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hier--soir · 1 year

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bite the bullet

joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: two idiots finally bite the bullet and admit how they feel. warnings/tags: [18+ minors DNI] fwb!joel, age gap [20 years], angst, miscommunication, a meddling Tommy Miller, soft sleepy sex, oral [f], unprotected piv, masturbation [f], rimming, sixty-nine, both of them are assholes for a minute, resolved emotional tension. word count: 9.4k [i got carried away sorry!] series masterlist | masterlist this is part four of my fwb!joel series. you can find the other parts here: one, two, three.

Everything was wet.

Your feet squelched against the ground as you moved, little flicks of water splashing up against your shins with every step. Inside waterlogged shoes your socks clung uncomfortably to your skin.

Tommy was crouched underneath your sink, inspecting the u-bend of the pipe there, his lower half damp from the water that covered the floor of your kitchen.

“It’s definitely comin’ from in here,” his muffled voice came, and you groaned, rubbing a hand over your face in exasperation. “I can stop it, but it’s gonna take some time for the place to dry out. I’d say you’d better clear out for a few days, leave a few windows open.”

You’d had a nice day. A lovely day, even. And you’d been looking forward to curling up with a whiskey and a good book before bed. But upon returning home from the greenhouse, you’d been horrified to find the entrance of your home covered in a thin layer of water. Splashing down the hall, you’d discovered that the entire place was wet; a shiny film of liquid coating anything that touched the ground. The wooden floorboards were soaked to the bone with cold water. A fucking flood. Thankfully Tommy was right, and you trusted that the August humidity would naturally dry it out with enough time.

“I can’t just stay here? I didn’t think it was too bad,” you lied. “Could lay down some towels.”

Tommy laughed under the sink. “You know you’ll get sick if you’re sleeping around all this water – towels or no towels.”

“Okay,” you acquiesced, gazing at the floor glumly. “Okay, yeah, I suppose I’ll uh… I’ll get some stuff together.”

“Joel would take you,” his said, and you snapped back to reality, staring at his back while he worked. You could practically hear the grin in his voice. When you didn’t respond, his head reappeared, and he looked at you curiously, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind his ear. “You and Joel are pals, right? Pals help each other out.”

Pals, you thought cynically. That’s one word for it.

Two weeks had slowly passed since the Peterson incident, and you’d only seen Tommy’s older brother a handful of times. There was still a tense energy between the two of you, so you’d been keeping your distance a little, allowing things to cool off. Bumping into each other here and there, dinner on the same table at the hall… but no alone time. No real time that would leave you two open to actually talking about it. That didn’t mean it didn’t play on your mind, though. Oh boy did it. In fact, most days you’d catch yourself gazing into a pot plant, thinking about that night. The way he’d taken you, made you tell him the details about Peterson, the way he’d showed you he fucking owned you. You couldn’t wrap your head around the way it had made you feel, and so you avoided it, even though your chest ached with the Joel-sized hole his absence had left in it. At least you weren’t so stubborn that you couldn’t admit to yourself how much you missed him.

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Tommy gave a polite shrug, smirking at you. Testing you. A huff escaped your lips, and you broke eye contact, stretching out your shoulder. “Yeah, alright, I’ll ask him,” you agreed begrudgingly, brain whirring trying to come up with excuses. “It’s late though, and he might not want me there.”

“It’s not that late, but sure,” he chuckled knowingly, going back to work on the pipe. “When hell freezes over and Joel says no to you, you let me know.”

An hour later, you were on your best friend’s porch, a bag slung over your arm, hesitating with your knuckle raised in the air. Taking a deep breath and running through what you were going to say, you finally willed yourself to rap your fist twice against the wood.

After a moment, the door swung open to reveal Joel, in a soft wrinkled t-shirt.

An easy, involuntary smile spread across your face upon seeing him. His beard was a little longer than he usually kept it, greys sparkling through the dark hair that framed his mouth so handsomely. He had clearly been settling down for the night, and he looked oh so cosy dressed in his sleep clothes.

“Hey man,” you offered up a sheepish smile.

He looked appropriately surprised to see you, considering you certainly hadn’t been knocking on his door at any point in the past fortnight. One of his eyebrows hitched upward, and he eyed the bag over your shoulder warily. “You skippin’ town or something? Who’d you piss off this time?”

You rolled your eyes and readjusted the duffel. “You gonna let me inside? This thing’s kind of heavy.”

He stepped back into the entryway with a grunt, allowing you to breeze past him and dump the bag onto the ground with a low thud. “Pipe under my sink is busted. Flooded the whole place today – Tommy said I should clear out for a day or two.”

He hummed, narrowed eyes raking over your face. “Oh yeah? So where you gonna go?” he teased, and relief rushed through your veins like warm water as you recognised the smirk threatening to take over his face.

You gave him a small laugh and sighed, holding your arms out in mock surrender. “Come on, Miller,” you said. “Let me crash here – I’ll owe you one.”

“Owe me one, huh?” his eyes shone with mischief. “Well I like the sound of that.” An odd, twisting sensation rippled through your stomach and you sucked your lips into your mouth, nodding slowly.

“Sure,” you retorted. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.” When the words left your lips you both stilled, staring at each other warily.

He hummed, eyes darkening a fraction. “You’re playin’ with fire,” is all he said, before bending down to pick the bag up off the ground and ushering you towards the stairs.

You wondered off ahead of him, and when you reached the landing you veered right, pushing open the door to the spare room. He didn’t follow you in immediately, instead pausing in the doorway with a frown plastered across his face. You hadn’t thought about where you’d be sleeping until the second you reached the top of the stairs, but you knew this was the right decision. Sharing a bed with Joel for a few days? Probably not a good idea. Unless of course, that was going to be how you repaid your debt…Thankfully, or unfortunately, he didn’t push it, dropping the bag gently in the corner of the room.

“Hope Ellie won’t be bothered I’m here for a few days,” you thought aloud. The tone noticeably shifted, and you almost at how Joel seemed to deflate.

He leant an arm against the doorframe and sighed. “She ain’t spendin’ much time in the house these days,” he admitted quietly. “Stays in the bungalow or goes out. I doubt you’ll even see her.”

You hesitated for a second before asking, “Have you two spoken much lately?”

He scratched his chin for a moment. “You know the kid,” he shrugged. “She’s stubborn. M’tryin’ not to push it.”

“It’ll be okay, Joel,” you offered softly. “She’ll come around.”

He assessed you silently, eyes flitting down your body before resting on your face once again, and then he stepped back into the hall. Coughing awkwardly, he raised a hand in a sort of farewell, and said, “Well, uh, you know where everything is. I’m gonna… I was gonna head to bed, I guess.”

“Okay,” you nodded, watching as he turned to head toward his room.

“Hey, Joel, wait,” you called, and he turned, eyes glimmering with something you couldn’t quite place. I miss you, you wanted to say. I miss you, and I’m sorry things are off between us, and I wish we could forget it all and go back to normal, and I miss you, I miss you, I miss you. “Thank you,” you said instead, voice soft. “I really appreciate this.”

The look in his eyes dimmed a little but he offered up a smile. He nodded once, said, “Glad to have you here,” and then closed his bedroom door, and leaving you alone with your thoughts.

After showering and unpacking the few things you brought along, you curled up in the foreign bed. The mattress was soft enough though, and the sheets smelled like the soap Joel used. Your body ached from a long day of work, muscles tense and wired from hauling heavy pots around under the sun. Soon enough, you began to relax enough to drift off to sleep. Only a few hours into the night though, your dreams were interrupted by the sound of soft footsteps padding across the landing. A beam of soft yellow light was shone into the room, painting the inside of your eyelids orange. Cracking an eye open, you saw that the door was ajar, and a tall figure was peering in.

“Joel?” you asked groggily, dragging a knuckle over your eyes.

“Yeah, it’s just me,” his deep voice came, but he made no move to enter the room. “Sorry to wake you.”

“Are you okay?”

“Can’t sleep,” he said softly, and your heart clenched.

Pulling the blankets open on the empty side of the bed, you didn’t even think before you said, “Get in.”

Your head fell heavily into the pillows, and sleep tried to pull you back under as you listened to Joel shuffle across the room and slide into the bed beside you. For a moment, he just laid there, a sizeable gap between you on the mattress. And then his warm, firm body was pressing up against your back, his large palm sliding over your hip to rest on your stomach and guide you back against his chest. His scent overwhelmed you, hints of mint and soap and pine tickling your nose, and fuck you had missed him. it was so familiar, and yet your body tingled as if it was the first time he’d ever laid a hand on you. Through the haze that settled over your sleep addled brain, you could feel him, stiff against your thigh.

“Jesus,” you teased drowsily, throwing caution to the wind by rubbing yourself back against him. “Were you having a dream about me or something?”

His nose traced a long down the back of your neck and you fought off a shiver. “Always dream about you.” If you weren’t so tired, that probably would’ve garnered a bigger reaction from you. But as it were, you just brought a hand down to rest over his on your stomach and gripped his fingers softly. “Was thinkin’ bout you being so close, yet still so far. Just down the hall, sleepin’ in my sheets…”

You hummed, warmth flooding your abdomen as he nudged his hips forward, rutting himself against you. His hand drifted out from under yours to slide up underneath your shirt, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin just below your breast.

“Joel,” you murmured, eyelids heavy.

He hummed eagerly, planting a soft kiss underneath your ear.

“I‘m so tired,” you said regretfully. “It’s been a long day – can hardly keep m’eyes open.”

“Let me help you fall asleep,” is all he said, hand now freely roaming over your chest. His thumb lightly brushed the firm peak of your nipple and your whole body shuddered. “Just relax.”

You were vaguely aware of him pulling the covers off you and moving down the bed, dragging soft kisses down your stomach, before dragging your underwear down your legs. Slumping into the soft bed, you allowed your eyes to flutter closed.

Gentle, reverent kisses were pressed over your hip bones as he settled between your legs, pulling one of your thighs up to rest over his shoulder. His long fingers rubbed over the muscles in your leg, pressing down gently when he found knots, pulling deep sighs of contentment out of you.

“That feels nice,” you whispered into the darkness, and you could’ve sworn you felt him grin against your hip.

When his nose dragged through the dark hair on your mound you twitched slightly, body waking up a little at the sensation. But it was gone as quickly as it came, and you relaxed again, humming lowly as his pressed a kiss against the inner most point of your thigh.

It felt like hours passed with him between your legs. At first you allowed yourself to slip in and out of near sleep, eyes closed as lax puffs of air escaped your mouth while his tongue dipped gently between your folds, giving you soft lazy strokes that warmed your insides. When the first bit of slick began to seep out of you, he groaned gratefully, licking and sucking at your entrance, exulting in your taste.

It felt like you were dreaming. Laying pliant on the bed, you were fully at his mercy, allowing him to move your legs anyway he wanted to give himself better access. You could vaguely hear him murmuring against your skin, but couldn’t make out the words over your own sighs, smiling sleepily as his tongue lapped against you. He worked slowly, and you realised that it was as much for his enjoyment as it was for your own. You knew by that point how much Joel enjoyed going down on you. He had told you as much on multiple occasions; how he’d love to spend hours with his face trapped between your thighs. But he’d never had the chance, or the patience, to really do it.

The sounds of his enjoyment vibrated against your core, echoing through the room around you. The way he fucking moaned into your cunt never failed to drive you crazy, but in that moment you just smiled at the sound, enjoying how peaceful it was, how sweet.

Every now and then you’d lazily blink your eyes open and look down, expecting that at any moment he’d pull away, be over it. But he never did. Every time you looked his eyes were closed, hands gripping your thighs softly, thumbs stroking rhythmically against your skin as content breaths rushed out of his nose, and you’d close your eyes again, the dark image of him scorched into the inside of your eyelids, never to be forgotten.

You started to feel more awake when he finally gave his undivided attention to the achingly sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your core. Moving painfully slow, he glided his firm tongue across your clit, switching it up between swiping back and forth across it and then circling it.

“Oh,” you murmured lowly, voice hoarse from lack of use, but you couldn’t help the soft exclamation as your hips shifted upwards, suddenly searching for more. He didn’t change a thing, pace never increasing or slowing down, and it was perfect.

Your orgasm washed over you in gentle waves. Joel’s tongue swirled slow, gentle circles around your clit and your thighs tensed around his head, fingers reaching down to softly rake through his curls. He hummed happily, tongue lathing against you, enjoying every second of your release. Only pausing once your body stopped twitching and the muscles in your thighs relaxed against him, before kissing way up your stomach, your neck, under he was holding himself over you.

Eyes still closed, your hands drifted to the back of his neck and you pulled him down, his weight crushing against you but you didn’t care. Yours lips met tentatively, and for a moment that was all it was. A soft, gentle kiss. And then you felt him, straining against his briefs, pressed between your thighs, and you pushed your tongue into his mouth. It was messy and slow, tongues tangling together, teeth knocking awkwardly, and you found yourself smiling into his mouth. It should have unnerved you. Should’ve been enough to make you stop, turn your head away and make him fuck you rough so you would forget how intensely intimate the moment felt. But you didn’t.

“You should sleep,” he murmured against your lips, pulling his hips back a little so his erection wasn’t so obvious.

“You should come inside me,” you whispered back, reaching down to grip the band of his underwear and tug them down over his hips. He groaned and kissed you again before reaching down to free himself from the confines of his underwear.

No other words were exchanged as he adjusted himself, and then he was pressing into you, his needy moans spilling out against your neck while your hand snuck underneath his shirt, fingernails gliding down his back as he filled you completely.

“God, I missed you,” he choked out, voice cracking. You whimpered softly. “You’re so wet.”

“Made me feel so good, Joel,” you preened, kissing the side of his head.

“Yeah?” he pulled his face out of your neck to look at you, and you nodded, staring at him through bleary eyes. Joel kissed you again. A long, yearning kiss that made your heart throb, and it didn’t take long until he was falling apart on top of you, shaking against your arms that wrapped around him, held him against your chest. You whispered praises in his ear as he came, hips grinding into yours, pushing himself so deep inside that it had you gasping into his mouth. It was so unlike any other time you’d ever slept with him, and alarm bells rang somewhere far in the deep recess of your brain, but you ignored them. You’d missed each other, and you’d both earned a little softness after the time apart. And so the two of you fell asleep like that; tangled in each other’s arms, with him still inside you.

You woke up to the sun streaming in through the window. The light was harsh, and you cursed yourself for going to sleep without drawing the curtains. You went to sit up in the bed but stopped suddenly, realising how hot you were. With a soft start, you glanced down and understanding jolted through you like a flash of lightning. Joel’s house, you remembered; you were at Joel’s house. But what you hadn’t expected to find was Joel still in the bed, arms coiled around you like wire while he snored quietly in your ear. For as many times the two of you had slept together, neither of you had ever slept over. It was an unspoken rule, and one that had never been difficult to follow. But he’d broken it… or you’d both broken it, maybe. Keeping your body as still as possible, you found yourself breathing deeply, trying to maintain the allusion of still being asleep to avoid rousing him from his slumber. Frustratingly, your heart pounded in your chest, brain zeroing in on every part of your body that touched his.

His soft lips brushed the back of your neck, heavy breaths puffing against your skin. A solid knee was wedged between your legs, one hand lazily gripping your breast. The insides of your thighs were sticky where his come had leaked out of you overnight, and your eyes widened at the sensation.

What surprised you the most wasn’t that you didn’t hate waking up with him beside you. No, what surprised you most was that you did like it. In fact, you found yourself longing to relax into his arms and go back to sleep. But common sense reared its head, and you slowly slipped out of his grasp, moving slowly so as not to wake him while you dragged yourself out of the bed. Staring down at Joel, a pang of fondness rush through your chest. Messy curls were strewn across his forehead, plump lips pushed out into a pout as he breathed deeply, hand resting on the empty bed where you had just laid. His breathing hitched momentarily, and you froze, realising how odd it would be for him to wake up and catch you standing there naked, staring. Trying not to give it another thought, you quietly collected some clothes from your bag, and slipped out of the room to start your day.

Hours passed in the greenhouse. You distracted yourself with cucumber seeds and tomato plants, pushing Joel out of your mind as you worked under the sweltering sun. Underneath the glass roof of the nursery, the heat multiplied, and by the time your shift was over you were covered in sweat, shirt ticking uncomfortably tight to your back. You stopped by at the community hall for dinner and ate alone, your brain a whirlwind of thoughts of Joel, Joel, Joel. You couldn’t shake the feeling that had lingered in your bones all day; the aching desire to have stayed in bed with him, to have relaxed into his arms and cuddled him for the rest of the morning. Your best friend, for fuck’s sake.

“Christ,” you mumbled aloud through a mouthful of food, rolling your eyes at yourself.

It felt like you were going crazy, but the worst part was understanding that this must’ve been how he’d been feeling for weeks already.

I’ve never asked you for anything. Not for anything more than what we’ve been doin’, never pushed you for more.

That’s what he’d said, two weeks ago, the day he found out about Peterson. The words played in your head like a mantra. Words that you had firmly avoided bringing up, ones you’d never pushed for an explanation about. You’d chosen to sweep them under the rug, and yet, as hard as you tried, you couldn’t fucking forget them.

By the time you returned to his house you discovered him sitting on the couch downstairs, engrossed in a book. It was the picture of domesticity. The sweet scent of vanilla floated through the air towards you, and you noted the small candle burning on the table beside him.

Staying in Joel’s home, even for just one night, you’d noticed so much more about it than ever before. There was something interesting to look at everywhere you turned, and sweet-scented candles were just the tip of the iceberg. He left random objects littered across countertops, like little treasures for you to stop and inspect during your travels throughout the house. Wood that he’d whittled into interesting shapes, books that he’d read the first few pages of and then abandoned, countless mugs in odd places with dark brown coffee stains at the bottom of them. It was homey, and warm, and subconsciously you found yourself enjoying the insight into his most private space – into the things he did when he was truly alone.

Joel hadn’t noticed you come in, so you seized the opportunity to watch him from the doorway for a moment. He was wearing his comfortable clothes again, and a thin set of reading glasses were perched on the scarred bridge of his nose. A quick flash of heat tore through your stomach. You’d never seen him wear those before, and it had you stumped. The glasses, paired with the salt and pepper through his beard and hair, reminded you of his age. Twenty years older than you, and still the most handsome man you knew.

You finally broke the silence, announcing yourself by asking, “What’re you reading?”

Joel’s head snapped up, and he stared at you over the top of his glasses. Shutting the book quickly, he straightened up on the couch. “Uh, Brave New World,” he lied, flipping the book so you couldn’t see the cover.

You hummed, unconvinced, and bit down on your bottom lip to hide a smirk. Tommy had told you once before that Joel was a sucker for gothic romance novels, but you’d never truly believed him until that moment. From where you stood, you recognised the tattered copy of Wuthering Heights that had gone missing from your bedroom a few months prior.

A flush rose in his cheeks and he coughed awkwardly, picking up a mug that you hadn’t noticed on the floor by his feet. It was cute; a little beige ceramic thing, with an owl painted on it.

“You see the patrol roster for tomorrow?” he spoke into the mug, swiftly changing the subject.

“I did,” you murmured. What you didn’t acknowledge, was that you’d also seen Peterson and Davis’ names on the list for the morning patrol. “Should be nice. We haven’t gone to the ski lodge in a while.”

A vivid memory of you two fucking up there raced through your mind, and a low heat simmered across your face as you remembered Jesse and Dina almost catching you once. Shaking the thought from your mind, you looked at him again to find him gripping the mug tightly, lips pursed in thought.

“We haven’t,” he agreed lowly, and the corner of his mouth twitched a little. “You haven’t been gettin’ called outside the gates much at all these days.”

This is it, you thought hungrily. This is the moment he tells you how he can’t wait to fuck you there tomorrow while you’re supposed to be patrolling. This is the moment he tells you he can’t even wait until tomorrow, and he drags you upstairs to his bed. Warmth flooded through your thighs, and you held your breath, staring at him.

But Joel didn’t say that. Instead, you watched dejectedly from the doorway as he rose slowly from the couch and tucked the tattered book underneath his arm. “Well,” he coughed, turning towards the stairs. “I’m gonna get some shut eye. It’ll be a warm day, and I’d better get some rest before we head out.”

You watched him move towards the stairs, heart beating painfully fast against your ribs.

“I’m actually not tired,” you blurted out. Joel paused. His left hand gripped the banister, and you could’ve sworn it might break in half based on the way his knuckles went white.

“Well, I am,” he said over his shoulder, before padding up towards his room , not even turning to give you a second look.

You tossed and turned for an hour, staring at the ceiling wide awake. The linen sheets stuck to your sweaty skin, making you feel claustrophobic enough to kick them to the end of the bed. You waited for him. Every creak and groan the old house made had your ears twitching, eyes glancing eagerly toward the door, expecting it to creak open and reveal him sneaking in through the darkness.

And when it became clear that he wasn’t coming, you pushed away the uncomfortable feeling it brought, and snaked a hand past the band of your underwear. Your fingers raked over the coarse hair there, teasing yourself for a moment, before you slid a finger through your damp folds. Collecting your slick, you dragged it up to coat your throbbing nerves and sighed in relief.

Your middle finger dragged quick circles over your clit, and all you could picture was Joel above you, fucking you while wearing those stupid fucking glasses. Cursing him in your mind, you pressed a finger past your entrance, and huffed in frustration at how it paled in comparison to the thickness of his digits. You imagined the way the glasses would fall to the tip of his nose, almost falling off his face while he fucked you so hard you saw stars. In an attempt to stifle the soft moans trying to escape your mouth, you bit down on your bottom lip, fingers moving quicker against yourself. And you came like that; hand down your underwear, rubbing yourself frantically, thinking about nothing but him.

It was hot, and the skin of your thighs chafed painfully as you and Joel ambled silently through the stables, getting your horses from their stalls to saddle up. He hadn’t said much to you all morning and you were trying not to read into it, but the fraught silence had you on edge.

You winced upon spotting Davis and Peterson standing by the gate, chatting while they loaded their rifles. Lloyd caught your eye and smiled, offering a short nod in your direction. You returned the nod before looking back down and fiddling with Japan’s saddle, hoping Joel hadn’t noticed.

“Gimme a sec,” he muttered. “Gotta go pick Jesse’s brain.”

You hummed in acknowledgement and continued tugging on the straps of the saddle, until your skin prickled, a presence looming over your shoulder.

“Should we see if we can swap partners?” that voice sounded, and you turned to see Lloyd smirking suggestively at you. “Send Davis and Miller out East together, and you and me could head to the ski lodge?”

Your palms dampened a little and your eyes darted around the stables. There was no denying that Lloyd Peterson was a handsome guy. He was young, somewhere in his early-twenties. He had bright green eyes that shone in contrast against the dark brown hue of his skin. Straight, bright white teeth almost blinded you whenever he smiled, and you’d have to be a robot not to be effected by it. Past his shoulder, you spotted Joel hovering at the mouth of the stables, gaze trained on the pair of you. Caught, he turned quickly, muttering under his breath as he stalked off toward Jesse.

You looked back to Lloyd and shook your head once. “I don’t think so,” you said. “Gonna stick with Miller today.”

Not giving him much chance to respond, you gripped Japan’s reigns and led her out of the building. Joel and Jesse were talking in hushed tones by the gate, and you walked in their direction, pausing a few metres away when you noticed how tense the conversation seemed to be. Jesse was frowning at the older man, shaking his head slowly.

“Hey,” Lloyd’s voice came again, and you turned with a sigh, raising a hand to block out the sun as you stared up at him. “Can we talk?”

“Talk,” you rushed out, glancing to the side just as Joel appeared beside you, holding out a rifle. You shouldered it quickly, noticing the way Lloyd seemed to balk at the older man’s presence. “Peterson,” you urged, eager to get it over with. “Get on with it.”

He spared another awkward glance at Joel before speaking in a lowered voice. “Did I do something wrong?” You cringed, knowing Joel could hear every word, and yet he didn’t move a muscle. It seemed he wasn’t going anywhere, eyes trained on the man, uninterested in offering the pair of you any privacy to finish your conversation. “I thought we had a good time, y’know? But you’ve been avoiding me.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you replied plainly, even as the thought of him telling Davis about fucking you flashed through your mind. Joel was deadly quiet, eyes flicking between the pair of you like he was watching a game of tennis. You sighed deeply, wishing this wasn’t happening in front of him. In a moment of almost… shame, you realised that you didn’t want Joel to get the wrong idea. Didn’t want him to think that anything else had happened, or would ever happen, between you and Peterson.

“Then why won’t yo-“

“Why don’t you back off kid,” Joel interrupted suddenly, and your shoulders tensed, skin prickling at his harsh tone. “She’s not interested.”

Lloyd flinched at the words, and he looked to you, waiting for you to say something, to refute Joel’s claim. But you were distracted by the sudden warmth in your abdomen, and when you didn’t react quick enough he scoffed quietly, spinning on his heel and walking back where Davis was waiting with their horses. When you looked at Joel, he had a pleased smirk on his face, and you felt your stomach fall somewhat, guilt spreading through you at the way Lloyd rode out of the settlement without looking back.

The ride to the ski lodge was long. For the most part of the three hour trek, you rode alongside each other in silence, until finally you couldn’t help yourself, thoughts tumbling from your mouth.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said quietly.

Joel looked at you out of the corner of his eye, and didn’t say a word.

“He was already embarrassed,” you added. His top lip curled up into a mean smirk.

“Peterson’s an ass. He should be embarrassed.”

A huff escaped your mouth and then he was turning, looking at you fully now with his eyebrows pinched together.

“What, your little boyfriend can’t handle some friendly teasin’?” he sneered, the change in mood so sudden you almost fell off your horse. And all the warmth you’d felt, every soft yearning part inside of you toward him, you pushed it to the side and focused on the confusion instead, allowing it to morph into pure anger. You were seeing red; furious with him for never being able to just see reason.

“Oh, fuck off Joel,” you scowled. “I’m not doing this with you today.” You kicked your heel against Japan’s hide and rode ahead, not listening for a reaction.

The higher the pair of you rode up the mountain, the hotter it got. By the time the horses were tied up by a trough of water and the pair of you were walking into the lodge, sweat was rolling down your skin in rivulets. A headache brewed in your temples, and frustration weighed heavily on your chest as Joel huffed and puffed around the room. Even being able to hear his breathing across the room while he scrawled in the logbook was enough to set your skin on edge. Eager to get some space from the tense atmosphere, you gruffly told him that you were taking first patrol, before shouldering your rifle and stalking back outside into the heat.

“You idiot,” you scowled to yourself, storming through the trees. Shame burned in your chest like a wildfire as you thought back to the night before. Touching yourself in his house, making yourself come thinking about him, wondering if he’d fuck you at the ski lodge. God, you felt like a teenager with a hopeless crush.

Your feet planted in the dirt, the word ringing in your head like an alarm. Eyes wide, you gazed into the trees.

“Nope,” you mumbled, starting to walk again slowly. “No, no, no.”

“Y’know they say talkin’ to yourself is the first sign of madness.”

Fuck.

“What are you doing?” you turned quickly, staring him down from through the thick trees. “I told you I’d take first patrol.”

“Yeah, I heard that. Saw you storm off too,” Joel rolled his eyes, propping his hands against his hips. “What’s your problem?”

“Jesus,” you grinned sarcastically. “I should be the one asking that question.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” he frowned, stepping forward. The tan skin of his neck glistened in the sunlight, and you hated yourself for wanting to know how it tasted. Thankfully, hatred and anger were easier emotions to tap into than whatever the fuck you had been feeling about him for the past few weeks.

“It means,” you ground out. “That you’re a nasty old bastard.” His face darkened, lips twisted into an angry snarl, but you continued. “Peterson’s not my fucking boyfriend, so you can give it a rest okay? I had it handled.”

“Sure,” he laughed bitterly. “Don’t act like you didn’t love it, havin’ him hit on you right in front of me. You get off on the attention, from him and from me. I bet you loved havin’ me step in, tell him to fuck off.”

Your face was on fire as you glared at him, acutely aware of how the tension had spiked between the pair of you. Entire body tensed, you squared your shoulders and stared him down. “Are you fucking serious, Joel?” you asked lowly, eyebrows raising.

“Deadly,” he grit his teeth. “Don’t forget that I know you, baby, better than anyone.”

“No, you fucking don’t,” you spat desperately, turning around and walking quickly in the opposite direction.

“Oh yeah,” he called, the sound of his footsteps following closely behind you making your stomach drop. “Walk away, sunshine. Let’s just not talk about it, right? I know that’s your favourite thing to do. Walk away, and act like nothing happened.”

“Oh my god!” you shouted. “Grow up, you fucking assho-“ But as you spoke, your foot landed awkwardly on a patch of moss. You heard a low popping sound before you shrieked as your legs flew out from underneath you. You hit the ground awkwardly, ass slamming into the ground, and dirt sprayed into the air around you.

“Shit,” you hissed, moving to get up but cringing as a sharp pain shot through your ankle. The flesh around your shin was already swelling, and you cursed audibly, reaching down to rest your hand against it only to wince at the dull pain spreading through your entire foot.

“Jesus Christ,” you heard him say, and then his warm hands were on your shoulders, and he was crouching beside you. Breathing heavily, you stared as your ankle swelled to the size of a golf ball. “Come on, let’s get you back,” Joel said, gripping your elbow to lift you up.

“Get off,” you snapped, shoving him back. He stumbled a little and then stood, glaring down at you. “I can do it myself.”

“Clearly you fuckin’ can’t.”

Eager to prove a point, you dug your fingers into the dirt and pushed yourself up, and then began limping back towards the ski lodge.

You moved slowly with Joel trailing just a few steps behind, close enough that you could hear his breathing, and the way he muttered inaudibly whenever you stumbled. When you almost tripped trying to step over a tree branch, he snapped, appearing at your side in an instant and wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Joel,” you warned lowly, but he interrupted.

“Would you stop bein’ such a brat,” he snarled. “You might’ve broken your fuckin’ ankle, just let me help you god damnit.”

You grumbled under your breath but didn’t fight him again, silently grateful to lean on him and get some weight off the injury. His chest rose and fell quickly as he led you back to the lodge, and you could practically feel the anxiety radiating from him.

“It’s not broken,” you muttered. “Probably just a sprain.”

“Good,” he grunted, helping you up the steps and into the building. “Idiot.”

“Jeez, thanks, Joel,” you said bitterly. “You’re a real pal.”

His hand gripped your waist tighter, before lowering you onto the couch. “Any time, bud.”

Joel stormed into the kitchen and returned moments later with a bottle of water, tossing it at you before slamming down onto the sofa beside you. “Jesse and Dina will be here in a few hours, just keep it elevated until then.”

“You got it doc,” you rolled your eyes, eagerly gulping down the water even though it had gotten uncomfortably warm in his pack.

The pair of you sat in silence for a while, your ankle throbbing where it rested atop the coffee table.

“I don’t fuckin’ get you,” Joel finally breathed, and you looked to him with a raised eyebrow and a snarky comment on your lips, only to find him with his head tilted back against the couch, eyes closed.

“What?” you asked dumbly.

“You heard me,” he said. “I don’t fuckin’ get you. You go two weeks avoidin’ me, I hardly see you, then you’re knocking on my door, askin’ to stay? And then today you’re cursin’ my goddamn name. Throw me a fuckin’ bone, darlin’, cause I got no idea where I stand with you.”

Your lips parted, all the breath in your lungs rushing out of you in one fell swoop. His eyebrows were furrowed, a deep frown settled across his face, and his arms crossed against his chest. He didn’t look angry, you realised. He looked confused; he looked hurt. Your stomach rolled.

“I could say the same,” you started pathetically, and then his eyes flashed open and he was staring back at you with those dark brown eyes that fucking killed you.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” he said blankly, eyes darting around your face.

Your lips felt numb as you slowly asked, “What?”

“You left,” he said quietly. “You fuckin’ left me, and I just don’t know if I can keep pretendin’ anymore. Pretend that this doesn’t… mean anything to me. Pretend that I’m fine with… this. Don’t know if I can keep doing it if you’re just gonna leave. My heart can’t take it.”

It felt like time stood still for a moment. Outside one of the open windows, you could hear the trees rustling in the hot summer wind. Your ankle ached. Joel kept staring at you.

“You know that’s the best I’ve slept in years?” he asked softly, licking his lips. “Slept so fuckin’ sound with you next to me. No nightmares – hell, I didn’t even dream. And then I woke up, and you were gone, and I almost wished it had never happened. So that I wouldn’t have to know how good it felt to have you, wouldn’t have to try and sleep without you every night after, knowing exactly what I was missing.”

“Joel,” you tried again but he shook his head, raising a hand in the air to stop you.

“Just let me,” he took a deep breath, his shoulders shaking. “Let me say this. Just once, and then I’ll let it be, okay? I won’t bring it up again, and we can go back to the way things were befo-“

“Stop,” you croaked out, tears swimming in your eyes. “Shut up for a second. I,” you paused, eyes darting over his face, searching for understanding. “I didn’t want to leave, okay? But I’m scared Joel. Jesus, I’m so scared of this.”

“Scared?”

“Of this feeling that won’t go away. Of wanting to stay. I’ve been trying to push it down, to ignore it, and it doesn’t fucking work, no matter what I do. I’m so scared that I’ve fucked up our friendship, that I’m going to lose yo-“

“Never,” he shook his head firmly, hand reaching out to squeeze your knee. “Listen, you’re not losin’ me, okay? That's never gonna happen.”

“But Joel,” you sighed shakily. “If we push things further, there’s no going back. Don’t you understand?”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” he admitted quietly. “I think it’s been too late for me for a while now.”

You stared at him with wide eyes, and when you spoke again you could hear the fear in your voice. “I don’t know if I can be what you want.”

Joel chuckled humourlessly and sighed, squeezing your thigh again.

“It’s you,” he said. “That’s what I want. You don’t have to do anythin’, don’t have to change or be anythin’ else. I just want you.” His eyes shone in earnest, and you couldn’t help but surge forward, planting your lips against his. He returned the kiss with fervour, parting your lips with his tongue and gripping the sides of your face in a searing grip.

He tasted like salt and mint and your head was swimming, consumed by him. Your fingertips were numb as they raced over his body, desperate to touch him everywhere all at once. You fumbled with the buttons on his shirt until his hands joined yours, carefully undoing them all until you could pry it off him.

Pulling back from the kiss, you allowed your eyes to rake over his exposed chest, taking in the sight of his tanned, hairy chest, littered with scars and freckles and you felt the urge to kiss every single one of them. So you did. You pushed him back into the couch and straddled him, ignoring the way your ankle cried out at the movement, and attached your lips to his collarbone, licking and sucking your way across his torso. Showing reverence to every imperfection on his skin. Your tongue swiped past one of his nipples and he jolted beneath you, hands dragging under the fabric of your shirt to rest on your back. You could feel him growing hard beneath you and you smiled against his skin before rolling your hips down against his. He was murmuring your name in between sighs, scratching at your skin, revelling in the kisses you sponged across his chest.

Your eyes trailed upwards to meet his. “Want your cock in my mouth,” you whispered, and his face crumpled in on itself, eyes rolling back into his head.

“Fuck,” he sighed, gripping your hands tightly before pushing you off him. He stood up and in one quick movement he knocked the coffee table over, before he was undoing his belt and stripping his pants off. He helped you off the couch slowly, before lowering you down onto the carpet, crouching down to rest beside you. His large hands roamed across your chest, gripping the hem of your shirt and tugging it upward to expose your breasts, your aching nipples peaked and begging to be touched.

“Fuck,” he repeated, harsher this time, leaning over you to plant his mouth on your chest. His teeth scraped across your sensitive skin and you whined, gripping the nape of his neck as he took one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked gently.

“Joel,” you mewled, tugging his face back up to yours for a brief kiss. “I mean it,” you breathed into his mouth. “Need you in my mouth so bad. M’gonna make you feel so good, I swear.” Within a second, he flipped the two of you over so his back was against the ground and you were straddling his hips. You grinned triumphantly, shifting your hips back as you kissed down his chest, moving your body down until you were straddling his shins, and pulling his briefs down with you.

His cock rested proudly against his stomach, thick and swollen and begging to be touched. The head was a deep shade of red, small beads of precum weeping out of his tip as he stared at you, patiently waiting for you to make a move. You didn’t waste a second before leaning down and gliding your tongue softly over the tip, swiping up his salt and humming at the taste. A sharp inhale whistled past his teeth, and you watched his eyes clamp shut at the sensation, hand forming a fist at his side. Gently, you took his hand and raised it to your head, encouraging him to touch you. He obliged, fisting your hair in his hand, grip tightening as you parted your lips around him and let him sink into your warm mouth. A long, drawn-out moan left his mouth and your cunt pulsed in response, the warmth between your thighs suddenly impossible to ignore.

“S-so good for me,” he groaned, pulling your hair tighter. “Love your mouth, I love it. That’s it, baby, open up a little more for me, show me how much you can take.”

The sharp sting on your scalp made you moan around him, and he cursed, undoubtedly feeling the vibration. The weight of him against your tongue was intoxicating, and you bobbed your head up and down slowly, his cock gliding in and out of your mouth easily, slick with your spit. You’d missed the taste of him, missed the sensation of him filling you up to the point where it was hard to breathe, and yet you still wanted more. You pressed forward, eager to feel him fill you up, but when his cock brushed the back of your throat he was gripping your hair and pulling you off him.

“Turn around,” he ordered, and you looked up in confusion. His bottom lip was bitten raw, and his eyes were a darker brown than normal as he gazed at you. When you didn’t move, he was pulling you up and turning your body so your back was to him, and only then did you realise what he meant. He pulled your shorts down your legs, dragging your underwear with them, and then he carefully tugged one of your knees up and over his shoulder, so you were straddling his chest. Slowly, you shuffled back on your knees until your wet heat was hovering over his face, and you leaned down to let your chest rest against his.

“Baby,” Joel sighed. “So fuckin’ perfect. Such a pretty pussy. Can never get enough of you.”

You clenched around nothing, and heard him groan, signalling that he’d seen it. Without warning, his tongue dipped between your folds and you gasped, pushing your hips back to give him a better angle, before taking him back into your mouth. And it was nothing like it had been two nights before. He wasn’t gentle, or slow, or relaxed. No, Joel was relentless.

His tongue moved rhythmically against you, and you tried desperately to focus, harsh breaths leaving your nose as you moved your mouth lazily along his length. You pulled back and lathed your tongue around the head of him, tasting the salt that dripped out of him. He grunted into you and you smiled, stroking him slowly as you sucked the tip, grinding your tongue into the sensitive skin just underneath his head. Joel’s hips bucked up off the ground, and your hand left his length, gripping his waist firmly to hold him down while you took him into your mouth again. You pushed yourself as far as you could, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed as he brushed the back of your throat. His beard scratched against your inner thighs deliciously, and you decided you loved it a little longer. And then suddenly, his tongue moved away from your clit and he was licking broad strokes along the entirety of your core, and then over your entrance, and then… his tongue flicked all the way back and into new territory.

You flinched forward, his cock surging deeper into your throat and you gagged around him as you explored the new feeling. You moaned, eyes screwing shut at the foreign sensation, and you felt your legs begin to shake against his sides. His hands gripped your hips and pulled you down harder against his face, ruthlessly dragging his tongue back and forth from your clit to your hole, until you were tearing your mouth away him and sitting up, grinding yourself down desperately against his face. Arching your back, you writhed on top of him, crying out hoarsely. Every strong flick of his tongue felt like an electric shock jolting through your body, and he continued until you were panting and twitching on top of him, and then you let go. The orgasm tore through you, a shout falling from your lips as you rode his face, gripping his thighs for leverage as your entire body shuddered with the intensity. He didn’t let up; licking and sucking and kissing, his moans vibrating through your core until you were whimpering and dragging yourself off him, clit aching from the pressure.

You were still trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm when Joel pressed your back down onto the carpet, nudged your knees apart so he could fit between them, and pushed himself inside you. A sweet, low burn blazed in your abdomen with every inch he gave to you. The wet sound of you sucking him in might have embarrassed you, but the look of awe on his face as he stared down at where you were connected just made you feel powerful.

His thrusts were strong, the sweaty skin of your thighs smacking against each other noisily filling the air, mixing with your breathless moans of his name.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he was saying, but you weren’t listening, eyes rolling back in your head as he played with your nipples, pinching and rolling them between his fingers.

“Fuck, Joel,” you cried out at a particularly hard thrust, stomach tensing as the head of his cock grinded against your g-spot.

“There?” he panted, and you nodded frantically, mouth hanging open as he pressed against it over and over again, groaning at the way you tensed around him.

Urgent sounds left your lips as you felt yourself nearing the edge again, and you watched with wide eyes as his hand trailed down your chest to rest over your mound, his thumb slipping between your folds to press gently against your throbbing clit. Your back arched up from the ground and you choked out a moan as he rubbed you in slow circles, a stark contrast to the way he drilled into you with his cock.

“Come,” Joel encouraged and you whimpered, eyes screwing shut as the overwhelming feeling soared through you. His free hand landed over your throat and your eyes flew open, looking up at him as he applied soft pressure to the sides of your neck. “C’mon baby, let me have it. I can feel you, you’re so fuckin’ close, give it to me, please, I want it.”

His words pushed you over the edge, and you gasped against his hold, bucking up into him as he fucked you roughly. You twitched and writhed on the ground, his thumb never stopping its movements against your clit as you cried out his name.

And somewhere amidst it all, his movements slowed. His hands turned soft on your body, head dropping down to drag gentle wet kisses along the skin of your neck.

“So good,” he praised lowly. “So beautiful.” Your heart soared in your chest, and you smiled drowsily, body tingling as he continued to give you gentle thrusts.

“Kiss me,” you said shyly, and Joel smiled, leaning down to press his lips to yours. You sighed into his mouth, gliding the tip of your tongue along his bottom lip as you draped your heavy arms around his neck, pinning his torso down against yours. “Fuck me like this,” you told him. “Want to feel you close to me.”

He nodded, starting up a slow rhythm, only ever pulling out halfway before pressing back into you. You were both slick with sweat, and you wiped his forehead gently before raking your fingers through his thick messy curls. His face was red from exertion, and you thumbed his cheekbones gently. A heavy sigh fell from your mouth. Still recovering from your previous orgasm, you knew it wouldn’t be hard for him to build you up for another one.

“Give me one more,” he begged, sponging feather light kisses over your eyelids, your cheeks, down your neck. “Want to feel you come with me, baby, please. Just one more, I know you can.”

You gripped his hair and kissed him deeply, your tongues tangling together as he moved his hips slowly, cock dragging in and out of you at a devastating pace. Joel pulled back to watch you, eyes gazing down with adoration as he moved above you. That familiar liquid heat began to burn in your stomach, curling through every fibre of your being, and you could see in his face that he was close. And there was something else there too. Something you couldn’t place; simmering in his eyes, lingering on the tip of his tongue, begging to be said. His hips began to stutter against yours, a choked gasp of your name falling from his lips as he quickened his pace until you were coming together, holding each other tightly on the ground of the ski lodge. He moaned heavily against your mouth, and you throbbed around him as his spend coated your walls, warm and slick, squeezing out around his cock as he moved.

As a low, warm silence filled the room, you worked to control your breathing, body shaking against his as he pulled out of you. You whimpered at the empty feeling, missing the weight of him already. But he didn’t go far.

Joel laid down on the carpet beside you, draping an arm around your shoulders and tugging you into his chest. Your fingers trailed over the skin of his stomach, smiling at the goosebumps that developed in your wake. Mine.

His hand caught yours and he lifted it to his mouth, kissing the back of it gently. You leaned forward to rest your face in the rook of his neck, and he sighed in contentment, trailing his fingers down your back.

“Hey Joel?” you murmured against his skin.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry I called you a nasty old bastard.”

Joel laughed and tightened his grip around your back, tugging you closer to his chest. “I forgive you.”

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #fwb joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fanfiction #my writing #bite the bullet #cat's outta the bag #don't cry over spilt milk #whole new can of worms

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topherwrites · 4 months

Text

SNOWFLAKES IN MY STOMACH WHEN WE'RE KISSING

summary - spending the holidays with jake's family isn't always smooth sailing, but little else matters when you're grossly in love. (also - jake dresses up as santa for his nieces and nephews, you're real into it.) pairing - jake seresin x (fem!)reader word count - 2.7k rating - nsfw content, 18+, mdni! content warnings & tags - no use of (y/n) / mostly fluff / jake being super in love / jake's family celebrates christmas / very brief angst / me being incapable of giving jake a good childhood / brief mention of childhood abuse / swearing / alcohol consumption / dash of smut / fingering / lmk if i missed anything! a/n: a little belated christmas one shot for you all. reblogs, comments, and likes super appreciated! TOP GUN MASTERLIST / LIBRARY BLOG

Heat audibly blasts through the vents, the entire house sweltering. A solid summer day indoors. His mother won’t even let anyone touch the thermostat. In her defense, she grew up without a lick of snow on the ground and now it’s fifteen degrees in December, a real white Christmas.

Which isn’t exactly ideal for Jake considering he’s been roped into wearing a Santa suit for his young nieces and nephews. The suit is all red polyester—the least breathable material known to man—and thick faux fur cuffs. It’s causing him to start perspiring where sweat simply shouldn't be, his white undershirt clinging to his back and his crack.

“It’s too goddamn hot in this thing.”

Unbuttoning the jacket, he airs it out, the relief near immediate.

Over his shoulder, he catches sight of you lounging on the guest bed—the one his mother oddly insisted that you could share—odd because that’s been a hard and fast rule for all the non-married seresin kids since his older sister began dating.

When she’d pointed him to the room, he’d paused, waiting for her to tell him which room would be yours, separately. Exactly like the sole previous time a girlfriend had stayed the night, way back in college, he figured you’d be placed in the room past his parents so no premarital shenanigans would occur. When that moment didn’t come, he’d stood there stupefied till you bumped his hip, nodding in the direction of the room.

Then he found out that with his brother and sister, their spouses and kids, and a few stray cousins and aunts staying, every other room was already occupied tenfold when he showed up with you in tow.

He wasn’t sure if he would actually come down until a few days before, on the fence about spending so much time packed together with his family. But you’d volunteered to go along with him, meeting everyone besides his mother for the first time. Offering yourself up as a buffer.

It gives him pause less and less, just how much you care about him. Warmth spreads through him at the memory.

He was thankful that you had a bunch of airline credit banked, otherwise booking so late during the peak holiday season flights would’ve cost an arm and a leg.

Your feet kick back and forth as your eyes drag up his back, not put off in the slightest by his melting-like-frosty-the-snowman state, meeting his gaze with a heat you don’t attempt to hide. His irritation at the outfit dispels at your attention, melting away into something far sweeter.

“Is this doing it for you?”

“Oh,” your voice strained, “yeah, absolutely.”

And while there’s a bit of humor to the whole situation, what with the whole ‘being dressed as Old Saint Nick’ thing, your attraction to him isn’t a joke in the slightest. Sweaty, sunburned, exhausted. You seem to take a liking to any form Jake comes in.

You continue, twirling your finger in a slow, instructive circle, humor alighting in your eyes, “Do a little twirl for me, baby.”

He laughs but gives in to your borderline indecent direction, turning steadily on his heel. He does a slow three-sixty, letting the jacket fall to his waist so your eyes can freely roam. Turning back to you, he takes you in the sight of you before he closes the gap, crawling over you to give you a kiss.

Things are so simple with you, you never make him work for your affection, it’s always present, even in your teasing. He doesn’t feel that pang of being inadequate that his father instilled in him when he was young—the pang that he let drive him for far too long into his adulthood. He can breathe right around you, loosen his tongue, soften his words. He can be a good man, not just a good pilot.

He loves you. You love him. Everything is right in the world.

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The kids love the whole theatrics of him dressing up like Santa, faux beard, and all. He answers their inquiries into whether or not he’s their uncle Jake with a falsely grandiose tone, handing them their presents—you’re not sure if they fully buy into it, but they all seem to be having fun.

Sipping on a mug of coffee, warm in your palms, you watch him from afar as he juggles holding two of his nieces, one dangling off of his arm like it's a monkey bar and the other calmly being held on his hip.

Ainsley and Avery—without judgment, you wonder what the reasoning is to name all your kids with the same first letter, like Pokemon evolutions.

“He’s always been good with them. Kids.”

Ah, the dreaded (potential) future mother-in-law ambushing you about kids part of the day. You had that penciled in for sometime around… now, generally. You look over at her. She looks back at you with a familiar glint in her eye. God, Jake looks just like her, same straight nose and dimpled smile and hooded eyes.

Mae doesn’t mean any ill will. You’re aware. But it all still settles ominously on your shoulders. The breadth of the unknown, what the future could hold, kids or not—whether or not you and Jake will even get that far, you hope so.

You nod slowly, calmly noting, “That’s not surprising.”

You see the way he is with them, how much they adore him. It’s a nice picture. But you're both still undecided on whether that’s one that you want of your own.

She seems to detect that you’re not going to humor her about the subject, dropping it. She looks at your empty mug, “Do you want a refill?”

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You casually gesture to the sprig taped to the doorjamb above you, “Is that what you were up to earlier?”

You note the little red berries, the toothed leaves, and the bush-like appearance.

“Maybe.” With a self-satisfied smile, he shrugs. His large palms grip at your waist, gently pushing you against the doorway.

You scratch at your cheek. “You know that’s not mistletoe, right?”

Holly. It's a frequent mistake, mostly from movies that wanted something to hang with a little more visual pop than actual mistletoe. He sighs, head falling back as he glares up at the traitorous plant. You’d never pass up the chance to poke a little fun at him, but now you want to bring the smile back to his face.

You poke at his side, bringing those pretty green eyes back to you, “But I suppose I can spare a kiss regardless.”

A smile creeps onto his face, warmth clear in his gaze. He leans his weight into you, not enough to crush but enough to let you feel all of him. Tilting his head, his voice drops as he questions, “Oh, will you make an exception? Bend the rules? For little ‘ol me?”

Breathing the same air, his nose nearly brushes yours. Everything but him, every sound and sight is extraneous—it all just turns to static.

You hum in agreement, “For you.” You brush the pads of your fingers along his cheekbone, intentionally gentle, enjoying the way his lashes flutter at the gesture. “Now give me a kiss.”

Like the ever-dutiful soldier he is, he dips his head in assent, “Yes, ma’am.”

He takes the green light, gently molding his mouth to yours.

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His sixteen-year-old nephew, Sam, heckles him across the dinner table, quietly calling him a “fucking simp” as he hands you a refill of eggnog with a quick peck—that becomes two or three at his insistence, his lips chasing yours. His tone isn’t cruel, just an attempt at embarrassing his uncle.

He gets a smack upside the head from his dad—Jake’s older brother, Matt—for the language at the table, quick and sharp. Recycled material from their own childhoods. He tries to suppress the instinctual flinch, annoyance burning in his chest at how years later his heart is still sent racing. Jake wonders if he too, will become like their father. If it’s unavoidable. Something built into him. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree with his brother.

He knows that he has the capacity for cruelty in him and though it doesn't come as quickly these days, he still has to make an active effort to not be a dick sometimes, especially with Bradshaw.

And then, a hand, warm and stabilizing, slides across his thigh, squeezing tenderly. His eyes bounce around the table, everyone pointedly looking at their plates, just like when they were young and his father thought that one of them needed corporal punishment for acting like a kid.

Except for you, whose eyes are focused on Jake with so much understanding that he can’t help but knock his boot into his brothers.

“Don't do that shit.”

A tense moment follows. The clatter of forks stop, drinks pause at lips, and everyone’s eyes plant on him, perplexed that it’s been acknowledged in the slightest. Matt levels a stare back at him, and he wonders if he’s going to hear their dad’s signature line come out of his brother’s mouth—don’t tell me how to discipline my kids—leveled at anyone who ever expressed concern for the way their father treated them, teachers, other parents, their own mom.

His brother is the one to blink first, dropping his eyes down to his plate as he stabs at a piece of asparagus. The festivities resume around them. Quieter.

It’s not a real acknowledgment. But he’s drawn a line in the sand.

Sam continues looking at him for a few more moments. He wonders if his nephew knows just how similar their childhoods were, why his father is the way that he is. Not that it would make it better, but it might help him to know that it’s not him, some fault of his own.

Jake always thought that it was him. He knows a little better now.

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After all the kids have been bundled up in beds and the adults break out the liquor, it doesn't take long for Jake to crash. Sprawled on the couch next to you, his arm draped around your shoulder becomes less of a pleasant weight and more of a log hanging around your neck.

You tap his stomach, softer and less-toned after the holidays—at your insistence that he actually eats some sugar for once and doesn’t, under any circumstances, wake you up at five am during your vacation so he can go for a run. You’re glad that he’s taken the threat seriously, that he’s taking it easy and actually relaxing while you’re here. He grumbles at your touch but barely stirs, about eighty percent tired, twenty-percent drunk.

“Christ, when did he become such a lightweight?” His brother directs his jibe disguised as a question to you.

Rolling your eyes, you sigh, standing up. You pat his thigh, holding your hands out. “Up and at ‘em, lieutenant.”

His eyes peel open at the use of his rank. Blinking awake, he flops his hands into yours, not taking a strong grip. You're thankful for the fact that he barely relies on you to help himself stand, swaying minorly as he does so. You’re not particularly eager to see what’d happen if you had to haul all two hundred pounds of Jake upright on your own.

You both trod up the stairs. His hand caressing the silver tinsel wrapped around the banister as you go, the Christmas lights hung from it setting the staircase in a warm glow. With your arm looped around his waist and his looped around yours, you make slow progress towards the room at the end of the hall.

He toes off his boots as you shut the door to the bedroom, flopping backward onto the bed. Eyes fluttering sleepily, a hint of a smile on his face, he sighs out a breath. Voicing his inner thoughts aloud, his voice is gentle, “I'm so happy.”

The statement settles sweetly in the air.

Taking hold of your hand, he pulls you on top of him. His eyes heavy, he isn’t particularly conscientious about where you’re going to land, so you have to catch yourself before you knee him in the dick. Straddling him, you find your place in his lap. Affection, as it always does, blooms in your chest at the sight of him.

“Are you as happy as I am?” His question is gently curious, none of his old insecurity laced through.

You slowly nod, hands smoothing over his chest as you lean over him. “Yeah, I really am.”

Under your palms, you can feel him huff a pleased sigh.

Large hands land on your thighs, smoothing up and down the bare skin under the hem of your skirt. His eyes roam over your figure, from your legs, your waist, your chest, finally landing on your face, “You look so pretty. Have I told you that?”

Suppressing your smile, you squint as you tilt your head, imitating deep thought. You hum, “Mm, about twenty times today.”

“I think you could stand to hear it one more time.” He sits up on his elbows with surprising swiftness, his nose brushing along your cheek before his lips settle next to your ear, “You are so pretty.”

He pulls back just enough to kiss you, lips gliding softly over yours. He tastes like rum and vanilla. Under you, you feel him grow half hard. It’s one of the things that you never really expected from him, just how needy of a drunk he is.

He slips his tongue into your mouth, large palms squeezing at your hips as he guides you to rock over him. His breaths mingle with your own as he pulls back, panting, “You wet for me?”

Rucking up your skirt past your hips, his hand slips into your underwear and he swipes two fingers through the wetness collected there before you can—for the sake of his sleep schedule—gently turn him down. You fold over him, smothering your moan into his shoulder as he pushes in, his palm immediately harshly grinding against your clit. With your own buzz sliding through your body, you melt into the pleasure, task entirely forgotten.

Burning heat spreads through your core, your cunt clamping down around his fingers. It’s so good—it’s always this way, like he’s read the manual on your body. Slick sounds echo in the otherwise quiet room; your gut twists, high building.

Just as you're about to fall over the edge his movements slow, and the peak he was working you to begins to dissipate. But you're left on the edge as his brain seems to intermittently connect to its previous task, working over your pulsing clit. Your hips kick into his palm, the not quite enough stimulation tortuous. You try to roll off of him, but the arm around your back stays put. He grumbles for a moment. You nearly yelp at a shift of his palm shoots electricity up your spine.

You shake his shoulder, “Jake, Jake.”

“Mm,” he hums, “no, no.” He blinks himself only half-awake, eyes still drooping, “Second wind.”

You reach behind your back, sliding his arm from around you, pressing it to his chest. You draw his hand out from under you, the drag of his fingers sending waves of heat through you. Pressing a kiss under his jaw, you whisper, “Go to sleep.”

Eyes still closed he slides the fingers that were just inside you past his lips, casually cleaning your arousal off them. You have to pretend like that doesn't make your cunt pulse with need. He rolls onto his side, then mumbles into the pillow, “Fine, but I’m going to rock your world in the morning.”

You pat his stomach, placating him—sure that in the morning he’ll remember that he’s surrounded by his parents, siblings, and their offspring, that the walls are a little too thin for what he wants to do to you.

You collapse on the bed beside him, already nodding off.

You're proven wrong in the morning. He sends you over the edge twice with his head trapped between your thighs and his palm sealed over your mouth. And at breakfast, you have to play off the flush he carries as the AC putting out too much heat, smiles barely suppressed.

e/n: thank you for reading!

tagging those who liked the teaser: @mamachasesmayhem @pricelessemotion @sorchathered @dizzybee03 @always-and-forever-at @ofstoriesandstardust @sunlightmurdock @withahappyrefrain @aworldwideapart @shamelessghostwagonwobbler

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fic #top gun fandom #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fic #my writing

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takotakigum · 10 months

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his favorite — itoshi sae.

characters: itoshi sae x gn!reader

warnings: fluff, implied smut/mature themes, hurt/comfort (if you really squint), sae’s canon butt fetish is a warning itself, reader has an implied kind-of big ass, insane overuse of the word “ass”, and established relationships.

word count: 1.1k

synopsis: headcanons of your boyfriend, itoshi sae, and his undying love for your ass.

aged up characters | please read at your own risk!

boyfriend!sae who can’t seem stop staring at you when you’re fresh out the shower. be it if you’re in a mere towel or robe—sae will stare; his eyes always on your silhouette, from your soft face and all the way down to the evident curve of your ass. his love of staring at that state of you has gotten so bad that at times when you shower very late at night—when sae is supposed to be deeply asleep—he instinctively wakes up from the sound of water rushing. and the moment you’re out of the bathroom, sae is drowsily looking at your form from the bed, a pillow covering one of his eyes that he wishes is you.

boyrfriend!sae who adores being the big spoon. it’s—by his words—the only practical way to cuddle up. the way your plump ass effortlessly warms up his upper thighs and crotch has him over the clouds. most often than not, he pulls you closer, finding you squirming overly delightful. although there are some days where sae lets you be the big spoon, if you really, really want to, that is. but don’t expect too much when you wake up, because throughout the long night, sae couldn’t sleep that way—and inevitably, he flips the roles and now you’re not the big spoon anymore. your ass is once again attached to him.

boyfriend!sae whose heart beats faster when he sees you wearing those tight clothes he bought you. it looks perfect on you, especially when it gets enhanced by his eyes and imagination. sae can’t help but pinch one of your asscheeks with the expensive material getting wrinkled by his fingers. and when you yelp by surprise and the sharp pain, it only gives sae an additional—rather, more reasons—to spread his hand wide and soothe your ass.

boyfriend!sae who nearly loses his composure every time you sit on his lap. during intimate, heated moments where your ass is barely hovering over sae’s thighs, his breath is almost ragged. he sternly tells you to commit sitting down fully, not caring about what you have to say in return. he doesn’t care if you think you’re too heavy, sae can handle it. if it’s always you, he’ll fucking handle it. sae promises it’s alright, although in great contrast to his tone, he’s groping your ass and shoving your weight onto him. perhaps what really riles him up, though—other than your ass and heated sex grinding up his muscular thigh—is your flustered face that’s leaning over while your hands grip on anything it can for you to compose yourself. tough luck, is the ending. because by the time you’re able to somewhat breathe without the need of big huffs of air, sae is sure that he’ll break that profound composure in an instant.

boyfriend!sae who randomly carries you any chance he gets so he could take a handful of your ass. oh, you want to go to the kitchen? no problem. sae has already gotten a hold of your waist and you’re now propped on his shoulder, hand on top of your ass to “keep you from falling”. you don’t even protest anymore because it’s happened too much. so, he wordlessly takes you to the kitchen, then sets you down the countertop. oh, you’re waiting for him to get home from practice? once he opens your front door and spots you, you’re being carried. he lifts you off the ground—or even couch, wherever you’re stationed at—and he kisses your neck the same time you wrap your legs around him. of course, two hands waste no time touching your ass. at this point, you’re not even sure if there has been a time where you’ve walked on your own two feet for more than three minutes.

boyfriend!sae whose favored position is none other than sixty-nine. it’s contrary to popular belief, actually. although you both switch to whatever feels right at the moment—to all which sae is fond of throughly—sae’s all-time favorite will always comes back to be sixty-nine. why? because of the way your ass is always right on reach, and with every moan, whimper, and even whine you let out from him fondling your ass, sae feels it all as you’re giving him head—it’s like a reward, even. sometimes, when he’s too rough, his eyes are only looking at the differing marks and colors of his hand’s impact on your skin. and as stated earlier, sae loves you sitting on his lap, so after having sex, he usually will let you settle down on top of him as you both wind down in his bathtub; his hands turning gentle to massage your ass.

boyfriend!sae who always rests his hand on your waist or hips for permission before reaching for your ass—especially if you both aren’t in good terms. when your back is facing him and he comes up from behind, his fingers ghost over your sides as his head dips to whisper on your ear—he mumbles a quiet apology, nearly tightening his grip before asking if it’s okay for you to give him what he wants. usually, it’s short ones like: “can i?” but when he’s really desperate to embrace you or just be anywhere close to you once again, his pride drowns under and he mutters a “please?” for good measure. when you still decide his presence is merely nothing, sae tries one more time before giving you space once more. however, when you slightly nod or give any indications of approval, sae is quick to turn you over, one hand resting on your ass while the other caresses your face as he links your foreheads together.

boyfriend!sae who is so nonchalantly obsessed with your ass, you wonder if he only sees that in you. although when you jokingly asked him that thought of yours, he’s quick to reassure you that, no, he doesn’t only love your ass—but you; his lover. he takes ahold of your face before tenderly kissing you all over, and he still doesn’t stop when you tell him. each kiss to a feature of your face is accompanied by a thing sae loves about you. he’ll kiss your eyes and tell you that he’s never looked at anyone’s eyes the way he does with your captivating ones; he kisses your cheeks and says they’re so soft, and that he sometimes gets jealous of it; he kisses your lips and mumbles how it brings your whole, ethereal face together, all so perfect. sae doesn’t stop kissing you, nearly rambling about how thankful he is for you keeping up with him and drowning him with the type of tenderness he never once thought he could have. you practically have to pry his pouting face away from you, and you smile in return. telling him how it’s not that serious if he loves your ass too much, because he’s itoshi sae—your one and only.

#blue lock #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #sae #sae itoshi x reader #blue lock imagines #sae itoshi #takotakigum.writes

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hollybell51 · 10 months

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If I don't have you

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Ethan Hunt x AFAB!Reader

Mission Impossible (around MI3)

Word count: 6.6K

Summary: your mind won't let go of a close call, or all the things that remain unsaid between you and Ethan.

Content: gratuitous smut, angst, light blood/wounds (canon typical), swearing, angst with a happy ending, some mildly dubious moments (ie., sneaking into people's beds), but there's explicit consent so dw about that. Friends to lovers, first kisses (like between people), oral (f receiving), handjobs, making out, missionary, unprotected sex, bit of dirty talk, sappy love confessions (I'm a sap myself, give me a break). I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything.

Notes: hey guys I'm back with another terrible title and porn nobody asked for! I've recently been consumed by Mission Impossible and was devastated by the lack of Ethan Hunt content, and I may or may not be starting down the Tom Cruise rabbit hole, so I did the natural thing and wrote some good old smut. This man makes me absolutely feral in every film (sixty fucking one and he's still got it! What the fuck!) but the long hair really gets me (you all know this already) so I chose to go with somewhere around the MI3 mark. I'm also somehow convinced that he just gets hotter with each film but that's another issue.

Mandatory disclaimer, I don't really care what Tom Cruise does in his own free time with his money and energy but I personally don't fuck with scientology, so yeah. Anyways, enjoy!

The door to the hotel room banged shut behind you, loud and sudden in the cool stillness of the evening. Your face felt hot, and not just because of the heat outside or the fact that you’d just effectively undertaken a high-speed parkour course, blood rushing in your ears, heart pounding.

“What the hell, Ethan?” you hissed as you spun to face him, jerking your arm out of his grip.

He ignored you, stepping closer in the narrow entryway. “Are you hurt?”

Were you hurt? God, it never failed to amaze you just how little regard this man had for his own safety. First he’d quite literally jumped off the roof of a building (albeit a low building, and he’d slid down the tented roof of one of the market stalls first), then raced head-first into what had nearly ended up an all-out fire fight, despite you and Luther both yelling across the comms at him to stop, go around and cut them off! Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t listened.

“That was fucking insane!” you burst.

“Are you ok?”

You were being pursued, first at a walk and then a run. Ethan had seen, you’d told him and Luther both over the comms, and had been receiving directions from the latter. But there were three men chasing you – working for the man you were stalking, most likely, although you weren’t sure – and the streets were unfamiliar, the heat of the evening oppressive, the crush of bodies at the market stifling and the air dusty and thick. You knew, even as your feet pounded on the uneven ground, that you were not going to outlast these men – locals, larger and more numerous than you.

“You’re fucking insane, you know that?”

Ethan had barrelled into you from the side just as the first gunshot had gone off, rolling with a grunt and a curse over some poor stallholder’s display and behind a wall of crates. The rush of relief his presence unfailingly conjured was short-lived as he dragged you to your feet, a quick “alright?” and that goddamn movie-star grin before he was pushing you out from behind the makeshift shelter and back into the crowd. You hadn’t even noticed the substantial tear in his shirt or the rough hatching of a graze high on his cheek until you’d been leaning against a wall, panting and a little shaky, but alive and free of your pursuers.

You’d almost ripped him a (another) new one then and there, but then he’d shaken his head at you and held up his hand, panting, “let’s just get back,” before you could even open your mouth. So you’d held your tongue. Until you’d gotten back.

Now, both his hands were on your shoulders, firm and warm, holding you still. “(Y/N),” he was saying, his eyes searching your face. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” you sighed after a moment, half tempted to jerk out of his grasp again. You didn’t. “I’m fine. Are you?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He nodded, his hands sliding down to grip your arms. The graze wasn’t too bad up close, but as your eyes flicked to the cut on his arm, your anger reared its head again. God, if that had been twenty centimetres to the right…

“No you’re fuckin not,” you said, breathing deeply. It was late, and you didn’t want to disturb anyone more than you already had. “Let me see that.”

His hands dropped from you altogether, and he stepped back. “It’s fine, (Y/N), just a graze.”

“A bullet graze!”

“It’s fine.”

You shook your head, closing what little distance had opened up between you to point your finger into his chest. “Don’t ever pull shit like that again.”

“No promises,” he shrugged.

Jesus fucking Christ! You had half a mind to grab his gun off him and finish the job right there, see how fine he’d be with his brains blown onto the wall behind him. Even then he’d brush it off as a bruise, maybe a light concussion. You swallowed. “Ethan, you could have been killed !”

“But I wasn’t. All that matters is that you’re alright.” He’d taken your hand, folding your accusing finger back towards your palm gently – so gently it made your heart ache – and enclosing your fist in his much larger one. Your stupid, traitorous stomach did a flip to rival his acrobatics.

“No,” you gritted, “that’s not all that matters! You fucking–” matter. You matter to me. You pressed your lips firmly together, the words boiling in the back of your throat, spiralling into a hard, painful lump. You matter, Ethan, more than any fucking mission. None of it would mean shit if you didn’t make it, if I didn’t have you. You matter and I fucking love you, you idiot!

He was looking at you oddly, you realised, the silence hanging between you so thickly you’d need a damn chainsaw to cut it. His hand still cradled yours, but as you watched, his shoulders slumped ever so slightly and the ready-for-anything gleam you were so painfully familiar with faded from his eyes.

You both turned as someone – Luther – cleared his throat, a sharp silhouette against the glow of twilight through the window behind him.

“Are you alright?” your friend asked, looking between the two of you.

“Yeah,” you huffed, pulling back and running both your now-free hands through your hair.

“Ethan?”

“Yeah.”

Another silence, though less tense.

“Taking a shower,” you muttered, feeling your own body slouch as the adrenaline drained from you. You were sweaty, hot, dusty, shaky and too strung out for any more of this shit. Nobody stopped you as you trudged past first Ethan, then Luther, down the narrow hallway and into the small hotel bathroom. You thought you could hear Luther’s rumbling voice over the stream of shower water, Ethan’s higher-pitched response, but couldn’t make out any words. Maybe that was for the better.

In your dream, Ethan wasn’t fine. In your dream, he hadn’t moved as fast and wasn’t stumbling to his feet, pulling you with him. In your dream, he went down and stayed down, breath coming fast and short, and instead of a rip in his sleeve there was a dark stain spreading over his chest.

“Ethan?” you said, watching yourself scramble across the rough dirt of the street to his side, your hands flitting uselessly over his torso.

He cursed, taking your hand as he had so many times before, big and warm and more comforting than it had any right to be. “You alright?” he asked, teeth gritted.

“Yeah, fine. Fuck, Ethan hold on–”

“No, (Y/N)–”

“Hold on , dammit!” It was amazing how viscerally you could feel the pain, sharp and hot like a gunshot wound of your own. You fumbled at your pockets with one hand, pressing down on his chest with the other, but your phone was nowhere to be found. When you shouted for an ambulance or help or anything at all, nobody was listening. The market bustled on around you, the people no more real than shadows on a wall.

Ethan was saying your name again, his blood hot and wet against your palm. Too much, too much too fast.

“All that matters is that you’re alright,” he was telling you, and half your mind was seeing him as he had been in the hallway – serious, sweaty, patch of pink skin over his cheekbone hatched with where the dirt had caught and cut it as he’d rolled.

In your dream, you told the truth. The whole truth and nothing but the truth, words spilling from you in a sick waterfall. “You matter, Ethan. You matter to me, I love you, do you know how much you matter to me?”

You’d seen people die before. It was part and parcel of your job, so you knew what it looked like. This was no different. Ethan’s eyes were hazy, unfocussed, and he was too pale. There was a light sheen of sweat beading his face and neck. His chest was soaked with his blood and your hands were slick with it. His fingers were loosening around your own.

“Ethan?” you asked, your own grip slackening as his head lolled. “Ethan, come on, just hold on–”

No one’s coming.

“Hold on, Ethan. Don’t go. Don’t go, I can’t do this without you.”

He wasn’t looking at you anymore.

“Please, just– listen to me. You don’t know. You have no idea how much you matter to me, how much I need you. Ethan, come on, I love you!”

In your dream, Ethan was dead and you woke shivering despite the warmth of the room. You lay stock-still, counting to ten again and again until your breathing finally slowed and your heart rate returned to normal. You wriggled down under the sheet you’d draped over yourself, curling inwards and wishing for something more substantial than the loose t-shirt – once Ethan’s – and your underwear.

You’d watched Ethan die a thousand times, in a thousand different ways. Nobody would ever torture it out of you, but these – when he didn’t know, when it was too late before you told him – were the worst. It left you with a sick feeling in your gut, a hollow emptiness in your chest where your heart and lungs should have been, and limbs so heavy you were always surprised you managed to get up the next morning. And, of course, the inevitable wave of loathing at how fucking pathetic you were dreaming about telling your partner – friend , probably your best friend, because you were long past being coworkers – that you loved him.

You sighed, turning over. It was close to the full moon, the open window casting a rectangle of silver over the lump that was your legs, the light breeze moving the curtains gently. You could get up and close it. You should.

You’d been too pissed off and tired after your shower to do much more than grunt thanks to Luther when he handed you a cold doner kebab, eat it, then fall onto your bed and close your eyes. Usually, you’d have forced Ethan to take a shower too, waited until he emerged in fresh clothes and smelling like cheap soap, hair damp and curling around his ears, and patted the spot on the couch or bed or floor beside you. He’d always roll his eyes but sit anyway, and he’d stay sitting as you cleaned and dressed – sometimes stitched – whatever injuries he’d acquired with only minimal complaining. He’d give you the same treatment afterwards.

You hadn’t done any of that before, and now you missed the little ritual. You’d been mentally cataloguing the first aid kit for antiseptic cream, bandages, wound pads, suture needles and sterile thread as soon as it had even clocked in your mind that he had more than just the graze to his cheek, the uncomfortable weight of your dream growing heavier with the realisation that you’d left it all to him. And Luther, you supposed.

It was such a little thing, but in the moment it seemed to loom over you, blocking out the moon’s rectangle.

You sighed again, your feet hitting the floor before you’d even fully realised that you were getting up. 2.28 AM glowed sickly green from the digital clock on the nightstand. Maybe if you hadn’t had that specific dream, you thought, you would have given this more consideration. Turned over and closed your eyes, decided to wait until morning proper, dismissed your guilt and concern as remnants of a stressful evening. But you had had that dream, and now that you’d eased the door open and were slipping down the hallway towards the room Ethan occupied, there was no way you could have turned back.

His door was ajar, and didn’t squeal or protest when you eased it open. The set-up, like most hotel bedrooms, was exactly the same as your own. Cupboard on one wall (open, with a duffle bag resting half in and half out of it), dresser next to the door (two guns and a few spare magazines next to them), and a double bed by the window. The orientation of the room meant that the moonlight fell on the floor instead of the bed, but you could still clearly make out Ethan’s prone form, sheet wrinkled and twisted under him, one arm dangling over the side of the mattress, a few strands of hair over his face fluttering with each breath.

You’d seen him asleep before, of course you had. There hadn’t always been hotel rooms with two bedrooms and a pull-out couch to rotate through, nice as that was. There hadn’t even always been separate beds or mattresses – or any at all. Sometimes you ended up side by side in a queen that was supposed to be two singles, slumped on top of him in the back of a van or on a rooftop, curled against his back in a sleeping bag that was only really meant for one person. You didn’t mind, not really, but seeing him like that – totally relaxed, peaceful – tugged at something deep inside you.

You hesitated, one hand on the doorframe, shivering once more in the breeze from his open window. The curtains billowed inwards, floated suspended for a moment, then receded back to brush at the thick sill. The bed rustled as Ethan turned over, and you froze. He’d said something, you thought he’d said something that sounded like your name. Then he did it again, and you were sure.

“(Y/N).”

You crossed the room silently, kneeling then lying smoothly on the bed and against his back like you were made to fit there. He hummed softly as your arm slid over his ribs, your fingers splayed over his heart. Still beating, strong and even and alive.

He sighed, shifting ever so slightly back towards you, his own hand finding yours, larger fingers lacing with your own.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed. The dressing on his arm where the bullet had clipped him seemed to glow, taunting you. He did this himself, it said. You left, he almost took a fucking bullet for you and you didn’t even fix it for him .

The slow expansion and contraction of his torso paused for a moment. Neither of you were heavy sleepers, your job had seen to that. “(Y/N)?”

“Yeah.”

“What’re you sorry for?” he asked, voice thick with sleep.

Everything. “Yelling at you. I just…” You paused, no longer cold in the shadow of your dream, but still aware of its presence. “I don’t wanna see you get hurt.”

There was a beat of silence, then he was turning over again to face you, his hand slipping from your own to run up over your forearm, your elbow, your upper arm, catching momentarily on the sleeve of your shirt before coming to rest on your shoulder. “You’re here,” he whispered. “Thought I was dreaming…”

You smiled, reaching out to run your fingers around the neck of his wifebeater singlet. Even just waking up, he looked good in the damn thing. “You were.”

He frowned, the patch of rough red hashing standing out in the silvery dimness. Up this close, you could see every minute crease between his brows that hadn’t been there a minute ago, every tiny line of tension around his eyes. “What’re you doing here?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. I felt bad.” I couldn’t help you. I couldn’t help you and I couldn’t tell you, and you still don’t know.

“For yelling at me?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t wanna see you get hurt, either. That’s–”

“All that matters. You said.”

You were at a crossroads. You felt it as if someone had infused your every cell with the knowledge that you had two options, and you could only take one, and it would change things. How, you weren’t sure, but the sticky warmth of Ethan’s blood between your fingers and the rough dirt digging into your knees still made your skin tingle.

“You’re wrong,” you continued. “That’s not all that matters.”

The frown deepened. “Hm?”

“You matter, Ethan. To me. If I don’t have you…” You shrugged, once again counting your breaths. How was it that you were more highly strung now than you had been while you were quite literally being chased through a market and shot at? It was so far away now, a distant memory of someone else. This, here, the gap barely wider than ten centimetres between your face and Ethan’s, the warm air and the pale moonlight, the warmer weight of his hand still on your shoulder… That was real.

But bravery – a strange word, you realised, even as you had the thought – only went so far. “Don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” you finished lamely.

He knew it wasn’t what you’d been going to say, that it barely went half way to getting across what you wanted to. But still, he just smiled and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You won’t ever have to find out.”

Maybe you weren’t really awake. Maybe you’d wandered into his dream instead of his room, or maybe (and more likely) he’d found his way into yours. Maybe you really had turned over and gone back to sleep instead of padding down the hall and sliding in next to him, and this was your mind’s way of apologising to you for the earlier horror show. It must be, you reasoned, because somewhere you’d ended up pressed against his front – something that hadn’t happened before; you always found yourself curled around him from behind. Your skin felt like it was on fire as his hand slid across your collar, up your neck to rest on your cheek.

The kiss, when it came, hardly registered as something new. After all, how many times had this played out in your mind? How many times had you wondered what it would be like to move those last few centimetres, lean across that last gap, shove the two of you over that line like he’d shoved you out of the way of that bullet. It was an extension of where you were right now, of where you’d been for the last however long, of where you’d somehow known you were eventually going to end up.

He was as gentle with you as he’d always been, soft and so painfully careful. He held you like you might break, as if you were something precious and delicate, his hand warm where he cradled your face. You felt the last sticky residue of tension and fear drain from your body as you slid the hand that had been resting on his chest down, over his ribs, around his back, pressing between his shoulder blades.

“Ethan,” you whispered as he pulled away, still close enough that you could feel his breath on your face. You weren’t shivering anymore.

“You’re so beautiful,” he replied, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face.

You smiled, every cell in your body tingling with warmth. “So’re you.”

“Mm-mm,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Not like you. You have no idea how beautiful you are.”

There wasn’t much your kiss-addled, Ethan-filled brain could say to that. You closed the gap once more, his mouth impossibly soft, the faint hint of his toothpaste clinging to his tongue when it slid against your own. Someone – you or him, you weren’t sure – made a tiny noise somewhere in the realm of a sigh as you shifted even closer to him, hooking your leg over his.

He was almost on top of you now, leaning over you, suspended carefully on one arm. You’d been here before, pressed into the floor of wherever you were sparring, sweaty and determined to do whatever it took to gain the upper hand again. Secretly, though, you’d wondered what that would feel like like this, and now you wondered if he had, too.

Just as you had all those other times, you pushed your hips up off the mattress and flipped him smoothly. He huffed as you straddled him, blinking up at you in surprise before a smile spread over his face and he sat up, kissing you once more, his hands settling on your hips. You were half aware of your body curving towards his as your hands tangled in his hair, the rapid deterioration of your kisses into something that probably wouldn’t fit the word under any stringent definition.

“Can I?” he asked, fingers flitting around the hem of your shirt.

You just nodded, pulling the garment over your head quicker than you ever had before and casting it aside. If Ethan recognised it, he didn’t say anything.

“You too,” you whispered when he didn’t show any signs of copying you, pulling at the thin cotton of his own shirt.

“Huh?”

“Shirt, dummy,” you smiled. “It’s not fair if I’m the only one who’s naked.”

“All’s fair in love and war.”

Love. Your heart sped up at the word. This could be love. Or war, you supposed.

“I don’t think that’s what that means,” you said, wrinkling your nose.

“Sure it is,” he shrugged. But his hands were at the hem of the stupid thing, and before you could say anything else he was easing it over his head – mindful of his arm – and tossing it to join yours. “Fair now?”

“Yeah.” You’d seen him without a shirt before. Changing in the back of a van, bandaging a cracked rib or disinfecting a patch of tiny cuts where he’d rolled through broken glass (which happened far too frequently, in your opinion), passing him on his way out of the bathroom. Every time made your stomach flip over and your mind race, but you’d never been able to touch him like this before; run your hands down over his shoulders and arms, across his stomach, up again over his chest, around his ribcage, down the curve of his spine.

He was in the same boat, you supposed, smiling as his hand slid appreciatively up your side, thumb skimming the soft underside of your breast. You moaned as he bent to kiss down the column of your throat, sucking at the flesh over your jugular and where your neck met your shoulder, teeth grazing the skin occasionally, tongue soothing the blossoming marks left behind.

“Can I ask you something?” you sighed as he mouthed at the hollow of your collar bone.

“Yeah.”

“You said my name before. Were you dreaming about me?”

Again, “Yeah.”

You smiled. “What about me?”

“That you were here.” He broke away from your skin, stretching to place a soft kiss on your lips. “And you were safe.”

“Well I am.” There was more to it, you could feel it.

“You are.” Another kiss, almost chaste in its brevity.

“What else?” you asked.

He paused, hesitant, then, “You had your legs around my neck.”

Oh. Oh.

“Fuck, Ethan,” you whispered. That image wasn’t a new one. The fact that he dreamed about you was news enough, but that… That sent a veritable deluge of heat and desire down through your body, pooling wetly between your thighs. You had to consciously stop yourself from grinding on him right then and there.

You wouldn’t have been able to, anyway. He was pushing you backwards now, his kisses trailing down over your sternum, between your breasts – he paused here to mouth at one, kneading the other gently, making you moan again – and on to your stomach. He slowed when he reached the waistband of your underwear, kissing across the bridge between your hip bones, leaving you a belt of faint hickeys.

“Can–”

“Yes,” you answered.

He looked up at you from where he’d slid between your legs, one hand on your hip and the other pushing at your thigh. His hair hung over his forehead and almost into his eyes (you’d been trying to get him to let you trim it for weeks now), lips pink and kiss-swollen and so pretty. “Ok,” he smiled, pulling your underwear down over your legs shockingly easily, considering they were still wrapped around his waist. You cursed softly as he bent his head again, kissing the inside of your thigh.

“Wondered what this’d be like,” he whispered, sucking at a spot beside it.

“Fuck, Ethan,” you gasped, your hand sliding down to rest on his head, fingers carding through his hair.

He hummed softly into your skin. “What you’d taste like.”

You cursed again as he licked over the mark, fingers skirting where you wanted him most, your skin on fire with every kiss.

“What you’d sound like.”

You pressed your lips together firmly, stifling any sound as he slid a finger over your wetness. You raised your head, meeting his eyes directly. “Do you wanna find out?”

“Yes,” he breathed. His breath hitched in his chest, and there was that perfect movie-star grin. “Fuck, yes.”

You opened your mouth to say something to that, but before the words had formed in your mind Ethan was licking up your cunt and the only thing that came out of your mouth was an embarrassingly loud moan. You felt him smile, his own soft noise of pleasure muffled against your flesh as he licked again, then sucked determinedly at your clit.

“Oh, fuck , Ethan–” you gasped, fingers tightening in his hair, legs locked around his shoulders.

“Hm?”

“That’s fucking– You’re– Holy shit that’s good.”

Ethan just grinned again, his tongue flicking over you, one finger circling your entrance. A suggestion. “Is this alright?”

You nodded frantically, pressing your lips together as he pushed it inside you. “Yes,” you whined as he licked you again, letting yourself fall back onto the mattress as the hand not gripping his hair twisted in the sheets. He groaned softly, the sound reverberating over you as he sucked your clit, his finger working your hole. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop–” you panted, practically grinding on his face.

A soft hum, then he was adding a second finger, lapping up everything you were giving him as you squirmed , your breath coming in ragged gasps. You could feel the orgasm coming now, coiling in your stomach like a spring, hot and tight and Ethan was the one building it up. Every curl of his fingers, every brush of his tongue and lips, every little grunt or hum, and his free hand gripping your thigh like a vice. You hoped you’d have bruises.

“Oh, oh, Ethan, oh my God–”

Close, you were so damn close. You were aware of your hips jutting up against his face, and the tiny part of your brain that wasn’t consumed with pleasure and want might have felt bad.

“I’m gonna– fuck – holy shit , Ethan– Ethan I’m gonna–”

Then everything was crashing around you and you were crying his name, your legs spasming and your spine arching, electricity fizzing through you. Ethan continued fucking you with his hand, slower and gentler now, his mouth soft on your sensitive clit. Maybe it was gradual, maybe not, but eventually your body transitioned from roiling static to a gentle buzz and your grip on his hair slackened, your legs relaxing around his shoulders.

He sat calmly between your legs, licking his fingers. The entire lower half of his face shone silver in the moonlight with your slick, his lips pink and swollen, eyes fixed keenly on you. You thought if he looked at you like that a second longer, you were going to cum all over again.

You smiled at him, your hand finding his where it still rested on your hip. Gently (though maybe it was because your limbs still felt so heavy and floppy), you pulled him up the bed and down on top of yourself, stretching up to kiss him hard. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue when it slid into your mouth, and his hand on your skin was slightly sticky. It slid around your waist, pushing against the small of your back, pressing your chest to his. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to get enough of it.

You whispered his name against his lips, your own hands settled firmly around his shoulders, holding on for dear life. The fabric of his underwear – why the hell was he still wearing anything? – seemed to burn where it brushed over your hip, pressing hot and hard against you.

“(Y/N),” he breathed, pulling back enough to study your face carefully, as if he were memorising every detail.

You felt the air catch in your lungs, your heart skip a beat. “You’re so…” Pretty. Lovely. Gorgeous. Hot. Handsome. Beautiful. You’re everything, Ethan. “God, I love you.”

He froze, and it was only then that you realised you’d said it. You’d actually said the goddamn words, aloud, to him.

“Are you serious?” he asked. Not incredulous, not judgemental, simply seeking clarification.

And how the hell were you supposed to lie? You nodded, your mouth suddenly dry.

“Say it again.”

“I love you,” you repeated numbly. Then, swallowing, “Is that ok?”

Another beat passed in silence, then he laughed. “Yes, dammit, I love you too.”

“You… love me too.” Had you heard him right? Had you somehow wandered back to your dream, fallen into an orgasm-dulled sleep and imagined the last few minutes? But no, Ethan’s lips felt real enough when they brushed yours again, his fingers felt real enough on your back.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“Say it again.”

“I love you. And you love me, don’t you?”

You nodded, an absurd bubble of laughter swelling in your chest. “Yes,” you grinned. “I love you, Ethan.”

This kiss was different. A kiss has to taste different after something like that, you supposed, and you were both still smiling. You reached down, your fingers skirting the waistband of his underwear, then further still to press your hand against his hard bulge. He moaned into your mouth, breaking the kiss to glance down, up again.

“Off,” you whispered, already pulling at the fabric. He obliged, quickly and smoothly as he’d rid himself of his shirt, and in a moment his lips were back against your own, hot and hungry. You took his cock in your hand, your own lips moving away from his across his jaw, the hollow where it met his neck, his skin clean and smooth and tasting faintly of hotel soap.

His dick was hot to the touch, thick and long and roped with veins. You’d wondered, sometimes, what this would feel like. You’d imagined the sound he’d make when you touched him like this (it couldn’t ever have come close to the real thing, you knew that now), how that hot weight would feel against your tongue. He groaned in earnest as you stroked your hand along his length, your thumb swiping around the leaking head. He cursed softly, your name hissing between his teeth, hips moving gently in tandem with your hand.

“I wanted you for so long, Ethan,” you murmured into his neck. “You have no idea.”

“Yeah?”

You smiled. “I dream about you too, you know.”

He faltered, just for a moment, then, “What about me?”

You felt your smile widen and you frantically suppressed the urge to laugh again at the echo of your own earlier words. “I dream about fucking you six ways into next week,” you said simply. “Sucking your cock till I’m choking on it and making you cum in my mouth. Or in my pussy, I don’t care.”

“Oh fuck, (Y/N), Jesus,” he groaned, the sound sending another bolt of heat to your still sensitive pussy. “You think about that when we’re out there?”

“Mhm.” This time you did laugh, nothing more than a soft exhale, not stopping your hand’s movements. “Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to jerk you off when you’re tryna aim a gun.”

His cock twitched in your grasp, a low moan pressed back behind his lips. “God, (Y/N) that’s–”

“Insane?”

“So fucking hot. You’re so fucking hot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Wanna feel you, all of you. Can I?”

Now it was your turn to curse. “Yes,” you breathed, wriggling to wrap your legs around his waist, your hand leaving its place to grip his shoulder, run down his arm, guide his hand to your hip. “Please, Ethan.”

“Here?”

“Yeah. Here.” You ground your hips against his, already tingling as his cock slid against your slick centre. “I want you inside me. Need you.”

“Shit, ok, just let me–” He broke off as he sank into you, his hum of pleasure mingling with your own breathy moan. Maybe it was the after effects of your earlier orgasm, the dream state you still weren’t entirely sure you’d broken out of, or a combination of both, but you swore that nothing would ever top this feeling. It was like he was made for you, slow and soft as he pulled out and pushed back in, did it again, then again and again.

“Shit, Ethan,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair as he bent his head to kiss your chest. You were glad it was still long enough for this, that you hadn’t managed to get him to cut it. He groaned against you and you smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut.

“Harder?” you murmured. “Don’t have to be so gentle.”

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he replied, his breath warm against your skin.

“You won’t, don’t worry. Please?”

He raised his head, eyes searching your face. “Ok,” he said, dipping down to kiss your lips quickly and softly before he was drawing away and sitting back between your legs, lifting your hips with one hand and sliding a pillow under your lower back with the other.

Your heart skipped a beat, butterflies swirling alongside the magma in your stomach. This time he pushed hard into you, his cock stroking every inch of your insides, the hand that had been on your hip sliding to press down on your pelvis. “Yes,” you gasped, “yes, just like that.”

“Like this?” Another thrust, even and determined.

“Yeah, oh fuck that’s so good.” You reached up over your head, one hand gripping the headboard of the bed as the other twisted in the sheets, eyes fixed on Ethan. He was so beautiful in the moonlight, shining as though he was cast in silver. He was a fucking masterpiece.

“You’re so good,” he said. “You look so perfect like that, feel like Heaven, (Y/N), I swear.”

Oh, did he know what he was doing to you? Every jolt of his hips against yours building low inside you, his barely restrained little sounds and the heaving of his chest. You weren’t going to last much longer.

“Don’t stop,” you gasped, “ fuck, Ethan, you feel so good. Making me feel so fucking good, so good , you have no idea.”

“Hm?”

“So hot. You’re so goddamn hot, you know that?”

“(Y/N)–”

You were close. You were so fucking close, wound tight and ready to snap at any moment. You whined his name, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts, legs tight around his waist.

“Fuck, (Y/N), I’m– I’m gonna–” He broke off, pressing his lips together, his eyes fixed on you.

“Yeah? You gonna cum?”

“Yeah, fuck, where do I–”

“In me.”

“You sure?”

Were you sure? You’d been sure for way too long now. “Yeah, dammit, wanna feel you cum in my pussy, fucking filling me up so good–”

That did it. His thrusts stuttered and slowed as he spilled inside you, his chest heaving and his head tilted back, eyes closed, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. God, he was just too much, and you’d made him look like that. It had been you, all you, and it was you he was still buried deep inside. Your own climax rolled over you with that, your body squeezing tight and hot around him, your grip on the bed hard enough that you were sure your knuckles were white, spine arching as bliss flooded your body. You might have said his name, he might have said yours again, but it didn’t matter.

You lay there, warm all over and shaking, watching him. After a moment, his eyes opened and he smiled at you, gingerly pulling out to flop beside you on the mattress.

“Clean up?” he asked, already reaching over the side of the bed.

“Yeah.” You were too heavy to do anything but let him gently run the towel he’d found between your legs, thighs and stomach twitching when the rough cotton came into contact with your oversensitive clit.

“Sorry,” he muttered, cursorily wiping at his own crotch before tossing the piece of fabric away. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you sighed again, wriggling off the pillow and kicking it aside. You shifted closer to him, his arm sliding around your shoulders and pulling you against his side, his heart beating strong next to your own. Your eyes were drawn to the darker, rougher patch on his cheek, and you frowned.

“What?” he asked.

“This.” You ran your fingers over it gently, barely even touching the skin, doing the same to the dressing on his arm. “And this. Can I have a look tomorrow?”

“It is tomorrow.” He nodded to the clock. Right, yeah. After midnight. “I thought I did an ok job,” he went on before you could say anything.

“Ethan, there’s nothing even on this one,” you protested. “It’s just… there.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re not gonna kiss it better?”

“I never said that.” You smiled, dipping to brush the spot with your lips. Featherlight, barely there. “Better?”

He nodded.

“I still want to check them.”

“Ok,” he relented, squeezing your shoulder gently.

You shifted closer, your face inches from his own. Up this close, you could see the baby hairs stuck to his forehead with sweat, every eyelash shining iridescent white under the moon. “I meant it,” you whispered.

“What?”

“That you matter to me. You’re the most important thing in the world to me.”

His breath rushed through his lungs and back out again as he stretched to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’re the most important thing to me, too. I love you.”

You tilted your face to his, this time meeting his lips with your own. It was slow, unhurried, relaxed and tender, and everything you adored in Ethan. “I love you, too,” you whispered into it. Then, grinning as you drew back, “And I meant all the other stuff, too.”

He raised an eyebrow, “All of it?”

“Yeah.”

His chest shook with faint laughter under you, his hand stroking over your shoulder. “I didn’t know you thought like that. Didn’t know you thought about me like that.”

“Yeah, well…” You trailed off, shrugging, your cheeks warm. “Sorry if it was a bit much.”

“Don’t worry,” he smiled, “it wasn’t. I liked it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You know,” you said as you lay down, “anyone else couldn’t waterboard that out of me.”

“Guess I’m just that special.”

“You are, Ethan.” You weren’t shivering anymore, the only weight in you was the pleasant kind of exhaustion that came with finally being safe, being home. Ethan was alive and he knew, he knew you loved him, and he knew what he meant to you, and he loved you too. If this was a dream, it was the best one you’d ever had.

#ethan hunt #ethan hunt x reader #mission impossible #shameless smut #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #tom cruise

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 9 months

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HI HI DOVE :DD im so excited for the event!! your writings always make me kick my feet and giggle c:

so yk my undying live for the one and only jade leech ^^ (even if the bitey bastard refuses to show his face in gacha >:0) and i see [fairytale scene] fits his love for nature C:

jade and cottagecore hmmmmm 👀 well there goes my brain and my spine—

REMEMBER TO HYDRATE AND UNSHRIMP YOUR SPINE TOO DOVE :DD

Fairytale Scene; Jade Leech

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, mutual pining, yearning

Content Warning; Some swearing

Word Count; 700+

Author's Note; I don't even know how I ended up with this, but it's cute! Hopefully, this makes up for the bitey bastard refusing to come home!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

You felt like you were living in a dream, a picture-perfect dream that only existed in fairytales. How else could you have ended up alone in a quaint cottage on the edge of the sea with Jade Leech; the man that had captured your heart since day one? And despite Floyd and Azul basically making the two of you pack up your bags for a week-long vacation with the crush that you swore was secret — as you hadn’t uttered a word to anybody — you found yourself and Jade alone with just each other for an entire seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours, ten thousand and eighty minutes, alone. Scratch that, maybe not a dream, this seemed more like a plot of some cheesy rom-com where both of the characters confessed their love to each other on the beach. But there was no chance that Jade, the Jade Leech would do that… right?

“You seem distracted, Prefect.”

You jumped and hit your head against the hanging flower bed since the two of you were doing some sprucing up in the garden. You were fine, but your clumsiness sent a pot crashing to the ground, leaving you more embarrassed than anything. “Nope! Perfectly fine!” But the rise in octave betrayed you.

If it were anyone else, Jade would have found it amusing, which he still did, but instead of just chuckling at your misfortune, he helped you get out from under the flower bed, and made sure that you weren’t hurt. “Hmm, are you alright, my dear,” he hummed, looking you over for any cuts.

I’m not okay, no, especially with you looking at me like that and calling me dear. I think I’m going to have a stroke here. “Yeah! Just my own clumsiness is all—” you stopped mid-sentence, and stared at Jade.

The mid-afternoon sun cast him in a warm light, turning his eyes into a glowing gold, and highlighting the olive of his right eye. The ocean glittered behind him. He had a few leaves stuck in his hair, and some dirt on his face, so unlike his clean and refined state that you usually saw him in. And the look he was giving you… it was so soft, so full of worry, concern, and love.

Perhaps you had hit your head hard enough to give yourself a concussion, with your luck it was more likely than your feelings being reciprocated.

And Jade’s staring at you was not helping the manner, he was looking you straight in the eye, and you couldn’t look away for some reason. You two hadn’t even been here for a full day yet! How could you expect to survive an entire week of this?!

You weren’t, that was the entire reason the both of you were here. Azul had grown tired of seeing Jade get distracted on the job, and Floyd was getting bored of seeing the two of you do nothing. But you and Jade didn’t need to know that, even if the mer-eel knew what Azul was plotting with this ‘vacation’. This was all a set-up for the two of you to confess, and what a fine set-up it was.

“You need to be more careful,” Jade breathed out, finally putting his concern at ease when he couldn’t find anything wrong.

There he was, giving you that look again. “Uhhhh, okay,” you said eloquently. Who could blame you really?

Jade chuckled softly as he helped you up, brushing some dirt off your shoulders. And before you knew it, you were rubbing off the smudge of dirt that was on his cheek, and he froze, looking at you with a curious look.

Shit, did I cross his boundaries? SHIT-

“You are full of surprises,” he murmured, taking the hand you used to smudge the dirt off his face into his, before placing a kiss on your earth-stained knuckles. A week alone, that’s rather unfair of you Azul, but no need to worry, I shall use it to my advantage. And he then placed a kiss to where you had bumped your head. “Hopefully that speeds up the healing process, my dear.”This is a dream, a fairytale scene. This can’t be actually happening… right? But the lingering sensation of his lips on your cheeks was very much, not a dream.

~~~~~~~

Tags; @aqua-beam @azulashengrottospiano @eynnwwyjth @hisui-dreamer @hydra-sea @identity-theft-101 @krenenbaker @officialdaydreamer00 @savanaclaw1996 @silvers-numberonefan @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

#dove does events #follower event #twst #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #jade leech x gn reader #decided to go mutual pining because brain rot #azul and floyd are hiding in the bushes waiting for either of you to confess. floyd is bored and azul is getting impatient #sha la la la my oh my! go on and ~kiss da eel~#or rather he kisses you #also i want to see him get a lil bit messy; and i remembered about the garden i mentioned in the event post; so you do some garden work #a mix of domestic and fairytale #irene!#I FUCKING FORGOT TO PUT IN PEOPLE'S CUSTOM TAG DAMMIT #all of my eel kisser friends are suffering because of gacha u_u have some food #scheduled post #why do i know so many fish kissers? i mean i'm one of them but still #i do unshrimp my spine; currently laying on my stomach to unshrimp; i unshrimp when i'm editing and doing tags

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puddle-nerd · 4 months

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Golden Afternoon

Summary: Just two best friends enjoying the sunshine and a good book. (slight Lo’ak/Human Reader)

Prompt #1 for my submission for #𝐂𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬𝟏𝟒𝐃𝐎𝐋𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

Story Tags: No use of Y/N, Female Reader, Na'vi Language, Na'vi & Human Interactions, Friends, Secret Crush

Na’vi Translation: Iknimaya – (Na’vi for “Stairway to Heaven”) is a treacherous but fundamental rite of passage in which a young Na’vi hunter must select, capture, and successfully bond with one of the ikran who nest in the Hallelujah Mountains

Ikran – also called “Mountain Banshees”, they are large, dragon-like aerial predators often tamed by tribes of Na’vi for thousands of years for traveling long distances, for hunting from the air, or even during times of war

Uniltìranyu – translated to dream-walker in the Na’vi language, it is another term meaning for genetically engineered human/Na’vi-hybrid bodies, designed to serve as a remotely controlled vessel for a human mind

AO3 Link

“Hey, ready to go, Mamas?”

You looked away from your self-appointed art project of redecorating the walls of your private bunk within the human compound and grinned up at the younger son of Jake Sully who was – unfortunately for him – grounded once again for going out with Spider and doing something stupid and reckless. So, with no flying and no access to his best male friend for the next two weeks, that meant you more or less had him all to yourself. Not that you were complaining in the slightest. You had had a crush on him for the last three years since you turned eleven and it didn’t look to be going away any time soon. “Yeah,” you agreed, putting your paintbrush into the dirty cup of water so it wouldn’t solidify. Again. He squinted, stepping into your bedroom and peered closely at the scene you were painting on your metallic wall just for the hell of it. “Am I dressed okay?”

The Na’vi hybrid glanced over your outfit of light blue overall shorts and a white tee shirt and nodded. Then turned his gaze back onto what you had been working on. “You’re getting good,” he complimented and you beamed up at him, your cheeks turning rosy as you muttered back a shy ‘thank you’. You shuffled off your messy bed and located your boots and the socks you wanted to wear with them and slid them on – not in that order, though. “Oh, hey, bring the book.”

You grabbed the old novel that had been republished about some sixty years prior back on Earth and followed him out of your room and to the nearest exit of the compound, grabbing a mask in the airtight antechamber as he put his nitrogen mask back on the proper hook. Once it was secured in place upon your face, he opened the vestibule door and you stepped outside into the beautiful world of Pandora. You were always in awe of the world you had been born on and sometimes wished that you could breathe its air as easily as Lo’ak could. Alas, you were fully human and Norm had told you creating you an Avatar was out of the question until you were at least eighteen years of age. Hormones, he cited, which was bull shit but since you were just a kid, then there wasn’t really anything you could do about it until then. Besides, it was only another three years, seven months, and five days away. But who was counting?

The Na’vi hybrid rolled his golden eyes as he looked back over his shoulder and took in your expected look of awe. He reached down and scooped you up, laughing as you squeaked. Expertly, he moved you to sit on his shoulders while you carefully handled his neural queue so you didn’t accidentally sit on it.

“Careful, Mamas,” he cautioned you, as he did every time. “Sensitive, remember?”

You hummed your agreement, carefully draping the black braid over his shoulder to rest down his lean chest. With you now settled upon his shoulders, he took off, being able to move much faster than he would have if he had let you walk. You were nowhere near as fast as Spider was who was now reaching six feet tall at sixteen years of age so it made sense for Lo’ak to carry you. Plus, without you struggling to keep up, you could take in the scenery a lot better. Just like you liked to do.

Thinking of ages led you to consider upcoming birthdays.

“Hey, Lo,” you inquired, running your fingers idly through his braids as you continued to gaze at Eywa’s beautiful world. He grunted, letting go one of your calves briefly so he could get himself over a log that was surely your height. “Your birthday’s coming up, right? Have you thought about what you wanted? For your birthday?”

He paused and his ears twitched, tickling the insides of your knees as they did so. Then he shrugged, chuckling as you yelped as the movement threatened to topple you. His firm grip on your calves proved he had you steady, though. “I really just want to pass my Iknimaya,” he muttered, voice going flat. “It’s so embarrassing that I got thrown off the cliff. Neteyam did it his first try! Heck, even Dad did it his first try and he was a uniltìranyu at the time!” You shushed your best friend gently and laid your cheek atop his head, rubbing your face soothingly over his braids. He calmed, adding a quiet, “Sorry. It’s just… I’m not perfect like him and I swear Dad just constantly looks at me in disappointment.” He sighed and sniffed, going quiet for a while, just allowing you to continue petting him comfortingly. Then his ears twitched and he paused, asking, “Could you make those chocolate chip cookies again? A whole batch just for me?” You grinned, retorting, “As long as you don’t eat them all in one sitting and complain about a stomach ache later.” He huffed and nuzzled his temple into your knee, replying, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, nag.” “I nag because I care,” you countered. He squeezed your calves in a silent acknowledgement of your words and finally decided to stop next to a pond. Drawing you up and off his shoulders, he let you settle on the lush grass before he flopped onto his back and smiled up at you. Drawing out the ragged book, you settled yourself against his side and opened it to where the bookmark lay. Clearing your throat, you open my mouth and begin to read aloud as you have every day since Lo’ak’s most recent grounding, silently thinking to yourself that Lo’ak enjoyed the main character (despite her being a human female) because she was secretly just as much as an outcast as he felt most days, being “Divergent” and all. “Chapter twenty-one: the door to the Pit closes behind me, and I am alone. I have not walked this tunnel since the day of the Choosing Ceremony…” You continued to read through the chapter in the golden afternoon sunlight and was about to start the next one when Lo’ak suddenly let out a yawn behind you and you realized he was starting to fall asleep. You put the bookmark back into place and turned against Lo’ak’s stomach, leaning against him and just admiring his sleepy face. He mumbled, “I’m awake.” He immediately yawned widely, revealing his sharp canines. “Uh huh,” you teased. “Don’t fall asleep out here. You’ll be thanator chow in no time.” He snorted but pushed himself up and rubbed at his face. “Guess I should get you back,” he commented. “Can we do this again tomorrow?” You smiled and nodded, secretly hoping he was enjoying spending all the time he did with you as you did with him.

𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸

Originally Posted: 03 February 2024 Word Count: 1,147

@crybabies-heart, @cryingwhilereading, @ikeyniofthetayrangi, @erenjaegerwifee, @bambithewriter, @lloreya

AO3 Link

#𝐂𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬𝟏𝟒𝐃𝐎𝐋𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 #avatar #atwow #avatar the way of water #human reader #loak #loak sully #lo'ak sully #lo'ak #lo'ak x reader #loak x reader

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captain039 · 4 days

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Wasteland heat (Redone) PT 4

Cooper Howard(The Ghoul) x reader

Warnings: Violence, blood, gore, AOB dynamics, heat, oral F receiving, smut, swearing, fallout stuff, implied cousin incest, virgin reader, drug usage, needles, plus size reader, sexual assault

Previous part <-

It feels like days of walking, what you tried to share in your pack with Lucy is now gone, water scarce, and food also scarce. Lucy's missing a boot and you're missing your bed. You feel so tired, your body like jelly, your legs numb and painful at the same time, like pins and needles hitting every inch of your skin. You've hit what looks like an old town maybe, you're not sure which one but as the alpha stops and your pip boy fuzzes at the small water gathering in an old broken metal thing you falter, smacking your lips together softly. You haven't told Lucy that you've been avoiding your meds, you couldn't chew them, couldn't swallow them without water, and you would always gag and cough them out.

"Hm," The man says filling his canteen and drinking from it with a loud sigh, you glance to Lucy seeing her staring at him intently, or maybe the water he's drinking. She falls to her knees and you go to stop her but she cups her hands and drinks from the radiation-filled water with coughs and gags.

"Now you're getting it" The alpha hums and you make a small noise in your throat. You can't reach your backpack with your hands tied, can't reach the medication you need to stop you from having a heat. You wonder if it will still work with this type of water. You don't have much time to think because the alpha starts coughing and wheezing and before you know it Lucy has grabbed you and ran.

You don't find her sudden adrenaline burst the same as you run around the cars and to a dead end. You see the giant hole in the ground and the city beyond, it makes you stop and stare before Lucy's got rope around her waist and is tugged back. You turn to the man holding a lasso and tugging her closer, you charge at him with little force, but you manage to tumble to the ground. You can't do much with bound hands and the sudden position makes you so much warmer. He snarls at you as you struggle with fighting his free hand, his other under your knee. You manage to someone hug his hand to your chest and hold it there, hoping Lucy will hurry up and get free and grab his gun. The other wishes she didn't, the other wishes he'd reverse the roles and had you pinned down and tied up. Your mind's in a haze and your grip loosens significantly and he gets his hand free and quickly aims his gun and your sister. You feel like you're struggling to breathe, feeling like the sun got a meter closer and someone poured a bucket of sweat over you. Lucy yells your name but it sounds distant, like she isn't actually right there only a few meters away. Your whole body feels like it cramps up as you're thrown off left on the dirt. You whimper and curl your knees to your chest as you hear scurrying uneven steps and Lucy is at your side.

"I couldn't take the meds" You feel like there's sand pouring from your eyes as you see her shocked face.

"It's ok, It's ok, we can figure this out" She whispers gently lifting your top half to lean against her.

"Fuck sake, get her up and Vaultie and move!" The end of his words break off into an inhuman snarl and coughs rack his body again.

"Come on, there might be help inside" Lucy whispers.

It's a struggle to get you on your feet, an even more struggle to get you to whatever place the alpha was going to. He hits the terminal a buzzing sound coming from it before he speaks.

"Transaction" He says.

"How can I help?" A male voice answers, a little too happy for the wastelands.

"Sixty vials in exchange for two females mint condition" The alpha replies.

"Physical condition must be examined in person, send them in!" Answers the voice. You're too out of it to know what's really going on, you desperately miss your bed even if it was a hospital one, and you need pillows, blankets anything. You whine and Lucy mutters something to you before you move inside. Once in, it feels cooler, and fresher even, on your body before Lucy gasps and jolts.

"What the fudge"

"Fudge? There's no fudge here, just your friendly robot Snip-Snip mark 4" You frown looking at the robot in front of you.

"And you appear to be women, come through" The robot doesn't give you a chance to speak as you're led through the building and into a room.

"Have a seat on that gurney there" The robot points and Lucy helps you onto the gurney.

"Now it appears you are distressed somehow, how can I help?" he asks.

"My sister, she's in heat, she hasn't been able to take her medication, do you have any repellents?" Lucy speaks for you as you sag against her. You want to move though, want to be back outside with the alpha, you want to take his shirt off and feel his skin against yours.

"I say what a predicament, let's see here" He turns and fumbles through drawers.

"I was worried this was a sex slave place" Lucy chuckles lightly and the robot snaps around.

"What a disgusting thought! No!, I'm simply going to harvest your organs" His words make you both freeze before something is injected into your stomach.

You awake groggily and to someone shaking you, you open your eyes slowly and focus on Lucy.

"Thank goodness, you just stay here ok, I'm going to deal with this and I'll be back ok?" She smiles softly and you frown going to speak but she rushes off making you groan. You glance around the room, an old storage room by the looks of it, now with surgical supplies instead. Your memory buzzes back to what happened with the robot and you sit up slowly. You look at the other gurney next to you and sigh a bit. Your body still feels hot and heavy and a nagging keeps scratching your brain as you slowly stand up. You ignore the shots outside, ignore everything, you snatch the two foam tops from the gurneys and lay them in the cleanest corner, you find some old sheets for the gurneys in one of the cupboards and lay them down, folding one as a makeshift pillow. You don't know where your backpack is so you can't use that blanket either. With what you have, which is very little you manage to make a bed well in this case a nest as the teacher called it. She was very brief in explaining what happened if you ever had a heat, there were always medical supplies to avoid all this. You sit on the foam before falling onto your side and sighing, you struggle with your jumpsuit, pushing it off so you only have your white singlet on. The door opens and you jolt sitting up, but relaxing as you see Lucy, she has a grim look on her face, blood on her face and chest, gun in her hand.

"We need to go," She says simply, too simply too emotionless.

"Lucy?" You question and her face falters and breaks as she forces a smile.

"We can find Dad, we can go home soon" She coos and you're not sure if she's telling you or herself.

"Lucy I can't" You mumble and she freezes.

"I'm going into heat I will slow you down and attract unwanted attention, we can connect our pip boy trackers-" You gulp a bit trying to control the emotions that bubble up.

"I just need some food, water maybe, maybe if I take my meds now it won't be so bad" The truth is you don't want to go on, you're tired and need a break, and your body won't move from this spot you've claimed.

"Ok, I'll get you supplies" She whispers tears in her eyes as she walks out the door.

She gathers supplies, she gets you food and water, alcohol too, she fills up a bag for herself also before sitting with you for a little bit before she says goodbye and she's gone, you watch her move on your pip boy before you lay back with a sigh. You barricade the door on shaky legs and make sure there is no other way anyone can get in. It's a stupid idea really, staying here and waiting out your heat, who knows if you'll even join up with her again?

You're in and out of sleep, the heat becomes worse, your body sweats, slick coats between your thighs and your breathing is heavy. Caught between fevered dreams and reality till you hear footsteps. You tense up, hoping they can't get it, you made a pretty firm blockade.

"Omega?" You shudder and sag at the sound of the alpha you were travelling with, well forced to travel with. He'd been cruel though, more than once and you feel tears in your eyes like sand again.

"Your sister left you?" He asks and he sounds pissed and you scoff quietly.

"I made her leave" You call out trying not to sound like you're crying or showing any emotion. You haven't spoken much with the stranger, hell you don't know if he even has a name besides what the knight called him 'ghoul'.

"I'll slow her down, she can find Dad and come back and we'll go home" A small sob leaves your lips, for some reason it isn't the truth. You hear him hum outside the door before he shuffles a bit before he lets out a big sigh. "I'd invite you to the party" He takes a sharp a breath before sighing.

"Don't think that's your forte though darlin" he finishes and you're frowning, what party? There's no cake, no people out there as far as you know.

"Don't overthink it" He chuckles and you feel yourself grow warmer that he knew you were. It's quiet for some time and you feel yourself drifting in and out of sleep, you've thrown your vault suit on the other side of the room and ate whatever dried fruit Lucy had found.

"You awake in there omega?" You hear quietly.

"It's dark out now, best be getting some sleep" He mutters, almost too soft for you to hear.

"Why're you being nice?" You ask before you can think and you hear him chuckle. He doesn't answer though and it makes you frown harder before you give up on anticipation and fall asleep once more.

Next part ->

#x reader #aob #fallout tv series #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #lucy maclean

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yourchemicallyimbalancedromance · 7 months

Text

Comfort At It’s Finest

Prompt: Virgil has a special blanket that sits carefully folded in the closet and only comes out after really bad days, when he needs it the most. It’s the blanket for huddling up and hiding under the bed, it’s the blanket for taking an almost-involuntary nap after the third panic attack of the day, it’s the blanket for pretending the world is less than sixty-four cubic feet in its entirety and has borders of fabric. It’s the blanket for retreating from a dumpster fire to cry himself to sleep.

It’s a blanket he got from Thomas, before he was accepted.

(Credit to @sleepyvirgilprompts for this idea which you can find here<3)

Ship: none? Unless you count this as platonic Thomxiety but I’m not sure, I don’t really see it that way.

CW/TW: panic attacks, swearing, unsympathetic Roman, unsympathetic Janus, sympathetic Logan.

Summary: Virgil locks himself in his room after the sides start fighting again, something about how almost all of them were holding Thomas back? He didn’t know, he didn’t care, he just wanted to feel okay again.

(Halloween has brought up some…odd and negative feelings, to put it lightly, so this is my way of dealing with that<3)

———————————————————————

Virgil couldn’t take it anymore; The shouting, the insults. He slumped against his door and covered his ears, breathing as if he had just run a marathon, trying desperately to remember the breathing techniques Logan had taught him. What was it? In for four out for…five? Fuck. He couldn’t remember, nothing he was thinking made sense, nothing in general, made sense. Everything was so loud and he couldn’t stop trembling no matter how hard he tried. He held his legs down with his palms and they seemed to stop shaking until he let go, all the built up energy making his attack worse than before. It was no use.

This was the third time they’d fought this week.

It was Thursday.

His hands didn’t muffle all the sound, however; he heard every single thing the others were saying in the commons; it was as if a megaphone had been held up to his door.

“well maybe if you weren’t such an asshole I would have t-“ Roman was cut off by..Janus?

“I’m the asshole?! I’m not the one who’s so deeply insecure that they have to project their shit onto others” he screamed.

The house fell deadly silent apart from Virgil’s heavy breathing. He could hear his heart in his ears. He wanted to go home, he was home, but this didn’t feel like what you would call a home.

“Fuck you, Janus. There’s a reason Thomas didn’t accept you for years.” Roman finally said, from the sound of it, through gritted teeth.

He heard someone stomp a few feet near his room, open a door, and slam it. Virgil froze, the sudden noise sending shock waves through his body.

he wanted everything to stop; the loudness, the insults, the fights, the slamming of doors, the stomping, the yelling, the anxiety, he wanted to be held and told he was safe, he wanted to go home, he wanted-

His tearful eyes drifted over to his closet to see a weighted blanket neatly folded and shoved into the back where no one but him could find it.

His blanket.

He pushed himself up off of the ground, a hand against the wall so he wouldn’t fall due to tremors in his legs. He reached up and grabbed it, letting it fall onto him, nearly causing him to fall to the floor.

The blanket was soft; light, but heavy enough to weigh on you a little. It was checkered black and white with little ghosts on every other patch. He eased up just the smallest bit at the sight of it. Thomas had given him this after the ‘My NEGATIVE Thinking’ video.

He quickly fell on to his bed, holding the blanket to his chest. it smelled of cinnamon and honey. Virgil had forgotten how in the worst of moments, if he pulled out his blanket, it would immediately default to any scent of his choice; subconsciously, he had chosen cinnamon. It reminded him of better times, happier times. How he and Patton had baked cinnamon rolls a few months after he was accepted, the smell of sugary sweetness wafting through the air.

The slight hint of honey reminded him of his first panic attack in front of the light sides, how he had curled into himself on the couch, silent tears escaping his eyes, face hot and red, unable to breathe, to speak, to move. Logan had helped him through it.

“Breathe in for four seconds,” he had said, inhaling, crouched down in front of him. “Hold it for seven seconds” he paused and waited for Virgil to follow his lead, and once he did he continued, “out for eight seconds.” He exhaled.

Virgil was so embarrassed that Logan had seen him like that that he proceeded to apologize profusely. “God, that was— I’m so, so sorry, I don’t know what that was, well I do, I think? It’s never been that bad I just—“

“That was what is known as a severe panic attack, Virgil. I take it you’ve never had one to that extent before?” His eyes were kind, caring, behind his glasses.

Virgil just shook his head, he didn’t know what to say, he felt that if he tried to talk the only words he would be able to say would be “I’m sorry” over and over again.

“I see. Say, do you like honey? Maybe lemon?” He had asked

Virgil nodded, and before he could stop him, Logan had begun making Honey and Lemon tea. Something about how “it’s very calming and quite good as well” he had said.

Virgil hadn’t noticed his eyes drift closed but he didn’t feel the need to force them back open. The sharpness of the house felt dimmer, quieter; as if they were sizzling into a low hum, something waiting to pounce again. He was too fatigued to worry about it, even though something in his gut told him to stay alert, something was bound to happen again, he didn’t listen, just readjusted positions under the warmth of the blanket.

He needed to say thank you to Thomas later.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #ts virgil #virgil sanders #logan sanders #ts logan #roman sanders #ts roman #ts janus #janus sanders #unsympathetic Janus #unsympathetic Roman #slight thomxiety?#idk lol I don’t really consider it that but eh #slight angst #slight fluff as well?#not extremely proud of this one but proud nonetheless #I totally didn’t write this while laying under my weighted blanket /sarc /j

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negativeyield · 5 months

Note

i came from ur greenout fic and u officially gave me soft ghoul comfort brain worms so soooo happy ur doing prompts. the worms must be fed

"this is the moment of just letting go" with Rain having insomnia and getting help from Swiss or Dew??

anon i could kiss you on the lips this is DELICIOUS -- from this prompt list

the dark's not taking prisoners tonight

Hitting sixty-six hours without sleep was a new record Rain had not tried to break.

He couldn’t figure out what the fucking problem was.

Rain was exhausted. Eyes heavy, brain slow. Supplements like melatonin had little effect on ghouls, but he tried it anyway. When that didn’t work, he downed some sleeping pills that only succeeded in making him see shadows that weren’t actually there— effectively scaring him into staying awake even longer.

He’d had bouts of insomnia before. Especially when they were timezone hopping on tour and his internal clock got majorly fucked. Rain would go through the usual channels: turning off any electronics, putting on some white noise, popping a sleeping pill for good measure. Sometimes he’d hit the gym a little harder to tire himself out.

Usually, these things worked.

Ironically, the only time he managed to get anywhere near sleep was in the middle of band practice. They were taking five while Mountain ran back to his room to get extra drumsticks after snapping his last spare. Most of them took that as their cue to grab a snack or go to the bathroom. Rain didn’t have the energy to do anything else but sit right where he was standing. One thing led to another, and suddenly his body was pitching backward.

Rain flailed, his reflexes grossly failing him. Luckily, he was swooped into someone’s arms before smacking his head into Moutain’s kit.

“Rain?” it was Swiss who caught him, pushing him back up to a sitting position before dropping to his knees in front of him, placing a hand on Rain’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Rain was disoriented. Head sleepy, heart beating rapidly as the adrenaline pushed its way through the overwhelming desire to lie down. He shook it off, nodding at Swiss.

“Yeah I… just guess… I.. uh,” the more Rain spoke gibberish, the more worried crossed Swiss’s face. Incoming footsteps and the anxiety of everyone seeing him like this seemed to snap Rain’s brain back into somewhat decent shape, and he managed to speak fluently. “Got a little dizzy, I guess.”

The footsteps turned out to be Dew downing the rest of a soda as he entered. His eyes fell on the two ghouls on the ground and he looked at them curiously.

“Having a picnic, boys?”

Before Rain could say anything, Swiss interjected. “Something’s wrong with Rainy.”

Dammit Swiss.

“What?” Dew’s mood immediately shifted. He hurried over while Swiss felt Rain’s forehead. “Are you sick?”

“No, I just—”

“He was sitting there and randomly went limp.”

“I got a little dizzy,” Rain argued, getting defensive even though he was lying, “I went to lie back and lost my balance.”

“Lost your balance while sitting down, huh?” Dew didn’t seem convinced. He seemed to have a particular talent for reading through his bullshit.

“I guess. Probably just need some water, I’ll be fine.”

Rain could feel Swiss staring at him. He turned to the multi-ghoul, who was intensely looking Rain up and down. “Want to tell us the last time you slept, Rain?”

Perceptive motherfucker. Sometimes he forgot Swiss had some quintessence in him.

“Uhhhh, three…” he messed up the division, counting again on his fingers. “Or four—”

“Fucking hell, Rain,” Dew looked at Swiss and then grabbed Rain’s hand. “You’re going to bed right now.”

“But we’re in the middle of—”

“The only thing we’re in the middle of your nap time. Swiss, take him to his room. I’ll meet you there after I talk to Papa.”

Swiss nodded, grabbing Rain’s forearm and basically pulling him to his feet against his protests. He didn’t have enough energy to fight the multighoul as he was led out of the practice room and toward the sleeping quarters.

However, that didn’t mean Rain wasn’t cognoscent enough to fight him verbally.

“I’m not a child, Swiss, I can go to bed myself,” he twisted out of Swiss’s grip, crossing his arms over his chest. Swiss, uncharacteristically, said nothing in response. “We really didn’t need to stop practice for this!” Silence. “It’s not like I didn’t try to sleep all those nights. I did. I tried everything.” Nothing. They reached Rain’s room and he whirled around at the blank-faced ghoul. “Are you going to fucking say anything?”

Swiss looked at him, sighing.

“You get pissy when you’re sleep-deprived.”

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe after you have a nap, Sleeping Beauty,” he said with a wink that was at least more in-character. Swiss reached around him, opening the door. “After you.”

Rain switched into a lightweight pair of pajama pants and an undershirt and laid down on his bed. Despite being tired enough to fall asleep sitting up in the practice room, here he felt wide awake again. It frustrated him enough that tears started to well up in his eyes, which was quickly noticed by Swiss.

“Rainy, what is it?” his voice was soft. Not mocking. Swiss reached out for him, and Rain decided he wanted the comfort. He grabbed Swiss’s hand and tugged weakly. The multi-ghoul laid down beside him and Rain immediately curled into him.

“I’m so tired,” he cried into his chest. The agony of being awake for so long was finally coming to a head. Swiss just rubbed his back in soothing circles as sobs racked his body. Rain was so out of sorts, he hardly noticed when the bed dipped under Dew’s weight. He took his place on Rain’s other side, entrapping him between Swiss’s tight embrace and the natural warmth of a fire ghoul.

“What do you think is keeping you up?” Dew asked gently once Rain’s sobs subsided into a dull numbness.

“I don’t know,” he shook his head, nuzzling into Swiss’s shoulder. “It’s like my mind won’t stop long enough.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing! Stupid shit. How much it sucks to not be sleeping, usually. Deciding who would be willing to punch me in the head just to knock me out for a little while.”

“Cirrus, probably,” Swiss muttered. Rain could feel Dew shift, probably to deliver a dirty look. “Trust me, she pents that shit—”

“You’re in a cycle, Rain,” Dew interrupted. “Not sleeping, getting anxious about not sleeping, not sleeping because you’re anxious about not sleeping— we gotta break the cycle somehow.”

“You know when my mind is usually the blankest?” Swiss said, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “After I—”

“That is a last resort,” Dew swatted at him.

“It could work, though,” Swiss argued. Rain hated to agree with Swiss being a horny bastard, but it wasn’t the worst idea.

“It could also rile him up!” Dew also made a fair point.

“Only if you can’t get him there.”

“I fucking swear Swiss. Your name is carved into my last fucking nerve.”

“Does the carving say ‘Swiss + Dew forever’ in a cute little heart?”

“Only in your dreams.”

They continued to argue. Rain had a feeling it wasn’t ending anytime soon. He settled into the crook of Swiss’s shoulder, listening to the steady beat of his heart. With Dew’s warmth and the pressure of his limbs on Rain, he started to feel heavy. Swiss and Dew’s voices grew distant. It wasn’t long before he had a moment of awareness that he was finally slipping into sleep.

And he let go.

#prompt fill #rain ghoul #swiss ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #sodo ghoul #the band ghost #ghost the band #insomnia #bed sharing #theres some suggestive lines but can be read as gen or they're fucking

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dance-in-moonlight · 2 years

Text

Suptober Day 10: Enchanted

Summary: Highschool AU - Dean is lovesick and Sam tries to help.

Sam had been sitting on his bed for a while, cross-legged, playing video games. Judging by the pain in his joints, it must have been a while. A glance at his alarm clock on his nightstand told him it had been three hours. He put down his controller and crawled off his bed, groaning when his feet tingled and blood rushed into them. He stretched his aching legs and back. He was thirteen, but right now he felt like sixty.

Carefully, Sam turned off his headphones. Although he liked the occasional video game, this time he hadn't played for fun, but used it to escape. Dean had been blasting angry music and then had been on an emotional call with someone. Probably Charlie, his best friend. And since Dean had been weird around Cas, his other best friend, for a few weeks now, Sam was pretty sure he had an idea what it was about. There'd been a new girl in junior year, a really pretty and popular one, and she'd taken a liking to Cas. And they'd been hanging out. Sam didn't understand the issue, they might have been just friends, but his big brother was in his own way quite a lot.

Sammy grabbed a packet of gummy worms from his candy stash and carefully opened the door to the corridor in order to execute his plan. There was no more AC/DC, instead he heard

I was enchanted to meet you

Please don't be in love with someone else

Please don't have somebody waiting on you

Interesting. At least he'd discovered one vital part of the issue then. Sam crossed the corridor and knocked on Dean's door. The music stopped abruptly, and his brother's husky voice told him to fuck off.

"Come on, Dean", Sam responded, his childish voice a stark contrast to his brother's.

"Tell Mom I'll do my chores later, okay?"

Sam sighed and opened the door to find his brother curled up in the corner of his bed, arms crossed and face turned away. On the ground lay a plushie that looked like it had been thrown away in a haste.

Sammy's heart sank at the sight. He loved his brother so much, and he looked up to him. Sure, they had their differences, but he could always count on his confident brother. And seeing him feeling bad and trying to hide it...

He walked across piles of clothes, records and various sports equipment until he reached Dean's bed, then carefully sat down on the edge. Dean only turned to look at him when Sam slowly pushed the packet of gummy worms over to him. He huffed out a laugh, then wiped his tear stained face.

"Thanks. You're cute sometimes."

Sam let that one slide for the sake of Dean's feelings. Instead he looked at his brother attentively, trying to find a good way to start a conversation.

"Do you want me to get Mom?", he started, thinking of who he would turn to if something bad happened.

"No, it's embarrassing", Dean murmured and ripped open the pack of candy, then went to stuff his face before offering Sam some.

"Did you call Charlie?", Sam asked, taking the worms.

Dean just nodded, looking exhausted.

"She probably told you to just talk to him, huh?"

"Yeah. If only it where that easy." Dean sank deeper into his pillows with a sigh, then frowned and looked at Sam again. "Wait, how-"

Sam just rolled his eyes. "I have a brain and eyes, Dean. I'm honestly surprised you even accepted that you're in love with him."

"And what are you", Dean asked sarcastically, "the resident love expert?"

"Jess and I are doing great, thank you very much", he responded, chest swelling a little.

"Milkshake dates and holding hands at recess, miss those days", Dean grinned and reached for a second pillow.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dude, I'm thirteen. And I agree with Charlie, by the way. Talk to him. He deserves to know, and I'm pretty sure he likes you back. I could try to find out some things if you'd like."

Dean stopped mid-pillow throw attempt to tilt his head curiously. "You'd do that for me, Sammy?"

"I wouldn't enjoy it", Sam shrugged, chewing on another gummy worm, "but if it means he comes over to watch Star Trek again..."

Dean groaned and pressed the pillow he was holding into his own face instead. "I'm surrounded by nerds."

"Maybe", Sam mused, "considering you still hang out with Charlie, Cas and me all the time, it can't be that much of a problem for you. In fact, you might be just as nerdy as us under all that tough demeanor."

"I'm not Jess, no need talking all smart to me."

Sam kicked his leg in response. "Shut up! I'm trying to help. Although, I kind of enjoy the break from Rock and Heavy Metal", he teased. "Taylor Swift makes pretty good music."

Dean glared up at him over the edge of the pillow. "We will never talk about this again."

"You promise to talk to him then?"

His brother kept quiet, chewing his bottom lip. Was it really that hard?

"Come on Dean, it's Cas! What's he gonna do? And you're Dean, big-tough-cocky-confident Dean. You don't have to sing him praise, just tell him you like him more than a friend and you feel bad about him hanging out with...I don't know her name."

Considering, Dean nodded slowly. "I guess...I'll try." Then he looked up at him again, a smile on his face.

"Thanks, Sammy. I'll convince Mom to let you have ice cream after dinner."

Sam grinned, happy about the unexpected outcome. "Awesome."

#suptober22 #my writing #winchester bros #Sam winchester #dean winchester #destiel #castiel #supernatural #highschool au #songfic

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miscellaneouswritingstuff · 1 year

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untitled FMA fic

“So you’re Mei,” the quiet woman says. She looks straight ahead, her mouth in a straight line, clothed all in black, walking without noise on the stone of Amestrian streets.

“Of the Chang clan. And who are you?”

“The young master’s bodyguard.”

“I know that. What’s your name?”

“Lan Fan.”

Lan Fan. Mei rolls the syllables over her tongue, then offers the young woman a smile. Lan Fan glances down and quickly looks away without further acknowledgement.

“What a strange person,” Mei whispers to Xiao-Mei.

Lan Fan swaps her black clothing for white when they enter the desert, and marches directly under the beating sun. Mei Chang and Ling Yao don’t; they trudge in the shadow of their lone camel, which bears Lan Fan’s grandfather’s body in a special chamber prepared by Amestrian alchemists.

Sometimes — or often — Ling Yao gets bored and baits Mei Chang, loudly holding forth on the deficiencies of each clan except his own to a silent Lan Fan, while Mei grinds her teeth behind them. He stretches and swings his arms and legs as he walks, knowing it annoys her. He speculates on the weaknesses of her alkahestry.

Until one evening, when they’ve stopped at a rare oasis, Mei scoops up a little scorpion from the ground and puts it in Ling Yao’s cup.

He yells and jumps six feet into the air, and Mei Chang rolls on the ground laughing, Xiao-Mei rolling right beside her.

Lan Fan just sits and sips her own drink, unperturbed.

“Lan Fan! Aren’t you supposed to protect me from vicious attacks on my life? Argh!”

She puts down her cup and picks up the scorpion. “It’s harmless,” she says, and goes to release it back into the desert, cupped in her automail hand.

“Harmless! There wouldn’t have been much to choose between my face and a flesh-colored balloon!”

“You would deserve it,” Lan Fan answers simply.

“I can’t believe you,” Ling Yao grumbles, and Lan Fan catches May’s eye, the corners of her lips curving ever so slightly upward. It makes Mei happier than if Ling Yao had jumped up sixty feet.

Somehow they weather the heat and aridity and Ling Yao’s boredom, and make it to a scruffy Xingese village at the edge of the desert, where Ling Yao and Lan Fan exchange the camel for a donkey and a cart. They trundle south to the Yao clan’s territory, and exchange only a flicker of eyes when Mei says she’s going to go with them.

At a Yao city with food stalls and knickknack vendors lining the streets, throngs of people crowding the thoroughfares, and coarse Yao slang shouted at every corner, there’s a quick burial for the old man who fought Wrath, and then they’re off again, cutting toward the capital with the Philosopher’s Stone buried in Ling Yao’s tunic.

“If you’re thinking of stealing it, don’t bother,” Ling Yao says abruptly and wearily one evening, as they’re settling into their rooms at a guesthouse.

Both Mei and Xiao-Mei flush fiercely. “I—”

“Hush!” Lan Fan commands, flinging her arm out for silence.

Without warning she leaps upward in a a graceful, deadly blur, and the thuds of combat sound from the rafters. It isn’t long before a body swathed in gray lands on the floorboards with a thump, a pool of dark blood spreading rapidly beneath it.

Ling Yao hasn’t moved, sitting on his bed with his ankle crossed over a knee. Lan Fan leaps back down, barely breathing hard. Mei shivers. She was planning to steal the Philosopher’s Stone, but now it seems…quite dangerous. But she has to try, right? For the Chang family, no matter what Twelfth Brother has promised.

But the next day, Lan Fan lifts her bodily before she can activate her alkahestry array. She’s there when Mei sends Xiao-Mei sneaking toward Ling Yao in the dark. Her fingers wrap around Mei’s wrist before she can pickpocket Ling Yao in the middle of a crowd.

“If you keep on doing this, the young master will get angry.”

“I don’t care,” Mei says. “I have to try!”

Her chances get fewer and fewer, until she weasels her way into the emperor’s audience along with Ling Yao, determined to turn the story in her favor, but Ling Yao is always one step ahead. The emperor declares Twelfth Brother the heir of Xing, and when she’s finally out of everyone’s sight, Mei weeps.

“Please don’t cry,” says Lan Fan’s voice.

Mei looks up through teary eyes. “I was so close!” she wails. “Is he going to keep his promise?”

“The young master always keeps his promises. He’s going to unify Xing.”

“Unify Xing! He’ll never…”

“He can!” Lan Fan says fiercely. “You don’t know him. Ling Yao can do anything!”

Mei has never heard Lan Fan raise her voice like that. She blinks at the older girl’s flushed cheeks and bright eyes, and realizes: the new crown prince’s bodyguard is in love with him.

Ling Yao wants the clans to set aside their differences, but it’s not that easy. Competition is built into their bones, their rituals, their bedtime stories. They have been at subtle, backstabbing war for a thousand years, and Ling Yao knows this. He has to.

But that’s the crown prince’s problem, Mei decides. In the fragrant, aristocratic wood and rice-paper buildings of her ancestral compound, Mei writes to Alphonse Elric — brave, clever, tall Alphonse — inviting him to stay. He writes back, accepting! Oh, and he has two chimeras with him, he adds. Whatever. May’s head is filled with dreams of handsome young men and love confessions.

He comes in the spring, dusty and travel-weary when the attendants open the front gates for him and announce his arrival. Mei bolts out the doors, shrieks, “Alphonse-sama!” and launches herself at him right there in the ornamental garden before the bulky men on either side of him can react.

He stumbles back, valises swaying, a big, broad smile on his face. “Mei! It’s good to see you!”

It turns out that chimeras eat a lot, and Mei starts spending a lot of time gazing at the sweep of Alphonse’s eyelashes and the angle of his cheekbones and the furrow of his brow as he pores over alkahestry scrolls. He’s a quick study, although he says the feeling of alkahestry is like learning to walk on ground that pitches beneath you.

The chimeras prove surprisingly useful around the compound, Alphonse continues to grasp ever more of their ancient arts, and Mei waits impatiently for the thunder of her heart and the heat in her blood and the urge to sing. She’s sure they’ll come. That’s what happens when adults are in love, right? That’s what Mama and the poets say. And Mei sees Alphonse every day.

Alone in the library one sunny day — Alphonse is with his chimera friends — Mei is deep in thought over the puzzle of her feelings for Alphonse when the very air hisses, “Mei Chang! Up here!”

Mei almost flings a dagger directly into the face looking down at her from the rafters, but it’s not an assassin or thief (well, not one who means her harm), it’s Lan Fan.

The other girl drops soundlessly to the ground, and Mei squeals, dropping the knife to throw both arms around the bodyguard, and Lan Fan huffs a satisfying oof.

Lan Fan hugs her back. “The crown prince sends his regards.”

That Ling Yao. “Did he send you to break into my house?”

To Mei’s surprise, Lan Fan turns tomato-red. “N-no. I was passing by, and…I just wanted to see how you were doing.” She adds, “I’m on my way to my grandfather’s grave for the Festival of Ancestors.”

And so she broke in like a thief, instead of using the front gates like a normal person. But—

“Your grandfather? The one who fought Wrath?”

And Lan Fan, who wasn’t afraid to cleave her own bones apart in a foreign land, tightens her face like a lost young child. She nods.

“Wait here,” exclaims Mei, and scrambles into the storage room. When she comes out, she’s bearing a basket of the year’s best oranges, sticks of expensive incense, and a bottle of particularly fine wine. She shoves the items into Lan Fan’s arms.

“What are these for?” Lan Fan asks

“Offerings for your grandfather. From me. From the Chang clan. If — if he’ll take them.”

Lan Fan drops to her knee. “Mei Chang,” she says, bowing her head, “On behalf of my family, I will not forget this kindness.”

“Get up, what are you doing?” Mei asks in horror. “No, wait. Sit down!” And Mei pushes the unresisting bodyguard into Alphonse’s seat, the only Amestrian-style chair in a compound filled with floor cushions and low tables. Mei plops down at her feet and commands Lan Fan to tell her all about the musty capital with its obsequious courtiers and her new duties now that Ling Yao is crown prince.

Lan Fan stays through three pots of tea, but her eyes flicker toward the horizon when the shadows begin to lengthen and the air starts to cool. She slides to her feet and says she has a long way yet to go.

Alphonse has almost caught up to Mei in alkahestry by the next Festival of Ancestors. Mei is thrilled with her Amestrian pupil’s success, and declares that she herself will study alchemy.

She is scowling at one of the books Alphonse has lent her, feeling a headache start to come on, when an attendant enters her room and says softly, “Miss, the crown prince’s bodyguard is here. Shall I tell her to go?”

Mei jumps up. Lan Fan is indeed standing in the garden on the stone footpath, and when Mei barrels straight into her, she doesn’t budge an inch.

“Hello, Mei Chang,” she says, eyes glinting.

Mei peers at her, unperturbed. “Did you get shorter?”

“You got taller. If you keep growing like that you’ll soon be the tallest person in Xing.”

“Well, Alphonse Elric is here.”

Lan Fan’s eyes flicker, but Mei is already tugging at her hand. “Come in, I’ll introduce you to everyone!”

“They don’t like me,” Lan Fan says doubtfully. “Because of Ling Yao.”

Mei frowns, even more fiercely than at the alchemy book. “I’m the one who’s angriest about Twelfth Brother becoming crown prince, and besides, I outrank everyone, and if I say it’s fine, then it’ll be fine.”

Lan Fan twists her face and hesitates.

Mei relents. “Okay, let’s spar. Outside. If you win, you can leave like last time, but if I win, you have to say hello. And I’m not going to lose!”

“Be careful what you ask for, Seventeenth Princess!” And then she’s rushing at Mei with her fists up.

It’s what Mei wants. With a great leaping kick she sends her foot toward the other girl’s head, but Lan Fan is still too fast for her. She jerks Mei by the ankle, and Mei has to twist in the air to avoid smashing her skull on the flagstones. Her whole body hits the ground with a breath-stealing thump and she frantically rolls away, scrambling upright into the peonies.

Mei is barely ready to parry Lan Fan’s punches. Then Mei gets a lucky kick in, and Lan Fan stumbles back, spinning gracefully to avoid crushing the flowers under her feet. Mei takes the opportunity to whip up an alkahestry array and flings her knives onto it, but Lan Fan’s arm moves in a blur, and her knives come clattering down.

Lan Fan’s leg comes sweeping out of nowhere. Mei flips on her hands, but she’s too late to avoid the kick that throws her into the thorny rose bushes.

Lan Fan is grinning as Mei extricates herself from the roses, their thorns biting painfully over her skin. “You’re good,” Lan Fan says, and a warm thrill runs through Mei. “Let’s go again? I’ve never fought an alkahestry user hand-to-hand before.”

“You bet!”

This time Mei gets to activate her array, and it’s Lan Fan who goes flying, straight into the lily pond.

Mei runs over as Lan Fan heaves herself out on her hands and knees. “Good block,” she grunts, shedding pond water, and Mei beams. Lan Fan looks over her shoulder at the broken lilies, then at the crushed roses nearby. “Maybe we should call it a draw.”

“You’re just scared of me,” Mei declares cheerfully, and before she knows it, she’s getting dunked in the lily pond, too.

They lie down on the pavilion to dry under the blue sky and fluffy clouds, and Mei hasn’t felt so content in a long time. Later, she loads Lan Fan with offerings before the other girl leaves at sundown, and waves and waves until Lan Fan has become a black speck on the horizon.

Alphonse’s chimera friends, traipsing around in the north of Xing, discover some ancient passages about suppressing fusional transformations. It’s all very vague, but Alphonse takes a look and gets very excited. It’s time to leave, he says. He’s ready to bring what he’s learned back to Amestris, and he wants to consult other alchemists about the chimeras. And, he adds, he has a new niece he’d like to meet.

Alphonse gives her a hug before he goes. “Thank you so much for these two years, Mei. I’ll miss you.”

Mei's hands grip each other. Is she just going to let him go like this? “Alphonse-sama, actually — actually, I…”

He waits patiently. Mei takes a deep breath and screws her eyes shut.

“I’ll miss you too!” she bursts out, and hugs him again. “Sheesh, leaving like this. You’d better write!”

Alphonse laughs, patting her on the top of her head, which isn’t as easy for him as when she only came up to his waist. “You’re a good friend, Mei! Of course I’ll write.”

He picks up his luggage and she walks him out of the garden, fervently wishing him well.

When Ling Yao becomes emperor, he quickly scrapes together allegiance from many clans, but the largest — Wu, Xiao, and Song — remain. They resent Ling Yao and don’t accept that his grand vision is not a ploy to keep power in the Yao family for generations to come. No matter how much Ling Yao insists that Song will become Yao once they accept him.

Ling Yao calls Mei to the capitol after he hears that the opposing faction has applied to neighboring countries for help and legitimacy, and appoints her liaison to Amestris, making it her problem.

“Only because you protected the Chang family,” Mei says, grudgingly accepting her new position.

“I’m still protecting you,” Ling Yao retorts. “And you’re Yao now.”

So Mei says goodbye to the Chang village and moves to the capitol. The capitol is as dusty and musty as Lan Fan had said.

At least she gets to see Lan Fan every day. They spar a lot.

#meifan #fma fic #mei chang #lan fan #unfinished #wip #rated g #yeah i have no idea where i'm going with this #it was intended to be a romance #ended up being an ode to ace-ness

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mr007pennyworth · 2 years

Note

Got any Gareth and Alf army squad stories? I want background, I want all of it...every inch LOL

"Oh, I got stories for days!"

"Okay so, one week, there was an incident out on the camp, this was like a month or two before transfer to the Marines when it happened, anyway, that's another story, but erm, we all got moved off-site, all sixty-seven boys sent back to the training grounds everyone one of them officially off-duty for nine days"

"Anyway, there was a party on the second night in the mess, we had something like 8 birthdays at once on that day, there was a three-pint rule on but no matter, there were drunk teen squaddies everywhere, I swear at one point Gareth was on the table dancing to 'Raining Men' that had just come out it was '83, now I remember, anyway, like, I was on duty like teacher's do at discos, still had a drink but you know, I was helping move kids back to the dorms and eventually, I was carrying Gareth back to the bunks at maybe 11pm"

"I tossed him in the top bunk and took the lower one myself not thinking and woke up at like 4am needing to pee really badly because I'd passed out as well, so I get up to go, and I'm like 2 feet from the loo and turn to see Gareth wake up, probably because I put the lights on and he's doing that weird stretching thing he did when he'd slept in the same potion too long, all I recall is him like a massive cat in this odd position and I called back "What are you doing?" and he panicked fell back and off the bunk tied up in his bed sheets, fuck, it was so funny I nearly peed myself, I'm so glad I was in the bathroom, god, it still makes me laugh, I don't know whether it was his shriek or the way he fell but I can still hear the thud when he hit the floor"

@dontcxckitup

#mr007pennyworth‌#[v; give me one more night to ruin my life again]#Alfred's Squad Stories #[ooc; Alfred just going to be embarrassing Gareth to hell with these now]

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psychameron · 3 months

Text

Untitled Apollyon Fanfic

Vikram was jerked out of his dream by someone sitting on his bed. Blinking in the light of his room, he peered blearily “The hell?”

Aditya was sitting on his bed. “Your mom sent me to get you; it's almost eight.”

Vikram blinked a few more times at the silhouette of his friend, information still tumbling around in his head. “Mom? Wait, did you say eight? As in, 8 am?”

“What other eight would I mean?” Aditya said, rising. “Why're you still asleep? You've been up and ready by 6:30 for the last few days.”

Vikram swung his feet around to the hab-block unit's floor and pushed out of bed. “If I ever sleep this late again, don't wait for mom, just come get me.”

“About to not be my problem, or so you say,” Aditya commented as Vikram rummaged around for clean clothes and started dressing. “Your mom says you're still gonna quit studying and get a job.”

“Tomorrow I'm 20 and they can't use my age to keep me out of the mines,” Vikram said, snatching up a brush off the floor and tilting the salvaged chunk of chrome metal that served as his mirror. He ran the brush through his hair and took the opportunity to break eye contact with Aditya. “I get a job, I get my own money, and I don't have to live with my mom anymore.”

“She doesn't like that,” Aditya said, stepping into the angle of mirror so he could hold Vikram's gaze again. “Thinks if you work the mines you'll wind up just like your dad.”

“I want my own money and my own place,” Vikram said.

“You mean you want somewhere you and Komal don't have to creep around.”

“It's different when you got a girlfriend,” Vikram said, fishing his mala off the repurposed vehicle chock that served as his night table. “I want to do what I want, and give Komal things. Like gifts. And maybe somewhere to live.”

“Man you are two kinds of crazy. You know anyone who got married at twenty that's happy?”

“I am tired of living in this hole in a wall studying some biochemistry crap on the hopes that maybe some day I'll get to shine some topsider's shoes while he calls me a good boy while I do 90% of his work and he gets 100% of the credit.” Vikram coiled the mala around his wrist, and pulled the guru bead to its proper position, to the right of his arm.

“Hey, in a few years that topsider might be me,” Aditya said.

“Gonna leave us cave bats for some penthouse apartment, drive a fancy car and go blind from all the sunlight?”

“If they pay me enough,” Aditya smirked. “I know you're sick of hearing it, but maybe at least finish school? The mines are always gonna be there and you'll get two years of peace from your mom before you can throw your hands up and say 'well I tried.'” A pause. “Not having to pay rent would be pretty nice, too. And who's to say you don't actually do well and get a real job where you get to sit down for a living.”

“Nah, I'd rather do real work.” Vikram picked his bag off the ground. “We ready to go?”

“Yeah, let's get moving.” Aditya shouldered his own bag. “Take some of the breakfast your mom made on the way out, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Vikram said, shooing him forward. “Let's get to school.”

Vikram sat in the light of central thermal reactor of Pahalagufa. Almost ten thousand people in the caverns used it for heat and electricity, but today Vikram used it for light, as well. Pages and pages of chemistry disappeared under his eyes as he pored over pages he'd been over dozens of times before. To the casual observer, he might seem to be studying. And after a fashion he did study. But his mind lingered on where his new home would be once he had paychecks from work in hand. From his vantage on the third sublevel of the cavern, Vikram could see nearly sixty percent of the habitation blocks like the one he grew up in. Most had the soft red glows of occupancy, but quite a few the green glow of an empty unit.

Most of them were barren metal cubes with little to recommend them to the average inhabitant of Pahalagufa, but a variety of factors made them the only option for the last three generations of workers laboring in Apollyon's massive mineral mines. Of which Vikram would soon find himself one, as soon as he could secure employment.

I'll need chairs, Vikram mused. Mom probably won't let me take any of hers. Bed probably won't be a problem. Or will it? I'll need a bigger bed for both of us. His brow furrowed as thoughts of nucleotides and phosphate bonds disappeared under logistical concerns. Beds are expensive here. At least, proper ones are. I should ask Komal if she knows a way to get a bigger bed.

As if conjured by his thoughts, Komal appeared out of the teeming throngs of people making their way through the avenues of the third level of Pahalagufa. Vikram pushed his textbook to the side and rose to greet her, but her posture and gait put him on edge. “Komal?” he ventured, reaching out to her.

Komal took Vikram's hand and tolerated his brief kiss on the back of her hand before sinking onto the same bench he was seated on. “Ugh, what a day,” she lamented.

“What's wrong?” Vikram asked, concern coloring his voice.

“Nothing,” Komal said. “Classes at my level are a nightmare. You'll see the same when you get to your fourth year.”

“You can handle it,” Vikram stated confidently. “Anything I can do to help, you say it and I'll have it to you before lunch.”

“I volunteered for the biochemistry track, it's my problem,” Komal said. “You said something about getting your own place soon?”

“Yes,” Vikram said. “My birthday is tomorrow, and once I'm twenty, then I can legally work in the mines. Once I have paychecks, I can afford my own place.”

“I don't understand,” Komal said. “Mining shifts and school are incompatible. You can't be in two places at once. You'd have to stop studying.”

“I know,” Vikram replied, preparing the spiel he'd rehearsed for days prior to this. “I will have to take a break from school in order to get the hours in, but once I've saved up enough I can quit working the mines and finish the biochem track, just like you. Depending on the pay that could easily be done in two years, maybe four if things are tight. Besides all that, once you have a big fancy science job you won't need me to support you.”

“Vik,” Komal said, her tone shifting to admonishment. “Do you know anyone who quit work in the mines and went back to school?”

Vikram blew out an exasperated sigh. “You sound like Aditya. Some people get sucked in and make it their lives but that won't be me. I know what I'm doing. I'm smart, and I have the most beautiful woman in the world to keep me on the right path.”

Komal smiled briefly at the compliment, but returned to her previous tone. “It is not worth it. Finish school. Once I have work in a laboratory I can recommend you for employment, too. It's only two years.”

“Don't, do not say 'it's only two years.' Two years is a lot different when it's under my mother's roof.”

“Your mother is watching the little boy she taught how to use a spoon learn about pheromone biosynthesis and G-protein dissociations,” Komal commented. “She's probably having a time, thinking about how she's going to be alone sooner rather than later.”

“It's an ending for her; it's a beginning for me,” Vikram protested.

“It is, but there's only one reason for you to do this, and that's because you want to be away from her.”

“She treats you like trash.”

“Don't change the subject,” Komal chided. “Whatever problem the two of us have, it's not worth you risking your future. I can deal with your mother hating me. I am not gonna deal with you fouling up your education just because you don't want to live with her.”

“Komal-”

“No, I've made my position clear. I'm done talking about this. These are next week's problems. We should be talking about your party.”

Vikram sighed. “I don't want a party,” he said, trying not to visibly pout.

“Well, too bad. There's going to be a party and sweet cakes and we're all going to tell embarrassing stories about you.”

Vikram released her hand. “I only want one thing for my birthday and apparently no one thinks I should get it.”

“Don't pout,” Komal ordered. “I have to go see my own mother about something. Try to pretend you're surprised and delighted tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Vikram surrendered. “Did you make sweet cakes for me?”

“No, your mother did. She's a better cook.”

“All right. Will I see you again tonight?”

“Probably not. After I can get away from dad tomorrow for the party, okay?”

“See you then,” Vikram said, leaning in for a hug. Komal embraced him, and then disappeared into foot traffic of level once again.

Vikram watched her walk away, thoughts stewing furiously. Had he been any deeper in his mind, he would not have seen Komal drop something from her bag. Realising there was a very real risk of it getting kicked into a gutter and disappearing forever, Vikram sprang into action to recover it from crowd. Twice it was kicked by pedestrians and once more by Vikram himself, but a desperate dive allowed him to catch it. Cognizant of the possibility that he might also wind up being kicked, Vikram regained his feet and hurried back to his own bag before someone could decide an unattended bag was there for the taking.

On his way back, he turned the object over in his hands trying to puzzle out what it was. It had a clear plastic case, and inside he could see a disk that refracted blue light when another light source hit, turning a sharp purple in the red light of the thermal reactor's cycle. Resolving to ask Komal about it tomorrow, he stuffed it in his bag and made his way to Aditya's.

A half-hour later, Vikram sank down on Aditya's bed while his friend labored at a net terminal, punching calculations in and occasionally modifying an on-screen schematic.

“What're you working on?” Vikram asked, lacing his fingers behind his head and crossing his legs.

“Practice test for exams in a few weeks,” Aditya said. “I'm almost done.”

“Don't rush on my account,” Vikram said.

Several more minutes passed in silence. Vikram sat up and pulled the item Komal dropped out of his bag. He probed it further, eventually finding a latch along the meridian that would pop the case open, exposing the blue disk inside. His contemplation came to an end when Aditya said “Holy shit.”

Vikram looked up from his reverie to see his friend staring at the disk in his hands, slightly agog. “Where did you get a DORD?”

“You know what it is?” Vikram asked, anticipating Aditya reaching out for it.

Aditya took it from him. “Yeah, DORD stands for 'Digital Optical Retention Diskette.' It's a fancy recordable media. We've used a few in my CAD classes. You don't really see them down here in the caves, they're more topsider tech.”

“So not anything Komal would have normally?”

“I mean, maybe, she's on her last year of school, maybe they trust fourth years with this kind of stuff, whereas us engineering guys have to use them sooner.”

“And you said it's a readable disk?”

“I mean, it should be. If someone recorded something on it I could read it with a mod drive.”

“Do you have one?”

“Sure do, hold on...” Aditya said as he flipped through a few metal components jacked in to his net terminal, reading their serial numbers one by one. “Here we go, mod drive Escal-2, compatible with all DORD marks.”

Vikram inserted the disk in the Escal-2 drive, watching the intake actuators take in the disk and begin spinning it. A few clicks of the reading armature sliding into place, and preloaded program on the disk started.

A video player appeared on Aditya's terminal, opening on a scene from Apollyon's surface, far above them. “Welcome to the Almarta Laboratories, a subsidiary of Alandalus Biotech!” a spritely voice announced from the video's audio track. “We are proud to welcome you,” and it momentarily flashed the name 'Komal Mudaliyar' before returning to the view of the previous building. “to the Almarta family! An exciting career in biotech production awaits you.” The scene wiped away and another began, but the video fragmented and stopped abruptly as Aditya ripped the disk out of the mod drive.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” Aditya cursed, staring at the disk in his hand. “This is...probably private.”

“That was a surface-level biotech lab,” Vikram said. “I know the Almarta name. They were mentioned as a corp that doesn't discriminate against cave-district graduates, and thus a good place to work after graduation.”

“So...maybe Komal was looking at working for them?”

“Past tense. Looked. That video looks like something they send to new hires. As in, already hired.”

“We don't know that.”

Vikram shot his friend a look. “Komal already accepted a job with a surface-level lab. With a corp that provides on-site housing for employees. No way she'd sit through a three hour commute to and from work.”

“Vik,” Aditya began. “I thought the two of you were going to get a block.”

“I wouldn't be able to live on the surface. No way to get down here for classes.”

“We'd have to be apart for two years, except for holidays.”

“Or maybe...ah shit, I'm sorry. Maybe she's gonna move topside and then break up with you when there's 3 hours of funicular transport between the two of you in case you take it poorly.”

Vikram held out the disk's case, and Aditya replaced it. Vikram relatched the case. “Sounds like she and I have something to talk about before my party tomorrow.”

Sleep had some difficulty finding Vikram that night.

The habitation blocks of Pahalagufa would've been nightmarish for non-natives, constantly transmitting the dull hum of machinery and any raised voice from the neighbors, but to someone like Vikram, born there, listening to his neighbor scream at her husband about money spent on liquor that month was normal. Vikram's thoughts were occupied with how to confront his girlfriend about what was most likely an attempt to abandon him.

It took hours, with several breaks to watch shows on the hab-block's terminal but after 4 am his exhausted body finally silenced his restless mind.

Sleep was not restful, though.

Vikram walks the halls of Pahalagufa, but unlike the teeming throngs of workers commuting between work and home, he's used to, the halls are empty. He clutches his bag of books, trying to sling it over his back, but it gets incrementally heavier with each step until it unbalances him and he must drag it. He reaches out to Aditya, but his friend drags his own burden, a similarly overbalanced bag of books. Ahead of him, other students labor, some so weighted down by their books that they are resorting to pushing them along. At the end of the hallway, completely unburdened, floats Komal, less a student and more a goddess, untethered by gravity, one hand in the vitarka mudra and the other in the vajra mudra as radiance poured out from behind her, both her and the central reactor, the blinding light of the sun and the searing red of the thermal coils, at once both combined and also oscillating.

“Where I go, you cannot follow,” the Komal goddess stated, and though she did not address Vikram directly, he knew her words were meant for him.

“Wait!” Vikram cried, dropping his bag and making to sprint to her. As soon as he released the strap, creatures bubbled up from the hallway's floor, human in shape but heavily modified, with masks and hoses coiling around their waists, like someone had surgically implanted mining saftey gear to them. With each step forward, more of these miner-shades came forth, locking plastic-wrapped hands around Vikram's legs and dragging him down into the floor with them. “I won't go with you!” Vikram protested, trying to push them away, but there were so many that he had no hope. In an attempt to escape them, he turned back to his bag and seized the strap. The miner-beasts reacted as if struck, recoiling and re-submerging into the netherworld from whence they came.

Vikram tried to pursue the Komal goddess while clutching the bag, but its weight prevented him from making significant progress. And if he tried to abandon his bag once again, the miner-beasts would surge forward to drag him down again. A look to his left or his right would reveal his fellow students in similar straits; some of them dragged fully beneath the hall's surface by the miner-beasts. Vikram felt he should cry from frustration, but he could not. He kept trying to push forward while clutch his bag. The Komal goddess continued to rise, now almost past Vikram's reach. “Wait for me!” he called desperately.

Very suddenly his bag became even heavier, as though it was pinned down by something. Vikram looked back at it, and found himself staring up in to blazing red eyes and a mane of fire. The creature squatting on his big was enormous and yet also delicate, a massive humanoid form of fire and gold, yet it balanced its considerable bulk on only the single point of Vikram's bag.

THERE YOU ARE, it thundered, apparently not speaking and yet the words arrived in Vikram's ears just the same. TRYING TO HIDE FROM ME IN YOUR OWN DREAMS? It paused, as if waiting for an answer. NO MATTER. YOU ARE MINE NOW.

“Wha-what?” was all Vikram managed to stammer before the creature snatched him up effortlessly and dropped him into its yawning red maw.

Vikram was snatched from a sea of boiling oil by his mother's voice. “Vik, wake up! We have a million things to do and you cannot spend all morning in bed.” Bhairavi busied herself with scooping some of the chaos of her son's room into a managable pile. When Vikram groaned and curled further into his sheets, she pulled his pillow out from under his head. “This minute,” she insisted.

“Why does my face hurt?” Vikram asked, burying his face in his hands.

“You stayed up to late at Aditya's again,” Bhairavi stated. “Now get dressed, we have to eat breakfast and go to the supplier. If I'm going to make your favorite dinner, we need to get things.”

A half-dozen memories of his dreams, having his skin peeled off by tanners' knives rose in Vikram's mind and he sprang out of bed, only to hit his head on his mirror and go down in a heap.

“Vik!” Bhairavi exclaimed, rushing to her son's side. “You look like death. Go wash up and get dressed. I will check on breakfast.”

Pleased to be away from his mother so that he could reorder his thoughts, Vikram spent a moment on the floor trying to sort his memories from his awareness from the dreams he was just in.

Hot nails pounded into his forehead, bamboo stakes prying up his fingernails, cast into pit to be ripped apart and devoured by pigs-

None of it was real, all dreams. But his face burned, worse than how he imagined a sunburn would feel if he'd ever spent long enough in the sun to get one. His fingers itched like sand grit was pushing against the inside of his skin. He found his feet and trudged to the lavatory, scrubbing down his face washing his hands furiously, but nothing he could do would chase away the burning or the itching. Pushing down the immediate sense-memory of the boiling oil ocean, Vikram dried his face ran a brush through his hair, only to look down at it and see more hair than he was expecting to be pulled by the brush's bristles. “Is my hair thinning?” he wondered, compulsively checking his reflection in the lavatory mirror again. “I can't deal with this,” he said. He returned to his room and dug through his closet for clean clothes and scooped up his bag before heading out into the wider hab-block.

And he was greeted by a dozen faces, all smiling broadly, and shouting “Happy birthday!” The main area of the hab-block was decorated modestly, and significant amount of food was laid out.

Dozens of leering faces reciting Vikram's sins, while a figure in a smiling mask lashed his back into a bloody mess-

“What?” Vikram managed weakly, looking around in his still groggy state.

“We're having your party early,” Bhairavi stated. “Aditya I'm sure has something planned for later, but for right now you're going to have a party here.”

The next moments were a blur as a few of Vikram's cousins shook his hand and teased him about being twenty, as he undshouldered his bag, and some of his school friends telling him about his mother had been planning this for weeks and tracked them all down individually. All of this passed in a haze as Vikram tried his best to smile and be polite even though he was still stunned.

One thing cut cleanly through the haze, though. Komal was here, prudently far away from Bhairavi, but amongst the guests. All the sleep in Vikram's head melted away like a butter pat on a hot griddle, and the burning in his face increased an order of magnitude. Vikram's teeth clenched and every muscle in his arms and legs tensed at once. Vikram strode over to his discarded bag, pulled it open and obtained the disk he and Aditya viewed the previous night and crossed the room instantly, the party and his friends and family melting away until all he could perceive was a long red tunnel with Komal at the end of it.

Vikram stepped within arm's reach of Komal and brandished the disk's case where she could clearly see it. “What is this?” he demanded, tone making it evident that the situation was about to escalate.

Komal regarded him with confusion at first, then realization. “My DORD! I thought I'd lost it.”

“Your job offer from a topside corp,” Vikram said. “That you accepted.”

By this point, everyone present realized the situation developing. All eyes were on Vikram and Komal. “Vik? You're scaring me.”

“You'd have to live topside, a long way away from me,” Vikram continued. “What was the plan? Wait until you're in corp housing and then break up with me? Or just keep stringing me along and hope I lose patience with only seeing you four times a year?”

“Vikram Mehrotra,” his mother called, in the tone she reserved for correcting misbehavior.

“Vik, please, this is not the place,” Komal said, trying to move away from Vikram.

“I think this is exactly the place,” Vikram said. The itching in his fingers was nearly impossible to ignore. He reached out to Komal, intent on preventing her from moving away.

He never got the chance, because two of his cousins grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled him back.

Gigantic demons beating him with canes-

Vikram tried to pull away from them, but they had the advantage in positioning and numbers. Vikram's teeth clenched once again and the burning in his face was unbearable.

Thousands of maggots writhing beneath his skin, eating his muscles and defecating on his bones-

Vikram tried to twist out of their grip, but they held him fast. Until the skin on his fingers split and blood-soaked claws emerged, allowing him to rake his cousins' faces.

A crown of red-hot iron laid on his head by cackling imps-

Vikram's normally black hair fell from his scalp, making way for mane of thick red hair, somehow both dancing in flames and yet unburned. The burning in his face subsided as new fangs ejected his previous teeth from his jaw, causing them to fall to the floor of the hab-block with bloody clicks. Vikram tried to say “Don't touch me!” but all that came out was a primal scream.

Chased by horseback demons, lacerating his legs with sharpened sling stones as they approached-

The gravity of the situation had dawned on everyone by this point, and this time Vikram was borne down six assailants, who pulled him off his feet and down onto the floor of the hab-block.

Again, Vikram tried to say “Let me go!” but could only manage a snarl. He struggled against those restraining him, but against six other people he could not get the leverage necessary to free himself.

A cocoon of chains as he was lowered into a sea of boiling oil-

As the memory of sea of boiling oil cross Vikram's mind, one of the people restraining suddenly loosened his grip, abruptly trying to get away, screaming as he went. Vikram looked to another and thought of the red-hot iron crown, and he also recoiled, trying to claw a crown from his head. Any torture he could remember from his dreams he could inflict on another, or at least the sense-memory of it.

Now free from those dragging him down, Vikram rose, chest heaving, head still coruscating with red flames, claws scoring the floor of the hab-block. His eyes darted around, looking for Komal but not seeing her. The door to the hab-block still swaying on its hinges seemed to indicate where she'd gone. Stepping over the bodies of those who sought to trap him, Vikram picked up the disk again and made for the door.

Before stepping out into Pahalagufa proper, Vikram again heard his mother's voice. “Let go of me, I don't care, he is still my son!” Bhairavi rushed to her son's side. “Vikram, please, do not follow her. If people see you like this, they will call the police.”

“Mother,” Vikram said with a voice like green wood popping in a bonfire. “I hope they do.” He reached up his clawed hand and cradled the side of his mother's head, then inflicted the Hell of Bamboo Skewers on her, leaving her clutching her fingers in agony on the floor of the hab-block.

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evereinefaust · 4 months

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*.·:·.✧ 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐬'𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐄𝐯𝐞 ✧.·:·.*

"Uwah! This will be the first time I'll be attending a house party! Especially celebrating Krom's birthday! In his house!"

"[N/n], stop grinning. You look like an idiot," Zelda sweat-dropped at her younger sister's evident excitement. "You too, Cannae."

May 10th. The day was no other than the birthday of their co-star and precious friend, Krom Ledios.

To celebrate his birthday, his family — practically his older brother — decided to throw a house party for the blue-haired male. For the first time in many years, Krom will be able to experience a typical birthday party that he has experienced since he was young. But this time compared to before, he had his precious friends and colleagues to celebrate it with him.

Zelda, [Y/n], and Cannae finally arrived at the Ledios estate. The car screeched to a stop in front of the large gate and tall walls, and one by one, they got off. It didn't take long for the gates to be opened by the guards outside and a butler came to fetch the trio. The man looked rather young, probably not much older than Zelda. He was wearing a dark green suit and white shirt with suspenders. His hair was cut short and slicked back as if it were part of a business haircut.

"Good afternoon, ladies. I'm Jeremy, the butler of the Ledios family," the man gave a slight bow in greeting. "The other guests are already waiting inside. Let me guide you there."

"Thanks, Jeremy," Zelda nodded.

Finally entering the estate grounds, Jeremy guided the three females through the garden. It was certainly a sight to behold, especially for the young actress as this is her first time visiting her colleague's home. [Y/n] didn't expect that the land space inside the wall was even wider. The garden was filled with different types of flowers, plants, and trees, all neatly arranged. There were several flower beds scattered around the place as well, and a small pond surrounded by rocks. It was beautiful.

"I'm jealous! I wish our house was as big as Krom's! But then again, we don't have that much money to hire and pay workers to maintain it anyway... haaah..."

After a short journey, the four arrived at the main entrance of the Ledios household. The house was huge, with what seemed to be a three-story building. As soon as Jeremy opened the door, three pairs of different-colored eyes widened and stared at the interior of the cozy home. [Y/n] could describe it best as elegant. Everything seemed to fit together beautifully. Even some things seemed to be in perfect proportion and there was almost no clutter at all. And the furniture looked brand new; everything was smooth and shining. The house was decorated elegantly. And this was just the main hall!

"Whoah... I wish I could live here..." Cannae mused, her bright green eyes sparkling.

Her [h/c]-haired cousin nodded. "Mhm. Me too."

"Jeremy? Is that the guests?" a woman's voice entered their ears.

The three girls whipped their attention toward the woman who slowly approached them. She looked like someone in her fifties, maybe early sixties. Her faded blue hair was tied into a bun at the nape of her neck, with two side braids going down from her forehead and framing her face. She wore a black fitted long-sleeved dress with a grey cardigan and black flats. Her facial features were attractive, despite having a few wrinkles here and there.

The woman halted a few feet away from them, but the three females could only stare at her, speechless at her beauty.

"She has to be Krom's mother, right? Uwah... So gorgeous..."

"Good evening, madam," Jeremy bowed. "Yes. Here are the young master's remaining guests that he told me to wait for."

"Good evening Mrs. Ledios," the raven-haired actress replied politely while trying to keep a straight face.

After breaking out of her trance, the greenette also offered a shy bow. "Good evening..."

"Good evening," [Y/n] managed to mutter out.

"Oh, please don't stand on ceremony with me. Please call me Marie. Everyone does," the older female replied with a smile, chuckling at the girls' demeanor. "My son is with the others in the common room. Jeremy, please take them there."

"Of course, madam," at that, the butler turned to them. "Shall we, ladies?"

After the brief encounter with Marie Ledios, Krom's mother, Jeremy guided the three girls toward the common room. The entire time, [Y/n] can't stop her heart from racing inside her chest, her mind wandering. Everything that happened today and will happen later felt like a dream. The young actress knew that some of her colleagues were famous and had an influential family background. She was blessed and lucky enough to be on the same level as an actress. However, she never imagined being able to experience these kinds of things.

"How lucky I am..."

"Young master? I brought your guests," After knocking to inform them of his presence, Jeremy then opened the large double doors to the common room.

Inside were their other friends and colleagues. All of them were dressed up in semi-formal wear and some of them were sitting or standing around, discussing something, whilst laughing. When they heard the door open and revealed the latecomers, they paused and shifted their attention to the girls.

"You guys are finally here," Charles let out an exhale, crossing his arms.

"Sorry to keep you guys waiting," Zelda said, walking over to everyone.

"It's no problem. I'm glad you girls arrived safe and sound," Krom smiled warmly at them. "I hope it wasn't awkward for you three. Brother decided to throw me a house party out of the blue and asked me to invite all of you."

The raven-haired woman chuckled. "It's fine. I'm honored to be invited to your birthday party."

[Y/n] took this time to observe the room and its inhabitants. Jeremy had been long gone, the doors to the common room already closed. Zaira, Charles, Krom, and her older sister engaged in a conversation. In one corner, Mikhail and Lyn were arguing. The pink-haired teen was playing something on her phone while her older cousin was watching her over her shoulders. Soon, Cannae bounded over them, a wide grin spreading across her face. On an adjacent couch were Dhurahan and Lairei, the two childhood friends peacefully drinking their beverage and conversing. Aslan was sitting by himself, deep in thought as he stared into his glass of wine. As for his daughter and nephew, they were walking around the room with Schneider and Solphi, admiring the intricate pieces of furniture and decorations.

"Since everyone's here, we could start the celebration," the birthday boy began clapping his hands loudly to gain everyone's attention, which immediately made everyone stop whatever they were doing. "Brother Gerald planned to have a dinner party later this evening. But in the meantime, we could do something else."

Immediately, a light bulb appeared above the [h/c]ette's head. "How about a house tour, Krom?!"

The blue-haired male turned around, his surprised lime-green hues landing on [Y/n]'s excited features. The others also muttered to themselves, seemingly on board with the idea.

"Sure, why not?"

A new voice cut through the atmosphere, surprising everyone. [Y/n] whipped her head around and saw a familiar face. The man had the same shade of blue hair as Krom's, his hairstyle shorter and more business-like. He leaned on the slightly opened door with arms crossed, a large smile plastered on his face. Just from the appearance alone, the girl knew that this was Gerald Ledios, Krom's older brother.

"Brother..."

"I've told the chefs to prepare a fancy evening dinner for you guys later. So, why not have fun, Krom? It's your birthday, after all," Gerald suggested. "After the tour, you guys can watch a couple of movies in our home theater. Maybe have a karaoke. We also have an outdoor pool so you can soak and have fun in the water. The choices are endless."

"Uwah... a home theater?" Schneider's brown orbs sparkled at that.

Mikhail placed a hand under his chin, pondering. "Karaoke, huh..."

"Swimming pool..." the Valkarios cousins drawled out, their eyes shimmering.

Upon seeing the different reactions from his younger brother's co-stars and friends, Gerald can't help but have a smile on his face. They seem so impressed and excited by his home. What's more, Krom seemed to be more spirited when he was surrounded by them. So, having to throw a house party for his younger brother's birthday and inviting his colleagues was a great idea.

"I'll leave you guys to your own devices. Don't forget to have fun, Krom," With that said, Gerald bid goodbye to the group, waving at them as he disappeared from their sight.

"Your brother is something, isn't he?" Zaira stated, glancing at the blue-haired male.

Charles shrugged, but a smile emerged on his face. "Gerald was always like that. Still doting on his younger brother."

"Please stop saying embarrassing things," Krom flushed, frowning at his childhood friend's words. "Anyway, I guess we could have a brief house tour."

"Yay!"

Simultaneously, the youngsters in the group cheered, all of them equally excited to explore Krom's house. Schneider was so excited that he kept murmuring to himself, only stopping after Axel placed an arm around the shorter boy's shoulder. Alev was also excited, as seen on her face, but she was holding herself back. On the other hand, Solphi pretended not to show interest, but her cerulean eyes were sparkling brightly. Cannae and Lyn were already planning on what to do later on. Last but not least, [Y/n] was trying hard not to let a goofy grin decorate her face.

Nonetheless, Krom led everyone outside as he began the quick tour of his abode.

"Here on the second floor, we had most of the entertainment amenities here. We had the home theater that brother said and some others."

Krom led the group through the halls of his large house, stopping by every room and explaining what was inside. Often, he would open the door and let his friends take a peek inside the room. They've already finished exploring the first floor, which housed most of the common amenities such as the kitchen, common room, dining hall, and such. And now they were on the second floor, already halfway through the house tour.

"Krom's house is so big I bet I could have fun playing hide and seek here."

"'Sup, my brothers," [Y/n] glided next to Schneider and Axel who were walking together.

The brown-haired male smiled at the girl's sudden appearance. "Hey."

"[Y/n], 'sup," Axel greeted back, placing an arm around her shoulders as usual. "Enjoying the house tour?"

"Yep. Exploring at least one of my friend's houses has always been on my bucket list."

The tall ravenette chuckled. "I don't think a house tour counts as exploring."

"Don't ruin it," the girl pouted, lightly glaring at the tanned male. "Besides, older sis wanted me to behave when at another people's house so I can't just go off on my own. I don't want to trouble Krom on his birthday."

"Right, right."

"Anyway, how's your guys' night so far?"

"I've always admired Krom so being invited to his birthday celebration at his house was like a dream come true," Schneider admitted, his cheeks coated with the color pink and his gaze averted to the ground.

The girl nodded. "Mhm. How about you, Axel?"

"Not bad. Besides, it's fun since Uncle and Alev also attended. And of course, you guys are here too."

"Right," she chuckled.

Halfway through the tour, [Y/n] separated from the boys. She then trudged over to another group she saw by the front of the crowd. As they wrapped up the second floor and went to another level of the house, the [h/c]-haired actress caught up with a certain trio.

"Hey, care to let me join in your shenanigans?"

"Oh, [Y/n]!" Lyn faced the other female, eyes wide before she let out a grin. "You surprised me there!"

"We're just talking about stuff," Cannae puckered her lips, blinking innocently at her older cousin.

"Huh..." the other girl raised an eyebrow, nevertheless, she chuckled and moved over to the silverette's side, immediately linking her arms around his. "You're awfully quiet today, huh, Mikhail?"

"Am I?" he tilted his head, a hand under his chin as he pondered over her words.

"He's just in his world as usual," Lyn rolled her eyes, shaking her head slightly as if exasperated about him.

The other two girls laughed softly while the silverette glared at his cousin. "At least I'm not like a certain someone."

And just like that, [Y/n] watched as the two exchanged silent glares, both of them trying to intimidate the other. The green and [h/c]-haired girls stayed behind the Blake cousins, watching in amusement as they tried to push each other away from each other, as though they were arguing with telepathy. Soon, they arrived at the third floor and began focusing on the birthday boy as he briefed everyone about the rooms there.

"The cool evening breeze and the warm water is such as perfect combination..."

"You look like you're satisfied enough to finally melt," Lairei commented upon seeing a certain girl relax on the edge of the pool.

[Y/n] lazily opened an orb, staring at the olive-green-haired woman sitting next to her. "Mhm."

After the house tour Krom had conducted, he decided to let his friends suggest whatever they wanted to do before they had dinner later that night. Of course, since the people attending were mostly young adults, everyone agreed to have fun at his outdoor pool. It wasn't even a surprise since he told his friends that other than an evening house party, he also invited them to an overnight stay at his place. Of course, everything was planned by Gerald and Krom just agreed to it.

Now, everyone was already in their swimwear and relaxing in the pool. Since it's an outdoor pool, the water temperature wasn't too cold, but not too warm either. They were enjoying themselves immensely. Everyone was chatting happily among themselves, swimming laps or diving into the shallow parts of the pool. Some were lying down, reading, and others were having a quiet chat. The stars twinkled above them and the beautiful moon was enough to make [Y/n] mesmerized.

"Here, Lairei. I got you some juice," a certain brunette walked over to the woman, giving her the glass as he sat next to her and dipped his legs in the water.

She smiled at him. "Thanks, Dhurahan."

[Y/n] shifted her head in her arms, leaning on one cheek to see her friends. "I'm glad you were able to attend today, Dhurahan."

"Huh? Oh, yeah," the man rubbed his temple sheepishly.

Lairei had a minuscule smile on her lips hiding beneath the glass. "I had to make sure this big guy wasn't swamped with paperwork and work all day. That's why I brought him to celebrate Krom's birthday today."

"Heh..." the younger girl narrowed her eyes at the man, scrutinizing him which he felt small under her gaze. "Overworking is a big no-no. If it wasn't for Lairei, you wouldn't be able to enjoy and celebrate Krom's birthday."

"Right," Dhurahan slumped his shoulders, sweatdropping as he felt like being scolded by the teen.

The olive-green-haired woman chuckled at the exchange. Nevertheless, she was glad that she was able to get Dhurahan away from that office. She thought for sure that the male would be overwhelmed with all the paperwork he had piled up and would lose track of time in the process. That would have made him stressed and irritable. That's why when the chance to attend Krom's birthday party presented itself, she didn't hesitate to take the chance.

"Don't worry, [Y/n], I've got my eyes on this guy," the woman said with a smirk. "How about playing with the others? It would be a shame if you didn't enjoy today to the fullest."

"Mhm, you're right," at her words, the young [h/c]ette pushed her body away from the edge of the pool. "See you two later~"

After waving to the two childhood friends, she swam over to the other side of the pool where a certain redhead and blonde were, accompanied by no other than Aslan. The three of them were bundled by the edge of the pool, slightly in the deeper part of it. Aslan and Alev were teaching Solphi how to swim. Solphi never learned how to swim, but it seems that she was doing well for the first time. [Y/n], herself, didn't know how to swim either — she just knew how to stay afloat horizontally. That's why she always had to stay by the edge of the pool whenever she swam, using it as leverage and ensuring she wouldn't drown.

"Heyyo~" she greeted, as usual, wading towards them with her hands on the edge of the pool.

"Hey, [Y/n]," Aslan gave the girl a large grin.

"What you guys up to?"

"Just teaching Solphi how to swim," Alev replied before turning to face the other girl. "She's still having trouble."

The [h/c]ette hummed. "I see."

"Do you want me to teach you as well?" the older man asked her, noticing how she never removed her hand from the edge.

"Ah... Well, I guess so..." she trailed off, feeling a little hesitant about learning how to swim, yet she nodded nonetheless.

While [Y/n] certainly wanted to know how to swim for a better experience in the water with her friends and for survival in case of any water-related incidents that may happen in the future, at the same time, she felt embarrassed to be taught by her fellow actors. Still, [Y/n] found it difficult to say 'no' to Aslan, especially when he was smiling brightly at her. So, with a reluctant heart, she agreed.

After all, when will she learn if not now?

"Alright. Let's do this!"

After an hour of swimming at the outdoor pool, everyone headed inside and changed into more comfortable clothes. Krom had been informed that their dinner party would be served at 8 in the evening, meaning that they have at least two and a half hours to find ways to entertain themselves. So, of course, the blue-haired man decided to treat his friends to his home theater.

Other than Charles, Krom didn't have that many friends in his childhood. That's why when he decided to take a shot at the movie industry because of his best friend's influence, he felt really happy to have met with his colleagues and friends. Right now, he can't stop butterflies from fluttering in his stomach at the sight of everyone's joyful expressions, especially [Y/n]'s whose face lit up like the stars in the night.

As everyone arrived at the large room, Krom guided them toward the middle where the large semi-circle couch was located. The couch was big and long enough to fit at least 15 people sitting there. There was a large flat-screen television mounted on the wall in front of them, a low platform underneath it with some plants on the side. Overall, the place looked inviting and cozy.

The crew sat in their chosen space, as Krom and a couple of his staff prepared the movie and snacks for everyone to enjoy. [Y/n] sat next to her older sister by the far edge of the couch. It was still early in the evening but the young girl felt her whole body exhausted from the earlier activity she and her friends did. But despite that, the [h/c]-haired teen willed herself to stay awake as the real party will be happening later on. Besides, she also wanted to celebrate Krom's birthday in full blast so she had to stay awake for that to happen.

It didn't take long for Krom to prep the movie and the popcorn and drinks to arrive. After the lights in the room dimmed and the movie started, the man returned to his seat between Charles and Zaira. Small murmurs echoed around the room, being swallowed up by the loud sound coming from the speakers. The group watched the film in utter silence except for some laughs now and then and snorts when an unexpected scene or action scene appeared. The atmosphere relaxed with laughter and light chatter. And then, after what seemed like forever, the credits started showing on the screen in black and white.

"That was an interesting movie!" Axel cheered, stretching his limbs.

"You've got some great taste in movies, Krom," the tanned redhead complimented, smiling at her fellow actor. "Recommend me some of your favorites."

He nodded. "Mhm. Sure."

"Young master, the dinner is ready," Jeremy spoke, entering the theater room to inform everyone.

"Alright," Krom nodded in his direction. Then, he faced his friends. "Dinner's ready."

"Finally~" [Y/n] cheered, skipping towards the exit first, followed by the rest.

The LOH crew arrived at the spacious dining hall. The walls were decorated with birthday banners, streamers, and colorful balloons. The walls weren't overly decorated, leaving some room for the minimalist decor of the room to blend in perfectly with the birthday furnishings laid after. There's also a banner hanging above the table, which read: Happy Birthday Krom! A two-tiered cake, filled with fruits, was placed by the head of the table. The long table — which can fit about 20 people — was filled to the brim with various food.

Everyone's gaze was fixated on the variety of delicious meals presented in front of them, some had their stomachs growling just from the mere sight alone. Nonetheless, they were amazed and excited to get this party started.

"Everyone, please take a seat," Madam Marie softly said. "Krom, dear, come here."

Obliging to her words, the gang sauntered over to the table, finding their seats. Madam Marie was seated on the right side of the table, right next to the head where Krom stood. On the male's left, was Gerald's seat, who came inside shortly after. Aslan took the seat next to the matriarch, his nephew and adopted daughter sitting next to him. Charles took the seat next to Gerald, and next to him was Zaira. Lairei and Dhurahan sat next to each other on the right side of the table. Solphi took the seat next to her best friend, and Cannae took that seat next to the blonde. Zelda and [Y/n] were the farthest from where Krom was seated, and in front of them were the Blake siblings, with Schneider seated next to Dhurahan.

After everyone had settled down in their respective spaces, that's when the party started. A couple of workers brought in the numerous gifts that were for Krom. The surprise was etched on the man's face, his lime-green hues widening at the amount of various-sized gifts being piled on the side. Seeing his reaction made [Y/n]'s expression soften, especially since the man never truly expected anything else on his birthday. But despite that not everyone was able to attend his birthday celebration today, they still remember his precious day and send gifts to show their love and care.

"It's really rare to see him smile like this..."

"Everyone, I thank you all for attending my son's birthday tonight," Marie began, her lime-green hues scanning the faces of her guests. It didn't take long for a small smile to appear on her lips. "I'm grateful that Krom had met such wonderful colleagues as you all. Growing up, he never had any other friend than Charles, so seeing him with all of you brings me at ease. Thank you for celebrating his precious day with us."

Everyone gave mild applause at the woman's sincere words, even witnessing Krom's face flushed red, flustered, and moved by his mother's words. It has been several years since Krom last heard such kind compliments, so, how could he not be affected by them?

They then focused on Krom. The handsome man looked nervous but tried hard not to let it show as much as possible. He knew that all eyes were on him, which was why he chose a speechless posture, trying his hardest to control his emotions and hide how moved he was. But still, a grateful smile broke through and settled on his lips, eyes glossy.

"Even as an adult, my younger brother can still become emotional," Gerald remarked while looking at his brother. His tone sounded amused but he was completely serious. "He always acts tough but we all know what he is deep inside. That's why when he met all of you and formed deep friendships, Mother and I were glad."

"Gerald... that's embarrassing..." Krom muttered to his older brother, a light crease evident in between his brows.

Nonetheless, the man only smirked. "That's why I'm grateful that he met all of you. Thank you for celebrating his birthday with us."

Once again, the room was filled with light claps and a few comments here and there thrown to Krom. After a few minutes as silence ensued, the cake was lit and everyone sang the birthday boy a happy birthday. [Y/n] witnessed everything unfold — from the music playing to the candles lighting up on the cake to Krom's expression of pure happiness. Just seeing the man's handsome smile was enough to make her heart skip a beat, and she felt her heartstrings tug in her chest at the beautiful display that she saw unfolding before her eyes.

The girl's eyes softened, a permanent smile plastered on her lips.

"Happy birthday, Krom... I wish you all the best."

#fanfiction #alternate universe #fanfic #oneshot #one shot #reader insert #x reader #fluff #drabble #female reader #moments in archive #loh #lord of heroes

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