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spookykoolkat · 8 months

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Plus Size!Metalhead!Reader x Eddie Munson smut idiots to lovers!

The reader is Robin’s best friend and has just moved back to Hawkins after studying abroad.

When she returns she is introduced to everyone and quickly becomes part of the gang. Eddie quickly falls for her as the two have quite a lot in common, however, he doesn’t act on his feelings as he thinks the reader is Robin’s girlfriend. Little does he know she has major feelings for him as well but she thinks him and Steve are together. Eventually they are forced to bunk together on a camping trip (orchestrated by Steve and Robin who have been dying for the two to finally admit their feelings) at first things are awkward between the two but they soon heat up into something neither of them expected.

the cabin in the woods - e.m. request*

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an: just a story i tried to convey the best, about two very confused adults who don't really know how to communicate! i hope this does your idea justice it took me FOREVER i'm so sorry 😭 and its so long omg this is my longest work ever PLS I HOPE ITS NOT BORING THANK U FOR SENDING UR REQUESTS I LOVE THEM 🩷🩷 i'm also doing requests for kinktober if anyone wants to send them in :p thank u everyone to all of ur love on all of my fics u dont even Know how much it means to me 🥹

wc: 10.4K

warnings: 18+ ONLY, mentions of mutual pining, explicit thoughts, mentions of eddie and you wishing the other weren't gay, lots of mentions of sexualities, miscommunication, porn with a plot, p in v, (unprotected. do NOT do this), oral sex (m and f receiving), slight ass play, ownership, pet names (sweet girl, baby, princess, pretty, sweetheart, etc)

MINORS NOT WELCOME. DNI!

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IT WAS WEIRD BEING BACK IN HAWKINS, being back in the states in general felt like a culture shock. and disappointing. the euphoric feeling of learning and living in another country for a year was not comparable, and you promised your best friend robin that when you got back, you'd tell her all about it.

over the year you were gone for your studies, she told you about a few people she met while she was in high school, and had been with ever since. she was excited about bringing you to a party the night of your arrival so you could meet everyone, she said you were all she ever talked about, and how excited everyone was to meet you.

robin was insistent on your attendance, getting small hesitation on your part, and she swore up and down that you'd fit right in. you questioned her judgment sometimes, especially in women, but you had no other reason not to trust your best friend.

you and robin were complete opposites, you were the girl who liked metal, death metal, and occasionally rock music and she enjoyed the oldies, harboring weird talents and interests that you enjoyed learning about. but you clicked so well, meshed together in a way where you could never be separated.

it wasn't long before you arrived at her place, dressed and ready after hitting your house first, and was met with a lethal scream of your name and tears of joy. it didn't take long to catch up, talk, cry, and laugh so the minute robin decided it was time to go to this party, you guys drove into the city together.

"are you excited?!" she dragged as she noticed your fingers tap against your faded gray jeans that were maybe two sizes too bog, hanging low on your hips with the help of a belt.

"i'm fucking nervous." you admitted and ran your fingers through your hair.

"for what? dude, these are not people who need to be impressed. they're going to love you and i know it!" she exclaimed.

it was a bit before they drove past buildings, and turned into nothing until they pulled into a trailer park.

“eddie’s trailer was the destination party zone tonight, so, yeah.” robin said as she parked next to a van, presumably eddie’s. you weren’t one to judge a single person, especially not one you didn’t know, so you just nodded with a smile and stepped out of the car.

you adjusted your black tank top that, unlike your jeans, was maybe two sizes too small and hugged the curves and rolls of your body.

you liked the way you looked, your wrists covered in bracelets with studs and beads on them, your hair parted down the middle and frizzy from the hawkin’s heat. the makeup you had on was minimal, just black eyeliner smudged around your eyes and lipstick that was lined with black and filled in with a blood red.

robin was so drawn to you when she first met you. she thinks about it as the two wait at his front door, and how she was so lucky to meet you. to bring her out of her shell and be honest with herself.

she knew being with you meant zero judgment, and if someone dared to fuck with you or robin, robin knew you’d be quick to defend her with your life. you honestly reminded her a lot of eddie once she met him, telling him she had a friend that he would just love. he doubted it of course. eddie didn’t think there was another person like him that existed, impossible.

but robin knew, she believed she knew everything. and she made a small promise to herself that she’d help you find someone, even though you insisted on being happy alone. she knew it was true, but when she first met eddie she realized maybe she could play cupid when you came back into town.

“robin, did you bring the-” eddie said, opening the door, until he looked beside the skinny, jittery girl.

you didn’t blush at the unsaid compliment, you just watched as eddie looked over your full figure.

“eddie… you’re staring,” robin said, looking between you and eddie to make sure he wasn’t scaring you off. you just laughed a little.

you stuck your hand out and introduced yourself by your name, “i’m robin’s friend.”

he took it with grace and stuttered out a small hey, as normal as he could but it was indeed weird. eddie looked at robin, gleaming with pride, and he tried to put two and two together, failing miserably.

“friend?” eddie asked, looking between the two of you before letting go of your hand.

“yes idiot! she just moved back to hawkins, she’s the one i’ve been talking about!” robin said as she grabbed your hand and dragged you inside. you give him a smile, and a look over, going with your friend.

she’s the one i’ve been talking about. how could he be so stupid? he totally forgot about this girl he’d been hearing about. robin would go on and on about her friend coming back from another country, and how much she adored this friend and missed this friend and how badly she wanted the group to meet this friend.

he didn’t think too much about it, he didn’t want to assume. everyone knew robin played for the other team, so he wasn’t sure if you were her friend or her friend. so, he took advantage of the gray area and checked you out as robin introduced everyone to you. eddie saw how robin held her arm, close to her and tight.

he also tried to pay attention to the groups reactions, to see if maybe they had the same idea as him. he was a shit expression reader. he was going to feel bad about staring at this girl, imagining her in every way he could, if you were in fact robin’s girlfriend.

as the night went on, it seemed like it got more difficult. you kept seeing him stare at you sitting on the floor in between nancy and robin, he watched you as you drank and laughed and got to know the crowd that robin found herself in. you enjoyed everyone, nancy was such a nice girl to you, constantly asking if you needed anything and if you were okay.

you wondered if eddie would come over to you and maybe try to talk to you, but he just engaged in conversations with steve.

you got to know everyone, who was studying what, if they decided to go to college next fall or not, life plans and enjoying each other’s company. it wasn’t often you were alone, but the minute robin and nancy got up to get another drink from eddie’s fridge, he slithered his way to sit next to you.

“i was wondering when you were going to stop staring at me,” you spoke, turning your head as you sat crisscrossed in front of the small coffee table.

“i was trying to figure out, and i’m being honest here don’t laugh at me” he warned before speaking again, “if you were real.”

you laughed a bit more than you expected, feeling it in your tummy and he gave you a pout.

“and your conclusion?” you asked, taking a sip again.

“honestly? i’m not so sure yet.”

it was the beginning of long conversations, laughter, bonding, and hidden flirting. the two of you were dancing around each other, bouncing off of each other's wit and casual snarkiness.

it was fun, you could admit. and you finally assessed him, his faded metallica shirt was paired with black jeans that might’ve been tighter than yours, almost the same bracelets. his arms were covered in aimless tattoos that were small and looked like they were just drawn on from how many he had. you loved them.

“i love metallica,” you murmur against your cup, indulging in eddie while everyone talks amongst themselves and listens to the music.

it was loud enough to not hear your conversation if you were someone else, that you were grateful for. you watched as he sat up a bit to glance at his shirt, and gave you a nervous smile.

“wha- oh, right yeah. me too, i can play a few songs on my guitar actually.” he tried to impress after remembering the shirt he was wearing, and it worked. you were a sucker for guitar players, especially ones who preferred metal and rock.

“oh yeah? are you in a band or something?” you laughed softly, there was no way he was actually in one because it’d make it ten times harder not to want to jump his bones. “what guitar?” you asked excitedly.

you appreciated the instrument even with no knowledge about it and would appreciate it more seeing him play it for you. eddie liked seeing the excitement on your face, the way you got closer to him sent excitement somewhere else for him.

“i am actually, maybe i can play for you one day.” he teased and finally, you blushed.

the way his eyes met yours made you want to melt into it, have his gaze consume you whole. he was everything, he was adorable, handsome, sexy, attractive, funny, and god was he charming. he didn’t even have to do much to send you pining after him.

“it’s on my wall, in my room if you wanna see it,” he suggested and you raised an eyebrow, too distracted to remember what he was talking about and he notices, “the guitar, i don’t use it often but i think this one time is an exception, afterall you might just be my favorite guest. wouldn’t want any of my hospitality going to someone like steve,” he joked and steve whipped his head around.

“i heard that, asshole.” steve replied over the music, sending you to laugh before looking back to eddie who blew him an exaggerated kiss.

“i’d love to see it,"

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you were staying for good, which meant you had all the time in the world with eddie when he wasn’t working at his uncle’s mechanic shop. he would brag about being the one to take over, shaking his head at the thought of going to college.

you didn’t mind though, you told him that college isn’t for everyone and it’s okay going a different route despite ghosted voices that were haunting him about it.

he admired the fact that you were so similar to him, finding himself getting lost in you when you explained the lore of texas chainsaw massacre and actually being interested in it too. he heard everything you said, listened to every story you told about being in france, and helped you through whatever hump you were trying to get over.

you didn’t believe robin when she said he was actually the only other guy she got along with besides steve, and how she believed it would be the same for you. she was right, but you’d never tell her.

and she’d never tell you her true intentions by introducing you to eddie, and how she wished that maybe he’d open you up enough to the idea of possibly dating again. but, she didn’t really think it through. she figured maybe she’d let the universe handle it, but then started to notice the dynamic of your idea forming about eddie.

you found yourself at his trailer a lot, smoking his weed that he offered and drinking, watching movies and enjoying the company of one another while robin was busy.

he gave you soft touches here and there, let you sleep in his bed with him when you were too high to drive back, gave you massages, picked you up when you needed a ride. he was there when you needed him, there at any moment you called for him.

and so were you. you really liked eddie, the feeling weighing on you everytime you let yourself take his flirting and touches for more than what they were. you felt guilty for lying next to him or on him when you passed out during a movie, you felt guilty for thinking about his lips on yours and on your body.

the only problem that kept the two of you from indulging in the fantasies you both had was… you strongly believed that eddie was in a relationship with steve harrington. and as for eddie, he was fully convinced that you were off limits because you were going with robin buckley.

and this was the problem robin worried about.

you knew robin was lesbian of course, and she knew you were bisexual. unfortunately, eddie knows robin is lesbian but figured you were lesbian as well. he couldn’t shake the feeling of craving you and wanting you the way he has, and he felt guilty because in his mind you were robin’s girl.

so, all of his dirty thoughts and ideas about you felt wrong, and instantly tried to bury it when one night he found himself wishing you liked men.

but where was the harm in imagination? eddie was so infatuated with you that his self indulgent behavior was harmless. he knew he couldn’t have you, he knew you only saw him as a friend and that was that. but he was so wrong, and so were you.

he thought of you daily, and in ways that were almost embarrassing. he craved you, the desire and want he had every time you were near was almost uncontrollable.

you never asked anyone if eddie was gay, to be fair. it wasn’t your place to ask of course, plus you figured if eddie was into you he’d just simply tell you.

you just assumed, and the way that he and steve interacted all the time made you think maybe they were romantically involved. eddie’s teasing and flirting towards steve made you wonder if eddie was completely off limits, but affirmed it when eddie would plant a wet kiss on steve’s cheek.

you didn’t know, but that was just what eddie did.

eddie was a flirt, to everyone but robin in their group. even if it was out of nowhere, that’s just how eddie carried himself. of course in your mind, you hoped that he was at least bisexual.

you felt incredibly guilty about that too because regardless if he was bisexual, in your mind he and steve were still a couple. to not only hope he turned out to be bisexual, but to fantasize about someone else’s partner was just incredulous to think about.

but there you were. daydreaming about the guy who sat next to you almost every other day on his couch after work, and would have to snap back into reality when he asked you if you wanted to smoke.

it was a routine.

you’d say yes, the two of you would smoke and listen to his cassettes, talk about urban legends and myths, movies and how you always felt like you could act—you couldn’t—and topics that seemed to flow between the two of you.

it was easy with him, and you appreciated it.

the only thing hard about the relationship you hold with him is that you’re thinking of being face down for him on your bed with your ass pushing against him. you were fighting every nasty thought of your friend, wondering how he’d feel inside of you and if he’d be able to make you cum.

the attraction the two of you had for each was obvious, so obvious that the entire group were pointing it out to each other.

robin needed a plan. and quickly, because she couldn’t fathom another minute of you denying yourself as well as him just because he thinks you’re lesbian. she didn’t want to address it actually, she wanted to scheme and plot. better to make them think it was coincidental when really she had something to prove.

robin felt weird about plotting a set up for you, especially because robin knew there was obviously a better and more logical way to approach this miscommunication between you and eddie. so, in hopes of setting the two of you up, robin goes to steve with her probably weird borderline disturbing idea.

turns out, steve and robin felt the same way. watching you two was just as painful for them as it was for the two of you. thus, mission cabin in the woods was put into place.

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you regretted this terribly. you weren’t an outdoorsy person even though the place you were staying was like a cabin. just a cabin in the woods, six young adults, left to their own devices for two days. it wasn’t the absolute worst you soon found out, the cabin was right near a lake that had a long extended pier, trees and dirt and grass surrounding you, and a large bonfire opportunity behind the cabin, right before you went to the lake.

it was more modern than anything, as everyone settled in and went around the cabin, pairs started calling dibs on the three rooms, leaving you and eddie the last pair to bunk together.

“robin, i thought we were going to stay together? what the hell?” you whispered as you grabbed her arm to drag her down the hall away from everyone. you already settled in while eddie quietly took his things to his side of the room.

“oh! um, right,” she didn’t think of what would happen after phase one of her and steve’s plan, nervously glancing at steve who was peeking at the girls from his door frame.

“steve, i mean you know steve, he needed to talk to me about how he keeps getting rejected by every woman, like ever. he was a little upset about nancy and jonathan rooming together.”

she was lying, and you followed her awkward gaze to steve, when he immediately withdrew himself from peeking and behind the wall. but you heard a small gasp from that room since it wasn’t too far from where you and nancy stood at the stairs.

it was steve’s gasp, because when he rested his back against the wall and opened his eyes again, eddie was standing there in front of him with his arms crossed.

“dude, what the fuck,” steve said, and eddie shook his head.

“i should be saying that to you. care to tell me why on earth i’m rooming with her?” eddie asked condescendingly, expecting the truth.

“what’s wrong with that? i thought you guys were friends. robin, she needed my advice to-”

“i’m going to ask you again.” eddie said, “why am i not rooming with you?”

steve looked defeated and he hasn’t even tried, but he knew if he gave no excuse it would be worse than a shitty one. he was also a little scared that robin would become unfathomably upset if steve told eddie what was really going on.

and so would you, so before either of the two could mutter out another lie while you and eddie interrogate them unknowingly at the same time, nancy ended up coming out of her room with a grin,

“i need to go swimming, come on!”

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the entirety of the day you spent at the cabin on your first day of a three day trip, you spent at the lake. not by yourself of course, you and the other two girls swam and tanned as the guys sat in their swim trunks, drinking beers.

to make things more interesting, the three of you decided to have fun diving off the pier and into the lake, splashing each other, and playing marco polo.

now the three of you swam around each other, keeping yourselves afloat to talk and converse. the conversation started about you being in france again, and if you met anyone there, if you had a french lover for the semester or if you were too busy with your head in books.

“there was this one girl, god she was like five foot eleven and just, she was so fucking gorgeous. we met at a cafe and we talked for like a few days until she was like, ‘well i don’t really think i’m gay,’ and i was just,” you explained to the girls and paused. “we kissed and i guess she wasn’t into it so i never heard from her again.”

“you’ve lived like ten lives.” robin deadpanned and it made a laugh bubble to your throat.

“so you’re bisexual?” nancy inquired, genuinely. “you know i thought you were straight actually.”

“yeah i thought i was a lesbian for like six years but then i started dating this guy during high school but i still liked girls so, figured i was bisexual.” you said with a small laugh, and the girls smiled at you.

“so, do you think eddie knows?’ nancy asked the two of you as you guys kept afloat in the water and you raised your eyebrow, looking between robin, nancy, and even glancing over your shoulder to the guys who were now smoking so you could look at eddie.

only for eddie to already be looking at you while you swam in the water. a blush creeped onto your skin, thanking god that your slight sunburn covered it.

“knows what?” you asked.

“that you’re not actually a lesbian,” nancy laughed and you heard robin wince and say nancy’s name.

“what?” you couldn’t help yourself from the high octave in your voice, and nancy looked surprised.

“she didn’t know, nance.” robin said bleakley and nancy mouthed a small sorry to her.

“explain. now.” you demanded, swimming your way to the pier to pull yourself up and sit on the ledge. the girls followed you but stayed in the lake.

“well, see, he kind of thinks that we’re together, like girlfriends. and well, fuck,” robin said as she looked behind you and hit her wet hand against her hand.

“what?” you asked worriedly and saw a forced smile creep onto her lips.

“hey!! eddie!” robin said dramatically and you looked behind you to see eddie, standing in nothing but his black swim trunks and right in back of you. so much as to where you were practically face to face with his groin. you whipped around quickly.

eddie was watching you all day. he couldn’t help but watch you. your bikini set didn’t help him either, steve actually had to tell him to close his mouth when you pulled yourself up from out of the water and onto the wooden pier, every movement causing a bounce and jiggle in your body and sending an ache to his cock.

he was thinking of you so impurely, so twisted that he didn’t even feel like he was being himself. he didn’t understand why he was so obsessed with you, why everything about you made him want you even more.

“well apparently those two assholes have suffered major injuries to their legs because they both asked me to come over here and tell you two girls,” eddie said pointing with his index and middle finger at nancy and robin, “that you are wanted as of now.”

you didn’t bother turning around to peer up at him again, instead you just watched the girls look at you, then at each other, then swimming to the stairs of the pier. eddie takes a seat next to you, legs dangling off the pier. you feel the burn of his body heat sitting right next to you, and you look down to see the distinction between your thighs and eddie’s.

he’s like half your size.

you were nervous, you knew that you were a bigger girl and didn’t care, but suddenly you felt like you were taking up too much space. but he sat this close to you for a reason, your thighs spilled over to touch his at this point.

“is it just me or are they acting reaaaaaaaaally weird?” eddie asked, peeling his eyes from the crease between your tummy touching your thigh, and how the bikini bottom you wore pressed into your hip, to robin and steve. he needed to distract himself before he felt himself forming a tent in his not so stretchy swimming trunks.

you watched robin and steve from across the lake, sitting in lounge chairs and talking, while looking at the two of you. you tried to think back on the way robin had been acting this last month, wondering if she was showing any signs of suspiciousness to understand why she had been so secretive.

“he kind of thinks we’re together, like girlfriends,”

you were thinking back to finding out you weren’t sharing a room with your best friend, and instead the man you’ve thought about between your legs.

she was fucking lying.

“right…. hold that thought, actually.” you said blankly, lifting yourself from sitting on the wooden edge of the pier and fast walking your way to robin’s seat.

one, it was hard to sit next to eddie without being awkward about his presence. and two, this would be your only time to talk to robin about whatever she had up her sleeve.

eddie watched you walk off, how could he not, and watched as the pumpkin orange bikini get taken in between your asscheeks. he was definitely enjoying this view of your curvy silhouette, the rolls of your back, where the strings of your bikini bit into. he was enjoying all of this, and he immediately felt his cock harden again as he let himself consume all of you, and the way your thighs jiggled with every step.

eddie could say he wouldn’t know what love is, which would be true, but whatever it was, he felt it when you came into the picture. he had crushes before, girls in the classes he barely went to, his newest supplier, a girl he made eye contact with once. but you, you torched his body into flames with every touch and laugh. he was consumed by you, his mind only thinking of ways to make you smile, to make you happy. he remembered your favorite foods, what color you chose to wear out more, and even your own childhood crushes.

he wanted to be buried in them, to feel the way they suffocate him when he’s face to face with your thick core, spreading your lips to taste all of you. he couldn’t name a person that made him feel like you do, and he couldn’t imagine anyone else being made for him like you were.

knowing eddie’s eyes were on you, you ignored it as you pulled robin up from her seat.

“you were lying! steve didn’t fucking need your help, you were trying to set me up with eddie!” you hushed out, your cheeks hot.

“what?! i would ne-” you tilted your head and looked at her blankly.

“fuck okay, fine but steve helped me too!” your head whipped to steve who glared at robin and held his hands up in surrender.

“why would you help?” you asked, confused as ever now. you looked between the two as they looked at each other as if they know something you don’t.

“i mean, why would you want to set us up? eddie’s gay!” you said, as a matter of fact.

“and he’s dating you is he not?” you asked questionably, pointing to steve and now as you understood their faces more.

“what? no! you thought he was dating me?” steve exasperated from his seat, which wasn’t that far from where you stood.

“eddie’s not gay… that’s why we tried to um, set you guys up because both of you thought the other one was dating us. so, we took it upon ourselves.” robin explained and you crossed your arms over your chest to put a hand on your forehead.

“why would you think me and eddie were dating?” steve kept on, and robin shushed him as she looked back to you.

“i mean does it seem like we’re dating? like, am i-”

“steve. not now.” robin said curtly and you tapped your forehead.

“eddie’s… not gay?” you whispered to yourself and looked back to him, only to see him standing behind you.

“you thought i was gay?” eddie asked, finding it a little funny. he was amused, at least. not angry.

“um, steve i need, uh,” robin said and looked at steve. “that thing, you know like that thing i was talking about that time-”

“just go!” you grumbled, keeping your eyes on eddie as you heard their footsteps falter.

the only sound you can hear is nature, the lake, and your breathing. the sun was going down already, and the pink hue of the sunset coated the sky, and glimmered on eddie’s face. he looked beautiful, his curls were tighter given the lake water from earlier, dry now and his pale body was glistening with a small sheen of sweat from the humidity.

“you thought i was dating robin.” you said to defend yourself and his eyes went wide.

“you’re not dating robin? but she’s been like talking about you since forever and the way she talks about you━wait so you’re straight?” he said once he remembered what he was talking about.

“well no, i’m bisexual but, still like men.” you smiled.

there was a shift in the air once those words left your mouth, and when eddie’s eyes fell over your body from your face to your toes, you felt your core clench around nothing. there was something in his eyes that you’d never seen before, knowingly at least, and when your eyes raked over his body, you noticed a bulge in his trunks.

now you felt bare to him, only in two pieces of small cloth that covered your most vulnerable areas. something that eddie noticed too, knowing that he could get you naked bare for him with a pull and a tug on your swimsuit.

“so you’re single?” you blurted and bit your lip.

eddie smirked at the question, and stepped a little closer to you.

“and ready to mingle, baby.”

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it was fairly surprising that everyone decided to shower and settle for watching a movie on the tv in the cozy living room. the fireplace was lit, only because it was practically freezing inside.

you were the last one to shower and after you finally got dressed in the humid bathroom, you ringed your hair dry with your towel and shook the strands apart. you decided that you were ready to hit the sack, wanting to get as much rest as possible before you find yourself out of breath and passing out from heat exhaustion the next day while you’re on your hike with the group. they wanted to actually try the whole campsite thing, roasting marshmallows and drinking water out of a can, meanwhile you just wanted to go dip in the lake again.

you decided to say goodnight to everyone who was downstairs, half already snoring, sprawled out on the floor. one person you didn’t see was eddie, who you actively looked for until you guessed he was in the restroom. your heart was already in your chest as your feet hit each stair, only taking you further to having to spend eight hours in the same bed with eddie munson.

maybe you were nervous. the thought of feeling this guy lay next to you in bed was putting a flutter in your tummy, everything felt like it flipped upside down when the confusion was cleared up between the two. no one ever made you feel like this, not even the six foot straight french girl who seduced you.

before you could even open the door to the room you were hoping that you’d be asleep by the time he came upstairs, just so that the ache between your legs would finally settle down. but to your dismay, you opened the door to eddie, shirtless and laying on his back over the comforters.

he sat up without a second thought, and you almost got whiplash with how quickly he moved and looked at you.

“i can take the floor if you want,” suddenly you felt small. it was a weird feeling, but walking into this room to sleep with him only felt like it was an invitation for more. and you wanted more.

“no it’s okay, i’m just ready for bed.” you said and smiled, closing the door and going to the right side of the bed.

“can i turn this off?” you asked looking over your shoulder just to see him looking at the bare skin of your back that your skimpy little shirt didn’t cover.

“you can do whatever you want, princess.” he muttered under his breath and you turned your head, smiling and pulling the beaded string until you heard a click. his lamp was still on as you pulled your legs into the lifted covers, sliding down to lay on your side and face the opposite direction of eddie.

eddie on the other hand was thinking of what to say as he turned his lamp off, doing the same maneuver you did to get comfortable, except he was facing you. staring at your back again, his eyes went lower until the blanket was resting at the curve of your waist. he noticed where your shirt copied the and molded your rolls and back.

eddie felt like now it was a free-for-all. knowing you’re not tied down to someone, and knowing you were still very attracted to the opposite sex.

“steve and robin tried to set us up didn’t they?” he asked you from behind, his voice still very close to you.

“they did,” you confirmed, softly.

“did you want to be set up with me?” he asked, a little nervous.

“if i tell you then robin and steve would be right.” you said and turned awkwardly to face him, now eye to eye. he couldn’t help but notice the way your tits pressed together.

“who said we have to tell them the truth?”

his hand didn’t waste a second to press into your cheek, his thumb rubbing over your lips to trace them.

“you really want me?” eddie asked.

there it was, the shift in the dark air that was only scarcely lit by the full moon flooding in through the bare window.

you didn’t answer, you only shifted from your position to your knees, moving the blanket off of eddie to see his pale white skin, and straddle his hips when he laid on his back. your hands moved to his chest to steady yourself and his hands fell naturally to the dip of your curve, gripping into the fat of your hips.

he tilted his head to look up at you, your hair cascading down your shoulders to create a sort of shield around your face. he couldn't help but tug at a strand,making you smile.

you just decided to go for it. all the nervousness and teasing and flirting built up to this, when you leaned down to press your lips into his.

it was odd because eddie pictured this moment just like this, with you straddling him in just shorts and a loose fitting tank, watching your soft lips come closer to his with your eyes closed. you were so fucking cute, and he tried to constrain himself from going wild by digging into your skin.

the kiss was soft first, eddie let you move your lips on his before he found a rhythm and moved with you, gentle, soft, teasing kisses to test the waters. you were growing wet with every minute you fixed your lips to his, using one hand to put right under his jaw, rubbing his throat with your fingers.

you thought maybe eddie was just enjoying the kiss way too much as you got a little more messy, the two of you giving hard kisses, but the minute you felt something poking your inner thigh, you realized you had been grinding down on him the entire time.

you pulled away first, leaving him just as breathless as you, but he followed you and sat up with you, chasing your lips. he had a dumb grin on his face, looking over your disheveled look to see where you two met. god, she looks fucked out already.

“eddie?” you hummed, letting your fingers trace the small tattoos and the ones that lead to his manhood.

“fuck, yes baby?” he breathed and watched you take your plush lip between your teeth and sit back fully on his clothed cock. he let out a strained groaned and it brought a smile to your face.

“can i suck your dick?,” you asked unabashedly, “i’ve always wanted to, wanted to taste you,”

eddie was practically already close to exploding in his pants, and you felt the throbbing of his cock against your ass now that he’s fully hard. you were sure that a wet stain would be left on his light colored pajama pants.

“you can do whatever you want with me doll, i’m for your pleasure,” he said as he watched you slide back down between his knees, eddie spreading them so you had more room to lay between him, and you rubbed at the skin above the hem of his pants to admire the growing bulge that was asking for relief, pleading.

“you’re so fucking pretty, baby, can’t fuckin’ believe i could’ve had you since the beginning,” he said in a hushed voice.

you didn’t take long to drag his pants down to his ankles letting eddie kick them off as your eyes stayed pointed at his cock. it looked almost painful, for you and him. he was throbbing, his cock jerking against his abdomen. you salivated, looking at him as you grabbed his shaft at the base and softly stroked him lazily, looking at every vein, every little freckle, and the waay his slit dripped with beads of pre cum.

it was a sight to see. you heard eddie’s low moans as he sat up against the headboard, getting a view of you jerking him.

“you’re dick is so pretty,” you murdered as you watched your fingers tease his slit to use the precum as some sort of lubricant, massaging the head. he let you take full control of him, and the way he tries to buck into your fist made your cunt clench around nothing.

“baby, please,” he begged as you kept your lazy pace up. he was craving your mouth and before he could ask again, you directed his tip into your mouth to let your tongue swirl and play with the angry head.

“ah, fuck-shit,” he hissed, finally feeling your mouth envelop him entirely, not faltering when you tried to stuff as much of his as you possibly could. you hollow your cheeks as you sucked him gently twice, releasing him with a pop, and smiling.

he was focused on only you, not the laughter that came from downstairs, not the crickets singing outside of the window, only the way you went back down to take him in your mouth, reaching the back of your throat this time and gagging.

“my fuck- fuck oh my god,” he strained, letting his hands find your hair to get a better view of your face.

“so fucking good, taking my dick so well baby,” he praised and you moaned with your mouth still taking all of him, keeping the steady pace of bobbing, up and down his shaft with a hand wrapped around his girth, following the same motion of your mouth.

it was a euphoric feeling eddie had, to see his crush be the one to take, or try to take all of him. the girl he’d dream about, think about going down on, was laying between his legs playing with his cock like it is your favorite thing to do.

and slowly, it was becoming your favorite thing. your air was coming in through your nostrils as you cupped his balls, using the slobber that was falling down his cock to massage and fondle them as you flattened your tongue under the base of his shaft, forcing yourself to take all of him. he was trying to cover his moans with pants, but it wasn’t happening..

“fuck, just like that, you’re fucking filthy,” he said sitting up fully now so the top of your head was touching his belly button, still letting your drool and spit create a mess under your hands. you were loving this even when your jaw was crying, you liked being the center of attention for eddie.

you released him again with a long string of spit connecting from your lips to the head of his cock, sitting up on your knees to become eye level with him, still using the spit to jerk him. your grip tightened, loosened, and teased around his red tip to watch his buck, and jerk his body to you.

“need you to fuck me, please,” you asked politely, the spit still on your chin, your eyes watery and your nose a little runny. taking all of him was impossible for you, maybe with his help he’d be able to squeeze the rest of him down your throat to make room, but that was for another time.

eddie’s eyes were on yours, then back between your two bodies to see how your hand worked against him, he felt the heat building up in his stomach, feeling the strings snapping with every stroke.

before he could even release, he grabbed your wrist and halted your movements, using your vulnerability to flip you on your back, gripping your wrists beside your head.

“so you do want me?” he queried, and you giggled.

“no eddie, of course i don’t want you, i’m totally not soaking my panties right now,” you said unbelievably sarcastic as he moved to kiss your cheeks, your neck, licking your jawline and kissing you once more on your lips before he straddle you.

“you’re gonna lay there, your hands up just like this, and you’re gonna be a good girl and take it, yeah?” he shifted, his voice dark and his eyes pitch black as he grinds his naked cock into your thin shorts.

“eddie,” you pleaded, not wanting to keep your arms in the fixed position he held them in.

“need you out of these fucking clothes now,” he said and immediately yanked your shorts and panties down, moving to your shirt.

“take it off for me,” he encouraged and you did, reaching your tank and arching your back to get rid of it. he marveled at your complete nakedness, spreading your legs to situate himself between them. lifting your legs in the air while spreading them, eddie leaned back to take a mental picture of the way your pussy was dripping for him. slick sliding between the cheeks of your ass, over your hole and onto the bed sheets.

“this all for me? no one else?” he asked as he tugged on his cock, stroking himself.

“yes, you, only you, please,” you were bracing for the impact of his hardness pressing and stretching you out, but instead you felt the pads of his fingers trace down your tits, to your belly, to your fupa, and spreading the fat of your pussy lips to see all of you completely.

what he conjured up in his mind was nothing near the actual sight. it was breathtaking, the way your hair fell into a ring around your head, how your tits moved and jumped with every movement you made, the way your belly creased and curved with your legs mid air, the way your thighs looked so meaty with his inbetween. this was heaven, and you were god.

he watched you completely as he sat back on his achilles, your legs still spread for him like the good girl you were, and teasing your clit.

“i need to taste you,” eddie groaned, taking the wetness from your clenching hole up to your clit, rubbing smooth circles.

“eddie, no fuck, please i wanna be full, please,” you moaned, louder than you intended, “you’re just so fucking big, and fucking pretty i just need t’ feel you, need all of you please eddie, give it to me,”

he’d never seen you so fucking responsive, so vocal with him. he was remembering the way your voice dripped with urgency, and seduction. he couldn’t ever tell you no, even in circumstances of being fully clothed and feet away from each other.

“just a taste, please baby,” he bargained, too distracted with the way your cunt sounded as he plays with your pussy. he was teasing your hole at this point, threatening to let you feel the stretch of one finger until he got too impatient to wait for your answer. he quickly dove down onto his stomach, letting his arms hook around your thighs and latching onto your cunt like a fucking bottle.

“you-what the fu-, my god,” you tried to spit it out, but fuck his tongue swirling around your clit and the way his fingers kept your lips spread made you grind against his hand, moving your hands from where eddie told you to keep them and into his curly hair before he pulled up and landed a small slap on your pussy. he watched in enjoyment as it jiggled.

“what’d i tell ya, keep those fucking hands right there baby, be good for me yeah?” he breathed, going back down to lay on his stomach, arms hooked even tighter now. Your hands were thrown up above your head, gripping onto the edge of the bed to stop yourself from yanking his long hair.

“eddie, please, fuck,” you moaned out, the feeling of his finger inching inside you was a fucking tease.

“shit, didn’t know you’d be this tight for me, needa stretch you a little bit, that okay?”

“yes, fuck eddie it’s okay, just, fuck i need more,” you found yourself out of breath, eddie’s arm reaching from your thigh to toy with your nipple, watching every reaction he pulled from you.

“pretty fucking pussy baby, look at you, taking my fingers so good for me,” he continued with the praises, the small words as he released your clit to focus on the way you were sucking his fingers, your walls gripping him tight.

“fuck baby, cum for me, need to taste more of you,” he groaned, unable to help himself when his puts you back into the position of having your calves resting on his shoulders. until he folds you even more with his large hands, to where your knees are touching your shoulders, or at least as far as he could bend you to his preferred shape with your belly in the way. but he liked it, he loved seeing you so mendable for him, pushing your limits of how much you can take.

he wanted you to be pon full display for him, being able to see both holes shine with your wetness.he practically held your ankles bound together to push against your chest, going back down for the third time to watch your cunt spread for him like this, to watch how you leaked down to your asshole.

he licked a wide stripe from your clit to your asshole, licking and spitting on your tight hole to start rubbing his thumb to create a ring of spit on it.

“tell me you want me, princess,” he ordered, eyes trained on the sight in front of him.

“eddie i want you, fuck, fu-,” you breathed and tried to gasp for air, “need it,”

“so good baby, look at you holding those pretty legs for me, let me eat you right,” you didn’t even notice your hands went from the edge of the bend to your legs, holding yourself spread open just for him. If anyone walked in right now, they’d see everything.

the way you were laid for him made you wetter by the second, never being folded or manhandled this way, but as he grabs the cheeks of your ass to move and spread them, he spits on your cunt again and goes back to brutally assaulting your oversensitive bud.

that pressure on your spine was familiar, and the way you felt tingles spread from your inner thighs to the rest of your body, even your legs going weak as you struggled to keep your eyes on his. it was beautiful, mesmerizing even the way he ate your pussy. it was pornographic, the slurping and wet sounds were only growing louder as eddie shook his head, his ose rubbing against your clit when he goes to lick and fuck your hole with his tongue at the same time.

“i’m, cum, gonna-fuck eddie, im fuck-” you couldn’t even get it out before your eyes were clenched, your pussy pulsing and throbbing, pushing all of your release out of your hole where eddie was to lick up every drop.

the moans were eccentric, he’d never heard you this way and seeing you come undone because of him made his cock scream for touch. it was something he could listen to for hours, only wanting to finger fuck you and eat your sweet cunt just so he could listen to the little noises that made him feral.

“need to feel you sweet girl, let me fill this pussy,” he lets your legs fall from where they rested after you went slack during your orgasm, letting your feet plant on the bed bent at the knees.

“can’t fucking think when you’re looking at me like that, princess, do you want me to cum already?” he smiled, watching you watch him with pure adoration and desire, not seeing him as a freak or a lowlife.

he saw your softness in your eyes, soothing a part of him that has never been healed until now.

“please, eddie i want you to make me cum again,” you gasped, lifting your head a little to look over your stomach as much as you can, now letting your eyes lazily travel between eddie’s eyes and where he prodes your entrance with his tip.

he took pride in the way he made you feel, how you looked sweaty and cockdrunk already. he couldn’t get enough of your frizzy hair surrounding you, and the smell of your shampoo mixing with sweat.

“can’t believe you want me, you’re unbelievable,” he said, letting his cock slip between the fat of your pussy lips. he wanted to be covered in you, all of you.

“you’re so big, eddie,” you groaned, feeling his length slip back and forth between your wetness.

“you want it, baby? want me to fuck this pretty pussy?” he asked, his palm flat against the bed next to your head, gripping his manhood with the other.

“fuck eddie, yes i need it, need all of you fuck,” you cried, gripping thr back of his neck to lift your head a little, watching your hips try to pushed down on him.

“let me watch you take it, yeah? wanna see you stretch just for me, only for me,”

he sat up on his knees and spread your legs, lifting them to rest on his shoulders as he admired your glistening sex. every part of you felt like you were burning up, all of your nerves subsiding and turning into pure greed for him, your want stronger than anything else.

he pushed in slowly, softly, watching the fat head slip and disappear into your tight hole.

“holyfuckingshit,” he rushed, watching you take him with a little resistance. it felt like a sting, but spreading into pleasure when you feel his balls against your asshole, filling you up completely.

now, he pressed into your legs to fold you again, this time he was able to watch you and force you to see him as he ruined you for anyone else.

“you’ve got to be kidding me,” he was out of breath already, the few slow strokes he did to the sound of your moans were to stretch you enough for him to lose control on you.

“so, f-, so fucking big,” you almost felt the wind get knocked out of you as you feel the loss of his warmth and length, only to be pushed back into you with more force. hitting the back of your cervix repeatedly, he was lazily smiling at the sounds you were making for him.

“oh baby, there you go, sound so fucking pretty for me,” he encouraged, letting his arms hook around your thighs for more leverage. he pushed you up a little further, almost bringing your chest to your chin as he pounded you harder.

“e-eh, fuck, eddie, s’ lot- it’s, oh eddie,” you cried watching him, grinning with an open mouth as he pants out groans and moans from the way you gripped his cock. felt better than anything and anyone he’s ever fucked.

“what, too much for my pretty girl? what happened?” he cooed, “thought you were, fucking hell, thought you could handle it,” he teased, taking your legs from his shoulders and using his hands to grip at your ankles, spreading further so that your legs are flailing in the air as he fucks you.

it was fucking intense. you couldn’t make sense of anything but him buried inside you, the way your cunt twitched and squeezed around him, and just how close you were to another orgasm.

“fuck, this pussy is mine.” he growled, gripping the fat of your stomach and waist, massaging, “always gonna be mine, sweet baby.”

“tell me, sweetheart . tell me whose pussy this is and i’ll, jesus fucking christ,” he was cut off by the clenching of your cunt, your hole rapidly pulsing as his two fingers dove down to play with your clit, rubbing in lazy fast circles.

“i’ll let you cum, tell me baby,” he urged and you tried to form the words, but nothing but sounds were coming out. the way your breasts jumped with every hard thrust, the way your fat jiggled on your thighs and tummy, how smooth and warm you felt under him, he was losing his mine.

not to mention your little sounds. the whimpers, the silent begging, the cries and gasps for air, it was going straight to his cock that was already starting to twitch from your eyes on him.

“it’s yours eddie, only you fill me up like this, please,” you finally mustered up the words, and you felt your own ball in your tummy growing bigger and bigger with the way you obsered eddie.

out of breath, his hair was clinging to his sticky face and his silver chains he never took off dangled above you. you watched as his muscles flexed and gripped the hard biceps when he pulled you in for an embrace, holding you as he fucked you.

your forehead rested against his right shoulder, peeking down to watch the sloppy mess between you grow wetter and messier. he looked down with you, pressing kisses into your damp hair and face.

“look at that baby, creamin’ all on my dick, my fucking messy girl,” he was aggressive, more aggressive than you’d ever seen him and so much more filthy than anyone could comprehend.

“look so good, fucking me,” you whispered, not even trying to get him to hear but he did. and he was encouraged by it, looking down again as he heard your labored pants in his ear. it was a beautiful sight.

your pussy lips enveloped him completely, letting his length reach the deepest parts of you over and over again. your arousal was dripping down your ass even more now that the two of your juices were mixing together, and forming a white-ish ring around his cock. and it just kept building with every thrust, sending your pussy to clench around him again.

your head was completely empty, nothing but the sensation of being filled to the brim over and over. it was incredible, and having already reached your peak once, to do it again was going to ruin you.

he was already ruining you, the way he turned so dirty so fast, how he spoke to you and watched you completely. he took all of you in as much as he could and let himself watch you undo beneath him.

“cum on my dick, baby,” he said, “pussy feels so fucking good sweet girl, don’t wanna fuckin’ pull out,” he sounded like he was slurring, and his fingers went faster on your overstimulating bud.

he felt the clench of your cunt at his words. “aw you like that? wanna be full of me? give you my babies?”

it was impossible not to scream no, tell him that mentioning babies was practically a threat to you, but the way he moaned those words as his hand went up to your throat just to grab a hold of you, and his other started to toy with your nipples.

“eddie,” you dragged, crying out with your back arching when you felt your buildup finally crash over him. you didn’t even need to tell him, he could feel it by the way you twitched and how you clenched so hard you practically pushed him out of you.

“fuck baby,” he said as he fucked your hole with his tip, the feeling of the curve and edge of the fat cockhead was a different sensation, and as he kept fucking you like that, slow and soft, you felt an oddity in your new buildup.

it was faster, stronger, and as he teased your hole with just his tip, you were cumming again, but this time it was wet. you could heard the small gush over his cock, coating him and his pelvic bone as he gleamed at the sight below him and feeling his own release starting to snap.

“fuck, eddie please, you fuck me so good,” you breathed as you pulled him flush to your chest, letting him still slip in and out of you lazily.

“fill me, please, fuck i don’t care i need it, mark me, make me yours. please, its your pussy please cum inside of me,” you whispered in his ear in a cry, scratching down his pale back as he moaned against you. the vibrations of his noises sent a tingle all over your body, your nipples hardening again.

the thought of eddie getting you pregnant was intense. for you at least, for eddie, he thought it was the best decision to ever make. of course he’d fill you up. why would he have the opportunity and not take it? he wanted everyone to see you knocked up with the freak’s baby, he wanted everyone to know even if you were too smart and too goddess looking for him, he had you.

it was even sending another pulse to your cunt, letting your weak and abused hole tiredly clench on his. you were losing your breath at this point, you’d never been fucked and pleasured like this ever, never for this long either.

he made sure to worship you, to cherish you, to make you feel sexy. he wanted to make you see what he saw, make you feel the way you made him feel. and this was it.

he was falling in love with you, the way he felt like you were made for him even now was pulling at his insides, pulling hard enough to finally let him still his hips inside of you and letting his cock twitch at the deepest part of your cunt.

“fucking, mine. my fucking pussy,” he groaned into your chest, your hands gripping in his hair and rubbing on his scalp.

“s’ yours, only yours,” you said softly as you felt his cock twitch even more, until he groaned and slipped out of you.

it was a new feeling, still feeling full even though all contact was lost between you two. still feeling warmth inside your cunt, until you felt the mixture of both of your releases leaking out of your hole and sliding down your ass. your eyes were closed after he got off of you, and you weren’t sure how he put on his clothes so fast but when the door opened again you saw him walk back in with a wet rag.

“baby?” he asked, craning his neck to see your face in the dark.

“mmm?” you hummed, still laying on your back after turning your head back to the ceiling.

“let me clean you up and we can go to bed, does that sound good princess?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed to separate your legs again.

you expected to feel the coldness of the rag, but you instead felt his fingers softly spreading your pussy lips apart and it sent a chill through you.

“look so good like this, fuck, i think i really truly want to die by your pussy. please?” he said, letting his finger dip his cum back inside of your whole.

“eddie,” you dragged, clenching your thighs together. he just smiled and chuckled a little.

“alright, lets get cleaned up and you can take my shirt,”

you lay there, trusting eddie as your eyes fluttered closed and felt him wipe between your legs and wipe your thighs, finding his shirt that he threw on a chair in the corner to bring back to you, but he already hears the soft snores coming from your body.

he shook you a little before you finally opened your eyes again and smiled sheepishly at him, before listening to his commands and following them, still half asleep.

all he asked was that you sit up and raise your arms, and he tugged the faded iron maiden shirt that was too big for him, but fitting just loose enough on you. before he could even pull the covers over you, still with your eyes closed, you gripped the blankets and pulled them over your bare legs up to your chin, and nestled into the softness.

eddie was a man who did his fair share of sleeping around, with all types of people, and he’s been with older, smaller, skinnier, taller, bigger. but being with you, watching you and being able to sleep next to you was a fucking blessing he didn’t deserve.

so he indulged in it, letting himself wrap you in his arms and holding you until you push him off because you’re too sweaty.

but you don’t do that. you let eddie hold you all night even after hardly any words were exchanged after. and in your dream that night besides dreaming about your future with eddie, was a dream of you thanking robin and steve for their ridiculously foul plan.

a ridiculous foul plan that worked.

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43qh · 2 months

Note

Quinn being with someone whose the opposite of him- loud, charismatic etc. Him just staring at her finding her endearing when she’s rambling his ears off.

thank you for your request, my love! your wish is my command.

word count: 435

genre: fluff

no warnings!

you spin around, showing off the floral and yellow dress that you were proud of. quinn loved the smile you sported as you showed off the dress that hugged you and flowed so nicely.

"i found this at a thrift shop," you boast, your teeth latching onto your bottom lip to try and hide your excitement. you stared at yourself in the mirror in your shared bedroom, watching as quinn appears behind you and wrapping you in his arms, chest to your back. you smile at him through the mirror, and he swore your smile could outshine the sun.

"i should take you there some time," you continue your words with a certain type of happiness that was contagious to quinn. "i was going to shop for you, honest! but i wasn't sure what exactly you would have wanted."

you turn to face him, and you unknowingly make his heart flutter. you were nothing like him. you were a social butterfly, finding joy in small things, stopping to smell the roses. he found you to be a perfect fit for his personality, though. he soon realized after being with you for so long that you could talk enough for the both of you. it was a nice feeling when he was exhausted from a game, but wanted to spend time with you.

you weren't over-bearing. you weren't annoying to him. you were perfect to him. even when people were surprised that his girlfriend was the complete opposite to him, everyone noticed how good you were for him.

"i saw a cute farmer's market on the way home, too. i was thinking about buying some things from there too, tomorrow." you inquired. quinn wasn't sure where you managed to find the energy for long days out, exploring the city any chance you could.

"there's still so much left to see," you said softly, looking him in the eyes with a shine of hope. he nodded back, smiling as he listened to you ramble about the people you saw, the animals you would see, the way your coffee was slightly bitter this morning from your favorite shop. you had topics that never ran out, and he loved to hear them.

guiding you back towards the bed, he let out a soft sigh as you sat on his lap, talking to him and calming him down with just the sound of your voice. quinn carried a certain kind of anxiety that only you could relieve. he listened to you, your eyes connecting every now and then, taking his breath away each time.

he could listen to you forever.

#nhl #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fluff #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl hockey #nhl fluff

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joelsgreys · 8 months

Text

Talk Tonight l Part 1 (Joel Miller x OC Female Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary: After their flight home is canceled, two complete strangers decide to spend the entire night getting lost together in one of the most beautiful cities in the world—what could go wrong?

Pairing: Pre Outbreak Joel Miller x OFC Camila Mendoza

Warnings/Tags: 18+ Only Minors DNI. NO big age gap, Joel is 35 and Reader is 29. Reader is a mixed woman of color, she is multilingual, although it is written in second person POV (I am terrible at doing third person, sorry) she does come with a name. I also do give her a physical description EXCEPT for her body type (she is shorter than Joel though). Ultimately, if you choose to read this story, you’re more than welcome to read it how you want! If you want to picture her as I write her or as your own—whatever tickles your fancy!

Chapter Warnings/Tags: preface angst (I sorry), we have our girl Sarah, Tommy is a pain in the ass but we love him, airport meet cute, Camila has a physical description, talk of her career and profession, I think that’s about it.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Well, here she is. My lil passion project. It has been kind of nice to write something with zero expectations, not going to lie. No pressure, just straight vibing with this one. This chapter is quite tame, not a whole lot of action yet, but it obviously sets the story up for the good stuff. Tbh, the next chapter is my FAVORITE of the whole series and I almost wish I could skip this part and post that one because when I tell you it is cute, it is so fucking cute lmao. But anyway. I know this series might not gain a ton of traction, but I hope that the few people who DO read this enjoy my OC and grow to love her as much as I have and that you love this story as well. Also I just want to shoutout Doni @morning-star-joy for being so lovely to me and supporting my idea and letting me scream about Camila to her. 🩷

Charles De Gaulle Airport

Paris, France

September 26th, 2002

07:00 Hours

“I beg your pardon?”

Startled by the sound of that rich, deep voice, that heavy Southern drawl that had become so familiar to you over the last nine hours, you lifted your face from your hands and whipped around in your seat; you’d turned so fast that you almost gave yourself whiplash. Your lips parted slightly in surprise when you saw Joel Miller standing there in the aisle with his plane ticket clutched in his hand.

He looked at you, then his dark eyes flickered over to the man sitting next to you. “Sorry I don’t mean to be a bother, but would you mind swappin’ seats with me?” He asked, politely. “I’ve got a good seat up in business class. It’s all yours if you’re willin’ to switch with me.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “What’s the catch?”

Joel shook his head. “There ain’t no catch, sir.”

“There has to be a catch,” he said, suspiciously.

“Ain’t no catch at all. It’s all yours, no extra charge, sir,” he told him, earnestly. “It’s more comfortable; there’s plenty of legroom. There’s also free food, a better selection of movies to watch. Oh and all the complimentary drinks that you can toss back from here to Austin,” Joel added, practically shoving his ticket right under the man’s nose. He hoped it had been enough to tempt him into agreeing to switch with him. “So? What do you say? Can we swap?”

“Well, I say you had me at complimentary drinks,” he remarked with a grin. He stood up, grabbed his carry on bag from the overhead compartment and took the ticket from Joel’s hand. Eagerly, he made his way up the aisle towards the front of the plane.

Dumbfounded, you couldn’t help but stare at Joel, your eyes widening as he slid himself into the seat beside you. “Hi baby,” he greeted you, his lips, soft and warm, brushing against your temple.

“Joel?” You sniffed, quickly dabbing at your damp, swollen eyes with the sleeve of your cardigan. “I’m confused. What in the world are you doing here? Is this even allowed?”

“It’s fine, Mila. I asked one of the flight attendants, she said it was okay so long as he agreed to it.” He put on his seatbelt and glanced over, noticing that your own seatbelt remained unfastened. Reaching over, Joel grabbed the two straps and pulled them around your hips, buckling it for you. He then gave it a firm tug to make sure it was secure. He felt the way you were looking at him and murmured, “Just wanna make sure you’re safe, baby. That’s all.”

“Joel,” You whispered his name thickly. “Seriously, what are you doing back here?”

Joel’s eyes met yours. “If I can get just a few more hours with you, I’m gonna take them. Camila, I will take every last second I can get with you, alright?”

“But—”

You stopped, clamping your mouth shut as a fresh batch of hot tears threatened to spill over.

“C’mere.” He cupped your cheek with his opposite hand and delicately tucked your face into the spot between his neck and his collarbone, soothing you softly, “I’m here, baby. It’s okay, I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

You clutched fistfuls of his denim jacket and clung to him desperately—it was almost as if you’d been clinging onto dear life itself.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Joel promised. “We’re gonna be okay, sweetheart. We’re gonna be okay.”

But that couldn’t have been father from the truth.

You and Joel weren’t going to be okay.

You knew that.

And he did too.

Charles De Gaulle Airport

Paris, France

September 25th, 2002

21:00 Hours

“You’re still in Paris?” Sarah shrieked loudly.

Wincing, Joel pulled his Nokia away from his ear.

She had nearly blown his goddamn eardrum out.

“Please tell me this is some kind of sick joke?”

He sighed heavily, tiredly rubbing at the side of his face with his opposite hand.

He should have known, expected even, that Sarah wouldn’t take the news of his current predicament all too well—she wouldn’t take it well at all.

Joel brought his phone back to his ear. “Sorry, but unfortunately this ain’t a joke, babygirl,” he replied to her after a minute, letting out another sigh. Joel glanced across the crowded airport lounge and he squinted over at the big digital sign hanging above the airline’s counter displaying all the details of his flight home to Austin, Texas. Even after about four hours, it still flashed red, signaling to everyone the flight was still very much delayed due to the harsh weather conditions on the route. Like Joel, several other passengers were growing restless. “We were supposed to take off a few hours ago, but there’s a pretty bad storm on the East Coast—”

Sarah cut him off with a dramatic groan.

“Oh, come on man! Are you fucking serious?”

“Hey now, you had best watch your language!” He chastised his teenaged daughter. “Don’t you think for one second that I ain’t gonna ground your little behind from halfway across the world, missy. I will ground you right from this airport.” He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Christ, I leave you alone with Uncle Tommy for one weekend—”

“Tell me you’ll be home by tomorrow night, dad.”

He could hear the disappointment in her tone.

As if she already knew she would be let down.

Joel couldn’t blame her.

“I’m not sure when I’ll be home,” he admitted. “It’s lookin’ like the flight might get even canceled.”

“But tomorrow’s your birthday!” Sarah cried. “You have to be home for your birthday.” There’s a long, silent pause on her end of the line, but just as Joel was about to ask her if she was still there, she said in a sad, devastated voice, “It was supposed to be a surprise, but Nana and Grandpa are coming into town tomorrow. We planned a big birthday dinner, even ordered a special cake and everything. You’re always working on your birthday, we haven’t had a chance to properly celebrate it together in years.”

Joel’s heart sank, the guilt creeping in. “Sarah, I’m sorry, babygirl—”

“You just can’t be stuck in Paris, dad. You can’t—”

Suddenly, he heard Tommy in the background.

“Wait a damn minute, what did you just say? He’s stuck where, now? You’ve gotta be—here, give me the phone, kiddo.” There’s another long pause and then his younger brother’s voice came on the line. “What the hell do you mean you’re stuck in Paris?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Joel replied, flatly.

“You better be fuckin’ talkin’ about Paris, Texas.”

“Christ, Tommy! Watch your fuckin’ mouth around my daughter,” he hissed, knowing damn good and well that Sarah was standing beside him, listening to him. “I’m stranded at the goddamn airport here in France. I’ve been sittin’ on my ass for hours now just waitin’ around. My flight’s delayed due to that big storm over on the East Coast,” he explained. “I don’t know how long I’m gonna be here since they grounded all air traffic to the States. Nothin’s flyin’ out in that direction right now.”

“Oh c’mon, that can’t be true! Somethin’s gotta be flyin’ out of that airport to the United States. Have you tried switchin’ airlines?”

Annoyed, Joel snorted and rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Tommy, that ain’t how it fuckin’ works, you moron. Nothin’ is flyin’ out in that direction right now,” his voice was firm as he repeated himself. “That really so goddamn fuckin’ hard to understand?”

“Those Europeans put somethin’ in your water?”

“The hell you fuckin’ talkin’ about?”

“‘Cause your ass is crankier than usual, brother.”

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his composure.

Even in his late twenties, Tommy refused to grow the fuck up and it often drove him to his wits end.

“Look, this long distance call is costin’ me a damn fortune, so listen and listen good, ‘cause I ain’t got a whole lot of time left,” Joel snapped. “I need you to do me a real big favor, alright?” Without waiting for a response from his brother, he continued, “It’s Sunday, so I need you to make sure that Sarah got all of her homework done this weekend. But check it for yourself—and don’t let her lie to you, Tommy. She’ll swear to you she did it, even if she didn’t. I’ll also need you to take her to school tomorrow. She can’t be late again. Her homeroom teacher already chewed me out for droppin’ her off after first bell. I need you to get her there before eight o’ clock. Do you think you can handle that for me?”

Tommy clicked his tongue. “Sorry I wasn’t listenin’ to you, what did you just say?”

Joel’s jaw clenched. “Tommy, I swear to Christ—”

He laughed. “I’m just fuckin’ with you, Joel. I got it all handled, okay? Uncle Tommy to the rescue.”

“Uncle Tommy’s a fuckin’ idiot,” Joel mumbled. “It ain’t a joke. Can I trust you to do this for me or do I need to call Mrs Adler and ask her for her help?”

“I’m a little offended,” Tommy scoffed out. “I think I’ve been takin’ real good care of Sarah on my own over these last few days since you’ve been gone. I mean, she’s alive and she’s breathin’ ain’t she?”

“Tommy—”

“Relax, Joel. I’ll check out her homework tonight, I promise. And I’ll get her to school tomorrow, make sure she ain’t late. You can trust me. Alright?”

“Not like I’ve got much of a choice,” he muttered.

“That��s the spirit.”

Joel rolled his eyes. “I’ve gotta go. Tell Sarah I love her and I’ll do my best to make it home on time for that not so surprise special birthday dinner Mama and Pop are comin’ into town for tomorrow night.”

“You got it, big brother.”

Joel ended the call and then shoved his Nokia into the pocket of his faded, black denim jacket.

He had to get back home by tomorrow night.

If he didn’t, Sarah would be absolutely crushed.

He’d spent his last three birthdays working double shifts just to help make ends meet—but ever since he finally got his construction business going with Tommy, the hours had been even more brutal now that it was just the two of them doing big jobs. He swore both to himself and to Sarah he would try to take more time off—for birthdays, holidays, soccer tournaments, dance recitals. To spend more of his time with her.

So far, he hadn’t been able to keep his word.

He felt like a jackass for it, but what could he do?

It wasn’t just about paying the bills anymore.

Sarah would be turning fourteen next year.

In a few years, he’d be putting her through college.

He needed to work to secure her future for her.

Joel sank back into his chair, taking a look around; his dark eyes scanned the lounge with disinterest.

That’s when you caught his attention.

Caught it and held onto it with a vice like grip.

Joel’s throat went dry.

Christ, you were so fucking beautiful.

Dark brown curls, soft skin the color of deep sand.

Your white sundress only accentuated the warmth of your smooth complexion, giving you a glow that was so radiant it knocked the wind from his lungs, making it hard for him to catch an even breath.

You were sitting in the row of chairs opposite his, a couple chairs down. He couldn’t be too sure, but it seemed like you were traveling alone—the chair on your left was empty and the one on your right held your tan leather satchel bag. Your nose was buried deep into a worn out, paperback book and he took notice of the way you would take the ballpoint pen that you had tucked behind your ear, using it to jot down notes on the crinkled, yellowing pages every so often. Then you would put the pen back behind your ear with a the tiniest, satisfied little grin.

Joel swallowed, his throat bobbing harshly.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

You must have felt his stare because you suddenly looked up from your book, meeting his gaze. You’d seemed a bit startled at first, but then flashed him a pleasant, friendly smile.

Embarrassed, Joel quickly turned away from you.

Way to go you fuckin’ idiot, he thought to himself, silently. She probably thinks you’re a damn creep.

He feigned a sudden interest in the airplane that is parked right outside the gate, the very same plane he was supposed to have boarded four hours ago.

“Êtes-vous coincé ici aussi?”

The sweet, feminine voice came from beside him.

Startled, Joel looked to see you’d moved, and now occupied the once empty seat next to him.

“Uh, sorry. I don’t speak French,” he sputtered out nervously.

“Oh, I’m so sorry about that,” You said, making the effortless transition from French to English. “I just assumed, but I shouldn’t have.” Tossing him a soft and apologetic smile, you asked, “So then, you are an American too?” Of course, there was no reason to ask such a question when the answer was quite obvious, but you were trying to get a conversation with him going.

“Yeah.” Joel winced, mentally kicking himself over how curt he’d sounded. “I’m from Texas.”

Your hazel green eyes glimmered with amusement and you flashed him a brilliant smile that made his heart skip a beat or two inside his chest.

“I thought I detected a hint of a Southern drawl.”

“Oh trust me, it ain’t just a hint, darlin’.”

You threw your head back slightly, laughing. “Well, hello there cowboy,” You teased him, playfully. You were even more stunning up close and all he could do was hope that you couldn’t tell how nervous he was underneath the surface—eager to be chatting up a stunning woman like you, but still nervous.

“So what did you ask me just a minute ago?”

“I asked if you’ve been stuck here like me.”

Joel grinned, feeling a little more courageous.

“Ain’t it obvious what flight I’m waitin’ on, angel?”

“Oh very much so, cowboy.” Grinning back at him, you leaned back into your chair and made yourself comfortable. “I’m waiting on that same flight too.”

Joel chuckled. “At this rate we’d get to Austin a lot faster by swimmin’ across the Atlantic.”

“It’s too bad I don’t know how to swim. Otherwise, I’d say let’s get paddling,” You kidded, causing him to laugh again. “How long were you here in Paris?”

“Few days,” he answered. “Buddy of mine married his longtime girlfriend here. I was his best man.”

You wrinkled your nose at him. “Really?”

Amused, he asked, “Somethin’ wrong with that?”

“I mean, getting married in the most romantic city in the entire world? Don’t you think that’s just a bit cliché?”

Joel shrugged. “I suppose it is,” he agreed. “Come to think of it, can’t get more cliché than that. But I couldn’t say no to Wyatt. He’s been my best friend since we were in diapers,” he explained. “He asked me to be his best man. I couldn’t say no to him, no matter how fuckin’ cliché the whole thing was—”

He suddenly stopped, face burning.

“Sorry darlin’,” he apologized, sheepishly. “I should mind my manners. It ain’t polite to curse when I’m in the presence of a lovely lady.”

Your laugh sent a pleasant shiver down his spine.

Waving a hand, you assured him, “It’s totally fine. I don’t it mind at all.”

Joel smiled, angling his body towards you.

His nerves hadn’t disappeared, not completely.

But as the seconds ticked by, he felt more at ease.

Talking to you felt as natural as breathing.

Joel decided to turn the tables. “What about you? How long were you here for?”

“Oh, I wasn’t. I’m actually just here on a layover.”

“From where?”

“Somalia.”

Joel frowned. “I damn near failed geography when I was in high school. You’re gonna have to help me out a little here, darlin’. Where’s Somalia?”

“East Africa.”

“Africa?” His eyebrows shot up in surprise. He had never been into traveling—he preferred to stay put in his bubble in Texas. Flying out to Paris for Wyatt and the wedding had been Joel’s first time leaving the United States. He never had a desire to go and see the world, nor the interest. But he would have been lying if he said you hadn’t piqued his interest with such an unexpected answer. “What were you doin’ down there?”

“Working. I’m a traveling physician.”

Joel’s mouth fell open slightly. “You’re a doctor?”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Is that such a surprise?”

“How old are you?”

“It’s not polite to ask a lady her age,” You smacked his arm playfully. “Don’t you know that?”

He flushed. “Sorry, it’s just—you seem a bit young to be a doctor, that’s all. I wouldn’t have thought.”

Tilting your head to the side, you asked, “Well how old do you think I am, cowboy? And don’t lie to me just to stay in my good graces. I won’t be offended by your guess, I promise.”

“Twenty five?” Joel guessed, honestly. “Or twenty six?”

“You flatter me, but no. I’ll be thirty in December.”

“So tell me, doc. How long were you in Africa?”

“About a month,” You replied. “I was there with my team to visit some of the villages in Somalia to see families in need of basic healthcare. We offer them medicine and supplies, we offer vaccines. I tend to the children, mostly. I specialize in pediatrics.”

Joel couldn’t help but stare at you in awe.

“What?”

“That’s just really impressive,” he admitted. After a minute, he found himself asking, “Now that you’re done workin’ down there, are you goin’ back home to Austin for a while? That where you’re from?”

You shook your head, and he hoped he didn’t look as disappointed as he felt.

“I’m from Laredo,” You said. “But then I moved for college. I did pre-med at The University of Texas in Austin.”

“You visitin’ your old stompin’ grounds?” he joked.

“Something like that.” You giggled. “One of my old professors, he invited me to give a lecture to some of his students who are interested in medicine and might want to pursue careers in the field—I’ll only be in Austin for a day, then it’s off to my next work assignment.”

Joel shot you another incredulous look.

“What? Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

“I just figured you’d have to be some old geezer to give a lecture to college students.”

“Nope. You just have to be really good at what you do,” You winked at him. “That’s all.”

Before Joel could say another word, an attendant at the airline counter picked up their radio to make an announcement over the intercom—the flight to Austin had been canceled and all passengers were required to book a new one for the following day.

There was a collective groan in the lounge.

“Well, that’s a bummer,” You let out a tiny sigh and stood up, slinging the long, thick strap of your bag over your shoulder. Turning towards him, you gave him a warm smile. “Thank you for talking to me. It was nice having some company.” Lightly touching his shoulder, you said, “Good luck in getting home tomorrow, cowboy.”

Retracting your hand, you whirled around.

Joel jumped to his feet, ready to stop you.

But it was too late.

With the hustle and bustle of everyone scrambling towards the airline ticket counter, he’d quickly lost you in the massive crowd of people.

Joel craned his neck, searching around for you.

“C’mon,” he muttered. “Where’d you go?”

Finally, after a couple of minutes, Joel spotted you walking away from one of the counters with a new plane ticket in hand.

He didn’t even have to think twice about it.

Making his way through the crowd, Joel rushed to the counter and up to the same blond woman who had assisted you. “That girl who was just here, the one with the dark curly hair,” he said. “Can you tell me which flight she booked?”

The attendant gave him a strange look. “Yes she is on the first flight available to Austin,” she stated in a thick, French accent. “Seven in the morning.”

“I need to be on that flight,” Joel told her. Noticing the hint of annoyance on her face, he added in the most polite tone he could muster, “Please. And I’d like the seat next to hers, if it’s possible.”

She shot him another odd look, but typed away at her keyboard and checked the computer screen.

“My apologies, Monsieur. But the seat next to her has already been booked by another passenger.”

“What ‘bout one close to her, then?” He tried.

“I am afraid the only seats left available are at the very back of the plane or business class.”

Joel sighed. He pulled his wallet out from the back pocket of his jeans and handed her his credit card.

“Fine. I’ll just upgrade to a business class seat.”

The attendant nodded. “Of course, Monsieur.”

Once he was all set, he thanked her and started to make his way through the lounge and towards the exit. He walked outside and took a look around the terminal, his eyebrows pulling together.

He knew the chances of finding you were slim, but he took comfort in knowing that he would see you in the morning on the flight back to Austin.

Until then, he had about nine hours to kill.

“Suppose there’s worse cities to be stuck in,” Joel muttered to himself. Most places had translations, and he figured he could get by on his own alright. The hotel he’d stayed at with the wedding party, it wasn’t too far from the airport—after a drink and a bite to eat, he could book a room for the night and crash until the morning.

He started down the sidewalk, but then stopped—out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of your curls and his stomach fluttered eagerly.

You were standing in line waiting for a cab holding what appeared to be a map in your hands.

Before his mind and body could even try making a connection, he found himself walking over to you.

“Hey there,” Joel greeted as he approached you.

You looked up from your map and beamed at him.

“Hey! Did you manage to get a new flight home?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I did. I’m on the first one out to Austin at seven o’ clock in the mornin’.”

Your smile widened. “I’m on that one too!”

“You don’t say,” Joel said in a nonchalant tone. He didn’t want to admit he already knew that. “Well, if that just ain’t a funny coincidence.” His eyes fell to the map in your hands. “What’cha got there?”

“A map to the city.”

He laughed. “Gonna go sightseein’ or what?”

“I am indeed going sightseeing, actually.”

Joel’s smile faltered. “You serious? At this time?”

“I’ve been to Paris a couple of times before. I have always wanted to see it at night, but never had the guts to do it,” You confessed. “But here I am stuck for the next nine hours, so I suppose tonight is the night I finally do it.”

“You’re crazy.”

“I prefer the term adventurous.” Folding your map, you looked at him. “What about you, cowboy? You have anything planned for your night?”

Joel shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Was gonna go grab a bite to eat and then get a hotel room to crash in.”

He was tempted, oh so tempted, to ask you to join him for a late dinner and drinks—just when he had worked up the courage to go for it, you spoke.

“Did you get to see the city while you were here?”

“I didn’t see much of anythin’,” he admitted. “With the weddin’ and all, I didn’t have the time. It ain’t a big deal, though. I ain’t a big sightseein’ kinda guy to begin with, you know?”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Wait a minute, I just want to make sure I have this straight—you’ve got an entire commitment free night in Paris, and you’re going to spend it cooped up in some hotel room?”

Joel shrugged. “I reckon I am.”

“No way.” You grabbed his arm and started to pull him over towards an available cab. “You’re coming with me tonight.”

“Wait just a minute, darlin’—”

Ignoring him, you continued to drag him along. “It would a crime if you didn’t see this city before you go back home,” You stated, opening the back door to the car. You tried shoving him into the backseat but he caught himself on the roof of the vehicle.

“Whoa, whoa. Hold on there a second, angel,” he said with a chortle. “You’re really just gonna spend a whole night in a foreign city with a complete and total stranger you just met half an hour ago? What if I’m some kinda serial killer?”

You blinked. “Are you a serial killer?”

“Well no I ain’t a serial killer, but my point is—”

“Then we’re fine,” You chirped. “Come on, let’s go. There’s no time to waste.”

Pushing past him, you climbed into the backseat.

“You coming?” You asked over your shoulder.

Joel chuckled, sliding in next to you.

“Guess I am.”

He shut the door behind him—this was happening and yet somehow it didn’t even feel real.

A chance to spend the entire night with you?

It just didn’t feel real to him.

“I’m Camila,” You introduced yourself, extending a hand towards him.

He took your hand, holding it in his.

“Camila,” Joel repeated with a smile. “That’s a real pretty name for a real pretty girl.”

You grinned.

“How about you, cowboy? You got a name?”

“Joel. Joel Miller.”

You gave his hand a squeeze.

“Well Joel Miller, it seems like we aren’t complete and total strangers anymore, are we now?”

His own grin widened. “No, darlin’ I suppose we ain’t.”

#queued to post #fic: talk tonight #joel miller x ofc #joel miller x original character #Joel miller x original female character #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller story #joel miller series #pedro pascal characters

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sotwk · 2 months

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Taken (Eomer x Reader) - Part 3 of 3

Part 1 / Part 2

Summary: After having his proposals and professions rejected by the woman he loves, Éomer still refuses to be dissuaded. He vows to continue fighting for a future with her--even if that means having to let go for the time being.

Word count: 6.7k

Dedicated to anyone who has ever known the pain of loving someone you could not have. <3

Content: Boromir lives (!), angsty romance, declarations of love, jealousy, mutual pining, class division, shield-maiden, Éomer King, Rohirrim OCs, post-RotK, non-canon pairing

Rating: T (Teens and up)

Warnings: Sensuality gets steamy, but nothing explicit. Mentions of old battle injuries.

To Read on AO3: Link

Taken

PART THREE

Third Age 3019 May 6

Minas Tirith, Gondor

“If you would allow me to propose something your Grace, I--”

“Éomer.” The King of Rohan growled the ungentle correction with an irritated shake of his head. “If I have leave from your king to continue calling him Elessar, then I will not abide frivolous formalities from you…Captain. And speak freely! It is your candor that I came here for, as much as your counsel."

Boromir chuckled faintly. “Very well.” He downed the last of the wine in his goblet before picking up the jug to refill it, then reaching across the table to serve his guest as well.

While Éomer took a hearty swig, Boromir used the extra seconds of silence to weigh his next words. The noble horse-lord had done most of the talking since his arrival at the house not an hour ago, rambling on with barely contained agitation that would have frightened or offended anyone unfamiliar with his character. But Boromir had known Théodred’s cousin since he was a child, and while he was not nearly as close to Éomer as he had been with the late Prince of Rohan, their friendship had deepened enough--especially over the past few months--to familiarize Boromir with the trigger points of his temper.

And Boromir had never before seen him more sensitive about a topic than the matter they had at hand.

Love certainly wields such terrible power over a man, the Captain-General of Gondor mused, before clearing his throat.

“I will gladly fulfill your request of watching over her in your absence, making sure she is well-treated and wants for nothing,” he began. “But a soldier can quickly grow restless without sufficient martial exercise.”

“I agree.” Éomer leaned forward to fold his arms across the table. “Has she not been here long enough for your men to grow accustomed to seeing her at the training grounds? None of them need spar against her or even alongside her if they do not wish to. She would be content to practice drills on her own. In fact, she may even prefer it.”

“My men will tolerate her presence just fine. The valor she showed on Pelennor was well-witnessed, and stories of it have circulated around our garrison,” Boromir said. “I admit she may inevitably overhear crass remarks from some passing boor among the citizenry. A woman warrior still remains an oddity in these parts. But I am sure she did not come to her status without learning how to weather such criticisms.”

“Yes.” Éomer stared at the empty goblet he rotated slowly between his hands. “She has had to bear with a lot of ignorant talk over the years.”

“Which is why I propose taking her as a member of my company while you are away. Just temporarily,” Boromir added quickly, noting the immediate change in the horse-lord's demeanor. “It will help her feel more at ease while here, separated from you and her countrymen, if she had a group to belong to.”

“She has already taken a strong liking to your Aerdis. Which, I must confess, took me by surprise.”

Boromir smiled at this, his fool heart ready to burst with joy at every casual mention of his betrothed. “My lady is an easy one to love,” he said simply. “And indeed, the two seem to enjoy each other's company. I am certain Aerdis would be happy to continue acquainting her with all of her treasured haunts within the city and even beyond its walls. But…”

He rubbed his jaw slowly, ever the unconscious tell of his discomfort with the situation at hand. But it was no use dancing around the real counsel he wished to present to Éomer King. “When it comes to daily labors, a shield-maiden will likely be happier with work better suited to her talents.”

Éomer cocked an eyebrow, clearly undeceived by Boromir’s attempts at off-handedness. “What sort of work? I sense you have something specific in mind.”

“I do,” Boromir admitted. “And I shall explain it to you plainly, although I will first say that it is both a suggestion and a request for a favor.” At this point he considered offering Éomer another refill of his drink, but the deepening scowl on the man’s face made him think better of it. “As you may have heard, I have been charged by King Elessar to lead the delegation that will treat with the Southrons. Sadhar has already come forward with an offer to parley, as soon as next month.”

Éomer’s eyes widened; he caught on even faster than Boromir had expected him to. “And you wish to include her in your delegation?”

“With your approval, yes.”

“You do not have it!” Éomer exclaimed. “And how could you propose such a thing?! Have you forgotten how she was so nearly dragged off by those animals to be taken who knows where for purposes I dare not even think of?”

“Are you really asking that of the man who came to her aid?”

It was a risky move to prod at that wound, but Éomer looked properly chastised by it. “You rescued her,” he conceded. “And for that I shall eternally be in your debt. But I cannot pretend to understand why you wish to involve her in any dealings with Harad.”

“You must see why I thought of her,” Boromir insisted. “You, who can personally attest to what she is capable of.” But Éomer continued to look too distraught to think, so he laid the rest out. “I can count on the fingers of one hand every person I know who can speak a Haradric dialect with reliable accuracy. Half of them died in the war.”

Éomer rose abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair in his state. Muttering indistinctly, he turned his back to Boromir to glare out the nearest window and brood at the rain lashing against the glass panes.

“When Théodred used to boast to me about her, I dismissed it as a mentor's pride in his fanciful protégé,” Boromir continued. “I suppose I too allowed myself to be distracted by her sex. But she really is a hidden gem in your Éored, is she not? Your cousin invested in her training with great thoughtfulness, and it has borne fruit marvelously. He really believed--”

Éomer slammed the heel of his hand on the window frame. “Théodred was not the one hopelessly in love with her for so many years! There lies the difference!” he snapped. “So when you ask for my consent to take her to meet with our enemies, consider that you are asking me to risk the life of the woman I absolutely refuse to live my own life without!”

And while Boromir reacted with silence, he stood there, breathing hard, one fist on his hip and the other hand pressed over his forehead. “Forgive me,” he mumbled. “The wine, I…and I have scarcely slept since--”

Boromir waved off the apology. “I understand your agony well. It was not long ago that I lived through the same, and just mercifully survived to a happy end. I am on your side, Éomer. I know politics and duty might make the lines difficult to discern, but I hope you can believe that.”

“I believe it.” Éomer made another weary swipe of his hand across his face. “At least I think I do. Too many things are changing too quickly, and I fear a failure to keep in step shall result in my simply being dragged along behind everyone else like an unhorsed sot.”

“Then maybe there is wisdom in her request to stay behind and out of your way. The time apart may provide you the focus you need to regain your footing.”

The tired lines on Éomer’s face tightened again. “And why must time apart involve setting her on a perilous road?”

“The mission carries little chance of peril. Peace talks, even with Harad, are nothing compared to everything she has survived to get this far. You know this.” Éomer brushed past Boromir to return to the table, but the captain’s frank reproach pursued him. “Separation from her is what you dread, not the Southrons.”

So furiously did Éomer scowl at the table surface that for a moment Boromir thought he might turn the heavy shelf over in a fit of rage. Instead he seized the wine jug, poured himself a gobletful, and drank it in two forceful gulps.

“I had hoped you could give me counsel on how I might change her mind, and convince her to simply come home,” he finally said. “Perhaps even quell her doubts in the future she can have with me.”

Underneath the anger and frustration, Éomer’s raw misery lay bare to Boromir, and suddenly he felt a swell of compassion for the young king. Would that he could offer a swift resolution to his predicament, instead of mere commiseration for the challenges that still lay ahead.

“However hard it is to hear, separation is the soundest advice I can give you today,” Boromir said. “Time and distance are most effective at calming the storm in one's mind, so that the heart may have its chance to be properly heard. Many have learned this from experience, myself included. I believe it shall be the same for your lady.”

Éomer's shoulders heaved in a ponderous sigh. “If only it did not feel like such a gamble.”

Boromir could not help a chuckle. “Then I regret I must tell his majesty, that you cast your first of many dice the moment you let her take your heart. But in the end, you shall be the one to decide how much you are willing to risk, and you alone decide when you are done.”

The anguish that resurged on Éomer's face was almost a relief to Boromir. The King of Rohan was wise enough to already know the graver half of the truth: that his new throne was in many ways a cage, and there was very little a good ruler could afford to risk in pursuit of his own desires.

* * *

“Take the names of any fools who might give you trouble,” Léodor said, unhooking the reins of his horse to start leading it across the muddy yard. “I can sort them all out on our return.”

You laughed as you followed him to the edge of the farmland property, marked by the scorched ruins of what had once been a granary. “Do you really think I could wait that long without sorting such fools out myself?”

“Anyone with the gall to harass a rider of the king’s Éored deserves a second dose of thrashing, or a third or fourth.” Your friend turned to grasp your forearm and give it a firm squeeze. “Although I sincerely hope these men of Gondor would know better, for their own sakes.”

“They are our allies, now more than ever before,” you reminded him. “And I have every confidence in their courtesy and hospitality.”

“Perhaps if you were less of a recluse and better at making friends, I would not worry so.”

Your knuckles barely grazed his sleeve as he darted away and promptly swung up to the safety of his saddle, chortling and calling, “You are only proving my point, sister!”

“Waste not a thought or care on me, and focus them all on your family!” you retorted, and stepped back as he spurred his horse forward. “Westu Léodor hál!”

You watched him gallop off across the plains of Pelennor, back to the distant towers of the White City. Tomorrow, he and the rest of the Éored would finalize preparations for the greatly anticipated journey home. But as soon as he heard that you had been tasked with staying behind, to remain with the body of Théoden King, Léodor alone took the time to come looking for you.

Whatever his suspicions regarding Éomer's selection of you as the one to leave in Gondor, Léodor spoke nothing of them. He was content to spend his entire visit sharing the cask of ale he brought, and talking your ears off about all the things he planned to do with his wife and son and infant daughter upon their reunion.

How far your relationship had come, you mused, as you watched the shrinking speck finally melt into the shadows of the deepening twilight. With him and with the rest of the men in your company, when you had once sworn, in tears hidden, that they would never accept you. Now their departure would sting as though you had been orphaned for the third time.

It is only for several weeks, you told yourself, to ease the weight of doubt that sat upon your chest. As you turned to walk back toward the cottage, a fierce wind rose and ripped off the cloak that was loosely draped over your shoulders. With a startled cry you grabbed for it, but not quickly enough to save it from landing in a large puddle.

You retrieved the soaked fabric from the mud with a sigh. A fat raindrop landed squarely on the top of your uncovered head, and was immediately followed by another and another. Spontaneous rain had been pouring on and off over Gondor since the King’s coronation, and you heard the locals welcome and praise this tumultuous weather as a blessing, a sign of war’s filth being washed away to cleanse the lands for rebirth.

Shielding your eyes from the sudden deluge, you looked up at the roiling clouds overhead, further entranced by the sight of jagged lightning flashing over the White Mountains. But when your gaze dropped back down to the horizon, you were alarmed to notice a horsed figure crossing the fields through the storm, approaching fast, in your direction.

It was him. Without proof of his face or voice, or even the support of logic, you just knew. It was him.

The very thought of that froze you, mind and body, in place. Pale and immobile and increasingly drenched, you stood like a deeply rooted tree while the rider drew closer and closer, on a horse powerful enough to sustain its determined gait over the sodden ground and lashing winds. Dumbfounded and dazed, you remained, until at last he came to a stop just several yards away. He dismounted Firefoot, his heavy boots squelching in the muck, and that sound snapped you to your senses.

“My lord,” you rushed forward with the soiled cloak twisted uselessly between your hands. “The stables are around the back. Let me take Firefoot there while you get out of this rain.”

“I shall stable him,” Éomer said sternly, but not unkindly, to warn you against arguing. “Go and wait for me inside the house.”

Without speaking another word or sparing a backward glance, you obeyed your king. You shut the cottage door behind you to keep out the ill weather, hung your wet cloak on a peg, and crouched by the warmth of the fireplace to dry off as best as you could. You kept your jittery hands busy feeding the flames with more wood, but your mind refused to be calmed as easily.

What is he doing here?! The agreement had been for you to report to him the following day, to receive in full detail your last set of orders before the entire Rohan contingent departed. Éomer had granted your request to stay behind quickly enough, and with so little argument that you had hoped perhaps the issue between you was settled, at least for the time being.

If he was not prepared to completely abandon his fatuous notion of asking you to marry him, then time apart would surely set his mind back to good sense. The Éomer you knew could always be trusted to do the right thing. You clung firmly to this thought while you waited the agonizing minutes for him to return from the stables.

As soon as he entered, you offered him the last clean towel you could find to dry himself with. He raised his eyebrows at your attempt to give him royal treatment, but graciously swiped the cloth several times over his face, neck, and hair, before tossing it over the back of a chair.

“So this is the place.” He peeled off his riding cloak to reveal clothing underneath that was just as soaked as yours; he may as well not have bothered with the outer garment at all. “You said it belonged to Lady Aerdis’s late…uncle?”

“A relative of sorts,” you said. When you confided in your new friend your wistful desire to be housed outside the city, where you could have more quiet and solitude, she had been quick to offer the empty cottage in near Pelennor that was recently willed to her by deceased relations. “There are things I can work on to help restore it while I am here. Even my meager skills will serve a farm better than sitting on my hands in the city barracks watching everyone else in their labors. I wish to remain useful, and do my part in the rebuilding.”

“I understand. You have explained all that, and well,” Éomer said slowly. “But regretfully, I must rescind the permission I granted for you to live outside Minas Tirith. You can stay here for the remainder of this week, to rest and do as you please. But afterward, I would like for you to go back to the city and remain there until my return.”

You bit back a protest, determined, now more than ever, to reaffirm your position as his servant. “May I ask what I am to do there, then?”

“Lord Boromir petitioned me to loan you to his company, and I granted it. He shall assign your duties, and you will take your orders from him while I am gone.”

Although it surprised you to hear this, it was a welcome prospect. Of all the men in Gondor you liked and trusted Lord Boromir the most, having known him since you were just a girl, albeit not intimately. This would provide an opportunity to improve on the connection. “Lord Boromir honors me with his request. And as always, it shall please me to do as my king commands.”

Éomer responded to your formal pledge with a weary sigh. He braced his hands on the back of the chair in front of him, and the way his knuckles whitened in the tightness of his grip, while he searched for his next words, did not escape your notice.

“Make no mistake, this command does not align with what I desire,” he said thickly. “Leaving without you violates every instinct in my body, but if that is what must be done to make you see reason, then I shall bear it.”

“Reason?” you repeated stiffly. “What conclusion are you hoping I might come to?”

Éomer raised his eyes from the floor to meet yours across the room. “I know you believe that putting distance between us may somehow alter how I feel about you. But I in turn believe the time apart will help you accept how deeply in love you are with me.”

The heat that flooded your face burned through your mask of composure. “I am not--”

“Enough.” The sadness that bled into that single word made it a plea instead of an order. “I did not come to reopen discussions on the matter. Especially not if denials are all you have left to say to me.”

“Then pray tell, what has my lord come for?” you challenged him behind your icy courtesy. “How else may I serve you, Éomer King?”

The hurt that crossed his face came on so suddenly, looked so profound and real, it was as though you had physically struck him. He stared at you in a dead silence, and you forced yourself to hold his gaze while you held your breath, guilt sinking into your gut from the knowledge that you were the wretch who had gone too far.

“Nothing,” he said quietly. “Clearly there is nothing more to say, other than farewell.”

He picked up his cloak, turned, and left, leaving you utterly dumbfounded, staring at the door that slammed shut behind him.

The longest seconds of your life passed before your shock and indecision were overcome by a wild hysteria that made your entire body grow cold.

You leapt for the door and wrenched it open, and stepped into the downpour in time to see him vanish around the corner of the house, heading back to the stables.

The loss of him from your sight smashed through your bravado, and you cried out into the storm.

“Éomer!!”

Before you could grasp your reasoning for why you did it, or what you planned to do next, he reappeared, every footstep leaving puddles as his approach backed you up into the cottage. His eyes bore down at you, his expression now guarded and inscrutable and expectant. Gusting wind drove in sprinkles of rain through the door left open and ignored.

I am sorry. The whisper sitting on the tip of your tongue was smothered by a hostile inner voice.

Let him go. It is your duty. It is what’s right.

But your stolid face collapsed under the weight of your anguish. A grimace squeezed out the tears that blinded your eyes, finally betraying your shameful truth. I do love you, Éomer.

Gentle fingers settled lightly over your lips, stilling their feeble quivering. A voice even warmer and more tender than this touch eased your struggle.

“I do not need words. This is enough.”

As the hardened pads of those fingers brushed across the plane of your cheek, you closed your eyes and at once forgot all else that existed. Such was the power of his touch that for years you so vigilantly avoided, until that fateful moment of weakness after the coronation exposed your secret. That moment could never be undone, no matter how hard you tried to bury the truth now.

Éomer murmured your name, his breath warm on your temple, and then his hands stilled where they lightly cupped your face. In that pause lay a question, and the last time you answered it, you had hurt him. Foolish liar that you were.

“Yes.” The whisper passed from your lips to his as his mouth wasted no time seeking yours. You clasped your hands around the back of his neck, urging him closer as your own hunger surged. You felt the tremor that ran through his shoulders when you slipped your tongue against his. How could you have ever chosen to cause him pain, when you could have given him this instead?

He broke the kiss to let you catch your breath, but nuzzled your chin upward to gain access to your neck, so his lips could continue their quest to the hollow of your throat. You gasped at the scrape of his teeth on your collarbone, then moaned when he remedied his offense with reverent strokes of his tongue. His arms wrapped fully around your waist, pulling you greedily against him, fingers threading and tugging at your hair as he moved his worship to your shoulders.

But it was your touch, the scrabble of your hands over his hips and stomach as you held on to him for balance, that elicited a low growl. In just a few hurried steps, he backed you to the furthest corner of the cottage, until the side of the bed hit the back of your legs.

Your name was still the only thing he could utter, muffled in between the kisses he could not stop lavishing on every bit of your skin he could reach. Your hands found their way to his hips again, this time sneaking underneath the wet fabric that clung to his torso, then brazenly gliding upward, past his belly to the taut muscles of his chest, high enough for your thumb to circle his nipple.

An ungentlemanly word suddenly rumbled from Éomer King's throat, so startled was he by the sensual touch. Within moments his shirt lay discarded on the floor, your back made contact with the mattress, and there he was, leaning over you, bare from the waist up to your hungry eyes. You gave yourself an extra second to appreciate the sight before hooking a hand over his nape to yank him back into a kiss. The fervor in his response left you writhing and whimpering and completely vulnerable in your weakness.

A deep haze settled over you as you began to lose yourself to the pleasure of his ministrations. With every inch of you, you wanted this, and the way your body reacted to his every action, shaking in desperation for more, would surely tell him that. And yet… yet as you felt his fingers grope for the fastenings of your dress, felt his palm brush the back of your knee to your thigh, felt his hardness press against your hip… something inside of you jerked in reawakened panic.

“Éomer. W-wait.”

So soft was the protest, you were not even sure you had said the words aloud. But almost immediately, Éomer stopped and pulled back. He took one look at you, your disheveled state, and whatever expression lay on your face, and he sat up fully, turning away, dragging your heart out of your chest with him.

“Éomer, please. I am… I just…”

“No, I understand and I agree. To carry on would be unwise.”

He rubbed both hands roughly over his face, shaking away the stupor induced by his desire.

“All these years I have ordered the men to give you the respect you are due. I cannot risk your virtue or reputation now, however long I have wanted this. Wanted you.”

You moved to sit on the edge of the bed next to him. “You are my King, and it is my duty to protect you and your reputation. We must behave prudently.”

He nodded, but still looked so pained you could not help but lift your hand to try to soothe the scowl from his face. He angled his head to kiss the inside of your wrist.

“I will have you,” he muttered, his diverted gaze making it seem more a promise to himself than to you. But when he turned his eyes back on you, the wanton lust pooling in them stirred the heat in your belly. “I will wait for the right circumstances, however long it may take, but I will have you.”

He rose and walked a few steps across the room, perhaps in need of distance from you. As he stood closer to the fireplace, the light illuminated a view so rarely seen by anyone, many people in Rohan had come to believe that Éomer was simply hale and hard of body beyond the limits of mortal men.

The numerous scars that decorated his body testified to both his fragility and his strength. Many of his wounds had been tended to by you on the battlefield, carrying terrible memories that were now also moments of pride and achievement that you shared with him.

Éomer seemed to feel your intent gaze upon him, and he stretched out a hand to you, beckoning you to rejoin him. As soon as you were within reach, he wrapped his arms around you again, drawing you against him, sighing contently as your touch drifted over the bare skin of his chest and shoulders.

Your hand moved with intention, skimming down to his lower abdomen, probing carefully for the large scar you knew sat just below his ribcage. That injury was less than two years old. It still amazed you how it had managed to heal with little issue, under the constant strain of the many violent battles Éomer fought in since.

So close. A chill ran through you as the memory rose unbidden: you pressing down hard to staunch the bleeding, screaming for someone to help carry the barely conscious Marshal to the nearest shelter, where you could safely attempt to clean and suture the wound. If the orc blade had sunk in only a fraction of an inch deeper, it would have been beyond anyone's power to save him. You came too close to losing him that day.

Eomer's lips brushed against the shell of your ear as he interrupted your reminiscence with a whisper. “How can you still doubt that we belong together, when already you are part of me?”

Your fingers passed over several other scars from injuries you had tended to over the years, and came to rest over the tattoo on his upper right arm. The black dragon curled around the edge of his shoulder was identical in design and location to the mark borne by every rider in your Éored. Your possession of that dragon mark bound you to Éomer intimately, but also defined your role in his life. Sharing his bed, or even being with him just once, was not your place.

“None of these give me any right to claim you,” you said softly. “You must still marry. And it is your duty to marry well.”

He caught your elbow as you started to move your hand away, and guided it back to slide over his waist, to rest over the scar once more, willing you to hold fast to the memory it carried, and hold fast to him.

“What does it mean to marry? Is it not just the giving of one's entire self--mind and body, heart and soul--to another?”

He hooked a finger underneath your chin, urging your downcast gaze to rise and meet his.

“How am I to dispose of things that are no longer in my possession? I have long been taken, solely and utterly, by you.”

And with that gaze he set upon you, you wondered: how many glances must have he given you in secret all these years, with eyes that burned with something more than the devotion of one comrade-in-arms to another? What willful blindness had you clung to for years, for you not to have noticed it?

“I must fulfill my duties to Rohan, this is true. But not even a king can be asked to do the impossible.”

“But to wed a great king to a lowly servant--” You shook your head. “Many would argue that is the real impossibility.”

A new expression akin to anger flashed across Éomer’s face. Before you could wonder what you might have done wrong, he dropped to his knees before you, both knees, his hands wrapped tightly around yours.

“My lord!” you cried, aghast that he would debase himself, even in private. You tried to force him back up, but he would not budge.

“Never speak of yourself as lowly again,” he admonished. “King or peasant, there is nothing more lowly or humbled than a man so wretchedly in love, as I am with you.”

“Éomer…” You sank to the floor with him. “If only things were so simple. I wish it could all happen as you say, but I just do not see how. I do not know what can be done.”

“Let me hold your love for a while longer, and wait for me,” he said gently. “That is all I ask. The rest is mine to accomplish. As long as your heart is mine, and I know you have given it to me freely, I will fight for my right to keep it.”

You felt his grip around your fingers grow tense in the long seconds of silence that followed. At last, you brought his knuckles to your lips, kissing the hands you adored with such devotion.

“When you leave, you shall take my heart with you,” you whispered into his palm. “But I fear it will be a greater challenge than you believe, to keep others from wresting such an unsuitable offering from your hands.”

“They may certainly try, if they wish to test me.” The ice in his tone unsettled you, even though that veiled threat was certainly not for you, while the warm caress on your cheek was. “Not for a moment will I appear unclear or undecided when it comes to my intentions towards you. I will never make that mistake again.”

“B-but the Council of Eorl. The lords…”

“They answer to the King,” Éomer interrupted. “Do not privileges, as well as duties, come with this crown? Trust me. Please.” He bowed to rest his forehead against yours. “While we are parted, I will prove to you that it can be done, that I will do whatever I must to marry you, and to honor and protect you thereafter.”

“Marry?” you murmured. The idea still seemed no more than a ludicrous fantasy. But then Éomer kissed you again, deeply, as though determined to memorize the taste of your lips, urging you to focus on the present moment.

Because he was yours, even if just for that night. Even if by dawn, it could all crumble under the pressures of the world outside these walls. Éomer loved you, and held you in such high regard to want you as his wife and queen. You would swear to anyone that this knowledge alone was already a dream fulfilled.

And yet. If you were brave enough to hope, maybe…just maybe, this would not be the last impossibility to come true for you.

* * *

They do not know. Hundreds of Gondor’s citizens bearing streamers and flowers lined the streets of Minas Tirith that morning to join King Elessar in sending off the departing Eorlingas. But it occurred to Éomer how strange it felt that none of them had any awareness of a matter that was not only monumental for him personally, but carried significant consequences for all of Rohan.

Soon that will change, the young king vowed to himself. Soon his Council will hear the truth, and afterward all of Rohan, and then the rest of their allies. But for the moment, discretion--no matter how bitter the pretense tasted.

No one except for Lord Boromir and his betrothed, the lovely Lady Aerdis, who both stood next to her, understood what truly lay underneath the courteous gestures exchanged between the King of Rohan and his shield-maiden. A simple bow, an exchange of a few words, and a locking of gazes that was all too brief. Had they not spent that one evening together, Éomer would have remained trapped in the false belief of her indifference towards him. The memory of her kisses would have to suffice for a while, and he could only hope he had given her enough to remember him by, as well.

He brushed the edge of his hand over his lips just as he turned away, and forced his feet to carry him down the line of assembled well-wishers.

A noticeable hush descended on the crowd of onlookers as Éomer came to the end of the road where, closest to the ruins of the Great Gate, the King of Gondor himself met him, flanked by none other than Imrahil, the Prince of Dol Amroth, and his only daughter.

“Lady Lothíriel.” As Éomer took the hand she courteously offered him and brushed a kiss on her fingers, he became aware of the wan smiles that surrounded them, and the unsubtle tittering of a few ladies watching. “Your presence this morning is an unexpected and most delightful gift.”

Lothíriel was astonishingly beautiful indeed, with such radiant grace and sweet smiles, that it would not have surprised Éomer if many citizens of the White City came out just to catch a glimpse of her. “I wish you, Lady Éowyn, and all your men a safe journey, your Grace,” she said. “And may you have great success in your labors, so that we can soon celebrate your speedy return.”

“You are kind, my lady. I certainly hope for the same,” replied Éomer. “We leave behind treasure beyond price here and shall be eager to return for our own.”

Two Rohan lords had already swooped in to engage Imrahil in quiet conversation, and only stepped aside when Éomer himself approached to exchange farewells. Éomer’s admiration for the Prince only grew the more he learned about him and spent time with him, but the unabashed thirst of his counselors for Dol Amroth’s friendship irritated him. Yet another issue he intended to settle in the ordering of his House’s affairs.

Finally, Éomer came before Elessar, who embraced him tightly and honored him with a bow, from one king to another. “Worry not, my brother,” the man once called Aragorn said quietly to him. “I shall see to it that they are cared for, these ones whom you so dearly love.”

He smiled at the look of mixed wonder and apprehension on Éomer’s face, and dipped his head in another show of reassurance and of farewell.

With that, the Rohirrim set off on the North-way in a procession over a mile long, accompanied by the fanfare from the people that continued to line the road stretching across Pelennor. Countless flags in a multitude of colors and sigils from the different regions of Gondor fluttered in the air, and from every direction, enthusiastic cheering and waving followed the Riders across the fields.

At the head of the procession, behind his standard bearer and with Éowyn at his side, Éomer quickly fell into a brooding silence that did not escape his sister’s notice.

“I truly did not think I would ever see the day when the two of you would be willingly separated,” she said lightly. When Éomer looked at her with raised eyebrows, she shrugged. “I am sure you have good reasons for choosing her to stay behind with our uncle.”

“Many reasons,” Éomer grunted.

Éowyn regarded him thoughtfully. “Has the time finally come when you would allow yourself to be open with me about these reasons? And the other concerns weighing on your mind and heart? It is just you and I now, Éomer,” she said softly, stretching out her hand to him. “I may not have uncle’s experience or Théodred’s cunning, but I love you beyond words, and would do anything to see you happy. Let me help you.”

Éomer smiled at this, and reached over to take her hand and squeeze it. “Perhaps I can aspire to the happiness you have found with Lord Faramir.”

“Having my affections stolen by a High Man was not what I aspired to,” said Éowyn, trying to look annoyed but unable to hide the blush on her cheeks. “But love, it seems, is the wildest beast of all. It will not be tamed, or bridled, or even reasoned with. It goes where it wills. Éomer…” Éowyn’s sweet face turned stern. “You have suffered enough, and have been forced to carry so many burdens, not least of all our uncle’s crown, which I know you never wanted.”

“It is my honor to take the throne in Uncle and Théodred’s stead,” Éomer said firmly. “And why do you make assumptions about the things I want?”

“I know who it is you have wanted, for a long time now,” Éowyn said with a stout confidence that took Éomer aback. “You are discreet, brother. But I have watched you and looked out for you, more closely than you realize.”

Éomer shook his head. “I am still learning the many ways I have been underestimating you, Éowyn. Soon I shall believe myself unworthy of your care or help.”

“Someone has to care for you, during the frequent times you would not.” Éowyn glanced over her shoulder to make sure they were still out of hearing range of the rest of his Éored. “Especially now that you have left her behind.”

Éomer pressed his lips in a tight line and returned his gaze to the road ahead. “I will be back,” he said. “There is much to do in Rohan before then, but with Uncle waiting in the Hallows, I can hardly afford to dawdle or delay.”

And she is waiting. Éomer caught a glimpse of his sister’s suppressed smile that told him she had already thought the same thing. Another person with strong opinions to contend with.

Éomer spurred Firefoot forward to signal the standard bearer, who promptly blew one quick blast on his horn. As the King took off in a steady gallop, the thunder of hooves rose behind him as nearly a thousand other Rohirrim picked up their pace to match his, drowning out the excited shouts of the Gondorians that started them off at last to their journey home.

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[No applicable warnings]

It had been a long time since Danny was fourteen.

He'd experienced horrors and joys the likes of which were beyond human conception. He'd watched the world change around him, for better and for worse. He'd lost everything and everyone he loved a dozen times over, but he kept on loving and losing. It was, as had been said, better than never having loved at all.

Danny Fenton wasn't fourteen anymore. Danny Fenton had passed away a long time ago. But when he looked in the mirror, Danny Phantom looked the same as he always had.

Even after decades... centuries, probably, at this point, people still looked at him, a hero from their grandparents' grandparents' time, and saw a dead fourteen-year-old, saving people, fighting ghosts, protecting the Earth from Ghost Zone invasions.

Nobody talked about it.

For all that Danny was famous, known planet-wide as the greatest hero in this world or the next, the topic of his age always seemed too grim for anyone to broach in his presence. He was sure people would mention it in hushed tones amongst themselves, but never anywhere Danny could hear it.

Now that he was a full ghost, Danny didn't need to sleep. He would fly from city to city, taking care of people, helping ghosts find their way back to the Zone, or encouraging them to treat humans with more care. To remember that humans were fragile, and that they could still die.

It was growing increasingly rarer the more time that passed, for ghosts to come into the human world with deliberately hostile intentions, but it still happened from time to time, and when it did, Danny would fight like he always had.

It was lonely work.

For many years, Danny had helped him, traveled with him, but after a time, she'd declared that there wasn't a single inch of this world she had yet to explore, and she moved into the Ghost Zone, hoping the infinite realms would keep her occupied with new sights to see and people to meet for a good long while. He hadn't seen her since, so he supposed that must mean she'd gotten what she wanted.

He was happy for her, but he was lonely.

He'd been alone for a long time.

He was not fourteen anymore.

Even though he always would be.

Thailand was nice this time of year, balmy but breezy, with gorgeous flora and lively people. As soon as he dealt with this ghost, he might even take the time to enjoy it.

He didn't know what the ghost called herself, only that she was playing a little too rough with the local kids and needed a little reminder about how mortality worked.

It didn't take too long. This kind of discussion usually didn't. The ghost, Rosie Ring, wasn't malicious, she just wanted to play. She reminded him a bit of Youngblood. Ancients, it had been a long time since Danny ran into him. She apologized for her carelessness and asked if the kids wanted to keep playing, some did, some said they needed to go home, and a couple invited Phantom to stay and play with them.

Danny had refused at first, but there wasn't really anything else he needed to do, so he joined their little game until it was time for them all to go home to their families.

"Excuse me, Mr. Phantom?" asked a little girl.

Over the years, Danny had learned many languages, mostly just to pass the time since ghost speak served as a universal translator, with the only drawback being an accent that creeped people out. Thai, unfortunately, wasn't one of them. He crouched in front of her, hoping he wouldn't have to speak and risk scaring her.

"Will you walk me home?" she asked. "I'm scared of the dark."

He nodded with a calming smile and offered her his hand.

The girl couldn't have been more than ten years old, but she was very polite, and walked hand-in-hand with Phantom without a hint of fear.

"Mr. Phantom?" she asked.

"Hm?"

"What did you want to be, when you grew up?"

Danny paused a little, floating in the air, but the girl didn't notice and kept walking, dragging him along. In centuries, no one had ever asked him that. No one had been brave or reckless enough to bring up the fact that he'd never gotten the chance to grow up—not to his face anyway.

It took him a long moment to answer, it almost hurt him to think back that far, but the girl didn't push, just waited patiently.

"I wanted to be an astronaut," he responded. He felt her grip tighten in mild alarm at the sound of his voice, but she didn't jump or try to run. "I wanted to go to the stars and explore the universe."

"Did you want to meet aliens?" she asked.

"Maybe," he said. "But it turns out all the aliens are in another dimension not too far away, and I'm to busy with them to go to space now."

"Did you ever get to go to space?"

"Yes."

In the early days, after learning he could survive in a vacuum, Danny had gone to space fairly often. But as the years passed, and he had more responsibilities on Earth, his trips to the upper atmosphere and beyond became fewer and fewer, and he hadn't gone at all in over a decade.

"But I can't go very far. I'm needed here."

She nodded thoughtfully, watching her feet swing, one in front of the other, as she walked along the road toward her home.

"Do you like what you do here?" she asked after a moment.

"Most of the time," he said. "It's important work, and it makes me feel good to help others... but some days it's tough."

She nodded again, and again lapsed into momentary silence, watching her feet.

"Do you ever wish you didn't die?" she asked.

He froze again, and again, she pulled him along after her as she continued walking home, navigating the darkening streets by his ghostly glow.

"I used to, a long time ago," he admitted. "I've accepted it now, though."

Another quiet nod and silence.

"When I grow up, I'm gonna be a doctor," she said. "I know I'm gonna have to go to school for a long time, but I want to be able to help people, even though I'm not a ghost with cool powers, like you."

"That's very noble," Danny told her. "I think you'll make a great doctor."

She finally looked up from her feet to smile at him.

"Thanks! I hope so."

They didn't talk much more on the walk, and parted ways once she reached her home and greeted her family.

Danny waved goodbye and wished the girl good luck with becoming a doctor.

And when he was alone on the street, he looked up to the stars. With the light pollution, few were visible, but if he just flew up... if he just got a little bit closer....

Before he knew it, Danny was floating upward, his speed steadily increasing, and a few minute later he was out. He'd escaped Earth's atmosphere and was floating in the vastness of space. It was beautiful. It was peaceful.

He'd forgotten how much he missed this feeling.

He'd forgotten how much he'd longed for it, once upon a time.

#dp #danny phantom #danny fenton #things i wrote #phic phight #phic phight 24 #fic #future fic

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dyns33 · 15 days

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Rafiq alruwh

I'm not sure yet if this will be a Bane x reader oneshot or not.

I like it like that, but I could find ideas for part 2. My only problem being that I still need to finish others Tom Hardy's characters story, while wanting to write Feyd Rautha stories.

As much as Y/N listened to these stories over and over again, she couldn't imagine the feeling everyone would describe.

The moment your skin touched your soulmate's skin, and suddenly everything became clear, better. A feeling of joy and the burning need to stay by this person's side forever.

It was a rare phenomenon that scientists could not explain. It was completely impossible to know when this would happen, or if it would happen, because fate seemed cruel. Most people either didn't have soulmates or didn't have the chance to meet them in their lifetime. The world was too big and time too short.

There were still skeptics, who claimed that it was all nonsense, lies, invented by people blinded by love or who wanted to give themselves a certain gender. Only those who ended up meeting the person changed their mind, the others remaining too jealous to accept the truth, considering that it was only a romantic utopia.

Y/N wanted to believe in it. She dreamed of meeting her soulmate and experiencing this special moment.

Her parents were not meant to be together. It was visible.

In her entourage, she had an uncle who had had this experience, a few neighbors, a friend, and all had said the same thing.

What they had in common was that they were all good people. Maybe that was one of the reasons.

“You might have had to choose another type of profession then.”

"Mom…"

“I’m just saying that cop is not the most popular job in the world.”

"And I would say that choosing to be a non-corrupt police officer in Gotham is almost like being a saint."

"You'll end up getting killed, long before you meet your soulmate. I'll never understand why you wanted to be a cop, especially in this town."

There came a day when her mother's fears almost became a reality. The day when terrorists took the entire city hostage with a bomb, preventing everyone from entering and leaving.

It was probably not what she had thought when she talked about dying, but for several months, hidden with her colleagues, Y/N thought about her soulmate, trying to imagine this meeting that would probably never happen.

Staying mainly with Blake and Gordon, she tried to hide her pain, but it did not escape Miranda Tate, who took her hand with a gentle smile and asked what was tormenting her.

“We’re going to die here.” Y/N whispered. "I mean, I'm not afraid of that, that's the risk of the job. But… I didn't think it would be like this now. I wish I had met my soulmate before."

"Your rafiq alruwh. I didn't think many people cared about it here."

"My what ?"

"That's how my father called soulmates. I grew up with a lot of stories about it, because he and my mother were related. I prayed a lot to be that for one of my friends, but no. Our destinies are linked, but not like that.”

"Sorry."

"Even if I would have liked him to be mine, I wish him happiness and that he meets his other half one day. A being worthy of him, of his love and his protection. He deserves to be happy. You too, you seem kind. Maybe you shouldn't have been here."

Her words were strange, but Y/N didn’t tell the others. It wouldn't have changed anything anyway. Even though she had discovered that Miranda Tate had the detonator, that she was the real leader of the terrorists, the streets remained controlled by the militias.

As always, they were saved by the Batman. She had never really known what to think of the vigilante, protected by Gordon and hated by everyone else. He clearly wanted to help Gotham, but his methods remained illegal, and not necessarily effective in the long term.

His death was a tragedy, but not necessarily the end of a symbol. Hope was still there, even stronger, and the Gotham police were determined to ensure everyone's safety.

Y/N felt this determination too.

Still, she froze as she inspected the sewers with Blake and Ramirez. They too had a moment of hesitation, as their lamps illuminated a body. A huge body, sitting against the wall, face hidden by this frightening mask.

There had been a search for Bane and his men after the explosion. Witnesses said the Batman fought him, and won, but they found nothing.

Obviously, the terrorist had managed to drag himself here to die.

"What do we do ?" Ramirez asked shyly. “Should we put a bullet in his head ?”

"What ? Why do you want to do this ?"

"To make sure he's dead. I've seen a lot of movies, man, I know the mistakes to avoid."

She didn't approve of the speech, but Y/N agreed, it was necessary to check it out.

Feeling almost stupid, she moved forward slowly, her hand reaching towards Bane to see if he felt a pulse.

She didn't expect the large hand that quickly grabbed her neck before she could touch him.

Fear paralyzed her body, and yet there was something else. An indescribable, incredible feeling, which resembled happiness but more intense, which was absurd in this situation.

Y/N felt so lost that she didn't realize the hand was relaxing, just resting against her skin instead of squeezing and snapping her neck like it easily could have done.

"Habibi…" was the word spoken with difficulty by Bane, who stared at her with an indecipherable expression.

“Let her go right now, you bastard !”

Maybe he was as confused as her, or maybe he was too weak, but the terrorist didn't avoid Ramirez's punch, while Blake grabbed Y/N to pull her as far away as possible.

She stood still, not understanding what was happening, as Ramirez called for reinforcements, proud of having been able to knock out the giant, even though he knew as well as anyone that he would have had no chance. if his mask hadn't been damaged and he wasn't half dead. It was not possible.

Bane couldn't be her soulmate, Y/N refused to believe it. A man like him had no soul, not after everything he had done, and above all why would he be destined for her ? She didn't feel like she had committed a crime that deserved such punishment.

She was probably never going to see him again anyway.

If he survived to Blackgate, he would be locked there forever. Even if she had permission, she had no intention of visiting him.

But the feeling remained there, strong, impossible to ignore, demanding more. An incomprehensible need to be close to the one who had touched her, so that he would touch her again.

Y/N resisted. She gave her report to Commissioner Gordon, forgetting a few small details, and indicating that she did not wish to follow this case, leaving Bane's case to better agents than her.

This seemed to surprise him, as he considered her one of his best people, but he accepted.

However, it was impossible not to think of her soulmate, since the whole town was only talking about him and his arrest. The television was on loop every day, and her colleagues thought they were doing the right thing by keeping her informed of progress.

"They say his face is horrible. I think there are photos in the file."

"I'd love to see that ! I can't imagine that fucker at all without his weird mask. Do you think he has a normal voice without that thing ?"

“I can go get it so we check.”

Ramirez's gaze met hers as he stood, and without her needing to speak, he knew it was best for him to sit back down and change the subject.

Y/N didn’t see the photos. She absolutely didn't want to.

After several weeks, she asked to take a vacation, claiming to still be traumatized by what had happened to her, in addition to the near destruction of Gotham. She needed some time to rest.

Turning off all the screens and her phone, she tried meditation to clear her mind, so she could get some sleep and forget that her soulmate was a crazy, half-dead terrorist who would soon be judged.

This miserable attempt being a failure, she turned her phone back on shortly after midnight, only to be bombarded with calls and messages, coming from several colleagues, Blake, and Gordon.

"What is happening ?" she asked, calling the Commissioner back.

"Damn, I almost sent men to check on you, you weren't responding ! Where are you ? Are you okay ?"

“I’m at home, why ?”

"Don't panic. Blake will come get you."

“Gordon, what’s going on ?”

"He hasn't said anything since his arrest, keeping very quiet, and then yesterday Bane spoke. He asked to see you, giving your name. The other agents are categorical, it's impossible that he knows ot, no one told him. The agent simply replied that you were not on the investigation, and even on vacation… Damn, he…"

“Gordon, what ?”

"He escaped, Y/N. We don't know how. No one knows where he is, or what he's going to do. But since he talked about you, I don't want to take any risks. Don't move, John will come right away."

She could have told him that she knew very well why Bane had spoken about her, and that it was undoubtedly necessary for her to leave without delay, but fear held her back.

Even if it wasn't her fault, what would the commissioner think when he learned of her connection to the fugitive ? He was a good man, but all men had their limits, and she would be the first to be wary of someone designated as Bane's soulmate.

After hanging up, she jumped out of bed to grab her gun and shoes, ready to wait for Blake to arrive in her living room.

Y/N froze in the middle of the hallway, seeing the huge figure standing between her and the front door.

His face was covered by a scarf, his posture a little less proud than in the videos she had seen of him during his city hostage situation, he appeared to be in pain, but it was obvious that if she tried to pass, he would retain her without the slightest difficulty.

“Habibi.” he whispered, and indeed his voice was different without his mask, more human. "What a joy to see you again. More beautiful than I remember or on pictures. Will you come with us without resistance ? I don't want to hurt you."

"Hands in the air." she replied, pointing her gun at him, ignoring the urge to hug him. “Don’t move, my colleagues are coming.”

"I admire your sense of duty and honor, Habibi. But I will not return to prison, ever again. And I will not leave you either. I thought of you every day. Is your neck healed ? I need to repair my wrongs to you.”

“I said, put your hands in the air.”

“So you leave us no choice, Habibi.” he sighed, looking behind her.

We. He said we, and someone gave him her name. Y/N reacted too late, one man grabbing her gun, and the other not holding her shoulder, injecting something into her neck with a syringe.

In an instant, she found herself on the ground, her vision blurring, but her body not panicking, as it was invaded by an incredible sensation. Bane had reached out to hug her, his eyes smiling as he ran a hand over her cheek.

"It's okay. I'm taking you home, rafiq alruwh."

All her life, Y/N had waited for this moment, this feeling, this sentence. She told herself that the stories we said to children were really stupid, as her eyes closed.

#the dark knight rises #bane #bane tdkr #bane x reader #bane fanfiction #bane imagine

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lovelytsunoda · 1 year

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new year's eve // zhou guanyu

summary: a sponsor event in the big apple, white wine on linen, a chinese stain removal method and a red silk qipao bring zhou and y/n together for a new year's adventure that teaches them important lessons about self-love, intimacy and the joy of living.

pairing: zhou guanyu x female reader

it's new years eve, theres too much noise, i could barely hear my own voice. i always said you were too shy, but then I went off to cry. wish i'd never worn that white dress. you found me outside, looking like somebody died

warnings: descriptive panic attack, drinking in a social setting, mentions of premature labour, a little bit of a she’s all that-esque makeover, an iconic chinese grandmother, badly translated mandarin, mentions of body insecurity. the smut scene includes the following: oral (fem receiving), an absurd amount of touching (good god have you seen this man’s hands?!?!), cowgirl, post-coital dysphoria and insecurities, aftercare & sugar sweet zhou <3

author's note: i think that this could very well be one of my favourite things that i have ever written. . . .it feels very 'nick and norah' crossed with 'she's all that'. so without further ado, here is the final full-lenght fic of 2022, and i can't wait to go into 2023 with you guys : )

new york city, new year's eve.

he didn't want to be there.

in the big party thrown by one of valtteri's new york sponsors, lost in a sea of people speaking english that was too fast for him to grasp.

val had promised him it would be different, that zhou's presence was just as important as the finn's.

so why didn't it feel that way? why had the entire trip, meant to be a team bonding experience, feel like zhou was playing third wheel to valtteri and tiffany's winter couple's holiday?

and now he was standing in the lobby of some plush hotel, brushing shoulders with the self-centered american elites. he stood in the back corner, with an almost full glass of expensive champagne in hand.

he’s lost valterri an hour ago, with the driver swept up in a crowd of people who wanted his attention.

there was a commotion in the crowd, and zhou couldn’t tear his eyes away as a young woman in a puffy tan jacket and a long white dress came running, purse dangling from her hand and white wine running down her front, an apologetic waiter shouting after her.

zhou placed his champagne on the counter, hoping to catch the girl before she rushed out of the hotel doors, before he noticed that her phone had fallen out of her hand and clattered to the floor.

“miss?” he shouted, picking up the iPhone in its dropproof case, the screen lighting up with a stock photo from pinterest featuring a bouquet of tulips.

but she didn’t hear him, pushing her way out of the hotel.

so the alfa romeo driver saw no other option but to run after her.

“sorry to bother you,” he started, pulling his prada trench coat tighter around his body as a shield from the cold. “you dropped your pho-oh my god, are you okay?”

the woman was sitting on a bench outside the hotel, red in the face with tears in her eyes as she gasped for breath, clutching at her chest as she tried to fill her lungs with the winter air. she shook her head, panic in her eyes as zhou knelt down to meet her eyes.

“hey, look at me. I’m going to hold your hands, okay? I want you to breathe with me. gently in and out.” he guided her, trying to match their breathing together. slowly, he could see the color returning to her face. “you dropped your phone.” he said gently, pulling the iphone out of his pocket.

“thank christ.” she exhaled, taking the device from the driver. “I probably would’ve died once I found out I left it in there. I’m y/n.”

“zhou. or, guanyu, guanyu zhou, as you americans would say.”

“zhou guanyu.” she said softly, saying it the chinese way, with his last name first. now that she was talking more freely, he noticed her accent. australian. she was a long way from home. “I like it. it sounds regal, almost like you’re royalty. what brings you to the big apple? sounds like both of us are a long way from home.”

zhou sighed, taking a seat on the bench next to her. “it’s a promotional event for my teammate. I think valtteri invited me out of pity.”

“wait, valtteri bottas?” y/ns ears perked up. “I might be reaching a bit, but do you know his girlfriend, tiffany cromwell?”

“of course I know tiff. how do you?”

“my cousin is her nutritionist, she was supposed to be tiffany’s plus one, but her baby had other ideas and she went into premature labour, so tiff invited me along instead.”

the two young adults sat in silence for a minute as all the pieces slotted together in their brains, before zhou shouted in cantonese and y/n cursed under her breath.

“those cunts.” she snickered “I bet val and tiff planned this. they were setting us up, weren’t they?”

zhou laughed, a gleeful sound, his head tilted back and a few silky strands of his dark hair falling in front of his eyes. “it looks like we’re a few steps ahead of them.”

“I guess we are.” she laughed, brushing some hair behind her ear. “fuck, it’s cold as balls out here. and the wine down the front of my dress isn’t helping much.”

zhou looked over, watching the warmly coloured liquid soak into the thin white fabric. he reached for his own phone, fingers scrabbling across the keyboard.

“I have an idea. there’s this old chinese remedy my mom used to use to get dirt and grass stains out of my race suits as a kid. and if it can get grass out of a race suit, it can get white wine out of a linen dress.”

“I’m impressed that you even know that my dress is made of linen.”

“it’s a skill set. it’s not useful, it it’s a skill set.” the driver shrugged. “the closest chinese market is twenty minutes away by taxi. what do you think, y/n? do you fancy a new york adventure with me?”

y/n snorted “good luck getting a taxi in new york city on bloody new years.”

zhou got to his feet, running towards the street corner, waving his arm in the air. “taxi!” he shouted. “fuck, I’ve always wanted to do that!”

y/n laughed as she stood up, hobbling across the icy sidewalk in her high heels, trying not to step on the hem of her dress. zhou had successfully hailed a cab in under an hour, a feat that few accomplished on new years in the big apple.

he held the door open for her with a grin and a proper curtesy, a grin on his face as he said ‘after you, m’lady."

the taxi wove in an out of the new york traffic, turning down a side street lit with paper lanterns in glowing red and yellow. y/n watched on, entranced by the city that never stopped moving around her, fingers absently drawing simple shapes in the condensation that had formed on the inside of the window. zhou watched her with a tender smile on his face, completely at a loss on how to explain his sudden infatuation with the girl sitting next to him. he was drawn to everything about her: her loud mouth, her soft eyes, her gentle accent.

she was magnetic, and zhou was a refrigerator magnet.

the cab came to a stop in front of a small bodega, windows plastered with advertisements for chinese soft drinks, paper signs in calligraphy dictating the opening hours. the only thing written in english was the blinking open sign hanging in the door.

zhou paid the cab driver before taking y/n's hand in his and opening the glass door. the market had a cozy, homely feel to it: shelves packed with brightly colored boxes, a rack of brightly colored qipao lining one far wall, the spinning rack of postcards by the front door, the neon drink cooler that seemed to glow brighter than anything else in the calmly lit room.

it reminded her almost of the tourist trap market areas in sydney.

behind the counter, a young woman of about twenty-five leaned over the counter, a juul hanging from the corner of her mouth as she flipped through an issue of cosmopolitan. zhou went straight to the counter, striking up a conversation in mandarin as a shorter elderly woman with a bright smile emerged from the curtain hanging over the back room.

"what can i do for you today, young man?" the shopkeeper had a knowing look in her eyes as they roamed back and forth between zhou and y/n, who was looking at the delicately made qipao in wonder, her fingers dancing across the delicate silk. "condoms are in the third aisle."

zhou's face blushed pink, and he coughed to disguise the laugh that threatened to bubble over. "what, no, my friend spilled some white wine on her dress." he went on to list all of the ingredients he would need to clean the linen. "could you help us out?"

the shopkeeper nodded. "i'll need her dress. unfortunately, i only have qipao for her to wear in the meantime." she turned to the young woman at the other end of the counter who had just exhaled a cloud of watermelon scented water vapour. "mei-lin, can you help the young woman get soem fresh clothes so i can wash her dress?"

"a makeover?" mei-lin's eyes lit up as zhou called y/n over. "i'm finally going to get to 'she's all that' someone?"

y/n's eyes widened as she looked at zhou. "what's happening?"

"mei-lin is going to help you." the shopkeeper switched to english as she looked at y/n with a smile. "i trust her to get you settled, and then your friend and i will get that pesky wine stain out of your lovely dress."

neither party missed the change in the old woman's tone when she said the word 'friend'.

"and on that note," mei-lin said, breaking up the awkward silence. "i'm going to go pick out some qipao, and you can go straight to the back room so we can get this party started."

with one last panicked look at zhou, y/n retreated to the back room as the shopkeeper took zhou by the hand and helped him find the things he needed for his mother's herbal stain remover.

"first things first, call me melanie, that's the name that i prefer for myself. nainai is very traditional, but it's something that i love most about her." mei-lin smiled. "now, get that pesky dress off and we'll find something to impress loverboy out there."

y/n laughed nervously as she watched melanie hang up the qipao on an exposed pipe in the break room. "okay, so he and i just met half an hour ago, and is this not cultural appropriation, or fetishization or something?"

"semantics. i'm sure nainai would have given you other clothes if we had something other than qipao, but i think she's secretly excited about having the chance to show these off. she makes them herself, you know. she was an atelier in beijing before they decided to come to new york." melanie paused, looking at the four dresses she'd hung up. "mr. prada over there looked like a boobs man, is he a boobs man? and it's cold outside so that takes out the short one."

the australian tuned it out as she slipped out of her heels, puffer jacket and the soaked linen dress. a part of her was surprised that the wine hadn't frozen solid on her dress yet as she passed it over the paper screen to melanie, who was standing on the other side, seemingly having made up her mind about the qipao.

"what were you wearing underneath that dress? nainai makes lingerie too, i'm sure there's a box back here somewhere. she sells it on amazon, small business and whatever. my grandmother is quite the entrepreneur. let me find something that matches the qipao. we're going to knock mr. prada's socks off!"

by this point, y/n had discovered that it was useless to try and reason with melanie, and felt all the fight leave her body. besides, she couldn't remember the last time she had been pampered, and there was a part of her that felt a rush of adrenaline thinking about the alfa romeo driver's hands all over her body.

she was doing this for herself, and nobody else. something out of her comfort zone. consider it an early new year's resolution.

she was presently surprised in her appearance when she emerged from the paper screen, looking at the mirror hanging limply on the concrete wall. the red fabric hugged her curves perfectly, enunciating all the things she had once been insecure about in a flattering, pleasing way.

she felt sexy, and it was a foreign feeling. but it also gave her confidence, and that's when she thought she might break. for the first time, she wasn't wearing that big label that said 'fragile, handle with caution'.

melanie clapped her hands in glee. "you look stunning, absolutely wonderful!! huálì de! mr. prada isn't going to know what hit him!"

but also in that same mirror, y/n could see her messy, disarrayed hair, her smudged mascara. puffy eyes from crying.

"makeup wouldn't happen to be a part of this makeover deal, would it?"

twenty minutes later, she emerged from the back room as a changed woman, fighting the urge to draw into herself timidly, instead walking with her head held high, hair pulled back in a prim bun and held together with two red and gold hair pins.

"hi." she said awkwardly, waving her arm limply as zhou looked up from his phone, jaw dropping in wonder.

he had been in the middle of texting valtteri when y/n emerged from the back room, effectively taking his breath away. she looked regal and confident, something in her appearance that hadn't been there before. the qipao had a tighter fit than the linen she was wearing earlier, drawing zhou's attention to parts of her body that he hadn't even noticed before.

"hi. uh, wow, you look incredible."

"keep the qipao." nainai smiled from behind the counter. "it suits you. i designed it for a girl like you, you know. someone who needed an extra boost of confidence in herself. you wear it well, xiao niao. and if anybody asks where it's from, please send them over here."

y/n lowered her voice, looking at zhou. "what did she just call me?"

the driver laughed. "xiao niao. it means 'little bird'."

a simple term of endearment shouldn't have made her heart flutter the way that it did. it was the way the syllables rolled of zhou's tongue that made the butterflies in her stomach run rampant.

and she'd be damned if she didn't end the night in his bed, or at least with her lips on his.

and she didn't even know where this sudden rush of lust and self-confidence had come from. but she planned on riding that wave as long as she could.

“I’m sorry for cutting your gala short.” she apologized softly, pulling her jacket back on. “although i don’t think that you were having a lot of fun.”

zhou chuckled. “it’s fine. I didn’t want to be there all that much anyways. I only went for valtteri.”

“and I only went for tiffany.”

melanie gave them a knowing look from where she stood next to her grandmother behind the counter. “there’s a really good hot coco place around the corner, you guys could walk there if you wanted to.”

“what do you think, zhou?” she asked softly, looking at the alfa driver. “should we keep the night going?”

“the night is still young.”

nainai smiled. “here’s your dress, honey.” she said, passing a plastic walmart bag over the counter. “rinse it out in the morning and it will be perfectly fine. keep him, he’s a smart one.” the older woman laughed, pointing at zhou.

the two young adults left the bodega together, still dancing around hand holding, although zhou was ever the gentleman, holding doors open and guiding y/n away from the puddles and ice, still balanced on her stiletto heels.

nainai and melanie watched thoughtfully from inside the market. “I give them an hour tops before she ends up in his bed.”

“nainai!” melanie gasped. “I’d only give them half that.”

her grandmother shook her head with a grin and a small laugh. “she’s got him wrapped around her little finger.”

melanie grinned, taking another drag from her juul. “hell yeah she does. and I don’t even think she knows it.”

out on the street corner, once they were out of sight from the bodegas windows, y/n quickly zipped up her jacket, reaching behind her head to pull out the hair pins, shaking her waves out.

"there. this feels a little less cultural appropriate-y. melanie pulled the bun too tightly anyways."

"i think that your hair looks better like that." zhou remarked offhandedly. "and the qipao looks brilliant."

y/n looked at the hairpin in her hands, the cold night air rapidly cooling the metal in her hands. the pin was wrapped in a sleeve of red string, a silver dragon piece spiraling down the shaft.

"i love dragons." she remarked, twirling the hairpin around as she followed zhou in the direction that the shopkeeper had pointed them, desperate for a warm drink. "i have a collection of them, little ceramic dragons. i pick up one wherever i can, usually when i travel. this will look pretty neat in the display cabinet."

the hot chocolate bar seemed to light up the entire street. the interior was all white marble and subway tile, bouquets of pale pink roses on each table. ever the gentleman, zhou held the door open for her, his breath turning to vapour in the cold air. she thanked him, going straight to the counter, trying to warm up her hands as she held on to zhou's.

chalkboards behind the counter detailed the extravagant and overpriced, sugar-filled beverages, and y/n couldn't decide what she wanted to try first. the cafe was fairly empty, the driver and his plus one being the only two people in the line, and two of five in the whole resteraunt.

y/n supposed that it was because there were better places to be on new year's eve in new york city. they ordered, and zhou found himself tapping the credit card app on his phone against the debit machine before y/n even had a chance to get her wallet out of her purse.

"you didn't have to do that." she said softly as the alfa driver collected the receipt from the barista.

"i know. but i wanted to." he took a soft breath before the duo sat down nest to each other in a corner booth. "you're worth every penny."

"you don't even know me."

"but i want to. i want to know everything, y/n."

and for the next hour, that's what they did. talking about anything and everything, laughing at each other's jokes. it was awkward and comfortable and giggly in that way that you could only ever read about in books. zhou told her everything about racing, travelling, growing up in shanghai. they bonded together over hot chocolates piled high with caramel sauce, whipped cream and ground up oreo cookies and caramel chips.

"y/n, you've got a little something . . ." zhou's voice trailed off as he placed his delicate, slender fingers underneath her chin, using them to tilt her head back so he could use the pad of his pointer finger to swipe the whipped cream and caramel off the top of her cupid's bow.

their eyes met, a flash of recognition sparking between them as y/n's eyes fluttered closed, lips parting in anticipation as zhou carefully placed his lips against hers, cradling her bottom lip between his.

he held her as if she was made out of glass, like he was scared of making too many sudden movements lest she shatter. they parted gently, foreheads resting against each other before y/n broke, pulling him back in for an even fiercer kiss, her lips burning every time their lips made contact, arousal pooling in her stomach as zhou gently placed his hand against her neck.

"my hotel room or yours?"

_____

how alive she felt with his lips on hers.

they stumbled in through the hotel door, hands on each other's bodies with reckless abandon, jackets and purses falling to the hardwood floor as she hobbled out of her high heels, zhou's lips on her neck as she fell against the wall, pulling him closer by the waistband as she redirected his lips to hers.

he couldn't help but briefly wonder what his mother would think. deflowering a girl in a qipao? a girl who wasn't even chinese?

zhou slipped his palm up the small slit in the side of the qipao, running his soft hands along y/n's tender skin, goosebumps following in his wake.

"i'd strip for you," y/n started with a small laugh. "but i have no idea how to take this damn thing off."

"don't worry about it." he said with a soft kiss to her forehead. "i've got you."

she was shocked at how quick she had spread her legs for him, how safe she felt in his presence.

how alive she felt with his lips on hers.

he took his time with her once she was undressed, wearing nothing but the bright red lingerie, lace fabric dotted with hearts, his soft fingertips caressing her thighs, his lips following after. he wasn't even kissing her, just softly feeling every inch of her underneath his soft, plump lips.

"zhou, please." she breathed out. "i need you to do something, i can't take this."

"patience, bao bei. i want to enjoy you." the tip of his index finger traced the crease of her thigh, so despairingly close to where she ached to feel him.

"zhou." she whined, taking his hand in hers and guiding it over the lace. "i need to feel your mouth on me."

she wasn't sure when she had become this bold, when she didn't feel the urge to shy away during the most intimate of moments. didn't feel the urge to hide when zhou pulled her panties aside, pressing a feather light kiss to her clit.

and then the real fun began as he licked up her dripping center, probably making a mess of the hotel bedsheets in the process. y/n's hand flew to the back of his head as he slipped his tongue inside her, gently moving it in and out as he listened to her breathy moans, her head tilted back as she bit her lip to stop herself from cursing.

"zhou, please, just like that, right there baby . . . " she whined, before the driver withdrew his tongue and kissed her inner thigh, sloppy, sticky and messy.

"god, you're beautiful." he breathed before he mumbled something in mandarin. "i can't get enough of you, bao bei."

it was going to be a long, long night.

they welcomed the new year still wrapped in the sheets. zhou leaned back against a pile of pillows, his hands gripping y/n's hips as she rode him, her hands braced on his chest as he stared up at her in wonder.

this was round three, their bodies covered in sweat, hickies beginning to form on their skin as they huffed and groaned, y/n shaking above him as she felt her third orgasm rapidly approach.

"oh god, you fill me so well, baby. i think i'm gonna come!"

zhou's face was blushed and rosy as he tightened his grip, thrusting his hips up to wrangle another harsh moan from the back of y/n's throat.

she came just as the fireworks started to go off outside the window, bright colors from the flashes illuminating the room in shades of red and gold as her strength evaporated, her body slumping against his as his hips stilled, filling the latex condom with his seed.

"happy new year, y/n." he smiled, kissing the side of her head as she turned to look at him.

"happy new year, zhou." she grinned before she kissed him.

____

she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, sweaty hair hanging around her face, the red sheen dissipating from her face as she criticized every part of her appearance.

the adrenaline had worn off, and now she felt like shit. even wearing the prada t-shirt zhou had lent her when she got out of the bed to run to the washroom was another thing for her to judge about herself.

how had she been so careless to fall into bed with him so quickly? she avoided one night stands like the plague, and sometimes even in proper relationships, the act left her feeling like this.

feeling like she was just another thing to be used.

"y/n?" zhou shouted, his disembodied voice followed by a knock on the bathroom door. "i'm coming inside, okay? i'm worried about you."

the door slid open, and she wiped at the tears threatening to collect under her eyes.

"bao bei?" zhou said softly. he was dressed in nothing but grey sweatpants, loosely tied and hanging off his waist. "what's wrong? did i do something?"

"no, no." she shook her head quickly, wiping at her eyes. "you did everything just fine. you treated me like a queen this entire night."

zhou took her hands in his, running his thumbs over her knuckles. "it's just the adrenaline drop, sweetheart. you're beautiful, and smart, and funny, and this has been the best night of my life. and i want to keep this going. i want to know you better. how about you come back to bed, we'll cuddle. and then in the morning, you and i go out for breakfast?"

"yeah, i like that." she smiled, squeezing his hands in hers. "i really like you, zhou. and i've had a really good time with you, tonight."

he kissed her softly, brushing a section of her hair away from her face.

"come on, get some rest, beautiful. i'll see you in the morning. or, later this morning."

y/n laughed. "what time even is it?"

"12:45, january first."

"yeah, let's go back to bed."

____

Tags: @magnummagnussen @scuderiamh @sidcrosbyspuck @libraryofloveletters @diorleclerc @daydreamingleclerc

#zhou guanyu #zhou guanyu x reader #zhou guanyu x y/n #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #the christmas collection 2022 #f1 x reader #Spotify

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buckyysdoll · 7 months

Note

hi, could you write an enemies to lovers with Nesta?

— 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 —

જ⁀➴ — • summary: when you’re broken and wounded, you end up at the doorstep of the one person you shouldn’t want; • pairing: nesta archeron x f!reader (hope this is okay !) ; • a/n: i’m sorry this is so so late ! i really do hope it’s okay though <3 ; • cw: reference to domestic abuse, unsupportive family (slight anti ic, but just for this fic — i adore all of them and always will, sorry), vague ref to suicide but not really meant; angst with hopeful ending <33

MAIN MASTERLIST

With every step down the streets of velars, the pounding in your head only heightened. Slick drops of blood fell and beaded at the cut on your lip, and your eyes burned with unshed tears.

It was raining, though, which helped; it cooled off your skin that was fever pitched, burning. Each pelt of the cold, hard storm, the whip of wind at your cheeks, was at least some distraction.

A way for you to decidedly not think about the male who'd just come to the town house; the male who your brother had sworn you to marry, and of whom behind closed doors sure had a cruel temper.

Surely all of them knew.

But if they did, they didn't say anything; Cassian's fury was a quiet, deadly thing. Azriel of course knew every slight secret but was still ultimately powerless against his high lord. Noble as he was, Rhysand's will would be final; it was his way, or no way at all.

Even Mor, your best friend, even Feyre — both knew this pain for themselves, yet did nothing. For what was best for velaris still had to come first: you knew it, would honour it, too.

Even if bruises were already forming on your albeit quick-healing skin; even if hand marks printed your wrists and your cut lip was split and still bleeding on down.

There was only one person in the world who you just wished to talk to, but you knew that you couldn't. She was the very same one whose silence you would rather live in, beyond anyone's voice.

She was your call to rest, and the fire you breathed in, the woman you loved —

Or rather, "female" now, you supposed. Everything had changed since that day by the river.

That look in her eye, like she knew ... You shook off the thoughts of her, just like always. And, just like always, they stayed. There truly was no point in resisting her pull

On your way through the city, guideless, not knowing where to go or what even to think, you passed such warmth on the faces of your own brother's people, who had become something like your people, too.

Mothers cracked worn, broken smiles at their babes but they did it, the joy was still there underneath. And though so quiet, their children still laughed, still found humour and joy in your grey, broken world.

It was for each of those faces that you stuck by your choice.

The bargain tattoo on your lower arm burned.

Further down you walked through each great, twisting street, the Rainbow a ribbon at your side. You'd not said a word to the others about where you had gone, having stormed out of the house in a fury; tears had threatened and been so damn close, with your brother and your family only in the next room.

But could they really be family if they'd heard the crack, all the shouts, and did nothing? Could they still be those people you loved if they hadn't tried to stop you, hadn't asked you to stay?

You didn't know where you were heading until you'd already come to the street where she lived. Though your mind was unwilling, in denial, your feet knew the path; could've tracked any route to her blind.

A heartbeat, two, a thought of what am i doing, and then it was stairs, a great many. they wound on up, further still, to the floor of her room.

To your sweet light. Your Nesta.

You'd been in love with her since the day that you met all those months ago beyond the wall; seeing her stood there, chin up, eyes narrowed with disdain - it was her strength that had first pulled you in.

And just as for then, for every day since, there was that same unyielding steel. The will and the fire just beneath her skin that had pulled you to her as though by no conscious choice.

She had been the woman that you'd have got down on your knees for, and would've yielded to without question. Now she was the female who did nothing but show how much she despised you - coating her words with venom and striking them true in the places only she knew would hurt.

Still, she was your mate, and she knew it. Just like you did.

Neither one of you'd say it.

You were two sides of the same, lost coin, at the mercy of the males who thought they knew for best. You knew that your endings were not destined to be happy, but more so, that they certainly could not entwine.

Standing just by her door, you could hear the sound of her breathing from here. By the soft, quiet tone, she stood just on the other side of it, but she'd never seemed further.

She was destroying herself, and little did you know that you placed such a crucial role in it. Seeing you like this, and knowing your pain? She didn't know how to confront it.

Having to watch you wed yourself to a male, and an abuser no less? She would kill him, or herself.

But she, just like you, had been under Rhysand's thumb and couldn't bear to face the truth of her love. By her estimation, you were always better off far from her, and so the best way to ensure that? Hate and hate disguising love.

You raised your fist to knock but she was already there, door open, eyes wide. They scanned your face while she tried to school her features into indifference, but you knew each one of her tells by now.

Something within her was desperate, frantic, but she hid it well all things considered. To anyone who wasn't her mate, they would've seen just that old blank look. Disinterest.

But only by the pattern of your breathing, she had known that you waited outside. That you'd come to her door. Her nostrils flared, and that old, forced look of disdain at last took root.

Nesta. Your Nesta.

She said nothing, and just took in the sight: you stood on her doorstep, leaking blood from your cheek. Your lip, too, was split from a backhand and no quick healing power had yet sealed the hurt.

Your balance was unsteady on your feet, the weight of the day and your relief for her blinding. You tried not to show quite how you leant against the doorframe, how you relied on its support to hold yourself up while you couldn't.

But of course she knew.

And judging by her brief flash of panic, banked only by sheer will, and her need for indifference? Some part of her, however small, cared.

Tension thickened the air with that truth.

Nesta opened the door another fraction of an inch, thought better, so it seemed, and relented. Then she turned, her back to you, and walked back through her apartment, and you tracked her with your aching eyes as she moved. It was all you could do.

But the open door was an assumption, an aren't you coming? left unsaid. It was all she could give without saying the words, because the Mother above knew she could not speak it.

So you followed her, just like always, the shadow to her steps and too far from her warmth. You craved her closeness with every soft step and your hands clutched each other so they didn't reach out.

Immediately, as you entered the space, the scent of her filled up each small corner of you. Any prior void, she became; every empty second spent in this city, this life, without her — she healed with that scent alone.

It was piercing, just as she was — and you needed it to breathe. Needed her, your icy Nesta, your sweet warrior born of thorns.

She'd dressed simply today, as though planning nothing but to just stay in this room in the city. You still couldn't help but notice, though, how her dress was uncharacteristically rumpled, and her fine mass of golden-brown hair was sifting its soft journey out of her bun.

As ever, she was devastation; still, she was gorgeous beyond capable thought.

But it was almost as if she'd hurried to dress, though you couldn't think she'd want to impress you ... maybe she did have plans, and you were keeping her from them —

And then the thought hit.

So dazed had you been by her company, by her rare generosity — you hadn't even noticed. You’d been so wrapped up, absorbed in her, that you hadn't spied the rumpled, wrecked sheets of her bed. Hadn’t seen the creased shirt on the floor that was obviously male, and forgotten in haste.

You hadn't heard another heart beat through the wall, nor another's breathing through the thick door. You hadn't smelt the scent of sex so poignant in the air, and the smell of a male, his release.

But you did now, as you traced her outline with your eyes, watched her frame receding out of your view.

Something you couldn't quite bring yourself to name kindled sharp in your gut, and you could neither see nor think beyond it. You took one inhalation, two; Nesta was still out of the sight in the kitchen.

Another inhalation, exhalation — third, fourth. She was back in your sight and would not cow to shame.

In her hands she held loose articles — medical supplies, or what little she had of them. She wasted no time with words, wasn't idle; just silently gestured to her rumpled, strewn bed.

Still, by her guidance, you sat; perched just on the edge, honing focus elsewhere. So long as you tried not to breathe, then the fury in your bloodstream wouldn't burst past its banks.

It took great effort but the feral streak within you tempered down; with clenched teeth you held on firm to your composure. What little was left.

Whether she knew or not how you felt, she didn't show it in her expression. Her machinations were firm, and precise, as she put down a wet cloth, a clean strip of gauze.

But her hand where it met your skin was painstakingly gentle, more so than you'd hoped. Whatever tenderness this was given freely, it was more than your life's worth to question its taste.

Still, you noticed how shed hesitated, waited, read your expression before moving in. She was holding back from something, you knew — Nesta never had been one to have an open disposition.

And yet in truth? It was as though she couldn't bring herself to touch you like this, take your blood on her hands. As though it would be some kind of silent violation to the mutual denial of your bond.

As if. As if.

Nesta's fingers — her pointer and middle, from her right hand — ghosted the skin of your cheek, grazing so lightly above the gash that your partner-to-be had so callously left on your face.

You didn't miss the clench to her jaw or the sudden dark flare of something primal in her eyes; all of that steel, that white hot fire you adored, had your aching heart caught in your throat.

"Who did this to you?" Her words were flat, and you knew that she knew quite precisely who had. There was no inflection in her tone and it sounded out more as a statement than a question at all.

Nesta didn't meet your eyes as she took up the rag and raised it to the fresh, welling cut. It was you that couldn't seem to look anywhere else but at her, still just always at her.

You swallowed down your words but your voice dredged them straight back up, catching slightly on your speech as you aired them.

If being honest with yourself just this once, you only spoke at all just to hear her reply. It didn't seem to matter what she said only that it was her that said it, she who still wouldn't spare a glance for you now, and who hated you even in pain.

It took a bold moment, a sharp flare of pain as she focused her hands on her quick, dabbing movements, but you answered "He did" and then just like that — her banked fire stoked back to life.

Nesta made no response, but she winced almost imperceptibly to see that you'd flinched at her touch. From then on, her fingers stayed light as they worked.

The intention in her softness made you ache.

Indeed, your eyes were desperate as you watched her, and something settled deep in your chest much like reverence. If telling the truth? You’d admit that you'd housed that dull pain in some way since the moment you'd met; when you'd first seen the woman with steel in her spine that had not cowed to you, nor your kind.

And oh Mother, how you loved her.

Without warning, without any pretence, a low, destraught sound caught in her own throat — her only indication that the truth you'd revealed pulled out some truth from her that she'd fought to keep hidden.

You moved then, just without thinking, and touched your fingers to the inside of her wrist. She stilled beneath your hold and looked at you, allowed herself the privilege of this one light reprieve.

For there was something intimate in it, that touch — your pulse jumped beneath the surface of your skin. Every part of you was aware of her to the point of physical pain, and she was the same for you, you knew. The mating bond stretched between you, so taut and endless and yet not ripe to know.

Nesta's eyes met yours in a snap of clear focus, dipped down to your hand, came back up. Tears glistened in the deep grey hues of her eyes but you knew that she'd never admit it.

Fury and pain for you, blindness — it fully was a terror for her, feeling like this. It warred all at once within in her heart and right then? You didn't need to speak. Didn’t need to acknowledge anything at all.

You knew that there was so much that you both wished to say, and yet couldn't. Maybe not yet, or ever. But a soft hope ignited anyway that you wouldn't let die — hope that maybe one day. One day.

You loved Nesta Archeron too much to think beyond it, and what was more? The female before you loved you too. She loved you so much that she feared it every day, with every breath; but each time she tried to say it, show it, something in her died.

What she didn't know, though, was that you'd wait as long it took — centuries even — for her to be ready. And if she still wasn't? Then perhaps she could grow just to see you as a friend, if that was all you could be.

You were to wed another male for your court, but that didn't mean a thing to the love of a mate; perhaps years could pass and maybe then, maybe then, you could finally choose for yourselves.

For now though, there was enough in the silence of the room that you stayed still, only held on to her hand.

And the most remarkable part? She, your Nesta, held yours back.

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strscrossed · 5 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/strscrossed/735080711208452096/alright-any-ficlet-requests-today-in-the-mood

Today is my birthday so maybe a drabble of a bday surprise for any AU :D

But since It's my birthday I would have to request non angsty 😇

omg!!! happy birthday!!! and yes of course! not sure if this is related to the ask i got, but one for mean dom hobo eren coming right up! hope pregnancy is okay with you!

The second line was a little faded but there was no doubt. Two lines meant that she was pregnant. The other five tests all said the same.

Her hand covered her mouth as she stared in disbelief. She'd have to go to the doctors to confirm but there was no doubt. She was pregnant. She was having a baby with Eren. They were going to be parents.

He had to go into the office today to get a few things done but promised he would be home in time for lunch.

In the meantime, she wandered around the giant penthouse, dazed. The past few months have felt like a dream. A long, beautiful, somewhat funny dream. A few short months ago, she was sure that this whole thing was just physical but when Eren dropped to one knee with a ring, she'd never been happier to be wrong about something.

Mikasa liked to keep things simple and meals and while Eren never complained, she thought that this news was too special.

Her nerves were all over the place as she lovingly prepared lunch for the two of them and true to his word, Eren waltzes into the penthouse at half-past noon.

All the anxiety leaves her body as his strong arms envelop her and he kisses her cheek.

"Smells amazing," he mumbled into her skin and she smiled.

"Go sit down. I'm almost done..."

Eren was a picky eater, except for when it came to her cooking, then he'd eat pretty much anything. But roasted duck on a bed of mashed potatoes? She saw the stars in his eyes as she served him.

"It's not our anniversary."

Good, he was catching on.

"And it's not either of our birthdays."

"Nope, but I do have something to share. But I want you to finish."

She'd never seen Eren mow down his meal so fast. But then again, she knew when he was anticipating something, it always came in the form of eating too fast, pacing, or fucking her into next week.

And thank god, she kept the old gift boxes because she found one that was just the perfect size to hide the test.

When he was done, she placed the box down in front of him. He stared down at it.

"What's going on?"

She stifled her laughter, "Just open it."

They'd never talked about children. Although, he didn't seem opposed to the idea. She brought the idea up after the engagement and he'd worked her so well she couldn't walk the next day. Was that the night when this happened?

He opened the box and pulled out the test. At first, he was confused but when he stared at it for a few seconds, the expression on his face morphed.

It was an agonizing few seconds as she watched the pure, unadulterated joy dawn on his face.

"No, you aren't?" he whispered.

She nodded, "I am. I still have to go to the doctor but-!"

She was cut off by him tugging her forcefully into his arms and smothering her with his lips. The best kisses. The warmest kisses.

The kiss went on forever, at least she wished it did, so she mourned the loss of him when he pulled away.

"Really?" he whispered.

She nodded, "Yes, really..."

He buried his face into the nape of her neck, "Mine. All mine."

She held onto him. Several minutes went by like this. He left a trail of kisses down her neck and she sighed contentedly as she played with his hair.

She gasped when he picked her up.

"Eren?"

"City Hall. We're getting married. Today. Right now."

Her eyes widened, "But what about the huge ceremony you wanted...?"

"We'll still have it. But I need you as my wife. Right now. I can't wait anymore."

She couldn't argue with that. She just let him carry her off, her laughter could be heard throughout the building.

#answered #mean dom hobo eren #eremika #ficlet

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wingedblooms · 1 year

Note

First off - I love your blog. The way you connect things for Elain/Elriel is *chef's kiss*. I've been rereading ACOTAR and came across something that might be useful for your theories (or maybe not at all but is, at the very least, interesting or maybe is completely dumb and irrelevant lol). This is also long... so sorry.

In ACOFAS chp. 24, Mor talks about "Rhys's request." She states "her blood called to her" and told her to "Go on the wind." Seems a little witchy to me. Especially because of how she describes witches at the Illyrian war camp.

Now what is VERY interesting happens a few lines down: "She had not mentioned it these past few days in Velaris." At first, it's easy to assume that she's talking about "Rhys's request", but as I'll explain I don't believe this is true. Next: "She knew Azriel would say no, would want her safe. As he had always done." This literally cannot be related to her traveling to the continent for Rhys. In chp. 14 of ACOFAS, we have Rhys's POV and he's talking to Mor. Talking to himself, he says "I debated asking her if she wished to know where AZRIEL AND I THOUGHT she might fo first." Clearly, Azriel is aware of Rhys's plan. This would not be news to Azriel and would not "cast a shadow."

Back to ACOFAS 24, "Cassian would have said yes, Amren with him, and Feyre would have worried but agreed. Az would have been pissed and withdrawn even further into himself. She hadn't wanted to take his joy away from him. Anymore than she already did. "

I think whatever decision she is trying to make has to do with Elain. I don't have a lot to back this up off the top of my head tbh, but Mor's mention of "joy" sticks out to me. We know earlier in ACOFAS, Azriel laughed a very "joyous" laugh. We also know that since that night, he has kept Elain's present to him on his nightstand at the HoW to look at every night. I don't think this is a coincidence. ACOWAR thru ACOSF provides plenty of instances that showcases Azriel's protection of Elain, as you know. Also, the fact that she thinks "Cassian would have said yes" sticks out to me. ACOSF shows that Cassian doesn't want Nesta involved with the trove and goes all alphahole when Azriel says Elain shouldn't mess with it because it would mean Nesta would have to. Cassian agreeing to Elain going with Mor somewhere would mean Nesta wouldn't have to.

What's weird is no mention of Rhys here... which suggests to me that he already knows what's going on with Mor. My thinking is whatever decision she is trying to make has to do with the hissing she shut out a few lines up in the same ACOFAS chapter, as this discussion occurs right after that. It makes me wonder if Elain is somehow involved with that hissing, too...

Finally, "But she'd have to tell them, regardless of what she decided, at some point." This means there are 2 things at work here: 1) the "news" and 2) her decision (which cannot be about going to the continent).

I realize this might make no sense but have you noticed this? Am I overanalyzing? Probably lol. But what could this be about??

Thank you so much for sending this intriguing ask! I’ve been taking a break from tumblr due to a bunch of life stuff, so I greatly appreciate your patience. Your ask inspired me to go back and review these sections before responding and after rereading, I do think the sections you highlighted are focused on Mor and her mission on the continent. BUT, they helped me notice an interesting parallel between Mor and Elain that aligned with something I had in the (at this point, endless) drafts, so please read on.

Warning: spoilers for all three series—TOG, CC, and ACOTAR—are below.

I’ll start with Hewn City, which (in part) seems to motivate Mor to accept Rhys’s request. HC has a different kind of darkness than Velaris. It is described as eternal, rotting, and smothering, and it withers all life. (No wonder those families are eager to get out of there. 😅)

There was no light in this place. There never had been. Even the evergreen garlands, holly wreaths, and crackling birchwood fires in honor of the Solstice couldn’t pierce the eternal darkness that dwelled in the Hewn City.

It was not the sort of darkness that Mor had come to love in Velaris, the sort of darkness that was as much a part of Rhys as his blood.

It was the darkness of rotting things, of decay. The smothering darkness that withered all life. (acofas)

I was struck by this language because it reminded me of Elain’s black dress in HC—the unflattering dress that seems to suck the life from her. But in Velaris? Elain is a curvy, glowing goddess wrapped in amethyst velvet. Is it possible that Elain, like Mor, is bound for adventures beyond HC? Or is Sarah setting us up for one of her infamous contradictions?

With scaled beasts of stone and sneering courtiers, HC is also associated with hissing (we’ll circle back to this when we get to the parts you referred to).

And the golden-haired male standing before her in the throne room, amongst the towering pillars carved with those scaled, slithering beasts—he had been created from it. Thrived in it.

The sneering tone. She could still hear the hissed insults beneath it, whispered long ago in her family’s private suite, whispered at every meeting and gathering when her cousin was not present. Half-breed monstrosity. A disgrace to the bloodline. (acofas)

Even though she was born and raised in this smothering darkness, Mor is eager to escape it. And like everyone else in the IC, she dons a mask of cruelty when she is there. She is never able to be herself there.

The words came out of her without thought. And her voice, the voice she used here … Not her own. Never her own, never down here with them in the darkness. Mor kept her voice just as cold and unforgiving as she corrected, “To what do we owe this pleasure, High Lord.”

This mask is something she is accustomed to now, but we have a hint that it did not come as easily to her as it did for Feyre. The fated High Lady of the Night Court became the mistress of HC with far more ease:

Feyre had fallen into the role of mistress of this horrible city with far more ease than she had. Clad in a sparkling onyx gown, the crescent-moon diadem atop her head, her friend looked every part the imperious ruler. As much a part of this place as the twining, serpentine beasts carved and etched everywhere. What Keir, perhaps, had one day pictured for Mor herself.

It’s also not surprising that Lady Death dominated her first event in the rotting darkness of HC. But the third sister? Like Mor, Cassian indicates that the cruelty of HC bothers Elain. And yet she still insists on going and supporting her family. She dons the equivalent of a black grandma dress and Cassian thinks about how it sucks the light and life out of her…much like the darkness of Hewn City, withering all life.

Mor used to enjoy her role (punishing Rhys’s detractors, especially her family) in HC, but we start to see that change in acowar when her father and Eris grow closer. Then in acofas, their solstice meeting triggers one of her most traumatic memories, possibly because Eris wears the same mask of indifference now as he did then:

Eris wasn’t fazed. Nothing had ever disturbed him, ruffled him. Mor had hated it from the moment she’d met him—that distance, that coldness. That lack of interest or feeling for the world. “Then I would suggest to you, High Lord, that you speak to your dear friend Tamlin about it.”

And like the hissing insults of HC, he is also compared to a serpent.

Eris’s mouth curved in an adder’s smile. “Because Tamlin’s territory is the only one that borders the human lands. I’d think that anyone looking to expand would have to go through the Spring Court first. Or at least obtain his permission.”

While Sarah has hinted that Eris is more complex than what we have been led to believe (we know there is a reason for his behavior), he and his court seem to be as cold and cruel as HC, rotting beneath a beautiful veneer:

Warm, buttery sunlight through the leaves, setting them glowing like rubies and citrines. The damp, earthen scent of rotting things beneath the leaves and roots she lay upon. Had been thrown and left upon.

A pale, beautiful face appeared above her, blocking out the jewel-like leaves above. Unmoved. Impassive. “I take it you do not wish to live here, Morrigan.”

She would rather die here, bleed out here. She would rather die and return—return as something wicked and cruel, and shred them all apart.

He must have read it in her eyes. A small smile curved his lips. “I thought so.”

She wished she could grow claws—grow claws as Rhys could—and rip out that pale throat. But that was not her gift. Her gift…her gift had left her here. Broken and bleeding. (acofas)

Eris’ behavior makes Mor wish to become a monster, like the clawed monsters lurking just beneath the skin of the High Lords. It is also reminiscent of witches, who (as we learned from Cassian) become something other—something cold and wretched. In Erilea, ironteeth witches grow iron teeth and claws, and are known for ripping out throats. Mor specifically wished for claws that can rip out throats…but that was not her gift. Six chapters later, Elain asks about changing form, and in the next book, her sisters note how she seemed to grow claws…

“Look who decided to grow claws after all,” she crooned. “Maybe you’ll become interesting at last, Elain.” (acosf)

And showed some teeth…

“Elain showed some teeth,” I observed. “I wasn’t expecting that.” (feysand bonus)

This reference to claws and teeth reminds me of a few things: court inheritance, as that is what Mor specifically compares it to in this scene; shapeshifting (1, 2); and witches (especially ironteeth witches in Erilea). It doesn’t seem to be a coincidence that we first learned about witches in the Illyrian camp, where Mor snorted and stepped aside to reveal Elain after Nesta was accused of being a witch (and of course I’m still hoping something will come of that accusation). Illyrians possess an explosive power (raw killing power that, if not controlled through siphons, can kill the wielder) like ironteeth witches, who have a combination of demon (Valg) and fae heritage. There are theories that Illyrians might have demon and fae heritage as well.

In addition to their solstice experiences in HC, and growing (metaphorical and/or actual) claws, Mor and Elain share other similarities:

golden features and warm eyes

arranged romance with an AC male (via family and/or mating bond)

embodiment of light and color

powers that uncover/verify hidden information (both respond to specific questions and weigh the words of others)

I wouldn’t be surprised if they shared another connection in the future: working as spy and courtier and ambassador to secure peace. The sections you mentioned in your ask seem to refer solely to Rhys’ request for Mor, but the more we learn about the position, the more it seems fitting for Elain as well.

“Az can infiltrate most courts, most lands. But I might need you to win those lands over.” Because the pieces that were now strewn on the table… “Treaty negotiations are dragging on too long.”

“They’re not happening at all.”

“You wouldn’t need to be gone for months. Just visits here and there. Casual.”

“Casual, but make the kingdoms and territories realize that if they push too far or enter into human lands, we’ll obliterate them?”

I huffed a laugh. “Something like that. Az has lists of the kingdoms most likely to cross the line.”

She glanced sidelong at me. “When would I need to leave?”

“Not for another few weeks, maybe a month.”

She nodded, and fell quiet. I debated asking her if she wished to know where Azriel and I thought she might go first, but her silence said enough. She’d go anywhere.

As the spymaster, Azriel gathers intel from multiple sources and uses that information to protect and serve his court. He already has a list of kingdoms on their “watch list,” and this is what Rhys seems to refer to in this scene. While he might be in possession of this list and the general strategy, Rhys often operates alone and keeps secrets from those he claims as family. It sounds like Azriel does not know that Rhys has asked Mor to carry out this mission, which is similar to him asking Cassian to step in and play spy in the Band of Exiles because Azriel is juggling a lot at the moment…but he still has time to train Valkyries? More likely, it’s hard for him to work closely with Lucien at this point given how he feels about Elain, and Rhys knows that because of his conversation about tracking Lucien’s movements in chapter 7.

Rhys offers this position to Mor because they are trying to establish lasting peace.

“You always have a choice. If you don’t want to go, then it’s fine.”

“And who would do it instead? Amren?” A knowing look. I laughed again.

“Certainly not Amren. Not if we want peace.” I added, “Just—do me a favor and take some time to think about it before you say yes. Consider it an offer, not an order.”

This position requires someone who can win others over, someone who is a peacemaker. Later, Mor describes what this position would entail:

How far away the continent seemed, Rhys’s request with it. To go, to play spy and courtier and ambassador, to see those kingdoms long closed, where friends had once dwelled … Yes, her blood called to her. Go as far and wide as you can. Go on the wind.

Mor would be playing spy and courtier and ambassador (and yes, @whysterian, I agree that go on the wind sounds very witchy 😍…it also sounds a lot like an owl). She seems eager to serve her court in this way, but as Mor thinks about the offer, the hissing voices of her past—her family, Eris—start to invade her thoughts and she shuts them out.

But to leave, to let Keir believe he had made her go with his bargain with Eris … Coward. Pathetic coward. She shut out the hissing in her head, running a hand down Ellia’s snowy mane.

We now know that Mor accepted this mission and it is not going well…

“I’ve spent weeks in that blasted court,” Mor said, poking at the flaky pastry beside her teacup, “freezing my ass off, trying to kiss their cold asses, and their king and queen refused the treaty. I came home on the earlier side today because I knew any more last-minute pushing from me would be unwelcome. My time there was supposed to be a friendly visit, after all.”

because of the human queens:

“Why won’t they sign it?”

“Because those stupid human queens are stirring—their army still isn’t disbanded. The Queen of Vallahan even asked me what the point of a peace treaty would be when another war, this time against the humans, might redraw the territory lines far below the wall. I don’t think Vallahan is interested in peace. Or allying with us.”

And who was tasked with monitoring their activities? Azriel.

Az ran a thumb down Truth-Teller’s black hilt, the silver runes on the dark scabbard shimmering in the light. “What about the human queens?”

“We continue to watch. You continue to watch.”

“Vassa knows that the Queens of the Realm will be a threat until they are dealt with,” I said at last. Another tidbit that Lucien had told us. Well, Az and me at least. “But unless the queens step out of line, it’s not for us to face. If we sweep in, even to stop them from triggering another war, we’ll be seen as conquerors, not heroes. We need the humans in other territories to trust us, if we can ever hope to achieve lasting peace.” (acofas)

But they are stirring again and he can’t tackle this issue on his own (or through the source he might usually interact with). Enter, Cassian. Rhys asks him—the last person you’d expect, who also happens to be dismissed as a loyal dog much like Elain—to play spy out in the open. They need information from a trusted source and that is no longer Lucien, their emissary who is becoming increasingly loyal to the Band of Exiles.

“Az and I have good reason to believe that the human queens are scheming again. I need you to look into it. Deal with it.” (acosf)

Rhys went on, “Azriel is juggling more than he’ll admit right now. I’m not dumping another responsibility on him. This task of yours will help him.” Rhys flashed a challenging smile. “And let us all see what you’re really made of.”

“You want me to play spy?”

“There are other ways to glean information, Cass, besides peeking through keyholes. Az isn’t a courtier. He works from the shadows. But I need someone—I need you—standing in the open.

He needs someone who can play spy in the light. Through his spying out in the open, Cassian learns that the three remaining queens have scattered to the winds:

Eris said, “I have it on good authority that the other three queens have scattered to the winds.” Cassian tucked away the information and the questions it raised. How did Eris know that? “Briallyn has been residing alone in their palace for weeks now. Long before my soldiers vanished.” (acosf)

And Koschei, the mastermind whispering on the wind, has been influencing them for quite some time.

“Why was he imprisoned?” Cassian asked. “The story is too long to tell,” she hedged. “But know that Briallyn and the others sold me to him not through their devices, but his. By words he planted in their courts, whispered on the winds.” (acosf)

Most importantly, they are still a concern at the end of Nesta’s story:

But Nesta smoothed his bunched brow, as if she could see those worries there. “Later,” she promised. “We’ll deal with all that later.” Including the remaining queens, Koschei, and a still-looming war. (acosf)

But will Mor and Cassian continue to play spy, ambassador, courtier, etc? Negotiations on the continent are proceeding poorly because of the human queens who have scattered on the winds. What does that mean for the stability of their territories? Someone will need to locate them swiftly and, at some point, convince other leaders not to claim vulnerable territories as their own. Sadly, Cassian’s efforts have yielded little information on the whereabouts of the queens. And Mor can’t seem to leave Vallahan fast enough after her latest attempt to convince their leaders to sign a treaty. Enter, Elain.

Why Elain? We know she wins over others easily (her staff adored her, and everyone and their mom wants to protect her), gets answers to her questions with ease, keeps secrets as well as the spymaster, and routinely surprises others with her stealthy appearance. She can maneuver silently in the light and among the shadows. And unlike her sister, Elain tends to be a calming presence, more of a peacemaker.

“You still can barely talk to Nesta,” I said. “Yet Elain you can talk to nicely.”

“Elain is Elain.”

“If you blame one, you have to blame the other.”

“No, I don’t. Elain is Elain,” he repeated. “Nesta is … she’s Illyrian. I mean that as a compliment, but she’s an Illyrian at heart. So there is no excuse for her behavior.” (acofas)

Illyrians were strong, proud, fearless. But peacemakers, they were not. (acofas)

And Rhys hints that, as a gardener, she is willing to get her hands dirty for a pretty result—like peace.

Cassian will likely be occupied with the Illyrians and the Valkyries. Mor, who can hold her own against any illyrian…

There was a reason she’d held her own in battle, and could hold her own against any Illyrian. My brothers and I had overseen much of the training ourselves, but she’d spent years traveling to other lands, other territories, to learn what they knew. (acofas)

…might return to Prythian and join Valkyrie training in Azriel’s place as @offtorivendell predicted in this post.

Mor grinned. “You mind if I start joining you once this business with Vallahan is over? I never got to train with the Valkyries before the first War, and after it, they were all gone.”

“I think the priestesses would like to see you,” Nesta said, and glanced to Cassian to make sure he didn’t mind. He waved a hand. (acosf)

Elain could use her powers to track down the queens (as she did with the Suriel, who traveled like the wind) in real time and play peacemaker on the continent. Spy and courtier and ambassador. This would also bring her closer to her two love interests—one a spy and the other an emissary—and heighten the tension between them. These tasks are even more important with the looming threat of the Asteri (who may be connected to Koschei, creator of chaos and influencer of human queens). Divided as their world is now, they are an even more vulnerable target.

So while I don’t think those sections are about Elain (yet), @whysterian, I do think they might foreshadow her future as a peacemaker who is more than ready to get her hands dirty.

#elain archeron #mor acotar #spy and ambassador and emissary #maasverse #hosab spoilers #tog spoilers

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