#there's one pretty close but it's mostly contained in the mountains

[starry-bi-sky]

don't you want to be a cult leader? - danyal al ghul au

this is mostly a joke post but i thought it was funny and had to share so--

his first mistake was, obviously, inheriting his father's inability to see an injustice and stand still. -- actually, danyal's first mistake was his lair being so big. a mountainous island with a large temple in the center resembling his old home in Nanda Parbat? With sprawling foliage and rivers and streams and waterfalls galore? What was he going to do with all that space? Let it go to waste? He had plants there! Native trees of the ghost zone growing from the soil! He couldn't let it all be left unchecked!

So naturally after helping a fellow teenage assassin ghost -- who he later learns is named Akihiko, -- from Walker of all people, he sent them over to hang low at his lair until it was safe enough for them to wander around the Zone. Walker couldn't get through Danyal's astrofield if his life depended on it, and trust him -- he's tried. Danny was clearing out debris from his stupid transport vans for weeks.

Honestly it wasn't so bad, he and Aki really quickly became fast friends and Danny loves having a sparring partner close to his level again -- he hasn't had this much fun fighting since he left the League. Aki was very dedicated and levelheaded, the both of them clicked really well because of it.

Nonono, the real trouble began after Danyal met some long-passed League members and allowed them to come join his island as well. Apparently they had made a few enemies of the zone, and maybe Danyal still felt some loyalty to the League. He couldn't just let them be left to rot. Their zealotry could be overlooked so long as they kept it contained and helped him take care of his island.

And it.. snowballs from there? He meets a teen squire aptly calling himself Ambroise -- whether that was his living name or not is yet to be seen -- who died during feudal france, who is just about as dramatic and passionate as every french stereotype makes them out to be. He calls Danyal "my moon and great muse" -- which is both flattering and little uncomfortable, but Danyal's grown up in the League as the Grandson of the Demon Head, he is used to mild worship. he passes it off as nothing more, nothing less. -- and while his energy is overwhelming on the worst of days, he helps Danny draw out of his shell more in ways that Sam and Tucker still struggle with.

Him and Aki butt heads a lot, but the two seem to hold the other in at least some positive regard, so Danny doesn't worry too much about them fighting while he's gone. It only becomes a mild issue when Aki also begins calling Danny "my moon". It's a little sweet, so Danyal brushes it off.

Then he takes in a troupe of ghosts some time after he defeats Pariah Dark and they begin calling him "great one" just as the yetis do in the far frozen. This is where he meets the twins -- a pair of sibling ghosts who call themselves Trixie and Missy (short for Trick and Mislead) -- who aren't quite as passionate as Ambroise but more energetic than Aki. Eventually they also start calling Danyal "my moon" and attach themselves to his hip, even within the living. They like to hide in his shadow and cause trouble for the rest of the students. He makes sure they don't hurt anyone.

He's pretty sure Aki is jealous, same with Ambroise, but he can't be too certain other than the fact that they become much more lingering (re: clingy) whenever he visits the island.. Something he's trying to do much more often these days due to the increasing amount of people living there now. Since when did he become so popular?

Then there's Pēnelópeia from the Greater Athens, who ran away from home and joined his Island after he ran into her while she was being chased by Skulker -- and he's pretty sure the reason was because of her chimeric appearance. Her strange eyes and mismatched wings and lion's tail and talons. She assimilates into his friend group very easily, she gets along well with Ambroise and Trixie and Danny usually finds the three of them climbing the trees to pluck the most fruit from the top. They can fly and he knows it, but they prefer to climb.

Then finally there's silent poet Akkara who comes from ancient mesopotamia, who gets along most with Aki -- which is no surprise there considering their similar personality dispositions. he watches Aki and Danyal fight each other and leaves comments on this or that that he notices. He writes Danyal poems on clay tablets and leaves them by his room.

They're one big mismatched group of outcasts, and Danny's got the other ghosts on his island to tend to, because they're living on his island and he wants to be hospitable even if he struggles with that. But he spends the most of his time with them.

Sam and Tucker are making fun of him. Tucker jokingly tells him 'careful Danny, at this rate you're gonna start a cult'. Danny really wishes he had taken that joke more seriously.

He just. keeps. collecting people. Wayward souls lost in the zone, looking for shelter or refuge from something or other -- whether that be another hostile ghost, or a past afterlife, or just a purpose. Danyal finds them, he takes them in, offers them a place on his island until they are ready to leave. Many seldom do. He's not complaining -- he has the space, and it feels like it's only ever growing.

His close friends, his "inner circle" as he's heard the others call them, keep insistently calling him "my moon". He starts calling them his stars, because then it only feels fair. They're his stars, this is his constellation. It becomes a thing; little star halos begin forming behind their heads, picking them out from the rest. He loves them so much, it's hard to place. Sam and Tucker are also his stars, but they reside in the living realm, they're his tie to Life. Meanwhile, his friends here know what it's like to be dead, and sometimes its nice to relate.

Those living on his island keep calling him "Great One" and he's beginning to notice zealotry in their care for his island. He really, deeply appreciates it. His close friends gain nicknames -- as his stars, it's only natural for him to pick them out from the cluster in the skies. Akihiko, his Sirius and bright star. Trix and Missy, Castor and Pollux, the twins and troublemakers. Ambroise, his zealous Antares and close friend. Penelopeia, chimeric and loyal Vega. And Akkara, his Arcturus and strength.

It's ridiculous how long it takes for him to notice; he is, of course, a deadly trained assassin. He is meant to be observant -- and normally he is! But somehow this becomes a blind spot. One that becomes too big to be dealt with by the time he realizes it.

He should've noticed when Aki, his Sirius, stood beside him one day while Danyal looked over his island and saw the sprawling spirits carrying on about their afterlife and bowing to him as they saw him, and said: "I looked down into the depths when I met you; I couldn't measure it." They aren't one for flowing prose, it took him so off guard he was silent for over a minute before he finally spoke.

Danyal should've recognized devotion for what it is, and yet he didn't. He should've recognized it when Antares began spouting praises about him, crowing about his radiance and resplendence to the heavens. He just brushed it off as Ambroise being Ambroise. He should've recognized it when Trix and Missy nearly broke Dash's leg after he knocked Danyal's books out of his hands, he excused it as them being protective. Of them coming from times where such violence may have been customary -- after all, that's what he used to be like. What he was still like, sometimes, when his emotions nearly got the better of him.

He should've noticed it when the people living on his island followed his word like gospel, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. When his friends gifted him a shawl with the moon phases delicately embroidered into it, with silver, shimmering thread and moving stars lovingly stitched into it. Their constellations seen clear as day in the dark fabric. When he found small shrines dedicated to him -- but they lacked any image of him beyond stones carved to look like moons, so he ignored it. When the religious imagery began popping up.

He really, really should've noticed it when a bunch of cultists accidentally summoned Antares, and Antares had turned to him when he arrived and called them heretics. But he was so centered on the fact that they had kidnapped one of his stars, that he hadn't paid much attention to what Ambroise had said.

Sages say that faith is blind, they should also say faith in you is even blinder.

It really only hits him one afternoon while he's sitting in Sam's room studying with Tucker, Missy and Trixie lounging at his feet, Aki sat on his right, Penelopeia braiding his hair, Ambroise draped against him, and Akkara lurking over him. Its one of the rare few times they're all in one room together.

It hits him like a bolt of lightning. He looks up from his textbook. "Oh Ancients," he says in no amounting shock. Everyone looks up to him.

"I've become my grandfather."

[ghoulangerlee]

if it was a sin, but i'd feel whole, would you still take control? ; mountain/aether ; E

god here it is y'all. this took so many days haha. I have read over this and fixed as many of the errors as I found but if you see anymore, just let me know! I had to take a benedryl today bc of food allergies and ive been feeling it since then, ha. the hat man has been my bff while writing this bc i keep seeing him whenever i stare too long at the screen 😂

title comes from move it or lose it by the home team :)

You can in fact read this one on AO3 here if you'd prefer :')

this was supposed to be quick and dirty based on the small dick mountain and aether post I made but it developed a life of its own and seven thousand words later here we are! I hope you enjoy!

contains: ghoul ruts, possessive behaviors (minor), trans aether (cock and knot are used for him), knotting, resolved sexual tension, oral knotting, fingering, biting, overstimulation and oral sex!

------

There’s a knock at his door—its late, and while it’s not uncommon, it does throw Aether in for a bit of a loop. He’s been off duty now for about eight hours, retired to his quarters for the foreseeable future (until band practice in two days time, they’re leaving to finish off some final shows soon, he and the other new ghouls summoned to replace Papa Emeritus the Third’s previous ones, he’s a bit fuzzy on most of the details surrounding it all.)  

There’s another knock, this time more hurried and the scratch of something against wood—bone maybe, rough and grating and Aether frowns as he slinks from his place in bed. “I’m coming!” he calls out, and the scratching stops suddenly.  

He's only mildly concerned as he approaches the door, magic building under his fingertips just in case, but when he opens it, it’s just Mountain, the new earth ghoul, a grimace on his face and fingers gripping tightly at the door frame.  

“Are you—” Aether starts, but cuts himself off when Mountain pitches forward all of a sudden and the thick scent of rut hits him like a ton of bricks.  

He catches him, though just barely, arms coming up to gather the earth ghoul close to his chest—Mountain is mostly glamoured now, though Aether knows he won’t be for much longer, and makes a slightly impulsive decision to drag the ghoul into his room, grunting under the almost dead weight.  

“Satan above,” Aether swears, mostly under his breath as he steadies his center and heaves Mountain half onto his shoulder, strong or not, all of the earth ghoul’s dead weight settling makes it hard to move him around—but eventually, he makes it over to the couch, lowering him down onto the cushions before focusing on getting Mountain’s legs up and over the arm of it, a mimicry of comfort, but Aether’s more hesitant to allow a ghoul he barely knows into his nest.  

Even now, he glances over at his messily made bed, the piles of blankets and pillows on it arranged specifically, a sort of protective feeling wells up in him that he tries to ignore.  

A low groan pulls him from his thoughts and almost immediately he looks over to Mountain who looks mostly uncomfortable on the couch, eyes barely open as he looks at Aether.  

There’s something akin to hunger in his gaze, but he chooses to ignore it.  

“First rut topside, huh?” Aether asks out loud, putting some distance between himself and Mountain, “Is this part of your cycle or unplanned?”  

He prides himself for the way his voice doesn’t betray anything, from first meeting he and Mountain had hit it off pretty well, there was intrigue there, as the earth ghoul had watched him oh so carefully, as if curious about him. There has been some probing questions, quiet discussions after practice, mostly about magic and teetering on the edge of life and death.  

Aether doesn’t want to admit to himself that he’s interested in what happens during an earth ghoul’s rut—being quintessence, he barely has anything of a cycle, and when it does happen, there isn’t much in the way of anything except pain and annoyance. Nothing too fun about it for him unless there was a partner involved—and most often, there hadn’t been.  

As he waits for Mountain to answer, he heads into the little kitchenette to get some water, it’s late so he suspects that Mountain has at least eaten at some point today, trying to remember the things that Omega had told him about what to expect when one of his packmates goes into rut or heat.  

(After all, quintessence ghouls are the equilibrium of the pack.) 

“’m not due for a rut until the winter,” Mountain finally manages to answer, his voice caught somewhere between his glamoured, more human voice and the one that Aether had heard when he was first summoned, all bass and full of static.  

It makes his teeth ache and his ears ring, but he turns with a smile, something small and gentle, he knows that any unexpected change of emotions could send Mountain spiraling, so he regulates, brings a bottle of water back over to the couch and lowers himself to sit on the edge of the low coffee table across from Mountain.  

“Early then,” Aether says, pausing somewhat awkwardly as he watches Mountain take the bottle from him and bite the cap off, guzzling down easily half of it with little thought, “Is there anything specific you need?” he asks, keeping his tone light, clinical, hoping he comes across more concerned than just curious.  

Mountain grumbles something, squeezes the water bottle in his hand once he’s downed the rest of it, drops of it soaking into the collar of his t-shirt, he drops the crumpled plastic to the floor and stretches his limbs, glamour melting away until all that’s left is a nearly eight foot ghoul stretched across Aether’s couch.  

His antlers curl from his hair, spanning more than the width of the couch, and Mountain makes a pained sound in his throat—t-shirt rucked up his torso, soaked in sweat.  

The noise digs deep into Aether’s core, and he feels the hair on his arms stand, he’s watching, curious—Mountain still hadn’t answered his question, the what do you need hanging heavily between them and the more the silence stretches, the more time Aether has to overthink it, to wonder if he'd propositioned a ghoul in a rut.  

He leans forward and grabs the crumpled bottle from the floor, stands and heads off to the kitchen to give himself something to do while he waits, he takes a few moments, grabs another water from the refrigerator.  

Just as the door closes with a soft squeak, there’s a groan from the couch and the sound of the wooden frame creaking under the weight of the nearly eight foot tall ghoul on it, “I need to...” Mountain begins, his throat dry, voice cracking as he speaks, and he stops with a groan, pressing his fist to his abdomen, “...need to knot something,” he mumbles, half out of it, “Hurts a lot.” 

Aether exhales and turns around, water in hand, “Is there someone you could go to?” he asks, and then frowns a little, “Or, someone I could bring here? I could find somewhere to go for the night.”  The idea of leaving his room and his nest alone during another ghoul’s rut leaves a bad taste in his mouth, he doesn’t want to do that, but it feels somewhat significant that Mountain had come to him of all people.  

Mountain shifts on the couch again, onto his side, at least the best that he can at his height and width, watching Aether with heavy eyes, he makes a pained sort of sound, presses his fist harder against his abdomen, “I — uh, I don’t know who else could...” he trails off, grits his teeth as if getting the words out were some gargantuan task, “I am...different, and anytime I try to take on a mate they...” his face screws up into something ugly then, “I’ve never shared my rut with anyone else.”  

The air leaves Aether in a rush and his grip tightens on the water bottle in his hand, “Oh,” he says, something like interest building in the back of his mind as he passes the sweating bottle to his other hand, “That’s...I thought that was just something that most quintessence ghouls do,” he says, trying for a light tone, but Mountain must sense something there, because his nostrils flare, eyes narrowing.  

“Quintessence ghouls don’t...experience that?” Mountain asks, tilting his head just barely, his antler scraping against the stone floor as he does so, “Heat, rut...” he trails off, hisses in pain as another wave of something overtakes him. “Like other ghouls?”  

Aether crosses the room again, though the whole time he feels like prey, under the watchful eyes of Mountain, who seems to be mostly trying to puzzle him out between bouts of painful cramps and he holds the water out to Mountain who takes it with barely a brush of fingertips, “Quintessence ghouls don’t have to have mates,” he says carefully, “We can sort of...produce heirs without them. Our heat and rut cycles are nearly nonexistent because of that, so we end up coupling for pleasure more than a biological need, I guess. My last cycle was several millennia ago.”  

It feels clinical, explaining this to Mountain, while Mountain’s in his own rut, but Aether had always been good with compartmentalizing, with not being affected by these things, “Of course, I don’t mind keeping you company, talking things out, but we should really try to come to some sort of ah resolution for your situation. I can sort of...” he trails off, waving his hand as if to indicate brushing something away, “get rid of my own issues, but I think it's better if you uh earth ghouls consummate the rut or heat, right?”  

Mountain snorts, a great sound that ruffles the pages of a magazine on the coffee table, “Sure, yeah, consummate is the word for it,” he opens the bottle of water properly this time, though the cap is easily crushed between his fingers as he does so before he’s gulping it down like he was starving for it, water dripping from the corner of his lip and down onto the couch.  

“Is there someone you had in mind?” Aether asks, unsure why he feels like he has to keep pushing this, there’s something in the back of his mind, nagging him, telling him to call one of the other pack members, another earth ghoul, someone else before this becomes something well beyond his control.  

Mountain is silent then, crushes the bottle in his hand and drops it to the floor, his eyes trained on Aether’s face for a long time before he lets his gaze trail down the quintessence ghoul’s body, “Are you offering?” he asks plainly, fangs heavy in his mouth.  

Floored, Aether takes a step back, catches his leg against the corner of the coffee table but otherwise stays upright, “Me?” he asks, voice strained. “I uh.” He doesn’t know what to say or how to answer the question—unconsciously maybe he had been offering something, but putting a word to that out loud felt scary and big.  

“Historically I’ve never been good with sharing a rut or heat with someone,” Aether says, trying to aim for calm, but his voice cracks a little, there’s a warmth inside him, an interest that he’s sure Mountain can scent on him.  

A low rumble echoes through the room, full of bass, a small and sly sort of smile tugging at the corners of Mountain’s mouth, “Historically I’ve never shared my rut with anyone,” he says, there’s an ounce of suggestion in his voice, but underneath that, there’s hesitation too, a brief flash of worry in his gaze before it evens out into something heated once again.  

And Aether, he’s never been too good when it came to self-preservation—the reason he dove head first into the first summoning circle that opened up was due to lack of exactly that, so knowing this, he sighs and comes to sit on the edge of the coffee table again, “We’re going to have to talk first,” he says, “Just because,” he pauses and looks at Mountain, takes in his height, the bulk of him and presses his own legs together.  

He’s getting wet now, of course he is, the prospect of strengthening pack bonds, of having sex for the first time since being summoned fills him with a heat—Mountain isn’t too terrible to look at, a capable lover, from where Aether’s sitting, but there’s just. A bit of an issue with all of this. One that he’s hoping won’t be a dealbreaker once he mentions it.  

Mountain makes some kind of noise, it sounds mostly tortured and a tiny bit playful, but he manages to get his hands under himself and heaves upwards so he’s sitting on the couch instead of laying.  

His shirt is soaked in sweat and there’s some beaded at his temples, his face a bit of a pale gray rather than the warmer tone that Aether’s used to seeing, but he looks alert, his eyes clear as he looks at Aether, as he takes this seriously, “I’m listening,” he says, hunching a bit on himself, arm curled around his abdomen carefully, “This is important to you and I have a little bit longer before I get too stupid with my rut,” he says with a bit of a wince.  

Aether bites at his lower lip, nodding his head, “Of course,” he says, “You are...very big,” the words come out before he can think it through, eyes trained on the width of Mountain’s shoulders, now that he’s sitting up almost properly. “And, I’m only going to assume that other parts of you are ah, proportionate.” he flushes, folds his hands in his lap—there's something in Mountain’s gaze that almost makes him pause, but he pushes on, “Sometimes, it takes a lot for me to enjoy penetration, and in the past that has caused partners to not want to pursue that with me. And since you’re in your rut, I didn’t want us to fall into bed and things not be enjoyable for you.”  

Mountain’s quiet then, he’s quiet for so long that Aether almost backtracks again, tries to think of something to say instead, to fill the silence because the way Mountain’s looking at him is unnerving.  

“Well,” Mountain finally says, tilting his head a little bit, “If we’re being honest about things, the reason I’ve never been able to find a mate is because of me lacking in the parts that matter during a rut.”  

There’s a curiosity there, simmering under his skin, at the lacking that he mentions, his eyes falling down to Mountain’s lap almost unconsciously—his breath catching at the utter lack of any hint of his arousal.  

And he is aroused, that is. Aether can smell it thick in the air, a temptation—like a cold morning in the forest, stealing the breath from his lungs as he breathes in.  

Mountain clears his throat and Aether’s gaze snaps back up to his face, behind the bravado and the heat there’s something like insecurity in his gaze, “So, do you think it’ll be okay?” he asks, a sort of downturn to his lips as she speaks.  

Aether stands then, clears his throat and dabs at the sweat collecting in the hollow of his throat, “I think we’ll make it work,” he says, and then he puts space between them, even as Mountain makes a desperate noise in his throat.  

There’s shuffling behind him, the sound of the couch groaning, but Aether pushes through to his task, collecting more water and some snacks—easy things to feed Mountain once the rut burns through him, “The bathroom is through the door over there,” he says, motioning towards the opposite side of the room, “If this is the last chance you have until you’re too stupid with rut, I need you to go in there and shower first. You reek of the ghoul dens and I won’t have that scent stuck to my nest.” He says matter of fact.  

Mountain slowly rises from the couch, lumbers across the room to the bathroom, glancing back at Aether every so often as something warm settles in his stomach, and when he disappears into the room, he leaves the door open just a bit.  

Aether exhales when he hears the shower turn on, thankful that the ghoul rooms are large enough to accommodate an unglamoured ghoul, and for a brief reprieve from Mountain’s scent—though it sticks heavily in his nostrils.  

He carries his supplies over to his nest, picking and pulling at some of the blankets, rearranging things to make more sense for a coupling, humming quietly to himself as he works. It's not often he has to change things around for a bed partner, not often he has anyone in his best, even before he was summoned, and the small part of his brain that frets over the structure wonders if Mountain will be pleased enough with it when it’s all said and done.  

The water shuts off, and Aether opens the window by his bed to let in some of the cool night air, there are nerves building in the pit of his belly, but he pushes through and undresses most of the way, down to his underwear and debating if he should remove his shirt too before he hears the bathroom door creak, the sound of heavy footfalls following.  

When Aether turns, his breath catches—Mountain’s standing across the room, water droplets pebbled on his chest, a white towel knotted around his waist though it barely holds, his entire hip and thigh visible where the towel won’t quite meet.  

“Didn’t think it would be a good idea to put my clothes back on,” Mountain says, a flush arcing across his cheeks, “I uh used that neutral soap you have, maybe I don’t smell bad anymore?” 

He asks it so earnestly, so shy, that Aether crosses the room and reaches out, careful fingertips brushing over Mountain’s arms, feeling the rut and shower warmed skin, the thick muscle just under it bunch under his touch, fingertips roaming downwards until he’s lacing his fingers through Mountain’s, tugging him closer, a shuffle of a dance as he walks them backwards towards his nest.  

Mountain's eyes widen, his mouth opens a bit, fingers spasming around Aether’s as his eyes fall to the nest, his nostrils flaring at the heavy scent of Aether, of pack emanating from the bed.  

“Are you sure…?” he asks, his voice low, garbled, lust and rut rushing to his head as he looks between the nest and Aether, the careful branch of trust the quintessence ghoul is offering him.  

Vulnerability.  

Aether hums, dropping one of Mountain’s hands as he steps back again, using his now free hand to steady himself on the foot of the bed as he climbs up onto it backwards, knee walking across the sheets, pulling Mountain closer and closer and closer until the earth ghoul is standing at the foot of the bed, bare knees pressed against the mattress.  

“Are you sure?” Mountain asks, barely above a whisper, his throat clicking loudly as he swallows, “We haven’t even kissed—” he pauses, flushing at his words. “We can go back to the couch, if you’d rather, I don’t want to…” taint your nest, is left unsaid.  

Aether smiles at him, tugs a bit harder on Mountain’s hand, “This is me inviting you into my nest,” he says softly as he sinks back on his heels, legs spreading a bit more.  

Mountain’s gaze is drawn to the splay of them, the way his thighs stretch and dimple just below the hem of his underwear, he’s wearing briefs, a dark fuchsia color—heat tugging sharp and pointed in his belly when he sees a damp spot, the slight bulge of his cock pressing into the material.  

“Oh,” Mountain said, somewhat dumbly, as he finally climbs up onto the bed, folding his long limbs under him so he can sit properly, “I can uh, you know,” he feels nervous, even as the heat courses through him, a voice insistently whispering for him to take, mate, take. “I can glamour again, I think, if this is too weird,” he mumbles, sharpened teeth digging into his bottom lip as he looks down at Aether, even kneeling, still so much taller. “I know it can be a lot.”  

With a soft laugh, Aether brings Mountain’s hand up to his mouth, pressing a firm kiss to the back of it, “Not too big for me, big guy,” he murmurs, feeling coy all of a sudden, glancing up at him from under his lashes as shadows darken the room, seeping closer to the bed like a mighty dog, “I like you like this,” he promises, his form flickering for a moment, like an illusion.  

The air in the room goes colder, prickling against Mountain’s hot skin and he shudders, watches the illusion flicker out of existence as Aether sits, now unglamoured, in front of him.  

He's bigger too, wider, medium downy fur covering his arms and legs, the contrast of his gray skin making the cyan of his fur seem colder, his eyes solid black now with a constellation of stars floating in the void of it.  

“You can touch me,” Aether whispers, his voice sweet sounding now, filling the air in a way that feels almost like a kiss of death, and Mountain takes a loud and long shuddering breath.  

He shifts closer until his knees press into Aether’s, ducking his head down to scent just behind one of Aether’s ears, the soft fur covering them dragging sweetly across his cheek—it twitches, Aether exhaling his own sound as arousal flares up between them and tips his head to the side, allowing Mountain more.  

Though his hands shake, Mountain presses them to Aether’s chest, his skin cold to the touch in a way that makes him whine despite Aether wearing a shirt still.  

“Always takes a minute to get used to it,” Aether murmurs, rubbing his palm over Mountain’s forearm, soothing, “Glamour doesn’t just keep me looking human,” he teases on the end of a sigh, as Mountain finally noses his way downward, scenting just under his chin now, lips brushing over skin.  

“Smell so good,” Mountain mumbles, inhaling deeply, he wants to crawl inside Aether and settle down there, curl up in his scent and luxuriate in it until they become one. 

The fire beneath his skin burns with a fury, and his fingers curl in Aether’s shirt, tugging at it, “Off,” he manages to say, and together, they wrestle the t-shirt over his head and into the nest somewhere before Mountain’s hands find their place on Aether’s waist, digging his fingertips into the small of his back with a sort of animalistic sound, he crowds forward until Aether falls back into the nest with a soft laugh.  

Aether’s hands find Mountain’s hair, fingertips cold and nimble as he seeks out the base of his antlers—the sound falling from Mountain’s mouth a fury of low bass and static that makes Aether ache.  

“Need,” Mountain murmurs, crouched over him, one leg between Aether’s own, straddling one of his thighs, “Should tell me now what you like cause I’m not gonna be coherent for much longer,” he continues, mouthing where Aether’s fur fades into skin.  

A laugh, soft, even as Aether scrapes his nails against the seam where Mountain’s antlers grow from his skull, relishing in the sort of guttural sound that the earth ghoul makes, the way Mountain’s thighs flex around his own, “I like a lot of things, slow and not too deep, fast and rough—a good mate that’ll take care of me knows what I need when he’s got me under him, hm? I know this is your rut, but it’s really not about that, is it? You want to take care of someone.” he murmurs.  

Mountain makes a pained noise again, shifts a bit so he can rut against Aether’s thigh, “I’ll take good care of you,” he murmurs, a litany of promises falling from his lips as he tries to get friction against his own cock. “Please, let me show you, let me take care of you.” he whispers, nearly begs, as Aether’s fingertips continue to trace gentle circles around the base of his antlers—highly erogenous, “Please baby, please,” he finally breaks, begs, turning his head and pressing his face into Aether’s throat. “Want to take care of you. Show you I can be a good mate.”  

Aether stays silent for a moment, feels Mountain shake against him for a bit before dragging a finger up along the shaft of his left antler, “Show me,” he whispers as his other hand goes down between them, tugging at the knotted end of the towel and Mountain makes a great noise in his throat, the sound loud and unyielding as he reaches down in between them and shreds at the towel, yanking it away from his body and tossing it in a messy heap on the floor.  

Mountain shifts above him, warm where he’s straddling Aether’s thigh, the prickly fur decorating the insides of them mixing roughly in his and Aether doesn’t much look as he does reach between them, seeking out where Mountain’s hard and waiting, fingers wrapping around his shaft and—oh.  

Oh.  

He has to look then; he nudges Mountain back though the earth ghoul whines about it, but Aether shushes him, murmurs something about wanting to see him, though his mind is steadily focused on how small he feels against his palm.  

Aether lets out a shuddering breath when he finally sees Mountain, the ruddy head of his cock peeking just barely over the top of his fist, his hand closing around it so easily—a good maybe four inches fully erect—and he must stay silent for too long, because Mountain shifts uncomfortably, makes a sort of worried noise.  

“I know it’s—” Mountain starts, then stops, pouts a little, he doesn’t go soft though, not with the way Aether’s holding him, gripping him tight enough to give him pressure, his hand moving the tiniest bit as he breathes. “Aether?”  

There’s an edge to his voice, a bit of sourness to his scent and Aether’s quick to snap out of it, squeezes Mountain with intent this time as he whispers, “You’re perfect,” already feeling out of breath just from looking at him. “You’re going to take such good care of me, Mountain, gonna feel so good inside me,” he murmurs. “D’you have a knot?” he mumbles, hushed, in awe.  

Mountain makes a sort of embarrassed noise, his chest flushing as he tries to hide his face in Aether’s hair, “I do,” he mumbles, “Not very big though, probably won’t catch without some help.”  

Aether makes a pleased sound, a low rumble of a purr deep in his chest as he nudges his face under Mountain’s chin, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against his skin, “Gonna catch just fine,” he mumbles, feeling dazed as he strokes Mountain from base to tip, curling the palm of his hand over the head of Mountain’s dick. “You’re so perfect. The perfect size.” 

He bucks into his touch, hips jackrabbiting forward into Aether’s hand, “Satan,” he mumbles like a swear, mouth falling open—his hips move on their own volition, and all Mountain can do is making helpless little noises, fucking into the pressure around his cock over and over and over until he’s coming, shaking through it with Aether’s name on his tongue as he comes in spurts over Aether’s fist, getting the two of them messy.  

“Oh, oh,” Aether says, awed, “Felt good?” he murmurs, still stroking Mountain, feeling the beginnings of his knot, thickening at the base, “Look at the mess you made, baby,” he murmurs after a bit, pulling his hand away, sticky with Mountain’s spend, “I bet you have so much more to give though, don’t you?” he asks softly, hopeful.  

Mountain makes a soft noise, panting heavily as he turns his head to bury his face into Aether’s hair, “Wanna give you everything,” he mumbles, pawing at Aether’s sides, feeling the give of his waist under his touch, “Let me touch you now, taste you, please Aether.”  

Aether makes a soothing sort of noise, buries his clean hand in Mountain’s hair, “You’re already doing so well for me,” he murmurs sweetly, pressing his thumb against the base of an antler again, “Want that pretty mouth on my dick, baby,” he coos, smiling when Mountain makes a pained noise. “Go on, big guy,” he urges, lets his hand fall from Mountain’s hair finally as he settles properly on the bed, hooking his thumb in the waist of his briefs, pushing them down over one hip.  

Mountain pulls back, watches as Aether slowly reveals more of himself, there’s a constellation of navy, almost black patches of fur over his groin that he wants to follow with his mouth, so he shifts, shuffling backwards until he’s properly kneeling in between his thighs.  

“So pretty,” Mountain rumbles lowly, and, with a lot more grace and care than one would expect of a ghoul during a rut, he buries his face among the navy fur, inhaling the scent of Aether’s sweat and arousal, mouthing at each inch of skin revealed until he feels mad with it all, claws careful as he grabs at the other side of Aether’s briefs, pulling them down—easily getting them off as Aether lifts his hips in encouragement.  

One hand grabs at Mountain’s antlers and the earth ghoul makes a happy sort of noise, letting Aether direct him exactly where he wants—to his cock, pink and wet, hard and flushed with his arousal, soaking in the pleased, happy sound Aether lets out the moment Mountain’s mouth closes around it.  

“Yes,” Aether hisses out, bucking up into Mountain’s mouth—grinding into his face with a pleased sound, “Just like that, big guy. Feels so good, just like I knew it would. Got such a pretty mouth.”  

Mountain whines, closes his eyes and sinks into it, the praise falling from Aether’s lips washes over him until he’s feeling a bit dumb with it, his face a mess of slick and spit as Aether keeps grinding into him, fucking his mouth with sharp, pointed thrusts—each time he goes to pull out, Mountain makes a wounded noise and tries to shove his face in close again, trying to take in more—almost as if he were in heat and not rut, wanting, craving to feel the way Aether’s knot swells in his mouth.  

“So eager,” Aether murmurs, but it doesn’t sound mean, doesn’t sound exasperated like some of Mountain’s previous partners, it’s fond and bookended with a sweet little sigh as Aether tosses one of his legs over Mountain’s shoulder, allowing him to get closer.  

Happiness and contentedness radiates off of Aether, one hand cupping the back of his head while the other keeps him exactly where he wants him with a firm grip on an antler, “I want you to make me come,” he says, breathless, pressing his head back into the pillow under him as he rocks up into Mountain’s mouth, “Make me come and then you can get me ready to take your knot, baby.”  

Mountain makes another noise, something eager, as he grips Aether’s thigh in one hand, pushes it back towards his chest as he sinks his mouth further down on Aether’s cock, his face messy and slick as he buries as close as he can, tonguing at the beginnings of his knot, already starting to firm up in his mouth.  

He makes a happy noise, uses his weight to keep Aether in place as he sucks him off, feeling Aether’s thigh tremble in his grip—he makes a curious noise, sinks his other hand in between them, nudging a couple of knuckles against where Aether’s wet and warm. 

Aether swears, toes curling as he nods against the pillow several times, words taking a moment to form as he tries to rock down against Mountain’s other hand while simultaneously grinding into his mouth—he can’t though, not with the way Mountain’s holding him there, leg pressed up to his chest, keeping him open.  

“Please,” Aether finally manages to get out, tugs a bit harshly at Mountain’s hair, “Fingers, yes,” he breathes out, “Put one in me, baby, let me feel it. I’m so close.”  

He complies, presses one finger into Aether slowly, feels the way he goes tight around him, hot and slick like he’s in heat—something that makes Mountain’s mouth water a bit, drags him deeper into his rut, imagining spending a heat with Aether, satiating the quintessence ghoul in the same way Aether’s satiating him now.  

“That’s it,” Aether says, his voice going low, a moan catching in his throat as Mountain’s lips tighten around his cock, a wet heat that makes his knot thicken, he can feel it growing just inside the earth ghoul’s mouth, the pressure in his belly building as a slender finger works its way inside of him, pressing into his walls, testing, undulating, fucking into him with such care that Aether can’t help the way tears gather at the corners of his eyes, at the sweetness that Mountain’s showing him despite being in a rut.  

It goes on like this, for several, long minutes, minutes that feel like they stretch into hours and Aether feels so wrung out and loose by the time he’s shaking through his own orgasm, that he feels like Mountain could just slide into him without actually prepping him—a thought that seems to prolong his orgasm to the point that he’s kicking at Mountain, shoving him away bodily as he curls in on himself, turning onto his side and panting into the pillow, shivering.  

Mountain makes a sort of wounded noise, worry cloying his scent as he crowds up against Aether’s back, careful not to touch him too much, but still wanting to be close, nosing at the nape of his neck as he waits for Aether to calm down a bit, for him to stop shaking—and it doesn’t seem to take that long, but there’s a heat bubbling just beneath Mountain’s skin that makes time different, that makes his mind a little different, his eyes drooping a bit as he scents at Aether, trying to determine if he’s alright.  

Aether’s hand eventually reaches back and he drags Mountain in, closer to him, curling under the heaviness of his arm—their scents mingling together as he noses at Mountain’s knuckles, breathing still a bit choppy and uneven, aftershocks making his toes curl and uncurl. “Seven Hells,” he finally mumbles, feeling Mountain’s rumbling laughter vibrating deep in his chest, “I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard,” he admits quietly.  

“Told you,” Mountain mumbles, deep and mostly inhuman now, “Wanna give you everything,” he punctuates the statement by grinding his hips forward against Aether—the hard line of his cock nudging at the back of his thigh, “Everything,” he repeats, the word catching in a whine at the end. “Let me, please.”  

Aether shushes him, pets over his forearm, “Think you can do it like this, baby?” he asks, “I’m feeling a little boneless right now, comfortable,” he murmurs with a purr, “A couple fingers and then you can fuck me, okay?” he asks, pressing a kiss to Mountain’s knuckles.  

It takes a moment for Mountain to catch up, but he makes an excited noise—and Aether mourns the loss of the arm curling around him disappearing, but is mostly okay with it when Mountain slides his other arm under Aether’s head, cradling him like he’s something precious as he carefully presses one finger into him.  

Aether moans, arching back into it, eyes fluttering closed as Mountain seems to take his time with this, letting him get used to it—fucking his finger in and out of him a few times until Aether’s whining, turning his face into Mountain’s arm and asking for the other one, a pleased gasp leaving his mouth when he complies, presses two fingers into him, slow and careful, his body opening up around them so easily.  

He thinks, somewhat dumbly, that if Mountain were to pull out and fuck into him now then he’d be happy, he’d be content, but instead, Mountain seems laser focused on fingering him, curling and pressing them over and over until Aether’s shifted a leg further out, giving him more space and Mountain’s thumb grazing over his cock once more, where he’s starting to get hard again.  

He’s sore in the best ways and it feels like hours, before Mountain nuzzles behind his ear and makes a curious noise, unable to get the words out proper, but Aether knows, he knows and he nods, reaching behind him to find Mountain’s cock, wrap his fingers around him and stroke him a few times, he’s hot and hard and so perfect—almost like he was made just for Aether.  

“Come on, big guy,” Aether murmurs, giving him one last squeeze before he lets go, bends his knee and lays mostly on his stomach, giving Mountain a good view of everything, of how wet and pink he is, where his fingers sink into Aether with such an ease, “S’yours to take now, baby.” 

Mountain makes a noise, something animalistic, growling as he pulls his fingers out and settles over Aether, pressing his face into the side of his neck as he reaches down to guide himself closer, to press into Aether—and they both moan, nearly shout as Mountain’s cock sinks inside, as his hips settle so quickly against Aether’s ass.  

“Fuck,” Aether says in a wheeze, clawing at the bed sheets under him, “Mountain, please, you can move, you can move baby.”  

It takes very little encouragement from there—the rut and their mingling scents going straight to Mountain’s head as he sets a brutal pace, fucking into Aether as if his own life depended on it, and at this point, maybe it did, maybe there was no Mountain without Aether; maybe after this he could no longer exist without having a taste of this regularly, of having Aether under him, moaning loudly into a pillow, trying and failing to fuck himself back onto his cock each time Mountain pulls out. 

He’s so used to seeing Aether so well put together that seeing him like this, seeing him give into his baser instincts and let himself be fucked makes Mountain want to keep him here, to have him as a proper mate so he can be the one that gets to see this, so he can be the one who satiates all of Aether’s needs.  

Mountain’s teeth sink into the back of Aether’s neck and the quintessence ghoul goes limp underneath him with a moan, he thinks Aether says his name, slurs it out as he clenches down around him tightly, his voice going a bit pitchy as he shouts—coming again so suddenly that it has to hurt, but Aether’s scent stays pleased, stays happy and content and doesn’t get sour so he keeps going, keeps fucking into him, growling lowly as he feels his own end hurtling close, his knot thickening and catching with each gyration of his hips.  

When it does finally catch, when time is syrupy and thick in his head and Aether’s voice suddenly breaks and he squirms under Mountain, knot locking them together, he can’t help himself, it takes only a few more humps of his hips and he’s coming in thick ropes, filling Aether, filling his mate.  

Aether makes a soft noise, his face flushed and his eyes wet as he grinds his hips back, he’s overstimulated and everything feels both like it’s too much and not enough at the same time, he tries to ask for something, for Mountain to continue moving for anything, but he can’t get the words to come out—but then a hand, careful fingers close around his cock, around his knot and squeeze and Aether cries out again, spasming around Mountain as he comes one last time, the pressure around his knot making him light headed.  

Mountain snuffles and carefully loosens his grip on the back of Aether’s neck, presses his lips there in a sweet kiss, the coppery scent of blood making him whine a little, but there’s no distress coming from his mate under him, the two of them reeking of contentment and each other—so he doesn’t move, not until his knot and Aether’s both deflate and then he carefully pulls his hand away, shushing the quintessence ghoul when he makes a noise of discomfort.  

His rut has settled for now, and as he shifts his hips back, pulling out carefully, he immediately pulls Aether into his arms, uncaring of the mess of sweat, come and slick between them—he always goes a bit quiet after a rut, used to being alone, but he tries, for the sake of his partner, nosing his way into Aether’s hair to breathe him in for a moment as he tries to find words.  

“Need something?” he manages after a few minutes, cracking his eyes open and spying the water that Aether had put by the bed before everything. “Thirsty?” he asks, but doesn’t wait—rolling the two of them closer to the other side of the bed, grabbing one of the bottles and trying to tear the lid off.  

“Easy there, big guy,” Aether says, his voice is wrecked but he sounds happy, and an arm, though it seems to take great concentration to move, reaches out and takes the water from him, uncapping it with a bit of a struggle. 

Mountain’s there, though, steadying his arm and helping Aether sit up just enough so he can drink from the bottle—and then he’s pressing the bottle to Mountain’s lips, encouraging him to drink.  

The nest is sort of a mess under them, but Mountain doesn’t think that matters much right now, not when he shuffles them away from most of the mess and curls around Aether again—Aether who’s looking a bit less out of it, his eyes soft as he stares up at Mountain.  

“You know,” he mumbles with a little grin, after they’ve both drank more water and Aether’s wrestled a clean blanket over their bodies, “We never actually kissed first,” he says with a little laugh. “Did this whole thing backwards.”  

Mountain stares down at him for a moment, his mind a bit fuzzy—his rut isn’t quite over yet, but he thinks that maybe in a day or two, he’ll freak out about how comfortable he feels, and the lack of shame he has when openly thinking about how he wants to woo Aether, about the way he cups Aether’s face gently in one hand and presses their lips together in a soft, sweet kiss.  

It doesn’t turn into something heavy; it stays sweet and when it comes to a natural end, Aether’s smiling, “Oh,” he says with a little laugh, “I didn’t realize you felt that way, big guy.” 

There’s a flush high on his cheeks, but there’s nothing Mountain can do to hide the feelings of contentment and something else that’s pumping through the bond he has with Aether—they're pack but it all feels like so much more, but Aether doesn’t push, just pulls him into another kiss, brief and light.  

“You’ve been so good to me,” Aether whispers against his mouth, “So perfect for me, Mountain. Like a good mate, knew exactly what I needed, baby.”  

He whines, mildly embarrassed by the broadcast of his emotions, half expects to be teased, but it never comes, and instead they kiss again, for longer this time and all Mountain can taste is happiness in Aether’s smile.  

[dancingtotuyo]

3. pick up your clothes and curl your toes

Woman | Joel Miller

Series Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: You and Joel settle into a routine.

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (Reader is 42, Joel is 56). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: swearing, talks of & references to grief, death (child and spouse), and suicide. Anxiety. Reader has a panic attack. consumption of alcohol. Angst. Hurt. Comfort. SMUT. Explicit sex (P in V). Unprotected sex. Oral Sex (F receiving). Let me know if I missed anything.

Note: THANK YOU TO MY BEAUTIFUL BETA READERS @planet-marz1 @pamasaur & @kajashe

Words: 8926

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT AND IS INTENDED FOR READERS 18 YEARS AND OLDER. MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT OR READ.

Joel Miller is going to hell in a handbasket. He already was, but this is the seal on the envelope, the pretty red ribbon tied neatly around it. He felt relieved that your husband is dead. What kind of person feels relief over someone’s misfortune? Their grief? A bad one. A person headed straight for the gates of hell. 

He lets out a huff of air, staring at the spinning ceiling fan. He tries not to think of you across the street, laying in bed in that fucking matching pajama set, but with most things the harder you try not to think of them, the more it’s at the forefront of your mind. The picture of your legs in those shorts jumps to his mind. He remembers those fleeting charged moments from tonight. Desire stirs in his gut drifting downward. 

He groans, flipping onto his stomach. He buries his head in the twenty-something-year-old pillow as he takes deep steadying breaths. He won’t do this. It can’t happen. You’re a friend. A connection to the past. A connection to his Sarah. He’s not gonna fuck that up. 

He falls asleep definitely not thinking of you and that fucking pajama set. Pictures of you definitely don’t invade his dreams. Joel Miller can only see you as a friend, and friends don’t do the things he does to you behind his eyelids. 

The next evening, Joel finds himself hardly waiting on his steps, worried he missed you until you step out tonight in jeans and a sweater. For that, he’s all too grateful. A smile stretches across your face. He stands his lips tipping upward as he meets you in the middle of the road once again. 

“Howdy, neighbor,” Joel says. 

You push back the small shiver that runs down your spine. You chalk it up to the lower temperatures. “Look at you, adjusting to the Jackson way of life.”

“Learnin from the best, Sweetheart.”

The chills hit again and you chalk it up to the chill. Spring is breaking through, but winter still clings to the darkening air. You settle in your route. The crunch of Joel’s steps is familiar next to you, comforting even in the silence between the two of you. 

It’s Joel who speaks first tonight. “It’s weird,” he says. He’s more eager to talk tonight.  “Being here- safe. I keep expectin’ raiders to ride in or infected to pop out.” He looks over at a small cluster of trees. 

“It takes a long time.” You watch the sun creep down, closing the gap between it and the mountain tops. “I’m not sure when it happened but one morning I just realized I’d stopped looking over my shoulder or listening for footsteps.” 

“It happens though?” He asks. You catch a glimmer of hope in his eyes. It barely peeks through the weariness he wears like a badge. 

“Eventually.”

“Not that I ever thought it was an option, but I’m not sure I wanted to find peace- to be still like this again.”

You cock your head to the side, but you don’t have to shed a word for him to tell you more. 

“Spending life on the run was easy. Always lookin’ toward the next haul, the next run. Didn’t leave any time for thinking.”

You nod. You understand from the other side. You lived alone for years, wild, haunted by your friends, rattling around an empty house with only your thoughts and memories. Somehow, you’d found peace here, a family even. 

“What about now?” You ask. 

On good days, you can push back the when of it all. When will the world take another person from you in a new way crueler than the last? When will your son’s innocence be stripped away? When will it be you who’s taken? On the bad days, you shut yourself in your room, only to be dragged out by Carter’s small voice or Maria cooking in your kitchen. Today is an especially good day. 

Joel studies the horizon. He takes in a hawk riding the air currents. It all mingles together in his chest: the grief, the joy, the pain, the acceptance. It’s hard to put words to it. “It still hurts. Can’t even say it hurts less… but I don’t fight it anymore. I think making room for someone else helped.” 

You bite your lip. A pang shoots through your heart. You fight to push the door to your heart closed. You can allow him to exist in your life, but anything more than neighbors is too much. You think you feel the door latch, but you don’t catch Joel’s foot wedged in the door jam. 

“How did you and Ellie cross paths?”

Joel spends the rest of your walk recounting his and Ellie’s adventures across the United States. You find yourself hanging on every description. You didn’t travel a lot before the world ended. Your parents had been die-hard Texans. You weren’t sure your dad had left state lines before meeting your mom. There were the yearly trips to your grandparents' house in the mountains surrounding Jackson, one trip to Disney World in 8th grade, and you’d gone to Mexico for spring break your junior year of college. That encapsulated your traveling days. 

After Joel tells you about Silver Lake, he stops in his tracks. You look back at him. He’s staring at the darkening horizon again. His eyes gloss over. “When things like that happen- I find myself relieved that she’s not here- that she doesn’t have to go through it- do all the shit we do.”

You suck in a breath. In some ways you understand it. As a parent who willingly brought a child into this world, you often wonder if it was the right choice or just a selfish one. You nod. 

“And then I feel guilty all over again. Because I would give anything to have her next to me, and see her smile. I mean, what kind of parent is relieved their child isn’t alive?” 

You give the words a minute to roll through your head. You’re not sure of the best words because there really are none, but you pull from your own experience. 

“I think that’s the reality of being a parent in this world. You feel guilty if they’re here because the world is fucked up, but you feel guilty if you’re relieved they’re not.”

Joel makes eye contact with you. “Bein’ around you makes me feel closer to her.” 

Joel is not sure where the confession comes from. He barely talked to you before last night and hasn’t seen your face in 20 years, yet the words just slip out. Something in him says you’re safe and he thinks maybe, he might just have room for you too. The air between you charges like it did the night before.

It sends a hum of electricity through your veins. It’s one you recognize all too well. It feels good and exciting, the thrum of desire, but it’s dangerous. It’s something you cannot afford. You look away, breaking the connection, but mellowing currents still wrack over your body in waves.

“You raised a really great kid, Joel.” You force a smile. “and the world fucking sucks.” You kick at the dirt as everyone’s faces flash behind your eyes. 

“You helped.” 

Your head snaps back up, confusion on your brow. “I doubt that.”

“It’s true.” The memories flood to the surface- the ones you forget exist in the depths of your mind drowned by years of survival and trauma. “You helped her with all that stuff I was too awkward to boys, her period, shopping for her 7th grade banquet. I would’ve sent her in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.”

“I don’t think Sarah would’ve let you do that.” You manage a laugh. You appreciate Joel’s attempts to make you feel better even when he’s hurting. There’s a beauty to the way sadness and laughter coexist in the space the two of you create. 

Joel shrugs. “I’m just saying, you helped. A lot. Even if you don’t realize it.” 

“You should give yourself more credit.”

“So should you,” he says, eyebrows raising. 

You fight against the smile that wants to sprout on your face. He’s just as stubborn as you remember and probably more. 

As your walk draws to an end, you find yourself searching for anything to draw it out. You watch him walk up his porch steps, desperate to keep him in the street with you but his door shuts before you find the words. 

Joel joins you the next night and the night after that, and the night after that it rains. You catch the disappointment, trying to let it go. Carter won’t settle, too intent on watching the rain hit the window. After 30 minutes, you give up, pulling a light sweatshirt over his head. 

“You wanna sit out on the porch?”

Carter nods and you kiss his forehead. You see the sleepiness in his eyes, but you don’t have the energy to force him to sleep tonight. He grabs his two toy cars following behind you. You pull the blanket off the couch, opening the front door. 

“Oh my god.” You jump, heart rate spiking for a second. Carter runs into the back of your legs, promptly falling to his bottom. 

Joel Miller stands in front of you with a sheepish look on his face. “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You turn around, picking your toddler off the floor. “You just hanging around on stranger’s porches now?” A grin starts to crowd the edges of your smile. 

“I’d hardly call you a stranger, Sweetheart.” Joel grins. 

That familiar feeling begins to seep through your chest, making you feel like a college student and not a woman in her 40s. Before it can completely overtake you, you push it down, clearing your throat. 

“I don’t think you’ve gotten the chance to meet Carter yet.” You nod toward your son.

Carter waves. “Hi.”

Joel smiles back at him. “Nice to meet you, little man.”

Carter holds out his toy cars for Joel to admire. Joel’s eyes glance over the faded and chipped paint of the old Hotwheels. “Those are very nice.” 

Carter looks toward you with a big grin. He’s a kid of few words but big expressions. You smile back with a nod and he slides out of your arms.

“He wouldn’t go to sleep so we came out to watch the rain.” You hesitate a minute, but the pull of Joel’s familiarity wins out. “You’re welcome to join us. The porch swing is a little rickety, but it does the trick.”

“I was hoping you’d want some company.” Joel pulls a bottle of dark liquor from under his arm. You notice his rain-damp hair and shoulders for the first time. A few droplets slide down his curls.

“You getting used to me, Joel Miller?”

“You could say that.” He cocks his head to the side, smirk playing on his lips. 

You turn your head so he doesn’t catch your own grin, but he does anyway. Spreading the blanket on the porch for Carter to play on, you disappear inside grabbing a couple of glasses. 

When you come back, Joel is on his hands and knees with Carter, both making race car noises with their lips. It knocks the wind from you, and you brace against the door frame. You’d imagined this lost moment a thousand times. Sometimes you swore you could see Gabe sitting on the floor with Carter, the proudest smile on his face, but this is real and it’s not Gabe. 

Carter makes a screeching noise, learning them from some racing movie they showed a few weeks ago, crashing his car into Joel’s. Joel makes his cart flip over and combust into flames. Carter laughs. There’s a piece of your heart that seems to mend, and another that seems to break. Gabe feels further away, a more distant past. Yet, you’re focused on what’s in front of you. 

When Joel catches you watching, he smiles, says something to Carter, and rises to his feet. It feels like a scene from a movie where you don’t hear anything, but the single look is the most significant part. 

Joel says something, taking the glasses from your hands. His lips move but you don’t hear him. His back is turned before you realize it, shaking your head to wake up your senses. “Sorry- what did you say?”

Joel chuckles, pouring a couple of fingers of whiskey into each glass. He hands one to you. “I said, I’m getting too old to get on the ground like that.”

You accept the glass, letting the liquid warm you. This feels so easy, too easy. It sends warning bells through your head, but you don’t want to deal with them. They're too easy to push away in Joel’s familiar presence. 

“You didn’t have to.” You move to the end of your porch, easing onto the swing. 

Joel’s eyes inspect the old swing with years of training before he decides it will hold for one night and settles next to you. “Nah- it was fun. I haven’t played cars in a long time.” 

You take a sip of the whiskey to hide your grin. 

“He doesn’t look a thing like you.” Joel teases. 

“Spitting image of his father.” You laugh. “Gabe always said his genetics would win out. I can only imagine the gloating I would’ve heard from him.” 

“He never knew him?”

You shake your head. “Gabe was infected while out on patrol when I was 7 months pregnant.” 

You leave it at that. You don’t expound on one of the darkest times of your life, and Joel doesn’t ask. He’s being trained for patrol now. He knows a bite earns you a bullet in the head and your body burnt to a crisp. You sip from the glass, taking a little too much whiskey. It burns away the tears. 

“I don’t know how you did it,” Joel says. You turn to meet his gaze, eyebrows raised. “Survive out here all those years alone. I wouldn’t have made it.”

“You did.”

Joel shakes his head. “No, I had Tommy and some friends along the way. And that almo- it wasn’t enough.” 

He turns away subconsciously presenting his profile. You catch the scar on his temple. You’d never given it much stock until now. It hits you like a brick to the chest. Your fingers drift toward it, brushing over the old wound. 

“After Sarah died- I didn’t see much point in going on.” His eyes land on yours again. Your fingers stay. “I flinched when I pulled the trigger. Missed”

He searches your eyes for judgment but finds none. He’s certain all he finds is understanding, a silent assurance that you know that hopeless feeling too. 

Your fingers edge toward his hairline. The rain seems to fall heavier around you, creating a mist under the overhang, but it all seems far away with Joel Miller right in front of you. You’re both still, scared to spook the other, waiting for a sign you refuse to give yourself. 

“Joel!” Clumsy footsteps clamber up the wooden steps to your home. Ellie appears with a lopsided grin and soaked hair. “You’ll never guess what I traded for, morherfucker.”

The tension snaps away until nothing. The space on the porch swing is seemingly greater than ever. 

Joel raises an eyebrow at her, arms crossed over his chest. 

Carter looks up at the intruder, taking stock before returning his attention to his cars. 

“Oh, what? Did I interrupt something?” 

“No,” you say, possibly too fast. You don’t leave time to consider what was potentially interrupted. You latch on to Ellie’s joy instead. “What did you get?” You ease back, casting Joel a teasing look. He doesn’t look your way this time.

“I knew I liked you, Nurse… er- Lady.”

Joel opens his mouth to supply your name but you beat him to it. “That’s me, Nurse Lady.” 

Carter points at you. “Mommy.”

Ellie looks you dead in the eye. “I’m not calling you that.” 

You laugh. 

“What did you get, Ellie?” Joel asks, a little more give in his frame than a few seconds ago. 

Ellie pulls a big, atlas-looking book from under her damp sweatshirt. “It’s pictures of space! Ones I haven’t seen before!” 

“Space?” Carter’s head shoots up and a smile spreads across your face. 

“Yeah!” Ellie exclaims, opening the book toward him. “See! Isn’t it cool?”

Carter ventures toward the new person carrying a book of great interest to him. “You like space too?”

He nods, watching with wide eyes for a few more pages, and then grabs Ellie’s hand, pulling her toward his blanket. “Sit.”

She listens and Carter climbs into her lap. “More.”

Ellie laughs. “Sure thing, bud.”

You go to tell Ellie that she doesn’t have to listen to the two-year-old. She can take her book home and enjoy it in peace, but you stop yourself. Something tells you that Ellie wouldn’t stay if she didn’t want to. She reads the words in the book with the same fascination that shines in Carter's young eyes until he falls asleep. 

Joel stays next to you, the swing creaking rhythmically, the moment hidden away from the rest of Jackson by the cover of rain and a setting sun. 

You and Joel go back to walking the next evening. 

A couple of days later, Maria sits at your kitchen table when you come in from your walk with Joel. A steaming cup of tea sits in front of her and another caddy corner from her. You furrow your brow. The last time she’d greeted you with tea was when she told you she was pregnant. This welcome was usually reserved for serious conversations. 

“Carter wake up?” You slide into the chair, taking the mug into your hands. 

“No, just wanted to talk to you. It’s been a couple of days.” She eases back, hand resting atop her swollen stomach. 

“I saw you at the clinic this morning.” You raise an eyebrow.

Now 7 months pregnant, you’ve monitored Maria and the baby closely. Tommy and Maria are so excited. You see it in their eyes every time it comes up. You’re trying your hardest not to let your fears cloud it, but you won’t be able to make it if something happens to Maria. 

“We haven’t really talked though. Not since Sunday at dinner and Tommy has the guys over for Poker tonight.”

“You miss me after 3 days? I thought I was the codependent one.” You smile up at her with a laugh.

Gabe would have called it a sparkly smile. Maria clocks it immediately, and it stays, lingering across your features. She gasps. She’s seen nothing but glimpses and flickers of it since his death and now here it is on full display.

“Did I grow a third head or something?” 

“No, just haven’t seen you like this in a while.”

“Like what?”

“Happy, Smiling.” Maria tilts her head to the side. “I thought I was imagining it this morning. Tommy mentioned it too.” 

“I smile.”

“Not the sparkly kind.”

You pause, heart clenching at the thought. You know it’s what Gabe would have wanted. He loved your sparkly smile- given it its name. It feels like it should feel wrong for someone else to bring that out of you, but it doesn’t. All he ever wanted was for you to be happy. 

“This have anything to do with your new walking partner?” Maria says over the lip of her mug. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You feign innocence, looking out the window. Joel’s porch light glows across the road. Your wedding band is cool against your fingertips as you twist it. A smile pushes against the borders of your lips. 

“You act like your route doesn’t cut directly through town and past everyone’s houses 3 times.” 

“We just walk together, Maria.” 

She raises a suggestive eyebrow. 

You roll your eyes. “Just walking.”

“More than walking is okay too.”

You cross your arms. “I thought you didn’t like Joel. It was all I heard about after he came through the first time.”

“He’s my brother-in-law. I have to try.” Maria bites her lip. “And he grows on you.”

You sigh trying to push away the thoughts that crowd your restless mind. Your attachment to him is beginning to feel inevitable like you never stood a chance because it had always been there. A holdover from before. It reminds you of the way you and Tommy bonded when he came to Jackson, that invisible tug from a former life tying you together, but there is something different with Joel. The all-encompassing crush from your early ears creeps up like a blush. You won’t say it lingered, but you know something is forming now as much as you try to ignore it. 

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“This,” you motion around you. “Building a life with someone just for the world to rip it all away.”

“That’s not-“

“Not what, Maria? You know it will happen.”

“Might not.”

“Might happen tomorrow.” You square your shoulders. Joel goes on patrol for the first time tomorrow. It’s a short shift for him to get the lay of the land, but so was Gabe’s. you’re terrified, and you’re terrified to admit you’re terrified. 

She stares into your eyes with a still determination searching for any cracks to slip through as your impenetrable walls rise back up. All evidence of the sparkly smile is gone, erased from your face. Maria sighs, slowly rising to her feet, her cup of tea dried up. 

The two of you say nothing as she moves about your kitchen with easy familiarity. She’s moving slower these days and for good reason. It eases your anxiety to know that she’s listening to you in that department. 

She sets her cleaned mug on the dish wrack, drying her hands with a towel. You sip on your tea letting it warm you from within. It does nothing to ease your racing mind. 

Maria’s firm, caring touch lands on your shoulder, drawing your attention up toward her. You know she can see it behind your eyes. It’s that same wild look she saw in you when she met you. You can only hold her gaze for so long until you have to look away. She can see too much in you. 

Maria squeezes your shoulder. Her hands slide around your shoulders as she pulls your reluctant frame closer to her. She’s warm and comforting like a well-worn sweater. When her warm breath hits your temple followed by the soft kiss of a concerned parent or older sibling, you let your eyes flutter shut and inhale deeply. Your body relaxes as your sympathetic nervous system accepts the easy pressure of her embrace and your mind seems a little more quiet. You lean to the side, temple pressed to your best friend’s forehead. 

“I’ll see you at Sunday Dinner,” Maria says. She’s using her soothing mom voice, and it works. 

“Okay.”

She gives one more squeeze before releasing you. Your hands wrap back around the mug, searching for the warmth you lost. 

Maria grabs her coat. “Oh, I invited Joel and Ellie too.”

You snap your head around. Maria wears a knowing grin but gives you a shrug. “They’re family now.” 

You roll your eyes. Maria’s laugh is the last thing you hear before the front door clicks behind her. Silence falls over your home. When a tear falls from your eye, you swipe it away, stuffing down all the feelings rising to the surface. 

The next evening, Joel isn’t on his porch when you come out. The worry you’ve pushed down all day bubbles over before you can stop it. Your heart beats in your ears as you stare at Joel’s front door, hoping, praying it opens. In the minutes you watch for him, you beg the world for a sign that Joel is okay, nothing happens. The house is still with no signs of life. 

Anticipation melts to dread. They haven’t gotten back yet. That can only mean bad things. The same resolve hits you over and over. You can’t let this happen, not again. Stepping into the street, you try to go on as usual. Same path. Same pace, but the further you get from his front porch, the more you fight against the tug pulling you toward it- toward him. It wraps tight up your ankle like a vine. You think you can snap it with enough force and distance. 

Instead, it climbs your leg further, piercing through your stomach. It constricts around your lungs like a snake and its branches encircle your heart. Your breathing quickens and shortens until you can’t see more than 2 feet in front of you. You can’t do this. Can’t let this happen. Your fingers bite into a tree as you stumble forward, grasping for stability. Bark digs under your fingernails. A sob releases from your throat, the one that sounds otherworldly but you’re all too familiar with, and you realize it’s tears that blind you because you refuse to give the world another person to tear from your arms, yet you fear you already have. 

A warm hand lands on your back. You whip around in a fury of tears and ragged breathing. He recognizes it instantly. It’s the same look he used to see every time he looked in the mirror. He sucks in a breath and takes a step back. 

You think the space will make it easier to breathe, but the panic sets in deeper. You don’t want him to go. It’s not fair. You thought you were stronger, but it only took days for Joel Miller to demolish the walls you worked so desperately to build. He had pinpointed the weakness in them as if he’d built them himself and came in swinging. 

Your hand shoots out, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt. You’re a dear in the headlights, unsure if you should flee for your safety or stay and get hit by what’s coming. 

Joel’s hand slowly covers yours. It’s warm. It settles your breathing. His heart beats under your palm a little faster than his calm demeanor lets on. 

You sniff back the tears. You realize you were so focused on the traps underfoot that you didn’t realize you walked right into the mouth of one from the very beginning. The moment you leaned into Joel’s familiarity, it snapped shut with no way out. Joel cautiously reaches out, swiping away the tears on one cheek. When you don’t shy away from his touch, he wipes away the others.

It’s a spacious trap. There’s room to roam around. You don’t feel confined, and Joel is in it with you. 

“I don’t have to walk with ya tonight.” His voice is quiet. His eyes are soft and understanding. “I understand if you need some space.” 

Despite offering you space, he squeezes your hand tighter and leans in, and godamnit, you like it. 

“No.” You shake your head. “Stay. I like the company.” 

His brow furrows. “You sure, Sweetheart?” 

“Yeah.” You nod. His shirt eases back around his chest now crinkled from your grip, but your hand stays. “Believe it or not, I enjoy having you around.” 

You force a smile. 

“Yeah…” He smiles softly. “Me too.” He takes a step backward. You ignore the soft pang in your chest at the increased distance. 

You and Joel settle back into the path as you have the past two nights, but he’s closer tonight. His shoulder brushes yours every so often. He keeps the conversation light. He doesn’t ask about your anxiety attack. 

At the end of your walk, Joel’s arm slides around your waist pulling you against his chest. Your breath catches as his other hand slides across your shoulder blades leaving a trail of fire behind it, landing at the base of your skull. He comes over you like a wave, heavy and disorienting when it hits but peaceful once it settles. Your eyes close, resting your head against his chest. 

His fingers knead slowly at your skull, releasing built-up tension. Sparks ignite low in your belly. You don’t try to extinguish them this time. 

“Sleep well, Sweetheart.” 

You swear you feel his lips on your forehead, but he’s gone before you have time to consider it further, back behind his door leaving you to wrestle with that moment all night. 

On Thursday morning, Joel works in the barn fixing the big swinging door when Tommy strides in. Joel is so focused on his craft, the long-forgotten feel of wood beneath his touch that he doesn’t catch the grin etched on his younger brother’s face. 

“What’s going on, big brother?” Tommy says with a prying tone.

“Can you hand me that hammer?” Joel says, sweat beading his forehead. 

Tommy chuckles, handing it to Joel. 

Joel turns an eye toward him. “You’re in a good mood.”

“A little birdie told me something.” 

Joel lifts an eyebrow. He doesn’t have time for Tommy’s antics. There’s a door to fix and he knows his brother gets more joy drawing things out. Joel does not. “What?”

“Oh come on- you have to guess.”

“Tommy, since when have I played along with your games?”

Tommy sighs. “Buzz kill.” 

Joel chuckles.

“Rumor has it, you’ve been walking around with a certain babysitter.”

Joel’s face falls stoic. “She’s not the babysitter anymore.” He sets down the tools with a sigh “What’s it to you?”

“Oh come on, Joel. Is that why she’s been smiling so much lately? You giving her a reason to smile?” Tommy grins.

Joel looks at Tommy through the corner of his eye. “You askin’ me if I’m fucking your dead buddy’s widow?”

It flashes across his face, the pain of losing someone so close before his smile is back in place. Joel doesn’t have time to feel bad for it. 

“Not to sound crass, but he’d be happy if you were.”

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Joel lets the tool drop to the ground, giving in to Tommy. 

Tommy sighs. “When I came to Jackson, she smiled all the time. Reminded me of when we’d get back from a job and she and Sarah were up to no good.” Joel’s nods. He’d felt the same pull toward you. “Gabe- he kept her smiling. I know we’ve all been through some dark shit, but she went at it alone. Since his death, her smiles have been few and far between ‘til now. He didn’t want her to go back to how she was before. Told Maria that much.”

“Maria?”

“Yeah, they were out on patrol together when he got infected.” 

Hit stomach hit the ground. If Maria was with Gabe when-  “Shit,” Joel breathes. “I didn’t realize.”

“Yeah…” Tommy says but doesn’t let the silence linger. Gabe’s demise is still a sore subject for him. “Gabe, all he wanted was for her to be happy, for her to smile. You’re doing that, and it’s a big deal.”

Joel hopes his brother doesn’t catch the stutter in his breathing, the way his thoughts drift back to you. He doesn’t need anyone’s permission. You’re grown adults, but it’s there. Gabe wanted you to be happy- they all want you to be happy and somehow, he’s one of the people that does that. Tommy’s not judging him at the possibility of being interested in a woman 13 years his junior. If anything, he’s encouraging it. Joel feels easier and lighter. In it all, he realizes just how much he wants you. 

The following evening, Joel is almost embarrassed at how quickly he clocks the missing gold band on your left knuckle. His mind races with possibilities. He knows you don’t wear it when you work at the clinic, but he hasn’t seen you without it outside of the clinic. Granted, the only time he’s noticed was on your walks. Did you forget it? His heart leaps a little. Did you do it on purpose? And you’re wearing those damn matching pajamas again. The same ones that got him here in the first place. 

There’s something in the air tonight. The hairs on his arms stand on end. He walks closer to you. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable or make things weird, but the whole time his eyes keep drifting back to your bare knuckle. What does it mean? And he wants to know if you feel the same. 

He can't feel the way your skin burns, heat exploding like fireworks across your body blooming and fizzling one after another. You’re tempted to pull him off your beaten path early, dragging him in front of the whole town across your threshold after just the first lap, but you resist and spend the next lap wondering if he’s walking closer tonight, talking slower tonight. Even the timbre of his voice seems to change, conveying the burning need of desire. Still, you hesitate to confirm it. Maybe you’re wrong about it all. What if you’re wrong about it all? 

Joel follows you to your porch tonight. Maria’s suggestive remarks fill your brain. More than walking is okay. It puts out any doubts filling your head. You glance up at Joel, you read it in his expressive eyes. Eyes you’ve come to know so well. You’re fighting the fire blazing its way through your body with logic and reasoning. Neither is good at fighting fires, and your limbs burn with desire.

Joel waits at the bottom of your porch steps. You rest against the support beam watching him with a careful eye. 

He gives you an easy smile. “I enjoy our walks.”

He makes no moves toward or away from you. He’s leaving this in your hands. You’re not naive. Just sex in this world comes with its own set of risks. It requires trust in a world without STD testing, treatment, and contraceptives. You’re still well within childbearing age. Maria’s pregnancy is a constant reminder, but you trust Joel. You always have.

He stands at the bottom of your porch steps, hands in his pockets as you lean against the support beam. He’s staring at you with that look you’ve caught glimpses of this past week but it’s on full display now, burning into you like a raging wildfire. 

You tip your head up, catching a glimpse of the moon under the awning. A smile plays on your lips. You’re buzzing like you’ve spent the evening sipping on cocktails at the bar. “I shouldn’t tell you this- but here we are.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise. “Tell me what?”

His voice is smooth and bold like a cup of morning coffee. You can taste it on your tongue- bitter but full of life. You laugh to cover up the embarrassment flooding to the surface, but you feel alive for the first time in a long time. You wonder if he’s seen the desire in your eyes too. You know it’s been there. You want him, and you intend to have him tonight.

“I had the biggest crush on you in high school and college.” 

Something about putting the words out there doesn’t seem as embarrassing as it did 5 seconds ago. You’re a grown-ass adult and that was 20 years ago. Joel chuckles and you join him again, laughing under the moonlight like he’s dropping you off after a first date and you’re playing with your keys. 

Joel’s boots hit the first step, hand gliding over the worn railing. “You did? Must’ve done a damn good job at hiding it.”

“Or maybe you were just blinder than a bat.” 

“Were you trying to make moves on me then?” Joel comes up the second step. His body heat is just out of reach. 

“No. Wouldn’t have been appropriate. I knew that much.”

Joel rises to your level. You can smell him now- pine. It's one of the three scents you can trade for in this town. You didn’t imagine differently. Joel didn’t strike you as a Lavender or Lemon kind of guy. His hand rests above your head as he invades your space. You feel his body heat close in. You stand straighter, meeting his searing gaze. The air is thick between you as your breathing deepens. 

“And what about now? Would it be appropriate now?” 

His voice is low and husky. Just how you imagined it would be all those years ago, but you still catch the hesitancy in his eyes, the restraint pulling at his throat. It sets a fire burning across your skin.

You step back, ducking out of his space. You miss his proximity immediately. You catch the slight embarrassment that flashes across Joel’s face. He looks around nervously like he didn’t just read the situation completely wrong. You feel almost bad as your hand touches the door knob and you look back at him.

“Are you gonna come in?” You open the door. He looks relieved. “I think the neighbors are gonna talk, but I’d rather keep them talking than put on a show.”

You turn your back to him crossing the threshold. You try to calm your beating heart. His boots are heavy on the porch. Before you can comprehend it, the front door shuts. The hardwood presses against your back, and Joel’s hands rest against the door on either side of your head. You feel the heat radiating off him, but he doesn’t touch you. Your hands hang in fists at your side refusing to touch him first. You meet his wild gaze. 

He leans in and heat rushes through your body settling in your core. You squeeze your legs together and wonder if he catches it. You tilt your chin up to meet his lips. They come so close but circle just out of your reach. His hot breath hits your ear making your toes curl. You want to fuss at him. You almost do, but resist. You’re wet and he has yet to touch you. 

“Tell me this is okay. Tell me you want this.” He’s still hovering, refusing to touch you.

Your head turns to meet his gaze. He thinks he’s doing something wrong. “Joel, I’m a 43-year-old woman, not some naive-”

“Tell me.” There’s a force behind it, a desperation. 

You look at his eyes, blow wide with lust. It shortens your breath. Your limbs feel heavy with need.

“I want you.”

He surges forward, lips crashing into yours. Your teeth nash against each other, but you don’t care. Threading your fingers in his thick curls, you pull him closer, craving him. Desire pumps through every ounce of your being.

His hand settles over your hip slipping under your pajama shirt. Your nipples harden as his hand glides over your skin, going up until he cups your breast. His thumb circles over your clothed nipple and you gasp into his mouth. He smirks pressing you further into the door. Your leg instinctively hooks over his hip and his hard cock presses against your core. 

“Joel.” You moan, moving your hips against him.

A moan falls off his lips as he sucks on your bottom lip. “You’re killing me, Sweetheart.”

He moves to your neck. His fingers wrap around the back of your thigh guiding your other leg around his waist. He squeezes your breast again and your legs squeeze around him. He bucks into you. 

Your head falls back granting him further access to your neck. You need to be out of your clothes. You want Joel out of his. You don’t care if it’s here or in your bedroom or somewhere else. It needs to happen and it needs to happen soon. 

Your fingers find the buttons of his shirt. There’s an urge to rip it open and let the buttons scatter across the floor like you’d seen in movies, but you don’t. Resource management is still essential even in the throws of passion. 

The first two pop open. He’s sucking on your neck, nipping like a herd dog. “You tryin' to mark me, Miller?” He pulls your Texas draw out like honey.

He doesn’t respond, teeth grazing your collarbone, making you gasp. His hips jut forward and his name rolls off your tongue. 

He pulls up your shirt, groaning when your sports bra comes into view. He’s not getting you out of that while you’re against the door. It’s like you can read his mind. “First door at the top of the steps.”

He glances up the staircase behind him. You think he’s gonna let your legs drop to the floor and drag you up the steps. Instead, his fingers dig into your ass. Before he can lift you away from the door, he realizes you’re not wearing underwear under your thin pajama shorts. 

“How long have you been walkin around without panties, Sweetheart?” His cock brushes over your core. You’re sure you’ve left a wet spot on his jeans by now. 

“How long have you known me?” It’s out of your mouth before you have time to think it through. Your cognitive function has been reduced to one goal: getting Joel Miller into your bed. 

Joel considers the implication. For a split second, you think it might make him bolt. Remind him that he knew you as a teenager, but he groans, leaving you putty in his calloused hands. He presses hot, open-mouth kisses on your neck. Your fingers tangle in his hair to keep his mouth on your flesh. His hands adjust under your ass and he’s carrying you up the steps. 

It doesn’t matter how fit survival made you, going up the steps with the extra weight of a toddler was hard enough, much less your entire body. It’s far from effortless on Joel’s part. He gives up on the third step. You applaud his efforts through your laugh. 

“Come on, old man.” You wink, dragging him behind you up the remaining stairs. 

“Who you calling old man?” He growls, crowding behind you. 

He kicks your bedroom door closed and you pray it doesn’t wake your sleeping child. 

You pull off your shirt. Joel backs you onto your soft mattress. Before you have a chance to catch up, his fingers are in the elastic of your flimsy pajama shorts sliding them down your legs in haste. Letting them fly across the room. Your bra joins them in quick succession. 

He’s crawling over you so slowly, eyes raking over your bare body as he does. You burn under his gaze and he’s still not touching you, not in all the places you crave. 

His jean-clad thighs push against yours, spreading your legs slowly. They’re rough against your thighs, but in the way you love. You reach up, allowing your fingers to play in his hair again. He pushes into your touch, eyes fluttering closed as his lips leave soft kisses over your palm. 

His hand starts on your hip. You push into his touch a soft moan vibrating in your throat as you bite your lip. You’ve always loved the feel of your hips being touched. He chuckles, sliding his hand up your sternum. He comes just under your breast before ghosting his fingers back down. He repeats the path but this time with his lip. They leave a fire burning across your body in their wake. You watch him under heavy lids and low hums. 

He doesn’t stop under your breasts this time. His tongue slips out as he makes it to your nipple, going over it with one smooth swipe. It pulls a sweet gasp from you. He repeats the process with your second breast. You roll your hips as his name rolls off your lips. 

He groans nipping up your chest again. Your hands roam up and down his back. You catch the faint catch of scarring every now and then, but it’s all a part of Joel. It tells his story and you’re a part of that now. If it’s just tonight, that’s fine. If it’s more- you won’t think about that. 

His teeth scrape against your collarbone, pulling you back into the here and now. He doesn’t slow down as he ascends your throat crawling higher and higher until his lips are on yours. Your fingers are in his hair. He slides his tongue into your mouth and his hand over your breast, tweaking your tight nipple every third interval. 

You push your pelvis against his. You’re slick and desperate for relief, and his jeans are still on. 

Joel chuckles, squeezing your breast as he devours your mouth. Your hands make their way down his chest to the fly of his pants. You pop open the button before Joel pulls back. You try to capture him again, but he slips away.

You want to whine and throw a temper tantrum. “Joel.” You fuss, pupils blown wide. 

He chuckles deeply. “I know, Sweetheart.” 

He brushes over your hips with his fingers dragging them down your thigh. Before you can spread your legs for him, he pushes your knees up revealing your slick cunt. 

You expect more teasing, for him to lean in and pull back right away, but he doesn’t. He leans in, nose running through your wet folds. You moan out his name trying desperately to get closer to him. 

His hand drags down your stomach, spreading your lips. He eased down again, dragging his tongue through on his second journey. 

Your moans grow louder. You tug on his curls. When he pulls your clit between his lips, your legs snap, trapping his head between your thighs. There’s a tug in your stomach. Joel continues to work the sensitive bundle over and over and over. Your pleas turn to encouragement until they’re no longer words at all. Please. Yes. Yes. More. More. More. The sounds marry together with your body, an extension of sensation until warmth spreads throughout like water soaking through a paper towel across your entire body in a crescendo long laid dormant. 

Joel works his way back up your body with hot opened mouth kisses as you pant, catching your breath. Your fingers brush across his back in smooth trails. He shivers against your touch. 

“So beautiful.”

Heat races toward your cheeks as if the previous minutes weren’t worthy of that. He smiles, dipping down to touch your lips. 

Your hands work toward his waistband. You shove his pants down as best you can. Joel tuts your name softly but helps in your pursuit. His pants and underwear fall to the floor, his cock standing tall. You ogle it like it’s water in the desert.  “Someone’s eager.”

“Wanna take care of you too.” You pant, still fighting for breath. 

Joel's head falls back. “Fuck, not to tonight, Sweetheart.” His hand tangles in your hair. 

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw and then another and another. “I’m not gonna last long tonight and I wanna make sure I get the chance to be inside you.”

It is the damn truth too. Joel hasn’t been with anyone in almost a year. He hadn’t had the chance for much other relief while traipsing across the western states either. His body is only starting to come down from the constant alertness and tension that came with being on the outside. 

You spread your legs out, your dripping pussy on display for Joel. He swallows, crawling over you. You hook a leg over his waist. Joel takes his time, igniting small fires over your skin. You whimper with impatience, making him laugh. 

“Please, Joel.”

“So goddamn impatient for me.”

Does he know how goddamn patient you’ve been? That this picture embedded itself in your mind 25 years ago? A picture you labeled never gonna happen. 

Finally, he eases into you, slowly, like he’s savoring it. Watching his eyes roll back in his head confirms that he is, sending shivers down your spine. You force your hips toward him, forcing him further into you. You’d forgotten the satisfying stretch of being wrapped around a man. Your moans tangle with Joel’s as he enters you fully, sweat forming across your abdomen.

His fingers intertwine with yours on the mattress. His eyes lock with yours, sending more shock waves across your skin. Your walls clench around him of their own volition. He falls forward with a hiss, catching himself on his forearm. “Fuck, Sweetheart. It’s been a long time. I ain’t gonna last if you keep doing that.”

You squeeze his hand and trail your fingertips down his chest and stomach. He shudders at your touch. It sends another thrill, another wave of electricity straight to your bones. You squeeze him again, and he gasps. You’ve forgotten what it was like to have this effect on a man. 

“You gonna fuck me, old man?”

He groans, burying his face in your neck. Hot breath spreads across your skin in an uncontrollable blaze. Finally, his hips rock against yours, setting sparks off where his skin connects with yours. You moan, arching your back and baring for skin for him to consume. He nips at your neck and collarbone, teeth scraping behind. Your breath catches and Joel notices. His eyes sparkle down at you with mischief. 

He nibbles at your ear lobe. “I’m going to keep that tucked away for later.” and then he picks up the pace, pulling out and pushing in over and over. Your stomach clenches at the promise of more. More than one night. Nights. You shut your brain off there. Any further and you’ll spiral. 

You focus on the thrust of his hips. In and out. In and out. Your hands land on his hips, thumbs caressing the skin there. A bead of sweat falls from Joel’s brown. His lips land on yours again. You can tell he’s close, the tension of your orgasm building. 

You slip a hand to your cunt, reaching for your clit. Joel smacks your hand away, replacing it with his own. “That’s my job, Darlin.” 

Your nipples tighten. Your walls clench around him, your head swimming with incoherent thoughts and words as the sweat builds across your flushed body. Joel barely touches your clit before you’re crying out, muscles tightening before releasing with pleasure. It crashes over your body like much-needed waves after years of drought. 

“Fuck,” Joel hisses, pulling out of you completely. 

His lips connect with yours, soft and tender this time. His calloused hands cradle your face as small cries come from your mouth as words still fail to form. 

“I know, baby. I know.” He kisses your forehead, pushing back your hair until you come back down. 

Your limbs tingle and your body buzzes with a relaxing energy. You’d forgotten what the high was like- the comedown. You feel lighter than you have in months, years even. A smile begins to spread across your face, the bubbling of laughter in your chest. You run your fingers through Joel’s hair and he smiles back. 

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing really.” But the soft rumble of your chest continues.

“Is that so?” Joel’s crow’s feet crinkle making your heart clench. He presses another soft kiss to your lips, another to your forehead. 

“That’s so,” you hum with contentment. 

He chuckles. “We should get you cleaned up.” 

Joel eases off the bed, entering through the open door of your en-suite bathroom. You take a second to appreciate his bare form before your gaze travels to your own body. Your brain finally registers Joel’s warm semen, sticky across your stomach. 

You send up a prayer that Joel had the wherewithal you didn’t in the moment. You’re almost embarrassed how long it took you to realize he finished on your stomach. 

Joel steps back into the room, washcloth in hand. “Thank god for modern amenities.” He winks at you as he sits on the edge of the bed, bringing the warm cloth to your stomach. 

“I’ve got it,” you say, pushing Joel’s hand away as he tries to clean you up. 

“I don’t mind cleaning up after myself.” A smirk plays in his eyes but flickers away when you don’t reciprocate. 

You lean away from him, shoulders tensing. “I prefer to do it.” 

His fingers glide over your bare thigh as you wipe away the last of him, setting the cloth on your nightstand. Goosebumps raise in salute with each of his motions. Your back rests against the headboard as you both sit in naked silence. 

Not a word passes between you. His fingers continue across your thigh. You watch him, his profile, his fingers until the anxiety sets in. Your stomach twists in knots. Your frame is rigid. You pick at the sheets, unable to look Joel’s way. 

He knows it. He feels your walls go up before you can’t look his way so he withdraws his hand, collects his clothes- all but the flannel lying downstairs- and kisses your forehead. Then he waits. 

He’s waiting for you to look at him. His eyes watch your profile, burning it until you can no longer bear it. You push back the tears, meeting his eyes. 

He smiles softly, understandingly. “Same time tomorrow?” 

Your stomach clenches and turns in a ball of excitement and dread. “Same time tomorrow.”

With the reassurance, he kisses your head for a final time. “Sleep well, Sweetheart.”

Then he leaves for the night like you told yourself you wanted.

[miasmaghoul]

Mushy May '24 - Day 2

Thanks to @forlorn-crows for the prompts and @ghuleh-recs for the banner ♡♡♡

Late Night Snacks

Rating: T

Pairing: Aeon & Cumulus

Word Count: ~1k

It's late when Aeon leaves his room, rubbing tired eyes and grumbling under his breath. Yet another sleepless night; it's better than it used to be, the insomnia, but some nights are worse than others. They've all assured him it's normal, something they all went through in their first months Above, but Aeon longs for the day his legs don't itch and his brain chatter stops. Soon, he hopes.

For now, though, he has to move. Despite the slump in his spine and the chilly stone against his bare feet, he sacrifices the comfort of his bedroom in favor of taking a lap or two around the hall. Used to be he'd need to run the grounds to get the tension in his muscles to release, to bolt through the grass until his lungs burned and his legs were jelly before the frenzy would settle. Aeon doesn't mind only needing an ambling walk through the pitch dark dorms instead.

Except tonight it isn't dark. Not entirely. At the far end of the hall, Aeon catches a dim light coming from the doorway to the common room. It's barely anything, but it's enough to pull a curious chirp from his throat and have him shuffling towards that glow. He pokes his head around the doorframe and finds that the source of that gentle light is the fridge bulb, and standing at kitchenette island - 

“Lus?”

Cumulus is at the counter, swaying serenely to a song that must only be in her head. She's dressed in a mostly undone button-up shirt that exposes the valley of her breasts and falls to the tops of her lovely thighs, her curls pulled up into a messy bun that filters the fridge light in a way that certainly shouldn't be as pretty as it is. She doesn't look particularly surprised to see him, a loose smile curling her lips when he steps into the room.

“Hey, sugar,” she purrs, wiggling her fingers at him. “Couldn't sleep?”

“Not so much,” Aeon murmurs, slouching his way over to the island and hopping up into one of the stools there. Cumulus has a bowl of something in front of her, a wooden spoon in her hand and containers of things all over. “What about you?”

The ghoulette adds a splash of something to the bowl and the scent of something sweet hits his nose when she stirs. Now that he's up close he can make out eggshells and flour, butter wrappers and brown sugar.

“Had a craving,” she says with an airy giggle, and when she looks up at him it's with obviously bloodshot eyes. Oh she is stoned. Aeon grins, resting his chin on one hand.

“At 2am?” Cumulus scrapes her spatula against the rim of her bowl and sets it aside, picking up a bag of something Aeon can't quite see. “Must be some good…what, cookies?” It's a guess based on the few afternoons he's spent in this kitchen with Mountain, and his tail gives a happy little twitch when she nods. 

“Oh it's good,” Cumulus lilts, adding a couple handfuls of what Aeon now recognizes as chocolate chunks to the mix. She folds them in with practiced hands. “But technically it's not cookies.”

Aeon raises an eyebrow, tipping his head. Cumulus offers no further explanation as she stirs, and if his gaze wanders to her jiggling chest then surely Aeon can't be blamed for it. 

The fridge hums in the background, still casting its chilly light over the pair of them. It feels cozy in a way Aeon doesn't quite know how to describe. Peaceful. It can't be more than a few seconds of silence, but it's still long enough for his tired brain to drift. He jumps a little when a spoon appears in front of his nose, blinking over at the ghoulette.

“What -” 

“Don't you wanna try it?” She waves the spoon under his nose, Aeon inhaling vanilla and buttery sweetness. “Promise it'll be the best you've ever had.” 

“Huh?” Aeon blinks down at the spoon, finds it holding a dollop of her creation. That doesn't seem right. “Don't you have to, like…bake it first?”

It's Cumulus’ turn to cock her head then. Her blink is slow, like a sleepy cat, and the little crease that forms between her pale brows is just lovely. 

“Aeon, baby, have you...never had cookie dough?” 

The disbelief in her voice is palpable, like she's just received life-changing news. Aeon shakes his head, and Cumulus flat-out pouts.

“That's so sad,” she laments, slinking around the end of the island. When she hoists herself up onto the stool next to him Aeon catches a glimpse of lacy pink panties, and he forces himself to look at the spoon in her hand instead.

“Why would you want to eat unbaked cookies?” He wonders out loud, licking his lips for reasons totally unrelated to Cumulus’ cleavage.

“You're about to find out,” she announces, smiling bright. “C'mon, open up and let me show you what you're missing.”

Aeon's stomach does a funny little flip when the feathered end of her tail caresses his calf, the words lighting up all sorts of places in his mind. His mouth drops open on autopilot when when holds up that spoonful, and his eyelids flutter when Cumulus reaches up to cup his sharp jaw. 

“Such a good boy,” she coos, feeding him his treat. Aeon momentarily wonders if she can see his thigh twitch, but then the flavor hits him and all that matters is the little slice of heaven in his mouth. Sweet, buttery, a little salty - it's delicious.

“Unholy shit,” he mumbles, a piece of chocolate starting to melt against his tongue and making his eyes roll. The ghoulette slips from her seat with an obviously pleased giggle, prancing back to her creation. Aeon licks individual granules of sugar from his fangs while she scoops the concoction into a container. “What the hell, why is that so good?”

Cumulus smiles wide, licking a smudge of dough from her thumb in a very intentional way. Aeon hopes he's not drooling, though he's not sure if it's from the view or the cookie dough.

“Some things are just better eaten raw,” she says with a wink, and the choked sound Aeon makes a has nothing to do with cookie dough. 

[green-tea-in-absinthe-bottle]

THE NIGHT BELONGS TO YOU (bonus chapter)

BLADE X FEM READER FANFIC, +18, smut

MASTERLIST

Bonus chapter of my Blade x reader fanfic, stay tuned in for the rest soon. It's pretty wholesome overall (found family trope with stellaron hunters etc). This part contains mostly spice and massaging Blade's hands for him, reader knows Blade for a long time already and they have close relationship. I think Blade is slightly OOC here.

It's my first fanfic and english is not my first language, so I'm sorry if it sucks. I NEED CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM.

Enjoy my first contribution to the fandom!

BONUS CHAPTER, All of Eden’s vices running through my veins

Pink, silk nightgown hugged y/n’s body in all the right places, lace barely covered flawless skin of her cleavage and upper part of her thighs. She always found it hard to sleep in summer heat as a native of Arkona, land known for it’s cold winds and snowy  mountains, so she gravitated towards skimpy clothing in most heated months of the year. Even winter here felt kinda warm to her, she used to walk outside without a jacket, just in a thick hoodie. Kafka tried to put her winter coat around Arkonian each time she saw her dressed like that, y/n found it very cute. She lived with Stelaron Hunters for over a year now, and despite their bad reputation she has never in her life felt more cared for and accepted. If somebody told her a year ago she will be baking Oak Cake Rolls using supersoldier mechasuit alongside friends, taking violin lessons from one of the most dangerous women in the universe or playing Tekken with overambitious young hacker while getting roasted by a hot immortal Y/N would advice them to go see a doctor.  

She looked at herself in the mirror, braiding her hair so they won’t warm her up further during her slumber. Her fingers worked fast, agile and flexible like branches of weeping willow despite going through hardships of martial arts training she went under Blade’s supervision. Halfway through, her attempt at classic hairstyle got interrupted by knocking on the door, audible despite music she put on in the background. Displeased, she secured it with a band and got up. The moment the door opened and revealed her male coworker there was nothing left of her sour mood. 

His red eyes looked her up and down, Blade was too done with bullshit today to check her out in less obvious way.  His hair was put up with elegant chanhua hairpin, decorated with delicate white flower ornament. It wasn’t a big change in his appearance, but it surely was eye-catching. He seemed more beautiful, majestic like a heron in flight with his hair up. Y/n sighed, impressed by his good looks and dignified aura. 

He was the first one to break the silence. He cleared his throat and spoke as nonchalantly as he only could in his rough voice. 

 - Good evening y/n, I just returned from work. I came here to check up on my apprentice and drop something off. I bought a gift for you during my last mission on Jarilo-VI, from famous local seller named Sampo. - he gave her the plastic bag he was hiding behind his back with slightly trembling hands. - I think you will appreciate it, you mentioned your willingness to use your massaging skills a few times so far. 

 - Hi dear. What kind of occasion is this? - she laughed a little. 

 - No occasion, I just saw it among other things he offered and thought about you. - he admitted with straight face. 

Arkonian thanked him and grabbed the bag. A little bit suspicious, she reached inside it and pulled out a small glass bottle filled with shiny liquid. Golden dust floating on top of it shimmered when she shook it. Attached label with a note written in cursive informed her that this substance is allegedly a massage oil.  

Y/n decided to check it just in case, she heard enough about Sampo and his scamming habits to not trust it carelessly. She opened the bottle and sniffed it. Pleasant lemon and bergamot scent hanged in the air. Hmm, not bad. Maybe Blade was 100th customer on that day and actually got a good quality bonus. 

 - Do you like it? - Blade attentively checked her face for reaction.  

 - To be honest I absolutely love it. - she admitted cheerfully. - But please, do not trust Koski too much in the future, trading with him is like a russian roulette. He can give you precious stuff or completely rip you off for a fake. 

- Good to know. - he took a mental note to check everything twice next time he visits this merchant. - Will you let me in? All this traveling around the galaxy really has worn me out. 

Y/n blushed heavily, only now did she realise she didn’t invite him inside her bedroom. 

 - Of course, make yourself comfortable. - she sat down on the bed, patting the mattress on the right side of her body. He closed the door behind himself before taking place next to her.  

 - So... How have you been when I was on the go? Did you behave yourself? No more cursing swords for now? - stellaron hunter spoke in low voice, coming off a bit strict. 

Y/n sighed and  rolled her eyes.  

 - I have been a good girl, don’t you worry man. - Blade cringed visibly at her words. She lied to him but he will surely have better occasion to learn about it soon enough. Arkonian was not in the mood for his preaching now. - How was work? Any unpleasant surprises? 

 - You know, with Elio’s gift it’s already very hard to be taken by surprise, now we also have your visions. Why do you worry so much? - he was quick to dismiss her anxiety. 

 - I still remember how our first mission went. It’s not entirely unpleasant memory, after all we got so much closer to each other that day. - gentle smile adorned her face as she blushed unknowingly, recalling past events. - Yet, you did get hurt badly that day. Can you blame me for reacting like that? 

 - Since that one time we had no such incidents, however it does not make your concern any less valid. - he admitted. Awkward silence has set in, sated with unvoiced desires. He felt it was him who should break it, now or never. - I didn’t come here to discuss business matters. In fact, I hoped you could help me unwind. It was such a long week. - his voice came out a bit suggestive. Was this really the same guy who used to barely speak in her presence months ago and scoffed at her endeavors to get closer?  

 - It’s so bad that you prefer to be distracted from it over confiding in me? - Y/n raised one of her eyebrows.  

 - Exactly. Speaking of which, don’t you think it’s a good moment to put your new ointment to the test? - he gestured towards oil bottle she held in her hand. Y/n still was not used to him being so direct with his wants, it took her a few seconds to process his request.  

- Are you sure this is what you want? - she whispered, looking him straight in the face. With the kind of injuries he had survive she didn't know if she could truly help him with lingering pain and stiffness, but she definitely knew that nothing can be done to help him in long term either way. 

- Yes, it's worth a shot. Don't worry, I don't expect much to begin with. - he sighed. - Why ask, wasn't it you who convinced me to do this so many times? You got cold feet? 

- No, it's just... - she exhaled softly, shifting in place. - Thank you for trusting me. 

She took his palm in hers tentatively, noticing  Blade had no gloves on. He normally avoided taking them off, but it wasn't her first time inspecting old scars on his skin. They covered his hands densely, she recalled patching up some of those wounds. He compared their fingers, slightly smirking at how big he looked like in comparison to her. One of her hands found elegant oil bottle, she let few drops fall on the top of his left hand, then she spread it over the top of it. With round, gentle moves she caressed it, avoiding his eyes. Then she rubbed each of his long, thick fingers separately, stretching them out. Calloused skin and rigid joints hardly submitting to her attempts at relaxing them.  

Shimmering dust made his scars stand out even more, they were like cracks on his porcelain skin. Arkonian once heard of Kintsugi, art of repairing broken pottery by mending it back with gold. But she was not delusional, Blade was not to be whole ever again, no amount of care could glue him back together. She knew, and she accepted him the way he was. Fragments of what was left of him put together by cruel fate like a stained glass, equally sharp and fragile. Legendary craftsman's last masterpiece bursting at the seems, burdened with weight of unforgivable sin. 

Music in the background switched to Sweather weather by The neighbourhood when she turned his palm upside down, once again intertwining their fingers as she rotated his hand while securing it with her other one to loosen up his wrist, then she used both her hands to stretch his out backwards as her thumbs rubbed from the middle of his palm to the sides, opening it up and relaxing every muscle. He felt horribly stiff under her fingers but she expected this already, aware of his past injuries. Arkonian just hoped she could bring him some alleviation from chronic pain, even tho his dexterity will never return. 

 Concentrated on doing her job as well as she only could, she missed his lazy grin and warm, full of lust gaze fixated on her face. Even little sighs of relief getting out his throat when she dug into the meat between his thumb and index finger escaped her attention. He hasn't been touched in tender way for so long, past centuries of his life consisted mostly of silent prayers for death among endless battles, constant suffering and countless cuts from his enemies weapons. Those few who were somehow kind to him still avoided touching his broken body, afraid of mara lurking inside him like a rabid dog. Blade melted into pleasant, warm sensation more and more, he felt way too relaxed for his own good. Being physical usually felt like a sin, state of his flesh a punishment for his crimes, pain it's burning reminder - yet, in that moment with her, his body hesitantly shed it's defences, out of his newfound comfort something grew, deep in his abdomen, heat slowly spreading over him, clouding his mind. With all her curves on display in a nightgown Blade still felt most tempted by those soft lips she unconsciously licked when she focused on him. If he made a move would she look at him with disgust and turn away?  

When he looked in the mirror all he saw was disfigured abomination but y/n looked at him like he was someone. Like he wasn't defected, turned into a monster. He wanted to believe that he is the man she saw in him, to smash every mirror in this damn place and only seek answers about himself in her eyes, that now stared back at him. Her lips slightly parted, skin glistening with sweat, and those wide doe eyes. So sweet, so soft... Seemingly in his reach. He could not ignore this thirst any longer.  

Gently, he pulled her to himself by the hand she caressed him with, when her fragrant body landed in his lap his lips found her fingers. He planted passionate kiss on every knuckle, massage oil covering her palm made his lips softer and more juicy. Arkonian couldn't stop herself anymore as well, she kissed him with all the hunger she cultivated in herself over months spent together. She knew he was not used to affection and receiving kisses, so she lead it, but Blade was just as enthusiastic, deepening it and turning his tongue around hers. 

 They grinded against each other slowly, to the rhythm of the music. Y/n could barely hear Sugar by Sleep Token playing in the background when sounds of heavy breathing and Blade's grunts filled the room. It was way too hot for her in this place, she quickly took of her nightgown, now sat on top of him only in drenched lace panties. His reaction was worth more than any words he could express his desire and admiration for her body with, y/n had no doubts she was just his type when he looked at her with pure wonder. 

 His hair was messy, hairpin disappeared somewhere just like all his mental restraints. He teased her with his fingertips through delicate fabric, her thighs throbbed in response. She let him rip her panties off of her. Those big, calloused fingers massaged her so well, stretching her tight hole deliciously, but could they prepare her for this big thing she felt growing in his pants? Just thinking about it made her so wet slick dripped down his palm. 

Blade reluctantly took his hand away to lick it off his fingers. He wanted to taste her for a while now, and with satisfaction he found out she was just as sweet as she looked like. Perfect fruit to rip and devour. He wanted to command her to sit on his face and ride it roughly, he would hold her down firmly so she couldn't get up until she would come at least twice. Wanted to show her he was good enough. Before he managed to turn those thoughts into reality she already took his hard manhood out of his clothes. 

- You know, maybe I could give you a special massage? - she winked at him, spraying some oil on it, then spread it with her both hands, one on top, teasing the tip, another near the base. Her hands moved in opposite directions as she gripped him and massaged his swollen member in circular motion. Whimper left his throat, shocking them both. He didn't even know how touch-starved he was, having only his sword to cling to for all those years, until she touched him, every cell of his wanted to beg for more. She rubbed over the vein under his dick with just the right amount of pressure. Her skilled hands played with him for minutes, discovering sensitive points he was not even aware of, but when Blade felt his orgasm approaching he stopped her movements.  

- I don't want to cum yet, I need to feel you around me first. Come here. - his husky voice giving her orders made her even wetter than she was before, way more than she thought was possible. He picked her up and put her right above his member, she carefully slid it inside of her inch after inch, there was no rush.  

- I know I am big, give yourself some time. - he encouraged her. No matter how much he just wanted to slam into her with full strength, her pleasure was more important to him. What was the point if she didn't enjoy it? He was never a gentle type but for her he wanted to be. She was still so fragile.  

While her body adjusted to his impressive length she took off his shirt, leaving him in unbuttoned pants only. In a second his pale, muscular chest  glistened with sweat and oil from her hands cause she just had to feel that men up. Pupils of his eyes widened at the sight of her breasts so close to his face. He sucked on them passionately basking in softness of her flesh, she giggled in response and stroked his head affectionately. They cuddled for a bit in that position, her cunt clenching around him while he rubbed circles over her back soothingly. Y/n was the first to move, slowly grinding into his hips and kissing his shoulders. She felt so safe and taken care of and so did he. Blade let her set her own pace for now, in fact he would let her do absolutely anything she wished for to him.  

Walls he built around his heart were near impenetrable, but once somebody got inside immortal warrior became defenceless against their whims, if he only could he would give them every star in the sky, even if he would never admit it aloud. He was always like that, back during High Cloud Quintet times he used to give his friends priceless weapons as a token of friendship, even now he had a hard time saying no when he went outside with his dear coworkers, always purchasing a new coat for Kafka, buying so many games for Wolfie that Kafka scoffed at them, agreeing to this annoying nickname he was given or even giving up his private cellphone for them. 

Blade despite all that never considered himself taken advantage of, it was clear none of those close to him would ever see him as a mere idiot to manipulate or a toy, after all such privileges were reserved for the most trusted people only. He cherished all their respect, yet for a long time he was unable to find any crumb of reverence for his broken being in himself. He called himself Blade, and it was easier for him to live believing he was nothing more than a tool of the fate, pain was a little bit more bearable for a broken masterpiece to take than it was for a man with great ambitions and ruined dreams whom he barely recalled and neither could or wished to be again.  

Blade is made to be used, powerless without the hand that guides it, created only to bring pain and bloodshed, yet now his body was harnessed for completely different purpose. Woman on top of him released heavenly moans each time she went down on his erected cook, her lips parted in a way that made him want to kiss her desperately once again, her eyes filled with hunger and pure adoration. He couldn't imagine his corrupted body had a potential to be a source of bliss to a woman or man anymore, last memories of such activities shared with friends from Quintet were barely vivid in his mind. Since his body was pierced a thousand times by his previous mentor he couldn't stand physical proximity of anybody, lightest touch made him tense up. During his trainings with Arkonian he grew accustomed to her closeness but the ease he took her touch with bewildered him. How easy she was to crave, to need, to take over his mind. How easy it was to not think anymore, to let her use him for her own pleasure, to be utilized for something else than spreading pain and misery for once.  

He took pride in her praises, opened himself to this new role, found fulfilment in it. Blade rubbed her tired hips up and down when she bounced on him, all sweaty, hot and blushing. So, so beautiful. She clenched on him, close to her orgasm. He needed her to cum for him, to sing his name even more. In attempt to earn more of her sweet reactions he thrust up into her. Slow, deep and very, very hard. This immediately pushed her over the edge. 

Y/n whimpered in a straight up angelic way, squirting all over his abdomen when his seed filled her hole. Orgasm hit Blade with all force of instincts denied for centuries, almost knocking him out. Addictive, ecstatic feeling shook his whole body, coercing moans out of his throat. His head fell on y/n's shoulder, and she brushed through his hair with her fingers, scratching his scalp and neck.  

 Libido  seemingly starved to death through centuries of neglecting primal needs once again woke up in him. In that moment he knew, it was not enough. He needed to take care of her perfectly fuckable, receptive, soft and welcoming body as well as his own desires till none of them could stand up. Inhaling her inviting scent his fingers dug into warm, delicate flesh of her hips when he carefully pulled her underneath him, his cook already hard again.  

Her skilled fingers reached out to feel his torso again, she put it carefully over his biggest scar, where his heart should be, unnaturally cold sensation of his sweaty skin grounded her. His palm covered her smaller hand, so delicate in comparison to his wide chest. She was not a petite woman by any means, her body was strong and used to harsh conditions of her home planet, but she could not lie, she loved how much bigger than her Blade was. How he towered over her, could embrace her in a way that made her feel completely protected and hidden in his muscular arms, like he did just now pressing her to bed with his body.  

Both his hands grabbed hers and pinned them down to the mattress, her thighs embraced his midriff.  She sated herself with him, engulfed in his smell she forgot the outside world, only two of them mattered now. Her form trembled underneath him when he moved, now much more decisively, fast and precise thrust slowly but surely emptying her brain from all unnecessary thoughts and worries, driving her crazy. 

His penetrating gaze never left her face, making sure there was no sign of discomfort or rejection.  But there was only satisfaction and invitation in her eyes, and for the first time in years he allowed himself to want something else than revenge and death, just for tonight. But deep down Blade knew it's not a one time thing, not when it feels so right. Not when he finally got a taste after convincing himself for months that it would be the best for everyone involved if he pretends Y/n is just a coworker to him, not a woman he dreams of each night before falling asleep. 

She hissed when his lips and fangs brushed over her pulse point. Poor y/n will have to cover up some hickeys in the morning, or who cares, he would simply tell her to keep them on sight, it's not like nobody can hear her cries. His steady, merciless pace made her climax way sooner than she expected, even so close to his own release he kept his rhythm. Her nails scratched his back harshly, but none of them worried if they will leave marks. This sensation combined with the way she clenched around him pushed him to his own orgasm. Praises y/n moaned into his ear went straight to his head, she shamelessly let him know just how much she loves what he does to her, how she wants him to never ever stop, how handsome and talented he is, how capable of making her cum harder than she ever did before for anybody else. He fucked her through her high with cocky smile on his face.  

As both of them calmed down he still moved inside her, giving y/n last few pushes, slow and gentle, as if he wanted to soothe her. Orgasmic haze faded away, leaving them with clear minds and sated bodies. Soon after her breathing evened out he pulled out kissing her forehead and picked his clothes up from the floor.  

- I thought you would stay with me - Arkonian barely managed to hide how hurt she was by the fact, that he just stood up instead of cuddling with her.  

- I will, but first do me a favour and put this on. - he passed her his shirt. - I don't want you to get sick and that's what will happen if you sleep in this thin lingerie of yours. 

- If I put this on will you come here? - she whined at him, pouting slightly.  

- You don't need to ask me twice. - Blade smiled at her. It looked a bit awkward.  

Y/n sighed in defeat and let him wrap way too big shirt around her, next he lied down by her side and covered them with a blanket. Not even a minute passed and she was out like a light. Blade admired how peacefully she slept in his arms, knowing damn well if something happened to her he would set whole known universe ablaze. Thought itself made his heart ache more than his hands did, unexpectedly y/n's massage indeed somehow alleviate the pain a little bit. He probably should ask her to do this more often, especially if it could end up with their bodies entangled once again. 

For now he decided to watch over her sleep and guard her through the night. He was well aware of her strength, she was more than able to protect her own self after hours of practicing martial arts with him, but sheltering Y/N from harm personally made him feel like he was doing a good job for his favourite girl. Sight of her in his shirt, smelling like him, covered in his marks with his semen dropping out of her made him feel like he claimed her in a way and it made him want to keep her safe and spoil her till she is ruined for other man cause nobody can satisfy her as well as he can.  

He wished he could enter her mind to learn all her deepest fantasies and cravings to fulfill them one by one so she needs him as much as he needed her. Perhaps she already did, y/n always considered him no matter what she was about to do, as if he was at all times on her mind. Took care of his wounds after missions and never judged him, never asked him to be somebody else. Never took advantage of his kindness or used any of his secrets against him, even in anger. Something so basic yet so rare nowadays. Y/n knew he yearned to rest in eternal peace but decided to cherish him either way without trying to fix those unrepairable parts of him or using him to feed any sort of saviour complex. Whenever he craved her company whether he was willing to admit that or not, she was always there for him, with cup of warm tea, bunch of bandages just in case and ready to listen about his struggles, always so understanding and nonjudgemental, his confidant, his true tranquillity. Flowing over him like holy water, washing away suffocating feelings inherited from his past.  Therefore in return he decided to give her the last years of his life and spend them well, making sure she's happy and secure. 

Blade promised this to himself with crescent moon above them as a witness, inspecting how it's soft light blessed y/n's features with ethereal glow. One thing he was sure of - once the time to join his fallen foxian friend in afterlife comes, y/n will understand and let him go with no resentment, but until then he will stay by her side like a silent protector, with red thread of fate binding them to each other, not as destiny's slaves but as it's choosers. 

[missusmiller]

my warrior // n.s x gn! human reader

pairing: neteyam x gn! human reader

contains: blood, cheating scene, fight scene, lots of aggression from reader, fluff, neteyam being awesome n sweet, angst if you squint and turn your head at a 75° angle then do a backflip, reader being scared of being seen, shitty writing

3.2k words

@marsconer @blueingsfairy @joalslibrary

notes: i just watched the movie and i didn’t know how the scientist compounds work exactly so lets pretend theres one in the hallelujah mountains and one on the ground a little far away from the first compound. reader lived on the one on the ground. also for plot convenience, reader was blessed by eywa as a baby to be able to breathe pandora air. she gave u na’vi lungs in the womb n shit bc ur parents loved her so much😻😻😻😻. yes. that makes sense yes.

summary/prompt: “i see you.”

“close your eyes then.”

________

“Are you fucking for real?”

Your latest boyfriend, Ian, and a girl you knew as Jasmine snapped their heads towards your menacing presence in the doorway. The looks on their faces showed pure horror as they could basically feel the anger dripping out of every pore in your body. You had just caught them tonguing eachother down in the large cleaning supply closet in the compound that all humans on Pandora lived in.

“I’m sorry, Y/N! I’m really sorry! You know I love you!” Ian sobbed out, knowing that all attempts to make excuses were futile with you.

His apologies meant nothing. You grabbed the nearest thing to you, which happened to be an empty mop bucket, and slammed it against his head with as much force as you could muster. If he wants to cheat, he can get beat the fuck up. Simply how it works.

Ian plunged to the ground with a yelp of pain. Taking this opportunity, you got on top of him and started delivering strikes after strikes to his once pretty face. Since you were stronger than him, Ian had no chance of getting out of the position you had him in. His cries for help echoed through the supply closet.

Jasmine begged you to stop, insisting that it was her fault and not his. In all honesty you didn’t blame her completely since it was Ian’s choice to cheat but god was her voice getting annoying.

It wasn’t until she grabbed your hair, pulling you off of Ian, that you actually touched her.

Hair pulling was foul so if she wanted to fight dirty, so could you.

You grabbed her admittedly beautiful hair and used it as a rope to slam her repeatedly against the one empty wall in the room.

But suddenly, multiple hands ripped you away from her. Many panicked voices surrounded the scene and before you knew it, you were told you had to have your shit packed to get sent away on an ikran to live with the Omaticaya people in a few days until further notice. The scientists told you it was just a temporary arrangement for you to learn morals and self control.

Then almost a week later, you were gone from the compound.

Not all was lost, though. It hadn’t been like you were totally new to the Na’vi people. Jake used to come around the compound with his children and they’d play with the human kids. You had been especially close to the eldest of the Sully kids. Y’all were like two peas in a pod. At least until age restricted the freedom to spend time together as you two got older and responsibilities became heavier.

In all honesty, you missed your friend. Which was mostly the reason why your heart felt like it was about to leap out of your chest in excitement and nervousness when the ikran landed on the edge of one of the mountains that had been home to many Na’vi and other scientists. The other reason for your anxiety was the amount of curious and cautious eyes on you.

Inak, your ikran uber driver, slid off of the large animal and helped you get down. He was a Na’vi man so it took no effort to pick you up and plop you on the ground. Jake greeted you and Inak and they conversed in Na’vi but you didn’t know enough words to fully understand.

While they talked, you truly took in your surroundings. The sky within your fingertips and the beautiful colors everywhere just took your breath away. In the compound, you didn’t see the mountains like this.

“Y/N, go with Jake now. I’ll see you in a bit, alright kiddo?” Inak said, rubbing your back for comfort with a comforting dorky smile smeared on his face. You nodded in understanding and with that he turned around and left. Inak was a pretty awesome dude. Scientist turned Na’vi through the consciousness transfer ritual.

Jake talked you through the tour of the home of the Omatikaya clan. You had trouble listening to everything he was saying because of the growing anxiety in your chest as you two came closer to a familiar group of rowdy kids.

“Kids! Look what the cat dragged in!” He exclaimed which got the attention of them all.

It took no time for you to have been almost tackled to the dirt by Tuktirey with her excitedly shouting, “It’s Y/N! Guys it’s my favorite human, they’re here! They’re here!”

She had gotten so much bigger since you last saw her which was around seven months ago. Too close to your height for sure.

You laughed heartily and embraced the girl back and said, “My wonderful Tuktuk! You’re so grown up now!”

Two more tall blue bodies joined the hug and your heart soared. Kiri and Lo’ak spat utter bullshit about who missed you more. There was nowhere to go in this group hug of death. But good death. Sure, you couldn’t breathe but these people are your loved ones so it sounds like a wonderful way to go out.

Suddenly, all three kids were tugged off of you and strong arms lifted you into an intense bear hug. Your legs dangled freely in the air due to the height difference.

“Neteyam.” You breathed, returning the hug with just as much vigor. He may have changed in the time you haven’t seen each other but you will forever recognize his hugs.

“I missed you, skxawng. Did you get a new best friend and forget about me?” He jokes as he puts you back on your feet.

You rolled your eyes, “Never. I hate everyone at that place. I’m actually here because I beat up my ex for cheating on me so the adults sent me here to learn restraint or whatever.”

His yellow eyes flickered over your face and body with an exasperated expression. The last time he saw you, you were timid and shy. You let people pick on you. Often times, Neteyam would have to come to your rescue. That person he was friends with was definitely not capable of having ‘ex’s let alone pummeling one to the point of your knuckles splitting.

Speaking of that, you definitely needed to get cleaned up and patched up.

“Let’s get your hands fixed up and you can tell me all about it, little warrior.” Neteyam insisted and I laughed before following him to his family’s home.

-

“She pulled your hair? What an ‘eveng. Can’t even fight properly.”

“Right? Then I grabbed her hair right back and slammed her head into the wall. Like girl, be so fucking for real.” You explained, using hand motions during your story with your hand that wasn’t being treated at the time. In your mind, it helped you get the point across.

Neteyam softly laughed at your antics. He never truly understood your human phrases or slang but he always saved them in the back of his mind to ask about later. The boy learned what ‘musty’ meant a while ago because of this.

The both of you told life stories of what had been going on during the time away from eachother. Neteyam had been growing into a mature boy more each time you saw him, mostly due to the overwhelming pressure of being the golden oldest child. Living up to Jake’s standards seemed absolutely impossible yet Neteyam did it. You on the other hand became tougher and rougher. Sadder as well. You dated around constantly and never seemed to be able to keep a relationship for more than a month. All this just to make yourself feel better. It was absolutely a downfall from your once beaming and sensitive self.

Neteyam couldn’t help but to blame himself yet again for your change. If he came around more, you wouldn’t have needed to toughen up to protect yourself from the fuckers at your ‘home.’

You crawled behind his sitting body, wrapping your legs around his waist and hugging his torso. Trying to comfort the boy, you said, “Teytey. Stop being emo bro because it’s not your fault. I couldn’t stay a little bitch forever you know? I just changed around them but I’m still the same person you knew only a few months ago. Just less…snotty and cry-y.”

His laugh vibrated through your body and you smiled against his back. “Cry-y isn’t even a word, Y/N.”

“It is now!” You said and swung your body around to tackle him to the ground. Then as you hovered over him, you took the liberty to give him a real nasty wet willy.

Neteyam gasped and cursed in shock and disgust before reaching his hands up your sides, tickling the sensitive skin.

You fell to the ground and laughed out profanities that were barely audible due to the lack of air in your lungs. Neteyam now loomed over you, continuing his attack. Your best friend only stopped when you declared him the winner of the squabble through breathless laughter.

He dropped next to you and you both laid in comfortable silence as you calmed down and wiped stray tears from your face.

The silence was quickly destroyed when the entire Sully family came into the home. You departed from Neteyam to talk to Kiri about the small insect in her hand that she was completely enraptured by.

“What is it?” You asked, laying your head on her shoulder comfortably to look at the fluorescent bug.

Kiri didn’t take her eyes off of it when she said, “I have no idea but look at it dance! It’s so cute.”

The bug was indeed dancing. It used the two back legs to lift it’s yellow rump in the air side to side.

You and Kiri laughed at the cute thing for a few more moments before she eventually let it go free.

It was coming to be about dinner time and whatever Neytiri was cooking smelled bomb as fuck. Neytiri never came around when Jake and the kids visited you. From your knowledge, she didn’t take to humans too fondly but you would never hold a grudge against her for that. If you were her you’d probably do the same.

Seeing her for the first time today was scary, though. She looked at you with this indescribable expression as you greeted her. When she did not greet you back, Lo’ak told you not to take it personally. You didn’t. You were more interested in how much Neteyam took after her. She was just so beautiful. The Sully family has some good genes for sure!

Once dinner was ready, Neteyam pulled you over to him. Basically not giving you a choice but to be next to him to eat. He slang a heavy arm over your shoulder to ensure any attempts to escape would not be successful. You rolled your eyes at his clinginess but secretly you adored it.

The family talked amongst eachother but you stayed silent, trying to ignore Neytiri’s eyes on you. The food was so damn good but you couldn’t even focus on it because it felt like she was trying to burn holes in your head with her eyes. Once you finished eating, you excused yourself and quickly walked out.

The air seemed fresher outside without the pressuring glare of their gorgeous mother. With your hands on your knees, you deeply inhaled and exhaled to try to calm your pounding heart.

Neteyam followed you out of the home, rubbing your back for comfort as you caught your breath. “She is intense but she doesn’t dislike you. She’s weary is all.”

You nodded in understanding which was all you could seem to do in the moment.

He paused his back rubbing sesh, thinking for a moment before saying, “Come on. I have something to show you.”

Like an obedient dog you followed him. Honestly, you’d follow him to the edge of the earth if he wanted you to but that’s besides the point.

Neteyam guided you to his ikran where he mounted the willing creature. A rush of excitement passed through you as you realized what was happening. He swooped you up by your waist and plopped you down behind him.

“I’ve been meaning to give you this for so long when I finally got my ikran but my duties got in the way. Here you go.” Neteyam said with a slightly sad tone as he reached into his side pouch and pulled out a small pair of flying glasses. They matched the ones that were sitting on top of his head.

You beamed with joy as you took them, thanking him a million times over. They fit perfectly.

For Neteyam, it felt like a dream. He was finally about to ride with you, something he’s dreamt about doing since the day that you two made it official that you were best friends. He loved you, truly. And now that you were finally within his grasp again he promised himself that he’d never let go no matter what his duties were or how busy he was.

Neteyam warned you to hold on tight before the ikran dipped down into the sky between the mountains. You gripped onto his waist like he was going to disappear in your arms. He noticed this and reached a hand back to grip onto your thigh to give you a better sense of security. The innocent act made electricity shoot up your spine. Your face burned despite the cool air whipping against it.

It’s not like you were stupid, though. Your intense crush on your best friend has lasted for years so no doubt his touch made you react that way. Your heart beat like crazy but so did Neteyam’s. The hard thumping in his chest was just from excitement, right?

As he did flips and harsh dips, laughs escaped your mouth, both from fear and excitement.

“Oh my god,” Your voice was airy as you yelled, “I’m gonna fucking die!”

You couldn’t see his face but you were sure he rolled his eyes when he replied with, “So dramatic!”

Suddenly, he started ululating as we soared through the sky.

He sounded so happy it made your heart throb with joy.

“C’mon, Y/N! Do it with me!” He insisted.

“Teytey, I don’t know how!” You yelled over the loud sound of wind blowing in your ear.

Neteyam patted your thigh before he gripped it again and said, “Feel the energy in you! Use your tongue!”

You laughed outwardly at his sentence but nonetheless followed his instructions. A cry of absolute adrenaline left your mouth. It felt so powerful as you let all of your energy out.

“That’s my warrior!”

The praise alone made you feel like you were about to explode.

Eventually the ride had to come to a stop as eclipse was quickly pproaching. But, Neteyam still had one more thing to show you so if that meant he would break curfew then so be it.

He swooped the ikran up to the top of one of the Hallelujah mountains. The darkness of the oncoming night made the nature around you so bright. You two climbed off of the ikran, him helping you of course, and he led you to a particular spot on the floating rock. It was a grassy area that had pretty fluorescent flowers surrounding it.

His demeanor seemed to become nervous as he sat down and motioned for you to follow suit.

“Tey? What’s wrong?” You immediately noticed the change and put your right hand against his face, the left on his knee.

He sighed and leaned into your touch. “Y/N. I promised myself I would never leave you lonely like I did before. Now that you’re within my reach I never want to let you go.”

His eyes were too intense in this moment to look at. Instead you focused on his white freckles as you said, “Neteyam, you’re acting as if we haven’t seen eachother in years.”

“Even a month without you is too much for me to bear. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

Neteyam’s hands took yours off of his body so that he could hold them. His hands fully engulfed yours.

Rolling your eyes in disbelief you said, “Dude, this is starting to sound really romantic. You don’t think of me that way don’t play with me please. I can’t do shitty jokes like this right now.”

He forced you to meet his beautiful eyes. They were full of emotion and complete adoration as he whispered, “I see you, Y/N L/N.”

Alarms were going off in your head. It all seemed too good to be true so it must not be true. You tried to change his mind by saying, “Close your eyes then because I can tell you now that I am not the one you want.”

But that did not deter him.

Neteyam felt like crying. He only ever wanted to be yours so why were you being so difficult? Neteyam spoke after a long silence, “Why do you not believe me, Y/N? I’ve chosen you since the day we met. We were eight. You strayed away from your home and got lost in the forest. I found you playing with a baby viperwolf. No fear in your heart. So don’t have fear now.”

Your heart beat painfully hard as you realized this was actually happening. The boy you loved for years has loved you too.

“Many Na’vi want you. I want you as well, Tey, more than anything. But, your future is going to be affected by you being with a human. Neytiri would disapprove of us with her whole chest. I’m sure she’d probably throw me off the mountain if she could.” A small chuckle left your mouth at the thought of that woman chucking you to your death. Your chuckle died quickly at the thought of Neteyam being with anyone else other than you. It hurt to think about. Like physically hurt your heart and brain.

You felt sick.

“I don’t care about what my mother thinks of my love life. She’s going to have to get used to it because I only want you, not anybody else. So please, take me as yours forever.” Neteyam begged, looking up through his lashes. His tail swung anxiously. God was he beautiful. The unpleasant feelings slowly melted away.

You sat as tall as you could and grabbed his face, leaning in and planting your soft lips upon his. The sound of his tail hitting the ground wildly made you smile against his lips.

He was utterly in love. Neteyam felt drunk as your mouth moved against his so gently. His arms wrapped around you and pulled you into his lap as he sat up. Everything felt like it was on fire. So many dreams of this and now it finally happened.

When you came up for air, you saw the lovestruck look in his face and you knew that he was yours forever. All worries seemed to dissipate in that moment when you looked in his eyes.

“I see you, Neteyam. And I love you.”

“I love you too, skxawng.”

[sichore]

If I wait to make proper pictures they'll never get shared so here's some of what I've been working on. I may only be two chapters deep into paint the sky but I've been doing a shitton of worldbuilding behind the scenes. Jimi's evolved beyond the sorta " regular jack-off" POV they were meant to be, so I've been making some additions to the universe.

Megaera "Meg" Millian aka MEGADEATH - Assassin turned lapdog. owns one (1) braincell. Nobody knows how she got here. April Fools joke bit me on the ass

#369 "Onyx Ankara" - One of the earliest and longest surviving Gears and one of the few mfers Charles can trust in this mess. Actually a lead in logistics, supply, inventory and transportation. Onyx fills in a plothole I've long agonized over – how in the fuck did Dethklok not completely fall apart while Charles was dead? Now we know. Jalacy Sabrina Tharpe-Cornickelson - Roy got a little bit close to one of the widows of a Dethklok-related accident and got himself a new wife. Jalacy had a pretty okay relationship with her new step-dad, until he got turned into ground meat by supernatural and human forces. Pretty much forced to become a nepo baby in the wake of the apocalypse and a desire for Crystal Mountain Records to have some fresh talent as their faces. And I haven't got work for her yet but I'm also developing Shayla Puss, an artist from the 80s band Strawberry Pain that Pickles once collaborated with, based on this clipping from the show!

highlighted text and some above it on the far right reads: "These recording also contain rare group collabs, like Michi T playing lead guitar over Felbrick Zoner's ultra-syncopated drumming, with a shared duet by Strawberry Pain's Shayla Puss and Snakes n Barrels former lead singer Pickles." And ofc Jimi's been getting a lot of stuff, but it's mostly background and future developments. I'm hoping to upload chapter 3 before the end of this month.

[thelastranger]

how would you rank the brotherband books?

Sorry for the delay! I just finished recuperating after the wedding last week!

It's been a hot minute since I re-read most of the books so it's mostly based on what I can remember and vibes

Slaves of Socorro/Scorpion Mountain The stories are self contained but I view them as a little duology because of the presence of Gilan. They're the top to me because we still get some really good character beats, the characters are established and skilled but not flanderized (Flanaganized?) at this point, we get to visit fleshed out new locations, and there's memorable villains. The banter is great and honestly Gilan just adds a certain je ne sais quoi that really boosts the Herons. Lydia setting fire to the marketplace while Ingvar and the gang break out of prison will never not be amusing to me.

The Outcasts/The Invaders/The Hunters A close second, I'm ranking these three as a singular entity although I'm really partial to the Outcasts. The Herons are at their peak characterization here and it shows. Again, I will always find Erak "exiling" a bunch of sixteen year olds hilarious.

Ghostfaces/The Caldera Not my favorites but there are some classic scenes with Stig in both and Stig is always good for mining some emotions. I'm a sucker for Byzantium so fantasy Byzantium will always be a win.

The Stern Chase I had a lot of hope for this one but it was pretty disappointing. Even though it's set in Skandia, it's pretty nondescript. The only thing I liked was the Lydia and the twins bantering over wedding planning (is this what the millenials who grew up and aged as Harry Potter did felt?). Thr twins deserve to steal all the attention with their custom threads

The Return of the Temujai I don't think I could tell you a single thing that happened in this book besides the Heron getting destroyed. I think Lydia threatens the leader? Ranked last.

[memento-morianon]

Happy storyteller saturday! I was scrolling your worldbuilding tag and love the asteroid moons, so: are there any myths or religious holidays, rituals, etc, anything about them in general or that your central ocs take part in?

The moons! Oh yes, they're deeply relevant to pretty much every spiritual culture in my world. They're paired with the arc, which is a planetary ring visible in pretty much every part of the world. The arc is typically viewed as a road between the world of the living and the realm of spirits, and the three moons are viewed as guardians, guides, and/or judges of the dead. So most every culture has some tradition of using the moons as a conduit to communicate with spirits.

One of my two main protagonists, Evarin, follows gnomish religious traditions quite faithfully. She has an altar in her home that bears symbols for every entity in gnomish belief. The sun, the mountain, the water spirits, and the moons. She has a bit of a fancier and more modern altar, so it contains a small fountain on the side, and the moons are curved pieces of glass arranged on a representation of the arc. They can be moved and aligned to focus sunlight in order to burn incense sticks placed in a hole on the top of the stone altar. She does this every time she prays, as the incense is meant to be an offering to the sun. Her culture sees the moons as underlings of the sun, watching over the dead while the sun watches over the living.

It's traditional for gnomes to invoke the guidance of the moons at funerals, wishing the dead a safe journey. They do not speak the name of the dead for a set period of time, usually corresponding with the movement of the smaller moons, to avoid calling their spirit away from the path to the afterlife. But if they do need to speak with the dead, they always have to call on the moons first to gain permission and open a path for the spirit to reconnect with the mortal world.

At the beginning of the main story, Evarin prays to the moons to guide an elderly orc named He-esh to the afterlife, even though he is obviously not a gnome and his people believe that their souls are guided to the afterlife by their ancestors and the bald ravens they call the takran. Orcs do believe that the moons guard the dead and that the moons can open a path between the mortal and spiritual realms, but they do not call on the moons to guide their dead. This prayer from Evarin is simply a display of how much she cares about He-esh, who was her mentor in the ancient language she uses to perform vocal magic as a medical singer.

My other protagonist, Morianon, is rather areligious. He was raised by elves and is part elf, but since he is also quetzalin and mostly looks like one, he doesn't connect well with elvish religion. He also has some personal and private reasons to avoid believing in any gods or calling on spiritual entities. But he does sometimes stand out on his balcony at night and stare up at the moons, feeling safer under their light. He had a terrible early childhood, much of which he can't even remember properly, but he does at least remember that the moons were a symbol of safety to him back then.

And to end on a humorous note: Evarin's mother, during the funeral party for He-esh, also invokes the guidance of the moons for someone. But she doesn't do it kindly. He-esh's eldest son Ikar is kind of a terrible person, like the racist uncle no one wants to invite to holiday dinners. He causes a ruckus and gets banished by his sister Th'elir, and then Evarin's mother Tawei says something like "may the moonlight guide him home", which is essentially the gnomish equivalent of a very strong "bless your heart" from a southerner. Invoking the moons' guidance for a dead person is normal. Doing it for someone who is still alive and seems to be perfectly healthy and nowhere close to dying of natural causes is a severe insult upon that person and seen as a curse of terrible bad luck for them, if not an outright death wish. He did insult her entire family in his drunken rant, so I'd say she has the right to curse him.

[objecthusbandry]

Can u share sum facts on bullets?

yes!

bullets are a small species of unspecialized omnivore. they consume pretty much anything they can get in the wild, with their small sizes preventing them from easily hunting on their own. they have sharp canine teeth and incisors with mostly flat molars. their legs are digitigrade and they are capable of running quite fast. they're mainly known to live in mountainous rocky areas, and their very hard outer body is thought to be an adaptation to protect them from those environments.

they're somewhat well known for their scrappy personalities, willing to defend their territories against much larger objects and animals. larger species tend to be more violent in nature, but even the smallest ones are no stranger to biting and scratching anything they don't like that gets too close. this keeps them from being the lowest object on the food chain in areas where they're native. however, their small size also means that they make a great quick snack for anything that can crack open their shells. mortality rates for bullets are highest for their first year of life while they learn how to better hide from larger predators. they live for about five years on average for larger species and three years for smaller ones, with the oldest known bullet in captivity reaching seven and a half years old.

these objects are known to congregate in large numbers, especially during breeding season. they find each other through pheromones and by making loud sounds, and soon there can be up to 200 bullets in one area. neither sex is picky about partners and often pair with whichever other bullet they see first. they'll make a small nest on the ground (usually consisting of little more than a few twigs and pieces of grass) and eventually the mother will give birth from anywhere from three to thirteen baby bullets.

as far as keeping them as pets goes, their aggressive tendencies may make them difficult to care for. the bullets i've worked with personally have attempted to bite me, but i think it was more out of fear than actual aggression. a large terrarium would probably work to contain one. they don't need a lot of enrichment or attention and are happy to spend most of their time alone anyway.

[kiankiwi]

(CG BDE) Okay, you know how little kids' Christmas lists are usually pretty long and often contain things that don't exist, because they don't really know any better yet? Well, imagine if E gets our Christmas list (which is mostly a huge list of toys) and he sees we're asking for something like a unicorn lol!

Y E S!!! And if it was a unicorn, he'd be like "how about a pony? that's close enough right?" We're in such a young headsapce that we're so happy with whatever we get but Elvis is Elvis so of course he tries to go allllll out!

I feel like one year he does make us a stuffy mountain in the jungle room and that's our fave christmas bc we realize we can jump into it

[armchairaleck]

Dark Magic Dreams

Okay, this will be part one of a series of things I would like to look at regarding the possible purpose of, and various meanings and imagery contained within the dark magic dreams we see in TDP.

Now a lot of what I am going to write about regarding these are ideas that I’ve either heard or read about in relation to Twin Peaks, a fandom I am deeply fascinated by, but honestly way too dumb to write about. As such you will have to accept that I am not an expert on any of the stuff I am going to cover, they are just things that intrigue me and so I will probably extrapolate completely wrongly, but you know, maybe there’s something of interest.

Also please feel free to correct any incorrect assumptions I make, I really don’t feel like I’m a great reader of this sort of stuff anyway, but… I’ll give it a go.

So first an overview of some of the knowns and unknowns (mostly unknowns) about dark magic dreams:

Claudia states to Terry that everyone has one dark magic dream on their path to becoming a mage. Just one, after the first use, and then pretty much you’re good to go. Now I’m going to presume that Viren is the first person who has gone to the somewhat extreme lengths of dying, being resurrected, and then doing dark magic AGAIN to get a second shot at that fever dream. I admire both his commitment to the cause and his err.. foolhardiness here, but that’s Viren I guess.

In the show we see two dark magic dreams. Callum’s first in s2 and Viren’s second in s5 (with a mirror image of his first also imbedded within it, for extra time/space/fate/freedom mind fuckery here I guess).

The dream of time and space... (yeah sorry I will be peppering these captions with lots of Twin Peaks quotes)

Both these dreams seem to contain similar themes –

There is an emphasis on echoes of the past and future - Callum sees a possible corrupted future self that he rejects before he sees a lot of wind/sky imagery that surely points to his unlocking of the sky arcanum (interestingly this segment is also set at sea, a possible foreshadowing of the ocean arcanum to come?)

Viren mostly sees the shadows of his past mistakes - training with Kpp’Ar, himself crowned as the king of Katolis, Harrow on the night of the assassination and healing young Soren, presumably the point where things started to go drastically wrong for him… and then he also sees the future echo of Claudia’s path following his own. Ouch.

The dream of suffering and pain…

There is the image of the double self, Callum sees himself corrupted, Viren sees his younger uncorrupted self in the mirror, while his younger uncorrupted self would have seen a vision of future Viren, looking mighty fine I must say.

Yes, look in the mirror. What do you see?

Is it a dream, or a nightmare?

Both Callum and Viren also meet the spirit/ghost or subconscious projection of people who have been important, influential or close to them. Callum gets Harrow and Sarai and erm... Villads, while Viren sees Kpp’Ar, Harrow, baby Soren and erm… Sir Sparklepuff and Opeli (okay still figuring those two out precisely, but Sir Sparks I guess holds a whole new bond for Viren now...)

It's like I'm having the most beautiful dream...

And the most terrible nightmare, all at once.

Finally there is a very strong emphasis on the path you follow - fate versus free choice, destiny being preordained or something you write yourself, which is muddied somewhat by the fact that we know both Callum and young Viren clearly rejected the path of dark magic in their dreams annnd then went on to do more dark magic. Now Callum we know has only taken a step so far on what we presume is a slippery slope, while Viren has leapt off the mountain so to speak.

So those are the similarities between the dreams. I’ve also been thinking about the possible reasons for the dark magic dream existing in the first place.

They could be simply a side effect, something baked into the creation of dark magic itself, if Aaravos created dark magic it is possible that his connection to the stars has simply left these echoes and visions of past and future in the dream somehow. This could be accidental, an unforeseen consequence, in which case it might play to the advantage of the dark mage, or it could be something placed there on purpose, to accentuate the power that dark magic holds over the wielder – this path is already written, you have no choice.

It could be a warning, the subconscious urging the mage to turn back - the path you are about to follow is filled with certain danger. It would be interesting to know how many, if any, dark mages do turn back at the dream stage.

Or it could be a physical side effect, the body having to sweat or dream out the corruption/toxins from their first use, in which case it is interesting that this particular side effect only ever happens the one time.

One other factor seems to be that dark magic can also help the caster unlock an Arcanum as well, we see Callum connect to sky after his first dream, filled with keys, so the dream space might also channel certain energies. This might have some interesting potential for Viren, providing he doesn’t expire on the cold, hard ground, but I’ll park that thought here for now.

I awoke from that dream realizing that I had subconsciously gained knowledge of a deductive magical technique.

Anyway to finish this first post, I was interested in a couple of images that occur within Viren’s dream.

The mirror of Aaravos

So when corrupted Viren looks at young Viren and young Viren looks at his future self, and the bounds of space and time do that little weird wobble thing that hurts my head, they are looking at each other through the mirror of Aaravos. Now this could imply several things, but it has to be a deliberate choice for that mirror to be the window between them.

Was Viren’s path always somewhat predestined? His younger self would have no knowledge of that mirror having not yet reached the point of finding it in the storm spire, that future is still years away, so it can't be imbedded in his memory, or can it?

Why does he already see his future self through that particular mirror? This element of the dream has been confirmed to be the same experience at two different points in time. Now of course young Viren always had the choice to step away from the path he was following at any point, but it interesting to me that the image of that mirror was already baked into his personal dream space as if the path is already written.

Or perhaps the mirror just has some symbolic reference to imprisonment… in which case?

The cursed coin

Next is the image on the back of the coin, this sorta weird symbol often with a central circle which we see several times:

These are the ones I could easily find, there could be others..

The pattern is not quite the same, but we've been informed it can be associated with a different sort of magic - old magic, deep magic. Due to the nature of the cursed coins I’m loosely wondering if this could be a type of magic that has something to do with the soul or spirit of a person. I don’t feel personally that this has to be incompatible with the ideas and theories of it also being blood magic, because ideas surrounding blood and the soul/life spark are often linked.

What seems possible in these cases is the mage is paying a soul cost that is greater than usual, whether this is symbolised through the spilling of blood, as in the two spells Aaravos proposes to Viren, or by doing something heinous to the detriment of your principles, such as trapping others in the cursed coins. This could also track with the two spells that Claudia does that change her hair colour.

It might be a stretch, but I don’t personally feel Lissa would have left Viren for casting a dark magic spell to save Soren. Now there might have had to be some sort of terrible sacrifice involved but we’ve seen a deer heal full body paralysis, so I’m not really convinced Viren had to slaughter a baby elf at the alter to save his son (not saying he didn’t either of course, but there’s the possibility that isn’t actually the cost). So there might have been something else that Lissa and possibly Kpp’Ar had a problem with. Well having seen Kpp’Ar in action I feel he’d be more adverse to potential outside control rather than delving into the depths of blood magic.. so not sure quite what went on there...

Honestly, mostly I just like the idea of selling your soul for something, and the consequences of that, and possibly it could link to Aaravos/Lucifer comparisons. Every time someone does dark magic they seem to be making an unknowing pact with him and perhaps it's possible deep magic err.. deepens it.

This could also track with the coin spell being "Your soul is my treasure", and Harrow’s dream use of the spell on Viren. Be interesting to know where Viren acquired those coins, because no shade on Viren, but I’m not sure he’s capable of making them… I guess maybe Kpp’Ar has a treasure hoard of illicit artefacts in his basement or something…

So in that case we would have dark magic as being the gateway to Aaravos and some sort of deep/blood/soul magic as being the next step along that path, but one that not many are willing to make.

This might explain why Aaravos has been hanging around in prison for 300 years, if a certain amount of influence was needed to steer someone towards his prison, perhaps Viren is the only person desperate enough to have gone this far down the path. I don’t know, very hard to tell with the paucity of dark mages on the show tbh.

So we look closely at the eyes to see the nature of the soul

In this case I think the dark magic dream could be seen as something of a spiritual journey, the dark night of the soul, and possibly a chance to integrate the light and the dark that coexists within us. It’s clear there is a path to choose, but it also seems that it might not be quite as simple as choosing the ‘good’ or the ‘bad’ but all of these choices carry within them moral dilemmas and complexities - what are the things we are willing to do and by extension possibly lose for love.

I feel that Callum and Viren mirror quite strongly in both the theme of sacrificing for love and the desire for power. Why else would you really become a mage primal or otherwise unless you are seeking power over things and mastery of them? Where does this leave Viren now (if he’s not exhaling his last breath on the beach, and I can’t make up my mind about that)? I will hopefully explore some of these possibilities in other posts and yes they will feature a lot of Twin Peaks ideas cos it’s practically the only other show I watch. As such I have not seen Mad Men, but Twin Peaks has very close links to the nature of the soul, the ability to navigate between the black and the white and to the catastrophic consequences for both yourself and others if you are not able to do this, and we've all seen some of those in TDP.

Through the darkness of future past, the magician longs to see..

Am I gonna read way too much into literally everything? You betcha…

Full disclaimer here, I am not really trying to read the show or work out what it's going to do with some of this stuff, I am just looking at ideas that interest me. What interests me certainly isn't looking at it through a straight up lens of morality, which is why a lot of my thoughts will doubtless be wrong.

[gamesbyalbie]

The Cursed Journey

PART 5: BRAINSTORM

FIVE YEARS AGO

"So, what are you working on?" Min-joon was at the stove. He wasn't using it—he was using the kettle—but I literally didn't have a counter in that apartment. What I had was a sheet of plywood laid across the stove's burners (I think that's what they're called, but that also seems a bit too on the nose).

I didn't cook—still don't—so the kettle lived on that plywood board along with a cup containing two sets of utensils, a pair of chopsticks, and one sharp knife. My mug and tea collection took up one shelf in my "kitchen", but the others had been repurposed for book storage.

I was sitting on my bed, leaning against a mountain of pillows and scribbling in a notebook. "Nothing good." I tried to erase a line so intensely that it ripped the page. "Ugh!" I tore it from the book, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it across the room.

"Dammit," I whispered, because—naturally—it missed the bin by at least half a meter.

Min-joon chuckled as he passed me a cup of tea. "Here."

"Thanks." I held the cup below my face, giving myself a mini steam facial and savoring the aroma. The tea was Earl Grey. Specifically, it was this kind with extra bergamot I could only find at a corner shop on Fifth. Min-joon had also used my favorite mug—but I don't think he knew that at the time. It was this lovely dark blue mug with the spines of Ursula K. Le Guin books wrapping around the body. I was shattered myself when it broke during my last move.

"Probably need to let it steep for a while." He advised, taking a seat on the foot of my bed. I noticed that he was stirring his drink with a fork.

"Why are you—"

"Both your spoons were dirty. Which—if I may add—is pretty pathetic. No self-respecting adult has less than three spoons."

"Fascinating." I murmur, face still hovering over my mug. "You assume I have self-respect."

He snorted. "Right. My bad." A smirk lanced across Min-joon's face. He gestured at me then vaguely at the rest of my studio. "I should probably judge this book by its cover."

"Asshole," I whispered affectionately. "So, what are you forking?"

Min-joon snickered. "Instant coffee."

I shivered. My face twisted into a visage of pure disgust. "I don't get how you stomach that stuff."

"It's good."

"It's vile."

"Well, if it's so gross why do you have it?"

"Because I knew you were coming." I responded and took a sip of my tea. "Mm." I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. "That's good." When I opened them again, Min-joon was staring at me. He hadn't moved and his coffee fork was still in his hand. He was just smiling. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

He tore his gaze away. "I've no idea what you're talking about." I rolled my eyes. "But, back to my question: what are you working on? 'Nothing good' is not an acceptable answer."

I sighed and set my mug on the window sill. "Fine." I went to toss him my notebook but he raised his index finger.

"Wait. Throwing is not our strong suit. Remember?" He pointed at the bin.

I rolled my eyes even harder but bent at the waist, placing the book in his outstretched hand. 

"Thank you very much. And what am I looking at? A toddler's first attempt at writing?"

I yanked the book out of his hand. "If you're gonna be a dick—"

"I'm kidding." He took it back. "Your chicken scratch is mostly legible."

"Thank you, I know." I fully reclined on the pillows and crossed my arms over my head. "Anyways, I was working on that Greek myth retelling—the queer, cyberpunk one—but I'm struggling with some of the smaller plot points. So, I'm trying to come up with something new but I can't come up with anything good! The only cool ideas I'm getting are stories that no one else will be interested in and everything else feels dull and derivative."

"Okay." He took a sip of his coffee while flipping through my notebook. "Where's the problem?"

"What?" I sat straight up, hands slapping against my comforter. "What do you mean? It should be pretty obvious. I just said—"

"What you just said is that you have some cool ideas. Great! Do you feel inspired to write them?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Do they excite you?"

"Sure—"

"Then write them! I don't see a problem. Like, this—" He pointed to a hastily scrawled paragraph I'd almost ripped out yesterday. "This sounds really fucking cool."

"But it's... weird!"

"So? Weird is good! We're both weird. I write weird shit. And—if I may add—that's going pretty well."

"You are an exception."

"No, I am not. Not that it matters! People put too much emphasis on 'success', whatever that's supposed to mean." Min-joon sighed and tilted his head to the side. "Ody, why do you write?"

I deliberated for a moment, stripping away the dozens of reasons to find the core truth. "Because I love it."

"Then don't judge yourself based on what you assume others will think. Fuck everyone else. Write for you. Give yourself permission to love what you're doing and just do what you love."

"That's what you do?"

"It is now." He rubbed my hand with his thumb. "Ever since I quit. I mean, life gets in the way sometimes, but yeah. In general, I only do things I love."

"And what do I do when I hit another block?"

Min-joon shrugged. "There's no clear, universal answer to that. It differs for everyone, but I think people try to force themselves to write too much and beat themselves up unnecessarily. Only write when you feel like it. Take breaks. Try new things. Don't be afraid to stop, pivot, or start anew. I don't know." He trailed off. We were silent for a moment. 

"Okay." I finally mumbled. "Well, thank you for the private lecture."

He was taking another sip when I said that and I'm pretty sure some coffee went up his nose as he laughed. "You're very welcome."

"So," I smirked, glancing at the paragraph he'd pointed to. "To summarize: in your professional opinion, I should go ahead and write weird shit."

"Fuck yeah." He smiled. "As long as you like it, the weirder the better."

End of Part 5 of ? • LAST PART • NEXT PART

More Cursed Journey • More by Albie • Image Source

The amazing music video that inspired this:

[s-creations]

The Forgotten - Chapter 6 'In Which A Festival Is Held And A Connection Is Established'

The BeanBean Kingdom has lived peacefully for centuries, due to the wild ocean and towering mountains that surround them. No one being able to get in or out. Which makes it strange when a stranger enters the kingdom, but not in an expected way.

Close to death and with little memories about his previous life, Peasley has to uncover where this 'L' came from. As well as who would want to hurt this confused human.

Fandom: Super Mario & Related Fandoms Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Relationships: Luigi & Mario (Nintendo), Luigi/Prince Peasley Warnings/Additional Tags: Luigi don't remember who he is, AU to Super Star Saga, There will be mentions of torture, PTSD, Bowser's gonna be intense in this, At least far more than in comparison to the games, Mario's a worried older brother, It's a dangerous game of cat and mouse

Beyond the fact that he was unable to remember much about anything, L felt like life was out to get him. He was really trying to keep his head held high. Dr. Pinto said he was recovering well, with L getting a clean bill of health at the end of each day. L felt safe, comfortable, was well fed and had a place to sleep. 

That, however, didn’t stop things being dangled just out of reach of him. Of letting L just find some small piece of relief from the unknown that haunted him.

First issue was when he tried to sleep. ‘Tried’ being the keyword there. Because L’s dreams were either heavy nightmares or taunts of the possible life he’d had once upon a time. The nightmares were filled with fire and feelings of phantom pains. A deep voice giving words of slow death and tortured filled days. L waking up with his brow damp with sweat, the nightmares diving back into his forgotten mind. 

But his dreams, where it was mostly calm, caused L to wake feeling empty. Offering what he assumed were memories of his past life. Soothing and filled with simple bright places. Starting out as large empty areas, such as fields filled with orange and yellow flowers that held black eyes that swayed in the breeze. To another of a small room filled with comfortable chairs, one red, the other green, resting in a simple living room. 

It becomes further interesting when someone new suddenly appears. 

One dream found himself situated in a large room, far larger than the living room L had seen before. Tall walls painted white with pink accents. Golden ornate furniture filled the massive area. A tea set was displayed before a tall window, nothing seen beyond the glass but a white void. L was standing by said tea set. A large green mug already filled with liquid was resting comfortably in his hands.

“Princess P̳̲͕̹̰̙̏̀e̖ͫa͓̯̗̥̰̻͌̿͋͑̒ͪ̚ͅć̼̟͙̥̘̫ẖ̥̈́̉̉ͬ͡ really went all out huh?”

L jumped to the new voice. Stumbling as he tried to keep the tea in the green mug from his sudden movement. The same voice gave a gentle laugh, L turning away from the window he’d just been facing. Another human materialized from the white nothingness in the room. 

Slightly shorter than L, wearing deep blue overalls with a red, long sleeves shirt underneath it. A red cap with an embroidered ‘M’ resting on swooping brown hair. L squinted as he attempted to get any facial details. But the person’s face was completely blank. However, with the details he could see, something tugged at the back of L’s memories. 

“M-Mario, don’t do that.” L heard his voice, but he didn’t feel his mouth move.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” ‘Mario’ raised his hands, “How’s the tea? P̳̲͕̹̰̙̏̀e̖ͫa͓̯̗̥̰̻͌̿͋͑̒ͪ̚ͅć̼̟͙̥̘̫ẖ̥̈́̉̉ͬ͡ said she got your favorite.”

“It’s good. Pretty sure the other container has coffee.”

“Excellent!” ‘Mario’ rubbed his hands together as he eagerly approached the table. He poured himself a cup, practically burying it with cream and sugar before taking a sip. “Perfect cup.”

“Do you actually have coffee in there?”

“Oh hush, L̙̱̓̅̾ͧͭ̓̕u̦̪̭̱̻̺̣̓̓̐i͖͍͖͊ͥ͛̌̽͆͝g̙̫̦͖͘ȋͯ͂.”

“And I thought I liked sweet things.” L heard himself laugh as the other playfully pushed him. 

“Whatever… So, how are you feeling after our last adventure?”

“I’ll be honest… I’m a little shaken.”

“Why? You did a great job!”

“I felt like I was in your way more than anything.” L felt an arm easily drape over his shoulders. While he couldn’t see ‘Mario’s’ face, he could tell the other was giving an assured smile. 

“You were wonderful, I’m really proud of you…”

L woke with tears staining his cheeks. Peasley more than a little concerned when he visited that morning. 

If the unrestful sleep wasn’t enough, the human was still having difficulty controlling his newly discovered ability. Whatever L had been able to do before was apparently a fluke. Unable to reproduce the same thing as before. More often than not, L would end up shocking himself. Which would also cause any extra energy to be discharged wildly. Peasley did his best to train L. L, however, was more frustrated by the process at the end of each day. 

Having the random thought that maybe the abilities didn’t work because they didn’t recognize him. Which was weird to think that’s possible. But L didn’t know how else to describe it. 

Physical and mental ailment accounted for, emotional was the last on his list to worry about. L knew he held feelings for Peasley. It was something he’d come to terms with a while ago. Also conceding there was never going to be that connection between them. Peasley was a prince. A member of the royal family who was directly in line for the throne. L was some random stranger who had no memories, weird uncontrollable powers, and a large target on his back. 

L tried to turn his feelings into more of admiration. That he was just latching on to a heavy emotion for comfort. Just to have something ‘normal’ to cling to in a sea of uncertainty. If anything, L told himself that he would pine for a while and move on. Because what else could he possibly hope for? That Peasley actually saw him as anyone other than a guest? L was hopefully stupid, not stupid…

Until that afternoon in the gardens. 

L had felt his heart thudding heavily as he had been presented with the garden lunch. One that was unprompted. Meaning Peasley went out of his way to create this specifically for L.

He’s just being a good host. You’re a guest. Stop this.

Then Peasley showed off his ability. Adorning L with a crown of beautiful roses. 

It’s a gift. He’s being nice. Stop doing this!

It was as Peasley was talking about his father that L felt a wave of bravery hit him. A want to make the prince happy, to not see him look so upset. Allowing instincts to take over, L had moved closer. Reaching out to gently take Peasley’s hands in his own and offered a few words of encouragement. The comforting moment turned to something a bit more when their eyes connected. L suddenly realized how close he’d gotten. 

But Peasley didn’t pull away as L assumed he would. 

Instead, the prince’s hands moved to now grip onto L’s gently. A silent plea to not move. L watching as Peasley’s eyes flickered between his eyes and lips. It was almost dangerous for L to hope. Eyes following as Peasley moved closer. Unable to do the same, thinking the illusion would be shattered if he did. Thankfully, Peasley didn’t seem deterred by this. Only giving pause to double check that all was still going to be accepted. 

Only for L to ruin it. 

The powers he barely had control over gave Peasley a nasty shock. L’s elation turned to modification. Instinctually pulling his cap over his eyes while his hands held a death grip on it. All of Peasley’s reassurances fell on deaf ears as his internal voice was loudly berating him. Even after Peasley had calmed him down, L still felt as if whatever bond they’d started to make was completely gone. 

And with no one that L felt comfortable enough to voice his concerns to, it all left him to stew in self-doubt. 

Something Peasley noticed immediately. 

“Alright you alright?”

L’s head shot up from where he’d been staring a hole into his bed sheets. Flushing softly at Peasley’s attention. “Y-Yeah, why?”

“You’ve just been quiet.”

“But, y-you’ve been reading. I didn’t want to interrupt.” 

Peasley blinked before looking at the book in hand. “True, however, you normally give some verbal indication you’ve been listening.”

“I, uh, I have a lot on my mind at the moment.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

No, no, no, no, no, no, NO!

“I-I mean, I’ve just, you know…” L laughed weakly. Biting his lip when that flawless explanation somehow didn’t comfort Peasley. “My dreams…have been getting to me. I keep seeing that same creature, I keep getting flashes of what happened. I’ve also had a lot of those calm places…and of Mario.”

“You’ve seen him?”

“No, I mean, not really? I can’t see his face and can only hear half of what he says…” L slumped further back into his pillow, “Sorry, it’s not much use.”

“No, you’re doing fine, you’re doing your best. That’s all we can ask for.”

“I just wish it was more.”

Peasley took a small pause, eventually placing the book aside and gently took L’s hands. “How about we get you out of the castle for a while?”

“Like…back to the gardens?”

“More like the town proper,” Peasley gave L’s hands a gentle squeeze before continuing, “There’s a festival coming up. It happens twice a year to kick off our two major farming seasons. I was hoping to take you out? If you’re feeling up for it.”

L’s heart jumped at the ‘take you out’. Trying to quickly stomp down the excitement as his cheeks turned red. “And you’ll…be there?”

“The entire time, by your side, your tour guide and chauffeur.” 

He really shouldn’t read too far into it. Peasley was just trying to feel better. But L couldn’t help but feel thrilled by this ask. Offering a wide smile and nodding. “Yeah, yes, I’d like that.”

Peasley perked up, beaming as well. “Great, fantastic! It’s tomorrow, we’ll head out in the morning. You’ll have a great time, promise!”

“I-I can’t wait.”

Both sat in eager silence, smiling like idiots to each other, only breaking away when Dr. Pinto arrived. Announcing L needed a check up as a nurse also drew closer. Peasley took the opportunity to run with his face a deep shade of blue. 

“Smooth,” Dr. Pinto muttered as the prince passed by. 

“Oh, shut up.” Peasley whispered back, but couldn’t hide his smile. 

The next morning, L woke early. Unable to close his eyes again and had to lie and wait for the sun to enter the room. A nurse eventually arrives to help the human change for the day. L feeling strangely at home in deep blue overalls and a long sleeved green shirt.

Like ‘Mario’s’ outfit…just a different color. 

Peasley arrived soon after L had settled down into his wheelchair. The human flushing darkly seeing the prince dressed in a very casual outfit. Looking more of a farmer than a prince. With a farewell from Queen Bean and Lady Lima, the two departed to explore on their own. 

It was strange to be in the town,as well as nerve wracking, being so close to so many strangers. L tensing slightly when numerous eyes landed on him as the duo drew closer. Only to relax when Peasley placed an arm on L’s shoulder and greeted the citizens. Who all returned with their own smile. 

The first stop was determined by hunger, going by a large stall that had steam and delicious smells wafting from it. The cooks inside greeted Peasley, passing off two slices of fully packed quiches to the duo. Allowing both to eat while they continued on. L was then shown the numerous flora and fauna the kingdom had to offer. From tall flowers that smiled down as L (which kicked some kind of warning in his mind to avoid for some reason) to small, bi-pedal beanish creatures that ran circles around their enclosure they were in. 

Curiosity soon overpowered nerves and L began to ask questions. How did something grow, what was the creature’s name, would that flower count as flora or fauna given the mouth and how it ate? The citizens were more than happy to answer. Seeming thrilled to explain their trade to someone completely new to the scene. The children would even pop in from time to time to explain their role in the management of the farm. Peasley noticed how well L was with children. 

There was never a time where L’s hands were empty. Always filled with either a plate of food or a glass of interestingly colored drinks. Peasley seemed to be acutely aware of when L needed a break from the crowds when the day started to come to an end. Pushing the wheelchair along some of the narrower paths that allowed them a more aerial view over the festival. The sun was beginning to set, but that clearly didn’t indicate a time for the events to stop.

“So,” Peasley started, “thoughts?”

“It’s amazing! There’s so much to see or do here. Your kingdom is amazing.” L commented, missing the flush on Peasley’s cheeks. The wheelchair was soon parked on the grassy hill. L relaxing as a soft breezed past, Peasley sitting himself on the nearby bench. 

As the sun continued to sink, the surrounding area started to fill with other citizens. Parents spread out blankets while children rushed around, couples claiming spots under trees. Venders were soon walking around, carrying large trays of food, drinks, and even a few carried mini sparklers and similar items. L a little nervous when he’d been handed a sparkler, Pleasley holding his and giving thanks to the vendor. The sparklers were lit and L’s concern turned to amazement as the item burned brightly. 

There had been another hit of familiarity, one that was surprisingly comforting given what L was holding. Of someone holding fire in their hands… But the feeling lasted as long as the sparkler did. Both fizzling out to smoke.

As the sun finally disappeared behind the horizon, the hill was filled with numerous citizens with the sky becoming dark. L feeling thankful that Peasley was there. Their clasped hands gave a comforting feeling against the nerves of being in a large crowd. 

Confusion grew as L watched the vendors turn off the lights to their stands. The area becoming increasingly dark. 

“I-Is it over?” L whispered. 

“Not quite,” Peasley replied softly, “One more event to truly close it out.”

L only had a few to ponder what they were waiting for when the sky was suddenly illuminated a brilliant red. The human jumping and clinging to Peasley’s arm as the thunderous ‘BOOM’ accompanied it. Fear turned to fascination as another went off, a vivid blue, followed by a bright green. The sky was soon filled with numerous fireworks, the crowd below giving noises of joy and amazement. 

Even with knowing there was no danger, L still kept a grip on Peasley’s arm. Eventually becoming comfortable enough to lean his head on the prince’s shoulder. 

“This is amazing,” L said, “Thank you so much for-”

L didn’t fight back as a finger was tucked under his chin, tilting his head up. Shocked when soft lips covered his but didn’t pull away. A hand reaching up to cup Peasley’s cheek, with the other gripping onto the prince’s arm. The hand tucked beneath L’s chin moved to the back of his neck while the other was placed on his shoulder. 

They pulled away after a few seconds. L’s eyes wide and shining, taking a deep breath to calm his pounding heart. Peasley’s cheeks were a dark blue. Eyes wide as if surprised he would try something so bold. They weren’t sure who broke the silence, but both were soon laughing softly. Peasley claimed another kiss, which L didn’t argue against, before pressing their foreheads together. 

Their beating hearts drowning out the fireworks.

_____________________________

The knight allowed themselves a moment of pause as they stood before the towering city. It was vastly different from the place he called home. The mountain was replaced with towering walls of white painted bricks that hide the inner kingdom from the rest of the world. From what could be seen peeking out from the wide entrance were tall structures with equipment that the knight had never seen before. 

Taking a deep breath to steady their nerves, the knight approached the entrance. Pulling the attention of two creatures who were stationed outside. One holding blue spots on their domed cap with the other having red instead. Both of whom gripped their spears tighter as the knight drew closer. 

“I come as a traveler from the BeanBean Kingdom,” the knight stated, raising a hand as a sign of peace. The kingdom’s name causes a look of confusion to be shared between the other two. 

“What…business do you have here?” One guard asked. 

“I came with a message for your ruler in relation to current events in our kingdom.”

There was another exchange of worried looks before the guard with the red spots stepped forward. “Please follow me.”

The knight did as asked. Making sure to keep up as his eyes traveled around the surrounding structures. While the BeanBean Kingdom was built around farming, the Mushroom Kingdom was definitely built around technology. There were moving, free floating platforms that moved from level to level and across wide gaps. Pipes that seemed to be the main form of long distance transportation that easily sucked civilians up and away. Having them go who knows where. There were tools and gadgets being used that the knight had never seen or would have thought about creating before. 

The castle was also different from what the knight was used to seeing. Queen Bean’s home was pure white with red trim and accents. Lined with foliage grown wildly by the royal family. This castle was mainly pink with the white adding accents and decorations. With more trimmed topiaries than free growing plants. The large double doors opened to a grand throne room that was filled with numerous, different spot colored citizens. All eyes turned to the newly arrived duo. The knight kept their eyes forward as they approached the throne. 

But was also painfully aware of how the thunderous noise of conversations quickly died down. 

Sitting upon the grand throne was another human, female, with blond hair that fell to her waist. Blue eyes falling to the knight with a look of curiosity, but also carried exhaustion. Deep shadows resting under her eyes. Her posture was tense as the knight approached. Another citizen, one holding brown spots, carrying a cane with a small pair of spectacles resting on their face, stood by the ruler. Looking frazzled, on edge, and super suspicious of the newcomer. 

Standing properly before the throne in a very quiet room, the knight placed their hand over their heart and bowed low. “I am a servant hailing from the BeanBean Kingdom. I arrive with a message from Queen Bean to the current ruler of the Mushroom Kingdom.”

“That would be I,” the human said calmly, “I am Princess Peach. What message do you have for me?”

The knight stood once more, eyes twitching over to the brown spotted citizen, who looked back with bewilderment. They pulled out the rolled parchment from their side bag, opened it, and began to read. 

‘To the Current Ruler of the Mushroom Kingdom. I, the Queen Bean, ruler of the BeanBean Kingdom, have come to ask for your help in regards to recent events that have befallen my kingdom. An unexpected guest has arrived at the doorsteps of my castle, who’s more than lost at  the current moment. Due to their possible origin, I ask  for your help, as our visitor is human, a rare individual that we know not their home for. 

While this would be our first proper interaction, I ask if you may know of this human. If you-

“Does he have a green hat?”

The knight stumbled to a stop hearing the desperate question. Looking up to see that Peach was now standing. Hands clasped before her and eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Looking hopeful, but also close to breaking. The knight was also aware that the silence had turned from heavy worry to tense eagerness. 

“...Yes ma’am.”

“With an ‘L’ on it?”

“Yes ma’am.”

The heavy silence hanging over the room was broken when Peach gave a heavy sob and fell to her knees. The hall erupts with cheers and excited chatter. The knight remained still as they wished and waited for some explanation. They heard Peach frantically say ‘Please, go find Mario.’ to the nearby citizen, standing at better attention as she drew closer. 

“Is he alright?” she asked as she wiped her eyes, “I-Is he okay?”

“...He is recovering well, but he unfortunately doesn’t remember anything about himself. We’ve been calling him ‘L’ as that’s all he really remembers.”

“His name is Luigi… We…we were so worried…” Peach took a deep breath to try and calm herself. Quickly dabbing at her eyes with a small cloth. The knight wanted to offer a break, believing she was attempting to keep her face as neutral as possible for her citizens. However, they fell quiet when the brown-spotted citizen returned. This time followed by another human. 

This one was dressed in deep blue overalls and a long sleeve shirt. An eerily familiar cap was resting on a mess of tangled brown hair. This cap, however, was red with a ‘M’ embroidered over the lip of it. The knight worried that he too looked exhausted. More so that Peach. 

“Peach…what’s going on?” He asked nervously. Tired eyes darting from the knight to Peach. 

The princess in turn gave a watery smile before saying, “Someone found Luigi.”

The other human’s face turned from curiosity to hope. Eyes widening slightly. “R-Really?”

“Really, he’s in the BeanBean Kingdom.”

“W-Where is that?”

“I don’t know, but…” Peach gestured towards the knight. Who stood at better attention when eyes returned to them. 

The human dressed in red stepped closer. “You have him?”

“L… Um, she’s correct. Luigi is currently at the BeanBean Kingdom. Being looked after by our best physician.”

“I’ve never heard of this kingdom.”

“That is because said kingdom had isolated itself away years ago.” The brown-spotted citizen spoke this time. Nodding and tapped his cane on the ground. 

“Do you know of this place, Toadsworth?” Peach asked. 

“Personally, no,” Toadsworth replied, “We have written accounts about said area. Coming from your ancestors from many years ago. So I was aware this place existed, but that was the extent of my knowledge.”

The red dressed human nodded in understanding before tensing as  something seemed to mentally strike him. Turning back to the knight with wide fearful eyes. “Wait, you said physician… I-Is Luigi okay?”

“...He is recovering well. However, when he first recovered, he was… There was a chance that Luigi would not have made it if he wasn’t found when he had been.” The knight jumped back as the human’s hands were suddenly engulfed in fire.

Peach gasped softly, reaching forward to place a comforting hand on the other’s shoulder. “Mario, please, calm yourself. You hear the knight, he’s safe and recovering well. We know where Luigi is. We can go and get him.”

The knight frowned in thought upon hearing the name. Waiting for the hands to be extinguished before asking, “You’re Mario?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s your relation to Luigi?”

“He’s…He’s my twin, my brother. H-Has he talked about me?”

“I’m sorry to report that Luigi has amnesia, a severe case. Due to whatever happened to him. We’ve been calling him ‘L’ as that’s all he could remember for himself. He knows your name, but that’s all.”

“This explains so much… Have you or anyone in your kingdom seen anything else?”

“I’m…not sure what you mean.”

“A big guy with a spiked shell, claws, fangs, can breath fire, yellow eyes? A flying fortress? A blue robed creature with a wand? Anything like that?”

“We’ve had reports of strange looking creatures, no robes or wands. But nothing specific that you’ve just listed.”

Mario looked hopeful. “Then maybe we beat Bowser to the punch.”

“Bowser?”

“I-I’ll explain while we’re traveling back to your kingdom. Peach-” The red dressed human was cut off when a shoulder bag was thrusted into his hands. Already filled with food and some strange looking items with faces on them. 

“Go,” Peach said, “I’ll follow behind with what resources we have. We can’t take the risk in thinking Bowser doesn't know where Luigi is.”

“Right…you’re right.” Without a second thought, Mario slung the back over his shoulder. “Alright, we’ll head out now.”

“And I’ll be right behind.”

With a nod, Mario turned to the knight and they left the castle as quickly as possible. 

Unaware of the Paratrooper flying overhead. Scrambling to get to his radio out to report that the hero was on his way. 

[antlerx-art]

GOOD OMENS 2 EPISODE 3 REACTION - CONTAINS SPOILERS‼️

ok so the resurrectionist minisode is in here

jim’s mug

nina my girl silence that damn phone at work

wait IS SHE THE WOMAN WITH THE JAUNTY HAT?

THE SCENE! THE CLIP! FINALLY!

but if aziraphale had already talked to muriel why does it seem like they don’t actually know each other? or do they both know it’s an act?

WHAT NO WAY WE WERE ALL WRONG THE WHOLE TIME? we were so sure crowley was moving to the bookshop but he’s actually just taking out the plants to let aziraphale use the car😭 nooo let me stay delusional

HES LEANINGGG HES GONNA SIT THERE WITH AZIRAPHALE AAHH HE DID IT

no okay muriel is trying to keep the disguise but aziraphale and crowley know they’re an angel, just maybe aziraphale didn’t really know them that well in the past

“word with you angel, in private” I’LL FINALLY KNOW WHAT THE WORD IN PRIVATE IS

THEY/THEM PRONOUNS FOR MURIEL YES!!!!!!!!!

aziraphale’s got used to lying to heaven huh

“one fabulous kiss and we’re good, i have a plan” yeah 🙂

AZIRAPHALE DRIVING THE BENTLEYYY

intro 🕺🏻🕺🏻🕺🏻💃🏻💃🏻💃🏻💃🏻🕺🏻

watching the intro more carefully my guess is that we’re going to see the gabriel statue thing here

“Ay Zed Fell”

THIS IS THE DIARYYY THE CONFIDENTIAL JOURNAL watch as aziraphale uses a pink glittery pen to write Crowley

and it’s in the past!!!! minisode incoming

“DEAR DIARY” he’s such an high school girlie

AZIRAPHALE WRITING ABOUT HIS DATE WITH CROWLEY AHHHH ripping my hair off

yup as i said statue of gabriel here

crowley is so she/her in this minisode

“that’s lunacy” / “no, that’s ineffable” HAH

classical music in the bentley is a crime aziraphale

“angel, WOT are you doing.”

HE CAN FEEL WHEN HE DRIVES THE BENTLEY UNDER THE SPEED LIMIT LMAOO

NO WAY IT’S YELLOW I CANT BREATHEHEEE

“change it back😠” / “but it’s pretty☹️”

CROWLEY THREATENING TO GIVE BOOKS AWAY i’m sure i’ve seen people drawing a scene like this in some comic i love this show

OOOHHH AZIRAPHALES FACE WHEN HE SPEEDS UP IM SICK

what the heck is in the background are those?? TARTAN MOUNTAINS?

is that furfur? no wait prime video says “demon josh” 👍🏻

crowley and gabriel scene I KNOWW ITS GONNA BE FUNNY

the fly is beelzebub IT HAS TO BE

“vavoom” is the new “wahoo”

jim looks so focused but there’s not one (1) single thought behind those eyes

stop making david tennant say he’s a doctor

AHH aziraphale still can’t drink here

bro you messed up restore that dead body rn

DETECTIVE AZIRAPHALE WITH THE HAT

i think gabriel was with beelzebub

NOO whats happening poor girl

so she was sick already

CROWLEYS HAND

what’s Laudanum Poison

WHAT IS HAPPENING TO CROWLEY HELP😭 is it that thing he drank 😭😭😭😭

where did he go

HES LITTLE OMG WHYYY HES SO TINY if aziraphale puts crowley in his pocket i’ll be dead

alice in wonderland crowley

BIG TALL WOMAN 😍😍 if crowley puts aziraphale in his pocket i’ll be dead

oh this is the part where they mention kwording yourself

i’ll need to rewatch this whole thing it’s so chaotic

OH. MY. GOD.

THE WAY AZIRAPHALE IS TRYING TO STEADY HIMM

THE HAND AROUND HIS ARM AND WAIST IM SO WEAK I CANT DO IT I CANT THEYRE A COUPLE IM NOT OKAY

THEY’RE SOOO CLOSE

if hell noticed you’d already be WHAT crowley

oop he fell (lol)

ahhh this is the meme template scene

“mostly i just use it for twitter” damn bro same

“and grindr” damn bro NOT same

aziraphale is my grandpa using a computer for the first time thinking he has to talk to it BUT IT ACTUALLY WORKS??

jim is about to remember stuff

“mm good job” / “oh, do you really think so?” i’m fine i’m completely okay

aziraphale’s relief after crowley says he hasn’t sold books 😭 also crowley being in charge of the bookshop because aziraphale asked even if he had said to nina “not even at gunpoint”

in company 🫵🏻with beelzebub!!!!!!🫵🏻

“and twitter and grindr whatever they happen to be” H E L P.

THE LITTLE HAT THING AND THE LITTLE LAUGH AND HIS FACE I LOVE AZIRAPHALE SOOOOO MUCH

RAINY RAIN!

she wasn’t having an affair but she felt like it

ARE NINA AND MAGGIE GONNA KISS RIGHT NOW?

CROWLEY I KNOW YOU LIKE ROMANCE

nah i should’ve expected this 😔🙏

OHHHHHHHH jim is spilling the tea

hi shax 😄

VERY CLOSED

NO CROWLEY DONT LEAVE THE BOOKSHOP something’s gonna happen to him NOO IM NOT READYYYY

oh i thought shax was gonna see jim but there’s the miracle i forgot about that

anyway jim is obsessed with books falling and gravity i think it means something

WAR ON AZIRAPHALE?

OH MY GOD PROTECTIVE CROWLEY

“it’s always too late” i’m sick S I C K

i need to recover but i can’t wait to see the 1941 scenes

anyway so far i like how even though this season is very quiet gentle romantic and love centered, it’s not that different from season one, i noticed how well the plot and the romantic moments are mixed together and it’s not really just aziracrow

tagging @neil-gaiman since he said he was interested in reading live reactions

[actress4him]

Can I get falling through ice with platonic kidge? Preferably Pidge falling through but I’m good with either!

I’m so sorry that this has taken me...absolutely forever. And I’m sorry that it’s pretty short and simple, I’ve been having a hard time finding inspiration for fanfics lately. But it’s here! And it’s my last current bingo request so yay for finally catching up!

@badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Prompt: Falling Through Ice

contains: lady whump, hypothermia

.

.

“I think it’s right over here!” Pidge looks up from the map on her tablet and points straight ahead toward what looks like a series of caves carved into the side of a mountain. Without waiting for a response from Keith, she takes off at a jog, eager as he is to get the mission in this horrible frozen wasteland over and done with.

“Be careful,” he calls after her, but he isn’t sure whether she even hears since the wind chooses that moment to pick up. Not that she would listen, anyway. He knows very well how Pidge is when she gets her mind set on something.

Besides, that’s mostly what he’s here for. Watching Pidge’s back. She’s the little genius who can read the map and work the tracking technology and identify minerals once they actually find what they’re looking for. He just has to make sure that she stays alive and well in order to do all of that.

With that in mind, he breaks into a jog behind her, head swiveling back and forth to take in the empty, snow covered expanse of planet as they go. There’s no sign of life anywhere. He really doesn’t expect to see any the whole time, he doesn’t know what could even live in this freezing weather. And they’re far from Galra territory, so they shouldn’t be a problem, either. Still, he’s going to remain vigilant, just in case.

The ground under his feet changes, and he slows a little, frowning down at it. Ice. Not icy ground, just straight up ice, like they’re walking on a frozen lake. With the temperature this low, it should be plenty solid, but…

He switches his comms on since Pidge is too far ahead to hear his voice. “Hey Pidge, you might want to slow down a litt-”

His warning is interrupted by a loud, heart-stopping cracking sound, and an almost simultaneous screech that he hears both over the comms and cutting through the wind. Breath catching in his throat, he looks up just in time to see his teammate plunge down through the ice.

“Pidge!” 

Ignoring his own warning, Keith dashes forward, feet slipping slightly with each pounding step. There isn’t any time to waste, that water will be frigid and she’s got on her armor but he doesn’t know how well it protects against being submerged and she has her faceplate open…

As he draws closer he can both hear and feel the ice weakening under his feet. Forcing himself to slow down, he inches a bit further before sprawling on his stomach, spreading his weight out across more surface, and starts scooting forward like an insect.

“Pidge!” He can see her head. That’s the only thing that’s keeping him from panicking right now. She managed to get her arms out before she fell completely down into the water and caught herself. If she’d gone all the way down and disappeared beneath the ice…he shook the thought out of his head, refusing to dwell on it. “I’m coming, just hang on.” 

“K-k…K-Keith…” She’s already shivering, dang it. “Some…some water g-got int-to my…my…”

“Okay. I understand, it’s okay.” It’ll be fine, he just has to get her out of there and get her back to Red. If there’s one thing Red knows, it’s warmth. 

He reaches the edge of the hole after what feels like ages of crawling. “Okay. I’m gonna close your faceplate, just in case you were to slip down any further, okay?” He isn’t sure if what he sees is a quick nod or just a shiver, but he does it anyway, feeling minutely better when she’s sealed off from any more cold water getting into her suit. 

“Alright. Time to get you out of there.” He hasn’t actually figured out how exactly that’s gonna happen yet, but it only takes a second of consideration for it to come to him. “If I turn around, do you think you can grab on tight to my ankles?”

“Y-y-yeah.”

“Okay. I’m gonna use my jetpack, so make sure you get a good grip.” Painstakingly, trying not to go too fast but feeling the urgent need to get her out of there, he spins himself on the ice until his feet are in front of her. Pidge pries one arm away from the ice, then another, latching onto his ankles with what he’s sure are stiff fingers. 

He just hopes this idea is actually a good one, and that she can hang on. 

“Here goes!” Keith activates his jetpack, and he goes shooting forward on his belly across the ice. Thankfully, he feels Pidge’s weight come with him. As soon as he’s certain they’re clear of the hole and back on more solid ice, he cuts the jetpack off and quickly sits up. Pidge has rolled over onto her side and curled up into a ball. 

“Hey.” He scoots back toward her, looking her over, though he’s not sure what he expects to see. She’s not injured, just freezing. “You okay?”

A shiver racks her body. “Mm-hm. P-peachy.”

It was a stupid question. “Um. I don’t think I should call Red over here, not with this ice. Is it okay if I carry you back?”

“W-w…what ab-bout th-...the m-min-nerals?” She cranes her head to look toward the caves they’d been headed toward. 

Keith rolls his eyes. “I’m taking you back to Red to warm up. If we think we can get the minerals after that, fine. But we’re not doing anything else until you’re safe.” Holding out his hands to her, he waits until she accepts them, then pulls her up and loops her arms over his shoulders. “One, two, three.” Pidge helps as best she can to get them up, Keith on his feet with his hands hooked under her thighs and her hanging onto his back. 

“You g-good?”

He nods. “I’m fine. You hardly weigh anything.”

She slaps him weakly on the helmet as if that’s an insult.

“Alright, it’s gonna be slow going until we get off this ice. Don’t need a repeat incident.” 

He picks his way carefully across the terrain, wishing that there was any way to make this trip go faster. His jetpack won’t carry the both of them, though, and hers is frozen and useless. Every once in a while, he asks her a question, usually checking to see if they’re going the right direction, though it’s mostly just to make sure she’s still awake and aware. The longer they go, the more fuzzy her responses become, and since they’re no longer on the ice he forces himself into a faster trot. 

By the time Red’s welcome form looms through the falling snow, Keith’s exhausted, but he just pushes himself a little harder still. “Almost there. Stay awake.”

“Mm.”

“I mean it, Pidge. If you fall asleep on me now I’ll, uh…I’ll rearrange stuff in your lab when we get back.”

“Nuhh. You woul’n’t.”

“I will. Stay awake.”

“Ugh. ‘Kay.”

She barely does. Keith practically runs up Red’s ramp, into her blessedly warm cockpit, and lowers Pidge into the pilot’s seat as carefully as he can on trembling legs. Her head lolls to the side, but when he taps the side of her helmet she grunts at him and squints her eyes open. 

“Are we home?”

The corner of his mouth crooks up a little. “We’re in Red.” He glances up at the ceiling. “Can we crank up the temperature in here?” 

The Lion gives a quiet rumble in response, and the room grows a little warmer. 

Keith looks back to Pidge. “Feeling any better yet?”

She smiles a little and shuts her eyes again. “Mm. ‘t’s warm…”

“Yeah. We should probably get you out of those wet clothes, but I don’t have anything for you to change into.”

“Feels good. Jus’ need…five more minutes. Then…then minerals.”

He huffs in disbelief. “You need a lot more than five minutes, Pidge. I think I’m gonna take you back to the Castle. We can come back for the minerals later. I don’t wanna risk you getting sick out here.”

Pidge sighs heavily, but she’s in no shape to put up a fight. “Fine. I’m gonna…take a nap.”

Keith laughs lightly. “I guess you can do that.” Now that they’re out of the cold, he’s pretty sure she’ll be safe. “Not in my chair, though. I’ll take you back to the cargo hold.”

He helps her up, and she manages to hobble to the back with one arm around him. As he’s getting her settled, she reaches out and pats him on the arm without opening her eyes. 

“Thanks, Keith. You’re…a good teammate.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, simply staring down at her in surprise. Finally he relaxes a little into a smile. “Get some sleep, Pidge.”