#The COLORS to PERFECTION I am frothing at the mouth | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

prolix-yuy · 1 year ago

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IT'S TIME CEE! I'VE BEEN SAVING THIS FOREVER AND I'M FINALLY HERE!

Not three minutes in and do I Spy a little Tommy matchmaking attempt yet again? For shame! (never stop Tommy!)

slowly colouring in the Joel-shaped space in your head.

the sexiest coloring book ever!

Ahhh Cee I love Joel and Ellie interacting immediately, their relationship is such a strong part of the series and you captured it so well here!

The only unrealistic part of this setup is that no one has already leapt on Joel the moment he stopped snarling and frothing at the mouth. Ugh. Yes please!

You’re wearing the jeans he asked you to. Something primal swells in the cavity of his chest, between his ribs - a pride that is distinctly male.

Yeahhhh Joel you let that lizard brain get moving

With a shrug, he jokes, ‘It’s ok, I’m a bit broken all over.’

THE FLIRTING CEE AAAAAAAAA I'm already hot and bothered and we're barely started!

pointing straight at you with all the subtlety of a flying brick

hehehe Ellie is the perfect lil shit, I love her.

ROLLED UP SLEEVES ROLLED UP SLEEVES SOAPY WATER LETS GOOOOOO

NO NOT THE CAKE! My poor heart can't take both a Joel lecture and a cake mishap!

His lips twitch wryly. ‘What a waste of perfectly good cream cheese.’

LICK IT OFF HER YOU COWARD

JUST KIDDING HE ALREADY WANTS TO YEAHHHHHH BABY

‘You can have my shirt,’ he offers.

He’s not sucking in his tummy.

‘What’s that, sweetheart? This contractor look doin’ somethin’ for you?’

(sorry Cee, I've lost all brain power beyond GIFs now)

Aww, Pin giving Ellie a chance to earn her jacket made me all warm and happy inside, I love their interactions already!

‘Wait - what’s that white stuff on your leg?’ ‘It’s cream cheese, you little shit!’ Joel snaps as your ears burn in embarrassment. ‘Out!’

Ellie you little scamp!

For a man as hardened as Joel Miller, he sure kisses soft.

‘Had some trouble with the cake,’ you answer vaguely. ‘Sure,’ she winks at you, unconvinced. ‘If we’re calling him that.’

I mean, I'd call Joel a piece of cake too, even though he's just got that lil pancake booty!

This was absolutely delightful Cee, I want to be there eating cake and getting my frosting licked (ew, that got weird). I am running to the next part because I need to know what comes next! Thank you for sharing them again, I adore you!

III ║ Edgestitch

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Part II: Threads | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: M

Summary: You wear those jeans for Joel when you see him again at the baby shower at Tommy and Maria's - like he asked you to.

Warnings: Spicy thoughts but not explicit, sexual tension, sexual innuendos, flirting, mention of food and drink, some language, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 7k

Notes: It's here! This one was a long and winding road as I mentioned in Behind the Seams, I'm so relieved and excited when it all finally clicked and fell into place! I'm absolutely blown away by the love you guys have shown Joel and Pin so far, thank you, there's no greater motivation for a writer ❤️ I hope you guys enjoy the chapter!

‘Damnit, Lucy,’ you mutter under your breath, this close to stamping your foot and pouting at the door that refuses to lock up.

Lucy may be your best friend, but you’re not blind to the fact that she literally cannot be trusted to get anything done around the shop. It’s been two weeks since she promised to get the locksmith to come in, but here you are on Friday evening, wrestling with the key that refuses to turn the last quarter of an inch in the faulty lock.

‘Hey, Pin!’

Glancing over your shoulder, you force a wane smile at Tommy, who has his hands full with a cardboard box at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Need some help?’

‘Yes, please,’ you reply sheepishly.

You nod at the bottles of wine that clink delicately against one another as he sets them down. ‘Getting ready for the party on Sunday?’

Tommy steps up to the door and wriggles the key left and right experimentally. ‘Yeah, you comin’, right?’

‘Yes, with Lucy.’

‘Good, the more the merrier!’ He makes a face at the door lock, which is not cooperating with him either. ‘You should get someone to look at it. Probably time for a new one.’

‘Lucy was supposed to get Andrew to fix it, but you know Luce.’

Tommy yanks the door knob backwards hard as he twists the key. There’s a grunt of metal, and a triumphant aha! when it finally turns, the internal mechanisms of the lock sliding into place with a satisfying click.

You nearly fall onto your knees in relief. ‘Thank you so much, Tommy. You’re a lifesaver.’

He grins and deposits the key in your waiting palm. ‘You can ask Joel for help, you know. He’s handy with this kind of stuff.’

You blink, blindsided by the seemingly random mention of his brother - but his dimpled smile tells you otherwise.

His brother, who was so solid and broad under you on the studio floor, just a few days ago. His brother, who you can still feel pressed between your thighs, in your bed in the dead of night. His brother, who has taken up residence in your mind, waking or otherwise, since he sauntered out of your shop with that infuriatingly attractive confidence when he asked you to to wear those jeans for him again on Sunday.

Joel has existed solely and safely in the parameters of your workspace for the past fortnight and a half, with only Lucy bearing witness to whatever it is between the two of you. Having to suddenly deal with any mention of him outside of it, especially with that knowing arch of Tommy’s eyebrow, has you completely flustered. It doesn’t help that his eyes are uncannily like Joel’s, a gorgeous deep brown, expressive and sharp, though the mischief sits a lot closer to the surface in the former’s.

Mercifully, your brain unscrambles long enough for you to reach the conclusion that of course, Joel must have told Tommy that he invited you and Lucy. It’s their party, after all. Surely, he doesn’t know anything else -

Or does he?

You’ve been quiet for too long to say anything about it now, so you clumsily change the subject, stumbling over your words. ‘I, uh - I was just wondering what I could bring on Sunday?’

Tommy graciously lets you off the hook. ‘We’re a bit short on sweets, actually, if you bake.’

You latch on to that gratefully. ‘I do - what kind of cake were you thinking?’

‘Do you make a carrot cake?’

You perk up. ‘It’s my favourite!’

He flashes you a cheeky grin. ‘What a funny coincidence, it’s Joel’s as well - the only way to get carrots in him.’

Your pulse spikes with adrenaline at the unexpected tidbit Tommy drops in your lap, and you greedily squirrel that little fact away, slowly colouring in the Joel-shaped space in your head.

With a wink, Tommy bends down to pick up the wine. ‘See you in a couple of days, Pin!’

At least you have the decency to wait until he turns the corner - once he does, you sprint across the road to the Jackson Grocer’s and clear out their stock of carrots for the day.

There are many things about Jackson that throw Joel.

The plentitude after years of rations. The safety, which comes off more jarring than comforting.

But most of all, it’s the sounds. The kettle on the boil and the pop of the toaster in the morning when Ellie gets ready for school. Friendly chatter on the high street. Laughter. It still makes him jump when he hears playful shrieks in the neighbourhood playground, blood rushing in his ears and sending him halfway across the house for his rifle before he remembers where he is.

Where he is not.

It was always loud in the QZ. Loudspeakers blaring, alarms wailing, the indistinct hum of conversation and radio through paper thin walls in the slums at all hours of the day. And he was always listening - for danger, for trouble, and everything in between.

And then all that noise had blown up, literally, with the State House. With Tess.

Joel finds it hard to remember those first few days after leaving Boston behind. Mostly the raw cuts on his knuckles that wouldn’t heal and the ring in his right ear from the explosion, lingering like a pesky fly.

But he knows it was Ellie who broke that silence first. And once that door was kicked down -

‘Fuck no, dude!’

His face snaps up and he scowls across the lawn, the stern reprimand rolling off his tongue like second nature. ‘Ellie!’

She’s sitting with her friends, crowded around her most prized possession of the moment, a boombox she found in the thrift shop a couple of months ago and begged him to buy and fix up for her.

Not that she needed to do much begging, he caved far too easily. It plays a bit wonky - the bass too heavy - still, it does the trick.

The teenagers around her cower immediately, but she defiantly stands her ground. ‘What?’

‘Watch your language,’ he barks, no real bite behind it.

She rolls her eyes so hard her head falls back, and he has to press his lips together to not smile.

It helps him sleep better at night seeing Ellie fit right in - at least one of them has. She doesn’t hate going to school half as much as she pretends to, the routine of homework and chores anchoring her to small town life. She’s even volunteered to help out at the farm, spending most afternoons in the stables with the horses.

There are times when he wonders to which extent all this is a coping mechanism. But well, at least she’s coping.

And while Joel still hasn’t made up his mind about Jackson, its townsfolk seem to have unilaterally made theirs up about him. The wary whispers and watchful stares have given way to cautious gestures of acknowledgement, some even bold enough to throw a good morning in his general direction as he walks down the street.

They nod at him now as they file into the garden party, still keeping their distance, but not as much as he would’ve liked.

The expectant parents have gone all out for the occasion. Several tables are lined up end to end in the middle of the garden, filling up with potluck dishes as guests arrive. Tommy lords over the barbeque, the brisket having been smoking since dawn, with chicken, bacon and homemade sausages sizzling on the grill. Maria is in her element, flitting from well wisher to well wisher with a protective hand over her rounded belly, making sure everyone has a drink and a loaded plate in hand.

Joel hovers in no man’s land, dodging the crowds and sipping on beer that has long gone flat, trying to remember the last time he celebrated anything.

Well, he supposes dinner parties at Bill and Frank’s count, as far and few in between as they were. Not that they ever celebrated anything specific, per se - they didn’t need a reason beyond the fact that they were all still alive and kicking. Bill, bless his soul, did make a mean roast, and Frank used to host with enough flair for forty instead of four. Tess had a black dress she stowed away at the back of her closet for these parties, and a red one that she saved for the really special occasions -

A strong hand on his back jolts him forward and out of his thoughts, spilling lukewarm beer over his fingers.

‘Havin’ a good time, brother?’ asks Tommy jovially, cheeks stretched with joy.

‘I was just now,’ he grunts pointedly.

Tommy grins. ‘Lighten up, man. Get drunk, be merry! You’re gonna be an uncle.’

‘Don’t try to butter me up. I ain’t babysittin’ for you.’

Thumping his chest in mock hurt, he asks, ‘What about all those times I babysat Sarah, man?’

Joel gives him a long-suffering side stare. ‘Please. You used to hire that college chick ‘cross the street to babysit whenever you were supposed to. Then you’d hit on her all night long.’

Tommy chuckles. ‘Damn, your mind’s in better shape than I give you credit for, old man.’

He can’t help a smile. ‘But for all your devious plans to get into her babysitter’s pants, Sarah did love her Uncle Tommy.’

He goes quiet for a beat and takes a sip of his beer, his eyes softening. ‘I think about that girl every single day, y’know.’

Joel nods, staring into his own beer, and it suddenly strikes him that he’s missed the shape of her name on his lips. ‘I know.’

Tommy nudges him on the shoulder. ‘I can only hope my kid will love their Uncle Joel just as much.’

Eventually, he harrumphs, ‘If they do - I’ll think about the babysittin’.’

Tommy chortles just as the backdoor to the porch swings open with a loud creak.

Joel spots you easily, trailing one step behind Lucy. You’re holding onto a cake on a round wooden board like a security blanket, shoulders tense and eyes wide at the noise of the festivities. Spotting Maria, Lucy bounds down the stairs, leaving you hesitating at the landing, and -

You’re wearing the jeans he asked you to.

Something primal swells in the cavity of his chest, between his ribs - a pride that is distinctly male.

Tommy shouts, ‘Pin! Over here!’

Joel shifts on his feet, swallowing thickly as you approach. If your shy smile is anything to go by, he’s not the only one feeling the nerves.

His brother gives you a careful hug around the cake and plants a kiss on your cheek. When he steps aside, Joel hesitates, uneasy with having an audience, his palms suddenly clammy with indecision.

Does he… hug you? He can count on three fingers who he’s hugged for the past twenty years, and he’s sorely out of practice. A kiss is an option, but the way his eyes dart to your mouth, it’s dangerous even entertaining that thought -

Tommy elbows him in the ribs and puts him out of his misery. ‘Why don’t you kids catch up, I think the brisket’s burnin’. Have fun tonight!’

Joel can feel the tip of his ears turning red as he stands there with his drink, one hand shoved in his back pocket, not knowing how to do this. How to entertain. Clearing his throat, he stammers, ‘Uh - can I get you a drink or somethin’?’

You give him a small smile, lips moving in an answer too quiet to reach him over the music. Rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, he admits, ‘Sorry, I can’t hear you. I’m uh - a bit deaf in my right ear.’

You look apologetic, speaking up, ‘I’m sorry - I didn’t know.’

With a shrug, he jokes, ‘It’s ok, I’m a bit broken all over.’

You pinch your lips, and he recoginses that face - he knows that you want to disagree with him. But you hold your tongue, skirting around him to his good ear, and he stoops to close the distance, even though he doesn’t need to.

Your breath brushes his ear. ‘I’d love a drink, but I want to put this cake away first.’

‘Yes, of course - sorry, don’t know where my manners went.’ He puts his unfinished beer away and takes the cake from you despite your protests. The potluck table is packed to the brim, so he gestures towards the house. ‘It might have to go into the kitchen for now.’

You follow him, side by side with one polite body width between you, past bands of neighbours and friends catching up, the fairy lights catching your eyes and the well-kept lawn crunching beneath your soles. Unsurprisingly, you feel the weight of curious stares on your back as you go - Joel is still very much a novelty around town. Neither of you speak until he holds open the backdoor for you to slip inside.

It’s quiet in the kitchen, the muted conversation outside a low hum through the double-glazed windows. The free-standing island is already chock full of all kinds of baked goods and pudding, and Joel has to move an actual jelly castle (which wriggles precariously) to free up space for your contribution.

Dusting his hands, Joel turns to you. ‘That carrot cake?’

You nod, keeping mum.

‘It’s my favourite.’

‘I know - Tommy told me,’ you confess with a bashful half-shrug.

His warm eyes crinkle at the corners. ‘Talkin’ about me behind my back, sweetheart?’

Your breath quickens at the sweetheart, and you wonder if the thrill of the nickname will ever wear thin. Emboldened, you tilt your head to one side and tease, ‘Why? You like the attention?’

A smirk on his lips, he steps into your space, the very proximity of him stealing the air from your lungs. ‘I might if you’re not careful.’

And there you are again - with nothing more than a dozen words exchanged and even more unsaid - on the brink of something, right where you left off on the workshop floor.

‘Wanna grab a bite to eat?’

Tucked away in an intimate corner of the back porch in a wicker chair, Joel surveys the party with a seriousness that is borderline comical.

The strategist in him clearly favours the higher ground the porch affords him so he can keep an eye on everyone and spot whoever approaches from a distance. His seat is an easy three steps to the door, an escape plan in his back pocket. For all his stillness, the intensity is unmistakable, if slightly out of place in a baby shower.

Two dirty plates licked clean are stacked on the coffee table between you, piled high with bones and leftover gravy, the delicious food sitting warm in your stomach.

‘They’re comin’ closer,’ Joel complains, taking a long gulp of his beer.

‘I guess they figure if I’m talking to you, it means that you don’t actually bite,’ you quip.

‘Will they back off if I make you cry?’

Your shoulders quake with a chuckle. ‘I think you’re too much of a gentleman to do that, Joel Miller.’

You’re taken aback by the flash of heat in his answering glance, as if there’s something he wants to say. But then, he changes his mind and leans back in his chair, one palm resting on his spread thighs, and he nods towards a couple standing close to the barbeque.

‘Who’s that over there? He lives on my street.’

‘That’s Andrew. He owns the only hot tub in Jackson.’

Joel splutters, ‘A hot tub?’

‘To be fair, it came with his house, but he managed to connect it to the water a few months ago.’

He snorts. ‘Not very communist of him to divert public resources for a private hot tub.’

‘Let’s just say Jackson is a commune with American characteristics,’ you say diplomatically.

He arches an eyebrow at you. ‘A cynic, sweetheart?’

You reply matter-of-factly, ‘We all know how communism ended.’

Fuck. He takes a swig of his beer and swallows hard. A woman after his own heart.

‘You want to keep him on your good side though. He’s really handy with electrics and the like.’

He shrugs. ‘So am I.’

You turn to him, surprised. ‘Oh?’

‘I was a contractor in another life.’

He notices your attention flicker to his hands, before you catch yourself and look away bashfully. ‘That’s good to know.’

‘You need things fixed?’ he asks, and promptly wants to kick himself for sounding so hopeful to be of service.

‘Here and there,’ you say with a dismissive wave. ‘It’s not important. It’ll hold up.’

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip thoughtfully. You have to work on asking for things, but it’s ok - he doesn’t push you. He files that away for later.

Glancing across the yard, he catches Ellie’s eye, who’s arching an inquisitive eyebrow and pointing straight at you with all the subtlety of a flying brick. He knows he should probably introduce you at some point, but he’s not ready to share your attention with someone else just yet, let alone the nosy teenage loudmouth.

Joel gives her a firm shake of the head, to which she responds with a disgruntled I’m watching you gesture.

Ignoring her for now - and knowing that he’ll pay for it later - he asks you, ‘And who’s that in the red dress?’

You crane your neck until you spot her. ‘Ah, that’s Patricia. She’s the dance teacher down at the school.’

‘Why’s she starin’ at me?’ he mutters.

You shoot him an amused grin. ‘Why, it looks like you’ve caught the fancy of our local femme fatale.’

He scoffs. ‘Should I be worried?’

‘Well, she’s been married and divorced three times since she arrived,’ you answer with a straight face. ‘The last one just disappeared. Never found his body.’

Joel stares at you in stunned silence, until you let out a poorly contained giggle. He grumbles, ‘Havin’ fun pullin’ my leg, sweetheart?’

‘Just a bit,’ you tease.

‘I liked you better when you were shy,’ he ribs.

You shrug. ‘Too late. You don’t scare me anymore.’

Glancing the other way, Joel sits up in alarm at the flutter of crimson fabric. ‘Shit, I think she’s comin’ this way.’

‘Time for carrot cake?’ you prompt.

He’s out of his chair quicker than you’d expect his knees would allow him to. ‘Let’s go, sweetheart.’

The state of the kitchen island stops you in your tracks, while Joel lets out a low whistle behind you. ‘Jackson really turned out for this party, huh?’

‘Well, your brother and sister-in-law are pretty popular around town,’ you quip.

You didn’t think it was possible, but every square inch of the kitchen island is now jam-packed with sugary confections, stacked on top of one another.

‘I can’t even find the bloody cake,’ you laugh, literally searching high and low as you skirt the parameter.

On the other side of the island, Joel tosses a dry good luck in your direction and puts the dirty plates and cutlery that he brought in into the sink with a clatter, turning on the hot water. You stutter to a stop opposite him, gawking at how his broad shoulders fill the frame of the window that sits in front of the sink, before your gaze inadvertently trails south - over the nip of his waist and the hem of his shirt skirting the back pockets of his jeans. You find yourself wishing he’d tucked the tails in.

Rooted to the spot, you watch him unbutton the cuffs on his flannel shirt and push up the sleeves to the crease of his elbows, baring his strong forearms. Your mouth goes dry despite the wine you’ve been sipping on all evening, peering at the sinewy muscles flexing and straining as he lathers the plates with an offhand familiarity, his thick fingers dwarfing the sponge in as he works the grease stains.

Making quick but thorough work of the washing up, Joel dries the plates and then runs the tea towel over his big hands and wrists, catching you staring as he turns around. If he knows you’ve been watching all along, he lets it slide. Tossing the towel to one side, heat prickles under your cheeks when he sidles up to you with the clean plates.

The sight of this man doing something as mundane as dishes really shouldn’t get you this hot and bothered.

‘Is that cream cheese?’ he asks conversationally with a nod at your cake, which you have found sitting on top of a tall plastic caddy, a chocolate cake inside.

Having to consciously unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, you’re surprised your voice doesn’t shake. ‘It’s not carrot cake without it.’

‘Where did you get the cream cheese? Never seen any ‘round town.’

Almost bashful, you admit, ‘I made it.’

His eyebrows shoot up. ‘You made cream cheese? How?’

‘It’s not that big a deal. It’s just milk, lemon and salt,’ you say, trying to downplay it. Your arms are definitely not aching from the hours of straining and beating and whipping.

‘And the walnuts?’ he asks.

‘Someone I know grows it,’ you say vaguely.

Joel hums doubtfully. ‘Ain’t seen any walnut trees in town.’

Biting your bottom lip, you can pinpoint the exact moment he figures it out, brows drawing together in a frown. ‘The only ones I’ve seen are outside the walls, ‘round the north side of the gates.’

Knowing for a fact that you’re a terrible liar, you don’t even try. You choose to ignore him, idly smoothing the frosting on top with a clean knife, trying not to flinch at the weight of his gaze on you.

‘Sweetheart, please tell me you didn’t go outside just to get walnuts for me.’

‘Not for you,’ you shoot back unconvincingly, flustered. ‘I made the cake for Tommy and Maria.’

Lies. You know it. He knows it.

His shoulders stiffen, the fabric of his shirt bunching with the movement. ‘You can’t just go outside like that, y’know, there could be infected ‘round -’

‘Joel, I’ve been living here for years, I know what I’m doing,’ you argue huffily, not expecting a lecture, of all things. ‘I’m not stupid.’

He shakes his head. ‘Ain’t what I’m sayin’, Pin -’

‘Just leave it, ok?’ you reply sharply and, signalling an end to the conversation, you slice into the cake with an aggressive stab - not noticing that it is hanging over the edge of the caddy below.

You squeak when it flips unceremoniously, and on pure impulse, you pitch forward to stop its upward trajectory, meeting it mid-air with an ominous splat.

‘Fuck!’

To his credit, Joel barely skips a beat, quickly but calmly grabbing hold of the cake board and pulling it off you, setting it down on the counter, while you gape in dismay at the damage done.

The side of the cake that made contact with you is smushed in, most of the thick frosting now painted all over your front, from your neck down to the lovely, thin cashmere top that Lucy picked out for you for the party.

You really hope there’s a big guy up there watching, because someone might as well enjoy this mortifying brand of comedy you keep dishing out around this man.

Two seconds more, and you’re pretty sure you would’ve burst into tears for lack of knowing what else to do - but without another word, Joel takes the lead, wrapping a firm hand around your wrist and pulling you out of the kitchen.

You gratefully let him.

It’s none of your business really, but it comforts you that Joel’s obviously here often enough to know his way around the house.

You glance around the dimly lit room where he deposited you on the edge of a neatly made bed, water trickling in the adjoining ensuite. When he returns, he has a small, wet towel in his hands. Towering over you, the low lights don’t quite reach his face, but you can see the way his gaze slips downwards, carefully, as if he’s afraid to startle you.

But he doesn’t - not even when he slides the crook of his fingers under your chin, tilting your face up and opening up your throat.

His lips twitch wryly. ‘What a waste of perfectly good cream cheese.’

Despite yourself, a laugh escapes you at the absurdity of the situation. ‘Must something always go wrong whenever we’re in the same room?’

The corner of his mouth teases a smile. ‘Never a dull moment with you, sweetheart.’

You smile back, but it falters when his eyes burn in a quiet but unmistakable smoulder.

‘May I?’

You’re not even sure what he’s asking. But he can ask you anything in that raspy, low baritone, and there will always only be one answer.

At your nod, Joel drags the tip of his index finger down the column of your neck, and your lips part when it glides over your windpipe - pressing just hard enough for you to feel the pressure - collecting the velvety frosting as it goes.

Then, holding your eyes, he sucks the cream cheese off his fingertip, a hum deep in his throat. ‘Delicious, sweetheart.’

You’re sitting down, but somehow, you still feel your knees give way at how he smacks his lips at the sugary aftertaste.

He looms closer, bending at the waist and for one moment of madness, you think he might lean down and lick your neck clean.

At the prospect of those plush lips and the burn of his silvered, patchy beard on your skin, your head tilts further back invitingly. His pupils dilate and his nostrils flare, like he’s picking up on what you’re thinking, and his eyes dip to your mouth.

But he doesn’t.

You don’t even have time to be disappointed before Joel carefully gets down on one knee in front of you, one palm landing on the mattress next to your hip for balance. Knowing the state of his joints, you want to ask if he needs a pillow, but instead of your mouth, it’s your thighs that part to make room for him. His chest keeps them splayed open, and you can feel the steady rise and fall of his ribcage with each breath through the denim.

You try to focus on your own breathing as Joel presses the wet towel to your skin and mops up the sticky mess, his face set seriously as he cleans you up inch by inch. But all you can think about is how you can feel the imprint of his fingers through the thin fabric, and how the span of his hand can easily fit over the column of your throat -

You don’t realise you’re leaning into him until he draws back when he’s done, and you tip forward, chasing his touch. His knee groans as he stands up to his full height, and he nods towards the bathroom with a wait here in his eyes.

The water is scalding as Joel washes out the frosting from the towel, but he keeps his hands under the tap, longer than he needs to. Wringing it dry, he takes a moment, wet palms gripping the cold porcelain edge of the bathroom sink, shoulders hunched over as he tells himself to calm the fuck down.

Except, he is calm. He’s held back, even when you looked at him with such straightforward, honest want that has him grinding his teeth.

Thing is, he knows you would’ve let him nudge you backwards into the mattress and crowd you between his arms, switching places the two of you were in under your sewing desk in the workshop.

He knows you would’ve let him wrap your legs around his hips, sliding his palms up the back of your thighs in those skin tight jeans - the sight of which is enough to make his head spin - and he knows you would’ve let him nip, suck, lick the tangy buttercream off your very neck.

Not only would you have let him - you would’ve trusted him to do all those things to you.

That last realisation awakens something he’s not so sure he has a handle on. But he knows for a fact that with the whole of Jackson milling about downstairs, in the middle of his brother’s baby shower, is neither the place nor the time.

You’re where he left you when he steps back into the bedroom, your palms planted on the bed, your shoulders relaxed. The neckline of your blouse gapes loosely, teasing the soft skin of your cleavage.

Joel breaks the loaded silence with a bit of common sense. ‘You best get that top off and soak it in the bath before the stains really set in, sweetheart.’

You bite your lip hesitantly. ‘I - I don’t have anything to change into.’

‘You can have my shirt,’ he offers.

You sit up, attention piqued, when his hands move to the top of his flannel, thick fingers sliding each button out of the holes one by one. You know he’s just taking off his shirt, but you can’t help the way your jaw goes slack, watching shamelessly, the comforter twisting in your grip as you scrabble for something to hold onto.

Joel doesn’t understand why you’re looking at him like that, but it’s so flattering to watch you watch him, eyes hooded and your tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip, like he’s giving you a fucking strip tease or something.

Goddamn if it doesn’t go straight to his head.

A white undervest comes into view, inch by inch, as the shirt falls open, the thin fabric pulled taut at the seams over the broad stretch of his chest. When the last button is undone, he shrugs the shirt off with a smooth roll of his arms, and your jaw drops.

The undervest barely contains the bulk of him, and you’ll be damned if you know where to look first - the lean, solid line of his arms, or the effortless ripple of muscle in his shoulders - but it’s lower where your attention makes landing, and it takes you a second to realise why.

He’s not sucking in his tummy.

The swell of his abdomen sits above the top of his jeans, where the vest is neatly tucked in. You remember too well the brush of that soft strip of skin against the back of your hands when you were on your knees, cutting him out of his jeans; and then beneath you, straddling him under the sewing table.

While there’s an undercurrent of self-consciousness in the way he holds himself, conspicuously missing is the self-deprecation that drew your ire the day he walked into your shop with a broken zipper. A tentative confidence has taken its place, which is at the same time so endearingly vulnerable, as if your reaction to the little show he gave you just now isn’t enough to assure him of what you’re thinking.

Your fingers twitch, yearning to reach out and tug him in by the front of his jeans, to untuck that vest and push it up and off. You want to snake your hands around his waist, hold him to you by the small of his back, and starting with his tummy, kiss your way across the soft belly - maybe with a cheeky scrape of teeth - up to his firm chest, his strong neck and to his lips.

Or maybe, the calling southwards will win out. You’ll push him back to make room for yourself at his feet, nudging your way down his front with your nose, breathe him in, your hands finding his belt buckle and tugging it out of the loops instead. Never mind you've lost count of how many years it's been since you've wanted to do that, or if you remember how at all -

‘Pin.’

Your whole body jolts backwards when his voice pierces through your addled haze, low and raspy, snapping out of your sordid stupor almost grumpily - how rude of him to interrupt? - only to find him peering down at you with a lopsided smile.

‘Get changed, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.’

Leaving your top to soak in the sink, you pad back into the bedroom in just your bra, and you stare down at his shirt laid out neatly on top of the bed.

You press your palm over where his heart would be, the flannel still warm. For one indulgent moment, you pick up the shirt and hug it to you. It smells like him - the outdoors, a crisp spring day, with a whiff of the barbeque smoke from downstairs. You bury your nose into the soft fabric, eyes closed, imagining the weight and shape of him in it.

Even as you put your arms through the sleeves to button it up, you already know it will be hard giving it back. You leave the last three buttons undone and you’ve just tied up the too-long ends in a double knot when there’s a polite but firm knock on the door.

‘You decent?’

‘Yes.’

You hope your face doesn’t fall too obviously at the sight of Joel wearing a shirt again, probably one borrowed from Tommy. He leaves it unbuttoned though, which is small consolation. The air hums between you with stolen glances and words unsaid.

‘You wore those jeans for me,’ he says suddenly.

The for me rolls off his tongue coated in his delectable Southern drawl and a heady satisfaction.

You decide to be brave and shrug one shoulder in a show of attitude. ‘It was the only thing I didn’t have in the wash.’

His grin makes your heart swell. Stepping out of the open doorway, his eyes trailing heat where they linger over you, he says, ‘You look good in my shirt, sweetheart. Real good.’

You bite your lower lip at the compliment, replying shyly, ‘I like this look on you too.’

‘Used to be Tommy’s uniform during our contractor days,’ he reminiscences. ‘I’m just missing the utility belt.’

Oh. You actually find it offensive that the fleeting mention of something as banal as a utility belt should get you going like this. You try to palm off a non-committal hum, but your body betrays you with a strangled choking sound that gives you away.

Joel arches an eyebrow and closes the gap between you with three long, deliberate steps, one finger skimming where his shirt meets the waistband of your jeans. He teases with a smirk, ‘What’s that, sweetheart? This contractor look doin’ somethin’ for you?’

Your cheeks grow hot as both his palms latch boldly onto your hips, and you swear you can feel the burn of his fingertips through the denim, a moan gargling in your throat as your ability to form words abandons you.

‘That a yes?’ he prompts, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops in your jeans and tugging your body flush against his, his stubbled chin brushing the sensitive crook of your neck as he speaks into your ear.

‘Joel,’ you whine, which is the best you can do right now, grabbing onto the open flaps of his shirt just to stay upright.

You feel the rumble that goes through his chest under your palms when he purrs, smiling down at you, head cocked to one side with a playful condescension that’s going to be the end of you. ‘Yes, Pin?’

Your mouth opens, but you’ll never get to find out what you intended to say, because you hear it first - his right ear is to the door - the thunder of rubber soles on the stairs, and you're lucky you manage to stumble two steps back before a deafening (no pun intended), drawn-out call of his name follows.

‘JOOOOOOELLLL!’

Ellie crashes into the doorway with all the grace of a bull in a china shop, slightly out of breath like she’s been running all over the place searching for him, already in the middle of a sentence, as usual.

‘- also Maria says they’re doing a speech now and you’re not getting out of -’ she breaks off abruptly when she spots you, eyes wide and brows - all one and a half of them - reaching for her hairline. ‘Oh shiiiiiit.’

Running a tired hand down his face, Joel’s sigh sounds a lot like surrender. ‘Ellie, this is Pin. Pin, I’m sorry.’

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh at the resignation in his tone as the teenager wrinkles her nose. ‘Pin? That’s a weird name.’

‘Ellie!’

You smile. ‘It’s ok. Pin's just my nickname. I’m a seamstress at the Main Street Outfitters.’

Her face lights up excitedly, an open book if you’ve ever seen one. ‘No shit! I’ve been bugging Joel for a leather jacket for ages. Can I get one?’

‘Please,’ he interjects.

Ellie tucks in her chin and juts out her bottom lip at you. ‘Please?’

You demur. ‘Well, it depends on what you can trade in for it.’

‘My boombox!’ she volunteers without skipping a beat.

Joel scoffs. ‘Good to know those three weeks fixing that piece of junk for you was time well spent.'

‘Sorry, man, but I can’t wear a boombox can I?’ she argues.

Giving Joel an amused look, you come to his rescue. ‘I’m sorry, Ellie, but we only take clothes in exchange.’ At the way she deflates, you counteroffer, ‘Or, you can come work at the shop on Saturdays for the next couple of months. Lucy always needs help out front, and you get a staff discount.’

He turns to you, protesting, ‘That’s very kind, but it ain’t necessary -’

Ellie cuts in, rushing up to you to shake your hand before you can take it back. ‘Deal! When can I start?’

‘There’s no rush,’ you reply with a chuckle. ‘I’ll get back to you next week.’

Stepping back, Ellie winks, ‘So - let’s put a pin in it for now?’

Joel groans at the terrible pun. ‘Get outta here!’

She cackles, firing triumphant finger guns at you as she retreats. ‘What? Pin liked it, she laughed! You’re no fun old man!’

She then pauses by the door, her eyes narrowing as she zeroes in on something smeared on your jeans. ‘Wait - what’s that white stuff on your leg?’

‘It’s cream cheese, you little shit!’ Joel snaps as your ears burn in embarrassment. ‘Out!’

She scampers out of sight, but then reverses into view, sneakers squeaking. ‘ - Are you wearing Joel’s shirt?’

‘ELLIE!’

She throws her hands up. ‘Alright, I’m gone, I’m gone! See ya Pin!’

Joel is the very picture of an embarrassed dad, rubbing the back of his neck with a wince. ‘Sorry, she’s a handful.’

You grin, ‘She’s just a teenager.’

‘You can say that again.’

The quiet seems louder after Ellie, and you restlessly pick at the sleeves. Lifting your eyes shyly, it seems the moment has passed - but Joel has other ideas.

‘C’mere,’ he hums, drawing you close again with one hand on your waist, peering down at you through his lashes. ‘This ok?’

At your nod, he brushes his thumb on your bottom lip, catching the soft plump skin, and your tongue darts out to taste him, his eyes darkening.

‘Can I kiss you, sweetheart?’ he asks, voice hoarse.

It’s been years. Years since anyone has cared enough to kiss you, let alone cared enough to ask if they could. And it’s as if he knows - you don’t know if you’ve somehow given it away, or maybe it’s just him.

‘Yes, Joel.’

He coaxes you closer so that you’re pressed along the whole length of him. His big palms are warm and solid on the small of your back, holding you to him like he intends for you to have trouble standing after he’s done with you.

The tip of his nose bumps into your cheek, nudging its way across and down, and your eyes slide shut when his shaky exhale grazes your gently parted mouth. Your breath hitches at the sweet burn of his beard on your jaw, fingers grabbing onto the scruff of his neck when he finally, finally brushes his lips against yours.

For a man as hardened as Joel Miller, he sure kisses soft. He steals a whimper straight from your throat with nothing more than the clever angling of his lips, the slow drag of tongue on tongue, and a growl deep in his windpipe that you answer with your own moan.

You don’t even have the presence of mind to be embarrassed when your shins knock into his, breaking the kiss with a laugh as Joel hauls you up into his chest, looking very much pleased that he’s literally made your knees buckle.

‘Sorry,’ you squeak, beaming despite yourself.

‘You really know how to flatter a guy, sweetheart,’ he answers, his voice warming you like a smokey campfire, steadying by his hands on your hips.

‘We should probably go before Ellie comes back for us,’ you say reluctantly.

Joel huffs, ‘Ain’t gonna hear the end of it if she does.’

‘Something tells me you won’t be hearing the end of it tonight anyway,’ you tease.

He chucks you gently under the chin, his eyes soft. ‘Let’s go, sweetheart.’

‘You’ve made yourself scarce,’ remarks Lucy as she ambles up to you with a glass of wine running low. ‘Where you been, hon?’

‘Had some trouble with the cake,’ you answer vaguely.

‘Sure,’ she winks at you, unconvinced. ‘If we’re calling him that.’

Right on cue, Joel strides across the lawn with three plates to join you. ‘Thought you might want some of Pin’s carrot cake.’

‘Such a gentleman, Joel Miller,’ chirps Lucy, making what can only be described as a 'thirst face' at you when his back is turned to her.

‘Thanks, Joel,’ you smile at him, letting your fingers graze his deliberately when you take the plate from him.

Saluting you with a forkful of cake, he says, ‘Thank you for bakin’, sweetheart.’

You watch as his lips close around the fork, dragging the cake clean off the slots, cream cheese smearing the corner of his mouth. He frowns, as if in deep pain as he chews, Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows.

‘Okay?’ you ask nervously, your slice still untouched.

‘Perfect,’ he declares, already having a second, bigger bite. Knowing he doesn’t have a superfluous bone in his body, your chest warms at his words.

‘Wait a second,’ Lucy interrupts, bringing up her plate to inspect it closely. ‘Why does the cake look all wonky?’

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about, Luce,’ you answer coolly, taking a bite yourself.

Humming around a mouthful of moist crumb, the sweet carrot balanced out by the tangy frosting, you meet Joel’s eyes in the soft glow of fairy lights, and he flashes you a conspiratorial smile that makes you grin.

More notes: On Ellie - I was so so nervous about writing our resident teenage badass. I hope I've done her justice, I certainly had a lot of fun writing her introduction to Pin! If you're interested in a detailed deep dive into my process writing this chapter, I do recommend you read the Behind the Seams for this part ❤️

I also went back and forth on the tone and style of this chapter a lot. I wasn’t happy with the way it read, probably still not 100% happy. I like the way Seams and Threads were written better, but the fact is that this chapter is a very different setting and narrative compared to the first two, so I’m trying to be too hard on myself.

So, I have some ideas for where the story will go from here, but nothing concrete. As I've mentioned, I see this fic as more of a loose-fit series, so there's no overarching plot per se, but there's definitely a lot of room for future episodes of these two - I mean, they haven't even done the deed yet 😉

Comments, asks and reblogs are greatly appreciated as always! Thank you so much for reading, I'm so excited to hear what you guys thought of this chapter 😘

#prolix fic rec #fuckyeahdindjarin #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader

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merakiui · 3 years ago

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I dont fully remember who made it into a text post but:

His jawline??? HIS SILOUETTE?? I-🥴

Also, Pirate!Dottore makes me feel things. 😳He should get a really unique eyepatch that stands out against Beidou's and Kaeya's!!! And the idea of implementing his color scheme of the blue suit to the pirate uniform???

I am frothing at the mouth, help

-🔑

- - -

HE IS SO HOT AND FOR WHAT???? 😳😳 PERFECT JAWLINE!! PERFECT SILHOUETTE!!! HE HAS MONEY AND POWER AND INFLUENCE AND I THINK THAT’S VERY NEAT OF HIM! IN CONCLUSION HE IS MY BELOVED!!!

Pirate!Dottore… 😩 HELP I’M SIMPING!!! I think it would be very epic of him to lose some layers for his pirate uniform. *lip bite* just for fun teehee ;)

#submission #hypersimpdrifter #🔑 anon #PLEASE I CAN’T HELP BUT SIMP #have you SEEN the fanarts of him without his mask??? 👀#for anyone who read through my simpery #forgive me orz #anyways dottore is on the mind for today #i will not stop thinking about him

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austinbutlerr · 2 years ago

Note

you are very valid for not fucking with the black hair (to each their own but he looks waaay too washed it with it outside of his elvis role imo.) hear me out though…austin as a BRUNETTE? like some pics of him with his current dirty blond hair have me wanting to see him as a brunette and i am frothing at the mouth. like the pics of him with his tex watson color + his current hair style hnngngngng

Washed, thank you, a perfect word. My thoughts exactly. I see what you mean, it's just the black that looks unnatural on him.

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sugarakis-p2 · 3 years ago

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High stakes and blood ch8

Master Kai offers a deal to Rebel without Shiggy present. Master Kai really tries to show her his human side which is hard because he was barely human before.

A nice little SFW transition to NSFW chapter to come.

Warning: Blood drinking, violence, and bad words

Chapter 7

Chapter 8: Behind the curtain

Master Kai watches as Rebel puts the frigid girl named Eri, in front of her on the horse.

Rebel doesn't bother to ride her favorite horse, Pepper, with a saddle or reins. She encourages the girl to hold on tight to the nag's mane. Rebel shouts and spurs the horse into a run. The horse never looked happier. It recognized Rebel and gave her endless kisses. It frothed and chomped to be running with Rebel again. The other named Salt is trotting behind them with a saddle.

Rebel shouted as the wind blew her hair loose. The slit in her dress flying open, her dress gathers above her waist, and bellows like crashing waves behind them. It's a perfect view of her red silk panties and lovely round ass. He doesn't doubt for a second that the Count put her in those panties, red being a color that warms a vampire's blood. He looks over to Kronos to confirm, and yes, even he is watching Rebel while sporting wood. Master Kai has never seen her so feral.

"Kronos, be sure her mate just happens to choose the observation bedroom. Intercept Rebel and have her brought to me before she sees her mate," He orders. Bringing his opera glasses back up, he admires Rebel's determination to help the child. The ass is nice, but those legs are the real prize, in his opinion. He's sure Cain knew this and put her in the dress for that reason. Several slaves enter and set up another tea set for Rebel. It perturbed him that she didn't eat in front of him. He kept many of the same staff, which would have pleased them to see that she is fed. It didn't have anything to do with the fact he liked watching that lovely neck swallow. Cain was a bad influence if these ideas were corrupting his mind. There is a clatter as one of the servants drops Rebel's teacup. The boy is swift to pick up the pieces.

"You," he points to the young boy and beckons to him. The boy starts silently weeping as he stands in front of Master Kai. He sets aside his glasses and his mask. Quick when he grabs the boy and tears open the flesh of his neck with his teeth. Greedily drinking, digging his fingers in to open more of the artery. The head tumbles to the ground with an adorable bounce. When he's contented, the staff rush to clean him up and remove the body.

"No, leave it," he says. If Rebel likes savagery, he will play along.

Rebel didn't like being cut from the herd and forced to meet Master Kai alone. The little girl Eri is adorable and waved bye to her. Stiff terrified little thing, she can relate, being around Master Kai, it was best to be unseen. Rebel wanted to disappear when she saw a dead boy at his feet. She swallows audibly and has a seat.

"May I speak, Master?" She asks sheepishly.

"Of course, Rebel," He waves his hand in a way she only saw was meant for special people. Rebel is confused and has been confused since coming here. She's not modest in the sense of the word. She knows she's great, but why was Master Kai treating her with respect? He has always called her Mabel May, always refused to believe he didn't already own her. He more than once told her she was only good for her blood. She points to the boy on the floor.

"Master, I am curious why you did this?" she asks politely. This was out of character for him. He was always so stringently sanitary even when he fed. He would always use a needle on her. Refusing to sully himself with her flesh in his mouth.

"He broke your favorite cup," He said simply. Rebel had no idea she had a favorite cup.

"I see. So, you did this for me?" Rebel asks. He then did one of the most spine-tingling things she had ever witnessed. Stepping over the corpse, he sat closer to her, within arm's reach. Rebel has had nightmares that start like this. He notices but continues in a calm manner.

"Of course. In truth, I never bothered to remember such things. Still, many of the staff remember you fondly, and several of them are seniors now. Many of them love you like their own. When they heard you were going to be here, they took out all the little things they had made for you or made themselves for you. This entire tea set was customized and made by hand from Mother Martha for you. You would only drink from the blue horse or the purple rabbit. The purple rabbit was your favorite because you said it was 'you.' So, I was told. Mother Martha has passed, and that fool broke your purple rabbit. If I hadn't punished him, it would have put them in an awkward position of either paying the price or punish him themselves. Speaking of which, the head chef caught wind and is making a feast for you and your mate."

Rebel nods; she is remembering now. Mother Martha would not have wanted the boy killed over a teacup, and neither does she.

"Cain reported that you liked such displays of savagery. I believe his exact words," Master Kai reaches into his coat and pulls out a letter. "So, aroused by the death of Magec Rebel sucked him off most of the night expertly like a skilled whore." He watches her closely for her reaction. Rebel shrugs. She knows this would be something the Count would say, if for no other reason than to make Master Kai cringe. She will have a nasty talk with the Count about this. He starts to make a cup of tea for her. Master Kai wants to see her eat and drink now.

"It has occurred to me that I remember very little about you. You were clever enough to never attract my attention; however, you clearly learned something if you could get the control ring off. I'm very impressed and surprised. I watched you ride and didn't know you were such a wild child. I was sure that you were chaste, much like myself. What has changed? I want to know what has changed so much that you refuse to come back," he asks as he pushes the blue cup with a horse on it in front of her. Fucking vampires, she thinks. After a while, they start to miss the human mark.

Master Kai's eyes linger on her throat as it drinks the tea. The beautiful movements are searing in his mind. They are watching each other. She gives him a show and then places the cup down gently.

"I was chaste because you held a gold value to it. I was hoping to sell myself back if things ever got dire. I never wanted to be here, so I never wanted to come back. Master, please forgive me if I am stepping out of line. I am getting a feeling you are trying to seduce me," Rebel says. She wanted to get the hell out of here. Master Kai is behaving stranger than expected to her.

"I am, in a way. I don't engage in physical pleasure the way you do with your mate. I assumed Cain offered you a deal. The man is selfishly foolish, but he is excellent at discovering what people want and then exploiting it. I will offer you double of whatever you want in exchange you be available for the assignation of members of the Order," he says matter of fact. This is a deal. A deal with one of the worst creatures she ever had the misfortune to come across. One of the richest and offering anything. She's highly torn as she giggles. Master Kai raises an eyebrow at her.

"I'm sorry, Master. I must not have eaten enough because I am still confused," she starts.

"Then please eat. Those servants are there just so they can report to the kitchen staff you ate. I'm not going to tell you what to feel, but they would be ecstatic if you made a show of enjoying it," he interrupts. He leans over and makes her another cup of tea. He must have made an effort to learn how she likes it. Master Kai makes a great cup of tea. Rebel loved the human staff, but she didn't think she made that big of an impression. She does make a big show of eating the cookies and some of the petites.

"Oh, these are so good. We don't have these at the hive," She moans with sincerity. The staff appears visibly pleased. Master Kai looks like he's about ready to drool around his mask.

"I am very pleased we were able to make an agreement. However, I had no idea what Cain offered you, but if I know him, Cain offered you all of him and an escape from your current situation. I figured it was sexual in nature, and I want you to know that I'm a far better choice if that is what you're looking for. I am capable of being whatever you need," he says, leaning forward and brushes a strand of her hair back. His light touch is causing a flare of anger. Rebel hates monsters.

"I remember you once called me a stupid blood bag. Once you decided you didn't like my birthmark. Another time you said my breasts were not perky enough. They have not gotten better now that I've been corrupted. You have only ever called me Mabel May. You know how I feel about the Order. I've never killed anything. You're not interested in having sex with me. So, I'm still left wondering why I'm suddenly special," she exclaims.

"It should have been clear I thought of you more than just a blood bag. Aside from the fact I invested a considerable amount of money into your training. You survived the surrounding forest. Survived a week as you ran through it. Avoided becoming in debt to me again. Avoided Cain's deals, which I know wasn't easy. Became the mate of possibly one of the most dangerous creatures on the planet and tamed him enough to not be ripped apart. I believe you are a capable person. Perhaps the only person capable of getting close enough to the knights that need to be removed. Cured by you. I'm sure Cain only wanted you to be his personal fuck toy, and if that is what you desire, I can give you that," he says coldly.

"I'm curious why everyone assumes I don't want to be with my mate?"

"You've tried to run away three times."

"That was before I had Hana. Everyone keeps remembering the negative."

"I've met his Master; I believe you will find my views by far more altruistic when it comes to the Order. If you wish to remain with your mate, I would prefer it. I am offering the world on the platter, and all you must do is become a part of the Chisaki family. Do a few jobs, assassinate a few diseased individuals, then choose whichever position you desire. Do you like the little girl? Be her mother, the carrot could work as well on an experiment," he tells her, making another cup of tea and piling different treats she hadn't tried yet.

"Can I think about it? Does this offer have a time limit?"

"I'm immortal but impatient. Discuss it with your mate if you wish and meet back in a week," he says, trying to get her to eat from his hand. A thing she has never seen him do. Rebel's old training kicks in. She leans forward and opens her mouth for him like a good obedient specimen. Oh gods , she is petrified of those hands, his glove brushes her bottom lip, and she winces. Unlike Shiggy, it only takes one finger to turn a person into a fine red mist. She was relieved when there wasn't the horrific pain that comes with being overhauled. She chews and swallows.

"Those gloves? Is there a way I can get a set for Shigaraki until the metal is made?"

"They will have to be custom made and only temporarily suppress a magic quirk. We can always work something out," He says as Kai pops something else in her mouth. She smiles at him lost in thought. A thing Kai has never seen her do and doesn't trust it.

"I see you have some scars. If you wish it, I can make you flawless again," he offers. Rebel jerks from him and clasps her hand protectively over Shigaraki's mark as she makes an excuse.

"No! I need this mark to go back to the hive." Shit. Master Kai has always been bad at seduction. He was better at specific recruitment. He's starting to wonder if he should have gotten Chronos to help. "About those gloves? What can I do to get a pair?"

The Count is pacing and fretting as Shigaraki curls in a giant fluffy nest filled with stuffed animals and pillows. He's quickly drifting to sleep almost against his will. The Count comes over to kick the nest and wake him up.

"Dammit! Wake up! Rebel should have been back by now. Aren't you worried about your mate? You should fucking be! She could be selling us to Kai right now! He could have Chronos or Rappa fucking her for all we know."

"I'm right here," Chronos says.

"Jason fucking Christ! I didn't see you; you blend in with the background! Creepy little lurker. What is this room anyway? It's a dreadful sky-blue color. Is it some boy's nursery?"

"No it was mistresses Rebel's room. We had it refitted for her and her mate, hence the nest and blacked-out windows. The human staff filled it will all the items they had kept as a memento of her. We're in the tower overlooking the front entrance. We had Rebel wail for help and lure in delicious victims," Chronos chuckles at the fond memories. Rebel was good at it too.

"She likes purple too. You could have been more original than this. No wonder she ran away," he jealously snorts at chronos. He's pissed he never thought of that. Chronos laughs.

"I'll keep that in mind for when she moves back in," Chronos mutters. The Count turns and nudges Shigaraki's slumbering form.

"See, that right there is why you should be awake and helping me, dammit," he hisses at the creature wrapped around a stuffed griffin.

"My Rebel only fucks to strengthen the hive or to manipulate. She mates with me because she loves it, so I'm not threatened by any small dicked parasites. Besides, her family is at the hive. Do you really see her fucking over her family in some way," Shigaraki says drowsily before drifting to sleep.

"Keep telling yourself that to you fucking primitive beast." The Count shouts at the sleeping form. Shigaraki spreads a wing that knocks the Count back and out of the nest. Huffing and pointing at Shigaraki, he gets in Chrono's masked face. "Why is he like this? What did you do to him? Or give him?"

"Nothing. He's an honored guest, unlike you. He's probably just tired of all your yapping," Chronos chortles. The Master wanted the Mothman well-rested, so Chronos did give him a little poke for encouragement.

"Like I believe a word you say. That giant mirror taking up half the wall is suspicious. I know all about the Master's perversions so, what is that for?" He accuses, pointing to the very ornate mirror.

"Master Kai had that commissioned for Rebel when she was fourteen as a birthday present. Her uncle made it. You can inspect it if you want, there is nothing behind it but the wall. And a little drawing of master Kai being eaten by a giant cat. Rebel was very witty with her imagination." The Count does inspect it, and it is as Chronos says. There is nothing but a wall and a faded image of Master Kai looking like a bird with cross-eyes ripped apart by a gorgeous purple cat with blue stripes and spots.

"She went a bit excessive on the blood. Take me to Rebel now," The Count insists.

"I don't take orders from you anymore. But I don't see the harm. Follow me." Chronos begins to lead the way when Rappa enters, carrying Rebel and setting her on her feet gently. She gives him a friendly pat on the arm and thanks him. She likes Rappa because he doesn't suck Master Kai's dick like most of his vampire underlings. He is extraordinarily delusional and easy for her to manipulate. Rebel was never able to escape under his watch, but the efforts helped her memorize the forest. Rappa never reported them because in his mind, she only ever got lost, and he loved her cheering him on as he beat to death any creature that tried to eat her.

"Oh, good, you're both here," she says wearily, looking from The Count to Shiggy. "One of you needs to help me out of this dress. I don't know why the seamstresses put the clasps in the back.

"Fuck off," The Count hisses at Chronos as they both move to help. "Where are your shoes?"

Rebel shuffles over to the wardrobe and starts pulling out sensible clothes usually reserved for men. The Count cringes inside.

"I don't know, I took them off to ride Pepper, and I don't know where they are. I need to go into the black forest and kill a Black Annis. Fuck, this jerkin isn't going to fit. Chronos, can I get another one?" Chronos leaves to get her more clothes. While the Count looms.

"You're going to what, what now?"

"Kill a Black Annis. It's like a nocturnal witch with steel claws. It's killed two of the last batch of children, and only Eri is left. Left here all alone because of that thing. It has to be hunted during daylight, so I'm going to go and kill the bitch," She mutters. Looking over at Shiggy with envy. He looks much like a sweet fluffy moth from his back when he's sleeping. Rebel always melts a little at the sight. That looks nice right about now.

"The fuck you will. The three of us need to talk, but that can wait. This insanity must be dealt with first. You are not killing anything alone. I love you too much to let you kill yourself in such a stupid way. Take Shigaraki with you," He growls. She looks at him with sad eyes.

"I care about you too. But you fucked with my family, and you have to pay for that," Rebel says. The Count looks deeply touched regardless of the menacing threat. "I know you love me, the only person other than my brothers and sisters to give me a hug that wasn't perverse. Well, until I got older, at least, degenerate. Never once got a hug from my parents. No, Shiggy is nocturnal, and I'm not talking to him right now."

"Why because of the Order of the light thing? He has an excellent reason for that, and you should hear him out before you reject him and it," he says in his most reasonable voice, holding back the bile threatening to gag him. It makes his flesh crawl at the idea of helping Shigaraki with Rebel. Rebel eyes him with suspicion and then burst out laughing.

"You must be one desperate son of a bitch to try to convince me to snuggle up to that monster. He wants to kill the only thing keeping you fucking monsters at bay so he can enslave us and use the land as his personal play box. Nope, there is nothing you two could say to convince me that's a good thing. I was trained by Stain, I can totally kill this thing, and he's asleep." The Count cups her cheeks and makes her look up at him.

"I deeply regret not being able to teach you thoroughly about some of these creatures. Mothmen are nocturnal, but it won't kill them. You need to use a silver spear coated with basilisk venom to kill a Black Annis. Did you know that?"

"Yeah," she says, batting his hands away. Rebel had no clue, and she is awful with a spear. Stain trained her on knives and the bow. "Fine, I'll take Shiggy, but I'm not fucking talking to him. I could give two shits about his reasons." The Count is inwardly relieved. For him to remain valid to Shigaraki, he needs to play interrupter.

"I'm sure that will be acceptable. Your mate is not a big talker. I'm positive this job was really meant for him anyway. I highly doubt the Master meant this job just for you. It would be so unlike him to risk his investment like this. It's a two-person job. The stronger distracts and takes all the brunt of the danger while the other stabs the Black Annis. What did the Master offer you?" Rebel sighs as she laces her boots.

"Makes sense. Master Kai got me all enthralled with the idea of being equal. A part of me actually thought this was my chance to prove myself. Asshole has a real way of doing that. Also, a pair of quirk magic-resistant gloves for Shiggy. Fuck that. Why should I take a risk like this by myself? I'm human and I want to live, dammit."

"Why would being treated as an equal be so important to you. I thought you just wanted to be a Mommy," The Count leans down to help her with the laces. He notices she didn't really answer his question. It's probably for the best since they might be watched somehow. With an indignant look Rebel blusters at him.

"Are men always stupid and dense? I would tell you, but I don't see the point if you haven't figured it out yet. You're married to the Countess, and you still can't figure it out? Make yourself useful, and make sure to use that silver tongue of yours to convince him to take me along. I can't convince him of shit most of the time. Typical male," she sneers at him. He prickles at this. He made a considerable effort to knowing things, particularly in the art of seducing, so how was he missing something so important?

Chronos comes in with a jerkin, and she is all honey with him. Thanking him and asking him to use his powers on her and Shigaraki. Which he gladly does, all love back for her, he noticed. The second his hair poked Shigaraki, the Mothman was up and threatening to kill them in his own language, in a series of clicking and growls. Shigaraki looked gruesome and fierce, with his wings spread wide and effervescent. The Count intervened using his language skills.

"Don't kill the help or the messenger, for that matter. Rebel wants to go in the forest and kill a Black Annis for a pair of magic resistant gloves for you," he says quickly.

"Tell her absolutely not," Shigaraki snarls.

"I did, and Rebel pointed out she's the only human that knows this forest," He lies. But it felt it might be true.

"Tell her I will just bind my hands while sleeping."

"Come on, this is will only make your argument stronger against the Order. You're lucky that's all she wants to do instead of talking. She doesn't want to do this without you or with anyone else," The Count shudders inwardly at this. This is his real torture. The rage eases out of Shigaraki as he looks at Rebel, who is scowling at him. He scratches at his ruff and chirps at her.

"Really?"

"Basically. If you don't go with her, she will go by herself while you sleep. You know how women are. They never listen to anything," The Count says. He suddenly realizes something, and it's distracting from his current task. Shigaraki nods in agreement.

"Very well, but if anything happens to her, I'm taking it out on you for not talking her out of it," he rasps.

"Then fuck it. Let's order the staff to keep her locked in this tower," The Count says immediately. Shigaraki is already snuggling, and cooing at Rebel about this was such a good idea. Rebel looks at him with a slight smile.

"Get her a silver spear with basilisk venom," he orders Chronos, who bows and goes to retrieve the item.

What have I done, the Count wonders as he lectures the two about safety.

Chapter 9

#moth shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #boku no hero academia tomura #mothman shigaraki #my hero academia shigaraki #motharaki #mha shigaraki #boku no hero academia shigaraki #tomura shigaraki #tomura shiragaki #shiggy #vampirism #alternate universe fantasy #alternate au #alternate reality #mothura

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og-doeiika · 7 months ago

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SCREAMING, FROTHING AT THE MOUTH, EATING THE PANELS LIKE THEY'RE CHIPS

I love this so much,, MICAH'S FACE its so perfect. He looks so truly flabbergasted. In the deep color of his pupils... Is the spark of love.... And Virgil is just. "what the fuck" 🤣 Arthur pinching his eyebrows together is so 👌👌👌👌👌👌

I am stunned. This is going straight into my archives, the photo vault of treasured gift art🥹 HHHH thank you so much

the world fanart :3

this fanfic is literally the best thing ever 😼

this is like a really exaggerated version of the scene and i no kidding was thinking about it all morning 😼😼

#the world fanart #rdr2 #gift art #SCREAMS

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waytoomuchfanfiction · 4 years ago

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Nothing Less(or how I met the Pirate King)

Author: Leoporidae_Lagomorpha

Fandom: One Piece

Details: 2k | PG13 | Complete | Roronoa Zoro x Monkey D Luffy

Summary: Because before the Pirate King and the World's Greatest Swordsman there were two lost boys in East Blue. How people grow and promises change.

(Zoro finds the color of his devotion.)

Link

Readers Overall: HOLY DEAR GOD HOW AM I JUST NOW READING THIS? asdfhgjgkfhd. Guys. Read it. Just. Ignore anything you thought you knew about 2nd person PoV and friggen read this. LITERALLY everything I need and love and cherish about ZoLu, right here. This fic made me go fucken feral okay? Like I am basically frothing at the mouth. I need to read it 17 more times because its so short and so perfect. I wrote 58k just to say what this author did in 2k and im just.... dead.

#one piece #One Piece Fanfiction #opfics #ZoLu #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x monkey d luffy #monkey d luffy #fic rec #fanfiction

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mrskurono · 3 years ago

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He’s hot even at ugly angles, I’m fucking screaming because it’s TRUE 😂 Like, the anime definitely did him a little dirty on the character design which just sours me on Gojo all the more because I know damn well who got 70% of the budget devoted to their bland ass and it definitely was not the man who deserved it the most. But … I’m hoping they get their shit together and distribute the animation a little more fairly in the movie + season 2. Because Suguru is definitely NOT ugly by any stretch of the imagination. Like you said, he’s just more normal/plain looking in comparison, and anyone who equates that with being unattractive can meet me behind the nearest Waffle House.

Tbh I’m feeling some type of way about this conversation because I’m honestly the same in that I tend to be most attracted to plain or “ugly” characters, which ofc screws me over when I go searching for x reader content 🥲 Everyone’s creaming for the resident pretty boys and I’m over here like … but what about this one? Lmao

(My hands down fave in FF is Ogun and I?? Genuinely don’t think he looks all that different from the rest of the cast aside from the color of his skin which is a topic for another day but maaaaaan are the pickings slim and my life is eternal suffering)

And yessss!! Please tag me in any Senkuu content you create or shoot me a message when you post because I don’t want to miss it! 🙏😩 I wrote a few fics for him but reading my own work doesn’t hit the same as reading someone else’s and I am STARVED for x reader content of him!

Gege loves Gojo and it's so obvious. Even with the animation team anyone who's spent two seconds looking at Gege's other pieces knows that man is dick deep in Gojo at anytime and it shows 😩 RIP to literally liking any other character bc Gege really does love Gojo over the rest of them and my Kamo loving ass is never gonna get away from the Zenin or Gojo loving freaks v.v Why would you pick a walking used condom when literally anyone else is right there 😩

Fuck me too! I don't find "convenient" traits attractive so I'm always at a loss. Someone tried to argue with me Gojo is gorgeous bc he has pretty blue eyes. And I was like bitch I have blue eyes, I hate blue eyes. And light/blonde hair characters? God pls no. Gimme dark haired, dark or brown eyes and inconvenient traits like gauged lobes, toothy grins, wide mouths or large noses. That shit is so beautiful I don't wanna look at a blond haired, blue eyed fuck 😩

Ugh I love Ogun. Just his entire flamy ink power is *salivates* God he is perfect is so many ways and the lack of content for him is disheartening. Out of manga artists though Okubo does pretty decent with different features on people. It's always one thing I really appreciated about his work even though I was never a Soul Eater super fan (I mean I love Kurono and he is....not conveniently attractive but I do love him to pieces while everyone seems to think he's a one dimensional murderer 🙄)

I gotta get some more Dr Stone episodes down my gluttonous maw. So I can really get Senku's speech pattern in my head and his character down. But I'm frothing at the idea of slow burns, childhood friends and fluffy angst with this man. And probably a breeding kink but what else ya gonna do when you need to repopulate earth 👉👈

#gege favors gojo like that bitch is his self insert i just know it #as for Okubo's work #i would die for that man and most of the fire force cast #kurono is my ugly pool noodle of a husband though 👉👈#babyybitchhh.♡#three.talks

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thedumbguywithaheart43 · 3 years ago

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A spark of hope

chapter 11 conflict begins.

1. In canterlot a green unicorn with black hair leaned against a statue. It was a quiet night in the Royal gardens. The only things that could be heard were the chirping of crickets and the slurping of a soda.

2. The green unicorn then half hazardly threw the can onto the ground."So how should I fuck with the world today?"The unicorn crossed this hooves and thought.

3. Although despite thinking as hard as he could nothing came to mind. The unicorn lifted his hoof and Trace the circle opening a pitch black portal.

4."oh well I'm sure something will come up to make things more interesting. I better get back to my own world otherwise Twilight is going to kill me. Well my Twilight will."

5. It was at this point he realized he's talking to himself. He then shrugged and walked in the portal.

6. With him gone the gardens were once again empty. All that laid on the ground was a single can next to the statue that held three terrifying figures. Cozy glow chrysalis and tirek.

7. But as the night went on can on the ground again to shake. The Earth itself started the tremble underneath the statue has a bit of bronze magic ripped through the crown engulfing the can.

8. The tin of the can melted down extending and twisting to the form of a snake. And then slithered up the statue up to the tallest part. And sunk its teeth into the stone.

9. The stone crumbled away as the three figures inside fell to the ground gasping for air. None of them able to speak for a moment as they stood to there hooves.

10 the snake then went to the front of them. It opened its Maw as a voice came out deep and dark and almost robotic with a hint of malice."welcome back to the world of the living."

11. The three of them all stared at the snake Chrysalis being the first one to speak up."wh-what are you? How could you break the stone casted by the elements!"she was baffled with Tirek an cozy glow nodding their heads in agreement.

12."who I am is not important for now what is important is revenge something you all know very well. Oh and before I forget there's one more I need."

13. The snake's eyes then glowed once more as it bit down on its own shadow. The shadows themselves pulling itself together into the form of a unicorn and Sombra was forced into existence. And fell down to the ground with a thud.

14."Perfect"summer then stood staring at the others before joining them not wanting to speak as the last time you saw them he was laughing thinking that he could take on the elements himself. Something that truly wounded his ego since he was dead for a while.

15."listen well my little villains the end of Equestria is upon us the time of the alicorns will erode and the era of the Titans shall once more be instated. I care little of what you do now work together go on your own but let me make this one thing clear."

16. The snake then raised its tail as it began to Glow with the bronze color. And pointed it right at cozy glow who never had a chance to speak. It's unclear of what truly happened all they know is that one second cozy glow was flying next to Chrysalis and the next she was frothing at the mouth on the ground twitching.

17."Only the Strong shall survive and the week will end up like her I have no need for a useless tiny little pony. Now go spread your misery and have your revenge. Just know that when I call on you you will answer or you will die because unlike all of you I have no qualms in killing."

18. Three stood there now looking at cozy glow. Even they felt uncomfortable with what just happened still what happened happened and they can't change that."so now what?"Chrysalis asked.

19. The other two looked at each other."I'm going to go have revenge."Sombra stated. Chrysalis just rolled her eyes."And how are you going to do that without ending up like last time."Sombra gave her a cruel smile."I had plenty of time to think while I was dead might as well take a page out of your book and mess with their hearts."

20. Chrysalis seemed rather interested before looking to Tirek."and how about you Tirek."The old demon looked puzzled."I must gather my strength for when this mysterious individual contacts us if he's truly planning to bring back the Titans I Don't want to Miss a thing."Chrysalis herself than nodded.

21."I myself shall work on recovering my strength as well if for no other reason then to finally end those miserable ponies."the three then pardon.

22. Leaving the dying Little pony to her fate.

#mlp fandom #writing #fanfic #comedy #dark

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yourfriendlyenby · 3 years ago

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appears

yes hi hello I saw ur classpecting hermits post and I have many thoughts,

1. voidrot mumbo is So Good like genuinely i feel people dont touch on the troll lore hiveswap gave us all that much so to see it has me frothing at the mouth

2. rainbow drinker Cleo is just so cool, Cleo gets to glow, as a treat OH AND with purpleblood joe they could have an agreement where joe from a moral stand point doesnt like killing but like feferi hes okay with doing it out of necessity and to help a friend (which in turn helps him but he doesnt like to think about it)

3. okay I'm going to seem like im just saying this bc yellow is impulses thing but goldblood impulse would honestly make more sense? mostly because he is a redstoner before builder and hes not the best at pvp (applicable bc indigobloods are known for strength over most other things) also as a nod to s8 his colors could be purple and yellow

3b. actually tbh the longer I think about it the more okay I am with him being an indigoblood actually but I still wanna throw my 2 cents out there

4. scar should be an oliveblood purely because certain bloods tend to have certain lusii and his lusii should be a big jellie also because I think it fits trickster personality :]

5. TEALBLOOD CUB Bro. tealblood cub thats so smart and Perfect I literally cannot explain how much i love that cub has Strong tagora vibes so it just Fits

okay anywyas sorry for just. dropping a shit ton of words on u I was hyperfixated on homestuck for like at least 4 years then hermitcraft for the last 2 so my brain just went crazy

Oh dang uhh

First of all thanks for sending me an ask since I don't usually have those XD I'll put a somewhat organized list of my thoughts and such

I added voidrot Mumbo not because I was going through Hiveswap lore but because I was going through Subgrubs and Snazzards since someone in the tags of my post told me about that, and as soon as I read that description I was like "oh Mumbo definitely sounds like someone who'd say 'I'm dying constantly all the time' not even as a troll just in general"

I added rainbow drinker Cleo because 1) rainbow drinkers are described as like vampires and vampires are undead, and so are zombies so yeah. 2) because yeah Cleo deserves to glow and drink blood as a treat. Idk too much about what you said about Joe so I'm just gonna nod and smile

Now with Impulse I'd have to agree a bit about how he'd be gold since that's sort of his color as well as being sort of tech-based, but 1) I tried using the gold color given when I was trying to draw characters and oh my gosh why is it like that I want to use it as sparingly as possible I need help in a good shade, 2) I wanted to reference the original fanart in my post and Impulse was an indigoblood there. Obviously there are better reasons but I'm not too far deep into Homestuck to know what they are

Olivebloods are stated to be more comfortable with things they are familiar with and are alarmed by new ideas. We never see this in Scar, he actively embraces changes to keep things fresh each season. And indigobloods are actually stated to be sporadic and change often, careless, and surprise friends often which are all things we see in Scar a LOT. And also they said that, and I quote, "being around a well-adjusted indigoblood is always a good time" which I mean like. Cmon. I can't say no to that. Although I will say the whole lusus thing might've swayed me a little but shhhhhhh we can make our own canon and I didn't have time to think of lusus and also they had a trend to just die a lot and I don't want that for Jellie soooo

I literally just based off tealblood Cub after the original fanart I have no idea what tealblood's deal is, so if anyone has an idea as to why tealblood Cub is good please let me know

Anyways, for putting up with my rambling, have a wip for something I'm doing for 413 :D

#asks

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carry-a-world · 4 years ago

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A Love For Me

“Sect Leader Jiang,” Jin Ling swallows hard, lingering by the door.

Jiang Cheng squints. Since when was Jin Ling ever that formal with him outside of inter-sect functions?

“What did you break?” he asks suspiciously.

“The other sect leaders think it’s time you married,” Jin Ling blurts at once, looking like he earnestly wishes he’s broken something instead.

Jiang Cheng’s blood pressure skyrockets. “Excuse me?” he barks out. “They think WHAT?!”

Jin Ling swallows hard, opens his mouth to repeat himself, and then clearly thinks better of it. “I’ll let..um.. you talk to them about it,” he mumbles, and high-tails it out of there.

Frothing at the mouth, Jiang Cheng stalks out after him to go find out what nonsense the sect leader council has brewed up this time. If they think they can just marry him off like that, he’s going to make a very clear case with Zidian that their bullshit will not be tolerated.

Him, married? Fat fucking chance.

The council made a very persuasive argument and Jiang Cheng finds himself turning to the worst person he knows for advice because yes, he’s that desperate.

“You should just do it to shut them up,” Wei WuXian declares.

“Who is it that told me my standards for women are too high and that I’d never find someone willing to marry me?” Jiang Cheng scowls.

Wei WuXian’s grin grows wider, as if Jiang Cheng has fallen right into his trap. “Precisely, so don’t marry a woman.”

Jiang Cheng’s jaw drops at the sheer audacity. Wei WuXian caught him so neatly he might as well be in a spirit trap.

“Y-you can’t possibly mean that.”

An infuriating head tilts to the side. “Why not?”

“Who would even want to marry me?” It’s not meant to come out as pitiful as it does.

Wei WuXian’s expression softens from mischief to concerned elder brother. Jiang Cheng is stupidly grateful to have him back.

“Actually, I know someone who would be a perfect match for you.”

“Wei WuXian, be serious.”

The hand wave he gets is not reassuring. “I am being serious. This person is in a similar situation to you, and we could kill two birds with one stone.”

Jiang Cheng has a horrible, awful feeling about this. “... who?”

Wei WuXian crooks a mischievous little smile. “Nie HuaiSang.”

For the second time in twenty-four hours, Jiang Cheng nearly chokes on his own spit.

“He’s trying to set you up with WHO?!” Jin Ling yelps, nearly tumbling straight into the lake.

Jiang Cheng catches him by the back of his robes before his nephew can take an unplanned swim. “I said the same thing,” he grumbles.

“But Sect Leader Nie is—” Jin Ling breaks off, like he doesn’t quite know how to describe him. That’s fair, no one really does.

“We’ve been friends for years,” Jiang Cheng admits. “We went to school together.”

Jin Ling looks vaguely ill. “But marrying him? After everything that happened?”

Nie HuaiSang drew back after the events of the temple. Whether it was to avoid Lan XiChen or to grieve, Jiang Cheng isn’t sure.

It’s still hard to believe that someone like Nie HuaiSang could do something like that. But then Jiang Cheng remembers all the demonic cultivators who fell at his hand and well… they aren’t the careless children they once were. He cannot afford to throw stones.

“Wei WuXian thinks it could be mutually beneficial,” Jiang Cheng snorts. “And I can handle him.”

He isn’t opposed, honestly. He’s always liked Nie HuaiSang, even if he encouraged Wei WuXian’s antics a bit too much.

Jiang Cheng could certainly think of worse people to spend the rest of his life with.

Jin Ling gives him a skeptical look. “If you’re sure.”

“Just you wait, they’ll be marrying you off next.”

“They wouldn’t dare!”

“So,” Nie HuaiSang says, looking out over the lake instead of at Jiang Cheng.

The fading light catches the lighter strands of his hair and colors him in green and gold. He’s beautiful. Jiang Cheng wonders why he never noticed before.

Perhaps it’s because for so many years, his life was nothing but pain and Jin Ling. Now, it also includes Wei WuXian and his irritating husband. Now, it has meaning.

“So,” Jiang Cheng echoes, cursing himself for being as awkward as he’s ever been.

Nie HuaiSang laughs and turns to look at him. “Is Sect Leader Jiang feeling bashful?”

“Don’t call me that,” Jiang Cheng grouches, his feet firmly planted as Nie HuaiSang takes a step towards him.

“Wei WuXian seems to think this is a good idea,” Nie HuaiSang muses, tilting his head to look up into Jiang Cheng’s face. “What do you think?”

“If I have to spend my life with someone, I’m okay if it’s you,” the admission is heavy on his tongue.

The promise of life-long companionship has grown heady despite his misgivings. Nie HuaiSang is nothing like Jiang Cheng’s mother, and Jiang Cheng is not Jiang FengMian.

“You’re so romantic,” Nie HuaiSang teases, tapping his fan against the front of Jiang Cheng’s robes.

“You thought I’d be romantic?” Jiang Cheng is utterly disbelieving.

Nie HuaiSang laughs, and Jiang Cheng thinks it might be the first time he’s heard that sound in years. It makes his chest feel tight.

“Not at all. That’s what I like about you, you’re honest.”

“Huh.”

“Jiang Cheng,” Nie HuaiSang is so close now that Jiang Cheng barely dares to move.

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you? To seal the deal?”

Jiang Cheng’s heart thrashes in his chest like a wild thing but he nods anyway. Nie HuaiSang leans in, his lips sweet at first but then as pushy as his personality. Behind them, the sun sinks into pinks and purples to rival the lotuses.

As far as marriages of convenience go, this one will do just fine.

#mdzs #the untamed #cql #Jiang Cheng #Jin Ling #Nie Huaisang #sangcheng #just a lil taste #and of course #wei wuxian #idk what the hell this is but take it #Kris hush #my writing

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oceanselevenism · 4 years ago

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If you're still doing them maybe number 12 with both the ocean's siblings and their partners?

hell yeah!! i’ve put it under the cut :)) it is Very Tangentially holiday-sweater-related but it is too long to not post now! hope you enjoy, and happy holidays :))

It’s the first Christmas they’ve spent together in... nearly a decade and a half, actually. The years had flown by, blurring into a mess of run-ins and arguments and you stay on your side, I’ll stay on mine, but hey, Danny can’t fault his sister for wanting to make up for lost time. No, he can’t fault her (after all, if she had been the one to fake her death, he’d probably have moved into her house for a week, just to make sure she didn’t do it again) but he can make fun of her, so that’s what he does. “Aw, you really did miss me,” he says when she gives him and Rusty perfunctory hugs on her way into his house (Lou just claps them both on the shoulder, and he’s not sure whether to feel snubbed or relieved). “I can’t believe my dear sister actually cares,” he tells her when she brings him a mug of cocoa, ingredients nabbed from some billionaire in Germany. “Pure family bonding for the whole family,” he remarks when she goes off on a drunken, expletive-filled tangent about the Met Gala’s security over a game of poker (they’ve given up on trying to enforce the no-cheating rule, and he’s pretty sure Lou takes the opportunity to peek at Debbie’s cards). But in all honesty, he can’t keep up the ribbing; it really is good to see her, even if she definitely gets along better with Rusty (she’s told him as much, and right to his face, too) and the third day ends in a bitter, wine-fueled not-argument about their mother and their father and they themselves. But on the fourth morning Danny gets up early (it’s five in the goddamn morning, why the fuck has Lou already left a note on the counter saying gone on a run) to make latkes, and when Debbie comes downstairs she scoops out a dollop of his favorite sour cream instead of her usual applesauce, so unless her latke preferences have done a complete 180 since the last time he’s seen her, they’ve forgiven each other.

She and Lou volunteer to go on a grocery run that evening, and Danny’s glad; he hasn’t had the chance to jump Rusty’s bones in, like, five days (turns out cleaning up for houseguests takes up way more time than anticipated) (hey, the only people they’ve had over in years have been the crew from the Benedict job, and he’s heard Reuben threaten to shit on Turk’s feet, they don’t need to clean up for them). And for a minute, as Rusty pins him up next to the to-be-composted bag that is currently overflowing with potato scraps, the only thought in his head is the usual why didn’t we do this sooner. But then Rusty pulls back-- “Rus,” Danny complains-- and he tilts his head in that We Need To Talk manner. Which would be hot, if not for the fact that Rusty probably wants to talk about Debbie.

“You’re good, right?”

“We were never on bad terms.”

“Liar.”

“Well, hostile terms, maybe,” Danny amends. “But never bad.”

Rusty shifts, adjusting his forearms so it’s more like they’re just two good pals having a conversation three inches from each others’ faces instead of two good pals about to do very unsanitary things in a kitchen, and says, “I think you’re putting too much water under the bridge.”

“What am I, a Dutch engineer?”

“You’re very funny.”

“I know I am. Now, are we gonna--”

The door opens. Danny swears. “We were gone for twenty minutes,” Debbie says. “Are you that desperate?” Danny regrets going for the open-concept first floor, and he regrets it even more as Rusty pushes himself off with an air of utmost nonchalance.

“Here,” Lou says, lobbing a ball of fabric at Rusty. Her aim is remarkable, and Danny almost asks if she ever played softball before deciding he likes his well-being more than teasing his sister’s motorcycle-riding, brass-knuckle-owning girlfriend. It’s fine; next to him, Rusty huffs an amused laugh at the unsaid comment anyway. “Happy Christmas Eve.”

Rusty unfolds the fabric to reveal a truly hideous (and possibly offensive) Christmas sweater. It’s got red sleeves, a green torso, and a large, colorful fruitcake emblazoned on the stomach. Above it, in red and yellow, is text that reads FRUIT CAKE. “I love it,” Rusty says, pressing his lips together in that way that says he’s trying his damndest not to laugh. “It’s perfect.”

Lou opens her coat to reveal her own sweater, hers saying Ho Ho Homo. “I thought the theme was appropriate.”

“And for you, dearest brother,” Debbie says, pulling an atrociously-colored wad of wool out of a paper bag and chucking it at him, “you get the best of both worlds.”

With a mounting sense of horror, he recalls the year that he insisted on putting teal and orange streamers across the house, because it’s Hanukkah and Christmas mixed! That was the last year their parents had lived in the same house; Danny used to joke that it had been the final nail in the coffin for their mother. He pinches an edge of the cloth between two fingers and lets the rest fall open. It’s a Miami Dolphins holiday sweater. A teal-and-orange, festively-patterned Miami Dolphins sweater. Oh, his Boston-bred father would be frothing at the mouth. “We’re in Canada,” Danny says, equal parts shocked and awed. “How the hell did you get this here so quick? We were supposed to be meeting in Quebec until three days ago--”

“Danny, please learn what priority shipping is,” Debbie says. “Now c’mon. Wear it.”

There’s no way he can back out of this. If he refuses, she’ll just play the I thought you were dead card. He’s never regretted a decision more.

He puts on the sweater. Rusty-- his partner, his right hand, the love of his life-- wolf-whistles.

“I’m divorcing you,” Danny announces.

“Don’t worry,” Lou says with a grin, and is that her phone oh fuck she’s got a picture-- “Debbie, take off your coat.”

With the air of someone who has suffered the weight of the world, Debbie shrugs off her jacket. She’s wearing a matching sweater, and the dolphin on this one has a lovingly-embroidered smiling mouth stitched into it. Danny tries very, very hard not to laugh. “Shut it,” Debbie warns him.

“Oh, I’m not saying a thing,” Danny replies.

“We actually did get groceries,” Lou says, turning back to the door, “so--”

“Lemme give you a hand,” Rusty says. “Let these two bask in the joy of their new sweaters.”

“Fuck off,” Danny and Debbie say in unison. Rusty grins, cheery as ever, and leaves Danny’s side to follow Lou out the door.

“Great gift,” Danny says. “I’ll be laughed at by Reuben for the rest of my days.”

Debbie snorts, walking into the kitchen and rooting around in his cabinets. “Well, actually he’d-- wait, please tell me you didn’t, like, have gross old people se--”

“Shut up, Deborah,” Danny replies, feeling his neck heat up. “I’m only two years older than you. And no.” He refrains from adding on a “not this time.”

“Thank God,” Debbie says, pulling a glass out of the cupboard. “Anyway. Reuben’s not gonna laugh at you, he’s just gonna talk about your embarrassing baby stories in whatever groupchat you people have.”

Danny wonders how his baby sister got to be cooler than him. It’s very distressing. “That’s worse.”

“Yep,” she says, putting the pitcher down and picking her now-full glass up. She leans on the wall across from him, sipping her water, and narrows her eyes at him. “Are we, y’know... good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Danny says. Besides the thirty years of vaguely pretending the other didn’t exist.

“I’m not gonna answer that,” Debbie says. “But... I’d just like to make sure. ‘Cause you’re the only not-completely-insufferable blood relation I have.”

Neither of them say anything for a moment; Danny picks at a loose teal thread, trying to think of how best to phrase the thoughts rattling around in his head. “I don’t hate you,” he finally says. “And I don’t dislike you, either. You’re a pretty good sister. And a great thief.”

“I know,” she replies. “I’m not gonna say it back, ‘cause then you’re gonna get an inflated ego.”

“Works for me,” Danny says, grinning a little.

“I guess it’s just... I mean, I let all the old resentment get in the way of, y’know. Having a decent relationship, personally or professionally.”

Danny nods. He’s still got the scar from the time they both went after the Ruby of the Isle; he’d won, but just barely, and only because he had Rusty and she hadn’t found Lou. But at the end of the day, neither of them have tried to kill the other, and they still did grow up together, playing in Atlantic City casinos and building sand castles under the boardwalk. “I think we’re too old for that now.”

“You’re the old one here,” Debbie replies, no bite in the remark.

“Only two years,” he reminds her. “But I did the same thing as you, letting petty grudges get in the way of family, and for that I’m sorry.”

“I am, too.”

“Thanks, Debs.” He frowns. “They’re taking a really long time to get the groceries, aren’t they?”

As if summoned, the door opens, and Rusty and Lou, each with a measly two bags in their hands, walk in. And Rusty has his phone in his hands. “Rus, I swear--”

“Too late,” Rusty grins, as the shutter sound rings out through the living room. “That outfit has already been immortalized.”

“Have I already said I’m divorcing you? I’m divorcing you.”

“Does it count as fratricide if he’s your brother-in-law?” Debbie asks.

“Disproportionate reactions,” Rusty accuses. “Besides, I’ve already sent it to Linus.”

Danny’s eyes widen. “Not Linus.”

“You heard me.”

His phone vibrates in his pocket. It’s a text from Linus Caldwell himself, consisting of a single thumbs-up emoji and two grinning cats. “You’re all terrible people. Terrible, terrible people.”

(the sweater rusty is wearing is real) (as is lou’s) (and the ocean siblings’)

#oceans 11 #oceans 8 #danny ocean #debbie ocean #rusty ryan #danny x rusty #debbie x lou #lou miller #my writing

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booklover41802 · 4 years ago

Note

Ok can I ask for another Jurdan prompt it’s post Wicked king it’s been several months since Jude was banished and she’s physically healthy again. Vivi decides Jude needs a girls night and forces her into a sexy revealing outfit, Jude gets drugged while Vivi’s distracted but Cardan rescues her before she gets hurt. And it has a happy ending. I love your angst but I want to see your Jurdan happy ending.

Of course! This was really fun to write, and to explore Cardan’s soft side :)

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Jude

Sitting on the couch in Vivi’s apartment made Jude wonder why mortals ever bothered to do anything. A fish stick dangled out of her mouth, while she swung her legs over the side of the plain colored couch, contemplating life. Her mind had withered and decayed while in the mortal world, wit and strategy a non-essential thing.

She shoved the fish stick in her mouth, swinging her legs and forth, her head resting against the cushions. As she took a bite, Vivi bounced in from the kitchen, a wild glint in her golden eyes, her hands hidden behind her back. When she stopped in front of Jude, Vivi’s lips downturned at the sight of Jude with a fish stick in her mouth. “You’ll choke if you swallow that bite sitting down.”

“I am perfectly content to lie like this while I finish this decadent meal,” Jude said around the food in her mouth. She swallowed, trying to prove her point, but ended up choking. She coughed, ejecting the fish stick from her mouth. Studiously avoiding Vivi’s gaze, Jude discreetly cleared her throat.

“I told you that was going to happen, Jude.”

Jude waved her off and sat up. “Mistakes are the only decisions I seem to be making these days. What’s one more? I have expectations to fulfill, I can’t disappoint myself by doing something good.”

Vivi’s ears twitched as a wicked grin curved her lips, showing off her unnaturally white teeth. “I think I have a solution to your depressing outlook on life.” From behind her back, she pulled out a lacy red body-suit, a black leather mini skirt, and dangerously high black heels. She threw them at Jude. “Put these on, we’re out to a club.”

Jude abandoned the half-eaten fish stick on the table and wrinkled her nose at the clothing. Carefully picking up the body-suit like it was a bomb, she looked at it, then Vivi, and back to the outfit. “You want me to… wear this?”

A mysterious light filled her eyes at Jude’s words. “Of course. How else will you find someone if you wear the clothes you have on,” Vivi motioned to Jude’s wrinkled pajamas. “I have your best interests at heart! It’s time to have some fun, Jude. Cardan is not coming for you.”

Jude winced at her words, knowing she was right, but a small bit of hope was still wrapped tightly around her heart. Of course, Cardan wouldn’t pardon her, but what if he did? What if he still loved her as fiercely as she loved him? What if what if what if. “Only time will tell.”

Taking a deep breath, Vivi took a seat beside her, readying her emotions for the heartbreak she was about to give Jude. “It’s been three months, Jude. You’ve heard nothing from Faerie, and I doubt you ever will. The Fae are not a loving folk. Love is rare to find, especially with a King. Cardan may have loved you at one time, but at this point, it’s better to let go than to hang onto something that will never happen. Cardan is my friend, but you’re my sister-”

Jude raised a hand to stop her from continuing, knowing she was right. The hope that Cardan would show up on their doorstep deflated, but didn’t truly go away. There was one thing that kept it alive. One tiny little detail that Vivi was unaware of. “But what if-”

“Jude-”

“Whatever, I’ll just put it on,” Jude said, trying to hold back tears. Why now? Why had the grief hit her months after being away? Was it the realization that she had something to fight for? That she wasn’t just something that Cardan could throw away, that she was the Queen?

She rose from the couch, outfit in hand, and stalked away to her bedroom to put it on. As she strode towards her room, she angrily wiped away tears, hating Cardan for making her feel this way.

Jude softly shut the door, bracing her hands against the frame, wondering just what she was getting herself into. Her head fell to her chest as she counted her breaths, trying, and failing to calm herself. One breath in, one breath out.

When she had calmed herself enough, she padded over to the mirror up against the wall. Her clothes fell to the floor with barely a sound. She studied herself in the mirror, noting how she had lost weight in her time spent away from Faerie, her gaunt cheekbones protruding ever so slightly. “What have I become,” Jude breathed. “Who have I turned into?” Perhaps it was time to stop clinging to the past as if her life depended on it.

Mind made up, Jude slid the silky lace bodysuit on, shimmied into the leather skirt, and shoved her feet into the ridiculous heels. As an extra precaution, she slipped the rowan berries over her head. When she gazed back into the mirror, she hardly recognized herself. After all, this wasn’t an outfit typically worn by the Queen of Faerie. It was perfect for a night like tonight.

She strutted out the door with a flounce to her steps where Vivi waited beside the door. Vivi donned a steel gray dress with little ruffles at the bottom that clung to her figure in all the best possible ways. Around her neck was a single golden chain that held a circle with the letter H on it. Her wrists were cluttered with chunky bracelets, on her ears dangling all sorts of earrings.

“Jude… you look incredible!” Vivi exclaimed, her hands coming up to cover her mouth in awe.

Jude frowned as she looked down at what she wore. “It’s different from what I’m used to. There’s no place to store a knife in this outfit with it clinging so tight to me.” As if to prove her point, she attempted to pull the fabric down a few inches.

Vivi’s brows furrowed together as she gently grasped her hands to stop her from pulling on it. “Stop yanking the skirt down, it’s supposed to be that short.”

Stretching out of Vivi’s reach, Jude headed for the door, wondering why she even agreed to go out. “Let’s just go before I lose my nerve.”

Behind her, Jude heard Vivi squeal. It was going to be a long night. The pair of them walked side by side out of the apartment, and down to the street below. The streetlights outside of the apartment cast their shadows across the sidewalk, elongating their figures in odd proportions.

Then there it was. The club loomed up like an omnipresent figure dangling at the back of one’s mind. Dark paneling paired with an emerald green overhang shadowed the entire block across from the apartment. High windows rested above the overhang, giving a glimpse into the action inside. Rainbow lighting swirled and twirled from within, music reverberating against the establishment. In golden script the club name was printed on the green fabric.

“The Ouroboros. How original,” Jude said, unimpressed.

Vivi pulled her into the line behind all of the other night owls who couldn’t avoid the enthralling pull of the club. “It’s a new club that just opened up last week. It’s the only place in the entire city where humans and Faeries can come together.”

“Do the humans know they’re among faeries?”

Vivi’s hands twitched as she looked away awkwardly. “Well, no, not exactly. The folk that come here are glamoured to appear as normal humans.”

The line moved fast, and soon enough they were through the door with a flash of false IDs. The bouncer hardly spared them a glance, already motioning for the next set of people inside. They slipped past the velvet rope and into a whole other world.

All along the walls were scones cast with flickering blue light resembling flame, casting the club into a mysterious glow. Jude wouldn’t be surprised if it actually was, as the folk played many tricks upon the mortal eye. High above in the rafters flashing multicolored lights passed over the cluster of bodies dancing in the center of the club, illuminating their features. One glimpse of a tail, another of a wing, scaled skin, a shimmery dress, and sweaty limbs.

Vivi craned her neck, searching the crowd, “I think I see Heather, I’m going to talk to her!” She vanished into the throng of dancing people, leaving Jude alone.

“Thanks, Vivi,” She muttered to herself, casting her eyes around to see if she could find the bar. She spotted it at the very back, the bar made entirely of gold, glistening under the lights.

As she got closer, she noted the bartender possessed eyes like a snake. She wondered how many mortals were deceived by his glamour. His eyes snagged on her, and they narrowed in suspicion. She shifted her gaze to the other patrons sitting there, noticing nothing unusual about them.

She slid into an open seat to have just one drink. She needed it to get her mind off Cardan. Surely one wouldn’t hurt. “Give me your strongest drink,” she shouted over the blaring music thumping in her ears.

The bartender eyed her once and motioned for her ID to be inspected. He glanced at it, her, and back to the ID. He shrugged and poured a glass of a dark frothing liquid in a shot glass. Smoke poured over the sides, like little spiders of death. He slid the drink to her, and she downed it one gulp.

The liquid burned her throat, searing the inside of her mouth. She wouldn’t be surprised if this stuff started to pour out of her ears and eyes. Perhaps she was just a lightweight, but the drink hit her hard. Already her head felt as though it was filled with cotton, the music a dull roar in her ears.

A man in a dark, pinstripe suit with a hat pulled low over his face slid next to her. “Long night?”

Her drink was refilled and she once again downed it, not sparing the man a look. “You have no idea.”

“Allow me to make it better by paying for your drink. They call me Atlas, darling. Can I have your name?” He stuck out his hand over the drink he had ordered for her. A crimson-colored thing that resembled blood.

She turned her head to gaze at the man next to her. The lights passed over his face for a brief second, lighting up the scar that fell over his left eye. With caution she took his hand, gently shaking it, feeling his cold grip seep into her own. “No, but you may call me Nicasia.” Whoever this Atlas person was, she did not trust him in the slightest.

The man, however, burst into loud, obnoxious laughter, banging his fist on the bar. “Now that is the funniest joke I’ve heard in quite some time, darling.” Atlas wiped false tears from his eyes and quickly sobered up, a smirk curving his lips. “Who are you really?”

She took a sip of the drink he had given her and immediately felt the world spin under the feet. “St-Stop calling me darling,” Jude slurred.

“Darling I think you need to lie down. Or, should I say, Jude.” His lips upturned as she stumbled off her chair in an attempt to get away from him. The man began to reach out for her, prepared to guide her to one of the open places scattered across the club.

As she was trying to get away from the bar, Jude backed into another man, the scent of wildflowers and wine tinging the air. She whirled around, nearly falling in her ridiculous shoes. The man steadied her with a light touch on her arms. Her vision was too blurry to make out his features, only detecting a faint resemblance in the back of her mind that she knew him.

“What she needs is for me to take her home. And for you to stop calling her darling.” A voice said. The voice that haunted her dreams, nightmares, and waking moments. Cardan.

“And who are you?” Atlas sneered.

With a woozy head, she turned to gape at Cardan. How did he know where to find her?

“Her husband,” Cardan’s black eyes burned as he glared at Atlas as if trying to singe him where he sat. “I believe my wife will be just fine under my care.”

Those words were enough for Atlas to disappear into the crowd. His figure was gone in an instant, leaving Jude and Cardan alone at the bar.

Cardan reached out and laced his fingers with Jude’s. “Jude, I believe you’ve had enough for tonight. Come with me. You’ll be safe.” He began to tug her towards the exit to bring her where she could get the drinks out of her system.

As soon as she began to walk, Jude lifted her heavy head to look at Cardan, seeing double. Her head rocked back and forth of its own accord, behaving on its own axis apart from the rest of the world. “Jude?” Cardan moved closer, so they were mere inches apart.

The club flickered in and out of focus, her attention torn between giving in to the blissful darkness, or to stay with Cardan. Distantly she could hear him shouting her name, begging her to hold on. Her name on his lips was a panicked scream torn from his lungs. “Stay with me! Jude!”

No longer could she clutch this awareness any longer, and before she knew what she was doing, she grasped hold of his lapels and pulled him close, drawing a breath, to whisper, “I love you, Cardan.” Then everything went dark.

When she awoke some time later, she and Cardan were outside of the club sitting on a bench, with just the open expanse of sky stretching above them, and the luminescent stars winking at them. Cars passed by them, the drivers not sparing them a glance, unaware that royalty was in their midst. It was then that she noticed that she was lying on his lap. She became very aware of their proximity but didn’t deign to move as her head was still pounding from the drinks she had. “Wha-what happened.”

Cardan absentmindedly twirled a strand of her hair through his fingers like a nervous tick. Even just this brief bit of contact sent shivers running down her spine. “A man put something in your drink and had planned to take you somewhere far from the club. I heard him bragging about it before he sat next to you.” Cardan’s face darkened as he reminisced on the past. Jude proceeded to pull herself into a sitting position, her head swimming as she pulled her knees close to her chest. Cardan shifted awkwardly next to her as he adjusted without her weight. “Thank you for… saving me. I owe you.”

He cleared his throat and looked away, focusing on the apartment across the street. “The debt is forgiven.”

The silence stretched out between them, words falling short of what they both desired to express. Jude was the first to break it. “Why are you here, Cardan? You banished me. You humiliated me. Now you’re back like nothing has happened? As though we can go back to the way things were?” He opened his mouth, likely to spout an excuse. She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “No. Tell me the truth, no half-truths.”

He swallowed once, took a breath, and searched her face as if deciding how much to reveal. “I thought you would have gotten my letters by now. They explained it all and my guilt for what I had done. Every day I spend without you is a day with my head underwater. I am drowning without you. I miss you, is that what you wanted to hear? That you are the one person I cannot live without. I-I love you.”

Jude stared at him blankly. “What letters?”

A wicked grin curved his lips at her words. He reached out his hand and tilted her chin up so she was looking into his black eyes. “So you truly have no idea of what I’m talking about?” He cocked his head as he studied her. “Have I finally matched you in your wit and intelligence? I outwitted you, Queen of deceits and lies, admit it.”

She yanked out of his grip, crossing her arms. “I will do no such thing,” she hissed.

But Cardan merely sidled close and ran a finger along the lower side of her lip. Her pulse jumped at his touch. “Hmm, is that so? Is that why you didn’t detect the riddle in my words because you are more clever than I?” His voice was low and throaty, his pupils dilating. When he was like this, she almost wanted to give in, but she held back. Barely.

She didn’t respond, too caught up in what his touch did to her. She was utterly destroyed by him. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing and moved his focus to distract her by moving close enough to kiss her. “What did you say before you passed out? Tell me again.”

“I love you.” She should stop, she should tell him to move away because she was angry at him. But the moment she saw him, her anger had fizzled out, and she had no real reason to deny him.

“Say it again.”

“I love you, Cardan.”

He seemed to be floating on his own isle of paradise. His smile took on a softer edge as he scanned her face for any falsehoods. When he detected none, he leaned forward and pressed a delicate kiss to her forehead. “I missed you more than I can ever express, Jude. Please, don’t ever leave me again.”

“But I’m banished, and I cannot return,” she whispered under her breath.

“Are you not the Queen and my wife? Do you not wear a crown? Until and unless she is pardoned by the crown, let her not step one foot in Faerie or forfeit her life. You could have returned at any time, my darling Jude.”

It was official. Jude was the biggest idiot on the planet. In answer to his words, she pulled him closer to her and hugged him around his middle. Her face was buried in his chest as she said, “I was a fool, blinded by anger. I did not think you were capable of such mastery of words.” She shuddered against him, a few tears falling down her face. “Is this a dream? Am-Am I dreaming?” She was afraid if she opened her eyes, she would wake up in her room at Vivi’s apartment and none of this would be real.

After a brief pause, Cardan rested his chin on her hair and held her tight against him. “This is real. I’m real. We can go home, together.”

She didn’t let go as her lips trembled under the sheer relief that he was here and wasn’t going to disappear. “Take me home, Cardan.”

Jude felt his smile as he brought his lips close to her ears, his breathy voice sending tingles all across her skin. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Tags: @illyrian-bookworm, @highladyofstoriesandmusic, @webcraft4eveh, @thefangirlofhp

#ask #thank you for the ask :)#Jurdan #tcp #twk #qon #the cruel prince #the wicked king #queen of nothing #holly black

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