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hexxynn · 6 months ago

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you're my forever | best friend! anakin x fem!reader

word count : 10.2k

warnings : MDNI 18+, anakin and reader are 18, angst, angst, so much angst, self deprecation, reader has a mom named lucille, insecure! reader, modern!, jock! anakin, swearing, anakin worshiping the ground you walk on, reader is described as having a tummy!, praise, even more praise, anakin talks you through it, arguing, readers parents are divorced, pet names, virgin! reader, oral (f receiving), piv, no condom mentioned (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, aftercare (i think that's all?)

summary : you develop feelings for your long time best friend, anakin. you fall into a pit of bedrot trying to cope and push him away, only for him to push back. what you didn't know is that he felt the same way.

a/n : my first fic ever pls be kind lol, this is my first time writing smut too, so any tips would be appreciated! im lit new to tumblr so please don't be afraid to request anything. also im literally a slut for angsty sex and praise can you tell? also this isn't proofread soz

You didn't know when your feelings had turned from platonic, to overwhelmingly romantic.

Honestly? It was scary.

You had known Anakin for a while, him being your neighbor for most of your life. That was, until you moved, but only to downsize after your parents split. The quaint neighborhood, the only thing you had ever known, being torn away from you. Luckily— your parents didn't want to move far, so you stayed put in the same town, just in different neighborhoods.

You were two when you guys met, both of your toddler selves adorned with the aroma of innocence and childhood. Your moms had both bonded, over the struggle of motherhood, while you two seemed to find each other in the purity of your early years. He came up to you, with a simple ask to push him on the swing; an offer you couldn't refuse. Retorting with an, "as long as you push me after," which couldn't help but earn an eager grin from Anakin.

As you two pushed each other, giggles and laughs emerging from the silence of the neighborhood, your mothers had noticed the bond and smiled; knowing their friendship, and the one forming by the swing sets, would go on past this little encounter. They exchanged numbers, beams from ear to ear, knowing they found comfort in each other, and a pal for their children.

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As time went along, they set up playdates, leaving you two to watch shows, and do little things only young kids would do, whilst they sat on the back porch of your house with a wine glass in hand. You and Anakin would watch silly things, and you would play with his toy cars; in exchange, he'd play dolls with you (no matter how girly it was, or how frustrated he got in his three year old brain).

The neighborhood gossip would flow from their lips. Inside, the sounds of juvenility and jolly would make themselves present in some of your earliest memories. Your moms has been content with the current exchange. The simple call to come over, no matter whose house, with the almost immediate response from the other, and you and Anakin were dragged into their friendship, building one of your own. It worked out nicely.

As you grew up, playdates turned into school, and he was your best friend in elementary. Bus stop hand holding was the cause of teases from the boys (not the girls, who thought it was 'cool' you were able to get a kindergarten boyfriend), eliciting a shrug of nonchalance from Anakin. He would defend you, and go back to the swing sets with you, returning back to your place of blossoming friendship. He didn't care much for what the six year olds had to say, knowing you already for over half of his life. The bond your mothers had created was stuck, and would be for a while.

Once you got to middle school, there was a shift, though. He found his guy friends, understanding the game that adolescents liked to play with jokes and gossip. While he still walked you to the bus stop, he didn't see you as much in school. Especially with the deferring interests you two had grown. You had become a bookworm, immersed in studies as soon as you entered the next phase of your life, while he became athletic and would stay after school to play soccer with the other boys in the field behind school. Nevertheless, he'd come home and his mom would tell him they're going to your house. With no protest— he'd go. He would never turn down seeing you. Without prying eyes and weird looks, he could be himself and return to the faithful friend he'd had for so long. The simplicity and routine created never felt off, even as the times changed. He would always run back to you.

Until High School started. Things changed yet again, messing with the routine you two had created. He didn't walk you, or drive you to school, but would bring you food, smile at you in the halls, and nod his head in the structured environment of school. It was more than middle school. You two still saw each other as much as possible, but hangouts got a lot different. He got into football, and the schedule was rigorous. Yet, you'd still go to his games, cheer him on, and wait until he got home to personally congratulate him. He never even let flings, or girlfriends throughout the years, change his behavior towards you. It had never been explicitly romantic, but you two were closer than most. He'd hold your hand to drag you to his room, and vice versa. He'd let you drape his legs across him on the couch, or let him spin you around in a hug after his games.

He saw you more than middle school, his maturity hitting him slightly. He valued you, and you valued him, and that was one of the first things he'd ever known. This platonic relationship he held with you, was one of the things he cherished most. He wouldn't let anything get between you two, no matter what was to come in the future. He'd never let you go.

You on the other hand, immersed in studies and prepping for college, had turned a lot of hangouts into study dates. Which was okay with him, as long as you two got to see each other. He'd lounge in your room while you sat at your desk with a textbook and computer. He'd bring you food when your mom called that dinner was ready, knowing your academics had pulled you away from reality. His nurturing nature stayed the same.

You two had both gotten into different colleges, across the state. He got a football scholarship, and you got an academic scholarship at a prestigious college on the west side. You knew what was to come as the summer after senior year approached.

What you didn't know was to come, was your feelings towards him.

You didn't know when your hand holding started making your tummy flutter, or when his hands tracing patterns on your calves had you feeling flustered. Sure, he changed a lot in High School. He got muscular, grew his hair out, had more charm and appeal. He had girls swooning. But you? You never expected to be one of those girls.

Coming to terms with your feelings was definitely a task.

At first, it was jealousy. Jealousy towards the girls who were able to openly fawn over him, with Anakin relishing in the attention they bestowed on him. He loved living in this spotlight, and the rush he got when girls would whisper and giggle sentiments about him. He adored all of the looks and the eye fucks he would get in the halls. It was an ego boost.

You wished so terribly you could be one of those girls. The ones he'd kiss after his games, the ones who went out with him on Friday nights. You just weren't that girl.

Sophomore year came with heated jealousy, and Junior year came with longing. Senior year, you slowly came to terms with it. It wasn't until after graduation, when you relished in all the attention he would give you on summer days, that you fully realized what you were feeling. You had never had a boyfriend throughout all your years, academics taking priority over any man.

The beginning of summer was torture.

He was mindful of his last couple of months with you, giving you his full, undivided attention.

And you fucking loved it.

At the same time though, you hated it. The torment of the sudden affection you received, along with an endless stream of texts and calls when you two couldn't be together. It made your feelings all the more real, and you couldn't do it any longer.

You were then slowly trying to distance yourself, for your own sanity, to protect your feelings and soften the blow of college. You were frustrated, angry, and hurt all at the same time. It wasn't his fault, but your brain blamed him for all of it. You were starting to resent him, and hole up in your room, only coming out for meals and water. It had been this way for about a week now, in the middle of June, and the contrast from this to the way you were two weeks before was startling. Especially to Anakin.

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Your mom, Lucille, was standing on her back porch per usual, pacing around her best friend, also known as Anakin's mom. Though she was across town, it wasn't far. A mere ten minute drive at most.

"I just don't know what's gotten into her, you know? One minute she's going out almost every day with Ani, the next she's- she's- god!"

Lucille was very annoyed, to say the least. The state she had found you in was worrying her, and her financial situation with college didn't assist in her anxiety.

"Did something happen between her and Ani?" Lucille pondered, quirking a brow up inquisitively at her friend, sighing. "Not that I know of. In fact, he's been asking about her," Shmi sighed heavily. "She might just be stressed about university, you know?"

"I know... but she normally comes to me about these things, Shmi! And now she's this void," Lucille sat down, wine sloshing in the glass.

Shmi rubbed her back, smiling softly. "Just be patient, Lucy, maybe try to have a heart to heart with her? Sit down with her," Shmi pondered.

"Yeah... yeah, sure. I'll do that," Lucille returned the soft expression Shmi reflected onto her, letting out a huff. "Can you come by tomorrow morning? I'll keep you updated," she asked, while Shmi rubbed her back.

"Of course. I'll head home, love you," Shmi replied, standing up and walking into the cool air of the house, watching the moonlight cast the house in a low glow. The hardwood floors leading to the front door were bleached from the sun, it's constant rays hitting the floor from the many windows in the home.

"Love you, too," Lucille wrapped her friend in a hug, wishing her off. "What to do," she looked at her feet, shutting and locking the door, heading upstairs to talk to you.

She heard soft music coming from your room, probably from the speaker Anakin had gifted you Junior year. She recognized the soft hum of your voice, and Lucille was then unsure if she wanted to disturb your peace. But, she knew it was for the better.

A soft knock resonated in the empty hallway, and she heard your hums stop, followed by your music. Your footsteps could be heard trekking to the door, that once opened, revealed darkness in your face.

Your bags were heavy, face devoid of any feeling as you tilted your head to the side, "Hey, what's up?" You muttered, avoiding eye contact with your mother.

"Can I come in?" Your mom requested, analyzing every feature you once held. It was sad, depressing, and a mess all in one. You straightened your spine, opening your door wider and flicking on the light. With no words, you sat on your bed, the white comforter all messy and tangled in an array of clothes; unfolded laundry you were too tired to do.

Your mother sat next to you, placing a hand on your back. "Is everything okay?"

"Mhm, why do you ask?" You force a smile, nodding your head. Your appearance spoke much differently though, along with the state of your bedroom. Your hair in a messy updo, and your clothes scattered around the carpet. Spandex and an oversized tee adorned your figure, hiding the body you once loved to dress up with random articles of clothing, a uniqueness reflected in your personality onto your style.

This wasn't you.

"You've been in your room for a few days now, what happened to your summer plans? The job you were looking for?" Lucille removed her hand, placing her cheek in her hand.

You again avoided eye contact, looking to your window. "I'm just tired, Mama," you replied in a hushed tone, chewing on your already scabbed lip.

"I know, hon, I know. But we're all worried. Me, Shmi, Anakin-"

At the mention of his name, you dropped your head again. Deep down, you knew it wasn't fair to anyone. But you couldn't help it. You'd rather put up your walls before letting yourself get hurt with a stupid crush. "It's okay, I promise," you again put up a facade.

"Is it me? Did I do something?" Your mother started to tear up, placing a hand on her chest. The last thing she'd ever want to do is hurt you. She had never seen this from you before, though.

You finally made eye contact, shaking your head rigorously. "No, of course not. I just need to sleep," you scrunched your nose, trying not to let the tears fall yourself.

"Okay... but if you need anything I'm here, alright?" Lucille stood up then, making her way out the door, shutting off the light on her way out.

In the absence of another person, you felt yourself rotting in self deprecation all over again. The mention of Anakin just hurt you all the more. You hated doing this, you really did, but crying for hours on end seemed to help, even in the slightest.

So, you sat back in your mess of sheets and blankets, music starting up again, as you scrolled through photos of you and Anakin over the years. Even looking at photos of him with girlfriends, his smile brighter than ever. Kisses on cheeks, arms around them in photos. A reminder of something you could never be to him. A hole was making its way into your heart, one that only he could fill, and you were devoid of any reciprocation to your feelings.

But, back at the Skywalker's residence, Shmi had come home, setting her keys on the rack, and plopping down on the couch with a soft thud. Even she was confused and frustrated, thinking of you as one of her own.

At the sound of the door opening, and footsteps, Anakin came tumbling down the stairs, excited to see his mom after a long day of work, knowing she went to your house immediately after her shift.

She perked up at the noise, laying back and turning on the TV. "Hello, Ani," she yelled to the hallway, as he came walking towards the living room.

"Hey, Mom! How was your day?" He asked, setting himself next to Shmi, leaning back in the cushions. His hair was damp from a shower, clad in a black tee and plaid pants.

"It was good, stopped by Lucille's after work," she muttered, with him letting out a chuckle in response. "Assumed so, it's around ten— you're normally not out this late unless it's Lucille's," he nodded. "Did you see Y/N?" He then asked, turning his head to face Shmi.

"No... I didn't. Have you heard from her at all?" Shmi frowned, watching him shake his head and loll it back on the couch, a sigh escaping his lips. "No, I haven't. I'm worried, you know? Did I do something?" He asked, looking for some sort of answer. Your absence was sudden, and no matter how many times he'd call or text, you wouldn't respond. Your location stayed the same as well, the icon staying on your house, so he knew you weren't busy. He didn't want to intrude though, and push boundaries, but he truly had no idea what was going on with you. And it hurt him.

"I don't think so, she's avoiding Lucy as well," Shmi looked at her son quickly while she channel surfed, finding something to hopefully fall asleep to on the plush tan cushions.

Anakin sighed, standing up. "Tell Lucille I'll be over tomorrow, okay? I'll see if I can figure it out, might be too personal to tell her mom about," Anakin assured Shmi, standing up to make his way up the stairs.

"Okay," Shmi replied simply, feeling sleep overtake her soon enough.

Anakin, though, made his way up the stairs, racing to his phone. He pulled up your contact again, pressing the call button, and listening to the same ringing tone that he's heard for the past week bounce off of the walls of his room.

He sighed when it hit your voicemail, the sound of your once cheery self beginning to speak. He hadn't heard your voice in so long, it ached and left him confused. "Tomorrow," he told himself.

He'd see you tomorrow, no matter what it took.

Tomorrow didn't come soon enough, though, leaving Anakin tossing and turning in his sleep. He was so, so tired, so worried, and so anxious about what would happen. He had no idea if he had done something wrong, his brain relentlessly bullying him with 'what if's'. He kept waking up in cold sweats, eyebrows furrowed with concern for you. He cherished you like a lifeline, and he felt like he was slipping away as you did from him. When morning came, he had bags under his eyes, and his hair was tousled with the constant running of his hands through his hair throughout the night. He didn't know what if it went wrong today, or if you gave no response and shut yourself off.

He didn't even eat, too sick to his stomach to do so, waving a small, "bye," to his mother before slipping into his car, and Shmi had sent a text to Lucille as he left.

Shmi

He's on the way.

Lucy

Alright, she's awake. Ty for sending him over 😘

Shmi

Anytime. Want to come over while they talk, give them a little space?

Lucy

On my way.

And with that, Lucille had left her own home, knocking on your door and letting you know where she was going. You had hummed in response, getting into the shower, preparing to repeat the cycle of bed-rot you had created in the recent days.

The water soothed you, hot streams battering on your back as you sunk into the tiled floor. The speaker still let out hushed instrumentals and lyrics of your playlist, allowing you to wallow in your feelings. Not even washing your hair, or your body, you simply laid there. Tears were scarce at this point, not able to flow down your cheeks, as you looked at yourself in your naked state.

You doubted Anakin could ever, ever, love something like this in the way you loved him.

It was honestly sickening, in your opinion, how you destroyed yourself over him. Promises to him left unkept, and your friendship flowed down the drain, following the stream of the water. The sad, angry music you hummed along to only allowed for your wallowing to fester into an ugly knot in your stomach.

Some Phoebe Bridgers lyric had you leaning on the wall, closing your eyes. Too many years wasted. Too many tears shed over Anakin.

As the song was reaching its peak, you were oblivious to the sleek, black jeep that pulled into your driveway. Your room perched in the back of the house, anyway, so it was hard to hear over the shower and the music, along with your own humming. You were unaware of the unlocking of your front door, which Anakin had a key to, and the sound of his footsteps bustling up the stairs of your home. Which would have been bad, had it been an intruder, but it was just your good ol' Anakin.

As he made his way up the stairs, he heard the music in the shower, and the sound of your voice, the murmurs of lyrics you sang along to. He also heard the familiar pattering of your bathroom, having also showered here one too many times after games. Your bathroom was attached to your room, and he didn't want to disrupt, so he simply opened your door and sat on your bed.

When he walked in though, he was shocked. Your entire safe space was in disarray, a mirror of your emotions. If there was one thing about you, though, it was that you were a tad bit messy, but never this bad. He frowned at the thought, and decided to lay back on your messy bed, pulling out his phone to check the time. You should be out soon right?

But as fifteen minutes passed, he was getting impatient. He strolled up to your door, knocking softly.

"Mom, I thought you were at Shmi's?" Your voice was raspy, and quieter than normal, a pang resonating in his heart.

"It's me," he softly said, hand on the door.

You were struck with shock, sitting up immediately, feeling guilty and overwhelmed suddenly.

"I'm busy, come back later?" You pleaded, hoping to avoid him. But if anything, Anakin was persistent, and when he says he's doing to do something, he'll do it. Your brain had hoped silently that he'd take it, making his way out, so you wouldn't have to face him.

He shook his head, "No. We need to talk, now. Are you almost done?" he inquired, leaning his side on the door now, dragging his fingertips over the ridges of the wooden door. You didn't respond, and he didn't hear any movement, so he continued to press. "I swear to God, Y/N, I'll come in there if I have to."

Fear struck your veins, and you stayed silent, hoping he'd go away. "We can talk later, I'm busy," you simply replied, shaking your head at his perseverance. You always adored that about him, but now was a bad time for him to do so. Now, you wanted him gone. He was no longer your sanctuary, but a cause of fear and pain to you. Knowing him, though, he wouldn't stop.

And you were right.

You heard the handle jiggle a little bit, before a groan was let out behind the door. "There is no need to lock the door in your own home," he sighed, turning back to your room. A bobby pin should work, right?

"It's to prevent people from coming in, y'know, like you're trying to do," you rolled your eyes and scoffed, borders and walls making their way back up. You heard his footsteps walking away from the door, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding. One obstacle down, right?

But then, you heard the jiggling of the doorknob again, and the click of the lock, and a sense of alarm surged through your veins. "I'm coming in," he announced sternly, before you heard the creak of your bathroom door opening. He had successfully found your bobby pins littered around your vanity, from various updo's you'd style your hair with during school. For a second, he was glad for the mess, which allowed him to find it so easily.

"I'm naked!" You screeched, though the shower curtain covered anything he could possibly see.

He chuckled, scoffing, "I've seen you before," he sarcastically uttered, hands finding purchase on the counter behind him, facing the curtain. The only barrier between you and him in the current moment.

"Yeah, when we were four, asshole," you shot back defensively, groaning at his antics. You still continued to attempt to avoid him, dragging out your shower for as long as possible.

Anakin grabbed the towel off of the seat, reaching into the curtain to shut the water off. "Get out," he demanded, "or I will personally come in there and wrap you in the towel myself," his aggression didn't go unnoticed, knowing now that something was definitely wrong between you and him.

"Fuck, fine," you sneered, standing up and reaching out for your towel, which he handed to you through the curtain. You stood up, wrapping yourself, and peeking through the curtain. Shit, he still looked as beautiful as ever. Even more than the photos you would look at while letting sobs escape your lips. He wore a white ribbed tank top, paired with gray sweatpants, hung low on his hips. He looked like a mess himself, curly hair frayed at his neck, sticking to the skin from the steam.

He raised a brow, looking away in respect for you. "Go get changed, I'll wait here," he muttered, allowing you to be at least respectable before he confronted you. As a result, you zoomed past him, quickly grabbing a pair of drawstring shorts and a hoodie, knowing you wouldn't have to waste time on a bra if you were in something baggier. After slipping into your clothes in your closet, you opened up the bathroom door again, and he followed you forward to the center of your room.

He eyed you up and down, finally taking in your features and your state. Though your hair was dripping wet, he didn't miss the puffy circles around your eyes and the split lip you often had when you worried about something too much. His face softened, ever so slightly, as you sat on the bed in front of him, while he continued to stand in front of your figure.

He broke the silence as soon as you sat, "Y/N..." Anakin muttered, folding his hands across his chest in front of you. You gulped, picking at the strings hanging loose from your shorts, "what's so important that you had to interrupt my shower for?"

"You act like you were doing something important. You've been ignoring everyone for days now," he began, eyeing you up and down as you fidgeted and avoided his eyes. Those damn eyes.

"I was, I was showering. Hygiene is important, Anakin," you retorted, turning your head to the window on your left.

"You know what I mean," he opened up his stance, running a hand through his hair. You hardly ever called him Anakin anymore, just Ani. The fact that you used his first name sent shivers down his spine.

"What do you mean?" You inquired, acting oblivious, hoping he'd leave and let you go back to your previous state. Though, as mentioned, when Anakin was determined to do something, he'd do it.

He took a step closer to you, peering down, "You've been avoiding me for days now. Everyone, for days now," he pouted slightly. "You promised you'd tell me everything, so what's going on? You know I don't judge," he assured you, getting down to face you, sitting cross legged on the carpet of your room.

"It's nothing, I promise," You said the same thing you've told your mother consistently. "It's nothing," you repeated.

"It's not nothing, if it's got you like this," he tried to smile warmly, show you he was there, to bring comfort, to bring peace to your mind. "Yeah, well, it's not something I'd like to share with you."

Now that stung, a pain radiating in his very bones, your words leaving him stunned momentarily. You shared almost everything with him. Everything that ever stressed you, he'd hug you and distract you until you were a laughing and smiling disaster. You had never been so closed off, so defensive.

Unknowingly, unintentionally, he shot back, "I've given you every piece of me to show you how open I am, and you can't do the same back? What happened to you?"

Venom laced his voice, making you finally face him. It made the blow all the more easier, while it also gave you a heartache you couldn't possibly fathom. "Life happened, Anakin. We're no longer silly teenagers living our lives, we're adults. We're growing apart," you let your arms fall to your sides, helpless to the heat and tension growing between you two.

"We're about to go off to college, and I've been spending every waking moment with you. We didn't just drift, something changed. I'm trying my hardest to be here, you know? Support you, give you a hand, and you won't even open up," he shifted uncomfortably, sensing an argument arising, which has never before occurred between the two of you.

"It's nothing you can help, Anakin. It's out of your control, so leave it be, and get out," you persisted.

"Get out? Get out?" He shot straight up, standing up in front of you, inching closer to your balled up figure facing him. "You don't kick me out of a place that is basically my second home," he raised his voice, causing you to stand up to face him at the same time.

Before you could speak though, he continued his banter, "So you admit something is wrong," he pointed to your chest, jabbing your collarbone while he spoke the words, voice booming out in the silence of your bedroom. Your stance was less defensive now, as he slowly broke down the barrier, and he continued, yet again.

"I told you, it's nothing you can help with," you replied with a hushed, raspy voice, not wanting to bicker.

"Just tell me what it is, then? Is it school? Because while I may not be as smart as you, I have damn well studied for hours on end with you. I have given up movie nights, going out with you, for all of that shit. You're perfectly fine. You're set. You've got a scholarship, and you'll be fine!"

He continued to step closer to you, closing the space ever so slowly, as you shrunk under his words. "If it's your daddy, fine! But I watched the divorce, the split happen. I watched as you were torn between your parents, and held your hand through that!"

"So tell me, Y/N, what is different this time around?"

Your throat was dry, not wanting to respond, everything seeming so stupid now. How were you supposed to admit, right to his face, it was him? Anakin, the one who held you, the one who made you laugh, the one making you cry yourself to sleep.

"Is it boy troubles? Because I haven't seen any man swoop down and carry you in his arms, and I would have heard about it from your mom. You haven't told her shit, either. So it's got to be pressing you, huh? Just let it out!"

He continued his verbal attacks on you, his frustrations from everything being let out on you. You wanted to shrink back, run away, but there was nowhere to go. Your gut was churning, bubbling, as a sob almost escaped your throat. "You wouldn't get it!"

"Yeah, I don't fucking get it because you won't tell anyone what's wrong," he immediately responded, again taking another step closer. You swatted the hand that was on your chest away, pushing him back from the close proximity. He stumbled, catching his balance, before turning to the side and letting out a low chuckle. "I see."

He saw the polaroids of you and him, laying on your nightstand, shaking his head, "It's me, huh? What the hell did I do? Just tell me," he almost begged, yelling at the top of his lungs at this point. You glanced back and let tears finally escape your eyes, sniffling from the flow. He noticed, slightly softening, as you began to yell back, finally breaking the dam.

"It is you, idiot! Everything about you. The way you laugh, the way you smile at girls like they're everything to you, bring them home at night to cuddle and hold them. It's the way you style your hair, and the way you saunter with your huge fucking ego!"

Oh, now he was confused. You despised his guts because of the way he was? Always has been?

"And you know- you know, I wish I was one of those girls! But you've never even looked at me that way, Anakin! That's the issue! That you've been so oblivious to the way I've wanted you, turning around and fucking other girls while I wait at home for your text that you're safe! It's all of it, Anakin," you let out a choked sob in the midst of your sentence, looking him directly in the eyes, "You go around and play football and don't even give me a sideways glance in the stands! It's so, so wrong to feel this way about you, someone I'm just supposed to care about. But no, I fucking love you, Anakin, and it hurts, it hurts so much. You sit and flirt with the cheerleaders in the cafeteria, giving them kisses on their temples and wrapping your arm around them, in public! But I will never, ever, be one of those girls to you. I will always be the best friend. I will never get to feel you longing for me, and never get to feel you loving me the same! That's what's wrong!"

You finished, letting out a huff, and realizing what you had done. Anakin stayed silent, processing your words, mouth open in shock. You were so terrified, yet so relieved that you had let everything out all at once. You knew now that you had crossed a line, broken a border down in your relationship with him. It had turned from sweet, innocent bliss, to rage and despair, mixed with love and fury. You knew you could never come back from this, back from the words that flew out of your mouth. You were desperate for him, and you would worship the ground he walked on if it meant you could receive one backwards glance held with the passion he held for the other women. But you knew you'd never get that, and you'd spend all of your life searching for a person to fill the hole he created in your heart, but never quite filling it up fully. It would be like a bandaid, covering it up temporarily, but the wound would still exist. It would still rot underneath your skin.

"You mean it?" Anakin simply said, words quiet, as he took a step towards you again, looking into what felt like your soul.

"Every goddamn word."

As soon as the curse left your lips, he grabbed you so swiftly, so tenderly, colliding his body with yours as his breath fanned across your lips, waiting for you to say no. You froze instinctively, still coming to terms with the fact that his hand was laid on the small of your back, the other placed on the back of your head, inching you closer. Before you knew it, the feeling of his lips encompassed yours, with unspoken feelings reverberating through the action. You immediately kissed back, gripping his shirt with the arms in front of you, pulling him instinctively closer. He pushed your frame impossibly close to his, wrapping his arm tighter around you, clutching onto the hoodie you wore.

His hand had gripped your sopping wet hair, earning a small noise elicited from your mouth into his, leaving his kiss softening in satisfaction. It was filled with need, hunger, and years of built up frustration. He handled you so softly, as if you would break, tears still streaming down your cheeks. A sob wracked your chest again, causing him to pull away.

"How in the world could you think I could never love you?" He questioned, bringing you into a hug. You continued to clutch his chest, squeezing your eyes shut. He gingerly set you down to sit in front of him, while he kneeled between your legs. His hands were placed on your knees, looking up at you, as if you were a goddess bestowed upon him.

"I'm not them. I'm not the cheerleaders, or the dancers, or the athletes you date. Look at me, Ani," you grabbed onto his hands, squeezing. His expression showed guilt, love, and anger. Anger at himself, for ever making you feel like this. For ever making you feel like you were the second option, and that he could never adore you. Because for years, he has.

"Oh, honey, you are so much more than them," he brought a hand up to cup your cheek. "I have loved you for so long, I can't believe you ever felt this way," he mumbled, kissing your knees after he uttered the sentiment. "You are everything to me."

He wiped the tears off of your cheeks with his hand, raising himself on his knees slightly. "I'm so sorry I ever made you feel that way, because you are my first and forever love."

"You mean it?" You mocked him, your normal attitude coming back to life. He grinned like a cheshire cat, watching you beam back in the midst of tears.

"Every goddamn word," he mocked back, grabbing your hands and placing kisses on them, "you could never compare to any other girl. You are worth so much more to me, I promise. You are my sun and my moon, my stars, I revolve around you. I love you, so much," he praised you, placing one of your hands on his cheek.

You began to cry again, tears of happiness this time, knowing it was okay.

"No, no, don't cry baby, please," he kneeled up, know facing you directly. "You're too pretty to cry."

You shook your head in disbelief, looking down at your lap.

He kisses your forehead, softly, bringing you close to him. "I'm so sorry," he profusely apologized. He left kisses down the side of your face, peppering you, before meeting your lips again, where you wrapped your arms around his neck as he hunched over. He never once disconnected your kiss as he hooked his hands under your thighs, pushing you back on the bed and under him. The kiss grew more needy, more desperate, as his hands rubbed your outer thighs, guiding them to wrap around his waist. As you did so, you pulled him down closer to you, your two bodies moving in sync with love, care, and adoration.

You tugged on his hair, making him grunt softly into your mouth, making you giggle slightly. "What was that, hm?" You mumbled into the kiss. You honestly were lost with what you were doing, your first kiss taking place on the playground at recess, and had never gone as far as to continue kissing someone.

"God— you, Y/N," he pulled away, looking at you from above, the locks of hair falling from his head, caressing his jaw. He scanned your face for any hesitance, any doubts, and in finding none, he leaned back down, caressing your arms in the process.

"Wait, Ani," you stopped him before his lips could meet yours, bringing one hand to trace along his jaw. "I've never done anything like this before," you mumbled, partially out of embarrassment and nervousness. He had then begun to pull away fully, out of respect for you, before you trapped his hips in with your calves, pulling him back down.

"We don't have to do anything, I promise, I don't expect anything from you, nothing— I swear," he promised, grinning at you from above. "I want you to feel as comfortable as possible," he told you, realization hitting him that you most likely had never done anything beyond kissing, and he didn't want to pressure you into anything you wouldn't want.

"No, that's not what I mean. Ani, I want to," you told him, the heat growing between your bodies, his sweatpants and your shorts being a soft barrier between what could occur.

"You want to?" He questioned, anticipation almost hurting him in his core. You were willing to give him one of the most treasured, most vulnerable parts of yourself, to him, and he couldn't quite fathom that.

"Yes. Anakin, I've always wanted to do this with you, since I knew I fell in love," you leaned up to kiss his cheek, then you kissed the shell of his ear, whispering, "let me be yours."

With that, he bent down to kiss you again, gentle hands and tender touches. "I'll be careful, and tell me if you want to stop at any point, okay?"

You nodded, bringing him back down to you, yet again, as the kiss grew heated. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip, allowing you to open your mouth, letting his own wrap around yours and explore your mouth. The feeling itself was sensational, and you wished you had confessed sooner. Your hips bucked up to meet his, knowing only clothing separated you two. You reached down to tug on his shirt, enticing him.

He sat up, ripping his shirt off quickly, and you took the time to admire him. While you had seen it many times throughout the years, you couldn't get enough, knowing this was the man who loved you, who adored you, who pledged himself to you. Your hand traced along his abdomen, and up his chest, with slow circles and movements.

He looked down to you and your hoodie for permission, to which you grew embarrassed and shy. He stopped, again, tracing his hand along your hip, "What's wrong?"

"I'm not wearing a bra, Ani," you muttered with embarrassment, and he looked at you inquisitively at the fact. "Honey, do you know—"

You interrupted him, mid laugh, "Yes, I know, I'm just nervous. My body, and uh—"

You were cut off, almost immediately, with a tut from him. "You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen. I promise," he told you, looking at you as if you'd break with a single touch or glance.

You nodded, beginning to lift your shirt up yourself, before he stopped you, kissing you and setting your wrists down. "Let me show you how much I love you," he told you, so sincerely, that you felt your body heat up and tense.

His fingers found the bottom of the garment, beginning to lift it over your head, as you lifted your arms up for him to slip it off of you.

He could have practically cum at the sight.

He was met with your soft skin, only for him to see, and his sweatpants tightened ever so slightly. Your breasts splayed out, tummy revealed, and it was all for him. Would forever only be for Anakin.

He kissed you again as you held him, trailing pecks down your cheek, and to your neck, where he suckled the skin and nibbled. You whimpered quietly, never having even thinking you could let out anything from kisses.

"You're so, so beautiful. Sculpted by the gods themselves, I swear. If I could worship a statue of you at a temple, I could," he whispered into your collarbone, moving his pecks downward. You became inherently flustered at his words, a garbled mess, until his breath was fanning in between your sternum. His palms found your ribs, inching upward to your breasts, thumb teasing over your nipple. The contact jolted you, overly sensitive and becoming needy for him to make love to you.

"So divine, I swear," he spoke over your nipple, before his mouth latched onto it, suckling like it would be the last thing he ever tasted. Yet, at the same time, it was so pure. Merciful whimpers left your garbled throat, hands tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck.

He switched over to the other breast, the other one being caressed with his saliva coating it, hardening at the contact. He let his teeth drag along the peak, almost teasingly, before kissing the bud and moving downwards.

He moved down to your tummy, kissing all over. His tongue licked a stripe from your sternum to your navel, then kissing the skin above your shorts. "No matter how insecure you are, your tummy is perfect," he mumbled into the skin, teeth gently grazing the skin as he sweet talked into your skin, lust filling his eyes as he made eye contact with you from above him.

"Anakin, I need you," you muttered, not able to hold the eye contact as he sat between your legs, where you needed him most. He smirked, nodding as he did so, "I know, baby, just wanna take my sweet time with you," he spoke, so close to your core, where your desire lingered for him. He could practically taste it as well, bending down lower, his teeth biting on the waistband of the fabric, slowly pulling it down. His other hand met the other hip, assisting in his teasingly slow antics. He shimmied the shorts off, looking back to where you laid underneath him. He adored you, to say the least, and the way you're looking at him as him twitching in his pants. Desire and need are painted all over your expression, as he finally looked down to your panties.

He noticed the damp spot on the gray cotton, his mind going crazy. He did this to you. God, he loved it.

He kissed the wet spot, earning a small noise that strangled it's way out your mouth. Those damn noises to him, would be the death of Anakin himself. He then looked up, "Is this okay?" He questioned, wanting to make sure you were alright more than anything.

"Yes, please, Ani," you begged, watching him then tauntingly pull the fabric down your hips. Before looking, he begins to kiss the inside of your thighs, tongue dragging along the plush of the skin. The freckles and moles and scars, everything, he was taking in as he tasted you. It was perfect to him. You are perfect. He wanted to make sure you knew that as well, his attention switching to the other leg, repeating the same tantalizing licks and nips and kisses, sucking gently as he got closer to your center, leaving light hickeys and eliciting noises from you.

He then made eye contact with where you needed him most, a small sigh of his breath leaving a tingling sensation for you. "All of this, for me? You're too good to me," he spoke, before taking his first lick, a stripe from your entrance to your clit, groaning at the taste of you. "Y'taste so heavenly, honey, please," he begged for nothing, knowing he already had you as putty in his hands. You fell limp as he pressed a damp kiss to your clit, using one hand to pull back your folds for him. You were glistening with desire, leaking onto your sheets. He was disappointed he couldn't take the chance to lick it up off of the sheets, your hole twitching and practically clenching at this point.

He began his attacks on you, slow and steady, trying not to overwhelm you. Moans began to fill the room, letting him know he was doing a good job, only using his tongue at this point. "S'good," you spoke out, and he hummed in response, smiling in his head. All he wants is to make you feel good. This is an apology, devotion, and need all in one.

The vibrations sent shivers up your spine, fingers clutching the sheets beside you. His other hand was keeping your legs apart, the incessant twitching making him rut into the end of the bed. This wasn't about him though, this was about you.

His tongue prodded your entrance, scooping up whatever was leaking out, and he swallowed it graciously. "You're doing so well, my love," he praised. You hummed in response, not being able to form coherent words, even though he was the one with his mouth occupied. The hand spreading your folds twisted, allowing for his thumb to start slow, gentle circles around your clit.

"Is this good? Do you feel good, darling?" He asked, looking up to you as you nodded feverishly, in a haze of love and lust all at once. Your brain was clouded with the pleasure of Anakin between your legs, lapping you up like you were his final meal on death row. His thumb circling your nub, and his tongue swirling around your walls, gummy and slick with his saliva and your desire. He loved every second of it, your squirming and your hips rolling on his mouth, suffocating him in the best way possible.

His thumb began to speed up, and your hands found their way to his hair, pulling him closer and gripping on for dear life. And he hasn't even inserted fingers yet.

The heat between your legs grew stronger, as minutes passed of torturous circles and slow licks and prods, before you begged for him more. "Fingers, something, Ani," you managed to make out some words, jello and oozing into his palms and mouth. He chuckled at your eagerness, now using his hand he was using to hold your legs apart to wrap your legs behind his back, heels digging into the muscular blades of his shoulders. A single digit slowly entered you, curling inside, arching your back off of the sheets. His tongue moved up to your clit, suctioning the bud, and gently nibbling as his finger began a new pace. It was steady, almost leisurely, as he inserted a second finger, scissoring at your entrance. You were so, so tight, and it was heavenly to him. "Ani, faster, please," you commanded, and he damn well listened like an obedient dog, picking up the pace and curling inside of you each time, his thick fingers searching for the spot that would make you see stars. One your own fingers could hardly reach.

As he sped up and became more passionate with it, your legs trembled from overwhelming excitement and anticipation. You felt the knot beginning to form, one you had only reached on your own, while always thinking of this. Your moans became more strangled and raspy, his mouth never leaving his assault on your clit, and his fingers squelching from your wetness between your legs. The smell, the taste, everything was undeniably delicious to him. This was his Y/N, the one he pined after for so long, the girl of his dreams.

Your pussy began to ache, an overwhelming sense of your release approaching. With whatever you could make out, you uttered in a strangled mess, "C-cum, Ani, 'M gonna."

He began to get more aggressive with his suckles, and his eyes looked up to your expression as your breasts shook with every breath you took, head lolled back from the craving you had- no, the need you had for him. He felt your walls clench around him as your release was coming, his eyes never leaving you. "Good girl, I wanna see that pretty face look at me while you cum," he quickly reattached his mouth to you, the words themselves making your orgasm hit you like a trainwreck. Your eyes never left his, though they rolled into the back of your head momentarily. He felt the flutter, and the clenching of your legs around his head as you finished, his mouth licking up the last of you as he finally pulled away. "You did so well, baby. We can stop here if you want," he assured you, licking his fingers clean as he leaned up to cup your face and kiss your neck.

"I want to feel you inside of me," your lips were flush and swollen from the kissing and biting you had done, and your checks were splotched with redness as he nodded. "Fuck, you're so perfect," he guaranteed your utmost comfortability and contentment. "If you're sure."

He began to pull down his boxers and sweats in a swift motion with one hand, the other propping him up so he could kiss your cheeks sweetly and with care. "You're doing amazing."

You grinned and kissed him, tasting yourself on his lips eagerly. Sweat beaded your foreheads, but the mess created never stopped either of you from continuing. He kissed your forehead, then both of your cheeks, before dragging his lips down to the corner of your mouth. He pulled away momentarily, hands reaching down to stretch you with his fingers. You glanced down to below his navel, and holy shit, was he big.

"It'll fit?" You questioned, your naïveté getting the best of you in the moment.

He chuckled, grinning and looking down at you waiting for him. He took a mental picture, analyzing every possible detail of your bare skin, and the way you looked right now. He was infatuated with you before, but this sight under him, left precum leaking from his tip. His fantasies could have never compared to this sight of him between your legs. "Yes, it will. It'll hurt at first, okay? And tell me to slow down or stop at any point, promise?"

You nodded your head eagerly, "I promise," so grateful for the way he was praising and taking care of your needs over his.

He kissed you again, dragging his tip along your folds. The red and swollen cock in front of you had you nearly drooling, but you decided to save that for another point in time.

"Are you ready?" He asked tenderly, kissing along your neck, tapping your clit with the head of his cock. "Yes, please," you chanted over and over again, like a prayer on your lips.

He let out a quiet hum, slowly pressing his tip into your folds. It slowly slipped past your entrance, earning a hiss from between your teeth.

"Are you okay?" Anakin immediately asked, though not pulling out, so he could look you in the eye, his gaze wavering slightly.

"Mhm, just hurts," you felt tears prick the corner of your eyes, and Anakin knows you've never been someone with a high pain tolerance. "Shh, it's okay, I've got you," he comforted you, pressing a small kiss to your lips, waiting for you to nod to continue. It didn't matter that even your entrance was gripping him like a fucking vice, he wanted you to feel as safe and pleasured as possible.

You made eye contact with him, nodding slowly, as he pushed in a little more, your hands finding his biceps, caged around your head, nails digging into his skin and leaving welts. It hurts, but you expected it. And there was nobody else in all the universe you would rather give your virginity to, just Anakin himself.

"You're doing such a great job, taking me so well," he smiled, hoping his voice would bring you a sense of oasis in the middle of his cock piercing through your insides. "Think you can take a little more?"

You nodded, as one hand reached down to press on your thigh, as he felt your pussy clench him so tightly, knowing you were his. Made for him. "Relax, it'll help it hurt less baby, I promise," he told you, rubbing sweet circles on your leg.

He felt your body loosen up, and he was able to bottom out into you, and his tip kissed your walls, a whimper of pain and pleasure entering his mouth from the kiss he gave you. "Good girl," he whispered into your mouth, making sure he was to never break eye contact in this moment. It was so pure, so sinful, and such a precious moment. He was lingering inside of you, movements stilled, no matter how badly he wanted to pound into you until you were crying into the sheets. You bucked your hips up, enticing him to move, and he got the memo.

It wasn't full throttled thrusts, but slow and lazy pumps in and out of you, waiting for the pain to subside. He felt so amazing inside of you, with your warmth and wetness connecting you both. The closest he could ever get to you, and he never thought he would be here. He was savoring every clench, every thrust, and every moment like it would be his last. Because it was you, and he loved you so dearly, he wanted this to be perfect for you.

Your back arched, your pussy twitched around him, all the while he was still slowly going in and out. It was celestial, the way you moaned and let out slurred words of his name, eyes half lidded and already looking fucked out, a devious and wanton expression he'd commit to memory. "Ani," you made out, grabbing the hand on your leg and placing it on your core. He understood, starting to rub spirals under the red and swollen hood of your clit, picking up his pace. Then, the pain has completely subsided, turning into seraphic pleasure, his eyebrows creating a wrinkle as they furrowed. His own pants and grunts left his lips, chest heaving from the bliss he was subdued in. He was immersed in you completely, mentally and physically. You looked so angelic, even godly, as your bodies connected in the most unholy way possible.

He had waited too long for this.

Your warm and inviting, virgin pussy, saved all for him. And now you were underneath him, his cock filling every inch of you, and each time he bottomed out his tip would meet your cervix, but not hard enough to hurt you. He treasured you, wanting the moment to last as long as possible.

"Faster, Ani, I'm okay," you rested your hand on his head, pushing his hair out of his eyes, as he tried so hard to contain himself so you could feel loved for every second of it. He got off on you feeling so cherished under him, and you had never felt more adoration than in the present.

He listened though, picking him his pace, hips snapping so scrumptiously against you. You could hardly moan anymore, and you broke the eye contact, head rolling back and hitting your pillows from the amount of satisfaction you gained. He took the opportunity to look down at where your bodies met, watching his length slide in and out of you, coated in the sticky sweetness of your serene need for him. His eyes glanced over your body, watching as your tits bounced with every jolt of his body, and he almost creamed at the very sight. He was going to wait though, until you came, to ever think of cumming.

"S'well, baby, you feel so good wrapped around me. You're so beautiful, God. I could do this for hours," he praised you, feeling your pussy clench around him at the simple, yet overwhelming words. The way the plush of your thighs jiggled with every little movement, and the way your tummy followed with. He was encompassed in serenity for every second of it.

"M'gonna cum," you mustered out, warning him of your second release, building quicker than the prior one. "Go ahead, my love, whenever you feel like it," he said between pants and grunts, thumb still circling around your clit as he felt you get all the more tighter.

He sped up his pace, shifting his body to the right, the angle directly hitting that spongey spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. Your hands began to dig into his shoulders, the knot tightening. He could tell, watching as your thighs clenched and you let out the most wanton cry of his name, cumming around his cock.

The feeling and satisfaction of you finishing left him close to his own release, pulling your head down to look at him. "'S it okay if- fuck- I cum?"

"Cum in me, Ani, fill me up," you assured him, still whimpering from overstimulation and groaning at the feeling of him fucking your cum back into you.

His breaths were shakier, turning into soft whimpers and groans as you felt his thrusts grow messy, and soon still, feeling a gush of warmth inside of you, filling you to the brim. He stayed there for a moment, sighing as his cock softened, not wanting to pull out and disconnect from you in the most intimate way possible. He knew he had to though, as he pulled out slowly, leaving you feeling empty and lost.

You let out a breath of air, leaning up to kiss him. He happily obliged, rubbing sweet patterns along your hips, tracing the dips and curves with his index finger, soothing you after your release.

He leaned up quickly, making you feel cold, empty, and lost. Was he already leaving?

But no, he came back with a warm washcloth, leaning between your legs again. He came face to face with your cum and his load leaking out of you, beginning to drag wet and sloppy kisses on your knees as he ever so gently wiped up what was leaking out of you, and the mess and sweat off of your thighs. The residue piled along the fabric, which he then wiped his soft cock with, running back to your bathroom to throw it in the hamper. He crawled back into bed with you as you turned over on your side, the room smelling of sex and love.

"I'm so proud of you, you did so well," he told you, wrapping an arm around you and bringing you close to him, so you could lay your head on his chest. His palm rubbed along the small of your back, tracing up your spine.

"Thank you, I don't think I could have asked for someone better to do it with," you smiled, an after sex glow making you all the more beautiful to him.

"Does this mean you're my boyfriend now?" You asked, and a dumbfounded expression was plastered on Anakin's face, causing you to worry momentarily.

"I would assume so, but only if you'll have me," he spoke into your hair, bare and naked bodies intertwined under the cold sheets. "Of course I'll have you," you comforted him, hands tracing the curve of his biceps. "You're my forever, Anakin."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

#anakin skywalker x reader #hayden christensen x reader #modern!anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x female reader #best friend!anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker angst #star wars #hayden christensen smut

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cstads-blog · 1 year ago

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ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ | ᴄᴀʀʟᴏꜱ ꜱᴀɪɴᴢ 55

masterlist

summary: the story of you and carlos, growing up, falling in love and finding forever

a/n: i love this one sm. its pure fluff and its actually a dream. i hope u like it as much as i do, lmk what you think :)

—————————

1997

carlos was three years old when you were born. he met you for the first time when you were just a week old. your moms had been friends since they were little kids so naturally they wanted their kids to grow up together as well.

as reyes led her little boy into the house, your mom held you in her arms on the couch. when carlos and reyes reached the room where you were, he stopped in his tracks. the little baby in front of him absolutely mesmerizing him. he climbed up onto the couch next to your mother and just stared at you, eyes wide and full of admiration.

“do you want to hold her” your mom asked carlos, who eagerly nodded. he opened his small arms and you were placed in his grasp, your mother supporting your head, reyes taking a photo to capture the moment. your little finger grabbed onto carlos’ thumb and he looked up at both women in front of him with the biggest smile on his face.

all he wanted to do was hold you. you were his now. he established that very quickly, not wanting to let go off you. he followed your mom around the house, always wanting to be where you were. he was captivated by you, the small baby. his new friend.

——

2003

you were six years old, carlos was nine. he was still as mesmerized by you now as he was the first time he saw you. you were his, he was yours. while he was three years older with many more important things going on and his new found focus in karting, he never failed to make you feel seen. he spent more time with you then the kids in his class at school. he was often bullied for it, wanting to play with the little girl. but he didn’t care.

on your first day of school, carlos led you into the building confidently. he showed you where your room was and where to meet for lunch and after school. you listened to the older boy like his words were the most important thing you would hear all day. when carlos left you at your classroom, you hugged him tightly. he assured you that everything would be okay, and you trusted him.

at six years old, everything in life was quite black and white, you didn’t know much about the world or life, but you did know that carlos was always there for you. you didn’t want him to leave you.

——

2013

you were sixteen and in school. carlos was nineteen and a development driver for red bull, starting to live out his dreams. carlos was starting to figure his life out and you were crying over your first and now ex-boyfriend. you knew carlos had a race this weekend, so you didn’t want to call him and bother him with a seemingly trivial problem. and even if you wanted to call carlos, you wouldn’t.

the girls at school bullied you for your relationship with carlos. one day when carlos was on break, he came to pick you up from school. when he pulled up to the front of the school you were standing with a few girls you considered your friends. he rolled down the window and smiled at you, you returning the smile. they all saw the way the two of you were looking at each other and felt the need to comment on it. they bullied you for having a crush on carlos, saying he just stuck around you because he had to and that he didn’t really want to spend time with you or care about you. you tried not to let it effect you, but when you got in the car and carlos started driving away you couldn’t help but let the tears fall. carlos asked what was wrong and you told him about the bullying. he sat and listened to what you were saying. he hated seeing you like this, crying over him. he never wanted you to cry, especially not with him. so he told you about how a few of the guys on the grid would make fun of him when he would call you. sharing stories about this topic was somehow calming for you. and ever so carlos, he cracked a joke about how they’re just jealous because they don’t have their own carlos sainz to call their best friend.

remembering that moment with carlos, you picked up your phone and called him. he picked up immediately, he always did. he sounded cheerful until he heard your cries through the phone. you sat on the phone with carlos for hours, just talking about anything and everything, trying to take your mind off of your ex. the call even helped him relax amid his upcoming race. that was something carlos would always cherish about you, how you could calm him down in any situation.

you had fallen asleep on the phone with carlos that night, not getting to wish him luck in his race. but he did get to tell you one thing, even if he you couldn’t hear it.

“i love you” was the last thing he said before finally hanging up the phone.

——

2019

you were twenty-two, fresh out of university, trying to find your way in the real world with a marketing degree. carlos was twenty-five and had just signed a contract with mclaren. it was christmas and you were both back home, in his childhood home. you were sitting close to each other on the couch, trying to make room for both of your families. you cuddled into carlos, a sight that wasn’t strange to witness. as you got older, you and carlos had come to realize both of your love languages were physical touch. you weren’t dating, but you and everyone knew your relationship was more than just friends.

everyone could see it in the way carlos looked at you, like you were the most important thing in his life. like you had hung the moon and the stars. he talked about you all the time, to the point where it was annoying. he mostly told his mom about you. about everything you did, from where the two of you went to dinner to your work to the new apartment you were thinking of purchasing in madrid to be closer to him when he was home. reyes could see that her son was in love with the girl, he always had been. she just needed carlos to realize that.

everyone also could see how in love with carlos you were. he was the first person you would call when you got home from work or after a long day. you hung onto carlos’ every word like they were words spoken but god himself. you would relax in carlos’ embrace and he was one of the only people who could calm you down. you suffered from anxiety and no matter how hard anyone tried the only person who could truly help you was carlos. hearing his voice, feeling his touch. when you were home with your family, you just wanted to see carlos. you would sit with your mom for hours, but the only person on your mind was carlos. your mom could tell how much you loved carlos, she knew you did when you were young, never saying anything. she just needed you to realize how much you truly loved him.

——

2020

you were twenty-three, new apartment, new job and a new puppy. carlos was twenty-six, ready to start a new season with ferrari. it was new years eve and you were at a party that carlos insisted you attend with him. the room was full of drivers and their partners, a few you knew but many you didn’t, so you clung to carlos’ arm almost the whole night. not that either of you cared, he loved feeling your touch. he led you over to the side of the room where they had set up a makeshift bar with cases of beer and other drinks sitting around. carlos handed you a beer and took one for himself as someone walked up next to him. carlos embraced the man in a friendly hug before pulling away and taking your hand again. he introduced you to the man who was going to be his teammate next year, charles leclerc. charles was nice and welcoming, talking like you’ve known each other for years, instantly feeling comfortable around him. you stood around for a bit longer, talking to charles until someone announced that there were only ten seconds to the new year.

carlos led you to the patio where everyone was standing waiting for the new years fireworks. carlos wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you leaned into his embrace, letting one hand rest across his back and the other on his stomach. the small red dress you were wearing not doing much to keep you warm, so you kept as close to carlos as possible trying to gain some of the warmth he had. you watched as everyone quickly found their partner and started counting, anxiously awaiting a new years kiss.

the fireworks exploded in front of you, a beautiful display of silver and gold. everyone around you kissed their partner, leaving you and carlos standing there. you looked up at him to find him already looking down at you. he had a look in his eye that was asking you the question he couldn’t find the words for. you simply nodded, giving him all he needed before he leaned down and kissed you. it was magical. those fireworks they talk about when you kiss the person you truly love were real and you were both feeling them right now. it was a kiss filled with passion and love and longing, both of you wanting this for years. when you finally pulled away for air, the smile on your face unmistakable. the boy you had been in love with for longer then you could remember was finally yours.

——

2023

you were twenty-six and adorned in a white dress that would make anyone lose their mind. carlos was twenty-nine and waiting at the alter for you, his hair done perfectly and his suit fitting in all the right places. as you linked arms with your father, a tear began to fall from his eye. his little girl was all grown up, getting married to the love of her life in her dream venue.

as they walked down the aisle with your father, carlos was standing at the alter with his five best friends behind him. when he saw you he couldn’t help the tears that began to fall down his cheeks. you smiled up at him, not being able to hold back your tears either. when you finally reached carlos, your father hugged him and gave you to your soon to be husband.

you stood in front of each other, doing what you were told by the priest. when it came time for the vows, carlos read his first. they were the most beautiful thing you had ever heard. he perfectly summed up your relationship and his love for you. you read yours and carlos listened with the utmost love in his heart. you always had a way with words and that was evident in your vows.

the priest was finally able to allow you to kiss carlos, finally being married. carlos grabbed your waist delicately, as your hands found their familiar spot on his neck. the kiss was magical, just like the first time. all of your friends and family cheered for the both of you, happy to finally see you where they always knew you would be.

that was the start of your forever, with carlos.

——

2026

you were twenty-nine and heavily pregnant. carlos was thirty-two and an absolute nervous wreck about becoming a dad. this is always what the two of you wanted, to start a family, but now that it was happening you couldn’t be more nervous. as you stood in his parents back yard in spain, surrounded by friends and family at your baby shower, it all felt a little more real. you were standing alone at the drinks table, helping yourself to another lemonade, when carlos walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around you, lifting up your belly. you let out a sigh you didn’t even know you were holding in. you thanked carlos for relieving the weight to which he just kissed your neck. you leaned into him, your feet beginning to hurt. you placed your cup down, turning around in his arms and wrapping yours around his neck. you both just stood there for a moment, taking in the few moments you had left just the two of you before you welcomed your baby into the world.

both of your moms looked at their kids, the utmost admiration in their eyes. their babies, were about to have a baby of their own. it was exactly like they had planned when they were younger, watching the kids grow up. they both always knew that their kids were destined for each other and cherished the day all of their dreams came true.

as they watched you stand there together, looking into each other’s eyes with everything you had they could tell that this was perfect. you and carlos, carlos and you. how it was always supposed to be.

this was just another chapter in your book of forever.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x female reader

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nanaminsmoon · 1 year ago

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babydaddy!connie x blackfem!reader

a/n: this one made my heart ache a little icl. but i had to put this song because it goes so well😭

pt.2

cw: pnv, unprotected sex, infidelity (reader cheats), connie calls reader; 'ma', 'hermosa', ”es bueno, ma?” ("is it good, ma?"), "quieres otro hijo, hm? you want a boy or a girl? dime, and i’ll give it to you” ("you want another kid, hm? [...] tell me, and i'll give it to you"),

wc: 3380

“why’s my daughter telling me you got a boyfriend?”, booming from where its owner was stood at the door, connie’s voice abruptly entered your ear canals to bring your attention to him. after hugging your daughter, you had kept your front door open for connie to come in if he wanted to. and, when he followed you both inside, you had just assumed he was bringing in your daughter’s belongings. even as he stuck around after having placed her bags in her bedroom, his presence was dashed to the back of your mind. now, as your child sat in the garden eating with her aunt, he was demanding your attention as he leant against the doorframe.

“because i do”, your eyes were trained on the soapy dishes in front of you, and they wouldn’t divert as you spoke. meaning you didn’t see the incredulous expression on your ex-boyfriend’s face, as his features scrunched at your straight forward response.

“the fuck you need a boyfriend for?”, he asked. confusion was laced through every word in that sentence to hold it together so it could leave his mouth. barely.

“because we can't fuck as friends forever, connie. at some point we both need to move on, and i have”, you answered, frankly. the decision to coparent came after you and connie decided to break up four years ago. and four long years had been hastened by sunday sunsets spent behind closed bedroom doors when he returned your daughter back to you. meaning that suspicions did rise when the emotions sprawled on your face, at the end of every week, had become more impassive—the lustful glimmer in your irises, dimming to a seemingly more platonic one. yet, connie never said anything, he just assumed you wanted space. that’s not to say that it didn’t bother him, but he knew that he couldn’t beg you to come back to him. as much as he did want to.

because, contrary to popular belief, connie had changed since you two broke up. having heard the news of you having a boyfriend, old connie would’ve had a video of some girl throwing ass on him seared into the back of your eyelids by sundown. but old connie had never developed an understanding of how important his family was, and new connie would lose his life before he lost his girls. yet, these two different versions of the same man still shared one similarity; their love for antagonising you.

“so you're just bringing randoms into the place my daughter sleeps?”, connie exaggerated as he always did, irritation audible in his tone. and you’d roll your eyes at him.

“first off, he's not a random, he's my boyfriend. and second, this is my house, i can bring in whoever i want”, you said, wiping a pan. that term, ’my boyfriend’, was an anvil that sunk connie’s intestines to his feet in a way he had never felt before. it was hard to put a finger on what exact feeling it induced, but he did know that it pressed his dreams, of getting his family back, into grains of sand that would escape his grasp through the growing gaps in his fingers.

“has she met him?”, he asked, cautiously, looking at his sock covered feet in the slippers you had always kept for him. in the past, that had been a gesture that made him feel at home with you; something that made him feel like you still cared for him the way he did you. but now, the slippers felt uncomfortable. like they were growing in size, and the only person capable of wearing them was someone he could never be—like he couldn’t fill them anymore, and you knew that so you had gotten someone else to do it.

“yeah, he came over and cooked us dinner and she loved it.”, you said, tone coming out more braggy than you had hoped. and that hurt connie more than it angered him, but the latter was the only thing he was capable of expressing.

“so what, you gonna marry him?”, those words were abrupt, even surprising connie’s ears. but they’d be met with a scoff from your glossed lips as annoyance built inside you. your love life was none of his concern, and he knew that, so his entitlement infuriated you beyond belief.

“i don't know, connie”, you said, vexed, as you waved him off, “even if i was, why’s that any of your business?”,

“’cause you're the mother of my child. as long as she's here, your business is my business”, the truth in that statement rested in what connie didn’t say. that being, you were the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with so, whether you liked it or not, his heart had already staked its claim on you. and he needed to know who to fend off, to keep you by his side.

no thoughts spawned in your mind at that statement, so you’d just remain silent as you continued what you were doing. that gave connie enough time to search for straws to clutch at to get you back. but he could only ever draw one. that was the one that placed a small smile on his face as his tongue swiped across his bottom lip; if connie couldn’t win your mind over, he’d try his luck at the one thing that refused to obey the former.

”so we’re done? not even one more time for the road?”, connie’s shoulder pushed his body off the doorframe, before he started making his way toward you. a stutter in your mind would replay that phrase, ’one more time for the road’, until it finally clicked.

“we're not fucking, no”, you said, avoiding eye contact.

“just quickly, ma. i know you miss it.”, connie’s smirk would only widen when his statement received no rebuttal. and it’d stay that way as he walked to stand right behind you—he’d place a hand on either side of you, pushing you right against the counter. all you could muster was a harsh swallow as connie moved closer to you, and his breath would be touching your neck as he spoke, voice lowered.

"you used to call me all the time telling me you ain't never had dick like this. and i know he ain't fucking you good enough for you to forget about me", connie’s lips brushed past your ear. a brief shudder would intensify to wring out any suppressed longing you held for him, producing a moist patch at the front of your underwear. and that was before you could even feel his desperation, to keep you his, pressing into your lower back. once that’d register, you’d have to breathe deeply to release the temptation building within you.

"i'm not cheating on my man, connie", you said, voice shaking. a sigh would fall from connie’s lips, hitting the spot on your neck they planned to cover, before transfiguring into a tingle that explored your back. one of connie’s favourite things about you was your loyalty, so that answer was expected. but he’d still kiss his teeth at the knowledge that it was now being directed toward someone else.

"then leave him", he’d say, an inch away from your neck, before his plump lips would attach to the skin there. a proprietorial mark would be etched onto your skin when connie heard you sigh out in pleasure. the erasure of all his doubts would arrive when you tilted your head to give him better access. and those doubts would then be quashed completely when your hand rose to run your fingers through his buzzcut.

a few more kisses to the neck, combined with connie’s hand venturing into the front of your leggings to rub away all loyalties to your man, affirmed connie’s statements about you missing him. but once you were in the privacy of your bedroom, he could actually feel how much you missed him; your need for him was prominent in the way you tightened around his length like you feared letting him go. this was the first time where fucking you was a welcomed struggle, pulling out of you being a necessity he wanted to avoid. mainly due to the connection of your foreheads, connie couldn’t see anything but you; the noises you made, your scent, the look he could discern in your eyes when they weren’t exploring their sockets, all of it warmed his heart in an infuriatingly delightful way. and there was no way you hadn’t missed him, and the way he knew your body inside out. the way he knew where to kiss as your legs rested over his shoulders, a pillow sat underneath your hips as your nails painted stripes onto the skin on his back. five years ago, connie fucked you in every position he could think of, but separation birthed the need for closeness. so now, whenever you two fucked, it was always in a position that allowed for his eyes to be locked with yours as his tip poked that spot that had made you nut twice already.

”es bueno, ma?”, he asked and you’d nod a reply, pulling a smile from the man above you. you were all he could see, and perhaps that’s why he saw love in everything that surrounded him.

prior to this point in his life, connie’s need to build a family with you had never been a focal point for him. but now it was all he could see; he saw it in the envy that followed him around at the sight of families happily laughing together, he saw it in the ducks dutifully trailing their mother at the pond near your house, and he felt it when the merging of you and your daughter’s giggles made his heart feel swollen in a way he could never soothe. if he had it his way, you’d both be married with four kids living in some mansion somewhere. but when push came to shove, his ideals only ever amounted to short-lived ‘conversations’ when you two were fucking,

”quieres otro hijo, hm? you want a boy or a girl? dime, and i’ll give it to you”, a fucked out mutter would always fall from your lips, and that’s the only answer he could ever get from you. because the answer you gave him any other time, tore his heart into a million pieces he had yet to locate. your boyfriend posed a new challenge for him, so connie would have to tell you how he felt before he lost you forever. feverish kisses would be placed on any skin connie would reach, as his hips sped up. pleasured mumbles would mean nothing to him, because he could feel your body warning him of your release.

”i’m yours, hermosa, just—fuck—nut on it”, he’d instruct, and your body would obey. this man was fucking you so good, you could’ve sworn you felt your soul leave its vessel, to watch you coating connie and the bed underneath you, in your arousal. and connie wouldn’t be far behind—hips losing their rhythm, and low ’fuck’s leaving his mouth before he started kissing you again.

”ifuckingloveyou”, he messily kissed onto your lips and surprise struck you so hard, you didn’t even register your own mouth speaking back to him,

”mmloveyoutoo”, those words would be enough to trigger a twitching in connie’s balls that would empty them, until he was leaking out of you.

the kiss you two shared was bittersweet, both literally and figuratively. not just due to the lingering taste of the results of your aching throat, mixing with the reason why you could still feel his lips wrapping around your clit, but also because connie felt like he was flirting with a dream that could never be realised. but that wouldn’t stop you two from losing yourself in each other and making out for a few minutes. until you’d hear a knock. all movements would be halted, and there’d be silence from behind the door. then winces, and small hisses of discomfort, would fill the space as connie pulled out of you before getting up to put his boxers on. he’d step off the bed, walking over to the door to tend to, who he thought was, his daughter.

”princesa, we’ll be out in a second, okay?”, connie shouted to the other side of the door, but the voice he heard was not the one he was expecting.

“the fuck’s going on?!”, connie’s eyes would dart back to your wide ones, before a smirk would quickly grace his face. it was clear to see that he was trying his very hardest to not burst into laughter, despite your panic being written all over you. disorientation clouded you to the point that you didn’t even realise that the shirt you decided to put on your body was connie’s. but he would. and he wouldn’t say anything, even as you walked to the door to talk to your boyfriend.

”i can explain”, is all you’d manage to get out to your man, before he’d open the door further to find connie sitting himself on the bed, covering himself with the sheets he’d just put on his lower half. the lower half of his face remained smug, but the upper half of it was focused as he watched the scene unfolding in front of him; desperate hands grappling to hold your boyfriend’s arms or hands, as he paced the room, trying to digest what he was seeing. connie’s enjoyment would be short-lived, ending when he heard the angry words your boyfriend was throwing at you.

”shoulda fucked her better, then i wouldna had to do it”, he said, still laid on the bed. the room would fall still once again, and you’d look at him in pleading. he’d shrug, but acquiesce, not saying anything after that comment. that seemed to be the final straw for your boyfriend, because he’d say something about needing to go outside before walking out.

the blustering of infuriated footsteps would fade out as you followed your boyfriend down the hallway to the front door. connie would sit in waiting, leaning against the headboard, as he contemplated what this meant for the both of you, but those thoughts would be cut short at your return. alone. it turns out, no amount of apologies or promises that this will never happen again could convince your boyfriend to stay. and, though that elated connie more than he cared to admit, he couldn’t help the lump forming in his throat at the sight of your slumped posture as you sandwiched your lip between your teeth, swallowing pained tears. that lump would block any sly comments he planned to make. in fact, he wouldn’t even speak as he got up to walk to you, hands reaching to pull you closer to him. even as you pushed him away,

”leave me alone”, you chided, quietly. but, no matter how hard you pushed, connie would overpower you to pull you into the warmest hug you’d had in months. its warmth would invite your arms to wrap around him, sobs spilling into his bare chest the second your cheek touched it. not once letting go, connie would pull you back into bed, wrap you in the sheets, before comforting you. relief drowned a certain of him as it knew that he had a chance of getting you back. but the part of him that still had its head above water wrestled with guilt; there’s nothing this man wanted for you than happiness, and seeing his hands be the ones to take it away from you pained him.

the commotion of everything numbed you to your environment, so it would be only a few moments before your distraught sobs would reach the ears of the person you wanted to hear them least. small knocks would bring yours and connie’s attention to the half-open door, and you’d try to get yourself together, but there was only so much you could do to hide the shadows of sorrow reddening your eyes, and creating darkened splotches on connie’s shirt. as soon as you saw your daughter reach up to comfort you, you’d climb off the bed and hug her, feeling your heart start to glue back together when she wiped a tear off your face. both you and connie would instruct her to wait for you in the living room and you’d begin getting dressed properly once you’d hear her run off excitedly.

the both of you would get dressed, and walk down the stairs, in silence. the most connie would provide would be an arm around your shoulder, and a kiss to your temple, which you accepted happily. and, as soon as you were within an earshot of the living room, you’d hear ’the little mermaid’ playing for the nth time, accompanied by the usual harmonisations provided by your daughter’s jovial singing. you’d be admiring the blankets, cushions, and snacks she had set up before you’d be distracted by the rustling of connie putting his shoes and coat on. every fibre of your being would beg you to stop him, but you’d try and convince yourself that he probably had somewhere to be. however, such considerations meant nothing to your hand that was already reaching to grab at his own,

”stay.”, you asked quietly, and his eyes would widen at the request. of course he wanted to stay, but he didn’t think you’d want to spend another minute around the man who had just ruined your relationship. but then once your daughter ran up to him, pouting while asking,

”please~”, his decision would be made for him.

as you watched the movie, you’d notice connie’s eyes fixated on you. at first you thought he was watching your daughter wave her little mermaid doll around but, when you’d turn to check, you’d be met with direct eye contact. his lips would fall agape only to meet again, before they’d open to allow their owner to mouth a belated apology,

”i’m sorry”, his swollen lips would trace out, and a forgiving ”it’s okay” would be mouthed by your own lips. there’d a second where you’d just be staring at each other in mutual love and understanding. it was obvious that this chapter wasn’t finished, not when the authors holding the pens had changed immensely since the day the first page of the book had been written. but small hands would rise to push your faces to face the screen, and connie’s own inability to forgive himself for his actions would shift his eyes to the floor. that’s when they’d narrow in on the slippers that did nothing but breed insecurity. a small voice in his head would ask him if they still felt hard to fill, and admittedly, they still did. yet, looking at them again, he didn’t mind that. though the future still held uncertainties, the feeling of you and your daughter leaning on him, as his arm reached around to embrace you both, filled the gaps of himself he had lost confidence in. because this was all he had ever wanted; to become a person that could be leant on by the people he cared for most. both of you. for as long as his lungs held breath, and for as long as the image of you and your child falling asleep on him every night, was the only one his subconscious could conjure up when his head met his pillow at the end of every day.

#nanaminsmooninc #aot x black reader #aot x black y/n #connie springer x black reader #connie x black reader #connie x black y/n #connie smut #aot connie #Spotify

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tieronecrush · 1 year ago

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hot & heavy

chapter fourteen: stuck forever by the glue

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ MDNI)

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 7.4k

warnings: NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), nanny au, pet names (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl, mariposa, etc.), feeling familial and self-pressure, established relationship, spanish cause joel is latino, soft joel, very minimal like sweetie possessive joel, struggling with self, discussion of parenting, this is honestly just an ooey gooey syrupy sweet chapter y'all

a/n: this is so wild. it's done! (basically....epilogue to come) i seriously can't express how much it means to me that y'all read and kept up with and cared about my little story. i have fallen in love with writing and i just really thank you all for everything you've given me! i feel so lucky to have so many incredible, talented, all-star humans reading something silly i've made. THANK YOU.

and an extra special thanks to el @northernbluess who has been such a big support throughout my process of writing this story. she's beta-read nearly every single chapter and has helped me so much in developing the characters and the story and just everything. can't write without you, el. love you!

alright, enough from me - enjoy joel & mariposa's ending! and please drop any thoughts or scenarios or milestones you want to see for them in the epilogue into my inbox!!!

“Fuck, oh shit, Joel!”

You’re whisper-yelling as you scramble to throw his comforter off of you, kicking it away from your feet and jumping out of bed. One arm moves up to cover your chest as you whirl around the room looking for your clothes. As you slip your panties up your legs and let them snap against your hips, Joel stirs awake enough to pick his head up, glancing around in a daze.

“What is happening? What’s wrong?” he groggily asks, turning over from lying on his tummy to his back, arm bending to rest against his forehead and shielding his eyes from the early summer morning light peeking through the curtains.

Puffing out a breath to blow the hair from your face, hands occupied with attempting to clasp your bra behind your back, you shoot him a look.

“Check the time,” you order flatly, nodding your chin to his alarm clock at the bedside.

After a delayed beat, Joel’s head turns, studying the display before his bed shoots back to look at you, arm dropped from his head. With his eyebrows raised and mouth formed into an ‘O’ shape, he chuckles quietly at your distress.

Amid your activities from the night before, much like the last week of nights spent with Joel, the alarm on his side had forgotten to be set. Normally, you would brush it off, so long as the two of you were up in time for work, which Sarah usually made sure of thanks to her promptness, even as a ten-year-old.

But today, no, today was a weekend and also the day of the neighborhood’s annual block party and summer barbecue. And you had promised — assured — your mother that you would be up and at ‘em early to help her prep all the food she promised to make and to help decorate the street and all the tables.

Joel had promised — assured — that he set the alarm last night before the two of you started fooling around, distraction imminent for the man with his wandering hands and blood pumping. Turns out, you were apparently too tempting, and too exhausting, of a time to focus on anything else.

“Darlin’, it’ll be fine. Doubt your mom has even noticed your absence, she’s probably so busy already she’s just fluttering around your house.” Joel’s face returns to a drowsy expression, one eyebrow quirking up for a moment as you angrily groan at your t-shirt when struggling to find the head hole with it pulled over your head all lopsided.

He rises from the bed, padding over to you and reaching up to pause your frantic hands. Slow moving, he rights the material and gently tugs it down, revealing your frustrating and pouty look.

Joel coaxes your arms out of their stubborn crossed position over your chest, aiding them into the holes and fully pulling the t-shirt down. Fingers graze the top of your panties from underneath your cotton shirt, satisfied smirk when he feels goosebumps rise.

“She may not notice, but my Dad, who’s probably doing nothing, will notice and tell my mom. And she’ll tell him to go downstairs and check on me.” You swat his hands away gently, stepping backward and turning your head this way and that way to find your shorts. “And if he goes downstairs, and I’m not there, but then magically appear minutes later from my studio, well, I think they’ll clock that something’s up.”

Thick arms wrap around your waist, freezing you in place. One hand gently grips the tip of your chin between his index and thumb, tilting your head to look into his eyes.

“It’ll be fine, Mari baby. You’ll get home and you’ll go upstairs and they won’t even know you were gone for a second.” Joel punctuates his reassurances with a kiss, rubbing slow circles in your lower back.

“You are extremely calm in this situation. Why aren’t you more stressed out than me?” you interrogate, raising one brow and pursing your lips. He chuckles and shrugs, incredibly nonchalant, before pecking your lips once more.

“S’cause I woke up with you next to me.” The grin is evident in his next kiss, pulling one from you no matter how much you fight it. “Plus, had some pretty great sex last night.”

“Oh my god, okay, I’m leaving. Such an idiot—” you smack his arm playfully and untangle from his arms, “ruining a perfectly sweet, wholesome moment.”

“Didn’t ruin anything. Y’know you were thinkin’ the same thing,” he counters as he throws on boxers, following you out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

You glance over your shoulder, shooting him an eye roll while biting back a smile. Padding quickly into the kitchen, you slip your shoes on from where they sit next to the back door, turning toward Joel in a rush as he strides over to you. Still sleepy eyes take you in, grabby hands finding your waist and pulling you in tight to his chest while you groan.

“J, baby, I gotta go.” He buries his head in your neck, shaking it enough for his messy curls to brush against your skin in a tickle. “I’ll see you later, okay? We jus’ have to make it through the party, and then I’m all yours. Deal?”

Lifting his head with an elongated sigh, he nods subtly and sneaks a quick kiss, “Deal. But I kind of don’t want to share you with the whole neighborhood tonight. Wish it was jus’ you and me.”

“Me too, baby, but we’ll survive. We’ve made it this long, haven’t we?” Fingers glide through his hair, pushing it up off his forehead. Before you step back and reach for the door, he pulls you in again, one hand finding your jaw to hold you there as he gives you a slow, syrupy, toe-curling kiss. The linger of it tickles your lips when he pulls away, a drowsy, beaming smile filling his face.

“Love you, Mari baby. See you later.”

“Love you more, J. See y’all later.” One last effort breaks you free of him, slipping out the door with him still on your tail, large palm making contact with your ass in a smack. A look back at him gives you a wink and smirk in return, Joel’s wide frame filling the threshold as you descend his deck stairs and scurry across your lawn to make it home in time.

God, you’re too old to be sneaking around with your boyfriend.

But damn, if he doesn’t make it fun.

Late afternoon, when the sticky, humid air has cooled down only fractions from the peak of the day, the whole onslaught of the neighborhood gathers on your cul-de-sac. Lawn games litter front yards of everyone around, the food tables set up between your driveway and Joel’s. Two grills are lit and manned on the asphalt in front of your garage, barely enough space to cook all the food that could feed an entire army, plus all of your neighbors.

The skirt of your baby blue sundress swishes against your thighs as you flutter around the folding tables set out to frame the street. Borrowed, mismatched tablecloths have been blanketed over the surfaces, and it’s been your latest task to arrange simple centerpieces of wildflowers from your garden beds built by Joel, and vases pulled from the backs of cabinets in your house. With every inch of your movement, your eyes flicker to track Joel’s, licking your lips as you watch the fabric of his muted blue t-shirt pull and strain across his shoulder blades. The hair at the back of his neck curled more from the perspiration that he was building while carrying coolers full of ice, beer, sodas, and water all about the street.

While putting the finishing touches on the last centerpiece, it seems that when you look up again, the whole neighborhood has shown up all at once. Joel’s gone from your line of sight, and you resign to finding the nearest cold beer and being pulled into a conversation with Mrs. Clarke and some of her book club ladies from the street over that you don’t know as well. They fuss over you, admiring your dress and your hair, and commenting repeatedly about ‘how gorgeous and youthful’ you are. As you open your mouth to accept the compliments again with a polite ‘thank you’, a familiar voice cuts in from over your shoulder.

“Excuse me, ladies, I hate to interrupt y’all but I was hoping to steal her away for a bit. Kind of need a partner for some cornhole and we’ve got a winning streak to maintain.” Joel shoots all of the older women a charming grin when you turn to your side to see him, his eyes finding yours for a split second.

“Oh, god, another one of you youngin’ neighbors! I have been loving to see so many new folks move in and all you kids that have returned. It is so lovely,” Mrs. Clarke shares, nodding her head with a mischievous grin toward Joel, “Y’know, y’all are pretty handsome together. Maybe it’s just 'cause y’all are young and beautiful still!”

Mrs. Clarke and the other women laugh, a wide smile on your face as you shake your head, “C’mon, Mrs. Clarke, you’re beautiful — Joel’s actually been tellin’ me he’s got a crush on a neighbor, my bets are on you.”

She laughs again, waving off the compliments, “Well I wouldn’t go gambling if that’s how you bet, sugar. I think you’d be at the top of all the lists if you ask everyone here; you’ve been the talk of the neighborhood since you came back from that big ol’ city you were in. Everybody’s been saying how you are still such a sweet girl, but I can tell something’s different. In a good way.”

She shoots you a wink and you soak in the sentiments, looking over to Joel when he cuts in again.

“I think I’d agree with ya, ma’am. Definitely different in a good way. Like whiskey in a teacup.” The look in his eyes is filled with the silent affection that his words coil around, saying all that he can’t say at the moment. Instead, he wraps up the conversation for you, thanking the four women before letting you step ahead of him, his hand barely ghosting over your back in what would look to be an innocent gesture.

“Now did you really want to play bags or was that just an excuse?” you tease, taking a sip of your drink while you two wander over to the game set up in the grass.

Joel shrugs, smile toying at his lips, “Had to be able to find a way to sweet talk my crush now, didn’t I?”

A roll of your eyes and growing smirk encourages him, nudging your side with his elbow, “Y’think Mrs. Clarke is gonna go around gossipin’ about us when the whole neighborhood finds out I’ve got a crush on you and not her?”

“Oh definitely. Lived here my whole life, that woman knows everybody’s business before they know it themselves. Don’t be surprised if she’s told everybody you’re in love with me by the time this evening’s wrappin’ up.” Squatting down, Joel gathers up the bean bags from the surface of the handbuilt gameboards, handing you the green while he takes the yellow.

As he deposits them one by one in your open palm, he shoots you a genuine, shy smile. “Well, wouldn’t be a lie so I guess it would jus’ help me out. Maybe we should tell Mrs. Clarke and then everybody will know tonight.”

“Haha. Very funny, Miller,” you reply dryly, shooting him a playfully annoyed look before starting the game between the two of you.

The back-and-forth flows easily for the two of you, both in gameplay and banter. At the game-point throw, you sink it in the hole, cheering for yourself when you nail the score of exactly twenty-one. Joel tosses his own, flicking his wrist only slightly at the last moment to scratch the throw, leaving you victorious. He smiles to himself as he watches you eagerly clap for yourself, turning to him and nodding toward the spread of food that was finally laid out.

You’re so beautiful.

The look you’re giving him sends a jolt into his spine, fuzzing his brain while the butterfly in his chest rapidly pumps its wings.

“C’mon, let's eat. All that losin’ probably worked up an appetite for you.” Without clasping around his, your hand brushes your fingers against the back of his palm. The softness leaves an itch on his skin, his nerves simply jumping for the chance to touch you. You lead confidently while he trails behind in your wake, observing as everyone sends you a smile or a greeting that you return right back with a glow.

He’d follow you anywhere.

And he knows how damn lucky he is that you’re willing to let him.

It’s what he can’t help but continue to think about as the night rolls on, watching you from his place at a table with a handful of the guys from the neighborhood, including your dad and brother, and Tommy, who stopped over after his own plans for the evening went belly up. While he nurses the beer from the glass bottle in his hand, you are bouncing with a baby on your hip to the beat of the song playing over the speakers. It’s the kid you nanny, having taken her from her parents to let them eat and enjoy a moment of calmness with everyone while you keep the young one entertained.

The happy baby babbles in your arms as you dance with her subtly, standing in a small group of other neighbors. It’s so natural for you, the way you’re nurturing and easily adapting to having a little human attached to your side. He can’t shake the way his body is begging him to get up and go over to you, wanting to help you, to play pretend for a moment that it’s an addition to your little family in your arms.

He nearly stumbles over himself to get out of his seat when Sarah pulls you away from the group, thanking his daughter inside his head for giving him the perfect excuse to be close to you in the moment. Tommy chuckles to himself when he follows where Joel’s gaze is aimed, shaking his head subtly at his older brother’s obvious stare.

Joel doesn’t pay him any mind as he walks over toward you and Sarah, brushing against your side as he folds forward at his waist to press a kiss to the top of his daughter’s curly hair. The baby is babbling again in your arms, wiggling and mouthing on her hand while she stares at Joel. He shoots her a smile, opening and closing his fingers in a loose fist to wave.

“Hey there, little one. Now who’s this?” he asks, eyes finding your face while you grin at the happy baby girl in your arms.

“This is Amelia. She’s Brian and Steph’s daughter, the one I’ve been nannying this summer since Steph’s gone back to work,” you adjust her again and Joel nods, reaching out absentmindedly to lay a hand on Sarah’s head.

“Isn’t she so cute, Daddy?” Sarah laughs quietly when Amelia squeals excitedly. Her hand tugs on Joel’s shirt to grab his attention back from staring at you, eyebrows raised, and the same look on her face that she gets when she desperately wants a toy from the store. “I want to get a baby!”

He nearly chokes on his breath when he rushes to respond, hearing your quiet giggle as he coughs before clearing his throat. Addressing Sarah, he gives her an understanding smile, “Babies are pretty cute, aren’t they? But you’ll need to be much, much older until you can get a baby, mija. Like you’ll need to be Posey’s age or even better, you can be Daddy’s age and get a baby for yourself, alright?”

“That’s not very fun. You’re old, I don’t wanna wait that long. It’s like an eternity,” she replies bluntly, causing you to laugh and Joel to shoot you a warning look before he returns to Sarah.

“Trust me, Bug, it’s not that long in the grand scheme of things. Before I know it, you’ll be out of my house and I’ll be even more ancient, apparently, and you’ll have your own babies. All in due time, mija. Don’t wish away your life.” He pats her curls while she stands, thought clearly turning in her head.

A lightbulb goes off and she gasps, clapping her hands together as she says only to the two of you, “I know! You can get another baby, Daddy, and then I’ll have a cute one to play with. You can get one with Posey.”

Sarah beams with what seems like a completely genius idea to her, waiting for a response or a plan of action to get this all set in motion for her. You laugh again, stepping in when Joel can’t seem to find the right words to say.

He doesn’t want to outwardly deny it. Definitely doesn’t want you to think that is something he wouldn’t want. He’s told you as much.

But he also doesn’t want to step in any hot water, doesn’t want to put his foot in his mouth if it really is something you haven’t thought about much.

“That is such a smart idea, Sare-Bear,” you grin comfortingly and reach out a free hand to brush her hair back, “Y’know who else you could ask to have a baby? Uncle Tommy. Why don’t you go ask him why he doesn’t have a girlfriend so that he can give you a cousin?”

Sarah giggles and matches your mischievous energy, scampering off to go wholesomely harass her uncle. You turn to Joel, your face twisting into curiosity when you can’t read the look on his face.

“What? Should I have explained where babies come from to her or something instead? Was it a bad idea to sick her on Tommy?”

“No, not at all. To answer both your questions,” he bites back from absolutely beaming, turning his gaze to baby Amelia’s chubby cheeks when his voice drops to a level only audible to you standing inches from him, “Would you?”

“Would I what?” Your head tilts to the side, adjusting Amelia on your hip and hiking her up. Joel opens his mouth to clarify his question when Steph sidles up next to you, thanking you profusely while she takes her daughter back into her arms. The interaction warms Joel’s blood in his veins, the wings of the butterfly pushing the rattle of nerves into his throat.

Everyone loves you so much here, and you really do have love for everyone.

A fucking solid gold heart inside of you and Joel can’t believe you’ve given even a piece, a sliver, of it to him to safeguard.

Turning your attention back to him when the two of you are left alone, you lift the corner of your lip up in an anxious comfort, “So, would I what?”

“Would you have a kid? With me. Would you have a kid with me?” It all rushes out, words blending together but you understand all the same. A quiet laugh rolls from your chest, skyrocketing his worry in the moment before you shake your head and give his bicep a quick, but reassuring squeeze.

“Course I would, J. Don’t think anything would make me happier.” Your eyes sparkle in the setting sunlight, the solid and steady beat of his heart surely heard over the music and noise by everyone around you both. Pressing his lips together to restrain himself, he nods slowly and attempts to remain casual.

“I wanna kiss you so fucking much right now, Mari.”

“I want that, too. But I think Mrs. Clarke would be jealous. Stealin’ you away from her.” The joke breaks the tension, sending him into a small fit of laughter, shaking his head at your ridiculousness.

“Guess I better go ask Mrs. Clarke the same question then, huh? Keep my options open.”

“Better go. Give her enough time to tell Mr. Clarke she’s running away with the neighbor forty years younger than her.”

“Definitely think that’d go over better than you, the beloved, sweet neighborhood girl, running away with me.”

“Oh hush, doesn’t matter how well it’d go over. Jus’ matters if we can run fast enough away from the angry mob that’s gonna come after ya.” You wink and laugh again, your head shaking back and forth before it whips in the direction of your mom calling your name. Another soft and subtle touch is fleetingly felt against his skin, turning over your shoulder to mouth a quick ‘love you’ to him as you walk away.

He returns it before searching around to fill his hands before returning back to the table and sitting down next to his brother. Joel sets the full beer bottle next to his half-full one, eyes still trained on you before Tommy grabs his attention with a hard jab to his side and snags the full beer.

“So why the hell is my niece asking me when I’m gonna get a girlfriend so I can have a baby?”

Night has overtaken the sky, with sprinklings of stars and a waxing moon as its centerpieces. Everyone along the road has turned on their porch lights, extra portable camping lights, and hanging lanterns brought out to make enough light to continue the party. The handful of neighborhood kids run around to catch fireflies while the adults either stand around in conversations or gather in the open space between all of the tables to dance. Your parents, ever the hosts that they are, have popped back into the house to gather more drinks and desserts for everyone. Wrapped up in a chat about a potential hire for a job with a guy from a few streets over, Joel hasn’t paid mind to where you’re at or if Sarah’s running along with the other kids. He shakes the man’s hand and promises to stop by when he can during the week to check out exactly what the job would entail and if his guys can get it done.

Turning away, the sight of you is perfectly framed by warm lights, a tunnel of everything else fading away while he observes you from across the street. The mop of curls he loves dearly bounces around with you, your hands holding Sarah’s and spinning her around the dancefloor. His daughter’s laughter hits his ears over the sound of the music, tugging a smile onto his face that nearly matches your beaming grin.

This whole night, he hasn’t been able to stay away from you long. And he hasn’t been able to shake the feeling of how desperate he is to stay in your pull, to be able to make you smile and laugh, to make you happy.

You do so much for others, offering a hand or making them smile with your genuine care and humor. Everyone is so drawn to you, he’s not the only one who wants to have you around. And he knows about what you’re going through behind closed doors, the things you tell him about when no one else will listen or understand. The same things he heard from you when you were thousands of miles away, voice crackling over the phone. All he wants to do is to be there for you, to show you the same kindness that you show him, that you show everyone you encounter.

Ever since he met you, he’s never wanted to be apart from you. But he didn’t trust himself not to make selfish decisions, so he pushed you away that first summer, and let you go the second. Now, with no endings in sight at the end of summer, anything is possible.

One thing’s for sure though — he’s tired of hiding.

All it does is take up more energy that he could be giving to you, to Sarah, to a better future for all of you.

And fuck’s sake, if he doesn’t want everyone to know that you chose him. The best person he knows — has ever known — chose him and continues to choose him, to forgive him, to love him. He doesn’t know what the future holds, doesn’t know what everything will look like for y’all in a week, in a year, in a decade, but all he can say is that whatever it all entails, however much it scares him, he wants you there by his side. He needs you.

Without a second thought, he moves toward you as the song changes, depositing his nearly empty drink on the nearest table. Swiping his clammy hands on his jeans as he walks, he takes a deep breath before he taps you on the shoulder. He shoots Sarah a wink over your shoulder while you turn around, her giggle bringing a lopsided grin to his face.

“Oh, Joel, what’s up?” you ask casually, cocking an eyebrow up in confusion.

He addresses Sarah in the next moment, putting on a formal tone and clearing his throat, “Excuse me, Miss Sarah, but would you mind if I steal Mariposa away for a dance?”

“Of course not, Daddy!” she grins widely, showing off her missing tooth that came out a few nights ago, “Have fun, Posey!”

Sarah scurries off to find her friends from the neighborhood, and Joel holds his hand out with a soft smirk. Utterly puzzled, you glance around before focusing back on Joel at the sound of his voice.

“May I have this dance, Mari?”

You’re surprised, stumbling out a response as you tentatively place your hand in his, “Yes, I mean — yes, but — What are you doing, J?”

With your hand in his, he leads you further into the couples dancing along to the sweetly slow love song playing. In the middle, he stops and faces you, keeping your hand in his, holding them up close with a bent elbow while his other finds your waist and pulls you in closer. The two of you start to sway and Joel’s lips settle next to your ear while you dance.

“Joel, everyone’s staring…and talking amongst themselves. What are you doing?” you ask in a hushed voice, pulling away to look into his eyes. Anxiety flashes in yours and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze before replying.

“M’letting go, mi amor. Let ‘em stare,” he replies, the corners of his lips rising in a tender grin. He slips his hand from yours, fingers trailing down your arm to bring it to rest on his shoulder like your other one. Both of his hands spread across your hips, pressing into the fabric of your dress and pushing around to settle at your lower back.

“But they’re gonna start spreading shit and I know you weren’t ready before to tell anyone else — my parents might be around, J. I don’t want you to do this if you aren’t ready, or if you’re just doing this for me.”

He leans closer, tilting his head down to lay his forehead against yours. Holding your eyes, he speaks quietly, voice rasping with the strain of the volume and the emotion coating his words, “El amor es ciego, pero los vecinos no. (Love is blind, but the neighbors aren’t.) There’s always going to be people to gossip, or to whisper about us. All that matters to me is what you think, and how you feel. I want to be able to tell everyone that you’re mine, and I’m yours. I’m so lucky, and I am so proud to be your partner in life, Mari baby. M’tired of trying to predict what the future’s gonna be for us, and m’tired of trying to keep the reality of life away from us. Truth is, I don’t think there’s anything that life could throw at me or you that we couldn’t get through together. I need you there, always, sweet girl. Todo va a salir bien. Everything will work out.”

“I-God, I don’t even know what to say…” Tears well at your waterline, none daring to fall over the edge while you attempt to remain composed for the crowd that is surely watching everything happening. “All I can think about is how much I love you, Joel. And I want all of the same things, and I know that with you, we can handle whatever life has planned for us.”

“I love you too, baby. Te amo siempre, mi Mariposa. (I love you always, my Mariposa).”

The song’s last few notes fade out, some of the couples filtering out of the dance floor when the music changes over. After another short peck from Joel, the bubble the two of you were in dissolves when Sarah runs up, asking Joel if she can have another cookie. He gives her the quick go-ahead, watching her rush off as quickly as she came, and suddenly you’re reminded you’re in the middle of the whole neighborhood.

No one says anything as you lead Joel away, hand-in-hand. But a few looks are exchanged and the eyes of everyone feel hot on your neck. A glance around proves your parents aren’t outside still, and your stomach flips with the real possibility that someone, particularly nosey neighbors, may have beaten you to the punch in terms of telling them about you and Joel.

Tugging him from a good few steps ahead, Joel widens his strides to catch up easily as you beeline toward your garage, the mechanical door wide open for people to come and go as needed. You stop in your tracks right in front of the door to the inside, taking a deep breath before turning around to face Joel.

“Alright, it’s now or never, J. Either we’re the ones to tell our parents, or they find out from Mrs. Clarke’s book club that we were on the dancefloor and kissin’ each other and—”

Joel interrupts your ramblings with a gentle chuckle, tilting his head to the side as he looks over your face before locking his eyes with yours.

“So are we the ones meant to be saying we were on the dancefloor and kissin’ each other?” he asks with a smirk, one eyebrow raising in question.

“Oh, c’mon, Joel.”

“M’kiddin’, Mari. It’s now or never, and I am not a man that says never. So lead the way, sweet girl.” He gestures to the door behind you, a genuine smile on his face quelling your heightened nerves.

If you could read his mind, you know he’s freaking out right now.

But no, instead he’s keeping it cool on the outside, trying to be a calming presence for your own anxious thoughts.

Can’t help but ask himself questions. What if your parents get upset or angry? What if they dismiss it, not believing that it would ever work between the two of them? What if they take it out on you? It’s not your fault that they didn’t find out earlier — would they hate him if he defends you in an argument? What if they don’t think he is good enough for you?

He has his own doubts, but hearing it from your parents would crush him.

You walk ahead of him, holding onto his hand while you walk inside and through your empty living room. He drops his hand from yours right on the threshold of your kitchen and gives you a tight smile when you look back at him. Wiping his clammy hands on his jeans, he takes a deep breath before following you into the room.

Clearing your throat to grab your parents' attention, you saddle up to the island and lean forward with your elbows on the cool countertops. Joel stands next to you, a respectable distance away but you feel the itch to bring him closer. Your dad turns around first, pausing his task of filling a cooler with ice from the freezer.

“Hey there, kiddo. Oh, and heya, Miller! Y’all havin’ a good time tonight? Need anything?”

“Or are y’all bein’ sweethearts and have come inside to help us with all this?” Your mom nods over her shoulder to the rest of the desserts plated across the counters.

She turns around next after washing her hands at the kitchen sink, patting them dry with a towel before she crosses the small walkway to settle on the other side of the island. Joel shakes his head when you’re silent for a moment, giving both of your parents a smile.

“No, don’t need anything. And I would be happy to help, ma’am—” Joel ever so politely offers before you interrupt him.

“I, uh, I actually wanted to talk to y’all about something.” Your voice wavers only slightly, a stuttering sound coming from your throat as you clear it again. One of your mom’s eyebrows raises in curiosity, much more sprawling thoughts happening in the subtle twitches of her eyes as she looks at your face, then at Joel’s, and back to you.

Your dad is a bit oblivious.

“Joel and I will leave ya to it, y’all can fill me in later,” he faces Joel, nodding toward the direction of the door and closing the top of the cooler he packed full of ice a minute ago. Joel opens his mouth to respond when you fill in again quickly, holding a hand up to stop your dad’s movements.

“No, um, actually, it’s better if you’re both here and Joel’s here ‘cause, well…” A flip of your stomach nearly sends your dinner back up, but you swallow it down and lock your eyes on your hands as you finally spill the secret you’ve kept for the last three summers.

“Joel and I are together. Like in a relationship. A serious one.” You kept adding clarifications to fill the silence that’s fallen over the room, and Joel steps closer, reaching a hand up to rest on your back between your shoulder blades. He braces for ridicule, eyes trained on you as you keep yours on your hands.

Nothing. Your parents are saying nothing.

And you cannot take the silence anymore, so you begin to recount it all from the first summer, meeting him and getting to know him — sparing the details of the two of you…getting together. The short month-long second summer, Joel holding out his hope for you to stay but eventually letting you go. The year between that time and the beginning of this summer, infrequent phone calls and life updates. And finally, this summer, when you came back with no end in sight and nothing holding the two of you back. Given the chance to finally give it a proper go, and falling even more in love with him than you thought you could love anyone.

Your eyes flick to Joel’s as you confess that, and he returns the sentiment with a warm smile and his hand rubbing slow circles against the bare skin of your back exposed by your thinly-strapped dress.

God, you really do love him.

So much so, it occurs to you that it doesn’t really matter what comes after this. You choose him, and he’s chosen you, and your family would have to accept it. You’ve spent too much time without him in your life, completely, and there isn’t going to be another summer ending in heartbreak.

At the end of your three-summer abridged summary, Joel turns toward your parents, speaking up for himself. “I just—I want to tell you both that I care very much about your daughter. I love her dearly, and my life’s gotten astronomically better since she stepped into it. Mine and Sarah’s. You’ve raised an incredible woman, someone who is kind but never lets anyone push her around. A complete force.” Joel turns back to you, a growing, shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “I can only hope that Sarah gets the same fierceness and is as self-willed as you. I’ve said it before, but you’ve got a golden heart. You’re magic.”

The four of you talk it through, fielding their questions and small concerns as best as you can to reassure them. They share a look before your mom speaks, taking a deep breath that lifts and drops her shoulders.

“We can’t say that it’s not going to be an adjustment. I mean, dropping this all on us after not telling us for so long is a lot to process—”

“Of course, of course. I should’ve said something earlier, I’m sorry.”

“No, no. Don’t apologize. I just…Did you feel like you couldn’t talk to us about it or something, sweetie?” There’s a thickness in your mom’s voice, one that makes your chest ache.

“Oh, mom, no. It wasn’t like that, I—”

“I was the nervous one. I asked for more time before we told you this summer. I know how extraordinary your daughter is; she is definitely too good for me, and I was real nervous that you wouldn’t approve. I mean, I definitely have a different life than probably what you pictured. But I want to promise you both that I am proving myself every day to her. I always want to be better.”

To your surprise, your dad cuts in before you or your mom can say anything.

“You’re right. Our daughter is extraordinary…” He paused, continuing, “But you’re a good man, Joel. Trustworthy, dependable, respectful. And you very clearly love our daughter. There’s nothing more I could ask of someone for her. So long as she has a good, happy life, I’m content.”

Joel exchanges a relieved smile with your dad, your focus on your mom again as one arm snakes around Joel’s back to hold you closer.

“Your dad said it. If you’re happy, honey, then we’re happy…” She studies the two of you with tender care in her eyes, holding her hands to her chest before releasing them with a content sigh. “And I mean, I knew.”

Immediately, your brow furrows with confusion and Joel laughs, holding it back when you shoot him a warning look. Returning to your mom, you raise a question in response, “I’m sorry, you knew? How did you know?”

“Well, nothing was ever confirmed. But I did mention to your father quite a few times how I caught you sneaking glances and smiles toward Joel.” She directs the next question to your dad, whose focus has been lost on the plate of desserts in front of him, “And, how often did I mention to you catching Joel looking at her like all of the sunlight was radiating from her? Like he was completely head over heels.”

“Oh, all the time,” your dad answers nonchalantly. You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief, Joel’s laughter bubbling over while he tugs you into his side and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“To be honest, I thought maybe he was just in love with you and you were either oblivious or waiting for him to say something. Glad to hear that I was right!” she jests, laughing to herself and exhaling dramatically.

“So does this mean I can get my renovations done with a discount?” Your dad tilts his head up to look directly at Joel who holds a hand up in oath.

“Free labor from me always, sir. Can’t promise the discount for Tommy’s help, though.”

“Oh god, Dad, seriously?” you groan, rolling your head back while Joel looks on with a smile.

‘What? What’s wrong with asking that, kiddo?” Once again oblivious, your mom waves him off to drag the cooler of drinks outside. When he’s gone from the kitchen, she rounds the island, beaming with a grin.

“Well, I just can’t wait to already live next to my grandbabies! Don’t even need to move to be any closer, unless we move in with y’all into somewhere bigger—”

“Alright, Mom, I think the party’s probably missin’ these desserts, yeah?” You usher her by handing her a tray. She gives you a motherly eye roll before resigning her thoughts and taking the plate.

“Fine, fine, I’m going!” She shuffles in her sandals before glancing back at the edge of the threshold, “We really are happy for y’all.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Oh, Joel, c’mon. You’re part of the family now, call me Jen. And you can call her dad Mark, even if he gives you shit for it, he’s just trying to make you nervous. And then tell me, I’ll give him shit right back.”

At the click of the door shutting behind your parents, you face him and grin ecstatically, clasping your hands together. Joel’s shoulders relax with a sigh and your arms hook around his neck. He scoops you up in a hug, laughing when you shriek excitedly. Spinning the two of you around in a small circle, he settles still again, eyes locking with yours as a wide smile replaces his once apprehensive expression.

Joel nudges your nose with his, slow, warm breaths exchanged in the closeness before he kisses you. Slow, delicate, light melting into fervor — hot and heavy with all your love for each other.

Breathless, you pull away and he chases your lips for a chaste kiss, pressing his forehead against yours while you both start to laugh quietly.

“What a summer, huh?” you ask, another fit of laughter leaving your mouth.

“Definitely was a fun summer, sweetheart. And the last two, too.” Joel shakes his head, thumb brushing your cheek as he grins back at you, “Can’t wait to have all my summers with you, Mariposa.”

An ache is felt in your cheeks from smiling, but the dull pain pales in comparison to the all-over lightness; adrenaline and excitement make you feel as if you’re buzzing head to toe. Stealing another kiss from Joel, you feel him grin against your lips. Breathy chuckles fill the space between you when you pull away, tilting your head back in his hand to see more of his face.

“Wanna dance, J?”

“With you? Anytime, Mari baby. Lead the way.” He nods toward the door, taking your hand and following you closely as you head back to the party. Coming back out, all the eyes and whispers aren’t feeling like heat against your skin, instead the warmth of Joel’s palm grounds you and sends a shiver down your spine. He takes the lead in the moment, stepping ahead when you falter for a second and pulling you to the middle of the asphalt-turned-dancefloor.

The ever-so-familiar piano trills, along with the bright, smooth voice of Don McLean start to play out on the speakers, bringing wide smiles to both of your faces. As the beat picks up, Joel starts singing along, taking your hands from his shoulders and spinning you around as if you were swing dancing.

Both of you were clumsy, tripping over each other, but your laughter only brought brilliant, broad grins to your faces. The rest of the party fell away — it was only you and Joel, and all the memories that this song brought back.

The skirt of your dress kicks up as he spins you around and around, pulling you into his chest and swaying with you for the entire song, his deep and drawling voice singing along to the lyrics and sending goosebumps spreading across your skin despite the humid, sticky heat of the night. His steps slow down at the end, turning you both in one final, exaggerated circle before settling on the last note.

Joel looks down at you, adoration glinting in his eyes and his dimple showing as his mouth holds his smile. One of your hands slips away from his, reaching up to skim your fingers along his patchy beard and rest at the side of his neck. With another song turning over on the speakers, Joel leans down and catches your lips in a supple kiss. It’s slow and saccharine, savoring the taste of you on his tongue before he pulls away, waiting with bated breath.

You break the moment with a sweet, melodic laugh and a shake of your head.

“Of course, that song came on. Did you plan all this, Miller?” you interrogate playfully, the world still tunneled between the two of you.

“Absolutely not. But pretty serendipitous, yeah? Guess we should take that as a sign. Right person, right time. Finally.” His response gives you another laugh, nodding before going in for another short kiss.

“Yeah, think it’s safe to say it's the right time, finally. Was always the right person.”

“You can say that again, Mari baby.”

taglist: @beskarandblasters @undrthelights @swiftispunk @joelsversion @asirenbyanyothername @ellenmunn @ja-ehyun @sw33tp1xie @marisemonteiroo @brunetteeras @bongsrconfusing @addictedtotlou @angie2274 @pedrostories @pedroholic @theelishad @johnwatsn @elissa @felicityofbakerstreet @atinylittlepain @northernbluess @cannolighost @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @fishingforpike @msjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @yazsos @peppesgirl @pastawench @anoverwhelmingdin @wolfbook87 @mswarriorbabe80 @planet-marz1 @kiwisbell @lizzie-cakes

#joel #writing #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller au #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller angst #joel miller series #tlou fanfic #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction

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littlefangbanger · 2 years ago

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True Blood Vampires w/ a Human Mate

Pairing(s): Eric; Pam; Godric; x GN!Reader

CW: Vague mentions of sex, violence, etc... Come on, it's True Blood. Mentions of Luke (suicide bomber). Some fluff. Lots of rambling.

Notes: Only on season 4 right now, so I'm sure I'm missing some good characters. Didn't do Bill but if anybody wants a second version of this just ask. I'm open to requests so feel free to send me asks!

Eric Northman

This man only uses humans for three things: feeding, fucking and as a means to an end. If they didn't offer anything useful, they didn't interest him. That was, until you.

Ngl it took this man a long time to recognize his own feelings. It took Pam calling him out to realize he was starting to feel something almost human. Love?

You heard him say it, don't use words he doesn't understand.

Anyways, at first he thought he was just attracted to you due to your blood. He hadn't actually tasted it yet but it was tempting nonetheless.

You were with them at Godric's nest when the suicide bomber attacked. You were further away from Luke than Sookie and Eric, but you were still human.

Eric was the one who pulled the debris out of you and fed you his blood. That was the moment he started to come to terms with his own feelings. He wasn't going to lose you.

This man will protect you from EVERYTHING, vampire or not. If it's a vampire of all things threatening your safety, in his area, well... bless their cold non-beating hearts.

Remember that episode where Lafayette is in the basement, and Eric lets out that inhuman growl while tearing that other man apart? Yeah, he does that.

He's not affectionate at first, especially not in public. If he does hold you it is because you managed to piss him off by talking to other vampires at Fangtasia. So he keeps you where he knows nobody will come after you: in his lap.

Man is probably touch starved. Please offer him a hug when you're alone. It'll be strange for him at first but he secretly loves it.

I think his primary love languages are mostly acts of service and quality time. He wants you to worship the ground he walks on, much like he does you.

Passionate kisses. Rough sex. It's rare for anything to be slow or gentle with him.

He is down for anything really. Just say the word.

Listen, he's not a gentleman. Not unless you explicitly ask for it. He's gonna be rough with almost everything. But he tries for you.

You can try to take control if you want... but just know you're not actually in control. He's just offering you an opportunity to feel like you are.

The moment you get a little too cocky, he'll remind you that he is the thousand year old vampire. He overpowers you easily.

He wants you to become a vampire, but doesn't say anything at first. He actually starts to value your humanity. It keeps him grounded.

That doesn't change the fact that you can't stay human forever. In your current state you are simply too fragile. It was too easy for you to be ripped away from him.

He won't turn you yet, though. He'll wait until you're ready, or until he has no choice.

Pamela Swynford de Beaufort

Eric is the only being that has managed to capture and keep Pam's attention. So your relationship was a slow burn made in hell.

At first she only saw you as another pathetic human that stuck their nose in vampire business too much. You were one of Sookie's dearest friends, and one that seemed to always be involved in her foolish antics.

Much like Sookie, you sympathize with vampires. You actually started to visit Fangtasia as a casual guest.

That's how you managed to capture Pam's attention. Your regular visits always seemed to spark something that resembled joy in her.

Your personality meshed well with hers. Pam is a smart-ass and even more cunning. Your dark humor and equally witty personality amused her.

Eventually you two developed a sort of... arrangement. You offered her your blood, and sex of course, and she offered you protection from the degenerates at Fangtasia.

She did find your blood quite tasty, so she agreed to this.

She claimed you. So nobody else could touch you. Eric didn't care as long as you didn't distract her from her duties.

After some months of seeing each other, Pam started to realize that she was becoming way too attached to you.

It was almost as if she was... in love? No, absolutely not.

She was harsh with you for some time, but eventually started to warm up.

Her primary love languages are acts of service and gift giving. Shower her with quality makeup, jewelry and other gifts. She loves being spoiled.

She'll do the same for you, so expect some rather pricey gifts.

When it comes to sex she prefers being dominant, but if you ask nicely she may let you take that role instead.

Will praise and degrade you at the same time. Just be a good pet for her, yeah?

I feel like she would want to turn you into a vampire asap. She doesn't like knowing that you could die from almost anything.

You don't mind, though. You quite like the idea of being a vampire.

Godric

Godric is one of the few vampires who holds some level of compassion towards humans. So, I feel like it wouldn't take as much for him to fall in love with one.

This compassion is, however, a result of being two thousand years old. He's had a lot of time to get around, but somehow I'm convinced he's never been in love like that.

Sure, he knows something like love for his progenies. But romantic? I just don't think that's something he thought about until recently. It would probably take him some time to recognize what he's feeling.

You met the night Sookie was held hostage by the Fellowship of the Sun. You had arrived with Eric to save him and Sookie.

Godric was intrigued by your compassion for vampires. You? A human, there to help save him? It was almost too good to be true, but then again some could say the same about his compassion towards humans.

You were with them at his house that night, celebrating his return. He had been watching you; how you mingled with the vampires as if they were human. You didn't give anybody permission to drink from you, much to Godric's pleasure.

When the suicide bomber attacked, he shielded you. The impact still hurt but you were free of any life-threatening injuries.

In return, you talked him out of meeting the true death. You stood with him on the top of that roof and convinced him that although things are hard, and he has a lot to atone for, there is still much to live for (even if he technically isn't alive).

He claimed you to protect you from other vampires after that. He knew how brutal and beast-like many vampire are. Most understood what it means to claim a human though, so if they knew you were Godric's they wouldn't touch you.

Deep talks. I feel like over time he'd open up about some of the things from his past that bothers him, and how his mental health is. You always listened and reassured him that he has changed for the better.

The only other vampire he would trust to be alone with you is Eric. Eric wouldn't dare touch what is Godric's and often finds himself looking after you when Godric is too busy with vampire stuff.

Quality time and words of affirmation would be his love languages. Please please please shower him with compliments and reassurance. He won't admit it in front of others but he loves it.

Honestly he's sweet all around. In all scenarios. He worships the ground you walk on and will treat you like royalty. That means in bed too.

He's constantly afraid of losing you. As much as he loves your humanity, he's painfully aware of how fragile you are in your current state.

In his two thousand years Godric has developed a great deal of patience and self-control, but the moment you are threatened by another vampire or otherwise non-human... he's not afraid to showcase what he's capable of.

He would never turn you unless you want him to. Even then, I feel like you would really need to convince him that you want that. Honestly you may have to wait until he is ready, because he is conflicted with the idea.

#true blood #true blood x reader #true blood fanfic #eric northman #eric northman x reader #eric northman fanfic #vampire #vampire x reader #vampire x human

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 11 months ago

Note

Could we maybe get a part two of TLR Mikey x reader where she confesses her love to him as he’s dying and they have one last kiss 👉👈

Even Better: part 2 (Angst) (18+)

TLR!Michelangelo x reader

Part 1

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A/N: You certainly can!🧡 But given the nature of the first part, I just had to add smut into this one as well, and once again, my smut breaks weren't working. I was all cuddled up in bed, but then had to turn my heating off, only to start crying right afterwards. Anyway, hope you enjoy, even if you cry😭🖤

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The reader is at least 20. Mikey is in his 40’s.

Warnings: Loss of loved ones, age difference, groping, mutual masturbation, pornstar-ish fingering, dirty talk, manhandling, hard sex, suicide mission, description of blood and death, reader my experience what can only be described as an emotional rollercoster.

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After that first night with Michelangelo, everything had so much better than you could have ever dreamed of. Sure, Mikey was still his gloomy self during the day, brooding and training, talking to himself, laying a plan for the day he would take down Oroku Hiroto. Heck, he even became your sister’s sensei, training her in the ninja arts that he and his brothers had been brought up with.

But that was what happened during the day. Night was much different. Every night, once you were sure that your mother and sister had gone to bed, or left for the streets of New York City above your head, or gone to black market during the night, you would make your way to the Splinter’s old room, which Mikey now called his. That or he would already be standing outside of your door, waiting for you to let him in.

Every night was the same. Mikey would hold you close, and ask you about the dreams you used to have about him. What thoughts had been through your mind, as you touched yourself with his name on your lips. He wanted to know. And once he knew, he would make sure that it would become reality, doing anything you asked him to do, his big hand covering your mouth as he fucked you through out the night, drawing one earth shattering orgasm from you after another.

Each night, after Mikey had made sure both of you had been more than satisfied, he would rest down beside you and hold you close, his thick fingers running circles on your skin as he looked at you. In this position he would slowly open up to you, and tell you all the things that had been plaguing him the past 20 years. The faces of those he had lost, and the many things he had to do in order to survive. You would forever remember that night, where he wondered out loud, how his hands, the hands of a monster, that had taken so many lives, was able to bring such a beautiful creature like you so much pleasure. That comment had stuck with you, in a way that you had not expected it to, running through your head, whenever you saw him walk through the lair.

But as the days passed by, and you and Mikey’s nights became more and more. You could not deny the feelings you had been growing for him. It was more than just physical attraction, stemming from an old fantasy. No, it was stronger. On a short period of time, you had developed strong feelings for Michelangelo, and with each passing day, they only seemed to blossom further.

Then came the day he, your sister and your mother went to Stockman’s island. You hated every minute of it, staying back with a few resistance members, trying to keep up the communications, while making sure the base of operations stayed hidden. But when you lost communication with your mother you almost broke down, and in the short time you lost contact with Mikey and Casey Marie you almost fainted. You feared the worst, remembering how Mikey had said he hated the plan.

And then the power went out, leaving all of New York City in darkness. Whatever they had done, it had worked. And once you heard their voices on the intercom once more, you were overjoyed to know that they were alive.

“I think we won”, Casey Marie said.

“The battle, not the war”, your mom answered her.

“And not at a price I’m willing to pay anymore”, Mikey growled, his voice vibrating through the intercom. At that moment you were too relieved, knowing he was alive, to think about what his words meant. Looking back, you wished you had taken the time to think about what they meant…

You raced to the lair in order to find your family, wanting to celebrate their safe return home in some shape or form. But they were nowhere to be found. Your sister was not in the dojo and your mother wasn't in her lab. But what you did find was a bunch of water, creating small puddles on the floor.

You stared at the water in confusion, wondering where it came from, when you heard a familiar low vibrating sound from Mikey’s room. Your heart started beating fast, as you ran to his room, bursting through the door to find him standing by the bed, wearing his overalls, his body covered in small bandages. He showed no reaction when you came in, instead moving some of his things around, his shell turned to you, walking through the small puddles that had formed on the floor, as if they never were there.

“Mikey”, you breathed out, holding back a sob from pure relief, watching as he slowly turned towards you, his face as scolding as it normally was. “Oh, Mikey, I’m so happy that you’re alive! I was so scared, I thought-”.

He caught you off with his hand wrapping around your neck, before pulling you in for a hungry kiss. You gasped, fumbling to grab onto his overalls as his tongue made its way into your mouth, his other hand roughly grabbing onto your ass, pulling your body against his large firm one, with such ferocity, that you would not think that he had ever touched you before.

“Mikey!”, you gasped, pulling from the kiss, your breathing heavy. His eyes were dark, so deep and dark. “My mom could be here! Casey too!”

“Like I care”, he growled, moving his hand from your throat to your chin, forcing you close to him once more. You yelped as he smacked your still clothed behind, making him growl at the sound that left your mouth. “I need you now, (Y/N)”.

You shivered at his words as they shot straight to your core, all thoughts and worries about your mother and sister disappearing, leaving only the thought of Mikey back. He noticed the effect his words had on you, feeling as you subconsciously started rubbing your thighs together, coupled with the strong aroma he had grown familiar with, ever since that first night with you. You smelled just as amazing, as the day he caught you staring at him, and the night he walked in on you touching yourself to the thought of him.

Mikey pulled you in for another hungry kiss, and this time you returned it with just as much need and hunger. Your lips moved together, as if you had thirsted for years, and the only way to quench the scorching desert in both of your mouths, was by the tongue of the other.

Any other night, Mikey would be calmer, almost back you shiver in anticipation as he asked about your dreams of him. But not tonight. His hand on your ass groped you, pushing you up against his clothed cloaca, grinding onto you. But you could not complain. It was exciting to have him growl and groan against your lips.

Suddenly Mikey let go of your neck, in order to place both of his hands on your rear, roughly lifting you up off the ground. You instinctively tried to wrap your legs around his broad torso, your arms hanging on to him for dear life, still deeply engaged in the wet and sloppy kiss.

Without looking or letting go of you, Mikey moved towards the metal spring bed. He stopped just before the bed, once again moving your hips against him, drawing a needy moan from you. Then suddenly, once against catching you totally off guard, Mikey dropped you onto the bed. The old springs creaked under you as you hit the mattress, falling onto you, staring up at the large terrapin, as he towered over you. You bite your lower lip at the sight of him. Even when he just stood there, still clothed, the very sight of Mikey just did something to you, making your stomach tingle in ways you had never felt before meeting him. And now as he stood over you, it reminded you of that night, where he pulled your blanket off, revealing your naked lower half to him. It did not matter how many night you and Mikey had spent together, that one would always remain at the forefront of your mind.

“Take it off”, Mikey grumbled, nodding towards your clothing. You were stunned for a moment, shocked by how three words could get you so hot and bothered. The way his dark hooded eyes watched you, made your skin feel as if it was on fire. It was becoming too hot with your clothes on. You stared into his eyes as you started undoing your top, another rush of excitement washing through you as you saw his own hand move towards his clothed crotch, slowly tracing over his cloaca as the fabric left your skin.

Mikey hummed as your shirt hit the end of the bed, watching as you started opening your pants, his hand now flatley rubbing against himself. “That’s my girl”.

You sucked a breath in as you pushed your pants down your hips, before throwing them next to your shirt, seeing the vein in Mikey’s neck becoming prominent as he was hit with the strong wave of your arousal, almost making his mouth water. As you sat up on your now naked knees and reached behind your back to undo your bra, Mikey started undoing the straps on his overalls, a growl escaping him as your nipples emerged from their hiding place, becoming hard in the cold air of the lair. That was when Mikey stepped out of his overalls, his hardened member already fully exposed from his cloaca, small droplets of pre-cum gathered at the opening. You reached you for him, wishing to touch his shaft, the inside of his mouth begging you to take him in, but he slapped your hand away. He then grabbed a hold of your legs, pulling them forwards so hard that you fell back onto the bed once more, your legs now spread wide open for him, your dripping core still covered by your underwear.

“Touch yourself”, he demanded. “Show me what you used to do when you thought of me”.

You whimpered at his request, before thinking back to all the times you had touched yourself in your room, fantasizing about the mutant that stood in front of you right now. One of your hands slowly went up to your breast, circling your nipple, while the other went down to the waistline of your underwear, your fingers slowly dipping in. You sighed out loud in pleasure as your fingers found your clit, letting you index finger and middle finger rub slow circles over your little bundle of nerves.

Mikey watched as your hands slowly began to work on yourself, his own hand making its way to his erection, where his thumb started rubbing the top of his spongy head.

The fingers on your breast started pinching your nipples, and the fingers in your underwear moved in faster circles. Mikey let go of himself momentarily, in order to pull your underwear down in one swift move, making you scream out in surprise, before being left bare in front of him.

You watched as Mikey’s hand wrapped around his length, just as your own fingers were finding your entrance. Pushing two fingers into yourself, you let out a pleasurable moan, the hand on your chest grabbing on to your round form. Mikey in turn started moving his hand up and down his shaft, matching the speed of your fingers, small but deep groans escaping him.

Resting his knees against the bed, he leaned over you, his lust blown eyes staring into yours. “Does it feel good?”, he asked, his voice raspy and deep and his eyes strained in focus, making you clench around your own fingers. “Does it feel as good as me?”

“No, Mikey”, you whimpered in response, speeding up the movement of your fingers, curling them inside of you. “This doesn't feel as good as you do”.

“That’s right”, Mikey growled, the speed of his hand increasing to match yours. “Because I can do better than that. So much better”.

“Mikey”, you moaned, letting go of your chest in order to reach out for him. But with a roar like groan, Mikey grabbed a hold of you once more, lifting you up from the bed and holding you against him. He quickly laid down on the bed with his shell resting against the wall, bringing you down with him, pressing your back up against his plastron. One of his hands kept your legs open, while the other sneaked up between your boobs, before grabbing onto your neck, using the forearm between your mounts to keep you pressed against him. Instinctively you held onto his arms, gasping as you felt his large member poke against the small of your back. So many nights had he fucked you with rod poking against you, but here you were, still finding yourself shocked at how big he was.

You turned your head, trying to get a better look at the handsome hold turtle, but he turned your head forward, his hot breath fanning over the side of your face. You shook in anticipation, as you felt the hand that had kept your legs open, glide from your thigh and down towards your yearning center.

“From now on”, Mikey grumbled against your ear, his big fingers getting closer and closer to your core, your hips scooting forwards in order to meet them. “When you touch yourself, you’ll always think of what I’m doing to you tonight”. With those words, two of his fingers found your now overly sensitive clit, rubbing them just like you had shown him. You moaned out loud, letting your head fall back against his shoulder. It was no surprise to you that his fingers felt better than yours. Even though he did almost the exact same thing as you, he did it even better.

On instinct, your legs tried to close your core off from the strong stimulation Mikey’s fingers provided your clit. But that was not passing by the old turtle. Hooking his legs around yours, he forced them apart once more. Your hips started to buckle as Mikey inserted one of his thick fingers into you, curling it upwards, before thrusting it hard and fast into you, making you moan louder than you ever had before. Your mouth wide open in an O shape, as you watched his fingers work on you. The wet sounds from your cunt were lewd, along with the sounds that escaped your lips.

“You love this, don’t you, (Y/N)?”, Mikey groaned into your ear, nibbling on your earlobe. “All those times before we met, you’ve wanted my hands instead of yours, didn’t you?”

“Yes!”, you practically screamed. “I fucking love your hands, Mikey!”

As if that had been a code word, Mikey removed his hand from your tight cunt, letting go of your legs, before throwing your back onto the bed. You moaned, not expecting that Mikey throwing you around like a rag doll would turn you on so much. He climbed on top of you, positioning himself between your legs, keeping them wide open for him.

“We both know you love my dick more”, he growled, lining himself up with your entrance, not waiting for your permission before he started moving. You almost screamed out in pleasure, holding on to his broad shoulders as he started fucking you, harder than he had ever done before. You were moaning so loud that you were sure that if anybody was home, they would have heard you long ago. You wondered if the streets of New York could hear it. How good Mikey was fucking you and how you begged him not to stop. The bed was creaking and moving so wildly, to the point where you were sure it would break at any moment. But Mikey did not hold back. Instead his big hand found your chin, holding your head still, making sure you were facing him, while his other hand found way down between the two of you, his thumb working furiously on your clit. You closed your eyes, feeling your high coming closer and closer, threatening to take over your body at a moment's notice.

“No”, Mikey growled. “Look at me, (Y/N). I want to see your eyes when you cum”.

You opened your eyes and held on to Mikey with every fiber of your being. You were so fucking close, and you knew this one was going to be big. The biggest and hardest one Mikey had ever given you.

“What’s my name?”, he growled.

“Mikey”.

“What’s my name?!”, he roared, the bed hitting the wall with each thrust into you.

“Mikey! Oh my god, Mikey! Fuuuuck!” Your moans came out as screams as your body shaking orgasm took over. You cried out as Mikey held your spassing body against him, riding out your high and chasing his own as fast as he could. He came with the loudest moan you had ever heard from him. Your name falling from his lips, so loud and clear you would never be able to forget it. And you never wanted to forget it.

Normally, this was where Mikey would hold you close, taking sweet care of you and making sure that you were okay, before the two of you would talk about whatever was on your mind. But like said before, this night was different.

Mikey took care of you, cleaning you up as needed, before pulling the blanket over you. You didn’t think much of it, expecting him to lay down beside you at any moment. But he didn’t. Instead he just sat down next to you, looking at you with an unreadable expression. Quietly he placed a soft hand on your cheek, tilting your head towards him, before placing a soft kiss on your lips, his lingering against yours for what felt like an eternity and a short time, all wrapped up in one. No hunger, no tongue, no frustration. Just… sadness.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), but I have to go”, he said, getting up from the bed in order to put on his overalls.

“Mikey?”, you asked in confusion, watching him as he wrapped up his arms, before taking on his gear. Sudden realization hit you, as he pulled the black bandana down over his eyes. “Where are you going?”

Mikey stopped in his tracks for a moment, wondering if he should tell you. No, he couldn’t. You were only 20. He could not let you know, and ruin the bright future you had ahead of you. Or at least, whatever bright future that was possible in a world like this. Maybe it was his own emotions holding him back. The fear of not being able to do it if he told you. Or maybe it was the fear of the hurt there would be in your eyes. But he had to tell you something. That was the least he could do before he would go on with his plan.

“Too many innocents are gettin’ hurt”.

That was when it hit you. Like a wall of bricks. You knew what he was going to do. You yelled, tears forming in your eyes, telling him not to go, but Mikey did answer. Instead he looked down towards his feet, took a deep breath, before turning and walking out the door. You jumped from the bed, your hands and legs shaking as you struggled to put on your clothes. You yelled out the door, screaming and begging him to come back. But he didn’t. And now the water was rising throughout the lair.

—

Your legs were hurting as you and Casey Marie ran down the sewers, with your mother’s tracker in hand. Both you and Casey had wanted to find him. Either help him or get him back home. But with the power outage and the rising water levels, you had to stay back and help your mother.

“We’re almost there!”, Casey yelled over her shoulder. And she was right. You were almost there. But just a little too late.

You and Casey jumped out of the sewer and onto the rocky beach. In the brown water you saw the white and partly silver body of Oroku Hiroto floating around with his face down. And on the beach, you saw the unmistakable shape of a mutant turtle. The sight of him laying there, almost unmovable, made your stomach turn and your knees buckle. It took you a moment to gather your senses.

“Sensei!”, Casey yelled, running ahead of you. She fell to her knees next to him, tears running down her face as she pulled out his journal from her backpack. Reality finally managed to catch up with you, as you ran to his side, tears falling down your face as you crawled to his side, your sister already crying.

“Mikey”, you whispered, trying not to choke up, watching the blood run from his mouth.

“I’m… sorry, (Y/N)”, he whispered back. “Had to… do it… it was… my duty… my… destiny. For my family”.

“But we’re your family now. I’m your family now”, you said, fighting the tears that was pushing their way forwards. “And… and I love you, Mikey”, you choked out, watching his dazed eyes become more and more blurred. “I love you so much”.

Mikey’s hand lifted from the ground, before letting it rest against your face, as he forced his last will to look at you. To admire your every feature. The face that had provided him with the last bits of hope he had needed. The only face that had made him feel truly happy for these past 20 years. He felt your warm hand on his, holding him close to you, just like he had held you close all those nights.

“I love you too, (Y/N)”, he whispered back. “Thank you… My time with you… has not just been amazing… but even better”. A tear rolled down your face as slowly let your lips meet, feeling him use his last powers to kiss you, with a tender soft kiss. This time there was no sadness in his soft kiss, but a small bit of happiness and gratitude. Mikey finally knew peace. And with that peace he took his final breath, his hand becoming limb in your grip, and his eyes becoming black. You broke down in tears, cradling his hand against your face. Michelangelo, the last of the ninja turtles, and the man that you had fallen in love with, was gone. His spirit now living peacefully with the rest of his family.

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daydream-cement · 2 years ago

Text

Vines Forever Intertwined Ch. 1

Larissa Weems x OC (Fern Rogers)

With Larissa and Fern’s love life fizzling and their children acting out, the couple take on a new adventure to get their spark back.

Gosh guys!!! I’m so excited for this story! It’s good to have Larissa and Fern back!

The visit from Agent Thatcher has been weighing heavily on you for days. You were irrationally waiting for her to show up with some decree, forcing you and Larissa to take the job.

Life was already hectic enough with two twelve year olds (one of which often chose to use their shapeshifting abilities more for troublemaking rather than good). Althea was enjoying periodic stays in the Jericho Middle School’s principal's office due to their ‘stick it to the man’ phase, and Violet was having her own personal battle with a lack of any outcast abilities whatsoever. There was far too much happening at home for you and Larissa to get up and leave to go traipsing around looking for danger.

Domestic life was bliss with Larissa, but you knew the past few years had lacked the spark that once brought you together. Some time away would be good for the both of you, but you were convinced that time away from the kids was the worst decision either of you could make.

Now you reclined back in your desk chair, attention drawn away from the grading of student presentations to Althea and Violet dropping their backpacks by your classroom door.

You couldn’t help but notice how they were growing like weeds. They were as tall as you at age twelve and they would surpass you in no time at all- destined to be tall like their mother.

“We are going to the library.” Althea called out, eyes wandering to the recently hung up posters on poisonous plants clinging to the walls. Their attention finally fell on you, their common devilish smirk gracing their lips, “Mom stopped us and said you need to go to her office. I really hope you don’t get fired. That would make life awkward at home.”

“You and me both, kid.” At the mention of being needed in Larissa’s office, you stand from your chair, swiping your phone and keys from your desk on your way towards the classroom door. As you stride towards the twins, you point a finger at Althea, knowing they were behind all of the mischief the two got up to, “Stay out of the secret passageways. Your mother will pitch a fit if she finds out you are skulking in the walls of the school again.”

Althea turned to Violet as they turned to leave, their lip curling in confusion at your vocabulary, “Skulking?”

“Like creeping around, Al...” Violet retorted, offering a general definition to the troublemaker as the pair walked from the classroom.

They were headed in the opposite direction of Larissa’s office, so you called after the children a final time, urging them to stay out of trouble, knowing full well it was nearly impossible for them.

As the twins continued to grow up, you were delighted at getting to know their developing personalities. Althea was fearless and headstrong, while Violet was kind and empathetic. The pair always stuck together and it was always an indicator of trouble if you saw one without the other. The memory of Violet operating as a lookout while Althea searched Larissa’s desk for a key to the cabinet where cursed objects were kept came to mind.

Up the grand staircase and down the hall you walked, knocking on Larissa’s office door twice before pushing it open. Your anxieties were realized when lo and behold, Agent Thatcher sat perched across from your wife.

With wide eyes and a clenched jaw, you looked from the shapeshifter to the agent, mind racing at what the two could have spoken about in your absence. You remained silent, but your face said everything Larissa needed to know.

“Agent Thatcher has been telling me about an interesting outcast in Louisiana. A- Uhm, what was it called again?” Larissa was positioned upright in her chair, back ramrod straight. She was obviously uncomfortable with the agent’s presence

“It goes by a few names, but we are deciding to go with rougarou. It’s a parasite that lives off normies, turning them into a werewolf-like creature for a few months and then it transfers to someone else.” As Agent Thatcher delved deeper into her description of the matter at hand, you took a seat on the edge of Larissa’s desk, folding your arms over your chest. The agent politely glanced between Larissa and you, dividing her attention equally as she spoke, “We have less of a problem with the parasite and more of a problem with a normie organization attempting to create more of this parasite in a lab. Inside informants say they are looking to turn this parasite into a one-a-day pill to turn normies into werewolves as they please... You can understand our concern with makeshift werewolves running around.”

“You seem to know plenty about this issue. Why would you possibly need us?” Larissa’s brows raised at the brunette,

“A shapeshifter and a plant manipulator? You are the perfect people for the case. The company is big in plant based pseudo-science medicines. Ten greenhouses built into the swamps of Louisiana.” Reaching down into her briefcase, Thatcher pulled out a manilla envelope, handing it over to Larissa. The shapeshifter skeptical analyzed the packet in her hands before prying it open and allowing the contents to spill onto her desk. Brochures, maps, and company information graced the many pages of the documents Larissa and you began to leaf through.

Agent Thatcher smiled as she glanced between Larissa and you, “They like doing tours too. Perfect for a couple out of Vermont to tour and sabotage the facilities, hm?”

“Don’t you have agents to do this?” You question, returning the photos of the greenhouses back to the pile, not wanting to seem too interested or invested in the case at hand.

“None with your skill set. We know how you survived nightshade poisoning and how you both defeated the ancient curse. You are both more than capable.” Agent Thatcher focused on you for the later half of her thoughts, her eyes filled with an intensity that made you consider her words for once, “You should be dead, Dr. Rogers, but here you sit before me. Twelve years of no danger, no excitement... Don’t you miss it?”

The question made you pause. Your first year at Nevermore had been a nightmare, one near death experience followed by actually dying was more than you ever thought you wanted in the lifetime. But there was something enticing about Agent Thatcher’s offer. Perhaps there was something you missed about that danger?

Larissa must have seen you considering the question, so in an act of protective instinct, she ended the conversation, standing from her desk and offering the agent a polite smile, “I think our meeting time has run out, Agent Thatcher.”

----

“Fern... I don’t- I don’t think this is best for us right now. Althea is in trouble every other day, and Violet with her lack of powers. Who would even stay with them?” Larissa’s voice cut through the darkness of your bedroom. She lay on her back, eyes staring up at the ceiling with her hands folded over her stomach. You had been facing away from her with your eyes shut, but your mind was far too preoccupied for you to actually have been asleep.

You hesitate in your answer, not wanting to upset Larissa. Turning over in bed, you observe Larissa through the darkness, frowning at how upset she seemed, “This just might be a new adventure for us. Don’t things feel...”

The shapeshifter finished your sentence, a lump forming in her throat, “Stagnant?”

You take a deep breath, your response flowing out with your exhale, “Yeah...”

“Sometimes...” Larissa mumbled her response, her heart aching at the idea you both could be growing apart.

Quiet overtook the space between you once more. It almost felt suffocating.

There was no explaining how your relationship had taken a backseat to your other roles in life. Between raising children and working at your careers, Larissa and you had become more of roommates than lovers. While you knew spontaneous sex and make out sessions may be rare given the addition of the twins, you hadn’t expected physical affection to be absent altogether.

Rare were times you would lay together on the couch wrapped in one another’s embrace, date nights were a thing of the past, and occasional pecks on the cheek had become the quickest and easiest way to say, ‘I love you.’ The last time you had sex was nearly two months ago, you both needed to change and knew it to be true.

Larissa was the one to end the silence, her hand reaching out in search of yours. When she found your fingers, she laced hers with yours, giving your hand two squeezes, “Maybe we should go...”

Just down the hall, the twins had been sitting in silence in Violet’s bed scrolling through social media until Violet furrowed her brows, a feeling of boredom and sadness washed away by love and promise filled the young girl’s head.

Since the girl’s twelfth birthday, she began having bouts of intense emotions, always being brought on by the emotions of others. Larissa and you had written it off as a large well of empathy within the child. Only if you would have known the true depth of the child’s growing abilities.

Of course, Althea never doubted the seriousness of Violet’s abilities, and began to readily recognize the signs of when Violet was reading the emotions of others. Althea’s voice was quiet, not wishing to disturb their sister’s focus, “What do you feel, Vi?”

Althea closed her eyes to focus on the energy radiating from her parent’s room, her heart swelling at the positive emotions emitted from within. “Less sadness... More hope. They are excited, but unsure about something.”

——

You checked your watch once more: 7:05am, you were already running late. Larissa was beginning to fuss over the twins, hugging Violet to her as she went over the rules once more for Ms. Sinclair, “No phones after 11pm, all the homework should be done before dinner, no-”

Enid began reciting the rules back to Larissa. She kept her tone light and airy, but the young werewolf was growing a tad annoyed by her former headmistress’s fretting, “No junk food before dinner, no trips to the principal, up and out of bed by 7:30. I got this Principal Weems. You have repeated them to me at least a dozen times, and left a printed copy on the dining table. We’ll be just fine.”

“Behave for Enid.” The shapeshifter squeezed Violet even tighter, making the young girl yelp at the bone crushing hug. Larissa’s eyes found Althea standing next to you, her tone firm, “And you, no impersonating others as a scheme to get out of work, school, or chores.”

“How about schemes to get out of-”

Althea began a sarcastic question, only for you to cut them off while shaking your head, “No scheming. How about that?”

They only shrugged and folded their arms over their chest, seemingly unbothered, “Fair… No schemes.”

“We love you both very much.” While Althea was hesitant at first, they sunk into your embrace as you wrapped your arms around them. You were pleading with them to behave, not wanting the endearing troublemaker to distract Larissa from having fun, “Please don’t stir any trouble. I don’t need your mother in a tizzy when we are over 1,500 miles away.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll keep Violet in line.”

You ignored the small shapeshifter’s snarky comment, moving to wrench Violet out of Larissa’s grasp so you could hug her yourself.

The next ten minutes was spent ushering Larissa to the car, wanting to get this road trip started as soon as possible. You were already 15 minutes past when you should have left, and you had a 15 hour drive to Kentucky ahead of you.

With a few more kisses blown to the twins, you finally had the weepy headmistress in the car.

Larissa was wiping at her eyes with her handkerchief as you pulled out of the driveway. She sniffled twice and her sadness had visibly subsided, her emotions turning more bittersweet as she knew her time with you would be time well spent.

She sighed and sunk deeper in the passenger seat, hands digging around in her purse for her cellphone. Mrs. Weems was a happy woman being a passenger princess. With one hand she played Candy Crush, and with the other, her fingers massaged the back of your neck.

Perhaps this trip wouldn’t be so bad after all.

#larissa weems #principal weems #principal larissa weems #gwen christie #wednesday netflix #gwendoline christie #larissa weems x oc #fanfic #fern rogers #ferissa #stately sequoia #cold dead heart #the cedars have eyes #violet and rose

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physalian · 10 months ago

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Timeskips (A Deceptively Tricky Trope)

Anyone remember when we all went to the theaters to see Endgame and the trailers actually fooled us into thinking all the action happened immediately after Infinity War? Then 15 minutes into the movie, the Thanos we grew to love/hate dies and the bomb drops: “Five…Years…Later”

It’s a shame that the movie didn’t properly explore the worldly consequences of losing half the population in favor of a Marvel victory lap through all its greatest hits. That our heroes could do absolutely nothing for five whole years, opening on a shot of a cold and dark cityscape — that was the best use and execution of a timeskip I’ve seen in recent memory, even if the rest of the movie didn’t follow through with it.

Timeskips are an effective way to age up characters or age past the end of an era of peace, or the healing after a tragedy (or the lifeless aftermath of one). Usually, your established heroes do their heroic thing, and anywhere from a couple weeks to a couple months to a couple years pass before the story picks back up again. Some may have died along the way, the political climate has changed, couples have had children, or babies have grown into their own characters, relationships have grown, begun, or fallen apart.

These damnable plot devices are a double-edged sword. On the one hand, the author gets to skip sometimes decades of meandering plot and development to tell almost an entirely new story in the same universe, sometimes not even with the same characters who are now too old, too dead, or retired.

However, timeskips can also cause some massive confusion, missed opportunities, and fandom wars over whether or not the jaded and grizzled and depressed heroes we see on screen are, in fact, a realistic evolution from the last time we saw them (looking at you, Star Wars).

Sometimes, they’re used in a single episode, thrusting a present character into the depressing dystopian future so they can prevent whatever causes said future before disaster strikes (Teen Titans "How Long Is Forever?"), and all returns to normal by the time the credits roll. Sometimes, the author really wanted the drama and angst of a pregnancy, then got stuck with a baby that needs constant attention from its parents who can no longer go do Plot Things until the baby can take care of themselves (The Originals).

Sometimes it’s the jump between two eras of a series, where our heroes have had a couple years of practice and now we can make the tone a little darker and the action a little more visceral. Or, it’s expected of a multi-book saga that regularly jumps a year ahead with each edition, leading up to the big prophecy (Percy Jackson, Harry Potter).

The Fundamentals of a Good Timeskip

As requested by Anonymous!

Telltale signs of a dubious skip:

Audience is expected to care more about an undeveloped newcomer than the pre-existing cast, because the current cast does without explanation

Audience is “told” to accept Catastrophic Event without being “shown” how and why it happened

Characters die, break-up, disappear, marry, change teams, or change entire personalities for ~drama~ and no other reason

The Book You Never Wrote was way more interesting than the future you brought us to

The new plot depends on Events Unwritten, but never shows or explains Events Unwritten

Timeskip only exists because the author is unable to make the leaps in logic themselves and hopes you won’t notice

The legacy of past heroes is trashed completely for More Story

Signs of a successful skip:

Characters we know and love are still themselves, just a little older and wiser

Characters that do change do so logically, within reason, and could have been extrapolated from the last publication

Radical changes and the new hellscape you threw your heroes into is given ample screen time to show “How tf we got here”

The new world doesn’t disregard or ignore the legacy and victory of past heroes

Absolutely nothing of import or unexpected happened in the interim, except time

Anyone who dies off-screen won the story by dying of old age, or some other respectful avenue (popular with aging mentors and old masters, usually when their actor also passes)

Whether your timeskip succeeds or fails depends entirely on, in my humble opinion, how much story you skip and sacrifice to make the jump, and how radical the changes are from the past to the future. And, to what degree the skip serves as a means to an end or the centerpiece of the new story.

Meaning that since you leave weeks, months, years, or decades unwritten, how interesting was the Book You Never Wrote, and how badly would audiences need to read it to understand the jump from A to B?

If I’m writing a ten-year skip and half my heroes have died, half have ended wonderful relationships, two kids have been born, a known hero has become a villain, and an entire city’s been destroyed… that is a *very* interesting story I wish I had the opportunity to read, because it sounds like every character I fell in love with is about to become unrecognizable and very frustrating to follow now that I don’t understand why they make the choices they do — *if* I’m never shown evidence to support the leaps in logic.

If I’m writing a ten-year skip and all that happens in the interim is a minor child character is now a tween with a pretty average life, or my super-powered heroes have had only mediocre rogues to battle, or a character who began in the mail room is now a middle manager at their boring job, then, yeah, we can skip all that jazz and get to the good stuff. This is usually the setup for your “next generation” skip for any genre.

Good timeskips also depend on how readily the characters accept and acknowledge the changes that have happened off-page, and how much the future story now depends on the information the audience never received. If your plot and your characters constantly reference and argue over the Book You Never Wrote, your audience won’t be pleased to not have read said book.

I’m going to use specific media here because the nature of a timeskip concerns entire plots and my usual vague examples don’t suffice. How you write and implement one is entirely up to you and each of these have their staunch defenders, I just don’t like them and I’m here to explain why. Hopefully if you’ve seen at least one of them, you can use them as a shining example of what (or what not) to do in your own work.

The fandoms in question:

The 100

Star Wars

Percy Jackson

Last Airbender/Legend of Korra

How to Train Your Dragon

The Little Mermaid

—

The 100

The timeskips in question are between seasons 2 and 3, and between seasons 4 and 5. The first timeskip is a couple months between seasons 2 and 3. After a huge conflict (and easily the best season of the show by a country mile), shifting alliances, enemy-of-my-enemy, the best couple-that-never-was, the season ends with protagonist Clark unable to let herself enjoy the spoils of war because of the crimes she committed to make it happen. She leaves behind all her friends to go be a hermit, including deuteragonist Bellamy, who is Not Happy about this decision.

The problem: In between seasons, Clark hasn’t changed much, but Bellamy sure has. He gets a girlfriend, develops an entire relationship, only for this girl to get fridged within the first 50 minutes or so of season 3. He takes her death super hard and, with Clark not there, spirals into a bit of a blind-faith fascist turning on all his friends and becoming nigh unrecognizable. Without seeing the growing relationship with the fodder girlfriend, without seeing how hard life has been for him without Clarke, all his choices, all his beliefs, all his pontificating sound completely foreign and out of character and he does not recover until it’s almost too late. As he’s the deuteragonist of the show, you can only take yelling at your TV for all his stupid and OOC decisions for so long, when it could have been done so much better.

The second damning timeskip is five whole years between seasons 4 and 5. Bellamy develops another unseen romance up in space, his sister becomes a bloodthirsty underground queen, and Clark devotes her entire life to raising a little girl she finds.

The problem: Clark cares a lot more about protecting the little girl than anything else, a choice audiences can’t empathize with because we’re still siding with the characters we’ve watched grow and suffer for four seasons, making Clarke an incredibly frustrating character to watch.

Five-year timeskips are fine. I think I’m in the minority in hating this decision by the writers. However, when your characters’ motivations change so radically without you being able to follow that development, making their new choices seem incredibly inconsistent with who they’re supposed to be, the disconnect is super strong. We’re being told at this point to care about these strangers over the existing cast without ever having been shown why.

Star Wars

Timeskip in question: Return of the Jedi to The Force Awakens. Enough time for Rey to look like a 20-something and, I believe, the exact same gap between the movies in the real world. The argument over Luke’s character has been beaten to death by now. We end Return of the Jedi with the promise of a galaxy in peace after decades of civil war between the Rebels and the Empire and the ultimate sacrifice from Anakin.

The problem: We open Force Awakens like the war never ended. There’s still stormtroopers, there’s still the Empire (though, now it’s called the First Order), there’s still Rebels rebelling. The happily ever after one would expect between Han and Leia is shattered because their kid went Dark Side. Their kid went Dark Side because… well, one side, the other side, and the unrevealed truth.

It’s less “Luke would never make these choices” and more “How do you expect audiences to believe Luke made these choices without seeing the pain and trauma inflicted on him to end up like this”. The casual fan only watches the episodic films. Luke ended one movie as a semi-optimistic war hero. He began the very next film jaded and traumatized enough to debate, and nearly go through with, murdering his nephew because of what he *might* do someday.

That anyone expected that to go over well was deluding themselves, but everyone knows these movies are a mess.

There’s also the disappointment in realizing all that Anakin lived and died for fell apart in less than 30 years. Who are these people calling themselves the First Order? Where did they get the funds, the resources, the platform to become as big a threat as they are? How did the Rebels fail so spectacularly at building a functioning government? How do they not have the funds, platform, and resources to buy better ships and equipment? How did no one realize they were hollowing out an entire planet to build another Death Star?

The Sequel Trilogy lost audiences when it refused to provide any explanations at all for *why* these changes happened. The movies don’t care about *how* Ben became Kylo, they just need you to accept that it happened. They don’t care *how* the First Order rose, just don’t look too closely or it all falls apart.

The skip between Empire Strikes Back to Return of the Jedi is also a bit sketchy, because Luke has done all his Jedi training off-screen and can just pull abilities out of nowhere, but the plot of Return of the Jedi doesn’t depend on having seen Luke grow.

Percy Jackson

I feel bad putting this here because it’s not nearly as egregious as the previous two, but because the original series was so good, these choices are that much more baffling. The timeskips in question: Sea of Monsters (2) to Titan’s Curse (3) and Last Olympian (5) to Lost Hero (6).

The books focus on a singular week or two per year, so Percy can age from 12 to 16 in time for the Great Prophecy by the end of the series. This series is filled with timeskips and unseen content, but the jump between books 2 and 3 is the most jarring. I just did a retrospective for both of them so if you happened to read that, I’m repeating myself a little.

The problem: At the end of SoM there is a huge shakeup in the realm of who will actually be the chosen one — a discarded chess piece has been revived and brought back onto the board. In the missing months, Percy has built an entire friendship and rapport with his would-be rival, and so many reunions were left unwritten between Thalia and the friends she left behind. It’s the depth of the missing content that really feels like they forgot to print a chapter in either book, particularly when she’s so important to the story.

Percy references quite a few times how good friends he and Thalia have become. Fantastic, on what page might I read that development, when the author spent quite a bit of time building up the presumption that you two would hate each other?

The other timeskip is the complete opposite. Last Olympian to Lost Hero is, I believe, only a month. Once again, we have a presumed happy ending and ultimate sacrifice completely torched for the sake of More Story. The original five-book saga culminates with the tragic death of a villain we’d watched for five whole books. His argument was the thesis of the first series.

The problem: As with Star Wars, everything that character died for is rendered mostly moot. There is evidence that his death meant something, in the positive changes seen in the lives of those that survived him, but he died preventing armageddon… and a month later Bigger Badder armageddon is on the rise.

I almost wish the timeskip here had been longer. A couple years, at the expense of aging up the heroes to their twenties. His legacy on the story is virtually nonexistent. When you look back at the horrible tragedy that was this kid’s life, all it amounted to, everything he fought for, everything he believed in and died for and lost friends for… bought only a month of peace.

The Last Airbender and The Legend of Korra

Obviously, the timeskip in question is between these two series, about, what, sixty years? Last Airbender ends with, once again, the world at peace, ish, with lots of cleaning up to do, reparations to make, and governments to reshape. In the gap between series, almost everyone we knew has passed away, or aged out of being useful to the plot. Aang, of course, had to die so Korra could be born.

In the first season, because I’m reasonably confident all they planned was one season, the 60 year interim sees a lot of radical changes. Fan favorites die, the old ways are lost, the status quo is nothing like it used to be. So how do they get away with it?

Firstly, the show doesn’t begin with the main villains having already conquered Republic City and trashing everything the heroes fought for. The entire season is a crawl, then a plunge, toward disaster. They let you enjoy the fruits of the old characters’ labor, see the world that they built, before the new threat attempts to burn it down.

Secondly, because almost the entire original cast is dead or absent, there are no relationships sorely missing context, and there’s no *subversive* twists to what the audience could extrapolate from the ending of the old show.

LoK did make some radical changes to the world, but, crucially, it didn’t change the surviving core characters — we still have a known point of reference through which to view all the other changes. Katara is still Katara, she’s just older. Zuko is still Zuko, he’s just older. Katara didn’t become a persnickety, bitter bat and Zuko didn’t launch the Fire Nation Invasion II and return to his angsty ponytail-era.

It also helps that Korra is, like us, an outsider to this strange new world, a perfect vector through which the audience can ask questions and get answers on how, why, and when everything changed. LoK, unlike Star Wars, cared and thought about the *how* and the *why*.

If you’re going to write a story about the next generation without compromising the legacy of the old guard, Legend of Korra is a solid example of how to do it convincingly, respectfully, and entertainingly, even if it did drop the ball on some characters *cough*Sokka and Suki*cough*

How to Train your Dragon

But an even better example? How to Train Your Dragon to How to Train your Dragon 2. It’s been five years, a massive risk for your children’s animated fantasy series, but it’s also been almost five years of real-world time. Those who were Hiccup’s age when the first movie premiered are still Hiccup’s age when they head back to theaters. Not to mention the optional Netflix shows to help fill in the gaps.

Once again, there’s no *subversive* choices made with the relationships. Hiccup is still with Astrid and they’ve grown out of their awkward teenage phase. Their personalities haven’t radically changed either, only matured, the main group of heroes have had time to foster deeper bonds.

There’s no surprise children, no important characters who got killed off screen, and the changes to their homeland seem reasonable and logical given the time frame. A place that once feared dragons is now dedicated entirely to their preservation and conservation.

This is a timeskip that took advantage of every benefit of skipping time. The audience can very easily fill in the missing years with their imagination, because the jump from A to B makes perfect sense.

Frozen and Frozen II relied on the same mechanic of the audience growing with the characters with that one musical number. I’m not a fan of the execution of either of these movies, see this post about Frozen’s convolutions, but the execution of the skip itself is well done. All that’s happened in the interim is Elsa getting a little more comfortable being a person, and time has passed.

The Little Mermaid

The gap between Little Mermaid and Little Mermaid 2: Return to the Sea double-skips. First, it skips ahead to Ariel and Eric having an infant Melody, then about twelve years later to Melody being a tween and the new protagonist of the story.

Why it works: Melody is remarkably like her mother and rides the line between endearing and annoying very well and the plot depends on the skip happening at all – twelve years removed from the ocean and Melody has no idea her mother was a mermaid. Ariel and Eric (and Flounder) have grown to become wizened and worrisome parents and absolutely nothing remarkable happened unseen between the credits of the first movie and the second skip in the second movie. They get twelve years of peace, respecting the first movie’s legacy, and it’s through the actions of characters we see on screen that start jeopardizing everything.

—

Another feature I didn’t touch on earlier is that, by virtue of being a musical, the opening song to the Little Mermaid sequel efficiently catches audiences up on all the necessary exposition, all the old familiar faces, and where everyone is now in about 4 minutes. Frozen II does the same.

The Percy Jackson books also give a “previously on Percy Jackson” exposition speedrun at the start of books 2-5 and notes any important details that occurred in the missing months (save the glaring omissions detailed above).

If your time skip is just a plot device to get from A to Y, a well-handled exposition speedrun to catch everyone up won’t offend anyone, so long as you do it tastefully. If your skip is the centerpiece of the plot and the “how did we get here” is the big mystery, jarring your audience with the unexpected future on the opening pages is the point.

Do your best to avoid awkwardly having your characters state “X years have passed,” in dialogue because it’s always obvious and you can do better. Have somebody reference their upcoming birthday so audiences can do the math, or an anniversary. “X years have passed” cracks the immersion, as your characters don’t know or care that a time skip has occurred.

Or, if you’ve written a narrating style that talks directly to the audience, the narrator can just say “X months ago we did Y in the last book, reader, you remember how fun that was?”

—

TL;DR, terrible timeskips happen, in my opinion, when the writers are disinterested with the interim and want to get to the good stuff without providing a logical jump to get there. Or, they happen when the time the story skips to jeopardizes where it came from without explanation. Whether that’s undermining the legacy of the original hero, ruining relationships and killing fan favorites for *subversion points* and *drama*, or creating a world so far removed from what audiences expected that they’re left confused watching their heroes make baffling decisions based on development they’re promised did happen, but is never shown. It’s one thing if you take your wide-eyed hero and toss him into a bleak future where everyone’s shocked by his pessimistic outlook, it’s completely different tossing your hero into a bleak future and none of his friends seem to care.

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #exposition

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amphiptere-art · 9 months ago

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So we can all agree that the Sun and Moon fandom is dying right?

There is a quiz at the end of the post.

Me myself and many others have left. Whether it is due to the rising toxicity of the show or the fans. At this point it is simply a creative backdrop. Something you take ideas off of instead of something that you enjoy and turn into a AU. And at this point if you have it as an AU. You feel as if you need to somehow say it's separated or is only based off of the good old days.

The fact that there is a difference between the good old days and what has happened is sad. I will admit I haven't been here forever. I wasn't here since the beginning. I wasn't watching the episodes upload as I watched. But I did do my best to watch every single lore post I can find. Anything that wasn't a standard gaming episode. So I can at least say that I tried to follow the story.

And to put it slightly the story has gone sour. Characters have stopped feeling right in their actions. Underlying messages have started to get toxic. Many bad guys have gotten so characterized that them being bad guys doesn't feel right. Are good characters no matter how developed they get either regress due to plot convenience. Or have died and basically reset the storyline.

The story seems stuck. There's some gems here and there but it seems like they can't figure out the next story action. And even if they do, it gets so much hate from the fandom that it struggles to continue. It feels like they continuously reset and reset to try and find a story that the fans will enjoy. It's not working unfortunately. There have been many retcons due to this. And there has also been many splits.

And this is not even mentioning the toxicity of the fandom itself at this point. That's basically split itself in two and the other will hate the other. This happened most obviously with the Moon X Solar argument. Where you either enjoy it or you don't enjoy it. It has caused a multiple splits because of differences in morals. It's just created a hostile environment between fans.

And I'm not making this post a point fingers at the whole argument. I've researched it and I know why some people believe it's okay. Whether it's because they believe solar never really wanted to be a part of the family. Or the simple understanding that by most laws, incest between adopted family members is okay. I understand that people have reasons to like it. It doesn't mean that these reasons are shared though. It doesn't mean that the moral implications of that relationship don't affect some people. And neither side is willing to come to a mutual agreement.

This is also not bringing up the fact that the whole villain versus hero argument is starting to become even more split. Sun, Moon, Lunar, Earth, Solar are both currently on the good side. While Eclipse, Blood Moon, and a couple others are still obviously on the bad guy side. But Eclipse and Blood moon have started to become more and more relatable. People can no longer look at those characters and just imagine the villainy part. Especially when the heroes decide to mock the suffering that they did to the villains in the first place.

That is my personal scare between the fandom right now. I can't look at eclipse and not deny that Moon's actions were the reason of it. I can't look at moon and justify years of abuse. Whether it was old moon or new moon at this point. I can't stand and justify treating blood moon as a villain has tested its limit. I can't deny that blood moons actions are more so based on need than actual want. And the creators forcing that idea backfired enough that they barely have him as a character anymore.

There is a split between people who want to support moon and sun with all their actions. There is a split between people who think solar should be considered a part of the family or not. There is a lack of storylines that don't have half of the community hating upon it. There is a lack of feeling an actual tug of conflict in the stories due to the villains being so understandable. There is a hostility between the fan base because of all of these.

I put out a poll a long time ago. Asking people why they basically watched the show anymore. The general consensus was they were just watching the show because they needed to. Because they felt obligated to follow the plot wherever it went. I feel like the fan base that is following the show for their own enjoyment is slowly disappearing. And this is not talking about the amount of people that have straight out left due to all the reasons above.

Whether it is the show's fault for not being able to supply the engaging store anymore that people can enjoy. Or it is the fandom for it's toxic split between the morals of adoption incest, or the feeling that the villain shouldn't be getting as much hate as they do. The show was currently dying on both sides honestly. And the only reason many are continuing to watch the show, is the hope that it will get better, and the need to supply their AUs off of it.

How many of your friends have left because of these reasons? How many of them have had the conundrum of feeling like they need to stay because leaving feels like a betrayal to others or themselves.

How many of us are only holding because of nostalgia?

It feels like nowadays people either choose to blindly follow due to an overall support or question constantly if they should. It feels as if artists that give the show their thumbnails now, are the only people that do stuff happily with it. A conspiracy part of my brain wants to say that's only because not supporting it would mean they wouldn't have there art publicly endorsed. But that's only conspiracy and no fact.

The show has lost its splendor. As of now it's really only a character backdrop to some. A list of events and ideas that you could pull and twist to fit something kinder or better. It's like as if we're using the Sun and Moon like Robin Hood. Stripping it down to the basics just so we can share our twist of the same tale. I have heard many times from people that AUs are more enjoyable right now than actual Canon. I myself have said for multiple stories that they do not follow past backup eclipses death. Which in my opinion is when the show really started to go downhill.

I'm going to ask this question again. Because I feel as if it is important for people who read this post to see it under a newer light.

I will note. If you reblog this post just to argue that it's not dying, That solar X moon isn't incest, that characters like eclipse and blood moon should be treated as the absolute villains they are, and seeking Sun and Moon are evil is dumb. I will not respond. To be honest I will not respond to many reblogs of this. I'm simply putting this information out earnestly as my opinion. I am not here to hate on the artists. I am not here to hate on your difference in opinion. I am not here to say that the show writers are dumb or money monsters. This is my opinion. And if you wish to fight it, then you are not willing to accept differencing opinion.

#the sun and moon show #sun and moon show #the lunar and earth show #lunar and earth show #monty and puppet podcast #monty and foxy show #the monty gator and foxy show #monty gator and foxy show #the monty and foxy show #tmgafs #mgafs #sams #tsams #tlaes #laes #tsams fandom #sams fandom #the sun and moon show fandom #sun and moon show fandom

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looniecartooni · 9 months ago

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Okay- for over a decade now, I've thought about publishing a comic book series or graphic novel, but have never found the time, energy, or resources to get one off the ground. I've also been really nervous about exposing my writing despite coming up with multiple storylines in my life. I am planning to start a Kickstarter or something for at least one of them. I know I've pitched creative projects or theories before and haven't gone through with them, but I want to at least see what of things I have developed or began development on interests' people before I start anything.

So... I am going to start a poll. Maybe I'll make one free short comic before I dedicate myself to something that requires funding.

Descriptions below:

These Hands- A first person perspective from former Diamond Cutter infiltrator and later cause of their demise- Mimic the Octopus. See from when he first joined the Diamond Cutters and follow into his fall from grace. Will his plights be sympathetic or shall he be forever scorned by himself and his actions?

A full storyboard draft has already been created for a one-shot story. If chosen, it may take between a couple weeks to over a month to release (depending on my college schedule)

Henchmen for Hire- A cowardly magician with the power of luck on her side (and her Eldrich terrain shifter best friend) are stuck in their jobs as Henches for Hire for random Elites and criminals of their world, escapading on dangerous quests through ancient caves to find mysterious power sources and ancient treasures. While life is fairly comfortable (despite them having to live in a cave themselves because how can you live in a nice place when you're stuck in such a shady business?), the past is catching up to them, and one of them has a knife. Can these two ever live without the fear of being alone and helpless when nothing but danger plagues their lives?

This series is one of the ones I am currently working on and its still very early in development. It may take a couple months, maybe even a year to complete. There are maybe 3 stories and 5 or 6 plot points planned out. But I'm having a lot of fun with it and do hope to make something off it some day.

Experimental Living- A mad geneticist and engineer finally returns home from his stay in prison and is ready to wreak havoc on the world with his new genetic experiments. However, things do not go as planned and in order to keep his cover as a "reformed" villain, he must raise them as if they were his children, which the 10-year-old and 6-year-old are more than happy with. With help from his Henchmen, constant harassment from his mystic and militant father, and suspecting eyes of heroes and citizens, will this evil villain turned single dad ever succeed in his violent plans to save the world?

I storyboarded almost the entire series and a sequel series for this for almost a full year. There are still many parts that need to be tweaked or rewritten as there are gaps and maybe some problematic elements, but this could be something that could get started sometime in the Summer. I want to be able to fund it, but I don't have the elements to do so at the moment and I'm afraid the premise is a bit too close to the idea of a Starline, Surge, and Kit AU. Though it is more loosely inspired by them with a lot more to it than that, I don't know if I might run into some copyright issues if I go through with it, no matter how loosely the characters or premise are to their inspirations.

Journey of Eclipse- The Light had fended off the Darkness for hundreds of years, constantly sealing it in a cave to protect the world from his curse. Now, a child born from the Light and conceived by the Darkness must tread on a perilous journey to save his mother from the curse that now finally firmed its grasp on her. But this story is not so black and white, and the circumstances that lead to the birth of such a child may have a much more deep-rooted tale than what has been told.

I had this idea back in High School and recently revisited it. I would imagine that it would be a rather short series or graphic novel, but may need a few months to fully get a good narrative out of it. There is a clear beginning, middle, and end, but much more needs to be fleshed out and reconfigured to tell a well thought out tale.

Angel Story- A long time ago, super soldiers known as "angels" were created to protect villages from strange dark entities referred to as "demons" or "shadows". With the dark entities seemingly vanished, the angels and their children were now declared to be the protectors against criminals and symbols of order. However, new chaos arises as these angels are seemingly vanishing, or getting corrupted by a similar energy to that of the shadows which should be impossible. Now a new crew of angels must try and stop these new monsters and the energies that are driving them.

Only one plotline of this supposed to be short series has been fully developed, but it's fun to work on and reread the storyboards for. It may take a few months give or take to fully start, but I feel it will be a fun read when worked out to its full potential.

I have quite literally cabinets full of stories that I have created since freshman year of high school and have on and off worked on quite a few. There are some others that I am currently working/reworking on such as a superhero trying to find out what happened to her superhero dad while being raised by her evil uncle. Feel free to ask for more information on any of these projects or any other projects. I've been too scared to bring them up or publish any creative projects because of being overwhelmed with school and fear of possible backlash. But I'd be happy to share anything people might want to ask about- I want to know if I could actually do this or if this is one of those dreams I've got to just put on the back burner.

I'll still create just random fan stuff for BBU and things like that. I did try to start a videogame/visual novel last year, but that never truly got really developed or much attention. I might work on other different kinds of projects in the future when I have the time, money, and energy (or stop making excuses). But for now- let me know what you guys think (very kindly) and if you'd ever wat to see an independent project created by me. If not- that's fine too, just please be nice if you think this isn't a good idea.

If no one chooses anything- that's fine too. I'd probably still do something eventually or try my shot again with other pitches. I welcome any advise for creating, publishing, self-publishing, legally making money or legally getting money to make something, ect. I'll be posting on other social medias as well. Let me know your thoughts (nicely and constructively). Thank you.

#my writing #writing advice #advertising myself #sonic idw #writing pitches #my art

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ordinaryschmuck · 7 months ago

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Let's see....

Captain America: Brave New World's got that controversy due to having an alleged zionist actress playing Captain Islam (Or whatever the hell her name is). Depending how big of a role that character has, I doubt ANYONE is in the mood to watch a movie like that unless she's written out completely because...look at current events and tell me if Captain America teaming up with Captain Islam is in any way what we need right now?

Thunderbolts...I have NO interest in whatsoever. Mainly because the roster isn't really appealing as most of it is either super soldiers or spies who are good with guns. The only interesting character in the lineup was Ghost and she's not even in the movie anymore. The only saving grace this movie has left is that it's allegedly going to FINALLY acknowledge that frozen Celestial that The Eternals stopped from hatching, but other than that it's nothing really grabbing me. I'd have to at least see a trailer before I find SOMETHING interesting about it.

Fantastic Four intrigues me, though. From everything Marvel's been hinting at and advertising, this is going to be a movie set in a universe stuck in the sixties and have the Four face Galactus all with a tone that MIGHT be similar to Fantastic Four: Life Story. If that's in ANYWAY what Marvel's promising through its castings and free comics on its app, I'm definitely willing to check it out. I just want a GOOD Fantastic Four movie for once and I'm hoping this will finally be it.

I don't have TOO high hopes for Blade. This movie has been in development hell for MONTHS, only releasing TWO YEARS after its initial deadline all because the lead actor wasn't satisfied with the final product. I'm hopeful that it was all for the best and we're FINALLY getting something that everyone can be happy with, but I'm also...kind of done with new characters. Phase Four introduced too many that I just want to go back to focusing on the cast that's LEFT after Endgame. And bringing in the guy who played Cottonmouth from Luke Cage just breaks all kinds of canon because this is the first time an actor plays TWO major characters in the MCU. Others had returning roles, but usually for small things that you wouldn't care about. From the start, this always felt like a movie Kevin Fiege wanted to make to show off. Like, "Yeah, we can make a Blade movie too! And make it BETTER than the original ones!" I don't know, maybe I'm being a little cynical, but I don't have the biggest faith towards this project.

As for Daredevil: Born Again, I am on my knees PRAYING that this one will be good! I fucking LOVED the original Daredevil series, it's absolutely one of the best superhero shows of all time and I'm just so glad it's coming back in some capacity. I just also hope that it'll be GOOD because I don't think my heart could take it if it isn't. On the upside, it seems like Kevin Fiege wants that too. After leaving out most of the original cast and not letting Daredevil suit up until episode FOUR, he demanded a complete creative overhaul with Daredevil: Born Again, leading to it bringing back everyone from the original, improving Daredevil's old costume, and have everyone involved take inspiration from most things Daredevil. It's as if Fiege understands that they CAN'T screw up with this show so he wants to make sure that it's the best they can possibly make it. And I'm not too bothered with the first season having nine episodes instead of eighteen. I always knew that the change was inevitable anyways. I just want it to be GOOD.

Then there's Ironheart and I have NO interest in this one either. Her character was one of the weaker aspects of Wakanda Forever, as someone who was constantly whining or yelling and I was not all that engaged with her. MAYBE the show could win me over, but that's a BIG maybe that'll take an impressive script to do.

Oh, also:

No. No to this. After the FANTASTIC ending of No Way Home, I don't want the MCU to rush out another entry unless they've got a good plan set and ready. The problem is that they don't even have a DIRECTOR yet and that's a pretty important person to have when bringing a movie to life.

All and all...2025 is not looking good for Marvel. Whether it's cast controversy or how they're choosing to adapt certain characters and teams, not much in 2025 is making me feel the same excitement I felt for the MCU in 2015-2019. The closest is probably Fantastic Four and Daredevil: Born Again. But even then, not only am I cautiously optimistic about those two, that's also two projects in a six (potentially seven) film/TV show lineup. I don't know, this whole thing is just making me wish the MCU can just wrap up the Multiverse Saga already and just...go back to making good projects again.

#marvel cinematic universe #mcu #captain america brave new world #the thunderbolts #the fantastic four #blade #daredevil born again #ironheart #spider man #mcu spider man

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acim-ed-ortsac · 1 year ago

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The Way to a Viper's Heart - 2

sorry for the long wait

You were eight years old when you unexpectedly met Leona Kingscholar. Although you didn't know if this was a hidden fact from the game or if the universe is going in a different direction, you were quite surprised to have met the young boy at a Spelldrive tournament between NRC and RSA. The Asim family got VIP seats due to their prestige power and fame, so you had to come along since Jamil was Kalim’s retainer and bodyguard.

Although he hasn’t killed anybody yet when you first got in the body.

It was a few days before the tournament, your father had pulled you aside from one of your chores, “Remember Jamil, be wary of everyone and keep Master Kalim safe. Keep your guard up at all times.”

“Yes, papa.” you and Jamil responded.

At the time, you felt an emotion that felt like being pulled down into the ocean.

The next days before the tournament, you entertained Kalim while indulging in Jamil and your own hobbies. At the same time, you tried teaching Kalim how to do things on his own. It was like taking care of a younger brother, something you didn’t have in your first life. It started with wrapping his headband around his head, being patient as you showed him the steps on how to wrap it properly.

“Why do I need to learn this?” Kalim asked you, hands attempting to fix his headband. “I have you to help me.”

Jamil sighed beside you as you took control to speak, “I won’t be with you forever, Kalim.” You adjusted his headband while guiding his hands on what to do. “I can’t keep doing things for you when you grow up, you’ll have to learn to do things on your own. You’re the heir of the Asim family, so you’ll need to be capable.”

“Like you?”

“Yes, like me.”

Besides teaching the heir how to be independent, Jamil started to teach him how to be observant. Being the heir means danger at every corner, and Jamil is human so he can’t be with Kalim everywhere and take care of everything. Despite Jamil's role as a servant, Kalim has to have character development as he grows, to be more mature and cunning considering his circumstances. And it won’t help if Jamil is there to help him with almost everything!

So the first step to lessening Jamil’s load is by teaching Kalim to be capable and responsible.

At first, you started with teaching him how to put on his clothes by himself, helping him only when he gets stuck, much to your amusement.”

‘He’s like a baby’ Jamil sighed as you both watched the heir attempt to pull his shirt over his head, only for it to get stuck.

You snickered as you took control and helped the article of clothing slide down on the boy, getting a ‘thanks’ in return. ‘But you have to admit, it’s kinda funny.’

‘Not in the slightest.’

The other part of helping Kalim become capable is to help him become observant, and if not, be a bit cunning and perceptive. Well, as cunning and perceptive as Kalim could be.

It started with a game of mancala, with Jamil winning most of the rounds against Kalim. You didn’t really know how to play since you never played it before, so you let Jamil take over as he expertly managed to win in every round. You didn’t really understand how he managed to win but you can guess that he’s either very smart or Kalim is bad at this game. Doesn’t dampen the albino boy’s spirit though as he asked for another round.

At this point, Jamil is tired of playing and asks to play something else.

Unluckily for you two, you heard someone cry for Jamil before something hit you on the head, making the body clutch its head in pain. You only glanced up to immediately know it was Jamil — by extension also your — mother while a male voice could only mean your father.

“Master Kalim, forgive my foolish son. He loses his temper at times.” your father said, his scent of spices stinging Jamil’s nose but not enough to be overwhelming. Must be your unrepresented sex.

Your mother, who smelled of Jasmines and the neutral scent of palm leaves, wrapped you in her arms and whispered. “Jamil, I thought you knew better than to raise your voice against Master Kalim.” You kept quiet, even Jamil knew that arguing would lead to more scolding.

What surprised you was how Kalim spoke up and defended Jamil, “It’s okay, we could’ve played something else if he wanted. I just wanted to beat him!”

With a smile, Kalim reassured your parents. “It’s not like Jamil hurt me or anything so you don’t have to worry about anything, just continue on what you were doing before.”

You, and by extension Jamil, blinked in surprise at Kalim’s response. Your parents surprised but not saying anything, bowed their heads and left you two alone. When your parents were gone, Kalim smiled at you. “So what do you want to play now?”

Jamil was speechless for the moment, making you take over. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“But your parents were scolding you for speaking your mind,” Kalim frowned. “ It didn’t feel fair that you were getting scolded for only saying what you thought.”

You hummed at the response when you felt Jamil take control, “That’s just how it is, Kalim. You’re the master and I’m the servant.”

Kalim pouted.

Jamil rolled his eyes at the childishness before sighing, “Don’t pout, you’ll remind me of a puppy.”

“A cute puppy?”

“No, a pitiful one.”

On the day of the tournament, Jamil brought a bag full of the necessary things they would need.

Well, the Asims brought bags full of stuff since they were filthy rich like that, not to mention the servants they were bringing. But Jamil was Kalim’s retainer, so he had to prepare some stuff for him and Kalim.

You were not sure how they were able to travel to the school, but from the game, you assumed it was through the dark mirror. And you were right as the Asim family with their servants — and you with Jamil — were in a room with a golden mirror at the center. The father of Kalim, Mr. Asim, spoke some words before the object began to light up in a glow.

Then everyone steps through the mirror one by one.

Your eyes were blinded by white light before the scenery changed to what you recognized as the mirror chamber with its dark lighting, green flames lighting the place, coffins floating around, and smack dab in the middle was a three-tier fountain with the water reflecting the green light.

The whole thing was ominous as fuck, you would think you were in a cult if you didn’t know this place.

‘What’s a cult?’ Jamil asked, feeling his confusion at your thoughts.

‘ A group of crazy fanatics practicing their crazy beliefs.’

‘You think NRC is a cult!?’

‘No, but the place could be.’

Greeting you and your employers was the man himself, headmaster Crowley in the flesh with his crow mask, tophat, dark hair with dark turquoise highlights, his vest full of mirrors and clocks, and a cape. Your eyes spot his pointed ears in interest.

‘He must be a type of fae,’

‘Don’t they live really long?’

‘Yeah, which leads to me questioning how old this guy is.’

“Welcome to our humble school, Mr. Asim!” Crowley joyfully greets the family, walking up to them to shake hands. The man doesn’t hesitate, grabbing his hand and shaking it as he laughs. “Oh, thank you for inviting us! This will be a great tournament!”

From there, everything went fast before you noticed, from following the family with your own to their seats – your family gets to stand beside them as part of being their retainers – then settling in before the tournament starts. A good amount of people arrived already, some of them milling around while waiting.

Jamil has taken to entertaining Kalim as he points to anything that catches his eye, bouncing in his seat all the while. As he does that, you try to catch any details that Jamil hasn’t paid attention to yet.

One is the flash of yellow and red colours before a loud deep voice laughed, making Jamil jump in surprise.

“Why, if it isn’t the Asim family!”

Your eyes are directed to a family of lion-beast men, all of them wearing garments that are expensive looking and finely made, their arms, necks, and some of their heads were bedazzled in the jewellery of gold. The tall beast man who you assume was the current king of the Sunset Savanna was joined by Master Asim as they greeted one another. Soon the two families started conversing in what you assume was friendly chatter.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Kalim pulled the body’s hand and dragged you to where you met dark forest green eyes that belonged to a child of dark tan, dark brown curls over his shoulder, two tawny brown lion ears on his head, and a frown on his face. His clothes were made of his country’s silk with its signature textiles and the golden necklace with the collar beaded choker.

Kalim paid no attention to the frown of the young boy, who was obviously older than you two, as he ran to him in excitement for a potential new friend, tugging you along.

You knew was going to be hard considering he’s gonna try to befriend Leona Kingscholar.

When you were good feet away, Kalim stopped tugging the body’s arm and smiled at the young prince. “Hi! I’m Kalim Al-Asim and this is my best friend, Jamil!” He pointed at you to which Jamil sighed internally. “What’s your name?”

You watched as the young Leona scowled at the preppy boy, eyes glaring at him before moving to you. “…Leona Kingscholar.”

‘…I feel like punching him.’

‘Jamil, no.’

‘He looked at us as if we were dirt!’

‘Patience child.’

Shaking off any annoyance and irritation left by Jamil, you gave a neutral smile to the second prince. “It’s nice to meet you, Prince Leona.”

Kalim opened his mouth to say something when the opening horns blasted through the speakers, signaling the start of the tournament. “Oh! The tournament is starting!”

This signalled for Kalim to get into his seat, pulling him by the arm. “Kalim, let’s go.”

Once parting ways from the prince, you brought Kalim to his seat as the players came out. NRC vs. RSA was a legendary rivalry with the former losing to the latter for almost 78 years now. Two prestigious schools battling against each other in a competition of strength, wit, control, magic, and teamwork…the latter something that NRC appears to not have apparently.

You wanted to sigh at the blatant discord on NRC's side as they argued with each other.

‘Jamil, whenever leading a group, always makes sure to communicate and put aside feelings that might hinder the team’s cooperation. If those feelings are within the team, then you’ll have to talk it out with your teammates.’

‘Why are you telling me this? I’m not even playing.’

‘Do you want to enroll in NRC and be part of this tomfoolery of a team?”

You winced as a player crashed into their teammate.

‘…but I like NRC…’

‘I’m not telling you you can’t enroll, but when you enter, you’ll need to deal with people who are selfish, arrogant, and reckless. Some are manipulative, so you’ll need to find a way to work together with them. Understand?’

‘Yes…did you know about this from the game version of this world?’

‘Yes, I did. But you can be better than that.’

Your discussion with Jamil was halted when Kalim tugged at your sleeve to drag you with him. Apparently, he wanted to follow Leona who had blended with the crowd. “Kalim, we might get lost like this—“

“Don’t worry, I have you and the guards are not too far! Besides, I want to get to know Leona more!”

Jamil let out an aggravated sigh in your head as you let Kalim drag you. Admittedly, you were also concerned about Leona since he was still what, 11 years old? So his disappearing into the crowds by himself is concerning. As someone who’s older than these children, you were tempted to follow him but as also the servant of Kalim you were to stay at Kalim’s side.

Luckily, Kalim had given the solution to your dilemma as he dragged you to follow him as he ran into the crowd to follow the young prince. It didn’t take long before you found the young lion, who was buying some souvenirs from a person selling them.

“Leona!” Kalim exclaimed, pulling you along.

Leona frowned at the sight of both of you, “Were you following me?”

“Yep,” Kalim replied, oblivious to how that sounded.

You and Jamil, on the other hand, had a deadpan face. Leona turned his attention from Kalim to Jamil, “Aren’t you supposed to be his bodyguard?”

“I’m also his servant by extension so I must obey his commands,” Jamil then eyed Kalim. “Outside the eyes of family that is.”

Seeing you were out of sight, you gave Kalim a look. “I’ll need to teach you how to be cautious, your kindness is a danger in itself.”

“Oh come on Jamil, it’s not that bad.”

“We’ll see about that,” Jamil replied with a sardonic grin.

Leona, who was watching the exchange, raised a brow. “Do you usually act like this in the Asim house?”

“Of course not,” Jamil replied, brushing a hair behind his ear. “If I did, I would’ve been severely scolded for that. Mostly by my parents.”

“Huh, must suck.”

“You have no idea.”

“Anyway,” Kalim spoke, “What were you getting? Snacks? Drinks?”

Leona looked at the heir in annoyance yet replied, “Was getting water and a corn dog, that’s all.”

You looked over at the choices that the person with the food and drinks had, “Hmm, interesting.”

“Want any?” Leona asked.

You/Jamil spoke before Kalim answered, “I’m sorry but Kalim can’t eat anything unless it’s prepared by me.”

“Aww Jamil, it isn’t that bad!”

“Remember the last time? One of the dishes got poisoned?”

“Yeah I hated that time, you were in a coma for a week.”

A cough got your attention, making you look at Leona who now had two corn dogs and a bottle of water. You narrowed your eyes, about to protest when Leona shoved a corn dog into your hands, “Since Kalim can’t eat, you can eat it in his stead.”

You looked at the second prince with surprise before looking back at the corn dog. “Thank you, your highness.”

“AWW! That’s nice of you, Leona!”

“I’m not nice!”

You couldn’t help but giggle a bit at the one-sided bickering, feeling relaxed at the moment…

When your eyes caught sight of a man eyeing Kalim with undesired intentions. Jamil/Your guard went up as the man made his way through the sea of people, intent on reaching you. A glint of silver from his belt made you grab Kalim and Leona before pulling them away.

An assassin!

What should we do!?

“Jamil!?” Kalim exclaimed at the burst of your action.

“Hey, why—!?” Leona was struggling at your hold.

You looked back and saw the man’s pace quickened at your attempted escape. You pulled the two important children into a group of people to hide in the meantime. Making sure that the man lost sight of you, you turned to the confused prince and heir. “There’s a man with a knife, and he looks like he’s after Kalim.”

Kalim paled and Leona’s eyes widened.

“Here!?” Kalim whimpered, “Why now—!?”

“I don’t know,” you replied, glancing around for the man.

Leona’s tail swished anxiously, “We have to go back to our parents, we’ll be safe there.”

“But we can't risk getting caught by him…” you muttered, foot tapping anxiously. You and Jamil went back and forth in a plan before you two decided. “You two go back to your families while I try to lure him away from you.”

Upon Kalim’s attempt to protest, you said quickly. “I’ll lose him in the crowd and come back, I promise.”

Kalim looked at you/Jamil before he was pulled by Leona and into the crowd. Heaving a deep sigh, you braced yourself for the mission that was to come.

You managed to lose the man, giving him the slip and going back to your parents. The Asim family didn’t seem too worried and were smiling, making you think that Kalim managed to fool them into thinking everything was right. Something you taught him, which is to lie.

It may be a sin, but it won’t hurt if it’s meant to protect others especially when it’s done its job.

If you want to continue reading more of this, here's the link to my ao3 where the story is posted.

<<previously

#twst x jamil viper #twisted wonderland x jamil viper #twisted wonderland x reader #jamil viper #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #reader reincarnated into jamil viper #a/b/o universe #omegaverse

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