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youcancallmeelle · 7 months

Text

She’s got a boyfriend anyway…

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI)

Word count: 7K

Warnings: Semi public sex, Missionary, Cowgirl, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Teasing, Sneaking around, Secret relationship, Brief David mention, Ellie being a menance, Tommy trying to play matchmaker.

Summary: Tommy has been trying to set Joel up for AGES, he’s got other interests.

You and Joel have secretly been seeing each other.

A03

Read below…

Life in Jackson is promising, nearly a year and half here and Joel feels comfortable, no longer itching for a way out of civilisation because he’s just not used to that no more. Ellie is settled too - finally. She’s attending school three days a week, enjoying the new responsibilities that come with being sixteen and the tad bit of freedom it brings. She helps out at the stables, in the kitchen too but she’s not a fan. She likes being in the library most, checking in and out books, tidying shelves, using her art to create eye catching displays aimed at the younger generation of Jackson.

Joel is proud, his heart feels like it could burst out of his chest all the time. Ellie is still full of wit and charisma that comes out in curses and daft puns that make Joel roll his eyes and get her in a headlock until she’s laughing so hard she’s pink in the face.

There’s times when she skips school completely if a male teacher has subbed in, she flinches away if someone comes too close and sometimes if it’s stew night at dinner, she’ll stare blankly into her bowl at the chunks of meat and see a severed ear, she’ll try to swallow but gag instead. These are nights Joel gives her his bread and Tommy will too, then he’ll make her a fruit salad when they get home with a little double cream poured over it.

The nightmares are persistent on these bad days where triggers occur, he finds Ellie in bed screaming and thrashing multiple times a week. She’ll sob and cry hoarsely as he holds her, hushing her gently and resting his cheek on her head. Most of the time she’ll fall back asleep with him beside her, curled into him like she did back at Silver Lake when death was close.

But mostly, everything’s okay.

Joel had been with Tommy every single day this week so far and it was Thursday evening, they’d been focusing on fixing up the bathroom in a house way further down from his, they were getting it ready for a family that had expanded to move in. The floor was rotten and the pipes wrecked, neither of them were particularly fond of plumbing but they sorted it between them. There was still the kitchen to do but that was a job for tomorrow and probably Saturday too but not Sunday, that was his day with Ellie.

Sunday’s were for late breakfasts of bacon and pancakes - before and after the world ended. The only thing that changed was the kid for Joel, he used to serve Sarah indulgent breakfasts on a Sunday and they’d do something together and the tradition was carried on with Ellie and Sarah remained tucked in his heart.

Tired and stiff from working hunched over all day, Joel was enjoying a quiet drink with Tommy. They were tucked away on a small table with two stools, Joel would have preferred something with a back but beggars can’t be choosers; he was grateful for the cold glass of bourbon nearly empty in front of him and the sound of Dire Straits playing over the old speakers.

As always, Tommy is picking and prying into his lack of a love life. Since he’s noticed his older brother being more settled within the community, he’d been trying his hardest to set him up with various women and Tommy Miller was nothing if not persistent.

At this point in the day, Tommy’s voice is almost just white noise.

“Cath is nice.” Tommy pointed out, Joel snorts.

“She’s also gay, Tommy.”

“Oh shit, really? I didn’t know.”

“Clearly. Can we please stop talking about this? It’s the same thing every fuckin’ time I come drinking with you.” Joel begs, Tommy sighs heavily but drops it for now.

Joel takes in the scenery as he sits there, grateful for the moments silence from Tommy. His eyes stray to the left of the table and he listens as you speak to Denton, an older gentleman in his late sixties with a love of horses. He’s quizzing you about the new mare in the stables, he hears you mention checking on her again after your shift because she’s been particularly temperamental since she was brought in from outside but you’ve developed a nice bond with her, she’s slowly becoming more trusting.

It occurs to Joel that everyone likes you - literally everyone, even Ellie and she was a tough nut to crack. You’re sweet, soft spoken yet confident. You’re always helping out where you can; on patrols, stable duty, in the communal garden, sometimes at the school and also here at the bar when Darius needs his shift covered.

You find good things on patrol and give them to Joel or Ellie before taking the rest for the community, so they get first pick of everything.

You’re just the sweetest thing.

Tommy sees you and beckons you with a friendly wave, you mutter a goodbye to Denton and pat his hand.

“Hey.” You hear your name called over the music and you turn as Tommy Miller grabs your attention as you scoop up two glasses and an empty bowl that once held nuts and dried berries from the table two away from his and Joel’s.

“Yes, Miller?” You patter over with your hands occupied, you sneak a look at his older sibling, sparing him a wink as a greeting, he smirks softly back.

“Has Darius got an other fuckin’ music or are we strictly limited to the sounds of 1985 tonight?” He questions and you laugh, shaking your head.

“You don’t like Dire Straits?”

“He doesn’t appreciate good music.” Joel interjects, shaking his head at Tommy.

“I do - but other music. Eminem or even fuckin’ Britney! Anything but this shit.” Tommy groans, tossing his head back.

“Keep talking smack about Dire Straits, Miller - and I’ll snitch to your wife about the fact you’ve switched patrols with Mark twice this week because you were too hungover to go.” You smile sweetly at Tommy, tilting your head.

“Snitches get stitches.” Tommy remarks playfully, not an ounce of malice in his dark brown eyes and your eyebrows rise, you beam back.

“That right? Well, troublesome men get barred for life.”

“Oooooh.” Joel chimes in, looking amusedly between you and his younger brother.

“Touché.” Tommy quips, folding his arms.

“Tell you what, next time I’m in, I’ll have a rummage out back and see if I can find you some Britney. Bless you.” You pinch his cheek as you walk past and he swats your hand, rubbing the spot while Joel laughs.

“You’re pushing your luck giving her lip, I’m not sure if you’re aware but this is the only operational bar in Wyoming.”

“Tell me about it.” He grumbles back, Joel shakes his head once more as the door behind Tommy on the back wall opens.

“Joeeeeeel?!” He hears yelled from close by, he looks up and sees Ellie dragging her sneakers across the floor, scouring the bar for him with her honey coloured eyes eagerly. She spots him within seconds, beaming and practically skipping over to him and Tommy in the corner. “There you are, I looked fucking everywhere for you.” She groans dramatically, throwing her head back. “I wanna go out, I’m bored shitless at home. There’s nothing for me to do and yes - I’ve done my school work.” She quickly adds.

“You done those quadratic equation questions we were going over last night?” He raises his eyebrow.

“Yep. Easy peasy lemon squeezy, though I did ask my teacher because I’m pretty sure you were figuring them out wrong. You were, by the way.” Joel puffs indignantly, rolling his eyes. Ellie spins to Tommy, the soles of her shoes squeaking. “Can I try that?” She’s laser focused on the bourbon swimming between globes of ice in Tommy’s glass.

“What have I said the last twenty times you’ve asked, El?” Tommy’s dark brows are high on his forehead, his mouth is twisted with hidden laughter. Ellie rolls her eyes with annoyance, sloping over to Joel now.

“No.” She huffs, swinging her lanky arms around Joel. She hums and rubs her face into his shoulder bone, resting there for a second before her attentions shifts comically fast. There’s a warmth that spreads through Joel every single time she does this, she’s so casual about it and he’s drawn the conclusion that it’s a teenage thing because Sarah was the same. There’s a sadness that blossoms too, a darkness that twists and anchors in his chest as he thinks of her and who she’d be now. He can’t dwell for too long, not now - he did that for too long.

At one dark point in time, human connection was not key to survival, hence why he always kept Tess at arms length and then referred to Ellie as cargo until one snowy day it became apparent she was no longer cargo when she was frenzied and panting in his arms, splattered with the blood of a predator and gasping like she was taking her last breath. The sound haunted him for a long time, all memories of Sarah hitting him like a freight train. He had to protect Ellie, the minute he drew her in - oh baby girl - and held her tightly, wrapped in his coat and clinging to him just as hard.

Ellie’s his kid now. She’s his. He’s hers. They’re a family. Ellie Williams Miller - that’s how she’s known now. It’s scrawled on her school books. The love he feels for this human tornado in sneakers is unmatched, the one thing he’s ever been truly good at has been restored and it’s a role he knows well; being a father.

Sure, this teenager that he’s raising is the furthest from bubblegum pink and Avril Lavigne she could be, she’s particularly jagged around the edges and does have the temperament of an unsocialised cat that will bite if you get too close.

He looks down at her, rubbing into him like she’s trying to get his smell on her because it’s comforting and she feels safe and feels his heart ready to burst.

Of course the sweet moment of affection is shattered when Ellie yawns directly into his fucking ear because why wouldn’t she?

He grunts when she bears most of her weight on his aching shoulders, leaning easily into him and twisting her small fingers into his flannel.

“So? Can I go or not?” She presses.

“Go where?” He prompts, raising his eyebrow.

“Toni’s from school. Her cat had kittens a few weeks ago and they’re starting to play. Five of them, Joel! That’s a lotta kittens!” Ellie enunciates, brown eyes wide and Joel can’t help the smile that graces his otherwise tired face.

“You mean a litter?” He corrects and Ellie pauses, frowning.

“Huh?”

“A bunch of kittens is a litter, Ellie.” He informs her and she somehow manages to frown even more, she makes a noise like she’s computing the new information.

“Yeah, whatever.” She mumbles, Tommy snorts in amusement. “So I can go see them?” She presses, shifting her weight again and Joel groans louder now, unhooking her arms from his shoulders with a quiet ‘don’t do that, baby’ that’s full of affection.

“Yes but you’re back at nine latest, okay? Nine. I’ll be waiting for you, the minute those street lamps turn on, you’re home.” Joel says, Ellie’s mouthing along to his instructions that he’s been laying out since Summer began and the evenings stretched longer. “Be good.” He speaks more softly now and she nods, he presses a kiss to the side of her head, her eyelashes flutter happily as the warmth blossoms in her too with the security that’s Joel Miller.

“Peesh. I’m always good. Bye Tommy!” She says excitedly, fist bumping him when it’s offered.

“See ya, squirt.” Tommy replies but before he’s even voiced his reply, Ellie’s hurrying away and knocking into a patron while waving to you on the way out of the door so hard it slams. Joel sighs, thinking she’s a literal hurricane.

The door hinge has barely stopped shaking before Tommy starts with the suggestions of suitors once more.

“What about Myleene?” Tommy proposes, Joel shakes his head quickly, downing the remainder of his drink.

“Too young.” He replies.

“She’s twenty five.”

“Too young.” He repeats firmer this time.

“Okay, fine. What about Michelle? She’s what forty? I was talking to her in the cobblers the other day, she’s definitely interested - mentioned something about making you a pie?”

“I’m good.” He grumbles looking down into his empty glass but quickly shifting his gaze to the bar, you’re leaning on your elbows, laughing heartily with a patron.

You look beautiful tonight - just like every other night. Your shoulders are sunkissed, your cheeks a little flushed and skin glowing from the summer humidity. He absorbs the way your hair tumbles down your shoulders and the way the thin straps of your tiered sundress slip down occasionally, only to be tugged back into place with dexterous fingers.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” Tommy jibes, Joel looks over with a firm scowl.

“What?” He asks, Tommy shakes his head.

“You can dream, brother.” Joel rolls his eyes, trying to act nonchalant. “She’s got a boyfriend anyway.” Tommy adds, Joel eyes him with full attention.

“A boyfriend?” He asks, trying to be sure he heard right.

“Yeah, overheard her talking to one of the girls in the garden a few days ago. Didn’t mention no names but she definitely said she was seein’ someone.” Tommy shrugged, Joel hummed with interest. “Anyway, it don’t matter because she’s way out of your league.”

“Thanks.” Joel retorts, sneaking one last look before focusing on the door behind Tommy, the one Ellie had not long barrelled in and out of just moments ago.

He wonders about the kittens she mentioned and gulps as he imagines her taking to one with its big eyes and soft paws, his mind is pulled back to a time in April when he’d come downstairs one morning to a sink full of tad poles she’d ‘rescued’ from birds out of the neighbours pond.

Basically, his girl can’t resist animals she deems too vulnerable to leave.

“Scared Ellie’s gonna come home with one of them kittens?” Tommy wonders, reading Joel’s mind.

“Terrified.”

********************************************

The sun is setting in bursts of burnt orange and marigold by the time he leaves Tommy to his own devices at the bar, he hazards a look around as he makes his way in the complete opposite direction to his and Ellie’s house.

He slinks around the back of the school house, slithering through the gap and walking up the winding path that leads to the stables. He climbs the short fence and hops to the other side, his boots kick up the dust from the dirt path and the crickets chirp beneath the skyline.

With one more look around, he opens to rear door to the stables and slips inside, shutting it softly behind him.

Immediately he hears the horses further down huff and puff, he can make out the swish of their tails hitting the walls as they munch on hay, there’s a neigh that is absolutely Shimmer kicking up a fuss about something.

He slopes around the riding gear and sees you leaning against the wall, hands behing your back. You grin.

“Took your time, cowboy. Was beginning to think you couldn’t take the hint and stood me up.”

“Never, honey.” Joel prowls towards you, ready to grab you. “Missed you.”

“You just saw me.”

“Not the same.” He yanks you close like a man starved, you’d shared company less than 24 hours ago but you greet and leave each other like it’s the last time you’ll ever be together. It’s the apocalypse affect, you know that, he does too

This arrangement had been going on for almost two months now, all started by a late night patrol together where you’d shared more about yourselves in an eight hour shift than both of your time in Jackson combined. There was an instant attraction, it was so easy to talk to one another and that’s what you did every single time you were partnered together and it became the highlight of your day. It started innocently and friendship had bloomed, then before you knew it you were sharing a rum laced thermos of tea with him in the bed of a truck and kissing him with reddened cheeks shortly thereafter. You’d first slept together in the same truck, just as dawn began to break. It was clumsy and quick but you couldn’t get enough of one another. You hadn’t cum but Joel promised next time would be better which lead to the question of next time? You’d been seeing each other most nights since.

Any chance you got, you were together. Nobody knew about you both, hence why Tommy was incessantly trying to hook Joel up with other women around town and jealousy burned as you listened in on their one sided conversations in the bar whenever you were covering for Darius.

You’d left the bar shortly before Joel had, waving farewell to him and Tommy, coming straight up here to check on the mare just as you’d told Denton. This was a usual spot to meet Joel, it wasn’t your first rodeo in the stables with him. It was the one place you could be alone after a certain time.

“Were you hiding from me, honey? Hmm?” He growls playfully, pulling you to him even though you were barely a millimetre away in the first place. You hum in response, so utterly lost in him. You’re nuzzling his throat, fisting his shirt, desperate for his attention. “God, you look so good today.” He murmurs, mouth finding yours. You moan softly, standing on your tip toes and kissing him in a way that makes his lungs and loins burn alike. His grey tinged moustache prickles your upper lip beautifully, his beard feels familiar beneath your soft hands.

He’s crowding you and guiding you backwards, kissing you hotly in a sense that makes your cunt throb eagerly. You moan into his mouth when he nips your bottom lip, squeezing the left cheek of your ass.

You love when he’s like this - playful and easy. He feels lightyears younger around you, it’s like the heaviness dissipates the moment he’s in your company. He loses himself in the way you smell, the way your hair feels when his fingers are entwined between the sun kissed strands, the way in which your eyes sparkle with mischief.

It’s easy to pull him towards the back of the stable, where the bales of hay were stacked created a nice wall of privacy. You’d been in here a couple of times with him, having gone as far to stash a flannel blanket in one of the cupboards to lay down as to protect you both from the cold floor and the prickle of loose hay.

Once behind the hay and seated on a bale with you in his lap, strong hands are moving the thin straps of your sundress down your shoulders, you momentarily break away from his mouth to aid the removal of your dress to your waist where Joel roughly bunches it up so that your underwear is now on show and so are your tits.

His eyes light up at your bare chest, like he hasn’t seen your breasts countless times before. One thing among many that you first noticed was that Joel Miller is a tit man through and through. His rough and work toughened hands cup them both gently before his tongue swirls around your left nipple.

“Joel.” You murmur, arching into him, rolling your hips into his. He’s hard already, age not affecting him like that in the slightest. He’s a hot blooded male, every single inch a man and that warms you to your core. You grab his hand, bringing it to the top of your panties and he slides it in without hesitation.

“Christ.” He curses, exploring your lips with his fingertips, gliding through the dewy wetness gathered there and coming back up for a split second to drag it over your clit roughly. You whimper, bucking into his hand. “Mmm, babydoll.” Joel huffs against your cheek in a hot pant, repeating the action.

“Need you so badly, Joel. Almost got started without you.” You confess.

“Fuck. You can’t- don’t say shit like that, honey.” He growls lowly, unbelievably hard beneath you. His fingers explore again, you aid his explorations by canting your hips just so.

Joel is eager to get things moving, he’s hard and frustrated, he has a beautiful woman in his lap and the perfect setting. He pulls his hand from your underwear, looking down to see the shine of you on him. He loses his mind when you take his hand and lead it to your mouth, sucking the tips of his index and middle finger as he watches with eyes blown wide; they look black instead of the earthy brown that sometimes melts into caramel or runny honey.

The minute you hum like a content cat, he has you lifted off his lap and braced against him. You squeal at the sudden shift, the ceiling looking closer than the floor but then he gently lays you back on the blanket and settles between your legs.

“Hey, who was Tommy trying to set you up with?” You blurt, Joel pauses.

“Cath.”

“She’s gay.” You frown.

“Michelle too.” He adds before diving down into your chest, pressing your breasts together, mouthing at the swell.

“I’m not sure you’re Michelle’s type, she’s a cougar apparently.” You remark, Joel ignores you in favour of sucking your nipples until they feel raw. “Why Michelle? I don’t understand why Tommy thinks she’s a good match for you.” You don’t know why this is coming up now, your mouth seems to have a mind of its own, the jealousy settling like lead in your stomach.

“He said she wants to make me a pie.” Joel pipes up, the confession half muffled.

“What kind of pie?” You ask, pulling his face from your tits. Joel groans frustratedly, looking up at you with eyes dark and deadly.

“I don’t know. Why does that even matter?”

“A cream pie probably.” You snarl under your breath, the jealousy swirling in the pit of your stomach like a rattled viper.

Joel laughs, shaking his head and coaxing your mouth back to his. “Gross.” He murmurs, kissing you softly and squeezing your hips as if to guide you back. “You know I only like your cream pies.” He jokes, this time you break into a smile.

“Now whose gross?” You snort, tugging his plain grey undershirt over his head and to the side. You run your palms over his chest and down to his softer stomach, digging your nails in as they drag a long his skin. Goosebumps erupt all over him.

Joel is softer in his older age but strong too, years of walking different terrain, heavy lifting and fighting have made him lean also.

You hum contentedly, tracing over those familiar scars that have been made in the 20 years since the world imploded.

“He said you were out of my league.” Joel suddenly admits, resting his hands on your spread knees. You frown up at him. “Tommy said you were out of my league.”

“Tell Tommy he doesn’t know shit.” You retort with an eye roll, grabbing Joel by his belt and yanking him forward. “I like you, Joel. Fuck what anyone else thinks, it’s not anyone’s business who we choose to be with.” You say softly now, kissing your way up his chin to his lips. “I like you.” You affirm again, Joel kisses you tenderly, weaving his hand into your hair as you moan quietly.

“Well, I like you too.” He says, kissing you with so much passion yet so much tenderness all at the same time as you fumble to unbuckle his belt. You yank it apart, tugging open the button and prying the worn denim apart with the hiss of his zipper.

He barely lets you wrap a hand around him over his boxers before he has both your wrists pinned above your head, you make a sad whine but all disappointment quickly dissipates when he shuffles down the length of your torso and yanks your underwear down so fast you feel the material leave a friction burn. He grabs your thighs and then manoeuvres your legs by the backs of your knees, you like where this seems to be going.

Your spine curves against the hard floor when his mouth makes that first contact, he starts slow with a lick up the length of you, then he lightly suckles your lips and gently licks over the hood of your clitoris.

“Joel.” You murmur, twisting the blanket beneath your fingertips, scrunching it and bitting down on your lower lip as he continues his gentle assault on your clit, the rubber toes of your hi tops dig into his ribs almost painfully.

His thumb comes up to gently push the hood of your clit back, the sensation of his tongue directly stimulating the nerve causes you to gasp and wind one hand down into his hair, you tug and he groans against you.

You’re transported back to one of the first times you’d been intimate together after sleeping together in the truck.

For some reason, it had shocked you that Joel Miller ate pussy like a champ. The first time he’d gone down on you - behind the bar just after you’d blown him - you’d prepared yourself for dissatisfaction and disappointment, only it never came. Joel had licked into you with such ferocity and precision that you’d almost keened over.

He’d made you cum so quickly that you’d barely had time to process the first swipe of his tongue on your clitoris and the climax that followed minutes later.

He’d looked up at you, moustache and beard slick with his eyes wide; ‘I forgot how much I enjoyed doing that’ he’d panted while you squeaked back in shock.

Now, as you live in the moment, you feel that tingle of pleasure building but you don’t want to cum without him inside of you. As much as it pains you, you tug on his hair, urging him back up.

“Wanna cum with you.” You pant when he looks up with dazed brown eyes, frowning a little. He seems to accept that and sits up, shucking his jeans and boxers down over his ass with the help of your clumsy hands. “Lay back.” You demand, he does so and you move to take his place.

You throw your legs over his and settle above his lap, he’s got one arm behind his head and watches as you take him in your first and tease yourself with the flushed tip of him. He breathes in sharply through his nose as you do it again before notching him at the site of your heat, you steady yourself and begin to sink down.

“Fuck me.” Joel sighs, closing his eyes briefly because he’s so sure he’s in heaven. The sensation of your wet heat surrounding him never gets old, he’d forgotten how much he loved sex before meeting you.

“You’re so big, Joel.” You whimper, stroking his ego deliciously and he hates to be such a guy but the compliment goes straight to his dick.

“Fuck, honey. Take what you want, I’m yours - just fuck me.” He begs as you slowly begin to move, your nails scrape across his torso as you fall into an easy rhythm of rolling your hips into his. “You’re so fucking perfect, baby.” He babbles, looking up and admiring the curve of your back and the way your tits bounce as you ride him.

“Mmm.” You whine, picking up the pace and throwing your head back which exposes your jugular and Joel just wants to sink his teeth into you because you truly look good enough to eat.

“Come here, babydoll.” He urges, pulling you down so you’re chest to chest. Your peer at him with pretty doe eyes, your lashes flutter as they shut to kiss him deeply, your tongue swipes his and you taste the tang of yourself on him. You moan louder when he manages to plant his boots on the floor and thrust up into you roughly, tangling his hand in your hair to keep you pressed against him.

It’s so hot in the stables, you’re both sticky and warm. But with your pretty moans and keens filling the air, Joel manages to easily forget the irritation from the heat.

You push against his chest to sit up and Joel grabs your hips, guiding you easily and you feel yourself getting close but you can’t achieve orgasm through penetration alone.

You brace one hand on his thigh behind you, tipping your head back as the pleasure becomes almost too much to handle. Your hips roll in an easy rhythm, his cock head hitting your G spot perfectly and you whine when the hand on your left hip moves ever so slightly until Joel was able to thumb your clit. He knows you so well.

“Oh f - fuck. You feel so good, you’re so good - fuck.” You babble, your hips moving faster.

“Jesus christ.” Joel huffs, throwing his head back against the hard floor, biting his bottom lip hard to stave off his orgasm. You feel so good wrapped around him; wet and snug, like crushed velvet.

He knows he can’t stay like this, he’s too close to finishing and he can sense you’re not quite there yet despite being edged so he makes the conscious decision to hold you and flip you both over with a nimbleness he didn’t know he possessed in his older age.

You stutter out a choked moan, arching into his strong hands. You drag your nails down his toned back, leaving a little spatter of blood in the red tracks.

Joel hisses when your nails puncture the skin on the globes of his ass, somehow trying to pull him closer and push him away at the same time.

“Where?” He asks, nodding downwards as he fights off his climax.

“Inside.” You reply without hesitation. You’d counted your cycle days, marking in a blank notebook the day number and your symptoms, pretty accurately guessing your fertile window and probable ovulation day by cervical mucus alone. You were four days from your period being due, it was safe.

“You sure?” He hesitates, brow furrowed hard with concentration, he’s a stroke away from finishing. He knows better than most people to not trust the pull out method and he knows the importance of contraception but he still ended up a Dad before he hit his mid twenties. Pushing sixty he’s still playing a dangerous game but so far, neither of you had gotten burnt.

“Yeah.” You gasp, fingers on your clit rubbing faster. You groan suddenly and twist into him, making pretty little whimpers and purring. He groans too, thrusting in hard once, twice and then three times. You feel his cock stiffen and twitch, then the pulse of subtle warmth of his cum spreading inside and aiming for your cervix. He works himself through it, you push in return as the aftershocks slow to a flat line.

Joel heaves a breath, resting on his forearms as you lazily kiss his neck in satisfaction and rapture. You sit there for a minute, basking in the afterglow until Joel grows too stiff and has to withdraw from you slowly, kneeling up between your legs to pull his boxers and jeans back up but he leaves them unbuttoned and his belt loose.

You don’t miss the primal look in his eyes when they drift to between your legs, he can see his cum leaking and the pearlescent finish it leaves on your lips. His cock twitches, perhaps if he was younger he could go for another round but alas, he settles next to you on the blanket, pulling you to his chest and cushioning your head with a strong bicep.

“I think that might have been the best time yet.” You pant breathlessly, looking up at the ceiling and seeing the evening sky through the cracks of wood.

“Maybe one day we can do it in an actual bed, I’m not sure how much more of these places my back can take.” Joel jokes, you giggle and turn into him, listening to the rapid pace of his heartbeat as it settles, a perfect mirror of your own.

“Not bad for an old timer.” You tease, giggling when he growls and squeezes your hip.

“Was patrol okay today?” Joel questions you, you nod lazily against him. “You come across anything?” Now you speak, leaning up to peer down at him.

“A couple of runners. We shot them in that abandoned gas station near the entrance to the offices off the trail. I think they were probably people passing through, one was infected on the journey and turned, then bit the other.” Joel hums, rubbing your lower back and hip. “I have some things for Ellie I found, by the way. I’ll drop them over tomorrow. Nothing crazy, just some things I thought she needed.” You say between kisses down Joel’s chest and sternum, your delicate fingers tracing out old battle scars.

“What like?” He asks, catching your hand as it reaches his happy trail, bringing it to his lips instead where he presses tender kisses to your fingertips.

“Pyjamas, underwear and some toiletries. Oh! And get this, a new casette tape for her walkman.”

“What tape?”

“Teardrops.” You grin.

“Womack and Womack? She’s gonna love that.” Joel says, laying back and smiling at the ceiling of the stables, humming the song in his head. “Fuck, I haven’t heard that song in - jesus - years.” He’s frowning, contemplating lost time, the whole concept of time evades him, it never used to at the start but now? It’s one big jumble, his time is defined by events and not a calendar.

“She still playing that one you got her on repeat?” You wonder.

“Yeah.”

“What was it again?”

“Bowie. Heroes.” Joel replies.

“Nice.” You nod.

As you lie there together in an easy silence, content to be together in the quiet solace of the stables, Joel’s mind wanders back to his earlier conversation with his younger brother:

“Hey, er - Tommy actually said something else earlier.” Joel winces at how awkward he sounds and you huff loudly, ready to hear what other dumbass thing he’s said. “He said he heard you say you have a boyfriend or that you were seein’ someone.”

You sit up, frowning down at Joel.

“Okay…” You reply hesitantly, uneasy now. “Am I not seeing you?” You frown.

“No - no! It’s… that came out wrong. I just meant - “ Joel grumbles, covering his face momentarily while you try to will your stomach from not sinking. “I don’t know, I just wanted to know if you meant me.”

“Seriously, Joel? This conversation is going so well.” You say dryly, utterly unimpressed.

“No! Oh my god! I can’t do this.” He groans, realising his mistake. “I’m sorry, that came out so wrong.” Joel apologises, you snort.

“Look Joel, I was talking to Mrs Patterson in the garden and she was telling me about her late husband, saying how lovely he was and how men just aren’t like that anymore. She asked if I’d found anyone and I let it slip that I was seeing someone, I didn’t mention any names and I can totally understand why you’re freaked when we haven’t even had that conversation ourselves. I shouldn’t have assumed this was anything more than sex, I’m sorry.” You annunciate, warm in the cheeks.

“You want to just have sex?” Joel is sat up now, matching your frazzled expression.

“If that’s what you want.” You shrug, taking an interest in your cuticles. A large hand lays over yours, squeezing. You shift your focus to his knuckles instead, tracing out the scars.

“Honey, look at me.” He urges softly, you hesitantly meet his eyes. “I think somewhere we’ve miscommunicated.”

“How so?” You press.

“Look… it’s been a long time since I’ve done this, I’m a little rusty. I’m sorry if I haven’t been clear about what we are or what I want us to be, I kinda just assumed you knew and yeah, that’s real shitty of me.” He says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I wanna be exclusive with you, honey. I mean, I have Ellie to think about so we’ll need to go slow just so I can ease her into the change. Is that okay?” He whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.

“That’s more than okay, Joel. I completely understand, I don’t want to spook Ellie either.” You confirm, Joel let’s out a relieved sigh.

“Good - good, okay. We’ll figure it out, baby.” He assures you, nuzzling his nose against yours and kissing you softly.

It’s easy to lose yourself in Joel Miller, you’re swept up in the gruff voice and strong arms, the softness beneath his outer shell reserved for those closest to him.

You’re kissing him back in earnest, he’s reclining to lay back down with you on top of him and you’re sure this could lead to round two or at least head from either one of you, maybe even both.

However, the moment is spoiled when you hear voices creeping closer to the stables. You both stiffen and wait, looking at each other with eyes opened wide.

The voices are getting closer and you decipher it’s two sets, it’s not made clear who it is until they’re walking behind the stables and you can see their shadows slink between the thin gaps in the planks.

It’s Ellie and Tommy.

You and Joel scramble, you yank your dress back over your breasts and pull the hem of it over your ass. Your panties are on the floor and you narrowly dodge Joel’s elbow as he hastily buckles his jeans back up just in time for the door around the corner to open with a shriek of the hinges.

“What if he’s gone out on patrol without telling me? Or maybe he’s swapped with someone and gone hunting? I know I’m back way earlier than he said but he said he’d be home! Do you think he’s left the gate? What if he’s hurt? What if - “ Ellie begins to ramble and Tommy sighs.

“Kiddo, stop worrying. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere, let’s look at the whiteboard and see if his name’s on there. I highly doubt he’s swapped shifts and he wouldn’t leave without telling you, he’s gotta be around here some…” Tommy’s reassurance comes to a stop when he round the corner of the hay bale wall and abruptly stops, staring at you and Joel with as much shock as you return.

Ellie slams into his back and he wobbles but his gaze never falters.

“What the fuck, man!” Ellie exclaims, shoving Tommy and stepping around his statue like form but also freezing too.

You look between them both, trying to formulate an excuse but Joel shoving his t-shirt on, the fact your clothes are crumpled and there’s absolutely hay in your tousled hair says it all.

Your panties are shoved behind your back out of view.

“Well I’ll be damned, you’re the guy she’s seein’!.” Tommy snorts, looking between you both. Joel growls, yanking on his flannel while Ellie manually retrieves her jaw from the floor.

“What the fuck is this?” She asks, looking between you and Joel. “You have a girlfriend? What the fuck, dude? You didn’t say anything!” She fumes, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Look, it’s complicated and new.” He says, which placates her slightly. She stares at you again and you see the betrayal hidden behind a scowl, she looks at Joel again.

“Fine. I guess this isn’t that bad, it could be worse - we could of caught you with Esther.”

“That’s true.” Tommy nods, pointing at Ellie, she nods back.

“Esther?” You question, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Tommy’s neighbour, she totally fancies Joel.” Ellie tells you. “You should fight her.”

“No, she doesn’t and stop shit stirring.” Joel warns Ellie, she hides a smirk which tells you she’s winding Joel up.

“I could take Esther.” You say, playing along, Ellie’s eyes brighten with mischief.

“Nobody’s fighting no one.” Joel settles, you’re all silent for a millisecond and then Tommy throws in his two cence.

“You could take Esther.” He agrees.

“Enough about Esther, please!” Joel begs, beside himself.

“This is fucking embarrassing, Joel. What the fuck do you expect us to do? It’s awkward!” Ellie complains, Tommy nods in agreement, you do too.

“Yeah? Try being where we’re stood, kid.” He retorts.

Ellie kinda has to resist the urge to throw up in her mouth because Joel has sex which is so horrifying that she almost can’t bare to look at him but she’s equally happy for him and utterly disgusted, she swallows back a retch.

“Fine, whatever. I’m very happy for you and my da - Joel.” Ellie bursts and corrects herself at the last minute, you don’t miss the hitch in Joel’s breathing but this is not the time for that discussion. “I’m willing to negotiate a price for the emotional damage you’ve both caused me by lying to me, sneaking around and also having sex in front of my horse.” She lists.

“My horse too!” Tommy adds.

“And Tommy’s horse too, Crash and Shimmer didn’t want to see your bare ass.” Ellie continues and for some reason Joel knows exactly where this is going, so he braces himself.

“Name your price.” He bites, Ellie looks at him with a levelling glare, it’s getting hard not to laugh when you see Tommy observing like he’s watching a mafia deal go down.

“A kitten.” Ellie reveals.

He fucking knew it.

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller #the last of us fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal fanfiction

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saleeba · 1 year

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silk sheets, silver tongue ; jude bellingham 🍓

summary ♡ jude can never resist you when you’re looking so pretty in a sundress.

pairing ♡ jude bellingham x fem!reader

content ♡ 18+ (minors dni), smut, established relationship, p in v, praise, dirty talk, cunnilingus, orgasm denial, missionary, protected sex, no specific power play but maybeee a bit of dom!jude, porn with a poor attempt at plot, getting fucked in a sundress yessirrrr

a/n ♡ aaaaa this is my very first piece of writing on here!! >.< and trust it to be a smut lmaoo i might be speaking into the abyss here but i hope u guys enjoy tho pls lmk if u have any feedback <33

when jude proposes a holiday to málaga during the mere two weeks he has off from training, there is no way you’re going to say no to him.

so right now, the two of you are side by side at the hotel’s pool, lounging under the warm spanish sun, grateful to finally spend time together after such a busy season. a blush pink sundress is wrapped around your body, letting the slight breeze blow around the hem as a shirtless jude lays to your left, skin glistening from his time in the pool.

“i’m so glad we could do this, you know,” jude declares, turning his body to face you before his hand comes in to rub at your thigh. the sting of cool golden rings bites at your sun-drenched skin. “i can’t tell you how long i’ve waited to have you all to myself.”

you bite your lip, struggling to hold in a bemused giggle as you turn your own self to face him. “yeah? well, you have me now,” jude’s hand shifts higher under your sundress at your words, fingers innocently massaging your upper thigh, the pads occasionally dipping into the inner skin. this leaves you more flustered than you would like to have admitted.

“all of me.” you breath out, moving into the warmth of his toned body and feeling like you’re falling into him.

he catches you with his lips on yours, the softness of which contrasts heavily with his strong grip on your body, arms now wrapped around your waist, pressing you to him. the feeling of both factors drives you dizzy, your selfish needs now taking over.

you press your mouth hungrily against jude’s, not caring about who sees the two of you as you hoist yourself up with both hands on his shoulders, legs parted on either side of his thighs, lips still greedy for his. with jude focused on cradling you in his arms, pushing you onto his torso with one hand at your waist and the other behind your neck, you begin to slowly rock your core against his pelvic bone.

jude lets a groan leave his mouth and flow into yours, the vibrations getting caught in your throat before seemingly traveling down to your core. your underwear grows wetter by the second at the sounds coming out of your boyfriend.

“oh god, babe…” jude tilts his head back, your mouths finally drifting apart and making room for his breathing to get shallower. you immediately see the opportunity to peck and bite at his exposed throat, teeth sinking ever so slightly into the damp skin.

“b-babe, babe,” jude hurriedly says, gently pulling you off him by the shoulders. you immediately feel the reality of your environment settle in. oh my god, you think, how many parents, kids and families did you force to witness all that?

“i’m sorry…” you remove yourself entirely from jude’s embrace, embarrassment heating up your cheeks. “got a bit carried away.” you fiddle with your fingers, mentally scolding yourself for being so promiscuous in public.

jude shoots up from the sun lounger that the pair of you were previously situated on, taking your hand in one of his and squeezing your waist with other before he sincerely says, “hey, i just didn’t want them to see all this, they would’ve been too jealous over what’s about to go down.”

he pauses for a second, eyebrows knitted playfully. “or maybe i would’ve been too jealous of them seeing you like that.” he gives you a purposeful wink to which you return with an equally playful roll of your eyes and an amused smirk on your face.

“come on, baby,” jude pulls you along with him, the two of you exiting the communal pool and heading towards the hotel’s back entrance. “you’ve gotten me way too hard for us to not do something about it.”

***

the journey back up to your plush hotel suite is an agonisingly slothful one - although you guys have opted for the lift, it is on the 19th floor after all. jude’s quiet c’mon c’mons and constant pressing of your floor number has you laughing, not wanting to bring up the fact that the ache between your legs was growing in case it caused him to nearly break the damn button.

once the relieving ping of the lift sounds, signalling that you’d reached your destination, jude is quick to grab you by the hand and lead you to your room. no words are spoken between there and the door to your suite but the both of you know what to expect.

once the door is swung open (then shut) and before you can even utter a syllable, jude near throws you onto the bed. the coolness of the beige silky sheets catches you this time, mattress bouncing with the force that you’d been placed on the bed with. jude hastily presses his lips to yours in a desperate attempt to feel any inch of you on him, before parting your legs at the knees and pushing them back slightly, causing you to wrap them around his waist.

you both continue to kiss each other, mouths moving to a self-appointed rhythm, each of you letting out whines and groans that only spurs the other on.

jude pulls away from the sweet sensation of your lips, albeit reluctantly, but finds a compromise in boring his eyes into yours, face still barely an inch away from yours. his gaze is drawn to how swollen and kissed-out your lips look.

“let me make you feel good tonight, baby, okay?” he somewhat asks, somewhat demands, progressively running his hand up your thigh to your underwear and letting his fingers linger on the fabric. he steadies himself by touching his forehead to yours, eyes still staring into yours.

you gulp and give him a quick yet honest nod to which he replies with a deep kiss, thumb suddenly pressing onto your clit. his mouth is muffling all the mewls that are leaving your throat, your legs still wrapped around his bare waist and threatening to wrap tighter.

jude buries his face in the crook of your neck, nipping at it with his teeth and soothing it over with his tongue and lips. it’s your head that’s tilted back now, left to his mercy only.

“gonna make you feel so good, darling,” jude whispers on the skin of your throat, pressing light kisses to the area as his thumb continues to keep rubbing against the fabric on your throbbing bud. “gonna give my girl what she deserves.”

your breathing starts to get heavier, anticipation now bubbling in the bottom of your abdomen and spreading to your core, the aches from earlier still resonating.

“p-please, jude,” he reaches the top of your cleavage when you pant this out, your pink sundress still covering all the parts of you that he desires most at this moment.

“be patient for me, baby,” he gently commands, fingers now hooking into the waistband of your panties before they’re pulled off in one swipe and tossed to some corner of the room. “fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me, i swear down,” he groans upon briefly catching a glimpse of your wet pussy before it’s covered by your legs closing as he steps away from the bed for a second, eyes just drinking in your beautiful figure on the king-sized bed.

without a word, he takes you by the waist and pulls you closer to the end of the bed, your legs dangling off the edge and palms flat behind you to sit you up steadily. jude pushes the bottom of your sundress up and bunches it around your waist, now fully putting your lower abdomen and wet pussy on display for him.

he gets on his knees right in front of the bed, face level with your sopping hole. “there you are, darling, hmm?” he hums, the tiny distance between his lips and your cunt making the sound waves travel straight through you. “all wet and ready for me.”

your breathing gets more rapid, chest heaving at this point and you’re desperate, so desperate to feel his lips, his tongue, his fingers, his anything on your needy cunt.

“jude, please!”

your whining makes him lift his head from where your pussy is to where he can see the near torment painted on your gorgeous face. eyebrows furrowed, lips pouting. you looked like a dream and there was no way he could deny you now.

he suddenly yanks you towards him, hands hooking around your soft thighs until your bottom half is hanging off the bed, legs draped over his shoulders and onto his back. the action makes his mouth latch onto the tense bud that is your clit as a high pitched gasp slips past your lips.

jude gets to work on your pussy, mouth ardently lapping up every drop of wetness his touch and his words have created. the feeling of his lips wrapped around your clit has your back arching off the bed, core pressing right up against the prickly scruff on his chin. the added friction has your toes curling in bliss.

you moan his name, one, two, three times and it does nothing but egg him on some more, tongue now slipping between your soaked folds and poking at your hole. the heightened sensitivity has your hand grabbing at his curls, the sensation in turn making him groan against you, the tremors of which have you moaning louder for him.

the room is filled with the gruff noises jude is emitting as he devours your sopping cunt - nose deep in the fleshy contours - and the breathy cries of jude, oh god, jude and ah ah ah coming from your parted lips.

the sounds you make are becoming more frequent and desperate and your eyes are squeezed shut, unable to comprehend how good jude is making you feel with his mouth, all this indicating that the bubbling arousal in the bottom of your stomach is about to tip over. jude, all of a sudden, stops.

“wh-what…?” you blink your eyes open, almost on the verge of tears over your climax being so cruelly snatched away like that.

jude says nothing, only getting up off the floor before pulling his white shorts down and stepping out of the fabric pool they leave around his ankles. he has no underwear on so you see firsthand how raging hard his cock is.

“‘m sorry, baby, you taste so good but-” he taps his seeping red tip on your pussy, still slick from his spit and your juices, the fluids combining on his cock and pulling off in a connective string as he brings his fist over it, jerking himself off for a second or two.

to you, it feels like multiple minutes. minutes where jude is indulging himself after denying you such a satisfying orgasm. you would’ve scoffed at the way he grunts out your name as he touches himself if it wasn’t for how absurdly hot he looked and sounded.

“just didn’t want you to cum so soon, y-yeah? w-wanted you to, ah, cum around my cock.”

he grits his teeth, hissing when he makes contact with the red hot feel of your cunt on his cock, taking his time to ever so slightly dip into the soaked slit.

“fuck, jude, hurry up,” you whine as he does anything but give you what you want. he’s now toying with the dress still gathered around your waist.

“have i told you how fucking stunning you look in this dress?” he pointedly ignores what you have to say, eyes heavy with lust and fingers still playing with the soft cotton material. a stray finger or two strokes the sides of your waist and you feel like screaming in frustration.

“i’m not sure how much i appreciate that compliment when you’re about to rip it off me.” you assume jude was going to pull off and throw your dress in some far nook of the room just like he did with your underwear. your tone is snarky too, a bitterness you think jude deserves after acting like such a dick.

“nah ‘m gonna keep it on, wanna see how good you look while i fuck you in it,” he smirks, watching how you visually gulp and avoid eye contact with him. your cheeks are burning with a mixture of fluster and excitement. you watch him as he retrieves a condom packet from the bedside table, taking his sweet, sweet time to walk back to the bed’s edge where you were suffering, legs still wide apart for him.

“now, you gonna let me give that sweet pussy what it deserves, hm? gonna let me stretch it out and fill it up with my cock?” he says all this without taking an eye off you, rolling the condom on without even looking at it.

his lewd words have such a heavy effect on you, your cunt automatically getting wetter and clenching around empty space. you can’t think of wanting anything other than jude’s thick length stuffing your tight pussy, anything other than his lips on yours, his fingers rubbing at your swollen clit right now.

“yes, yes, please give it to me, jude,” you beg him now, all forms of shame leaving your body along with these words. “i need your cock filling my pussy up, please, it’s yours.” you rake your nails up and down his biceps in an attempt to soothe your neediness and to also hurry him up.

jude lets a moan out at what you’re saying to him, the way you’re desperately babbling making him even more unbelievably hard. giving up on the teasing and deciding to fulfil both your wishes, he pushes his cock past your spit and precum-drenched folds with a strangled groan.

the sound that comes out of you is nothing short of pornographic. and it drives jude crazy.

he immediately sets a deep and fast pace, big cock pummelling into dripping wet pussy, the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin and the two lovers’ moans and groans mixing into the evening air.

“oh fuuuuck, y/n,” he can’t believe how good and tight and wet you feel around his hard length, your pussy only getting more soaked at his words. “it’s like you were made for this dick, baby. m-made for me, weren’t you?”

you plan to wrap your shaking legs around jude’s waist to bring him closer into you, needing every inch of his skin on yours, every inch of his cock inside you. but your boyfriend has other ideas. taking both legs onto his shoulders, he’s able to reach even deeper in your pussy as he strokes in and out of you, an unfathomable amount of dick now filling you up. you almost scream from the pleasure, nails now scratching at his thighs.

“s-so so good for me, baby, you’re doing so good, ah!” he struggles to get his words out, the tightness of your cunt on his cock having the same effect on his throat. he’s always been loud in the bedroom but tonight is showing a different side to him — his voice is more confident, unabashedly telling you how good he feels and how good you make him feel, and it makes you want to burn it onto a CD and play it on loop.

jude allows your legs to relax now, positioning them around his waist himself with you giving him a thankful stroke across his abs. the pace at which he fucks you gets faster, the straps of your sundress falling down your shoulder with the speed and exposing the top of your tits.

you’re scratching up jude’s back with the same ferocity he’s pounding your pussy, the pleasurable pain making the both of you nearly drool with how delicious it feels. the tight knot in your stomach threatens to come undone and you warn jude with an increase in the pitch of your moans.

“i’m so close, baby,” you mewl, gasping out for your boyfriend who captures your lips in a sweet kiss that differs so beautifully from the way he’s abusing your poor pussy. “please don’t stop, oh, jude, please cum with me.” you’re craving for release now but you only want to ride it out with him, any former feelings of selfishness being replaced with the desire you feel for your lover.

“i’m right there with you, angel, let go for me,” jude’s face is hovering over yours, warm breath fanning what feels like flames on your cheeks, the reward of a white hot orgasm so so close. his thumb regains contact with your now bare clit, stimulating it quickly. “cum around me, baby, cum all over my cock.”

you cum around jude not a moment after he says that, with a scream that can surely be heard 4 rooms down the hallway. the walls of your cunt spasm around his dick, which triggers jude’s release, his slightly higher than usual pitched moans muffled into your neck. his white seed spills into the condom and you can feel the weight and warmth of it in you despite the barrier, and the last stroke of his cock makes you shudder.

you collapse into the bed and let the sheets engulf you, bringing jude down with you too. the two of you don’t say anything, you just let each other pant out the remaining energy with shallow breaths.

jude breaks the so-called silence first. “that was fucking incredible,” he laughs breathily, kissing your cheek repeatedly. “mhmm, thank you, thank you, i love you.” he nuzzles his face into the junction between your neck and shoulder, leaving small kisses along the skin.

“jude!” you chuckle at his post-nut clinginess, trying to remind him of the fact that he was literally still inside you and that you both needed to clean up.

“noooooo!” he whines upon hearing your demands but still slips out of you and disposes of the condom before face planting onto the bed, right next to your tired self.

you let out a small gasp at the feeling of emptiness and close your legs tightly, rubbing your thighs together as they burn from the different positions jude had held them in.

“ugh, jude, i swear we’re not doing rough sex for at least 3 months now, my thighs can’t take it,” you complain, attempting to massage them but giving up in sheer exhaustion.

jude sniggers, pulling himself up to rest the side of his head on your left thigh, leaving a loud mmwah on the sweaty skin with his lips. “okay but how long really until we go at it again?” suggesting that neither of you can resist the other.

“i’m serious, jude!” you swat at him, playfully.

“yeah, yeah, round 2 in the shower?”

“JUDE!“

#˗ˏˋ 📝 ˎˊ˗#jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x fem!reader #jude bellingham x y/n #football imagine #footballer imagine #footballer smut

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cozage · 4 months

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The Daughter's Return Part 3

Chapter 25: Decisions

Start From Beginning | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 1.5k

“Do you want to go back?” Ace asked, studying your face.

“Back where?” You focused on the newspaper in your hand, aware of his watchful eye.

It had been a few days since Ace had woken up, but you still hadn’t made the call to Marco or the others that you all were safe. He had been making great progress since then-he could sit up almost completely on his own. His back was still heavily wrapped, but most of the tubes and wires were no longer connected to his body anymore.

“Back home.” You winced at the word, which didn’t go unnoticed by Ace. His voice was softer when he spoke again. “To the Moby Dick.”

You stayed silent, staring intently at the paper in front of you.

“We don’t have to,” he said, gently laying down on the bed and staring at the ceiling. He groaned at the contact between his back and the sheets, and your eyes reflexively darted over to him at the sound of pain.

“Luffy’s not awake yet,” you reasoned. You didn’t want to have to make a decision yet. “We can’t leave him.”

“Luffy will be fine on his own.” Ace chewed on his lip, deep in thought. “If we leave before he wakes up, it’d be better.”

You scowled at that. “You can’t mean that. Luffy risked his life to save you! You can’t even stay around long enough to-”

“What if he didn’t save my life, though?” Ace’s dark eyes looked at you, waiting.

You let out a shaky breath. Certainly he wouldn’t be suggesting the same thing you had offered when he was unconscious. There’s no way Ace would want to leave…

“What if we were dead to the world?” His voice was so quiet, you could barely hear him. “We have the chance to start over. To leave everything-”

“What about the people we love? What about our family?” You argued.

“My family is in this room.”

Your breath caught in your throat. He was right. It had been the three of you for so short of a time, and yet all you wanted was a quiet life with them.

Still, you found yourself shaking your head in disagreement. “We can’t just leave them.”

“We can.” He reached out and grabbed your hand, giving it a light squeeze. “We will never have this chance again. We have to make a decision. Don’t think about anyone else. What do you want?”

You thought about how peaceful life had been in Wano, when you had established a life, a routine. You had made friends. You never had to look over your shoulder in the market. Nobody knew who you were or what you were capable of. Could you really have that again?

But your life had always been on the high seas. You had never grown bored of island life in Wano, but surely that was only because you had goals. If you were confined to a life on the ground with no end in sight, how would you feel in five years?

“I can’t do that to Marco,” you said. “He can’t lose everyone in one day. That’s not fair.”

“So we tell Marco,” Ace shrugged. “I think he would agree we’d be making the right choice. And he’s not exactly one for gossip.”

“Don’t you think we’d grow to hate it?”

Ace quirked up an eyebrow. “Do you think you would hate it?”

You wouldn’t. He knew that, and so did you. The thought of a place to call your own made you want to weep with joy. It sounded like something you could never achieve, and yet here it was, serving itself up on a silver platter.

“I’ll go speak to Law.” You rose from your chair, striding to the door. “It sounds like he has a call to make.”

A few days later, you were wrapped in Marco’s tight embrace, sobbing into his shirt.

He had come alone and boarded the metal ship without any weapons, like Law had demanded when he initiated contact via the transponder snail. And they had vanished beneath the waves before Law had led him to your and Ace’s room.

He had been cussing up a storm and threatening to rip the ship apart before the door opened to reveal the two of you. And then his entire demeanor changed, and the two of you hadn’t stopped holding each other since.

Ace cleared his throat gently, trying to get your all’s attention. “Marco-”

“How’s the baby?” Marco asked, redirecting his attention. “Is it alright after Marineford? You really shouldn’t have-!”

“He-” you gave him a knowing smile. “-is completely healthy, thanks to the doctor.” You gave another nod of thanks to Law, but Marco’s was more focused on the words you had spoken.

“He? It’s a boy?”

You gave a tearful nod. “It’s a boy.”

Ace shifted in his bed. “Marco-”

Marco ignored him. “And nothing is wrong? I mean, you used your powers for at least-”

Law stepped in, handing him a folder. “You can read all about it, Phoenix. We’re kind of on a tight schedule here.”

Marco’s brow furrowed. “Schedule? Aren’t I here to pick you up?”

The pain on your face was enough to spread panic across his as he looked between Ace and you. But slowly, miraculously, the panic melted away.

“You’re disappearing, aren’t you?” Marco asked softly, looking at Ace.

Ace gave a simple nod.

“We need your help,” you interjected. “We want to offer our protection to an island that Pops protected. In exchange, we just want to live there peacefully. Surely we can make the World Government believe their assassination attempt was successful. They’ve been reporting as if it was.”

Marco nodded as he wiped the tears from his face. He could switch into strategy mode almost as fast as you could. “It shouldn’t be hard to convince the world that the two of you are dead. We’re having a burial for pops in a few days.” Marco glanced at you nervously, but you kept your face blank.

“You’ll need to take some of our belongings,” you said. “For the graveside. Take anything from my room.”

“My hat,” Ace choked out. “You can take my hat. It’s too much of a distinguishing feature anyway.”

Marco shook his head. “I can’t-”

“You can,” you said sharply, trying to keep your bottom lip from trembling. “We only have one shot at this, Marco. I need to know that you can do this.”

Your uncle let out another shaky breath, but he nodded. “I can do this. For you to live a happy, peaceful life…I’d do anything.”

You handed him a sheet of paper with a list of names. “These people have vivre cards-”

“Most of the cards were destroyed during the war with the ships, but I’ll make sure they’re all disposed of.”

“Keep one,” you whispered softly, your voice threatening to betray you. “In case you need to find us.”

Marco gave a light laugh. “Kind of defeats the purpose of erasing yourselves, doesn’t it?”

But one look at your shining eyes stifled his laughter. “I’ll keep one,” he promised. “Go to the island of Ontau. They’ll accept you. You don’t have to tell them everything, just let them know you were one of Whitebeard’s underlings. It’s far enough in the Grand Line and it’s such a small island that the Marine’s won’t bother you, but it won’t be hard for you two to defend.”

“Marco-” you whispered.

“I have 50,000 berries on me, take them all to start over. It’s not a lot, but you can buy a small cabin and some things for the baby.”

“Marco,” you said a little louder. He was blabbering to prolong his time with you.

“And make sure you all find a nice place near the ocean. You can fish and live off the land, or get a job in town. Don’t live so far away that you isolate yourself. You need to make friends, both of you-” he gave you a pointed look. “You can trust people there. They’ll have your back when you need help, but you need to ask. Don’t be so prideful that you-”

You lunged toward him, wrapping your arms tight around him. It would be the last time you would see him for a very long time…maybe ever.

“I don’t want to leave you,” you cried into his chest.

“You have to.” He brushed your hair out, softly patting the top of your head as if you were still six years old. “You’ll live a better life. That’s all any parent wants, you know.”

“I wouldn’t be who I am without you.”

“You wouldn’t,” he agreed. “But now you can figure out who you are without me.”

You nodded into his chest, but you kept your arms locked around his torso. You needed to remember everything about him. Because if this was the last time…

“Look after each other, okay?” He said. You gave another nod.

“I swear it,” Ace’s voice came from behind you, and you felt his hand on your shoulder.

You gave Marco one last squeeze and finally broke away from him.

“One last thing,” Marco said, his hand enveloping in blue flames. “Let’s see how much I can heal those pesky burns, Ace.”

Tag list! @taeyoge @teiza @tojislawyer @trafalgardnami @bloopbopsblog @dancingnewcat @dxestyi @flooofity @nyxthedragon01 @deadsnothere @h-rhodes1598 @morgyyyyyyy @trafalgardvivi @fiestynatureweeb @frogpogjoghurt @beepboopcowboy @ms-portgas @luvyallbabes @appalost @zuchkaa @saybeyonce @stray-npc @kitsunechan707 @theyluvmesblog @heartysworld @aira-needs-sleep @mothmomjay @ophelias-flowerss @aqualein @sehyojae @fanficwriter5 @forgotten-blues @amberash05 @firefistnoct @depressed-but-make-it-cute @stuckinthewrongworld@lizpoir

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas ace x you #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #ace x y/n #ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas d. ace #cozage #✧˚ace✧˚

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lale-txt · 5 months

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❈ 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐲, 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐰/ 𝐍𝐚𝐨𝐲𝐚 & 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐛!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

“At your limit already, pretty boy?”, you coo and run a hand down his stomach, feeling him twitch inside you violently, so desperate for release. Naoya grits his teeth, his hands gripping the sheets of the futon next to your head. He’s breathing heavily, his sharp eyes finally catching your gaze. He hates losing his composure like that, especially while he’s on top of you. or: where you take the virginity of the Zen'in heir

a/n: this was supposed to be a collection with short drabbles of various characters with this prompt but somehow i got possessed by my usual Zen'in fuckery and here we are. Naoya is such an asshole, i love him dearly. shoutout to my friends who let me yap about him day in, day out, you're the best ♡

contains: ns.fw under the cut, afab!reader (no pronouns, "pussy" & "cunt" used to describe genitalia), Naoya Zen'in being his own warning, loss of virginity, mention of reader fucking Naobito (yes, his dad), dirty talk, degradation (again, it's Naoya...), breeding kink (no pregnancy mention), possessive Naoya, penetrative sex, rough making out, fingering, cum play, Naoya being a bit pathetic and whimpering too to balance it all out

word count: 1.3k

“Well, are you gonna fuck me or…?”

“Shut up,” he growls, one hand spreading apart your thighs, the other pumping his cock. Naoya never looked prettier, with his cheeks flushed, his hair sticking to his forehead while small beads of sweat run down his neck. His brows are furrowed, the pink tip of his tongue poking out between his lips while he has his gaze fixated on your dripping cunt, exposed to him on a silver platter underneath him.

“Hng… ‘m gonna breed you,” he huffs, rubbing his cock between your folds. “Gonna stuff you so full of my cum, you’re gonna feel it dripping out of your poor hole for days.” Always such a big talker, but his voice wavers slightly, his breath flat. He’s so focused on not cuming before he even sticks it in, it’s almost adorable.

Looking back, it had been inevitable that you two ended up like this; you with your kimono hastily hiked up over your hips, your tits exposed, laying on his futon where he graciously pushed you down instead of the cold wooden floor. Naoya’s clothes laid cluttered around the room, peeled off in a rush; almost as if he was afraid you were gonna change your mind about letting him fuck you. Little did he know that you weren’t picky; you’ve found enjoyment in tasting the various fruits the Zen’ins had to offer—you made sure to moan extra loud when fucking his father the other day, hoping Naoya would hear it and fuck his fist to the sounds of it.

“Gonna make you my bitch”, he murmurs, the grip on your thighs tightening. “Gonna get you addicted to my cock till you beg me for it with your whore mouth.” You can feel the slight trembling of his hands, his other still holding his length, running the tip up and down between your folds, but not pushing in. There was something about a virgin like him being this cocky, desperately trying to gloss over his nervousness. You were sure you could feel his heart fluttering in his chest if you were to lay a hand on it. Instead you prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better view of his pitiful fumbling.

“Sure, hon’, can’t wait”, you reply sweetly and smile at him, making him dig his nails a little deeper in your flesh. He didn’t like the pet name, but he was too focused to snap back at you. Only when you reach with one hand for his cock and guide him to where you want to feel him, he takes in a sharp breath. You raise your hips slightly to welcome him into the warmth of your throbbing cunt, feeling his tip, glistening with precum, finally nudging at your entrance.

“Didn’t say you could—oh, fuck,” the Zen’in heir hisses, a small whimper falling from his mouth the moment your cunt clenches around his cock when he sinks into you. Once he’s bottomed out fully, he freezes, taking deep breaths with eyes pinned to the ceiling. So cute, you think to yourself and bite your bottom lip. Part of you wants to ruin him, wants to hear him whine and beg, wants to see him completely falling apart, too pussydrunk to function. You swallow a giggle in the back of your throat and wrap your legs around his hips to hinder him from pulling out–not that he would dare to do so.

“Quiet,” he growls, a vein popping on his neck. “Know your place.” He rolls his hips slightly, a faint moan escaping his lips. Your walls felt too good around his cock, he could barely function. If he could, he would keep you stuffed with his cock forever, till your insides are molded after the shape of him, till his cum is leaking from your pussy with every step you take. It’s like you’ve awakened something primal in him the moment you guided him inside of you and he would not let it go to waste.

“Fuck me then,” you dare him in a voice sweet and dripping as honey, arching your back a little more. The sassy smile on your lips only provoked him more. You are not taking him seriously and he hated it. “Or do you want me to crawl back to your daddy’s cock?”

The sight that follows your words is one to remember; Naoya’s golden eyes widening before he grabs your wrists and pins them down above your head. It seems like you finally pushed the right buttons within him. He leans down until his face is so close to yours, you can feel his breath hot and heavy on your skin. Then his lips meet yours, crashing against each other in a heated kiss; he growls again when you bite down hard enough on his lips to draw blood, but he doesn’t pull away. Naoya is finally fucking you like he means it, your body being pushed deeper into the futon with every thrust of his.

“Stupid bitch,” he rumbles from deep within his chest, “Do I need to fuck some sense into you?” His hips stutter and he lets out a small whimper. He wants to cum so badly, wants to get milked by your throbbing cunt till he sees stars, but he needs to teach you a lesson, right? He was the future heir of his clan, he couldn’t tolerate this kind of behavior from someone below him. But fuck, you feel so, so good...

“From now on you’re gonna be mine,” he hisses and hides his face in the crook of your neck, taking a sharp inhale with every thrust of his hips, with every sound of his flesh slapping against yours. He’s whining and moaning, sounding utterly desperate. “Understood? Mine to breed, mine to fill, mine to—”

He can’t hold back anymore, his thrusts getting even sloppier, before he pushes himself as deep as he can inside of you, seeking the warmth of your cunt that’s been fluttering around his cock nonstop. His load is thick and hot, and he’s not pulling out, but slumps down on top of you, pinning you down with his whole body, positively exhausted and trembling. You let out a small chuckle and let your fingers run down his spine while he keeps on whimpering and moaning quietly into your neck, teeth brushing over your skin. This flavor of Zen’in sure was to your liking.

“You know, I might stick around…”, you muse while playing with his hair, your voice a little singsong. It was a bit cute how needy he got after losing his virginity a minute ago. “If you manage to make me cum as well next time…”

Naoya grunts, biting down on your neck slightly before finally pulling out of you. He sits back down on his heels, eyes pinned where his cum is dripping out of cunt, almost mesmerized by it. His eyes are glossy, his cheeks rosy and his hair an utter mess. You spread your legs a little further apart to invite him in once again, letting out a quiet moan when his long fingers shove his load back inside, his thumb nearing your poor, neglected clit.

You take that as a Yes.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #naoya x reader #naoya zen'in x reader #naoya x you #jjk reader insert #jjk x you #jjk imagines #jjk scenarios #naoya zenin

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lemmetreatya · 1 year

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Any spare jjba smut? Literally any of the guys, although I love how you write joot, and I'm interested to see how you'd write old!Joseph (SDC)

omg anon thank you SO much for reminding me that i am indeed a whore for joestars. your diligence will be heavily rewarded!! ❤️

Jojo characters during sex

ft. Jonathan, Old!Joseph (SDC), Jotaro (part 4), DIO (SDC)

content: afab!reader, modern au ig, smut, sex, male. pen, missionary, doggy, cowgirl

🔆 jonathan: missionary 🔆

despite being the supposed gentleman he is, jonathan is an absolute sucker for being able to hover over you from above during sex. he may not give it away, but loves being able to play and fondle with your breasts as he thrusts into you, large hands able to engulf all of you — regardless of size. it’s almost perverted how his eyes can never seem focused on your face despite how much he proclaims he likes missionary for that reason.

“jojo…”

your fingers cant help but play within the naped locks of jonathan’s navy black hair, your mind on the verge of going blank as result of how passionately he was fucking into you.

“you’re so beautiful…” he’d strain out despite his attention not being on you. as his eyes cant help but lay strain over your bouncing breasts, you can only let out a huff.

“feel like…” your cheek lays flat against the pillow, drool peaking at the corner of your lips. “you’re not even…that wasn’t f-f-or me…”

a short stutter leaves jonathan’s mouth but he doesn’t let up his pace. in fact, the man continues to plough into you whilst bringing up his index finger and thumb to his lips. he momentarily sucks on the digits, eyes fierce, before bringing them down onto the exposed nub of your nipple.

nothing less of a yelp and a moan leaves your throat at the additional stimulation. if anything, it just makes jonathan smile more.

“don’t underestimate me…i can appreciate…more than one thing at a…at a time.”

🔆 joseph: spooning 🔆

“it’s not because of my age…” he usually groans but joseph is an absolute adorer of spooning fucks. he says its always been his go-to choice of position but even you didnt need to know him within his juvenile days to work out that (lazily) thrusting into you from behind on his side was definitely due to lack of effort. still yet, joseph was always a good lay when it came to this position— clearly he knew what he was doing.

the patient slapping of skin sounded throughout the room as joseph took you from behind. his cock had no problem in sliding in and out of your gooey cunt, his grunts feverently hot against your neck.

“god, you’re always so warm for me princess…” he endearingly spewls as the rough hairs of his silver moustache softly scratch against your skin.

you yourself cant help but mewl in reply as the man’s fat cock continues to drive up your ridged canals, the arched angle of your back resulting in you feeling him just about poke your innards.

“always for you, daddy…”

you moan almost subconsciously. it wasn’t something youd said with him before but there was just something about the man that made you want to address him as such. the use of the pet name makes joseph’s dick jump within you. you dont miss how he blows an extra hot puff of air onto your neck.

“don’t say that unless…you want trouble.” he muses, but you know he’s more endorsing the behaviour than berating.

with an impulsive clench of your walls around him, you signal that you were willing to take whatever ’trouble’ was.

🔆 jotaro: doggy 🔆

oh now jotaro is a man who takes what he wants — thats we know. but there’s just something about having you at his beckon from behind, the almost animalistic inclining to have his way with you unabashed?? jotaro has his suave and intimate moments but sometimes he just wants to be able to indulge in you any way he can.

bullet crowns seem to be ringing through your head at this point. your body is being jolted way too harshly for anything you have to say to come out sane. no matter how much you cry out in pleasure or muffle his name into the duvet, jotaro is absolutely not letting up.

“s-shit…”

his own curses come out half baked and cant even form properly from his lips. understandably, seeing as jotaros eyes are determinedly focused on the mirror situated in front of your naked bodies, the sight delightfully vulgar as his hands squeeze at your hips.

“mine…m-mine.” is what he chants over you, his cock making no mistake in target as each time it perfectly carves out the pipe of your insides and leaves your pussy puffy with white froths of cream.

you can’t help but squeeze out a sorry excuse of a “yours” in reply to jotaro’s proclamation. which to his delight he takes it as a green light to prop one of his legs up onto the bed and proceed to drill into you with the vigor of a thousand men.

itd be no lie to say that your mind was then completely scrambled and your senses telling you this man was nothing but fine trouble.

🔆 dio: cowgirl 🔆

this man needs to be in control for every aspect of his life, but when it comes to sex? actually, no he still needs and wants to be in control, but he finds a way to not always make it about him. dio loves cowgirl simply because it gives him the feel for power whilst simultaneously letting you do all the work. it also gives the illusion about the sense of worship finally being directed towards you — and he likes that! (but he’d never admit that aloud)

as his fingers grip onto the seat of your hips, you cant but help yourself feel exceptionally full and imbedded by dio’s cock as he rocks himself up into your hole.

“look at you…”

hed almost pray from below, beady eyes strained and focused on you and everything you deliver — raining from your moans, cries and curses.

“so beautiful for me.”

you should be mindful that he doesn’t suddenly plant his feet flat into the mattress to use as a anchor of some sort before he’s using the momentum to fuck into you mercilessly. however when he does, it’s like heaven on earth as you cry out of both shock and pleasure.

“di…” is all you can get out and the smile on dio’s face in response is devliah.

“that’s it. lemme hear you.” hed coo.

#jojos #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo jotaro #jojo x reader #jonathan joestar #joseph joestar #dio brando #dio x reader #joseph x reader #jonathan x reader #jotaro x reader #jjba

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themisteriousentity · 10 months

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Do you ever think about how perfectly the three house leaders embody the concepts of "past, present, future"? At least in Houses, it gets a little more muddled in Hopes

Dimitri heavily embodies the past and the way it can drag you down. He forgets the importance of the present and even when going to the officer's academy, he's only going to get access to church records to investigate the tragedy of Duscur, as evidenced by that one event where Dedue and Byleth happen upon him researching late at night in the library and he's investigating Arundel. Even by the end of Azure Moon, he's still not thinking about the future, only putting a stop the the present cruelty and focusing on trying to help that girl he knew in the past until he realizes he can't. It's not until the very end of the game that he breaks from the shackles of his past, but he's also never 100% in the present due to, in Azure Moon, the past never 100% being demystified, as shown by how those who slither in the dark are only eradicated in specific epilogues if you recruited the right characters + bought the DLC.

Edelgard easily represents the present. Her entire focus is on the events of her lifetime and the conclusions she came to based only on (incorrect) past and present information. She came to a conclusion very young and never waivered from it nor investigated it further and only looks towards fixing the problems of the present. The present is built upon by the past, and she perfectly shows that by holding onto past facts to influence the present, but she does not consider the long term future. A youtube video I watched but can't remember the channel name for (I will edit it in as a link if I can remember it) once pointed out that with a merit based appointment system, it'll fall apart as soon as Edelgard is gone and no longer there to maintain it. Not to mention that, like Azure Moon, Crimson Flower has the same issue of only borderline mentioning those who slither in the dark's ultimate demise, and we don't even get a satisfactory ending to that in Crimson Flower. (Side note, Silver Snow is better abut this but is not entirely relevant as that is a Lordless route).

Claude meanwhile is always looking towards the future, informed well by the past and present. He is, of course, aware and affected by the past and present, but like the future itself uses it to build the road to tomorrow. And unlike Dimitri and Edelgard, who have a single minded focus and don't plan for backups, understands that there's no guarantees in anything and is always planning contingencies when he can. And because the future is built from the past and present, he's also the character who most seeks out to demystify them in order to build that future, because even if you don't know a past event, it will still have ripple effect into the future. It's what makes it very important that, unlike Dimitri and Edelgard, Claude steps down from leadership of Fódlan entirely once he uncovers the full truth and realizes that, for all intents and purposes, his type of leadership isn't needed in Fódlan after what it went through and that his next best step is to go back to Almyra and start the next steps there. In fact, in Verdant Wind, they actually almost entirely take care of those who slither in the dark with the only remaining one being Cornelia, but even THEN he had a contingency when he came back to save Fódlan with the Almyran army in the epilogue. Even in other routes, he manages to always perfectly plan for both his demise and his victory, culminating (outside his own path) in Crimson Flower where he plans for his own death. He never stops thinking about the different twists and turns the future can take and plans for it.

This ended up a little bit Claude heavier but to be fair, he usually gives me more to think about.

#fe3h #fire emblem three houses #claude von riegan #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #edelgard von hresvelg #claude fe3h #dimitri fe3h #edelgard fe3h

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bonefall · 2 months

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My birthday was a couple days ago, and I got to see my bio dad for the first time in a while. He surprised me with the fact that I have a little half-sister, whom I've never met and who was adopted about two years back. So, I wondered if any situations in BB mimic this or have a theme of "secret siblings" or "secret family"? Sorry if this is a weird ask; this blog is honestly just such a cool little place and I love the way you approach the subject matter and take the flawed misogynistic foundation of the WC books and make them so much better (JUSTICE FOR BUMBLE!!!). I've also learned a lot about healthy and unhealthy relationships here and am really glad for your deep dives on Squilf and Bramble. Thanks, Bones!

Not weird at all! I really like exploring all the little nooks and crannies of complicated familial dynamics. I think one of the untapped strengths of WC (that the writers seem to be unaware of) is how their MASSIVE cast allows them to present all sorts of unique dynamics. So I like to pick up on it, since they don't.

For secret siblings...

I'm pretty heavily leaning towards Ambermoon being adopted by Wildfur, as a surrogacy. Something feels correct about it. Especially since Icecloud is getting retooled into a post-Battle of the True Eclipse birth, and a major supporting character in AVoS-era stories as a friend of Alderheart.

Thinking about it, I should zoom in and expand this. Maybe have Icecloud, somehow, acquire forbidden knowledge that would invalidate the Queen’s Rights and he (transman) struggles with if he's going to use it to expose his parents as an excuse to help Ambermoon.

(Especially since Ambermoon and Icecloud are basically nothing alike. Amber is independent, bold, and vain. Ice is jessie pinkman big-hearted, disorganized, and deceptively meek if you look past his "chill" demeanor)

But that's wip-- there's also Breezepelt and the Three, who are going to have an actual friendship. In particular I can't unsee Breeze and Lion having a deep one. I know I commit the Cardinal Sin of borderline himbo-ifying Lionblaze in BB, but I can't help it.

Hollyleaf ended up nabbing a bunch of his most violent roles to make her villainous descent smoother narratively, so BB!Lionblaze's story ends up being more focused on Ashfur's abuse, comic relief with cats in other Clans (something that the very serious Jay and Holly have a hard time providing), and the emotional fallout of the big reveal and Bramblestar's turn on them. Breezepelt slots neatly into that.

They were friends. Lionblaze's whole life came down around the reveal, everyone looking at him and his siblings differently, like they're suddenly something terrible. Why can't we find a silver lining, Breezepelt? Why can't we call ourselves brothers if the whole world is going to do it anyway? So much is changing, but THIS doesn't have to, we will take their weapon and turn it to armor, my ally, my friend, my brother.

(and when Breezepelt is lashing out at the three because of the Dark Forest's influence, Lionblaze is there, taking the blows and trying not to give in to the impulse to send him flying with a single paw)

There's also Harespring and Kestrelflight of WindClan and Owlclaw of ShadowClan. All of them are from a single litter between Whitewater and Mudclaw. She was going to raise the three of them alone as ShadowClan cats, but when the sire was smote, Whitewater felt they were cursed.

She was able to give the oldest two to their bio-uncle, Torear, but the weather was so bad that day and the runt was so sickly and small that it surely would have killed him. I don't think Owlclaw ever finds out why his mother always treated him with suspicion, but it did mess him up horribly.

Over in BB!DOTC, Thunder Storm is getting more half-siblings earlier. Clear Sky and Falling Feather had two daughters-- Pale Sky and Tiger Sky.

I want to explore the way that the various stages of Clear Sky's life acted on his kids. How any little curiosity Thunder Storm had about the life he might have had if he wasn't abandoned is crushed by seeing kittens who weren't. How Clear's favoritism of his oldest child set the trio against each other from the start. How this idea of "love" is toxic yet intoxicating.

It feels good to be the golden child. The power it gives you over his sycophants is satisfying. To know you, and you alone, have what someone else craves. Problem is, that's conditional, and it's cruel.

What Thunder Storm learns from his time with his biodad is that Clear Sky is not his father at all. He's taught him exactly what he DOESN'T want to be. There may be similarities-- in temperament, in physical prowess (though BB!Thunder is three-legged, he's still ripped), in taste and senses. But Thunder Storm's father is Shaded Flower.

(BB!Gray Wing died in the first book, rescuing Shaded Flower from being trampled by a horse. Xey're a patron of wisdom, Shaded Moss is taking the role of fatherhood to Thunder)

His sister is Rainswept Flower. His mom is Bright Storm. If there was a bond he could have had with Tiger Sky and Pale Sky, it dies simply and cruelly on the knife they used to cut each other out.

Pale might have wanted to mend it, she was the gentler one. But she dies in the First Battle along with her mother. Tiger Sky is too stubborn to accept any help, should Thunderstar offer it, and Thunderstar isn't in the business of begging for others to like him.

Naturally I'm lowkey obsessed with them lmao. I need to make a BB!DOTC overviewww

#I have a perspective on half siblings colored by a dynamic in my family #The generation above me has two siblings who had an awful biodad and an amazing stepdad (who did officially adopt them)#And there was nothing ''natural'' or good about how one of them was obsessed with their biodad.#It was influenced by his surroundings and did nothing but drag an incredibly toxic man back into his sister's life #Over and over #But anyway the son used to tell me ''theres no half in siblings''#The daughter adored her halfbrother through the mother who raised them-- but was adamant that her biodad's newer kids were nothing to her #I guess I agree with the son. But not in the way he believes it #There's no half in siblings because you either Are. Or you are Not.#You have a shared experience with having that person as a parent or you don't. And that's what's unchanging.#It's not the blood; it's the sweat and tears. But anyhoo #Personal details of my life aside #Tiger Sky and Pale Sky are Clear's Dead Angel Fetus Children in-canon. I think that was Weird.#So instead I made them. Not. Dead angel fetus children....#They're characters now lmaoo #Better bones au #I think Tiger Sky (i call her Tigs in my head a lot) is one of my favorite kit saves ever though #She's not going to be from the last litter either. I haven't picked who the mom is yet but he does have even more #At least one of those is going to make a grab at power but um. Sparrow Heart will not react Well.#BASICALLY lads I'm cooking. My revamps of the DOTC characters basically write themselves because I am very fond of them.#Clear's youngest: ''OH I JUST CANT WAIT TO BE KI-"#Sparrowstar: ''-lled.''

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 9 months

Text

drunk in love

pairing: steve harrington x female!reader

WC: 2K

warnings: mentions of drinking, little sexual implications. very tame.

summary: steve being drunk and in love

A/N: took the hc from @headkiss about glasses steve and just ran with something. most of this i wrote at the gym on the treadmill.

@alecmores my editor💕

been in the drafts since may 6

masterlist / steve harrington

it’s been a while since you and steve were able to go out and enjoy yourselves, and when the perfect opportunity presented itself the both of you snatched it up. although right now, as you're slightly buzzed and steve is leaning off of eddie’s shoulder, you know getting him home is gonna be a hassle. eddie and robin weren’t making things better, in fact, they were making it worse. eddie would pull steve’s silver framed glasses away, which added to his blurring vision, and robin would hand him a glass and say, “it’s just water, dingus.” it was not water, in fact, it was a shot of vodka. steve would stick his tongue out with a grimace as his two friends just laughed.

“all right, all right.” you step in, pushing the glass away from steve’s outstretched hands, “i think that’s enough for tonight, big guy,” you say with two pats to his chest.

steve’s eyes were closed as he rolled his head back and hummed. you snatched his glasses back from eddie and tipped his face down to you. you had to wiggle the handles a bit before they sat on his red ears. his eyes blinked a few times, the mindless action looked like a focusing task for him before his warm eyes danced over your face.

“pwetty.” he even giggled a little. he moved away from eddie and wrapped his long and heavy limbs over your shoulders and pulled you into his chest. his cologne was mixed with sweat and hints of alcohol that stained his clothes and spiked his mouth.

“why don’t we get you to bed? how’s that sound?” you had to handle him like a toddler, just a little bit.

he didn’t verbally reply. just the feeling of him nodding his head, nose, and lips brushing your skin. you rubbed along his spine and he seemed to melt further.

you looked to a giggling robin and a watchful eddie who had a smirk painted on his lips. you just glared at the two of them and their childish antics toward your boyfriend.

“hope y’all had fun picking on my boy. you will not be hearing from us for the next few days.” you threw a playful middle finger their way as you left the venue.

steve was very handsy and clingy when heavily intoxicated. and you didn’t mind the extra love and attention, it’s just a lot when you have to push him away as you're both in the back of a taxi heading to your shared apartment. at first, it would be his arms innocently wrapped around your waist with his head leaning against your shoulder as he groaned. you would scratch his scalp or rub his back and tell him, “we’ll be home soon,” followed by a kiss to his temple. then his sleepiness would be replaced by his hornyness as he would start to place kisses on your free skin and his hands would soon wonder.

“steve…” you kept a firm tone even as he set your pulse thumping. he just hummed, just hummed! like his fingers weren’t crawling further up under your shirt and very close to your bra.

“stevie…” a slight hitch to your voice, “now isn’t the time or place.” there was another kiss just under your jaw before you heard him groan and pull his burning touch away. you heaved a sigh as you looked at the dirty car ceiling.

moving a man taller, heavier, and more intoxicated than you was always a challenge. well, the first two are always difficult even when sober. but when steve is close to passing out, he suddenly becomes cement and you have to make sure your knees don’t give out.

at this point in the night, you can be seen giving steve a piggyback ride… well, more like steve is leaning his front against your back and he’s dragging his feet. sometimes his glasses get caught in your hair and you groan quietly.

your thankful your apartment building has an elevator cause you would have just made the stairs your bed for the night.

steve rests his back on the wall and it gives your body a break. you turn your head at the dozing-off man-child behind you, with his arms still over your shoulders. his light brown hair that was styled earlier is now curled and tangled from the constant fingers running through them. long lashes flutter over his dark circles from long and rough hours from work and his lips were parted to let air tickle your neck hair. his glasses were slowly sliding down his oily nose bridge.

you didn’t want to, but you had to wake him up again. two taps under his chin and his head jerked up, you worried he would slam it into the wood paneling.

“sorry baby. just a few more steps and you can crash,” you pushed the glasses up and gave a kiss to his nose. a hazy grin was shown.

“your… your the-“ hiccup “- the best.”

you shrugged like you were saying, ‘what can i say?’

once you were on your floor it seemed something gave a bit of pep to steve’s steps as he wasn’t using you to keep him upright and he was the one leading you home. when you got the lock open and the door swung in, it’s like steve set foot in heaven.

“home! oh, sweet home! i’ve missed you so much! my lovely, lovely home.” it always made your heart burst whenever steve called the apartment home. and you remember why he does, it’s a loop even time he says the word.

“cause you and i are together no matter the time of day. when i’m with you it’s home and when we’re at the apartment it’s home, but like extra homey. a place where our love is physical to everyone, even ourselves.”

you ended up jumping onto steve and made out with him for a few hours until you had to start dinner.

steve’s whine of your name snapped the memory away. you couldn’t help the scoff that escaped your lips. he laid on his back with his arms reaching for you as his hands made a grabbing motion like a child asking to be picked up.

you weren’t gonna have him sleep on the floor even if he looked comfortable. so you spread your legs and waddled your feet until his knees were under you. you grabbed his forearms for added stability and tugged with all your might, which was useless. he was a bag of sand.

“stevie,” you huffed as you tried again, “i know… i said you could crash when we got home… but your back is gonna hurt real bad in the morning.”

“honey, i’m already in bed.” steve pouted. you shake your head with an amused grin, “no, you’re not. you’re on the living room floor, which i have to add, needs to be vacuumed.”

steve groaned again. you knew it wasn’t pointed toward you, just his drunk mind doing things. “steve, please don’t make me throw a cup of water at you… again.”

steve huffed, “okay, okay.” his arms dropped like anchors to the floor and he sat up, stopped, then moved to stand. and he stopped again, eyes squeezed shut, and you were really hoping he wasn’t gonna throw up.

“i’m good.” two thumbs up before stumbling towards the bedroom. it was like watching bambi on ice.

you took a detour to the kitchen for a glass of water and some of the cookies steve likes to munch on. then you grabbed some of your doctor-prescribed headache medication. you took a pill quickly in case a headache might creep up on you during the night.

when you walked through the threshold of your shared bedroom, you snorted at the sight. steve was able to kick his sneakers off at the foot of the bed, but the rest of his clothes were another thing. his light wash levi jeans (that make his ass look sooooo good) were pushed down to his knees showing off his white boxers. his shirt was lifted from his torso but covered his face, arms bent. you ogled for a minute before your thoughts ran from you.

“oh, stevie. what am i gonna do with you?” you set your treasure atop the dresser and finished his work.

when you managed to strip him of his shirt you were greeted with a smirk flashing your way. your brows raised slightly at the pull of his lips.

“what?” you leaned close to steve’s face. his head turned. “wanna fool around?” he wiggled his brows drunkenly, very suggestively. you blinked a few times at him. “one, you’re plastered. and two, if we even did have sex, it would only be kissing before you passed out on me.”

“and what a way to sleep.” a deep chuckle from his chest.

you threw his clothes in the hamper as you made quick work of changing as well. “i’m so lucky,” you heard steve mutter behind you, “my wife is the hottest woman alive.”

now if you were walking, you would’ve tripped at the words spewing from steve’s mouth. you did a slow turn and saw steve staring at his hands, not a thought behind his eyes. so you tried not to think hard about steve calling you his wife. even though it’s already pinballing everywhere with dreams of a future married together. oh, how you wish you could release a squeal of ever-loving joy.

doing your nighttime routine just put you on autopilot. from feeling floaty and warm to just wanting to fall asleep in your cozy bed with your personal space heater. as you brushed your teeth, you went to check on steve again and made sure he was breathing. he managed to pull himself under the covers, the blanket tucked all the way to his chin. but he still had his glasses on, you don’t know how he doesn’t feel them seeing as he’s on his side with his head towards your spot on the bed.

doing a double check of the locks on the door and windows and seeing everything was secure, you flicked the lights out and walked in the dark. the small night light on your nightstand gave a faint pale yellow glow that illuminated steve’s peaceful face. you could see a small bit of his chest moving with each steady breath he took, and his lips separated. he had one arm tucked under his pillow while the other was stretched to your side, his palm flat on the cover and his fingers would twitch every few seconds.

you set a knee on the mattress and lean forward slowly hoping not to wake him, which is easy or hard, depending on the situation. with nimble fingers, you grab his wired frames, and gently and slowly you pulled them away from his face. his face scrunched a bit, specifically his nose and you swooped in for a peck. steve hummed and his hand moved again and made contact with your knee.

“honey, cuddle me.” said like a command but was in the tone of a whine. but you wouldn’t deprive your best boy of cuddles, or yourself of cuddles.

so, you set his glasses down and slide into his waiting arm. steve automatically threw the limb over your waist as you got yourself comfortable. a good night kiss to his forehead before you let your head hit the pillow and wrapped your own arms around steve to pull him closer. one more kiss to the middle of his throat. and another to his collarbone. and the very last to his shoulder.

“one more,” he grumbled. you moved your head back and saw he was pouting his lips. a proper good night kiss as steve always says.

so you pressed your lips to his, deciding he could use a bit more than a lightning-fast peck. and when you pulled back he had a dreamy smile and pulled you even closer to his chest.

“i’m gonna marry you one day.” he whispered to your hair before giving light snores. and you closed your eyes with a gigantic smile as you dreamed of that special day when you marry the boy you love with your whole being.

...

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stever harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #Steve Harrington x female reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger thing self insert #joe keery #joe keery imagine #joe keery x reader

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rachey899 · 17 days

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Lightning Ridge - Part Three

A young Shifter wanders into a town crawling with hunters, Hendrix plans on laying low but when he catches wind of one particular hunter who is after the same Shifter that he’s been tracking himself, his curiosity gets the better of him. Offering to join the man on his quest he can only hope he can track down the dangerous shifter, saving the lives of innocents all the while keeping his secret hidden.

TW: mentions of murder/eating people, giant spiders, some swearing, mentions of death, mentions of drug use, some violence

Approx 3.6k Words

Part One

Part Two

Part Three - Your are here

Part Four

Part Three

“Ah! You bloody bastard, you know you don’t have to actually stab me, fuck!” I hissed as his silver sword once again slashed at my skin, back to my human height we were training once again, this time with the knowledge of my ability. And I have to admit, he looked way too happy every time he got a particularly painful strike in.

“Don’t be such a baby, you wanted to learn, didn’t you?” He chuckled gleefully, mocking me.

“Yeah, well you’re not the one holding back a damned Giant inside of you every time you get slashed!” I growled, growing a few inches involuntarily, my height continued to fluctuate as I focused on my breathing in an effort to remain at a human height.

I’d regained my strength from the night before, but each time the silver cut through my skin was like being injected with a poison I had to fight to stop it from spreading through my body.

We had decided to stop in Armarand for a few days, deciding it was a good idea to get some more close combat practice in given my recent revelation and to prepare properly for the fight ahead of us. Ryder hadn’t stopped giving me shit about lying to him, but at least he hadn’t murdered me in my sleep, I reminded myself to be thankful for the little things.

“Maybe you shouldn’t hold back, probably good for me to brush up on my skills fighting a ‘Giant’.”

My eyes bugged at that, I had been ready to shift in relief, having permission to stop holding back, that is until he suggested we fight at such vastly different statures to one another.

He’d taken down shifters before, he’d told me so, and given his skill and reflexes with the sword the only reason I’d been able to get my hands on him the other night was because I’d taken him by surprise. I didn’t have that advantage on my side this time.

“Shifter.” I clarified, still taken aback by his suggestion. “And I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“You scared Hendrix?” He taunted, flicking his silver sword in the air.

“Yes, as a matter of fact.” I said astounded. “I’ve never fought a hunter before, besides one of us is likely to get hurt.” I reasoned.

He quirked an eyebrow at me. “I can handle myself big guy, come on, show me what you’ve got.”

Sighing heavily, there was no way I could get him to change his mind once he had an idea set, I’d tried and I was finding it harder and harder to say no to him, especially because I had lied to him. So instead of arguing, I focused on shifting, allowing my body to stretch out of its cramped space until I felt like I fit my own body once again.

I looked down at Ryder at my feet, he’d taken a few steps backwards rightfully so, giving me room to grow, smart move for a man who seemed to show no fear.

Staring down at him I was once again reminded of how small humans really were, it really wasn’t very often that I interacted with a human at this size, and I suppressed the sense of power I got from looming over him. The mere thought of using my size against him made me feel uncomfortable and somewhat excited all at the same time, I shook the feeling away and focused.

I blinked my eyes, taking on a defensive stance and noted that Ryder had disappeared.

One moment he was there and then the next it was like he had vanished; I brushed my hands roughly through the trees wondering if he’d climbed them in hopes of jumping me by surprise.

There were no screams of surprise or any indication that I’d knocked him off, so I did a slow sweep of the area, being mindful of where I put my feet, though I doubted Ryder was being as mindful of causing injury. As if on cue the bastard emerged.

“Ahhhh!” Ryder cried out from behind me, he dug his sword into my shoulder, and I yelled in pain, no doubt deafening my attacker. I brought my hand up to my shoulder hoping to get my fingers around the little shit, but he was fast. Using some kind of hook and rope he had managed to dangle himself in the center of my back, right out of my reach.

Thinking quickly, I stepped backward intending to push my back into a nearby tree and knock Ryder off that way. Though as I stepped backwards, I noted he had swung around on his rope, feet planted firmly on my abdomen and was now aiming his sword for my stomach. I leaned heavily on the trees behind me and went to grab Ryder before he could do some serious damage, but once again, he was quick.

He swung at my fingers causing them to retract reflexively and then spun himself around my wrists, I watched on in amazement at how fast he was able to move and how fearless he looked interacting with body parts that were so much larger and stronger than he was.

I flexed my wrists ready to snap the ropes when he gave me a little wink.

He then shot another rope up past my shoulder, I heard it whiz with speed past my ear before it was embedded into a tree behind me, pulling himself and my wrists up and over my head with speed. This caused me to lose my balance, I spun trying to catch myself, but of course my hands were tied, with nothing to break my fall, I braced myself as my face headed for the ground bellow.

I fell to the forest floor face first in the dirt and shrubbery with a loud and embarrassing thud that shook the earth around me, causing any animals and birds nearby to flee immediately.

To add insult to injury he landed heavily on my head, touching the tip of his blade down onto the soft part of my skull, though he didn’t push it through, the silver burned, and I knew if he wanted to, he could end my life right now.

I lay there, mouth full of mud and in complete amazement of him.

This man, a man the size of my finger had taken me down and rendered me helpless in about three moves. I was ten times the size that he was, ten times stronger and yet he fought me and won with a worrying amount of ease.

That sense of power I’d felt over him a moment ago? Yeah, that was long gone. Never again would I underestimate a human, well never again would I underestimate this human.

He jumped down from my head, landing in the dirt before my eyes and smiling proudly at me, hands on his hips in triumph, the jerk seemed very happy with himself.

“Gods it’s been so long since I took down one of you guys, that was great, you okay big guy?” He asked mockingly, I spat the mud from my mouth out at him and he chuckled.

“Care to untie me?” I asked flatly.

He laughed again and I marveled once more at how easily he climbed onto my shoulder and walked with confidence down the length of my spine to where my hands were tied against my back. This man had no fear, I was probably the most dangerous creature he would ever encounter, and he showed no fear.

Once my hands were free, I waited for him to climb down to the ground again before pushing myself up to sit before him, I brushed the dirt from my clothes and inspected the wound to my left shoulder. Only a small cut but the burn from the silver would take a while to heal.

“That was…amazing.” I said, not hiding how thoroughly impressed I was, his cheeks took on a reddish hue and he shrugged.

“It’s my job.” He brushed it off as though it were nothing, it was definitely not nothing to me.

I stared down at him, seeing him in a whole new light, he’d seemed so gruff and stoic but now he practically glowed, he was truly in his element, doing what he loved, and no wonder he loved it. He was so incredibly and dangerously skilled at it.

As much as he tried, he couldn’t wipe the smile from his face and I couldn’t blame him, I’d be just as happy with myself if I took down a being ten times larger than myself.

“Let’s take a break, shall we?” He suggested clearing his throat.

I closed my eyes and focused on shifting once more, down to an average human height and when I opened my eyes, I was looking up at Ryder who was holding out hand for me to help me up from my sitting position.

I accepted his offer gratefully, and now standing eye to eye with him once more I looked him over from a whole new perspective. It was so hard to make out facial features when you were so much larger, but it didn’t escape my notice that Ryder was exceptionally handsome.

His hazel eyes seemed to change hues nearly all the time and that fascinated me to no end, I wondered if my own blue eyes ever changed colour in that kind of way.

“Quit staring at me like that.” He groused. “Come on, let’s go get a drink, I think we’ve earned it.”

I blinked and shook my thoughts away from my head, he’s going to think you’re a real freak now, good job Hendrix, you bloody idiot.

We sat down in the local tavern, it was only us and two other patrons at the bar, the other two men kept to themselves with their faces buried in their drinks.

“You said once, you didn’t have any family.” Ryder said taking a swig of his whiskey.

The last twenty-four hours had been filled with questions about shifters, what triggers the shifting, what I need to do to shift on command, and I’d happily answered them, seeing no point in lying to him anymore. He’d not asked anything personal up until this point.

This statement, though it felt like a question, struck me in a different way, I hadn’t felt I was lying when I said I had no family, because the truth was that I didn’t, not anymore anyway.

“I don’t.” I reiterated.

“You also said you had to leave your family when you first turned.” He continued to push; he knew he’d struck a chord.

“I also said that I was cast out.” I countered grumpily.

He held his hands up in surrender. “Hey, I’m just trying to understand why you never went back, from what I can see, you ARE able to control your ability enough that you wouldn’t be putting anyone in danger.”

“That’s not the way they’d see it.” I muttered bitterly into my own drink.

“How can you be sure?” He wasn’t going to let it go, why did he have to be this way? Couldn’t he just be happy with what he did know and take my word at face value. Why was he pushing so hard about this? It wasn’t like I’d ever have the opportunity of seeing my family ever again anyway. His pushing seemed to have the intended effect because I slammed my drink down and glared at him.

“Because! It was my own family that wanted me beheaded!” I snapped. “The mayor granted me pardon on the proviso that I never come back. It was my ‘family’ that wanted me dead.” I seethed; it wasn’t something I wanted to be reminded of, it definitely wasn’t something I wanted to have a light conversation about.

There was silence between us and then I felt his heavy hand grip my good shoulder.

“I’m sorry Hendrix.” He said earnestly and I melted. “I only wondered if after all this is over that it might be a good thing to reconnect with your family again, I didn’t realize, and I’m sorry for that.”

I glanced up at him, meeting his concerned gaze, only yesterday when he’d found out what I really was, he’d looked at me the same way my mother and father had the night I turned. The horror, the disgust, the anger.

Somehow Ryder wasn’t looking at me like that anymore, and it did make me wonder if my own family’s view of me could change. But I still wasn’t about to go through the pain of finding out, just to be thrown away again.

His apology proved that I couldn’t stay mad at him though, and besides it wasn’t really him I was mad at anyway, I’d been holding onto that anger for a long time. He had just found the button that unlocked it, that was all.

“Thanks.” I said finally, to which he gave me a sympathetic smile and motioned for the bartender to pour us another round.

“Oh uh, I shouldn’t really have more than two…” I awkwardly pushed the glass toward Ryder, I knew my limit. I could handle my alcohol just fine, but it became increasingly more difficult to hold my human form when I’d had more than two drinks. Two drinks was safe.

“I guess we’ll take a bottle to go then.” Ryder said, handing the bartender some cash, grasping the almost full bottle of whiskey and heading for the door.

“What?” I asked, quickly standing and rushing to the door, I planted a hand on the handle holding it closed in front of him, demanding an explanation.

“You’re worried about endangering the people here, right? You’re worried that if you have too much to drink, you’ll lose control? So, let’s go somewhere where you don’t have to worry about that, loosen up a bit.”

He pushed past me, and I stood there slack jawed for a moment before following.

“I’m not just worried about the people here Ryder, I’m worried about hurting you too!” I exclaimed at his back; he kept up his pace heading for the clearing in the forest where we had been doing our training.

“I can handle myself.” He said simply and I fought hard for a way to argue that point but, seeing as he had literally beaten my gigantic ass to a pulp only hours before, I couldn’t think of a sound enough argument.

“That’s not the point.” I grumbled, but he paid me no mind and instead got to work building a fire.

The fire I was grateful for, winter was only a few weeks away and the chill in the evenings were already creeping in. I was still dubious of him though and his intentions with bringing our drinks out here, it was like he wanted to keep on testing my limits, perhaps he did.

He sat down in the dirt and stoked the fire, he then turned and looked at me expectantly, patting the ground beside him. I sighed and prayed to the Gods to give me strength, because for some reason I seemed to have none when it came to this particular human.

He handed me the bottle and I took a long swig from it before handing it back to him. The whiskey warmed my throat and settled pleasantly in my stomach, taking the edge off of the stress of the last few days and the uncertainty that was awaiting us.

“You know, you’re not like any Gia- I mean shifter I’ve ever met before.” He said thoughtfully, I wondered if that was a compliment for a moment before I realized he probably hadn’t ever given any other shifter an opportunity to defend themselves let alone talk to them as though they were real people.

“I don’t imagine you’ve ever given a shifter an opportunity to talk to you.” I said somewhat defensively of my own kind.

“You’re probably right, I’m not really sure what I can do to make that right, but I know I’ll be more mindful around rumors of Giants in the future.” He promised.

I nodded, I supposed that was all he could do, I watched as he stared into the fire, that familiar look of guilt and shame crossing his features, a feeling I knew well. I’d done things I regretted, I’d hurt people in the past sometimes by accident but a few times intentionally and you can’t ever take that back. I know how that weighs on a man’s shoulders.

“So, there was this one time.” Ryder began, filling the silence.

“I was hunting a werewolf. Now, they do normally travel in packs so this one had me curious as to why he was alone, but I suspected he might have been freshly turned. Anyway, a number of people in the neighboring village had been killed so I was employed to take up the job.” Ryder spoke lightheartedly, clearly trying to change the mood.

I smirked ruefully seeing right through him and nodded along as he continued his story.

“So, what they thought had been a werewolf was actually just a homeless old man who’d stumbled upon some funky mushrooms, he’d been eating them for days and hallucinating that a village full of dwarves were trying to kill him! He assured me the only people he’d killed were dwarves!” He laughed and I decided I liked the sound, slapping his leg and wiping his eye he continued to chuckle at the memory.

“So, what did you do?” I asked, smiling, and laughing quietly alongside him.

“Once I convinced the old man that I wasn’t an angel sent to destroy him for his sins, I took the mushrooms from him. I told the mayor about what I found but he didn’t believe me, just told the townsfolk to lock their doors at night. He was a real jerk that one.” He laughed again. “So instead of hunting a werewolf I had a few days off doing mushrooms with a crazy old man, who turned out to be just lovely by the way.”

I burst out laughing, unable to help myself as I tried to picture the image that Ryder had painted. We both took another generous helping of whiskey and continued to share in our laughter.

“What about you Hendrix? Got any stories to share?” He looked at me hopefully.

“Uh.” I chuckled nervously, thinking quickly. “I mistook a mermaid for a fish once, her scream damn near left me deaf for a week, mind you I had literally been about to eat her.”

Ryder looked at me keeping his expression as straight as he could, but he couldn’t hold it for long before he broke out laughing again.

“What! I was hungry! I thought I’d found a big fish!”

He slapped me on the back then, his laughter growing louder as he struggled to keep his composure. His cheeks were flushed from the alcohol and laughing, and the warmth of the fire gave him a soft glow.

I fought back my own blush, watching him, he was so happy, I had made him happy, I couldn’t think of any time in the past where I’d actually made someone happy let alone made them laugh.

My body tingled and I quickly shot up a few feet without warning, my legs brushing the fire. “Shit!” I gasped, crawling backwards frantically on the ground, putting as much space as I could between myself and Ryder.

“I’m sorry!” I exclaimed, eyes closed, I didn’t want to see the fear, the rejection from him, not when I felt we were finally building a trust between each other.

Why did this need to happen at the worst possible time, my chest filled with shame and disgust with myself, so uncontrollable, so unpredictable, no matter how hard I tried, I would always be dangerous.

A tear escaped my eye and I felt it drift down my cheek as my body expanded again against my will. Stupid body! Why can’t you just do what your told for once!

I felt a small hand brush against my cheek, it wiped at the tear that had escaped and then rested on my jaw.

“Hey, you’re okay Hendrix, your safe.” His voice was a whisper, but he had stayed.

I opened my eyes, I estimated I had grown about twenty feet, though that didn’t seem to deter Ryder, he stood before me his arms reaching up to hold my large stupid head with his smaller stronger ones.

“I told you that you didn’t need to be afraid to shift, I know you won’t hurt me, you need to trust yourself Hendrix.”

I took a shuddering breath; how could he be so calm about this? The tingling sensation wracked through my body again and though I tried I couldn’t hold it; I continued to expand and felt his hand grow smaller against my skin. As I grew, he stood beside my head, his hand never left my face as though trying to give me the strength to just let it all out.

Once I’d reached my full height, I let out a sigh of relief before turning my head to look at him, my nose bumped into his chest and my cheeks burned with embarrassment as he stumbled backward.

“Woah there big guy, at least take me out to dinner first.” He joked, pushing his hands on my nose and raising his eyebrows playfully at me, I let out a small laugh which finally did make him take a step back, but that was probably more because of the breath I’d let out which pushed him backwards.

“Your breath smells of whiskey.” He coughed and I cringed, finding no way to hide my embarrassment, he just smiled waving it off. “Good thing I like whiskey.”

Part Four

#gt #gianttiny #giant/tiny #g/t #giant #tiny #gtfluff #size shifter #sizedifference #gtangst #HendrixRyder

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autumnsorbet · 3 months

Text

So is Yang just not allowed to have a life ?

🐝

I don't know about all of you but lately ever since the end of volume 9 all I've been seeing is people talk about how young is a bad sister but I think people fail to realize that Yang has given up basically her whole childhood ,teenage ,and early adult years cuz she's around 19 through 21 now I believe and she's looked after Ruby

And I see people like to use examples about how when they got to beacon how young wanted to Branch out and maybe be on a team that wasn't with Ruby ,yang has the right to Branch out she's her own person she doesn't have to be attached to the hip at Ruby and yes I know there are a large amount of moments we've seen Ruby display

depression and sadness that no one else besides a few people have noticed like Maria and Oscar maybe even penny but it's not Yang's job to fully look after Ruby 24/7 Ruby is not her child

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Yang gave up almost all of her life up till now watching over Ruby when her dad even though he was there physically mentally he was not there and he had started school teaching her mom (summer rose )who was raising both Yang and Ruby was gone

And from what it seems Ruby hasn't had any other female figures in her life she's run attached to outside of Yang besides maybe Maria I could guess since she was teaching her how to use her silver eyes Yang has always been in Ruby's life she hasn't really had a chance to live her own life I think people are forgetting that and people are upset saying Yang is so focused on Blake and dating Blake and

thinking about it we don't know if yangs ever really dated before she is a very flirtatious character but have we ever seen her date has she ever dated anyone before I believe one of the writers even said that it was Yang was so worried about her feelings for Blake because she wasn't sure about her

sexuality at the time because she hadn't got the chance to explore it and if you think about it when would she have time taking care of Ruby all the years and going to school herself trying to get into combat school and then into beacon and then everything happened with them getting on a team and even though Yang did want to Branch out I think she was happy to be on a team with her sister so that way she could look out for her since she was so young and the only time Yang has been

really apart from Ruby was after the fall of beacon and after the fall of beacon all of the girls on the team went their separate ways whether they wanted to or not so they could grow more individually which was good for them you ain't got to be on her own for once and with her dad actually being there as a parent for her for once actually

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helped her grow mentally and physically past the loss of her arms her school that had become a second home to her and Blake who at the time I don't think she fully knew she had developed feelings for and her sister and a person who was becoming her best friend weiss

Yang isn't even my favorite character and I'm sitting here upset for her because all I see is people say that Yang is a bad sister ,I'm sure Yang has noticed that times that Ruby has been upset we even saw Yang try to reach out to

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Ruby several times in volume 9 but she always got cut off by something happening and if it wasn't for that Yang would have probably reached out to Ruby sooner yes Yang and Blake had their big moment in volume 9 that everybody including the fans have

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been waiting for for years especially after being heavily hinted at and volume 7 after everything Blake and yang it went through in the prior volume and volume six they deserve to have a moment of happiness and just relax and even though everything is going crazy around them Yang

🟡

deserves to have a moment where she can go this is going to be a part of my life and I want this to be a part of my future young is thinking about her future which is the opposite of Ruby who as we could see from Rqby volumes 7 - 9 and even in the Rwby crossover movie even if it isn't Canon

Ruby isn't really thinking about her future she just wants to defeat Salem and that's it I don't know what she thinks her future will be like after that Ruby is still depressed sad and broken just because she came back from ascending in the ever after doesn't mean she's completely fixed she still needs to find a purpose for herself that's what happens to the afterens who lived in the ever after even when

🔵

they come back they have to come back with a new purpose Ruby came back feeling that she was enough but she still confused about her life it's not Yang's job to help her figure that out Ruby is her own person like how Ruby has told Oscar and

🟢

Penny they're their own people she is her own person and she's going to figure her life out Yang doesn't have to babysit her why do people think that Yang is an awful sister when Yang has done nothing but love Ruby more than anybody probably even their own father and keep saying she's a bad sister hell yangs are better sister than most sisters I've seen even winter and weiss

🟣

It wasn't till volume eight that they both finally reconnected with their family but Yang has always been here for Ruby even though Yang is in a relationship and has finally gotten her feelings out maybe now that Yang has gotten her feelings out

🔵

she can help Ruby maybe discover her feelings for herself and other people more cuz Ruby is always seems like she's been alone and confused about her feelings Yang can help her with that but it doesn't have to consume her life 24/7

😐

I swear they only reason people are complaining about Yang now along with other things I've seen people doing lately is that we haven't had content and people are bored and they're just looking for anything to nitpick and complain about

#rwby #yang xiao long #blake bellodona #weiss schnee #yangs not a bad sister your all just bored #oscar pine #penny polendina #maria calavera #rwby meta #rwby analysis

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1dont-really-know · 8 months

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I haven't wrote anything on like a year, so any constructive criticism is welcomed. Anyway, here's a little fic about the "what if" I posted a few days ago. Also this isn't proofread.

Word count: 2132

"Again, Lilia?"

The Princess- healer, at this time, sighs, shaking her head in exasperation, "Truly, I feel like I shouldn't even be surprised anymore. Just disappointed."

The fae in question refuses to look her in the eyes, pretending to be focusing on slowing down the bleeding of the wound in his arm. Vivid green eyes, the same color as Maleanor's, yet a pair that exudes a quieter type of authority, stares right into his soul.

"It's not as if I get hurt on purpose," he hissed, feeling a prickle of embarrassment on his skin, "I'm a knight. A royal guard. We get hurt all the time."

"And yet only you seem to have the ability to get hurt every few hours or so," the Princess shoots back, matter-of-fact, "hah, well at least this wound actually seems serious." And she wasn't wrong. The gash on his arm is deep, even he, who has very little medical knowledge, can tell. He was about to retort that, no, he didn't get hurt every few hours or so, and that last time he got hurt was a few days ago, but before he could speak again, she's already walking off, searching her storage to find the necessary items needed to patch him up.

Lilia huffs, sitting down on the ground while he waits for her to get back. His gaze falls on the crowd of knights outside the medical tent, talking, laughing, and just generally enjoying the little free time they have in the midst of war. He envies them, in a way. While they could still have fun, he instead needs to lead them, plan out their next move, everything.

And though he himself isn't too keen on being close to anyone, he can't deny that he does feel lonely from time to time.

A hand pats his hair, pulling him away from his thoughts. The Princess looks down on him, some bandages and gauze in her hands. She sat down beside him, taking his wounded arm and started to clean the wound with the gauze. As always, her touch is careful and gentle, laced with just a hint of the strength and firmness he knew she was hiding.

The Princess pauses for a second, the gauze hovering mere inches from his skin. She suddenly looks at him, her eyes staring right into his, "something on your mind?" He didn't expect the question, to be honest, so he just stares at her questioningly, which in turn makes her sigh again.

She seems to do that a lot in his presence. Does he exasperate her that much?

"You had a faraway look on your face, Lilia. You only do that when you're thinking really hard about something," she continues to clean his wound, but he can see something akin to concern in her eyes, "so, tell me, what's on your mind?"

Lilia huffs, "it's nothing of your concern, Your Highness."

That, in turn, causes her to raise an eyebrow at him. She looked over to where his gaze pointed to prior to her distracting him, only finding the knights enjoying their free time, "do you want to join them?" She asks, curiosity in her voice, "didn't the scouts say that the Silver Owls are still very far away? I'm sure it's fine for you to loosen up a bit, at least for tonight."

… even her, huh…

"You don't get it," Lilia meant for that to sound far more stern, but his voice comes out soft, a hint of his unease visible on his face, "you've never been in the front lines, Your Highness, you-"

"Stop that."

Lilia blinks in surprise. The Princess's stern voice cuts through his words, and when he raises his gaze to look into her eyes, he finds annoyance, impatience, and just the slightest hint of her previous concern. He can see the grip she has on the bandages tighten slightly.

"Stop what, Your High-"

"Stop that. Calling me Your Highness and all that rubbish. You always do that when you're upset," she had paused in bandaging his arm, apparently deciding that scolding him took priority to his still heavily bleeding wound. There's a tension in the air, and the Princess sighs, letting her shoulders droop slightly, the concern returning to her tone, "You even do that to 'Leanor and Levan as well. It's not healthy to distance yourself from your friends when you need support."

Lilia feels a hint of shame creeping up on him, and he averts his gaze, pondering, "it feels odd calling you by your real name after you've been gone for so long," he admits, remembering the years she spent away to train to become a healer, "and besides, it was rare for me, or anyone close to us to call you by that name even before you went off for your education." Lilia can only hope against hope that she would accept that. Though she was a Draconia, after all, so he didn't expect much.

She seems to contemplate his words for a moment, chewing on the inside of her cheek like she always did when she's thinking deeply about something, "well, then you can call me by that nickname instead."

She's… she's insisting on this, isn't she?

Now it's Lilia's turn to sigh, rubbing his forehead in frustration, "don't you think that's a bit inappropriate? I'm a knight, and you're a Princess.'' Seriously, why do Draconias always seem to be so stubborn?

"Go on, say it," she almost sounds amused now, continuing where she left off on bandaging his arm, "call me by the nickname, Lilia. I know you want to."

"No."

"If you don't, then I'll just give you a taste of your own medicine and call you General Vanrouge from now on."

Lilia can feel his ear twitch in annoyance. The Princess- Moonlight as she so insists he calls her, is grinning maliciously from ear to ear, and he can see her tail swishing excitedly behind her.

"Fine. If that's what you wish, Moonlight."

Moonlight's tail thumps on the ground in glee, a laugh, free and genuine, escapes her, and she's laughing at him. "See? That wasn't so hard now, was it?" She coos, her eyes shining with amusement, "oh, I remember when we were kids and you used to call me that all the time. Remember when you proposed to 'Leanor and then you said that 'Moonlight will be the Maid of Honor!' too bad only half of that ended up being true, hmm?"

Lilia rolls his eyes, "that was about two hundred years ago. If you're looking to embarrass me by bringing up my infatuation with your sister, you've missed your window of chance." A thought flashes in his mind, and he sees an opening to turn this around on her. He smirks his fangs glinting, "besides, you said that you were going to marry that diurnal fae prince, and yet- Ow!"

Lilia winces as Moonlight tightens the bandage to the point he was afraid that she was cutting off blood flow from his limb completely. He sees the forced smile on her face, and he feels a sudden uneasiness creep up on him.

"What are you doing?" He manages to force out the words, the tips of his fingers slowly going numb from the lack of blood flow, "are you seriously going to chop off my arm just for that?"

Moonlight tilts her head ever so slightly to the side, her eyes trained on him like a predator would stalk its prey, "funny," she croons, tightening the bandages further and making him wince, "by the way most of your recent injuries were on this arm only, I thought that was what you wanted."

"But you didn't have to- ow! Fine! I yield!"

Finally, Moonlight loosened the bandages until the pressure was enough to stop the bleeding but not enough to cut off his circulation. "Did you really need to do that?" Lilia grumbles, glaring unheatedly at her. She's not even looking him in the eyes, yet her annoyance with him is palpable, "are you really not over him yet?"

He had never understood why she liked that prince so much. She had always said to him that she didn't want to be too involved with politics, and if she had married that prince, that's a life she would live for the rest of her life. A life of nonstop politics. He knew she didn't want that life, she has had that mindset since they were children, but for her to change that mindset because of a random prince…

"He was the first person I ever really fell for," Moonlight bemoans, her face scrunched up in anguish just a little too exaggerated to be genuine, "you don't know how much worse it feels for a Draconia to lose that than the average fae."

Lilia rolls his eyes, turning his body away from her a little while still letting her bandage his gash, "Oh yes, the diurnal prince that is three hundred years older than you, what horror it is that he, gasp, already has a betrothed."

A beat of silence passes between them, and for a moment, then, "I guess you do have a point about it not being too different from your situation."

Surprise was the only thing Lilia could make out from his emotions when she said that, and he turned to her again, finding her tie the final knot on his bandages.

Moonlight has an unreadable look on her face. That doesn't happen very often.

A part of him wants to apologize, just to see an emotion, any emotion as long as he can make it out, on her face again. Moonlight has always been very expressive, so for her to be this hard to read, he feels as if he said something truly wrong.

She pats the secured bandages on his arm, her touch still gentle, "there. Try not to lose a limb before the war ends, alright?" Finally, she smiles at him, and to his relief (though he will never admit to that) he can see a hint of exasperated fondness in her eyes.

Lilia nods slowly, flexing his arm and feeling the previous pain to have faded significantly, "thanks," he says, "I appreciate it."

"You done? Alright, now go join the rest of the knights. I have work to do," Moonlight stands up and stretches, even stretching her tail a little.

"Are you kicking me out?" Lilia feels a slight pang of disappointment. He had been enjoying their banter. With the dangers of the Silver Owls, barely anyone has any spare time to simply talk with each other.

She just shrugs at his question, picking up the leftover bandages, presumably to use later since she didn't use too many on him, "interpret it as you will, but you need to socialize. Y'know, build trust between your troops and all that."

He sighs, but gets up as well, turning to walk out of the medical tent and into the camp, but not before calling out behind him, "talk to you later?"

"Once I've finished sorting my stocks, sure."

Lilia smiles, nods at her, then walks over to the bonfire to at least attempt to have a conversation that isn't about their job to his subordinates.

Though he can't help but wonder if Moonlight secretly knows that most of his minor injuries were only for him to spend more time with her.

~•~•~

"Is it the General again?"

The healer's apprentice, Coriander, walks up from behind her, her gaze following her mentor's to the back of the said fae, "did he 'accidentally' hurt himself again?"

The healer shakes her head, "no. This one is genuine. He might be emotionally constipated, but he's not stupid enough to rip his arm open just to get my attention."

Coriander raises an eyebrow, standing next to the healer, her eyes trained on the bandages poking out of the General's sleeve, "is that why you used the bandages? You know we're running low on that, right? You could have just healed him with your magic."

"He needed to loosen up somehow," the healer says, her gaze flicking to Coriander's face, "besides, we're near a village. I'll disguise myself and buy some more, and if that doesn't work, we'll just have to make do with cobwebs."

A sigh, and Coriander looks at her mentor annoyedly, "you could just say that you wanted to spend time with him as well. There's no shame in that."

That causes the healer to laugh, "I'm not ashamed of saying it. It's just that he won't see it that way, so I won't frame it that way as well until he does."

"Both of you are the worst."

"Perhaps. But at least I'm more honest with myself."

#twst #twisted wonderland #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #lilia vanrouge x reader #Whisper's writings #sort of x oc?#the healer ends up becoming my oc in later chapters sorry lol #i got too attached

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riddlerosehearts · 2 months

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okay. so. overall i loved this latest twst update but there were a couple things i didn't 100% love and i'll talk about one of them in this post: the shroud parents being so nice and loving and helpful seriously threw me off last time they appeared because i thought they always seemed so emotionally distant before. both from how idia talked about them on occasion and how they never once appeared in his very lengthy, two-part overblot flashback, not when he was shutting himself in his room for 2 whole years or when he finished creating ortho--the only adults we ever saw were STYX researchers. so like, i'd always had the impression that they weren't necessarily The Worst Parents Ever but that they were just so busy with their work that they forgot to pay attention to their kids. and when they first appeared in book 7, it felt like they were behaving exactly how a lonely little robot boy who knew that he was "replacing" their dead son would want them to act, and even looked that way too with the daft punk helmets giving them a robotic look. it just seemed too good to be true imo.

after that update came out i had read a theory that said maybe malleus was so powerful that he could put even a robot to sleep, and that that was what we were seeing: ortho dreaming of getting to be a hero and save the day, and getting to have this perfect happy family. i loved that idea. i probably should've realized a twist like that wasn't going to happen when we still hadn't checked back in on ortho after so many months, but i just thought, and still think, that it would be so compelling if ortho wished to be loved and accepted so badly that some part of him deep down had become human enough to dream, or at least for malleus to be able to bring out that part of him. if his parents weren't so loving in reality and maybe didn't even fully accept him as their son, so he dreamt that they would--which is a heartbreaking thought, but i definitely would not have put it past twst to do that. i also just like... think it would be neat if the development ortho has been getting in events and vignettes, which heavily focuses on his growing sense of autonomy and how he's started to have his own desires outside of his intended purpose of just Being Idia's Brother, was given a little more focus in the main story.

anyway though. obviously that theory just got obliterated by canon! so i guess the most logical explanation for the discrepancy in the shroud parents' portrayal might be that they were too emotionally distant and focused on their work before, and remained that way for a long time after ortho's death, but eventually they "woke up" and realized they'd never really been there for their sons. losing one of them changed them for the better and now they really are that helpful and sweet. if their behavior seems too good to be true then it could be because they're trying their hardest to make up for the years they wasted, to be a proper family now. maybe they didn't accept ortho for the longest time out of grief and that's part of why they never appeared in idia's flashback, but they later decided that just because they can never truly regain or replace the son they lost, doesn't mean they can't treasure the one they still have and the one that they've gained. and i guess the shroud parents still fully accepting ortho and loving him as one of their own despite the tragedy that led them to become family, and despite the fact that ortho does not have the shroud family blood flowing through his (nonexistent) veins, would parallel the bond that lilia has with silver and malleus... oh. okay. i think i've kinda just talked myself into feeling better about this, actually.

#i originally started writing this to complain about what i perceived as a writing flaw #and now idk if i've talked myself INTO or OUT OF going completely insane #what if i just exploded actually #twisted wonderland #ortho shroud #shroud parents #twisted wonderland book 7 spoilers #twst book 7 spoilers #twisted wonderland liveblog #<- well not really. but putting this in my liveblog tag will make it easier for me to find

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ashesandhackles · 1 year

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Precision in Grief and Rage

I wanted to talk about the shift in Harry's internal voice from Order of Phoenix to Half Blood Prince, and how his grief, guilt and immense self-loathing for his part in events around Sirius' death informs it. At the end of Order of Phoenix, Harry is a mess - of incoherent, unfocused grief, where he wishes he never wished more that he was anybody else:

“Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human — ”

"I DON'T WANT TO BE HUMAN!” Harry roared, and he seized one of the delicate silver instruments from the spindle-legged table beside him and flung it across the room.

The scene at Dumbledore's office is rife with how much he blames himself for his godfather's death. After one cathartic scene at the office, Harry spends the next year avoiding any and all mention of Sirius (he wolfs down his breakfast when Ron and Hermione bring him up) and suppresses his grief and rage surrounding the events of OOTP- unless he is sure that the person he is speaking to understands the weight of Sirius' loss: he hopes Remus would write to him, he mentions Sirius voluntarily to Tonks (under the impression that she is grieving him), and talks about him to Buckbeak ("Missing him? But you're okay with Hagrid, aren't you?"). His grief and rage manifests in precise, focused rage in this chilling Harry scenes:

Thank you!” said Mundungus, snatching the goblet out of Ron’s hand and stuffing it back into the case. “Well, I’ll see you all — OUCH!”

Harry had pinned Mundungus against the wall of the pub by the throat. Holding him fast with one hand, he pulled out his wand.

“Harry!” squealed Hermione.

Why do I call it a focused, precise rage? Mostly, because unlike the other times Harry is provoked with perceived disrespect to a dead parent, Harry has not forgotten his wand. (Cue the scene in OOTP that he is so angry he just beats up Malfoy with his fists). What Harry has done is not just grab him by the throat, he makes sure Mundungus (who is shorter than him) is nose to nose with him and then threatens him with a wand. (btw, a note from my reread: younger Harry attacks people bigger than him by grabbing their throats too - Vernon to get his letter, the troll etc etc. It seems to be something he had picked up from Vernon. We see Vernon grabbing him by throat in opening chapters of OOTP)

“You took that from Sirius’s house,” said Harry, who was almost nose to nose with Mundungus and was breathing in an unpleasant smell of old tobacco and spirits. “That had the Black family crest on it.”

“I — no — what — ?” spluttered Mundungus, who was slowly turning purple.

“Give it to me!”

“Harry, you mustn’t!” shrieked Hermione, as Mundungus started to turn blue.

There was a bang, and Harry felt his hands fly off Mundungus’s throat. Gasping and spluttering, Mundungus seized his fallen case, then — CRACK — he Disapparated.

And Tonks has to throw Harry magically off Mundungus.

Harry swore at the top of his voice, spinning on the spot to see where Mundungus had gone.

And he doesn't stop until Tonks magically throws him off Mundungus. It is not a coincidence that we see Harry's darker and more chilling traits in a book where he is heavily paralleled with Tom Riddle. The parallel is explicit in the scene where he uses his mother's death to guilt Slughorn into giving him the memory. But here is a tiny mention of how Tom Riddle reacts to perceived disrespect to an heirloom from his parent:

“That’s right!” said Hepzibah, delighted, apparently, at the sight of Voldemort gazing at her locket, transfixed. “I had to pay an arm and a leg for it, but I couldn’t let it pass, not a real treasure like that, had to have it for my collection. Burke bought it, apparently, from a ragged-looking woman who seemed to have stolen it, but had no idea of its true value — ”

There was no mistaking it this time: Voldemort’s eyes flashed scarlet at the words, and Harry saw his knuckles whiten on the locket’s chain.

Quite telling to me that Harry specifically notices how Voldemort's knuckles whiten around the locket, after Hepzibah pretty much talks about how Merope was essentially robbed. Harry understands.

When Harry had finished speaking, Ron shook his head.

“You really understand him.”

“Bits of him,” said Harry.

#harry james potter #half blood prince #sirius black #tom riddle

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fallershipping · 2 months

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What Anabel is and never was

She is (was) the defacto leader or symbolic head of the Hoenn Frontier. In Masters she feels a familiarity with fellow Tower Tycoon Palmer, who in turn is also the defacto leader of the Sinnoh brains. Pokespe and Ihara's Pokemon Battle Frontier mangas both show off Anabel as the 'final boss' that was built up over their separate arcs... Plus this is probably a good reason why she became an Interpol Chief way later on in life. Leadership skills go far.

Her starter Pokemon is confirmed to be Snorlax, a Pokemon that stayed with her through every single battle she's ever had; Silver Symbol, Gold Symbol, Interpol, a choice she can have in the Battle Tree, and now Masters. Masters has dialogue that solidified Snorlax as her first Pokemon that she ever obtained.

The team of Pokemon she carries is varied and not restricted to one type. She seems to like to change her playing style based on her situation and often rotates her party. She only uses her legendary Pokemon for special competitive battles however, not seemingly using them for Interpol missions as far as we are currently aware. (Only two of her Pokemon are psychic type, being Alakazam and Latios)

Despite being quiet and aloof, with a very mysterious past involving amnesia, dimensional travel, and intense amounts of Ultra Energy, Anabel is just a normal human woman. She does not have any special and/or psychic powers, and the bond she has with her Pokemon is something she compares to the deep bond anyone can form with their own partner 'mons.

It's important to note that the practically ancient anime appearance of two episodes disregarded everything in her game appearance due to how little there was to her character, but continues to create lots of confusion over who she is to this day. Pokeani, notorious for rewriting game characters almost completely, rewrote her to be the equivalent of a Psychic type gym leader, with psychic powers, only with a team of Alakazam, Metagross, and Espeon as her ace.

The reason for this was probably because she heavily resembled the Psychic NPC character from the Hoenn games and probably her lack of dialogue, but even her implied personality of being bored with the usual boasting attitudes and blunt about how unimpressed she is even if you're a champion until you prove her that you're worth a damn is... Completely gone. It sucks really. She is truly wonderful and gets excited when she finds a true, honorary challenge even to her adulthood. And even with none competitive focused trainers, she has great respect for her fellow Interpol partner Looker and her retired superior Nanu after seeing them in action.

tl;dr god i hate what the anime writers did to anabel so much, and with official SM/USUM/masters devs having to make so many statements to explode that characterization into smithereens i honestly feel like i'm not alone in this lol

#/OH and Masters confirmed her legendaries as 100% canon! I mean they were in her party in the SM/USUM Battle Tree #/People also thought 'oh no she lost all her original pokemon now she had to start from scratch'#/Naw she has them and she never lost them. she uses her og snorlax and Entei's presence implies everyone else is here

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littlejuicebox · 6 months

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The sky responded, blue and silver bonded

-----

Chapter number: Five

Themes: BG3, slow burn, original female character x astarion, dialogue heavy, canon adjacent behavior, angst, feelings realization, trauma, the slighest of smuts in this one

Masterlist: Click here.

Song inspiration: "Blue and Silver" - Lower Dens

Notes: A little angsty, a little smutty. I'm obsessed with these two. I'm nervous to write a full out scene because I've never done one and the thought is terrifying to me. :)

Rating: Mature 18+

-----

It was evening when Astarion finally came out of his trance. His body was so tired, even after a full day of rest. He considered remaining in his tent until another merciful wave of sleep came to him, but the crackle of the campfire and its comforting glow lured the rogue from the confines of his tent. Everyone besides the little bird sat around the flame, all in various stages of their dinner, the distant sounds of bog creatures and the whimpers of a sleeping Scratch the only noise between them.

“How is she?” The pale-elf asked, his gut churning once again, unsure if he actually wanted to know the answer. He settled on a stump next to Wyll, where Scratch lay sleeping between the two men, but his attention was focused on the Shar-worshipper.

Shadowheart eyed him cautiously on the other side of the flame. She took a slow deep breath, almost as if it were her final attempt to delay delivering any news to Astarion. The woman shook her head and let out the breath in a shudder as everyone else in the circle suddenly became very interested in their food.

“Not good. She’s concussed; she vomited twice and keeps calling for someone named Kol in her slumber.” Shadowheart gave a cough as her voice began to crack. “I think her right eye is…. unsalvageable and her left eye will take a few days to heal. The confuson will be there for a few days, as well.”

All at once, Astarion felt as if he’d been the one stabbed by the Gur; he was greeted by another vile churn of his now-empty stomach. The silence of his campmates set him on edge -- 'How is nobody concerned by this?' -- and he snapped, unable to contain his frustration any longer and tongue lashing out to wound the messenger.

“What do you mean you can’t save her eye?! You aren’t trying hard enough, Shadowheart! Some god forsaken cleric you are… or are your tales of Shar’s power actually just fake and useless FUCKING propaganda!” He spat the words into the silence and was met with a swift blade pressed to his neck by none other than Lae’zel. Had the pale-elf not been blinded by rage and secretly hoping for a fight to release some of the tension housed in his body, he would’ve laughed at this interesting development.

“The only reason she’s in that tent is because that Gur was looking for you… or did you forget?” The Githyanki hissed, dark eyes filled with disgust. “And how many more monster-hunters will come our way because our leader stupidly insists on protecting you. I think we should all just cut ties with you... and with her.”

Astarion sneered at the Gith, pushing his neck forward, calling her bluff. “Did you forget, Lae’zel," He spat, scarlet eyes daggers as he met the alien's gaze. "That it was Wren who shot you down from that cage when your precious Shadowheart wanted to leave you to die? I will sooner kill you for your ungratefulness than watch you abandon her, you cockroach."

Karlach was on her feet now, forming a t-shape with her hands. “Timeout! Oi! No one is killing anyone and no one is slicing any necks and no one is leaving anyone behind. Not today.” She approached her campmates, sighing heavily. “Look. We all need to get some rest and formulate a plan tomorrow… together. It’s been too much excitement for one day and none of us can think straight.”

At this, Lae'zel swiftly lowered her blade from the vampire's neck with a hissed “tch.” She spun around and stamped toward her tent, tossing her dagger at the practice dummy where it sliced into the canvas and remained. The green woman ducked into her tent and then closed it off to the outside world, thwarting the hopes of any nighttime visitors.

The remaining camp members sat in tense silence for a moment before shrugging and also turning in for the night, leaving a clattering of bowls and spoons in their wake. That left Astarion alone with the dog, who had woken up during all the clamor and sat next to him, panting heavily.

Shadowheart, to her credit, had remained the longest, desperate to express something she couldn’t find the words for. The expressions she wished for never came, so instead she sighed and clasped her hands in prayer as she addressed the vampire.

“I am trying, Astarion. But I cannot work miracles.” She muttered, voice cracking again, before she heaved another stressed sigh and headed to Wren’s tent, focused on performing one last exam prior to bed.

Scratch placed his injured maw on Astarion’s lap. Initially, the rogue wanted to recoil at the smelly, hot breath the dog coated his leg in, but decided to leave the creature be. Gods. He desperately wanted to go to Wren’s tent and speak to her, but Shadowheart was already there, and the vampire was unsure if his stomach could face what was sure to be a horrible sight. Guilt and fear settled into his chest, their roots taking hold and twisting around his heart, sharp pangs hitting him every time he took a breath. He remained on that stump with Scratch until the last embers of the campfire dwindled, signaling the rogue that it was time to force himself into a trance and fall into the numbing void.

-----

Wren’s consciousness found itself warped in a hazy state somewhere at the intersection between reality, dreams, and memory for the next few days. The ranger startled awake the day after the Gur encounter to a stressed Shadowheart stripping Wren of her filthy, blood-stained tunic, which the cleric had declared a lost cause. Unable to protest due to the bile rising in her mouth, the honey-eyed half-elf had let the other woman undress her down to her knickers. Then, she vomited, and passed out once again.

Kol came to her in a dream that night… except, it wasn’t actually Kol. The dream guardian’s face was same, those piercing eyes so comforting and familiar, but there was something strange about the way he carried himself. She’d grabbed his hand, her subconscious state desperate to find comfort, and dream-Kol told her that he was here to protect her. He’d said she needed to embrace the potential of the parasite to save the fate of Faerun before telling her to wake and promising she would feel better in the morning.

The following morning — or was it the morning after that? Wren became more conscious of the fact that she couldn’t see out of either eye. She noted with panic that the right side was completely pitch black, but in the left she saw flashes of light and shadow. The ranger mentioned as much, choking back tears of fear and frustration, to a solemn Shadowheart. The Shar-worshipper had done nothing but hum in response and cover both Wren’s eyes with a cold, putrid-smelling salve.

Gale came by many times throughout the days to spoon feed her meals. Wren found she was never more thankful for Gale and his ramblings about Tara and Waterdeep than she was now. She was content to be the sounding board and let him chatter on excitedly, his loquacious nature making is so that she did not have to fill the silence. Between her meals, she fell into sweaty sleep, sometimes dreaming of Kol, sometimes dreaming of Astarion (where was he?), and sometimes having the strange sensation that she was experiencing one of her campmate’s current points of view as the tadpole wriggled in her brain.

In her fitful periods of a sleep, she saw Lae’zel brush strands of hair from a worn and desperate looking Shadowheart, tears in the cleric’s eyes. She saw Karlach was playing fetch with Scratch as hand's that must've been Gale's prepped oatmeal for breakfast. And she saw a locked cabinet flicked open by a pale, dexterous hand, the contents of that cabinet not revealed to her during her slumber.

“For the love of Shar, go in there, you absolute git. You’ve been pacing around here nearly an hour!”

“Oi mate, it’s time! Grow some bollocks.”

Wren woke in mid-afternoon light to three beings whispering urgently outside her tent. She found, with some relief, that her left eye had finally been released from its previous prison of two bulged eye sockets and she could see well enough to reacquaint herself with her surroundings. She desperately needed a bath, the smells of dried blood, stale sweat, and bile clung to her in thick wafts, and her hair had turned into a dried clump of tangles.

Suddenly, Astarion burst into the tent, a tensed coil of jittery energy, and Wren felt her body burn with embarrassment; she silently wished the feeling would ignite her and burst her into flames on the spot. The ranger woman was not particularly vain — spending long stretches of time in the wild without a mirror or civilization had that effect — but she knew she looked ghastly and smelled horrible. And Astarion, well… he looked as he always did, nearly flawless, though his face seemed more sunken, and his eyes were circled by blue-purple bags of sleeplessness.

“Hello, darling.” He murmured, still standing, fiddling with a small package of wrapped cloth in his hand. “I… well… this for you." He waved the package in his hand before crouching down and placing it in Wren's lap. "Shadowheart told me she had to dispose of your tunic, and I thought that perhaps you might appreciate being covered by more than your undergarments while everyone insists on making calls to your tent."

Wren took the package he offered quietly, still painfully aware of her appearance as she undid the jute string holding the plain cloth together. The dressings broke apart to reveal a beautiful azure chemise. The woman's vision was still blurred since she could only see out of the left eye, but she had enough eyesight to appreciate how beautiful — and expensive — the gift was. Her stomach sank with guilt… they weren’t exactly loaded with cash.

The half-elf stared down at the piece of clothing, her bruised and battered fingers running lines along the golden floral embroidery stitched across the hem of the square, flounced neckline. Wren almost laughed at the extravagance of the nightdress. In her past, she'd always favored practicality, which meant sleeping in the nude or a garment that was past its prime for daytime use... fancy stitching and dyes were altogether foreign. She sighed, “Thank you, Astarion… but I think... well, perhaps you should return it, it isn’t—“

“Return it!” Astarion cut in with a good-natured chortle, sides of his eyes crinkling with humor, his head tilted back to look at the ceiling. “Little bird… you want me to return it to the charred remains of Waukeen’s Rest? I won't hear another word of that ridiculous droll; I’m sure Counsellor Florrick won’t miss it a bit."

“Counsellor Florrick?”

Astarion waved his hand dismissively. “You’ve missed quite a bit, darling. We couldn’t very well stay here and be sitting ducks, so we split up to do our own scouting and gather information while you were under recovery. Karlach and I pulled some Counsellor out of a burning building yesterday -- well, really, as you can expect it was Karlach that did all the work -- and today I returned to pillage the remains. We’d spent most of our gold purchasing what Shar’s favorite cleric needed for your salves, you see, and I guess I took a note from your book. This was there.”

Wren sighed in both relief and frustration, thankful that her gift had not cost them any coin but upset with herself that her healing had drained them near-dry. She made to put her new nightdress on while he moved to place a long-fingered hand on her wrist.

“Ah, darling. Perhaps you should consider a bath before you dress.”

His tone was polite, but the implication made Wren’s face flush once again with embarrassment. All she could do was nod.

“Let me go get Shadowheart, then. Wait here, little bird.”

-----

The bath somehow turned into an a group affair. Everyone was excited to see their leader back on her own feet and to share the tales of adventure she’d missed in her dazed state. Wren found herself thankful to be covered in Astarion’s shirt, which he had taken off and thrust at her in a snap decision. Initially she’d refused, considering the offer far too intimate for their current relationship status (whatever that was) but he’d responded with a roll of his scarlet eyes and a huffy but convincing, “Your body is yours to show off or cover however you wish, darling, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

As one would think, the bog wasn’t the best place to find clean water suitable for a bath. So, Gale and Wyll double-teamed the task of readying bathwater with a bit of spellcasting and transmutation practice. It was quite a clever and efficient affair. Gale would conjure water, Wyll would heat it, and then Karlach would haul the bucket over to Shadowheart who, unsurprisingly, treated bathtime as if it were a surgical procedure. Lae’zel and Astarion stood begrudgingly on either side of the cleric as she instructed them to hand her different sponges, soaps, combs, salves and bandages that she used on the ranger with a heavy hand. Wren was sat on a tree stump, utterly at the mercy of the Shar-lover, and forced to endure her as she scraped, scrubbed, primped, and primed... cleansing the ranger of all matter of filth and potentially a few layers of skin.

The little bird’s eyes kept wandering to Astarion when he turned to retrieve another item that Shadowheart requested of him. She noted, with a mix of quickly stifled horror and shock, that his back was covered in a large, raised scar. Wren’s mind wandered through her memories, and she noted that she hadn’t seen the vampire shirtless until now. Camp life held different rules when compared to society, and while the group was far from a nudist colony, it hadn’t been unusual to catch glimpses of barred torsos and legs among her counterparts. She now understood why Astarion always went hunting while everyone else bathed.

As she worked, Shadowheart revealed that she, Gale, and Wyll had managed to infiltrate the Goblin Camp and do some reconnaissance. The shar-worshipper laughed as she explained how she’d disguised herself as a drow and waltzed right in with their posse. She described the interaction they had at the entrance of the gate, spurred on by their tadpoles, and recollected every detail about the True Souls and where they were located within the temple. Unfortunately, no one had any further information about Halsin. To Wren's surprise, the gang had already killed one True Soul named Priestess Gut and tipped her body off of a cavern edge... astoundingly, this had been Gale's idea. The goblins noted Gut's absence but without any evidence of struggle or a body to be found, they'd shrugged it off as her usual leave of business.

“Gut!” Astarion had interjected with incredulity. “The goblin’s name was Gut. How ridiculous.” Which had made Wren burst into laughter that quickly made her wince and stifle herself to avoid further pain. The vampire responded her laughter with a small smile before Shadowheart barked another order his way and roped him back into the task at hand.

Wyll and Gale recalled with shock and horror the beating that Shadowheart willingly took from Abdirak in the name of Loviatar. Wren noted with surprise that Lae’zel lamented her inability to witness the cleric’s penance, since the Githyanki been forced to become Wren’s babysitter while everyone else had all the fun. Wren noted that the usual edge to the Lae'zel's voice had been replaced with a touch of excitement... or perhaps arousal. ‘Who would’ve guessed that one.’

As the last rays of sunlight flared across the sky in a beautiful, milky blend of pink and orange, Wren was finally declared clean and dressed in her new nightgown. The ranger’s right eye was covered with a patch, and her hair was lifted into a high ponytail with accent braids. It wasn’t a style she would usually pick for herself, but Shadowheart did seem to prefer high updos. The little bird went along with it, as she was in no position to refuse the bossy Shar-lover. Finally, she was escorted back to her tent by Gale, who informed her of his intent to bring dinner by shortly.

“Her arms and hands work, wizard! It’s just the right eye that doesn’t.” Astarion bristled as he donned his own shirt, which Wren had returned minutes prior. His eyes were narrowed at the human as he pushed his silver curls back and tightened the strings of his shirt.

Wren thanked Gale but informed him that she actually was not hungry and preferred to rest. The wizard, always good-natured and rather receptive, nodded and walked off toward Wyll, who poured them both a glass of wine as they waited for dinner to finish cooking. Slowly, the half-elf ducked into her tent, still adjusting to seeing through one eye and attempting to avoid any sudden movements sending her spinning. She turned to see the vampire watching as she entered her shelter and gestured for him to follow her. Her heart fluttered a beat as he obliged.

-----

“You really don’t remember what happened after you stabbed Gandrel in the eye?” Astarion asked, brow cocked with incredulity. “Darling, you were, by all accounts, amazing… and also quite terrifying.”

He recounted the events to Wren and watched as her eyes — well, eye — widened in shock and terror. A hush fell between them and Astarion whispered the next question, the one that had been on his and everyone else's mind for days.

“Wren... Who is Kol?”

Wren gasped and clasped freckled hands over her mouth but said nothing. The silence stretched between them again. Crickets and frogs sang outside the tent, highlighting the awkward bit of quiet that fell between rogue and ranger. But Astarion wouldn’t relent by moving past the question; he had am inexplicable, visceral need clawing at his psyche. He needed the answer more than he needed to drink blood.

“My husband.”

Time always moved at a strange pace for the vampire. Torture sessions seemed like they lasted decades and his few moments of relative freedom out on the streets of Baldur’s Gate lasted mere seconds. But in this moment, it felt as if the world stopped turning at all. Astarion noted that familiar sensation of nausea rising up again. 'Who knew freedom would cause as much sickness as captivity does.' The nausea flipped to outrage and his lips curled back, fangs bared, tongue ready to cut into the little bird when she continued through a shaky breath.

“He’s dead. I must’ve been calling for him when I was out of it.”

Astarion stopped his insults before they spilled out of his mouth. He was astonished but found he did not desire, in that moment, to hear further details. The revelation, mixed with the fact that he hadn’t hunted anything since Wren had let him bite into her several days prior, had been enough to give him a headache. The silence stretched between them again. To the rogue's surprise, he reached a pale hand to her freckled one and sighed.

“I suppose... well, I guess I’m sorry to hear that, little bird. Now let’s get you into bed. I have to turn in early as it is, I’ll be gone by first light. Shadowheart found some man named Volo at the Goblin Camp and needs me to break him out of his cell, for what, I have no earthly idea. It seems that even with you out of commission, I'll never get away from being forced to play the hero."

Wren's response surprised the vampire entirely. She deftly grabbed the flounced collar of his shirt and pulled him forward into a kiss, practically lunging to meet him. His cold lips crashed to her warm ones, the smell of berries and cinnamon eerily reminiscent of the moment they'd shared a few nights prior. Wren poured so much emotion into Astarion’s mouth, extracting an overwhelming wave of emotion from him, that all he could think to do was close his eyes and succumb to her kiss.

The half-elf woman's shaking, freckled hands drifted up to the vampire's face and then brushed along to pinna of his pointed ears, shocking a gasp from his mouth and the sudden rush of blood into his ears. In his previous encounters under Cazador’s control, he’d never crossed paths with someone that dared to perform such an intimate gesture on a one-night stand. She’d thrown him off script again and ignited a part of his psyche that had buried itself beneath layers of rote mechanics and one-liners for 200 years. The vampire grasped desperately at her forearm in response, silently urging her to touch him again, but froze in place when the little bird winced in pain and retracted from the kiss, pulling him out of the spell.

Astarion opened his eyes and gently pulled Wren’s hands away from his face; half of his heart regretted the action the moment he performed it, desperate to feel her warmth along his cheek once more. She was staring at him, cheeks flushed. She was a vision in the new nightdress he'd given her, and the new hairstyle Shadowheart had chosen for the ranger gave an enticing view of the neck and collarbone. The vampire stunned himself when he planted a soft kiss on Wren’s knuckle before placing her hands in her own lap. “Perhaps we should postpone more… athletic activities, little bird.” He murmured, offering her a raised eyebrow and a good-natured twinkle in his scarlet eyes to ease the sting of rejection. “After all, Shadowheart will have my head if I undo all her hard work. And I do believe her green guard dog would love any excuse to rip my neck out.”

This wasn’t a simple game anymore. Everything that had happened and everything she shared twisted his original plan of manipulation to feel much more… well, wrong. Part of him wished to go back to the time when he knew nothing of his marks apart from their desperation for his body. It had been astoundingly easy back then.

But Wren wasn’t an easy mark. Astarion was sure he could not compete with the ghost of her dear, dead husband. Surely, she would see his true colors and reject him in the end. And what was the point of exerting all that effort? He needed someone that would follow him blindly to Cazador.

“Goodnight, darling.” The pale elf whispered as he turned on his heel and stalked towards his tent, not waiting for a reply. He burst into his own shelter, desperate to be far away from the spell that little bird had him under and relieved of the painful straining within his trousers. What an idiot spawn he was, that the slightest brush against his ear had sent him into such a frenzied state. A few urgent tugs of his trousers to force them down and the vampire grasped desperately at his arousal. Astarion used his deft hand to stroke wantonly at his member, gasping as the release came. His head tilted back, he saw a flash of Wren’s scarred lip and freckled collar bone ripping through his mind as he rode the wave of his climax.

Either she was going to be his undoing, or he was going to be hers.

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