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#who reminds you of this fact when you doubt it
milswrites · 2 days
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Something blue
~ Azriel X Reader
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Summary: You and Azriel get married.
Warnings: Teeny bit of angst but then all fluff :)
Azriel couldn't hear the words his brother was speaking over the incessant pounding of his heartbeat which echoed in the depths of his ears. Not even his probing shadows could break him from his anxious stupor, the dark curling mists attempting to pull their master back to reality through their gentle nudges and soothing presence.
Azriel was sure that if he was aware of his families comforting words and his shadows warming embrace he would have been grateful. Yet all he desired was your reassuring company, your gentle aura having always been enough to ebb the rising doubts from his storming mind.
It was only when Cassian laid a heavy hand on his tense shoulder did Azriel allow himself to come back to reality. Permissing his faraway mind to return to it's earthly shell, rejoining him where he was stood at the end of the aisle.
It wasn't the prospect of marrying you which terrified him. No, Azriel couldn't think of anything sweeter than consolidating the love between the two of you. However, the invasive doubts that Azriel didn't deserve you pecked away at his brain. Worried that his monstrous past and his dark line of work made him unworthy of your love.
It was foolish to think this of course, you looked at Azriel as though he had hung the stars in the night sky, the male brightening the life you had claimed was once so dull. To you, Azriel could do no wrong and you had spent many sleepless nights reminding the male of this as you cradled his trembling form.
Which is why when Cassian asked him if he needed a moment to escape and gather his thoughts, Azriel stubbornly declined the offer. Not wanting to make even the smallest of mistakes out of fear that the one good thing in his life would slip away from him.
No, Azriel would wait. Patiently standing at the end of the aisle until you came to stand by his side. Your presence alone would be enough to melt away his insecurity and unease.
Which is why with this knowledge, he allowed himself to relax. The understanding that you would soon be with him was enough to loosen his taught muscles, enabling a steady breath to be drawn from his lips.
You were his home, his fortress, and Azriel needed only to think of you to instill him with the strength he needed to battle his demons.
He brushed Cassian's worried hand away, providing his concerned brother a smile overflowing with confidence. Teeth slightly bared in excitement.
"I'm fine Cas," Azriel promised, "I couldn't be happier."
He needn't lie when he spoke the words to his brother, each syllable laced with a welcoming truth. How could he not be happy, when you were the deliverer of his joy.
A soft melody began to hum from the harp beside him, an ethereal tune which sang the story of your love. Each harmonious note signifying a beautiful tale of your partnership.
But it wasn't the sweet tune which brought a silver tear to Azriel's eye. Nor was it the fact that he was surrounded by his friends, all sharing a smile of beaming warmth at the glorious occasion.
No, the reason for his joyous weeping was the angel who faced him at the other end of the aisle. His love, a vision dressed in white, who's arm was wrapped around that of his proud mother's.
Azriel cried as his entire universe walked towards him. As the two most important people in his life slowly made their way past his teary-eyed friends and family until they came to stop before him.
His doting mother came to wipe the wetness from his cheeks, face a picture of unbridled jubilation, before Cassian came to lead the exuberant woman to their seats as the last heavenly note from the harp was strung. The soft hum of the music still wavering in the air despite it's completion. And as Azriel's hazel eyes finally came to meet your own, a bond of love and passion was shared through your affectionate gazes.
You've always been beautiful, there was no debating that. But the god-like glow which the mother had blessed you with on the day of your wedding had rendered the shadowsinger speechless. The force of your otherworldly beauty almost being enough to pull the male to his knees before you. Azriel promised himself in that moment that he would spend the rest of his days worshipping you in all your glory until the day he died.
The trivial words of the priestess failed to register in his mind, Azriel's thoughts were consumed entirely by you. It wasn't until you began to make your vows, did Azriel's attention then turn to your enchanting voice. His mind, body and soul all enraptured by your tender words.
"I have loved you since before I even knew you existed. My heart has always belonged to you, and I finally found it when we first met. We were made for each other, you and I, two souls destined for each other. And even if we didn't have the cauldron's influence, I still would have loved you as deeply and passionately as I do now. You're my entire world Azriel and I consider myself lucky for the life I'm going to spend with you and I will continue to love you until we're the last stars in the sky."
Azriel was sure he couldn't have cried more than he had already done so, though it was clear his well hadn't run dry as of yet. Glistening trails of happy tears streamed down his smiling cheeks. His gentle shadows wrapped around his body under his clothes, their presence comforting him, reminding him that his feelings were natural, That he could allow himself to weep at his good fortune.
The male had planned his vows in advance, wanting to be prepared in case his nerves took hold of him and prevented him from saying what he wanted to be said. Yet being in the moment, standing here next to your ethereal form after hearing your impassioned promise, Azriel failed to find words worthy enough to be heard by your ears. And so, surprising even himself Azriel neglected the speech he had spent the past few days reciting and spoke from his heart.
"You are my strength and stability. My saviour and my undoing. You see me for who I am and yet you've never once shied away, you accept me in a way so few people have done so and I couldn't be more blessed than to have you as my partner for the rest of my life. I have never felt more loved, more accepted by anyone and I know that whenever the darkness overcomes me I need only to look to you for my salvation. And so I promise you this now, that I will never fail to be anyone other than the male who you know me to be. I gift myself you you with the oath that I shall love you forever as you deserve."
The exchange of your vows was done so in a moment of frozen existence. Despite the room full of your loved ones, it felt as though the promises were made in secret, a silent joining of your two souls morphing into one. You may as well have been the only people in the entire universe.
When the time came to present each other with the rings you had selected, you slipped the band onto his steady finger. A golden line etched into the silver metal, a constant reminder of the shimmering thread which tied the two of you together for eternity.
When the time came for him to slip the ring he had gifted for you onto your own finger, you marveled at the cobalt blue gem which stared back at you. A glowing piece of Azriel's siphon. A piece of your mate gifted to you.
"Your something blue" he whispered with a smile, voice low enough for only you to hear. Recalling the superstitious poem you had recited to him when you first began making plans for your wedding.
"It's beautiful Az,"you beamed at the male before you, at your husband, looking into his hazel eyes as you spoke, "But I already have my something blue and it'll take a lot more than a fancy ring for me to want to replace him."
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edgeray · 3 days
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Arlecchino is a cold person.
(Arlecchino x Reader Blurb)
It's no suprise to anyone. It is simply an objective fact of the matter. She is aware of this. The House of the Hearth is aware of this. The Fatui are aware of this. It's ironic given the nature of her vision, but it nonetheless rings true despite the fire she possesses on her blackened fingertips. She is callous and curt, and underneath her skin there is nothing except frigid ice that envelopes her being like a fitted coat. She speaks with no warmth, acts with the absence of heat, exists in a constant state of cold emptiness--a state in which there is a void inside of her, as if sucking all that is human of her.
Years ago, when she was just a child of the same orphanage she headed, she had naive thoughts of finding companionship, someone who would provide the warmth she sought on lonesome nights. She was barely just an adolescent who dreamed of lying in someone's arms, feel the heartbeat of another so surely, it would remind her that she was indeed alive. For even the briefest of moments, she yearned for someone who would, if not shield, then distract her from the cruelties of this world. She had shed those foolish wishes aside. In the House of the Heart that she was raised in, such notions were admonished, in fact, the wishful thinking was one of the reasons she had nearly lost her life. Never again, she had promised to herself, when she mercilessly beat the backstabber. It was then that she believed when the time came, her tale would end the same way as it began for her: alone. As the years of being a Fatui, then becoming a Fatui Harbinger, hardened her, there was comfort in that view.
That is what she believed in. Until you came.
Iciness wraps her being. It is present in her expression, in her words, in her touch. But that is exactly why she finds solace in your being. Her vision could only grant her a synthetic flame, but, you, you're an everlasting hearth. She melts in your embrace every time she slots herself in your arms, as it feels like a kindling ignited in her heart. It is only with you, that she learns how warmth can be found in.
Arlecchino is a cold person.
It is why you, as a warm one, is perfect for her. You whisk away the most depraved thoughts, ease her of any emotional and mental turmoil, and you do not treat her with the same coldness as the world seems so fond of doing to her. You are her flame, the one that sparks her being and reminds her that she is alive because her heart beats with you, beats for you.
Except you are cold now. It is unfathomable to her how you can be this way when your entire being exists to warm her, but when she touches your skin, you are unbearably frozen. Your body does not tremble like it does when her clawed fingers ever so gently trace your skin. The corner of your lips doesn't quirk up into the usual small smile of yours when she appears in your sight, but they remain ever rigid like the rest of you. Uncharacteristically, your expression doesn't soften with her presence.
You are cold, just like her. And that makes her afraid. Her hand searches for it, prodding your skin for a familiar thumping that is nowhere to be found. You continue to stare at her, unblinking. Here would be the moment where you give her a beaming smirk and you'd cup her face tenderly as if she was glass. And she would let you, because you are her beloved, who has watched her shatter so many times before and wordlessly each shard back together, and it is for that reason that she would lean closer towards your touch.
Because you lie broken in her arms and her hands are stained again with the familiar color of red. Your eyes are glossy and gaze unblinkingly at her. Frozen. Even when you are covered in your blood, you are beautiful, she notes, but oh, so cold that it makes her doubt if you were warm to begin with.
She misses your warmth. Where has it gone? Or has it died along with you?
Her hearth is gone. And as she clings onto your form, her body wracking with a fear and desperation she's never known before, two revelations come to her: that there is no such thing as an everlasting fire, and even after so many years ago, she was right along.
Arlecchino is a cold person. And she will remain always cold.
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To hunt or be hunted #4
Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader x Lucifer Summary: Truth unveiled, Alastor being unusually touchy, Lucifer being himself. Warnings: Mentions of child death.
Hazbin Taglist: @sakuraluna2468 @boogiemansbitch @mysterypotatoink
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One year and seven months left. You reminded yourself while watching the black snake tattoo that slowly made its way up your arm, soon it would reach your heart and all would be over.
“Ten years, you work for me at my Hotel, and if I can’t manage to convince you to find something good to do with yourself, I’ll set you free” Charlie’s voice resonated in your head, it made no sense, but the true meaning of the deal was that if she could manage to help you find a reason to continue living, you would have a permanent home at the hotel.
If she couldn’t, you would have your soul back, and then the snake takes care of ending your suffering.
A swarming of feelings and thoughts came from thinking about the countdown, “It’s probably the best” who was going to miss you anyways? No one did back at the living world, your daughter died post-partum, your husband had died because of his sins, most of your friends at the time flew overseas looking for a better life, and there was no family left to mourn you.
Still isn’t.
Your father and your husband were most likely around in hell somewhere, in a hundred years you haven’t bothered to check, probably ended up repeating the same pattern: Gambling, debts, death.
May was a dreadful month, Mother’s day, your daughter’s birth and death anniversary, and just by the end of it, your birthday. Turning 40 is bad, but imagine turning 140 years old, that is worse.
You died at 35 years old in the 1920’s, since that to now it’s been 104 years, plus your age at the time 139, now turning 140. “It’s a blessing that I stayed looking the age I died in, otherwise I would be looking worse” you outlined your hips with your hands while straightening the leather straps around your waist.
‘Y/n, can you come to the parlor please?’ you heard Charlie speak through. You immediately knew what was going to happen, giving that it was nine Am sharp, and you weren’t summoned to make breakfast.
She either told them, or Angel was going to be fried alive.
Just as you guessed, there was Charlie in front of the fireplace, as the rest, except Alastor, looked rather hurt and shocked, specially Lucifer and Vaggie.
“You called?” the smoke cleared, making yourself appear sitting on the couch next to Charlie. A gasp found its way out of Vaggie’s throat before anyone could say anything. The angel collected her thoughts and then she was able to speak.
“Charlie, what the fuck is the AXE-MAN DOING IN THE HOTEL!” Vaggie didn’t doubted a second to stand before her with the spear pointing at you, “She’s the chef of the Hotel” Charlie smiled weakly, trying her best to stay collected. “Since when?” the feline bartender asked, not minding your presence very much.
“Before it started actually, eight years now?” she turned to you for confirmation, which you nodded affirmatively. “And you hid this, because…?” Angel’s turn to ask. Charlie was in shambles trying to come up with an answer that wouldn’t raise more questions, but failed, so you interceded.
“We made a deal; we don’t need to disclose the details, but it made her feel guilty” she shot you an unamused look before turning to her partner, her hand softly tracing the outline of her cheek.
“How come you got angry at me for lying to you, but you keep this kind of secret, honey?” ‘Oh hell no’ master or not, you weren’t going to allow that girl to talk to her (or anyone) like that.
“Hey now, whether she wanted to tell you or not it’s my and her business, but you hid the fact that you are an angel, worse than that a murderer, and no better than us sinners, so don’t act all hurt because now you two are even” your eyes lit up as the staring began to feel more lie a threat towards the fallen angel.
“You knew?” she diminished the distance between her spear and your neck, not earning a single flinch on your part, “One piece of advice, your golden blood leaves a trail, and the stench is very… specific, those like me that are used to blood can tell the difference” Alastor nodded in agreement.
“Why didn’t you tell me” Charlie sounded suspicions not hurt, to no one’s surprise really, “Last thing I knew I was a chef, not the gossip press” you took a look back to Vaggie, using a finger to lower the spear with zero effort, “Besides, wasn’t my secret to disclose” you winked an eye.
“Wait hold on, what makes the Axe-man want to work in a place for redemption?” Lucifer questioned, now more relaxed, he was all and hellfire before thinking you had taken her daughter’s soul. “She’s…kind of…forced to be here” another gasp.
Everyone turned to you, “I’m not ashamed of it, I got my ass kicked by miss sunshine here, lost my soul in the process and now I’m the chef” all except you and Charlie laughed, tearing up a little too.
“Charlie doesn’t own a soul, don’t be stupid, she’s lying right, Charlie?” Lucifer, watched his darling, perfect daughter image crumbled when all she could respond to that was a quiet shameful nod.
“YOU OWN A SOUL?” the shock was understandable.
It was too much for Lucifer so he sat beside you, holding his head on his hand, “Before you all judge her, I was stupid enough to challenge her when Lilith had just left, she was in a very dark place, my timing was terrible”
“How dark?” the king whispered your way, “I was her punching bag” he muttered a ‘oh shit’ both impressed and somewhat feeling guilty. They both had similar eyes when it came to pain.
“The infamous Axe-Man of New Orleans, I must say I am a big admirer of your work” Alastor came forward, grabbing your hand and placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles. “Oh, how unfortunate” he knew your name from above, so he lived around or in New Orleans.
“Why would you say that? You made an entire state fear your axe, for years there was nothing but jazz playing in the streets at night, and what’s best you were never identified nor caught” he pulled you from your seat, hitting his chest, his cane disappeared, leaving his free hand to sneak behind to hold your back in place.
“Well, I’m not that person anymore” Alastor drank in your scent, the sweetness burning its way down his lungs.
Every fiber, every hair on his body, told Alastor to run. Animal instinct, a deer in the jaws of a lion, a prey in front of a carnivore. Maybe because of the post-battle adrenaline he didn't feel the same instinct when you helped him. What will you feel with him so close? hunger? anger? lust? Curiosity ate him alive, he wanted to know what was telling you your instinct, how would it feel to be eaten by you.
“What made you bury the hatchet?” Angel’s pun made you smile, “Alastor” still in his arm, you felt him shift. “When you made yourself…present in hell, young, power hungry and all that, something inside me just told me that it was time to stop” ‘or else it was going to end with blood’ you thought. 
“Also before all this, I had heard about the cannibalistic murderer” you were aware of his aberration to touch, but given his closeness, you had no choice. Both of your hands settled on his hips, mostly for leverage, but to see how he would react to you.
“What an honor, I must say your performance inspired mine” his smile twitched, specially after feeling your warmth though his coat.
“You’re insulting me, Mr. Heartfelt” his chest tightened, a growl emanated from your throat, subtle but it made Alastor’s mind cloud a little. Focusing on your dilated pupils at all times to read any sign of warning, he saw nothing, no emotion whatsoever.  
“Your act was sloppy, careless. The bullied that became executioner of his bullies, tell me, do you feel better?” He didn’t understood what you were implying, once he tasted human meat he just couldn’t stop. He never asked himself if he was content, or if the blood made him feel better.
“You only targeted Italian mobsters; I’d say that’s rather sloppy” that’s all he could think, “And yet I didn’t allowed myself to be shot in the head” there was a weird aura surrounding you and him.
The situation was charming, two assassins of excellence, powerful Overlords with influence and stigma. Despite their sins, they were beautiful beings full of life and grace. Lucifer couldn't help but feel a tingle on his back watching such a scene. It seemed like they were going to devour each other, and relish in it.
“Disappointed?” your fangs shined with the firelight. “A little” he answered, expecting you to be more sanguinary, just as you used to be. “I’ll make Jambalaya today if that makes you feel better” but no matter what he did, while froze in place, like a deer in headlights, you couldn’t make him feel less excited, so alive.
“Thank you chérie, what about my work as of late?” reluctantly he let go of you, taking both of your hands in his.
“Very entertaining” he has a very slim waist, and yet it felt strong under your fingertips, warm. He has his hands and forearm blackened, just as his legs must be. The rest of his skin must be of that beautiful cream color. Of course, his chest wasn’t bald, like you he has a thin layer of short and soft fur.
“Get a room” Lucifer broke the moment, making Alastor’s eyes turn into the demonic radio stare you knew so well, “Funny I didn’t think such a tiny person could have a massive mouth” he then stepped away. Was it normal to be cold? Your body missed his closeness.
“Here he goes again, how about you help me with breakfast munch-king?” Lucifer felt his jacket being pulled off the couch, dragged by it towards the door that lead to the hallway to the kitchen, “Did you seriously called me that?” he allowed that, with a smirk he gave Alastor the finger.
“Want me to sing the song too?” you warned with a smile, “You wouldn’t dare-” your arm hugged his small frame into your side as you started to mock him, “Ding Dong the witch is dead!” you started, dragging the king down the hallway, “STOOP!” that was the last thing the crew heard before the door closed behind you.
🍎📻
“So, you challenged my daughter?” you hummed a yes, “She took the split a bit bad, huh?” on the corner of your eye you could see him sit on the kitchen island, just a few inches from where his daughter had hurt her hand.  
“I’ll send you my medical bill” your sarcasm made him laugh a little, “You don’t look like you belong in the sin of pride, yours must be wrath, isn’t it?” do demons look accordingly to their sins? You didn’t knew, “You tell me, I have yet to allow myself to ponder over what I have done”.
“I think I didn’t introduced myself, please forgive me” you left the kettle under the fire and walked over him, “My name is Y/n” you extended your hand to him, he took it with a smile. “Lucifer Morningstar, you may call me however it pleases you” his touch was gentle, but firm, you could feel his pulse though his gloves.
A thought tickled your brain, “In that case, would you like sugar or honey in your tea, Samael?” his eyes shifted, his horns grew. Like wood, like wood, his gaze was the same as his daughter's, and yet they harbored both hatred and sadness, both as deep as an abyss.
It shot an intense wave of electricity up your spine. You stood in front of the biggest predator in all of hell.
“Sorry, sorry, I just wanted to get a reaction out of you” he hadn’t let go of your hand, nor squeezed it, “I apologize, my king” your free hand caressed over the fabric.
He pouted, still not letting go of your hand. “If you let me touch your ears, I may forgive you” he turned back, you caught the sight of his tail slithering inside his pants.
“Sure, but please don’t get too close to the inside, my instincts are very strong and unforgiving, I would hate to have your blood on my uniform” You couldn't even finish speaking when he pulled your hand, immediately starting to touch the fur surrounding your ears. His knees settled on either side of your hips, taking advantage of the extra height the furniture provided.
“So soft, it’s so weird, a lion sinner, usually it’s a loyal, brave and true creature, heaven material” the sensation made your heart flutter. You felt like a dog, which made your ego bruise up a little, but at the same time his hands were warm and gentle, he took your advice and avoided the areas that you mentioned.
“Anyways, you’re forgiven, again, you’re very soft” Another cold feeling due to loss of touch, how annoying. You swallowed a lump of saliva before you could speak again, “Thank you, I take care of myself”.
“Oh and the note, thanks, it hasn’t been easy” he didn’t eased the pression on your hips,  “Marriage ain’t easy, and being apart after thousands of years must be rough” it’s not like the closeness bothered you, but it grant him a cocky smile and a sense of power over you, that feeling brought back the feeling of looking like a dog.
“I just…I wish I could make it up to Charlie” his hands grabbed one of yours, fidgeting with your fingers and the palm. “If it makes you feel more at ease, the sole fact that you’re here partially does more than enough” the light in his eyes lasted a few seconds, it was a lovely sight.
“Partially?” worried? Understatement. “If I say it you can’t hit me or anything” he made an X over his heart, then his hand went back to yours.
“She lied to you and you just went along with it? Parenting 101, mutual respect: she doesn’t lie and you don’t either” he applied a light pressure to your hand pads, making your claws come out and retract, that seemed to amuse him.
“So I have to…ground her?” his golden gaze went up to your eyes, but you were far too concentrated in his movements. “Well not now, but maybe speaking with her about it might be the right course of action”.
Melancholy, he had a feeling so he went for it.
“You were a parent?” he was right, your pained expression lasted a second but it was enough for him to feel a pang on his side. “For a day and a few hours” your eyes darkened, as it they were lost in a thought. The warmth of his hand on your cheek and a soft ‘My condolences’ brought you back.  
“I just know appropriate parenting by taking my parent’s example and do the opposite” you masked your pain with a smile and a smart remark, just like him, “Yeah, me too” his response made you scoff, “Where would you’ve sent you daughter for this kind of idea, Heaven?”.
Laughter filled the room. He wouldn’t do such a thing, nothing Charlie did would make Lucifer banish her anywhere, much less punish her like that for trying to help others.
“I had a different perspective of you” your tail stiffened around your leg, “What, a soulless maniac killer and nothing more?” you used to be like that. He laughed, “I mean, soulless indeed” you ruffled the hair that fell on his forehead, “But I’m glad I was wrong, thank you for taking care of my daughter, I see she trusts you a lot” you wouldn’t call it trust, nor she relied on you much.
Now that you think about it, taking care of her was instinctive, “I just grew used to her this past eight years” he smiled, “Thank you” he sensed the shift in you, the situation tensed up very quickly.
“Don’t, and just to be fully open about it, you were my objective” you would never show your fangs to anyone, looking like an animal doesn’t give you the right to act like one.
“Wait really?” his lips twitched, almost smiling. “I thought if I bruised up your daughter you would appear, but you saw how that ended” he hummed, rather amused. Your intimidation did nothing to him.
“Are you strong enough?” his question, he was insulting you? “Are you offering to fight?” you looked  at him up and down, not a trace of malice. “I mean if that’s what you wanted?” he was willing to fight with you? “I…I knew I wasn’t strong enough, nor I am now. To be honest, I wanted to pass to history as a crazy bitch who died at the hands of the devil”.
‘I’m oversharing, shut up’ you took a deep breath, adjusting yourself in between his legs, “I see” his breath hit your skin, “Now I just do this, and I’m fine with it”.
“I’d say, you’re terrific in the kitchen, no matter if it’s a served cold or hot type of dish, you always make it taste like home” your ears flattened against your head. “Thank you” he then looked up from your hand once again, a tender pink hue adorned your cheeks.
“Anyways” you got rid of his touch, as well as separated his knees just enough to walk a few steps backwards, “I have to make breakfast, and I just pulled you away because your constants fights with Alastor has gotten old very quick” you walked away, taking your white apron off the hanger, then tied a lovely bow on your back with the laces.
“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, see you later then” was that disappointment? You didn’t knew, and couldn’t care as long as your body remained trying to shake off the excessive heat, and the phantom of his touch still lingering. “Fuck” thinking about it made you cut your finger with a knife.
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Stay tuned :3
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sincerelyrki · 7 hours
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MINI SKIRT
↳ eleven : oh fuck
wc : 1759 [say the name?]
warnings : profanity. flirting.
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Your entire body cringed as the door to your apartment opened with an obnoxious creak, eyes closing in defeat as loud footsteps raced towards you.
“Where are you going?” Your mom was the most obvious person in the world, her challenging eyebrow-raising at you as she looked you up and down.
“I’m going to the store, we need more pecans!” You were quick to answer, nodding your head in approval as you silently gave yourself a pat on your back for not stammering.
Usually, your mom wouldn’t question your statement, your love for pecans being a known fact to your entire family. But that wasn’t the case right now, her doubtful mind coming up with her own ideas as she observed your outfit.
“Dressed like that?” You gasped in offence, your left hand coming up to rest on your chest as you stared at her with wide eyes. “What’s wrong with my outfit?” You both looked down at your clothes, you obviously saw nothing wrong with it and continued, “It’s so cute? It’s my favourite skirt too.”
Your mom tutted out loud, rolling her eyes at your innocent expression. “It is cute, but isn’t it too much for just the grocery store?” Relief replaced your blood as it flowed throughout your body, a breath leaving your lungs as your newfound self-doubt faded.
“Mom, I can never be overdressed. Who knows, maybe I’ll meet my soulmate.” You winked at her, a wide smile growing on your face as she giggled in response, nodding her head as she advanced towards you.
“I hope you do, I can’t stand Mrs. Shen always trying to set you up with her son.” She once again rolled her eyes, her delicate hands smoothing out your hair as she scowled at the remembrance of the constant proposals.
“My hair took so long to do, please don’t mess it up!” You whined, trying to hold down your smile as your mom clicked her tongue at you in a warning. “I’ll do what I want, I’m the mom here.”
You both shared one more parting smile before you left the apartment, head nodding at whatever your mom started shouting down the hall toward you. No matter how old you got, she never failed to remind you not to talk to strangers.
You walked with a small skip in your step, hair bouncing behind you as your feet travelled the familiar route. Your head nodded back and forth with the music blasting in your ears, your steps matching the beat.
After your parents' arrival, and a long conversation where you tried your best to convince them that you were, in fact, not imagining things, your mom convinced your dad to turn back on your card.
He was quick to listen to her, but of course, he only did so after making a deal with you. It wasn’t very hard for him to uphold his side, but it was nearly impossible for you.
Due to your busy schedule, which consisted of your classes and late nights spent in your fabric room, it was nearly impossible for you to get a job. You’ve had a few within the past few years, your high school years being filled with long shifts at your night job.
But ever since you’ve attended college, it seemed like an opportunity that was bound to fail. This is why when you agreed straight away, it came as a shock to both your parents.
Your father proposed that he would give you back all privileges of your card, as long as you got a job. He didn’t care what job, or which hours you worked, he didn’t care about anything other than the confirmation that you’d gotten a job.
In return, he’d allow you to choose your own career. Your entire life your parents tried keeping you out of the public’s eye, begging you to keep your face away from all social media outlets.
The students at your school were quick to learn about your association with them but you knew it’d never get further from there. The general public didn’t necessarily come searching for your parents' family, the boundaries being set from a very early age.
They disapproved of your dream from a young age, their desire to keep you safe overpowering any chance of support. Your love for fashion began before you could walk, your chubby hands grabbing whatever shiny thing was in your reach.
You’d spent hours locked in your room as you drew outfit after outfit, fingertips bleeding as the sharp needles poked you through the fabrics woven in your hands.
They knew of your dream long before you did, it was evident from the look in your eyes the second you saw your creations come to life with your creativity.
The spark in your eyes never faded, only brightening with age. Which explains the way your eyes glimmered as the Prada store came into view, pupils dilating as the sunlight reflected through the glass, the pretty purses barely viable.
As soon as you neared the door the headphones from on top of your head made its way around you neck, securing its spot.
The loud, but familiar, bell rang as you opened the door. The staff turned their heads towards you, expressionist lighting up as they recognized you. “Yn! I was surprised when you didn’t come yesterday, I was looking forward to seeing you.” One of the younger employees came running to you, a cute smile on his face.
“I can’t come every day, Sakuya” You teasingly scolded him, a fake pout replacing his smile as he glared at you. His anger didn’t last long as he seemed to remembered something, leaning onto his tippy toes as he mentioned for you to come closer.
“An idol is here!” He whispered excitedly in your ear, small giggles leaving his lips as he watched the way your jaw dropped. “Really?” You whispered back in the same volume, the amused boy in front of you nodding fast in response.
“He’s over by the glasses, he’s been standing there for like ten minutes! It’s like he’s waiting for someone?” You tried to look over the boy's shoulder, a loud sound of panic leaving his lips as he grabbed your shoulders to keep you still.
“Don’t look! What if he sees you and falls in love with you instead of the person he’s waiting to meet?” You laughed at his words, eyes softening as you gave his shoulder a small squeeze. “Then we fall in love!” You walked around him, ignoring the way he gasped at your shameless words.
“Wow, she really just…” The younger boy trailed off in shock, shaking his head as he realized that he should’ve known what you’d respond with. If someone made an article about confidence, Sakuya had no doubt that you’d be the cover.
Jake stood anxiously in front of the glasses, his eyes dancing between random pairs as his hope faded. He’d been here for about thirty minutes, arriving right after their afternoon practice in hopes of seeing you once again.
A quiet cough caused Jake to spin on his heels, his eyes meeting yours as he came face to face with you. “Hey, we seem to have a knack for meeting at the sunglasses, don’t we?” Jake stood silent as you initiated the conversation, your smooth voice melting into velvet as it reached his ears.
You bit your lip to contain yourself as you watched your affect reach Jake, his eyes once again stopping to stare at your skirt. You had purposely picked your favourite one, remembering the way he had reacted to a similar article at your last meeting.
Perhaps it was a bit delusional to assume you’d see him again. But it was a delusion that was proved right the second Sakuya mentioned an idol in their store, your plans falling right into place.
“Jake?” His head snapped up to yours, red blushing across the apples of his cheeks as he nimbly nodded at your words. “I think it’s fate that we met here again. You must know a lot about it, after all, you sing the song.” Jake gave you an amused smile as your words struck adoration deep in his heart, the knowledge of you knowing his music causing an unexpected reaction.
“I think it’s safe to say that I know it best” Jake felt his confidence rise as he saw the way you mirrored his behaviour, “after all, I came here at the same time as you. I must know something.” He held onto the final syllable for a few seconds as his flirtatious words played small violins in your ears, throwing your words back at you.
“I suppose you do, I wouldn’t want to meet anyone else but you.” Jake wasn’t the only one who knew how to flirt, though your experience has been much different than his.
“Oh really?” Jake mused, his shoulder pressing against the jacket rack as he leaned his body to the side, crossing his feet in front of him as his hands did the same at his chest.
“Mhm, even wore my prettiest skirt for you” You did a small courtesy, chest staying lowered as you looked up at him through your lashes. Jake grew shy at your words, his head turning away from yours as he glanced around the almost empty store.
“Really? I should’ve known, you truly do look stunning in it.” Jake stood up straight, his shoulders squaring as he looked down at you with a certain smile. “Let me buy you another to show my thanks”
“Your thanks?” You slyly quirked an eyebrow at him, lips gently gutting out as his words processed in your head.
Jake nodded, his hands tucking into his pockets as he began walking towards the bottom section, “to thank you for blessing me with the sight of the prettiest girl wearing the prettiest skirt.”
it was your cheeks that were now turning red, eyes staring at the taller man’s back as you followed him. Your heels quietly clicked against the ground as you neared him, hand brushing against his as you caught up. “Don’t I deserve more than a thank you? How about…” You trailed off, finger gently tapping against your lip as you pretended to think, “Your number?” you shamelessly smiled up at him, you awaited his response.
Maybe Sakyua was right, you truly did belong on the cover of the confidence magazine.
“I suppose you do deserve more, how about my number and a new skirt?”
“Deal”
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a/n : we have an influencer coming into my work today, i’m lowkey nervous because we have no idea who she is. i don’t think i could even name one canadian influencer?? i work 8hrs today so hopefully she comes during my shift bcuz i’m nosy lol ANYWAYSSS, who’s smoother? jake or yn?
SYNOPSIS ⮕ You know Jake Sim and you love Prada, it was already a perfect combination. You just happened to always be in the same place as him, at the same time. And that place just happened to be the Prada store. It’s not your fault that your Prada collection expands as your interactions grow. Especially not considering that Jake couldn’t stop himself from fawning over you (and your mini skirts).
taglist is OPEN ! send an ask or comment to be added xoxo
taglist one (1) : @vousty @iheartjayke @kgneptun @woninluv @memooooca @rosas-in-the-garden @thea-herondale @letters2won @certified-ni-ki-lover @addictedtohobi @wonpoem @eunbiland @hae-luvr @t00miee @bbangricz @tytrackfebreze @cafeyuns @aerivrs @seunnimg @enhytan @enhaz1 @neocockthotology @jiawji @miumiuestmoi @sophi-ee @cha0thicpisces @manooffline @glassesyunjin @rinahch @jaklvbucb @rikizm @ilyjxdz @mnxnii @n1k1mura @hhoonsbaby @xiaoderrrr @artstaeh @nikisuar @who-tf-soddhi @jakeslvt @hohohobo @natsukee @fakeuwus @ramenoil @aeminju @lanapaz @seunghancore @heartswonn @jakeyverse @l1lyanah @sunpov @ksgreve @jessicadacollest @h4918ymc @jeongintwt @oldjws @shaniandme | bold = can’t tag
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smallsilvermoons · 22 hours
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I’m not ready to accept it but I’m becoming more and more convinced that luffy will be the straw hat that dies
We have:
The fact that devil fruit users can’t/have trouble going to laughtale like w buggy and toki (ty @tamathestoryteller for reminding me!!)
Rogers dream before he died
The fact that nika ‘died’ for 800 years
but also I think usopps reaction to luffys true dream is really revealing. we know obviously that usopp believes in luffy wholeheartedly (alabasta) and we know he has NO problem with impossible dreams, honor, or completely wild ideas. but luffy reveals his dream right after wano, the arc where usopp who often parallels luffy, said that he would do anything to keep living because that is how you achieve your dreams: you stay alive. so of COURSE usopp would have a problem with luffys dream if it included death/he thought it would lead to death. if it’s an accepted fact within the strawhats, which i doubt, it’s possible perhaps because they’ve always accepted that you forfeit your life when you chase your dreams, and they accepted that for luffy.
if it’s not known fact, we’ve seen time and time again as early as arlong park that luffy needs other people to thrive. especially with vivis recent turmoil and possibility of rejoining the crew , and how much she taught luffy about being a captain, Zoro often leading, etc. luffys role on the crew is obviously irreplaceable to them, but from a completely practical standpoint, Luffys practical use is as the captain for decision making and the main fighter, things that won’t matter as much after laughtale.
also I mean come on. that smile seemed accepting of the end to me?? and then the themes of death and rebirth in one piece are so prevalent. it feels like Roger’s legacy, dr hiriluks speech, and all the people luffy saved will tie in, ESPECIALLY with the way all the asl brothers have “died” once. Luffy might die, but a man never dies until he’s forgotten, and freedom/luffys legacy in those he’s saved will never die. plus the way Luffy is CONSTANTLY gambling w his life: the entirety of impel down. gear 2, marineford, the poison and fights in wano, rlly ever major fight he’s had does not lend itself well to Luffy living a long life
alternatively, the rest of the crew could die and luffy will journey alone but that’s too painful to think about !
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Rise : Chapter Twelve
A Rafe Cameron Series
[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]
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WC: 3.3k
Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics
CHAPTER ELEVEN | MASTERLIST | CHAPTER THIRTEEN
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            The truck jostled as Rafe sped along the congested highway of abandoned cars. He had no care in the world about anything except where he was heading. You were in the back seat, flanked on either side by Adrianna & Kai. Micah was in the passenger seat, his hands braced on the dashboard. Your eyes constantly strayed to the handgun he held against it. At any moment he could choose to turn around in your seat & put a bullet between your eyes. You wanted to be ready.
            The other two, Matt & Robbie, were hanging on for dear life in the bed of the truck. Every now & then you would glance back out the small rear window, watching as they used their strength to hang onto the sides of Rafe’s truck as he dodged vehicles. But they had sinister looks on their face. Everyone in that car was acting like they were going to war, even Adrianna. The only person who appeared to be as afraid of this confrontation as you was Kai. But every time you tried to catch his eyes he made it a point to look away.
            You were completely alone. It didn’t matter that Kai tried to stop Rafe from assaulting you the night before. He was still under Rafe’s rule. You worried that if Rafe said point & shoot that Kai would still listen. There was no one in this truck you could trust who was on your side.
            When Rafe made a highway transition to a smaller interstate one, your stomach lurched. This was the highway the cabin was off of. And there was no way to warn the others. You imagined making a run for it once Rafe pulled off, but you didn’t doubt that Micah would be the first to shoot you in the back. Part of you would be okay with that, not wanting to witness the potential slaughter of your remaining friends, but you also couldn’t live with the fact that their deaths would mean their blood on your hands. What a coward you had become.
            You all were only a mile or so out from the cabin when Rafe suddenly pulled off onto an access road. You felt flustered watching as Rafe & the others exited his truck & began checking their weapons.
            “Rafe.” You voiced as you slid out from the backseat, “Please. You don’t have to do this.”
            He grinned wryly to himself at your words, ignoring you.
            “Good, Micah?” He turned to Micah who nodded proudly. Micah looked to excited. You mildly understood his hatred towards you, though you still considered it unfair, but the others? They were his friends, too. Was he that far gone that he would easily end Bear, Sayyed, & Nuha’s lives? You were scared because the answer was obvious.
            “Boys?” Rafe in turn asked the other three men. Kai sighed, holding up a gun of his own, while Matt & Robbie raised theirs above their heads, reminding you of those photos of hunters from their old days who would photograph themselves with their kills.
            “Anna?” Adrianna nodded at him, looping a finger through her denim belt loops.
            You watched in silence as they prepared themselves. If you were going to make a run for it, now would be the time. And if Micah did indeed shoot you, then at least the others at the cabin would hear the shot. They’d flee in time. Or at least you hoped they would.
            But as if hearing your thoughts, Rafe suddenly appeared before you, forcing you to look at him, “You won’t make it far.”
            You stared at him, shaking your head, “Don’t do this.”
            Rafe exhaled heavily, “But I want to.”
            He said it with promise. You bit your quivering lips.
            “Don’t cry.” Rafe cupped your cheek, wiping away a tear that you hadn’t realized spilled out, “They’re not dead yet.”
            You turned away from him, swiping his hand away from you. Facing away from Rafe, you looked at the others. They were all waiting for his nod of approval to begin walking. Rafe then slung his arm over your shoulders, addressing the others, “She’ll lead the way. I want them to see her first, to let their guard down when they do. Then once they’re all out of the cabin, we’ll expose ourselves. They won’t be prepared, won’t have weapons. But if they do…”
            You saw in the corner of your eye as Rafe smiled wide, his dimple appearing, “Shoot away.”
            Then you felt the muzzle of a gun at the center of your back. Your skin erupted with goosebumps. Rafe was at your ear, “Start walking. And don’t even think about leading us astray. I still know where they’re at.”
            And you knew he did. But how could he expect you to willingly bring death right to their doorstep?
            Rafe then gripped your upper arm harshly, forcing you to face him, “Now!”
            Then he raised his gun & pointed it at Kai. Kai’s face fell, his skin turning pale quickly.
            Goddamnit!
            “Fine, okay!” You raised your voice, albeit it shakily.
            Begrudgingly, you took your first step through the woods.
            The others followed behind you at a small distance. You never bothered looking back, too scared to see how many guns would be pointed at you if you did. So you steered ahead, your limbs shaking as you led them closer & closer to the cabin. After about ten minutes, you came to the clearing where the pond was. You were relieved that there was no sign of the others. But your relief was short-lived knowing that just beyond the pond, through the trees, was the cabin.
            You led the others around the pond & to the trail that would surely lead back to the cabin.
            But before you could continue forward, you felt someone tug you backwards. It was Rafe.
            “You go alone. Get them outside.”
            You stared at him one last time, pleading once more with your eyes to please not do this. But Rafe only ran his hand through your hair before gripping the back of your head. You stiffened as he kissed your forehead, “Make me proud, _____.”
            Letting you go, Rafe instructed the others to go into the trees. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you took your first step. As you walked down the trail, you felt eyes on you from the trees. They were watching you like hawks. You only hoped that you would have just enough time to warn the others before it was too late.
            At the end of the trail, the cabin came into view. There was no sign of Bear, Sayyed, or Nuha, but that did little to make you feel better. You couldn’t see into the cabin windows from the distance that you were at, but you hoped that if one of the others saw you from inside, that they would get the sense that something was wrong. To not come out. But as you grew closer, you still saw no sign of life, not even movement from within the cabin. Perhaps they left? That would be the best case scenario, & you foolishly hoped for it.
            You were at the front of the cabin, about to climb the steps to the porch when you spotted movement on the right side of the cabin. The side hidden from Rafe & the others view. Rounding to the right, you paused in your movement. The sight you came across brought tears to your eyes.
            Bear & Sayyed’s backs were to you as they stood nearby a clearly recently dug grave. Sayyed was on his knees before it, his arms raised & bent at the elbow in Muslim prayer.
            Nuha…
            She was dead, having succumbed to her illness.
            Bear must have sensed your presence though because he glanced over his shoulder, spotting you.
            “_____!” He sounded relieved & began jogging towards you. But you took a step back, subtly raising a hand to tell him to stop. He didn’t stop but he did slow down, a frown on his face.
            “What…?” But as he slowed to a stop, you watched as his eyes flicked to something behind you, his mouth forcing itself shut.
            On either side of you, you watched as Matt & Robbie appeared, their guns raised & aimed at Bear.
            “What’s up, dude?” It was Micah as he stepped into your view too, smiling at Bear as if they were just reuniting over a beer.
            Bear’s eyes flashed to yours, betrayal thick in them. You shook your head, trying to tell him that it wasn’t you who betrayed him. But there was no way to convince him of that. The guns pointed at him, with you in the middle of all of it, said otherwise.
            “Sorry to interrupt.” Rafe feigned condolences as he took in Sayyed a few yards away, kneeled over Nuha’s grave, “Our invite must’ve gotten lost in the mail.”
            “Fuck you.” Bear spit.
            Rafe grinned at that.
            Bear then looked at Adrianna & Kai who stood furthest back, near you, “Even you two?”
            Adrianna said nothing as she kept her gun aimed at Bear. Kai looked unsure, apologetic. But any apology would never do.
            “Hey!” Rafe hollered, his voice targeted towards Sayyed, “Brother!”
            But they were brothers no longer. None of them were. The fraternity brotherhood between them all had been destroyed long ago.
            Sayyed finished his prayer, before finally hanging his head. Then he braced himself against the ground as he rose to his feet. Staring once more at Nuha’s grave, Sayyed finally turned around to face the enemy.
            Your heart shattered. Sayyed’s eyes were bloodshot, heavy bags underneath them. His always skinny frame appeared even skinnier. He looked broken, was broken. He had just buried his baby sister. But he walked towards you all, a subtle sneer on his face as he approached.
            Sayyed said nothing once he was beside Bear, just glaring madly at Rafe. Rafe returned the stare in kind, though there was a malicious smile on his face.
            “It’s not like you really thought she’d survive this world.” Rafe commented in regard to Nuha, “What was she gonna do without her nail salons & make-up stores?”
            Rafe was poking the bear. But Sayyed wasn’t biting. He had nothing left to lose.
            “What the fuck do you want, Rafe?” Bear interjected. Rafe continued glaring at Sayyed but answered Bear nonetheless, “Isn’t it obvious, Bear? I want revenge.”
            Sayyed smirked at that, but the smirk quickly disappeared, “Did we hurt your feelings?”
            Rafe played along, “You did, actually. I thought we were friends, Sayyed. Brothers.”
            “You don’t know the first thing about being a friend, a brother.” Sayyed returned. “You never did.”
            Rafe puckered his lower lip in mockery, “Is this because I fucked your girl?”
            You felt your skin crawl as he said it, lowering your eyes in shame. It was the end of the world & still, somehow, a trivial love-triangle—if you could even call it that—was at the center of all this bullshit.
            “Why the fuck are we talking?” Micah seethed, “Let’s waste ‘em.”
            Sayyed chuckled darkly at Micah, his eyes cast in his direction, “Still suckling on his tit, Micah? Millie would be disappointed.”
            “Don’t!” Micah rushed forward, the muzzle of his gun quickly finding a place under Sayyed’s chin, “You fucking say her name!”
            “Micah!” Rafe barked, “Back off.”
            Rage was rolling of Micah in heavy waves, impatience too. All this growing tension was beginning to make you sicker. It was going to be a blood bath.
            “You’re lucky I don’t fucking bury you next to your sister right now.” Micah told Sayyed. But Sayyed just stared back uncaringly.
            Rafe stepped forward, yanking Micah backwards by the neck of his shirt. Micah stumbled but caught himself, shaking Rafe off. Now, it was Rafe who stood eye-to-eye with Sayyed.
            “Don’t worry, brother.” Rafe offered a darkened half-smile, “I’ll be sure you’re buried with her. Right on top.”
            A thick sounding crunch sounded as Sayyed knocked his head into Rafe’s. Rafe dropped his gun at the sudden assault as he held his nose. Bear attempted pulling Sayyed backwards, but he was cemented where he stood, glaring hotly down at Rafe.
            Rafe wiped his face, blood on his hand after he did.
            “Ya know,” Rafe spit out some blood before looking at Sayyed, “a gun is too quick. I want you feel your heart stop beating.”
            Then Sayyed open-handedly smacked Rafe across the face, sending him stumbling to the right a second time. Chaos erupted. You rushed forward, screaming for them to stop, but Micah aimed his gun at you. You stopped, just long enough to Kai to grab you by the shoulder, keeping you in place. At the same time you had moved forward, so had Bear, but Matt & Robbie were quick to strike him in the face, sending him to his knees, then they in turn aimed their guns at his head.
            “Motherfucker!” Rafe tackled Sayyed to the ground, “Or should I say sister-fucker?”
            Sayyed threw an elbow into Rafe’s side, forcing a grunt out of him as he returned the jab with a punch to Sayyed’s face.
            “Stop!” You yelled, your heart racing as you watched Rafe crawl on top of Sayyed. Kai tightened his hold on you to keep you in place.
            Rafe landed another punch to Sayyed’s face, & your vision blurred with hot, angry tears as you watched Sayyed’s face get bloodier & bloodier.
            Sayyed then raised his knee, hitting Rafe square in the balls. Rafe wailed as Sayyed kicked him off him. Sayyed began to return the punches to Rafe’s face when suddenly Micah stepped forward, his gun aimed at Sayyed’s head.
            Without thought, you threw your elbow backwards, hitting Kai in the center of his abdomen. He grunted, his hold on the gun he carried loosening, & you quickly swiped it from his grip. Rushing forward, you pointed your gun at Micah.
            “Drop it!” You screamed, “Now!”
            Micah peeked at you over his shoulder, his eyes filled with murderous intent. You pressed the muzzle of the gun to his temple, “Drop it, Micah.”
            Then a jovial laugh sounded. Your eyes briefly flashed to the sound, watching as Rafe rolled onto his knees. He stared at three of you—your gun against Micah, Micah’s gun against Sayyed.
            “Cheap shot.” Rafe commented to Sayyed. Sayyed only continued glaring at Rafe.
            Then Rafe turned his attention to you, “Pull it.”
            You felt Micah’s surprise at Rafe’s words.
            Rafe then produced yet another gun, this one hidden under his shirt on his backside. He aimed the gun at Sayyed. Now, two guns trained on him.
            “You want to protect your precious boyfriend so bad, right?” Rafe asked, his voice hard, “So pull the trigger. Otherwise we’ll both empty our guns into him.”
            You felt yourself begin to hyperventilate. Micah continued to peer at you from over his shoulder, his eyes daring you. And you knew you had to. It may not save Sayyed, but if you didn’t kill Micah now, he would surely kill you. Whether or not Rafe allowed it.
            “Do it, _____.” Bear implored you from the left. In the corner of your eye, you saw that he was now on his knees, Matt & Robbie standing behind him with their guns against his head.
            “C’mon.” Micah spoke to you, “Do it, you pussy.”
            There was no positive outcome. There would still be death. You knew you were foolish to think anyone would come out of this unscathed, but could you be the one to end another’s life? Rafe cocked his gun, “Five. Four.”
            Your breathing was coming in fast & shallow.
            “Three. Two.”
            Squeezing your eyes shut, your finger braced over the trigger, you inhaled sharply then pulled.
            Click.
            Your eyes snapped open. Your jaw shook. Micah continued glaring at you, but there was now a knowing grin on his face. You pulled the trigger a second time, met yet again with the sound of an empty magazine.
            “You really thought I’d be stupid enough to give Kai a loaded gun.” Rafe smirked, “I trust him the least.”
            You screamed, desperately pulling the trigger over & over again, but Micah still stood before you. Alive. Micah then turned his gun on you. You stared into the muzzle of the gun, the end of your life only inches away.
            A shot rang out & you winced, sobbing uncontrollably. Sayyed fell to the ground with a muffled groan, holding his knee as blood seeped out from the gunshot wound. Rafe joined you & Micah, knocking Micah out of the way as he did. Then it was Rafe staring you dead in the face.
            “Points for having balls.” Rafe told you before he tugged you forward, closer to Sayyed. You resisted, but your body was weak against Rafe’s grip. A moment later you were standing directly over Sayyed. He was glaring at Rafe as the two of you stood before him.
            “Now,” Rafe stood behind you, taking the unloaded gun you held & dropping it to the ground. But then replaced it with the one he held. Your heart fell into your stomach. No.
            “This one is loaded.” Rafe maneuvered your arms & hands to hold the gun properly before raising your arms to aim the gun at Sayyed’s head.
            “Rafe!” Bear shouted, his eyes glassy at the scene before him, “Don’t make her!”
            Rafe released a soft laugh, his nose nuzzling your neck as you felt his own index finger force yours against the trigger, “You do this. I’ll spare Bear.”
            You cried silently, your muscles tense against Rafe’s hold. You knew better than to think you could easily rip the gun from his hands & turn it on him.
            “Please.” You begged, your whole body shaking as you avoided looking at Sayyed, “Don’t do this.”
            “I’m not doing it.” Rafe cooed, “You are. We’re here thanks to you anyways, aren’t we?”
            Bile rose in your throat. This was all your fault. Your hands were only covered in dirt & grime, but you saw the blood on them.
            “_____.” It was Sayyed. His voice was strained, evident of the pain he was in as he stole your attention. Tears spilled from your eyes as you finally met his own.
            “Do it.” Sayyed stared up at you.
            “No!” You yelled, your skin growing hot & cold all over, “Please, no.”
            “Go on.” Rafe hardened his grip on your wrists, “Do. It.”
            “_____!” Bear hollered, his shout cracking.
            There was too much noise. You felt dizzy.
            Rafe then nodded to Matt & Robbie. They shoved Bear into the ground, forcing him on his front side. You squeezed your eyes shut.
            “Do it, _____.” Sayyed’s voice was soft, “For Bear.”
            “I can’t.” You sobbed, opening your eyes to meet his.
            “You can.” Sayyed swallowed, nodding. “I have nothing anymore. I’m done.”
            You sniffled, “You have me.”
            Memories of your relationship with Sayyed played back in your mind. The mornings of breakfast in bed, dancing with him pressed against you, him making you laugh when you two struggled to sleep at night. His touch, his kisses, that undeniable look of love in his eyes. How he would hold your hair back after a night of partying & you emptied yourself into a toilet bowl, the way he said your name so full of admiration. You remembered the first night you went on a date together & how he carried you on his back as he ran threw the streets of your small college town.
            “Sayyed.” You cried.
            “It’s okay.” Sayyed assured you, “You’ll be okay. I will be, too.”
            You shook your head.
            “I love you, _____.” Sayyed said. And you knew he did. Knew he always did.
            You shuddered, “You.”
            Rafe’s finger forced yours against the trigger.
            And then a shot rang out.
Nuha Rahal
2002—2023
Sayyed Rahal
2001--2023
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...i don't know what to say other than this chapter emotionally exhausted me.
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thank you for reading!
beau<3
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chiiyuuvv · 16 hours
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birthday present 🎁 p. junmin
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you get a life sized teddy bear for your birthday
childhoodbestfriend/idol!junmin x fem!reader 0.5k words angsty
▸ 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺?
You could hear a voice that reminded you of your childhood, each one of your steps down the staircase light with hesitation yet curiosity, careful not to press down on the wood too hard for it would leave a creak, potentially alerting the others that may be downstairs you were awake. You could get a small glimpse of a silhouette, supporting your delusions that maybe it was him, but you still felt uncertain, anxiety running through your veins as this still could be a dream, you’d never know for sure. 
Maybe it was your childhood best friend, but you doubt he’d come back for you after so many months. You were sure you left his mind as soon as he took the final step on the train, waving goodbye to his hometown while waving hello to the dreams he had sought after for so many years, adapting to the new environment he would be surrounded in, and who knows, even a girlfriend. You were sure his head was up into the clouds of fame and fortune, and although you missed him, you were still very proud of his accomplishments, thanking whoever was up in the sky for their blessings that made your friend so successful. 
Your mother notices your disheveled stance at the end of the staircase, a fond eye smile being sent your way as everyone else follows suit, your father sending you your morning wave that you would have responded to per usual, if it weren't for the mysterious boy that sat facing your parents direction. You notice how the ball of hair was dyed in a different color, the shoulders more straight and defined, yet you still could tell who was sitting there, you were certain of it.
It felt like your life had shifted to a K-drama, the boy turning his head slowly for effect, a gasp leaving your mouth as you meet the familiar pair of eyes that you missed dearly. It was in fact–
“JUNMIN!!” You shout, imitating the scene junmin had created when he learnt he was going to be a trainee under KQ, the exact same waterfall leaving your eyes as you cry of surprise and joy, making your hindsight blurry from the water. You didn’t know junmin’s arms – which were so muscular than how you remembered –  were already out until you sprint head-first into them, jumping up to wrap your legs around his waist for an enormous hug as he spins you around, beaming from ear to ear that this was no longer some cruel fantasy he could only dream of when he was alone.
“Did you really think I would forget about your birthday?” His voice cracks, a deep chuckle erupting from his throat as he puts you back on your feet, bumping his forehead into yours so he could look you in the eyes, his strong hands cupping your cheeks, the thumbs wiping the tears that escaped your eyes. Junmin felt incredibly homesick, ignoring how his cheeks created rivers just so he could console you, bringing you closer for another hug. “I missed you so much,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against your temple as he pushes your sobbing face into his neck, not caring about how wet he got from your tears. All that mattered was he was here, you were here.. You were finally here, together.
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︴bonus! idea from @marw-lilia and ironically, it's my birthday!!
▸ taglist 🎧 @hyunukitty , @cake1box , @mars101 , @yuniniverse , @hunchan444 , @s00buwu , @cherrycolaberry , @hakyunz , @wonootnoot , @pinievsev
🎬 navi
@chiiyuuvv on tumblr . do not steal works/headers/line dividers
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keyh0use · 8 days
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What is Barry saved under in Rafe’s phone in your mind?
I think it depends on the stage of their relationship + how Rafe's feeling in the moment, like he's definitely the type of constantly change contacts based on whether he's annoyed with the person or not. When he first saves Barry in his phone it's probably impersonal, like some variation of dealer or just 🔌 🔌 🔌 in the hopes someone will sneak a peek during a party, and he'll get to feel like a big man having that connection.
Eventually he'll change it to Barry, once they're friendly and seeing the name pop up every once in a while makes his teeth ache and his stomach swoop.
But then they'll get in an argument, one where Rafe's pouty and watery eyed and Barry pretends not to care. They don't talk until Rafe has been huffing around the house searching for something before confessing he's lost his phone and needs Barry to call it. The device will be conveniently tucked in between the couch cushions next to where Barry's sitting and when he digs it out to hand it over, he realises there's no name listed as the contact, it's literally just his phone number. Like he's some stranger. It's so petty, so Rafe who is so annoying, but it has the desired effect of pissing Barry off so it's a win.
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awildtei · 6 months
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I know this is not new information, but I've seen a fresh wave of people confused about what the fuck Andrew planned to do as a 5'0 man with a knife against the literal mafia, so.
I think the fact that neither Neil nor Kevin lost their faith in Andrew’s ability to protect them after he was attacked by Drake (unable to stand his ground against a single man with a bottle, let alone the Yakuza/Nathan with their guns) is the best proof we have that the deal was never about physical protection. This is confirmed by the way Neil never expects Andrew to save him from his father, in fact cuts him loose before Baltimore as soon as danger is truly near.
Andrew is a pretty self-aware character, and he wouldn't make promises he knows he can't possibly see through, so I think he knows what Kevin and Neil also know: what they need from him, and thus what he promises, is not physical protection.
To Kevin, he promises safety from the Moriyamas, and the way we see him enact that safety (at Kathy's show, at the banquet) shows exactly what it's about: when Riko starts getting into your head, when he makes you doubt yourself, makes you think maybe you should go back to Evermore, I won't let you. I will get you away from him, I will treat him like he's just some dude to remind you that you can face him without kneeling. I will be your spine until you find your own, I will stand my ground for you until you can do it yourself.
That's why the scene when Kevin gets to the dorm with his tattoo and Andrew's eyes show so much feeling is huge not just for Kevin but for Andrew: because that was the whole point of their deal, Kevin has found his spine, Andrew bought him the space and time to do it.
To Neil, he promises safety from the people hunting him down, and that means: I will give you something to build a life around (keys, drives to nightly exy practices, someone to lean on, someone who will listen without flinching). When you feel like running, I will be someone you can call to come pick you up. When you forget, I will remind you who you are: Neil Abram Josten.
Andrew stands between Kevin and Riko and between Neil and his father not as an impenetrable wall but as an obstacle in their vision: not shield but focal point.
(Makes me think of that scene in The Haunting of Hill House, Hugh holding Steven's neck to keep him from looking at the ghosts, saying, Look at me, just look at me, keep your eyes on me. That's what Andrew’s constantly doing --even literally, when Kevin is spiralling after Wymack tells the team about the district change and Andrew makes him look away from his broken hand and up at him).
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silkjade · 7 months
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MIRACLE ALIGNERS
Featuring— neuvillette x reader ⤀ warnings: none ! ⤀ summary: the melusines play matchmaker a/n: do they need an ideal mother
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Your relationship with fontaine’s melusines started when you took on the menial task of helping menthe tailor the sleeves of her too long cuffs, and was solidified after your wholehearted support for aeval’s aquabus tour. In such a small community, word travels fast and your popularity skyrockets when mamere paints your portrait as her muse of choice. 
It’s not like you mind, as they’re quite easy to get along with—very sweet, if not a little naive—and you do enjoy their company when they greet you on the streets or invite you to tea. Still, it comes as a bit of a surprise when a few approach you, absolutely convinced that you’d be a great companion to their ‘very lonely, very human friend.’ 
…Which is how you come to find yourself seated at cafe lucerne, impatiently tapping your fingers at this supposed ‘friend’ who would be so rude as to make you wait more than 30 minutes past the designated meeting time. You take a deep breath to keep your irritation at bay, convincing yourself that any friend of the melusines, especially one they speak so highly of, must be a good person.
As you continue to wait, one table away, something very blue crosses your line of sight, and you look up to discover that it’s none other than the esteemed iudex himself, the chief justice who radiates such an air of refined elegance that you cannot help but sit up a little straighter in his vicinity. Seems this day just got a little more interesting as it’s not everyday you run into the notoriously elusive monsieur neuvillette just out and about on the streets of fontaine.
You yourself have been to your share of trials at the opera epiclese, seen him from his seat up above, looming over the courtroom, high and mighty. Up close, he’s still all sharp lines and perfect etiquette, the very personification of grace, but you can’t deny the fact that he’s so much more handsome in person. 
He casts a glance towards a nearby clock, and while his expression remains largely neutral, his violet eyes dance, perturbed. Perhaps he’s also meeting someone here? You deduce that it must be so, judging by the fact that he’s seated at a table clearly meant for more, and since you obviously have the time, you might as well play detective, which now begs the question: who could he be meeting?
You highly doubt it’s lady furina, so perhaps another official? Except an outdoor cafe is hardly the place to conduct such business. Besides, the average fontainian would be much too intimidated to dare keep someone of such high regard waiting. Maybe a friend, then? 
Your head tilts as you think through your observations. At least outwardly, monsieur neuvillette is…cold. He presents himself the same way in and out of court: untouchable as the sun, but with none of its warmth. He’s private and stays out of the public eye, only ever seen interacting comfortably with the archon and…the melusines… 
You lean back in disbelief at the way it all clicks. Impossible. The friend the melusines so adamantly wanted to introduce you to is…monsieur neuvillette? What a ridiculous notion to even entertain. Besides, it’s public knowledge that he’s much more of a father figure to them… although it does explain why they seemed so tongue-tied describing this so-called ‘friend.’
And…he does look quite forlorn sitting there, face blank and fingers laced together. You make a mental note to remind your little friends that as amiable as he may be with them, they cannot just blindside you with the chief justice of fontaine. Still, a meeting is a meeting, and it’d be terribly rude of you to just up and leave.
“Um, pardon me monsieur neuvillette but you wouldn’t happen to be meeting anyone here, would you?”  
Neuvillette blinks. What a pleasant surprise; not many approach him of their own accord. “As it happens, I was supposed to meet a few melusines for tea.” He gestures to the evidently empty table, though his sharp ears catch the faint whispers amidst the rustle of leaves to his side. 
“However, I suspect they may have forgotten to inform me of their change of plans.” He clears his throat, tilting his head towards a nearby bush where the tips of a few very colorful pairs of ears wiggle in excitement.
The corners of your lips quirk into the beginnings of a small smile. “That’s funny—a few melusines insisted that I meet a very human friend of theirs, though he’s yet to show up.” For obvious reasons, you decide to drop the fact they called him lonely behind his back.
Ah. So you were the kind individual his melusines often spoke so fondly of.
“Perhaps he attended the trial this morning. It did run longer than anticipated.” Yes, you knew there must have been a valid explanation to the tardiness. 
“Well, maybe we can keep each other company while we wait?”
Neuvillette gestures at the empty chair across from him and you swear the sun seems to shine a little brighter. “I would very much like that.”
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TAGLIST ;; @meimeimeirin @mixed-kester @salmonthepan @hcbnkdf @moonrolling ( send an ask to be added/removed. if you're bolded, it means I cannot tag you; your blog might be hidden ! )
© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform
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steddiealltheway · 2 months
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Eddie’s having a strange day.
For once in his life, he’s not being treated like absolute shit by all the dumbass jocks of Hawkins High School.
In fact, they’re not even engaging with him at all. They’re looking at him, but they’re just not saying anything. Even when Eddie pretends to drop his stuff in front of Billy Hargrove, he doesn’t even laugh at him.
And while this should feel like the best day of Eddie’s life, he has an underlying feeling that this is all very very wrong.
Then, he knows the universe has decided to fuck with him or something when Tommy Hagan meets him at his “business transaction” table and instead of buying anything, he leans in and whispers, “Meet me at skull rock after school today.” And fucking plants a quick kiss to his cheek.
And hey. What the hell was that?
Yes, he’s seen the way Tommy looks at Steve Harrington to know there’s no way that there’s not a part of him that wants him in a way that is definitely not platonic.
But Eddie isn’t Steve Harrington (who makes every guy feel a little bit gay) he’s Eddie Munson. And this does not happen to him.
But, he reasons with himself that, hey, maybe he’s in a coma or something and this is his only chance to see what life would be like if he was… liked? That doesn’t seem to be the right word, but he doesn’t know how else to describe it.
Or maybe the universe decided he needs a break from his horrible second senior year.
Doubtful.
Nonetheless, he decides what the hell, why not go to skull rock and see what Tommy Hagan wants, despite everything in his being screaming THIS IS A BAD IDEA!!!
And a few feet into the forest, he hears the quick crunching of leaves and sticks as something approaches him and is nearly startled out of his skin by Steve Harrington of all people.
“You need to leave,” Steve pants out.
Eddie glances around and wonders if this is real.
“Eddie, I’m serious. You need to leave. Right now.”
Eddie crosses his arms. “Why?”
Steve sighs and runs his hands over his face. “Oh my god you remind me of Henderson. Okay. The basketball team is planning to ambush you because Billy thought it was a good idea or something. I don’t know. I overheard it in the locker room. And you have to leave.”
Eddie takes a moment to let it all sink in. And yeah, it adds up with the rest of the day, but also… “Why should I trust you?”
“Huh?”
“You’re Steve Harrington. You’re on the basketball team. What if you’re part of the trap?”
Steve shakes his head. “I’m not really friends with any of them.” His head whips around when a cracking noise sounds out a good distance away. “Let’s go,” Steve says, grabbing Eddie’s hand and tugging him away.
Eddie plants his feet and stays in place. “You’re going to have to prove to me in some way that you’re not in on this.”
Steve runs a hand through his hair and pinches his lips together. “I don’t know how!”
“Then tell me why you’re going against all of them to help me.”
Steve’s brows furrow for a moment before he puts his hands on his hip. “Because I’ve been on the receiving end of a Billy attack and that was before he lost the little control he had over his sort of sister that like kept him weirdly grounded or something. But ever since, he’s been itching for a fight, okay? And he doesn’t hold back. He could kill you.”
Half of it doesn’t make sense to Eddie, but something about Steve’s tone makes him believe that he’s telling the truth. But there’s still a small part of him that wants to doubt him.
“Kiss me.”
“What?” Steve asks, exasperated.
“If you’re in on it, you won’t be able to. Tommy barely even got my cheek-”
“He did what?”
“And,” Eddie continues, ignoring Steve, “if you’re not in on it, you’ll know that this means literally nothing to the both of us, and I’ll run back to my van immediately.”
Steve stares at him for a second as if he’s out of his mind - which he is, really - before stepping closer and asking, “You’ll really leave? Straight away? No poking around the woods because you’re curious?”
“Yeah,” he confirms with a nod. He smiles at Steve’s hesitation and says, “So, you are in on i-”
Only for Steve to quickly close the distance between them, weaving his hands into Eddie’s hair and pulling him close as he kisses him deeply, lingering for a few moments before pulling away, breath coming out heavier than before.
They both stare at each other for a moment, neither of them saying a word until another crunching sound appears closer than before and a voice calls out, “Eddie?”
Steve takes Eddie hand and runs, only for Eddie to pull him the other way toward his van, still slightly not trusting him although he’s pretty sure Steve’s tongue may have grazed the inside of his mouth. But that’s a thought for a later day.
As soon as the van is in sight, Eddie lets out a deep breath, happy to see it’s untouched before he runs and unlocks it, yelling for Steve to get in before starting it and taking off.
Once he’s on the road, he turns to Steve and asks, “You think we lost them?”
Steve nods and sighs, “I hope they don’t find my car though.”
“Where is it?” Eddie asks, quick to turn around when Steve directs him.
He’s not far from where Eddie was parked before, but with the risk of being discovered, Eddie is quick to stop his car and tell Steve, “Go!”
But Steve takes a moment and looks back at him, and Eddie’s suddenly scared that maybe he read this all wrong and Steve really is in on the trap. But then Steve asks, “And what if I asked you to convince me to go?”
It takes Eddie a second to register what the hell he’s talking about before he’s glancing back at the trees, searching for any movement before leaning over and breathing out, “I have got to be in a coma or something.”
There’s a brief sharp pain in his arm that has him yelping before he registers that Steve pinched him. “Maybe not,” Steve says, leaning closer to close the distance between them again, deepening the kiss in the short amount of time they have and quickly pulling away, leaving Eddie desperate for more.
“I’ll see you around. Thanks for listen to me,” Steve says before hopping out of the van and running to his car.
Eddie takes a moment to breathe before realizing he needs to get the hell out of there, and he quickly speeds off wondering if this is real life.
-:-:-:-:-:-
The next day, things go back to the way they used to be, but any time Tommy sees him, he turns an ugly shade of red which is accompanied by laughs of, “Eddie Munson stood you up.”
It’s nice at first, but two periods in, he’s already had enough of the dumb jabs people take at him until someone knocks a notebook out of his hands and it goes flying toward a nice blue pair of Adidas.
Eddie bends down at the same time as the other person does, and they both grab the book. When Eddie glances up, he makes eye contact with none other than Steve who gives him a small, private smile.
“Harrington,” Tommy says in an accusatory tone that has Steve frowning before standing back up, leaving the notebook in Eddie’s hand.
As he walks away, he turns back and gives him an apologetic smile that makes Eddie wonder if this is what Romeo and Juliet felt like.
The thought makes his nose wrinkle up before he stands up and goes about his day as if he doesn’t know what it’s like to be kissed by Steve Harrington. And a big part of him hopes that maybe he’ll get another weird day where Steve Harrington plays hero for him. And another part of him hopes that if he really is in a coma, he’ll wake up with Steve waiting for him on the other side.
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versadies · 1 month
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in a world of boys, he's a gentleman! (various x gn!reader)
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SALUTATIONS. in a world of boys, he's a gentleman!
ADDRESSED. alhaitham, zhongli, wriothesley, and neuvillette (x gn!reader)
STAMPS. the little things they do around you that remind you that chivalry is not dead <3
CONTENT. ooc!neuvi (?), ooc!wriothesley (?), fluff/no-angst, established relationships, possibly cheesy (i like cheese), and possible grammar errors. some of the things mentioned can be applicable to others!
POST-SCRIPT. can you already tell that these four own my heart? i love them sm ( >-< )!!! also made new banners for a change hehe
LINKS. masterlist \ taglist
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Although ALHAITHAM is someone who prefers to focus greatly on himself and prioritizes his own well-being over others', that does not mean he is selfish nor inconsiderate. Which is why it is not far-fetched for someone like him to do the little things that proves the fact that chivalry is not dead.
Though of course, he does it in his very own way. You just have to be very observant to notice it. 
For instance, whenever you two are sitting in front of the table, he’d cover the edge whenever you lean down to get something that fell from the table, ensuring that you don’t bump your head from the furniture and get hurt. 
Another instance is when you’d rant on and on in his presence, thinking he’s not listening to you due to his earpieces that’s used to cancel out meaningless noises. When in reality, he’s actually listening to you —  because to him, your words are always something of importance to him whether he’d admit that or not. 
It doesn’t even matter if you’re talking about your day, complaining about prices, or even expressing your concerns over things you shouldn’t even be concerned about; he’d listen without a word if not necessary, because if it’s important to you, then it’s important to listen about it. Though of course, the only exceptions are when you’d actually talk about something he doesn’t care about, such as gossip.
Meanwhile, in the bustling marketplaces of Sumeru, there’s bound to be scammers preying on oblivious consumers, and Alhaitham sees to it that you won’t fall for such things. It’s partially one of the reasons why he always tags along with you whenever you shop for groceries or for other things.
If a scammer tries their shot, they’ll only be greeted by a stern warning glare from the scribe as you look through the displayed products, only for your lover to drag you to a more appropriate stall that’s much better than the suspicious one. 
During the later stage of your relationship when you moved into his humble home, he made sure to have enough space for your things, and even sacrificed some of his own possessions for the sake of yours. 
Speaking of sacrifices, there are also times when he’d sacrifice his leisure time that he values in order to hang out with you. Despite your assurances that he doesn’t have to spend time with you if he wants to be alone, he doesn’t care and still hangs out with you anyway. 
In his perspective, it’s not a sacrifice, because spending his spare time with you is much better than spending it alone. 
It’s the little things that remind you that he does care. Though, you couldn’t help but try and confront him about his actions since you want to hear it from his mouth. 
When you do though, you’ll only get a deadpan look from him and a few words:
“Isn’t that the bare minimum of what boyfriends should do anyway?”
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ZHONGLI is no doubt a traditional gentleman when it comes to not just you, but also towards anyone around him. Of course, you’re still special in his eyes. After all, you’re his darling gem who is above any other treasures that he’s come across in this lifetime.
He always checks up on your well-being with care and tenderness that often causes your legs to become jelly-like. He never fails to bring heat to your face from how sweet he is!
Like your average traditional gentleman, Zhongli gives you his coat as soon as he sees even a slight sign of you feeling cold from Liyue’s breeze, caressing your arms with his glove-covered hands while he’s at it. Not that you’re complaining, especially from how good his cologne smells from his coat that just made you a little in a daze.
He’s willing to open doors for you to enter first, no matter your gender. He doesn’t want your hands to get dirty from door knobs that have been through things that only Celestia knows what, so he insists that he shall open them for you. In a way, it sounded a bit over the top, but how can you say no to such a kind man like your lover?
He sees to it that you’re the first one to be seated before him, pulling out a chair for you before sitting next to you. It’s almost essential for him to sit next to you, as if you’re a light that he finds himself drawn to. 
When it comes to eating together, he offers you a bite of his meal that he either made or ordered, wanting you to try the delicious meal that’s made with precision and passion and appreciate it with him (though it usually ends up with him giving you more bites of it like a grandma would to her grandchild). Whenever he does this, he makes sure to blow the food first before giving it to you, not wanting your tongue to get burnt by accident. He even goes as far as putting his hand beneath the spoon to ensure nothing will spill on you and your clothes. 
Traveling is also to be expected when you’re with Zhongli, with you two visiting different areas of Liyue for a variety of reasons such as work, vacation, leisure time, etc. Whenever you two travel, he’s always there to give you a hand, especially when climbing up and going down. 
He’ll even go as far as putting his coat down on the ground for you to sit on to avoid your clothes becoming dirty should you two ever need a break, not wanting you to get too exhausted from your trip. 
Of course, we cannot forget how Zhongli has a sharp memory, so he knows the exact day for your relationship milestones and would never forget it. Expect him to celebrate things such as your first date-sary, monthsary, first kiss-sary, and the list goes on until you eventually tell him that most people (if not all) wouldn’t celebrate most of these things. 
That doesn’t stop him from greeting you with such occasions though ^^
It’s clear to see that the consultant loves you dearly and wants the best for you. The same goes to his dear friends and peers around him, and you couldn’t be all the more grateful to have such a man like him as your lover. In fact, his amber-hue eyes that you always seem to lose yourself to shines much brighter when he’s kind. 
“Why are you smiling? Is there something on my face?” He’d ask you when he catches you admiring him from your place. 
“Nothing. I just want to admire how perfect my boyfriend is.” You sigh dreamily, looking at him happily. “How are you such a perfect spouse?” 
He chuckles in response, now putting down his tea. “I beg to differ. Especially since the most breathtaking person in front of me is more worthy of such title.”  
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It’s no lie to everyone in the Fortress – both inmates and guards alike – that WRIOTHESLEY adores you, even if he wouldn’t outright admit it. Though his words are nothing but silent, his actions speak louder. Out of the very few people that the duke trusts, you’re the one that comes to mind, and the same goes for you towards him. He’s quite honored that you trust him enough to let him become your spouse, and what better way to express that than actions? 
You’re rest assured that he always has tea saved for you whenever you come and visit his office. When you do, he always makes sure to pull out a chair for you to sit on, pour your cup with your drink of choice before pouring his tea on his own cup. 
For a man such as him, he’s observant and is quick to notice when someone is uncomfortable – in this case, you. As soon as he takes note of your discomfort or uneasiness, he is quick to comfort you and assure you that all’s well as he either swiftly takes you away from the scene or finds a way to help you go through it. 
With that in mind, Wriothesley understands if you find yourself preferring the world outside over the Fortress of Meropide. He gets it! He’s content with you just visiting whenever you can. He knows not everyone would be keen on staying in the stronghold prison for a long time, especially when they have no reason to besides visiting their spouse. 
Unless you’re an actual criminal, then that’s when you entirely have no choice but be stuck in the fortress and with him until you’re free to go. 
Speaking of criminals, danger lurks everywhere in Fontaine. You certainly can’t blame your lover for being quite protective with you, often telling you through his letters to be careful with going out at night and to not fall for any scammers or tricks by possible criminals that are still out there. He’s aware that you’re more than capable of protecting yourself from danger, but it doesn’t stop his worries even for one bit.
It’s not common for the Duke to come out from the Fortress and visit the city. When he does, there’s a huge chance that he’s seen with you, holding your hand as you two go on with your day as a couple. He does not show affection in public much, but that doesn’t mean holding hands would hurt! 
To others, he always seems so calm and collected on his own, but in comparison to how he acts with you, he’s much more content and relaxed, as if he’s in a utopian paradise that he feels at peace in as your laughter and voice soothes his unfaltering spirit. 
Should you ever ask for a mora of his thoughts from how distracted he was during your time spent together, you’ll only gain this response:
“Hm? Oh, forgive me for being distracted. You don’t have to worry about it.” He’d say casually, hiding the fact that he’s simply distracted from thinking about how much he wants this kind of experience to last forever.
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Given that NEUVILLETTE is unfamiliar with human customs and feelings, the same goes for his unfamiliarity in the romance department. He didn’t think he’d end up courting someone, let alone form a personal relationship – especially since he avoids such things. However, you’re somehow an exception.
His experience in the court is unfortunately not enough to help him with his goal in winning your heart, yet somehow, he finds himself in a relationship with you. Though inexperienced and busy, he still has his perks that makes it up – such as his mannerisms.
Just like Zhongli, he’s quite a traditional gentleman. Not only will he help you sit down by pulling out a chair and remove your coat, he’d even make sure that none of your clothes, accessories, and even your hair would get caught in the furniture’s ornamentation to avoid the same inconveniences that he goes through in his daily life. 
He tends to hold your hand when the two of you go through the seats of the Opera Epiclese to watch a performance, dragging you to the best seat in the middle of the front row as he helps you become comfortable. After watching your first performance together, he never thought that watching a performance could be so enjoyable when you have companions to share the joy with. Where were you in his entire life?
On another note, Neuvillette is the type to carry your bags whenever the two of you go shopping or when he sees you holding something heavy, wanting to ease your burdens and struggles swiftly as he insists that he should help you. You should be able to have your hands free like a dove in his perspective. 
It shows that he’s willing to help you with anything you need, whether it’d be giving wise advice, getting something, lending a shoulder for you to cry on, and anything else so long as it eases your struggles. 
Given that he’s still exploring human customs and feelings, he entrusts you to guide him through it, and this means that he’s open with new things that he hasn’t tried before so long as it doesn’t clash with his busy schedule. 
He doesn’t mind doing particular activities with you, be it pot-making, watching documentaries, playing classic games, and the list goes on! If he has you by his side to try everything, then he’s okay with it all. 
Speaking of activities, Neuvillette has taken a liking for walking in the rain. He even fantasizes about going out into the rain, wanting to feel the raindrops pouring on him as he walks down the streets of Fontaine. 
Despite enjoying such joys, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t consider your comfort with the weather. Knowing how humans are with not wanting to become wet from the weather, your lover is there to help you in holding an umbrella that he’d bring should he hear any forecasts of rain beforehand. 
He makes sure that the entire umbrella is on you and stays that way, and he simply wouldn’t forgive himself if he sees even a few drops on your clothing that he could’ve prevented despite your assurances. 
If you ever expressed your concern of him getting drenched and possibly sick from the rain, he’d simply reassure you that it’s nothing to worry about, telling you that he does this very often whenever it rains. 
“Don’t worry about me, ma moitié.” He says with a tender gaze as he continues to walk side by side with you, holding the umbrella above you. “I will not get sick easily from the weather, nor do I mind having my clothes drenched. I want you to worry about yourself more.” 
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PENPALS. @scaraslover @saving-for-xiao @dawgimsohot @ragnvdnr @chiruru @aqualesha @renamichii @mrkamisato @shenhesl0ver @serami00 @serenareiss @hiqhkey @emperatris-rinaka @bystander36 @irisxiel @ladycoleigh @034ven @dear-dairiess @owozi8 @hadesaedes @chiro-chiro-kun @hersscherofyatta @mariusvonhangme @yuzuricebun @nejibot @hoshikistarlette @solaaresque @crowbird @lordbugs @flowersforayato @headintheclouddd @estelwrld @giyusimpsassemble @irethepotatosblog @moonlightaangel @alice0blog @shotosbrainrot @sniffoat @chihawari @mxsomn @kuni-kuzushii @jiminscarmex @mitsukii14 @ylimeprive @sachispet @loreleis-world @sn-owo @starforecasts @someonetookmynamelmao @ceylestia @astrequa @ymikkos @reallysporadicarcade @melodyyamino @dudufodd @somberrock @yevenly @lemontum @nghing @shaiah @miss-lady-witch @yashe @imkaaayy @badlywrittens @0rah-s @totallynotaraidensimp @garlicforthewin
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You Slow It Down - LN
Summary: Lando lives in a fast world of fast cars, constant travel and always moving. But there's one person who makes it all slow down and lets him just breathe.
Themes: Smut (unprotected but reader is on bc) ;), fluffiness too
No part 2 requests please
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Being an F1 driver is the dream. Lando is living the dream, but it does meant comes at a cost in other departments of his life.
"Lando? Lando, radio check?" Will calls into his ear, the slightly impatient tone giving away that he'd zoned out so much he'd been ignoring the only voice in his ear.
"Yeah, yep. Loud and clear." Lando states giving his head a bit of a shake to snap himself out of it.
Getting back into the right mindset for the season isn't necessarily hard, but accepting that the car might be more on the back foot than he'd hoped for at the start of the season isn't exactly what he had envisioned.
It's better than the disaster that was how the 2023 car started out. But they have yet to see it compete in a race, so maybe it's not wise to speak too loud about it like that.
It's the last day of testing and he's driving the morning session rather than the afternoon as he had the first two days.
This session really doesn't go well, with a red flag from a drain over and them only getting 20 laps in with him in the car. Things aren't where this should be and he needs to really focus on finding the solutions with the team, preferably before the race next week.
"It's going to be alright mate." Jon tries knowing that as close as they are, he's no one the one who brings peace of mind to Lando when he needs it.
The problem?
The person who does bring him peace of mind isn't here.
As part of a promise to not get in Lando's way when he needs to focus, y/n said she wouldn't come to Bahrain till the race weekend starts. Which is actually on Thursday.
Meaning Lando won't be handing out any genuine smiles till at least Wednesday. Almost thankfully, Lando will probably be kept too busy with the team to focus on her absence and when he is forced to sit on his own in his hotel room he'll be too exhausted to properly focus on her not being there. Though no doubt he's going to be calling her for some comfort.
-
The team all leave late after the most detailed of debriefs following Oscar finishing up for the day, later than really intended since the whole day was messed up by the loose drain.
It's on the drive home that he's on the phone to y/n, not even waiting till he's on his own for some verbal reassurance.
"Hey, baby." Y/n greets softly over the phone. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you so early."
"Not a good day, I just wanted to hear your voice." Lando mumbles, not being particularly bothered if Jon hears how pathetically needy he is over his girlfriend and her lack of presence at the moment. "I could buy you a ticket to fly out earlier."
"Lando...you know I'm no good for your focus when it comes to prepping for a race. We both promised Zak." Y/n reminds him since it was Zak who asked as politely as he possibly could that Lando travel without y/n at least for the testing and run-up to the first race.
Y/n was actually pretty flattered at the fact that she’s such a distraction to Lando that even staying in the hotel and promising not to be in the paddock wasn’t enough to guarantee Lando’s focus in the right area.
“Can you at least come on Tuesday instead? The media stuff is all on the wednesday and I want time with you before the whole first weekend kicks off.” Lando sighs, at the ready to really do whatever he needs to so he can see her sooner.
"Lando..."
"Please baby." Lando mumbles failing to hide his voice wobbling a little. Thankfully Jon has the kindness to not even turn his head in a moment like this, he knows Lando wouldn't appreciate being stared at in such a way.
"You know I don't need good reason to see you sooner. I just don't want you getting in trouble because we told Zak Thursday."
"He'll live." Lando mutters then clearing his throat a little. "Anyway, I don't want to talk about my day. I want to hear about yours."
-
The next 3 days were the longest of Lando's life and to make the wait a little shorter for himself, he managed to get y/n on a flight at an ungodly hour in the morning so he wouldn't have to wait longer than breakfast to see her.
She actually appears just after he's ordered room service.
"Morning, handsome." Y/n smiles moving to him just to give him a kiss only to be yanked down into his lap. "Oh, ok."
Lando is certain, almost certain at least, that y/n isn't aware of just how much y/n soothes the rushing thoughts that make his head feel tight with stress. Actually he didn't even realise till she appeared with that warm smile that his chest had felt so restricted till he relaxed upon seeing her.
Holding her actually brings him a type of comfort he couldn't compare to any feeling he's felt before.
"Would you like to tell me what's going on in that head of yours?" Y/n whispers gently poking his head through the mass of curls. There's a long silence which she takes as Lando deciding he's not going to speak about it quite yet. "Glad you've not been fucking up your hair while I've been gone."
"I'd hate to undo all your hard work?" Lando jokes then kissing her softly. "I love you. I missed you so much."
"I missed you too, that apartment is so empty without you there." Y/n sighs earning a small smile since he does like to hear it. "What's on the agenda today?"
"I got the weekend off. Just a bit more training. Dinner with some of the team, playing golf later and maybe padel with some of the boys." Lando states as he smiles lightly at her. "Want to come with?"
"You know I do." Y/n nods before she leans into him. "What's first?"
"Eating. Did you eat before you got here?"
He's not sure why he asked, y/n has never been one for breakfast despite his attempts to get her to out such a habit have all fallen short with her compromise being a small smoothie.
"I had a late dinner because I knew you'd ask. I'm doubling it up as a very early breakfast."
"Breakfast so early you had it before you went to sleep." Lando laughs then biting his lip for a moment. "Do you know what I would love to do after breakfast?"
"I think I might be able to guess. Unless you're growing another limb down there." Y/n grins since the two are young and going days without sex isn't really either of them enjoy.
Y/n waits for Lando, the wait being enough for her to have let her mind run rogue to the point she's surprised he hasn't called her out for her shifting around. Though when he's done, he does stand up deciding he needs to "freshen up".
"Ok, you can stop squirming." Lando smirks reappearing as he looks at her. "Now. Where do I want you...?"
Admittedly there's something in getting to have sex that is going to help Lando destress a little.
"Lando?" Y/n frowns tilting her head, but there's something in her voice that tells him that she might need it more than him.
"On the bed, clothes off, I want to see all of you." Lando states making her almost scramble to do as he says. Her clothes removed and her body laid out like an angel.
These are the moments Lando wants to slow down and they do. He gets his wish every time and he couldn't be happier about it. She glows in his eyes and there's one specific part of her that is quite listening glistening for him.
"How much did you miss me, baby?" Lando asks, feeling his voice having dropped a little with the sudden urge to get inside her making his body fight itself from launching forward. "You're always so beautiful."
Lando climbs onto the bed after making a quick job of pulling off his own clothes, lips brushing up her torso before he kisses her and usually he'd make time for foreplay but he has to get inside of her.
"I need you, baby." Lando groans pushing into her and feeling euphoric from the wet heat of her body as she tightens around him, a moan passing her lips as he head drops back.
"F-Fuck. Don't stop. Please keep moving." Y/n pants, wrapping her legs up around his waist as he thrust in and out of her, grinding down against her to knock at her clit with expert movement and pressure.
Nothing if not a gentleman about her pleasure.
"Lando." Y/n moans like music to his ears, her heavy breaths complete mesmerising him as her skin coats itself in a light sweat.
Her stomach begins tighten as he gives a particularly deep grind down against her, managing to knock her cervix especially hard.
"F-fuck." Y/n pants running a hand up through his hair and tugging it a little while he repeats his action till she's rambling something incoherent before her whole body seizes.
The grip around him, pulsing heavily around his cock as she pulls him closer, seated full in her with no room to move. His own orgasm triggered as she shudders in waves of pleasure. The additional feeling of his cum spilling into her makes her eyes roll back as a new heat fills her impossibly full.
"You always feel so fucking good." Lando groans as he slowly eases himself out of her, much to her grumbling since she sounds unimpressed by him retreating before he pulls her in for a tight cuddle. "I wish I could spend the rest of my life doing this."
"As much as I would love to encourage you to retire to just spend ll day, every day having sex with me. I don't know if either of us have the stamina for that." Y/n laughs breathlessly before trying to shift only for Lando to keep her held tightly in place. "What?"
"Just stay like this for a bit."
"Baby, I'm leaking onto the sheets."
"Someone will come in and change them, it's ok." Lando shrugs then earning a grunt of disgust at the thought of someone else cleaning cum stained sheets for them. "I think they've dealt with worse."
"Still." Y/n mumbles before she lies her head on his chest. "Can you tell me why you were so upset? I hate knowing you had to literally beg me to come here."
"It's just the car...it's not where I thought it would be at this point." Lando states then gently hugging the woman. "I just needed you here really."
"You know if there's one thing the team proved last year, it's that they can make a bad car good. It might not be perfect but there's plenty of opportunities to improve. You never know what an upgrade can do...I remember how bad it was last year, you were considering other options." Y/n points out making him look at her with a sigh since she's right. "As for right now. I think you just need to take your mind off of the race and we'll get out, play some golf, padel, just enjoy the next couple days."
Y/n looks at him for a moment before smiling at him and sitting up.
"And there's always room for more sex and dirtying sheets between all that."
"You always know exactly what to say to me." Lando smirks making her grin at him.
"It's a talent."
So they spend the next 24 hours enjoying the free time, and then media kicks off on Wednesday, part way through Lando jumps at the opportunity of a break that he spends entirely with y/n. It's clearly to everyone that he only wants her to be the centre of his attention and has no interest in someone else interrupting the brief time he gets with her.
"How are you feeling?" Y/n asks making her look at him for a moment.
"I'm feeling better now you're here with me when I'm not busy. You're the best company I could ask to have." Lando declares softly while she smiles and tucks her head into his neck. "I love you."
"I love you too, you melodramatic muppet." Y/n whispers with her cheeky smile hidden from his sight.
"Oi." Lando laughs poking her side making her squeal and try to dodge his hand. "I'm not a muppet for loving my girlfriend."
"No. I support you're not."
Y/n slows the pace of the break in his day and with the rest of media being the type she can stand in the background for. He lets himself focus on her instead, which does somewhat drag out all the media duties but he'd happily take that if it means he can just admire her even when he's meant to be working instead.
Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos
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cupcakeinat0r · 2 months
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<3 Valentine’s Breakfast w/ DadBod!Miguel <3
[NSFW]
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With the sun rays flowing in through the curtains, your eyes flutter open, your blurred vision focusing in on the gorgeous man lying on top of you. This is usually how it is. You start the night laying on his hairy and soft chest, but after tossing and turning through the night, you two never failed to end up in this position. It sort of just happens. You believe it’s Miguel’s need to protect you in every sense of the word, so he just absentmindedly engulfs you in his sleep.
Miguel was a big man. In every way. It was sort of hard to breathe when he was on you like this.
But that was more than ok. In fact, you thrived on the feeling of all his body weight on yours, his face snuggled deep into the crook of your neck and his Herculean arms wrapped around you, not too tight, but just enough so that you weren’t going anywhere. And yes, his snoring was loud, but you learned to love it, it becoming the music to your ears on mornings like this.
It only takes you a few seconds for it to click.
It’s Valentine’s Day.
You smile to yourself, excited about all things you have planned for Miguel. But first… to figure out how the hell you were gonna get Gigantor off of you.
Unable to move, your head isolated, you look around for ideas. With your free hand, you reach for the blanket, slowly pulling it off of him in hopes he’ll move off of you to wrap himself in it again. Your idea succeeds, and he frees you just enough for you to sneak off the bed.
In the most cautious way humanely possible, you sneak out of the room (not before you softly kiss his forehead) and into the kitchen. You weren’t too worried, though. Miguel didn’t get to sleep in a lot like this due to his work, but when he did, not even a geographical disaster could wake him. You were safe.
You start listing in your head all the things you remembered you wanted to make him.
Your hands were ace in the kitchen. Everything you made, Miguel loved. One of his favorite parts of the day was coming home after a long day of work and into the arms of his cute sweet little housewife, a plate of delicious warm food already ready for him on the table. It’s kinda funny; it’s you he blames for his weight gain, but you always reply with how much you absolutely love him that way, accompanied by a kiss and a playful smack to his juicy butt (which has also gotten larger, props to you).
You slave away in the kitchen, making sure everything was perfect, even down to exacting the edges of your heart-shaped pancakes, which matched the heart-shaped strawberry slices.
You go to check on the sleeping giant. He’s still knocked out thankfully, except he’s on his back now, hugging a pillow (thinking it’s you no doubt). Aw.
You notice that the blanket wasn’t on him anymore, which allowed you a beautiful view.
His dark wavy hair sprinkled with hints of gray tussled from his sleep. His 5 o'clock shadow framing his perfect, dark, plump lips. His thick neck, chest and arms, peppered with dark hair as well, resting beautifully. His soft midsection, rising and falling with each dad snore. Near his happy trail was a prominent tent, the print of his huge cock tightening his briefs. You bit your bottom lip at his morning wood. God, this man was too perfect for his own good. You could feel yourself salivate as you remind yourself of all the other things you had to get to like decorations or lighting the candles or the rose petals…
It doesn’t take much for you to give into your urges. He won’t miss the candles or any decorations anyways…
He’ll appreciate what you’re about to do way more.
You silently climb onto the foot of the bed, your face dangerously close to the bulge. You give it a small caress, your hands gently molding around the shaft on top of the fabric of his boxers. You look up when you evoke a barely audible groan from Miguel, who’s still asleep.
You apply just a little more pressure in your next caress, this time making his dick twitch and his hips faintly buck up into your hand, his instinctive neediness signaling you to proceed with your lustful endeavor.
You then lift the band of his boxers, his completely hardened cock immediately springing up. You have to literally suck in your lips to muffle a moan.
Your eyes drink in his perfectly shaped bush at the end of his delicious happy trail, the pumped veins going up his shaft, the singular drop of pre-cum already running down, and finally his fat tip. He was perfect.
You use the juice already there as lubricant, slowly stroking his dick, the other hand on his thick, hairy thigh for support.
You start to feel Miguel‘s thighs contract and hips slightly bucking up some more, little grunts escaping his lips. His arms tense up as well, his muscles clenching around the poor pillow.
His small, slow thrusts drove you crazy, not able to wait any longer to put your mouth to use. You test the waters by giving his tip soft licks, swirling your tongue on it in lazy, annoyingly slow circles.
This grants you a few quiet hums from him, his belly and round pecs rising and falling faster, his body telling you to keep going for him.
Faint ‘Ffuuuckkk’s and ‘Mmm’s were sighed in his sleep, brows furrowed, lips in a pout; signs that you were doing amazing.
You then take him in completely, hollowing out your mouth for him as much as you possibly can, because as mentioned before, this man is big.
You bob your head slowly a few times. It’s when you pull him out with a pop! and start treating it like your own popsicle does his eyes finally slowly open, his lips curling when he looks down at his now very cock drunk girlfriend with a satisfied smirk. His chuckle is low and silk-like, his morning voice making your cunt clench around nothing.
“Well,” his breathing remains labored, his jaw hanging open, “Good morning to you too, Mamita… Mmfuck.”
He says as you maintain eye contact, your lips wrapped around his long and thick member, tongue tracing along a vein. You pull away with a wet smack before saying, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Daddy”, in the most sing song tone of voice.
Miguel tuts at your adorable yet seductive response, “ay, beba, so thoughtful n’ good to me…do that again...” he pleads.
“Like this, Daddy?” You ask, lapping your tongue over his tip just the way he likes it.
“Oh-oh fuck… si, just like that, mamita, así, goood girllll.” his head falls back against the headboard for a moment to sigh before looking back down at you again, seeing his balls in your mouth as your thumb works on his sensitive tip almost making him instantly burst.
You know he’s getting close when he starts panting, propping himself on his elbows and reaching a hand out to your scalp (it practically covers your entire head), gently applying pressure now that he’s in your mouth again. “Aw shit…. I’m close, mama, almost there… fuck, takin’ my fat cock so well, princesa…” He mutters apologies and thank you’s as he relentlessly rams into your mouth, his bush managing to meet the tip of your nose almost every time. He growls as he starts greedily thrusting his hips, face fucking his release into you.
You take your sweet time pulling him out of lips, making sure to get every single drop, your eyes on his the entire time. Once he’s out of your mouth, he sees you swallow, “Open,” and you do as he asks, “diablo, mami, eres tan sucia.” You begin to sit up, wiping your mouth, “Only for you, baby… C'mon, there’s some things in the kitchen for yo-“
“Oye, whoa whoa whoa,” He grabs your hand as you’re about to leave the bed and pulls you toward himself, “I didn’t say we were finished, did I?”
You fall into the bed again, Miguel guiding your hips onto his lap as he sloppily makes out with you, his tongue practically down your throat. “I’m not done with you yet, nena,” he mumbles against your lips.
He lays back down on the bed, “C’mere. Sientate.” He brings his hands up to his face motioning for you to sit on your throne.
You wince, now realizing you forgot that you had meant to shave last night.
“Babe, noooo wait... I haven’t shaved…”
Miguel furrows his brows, a confused scowl on his face.
“Mama. Look me in the face and tell me if I look like I care.” You begin to smile seeing how Miguel was starting to look genuinely mad at you for saying such a ridiculous thing.
“Now, I said sientate. I’m hungry.” He says sternly.
“You sureee? You really don't have to-”
“I don’t like repeating myself.” He commands. This man wasn’t playing any games. He was starving.
Your smile widens at his insistence. Your boyfriend was a real man.
Placing your hands on his hairy, thick body for support, you scoot your way up to his face, Miguel’s grin getting wider as your wet cunt comes into full view.
“So perfect for me, fuck,” His voice is sweet and tender now, planting a few equally tender kisses on your inner thighs, making sure to show them some love before you squeeze his head between them like a melon. “Te amo mucho, you know that, mama? Wanna make you feel good, beba.”
“Mhm,” You nod, biting your lip as the breath of his voice tickles your womanhood.
If Miguel could, he would just live in between your thighs just like this for all of eternity. His absolute favorite place in the whole world. “N' when I tell you to sit on my face, yo nunca quiero ir ese porqueria, understood?”
His stern tone made both your heart and pussy flutter. “Yessir.”
Your hands use the edge of the headboard as support, tentatively hovering your hips over his face as he showers your inner thighs with loving pecks and nibbles, the smack of his lips making your pussy clench again.
One of his big hands steadies your hips with a tight grip, the other moving your panties aside to reveal your unshaven lips.
“Prettiest pussy ever…. y todo es mio. Fuck, you’re so wet, mamita, did I do that?” He speaks mockingly.
You sigh when his lips kiss your clit, his tongue following shortly after by flicking it a couple times. You hear him grunt beneath you after having to lift his head off the bed to reach your hole.
"Baby, sit down. All of your body weight." He's short with his words. It sounds more like an order than a request.
"But Miguel-"
He breathes out, "You're really testing my patience, mama." And with that, his massive hands wrap firmly around your waist and pull you down, a yelp falling from your mouth as he feasts on your sensitive pussy.
Miguel is the definition of a munch. His head movement adds to the stimulation, moving it up and down, side to side; any effort to submerge his face deeper into your folds. His nose, the perfect size and shape that brushes against your clit while he simultaneously slurps and tongue fucks your cunt. The vibrations of his ‘Mmmph’s, the scruff of his face rubbing against your inner thighs, and softly pressing your clit between his tongue and front teeth were the cherry on top.
Your sounds are pornographic as he eats you out. When you're unable to sit up straight anymore due to the immense pleasure, you lean back, hands landing behind you on his soft pecs, pushing into them in an effort to get some kind of break, but Miguel wasn't having it. Plus, he was way stronger than you. There was no escaping him. A small part of you wondered how he was going so long without coming up for air, but you quickly answer your own question when you remember that your man loves to eat, and when he does, he’s like a starved man. Each time you pushed, his grasp only got stronger, but as much as you pushed, you truthfully didn't want him to stop. Ever.
"B-baby, baby… I- I- c-can't," you cry, unable to speak without stopping mid-sentence to let out a whine, "I'm so close, Daddy, don't stop, please, don't stop, don't stop!" You became a broken record, all sense leaving your body. The only thing on your mind was Miguel's mouth ravishing your weeping cunt. You sat forward again, now tugging on his hair, making him hum further and fueling his hunger. "Mmmph fuck! I won't mama, I won't, don't worry... I'll give you whatever you want," You began to literally ride his face, desperately chasing your climax with his hands slapping against your ass. Miguel was in heaven with this view, bucking his own hips into the air from how perfect you looked like this.
“Mmm… such a dirty fuckin’ girl you are,” smack, “wakin' me up like this… ay, que ricoooo, sabe tan dulce,” smack, “puta madre, Puedo vivir de este coño y nada más…” both his voice, an octave lower, and the wet, sucking sounds of his mouth helped uncoil the knot in your stomach, bursting on his handsome face.
Your hips stutter and your jaw falls open when you cum, Miguel drinking in your juices as if he’s been stranded on the Sahara for weeks. You could’ve split his skull into two, that’s how hard you pressed your thighs together, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Miguel finally lets you go, allowing you to sit on his chest now, both of you catching your breaths. He smirks back up at you, and you roll your eyes, blushing. "awww, mi princesita gets all shy when I make her cum, eh?"
"Leave me aloooneeee." With Miguel’s big hands as support and guidance, he rolls over, so he’s still in between your legs, but you’re now the bottom, and him the top. With your legs now around his waist, He chuckles at you and goes to kiss your flushed cheeks.
Then he goes in for a sweet, romantic kiss on the lips. You feel safe and taken care of while feeling his body weight on you again, his soft tummy against yours and his big muscly arms wrapped securely around you. You can feel his cock twitch against your overstimulated cunt, completely soaked from his second climax from simply eating you out, no doubt. He moves any hair on your face aside, caressing your cheek when he does.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, princesita. Have I told you how much I love you?” He coos, pure adoration in his eyes.
You manage a soft, tired smile, “Every day. I love you, too.” you chuckle, “Oh! I made you breakfast! You must be hungry, baby…” you say, as you start getting up.
He gently stops you, and you lay back down.
“I am… but not for food.”
Safe to say the feast you prepared was cold by the time y’all got to the kitchen<3
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Hope u liked it <3 It's a bit longer but I've been thinking alottttt about this tee hee!!!
This is a culmination of my thots and the thots of some of my hot moots, so Tysm @mybvalentine @gltzpzy for the ideas <3
Happy Valentine’s season, my loves!!! Wishing everyone not only a day but a whole new year of love. Not just romantic love, but also the love of your friends, family, and above all, the love for yourself <3
Speak to yourself kindly, treat your heart nicely, and consume all the chocolate!!!! You deserve ittt!!!
P.s. n if u don’t have a Valentine’s, I’ll happily be urs 🤭 MWAH!
- Cupcake xoxo
Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Here’s my master list, bae!!
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pucksandpower · 2 months
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Prove Them Wrong
Charles Leclerc x wife!Reader
Summary: when an invitation to your high school reunion arrives, you are ready to throw it in the garbage … but your husband convinces you to go and prove them wrong
Happy Charles Leclerc contract extension day to all who celebrate 🫶
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The invitation arrives in the mail on a Tuesday morning. You’ve just finished your coffee and are clearing the breakfast dishes when you see it — that familiar crest imprinted on the thick, creamy stationary. Your five-year high school reunion.
Immediately, your stomach drops. You haven’t thought about high school in years, haven’t had any contact with your classmates in just as long. Those weren’t the easiest years for you. In fact, they were some of the hardest.
You were shy, quiet, a bit awkward. You never quite fit in with the popular crowd, though you longed to. Much of your time was spent alone, lost in books and music, wishing you could break out of your shell. The kids were cruel in their exclusion. You still remember the whispers, the laughter at your expense, the feeling of being an outsider looking in.
After graduation, you left it all behind without a backward glance. You built a new life, one where you finally found your place. You have a successful career, an amazing husband, a beautiful home. You’ve traveled the world, experienced things you could have never imagined as that geeky teen.
Yet holding the invitation in your hands, the old insecurities come flooding back. Could you really face those people again? The ones who looked through you like you were invisible? Who made you feel small?
You’re lost in thought when Charles comes into the kitchen. He kisses your cheek and asks what’s wrong. Wordlessly, you hand him the invitation.
He glances at it and understanding dawns on his face. “Ah, a reunion. I take it you’re not thrilled?”
You shake your head. “I hated high school. The kids were really mean. I don’t know if I can go back there and face them again.”
Charles pulls you into a hug. “I’m sorry you went through that, love. Kids can be terribly cruel.” He looks thoughtful for a moment. “You know, this might be a good chance to show them how wrong they were about you.”
You give him a skeptical look and he continues. “Think about it — you’re not that shy girl anymore. You’ve accomplished so much, you have an amazing life. Maybe going back will give you some closure. A chance to prove to yourself and to them how far you’ve come.”
“I don’t know ...” you say uncertainly.
Charles grasps your shoulders, looking into your eyes. “You are an incredible woman. You have nothing to feel insecure about. I know it won’t be easy, but I think this could be good for you. Let them see the strong, successful person you’ve become. And I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”
You take a deep breath, letting his words sink in. Maybe he’s right. This could be an opportunity to flip the script, to rewrite the ending to that difficult chapter of your life.
“Okay,” you say finally. “Let’s do it.”
Charles grins and pulls you in for a real embrace now. “That’s my girl. I’m so proud of you.”
Over the next few weeks, you have moments of confidence mixed with waves of doubt. Charles is a constant source of reassurance. The night before the reunion, your nerves are frayed.
“What if they’re still awful? What if all those old feelings come rushing back the moment I see them?” You fret as you get ready for bed.
Charles takes your hands, his gaze earnest. “I know you’re scared, chérie. But don’t forget — you’re not alone now. I’ll be by your side the whole time. And if anyone says one nasty thing, we’ll walk right out that door, okay?”
You smile gratefully at him. “Okay. Thank you, Charlie. I don’t know if I could do this without you.”
He kisses you softly. “You’ve got this. Get some rest, mon cœur.”
***
In the morning, you take extra care getting ready, donning an elegant dress and styling your hair just so. Looking in the mirror, you remind yourself that you belong in these clothes, in this life.
The reunion is at your old high school, in the gymnasium. As you walk in hand-in-hand with Charles, the smells hit you first — sweat and sneakers, just like you remember. There are balloons and streamers, a table of snacks and drinks. And clustered together, familiar faces you haven’t seen in five years.
Your heart begins to pound. Charles gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve got this,” he murmurs. Then you lift your chin and step forward to greet your past.
As you scan the room, you recognize faces that used to fill the halls of your high school. Some look familiar, unchanged by the passing years. Others you barely recognize at all.
You steel yourself as a group of giggling girls comes into view — the former popular clique. Lindsay, Heather, and Bethany. Once the queens of the school, rulers of all they surveyed.
Lindsay spots you first. Her overly plumped lips curl into a smirk. “Well, look who it is. Little Y/N Y/L/N.”
You squeeze Charles’ hand tighter as that old childhood instinct to shrink kicks in. But you lift your chin and meet Lindsay’s gaze head-on. “Lindsay. Hello.”
Her eyes flick dismissively over you before landing on Charles. They widen, lips parting. Of course she recognizes him — his face is rarely out of the public eye.
“Y/N!” Bethany exclaims with obviously fake delight. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”
You allow yourself a small, satisfied smile. “Of course. This is my husband, Charles Leclerc.”
Charles gives them a polite nod. “Pleasure to meet you ladies.”
The mean girls’ jaws drop in unison. You can’t help but feel a swell of pride at the impressed once-overs they give Charles.
Heather recovers first, plastering on a sycophantic grin. “The pleasure’s all ours! What a lovely surprise.” She touches Charles’ arm lightly. “We would love to catch up and hear all about your life, Y/N.”
You catch Charles’ eye. His lips twitch, seeing right through them.
“That’s kind of you to offer,” you say smoothly. “If you’ll please excuse us, I see some other classmates I’d like to greet.”
You steer Charles away, leaving them sputtering. As soon as you’re out of earshot, he chuckles. “Well, they certainly changed their tune quickly.”
“Once they realized they could get something from me now,” you reply wryly.
You make small talk with a few classmates, keeping it surface-level. Charles’ presence by your side is bolstering. With him here, you’re reminded that you have nothing to prove to these people. Your worth isn’t defined by their approval.
After grabbing drinks, you scan the room again. Your stomach sinks as your eyes land on a familiar figure — Brad Collins. Handsome as ever, surrounded by a gaggle of admirers.
Brad was your biggest crush all through high school. You pined for him secretly, knowing he was way out of your league. He never gave you the time of day — too focused on football, parties, and whichever popular girl caught his eye that week.
“Everything okay?” Charles asks, noticing your expression.
You nod tightly. “My old crush is here.”
Charles spots him and understanding crosses his face. He presses a kiss to your temple. “His loss, mon amour.”
At that moment, Brad looks up and notices you. His stare is cold, dismissive. He says something to his friends and they erupt in laughter, eyes cutting your way.
Your cheeks burn. Some things never change.
Charles’ jaw tightens. He takes your hand firmly and starts steering you toward Brad and his posse.
You glance at him in surprise. “What are you doing?”
“We’re going over to say hello,” he replies calmly.
“Charles, you don’t have to ...”
He silences you with a look. “Trust me.”
You swallow hard and nod. Brad watches you approach with that familiar cocky smirk.
“Well, look who it is,” he drawls as you come to stand before him. “Never thought I’d see you at one of these things, Y/L/N.”
You stare him down unwaveringly. “Yes, well, people can surprise you.”
Brad’s gaze slides to Charles, brows lifting. You can see him trying to place how he might know this handsome, expensively dressed man by your side.
“Brad, this is my husband, Charles Leclerc,” you say sweetly.
Brad’s smirk disappears. His friends gape between you and Charles.
“Husband, huh?” Brad says after a pause, regaining his bravado. “Well, congratulations. Didn’t know you had it in you to land a guy like this.”
Fury rises in you, but before you can respond, Charles steps forward. His voice is pleasant but his eyes are steel.
“Clearly you don’t know much about my wife at all. But that’s your loss. I’m the lucky one who gets to experience her incredible heart and mind every day.”
Brad flushes under Charles’ stare. An awkward beat passes.
Charles continues calmly, “I couldn’t ask for a better partner. I just hope you realize what an opportunity you missed out on back then. Have a good night, gentlemen.”
He turns, guiding you away and leaving Brad speechless behind you. Your eyes shine as you gaze up at Charles.
“Have I told you lately that I love you?”
He grins. “Feel free to tell me again. And I meant every word.” He nods over at Brad’s group, now whispering furiously. “Hopefully that wipes the smirk off his face.”
You laugh, leaning up to kiss Charles’ cheek. “This turned out to be good advice after all. Thank you for being here, for reminding me who I am now.”
The rest of the reunion passes uneventfully. You mingle, laugh, and share stories with classmates who weren’t part of the toxic popular crowd. They’re welcoming and kind. For the first time, you feel like you’re reconnecting with peers, not tormentors.
As you and Charles get into the car to drive home, you let out a long, satisfied breath. The demons of your past have been conquered for good. You faced your bullies and they’re the ones who were left lacking.
You squeeze Charles’ hand, your heart full of gratitude. “Let’s go home.”
***
The adrenaline rush from the reunion slowly fades as you and Charles drive to your hotel. You lean your head back against the leather seat, letting out a long exhale.
“How are you feeling?” Charles asks, glancing your way.
You consider the question. “Good,” you realize with some surprise. “Really good actually.”
Charles smiles. “I’m glad to hear it.”
You shake your head slowly. “I can’t believe I almost didn’t go. Thank you for pushing me to face them. It was so empowering to see their reactions, to realize how little I care about their opinions now.”
“You did all the hard work,” he reminds you. “I just gave you a little nudge. I’m so proud of you, chérie.”
Warmth spreads through you at his words. Not for the first time, you feel a rush of gratitude that this man chose you, sees you, loves you exactly as you are.
Once in your suite, Charles makes you a cup of chamomile tea and you curl up together on the couch. You rest your head on his shoulder, replaying the events of the night in your mind.
“Do you think they’ll actually learn anything from tonight?” You ask after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “All those kids who were so terrible — will seeing me change their perspectives at all?”
Charles considers this, running his fingers idly through your hair. “I’m not sure. Hopefully it gave them something to think about, but some people never grow out of that mindset. The important thing is that you held your head high and didn’t let them make you feel small.”
You nod slowly. “I think if I could go back and tell my teenage self that this night would come, it would have made those years a little more bearable. Knowing I would come through it stronger. That I would have you by my side.”
He kisses the top of your head. “I’ll remind you as often as you need. Though for what it’s worth, I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. You’ve always had an inner strength, even if it took time to fully embrace it. Those kids certainly didn’t put it there.”
You smile up at him. “Have I mentioned lately that you always know exactly what to say?”
He chuckles. “Once or twice.”
You talk softly as the evening winds down, the tea warming you from the inside out. Your reunion with the ghosts of high school is finally behind you. It’s time to let go of the last lingering traces they have over you.
Over the next week, life returns to its normal rhythm. You throw yourself back into work, energized by a new sense of confidence and peace. Every day the experience recedes further into the past.
Until the phone call comes.
You’re just sitting down to lunch when your cell lights up with an unfamiliar number. For a moment you simply stare at it, perplexed.
After a brief internal debate, you answer. “Hello?”
“Y/N!” Lindsay chirps in an overly bright voice. “How are you, hon?”
You hold the phone away from your ear, making a face at her faux familiarity. “I’m fine. To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask evenly.
“Well, I was just calling to see if we could get together! You know, have a little reunion of our own. I’d love to catch up outside of that whole silly event.”
You nearly choke on your water. “You would?”
“Of course!” Lindsay laughs airily. “I barely got to talk to you. And I’d love to spend more time with that charming husband of yours ...”
Ah. There it is. You have to stifle an eye roll.
“That’s … kind of you to offer,” you say carefully. “But I’m afraid our schedules are pretty busy at the moment.”
“Oh, I’m sure we could find the time!” She presses. “I would love to take you two to dinner. My treat!”
Tempting as that is, you have zero desire to spend more time with this woman, despite her transparent new interest in you.
“Appreciate the invitation, but I’ll have to pass,” you say, your tone final. “Take care, Lindsay.”
You hang up before she can protest further. Shaking your head, you go back to your salad. Some things never change.
When Charles gets home, you regale him with the bizarre phone call. He looks equally astonished.
“She actually asked you to dinner? Just to get closer to me?” He gives an incredulous laugh.
You grin ruefully. “Yep. I guess you made more of an impression than we realized.”
He shakes his head in disbelief. Then his expression turns thoughtful.
“You know what? I think we should take her up on that offer after all.”
You stare at him. “What? Why?”
His eyes glint mischievously. “Because I’d like to make it very clear what I think of people who treat you so poorly. And a free dinner out sounds lovely.”
You can’t help but laugh at his unexpected scheming side. “Look at you, getting all protective and devious! I have to admit, it would be gratifying to knock her off her pedestal a bit more.”
Charles winks. “That’s what I was thinking.”
And so, despite your better judgment, you call Lindsay back and accept her invitation to dinner that weekend.
You take more care than usual getting ready, playing up your most striking features. Charles looks unfairly handsome in his designer suit, hair perfectly tousled just to annoy Lindsay further.
When you arrive at the trendy upscale restaurant she chose, Lindsay is already there waiting. She air-kisses your cheeks in greeting, fawning over you and Charles effusively.
As the meal begins, she dominates the conversation, barely letting you get a word in. She name-drops shamelessly, trying to impress Charles with all her supposed connections.
“Oh Charles, you simply must come stay at our villa in Positano sometime! I’d be happy to arrange it for you both. Anything for Y/N’s hubby!” She titters, touching his arm.
You and Charles exchange subtle amused looks across the table. When the waiter appears for your order, Charles gives him an easy smile.
“My wife will have the scallops and I’ll take the filet. Oh, and send over your most expensive bottle of champagne, please. My treat tonight.”
Lindsay’s smile freezes. You bite back a grin, catching his eye again. Message received.
As dinner winds down, Charles finally turns the tables on her. “So Lindsay, what have you been up to since high school? Y/N tells me you two were quite close.”
Lindsay flushes, flustered. “Oh … well, you know, this and that!” She forces a laugh. “I’m in between ventures at the moment. But I stay very busy with charity work and running in social circles.”
“How lovely for you,” Charles says neutrally. “And your husband? What does he do?”
“I’m, uh, not married,” she mumbles, clearly off-kilter now.
“I see. Well, I’m sure the right man will come along someday.” He smiles placidly. “Everyone deserves to feel that kind of love, don’t you agree?”
Lindsay just nods, face pinched. You stifle a satisfied smile behind your napkin.
Later in the car, Charles grins over at you. “That was entertaining.”
You lean over and kiss his cheek. “Have I mentioned you’re the best husband ever?”
He laughs. “A few times. But I’ll never get tired of hearing it.”
2K notes · View notes
cavillscurls · 9 months
Text
Soft & Sweet | Joel Miller x Reader
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Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
Summary: You share your first kiss with the last man you ever expected: your older, grouchy, overly protective patrol partner, Joel Miller.
Warnings/tags: Jackson era. So much tension. Fluff. Some angst. Foul language. Suggestive material. Grumpy Joel. Anxious reader. Soft Joel. Insecure Joel. Somewhat innocent reader; not clueless, just inexperienced. Implied age gap, but numbers are not specified. No mentions of body type or race.
Word Count: 4.2k
SEQUEL. | soft!joel collection masterlist.
a/n: honest to god this started as one thing, and turned into something completely different but i’m not…upset about it? also, thank you to @cupofjoel who literally listened to me talk about this so much for some reason ?? & for reading bits and giving me feed back ?? such a wonderful human
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Joel Miller was easily your least preferred choice of a patrol partner.
There was no doubting the feeling was mutual, either, but the fact of the matter was that you two were a perfect match. You were shorter, faster, and easier to hide; he was stronger, wiser, and knew the patterns of raiders and infected alike. A constant push and pull that gave the quaint city of Jackson a semblance of peace.
In the beginning of your time together, that was what you had to remind yourself. That your time beyond the gates was a representation of how deeply you felt for the people of Jackson, and how important it was for you to keep them and yourself safe.
Regardless of how annoyingly grumpy and disengaging your partner was.
At first, it offended you. How could a man cut from the same cloth as the warm hearted Tommy Miller be such an ass? You had been promised he was like that with everyone, and that you were no special target of his distaste. Over the first few weeks he had occupied Jackson, you observed this, and were pleased to find out he was, in fact, like that with everyone. Well, everyone except the foul mouthed girl he arrived with who you took a liking to.
Ellie was fun. Ellie knew how to relax. You often thought what a good team you two would make if she wasn't a kid, strictly forbade from participating in patrol.
So, you got stuck with Joel.
What once felt offensive turned into pure annoyance at his unwillingness to entertain you. The first few times you two rode together passed the walls of Jackson, you thought he may actually strangle you for your nonstop questions and chatter.
"You really do have a stick up your ass, old man." You had told him when he ignored every attempt you made at getting to know him.
Eventually, your annoyance turned into understanding. He had no obligation to you, other than watching your back and keeping you both safe, both of which were promises - despite his sour attitude - you never doubted he would maintain. And with that understanding, you found opportunity.
Just because Joel didn't want to talk didn't mean you couldn't. And whether he liked it or not, he had no choice but to listen.
That was how it started. Utilizing the stoic man as your very own personal diary. Your rides were underwhelming for the most part, and the tellings of your personal life and worries seemed far more entertaining than feeding into his brooding silence.
You told him about anything and everything. Your distaste for the messy habits of your housemate, who despite being a few years older than you, did not keep the space as neat as you would have liked. Your discontent for the choice of dinner options. How excited you were for the new movie screenings, as some of the other patrolmen had found new tapes during their scavenging.
How much you missed your parents.
How hard of a time you were having making real friends.
Some days, you had even forgotten he was there. Always trotting a few paces behind you, silent, observing. Eventually, you got the impression he wasn't retaining anything you even said, but you didn't stop. The routine was too engrained in you. You met at the stables, he asked the same three questions - Did'ya pick up your gun? Did'ya double check the post assignment? Do you have your flashlight? (you forgot it once, and he wouldn't let you live it down) - then you mounted your horses, said goodbye to the men at the gate, and once you were a good mile away from Jackson, you released the flood gates.
What you didn't know, however, was that you couldn't have been more wrong. Joel was listening. Retaining every word, in fact. Calculating everything to memory, even deducing his own conclusions and opinions about the matters you held near and dear to your heart. He had gotten use to the one sided therapy sessions you had every week, and perhaps a small part of him, as subconscious as it may have been, even enjoyed it.
So when you showed up to this mornings patrol quieter than the dead, Joel knew something was off.
He was watching you. You rode ahead of him, as you always did, shoulders slightly slumped and eyes forward, a large contrast from the way they usually flitted about to take in the sights around you. Your animated nature reduced to tame compliance to the silence he had once begged for between the two of you.
Now, he couldn't help the gnawing sensation of missing the sound of your voice, a pain in his gut telling him this wasn't just any old fluke.
About forty-five minutes into your ride towards he nearest rest stop, you heard him expel a great sigh before the sound of his stallions hooves picked up, and suddenly, he was riding beside you. When you didn't acknowledge him, Joel rolled his eyes.
"Alright, what's wrong?" he grumbled. That earned him a side eye, noting the unusual droop to your normally bright features.
You furrowed your brows. "What do you mean what's wrong?
"Somethin's wrong," he pressed.
"Why do you say that?" you challenged, a lilt of annoyance in your voice as you shot him a scowl.
He tried to bite back the edge in his voice, but it came unprompted. "Because you ain't said a damn word in almost an hour, and I'm pretty sure that's an all time record."
You huffed out an incredulous laugh, your breath painting soft patterns of smoke in the cold air, shaking your head rapidly. "You know," you started, returning your bleak gaze to the path ahead of you. "For someone who bitched about how much I talk, you gotta weird way of appreciating me shutting up for once."
He was quiet, then, and you were instantly filled with a wave of regret at how quickly your sharp tongue attacked him.
Joel wasn't too offended. He had been ripped on a lot worse by people who were substantially nastier than you. He was, however, concerned. He knew what it was liked to feel cornered in a moment of uncertainty, so instead of pressing you further in the moment, he took a calculated breath, tearing his eyes off of of you and nodding his head towards the structure approaching in the distance.
"Let's rest for a bit, yeah? Winds pickin' up more than I'd like to be dealin' with."
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The safe house was cozy, quaint. Quiet. A one story studio format, likely an old vacation home. They had gotten the fire place cleared a few months prior, making it the perfect place to dwell during long patrols. Joel crouched in front of it now, lighting the wood while you went through the procedure of barricading the door. You had yet to have any issues this far out from the perimeter, but you didn’t like taking any chances. That was something you and Joel agreed on.
Better safe than sorry.
As soon as the flames were lit, warmth instantly overcame the small room, and you felt a weight lifted off you in more ways than one when you shimmied out of your bulky winter coat and boots. Your toes cracked against the hardwood floors as you padded over to the fireplace, settling down criss cross beside Joel as he prodded at the wood.
You could feel him eyeing you, and it took every bit of willpower you had to keep your gaze focused on the flames, hands outstretched slightly to soothe your chilled fingertips.
He cleared his throat, setting the prong back into its holder. “I never said I wanted’ya to shut up,” he grumbled, and your stomach instantly fell at the sadness laced in his tone.
You sighed, finally allowing yourself to look over at him. His features remained hard as they always were, but his eyes spoke a different story. Soft. Apologetic. He may have driven you absolutely crazy, but you knew Joel Miller was a decent man. Decent enough for you to confide in, and certainly decent enough to at least give some sort of shit about you.
“I know,” you said quietly, swallowing the unexpected lump in your throat. You were clearly feeling sensitive today. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
Joel shook his head, settling down to sit beside you. You both looked into the flames, seemingly lost in their allure. This was usually how stopping at the safe house went; dawdling around the fireplace, taking turns napping, the occasional reluctance on Joel’s end when you begged and thoroughly convinced him to join you in one of the few board games or puzzles scattered about.
But the energy was different today. You both knew that.
“I got asked on a date,” you blurted out, immediately regretting the words as soon as they passed your lips.
Joel’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead. That certainly was not what he had expected you to say. In all your time as partners, relationships had never come up as a topic of conversation. Friendships, sure. But Joel was more than confident that there was an unspoken rule about anything beyond that: you didn’t pry into his love life - as so many others in his small circle thought they had the right to do - therefore, he had no right asking about yours.
He waited a moment, carefully collecting his thoughts. “That…sounds like it should be a good thing, ain’t it?” he asked, cocking his head over his shoulder to study you. You still had your eyes on the flames, arms wrapped around your knees that were cradled against your chest.
You shrugged, nodding a few times. He couldn’t help but blow a soft chuckle through his nose. “Then why d’ya look like it’s the worst news you’ve gotten all year?”
You covered your face with your hands, groaning. “Because-!” you heaved, the frustration you had worked tirelessly to shove down that morning returning instantly upon his questioning. You felt helpless. You felt ridiculous. Being able to shake off boughs of otherwise meaningless emotions was a strength of yours. It was one of the very few reasons you thought Joel may have put up with you: you didn’t take any shit, and neither did he.
To be dancing with the idea of letting those walls fall too far down…it was a vulnerability you didn’t like entertaining.
You took a slow breath in through your nose, out through your mouth, gradually bringing your hands down from your face. Joel watched the way your jaw tightened as you appeared to wrestle your thoughts into words. Your lips parted once, but you shut them instantly. Rolling your eyes to yourself, you began picking at the edges of your nails. Maybe that would distract you from the embarrassment that was to follow.
“Because I’ve never really…done that before,” you mumbled, and when he didn’t speak at first, you thought he may have not heard you.
Cautiously, you dragged your eyes towards Joel. He was still looking at you, but now, there was a soft sort of inquisition to his eyes.
“What do’ya mean never done that before?” he questioned, an arch to his brow.
You felt your cheeks filling with heat, chewing on the inside of your lip to keep yourself from becoming a blabbering mess. An anxiety filled the pit of your stomach, one that suggested you weren’t all too thrilled to be having this conversation.
Having this conversation with Joel.
You knew he wouldn’t make fun of you, he never had in any of your endless ramblings. But that didn’t stop you from feeling the affects of the intimate nature of the topic.
You shrugged again, slower this time. “I don’t know…dated. Gone on a date. Been that close to a guy, I mean, hell, I haven’t even had my first kiss yet-”
“Wait,” Joel cut you off, a deep crease forming between his brows. “You ain’t even had your first kiss?”
When you looked at him then, he could have crumbled under the weight of your somber eyes. Filled with a disappointment and shame he knew all too well.
Fuck.
“Didn’t have much time, what with the world ending and all,” you muttered. It reminded Joel just how young you were. How much you had missed. How much you had yet to see, learn, experience. He would never pity you — he respected you far too much for that. He did, however, feel for you. He knew you. Knew what you had to offer the world, and you were given no chance to do so. Something so basic, so pure, robbed from you.
He sighed softly, returning his eyes back to the flames. How desperately he wished he could burn away his worries in them. He was sure you felt the same way, too. “S’not somethin’ you should overthink. If it’s gonna happen, it’ll happen.” Never did Joel Miller think he would be giving relationship advice. At least not to someone other than Ellie, and even then, he hoped it was a good long while before he even had to entertain the idea. He certainly didn’t feel qualified.
“But what if—” you stopped yourself again, the same discomfort invading your stomach at the thought of revealing such sensitive insight. Maybe it was the warmth of the fire, or the security of the safe house. Or maybe it was just Joel, but you realized then that there was no other time, place, or person you would rather let your guard down for.
“What if I’m no good at it?” It was hardly a whisper.
“That ain’t possible.” He said it so quickly. Too quickly. So much so that you were both exchanging looks at each other at the same time, the panic seizing his features in a faint blush, the heat rising in your own cheeks at…what? You couldn’t pinpoint at first the reason why his assurance made you react in such a way, until the heat of his eyes on you was more intense than the fire.
There was no denying that Joel Miller was one of the most handsome men in Jackson. You had acknowledged that, realized the idea was far too preposterous to entertain, and stored it away the moment you met him. And now here the thought was, rushing back in and invading your brain with a sick sense of desire.
Joel cleared his throat heartily, immediately reverting his gaze back to the fire. “Maybe you could–”
Again, the words came before you knew what you wanted to say. How much you wanted to say. This was not your usual dynamic. You were use to a free tongue around him, and now, you were second guessing every word you spoke. This was why you didn’t foster those ideas. This was why you treaded carefully with every man in Jackson: your sense of self slowly started to feel stripped from you the moment you caught whiff of being roped in, and that terrified you.
Of course he had thought about it. How could he have not? You were beautiful, spritely, and confident. Not in a pompous fashion, but in a way that demanded you were sure of yourself. It was a rare trait for most of the women he had met thus far in Jackson.
And yet, he had never seen you more indecisive than in this very moment.
Your lingering words penetrated him with an unforeseen force, and he held his breath, suddenly vividly aware of the topic of conversation and what you may have been insinuating.
Beautiful, spritely, confident. And way too young for him.
“Listen, I don’t-” He tried to start, wondering if he was working towards talking you out of your line of thought or talking himself out of considering it. But you were already sitting up onto your knees, facing him with a dire look in your eyes.
“No one would know.” Your voice was a rushed whisper, contradicting the very words it spoke, as if you were shielding the idea from the universe. That way, it couldn’t get its grasp on it, chew it up and spit it out before it even had the chance to breathe into life.
You couldn’t believe yourself, a new sort of desperation you hadn’t experienced bubbling to the surface. You blinked at him rapidly while you spoke. “I mean I wouldn’t - I wouldn’t tell, it would only be one time. You’d be doing me a favor, it’s not like it actually means — I mean it’s not that it doesn’t mean anything, I just—”
Joel reached out for you then, his hand coming up to grip you by the cheeks, squishing your lips into a pout and shushing your terribly embarrassing ramble. The first time he was able to shut you up. This was the chatter he was use to.
You felt your stomach drop. You weren’t sure if it was due to the impending rejection, or because the burn of his hand on your skin left you in a daze. Either way, you were silent. Wide eyes on him, attempting to read his ever indecipherable expression.
“Listen darlin’,” he said, his even tone giving you equal parts comfort and unease. You thought you could swim in the darkness of his eyes, save for the flames that glossed off of them. Intentional, focused. “Don’t think for a moment that the thought of kissin’ you is somethin’ I wouldn’t enjoy, I just…I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
He released your cheeks then. You shouldn’t be offended. Rationally, you knew that. But you couldn’t ignore the festering anger. You pushed up to your feet, staring down at him with furrowed brows and crossed arms.
“Why not?” you challenged, the bite to your tone making no effort to cover up your flustered offense to his denial.
Joel looked up at you with a tilted head and frown, not expecting such an outburst. You had always had a bit of a temper, sure. But perhaps he had gotten so use to it directed towards other people and things he had no relation to that its presence now was unsettling.
He let out a heavy sigh before groaning to his feet, both of you facing each other in a stand off of ambivalence, desire, and caution.
“Because,” he started, raising his brows at you. “You’re – we aren’t—” he struggled with his words, displaying a frustrated countenance at the inability to find them. You waited, your nails digging into your biceps where they were crossed. He looked around, his hands waving reflexively in the air as he explained. “We’re all’lone out here, and you’re…you’re clearly feelin’ upset. Tommy trusted me to look out for’ya. Last thing I need is to go on disrespectin’ or - or takin’ advantage of you like that while you’re on my watch.”
You sneered a chuckle, shaking your head at him. “Take advantage of me? I asked you to do it! Do you really think I’m that fucking naive?” There was a foreign agitation to your voice. “Besides, it’s just a stupid little kiss!”
“If it’s so goddamn stupid, why’re you askin’ me to do it?” he snapped back, a flustered blush rushing up through his neck and into his cheeks.
“Because you’re the only one I trust with this kinda stuff, you jerk!”
Heat. Heat was rising and flowing through the room, through both of you.
“Fine!” he shouted, running out of words to combat you with.
“Fine!”
How you came to be where you were, standing chest to chest, the tension morphing the space between you, heaving frantic breaths into each others faces, neither of you knew. Neither of you seemed to mind, either.
Your hands fell to your sides then, craning your neck up to look at Joel. His nostrils were flared wide, the familiar etch between his brows prominent. A shiver ran down your spine then when he damped his lips, slowly. The emotion that had built over the minutes slowly dissipated just by the sight of his eyes on you. Your own lips parted in a soft breath, and you caught him glance down at them.
He swallowed hard. “Fine.” This time, when he spoke the word, it was soft. Definitive. Expression slowly shifting back to the unreadable neutrality. He didn’t keep you guessing long, though. His hands reached out then, taking a final step to close the distance fully between you two, carefully lifting his palms to cradle either side of your face. You were frozen, eyes permanently glued to him, fingers twitching at your sides.
His hands were rough, calloused, but delicate in the way they held you. You felt an overwhelming warmth begin in your stomach and spread out over the rest of you while he studied you like this, searching your eyes for something.
Uncertainty, regret. Anything that would stop him from moving forward with what he was about to do. But there was none, just wide eyes and plush, parted lips that peered up at him with anticipation. And he just couldn’t help himself.
Slowly, one of his thumbs dragged across your bottom lip, watching as it bobbed in place before he was leaning forward, and you were washed in the scent of him. His nose nudged yours, eyes falling half shut, but yours were still gawking, waiting. The anticipation almost too much to bare that your hands abandoned your sides, coming up to grip him at the elbows. It must have been all he needed, as the next moment was consumed by the feeling of his lips molding against yours.
For the second time that day, Joel Miller discovered a way to shut you up.
He was hesitant at first; barely there, the coarse hair that coated his upper lip tickling your skin. Hardly grazing the supple petals against you. Instinctively, your fingers dug into the bend of his arms when he applied pressure, fully allowing the weight of himself to kiss you. Your eyes finally fell shut, the loss of sense permitting you to be fully encapsulated by him.
Him. Joel. His strong hands that held you, the familiar scent of him, wood and earth mixed with something sweet, his broad body that pressed into yours, claiming the moment for just the two of you. You’re not sure how it happened, between a breath, a brief moment for you two to recollect yourselves, before you dove back in head first. His hands abandoned your face, finding their way to wrap around your waist, bringing you to your toes and flushed against his chest. Your own reacted on instinct and weaved around his neck, and your fingers found refuge in his silver dusted curls.
Nerves were nonexistent. You just felt him, shocked by how easily it was to bend into his will. How much time you had spent over analyzing this moment for it to be reduced to such simplicity. Whether that was because it really was this simple, or because Joel made it so, you didn’t know.
The tip of his tongue just barely grazed your bottom lip, but never pushed for access. The contact alone ignited you, and you couldn’t help the soft moan that lodged in the back of your throat, a flutter traveling below your stomach. Joel’s hands squeezed your hips in response to the sound, and just as quickly as it started, it ended.
He compelled himself to let go, pulling you away from him, the space between you uncomfortably vast. You didn’t even have the chance to think before he reached up for your hands around his neck and gradually pulled them away, too. He stepped back from you, leaving you in a concrete daze of exasperation, newfound lust, and worst of all, a residue of heartbreak from how short the moment was cut.
“We oughta get goin’,” he grumbled, already turning to retrieve his backpack and put the fire out.
You didn’t move a muscle, frozen in the spot where Joel Miller kissed you. Where he changed everything you ever felt inside in an instant. You could see his skin still painted in pink, cheeks flushed, and lips glistening. The emotional whiplash his sudden change incited made you feel like you wanted to disappear, a lump forming in your throat. One you refused to give in to, swallowing it down as you slowly willed yourself to breathe again.
“Yeah. Y-yeah, okay.” And then, you were grabbing your own pack, silently helping him tear down the barricade you had built, and mounting the horses.
The entire rest of the patrol was silent. A rarity. And while words were never spoke aloud, there was an unspoken energy in the air that wailed for attention. You would acknowledge it, if only in your mind for the time being. You would spend the rest of the ride thinking about Joel’s lips, the alluring look in his eyes right before he kissed you. You would recount the tender nature of his touch, and how it gifted your skin with such delicacy. You would think of his breath, the way it quickened and hitched, desperate in between each touch of your lips. You would think about him.
And as soon as you got back into Jackson, you would be finding any and every excuse to cancel your date.
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