel across your sparsely clothed body, and suddenly heard, “Shouldn’t be half-naked when Ellie’s here. She’s a kid.”

He didn’t even take the time to move his attention away from his coffee cup. That would be too much effort given to you. You ignored him, wanting to scream, “Was she here last night when you played with me like I was your little fucking doll?” You didn’t give him what he wanted, but still hoping he would give you what you did.

You had watched the back of your eyelids dance with the small red and green dots for two more hours before getting up, willing remembrance. And oh, did it come.

“Got any more of those?”

“Of what?” He spat, eyebrows lowering in pretend interest in his hot coffee again… into his fuming lap. He knew exactly what the fuck you were talking about. How dare he take advantage of you and then throw it to the side like nothing happened. He was embarrassed. Embarrassed that he got high and took you with him.

“This is feeling’ a lot different than last night. Those little round things that kept me pliant an’ dead enough for you to press yourself into my naked body? – Joel, do you think I’m not payin’ any fuckin’ attention? The second I tasted the salt on your fingertips, I knew it was you shovin’ pills down my throat. I knew it. And the way you were talking to me, calling me babygirl and sweetheart? Then I didn’t know anything, for a while. Not really. But Tommy,” you were raising your voice now, “Tommy was there too, then I woke up in his bed with his clothes on instead of yours— just tell me what the fuck happened Joel!”

“Lower your voice, right now.” He was pointing at you, and his body moved closer to yours. “You… you wanted it Bunny,” He growled, “You practically drooled across my palm.” He sighed, gathered the lies from his web, and prepared them. He had already prepared his own cocoon, years ago.

He hadn't been the only one whose high wore off far too early in the night.

“You didn’t say you didn’t want ‘em and—“

Then you spoke above the sentence he was starting to dig deeper into the ground, to his surprise, in a softer tone. One that had a hint of sweetness to it, of want.

“Sweethear–”

“Do it again. Felt good.”

You liked it. Wasn’t the only thing he wanted to shove down your throat, either. No, no, no. Shaking the thought from his head.

He removed his eyes from the creases in the wood floor and sewed them into your gaze instead, eyebrows cresting. He wanted to make sure he heard you right. He wanted to hear you repeat it.

“Say that again?”

“Said feels good when you touch me like that. When I’m melting into your flesh and sinking down your bones. That’s what the water felt like. First, it felt like fire, perfect for a Devil, and then it felt like a calm warmth. Then your hands were touchin’ me and, no one has ever touched–

a pause, “like—“

“No one has ever touched you, bunny?”

“No, Joel. And I hate you so much for making me feel this way. For showing me something I can’t continue to have because it’s wrong and, for being so sweet to me and then eating me up like I'm a burden because you couldn't just fucking kill me when you had the chance... and…I can barely even fucking walk. I am in so much pain but you took it away for a while last night. You took everything bad away. Why didn’t you just ask?”

“Hate me, huh? Thas’a strong word for someone who is depending on me, wanting more.” Good. This is how it needed to be. He needed to take care of Ellie, himself now. He promised her that he would.

“Depending on you? Sorry, I forgot we hadn’t got to that part of the conversation yet, past the one where you drugged me. You dropped me into your brother's arms as of last night, didn’t you? I remember it, you musta popped one too many, huh?”

Your attitude and his lack of sleep were making it easier to will the words off the end of his tongue.

“He seemed better suited for someone…” he looked you up and down, “like yourself.”

You didn’t have anything to say to that, and he was immediately sorry after speaking about it.

“For being such a big bad man in this town, you don’t have your fucking shit together,” returning the look he gave you, “do you?”

You were out of breath, releasing too much of yourself into his anger, knees weak and side-splitting in pain. You weren’t going to tell him that you were awake when he begged for your forgiveness. That you heard every word he whispered and repeated it back to yourself as if it was a passage pulled right from the pen-marked Bible your dad used to shove into your hands nightly.

He thought you had been listening to everyone talking, in the mess hall and whatever drama Ellie had brought home. Maybe even Tommy had told you about the real Joel. The real Joel will tear you apart.

You sat down on the sunken chestnut couch and the pillows lifted more of his smell into your space, settling and trying to get comfortable. You both remained silent, stung. It made you even more mad that he had the ability to stick straight into your anger like that. So you wished for a way to really hurt him like you were some kind of child.

You weren’t done yet. You were angry. So fucking angry at everything you have endured. And he was standing there, pity and disgust in his eyes–but he was looking, seeing… listening.

“Tess.” Her name stung like the sound it ended with, for a reason you didn’t know, but inherently felt after last night. The hurt that flashed into his dark pupils spread through the tightness in his jaw.

“Don’t you fuckin-”

“Oh. Shut. Up. Joel. Heard ‘er talking to Tommy last night. Came knocking on the door around 1:30 am, asking for you. Tommy went to your room and you weren’t in there. Went back downstairs and said he couldn't find you, seen you only a couple of hours ago. She was throwing her hands against the door like it was hers to tear down. Guess she didn’t know I wasn’t with you,” you took a deep breath, trying to relieve the pain so you could continue, “Have you seen him? N’ that girl? Tommy, she's a fucking kid. Ain't right for him.” You mimicked her concern. You knew immediately who she was asking for. “Maybe I should go ask Tess if she would give me a few, she seems like she’d like to know what’s going on.”

His jaw was flexing, his eyes burrowing into you, biting the inside of his lip. You continued,

“Feels’good being numb for a’while. I’m always fanning off another fire but it always finds the loose thread and kisses it ablaze anyway. This feels like sinking... like I don’t have to fight anymore.”

His deep breath stifled the fire on his chest.

“Know it’s good,” his tone falling deep, low, and warning, “But you don’t need anymore.”

“Don’t I? You were the one who fucking shot me. The least you could do is slip me some pills. I’m in pain, Joel. I’m hurting.” He knew that you weren’t just talking about the wound in your side, that he put it there with his own split metal. He wanted to take that hurt away, get you curled up tight against him and high, painless, protected yet free– from a world you were too young to be living in alone. But how could he protect you from even himself?

He didn't even save her. Nothing has changed now besides the fact he finds it harder and harder to get out of bed every day. That he’s running low on whiskey and that's what keeps the bear inside. The pills keep it sedated. How could he admit that he was not fit to be your protector, and the only other person in town who it could be, was Tommy?

That's why today was the last day you'd be slamming down his stairs. Your footsteps were a reminder that the hurt animal had made its way into his house. A reminder that he was the one who hurt it.“‘M not given’ you anymore. So don’t open your mouth about it again. Got it?"

As always, please let me know if I missed any warnings / want me to add you to the taglist: @worhols @sarap-77 @mishasminion360 @justagalwhowrites @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @romanarose @milla-frenchy @bandluvr97 @alwaysdjarin @hellfyreroz @northernbluess-blog @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @pr0ximamidnight @morgaussy @n7cje @theywhowriteandknowthings @gracie7209 @pedritoferg @twirl731 @k-ra @gintheginger @obscurexsorrows @cool-iguana @livingdeadmaria @ours-is-a-strange-fate @rayslittlekitten @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrotonin @bluetattoos @sscorpiiio @joeldjarin @faggotinie @justlulu

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savemeafruitjuice · 4 months

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OKAY THIS RIGHT HERE! 🗣️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

IF ANYONE IS INTERESTED, IM JUST GONNA FINISH THE SCENE FOR YOU GUYS, PLEASE ENJOY MY ACTUAL BRAINROT!

Lee! Donatello

Ler! Raph, Mikey, Leo

TW! None!

It was a normal day for the turtles, Donnie and Raph playing video games as Mikey watched from the couch, cheering no one on in particular as he stared intently at the screen as his brothers battled. Leo was out doing whatever Leo does in his spare time, probably finding a place to eat for later or something of the sort.

Raphael had won twice in a row so far, and the brainiac was starting to get a little frustrated. They were playing another Lou Jitsu fighting game, and Raph always took the strongest character, the bulky turtle barely giving his brother an opening for attack whenever they played.

The match had just started, and Donnie's health was already half way drained! It was impossible! He had already planned out the best moves for attack, and knew his brother a little too well for his moves to be surprising, so how was he winning? Surely since he knew all of the best combos he would have an assured victory, right?

Wrong.

Not only was he losing, but his older brother had been teasing him about it too, along with Mikey! Things like, "Hey, it's not my fault that you're so caught up in your science that you don't play as well as me!" and "C'mon Dee, don't be such a grump and just admit your losing!" echoed throughout his brain.

He was trying with every fiber of his being to win, he really was! The purple-themed turtle clenched his teeth as he fought for control. How was his brother beating him? Unless...

"Raph, you're totally cheating!" the smug grin on his brother's face never faltered as they mashed their controllers. "Hah! That's not cheating, this is cheating!" Raphael's grin widened as he reached over to Donnie, still focused on the video game.

Donnie realized what was about to happen, panicking slightly. He froze, eyes scrunched shut as he waited for the inevitable. While he wasn't all that comfortable with being touchy-feely, he supposed he could make an exception just this once. Plus, he was getting rather agitated over the game, and laughing a little couldn't hurt.

A smile crept over his features. He couldn't bare to watch as his brothers hand crept closer and closer, inching forward until-

"Eeheek! GyaHA!"

Laughter poured through his lips as his armpit was attacked, wiggling fingers drilling mercilessly beneath his clamped arm. Within seconds, his controller buzzed in his other hand as a pop-up appeared on the screen. Once more, big bold words appeared on both of their sides of the tv, the all too familiar "You Lose" echoing through the lair as the turtle squealed in mirth.

"Y-YohohU WOHOHON! Quihihit ihit alreHEADY!" the controller fell from his hands as he wiggled about, Raphael cheering as Mikey clapped, giggling as his older brother didn't stop tickling the other. The artist crawled over to the two, hitting the ground with an "Oomf!" as he slid off the couch.

Raphael turned fully to Donatello now, his controller tossed to the side while he latched onto his brother's ribcage with his left hand, the right still wiggling under the poor turtle's arm. The genius was full on cackling now, squirming about until eventually he lost his balance.

He toppled backwards, being caught by Mikey. 'When did he get there?' "MIHIHIKEY! HEhelp meheheeee!" his brothers laughed with him, Raph switching from squeezing at his ribs and armpit to wriggling all six digits along his waist. Little relief came from that action though; the purple themed turtle threw his head back and screeched as his little brother snatched up his arms, holding back his biceps with his forearms.

His face flushed a light shade of pink, squirming increasing ten-fold. "Ihihi meheheahant heHELP ME GET AHAWAAHAY! AHAAHNGELOO!" his older brother straddled his calves, now only allowing him to thrash around his torso and as much of his knees as this new position would allow. "Nice gohoing Mihikey!" the other two couldn't help but chuckle along, Donnie desperately reaching for Raph's hands as they moved down ever so slightly, now spidering along his thighs, but given how Mikey held his arms, he couldn't reach his tormentors.

"Awww, Dee! Your smile is so sweet!" Mikey now had begun teasing, each word sending shivers down the other's spine as his tone darkened slightly. "Ihihit's noHOHOHOT! L-EHEHEEE!" Donnie had almost called out for his twin, but quickly decided against it, because let's be real- he wouldn't help in the slightest.

Almost as if reading his thoughts, the portal user rushed into the lair, arms flying over his head. "GUYS, GUYS, GUYS! Oooooh~ watcha doinn'?" his excited smile quickly turned to a mischievous grin as he paused, taking in what was happening.

Don's cheeks were rosy, his eyes squeezed shut as his hips wiggled about, trying to avoid Raphael's fingers as they scuttled along his thighs. Mikey was putting quite a lot of effort into keeping his arms up, and looking from behind them he could see the youngest nuzzling his brother's neck, causing him to shrink away.

Leo giggled. He hadn't seen Donnie genuinely laugh in weeks. The oldest of them was lightheartedly making fun of his brother, noting how he wasn't telling them to stop. Leo swore he could see the pink of his face tinge the back of his neck.

"What did you wanna tell us?" Raph had looked up to Leo from the floor, tilting his head slightly in question. 'Maybe it's not THAT important..'

"Oh, it's nothing. We can deal with it later." his grin turned to a smirk as he crept up behind his brothers. Sensing his brother's presence, and knowing how ruthless he was when tickling, Donatello made a frantic plea for his release. "PLEHEHEASE! Leheo hE-AAAHAHA!"

The younger twin had already made up his mind, squeezing his brother's sides, making him laugh a little louder before going to sit to the left of him. He plopped down on his knees, looking at his brother's face. He didn't seem too frantic, but he did look happy. When Leo had stopped squeezing his sides, his laughter died down to high-pitched giggles, eyes opening to see Leonardo's wiggling fingers making their way to his hips.

A gasp pushed its way out of his mouth, his waist contorting to avoid the offending fingers. Donnie knew he couldn't escape. He knew it was pointless, so in one of the only options of being stubborn he had left, he used his hand to shield his face from them all. Jerking his head to the left, he used his right hand to swat at Mikey's face as it opened him up for more nuzzles on that side, using his other hand to block his own from his other brothers' view.

"Hiding, are we? I think I can fix that~" the blue themed turtle began rapidly squeezing Don's hips, causing a loud squeal to echo through the lair. The younger twin made little noises at the tormented, furthering his descent into madness. "Tktktktktk~ Does that tiiiickle? Is poor wittle DonTon tiiickwish?"

Donatello gave up on hiding his face, arms flailing about as his back arched up, only sending his evil twin's fingers further into his hips. The oldest of them had reached back and started scribbling along his feet, leaving the teen to breathlessly chortle and plead with his brothers.

"LEHEHEOOO! Dohohon't Doho thahaaat! Ihihit TIHIHICKLEEHEES! HAH!" Donnie's head began to go limp, chin pressed into his chest, before shooting back up and cackling once more as Mikey blew a raspberry on the back of his neck. "WAHAHAHIHIHIHIIIIT!" the scientist wailed, his hands flapping furiously.

Leo took note of this, and knowing his twin better than anyone in the room, put an end to his torture. "Awww! Okay guys, he's happy stimming! We should prolly stop before we kill him or something." all of their fingers slowed, Raphael pushing himself off of his legs, Leo switching to gently rubbing his sides, and Mikey releasing his arms, which he now crossed over his chest, hand flapping slowing until he slid to the floor, remaining giggles flowing out every once in a while.

The three looked down at their brother to make sure he was okay before Mikey ran to go get him some water. When he got back, Donnie took a sip, muttering a "thanks" before Raph picked him up from the ground, carrying him bridal style to the couch. He laid down himself, setting Donnie on top of him, Leo and Mikey soon throwing themselves on the pair as well.

The purple-themed turtle sighed, all of them enjoying this rare moment of affection in between their chaotic lives. They didn't have a lot, but one thing was for certain: they'd always have each other.

This turned out to be kind of a monster fic, and honestly, I'm okay with that. I love these guys waaaay too much, so I hope you enjoy!! Remember to drink water and eat, and have a wonderful day or night! 💕💕💕

#i regret nothing #tmnt tickle #rottmnt tickle #teenage mutant ninja turtles tickle #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles tickle #lee Donnie #lee Donatello #ler Leonardo #ler Leo #ler Michelangelo #Ler Mikey #ler raphael #ler raph

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i-did-not-mean-to · 1 month

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April - Beleg x Mablung

Ah, my dear @lycheesodas has requested these goodest of good boys, and it was, as ever, a pleasure and a joy to write them.

Have some extra sassy Lúthien and some Thingol-love to go with it <3

Pairing: Beleg x Mablung

Prompts: Jazz Age, Furniture, Dancing

Words: 2k

Warnings: Crossdressing, period-appropriate reference to homophobia, alcohol

“Here again, huh?” Pushing back a loose strand of her silken, dark hair from her fair brow, Lúthien gave Beleg a broad, teasing grin. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were addicted to my singing!”

The patron rolled his eyes and gave an overdramatic sigh.

“And you do know better?” he asked then, waving down a waiter to order another round for them.

“Hmmm,” she hummed melodiously. “You could simply ask him out, you know?”

“Your daddy lets you sing because you’re his little girl,” Beleg grinned, “but he surely doesn’t want you to fix your customers’ love life for them!”

Lúthien threw her head back and laughed heartily.

“My daddy knows that my singing attracts more than half of his clientele,” she then purred into Beleg’s ear. “And I do this for free because we’re pals. Ask him out!”

“Ask who out?” Carrying their cocktails with perfect elegance and grace, Thingol—owner of the hottest jazz club in town—materialised like a ghost out of the smoky shadows of the backroom.

A smart businessman and talented manager, he’d somehow managed to capture and keep the heart of Melian—the most exceptional vocalist of her time—and they’d opened Menegroth together.

Within a few short years, the club had consequently become the hotspot for good cocktails and even better music, and—in time—their daughter had taken over the primetime entertainment.

Lúthien was made for the stage, and she kept her audience enthralled with the otherworldly beauty of both her face and her voice.

“He’s still pining for Mablung,” Lúthien, who was an incorrigible daddy’s girl whenever it suited her, tattled shamelessly.

“Ah,” Thingol laughed. “You might be even less fortunate than all those poor fools who’ve lost their hearts to my wicked girl here.” Nobody expected him to say any more on the subject, but—with a mocking wink—he added that Mablung, a quiet regular, seemed quite entranced with shiny, beaded flapper dresses and pearl ornaments in long hair.

“Just my observation,” he smirked and pinched Lúthien’s chin affectionately across the counter. “Now, leave the man alone and get ready for your next set. Who knows? We might get Mablung to dance tonight.”

“Fat chance of that,” Lúthien cackled. Turning back to Beleg, she stage-whispered, “I have just such a dress. I can lend it to you—what do you have to lose? Let’s maximise your chances! Tomorrow, the Belegost Band is on, and I’d love it if you got on the dancefloor with the old grump.”

Opening her luminous eyes wide and pouting adorably, she splayed her long, elegant fingers on Beleg’s muscular forearm. “And you’d want to make me happy, right?”

Sitting on the obscenely exquisite velvet settee in Lúthien’s private lounge the following day, Beleg wondered whether he’d gotten himself into deeper trouble than he’d be able to handle.

All day, he’d had the unshakeable feeling that this night was going to be special—he felt lucky, and, as he was not a gambling man, he’d have to try his hand at the only game of chance to which his heart was inescapably drawn.

“This should do the trick,” the infamous singer chirped, holding aloft a truly stunning dress as well as an elaborate headpiece to distract Beleg from his frantic musings.

“You cannot truly expect me to accept this,” Beleg mumbled, accurately guessing the exorbitant value of the pieces Lúthien was willing to let him borrow for a silly joke. “Those are absolutely gorgeous!”

With a charming giggle, she graced him with one of those radiant smiles that might have induced cardiac arrest in other men. “Thank you—I have good taste,” she grinned. “And so do you, if I may say so. Come on, try it on!”

Even as he rose, Beleg was fiercely aware of how his sense of adventure and fun would get him into hot water sooner or later, but he had to concede that the fashion of the moment might just allow him to not look utterly foolish.

Moreover, Lúthien, even though gracile and lethally elegant, was not a dainty woman.

Thus, Beleg cast off his clothes with shameless efficiency, which made his benefactress chuckle with delight, and slipped into the straight, silken dress without further ado.

“Fits like a glove,” Lúthien cheered, fussing lovingly with the hem of the garment and adjusting the headdress on Beleg’s gleaming hair. “Let me just…off you go!”

As if stung by a bee, Beleg shot out of the room before Lúthien could decide that he needed more jewellery or even a pair of heels; as a matter of fact, he was convinced that his perfectly polished shoes went rather well with his present accoutrement.

On his way to the main room, dim with smoke and mellow music, he passed by an antique mirror and spontaneously gave a little twirl. The pale fabric—somewhere between watery blue and soft green—complimented his strong silhouette astonishingly, and the rhinestones sparkled in the fractured light of the heavy chandeliers.

He made straight for the bar, lifting two fingers to order a stiff drink, and scanned the row of stools for the elusive stranger he sought to impress and amuse with this stunt.

“I can’t believe she got you to do it,” Thingol sniggered as he pushed Beleg’s drink across the polished counter.

“Do what?” a deep, calm voice resounded behind Beleg, and he whirled around, eyes wide and lips parted enticingly.

“A little birdie has told me that you are partial to a certain kind of outfit,” Beleg replied brazenly, letting one hand come to rest provocatively on his cocked hip. “So we thought I’d make an effort before I invite you to dance!”

The man facing him in stunned silence opened his mouth, then closed it again without having uttered so much as a single word.

His dark, sleek hair was combed back from a high, fair brow, and his soulful eyes radiated confusion and humour—Beleg was instantly smitten.

As a discreet blush crept into those high, chiselled cheeks, Mablung cleared his throat before introducing himself; unbeknownst to Beleg, he’d had always been painfully aware of the cheerful, undeniably popular fellow regular, and he’d been giving himself daily pep-talks to muster up the courage to approach him.

“An honour, I’m sure,” Beleg chirped, regretting not having used some of Lúthien’s utterly beguiling perfume and a dab of her rouge to maximise his chances at success even further. “Lúthien is about to go on—the Belegost Boys are here tonight—so, what say you? Care for a dance?”

Despite his cocky demeanour, Beleg felt his heart pounding in his throat, so he downed the comfortingly burning liquor in one big gulp to calm his nerves and parched mouth alike.

“Let me buy you another drink,” Mablung said, evidently stalling. “You seem thirsty, and the dance floor is empty yet.”

Already feeling the fuzzy, emboldening warmth of his drink spread down his chest and into his belly like a lagoon of longing, Beleg brazenly clutched the broad hand, splayed against the counter as if to hold on to it.

“Someone has to be the first,” he declared wisely. “And I think it should be us. Or is my dress not to your liking after all?”

With a heavy sigh, Mablung let himself be pulled under and away because he didn’t want Beleg to think that he objected in any way or fashion to his bold sartorial choice—he didn’t want Beleg to feel bad or unhappy about himself at all.

How could he think of his own stubborn pride when those gleaming eyes twinkled with mischief and glee?

“Ah,” a soft, smoky voice purred into the microphone somewhere ahead. “I see two of my favourite regular customers are kicking this night off. Let’s make it worth their while. And 1, 2, 1, 2, 3, 4.”

A crescendo of music arose, chasing the last remnant of obstinate discretion from Mablung’s heart and mind as Beleg started whirling with visible gusto and unbridled enthusiasm to the sensuous tune that enveloped them whole and transported them to another, blessedly private sphere of pure bliss.

Sighing sweet words of love and devotion, Lúthien sure did her best to cast an unbreakable spell onto her audience, and Mablung felt his feet move before his mind had even consciously decided to cast off the chains of social expectations and decorum to indulge in such a folly.

As soon as his arms closed around Beleg’s deceivingly lithe form, though, Mablung was overwhelmed by the understated, sweet beauty of that eerily familiar stranger. He drowned in the bewitching light of Beleg’s eyes as they swept to and fro on the scratched-up parquet flooring to the mournful clamour of a saxophone solo.

No longer did he think of the shocking reality of leading another man, wearing a woman’s dress, for all to see; instead, he found himself babbling breathlessly, spouting his every confused, reluctant thoughts of admiration and nascent affection he’d had over the weeks without any rhyme or reason.

“You should have slid over,” Beleg grinned with a charming wink. “I was just waiting for you, big boy! Anyway, thanks to the Nightingale’s rather rude intervention, we’ve made it there at long last. So, all is well that ends well, no?”

Mablung, who loved to overthink his every reasoning like a man flogging a dead horse, was aghast and awed by so much well-natured optimism, and so he felt compelled to justify his criminally shameful reluctance even further.

“Don’t blow a gasket over it,” Beleg laughed. “We got there when we were ready. You look extra scrumptious tonight, by the way. It’s as if you’d known somehow!”

Puckering his lips, Mablung was about to explain that he’d indeed chosen this fateful night to finally ask Beleg if he could buy him a drink when his impish dance partner took advantage of a long instrumental lull in the song to push himself up on his toes and press an indecently passionate kiss onto that pensive moue.

“Beleg! We could get in so much trouble,” Mablung exclaimed, his eyes darting through the hazy room in a blind panic.

“Don’t worry, I’m friends with the owners,” Beleg quipped, but he knew that he had gone too far and gave Mablung an understanding smile. “How about that drink then?”

They quickly retreated into the darkest, most secluded corner of the club, their hands brushing against one another in an instinctive attempt to give and seek reassurance.

The music had shifted into an upbeat tempo which drew more dancers to the floor now, which gave them the illusion of privacy.

“We should stop meeting here,” Mablung whispered over the rim of his cocktail glass.

“Are you inviting me to your place?” Beleg asked in a light, flirty tone that was marred by the tremulous quality of his strained voice. “I didn’t dare to be so forward on what is basically our first date! Also, Lúthien keeps my clothes hostage.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t need clothes,” Mablung replied with admirable calm—on account of his serious tone and straight face, it took Beleg a moment to fully comprehend the implications.

“Is…Is that so?” he sputtered, bringing his hand to his collarbones to quieten his wildly galloping heart. “In that case, lead, and I’ll follow.”

Amused by the candid eagerness with which his indecent proposal was met, Mablung tilted his glass in a quiet salute.

“Finish your drink,” he said suavely. “Let’s enjoy the music lest we forfeit Lúthien’s friendship. You’ve caused quite a stir, and we should wait for things to simmer down a little.” He leaned forward like a large predator sniffing out its petrified prey. “Then, we can leave through the backdoor. I live two blocks down from here. What say you?”

“Cheers to that,” Beleg squeaked and lifted Mablung’s long, sinuous fingers to his lips gallantly before they could be withdrawn in a facetious display of propriety. “I knew tonight would be my lucky evening!”

-> Masterlist

Lots of love to you! <3

Thank you for indulging me with your prompts and your readership!

@fellowshipofthefics here's the next one!

#og post #FOTFICS april challenge #fotfics challenge #tags & tropes #april challenge #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #Beleg #Beleg x Mablung #Mablung #Jazz Age #Furniture #Dancing #crossdressing #jazz age #alcohol

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blacknailsandheartbreak · 2 years

Text

Another Zuko x FemReader fic :o

So I’ve been away for a bit and saw quite a few likes on my past Zuko fics so ok yeah, Another Zuko fic for y’all. Found this one was kinda longer but one of my better ones :)

This one kinda plays off a previous plot of one of my past ones but just hang in there. This one will for sure tickle your feels, especially for the protective grump boy and innocent sweet girl trope we all love.

Here we go: 1500+ word count, Zuko is 19, girl is like 17, feel like they would be aged up in this scenario, not really following plot, stanning the long Zuko hair.

TW: Nothing really, kinda weird gross men sexually talking and broken bone and burns but thats about it.

OK HERE WE GO, IMAGINE THIS.....

So Zuko and Iroh are out at sea in the lower quarters mapping out their next route. Zuko is over the map and Iroh is sitting comfortably drinking his tea. They hear scrambling and shouts on the main deck of the boat. Zuko shoots up and a guard swings open the door, panting, he alerts them of a ship wreck. Zuko and Iroh move to the upper deck and look out into the water, where there was a demolished sinking ship a few yards away. Out of nowhere, crew members collectively called out and pointed to a person clinging to a broken piece of board. Zuko commanded to bring the survivor aboard. The crew lowered a paddle boat down to the water and hauled aboard the lone figure, they hardly moved. While this happened, upon the main deck, Zuko and Iroh discussed what could’ve happened to the ship and concluded pirates. They turn around and head towards the paddle boat being hoisted up, the crew members empty out and carry the individual on board and onto the ground. Zuko approached and knelt down, it was a girl, soaking wet, her clothing was tattered, ripped, her breathing was ragged and shallow. He ordered a crew member to take her below deck, leave her in his chamber for the night and to bring her water, a robe and a blanket. Zuko spoke with Iroh, staying above deck that night and agreed it would be good to get some information. He could take on whatever came his way but being prepared never hurt anyone.

Zuko made his way below deck the next morning and ordered the guards to leave as he entered his chamber with some tea and rice for the girl. He opened the door and saw her with a blanket around her shoulders. She was in a red robe, holding her empty water cup standing in front of a mural on the wall. Her head spun quickly towards him and he motioned his hands upward carefully and told her he meant no harm. She kept her eyes trained on him and he walked over, sat down at the table and asked her to join him. She wearily took a seat as he handed her the tea and rice, then asked her about what happened. She was very quiet and quick to the point but confirmed his suspicions about pirates. She seemed quite rattled, he could imagine what she had seen and endured, but he could respect someone who knows how to keep their wits afterwards too. She didn’t tell Zuko much about herself when he’d asked, staying very silent, shy, almost, innocent. He told her he would let her go at the closest town, he explained they shouldn't carry passengers on this boat, only prisoners, so they had to find something fast. Quickly cutting off their conversation, the boat came to a halt that stumbles both of them. Zuko tells the girl to stay down in the chamber while he goes and checks what caused the sudden stop.

Zuko emerges from the lower quarters onto the main deck to see a Fire Nation ship boarding his own. As he walks over to his uncle, General Zhao comes into view. Zuko grits his teeth and asks what's the meaning of the hold up, Zhao smugly informs him that all passing ships need inspection and that this boat was no exception. Iroh plays neutral and excuses Zuko's mannerism, inviting him for some tea, hoping to get him talking and forgetting about this “routine” check. The men sit and talk for some time. A while ago Zhao had asked for something stronger than tea, so out came an old ginger liqueur. The three men drank away, Zhao going to town, Iroh only having a couple drinks, while Zuko had none, all thrown over his shoulder. With the bottle almost gone and the conversation dying, Zuko was ready to get this man off his ship.

They all get up and prepare to escort General Zhao off the ship, with many thanks and happy gestures leading them towards the other ship, the man laughs and says, not so fast, and insists on continuing his inspection. Zuko clenched his fists, tries to keep cool. but that's out the window as he watches him make his way down the stairs to the lower deck. He follows down hastily and catches him poking at crates in the hallway, Iroh is quickly behind him.

Zuko catches up with Zhao and impatiently insists he is wasting everyone's time. Zhao turns a lazy head to Zuko, heavy eyelids and slurred speech explaining he’s almost done, turns his eyes towards Zuko's quarters, and only takes one step before Zuko is in front of him, chest to chest blocking his way. Stone cold face, he says there’s nothing for him to inspect, that is his private quarter where nobody is to enter. General Zhao stops for a second and laughs. But Zuko doesn’t laugh. The laugh turns into a chuckle and dies quickly, Zhao asks if Zuko is hiding anything, but there is no response. His face was flat, no emotion. General Zhao lights up and accuses him of hiding something, or someone. Zuko stared at him as a warning. Zhao took a small step back, looking down the hall at his shut door, asking if it was a girl. Maybe someone he picked up to play with or to keep entertained from a local city. Zhao groaned in a repulsive manner, Zuko felt his rage turning over inside him.

Meanwhile, down the hallway on the other side of the door, the girl sat on the floor, tea in hand, alone, scared, huddled in the blanket, awaiting word from the boy who had spoken to her earlier, who gave her a bit of ease.

General Zhao pushed at Zuko, Asking if she was just hiding back there to keep his bed warm. Zuko's eyes could set towns on fire with the amount of burning hatred for this man. Zhao told him if he ain’t leaving her with some bruises or tears then he ain’t doing it right. Zuko stared at him wide eyed, like a dragon ready to rip apart its next prey, when Zhao put a hand on Zuko's shoulder, then leaned in close and asked zuko to give him a share of the girl back there, that he’d be quick with her. He snapped, and Iroh saw it, but before he could do anything Zuko was quick and grabbed General Zhao around the wrist and elbow and began to burn the spots he held, Zhao screamed and Iroh yelled for Zuko to stop, but everything was just a blurb of sound until the crack of General Zhao forearm snapping over Zuko's knee brought him back. Stunned silence fell for only a second. Zuko released the man and he fell to the ground with a loud wail, his arm broken, flopping about covered in blood and burns. Guards began running and flooding down the steps.

The girl shot up, hearing the screaming coming from close outside the door and running above head, she began to panic. She couldn’t do another sinking ship, but this ship wasn’t sinking, it wasn’t hit. She was told to stay put but was torn, risking seeing what was going on or staying hidden.

Few of General Zhao’s men came down as well as Zukos, Zuko said he was much too intoxicated and had fallen, commanding them to take the waist of a man off his ship. As they did, Iroh stood by his side, eyes closed, not one word. Zuko was quiet, but said it was nothing a basic water tribe healer couldn’t fix. flexing his hands and calming his breath, they heard the creek of the door open behind them, Iroh and Zuko carefully turned around, the girl stood half in the doorway. She looked so vulnerable, so small and defenceless. Zuko's heart fell a bit, he couldn’t stop the thought of if Zhao's ship had found her first, he balled his fist at the thought, the things he was saying to him mere minutes before, spirits, his face contorted for a second with anger, wanting to break his other arm. The girl said nothing, Zuko slowly walked towards the girl and motioned Iroh to go on the main deck and man for a while.

The girl and Zuko went back into his quarters, keeping the door open, he explained to her what the plan was, he tried to make it so clear that it was safer for her below deck but she was free to do as she pleased, so she may roam the main deck for a short time if she wished. He told her he would bring her some food and water whenever she wanted, and he had offered to be her personal escort into the first nearby town to buy her some clothes. Zuko wasn’t going to tell her what had happened in the hallway or what things were said. But, he did offer for her to remain on his ship if she pleases, he had made a promise to keep her safe, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

#prince zuko #zuko fanfic #zuko x reader #atla #atla fanfic #grumpy x sunshine #protective #fire nation #super protective #protective fluff #Zuko #zuko fan #avatar zuko #fluff #zuko fluff #zuko protective #imagine #oneshot

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