#i was in the middle of the last labyrinth the night before and had to go bed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

angelwings-crossbowstrings · 1 year ago

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You Would Break Your Back to Make Me Break a Smile

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria era

Warnings: Poorly written smut

Summary: A run goes sideways, leaving you and Daryl to spend the night together in a remote cabin. Nothing new until feelings are thrown into the equation.

A/N: This was originally written for my old OC. It also explored asexual Daryl and there are still elements of that here.

*gif is not mine

You pulled the corner of your bottom lip between your teeth, concentrating on keeping your arm still. The urge to overthrow your opponent was strong, but you had to play fair. Cheating was not an option. It wasn’t until you were mercilessly pinned for the fifth time in a row that you considered cheating may actually be an option after all.

“Ugh!” You groaned quietly, struggling to free yourself.

“You’re the one wanted to play,” came the gravelly response.

You conjured an unimpressed scowl. “Again.” When he didn’t immediately move to oblige, you raised your brows, angled your head for a better view, and elbowed him. “Come on. Again.” A heavy sigh resounded, but he finally raised his arm and clasped your waiting hand, blue eyes avoiding your overconfident grin. Shaking out your shoulder in preparation, you blew upwards to rid your face of an unruly strand of hair and recited “one, two, three, four; I declare a thumb war!”

After three more failed attempts, you finally gave up but not without a massive pout and another jab at his ribs. You flipped unceremoniously onto your back, the point of his elbow resting just above the top of your head. Whether due to chivalry or something else, he had offered to sleep on the floor, but you weren't having that. The full bed was plenty big enough for both of you. It wouldn’t be the first time you had shared a bed. “Your thumbs are longer than mine.”

Daryl scoffed. “Right.” He drawled, the hand he had been using joining the other behind his head. He stared at the ceiling as the last rays of daylight began to crawl away from the looming shadows of the night. It was only a matter of time before he’d hear the familiar growls and moans and the ever unsettling bump of undead bodies against the outer walls.

“Wanna play Never Have I Ever?”

Your voice drew him from his thoughts with barely a start. “D’rather not.” You didn’t know. You didn’t need to know.

You let out a sigh. “We don’t have any liquor anyway.” A pause. “Truth or dare?”

“S’with ya?” He asked, regarding you from the corner of his eye. You didn’t answer right away; only wiggled around until your hip was pressed tightly against his own. He wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t flinched at the contact and continued to watch you.

“Nothing, silly.” You replied quietly. The need to be near silent when outside the protective walls of your home was imperative. It was also something the spitfire at his side struggled with even when that need was near dire.

Daryl narrowed his eyes but said nothing else. You had been around him long enough for him to catch the dismissive undertone. The run had gone smoothly for the most part: few walkers, a myriad of medical supplies and canned foods to fill your packs and a couple of milk crates, and even a few stale candy bars you had snagged for a treat on the ride back. It was the living, breathing trio that had been in the middle of stealing the car when the two of you had exited that became the problem. Shots were fired, drawing more of the undead. A bolt had taken down one adversary, the other two making off with the rusted Buick that was meant to be your way home.

So, you had set out on foot. The supplies sorted and consolidated to fit in your packs and one crate, Daryl had insisted you carry it so he could keep his crossbow at the ready. No more than a dozen walkers were tailing you, but they had been easy enough to either lose or dispatch once you had found the simple cabin that would be your shelter for the night.

Yes, you had lost the car and had the grueling trek that would take at least most of tomorrow’s daylight hours before reaching that familiar gate, but neither of you were injured, you had food, and you were relatively safe for the night. So, what was bothering you?

“Hey, Daryl?”

Maybe he was about to find out.

“Hmm?” He had finally allowed his gaze to settle back on the ceiling only to have it find you once again. You were staring upward intently, a small crease between your brows. That ceiling must have been extremely interesting, the way you both seemed to get lost in it.

“Have you—ever been in love?” There was a hesitance, a shyness to your question that was evident yet unplanned, as you closed your eyes and your face twisted while a silent curse fell from your curled lips. ‘Nice job, idiot!’ You didn’t watch his reaction, positive that the question had caught him off guard. He didn’t move or make a sound, which had your stomach twisting into knots. This was not how you had wanted this conversation to start; not even close to what you had rehearsed over and over in your head since the prison. “I mean—have you—did you ever—that is to say—”

“No.” It was a simple but honest answer. Daryl had never found time for it; never found he wanted to make time for it. Sure, he had experience with women, thanks to his brother, copious amounts of liquor, and a few twenties scattered over the years of his youth, but no relationships of which to speak. He just was never a sexual being, lacking any desire and overwhelmed by peer pressure and pent up emotion. It was never about connection. He had never let anyone that close.

“Oh.” You weren't sure what answer you had expected. You thought maybe he would berate you for thinking he cared for such girlish notions. Perhaps he would laugh at you; tell you he had been a player like Merle. Instead, he had answered and was now staring at you from behind the fringe of hair that always found its way over his eyes. You managed a glance at him before you lifted one side of your jacket to study the zipper. “What about Carol?”

He raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “S’not like that with me an’ her.”

“Oh.” You repeated.

“Why?” He countered. And god, he was still looking at you.

You cleared your throat and turned onto your side to face him. Still, your eyes found everything in the room except his gaze. “Do you think it exists?” You avoided his question. Daryl watched you prop yourself up on your elbow, your dainty fingers reaching for the hem of his jacket. “Like—like there's someone out there for everyone?” You fiddled with a loose thread and glanced up at him from under your long, dark lashes. His handsome face held a mixture of exasperation and confusion. You would have giggled at his plight had your nerves not been twisting around like live wires in your gut.

Daryl Dixon was your best friend, a title he earned back when your little family was still new—even if you both would have vehemently denied it. He had appointed himself your protector, your instructor. He endured you at your worst, still managing to teach you how to protect yourself; how to survive. You had thrown actual weapons at his head while spouting insults that he didn’t even understand. Daryl had had no problem retaliating, using any and all information he had known of you to produce digs that would make your blood boil or your eyes grow wet. Actual friendship came later and more naturally than he’d probably ever care to admit. Daryl would actually request you to accompany him on runs, trusting you enough to have his back. Your once venomous verbal attacks had softened into banter accompanied by elbow jabs and hair ruffles. You began to enjoy each other's company.

Eventually, the brush of his fingertips over your bicep as he steered you out of harm’s way had begun to send electric pulses into your skin, kickstarting a thumping of your heart that was so loud in your ears, it would drown out the pandemonium around you. Your name from his lips would send shivers up your spine. The times you had bunked together, you found yourself stealing glances at him while he slept, kept watch, ate, worked on his crossbow. Everything he did was like seeing a unicorn. You were fascinated by him, in awe of this man who seemed to be born and molded for the end of the world. More often than not, he slept next to you, offering his warmth against the winter chill or his presence against the demons that knocked in your nightmares. He held you while you mourned those you had lost. Daryl was quite easily your favorite person. That, and more. And that is what scared you.

“Dunno.” The archer gave a halfhearted shrug. He couldn’t claim to have never thought about what it would be like settling down with someone; having a family. Settling with you, if he was being honest. Images often invited themselves into the forefront of his mind. You wearing his ring while you chopped vegetables for a stew you were making with Carol. You would bring him a beer and perch yourself on his lap while he had a cigarette on the front porch swing of the home you shared. You’d even steal the smoke right from his lips and take a long draw before offering it back. He’d seen your belly swollen and prominent under your sundress while you hung laundry on the line in the backyard. You cradled a tiny baby in the crook of your arm, leaning so that your family could see the infant’s face. He banished the visions with a minute shake of his head, sitting up and angling to the side so he could regard you properly. “S’this ‘bout, woman?”

Your mouth opened before snapping shut again with an audible click of your teeth. ‘Don’t chicken out now!’ Daryl’s expression was unreadable, and that alone was terrifying. All the time you had spent together, you were sure you had become fluent in Daryl Dixon. “I—” You sat up quickly, matching his position, not so much to face him but because you had needed to move before the words that were swelling in your throat came spilling out in the wrong order and ruined everything.

“Ya alright?” Daryl ducked his head to seek out your gaze, his curiosity getting the better of him. It was a strange conversation. He bit back the urge to ask if it was ‘that time of the month.’ Once upon a time, Carol had explained to him why that was frowned upon. “S’really on your mind?”

Was he imagining things or was the distance between you dissipating?

“It’s just—” You were chewing on your bottom lip, pulling your knees underneath you and then you were right in front of him, lowering to sit on your hip. His brow knitted, Daryl resisted the urge to move, holding his gaze on your face. He could feel your breath mingling with his own now, eyes flickering down to your lips and back to those shimmering irises. Peripherally, he could see your hands on either side of his face, hovering scant inches away.

“Is—is this okay?” You whispered.

Daryl didn’t answer, not right away. He was too busy trying to control the overbearing thudding behind his ribs. His breathing had picked up, and he was certain he may hyperventilate right there on the spot. ‘Too close. Too close.’ Someway, somehow, he still found himself nodding.

“Okay.” You breathed against his mouth, your lips tickling his own before meeting them in a gentle press. Your eyes fluttered closed while his widened and stared off into nothing, as if he could see right through you. Your hands finally rested against the sides of his face, your thumbs gently stroking his cheekbones. It wasn’t until your lips parted slightly that the archer snapped out of his stupor and reciprocated, placing his left hand over your right on his face while your mouths moved, slow and deliberate.

When you pulled back, just far enough to see his expression, his eyes slowly opened (when had he closed them?). You stayed that way for several heartbeats, searching one another. Your hands were still on his face, his larger fingers slowly curling around yours before he moved both to the sliver of mattress that remained between you.

Unfamiliar emotions swirling in his chest were making it difficult to breathe, constricting and contracting around his heart like a pulsating vice. A war was raging within him and there you were, patient and grounding while you waited for him to work through his inner turmoil. Your pretty eyes lowered as if you knew he couldn’t think while trapped under the weight of your gaze.

“Look, Daryl—”

“Don’t.”

You looked at him then. He was staring at your still joined hands between you, his thumb gently rubbing over your knuckles. His eyes were narrowed, a crease between his brows. He looked vaguely uncomfortable and you wanted nothing more than to reach out but something told you he wouldn’t dare let go of your hand at that moment. Several more beats of silence passed and he still hadn’t spoken another word.

You licked your suddenly dry lips, feeling an odd sense of panic. Was it time to defuse the situation? “We don’t have to talk about this.” You offered, keeping still when you felt his hand tighten around yours. “I wasn’t trying to—”

“Do it again.”

“What?” It was your turn to knit your brows.

He still didn’t look at you but he angled his head back toward you. “Again. What ya did.”

“Kiss you?”

He gave a curt nod.

You hesitated. “Okay.” You lifted the hand he wasn’t holding to cup his cheek, slotting your mouth over his. He returned the kiss immediately this time, just as gently as before. Just as you thought of pulling back, his free hand came up to cradle the back of your head. Your eyes flew open for but a mere heartbeat before fluttering closed. You melted into the moment, only then noticing the enticing roughness of his chapped lips; the tickle of his scruffy facial hair against your skin. It was quite possibly the most tender kiss you had ever received. No clashing of tongues and teeth; only simple and soft movements of your mouths. You could easily become addicted.

He pulled back first this time, but his hand remained in your hair. Daryl tipped his head forward to touch your foreheads together. “Y/N.” He whispered, not really sure why. He just needed to say your name. The archer wasn’t sure what he was feeling. He knew how much he adored you, needed you in his life but this was too much. He felt like a raw, exposed nerve and wasn’t sure where he was supposed to go from here.

You pulled away then and Daryl’s head snapped up to watch you. You sat up on your knees and peeled your jacket from your shoulders before tossing it onto the floor. He all but gulped, sure of where this was headed when you reached for his own jacket.

Pushing one shoulder free, you moved to the next and risked a glance at his bicep, the muscles flexing rhythmically under his skin when he lifted his arm to toss the wadded-up leather over your head. Your pulse accelerated and you took a calming breath before reaching for his vest. “You can tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” You popped the first button free and then the next, flicking your gaze up to his but he was watching the nimble movements of your fingers. “Daryl.” He looked up immediately. “All you have to do is say the word.”

After a moment, he nodded almost imperceptibly. He watched you spread open his vest and push it from his shoulders. He shrugged it off so you could toss it over with your jacket. You sat back on your heels and grabbed the hem of your shirt, pausing for a moment to give him time to interject. When he said nothing, you pulled the garment over your head. With calculated movements, you reached for the front of his dark gray button-up, once again pausing. Daryl couldn’t bring himself to stop you. When the last button was free, you slipped your fingers under the fabric to part it. It was then that the archer felt panic bubble up into this throat, his eyes going wide. He grabbed your wrist so quickly that he hadn’t been aware of the action until he heard your gasp. “Wait—”

You stared at him, briefly alarmed before your eyes softened in understanding. The hand he wasn’t holding gently cradled his cheek. “I’ve seen them before.”

He knew that. You had tended to so many wounds during your time together, but insecurity ensured that he acknowledged the cursed existence of the mars on his flesh. With a deep breath through his nose, his hands replaced yours to slowly rid himself of the shirt, the fringed edges of the cut-off sleeves tickling his skin. You grabbed it up and twisted your body to add the garment to the ever-growing pile. Your breath caught in your throat as his calloused fingertips brushed your skin. With a quick glance, you smiled softly at the bare curiosity in his gaze. You turned almost fully away from him while unsnapping the clasp of your bra, letting it slide down your arms and to the floor with a quiet sound.

You looked over your shoulder, your head lowered so that only your eyes were visible. He could see the slight squint of your sparkling orbs. You were smiling at him and his heartrate quickened at the thought of seeing the expression clearly. He remained oblivious of his own expression and the fact that his rare grin and the soft whispers of his fingertips were solely responsible for the way you were looking at him.

You turned then, returning to your knees, giving him a clear view of your smile—and your naked torso. Daryl felt the heat rise in his face and travel all the way to the tips of his ears. He’d seen a naked woman before but never so calmly; so intimately.

You noticed his discomfort and tilted your head thoughtfully. “It’s okay to touch me, Daryl.” Your voice was quiet and soft, like you weren't sure if he’d follow through with the gentle command.

And he didn’t.

The archer determinedly kept his eyes on your face. It was cute but you’d never tell him so. You moved closer, the air between you scarce enough to take Daryl’s breath. Your lips ghosted over his while your fingers trekked a featherlight path down his arm before settling on his hand. You wrapped your hand around his and lifted it to place his palm on your left breast, keeping your fingers secure enough to ground him.

“I want this.” You whispered against his mouth. You felt his fingers twitch before his thumb swept slowly over your nipple. You drew in a sharp breath and closed your eyes. Your skin felt chilled at the sudden loss of his touch when he quickly retracted his hand. Your eyes reopened to find his flickering back and forth between your gaze and your chest.

The sudden press of his mouth on yours had you gasping again before you settled, bringing both hands to his shoulders. His fingers danced over your skin again, his other hand joining the first to stimulate both pebbled buds with gentle twists. How many nights had you dreamed of him touching you like this?

You hesitantly swept your tongue over his bottom lip before withdrawing, testing his reaction. You didn’t want to push him past his comfort level; no matter how badly you wanted him. When his mouth opened and you felt him lick against the crease of your lips, it was over. Your hands moved to his hair, fingers tangling in the greasy strands to pull him closer while you drank in the smoky taste of him. Daryl seemed to be finding a tentative level of confidence, twisting to bring one leg onto the bed, bent at the knee. His rough hands left your chest to slide down your sides, fingers hooking into your belt loops and using them to pull you closer. You let out a squeak which the archer eagerly swallowed before you broke apart, both panting. Your foreheads rested together, Daryl’s eyes closed while you scrutinized him for any sign that he may not want to venture further.

“Daryl?”

“Will ya take these off?” He questioned hoarsely with a small tug on the loops of your pants. You answered with a nod, pulling his hands away so you could back off the mattress and stand. Daryl watched you intently, your slender fingers popping open the button before sliding down the zipper. When you had shimmied the pants down to mid-calf, you bent to undo the laces of your boots, toeing them off along with your socks. The archer couldn’t help but smirk when you straightened. Of course you weren’t wearing underwear.

“I’ve shown you mine. Will you show me yours?” You purred, crawling back onto the bed.

Daryl scoffed and put his hand on your face while he stood, giving you a playful shove. You laughed quietly, but still reached for his belt. He tried to take a step back and you quickly released him.

“Do you want to stop?”

He was wearing that expression again, uncertainty warring with desire. He wanted you. God, did he want you in every way he could possibly have you. The heat that had begun to pool low in his belly was not unfamiliar yet unnerving. This would change everything. You could never go back to what you already had. And would you understand him? Would you accept him for all that he was?

And for all that he wasn’t?

“No.” Goddamnit, he wanted to try. He stepped forward again but you didn’t reach for him. “S’just—” he hesitated, rubbing anxiously at the back of his neck. This beautiful creature was sitting bare and you wanted him, of all people. What if he couldn’t be what you wanted? “Don’t usually care ‘bout this kinda shit.” He thought for a moment that he very well might vomit. You were sitting on your heels now, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. You looked like you were working out some complicated math problem in your head. Daryl barely suppressed his flinch when it was obvious you’d reached a conclusion.

“Sex.” You stated matter-of-factly at the same time the first sound of a walker clumsily stumbling into the side of the cabin brought both your gazes to the door. You could barely see one another now, day having given way to night several moments ago and your one candle giving the place a gentle orange hue that neither of you sought to complain about when it was dancing across the skin of the other. There were no windows but the archer wondered if the light could be seen through the cracks in the old door, barricaded as it was.

When the snarls and shuffling continued to pass you by, you looked to him again. Daryl was looking at the floor, any expression hidden behind the curtain of his hair. You remained quiet. He had heard you, so you would wait him out. Pushing would only make him withdraw. You sat back on your hip and pulled the dusty blanket up to cover yourself for the time being. If sex really did make him uncomfortable, having a conversation about it with your goodies saluting him from the bed would not help matters.

“Yeah.” Daryl finally spoke after a few more moments. “S’not just—” he paused to shift his weight from one foot to the other, “just ain’t never been important ‘less Merle was chasin’ some tail. A distraction’s all it were.” He sighed, crossing his arms with his hands in his armpits. He looked so uncomfortable that it made your heart ache.

You nodded, not even sure if he was looking at you. “When was the last—”

“‘Fore the world went to shit.”

A while then. You chewed the inside of your cheek. You suddenly felt too exposed, pulling the blanket up further. Where do you go from here? With another glance at him, there was another sharp twinge in your chest. For a man made for the end of the world, he appeared incredibly small and vulnerable right now. “Will you come sit down?”

From the way he angled his head, you could tell he looked at you. A heartbeat passed and he dropped his arms, his footfalls near silent as he approached the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight and you found he chose to sit surprisingly close to you. Your knees were barely pressed against his hip.

You were still utterly naked under that old blanket; your heartrate had picked up speed at his proximity. You couldn’t tell if you were anxious or aroused and you wondered if you should get dressed and deal with the latter on your own once you returned home instead of pressing him further. “Do you want to keep talking about this?” You gently probed.

“Not really,” was his immediate response. Your mouth opened to comfort him but he cut you off. “Guess we have to, though.”

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“Nah, s’okay. D’rather talk to you ‘bout it than anyone else.”

You smiled softly and felt confident enough to reach for his hand. Your movement brought his head to turn toward you and he didn’t flinch away when your fingertips brushed his. After a moment, your tongue darted out to wet your lips and you took a breath. “Since the end, have you ever, you know? With yourself?”

He seemed to deflate, the shake of his head so minute that you would have missed it had you not been so keenly observing him.

“Do you ever have the urge to?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Somethin’s wrong with me.”

“Daryl.” He looked up at you, blue eyes piercing through his dark hair. It hit you like a freight train. “There is nothing wrong with you.” You could only imagine how he must have felt around his brother. How isolated, how different. You wondered if he had ever told his brother, but decided against asking. “A lot of people just aren’t that into sex, old world and new one.” His steady gaze never wavered. You smiled and let go of his hand to brush his hair away from his left eye before wrapping your fingers around his once again. “You’re just Daryl. And that’s more than okay.”

“Huh.” He muttered after a moment, eyes darting back and forth between yours.

“If it’s okay to ask though,” you ventured. Your bottom lip tucked firmly between your teeth, you squeezed his hand, “how were you feeling just now? With me?” You added with a shaky breath. He didn’t retreat, so that was good. You still didn’t want to push him into anything he didn’t want, but rather help him figure out what it was he did want; sort through his feelings. If he turned you down, you would be disappointed, of course. But his comfort, his safety, and well-being; those came first. If you could never have him in that way, you would live with that.

“I, uh—it weren’t a bad feelin’.”

So it was a good feeling? Maybe? Shit. Now what? “Okay, okay.” you nodded. “Do you want to call it a night then and just—”

“No.”

His hand squeezed yours so fast that you nearly squeaked in surprise. You did, however, let go of the blanket you held against your chest with the other hand. “Sorry,” you mumbled, pulling the fabric up once again before Daryl grabbed your wrist. You watched him chew on his lip, his eyes overflowing with something you had never seen there before.

“Wanna try. I‘ve wanted to try with ya for a long time.” His Adam’s Apple bobbed while he swallowed around the words. “If ya ain’t changed your mind.” The statement came out more like a question, his voice quieter with a slight tremble.

I‘ve wanted ta try with ya fer a long time.

You felt the swirling motion of butterflies in your stomach, your heartrate skyrocketing as you allowed the blanket to fall. Moving slowly, you twisted your wrist in his grip to clasp his hand and pressed forward to throw a leg over his lap. Sitting on his thighs, you gently took hold of both his hands and placed them on the curve of your hips. “We’ll take this slow, okay?” You reached to push back his hair so his eyes were visible. He gave a jerky nod, fingers twitching against your skin.

“Alright.”

You cupped his face and brought your mouths together once again. This time, there was no hesitance when you opened up to him and beckoned his tongue. The gentle push and pull of the kiss lasted until the need for air became dire, and Daryl pulled away from you only to ghost open-mouthed whispers across your jaw and down to your pulse. Your fingers moved to his hair again and your head fell back, offering the expanse of your throat to him. He nipped and lapped at the flesh between your ear and the junction of your shoulder, earning a breathy moan when he latched on to tattoo a kiss onto the surface. The archer couldn’t help but shiver and moved his hands to splay them open across your spine, tipping you so his mouth could properly explore the valley between your breasts.

His tongue and lips wandered aimlessly, and he found himself perfectly content in connecting the myriad of freckles that were littered across there. He found all of them adorable, especially the ones that traveled around the rims of your ears. Maybe he’d tell you that one day soon. Like this, he could almost forget the anxiety attempting to claw its way through his ribcage and get lost in warmth of your skin beneath his lips and at the mercy of his tongue. He moved slowly, probably too slowly but eh, he was rusty. He barely remembered any of the other experiences and, truthfully, he didn’t care to in the least. He would be more than fine pretending they had never happened.

“Daryl.”

He shivered at the sound of his name falling from those lips. The same ones that were parted and panting while fingers twisted in his hair, urging him onward. He kissed across the swell of your right breast, tongue teasing a circle around the nipple before he pulled it between his teeth and bit down. The sound you made was intoxicating and he was plenty willing to elicit more of the same from you just before he felt your hips press down and grind against him, successfully making him see stars and release his hold on you in favor of hissing between his teeth.

Feeling him go rigid, you sat up straight, breathing heavily. “What’s wrong?” You panted, tucking his hair behind his ears while searching his face for answers. “Are you okay?”

Daryl blinked a few times before finally realizing you were talking to him in close proximity. “Uh—yeah. Yeah, m’fine.”

You narrowed your eyes. He was still completely tense, his fingers digging into your back with enough force to bruise. “Do you want to stop?”

“No. S’just—”

“Just what?” You watched him closely. So far, he’d yet to move but then his hands were sliding down your back to firmly grasp your hips and— “Oh. Oh!” Sudden understanding rang clear when proof of his desire for you could be felt through the fabric of his trousers. Your brain warred between smugness and sympathy. You had made him feel that way but it had been so long that it had taken him by surprise. “What do you want to do from here?” Whisking away a section of hair that had fallen back into his face, you otherwise remained still.

“Get up.” He stated hoarsely. It came out a little rougher than he’d meant, but you’d obeyed so he wouldn’t linger on it.

You sat in the center of the bed and watched him stand. You were grateful for what little you had done, for the things he had shared with you. If this was how he chose to end the scenario, you would smile and support him fully. There could be a next time. He was obviously attracted to you. This was enough. Whatever he felt comfortable giving you was enough.

Crawling to the top of the old bed, you pulled down the covers on the other side before reaching for your discarded clothing. You stopped less than halfway through the motion when you heard the zipper of his pants. Looking back to him, you found him toeing off his boots while his undone trousers remained on his hips. For the moment.

“Daryl?”

“C’mere.” He beckoned you with a finger, curling it under your chin as you crawled closer. The archer bent to meet you halfway and captured your lips in a desperate embrace, pushing down his trousers and stepping out of them. The kiss continued even as he struggled to remove one sock at a time, balancing on one leg and causing you to giggle against his mouth. “Shuddup.” He retorted with no real heat. Finally both hands came to cradle your face and gently pull your back.

“You okay?” You slurred, eyes dark and lips swollen.

“Yeah.” Daryl tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, trying to catch his breath as he took a moment to just drink you in. “S’not gonna be—”

“I don’t care.” Careful to keep your eyes on his face, you guided him to sit with his back against the headboard, throwing a leg across his lap to hover over him. It would be over quickly. That was a given. But that wasn't the point. “I want whatever you’ll give me, Dixon.” You kissed him gently. “I just want you.”

“Yeah?” The corners of his mouth twitched up into a ghost of a smile. “Ya got me, woman.”

You both groaned as you lowered onto him, Daryl’s face twisting into such a grimace of barely contained pleasure that you were surprised it wasn’t already over for him. “You good?” Your voice sounded small and breathless even to your own ears, but Daryl’s didn’t seem to be working at all. He gave a jerky nod and pulled you toward him, your foreheads meeting as you both breathed through the new feeling. “Let’s just—stay like this for now, yeah?” Another barely there nod, bumping your heads together.

Your eyes drifted toward the wall when a walker stumbled into the building. Daryl flinched but didn’t move. It was hard to ignore a threat that close but as long as you remained quiet, that wall would remain between you and the undead shambling along outside.

Another tender kiss to his lips before you trailed along his jaw, feeling him exhale shakily against your neck. You allowed your mouth to roam further, your tongue dipping out to taste the salt of his skin over his pulse. You could feel it racing away there, almost vibrating. His fingers flexed on your hips, his breaths now coming in shallow pants. There was a slight tremble to his frame making it clear you couldn’t remain this way much longer lest he combust. You pulled away, cupping his face for your thumbs to gently rub over his cheekbones. You didn’t need to say anything. He nodded in spite of the silence.

Your breath caught in your throat when you moved, releasing as a low moan as your eyes fluttered closed. He felt sublime. Judging by the choked off noise that came from Daryl, he was feeling exactly the same about you. You kept your movements slow and deliberate. Soon enough, he was rocking up to meet you.

“You, I—” He was gritting his teeth, sweat beading on his forehead and running down to his chin to drip onto his chest. Still rocking, you placed your finger over his lips and then replaced it with your own.

“I know. It’s okay.” You whispered. He pushed back on your hips, moving you off of him. You wrapped your fingers around him, pumping in slow, languid strokes. There was a mere heartbeat before he gathered you against him with your arm trapped between you, every muscle and tendon frozen hard in blissful agony with a breathy moan of your name against your shoulder. Oh, how you wished you could see his face as he came undone. His warmth flooded over your hand and onto both your stomach and his, his hold unyielding even as his body twitched and shook while you gently coaxed him down from his high with hushed reassurances and tender kisses against his neck. When the spasms stopped and his hold loosened, you gave him a few moments of just resting against you to catch his breath while your fingers carded idly through his hair.

“How're you doing, Dixon?” You broke the silence with a calm whisper, slightly leaning away to encourage him to move. Daryl carefully laid back against the headboard, eyes still closed and looking more relaxed than you’d ever seen him. “Hey.”

His tired blue eyes slowly opened, blinking lazily before settling on you. “Hey.” When he brought up a hand to graze his knuckles over your cheek, it seemed to be too heavy for him to hold long. His arm fell back to the bed a moment later. “M’sorry.” He mumbled, a furious blush deepening the color of his already flushed face.

“For?”

He scoffed. “Obvious, ain’t it?”

“It was perfect.” When he grunted in response, you laughed quietly. You smiled, kissed his cheek, then you crawled off of him. Before he could even focus on the mess left behind, you had returned with a packet of WetWipes from your pack. They were expired and not very damp but got the job done.

It was hard not to focus on your touch while you worked, so he opted to reach for a strand of your hair, curling it around his finger tightly. You carried on cleaning both of you up like it was just a natural thing, Daryl’s face reddening once again when you went about wiping him down like you had seen him naked a hundred times.

He leaned toward you to reach for your shoulder, sliding his fingertips over your warm skin. You grasped his hand to press a gentle but chaste kiss to his palm before standing to retrieve your clothes. You were smiling when you turned back.

You were pulling your shirt down over your head as Daryl fastened his belt and sat down on the mattress to lace up his boots. Sleeping naked was not an option when beyond the walls of your home unless you didn’t mind leaving those things behind and showing up at the gates in the nude.

Opting to leave your jacket on the floor, you crawled up to the pillow and laid down. Daryl did the final checks to make sure everything was secure and then returned to sit against the headboard, clearly offering to take first watch. For a man that had just experienced his first orgasm in years, he sure was tense.

“Why don’t I take first?” You offered. You climbed up to mimic his position. Daryl looked like he might argue but soon nodded and moved down the bed putting his left arm behind his head.

Finding just a smidge of courage, you reached over to toy with a long strand of his hair. “So.”

“So?” He titled his head back a little to look up at you.

“That a—one time thing?”

The archer lowered his head again, looking back to the ceiling directly above him. “Did ya want it to be?”

“Nope.”

“Then it weren’t.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

“Do it again in the mornin’?”

“Absolutely.”

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natti-ice · 4 months ago

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Okay, I saw your recent post and have a writing request 🤣 a kinda sorta forbidden romance kind of story with Benedict Bridgerton. Like what I think of is Love Story by Taylor Swift. They see each other at the ball, talk, dance, fall in love, but x reader’s father is against it because Benedict has a rep around town. But they “sneak out to the gardens” to see each other at the balls and things get smutty 🤣 but then it works out in the end. sorry, was listening to this song and it popped into my head 😅

18+ mdni

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of smut, nothing graphic

oh star-crossed lovers au love it!

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

The past few weeks since you met Benedict have been a complete whirlwind, you had fallen head over heels for this man- a man with a notorious reputation for being a ladies man- but you couldn’t help it. His charm and dashing good looks won your heart within the first few moments of meeting, when he asked you to dance his smooth voice made you swoon. The two of you danced all night long until it was time for the last dance, as you went to step out to the floor your father caught your arm and pulled you away. He went on muttering things about that “no good Bridgerton boy” as you were being drug from the ballroom your eyes caught his, a confused and saddened expression played across his face before he disappeared from your view.

Days had gone by before you saw him again, this time he was at your bedroom window in the middle of the night, you scald him for being so reckless, you both knew the scandal that would ensue if he was seen. “Their gossip means nothing, you are the only thing that matters to me, my love.” Your heart melted at his words and pulled him into your room. Your mouth moved passionately against his, your hips grind against each other in perfect rhythm, hushed moans and sighs of pleasure filled your room and for the first time you felt complete.

The two of you had to find ways to see each other more often, stolen glances in the park weren’t enough to satisfy that burning need inside of you. You craved each other’s bodies like fire craved oxygen, at the last ball of the season the two of you snuck out to the gardens desperate to get away from the crowds of debutantes who only care about social status and town drama. The labyrinth of flowers became your shelter from your uptight parents, your back pressed against the cool stone of the bench as Benedict cupped your breast through your dress, his lips attached to your neck as he whispered promises against your skin. “I’m going to marry you. You shall be my bride, the mother of my children, the love of my life, i swear it.”

Thoughts of running away flooded your brain, you knew it would break your parents heart but you were too in love to care. The moans that flew from your mouth were absorbed by the shrubbery that surrounded you as he took you right there under the stars.

Tag list:

@Booknerdlife @themadhattersqueen @let-love-bleeds-red @lovelyy-moonlight @hiireadstuff @peachyiiiii

#natti’s 18+#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton

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elfy-elf-imagines · 1 year ago

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Lost in the Labyrinth of my Mind | Legolas Greenleaf

▹ Pairing: Legolas x Reader

▹ Genre: Fluff and Pining

▹ Words: ~4k

▹ Summary: The two times you realized you loved Legolas, and the one time you acted on it.

▹ Notes: I would like a reward, I've posted two times in a year 🙂🙃 But seriously, thank you for all the support and love in my last oneshot, you all had me giggling and twirling my hair with my feet kicked up.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Little has made sense lately.

Thrust into a world so unlike your own everything was disorienting. Now you were living in the world that closely mimicked the Middle Ages you’d only read about. The first year hidden in Imladris had felt like the morning after a jarringly realistic dream. Spots blurred your vision and you were half convinced nothing was even real. In fact, you still weren’t fully convinced this was anything more than a grand delusion. Your memory was spotty and the days passed in a haze, so maybe that's why you volunteered to join the Fellowship as a healer.

It was dangerous, you knew, but those fears were quelled with the notion that death would mean it all had been real afterall. Either you come home a hero or have a firm grasp on what’s reality, even if that’s in death.

Dawn broke, the sun cresting high in the sky, but it was barely seen over the mountains. They seemed to close in, threatening to crush you and your companions, the falling snow ensuring your bodies would stay on the floor. There was a burn in your legs from the steep incline as the Fellowship hiked up the mountains. Even after a night of restless respite, your body still aches. You wouldn’t falter though, even as the tips of your fingers turned blue and your skin became as cold as ice. As the only woman in the company, you refused to be the one to stop first. Stubborn pride was all that kept you moving forward.

Somewhere in between the hobbits was where you found your spot in the marching order. You were content enough to slide in and out of their conversations, at least, the parts of the conversation that could be heard over the deafening wind. But even their chirper disposition seemed to wilt under the harsh weather that seemed to get worse the higher up the Fellowship got.

Your eyes slid towards Legolas, a shining gold beacon amongst the frost. His hair was like the last rays of sunlight, the smile on his face as warming as a roaring fire. Seamlessly he weaved between the members of the Fellowship, seemingly unbothered by the snow. His footsteps were so light, he didn’t even leave a footprint in his wake. Unlike your travel companions, he seemed mostly unbothered by the pelting snow and frigid air. The cloak he wore, lighter than yours, seemed to be for show rather than practical use.

It was obnoxious how distracting he could be. If you weren’t careful, you would stare at him for hours on end, mouth hung open like an idiot. It was humiliating, the amount of times you’d made a fool of yourself while in his presence. The teasing from Elladan and Elrohir had been endless.

Yet as much as you’d hate to admit it, the flutter of your heart or the giddiness that puts a skip in your step were all sensations you reveled in. Always a hopeless romantic, even as previous partners tarnished your silver-plated optimism, you loved being in love. Except, you weren’t in love, you couldn’t be. And in the depths of night, while the stars hung high and all was quiet you told yourself a million things to convince yourself the crush on Legolas was surface level. You told yourself things like:

“It was his elven heritage; you just weren’t used to seeing elves.”

“The infatuation and curiosity would dim with time.”

“Most of your life elves were fictional, and now there was one, right before you.”

Those were a few of the lines you told yourself to placate yourself when your mind wandered too close to Legolas, though it never felt very convincing.

Legolas turned, his bright blue eyes meeting yours. They were so wide and full of wonder, it was hard to believe he was hundreds - if not a couple thousand - years old. He was so youthful and bright, not weighed down from living a million lifetimes. Nothing like his father nor the whispers that followed the King’s name in the corridors of Imladris. Legolas was soft and gentle, careful and perfectly polite to a fault. His father’s disposition may have been winter but Legolas remained the sun that melted the frigid snow.

A smile blossomed on Legolas’ face, not a single crease appearing on his pale skin. The simple gesture made your heart rate increase to an alarming rate, knots twisting and turning in your stomach. Heat and embarrassment made your cheeks turn flush and you hoped he simply thought it was from the cold.

You returned a smile, overtly aware of your own appearance and insecurities. You wanted him to think you were as pretty as the elves you’d lived among, but beauty was hard while caught in a snowstorm. Your eyes moved from Legolas, opting to stare at the back of Aragorn’s head, at least until the queasy feeling in your stomach went away. He was so beautiful, and kind, and wonderful, and--

‘Stop. Don’t do that.’ you scold yourself. It wasn’t worth the potential heartbreak to even consider Legolas like that. You were mortal and he was very much not, he would more than likely see you as a lost puppy than a romantic prospect. But despite yourself, you snuck one last glance at Legolas, foolishly hopeful his eyes were still locked on you. They weren’t; he was now in the front with Gandalf, idle and unaware of the turmoil a simple smile from him caused.

A particularly strong gust of wind hit you, knocking you straight to the ground. The winds were getting fiercer and the snow heavier, how long would this continue before Galdalf admitted defeat and you turned around?

Wet, cold snow seeped through your clothes. You tried to stand, but found it difficult in the thick layer of snow. Like a clumsy child you kicked and squirmed in an attempt to regain your dignity, but it was all for not. Then a hand appeared in your line of sight, offering your aid. You looked up, Legolas now standing before you with an outstretched hand. Without hesitation you took it, Legolas hauling you back to your feet with little to no effort.

Even as your body was upright and stable, Legolas’ hand didn’t leave yours. His hands were rough from decades of archery training, but they seemed gentle in yours. His thumb lightly traced shapes over your skin. The action seemed subconscious as Legolas continued to look at you with that bright expression he always wore.

“Careful my lady, we wouldn’t want you to blow away.” Despite how quiet they were, his words cut through the wind. There was a teasing glimmer in his eyes that seemed to translate to his words.

You breathed out a laugh, careful to not stare into his eyes too long. Your cheeks became warm again, the red flush of embarrassment making its mark on you. Legolas’ head tilted to the side; concern masked the light mischief lighting up his face.

“My lady, you must be freezing, especially after a fall into the snow. Here--”

He didn’t give you time to respond, not that you even could. You were in a trance, enraptured the smell of cedar and bergamot as well as the heat that radiated from his body that was so close to yours. Legolas reached up to the clasp of his cloak and undid it. In a smooth motion, he took the cloak off and draped it over your body.

“That should help keep you warm in the snow.”

He smiled at you, sweet and gentle. His disposition was addictive, making a small grin curl on your lips. All too soon, he stepped away from you, sparring you one last glance before approaching Aragorn. Your cheeks remained warm and bright red, the rate of your heart not settling anytime soon.

You continued to watch him animatley chat with Aragorn, unbothered by the cold even without a cloak. Subconsciously, you pulled the cloak tighter to your body, deeply inhaling his scent that lingered on the fabric.

Practically floating, you were unaware of the knowing glances the rest of the Fellowship cast your way. All the while, you were lost in thought, trying to intellectualize each butterfly Legolas’ touch created. It was all overwhelming and you almost wanted to throw up. You were shaking and nervous; bright red from head to toe. This felt different than idle crushes and romanticization of complete strangers.

Maybe you were falling in love.

---

The river languidly flowed, beams of soft light reflecting off the water and creating a thousand little rainbows. The river’s stream was gentle and almost lethargic, it seemed even the Earth was affected by the elves' lack of urgency in life. Lady Galadriel’s power had seeped into the very dirt and from it sprout and ethereal visages in the forest. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been this at peace. It must’ve been before your old life had been ripped from you.

You were alone, fingertips digging into the mud as you stared at the stream. Gandalf was dead. It was a strange thing to constantly remember. At times you would forget, searching for him in the Fellowship only to remember he’d fallen in Moria. There was a pit in your stomach you weren’t familiar with. Greif didn’t feel the way you’d thought it would’ve, not at all the way it was often dramatized in the media. Instead of bright and all encompassing, it was a subtle, slow burn that would eventually swallow you whole if left untempered.

But you didn’t know how to temper it.

So it left a dull ache within you, painless enough you’d forget it was there until it suddenly pricked you like a sewing needle.

But at least you could mourn without the threat of orcs looming over your head.

“I had hoped to find you.” His voice was carried by the gentle breeze that suddenly came through the clearing. You turned your head, only slightly, just enough to see Legolas’ lithe form standing a little ways away.

“It’s quiet,” you replied, returning your attention to the water, feeling a need to explain yourself to Legolas, even though his observation wasn’t accusatory. The ground muffled the sound of Legolas’ footsteps, only a soft thump heard with each step. He then took a seat beside you, so quiet it felt like he’d always been there. His eyes were on you, you could feel it, the way his blue eyes bore past your body and into your soul. Elves were far more perceptive than humans, and you could feel the truth to that statement in his gaze.

“I had thought so as well. I came here our first night in Lothlorien. It made me think of you, I am pleased to see I was correct in that.” He spoke the words so effortlessly, as if he hadn’t just admitted to thinking of you. Or perhaps it was nothing to him, a passing thought in his mind of one of his friends. You didn’t want to just be a friend, but perhaps that was the category you’ll remain.

You turn your head, eye to eye with Legolas. A warm flush appeared on your cheeks, something that seemed permanent when he looked at you with those eyes. The type of wonder and softness that almost made you believe he returned your affections. Yet you didn’t linger on those fantasies for too long, not wanting to potentially be let down. You’d never been very strong in your convictions, something born during childhood that you never managed to shake.

Flighty and fearful as long as danger was near and it was always near; haunting the edges of your vision, a jumpscare waiting around every corner. The worst case scenario had always been accepted as the only plausible scenario; fiction became fact and you wouldn’t accept any other truth. Perhaps Legolas was waiting for a cue from you to make a move, but you were too much of a coward to ever do it.

So in limbo you would stay, content enough with your friendship while secretly yearning for more.

“And what about a calm river could make you think of me?”

You were irrational and emotional, quick to anger and hard to forgive. If anything you were a calamitous tsunami; rough and heavy, dragging everyone in its tide. Nothing like the level headed and logical elves you’d lived around.

“You’re both a source of peace and beauty,” he responded, a small child-like grin curling on his lips. Your mouth grew dry, brows furrowed in slight disbelief.

‘He thought I was beautiful?’

The thoughts in your mind flew at a thousand miles per hour. There wasn’t one singular train of thought you could latch onto, the ability to speak taken from you. No witty comment fell from your mouth, only a wide eyed stare that suspiciously resembled a doe.

It seemed to make Legolas falter, a light dusting of pink appearing on his cheeks. He looked away, eyes locked on the river. “I apologize, that came out wrong. I simply meant that while you are attractive, you are also a great friend and I value speaking with you.” He stuttered and stumbled over his words, trailing off at the end. And his voice… it was so prim and proper, it made a few of the butterflies in your stomach turn to dust. “The same way I value the quiet of sitting in this…spot.”

His eyes darted away from your sharpened gaze, scanning the nearby treeline. His nerves seemed suffocating, he’d suddenly become so flighty. Had you made him uncomfortable? Did he see the hearts in your eyes when you looked at him? Had it made him uncomfortable?

The thoughts made you shrink within yourself. The barest hint of hope within you smothered in insecurities and doubt as dark as midnight. Perhaps he hadn’t meant the compliment in the way you wanted. They were only kind words to ease a friend's grief, yet you managed to only hear what you wanted.

‘Stupid, stupid, stupid.’

You fought against the disappointment, not allowing it to carve its place onto your face. The smile on your face was bright, but it didn't quite meet your eyes. “I’m glad we are friends.” You place your hand on his shoulder, your touch so light he nearly didn’t feel it.

You half expected him to jump away from your touch as if it burned, but he didn’t. Instead, he met your gaze once more, and the worry muddying his eyes melted away.He gave a slight nod of the head, yet didn’t speak.

Silence filled the clearing, and you were terrified he might hear your heart pounding against your chest. It became harder to breathe the longer the two of you stayed locked in the impromptu staring contest. The distance between you two was small, and you’d never been so close to him before. Oh god, was he getting closer? Was he leaning towards you?

There was a slight quiver in your lips, heart slowing to a point you were afraid it wasn’t beating anymore. Palms sweaty, they clung to the blades of grass held captive in your hands. Time stopped, nothing else mattered as you prepared for his lips to touch yours.

Except…

They never did. Legolas pulled back, eyes wide in alarm. He stood, nearly stumbling backwards in his desperation to get away from you. He got to his feet and took two steps away. On the ground you remained, ripping out grass to keep from crying as you saw what you swore was regret crossing his face.

“I should return to the Fellowship, Aragorn may require me. Until we meet again.” Legolas did an awkward half bow, scurrying away before you could so much as reply.

Left alone, you let out a heavy breath, that was shuddered with choked sobs. Were you truly that bad he had to flee from you? The wind blew stronger this time, and you rolled your eyes. A few stray tears fell and you let them, there was no one to see you cry like a baby over a man you knew you could never have.

You couldn’t deny it anymore, try as you might.

Oh no, you were falling in love.

---

The panic that tore through Helm’s Deep was contagious.

Ten thousand Uruk-hai would be marching towards you, an army that tripled what little forces the keep could muster. We needed outside help, but there wasn’t time to call for reinforcements. We’d all already be dead by the time they came.

You tried to not let the fear show, desperate to keep your body steady despite the shaking it was plagued with. Deep breaths were forced as you attempted to keep your breath shallow and uneven. But you couldn’t deny it, even as you did anything and everything to keep your mind.

You weren’t ready to die.

Not today, not like this.

It wouldn’t be swift and painless, it would be drawn out and agonizing; orcs weren’t famous for their mercy. Suffocated by a blanket of despair, you briefly considered offing yourself. There were so many twisting tunnels and a million ways for you to do it. But in the end, as you stared into the desolate eyes of the Rohirrim, you decided against it. If they could face impending doom with grace, then so could you. Yet that didn’t keep the terror from threatening to swallow you whole.

You were numb.

Stood outside, elves and men began to line up along the wall. There were screams and shouts all around, but it was nothing but white noise in your ears. Across the crowd, your eyes met Legolas’. His lips were downturned and his eyes were tired; Legolas was just as terrified as you.

You weren’t sure who moved first, but within a blink the two of you began to move towards one another. The crowd was thick but you shoved through them with the strength of someone twice your size. As you escaped the crowd and your hands found Leglolas’, you could finally breathe. It was a breath of fresh air after being forced underwater.

His eyes bore into yours, his grip tight as if to assure himself you wouldn’t leave. Battle was coming, he knew that, you knew that, but the sentiment was nice. It made your heart flutter, the numbness freezing your body lifting the longer you stayed there.

You wanted to speak, to tell him all the love confessions and speeches you’d been mentally writing and rewriting. But the ability to talk had been lost. Your mouth was dry and your throat had closed up. Instead you squeezed his hands tighter, hoping to convey everything your words couldn’t.

His lips, pressed into a thin line, relaxed into a slight frown. His eyes were searching your face, looking for the answers to his never ending questions. You weren’t sure if he found what he was looking for, too afraid to ask in case it soiled the moment.

It was in that moment, with your eyes connected and his hands tangled with yours, everything clicked into place. Every nagging insecurity and silly fear felt so miniscule and pointless. How much time had been wasted living in fear?

Moments before doom and your hit with an epiphany. Your feelings weren’t as unrequited as once believed. Reflected in Legolas' shining eyes you could see the same unsurety that came with loving someone new. The constant doubts that you were wrong, not trusting your own eyes and instincts. It was never one sided, you just wish one of you had the courage to say something before this moment.

A part of you waited for Legolas to speak, to declare everything you’d already figured out, but he never did. Rendered mute just as you were, he was silent in the midst of chaos.

So you opted to not speak either and instead pressed your lips against his. Your lips were dry and cracked, raw from biting on them constantly. Legolas’ were much the same, yet neither of you hardly cared. His grip on you tightened as he pulled your body closer. He never wanted to let you lose and you didn’t want him to.

The kiss was hardly romantic or anything like the sappy romance books that became your bible. His lips were rough and his grip was nearly bruising, but it made your heart burst all the same. There was no time for gentle kisses and longing eye contact under flutter lashes, the world was coming to an end. And you’d be damned if it ended without you telling Legolas you’d loved him.

You pulled back, wide eyes staring into his eyes. A warm rush through your body, heart beat racing against your chest. Faintly, you heard Aragorn calling for the two of you; the current scenario came rushing back as time began to move normally. Majority of the army has lined up, anxiously awaiting the official start of a long dreaded war. You looked at Legolas once more, and his eyes met yours.

“I love you.” The words fell from your lips, jumbled together as you spoke to the tempo of your heartbeat. He understood them all the same, his lips curling into a melancholic sort of grin.

“I love you.”

The moment was over, the bubble previously surrounding just the two of you bursting. The end was near.

Following the crowd, you and Legolas took your places at the wall, watching ten thousand Uruk-Hai march towards you. Yet you weren’t filled with the same icy fear and delolation. You’d been revived; dropped into icy water after a year long drought.

Under the wall and hidden by darkness, your hand found Legolas’. He squeezed it, a reassurance and a promise.

You would both make it out.

And everything would be right.

Deeply, you inhaled slowly exhaling. A single arrow bit through the darkness and landed in the chest of an Uruk-Hai. The enemy army shouted and began to charge. You lifted your blade, untangling your hands from Legolas’ as you knocked his arrow.

The two of you would be fine.

If only so you could hear him say the words you’ve dreamed about since your first meeting.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

#legolas imagine #legolas x reader #lotr imagine #lord of the rings imagine #legolas #legolas oneshot #legolas greenleaf #tolkien #lotr #middle earth imagines #lotr movies #lord of the rings oneshot #lord of the rings #legolas fluff #mirkwood elves #lotr fanfic #lotr elves

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darksigns-exe · 7 months ago

Text

You're The Holiest Thing I Know - Nick x Noah x Laurie (OFC)

Paring: Nicholas Ruffilo x Noah Sebastian x Laurie (OFC) Warnings: Swearing, Oral Sex (M and F receiving), use of a strap on toy Word Count: 5.3k

To Know You're Mine Masterlist Masterlist

They turn around as if he’s caught them gossiping. Nick thinks that he probably has. For a second it stings, but then he remembers that these are his darlings and that it won’t be about him even if they’re giggling and so very close to each other.

He likes seeing them like this. Laurie pulls him in for a chaste little kiss, before she holds her hand out towards Nick.

“We were just talking about a little movie night? Interested?”

He doubts that was the actual topic of their conversation. He won’t question them. Whatever they have planned is theirs to surprise him with.

Nick agrees, of course. He can’t say no to them. Not when Noah is looking at him with those big brown eyes of his. He’s hunched over a little, his chin resting on Laurie’s shoulder. She looks so small with his arms wrapped around her like that.

God, he loves them so much. Seeing them like this makes Nick question how they’ve ever been without Noah. It’s not that things before weren’t good. They were. It was never bad. But now that it’s all three of them, it just feels so right.

If he could, he’d take a thousand pictures of them so that he can always keep one on him.

When he comes back into the living room after changing into something comfortable, they already have Labyrinth pulled up on the screen. He hears Laurie cursing out the microwave once again. They should probably get a new one at some point.

“There you are.” Noah pulls him in close by the waist, “Almost thought that you weren’t going to come down after all.”

Noah presses a kiss to the cheek, one hand pressed against the opposite. Nick likes that he’s picked up little things like that from Laurie. It’s endearing. They copy each other so much, and he truly does adore it.

Sometimes he feels as if he’s the new one, with how in sync they are.

Laurie joins them shortly afterwards with a bowl of popcorn. The few days off she’s had did her good. He assumes that Noah’s been taking good care of their girl too. Laurie sinks down on the other side of him, bracketing him between their bodies. He likes having them all around him like this. Nick loops his arm around Laurie’s shoulder, pulling her close against his side. Noah leans against his other side, head resting against his shoulder. He’ll slide down to curl against him soon enough. He always does.

The little bout of insecurity ebbs away slowly. The pit of it remains in his chest, though. He can’t help it sometimes. Can’t help the bitter feeling that he’s the one on the outside now. Nick knows that it’s unwarranted. He knows that they love him, that they care for him. Otherwise, they wouldn’t attach themselves to him like this. He shoves the feeling away for now, tries his best to focus on what they had right now. It’ll disappear before long. At least that’s what he hopes.

Shortly after the credits had rolled, Noah had said his good nights, kissed them both and bounded up the stairs, claiming that he still wanted to shower. Nick isn’t sure where this sudden scepticism comes from, maybe he’s just tired. The last few weeks have been busy. He’s glad that he’s basically booked out for the entire time they’re off tour, but now he wishes that he’d taken fewer appointments, spent less time away. He misses them in equal measure, and he can’t deny the bit of envy he feels when he hears Noah and Laurie talk about what they got up to while he was busy. He knows that they spent their mornings all comfy and lazy and while he’s happy that they get to have those moments, Nick can’t help himself. He doesn’t want Noah out. He just wants to have more of them.

“Nicky.” Laurie wraps her arms around his middle, “Everything okay?”

He jumps a little at the sudden contact and noise. He’d been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed her coming into the kitchen.

He nods, despite the still bitter feeling in his chest.

“Don’t lie.”

Nick feels her press her face against the side of his arm as she holds him.

“Just feeling a little on the sideline at the moment.” He admits then.

He can’t expect Laurie and Noah to communicate their needs and then do the opposite when he’s not feeling well.

Laurie’s arms tighten around him.

“Is this because of earlier? When you came home?”

“A little.”

She presses a kiss to his shoulder, “Noah asked me to help him out with something. I’m not going to tell you what, but you’ll enjoy it. Be patient, my love.”

He huffs out a breath, trying his hardest not to sound too frustrated with the whole thing. It eases the ache a little.

“Think we could go out some time? Just you and me?” he asks finally.

Nick didn’t think it was possible, but she hugs him closer still, “Of course. Whatever you want. Just say the word, and I’m all yours. Noah wants to get up early tomorrow; think he’s meeting up with some people. So you’ve got me all to yourself.”

He can’t keep his hands off her that night. Can’t stop himself from kissing every inch of her body until she’s a sighing, writhing mess beneath him. The mess in his head dissipates as he sinks into her. And when he falls asleep with her arm slung across his chest, it doesn’t feel nearly as bad as it did just a few hours ago.

A few days flow past until Noah finds an opportune morning to bring the topic up again. He waits until they’ve had breakfast and they’ve both kissed Nick goodbye. He’s bouncing with excitement when he finds her in the en suite of the big bedroom.

Noah wraps himself around her partially naked body.

“What’s with you today?”

“Do you think we could…”

“Today?” she fixes him in the mirror.

He nods eagerly, “Been thinking about it all night.”

His own enthusiasm catches him a little off guard. Going down on a guy hadn’t been something he’d thought about a lot before this. Hell, even the idea of practising the whole thing with her would have sounded completely baffling to him a year ago. But here he is, asking his girlfriend to help him get used to giving head so that he can show their boyfriend a good time. That alone would have given him an aneurysm when he’d first moved in with them.

“Alright.” her hand finds the side of his face, “Don’t worry so much.”

Noah kisses her cheek, “Thank you for doing this.”

“Of course, everything for the two of you.”

There’s a softness on her face. Noah is so glad that he has the two of them. He lets Laurie get ready in peace. He knows that she likes having a bit of time to herself in the morning. The time spent idle will do nothing for his nerves, but she’ll bring him back down quickly enough. Noah keeps himself busy with his phone, makes note of a verse that’s been floating around his head for a few days now.

He looks up when Laurie enters the bedroom again. Her skin shines with the lotions and creams she’s used. God, she’s beautiful.

“Nervous?” she asks, tossing the shirt she’d worn that night into the little basket by the bathroom door.

“Just a little.”

There’s no use denying it. Laurie will pick up on his writhing hands quickly enough. She always does.

“We can take our time with it. No need to rush into it.” Laurie sits down next to him on the bed, “Do you want to see it first?”

The hesitant little voice in the back of his mind tells him that he doesn’t. He nods in spite of it.

The little smile Laurie gives him makes Noah feel just a little bit more settled. She gives his thigh a little, reassuring squeeze, before she gets up from the bed again.

Laurie opens one of the drawers on the big commode on the opposite side of the room.

He watches her rummage through its contents for a moment before she places a mess of straps onto the top. Her search continues for a moment longer, until she rises to her feet.

“We have a smaller one, but this one is closest to Nick.”

Noah tries not to let the size scare him. He’s seen Nick before - he’s had his hands on him more than once. It’s not as if he didn’t know what he’d be getting himself into.

Laurie holds the toy out for him to take. It’s heavier than expected. It feels similar to Nick in his hand, but it’s so strangely cold.

“We’ll take it nice and slow. We have all day.”

He takes some time getting used to the feeling of the toy in his hand. Laurie watches him carefully; watches as he wraps his hand around it.

“What happens now?” he asks quietly.

Technically he knows. He’s had enough girls go down on him to know what comes now. Laurie gives him a knowing look. Noah’s watched her doing this exact thing for Nick just a few days earlier.

“You know what comes next, darling.” Laurie says calmly, “Do you want to be on your knees?”

He hesitates for a moment too long.

“We can try it with you sitting on the bed. I don’t know how well -”

“Nick will want me on my knees, right?” Noah asks quietly.

Laurie’s face falls a little, and Noah thinks that he’s said something wrong. She cradles his face so gently, thumbs drifting across the tops of his cheeks.

“He’ll want you wherever you’re most comfortable. You know that he doesn’t expect you to bend and break for him. Whatever you can give will be enough. For both of us.” One of her hands leaves his face, in order to fuss with a stray strand of his hair, “And you’ve been on your knees for me. Plenty of times.”

His face flushes a little at the memories of his face buried between her thighs. The difference between this and what he wants to do for Nick is that he knows what to do when he’s face to face with her pussy.

“I want to try.” he nods, mostly to convince himself.

Laurie pulls him in for a chaste little kiss, “We can take breaks whenever you need them.”

Noah has to admit that watching her slip on the harness is a little nerve wrecking. He doesn’t have it in him to question why they have it in the first place. The visual of Nick spread out like that for her burrows into his mind, but he shoves that to the back of his mind for another day. He can’t think about that right now.

He still sits on the edge of the bed, fingers nervously tangled together.

None of that helps when he really takes in the visual of Laurie with the toy dangling in front of her. It takes mere seconds for his cock to press against the fabric of his sweats.

“Kneel down for me, love?” The gentle tone of her voice breaks through his thoughts.

Noah nods absent-mindedly. Laurie reaches for his hand as he sinks down, gives it a comforting squeeze before she brings it to rest against her thigh.

“You’ve seen me do this, and you know what you like. You’ll be just fine.”

It’s a little intimidating.

Noah tries to remember what Laurie did the last time he’s seen her suck Nick's dick. Wrapping his hand around it feels foreign. There’s no movement in it, and it feels nothing like the real thing.

“Give me your hand.” Laurie speaks softly.

He does as she asks. Noah tries hard not to be shocked when she spits into his palm. It’s so oddly obscene, he’s seen her do it plenty of times, but somehow when it’s in his hand it feels mad.

“That’ll make it easier.”

And now that he thinks about it, he’d do the same thing when he gets a hand around himself.

“Go on, love.”

Noah works his hand along the silicone. It feels odd at first but when he feels her hand in his hair a little surge of bravery floods through him. He directs the tip of it towards his mouth. Noah lets his eyes fall shut before he gives a first shy lick across the head. It’s not nearly as weird as he’d thought. And after the first comes a second and a third, and soon enough he finds himself wanting more of it. Laurie’s hand in his hair coaxes him a little closer. It’s such a dizzying feeling. He feels a little clumsy. The head of the toy bumps against the roof of his mouth a few times, before he finds the right angle.

“You’re doing so good.” Her praise sends a shiver down his spine, “Not as bad as you thought it’d be, huh?”

Noah pulls off the toy.

Laurie draws in a sharp breath when he does, and he really cannot place the emotion on her face.

“Feels good.”

She pushes the loose strands of hair away from his face, “I can’t wait for Nick to see you like this.”

He looks so gorgeous like this. A part of her wants to keep him like this. Wants to keep him soft and gentle on his knees for them. She really cannot wait for Nick to feel this. Noah is so eager, so willing to please. He’ll be so good for their boy.

She watches him squirm and shift as keeps up his effort. The hand that is resting against his own thigh twitches impatiently. Laurie knows that he wants to touch himself, and she adores that he doesn’t. She hasn’t told him that he can’t, but there was also no explicit yes.

“Noah.” His eyes shoot up to meet hers immediately, “You can touch yourself if you want to.”

Relief washes over his face as his hand practically flies towards the obvious tent in his sweats. There’s a slim part of her that wishes that she could actually feel it, but it quickly vanishes in favour of a different kind of ache. Watching him touch himself like that when his face is buried between her thighs always makes her head swim, this isn’t different.

He’s grows more and more confident with every bop of his head. She doesn’t know how much more of this she can stand before her own impatience takes over. Her hand finds its way back into his hair, and Noah sighs so beautifully when her nails scrape against his skin of his scalp. The next time she looks down at him, his hand is pushed behind the waist band of his sweats. The movement is slow, but it’s noticeable enough. By now, the cotton of her underwear is soaked through and if she doesn’t get his mouth on her properly soon, she’ll lose her mind.

Laurie watches as he works himself faster, more irregular. He’s close. She can’t look away. The little sounds he makes fill her head with cotton. He sighs around the toy, before he pulls off it until just the head remains between his lips. Laurie tightens her grip on his hair, making him look up at her.

She wishes that he’d rid himself of the sweats so that she could see him properly, but he is far too occupied with his own pleasure. Noah pulls off suddenly, before his head drops against her thigh. His mouth falls open. A silent gasp that breaks from his throat and his hand stills.

Noah stays where he is, resting against her thigh while he catches his breath. She loves how he looks in these moments. That blissed out pleasure that captures his entire being is her favourite thing to look at. He blinks up at her, lips still parted and spit-slicked.

“You did so good, darling.” she speaks softly, “Think you’ve earned a treat.”

His eyes light up at that.

Laurie carefully undoes the buckles that hold the harness up against her waist. As much as this is his treat, she wants - needs - to feel him too. She’s just as desperate for it as he is, and when he surges forward to burrow his face into her, she can’t stop herself from letting out a most wanton moan.

It doesn’t matter how often he puts his mouth on her, it always feels brand new. He’s like a starved man today, burying his face against her pussy until she swears that air doesn’t reach him any more. He licks into her over and over again. It’s almost too much already. Laurie feels him moan and sigh against her. She loves how much he enjoys this. Nick is good to her, always has been. But there’s something about the absolute desperation that fills Noah whenever he’s between her thighs that makes her tummy twist and flip with pleasure.

Laurie lets herself fall back against the mattress. As hungry as he seems to be for her today, she knows that he’ll take his time. And so Laurie lets herself sink into the feeling of his mouth on her pussy and his fingers digging into her hips and thighs. She’s long-lost track of time. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she hears him whine.

By the time she feels herself unravel, Laurie swears that she is floating a good few inches above the bed. Blood rushes in her ears, obscuring all sounds besides the thumping of her heart. It almost doesn't feel real. She lets herself float in that feeling, enjoys the levity it brings her. They’re so good to her. Sometimes she wonders how she found herself with the two of them. Before she can spend much thought on the matter, a gentle hand finds the top of her thigh. She hadn’t noticed Noah climbing onto the bed to sit next to her. His eyes are soft with that gentle tiredness that always takes over his being when they’re done.

He slumps down next to her on his back. When she looks over at him, she finds herself warming even more. She loves them both so much. Sometimes it washes over her like a tidal wave, this sudden realisation that she has these wonderful boys in her life. She loves them, and in return she is loved so thoroughly that it shakes her a little when she thinks about it too much.

Laurie wraps herself around him. The thump of his heart is heavy in her ear. Her fingers graze across the skin of his chest, along the length of his ribs, until the faint trace of a giggle falls from his lips. His hand finds her back, pulling her closer against him.

“Thank you for doing this.” his voice barely breaks through the silence around them.

“Was it good?” She asks softly, not lifting her head from where it is resting against his chest.

Noah’s hand curls around the side of her body, warm and comforting, “So much better than I could have imagined.”

“I’m glad.” she replies, “Nick will lose his mind, you know?”

A laugh rumbles through his chest, “I know. Might lose it too, I think.”

Laurie presses a kiss to his sternum “If you want me there I’ll be right by your side the entire time. Nick won’t ask anything from you that you’re not willing to give.”

“I want you there.” Noah says firmly.

Another kiss to the same spot, “Then I’ll be there. You lead the way. It’s all in your hands. If you need to stop, just let us know.”

They’re all around him. Noah to his left, Laurie on his right – just the way he likes it. Really, it doesn’t matter how they’re arranged, as long as he has them both by his side. He can’t ask for more, and he doesn’t want to. They’re all he needs. It’s been a little over six months since Noah became a part of them, and it still feels so impossibly right.

It feels as if Noah slowly thaws with every day that passes. He’s becoming more and more affectionate and open with his feelings, and Nick is genuinely happy to see him grow like that.

Nick turns his attention back to the show they’re watching. They’ve watched it plenty of times, so he doesn’t mind zoning out a little.

A hand – too large to be Laurie's – wanders up his side. He almost doesn’t want to look. Noah gets so painfully shy with his affection sometimes. When his hand dips beneath the fabric of his shirt, Nick’s breath instantly hitches a little. Noah’s fingers pulse against his skin, and for a brief second he thinks that they’re about to vanish again. To his surprise, they remain where they are. And even more surprising, lips come to meet the side of his neck. Laurie seems to be blissfully unaware of what is happening on the other side of the sofa.

Nick tries to keep his breathing steady. He doesn’t want to disrupt whatever Noah is up to, doesn’t want to jostle him more than necessary.

Noah does pull back a little when Laurie sits up. He remains close, but the soft brush of his lips suddenly disappears and Nick thinks that he’s never missed anything more.

She presses a kiss to Nick’s cheek before she pushes herself up onto her feet “I’ll be right back. Don’t get too busy without me.”

Nick barely registers her looping around the back of the sofa. She leans down next to Noah. Whatever she whispers to him has him huff out a breathy laugh. As soon as Laurie has left the room, Noah is back on him.

“What’s gotten into you?” Nick finds himself asking.

Noah retreats immediately. Nick doesn’t find the panic he’s seen so often on his face, instead he finds himself faced with an expression that so far has been reserved for Laurie. There’s a hunger, a deep set desire on his face and it takes Nick a moment too long to realise that it is directed at him.

“We don’t have to -” Noah says so softly.

It’s not the same shy tone he’s grown used to. This is different. He seems more sure of himself and Nick thinks that maybe this was what he had asked Laurie to help him with.

“Just curious about what you’re up to.”

His cheeks flush at that. He looks so gorgeous with his tousled hair and pink cheeks. Nick can’t help himself. He reaches up, carefully untangles some of the strands. His hand comes to the side of Noah’s face. He gently steers him to meet his lips. It always surprises him how they fit together, how Noah moulds himself against him so easily. Nick isn’t sure when he’s moved to straddle him, his hands find Noah’s waist nevertheless.

It feels different from the other times they’ve been together. He seems to have a set course of action and Nick lets himself be dragged along without a fight.

Noah is busy leaving what will surely be a wild array of bruises on his neck when Laurie returns to the living room. Nick feels barely cognisant enough to feel her hand drifting through his hair as she passes him on her way to the far end of the sofa. Noah’s hands return to his sides. The cool touch soothes his wired nerves a little.

Whatever calm had settled in him immediately dissipates again when Noah shifts himself onto the carpet in front of him. Nick has to force himself to calm his breathing before he looks at him again.

The look of wide-eyed pleasure he’s met with shoots right through him.

“Noah.” He sighs, almost in disbelief.

With the film long forgotten, Nick relinquishes himself to the hands roaming across his thighs. They find the waistband of his sweatpants, not tugging but gently drifting across the sliver of bare skin he finds there. It’s a silent question, he waits until it is asked out loud, though.

“Can I take these off?” he sounds just a little hesitant when he asks.

Suddenly, it is Nick who finds himself at a loss for words. He nods, maybe a little too desperate. Now that Noah is so close, so willing to share his affection, he can’t wait to feel all of it. He needs to feel Noah’s hands, his lips everywhere.

“Nick.” Laurie speaks from his left, “If you want him to use his words I’m going to need you to do the same.”

“Yes. Please.”

She looks from him to Noah almost expectantly.

“Good.” Noah says, sounding surprisingly firm, “Sit up.”

In a way, Nick is glad that they’re leading the way. He pushes his hips up, allowing Noah to pull his sweats and underwear down his waist and thighs. Noah pauses for a moment. The tip of his tongue flits across his bottom lip before he pulls it between his teeth. A moment later, he taps against the side of his calf. Nick lifts his leg, so that he can remove the garments entirely.

Nick doesn’t care enough to check where his clothes disappear to, not when he feels Noah’s hands drift up his legs again. His breath catches in his throat when a kiss is pressed to the inside of his knee. Slowly as can be, Noah works his way back up his thigh with the softest kisses. His focus drifts in and out the higher up Noah reaches. He’s so close to where Nick wants him, so desperately. His other hand brushes up along the inside of his thigh. The tips of his fingers dance across the top of his shaft. Nick lets his eyes fall shut as his hand wraps around him.

He sighs with the first stroke of his hand. It’s slow – torturous, even. His head drops against the back of the sofa. It takes him embarrassingly little to get fully hard. Maybe if he’d been a little more aware of the things around him, Nick would have noticed that Noah had long stopped lavishing kisses along the insides of his thighs. Maybe he would have noticed the silent exchange between his two darlings, or Laurie slipping down onto the carpet next to Noah.

“Go on, darling.” he hears the words so faintly in the back of his consciousness that they barely register, “You did so good for me. Why don’t you show our Nicky?”

A moment of silent passes before Nick feels the hesitant brush of a tongue against the head of his cock. His eyes shoot down immediately. The sight before him takes his breath away. Both of his loves in front of him like this wasn’t something he’d expected from this evening. He watches as Laurie leans close to Noah. Nick can’t tell what she whispers to him, but it seems to be enough to give him the confidence to wrap his lips around his head.

Nick can’t tear his eyes away from the sight in front of him. He’s transfixed, spellbound as he watches Noah work his way down his cock. The younger takes his time with it, pulls back to give himself a break when he needs it. His hand remains wrapped around the parts he can’t reach yet. The rhythm he settles into is just enough to have Nick’s head reeling with it. He tries to keep his hands to himself, tries to let Noah stay in the rhythm he’s found, but his hands seem to have a mind of their own. Nick carefully pulls the loose strands of hair away from Noah’s face.

He looks up at Nick, eyes wide with pleasure, and Nick can’t stop the whine that falls from him.

“How does he feel, Nicky?” Laurie’s voice breaks through the fuzz in his head.

He finds her looking at him with that curiosity she always regards them with. Her lips are parted with bated breath, tongue dipping out to dart across her bottom lip.

“So good, god, he’s so good.” he manages to choke out between breathless sighs.

Noah moans around him, and he swears that he’s never heard him sound so lost in his own pleasure before. Nick can’t look any more. His head tips back again, eyes finding the overly expensive light fixture Laurie had insisted on. He has to think of anything but the boiling feeling in his belly.

Occasionally, it still feels a little clumsy, but the fact that Noah is doing this for him alone is enough to drive him closer and closer to the edge. He can faintly hear Laurie speaking, but the rushing of blood in his ears is too loud to let him understand any of the words.

His hand flexes where it’s still tangled into Noah’s hair, not to tear or to pull, but to ground himself in feeling. Nick isn’t sure how much more of this he can take. He’s long lost control of the moans that break free from his throat, and he barely manages to stop himself from bucking up into the warmth of Noah’s mouth.

“Don’t stop.” maybe he would have been embarrassed by how desperate he sounds, but Nick is far too close to the edge to worry about that.

Noah’s hand grips into his thigh as he presses closer, works even more of him into his mouth. It’s so familiar, but at the same time it feels so unlike Laurie.

He feels her crawl up the side of his body, before she curls against him. Her lips find the side of his neck in a soft kiss. She brings a hand to the side of his face to gently coax his head up again.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” she asks, her words sounding just as breathless as he feels.

Nick nods, perhaps a little too eagerly.

“Are you going to cum for him?”

“Please.”

“You hear that, darling, hear how badly he wants it?”

Another moan reverberates through his spine. Laurie manages to steer him towards Noah just as Nick feels himself fall. He can’t stop himself from tugging Noah just a little deeper onto his cock as he spills into his mouth. Noah works him through it so diligently. And he swears that he can feel him swallow.

Nick opens his eyes just in time to see Laurie lean down to kiss Noah. His vision swims with the sight of them and if he hadn’t just cum, that would be enough for him to do it again. Noah follows her up onto the sofa, wriggles his way between them. A second later, Nick is pulling him in for a desperate kiss. He doesn’t have the words to express how he feels at that moment, the kiss will have to do until he’s in control of his mind again.

“Was it good?” Noah asks when Nick releases him.

He sounds so awfully insecure, but Nick doesn’t miss the glint in his eyes.

“So good.” he pulls him in for another kiss, “You did so, so good for me. Thank you.”

“I told you he’d lose it.” Laurie presses herself against Noah’s back, “Want us to take care of you now?”

He’s never seen Noah blush so quickly. He shakes his head, looking almost a little ashamed.

“Oh honey.” she says with a soft sigh, “Did you?”

Noah nods, and only now does Nick notice the damp patch at the front of the other’s shorts.

“Did you like it so much?” Nick asks, finally having regained some kind of grasp on himself.

“Been thinking about it since – since Laurie helped me.”

He’ll have to ask more questions about that later, for now he’s content with knowing that he wasn’t the only one that enjoyed all of it.

Laurie quickly ushers the both of them up into the bathroom to get cleaned up. And when they fall into bed a while later, Nick finds himself sandwiched between his loves, and he’s never felt more at peace than he does at that moment.

#fic: to know you're mine #nicholas ruffilo x noah sebastian x ofc #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x ofc #nicholas ruffio x ofc

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drunkenkissesatdusk · 5 months ago

Text

LABYRINTH - gr63

pairing . . . george russell x fem!reader summary . . . you never actually meant to wish your bother away, but if you wanted him back, you'd have to travel to the goblin king's castle and retrieve him. But maybe you don't go back, maybe the goblin king entices you, and you have to make a decision. warnings . . . literally a labyrinth!au because I watched the movie last night and I watch it consistently every summer, other than that, nothing else. notes . . . i don't remember where this idea came from, I just had the idea of it and decided to make it. also, this is only part 1!! be patient for any other parts. <3

━━━━━━━ YOU HELD YOUR crying younger brother; he was relentless as you pleaded with him to stop. Unbeknownst to you, after you had started your spiel about the goblin king taking him away, you were under watch. Goblins sat around the room in the cover of darkness as you finally laid Toby to rest.

"I wish the goblins would take you away, right now." You spat, flipping off the light and walking away into your room. You paused mere seconds later, silence filled the hall and your father and stepmother's room. Unusual.

The room was the same as before, Toby's crib sat in the middle of the carpet, close to your stepmother's side of the bed. Reaching into the crib whilst expecting the worst, your nightmare came true - Toby was missing.

Suddenly, a flash of lighting elicited an owl to bang against the window of the room you were in. Snarls and weird noises filled the silent air, it left you scared and spinning around in horror. Once the owl broke open the window, it became he.

"You're him, right? You're the Goblin King." Your eyes widened; he stood in all his glory before you. He was different than you expected, a slightly scrawnier man with light blue eyes and fluffy (albeit messy,) brown hair. He was gorgeous.

"I want my brother back, please." You pleaded with him once you regained your composure. Staring into his eyes was hard, seeing as he was more beautiful than you could've ever imagined.

"What's said is said." He had a British accent as he spoke, staring you down from where he stood on the windowsill of your father and stepmothers bay window.

"But I didn't mean it!" You exclaimed, tears filling your eyes. Had George not been the Goblin King who was madly in love with you, after years of watching you, he would've taken pity and returned Toby. How was he supposed to convince you to be his Goblin Queen if you could leave with your brother and be okay with it?

"Oh, you didn't?" He grinned as you stood motionlessly. He was rather intimidating.

"Where is he?" You pleaded with him, trying to drag the answer from his gorgeous lips - why were you staring at his lips?

"You know that very well." He spoke effortlessly, as if he'd done this thousands of times before. He hadn't, but he had dreamt of this moment with you.

"Please, bring him back." A tear slipped from your eye, and George had fought everything in himself to reach forwards and wipe the tear from your face. He had a plan to conduct, making any mistake would be costly.

"Go back to your room, play with your toys and costumes. Forget about the baby." He stepped even slightly closer to you, but you hadn't noticed. Distraught raced over you, Toby could be in danger!

"I cannot." You sighed. It was a quiet understanding you had reached as he spoke; you needed your brother back and you needed him back now.

"I've brought you a gift." George grinned slightly, this was going well, and he knew that. It would lead to an ultimatum you would make in the end, but you didn't know that this was all nearly scripted. You were playing right into his trap.

"What is it?" You were interested, your eyes sparkling with some sort of wonder.

"It is a crystal, nothing more. But, if you turn it this way," he rolled it in his hands again and again, "and look into it, it will show you your dreams. But this is no gift for a girl who takes care of a screaming baby." he was still messing around with the crystal ball, moving it around in a near hypnotizing way.

"Do you want it?" He asked her, she sheepishly nodded, "Then forget the baby." He added. You, however, were stubborn. Toby was still your brother, and you still needed him back.

"I cannot." You sighed, "I do appreciate what you're trying to do for me, but I want my brother back." your eyebrows furrowed instantly, thinking about what he might be going through. "He must be so scared." you worried aloud. George watched, a small grin formulating along his lips.

"Do not defy me, you are no match for me." He stepped forwards, but you stood your ground.

"But I must have my brother back." You felt another tear leave your eye. This time, George was close enough to wipe it off, an intimate gesture that left you flustered and weak in the knees. You shook off the feeling, scolding yourself instantly.

"He's there, in my castle. Do you still want to look for him?" George pointed through the window. The landscape changed instantly, switching from the rainy darkness that once was, to a barren wasteland esque area, filled with an intricate design of twists and turns - the labyrinth.

"Is that the castle beyond the Goblin City?" Your voice shook slightly as you stepped up to the platform, George was not far behind you.

"Turn back, dove." The small nickname sent an unwanted rush of butterflies through your stomach, and you kept your face forwards. "Turn back before it is too late." He added, acting as if he had not just called you an intimate name.

"I cannot. Do you not understand?" You felt like breaking down and sobbing. How selfish of you to say that, to say that and get Toby - oh, the poor baby! He must be horrified! - sent away to a place both of you were unfamiliar with.

"What a pity." George was grinning.

"It doesn't look that far." You noted, scanning the area before you.

"It's further than you think, and time is short. You have thirteen hours to solve the labyrinth before your baby brother becomes one of us forever." His voiced echoed out a "such a pity" before fading out into the distance.

"It doesn't look that hard, c'mon feet." And you were off on the worst mistake of your life, you should have stayed home and accepted defeat, you could've run away and changed everything about you, but you got yourself into this mess, which means you'll have to get yourself out.

━━━━━━━ NEXT PART! - MASTERLIST!

is this too niche I feel like no one really knows this movie anymore

rip David Bowie though </3

#ceciljameswork #formula 1 imagine #george russell #gr63 #gr63 x reader #mercedes amg f1 #formula one imagine #formula 1 #george russell x reader #george russell imagine #canada gp 2024 #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader

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rlqfpdl · 8 months ago

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How not to lose a brother, no glue no borax

Hermes!fem!reader x Hermes cabin

Summary: luke betrays camp and you don’t know what to do or how to feel anymore. Luckily your siblings seem to be there for you.

Contains: pure angst!!, hermes sibling dynamics, SPOILERS for last Olympian, takes place during the titans curse/battle of the labyrinth. Not really a happy ending? Character death.

A/N: hi guys this is my first ff on tumblr hope you like it. Slightly (or mostly) inspired by the ‘no glue no borax trend’ on tik tok.

Word count: 1.2K

You would think that a cabin like cabin 11 always felt alive and full of people, yet you couldn't help but feel like the loneliest girl in that there. The dull brown walls felt suffocating, but the thought of leaving them seemed even more terrifying.

“Come on sis you’ve got to leave your bed someday,” said Connor, carrying a tray of food. He sat on the footer of the bed and looked up at the girl. Being the closest in age–just one year apart– Connor was your rock and your partner in crime.

You slowly sat up and grabbed the small bowl of strawberries from the tray. “Maybe Hypnos is my dad,” you said sarcastically while wrapping a blanket around yourself. Maybe Connor was right. It was time to touch the grass and wash up a bit.

“That would be a shame, I can't afford to lose another–'' he cut himself off before messing up big time. You shifted in your seat uncomfortably, eyes getting watery with the thought of him again. The old Hermes cabin counselor.

You were there that day when the iris message arrived in camp. Luke, your older brother, confessing to poisoning Thalia's tree and betraying camp. It wasn't as if the news only affected you; every single one of your half-siblings couldn't believe it. It had explained why he didn't arrive at camp that year or why Chris wasn't there to annoy you like always. Oh wait, that meant Chris also left. You were never the same again.

you were merely 10 years old when you first arrived, being claimed by your father as soon as you stepped foot into camp. Connecting with your other siblings in an instant, especially with Luke. You looked up to him; he was the older brother you never had growing up as an only child. He taught you how to use a sword and how to utilize your abilities to their full potential. It was fun to steal the camp store with your siblings, a weird bonding experience for sure. Being a year-rounder also meant spending more time at camp, which also meant getting to know Luke better than most of your other siblings.

Truly, nothing prepared you for such a harsh reality check. You blame yourself for not seeing the signs after his quest; the constant waking up in the middle of the night screaming in fear. the sudden harshness towards others, slowly disconnecting from camp. Sadly, you started to blame your father for everything–how he treated Luke, how he treated you, and how he seemed to not care for the pain you felt.

“Y/N Travis told me not to tell you but they found Chris, He's alive.” Your eyes widened with shock, you knew Chris wasn't dead, but the thought that he was no longer with Luke made you worry even more. At least if he was with the enemy, he was still with his brother.

“Where is he?” you said, getting up, ready to travel to the depths of Tartarus just to see him again.

“Wooh, hold your horses, he was brought back to camp but, he's not in the condition you want to see him in,” Connor said, a slight shakiness to his words as if he had seen Chris, as if he was hiding something.

“What do you mean by that? I don't care about that I just want to see him again” You were starting to get angry. You weren't the same immature 10-year-old from before. You could handle this, or at least you wanted to believe you could.

Connor got annoyed. He knew better than to go against his brother's wishes, but he thought this news could bring a smile to your face, a smile long forgotten. “Travis was right; I shouldn't have told you,” He said, getting up from your bed, about to leave the cabin. He couldn't afford to dwell on these things. He now had to be head counselor, thinking about the course of action the camp would take.

But you ran, catching up to him, grabbing his arm. You felt compelled to know this information; he was your brother. “You and Travis can't keep hiding things from me. I am not a child anymore. Don't you think it hurts me every day how I lost my brothers or how I might lose more in war " Tears were threatening to spill out your eyes, your legs felt weak from not walking in such a long time and your emotions could no longer be contained.

"See Y/N, that's the thing. You're so blinded by your pain. Don't you see the rest of us grieving? Don't you see how Julia and Alice have stopped with their pranks? How me and Travis have to be in charge of this damn cabin with no guidance.” you had never seen Connor actually get angry before, He was the camp clown he played pranks on people, he made people laugh, he didn't make them cry.

“You're not the only one hurting, Y/N, Understand that '' he finished off pulling his arm away from your grip. The tears you held on to finally started to spill, It was true you could be selfish at times, but you couldn't afford to fight with your siblings; it was the only thing left in your life. Alexa, one of your sisters was the one to bring you food that night, not seeing Connor until after the campfire, very clearly annoyed and avoiding you after your little spat.

You knew tension was high in the cabin but you didn't stop to think it was this bad. You were so caught up in your own agenda that you didn't see how you could all fight at a time like this. You had to have each other's backs. Everybody a camp loved Luke; that was a fact, but nobody felt the true betrayal of a sibling like you guys did.

It had been a year now, and you and your siblings found yourselves on Mount Olympus embracing each other and sobbing as you saw your poor brother die. “He died a hero,'' they said but that still didn't stop the pain. It was enough to see him betray camp, witness so many demigods die in battle, see Chris go mad from his days in the labyrinth, see camp slowly dying. Now there was a dagger still inside of Luke.

You missed the times you played poker in cabin 11 or made chocolate chip cookies (his and your favorite), sword fighting, everything. You've only met your father a few times; you couldn't help but blame him for so much. Yet here he was with you guys equally as sad, Travis swore he saw the old man shed a tear or two. It made you laugh slightly when he told you that, not that it was something to laugh at, just the thought of a god showing emotions seemed foreign.

It was funny how grief brought you all together, more united than before. But still, that didn't mean you could look past Luke's actions and the pain you felt. Maybe someday in the future, you would understand where he was coming from, but for now, you couldn't help but cry those feelings and thoughts away.

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #hermes cabin #cabin 11 #sibling dynamics #connor stoll #travis stoll #chris rodriguez #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #connor stoll x reader #travis stoll x reader #chris rodriguez x reader #mention of death #fanfic #rlqfpdl fics

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narrans · 2 months ago

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A Small and Tall Collection | Chapter Two | Into the Unknown

Venturing into the walls was often an adventure; at least, when you knew where you were and where you were going. Ashlynn had neither of these benefits as she began cautiously tiptoeing through the walls of this new home she’d managed to find.

After spending a week and a number of days in the frigid cold and bouncing from place to place and not finding a suitable home, her mind was set that she needed to make this place work. It had to. She couldn’t go back out into the cold again. The Borrower woman needed time to rest and recuperate. Even if this place only lasted for a few weeks, it would be enough.

She hoped that wasn’t the case and that this could be her forever home, but that would come from an evaluation later.

In the meantime, Ashlynn knew she needed to get to much higher ground. If she wanted to stay warm and away from the pests down below, climbing to a higher place was nonoptional. Too many times she’d stayed down on the ground level only to be confronted with every mishap imaginable. Flooding. Pests raiding her supplies. Insects seeking her body heat in the middle of the night. Mold infestations from some spill or uncleaned mess the humans left behind. Remodeling that involved nails suddenly jutting through the wall and, no pun intended, nailing her right in the leg.

Sure, ceilings with apartments or floors above were also a potential worry, but humans were far less likely to mess with something on the ceiling than the floor.

So, up was where she decided to go. It took a little bit of time, but she managed to find a decent beam that wasn’t too far above her head and, based on what she saw, guessed there were other easy to reach beams not too far above that.

It’ll have to do. Ashlynn thought as she removed her hook from her hip and stared at the dusty wood above her head. Her inhalation calmed her body. Her eyes held the target in place. One swing. Two. Three. Faster and faster. She went all the way to seven both out of uncertainty and ritual before she let the metal piece fly. Right as she heard the hook make contact, she pulled down with all of her might to secure it in place.

It took some time, but Ashlynn hoisted herself up onto the first beam. Then the next. Then the next. The frost in her limbs made her joints stiff, but she was determined. Too many nights were spent in the cold and one more night would be the end of her.

She knew it.

It wasn’t until she paused to catch her breath as she leaned against what she could only guess was some kind of electric box called a “breaker box” that she noticed a delicious smell coming from the other side of the wall. She hoped she’d be able to tell where it was coming from once she’d made it up to the ceiling.

How far up am I anyway?

It hadn’t occurred to Ashlynn that she’d climbed up so far, but a quick glance over the edge told her a different story. The abyss below and the shadows swallowing the light from her hip lamp told her she must’ve made it to the ceiling.

Good.

It was warm in the ceiling, and it gave her a better vantage point to look at the humans far below. Ashlynn would’ve stayed longer to warm herself, but the smell was too intoxicating. It was sweet, salty, and flavorful. She had to know where it was coming from – and soon. Her insides wouldn’t let her go much longer without beginning to protest loud enough for even a human to hear.

She finally made it to the final ledge, which revealed a long and mostly uninterrupted surface. She figured this had to be the ceiling of the apartment below, and also the source of the delicious scent. Ashlynn followed her nose through the labyrinth of cords and collected dust until she reached a nearby wall joist. As luck would have it, the wall led to a slightly loosened light socket, revealing the ground beneath it.

Ashlynn approached carefully, wary that something loosened could give way, and peered down. Her eyes quickly adapted to the light below as she maneuvered around the opening and peered down through the sliver allowing her to peer into the human world. The sight made her mouth water once she’d managed to get a feel for the entire room.

Below was a freshly backed tray of chocolate chip cookies.

Eyes as big as the cookies themselves, Ashlynn’s insides grumbled with desire. Her food supply was less than ideal, and this was an opportunity she couldn’t afford to miss. The only thing that made her hesitate was the fact that they smelled freshly baked.

It meant humans might be nearby, and that was something that couldn’t be overlooked. If they were nearby, Ashlynn could be seen and, worse, caught. It spelled doom and destruction not only for herself, but for all of Borrower kind.

At the same time, supplies were scarce and nearing empty. The risk was an immense one, but she needed to take it. It was a dire need – cookies or not, she needed food.

Ashlynn shimmied through the ceiling joists and found herself at the far wall where, thankfully, there was a clear path from top to bottom. Securing her one spare line on an exposed nail, she gripped the string tight with her fingerless gloves and began shimmying down the edge of the wall.

In what felt like three or four bounces on the evenly plastered walls, Ashlynn suddenly had to stop herself burning her fingertips in the process, as she met a perfectly placed support joist. Her frustration was almost immediately overridden by her realization of her sheer luck.

The line she placed at the board she was on was exactly beside an electrical cover, and it looked to be right at countertop level. Ashlynn’s eyes gleamed in the quiet darkness as she began carefully fiddling with the screw in the wall. Once. Twice. Her muscles screamed as they seemingly knocked off the chill between each joint. Before twisting a third time, she pressed her ear against the plastic and listened closely Her thundering heartbeat soon quieted and the ambient sounds of the house amplified.

She heard the ice maker click on.

The heater elements clicked as they began forcing warm air through the vents.

Sounds of the house settling and some human on the floor above undoubtedly shuffling or dancing based on the vibrations they were making through the floor.

One thing Ashlynn didn’t hear were the sounds of a human in the apartment she was glancing into, which was all she needed to prompt her to give that final twist and knock that last bolt loose. The sound of the cover’s slight crack as she pushed it off of the wall made every hair stand on end, but now she had full access to the countertop.

She glanced around the outside of the counter before, in an impulsive rush, Ashlynn dared to dart out onto the counter toward the cookies. The plate was immense, easily twice her height from one side to the other, and the span of her arms alone was the same as the steaming baked goods. As she approached, she noticed a few larger crumbs and decided that those would be her prize.

Ashlynn didn’t have time to be too selective. She took only a moment to stop at the edge of the plate, scoop up three larger fragments that filled her arms, and shove them messily into her bag before sprinting back toward the electrical cover – and just in time too.

Her heart was just starting to beat normally as she slipped back into the confines of the walls when she heard an immense grinding sound. The hair on the back of her neck instantly stood on end. There was a tremor to her hand that was too distinct to mistake for anything else.

Humans were coming.

Ashlynn, hands shaking, pulled the electrical cover back on and secured the screw as the sound of the grinding stopped. Seconds later, she heard muffled sounds of talking and the jingle of keys. Every nerve in her body kept her completely motionless as she crouched and continued to listen as hard as she could. Despite her blood roaring in her ears, it didn’t block the sound of the humans’ voices as they entered the kitchen.

“Do you think they’re cool now, Soren?”

Curses…

It’s a kid.

A boy kid.

“I call dibs on the strawberry milk!”

Two of them?! Plus parents?! Four whole humans?

“What? You can’t call the whole thing, Dorian!”

Ashlynn listened as some calmer, deeper voice responded to the two much younger boys. Based on the way their footsteps hit the ground, the youngsters were prancing and bouncing around and creating a ruckus.

“We can all have the strawberry milk – after dinner. No, I don’t think they’re cool yet, but they will probably be the perfect temperature once you two finish helping me load in the groceries and wash your hands. If you get it done in thirty seconds, we can share one cookie before dinner. Ready set go!”

This one must be Soren. Ashlynn thought as she listened to the chorus of voices and how they began scampering about running from the car back to the kitchen. The crinkling sound of bags of chips and dull thunks told Ashlynn these boys were quick when motivated, which wasn’t a good sign for her.

While all of the noise continued, she quietly backed away and climbed her line all the way back up to the ceiling. She had half a mind to leave right then and there. What Borrower would stay put and create a home where there were two little boys living?

Ashlynn’s twisting insides gave the answer – a desperate Borrower.

A desperate Borrower would stay in a place with two young boys and at least one human adult, most likely the dad. They would make a home out of a place like this. They would stay put and gather necessary supplies until they were ready to leave or decided to risk it all on this unknown place.

Ashlynn sadly was in that category and had no other options at the moment.

Supplies were limited and, perhaps, things weren’t as bad as she thought. Observation was necessary, which is what she decided to do as she approached the slightly askew light fixture she’d used to observe the kitchen. While there, she watched one adult human with dark brown hair walking around putting things away while the two young boys with sandy blond, brown hair bounced around like rubber balls.

It was hard to tell specifics about each of the humans’ features, but Ashlynn determined that the two young ones had pale blue eyes and roundish faces and the build of Soren, who she guessed was their dad, had a comparatively lean yet muscular build.

She watched as the humans finished unloading everything and, as promised, shared a single cookie and a “splash” of milk, whatever that measurement meant for a human that was. Ashlynn also decided to eat silently alongside the humans, which was the best thing that had happened all day. The taste was sweet and a touch salty, and every bite felt like it could unlock forgotten memories deep within her mind.

How this human could make something like that, she didn’t know. What she did know was that, for now, she needed to stay put and recuperate. If she needed to leave, then it would come to that. Until then, she needed to gather supplies and remain hidden in the shadows.

Until then, this was her home, and she’d just have to make the most of it. At the very least, she couldn’t leave until she’d “borrowed” some more of those cookies. It was the one good thing she could hang onto.

She retrieved her bag and, for the first time in what felt like forever, hunkered down between a few secure looking wood blocks and drifted into a restful slumber.

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Continue

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A Tall and Small Collection | Original Story

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circletrapped · 1 year ago

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Shattered

Elliott/GN!Farmer

2.8k words

Hurt/Comfort because I love Elliott so obviously I must make him Suffer, but also Fluff because I can’t stand to see him suffer

Rating: Teen+ (CW: Mentions of blood but nothing major).

Description: The Farmer has been spending a lot of time in the mines for reasons they won’t disclose to Elliott. Elliott, distracted by his worry, has an accident that sends him spiraling.

///

The rooster started its daily crowing session before the first rays of sunlight even peaked above the horizon. Elliott groaned. He hadn’t been able to sleep all night and instead had spent the last hour shifting his stare between the clock and the sky outside the window as it went from an inky black to a majestic blue. He looked back at the clock, which now read a quarter to six. He sighed, exhausted yet unable to sleep, and turned to face his slumbering spouse.

The Farmer had stumbled in about four hours ago, breathless and covered in dirt. They dropped their bag and gear at the foot of the bed, crawled in without changing and gave Elliott a half-hearted kiss on the cheek, then started snoring three minutes later. They had been doing this more and more frequently lately - but every day they would still wake up at six, kiss him, have a cup of coffee, stuff their bag full of food, kiss him again, run across the farm to feed the animals and water their crops, then disappear until well after dusk. If he was lucky, his spouse would give him one more kiss before leaving the farm. If he was unlucky, he’d be awakened in the middle of the night by rapping on his door and a very annoyed Harvey steadying them on his shoulder.

It was obvious the Farmer was spending their days in the mines. They would usually come home smelling like earth and hay (a smell which he didn’t mind and in fact was becoming quite fond of), but the smell of metal and dust clung to their clothes just as much as the blood and slime. It made him worry.

The mines were dangerous, and Elliott was very vocal about his apprehension.

“There are all kinds of monsters in there! What if you get lost, or run out of food, or get killed by something down there?”

“Elliott, relax,” the Farmer would insist, rolling their eyes, “I know what I’m doing. Besides, I know I’m close! I can feel it.”

“Close to what?”

The Farmer would clam up as soon as Elliott asked what they were doing in the mines so often. They would change the subject or distract him with kisses until they could slip away back into that wretched labyrinth.

Elliott once again sighed at the sight of his spouse, whom he loved so dearly and wanted nothing more than to beg to stay with him, where it was safe. But he knew it wouldn’t make any difference. The Farmer was strong and independent, knew their way around a sword, and could protect themself better than Elliott ever could in the mines.

Elliott slipped the pendant given to him by his beloved over his head then stood and got dressed in a comfortable turtleneck and slacks. He decided he would try to take his mind off his spouse’s recklessness by working on his new novel for the day. It was a story about a mermaid falling in love with the fisherman who caught her in his net.

He made his way to the kitchen to prepare coffee for him and his spouse - they were both going to need it. As he paced through the kitchen, biting on his thumbnail in a vain attempt to alleviate his anxiety, sunlight began to pour through the windows and illuminate the Farmer.

The farmer’s eyes tightened as they let out a sleepy groan and sat up, blinking the exhaustion away.

“Good morning, dear,” Elliott called to them. The Farmer smiled and faced him, eyes still half-shut and not quite focused.

“Mornin’,” they mumbled, rubbing their eyes before swinging their legs over the bed. They unbuttoned their shirt and tossed it toward the basket that was piled with dirty clothes above its rim. It fell about a foot short, to which the Farmer gave an annoyed grunt.

“I’ll take care of it,” Elliott said. “I’ve been meaning to wash those clothes for ages anyway. I’ve just been distracted.”

The Farmer, now wearing a clean pair of pants but still no shirt, strolled over and draped themself over Elliott’s back, giving him a peck on the cheek then resting their chin on his shoulder.

“Distracted by what?”

Elliott shot them a side-eye. “I think you already know.”

The Farmer laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re still worried about me going to the mines. I’ve made it home on my own every night this week!”

Elliott took the other cup of coffee off the counter and held it over his shoulder. The farmer released their grasp and took it, immediately bringing it to their lips.

“I know you’re capable of protecting yourself, but it’s still terrifying to think you could be alone unconscious in there for hours before someone finds you. How could I not worry?”

The Farmer took another long sip. “Just trust me, sweetheart,” they insisted. “I’ve almost found what I’m looking for.”

“Which is?”

“Going to be amazing.” The Farmer accentuated the sentence by gently tugging on Elliott’s pendant to pull him in for a kiss. “I have to make my runs and then I’m off. The faster I get to the mines, the faster I find it.”

The Farmer tilted their head back as they finished the cup of coffee. It was amazing to Elliott how they somehow managed not to burn their tongue drinking it like that. One more kiss, then the Farmer threw on a clean shirt, grabbed their bag, and all but sprinted out of the house.

Elliott’s sigh echoed off the walls. It felt so empty without his spouse. He clutched the pendant around his neck then brought it to his lips to kiss it. That proposal gift meant the world to him, and the ritual of kissing it was comforting to him. Like he was telling his spouse he’d be with them even when they were far away.

He finished his coffee then made his way to the pile of clothes gathering in the bedroom. The shirt that the Farmer had worn the day before had more blood than the others. No, it’s not theirs. They seemed fine. They must have encountered a lot of monsters down there. This isn’t their blood. It can’t be.

Elliott placed the shirt on the top of the pile and grabbed the basket, balancing it on his hip as he made his way outside. He emptied the basket into the wash bin and set it on the porch. He walked to the pond to gather water, where he could see his spouse in the distance, right on the property line. The Farmer glanced over their shoulder and upon meeting eyes with Elliott, gave a huge grin a wide wave.

“I love you, Elliott!” They shouted, louder than was necessary. Elliott smiled. The Farmer always went out of their way to make sure everyone in town knew how much they adored him. Elliott waved back and mouthed the words I love you, too, not confident in being loud enough for the Farmer to hear. He rarely raised his voice at all, let alone loud enough so be heard across several acres. The Farmer then took off running toward the mines. Elliott’s smile dropped and he sighed as he filled a bucket with water.

He carefully brought the water back to the house, trying not to spill any on the ground. After only a few splashes, he managed to reach the porch and poured the water over the clothes. He grabbed the soap from a nearby crate and started letting it bubble up the water. He grabbed the shirt the Farmer had been wearing the day before and started scrubbing the blood out of it first.

There were some parts of this new lifestyle that Elliott wasn’t exactly fond of, and laundry was one of them. No modern laundry equipment. The Farmer couldn’t afford it when they first moved to the farm, and figured they’d embrace the full self-sufficient experience by washing clothes by hand. Elliott would usually take the clothes elsewhere to be washed, but today he decided to endure the chore. It kept his mind occupied and let him feel even closer to his spouse.

It was still a dreadful process, though.

By the time he was finished hanging up the clothes to dry, he had changed the water four times, each time watching the various shades of red and brown soak into the dirt beside the house. The clothes weren’t what he’d call pristine, but his hands were wrinkled and cramping. Given that the odor was gone, the stains were fading, and the Farmer didn’t seem to mind a little discoloration, Elliott decided it was good enough.

He grabbed the basket and went back into the house to replace it. As soon as he crossed into the bedroom, the basket slipped out of his wet hands and before he could catch it, he tripped over the basket and barely put his arms in front of him in time to avoid breaking his nose. The fall knocked the wind out of him, though, and he felt a sharp pain in his chest. He winced as he steadied himself on his hands then froze in horror as he saw the cause of his pain.

His pendant was in shattered pieces on the floor.

Elliott could feel the blood draining from his face and his heart sinking below his stomach.

“No, no, no,” he whispered aloud, staring at the shards in disbelief. “No, nonono, no!”

Tears began to flood his eyes as he threw the basket out from under him and started scraping the pieces together. They were sharp, but he didn’t care. He needed all the pieces. Maybe if he held them together the pendant wouldn’t be broken anymore. Maybe he’d wake up in a moment beside his spouse and his pendant would be safe and intact on the bedside table.

He clutched the pieces together and didn’t let go, despite the fact that he could now feel them piercing his hands. If he couldn’t see them, he wouldn’t have to accept that he broke the most meaningful object that he’d ever been given. The object that represented his deep love and devotion to the one person he loved more than he’d ever loved anyone in his life. The reason he woke up before the sun. The reason he took time away from writing to feed animals and water crops. The reason he did laundry by hand.

There was nothing Elliott could do but sit on his knees, clutching the shards of his pendant, and weep. All the feelings he’d been keeping at bay came crashing down on him - his exhaustion, his burnout, his worry about his spouse. His weeping became overwhelming sobbing and he brought his clasped hands to his forehead.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked, “I’m so, so sorry!”

He kept repeating the words. Sometimes softy, sometimes screaming them until his throat got sore, then feebly squeaking them out. It felt like he was alone on the floor apologizing for hours. Apologizing to the pendant, his spouse, his hands.

“I got it!”

The Farmer’s voice hit him like a strike of lightning.

The door swung open. Elliott couldn’t bring himself to look in the Farmer’s direction.

“Just a few days, and it’ll be ready, and just in time! You won’t believe how much I had to bribe Clint with just to get him to expedite it! Elliott, you’re gonna be so-“

The Farmer’s ecstatic rambling came to an abrupt halt and Elliott could feel their stare.

“Elliott?”

He couldn’t speak. The Farmer walked in front of him and knelt down. He didn’t dare look into their eyes.

“Elliott, what’s wrong?”

Elliott’s lip trembled as he slowly opened his hands, which were now shaking and stained red.

“I’m sorry.”

His voice was hoarse from all the crying.

“Darling, I’m so sor-“

“Elliott, your hands! Here, wait, don’t move.”

The Farmer leapt up and ran to the kitchen. After hearing the sound of them rifling through the cabinets, Elliott heard their footsteps return quickly.

“Here, put those in here,” they instructed, holding a bowl under Elliott’s hands. He gently laid the shards in it, afraid to break them even more. After setting the bowl on the nightstand, the Farmer doused a rag in rubbing alcohol and put their free hand on Elliott’s arm. “This’ll sting a bit, okay?”

I deserve it.

When the rag came in contact with his wounds, his hand twitched, but his spouse winced more than he did. After cleaning the blood, his spouse gently wrapped his hands in bandages and gently kissed them.

“What happened, sweetheart? Are you okay?”

“I-”

Elliott’s voice broke. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath to regain his composure.

“I tripped. I fell on my chest and my pendant was underneath me and it broke. I’m so sorry, my love.”

The Farmer brought a hand to Elliott’s face and made him meet their gaze. To his surprise, the Farmer didn’t look upset or disappointed. Their expression was of concern and a touch of disbelief.

“Is that why you’re so upset? Because your pendant broke?”

“It’s not just some necklace, it’s special. You proposed to me with it, it represents so much, and now it’s ruined!”

The Farmer stared for a moment then gave a small laugh.

“Just because it’s broken doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop loving you!”

“Of course not, but I-”

“Sweetheart, it’s just a seashell! I’m not in love with it, I’m in love with you! That seashell doesn’t write me poetry, or keep me warm at night, or fuss about me adventuring, or help me with my chores just to make life a little easier. You know who does?”

The Farmer leaned in and kissed Elliott.

“You do. And I’m worried about how you managed to get yourself shattered, not that thing.”

Fresh tears streamed down Elliott’s face. The Farmer wiped them away only for them to be replaced. Elliott threw himself into his spouse’s arms and cried into their shoulder. They rocked him back and forth and gently shushed him, stroking his hair as he let all of it out.

“There we go,” they soothed, “it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re alright. Just breathe, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

It took at least ten minutes of that to console Elliott before he looked up into his spouse’s eyes with a teary expression.

“You’re really not upset?”

“I wouldn’t be upset even if I didn’t have my little surprise in the works.”

“Alright, you have to tell me. What have you been in the mines looking for?”

The Farmer grinned.

“Will you be cheered up if I tell you?”

Elliott finally had it in him to summon a smile. “Yes, I will.”

“You know how in five days it’ll be the eighth of Fall?”

“Yes, our wedding anniversary. I’m so clumsy I couldn’t even keep my pendant together for a single year.”

“I was looking for gold and diamonds. So that I could have wedding bands made for us. And I wanted them both to have huge, sparkling diamonds that blind everyone in town! And I had to mine them myself so that everyone will know how much I’d do for you. I know I’m not usually the best gift-giver; you remember how my idea of flirting was giving you lobster after lobster.”

“Darling, I never get tired of lobster.”

“However,” they pressed, “that’s why I’ve been trekking through the mines all summer. So that I could give you something just as stunning and beautiful as you on our anniversary. Besides, now we’ll be matching!”

Five days later, the rings were finished and the Farmer took Elliott to the beach to exchange them as they recited the same vows they had a year earlier.

“There’s one more thing I want to give you,” the Farmer said, winded from how hard Elliott had just kissed them.

“What is it?”

The farmer took a cloth out of their pocket and pressed it into Elliott’s now healed hands.

“Open it.”

Elliott unwrapped the cloth and gasped. There his pendant was, the cracks having been sealed with gold.

“I found a lot more gold than diamonds in those mines, and I know how much it crushed you- I mean, how broken up you were- I mean, how torn you felt- I mean- Sorry.”

Elliott laughed. “How many of those did you come up with?”

“Oh, way too many.” Elliott swatted the Farmer’s shoulder and kissed them. “But I had Clint fix this up with the extra gold I got. He wasn’t pleased about the deadline, so I had to bribe him. Again. But it’s totally worth it.”

“Oh, darling, it’s beautiful. I don’t deserve you.”

The Farmer scoffed and took the pendant, moving Elliott’s hair out of the way and clasping it around his neck.

“You deserve the whole world, my love. And I’ll stop at nothing to give it to you.”

#circletrapped writes #i know this has too much exposition i know #not in second person this time because i just can’t i’m not strong enough #i don’t know how hand washing laundry works and at this point i’m too afraid to ask #elliott stardew valley #sdv elliott #stardew valley #sdv elliott x farmer #fanfiction

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serjthejerk · 1 year ago

Text

Sewer Trotting

Bullfrog x gn! neurodivergent! reader

Content: Fluff, Small panic attack, Dissociation, Comfort, Pet names, Temporarily-Nonverbal. ( for plot sake, pretend the sewers isn’t just a pipe and is instead a sewer hallway with the sewage in the middle and concrete cat walks on the side🫶)

Words: 1.5k

A grimace painted itself onto my face as I lifted up the grimy metal cover for a manhole. The stench of raw sewage seemed to blast me away with the stench, my lungs contracting and forcing me into a coughing fit.

“Dear god..” I wheezed out, forcing myself to open the lid further for my amphibious colleague. Dutifully, bullfrog wasted no time dropping in, completely avoiding the rusted ladder that I had the misfortune to climb down.

Leaning my head away to catch my last breath of fresh air, I start my decent into the sewer; closing the manhole behind me.

“Faire attention, mon ami.”

I give out a grunt of recognition to my acquaintance, easing one leg after another. It wasn’t long until my boot met the ground and I could drop down, my weight making a disgusting squelch upon impact.

“This is fucking gnarly, man” I cringe, wiping my hands off on my pants. The frog only chuckling at my complaint.

“The faster we get through this, the faster it’s over” Bullfrog’s accent curling the words he spoke, it was a honest truth that I hate to come to terms with. Taking the lead, bullfrog started our trudge into the foul-smelling labyrinth, i begrudgingly followed after him. The ambience of diluted water pushing over itself and the hollow footsteps filled the corridor, accompanying the awkward silence between us.

Perhaps I should say something? I mean, there isn’t much to say. I mean, what the hell would I say? ‘Oh hey yeah blah blah we have bombs in our head so that’s not cool’ doesn’t seem like a good conversation starter. Maybe I should just stay silent? I mean, this is a high stakes high stress mission so I don’t think anyone would want to be chatty during this.

“I-”

“Sh.” Bullfrog hushes, holding his arm out to signal a stop. My ears perked up, trying to focus on what could be a disturbance but I was met with nothing. My eye brows furrowed while looking down at the frog, nervousness starting to take ahold of my throat.

Bullfrog lowered his arm, unmoving and alert. Keep it cool y/n, don’t lose your shit. Keep it together, we’re fine.

“Je suis desolé(e), mon ami. I thought I sensed another person.” Although still alert, he let out a sigh of relief, looking back to check on me. I could only bring myself to look at his eyes for a mere second before looking ahead.

“We should get going.” I comment, my right hand fiddling with the end of my shirt. I know I wasn’t a star perfect Eden samaritain by a long shot, but the weight of this mission and the fucking bomb takes my usually nervous nelly-self to a whole new level.

Bullfrog gave a nod in agreement, vigilantly trudging forward with me in pursuit. Despite being given goggles to navigate the dark terrain, I’m still blind in the darkness. The goggles having as much use as “night vision” on a hand cam made in 2004.

“We make a left here.” The amphibian took a hard turn, catching me off guard. My foot slipping slightly on the filth that had built up on the concrete. I fell right on my ass, my tailbone aching from the sudden drop.

I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine. I’m okay. Keep your shit together y/n. Dear god, the filth, the texture, the smell is fucking ruining me. My skin feels as if it’s puking.

“You okay, mon ami?” My acquaintance asked with a tone full of concern.

“I’m…I’m fine.” I struggle to get out. My throat feels as if it’s going to close, almost as if someone is choking me. I can feel my eyes start to tear up and gloss over.

I pull my hands in, wrapping them around me to try to ground myself. Almost as if I’ve mentally took a back seat, everything around me fees distant. Everything is nonexistent except for the cold slimy floor on my ass and my hands trembling around me. I’ve been like this before. I’m overstimulated and and at the start of dissociation. If I knew better, I would’ve done something to lessen what I’m feeling. Whether it was a nose clamp or gloves to keep me from feeling the ground, anything would help at the moment.

Although my focus was blurry, I could tell Bullfrog had back tracked to stand in front of me, his muffled voice saying something I couldn’t quite understand.

With strain, I lift my head up. Although my vision was unfocused, I could barely make out his bushy eyebrows furrowed in concern. Moving my hands from around my arms to pull them in, I push them down on my chest in an attempt to mimic a weighted stuffed animal. Weighted things usually help whenever something like this comes about. Something about the pressure that gets exerted in to me is soothing. It’s been like that for me since I was a child.

Bullfrog reached for me, putting his hand on my shoulder. Usually I would’ve shrank away from touch, but something about the touch of another person made me yearn for more. My vision focused a little, his touch curing my ailment.

“I know this is hard, but we got this. As long as I’m here, I will keep you safe. No harm will touch you.”

My gaze looked up at him, finally making eye contact with him after trying to avoid it. His golden irises seemed bigger than when we were in the light; I suppose that’s a quirk of being a hybrid.

“If it will help, take your goggles off. I have excellent vision, I will guide us” Bullfrog spoke in a low assuring voice, his accent bending some words as he comforted me. Despite sound usually upsetting me more, I craved to hear more of him. Any interaction to distract me lessens the feel of it all.

“I will stay here as long as you need, forget about the mission, just focus on yourself.” I could tell he was speaking from a place of worry. The mission is a big deal and I’m slowing us down. I just….i just need…

Impulsively my arms open up against my will. Bullfrog flinched a little, startled at my action but took the hint and closed in for a hug.

We held each other for at least 30 seconds, his small body feeling cool against my skin that had heated up in amidst of my worry.

“Here, position me to face ahead of us, I’ll direct us while you hold onto me, oui?” Bullfrog offered. I give a nod in response and let him step back to face the front before picking him up, standing up to my fullest height.

His small body against mine provided the right amount of pressure I needed to calm me down.

I finally rounded the corner that had tripped me up, and continued our plow. Instead of the ambience of the sewer, I focused my ears on Bullfrog. Waiting for his voice to break the silence.

“You know, if you told me a week ago I would be here, I wouldn’t believe you.” He reminisced. There was a beat of silence before he spoke ip again

“I mean, I had gotten paid last week before I was given another job. Y’know, before I got caught. I had given money back to a few friends who were struggling and I was stopped. No call, no alert that they wanted me to do a job, they didn’t even use the code. They just knew who I was and assigned me a job. I knew better than to not accept it but he had caught me while I was at a friends house, I didn’t want him to send anyone to the location I was at if I didn’t comply.” I listened to him, absorbing the information he was dishing out.

“You’re gonna make a right in about 3 steps, mon ami. After that we keep straight, there’s another man hole to crawl out of.” He added. 3 paces in, I took the right. Still silent as a mouse.

“The job was unlike any others I’ve taken, however after killing the target, I was shot with something and all I remember is darkness.” He continued. Interesting. For him it was a set up from the start. For me I could barely remember how I had even got to the supermaxx.

“Is it okay to call you a friend?” I questioned after minutes of silence. I enjoyed that he comforted me, and maybe at the risk of being embarrassed, he let me carry him.

“Yes of course, mon ami. I consider you a friend to me.” Bullfrog piped up. A gentle smile flashed across my face before I let it drop.

Maybe this mission won’t be the fucking death of me.

#captain laserhawk #bullfrog #froggo #i love him #im going insane #captain lazerhawk spoilers #he is boyfriend #bullfrog x reader #froggy

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tgrailwar-zero · 7 months ago

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hey izou, this is a longshot, the longest shot of all longshots but, your summoning seems more stable so...do you have any weird dreams? dreams about fighting a caster and his shades in a church? or brawling with a rider who had no confidence? scolding a master for even thinking about alliances with rider in the middle of a war? fighting saber in the street at night? losing at gambling, coming home late, and nursing a horrible hangover? almost choking on bubble tea? killing a golden berserker in his own home? being trapped by a witch in a school with that rider we formed an alliance with? talking on the roof of a bar at night under the full moon?

He was quiet for a moment-- much longer than you'd expect for a yes or no question. Slightly, almost imperceptibly, his eyes narrowed- before he responded with a casual huff.

IZOU: "Servants can't dream. Anyways, we should get going."

DURYODHANA: "I see, well, that's a shame. I suppose the next time we meet, we'll be rivals. If you can impress the Boss, that is. Otherwise, have fun in the minor leagues."

KOMA: "...Koma should get going as well. Master Rikyu will be upset if I lose any more money at this gambling parlor. May we meet again."

With that, you, IZOU, and MUSASHI stepped outside, with NERO taking the Room Key to head back upstairs on her own. The cool, salty sea breeze chilled the air. Night had fallen quicker than you expected, though it wasn't too deep in the night to worry about shops closing- if they ever did close.

IZOU: "I'll get you signed up first. Then we'll take a walk around. We might be able to catch the person I'm lookin' for before she leaves for the night. Boss is hard to impress, but she's got a real eye for battle talent."

He walked you to what seemed like a large, arena-like building, leading you inside. It was quiet, astoundingly so as he looked around. He seemed frustrated, as you gathered the feeling that whoever he was looking to talk to wasn't here anymore before he suddenly exclaimed.

IZOU: "Ah-- caught her!"

He pointed at a woman leaving out one of the doors, jogging over.

IZOU: "Yo, Boss. Found some new blood!"

Turning to look at the 'Boss' in question--

That was JAGUAR MAN.

Sure, the aesthetic was different, but… that was her. You watched as she furrowed her brow, looking between you, MUSASHI, and IZOU.

MUSASHI: "Oh, hey! Long time, no see!"

JAGUAR MAN: "Tch. Well, ain't we friendly, Miss Fancy Pants?"

MUSASHI: "Uh, what?"

JAGUAR MAN: "It's late, Man-Kisser. This little kitty was on her way back home, not trying to fill out paperwork."

IZOU: "Man-Slayer, and I know, I know, but--"

JAGUAR MAN: "--Kissin' men, slayin' men, who cares? In this day and age they mean the same thing. You couldn't do this tomorrow morning like anyone else who felt like cutting it close? We already had one more late arrival, I don't wanna make this a habit."

IZOU: "C'mon, I'll owe ya' one. Promise. Just give 'em a look-over. I wouldn't just bring ya' some punk off the street."

There was a long moment of silence as JAGUAR MAN slowly paced around you three, looking up and down.

JAGUAR MAN: "Hm… well, just from looks alone, they seem like 'A+' competitors…"

She paused, before suddenly yelling--

JAGUAR MAN: "Meaning AMATEUR PLUS!"

JAGUAR MAN: "…"

JAGUAR MAN: "As in SLIGHTLY BETTER THAN AMATEURS!"

JAGUAR MAN: "..."

JAGUAR MAN: "As in--"

MUSASHI: "YEAH. WE GOT IT."

IZOU: "C'mon, Boss! Saber's good, I promise. She can handle the big leagues."

She tapped her naginata on the ground, pursing her lips as if she was in deep, intensive thought, red eyes boring into you and your Servant. She sighed, clicking her tongue.

JAGUAR MAN: "So, normally I'd toss you in the minor bracket, where you can just mess around with the would-be's and has-been's for a smaller pot… But, we've got an open spot in the major bracket. One of the fighters called in sick last-minute, caught a virus. But I'm not just giving it out to just anyone, I need the competitor to be someone that can fill seats. Someone with a story that'll capture the hearts and minds of viewers! We need ticket sales and thrilling fights, got it?"

She locked eyes with you.

JAGUAR MAN: "You're Miss Dual-Wielder's manager, right? Give me a backstory that'll sell seats, and I'll consider giving you this open spot in the main bracket with the big-leaguers. As long as you can afford the 400 PPT entrance fee."

MUSASHI: "I don't totally get what's going on, but... just tell her something she likes so we can get to the fighting part?"

#thgw story #thgw: chapter 6 #main post

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iriysse · 26 days ago

Text

of Eol and Aredhel.

ooc:: before i start on this I want it understood that this note applies only to how I rp Aredhel with others and not with Eol rpers. Those are flexible and I'm prone to move more in the direction of my partners, or find a middle ground. This is simply my canon for Aredhel with the Eol, if you catch my drift. Additionally I am playing fast and loose with certain aspects of LaCE, as I think the whole 'Aredhel was not wholly unwilling' bit implies a lot more than LaCE allows. Thank you. Also, this is gonna be long. TW: domestic abuse, implied rape, implied child abuse, gaslighting, murder.

---When Aredhel left Gondolin, it was with the firm belief that she would return one day. It was a jaunt, a quick little trip which ended up being the most devastating decision of her life. Those who know the story know that she was denied entry at Doriath, lost her companions, and ended up upon the edge of Nan Elmoth lost and alone. Eol in his enchantments found her, and trapped her in a labyrinth of his design to lead her straight to him.

When she met Eol, she believed he was a benevolent elf, for though she was keenly familiar with the fact that darkness could overtake overtake elves, she still had an innocent view of most of her kin. Was he odd? Absolutely. Isolated, most certainly, and being who she is she believed perhaps he suffered from loneliness. She wanted to help him, to maybe teach him that the world beyond was not so bleak as he liked to spout in rhetoric. He spoke of her family negatively, and she--foolishly--tried to explain things from the other side instead of see it as a warning.

But he was supposed to only be a moment on the way, and so she went to leave. That of course was impossible, but he played innocent in saying that it must be by Eru's design that she somehow could not find her way out of the forest, and returned once more at his door. The first time she believed it too, the second time as well. The third, she knew something was wrong.

She was angry when she approached him, accusing him of somehow bewitching her horse. Vehemently he denied it, and somehow she found herself inside by the end of the night, unsure of just when she'd decided to cross his threshold again. The next morning, she tried to leave before he woke, but her horse was gone, and though she ventured into the darkness tracking his hoofprints in the dirt, the trail soon ran cold. Once more, she found herself at Eol's door.

She backed away, intent on finding her way out through the tricks of Orome that she had learned so long ago. Time was strange, paths shifted, the forest seemed both full and empty--oppressive and lifeless. She could not find much wildlife, or if she did somehow it always seemed to get away from her, and at the end of the night, her feet would always find its way to his door. He was waiting, and she tried to reason with him to let her go by whatever enchantments he had laid. At last he relented and confessed that he simply was not ready to let her go, he asked another week, then he would lead her out himself.

Against her better judgement, she agreed. Another week she reasoned, would not be long. She did not expect him to propose the following night, nor the night after when she had refused, nor after nor after. Every request felt more like a demand, and when the week was out she sat before his table and made a demand of her own: to lead her out as she was promised. Sighing, he asked she think it over one more night, and offered her a glass of wine in token of their short friendship. Not wanting to offend, and possibly risk the chance of him letting her out the next morning, she accepted it.

How was she to know that it was laced? That it was his design to take away what freedom she had in her refusal, and make her his wife anyway. Oh he apologized the next morning, as she sat across the table in traumatized shock, reliving what she could piece together from the night before. She was his now, bound to him, and when she discovered she was pregnant it seemed as though this horrible dream was hers forever. Eol saw it as a blessing from Eru, and he confused her when he showed kindness and seeming regret over how this all had gone. Somehow he had convinced her it was her fault that he had to lace her wine with a sedative, for she was willful, but she had opened her arms in the end had she not? She could not remember, and that alone sickened her.

When Lomion was born, things seemed better at first, though soon the change truly set in. She was not allowed to name him, nor sing any song of her childhood, nor speak to him in little whispers of her family or her home. When Lomion cried, Eol became irritated and Aredhel tried to shield him from his wrath. One day she returned from a moment of reprieve to find Lomion bawling in a basket outside, Eol in his forge with no warmth in him regarding it. When she, reasonably bothered, tried to find out why, she found herself with her back to the furnace in agonizing pain. It had been her fault, he said, if she had not been in the forge she would have been alright. She agreed to stay away from it then, and to be honest she was relieved. Eol's forge was dangerous in many ways, it disturbed her what he made as well.

Lomion was three when he asked her to recite some story of his uncles, and Eol overheard. She should have known better, she decided, for Lomion was too young to keep secrets. When Eol struck she felt it was her fault, for she had given the child something he could not keep, and so she stepped between them, the first time in what would become many.

Complacency set in, and through it some semblance of peace. If she didn't fight him, things did not hurt, and she could bear it better. Lomion would not have to see her in pain unable to stop it, and she could bear it in the bedroom away from his sight. When Eol finally named him Maeglin, Aredhel hoped that it was the beginning of something better. He took their son to Doriath and the dwarves, and she requested that she might accompany them, or if not that she might be allowed some hours to see beyond the treeline. Eol strongly denied both.

By the time that Maeglin was taught enough enchantment to get them out of there, and insisted upon taking her with him to Gondolin, Aredhel was greatly scarred. Her ears were mangled, many of parts of her burned from hot irons she'd failed to avoid, she no longer resembled the proud princess of the Noldor that she had once been. She was withered, diminished, flinching at sounds and quick movements. She hated it, some fire in her rekindled by Maeglin's own fire which wanted her to fight on, but it was small and she could barely keep it alight.

When she reached Gondolin, she fell into Turgons arms and wept.

Perhaps it was best then that she died protecting Maeglin, for in the halls of Mandos she was able to find some bit of real peace. Eol was dead as well, and she could escape him under the watchful eye of Mandos, who did not take kindly to her jailer. But it was not the end, and upon being reembodied, and her memories restored, she requested special dispensation from Manwe, and with Mandos' help it was granted.

With that, her marriage to Eol was finally annulled.

#:: CHARACTERIZATION ::#:: HEADCANONS ::#:: ON EOL & AREDHEL ::#damn that's long but there it all is. summarized.#gosh i got emotional writing this #:: ON MAEGLIN ::#listen listen red just wants love gosh #and instead she got on of the worst husbands in the whole of the legendarium #alright I'm done #whew

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cannonball-37 · 1 month ago

Note

Something to yap about?

How about your fav ships?

Or the best headcanons ya have?

Your opinion on the labyrinth?

You can choose any

-♠️

Ohh I like these questions so I’m gonna answer all of them.

1. Favourite ships

I am a multishipper so I have many but I’ll try and narrow it down a bit

Alibends

Runestraw

BendyRuneStraw

BendyStraw

Osix

Alibends: I love these two! But I swear if they don’t figure stuff out I’m gonna lose my stardust- Alice trying to find books on demon and angel love stories is adorable and her mother is supportive of it which gives me hope for them! I worry about Bendy trying to keep his distance as he thinks Alice and Jake are together but I hope that gets cleared up the second they actually talk again. (Bendy if you don’t answer Alice’s calls-)

Runestraw: The development of this ship is going great so far in the story. The gala broke me a bit but we’re going strong! Cup needs to sort out his issues for sure before they can truly be together and I hope it happens soon! Holly loving to learn about his race and where he comes from is so cute and I need them to get together at some point.

BendyRuneStraw: I LOVE THIS!!!! I’ve been a fan of BendyStraw for ages and the combo of that and RuneStraw GIVES ME LIFE! Holly loving learning about the dish race and Bendy’s time in Hell while she talks about her own experimentations with magic and suggesting things for the both of them to try out some day is a really cute idea and I fell like they mesh together so well.

BendyStraw: A classic. People were shipping these two before QFTIM was even a thing. Plus IMs development of their characters and the addition of their soul tie where they can feel each other’s emotions adds another layer to this which could be great for fluff and hurt/comfort scenarios as demonstrated by the authors already.

Osix: What can I say? Gay middle aged men is an amazing trope and these two are so good for each other. Obviously Ozzy needs to heal from losing his wife and slowly he has been! Felix is understanding of his reluctance to start a relationship and they’re honestly the most healthy ship apart from the already established ones like Mugs and Cala.

2. My opinion on the labyrinth(yea I’m doing this out of order)

I’ll be honest, while reading I was really cussing confused and it look 3 re-reads for me to understand what was happening but I think that actually proves how difficult the labyrinth has been for the Questers.

It opened up a lot of info about the characters such as Felix, Cup and Bendy and it shows just how dangerous the machine parts can get. It even caused lasting damage like Bendy and Boris’ estranged relationship, Cups heart, Felix mistrust of the Cupbros, Boris’ connection to the instrument etc.

I hate Sarah with a burning passion and I think the night terror is a really cool creature design (even if it did tear cups heart out). The way that stupid bird tried to get out into the real world was actually really clever but I am mad at what it had done emotionally to Bendy and causing him to go beastly.

The instrument needing to be played and choosing Boris as its guardian was genius storytelling and again I love the lasting effect of “Boris could go off the deep end and use the instrument at any moment”.

I love the instruments current use of finding information on the machine and why it’s so hidden. The information on the creators of it, the ancient Mugman, how the machine cured the sick etc are really useful for theorist like myself and put even more mystery to this already mysterious story.

3. My best headcanons

Honestly this is hard for me cause I don’t really do headcanons that often. If I have ideas they usually spiral out of control and become their own AUs. However I will try and pick up some I’ve picked up along the way from others or made up myself.

Cup and Bendy snitch on eachother whenever they’re feeling bad and argue about it even though they both do it.

The CupBros eyes glow in the dark and so does Cup’s hair cause it’s made of magic. So does the liquid magic in their heads.

Cup and Bendy shut themselves in their rooms to cry sometimes when they’re feeling down because they don’t want anyone to see.

Cup is an insomniac

Cup has vague memories of what his parents were like before they left while Mugs has none

Cup can and will kill Brute the second Fanny says he can

Demi has wanted to go back home to her kids but can’t for some reason

When they were younger Cup would sing Mugs to sleep if he ever had a nightmare

The Cupbros once has a magic flu scare while under hats care because he took their straws as punishment and forgot about it for a while until the Cupbros started getting sick

If Cups more demonic powers develop he could be considered a middle class or high class demon

The cupbros take the others out at night to go stargazing sometimes

If Cup is that pissed at someone he’ll start cursing at them in every language he know

I realise a lot of these are Cuphead centric. 🤦‍♀️That’s what I could come up with rn. I hope I answered your questions well!

#bendy and boris in the inky mystery #the inky mystery #BaBiTIM #headcanon #shipping #ships #fandom ships #personal thoughts #answering asks

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encrucijada · 2 months ago

Note

infodump abt pathetic man adam

funniest ask i've ever gotten. no context. anonymous. a simple request.

a list of things i think i haven't talked about regarding adam, some that i have, from both the pjoverse and dreamersverse:

adam is actually pretty decent around kids. he was second in command of the apollo cabin for 5ish years before his brother lee fletcher died in the battle of the labyrinth and he was made counsellor for the battle of manhattan. adam is like that cool older brother in a 90s tv show who lets you drink beer when you shouldn't have.

in both verses he works at a bar. both as a bartender and as entertainment, depends on the day of the week. he does gigs elsewhere when he can. forewent university, didn't think he had the brain for it because of his frankly debilitating adhd. adam barely graduated high school.

weapon of choice in the pjoverse is the recurve bow because son of apollo. is capable of fighting melee (with a sword) if the situation demands it, but just barely. in the dreamersverse it's actually the opposite, he doesn't shoot with a bow at all and prefers to have something he can brute force hit things with.

speaking of debilitating adhd. adam is always fidgeting even if just a little, rarely does his leg stop bouncing and he has a clicker toy he carries in his pocket. plays around with rubix cubes not to solve them but just to spin them around. hums songs as a stim (<- he shares this one with piedad). cannot function without caffeine.

has the talent but not the creativity. can sing just about anything but not write any of his own music.

in the pjoverse he avoids singing in uncontrolled environments, because even having control over his powers he never knows if he could cause some weird side effects. only feels truly unrestrained in battle or at camp.

adam is the way he is because i was trying super hard not to make your typical "golden boy" son of apollo. also because i found the loveless cover of middle of the night. my hand accidentally slipped and now... he's this.

my best friend irl called him "cold, cutting, and prideful".

i dunno about pjoverse adam but dreamersverse adam's got a couple of tattoos. including but not limited to: a sun on his forearm, wings from his shoulder blades to the backs of his arms, a hawk eating a rabbit, three stars on his ribs, and my notes says i'm giving him a sleeve tattoo.

he never participated in a proper quest but he was there for every single bead that's on annabeth's camp necklace. was already at camp when luke first arrived.

his fatal flaw is arrogance ("however bright you shine, i shine brighter")

has a substantial collection of scars as every demigod does but of note we've got: on his cheekbone, going down from his collarbone, the stab scar on his gut. these also translate to the dreamersverse.

the only thing he got from apollo appearance-wise are the eyes. adam tends to let his hair get long until he starts considering it obnoxious, then he asks the aphrodite cabin to cut it. if you're in cabin 7 and have had hairclips gone missing, he probably took them.

if you've read pt.1 of pointed north you know candy calls adam "mi príncipe". this means "my prince."

i might be giving him brown eyes in keep staring.

his last names are flipped depending on the verse! pjoverse he's adam rubio guerra, since rubio means "fair-haired" and i thought it sounded like a child of apollo lastname. in the dreamersverse he's adam guerra rubio, guerra means "war".

has always wanted a dog.

having a weighed blanket would cure him but he doesn't know this. what he does know is he sleeps best when piedad lays on top of him.

broke his nose and it never healed quite right.

never dare him to do something while he's drunk. he will do it, no matter how dangerous it might be. the safest thing he could be doing post-break up is making out with whoever gives him attention while inebriated.

#i think we're gonna leave it there #maybe i could write more. idk.#consider most of the pjoverse and keep staring exists in my head so there's lore i have not discovered because i haven't written it #answered #( wip ) greek tragedy!

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interlunium-opus · 2 years ago

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Enhypen Hyung Line as Taylor Swift's Songs from the Midnights Album: Heeseung as Lavender Haze

⎡ Check out other members: Jay as Midnight Rain ||| Jake as Labyrinth ||| Sunghoon as Snow on the Beach ⎦

‣ Lee Heeseung as Lavender Haze

The vibe of this song just screams Lee Heeseung. Like picture meeting his eyes in a crowded room as the opening of this song plays and when Taylor sings "meet me at midnight", he breaks into a knowing smirk at you before disappearing into the crowd, making his interest and intentions evident, inevitably beckoning you to follow him.

He seems like a hopeless romantic so I feel like once he falls in love, he falls deeply. Always willing to go the distance and break the rules, all for you.

Like being engulfed in a Lavender Haze: a state of being and mind that is so intoxicated and warped in love where nothing else matters and that it’s just he and you, against the world.

So picture this: Heeseung is a really famous singer who, for obvious reasons, does not have the liberty to date freely. Being the rulebreaker he is though (re: Heelift), he still pursued you relentlessly until you eventually succumbed though you warned him that you won't let him throw his career away for you and that dates with you would have to be done covertly, if not, in utter secrecy to protect him and his career.

Hence why whenever you guys date, it would always be in the dead of the night, far away from others. Basically, there would be a lot of sneaking ins and outs; 24-hour diners at the rural parts of town; midnight picnics; midnight waltz; road trips; sunset-watching; randomly purchasing the last train ticket to who-knows-where; and the list goes on — all just so that you guys can maximize whatever little time you had together. It's almost like once midnight sets in, you guys enter another parallel dimension where there's only you and him shrouded in the darkness and desolation of the night. Though such a perfect world shatters the moment the sun rises.

As devastating as that usually is, you two found that such limitations is exactly what makes your relationship and feelings for one another strong. For just like the saying, "absence makes the heart grow fonder", your affection and passion for the other grows, forming mountains, in each other's absence. Then in the limited times that you guys get to spend with one another, the love and passion just overflow, dripping in every little actions and words, in silence and in chatters. During such dates, every moments are savoured, maximised, solidifying the mountains into something unscalable.

Then there’d be those overnight dates at home, which always start out very playfully and lightheartedly: games, blanket forts, roaring laughters, ranting/venting sessions, movie marathons, pillow fights, and so on.

Then the clock strikes a certain hour in the middle of the night when the tension builds at such a dangerous pace with every stare and touches — threatening to overspill and tip over by the second. Like a Lavender Haze engulfing the whole room, it stupefies and intoxicates you two. Suddenly, the stares linger, the gaze darkens, the smile falters, the gaps narrows, the breathes hitch — silencing every thoughts and words, leaving only actions capable to convey whatever is simmering within. Every innocent lighthearted kiss would then easily escalate into a full-blown intense make-out sessions that lasts for so long that only your swollen lips and hickeys could tell. Very often too it could easily escalate into ((redacted :P)).

(Alternatively) imagine if you guys weren’t dating but are instead in this confusing state of relationship where you guys were doing too much for one another as friends but at the same time, have never transgressed the explicit boundaries that would have decisively tip the friendship over either. Though , deep inside, you two knew what was bubbling underneath all the lingering stares and touches.

So being in a lavender haze would really be that moment when you guys let the simmering tension erupt. Where all rationality drowns. Where all that matters is just what is in front of you — not what will happen, not what should happen. Just the present moment.

"You know this could break our friendship right?" you cautioned Heeseung as he took a few steps closer towards you, his doe-eyes darkening in desire with every step. You had sometimes caught a glimpse of how such gentle eyes could darken in such intensity before, but you had never let it linger for a second too long as you knew full well of what would unfold otherwise. Hence you had always been the first the break the eye-contact, putting a stop on whatever is festering. However, you're no cyborg and tonight, you find your brain outpaced and you knew that your time at dilly-dallying with your feelings, with his feelings, was up. “I do,” he answered calmly, his voice was a few octaves lower than usual. It always took him so much effort to stop himself in all the near-misses with you especially as someone who naturally follows his heart more than his head. But one can only bend out of their element for a number of times before breaking and tonight, he knew the cracks had spread far too wide to contain. “I won’t stop you if you go now,” he breathed, eyes boring into yours as if trying to gauge your deepest secret. You swallowed thickly, getting increasingly lulled by the intensity of his gaze, the increasing proximity, and the dimmed lighting which was casting a purplish glow around the room — almost as if reflecting the confused state of your mind within. You could feel your brain going on overdrive, its left hemisphere working hard calculating and assessing every scenarios that could span out from this moment and every implications that would arise as a consequence. But as you back into the table behind you and the gap between you and him increasingly narrowed, all the rationality and logical mental-works in your brain started drowning under the weight of your suppressed and unaddressed, emotions and you find yourself asking aloud a question which you knew the answer to, "and if I stay?" "Then we'll get to see,” he drawled as he wrapped his fingers around the side of your neck as his thumb lightly tip your face up to his, his lips now hovering just a few centimetres away from yours, “when it comes to ruining our friendship, will the heart or the head triumph in anticipating its consequence...” His eyes flitted momentarily away from your lips to your eyes, as if giving you a last chance to stop him, but as you stay rooted, he closed the gap, pressing his lips gently onto yours, letting the warmth envelope and spread, from your lips to your senses, melting every thoughts and emotions. You feel his other hand crept up your back, pulling you closer towards him as he turned his head sideways to deepen the kiss, letting his actions express all that he had longed to tell you. In tandem, you loosened up, letting yourself be lost in the heat of the moment, in the burning passions and emotions, in his safe and warm embrace — a non-verbal cue on your side that tells him that, for him, you’ll make the exception and let your head shut up for once.

A/N: As a huge music bluff with an overactive imagination, I have been thinking of creating this series, largely inspired by all those TikTok videos of “Enhypen as xx Songs”. As you can tell from this post, the twist in this is that, instead of just associating a song with a member, I will complement it further with some short bulleted imaginative scenario of how the song fits them or the scenario. This is a fairly self-indulgent piece of work (series) so apologies in advance for how much of a mess it would be — hope it appeals to some nevertheless! Let me know what you guys think since I am also testing the waters here with this series :3

#Enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypenwriters #enhypen heeseung #enhypen heeseung imagines #lee heeseung #Enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #kpop imagines #Heeseung imagines #heeseung scenarios #enhypen heeseung scenarios #kpop scenarios #Enhypen x reader #enhypen x female reader #enhypen as songs #Spotify

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