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frannyzooey · 1 year ago

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Short Days, Long Nights: 13

Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Masterlist

Rating: E (pregnancy sex, lactation, grief)

A/N: Thank you endlessly for being so patient with me while I've been on hiatus ❤ I'm gonna stay off for another couple weeks, but I didn't want to leave you hanging for too long. I appreciate every single person that has stuck with me on this! Thank you to @the-ginger-hedge-witch and @the-scandalorian for helping me with this one - you both are the biggest brains and the most wonderful writers and I am insanely lucky to have you on my team. Enjoy! ��

Jackson.

The image of the map is burned into Joel’s mind, always present.

More concerned with your safety than anything, he knows you should leave, but as the weeks slip by, what picks at him more is that he didn’t have an answer to your question that day.

“Where are we gonna go?”

He should be one step ahead. He should be on top of the potential outcomes. He should have a plan, since that’s always been his role. Stepped up with one when he had Sarah, took care of Tommy before the Outbreak, and after, led their way in the QZ. After Tommy left, he still did it, even if he was going through the motions more than anything. Doing it has always been second nature, a means to survive.

You’d let his lack of answer drop because he knew you didn’t want to leave, and of course, he knew you shouldn’t. Not right now. But still - still - he should have had a plan for something he knew was bound to happen sometime. Blinded by the light of your fierce optimism and wanting so badly to believe in it, he simply…didn’t think about it. The first time that’s happened in decades.

You’re depending on him, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t have an answer ready.

“Where are we gonna go?”

He doesn’t fucking know.

Wood dust floats to settle on the floorboards around his boots, and he runs a piece of sandpaper over the beam of rough lumber that rests across his lap. The rhythmic sweeps soothe his nerves, and he tries to focus on how good it feels to do something useful with wood again. Something familiar, the dry grain sliding against his palms. A task done because he wants to, instead of as a means to get by like so much else in his life.

This…this was for him, and for you.

The late afternoon sun streams through the window in the shed, not quite enough to dissipate the chill. Crisp air breezes in through the open door, the sweet smell of damp leaves blending with the wood and the tips of his fingers are cold enough to stop, but he doesn’t. He has to make the most of your nap times if he wants to get this done before next week.

Before Christmas - or the closest approximation to the date anyway, using your rudimentary calendar. Celebrating the holiday had been your idea, and like every other time when it came to something you asked for, he couldn’t say no. He said yes when you asked him to cut you a tree, nodded when you pointed to the one you wanted after a trek through the woods, helped you rip strips of red, moth bitten flannel that was worthless for clothing just to watch you tie bows to the end of the branches, as a means to decorate it.

He was impressed by your constant resourcefulness and ingenuity when it came to the things you’d been given, and at night, when the lantern shone on it and bathed the living room in a cozy glow, it almost did feel like Christmas time. The closest thing to it that he’s felt in years, anyway.

Placing the sandpaper on the floor and picking up a knife, his mind follows the trail marked on the map. Winding through woods and across open swathes of land, it passes right through your area and he knows it’s only a matter of time before someone else follows the first. He knows that man can’t have been the only one with a map.

He frowns, gouging the wood a little more forcibly as he works through a knot, and he pictures the curve of your cheek, the delicate line of your neck, the bright happiness in your eyes here. That Christmas tree, in the front room. Torn between the idea of the unknown being just as unsafe as being a sitting duck at the cabin, he is restless with the need to move. The urge to keep you tucked away and protected from the world spreads beneath his skin and grows stronger every day, along with your stomach.

It’s large enough that it strains against the shirts you’ve borrowed from him, and though you’ve started choosing large sweatshirts instead, it’s begun to push against those too. You’ve begun to sway when you stand in place, an unconscious rock as a means to relieve pressure on your lower back, and he pictures you doing the same with a baby in your arms as you stand next to the cradle that he’s been building.

When he thinks about leaving it behind only to gather dust as he drags you somewhere else, the image eats at him, reminding him too much of another room, left behind to rot.

Another life, upended by abrupt violence.

Guilt has always gnawed at him for so many things, and following the mental image of you holding a baby, he adds to the growing list: the idea of another child replacing the one he had.

He fixates on all the things he couldn’t do for her on that last day but also the things time has robbed from him: the image of her face, the sound of her laugh. The books she liked, the order in which she lost her teeth, the weight of her infant body in his arms. How much of that time he spent without her while trying to provide for her, and how here, he’s got all the time in the world for this new child. His new child.

More feelings; the knife gouging deeper. Looking forward to a holiday that can’t include her, nervously anticipating holding a baby that belongs to him, looking at you and what you’ve built together and being so fucking happy he missed his mark on that bleak day ten years ago.

Is it betrayal to feel joy?

He’s not replacing her. He knows that. He knows, and yet the guilt never stops and so neither do his hands nor his mind, both working on fixing other problems that can be fixed.

Jackson.

A bed for the baby.

–

“I know it would be cold, but I think I’d rather have snow.”

You look out at the sodden garden, the neat, large borders that surround it blending in with the damp landscape. The fence that Joel built the only visual marker of where it’s at, it’s prepped for winter, buried in a dense layer of leaves and compost. You absentmindedly finger the leaf of a plant you brought inside with you, sheets of rain sliding down the window.

“Not me,” he says. “Might look pretty, but it would be a whole lot more dangerous.”

The blurred, muted mash of colors outside all blend together, the world a canvas of dingy brown and bleak gray. Everything soggy and limp, everything saturated with wetness: at this very moment, you’d take danger over another day of this.

Turning away from the depressing sight, you watch him sort through a pile of loose screws and nails on the coffee table. His head bent in his task, his shirt pulls tight across his shoulders as he hunches over and nudges each piece of metal with the tip of his finger, sorting them. Listening to the pleasant clink of them being dropped into glass jars, you go back to watering the plants.

After a process that had you pouring over the gardening book for days, you left what you could in the garden in order to have a good base for the spring, but took the rest inside, to see if you could keep growing anything through the winter.

Mismatched buckets and pots, an amalgamation of anything that would hold enough soil to plant a seed in, it was an experiment for sure. Enough was stored in the pantry to get you through the winter if you stayed lean enough about rations, and Joel had been pushing his portions upon you like there was no tomorrow, constantly assuring you that he had plenty.

“What is this?”

Stopping to stretch his back with a groan, he’s picked up a loose, shapeless scrap of fabric off the couch.

“Wait –” you protest, setting the watering can down.

He frowns at it, turning it in his hands, and when you make a hasty grab for it, he keeps it out of your reach with a chuckle.

“This my present, honey?” His facial expression still puzzled, he tries to work out what it is.

“It’s for the baby,” you explain. Coming to stand next to him, you turn it upright. “See? This is the neckhole, and the arms go here.”

“.......And the legs?”

“I’m not that good at sewing, okay?” you defend yourself with a laugh. “I thought maybe their legs could just hang out in this little…sack area.”

You make a self deprecating face, looking to him for a reaction, and he fingers the bottom of it.

“That ain’t bad. You should see if you can tie up the bottom, you know, for a draft or somethin’.”

“I used all the spare laces on the pants. I tried to make some, but of course I don’t have elastic and I don’t know how big to make them around the waist for a button, so I thought I could just cut two holes and make like, a little belt so that it would grow with the baby and...”

Your words taper off when you realize he’s staring up at you with an amused expression and you let your shoulders drop in defeat. “This kid is gonna look like they’re from the eighteen hundreds, aren’t they.”

“I guess you would know, with the books you’re always readin’,” he says with a grin, and the stack of historical fiction next to your side of the bed comes to mind.

“Oh God,” you moan quietly to yourself.

Standing with a soft grunt, he bends to press a kiss to the crown of your hair.

“Don’t worry about it, honey,” he murmurs. “You about ready for bed? I’m gonna go do a final lap.”

Checking the perimeter of the cabin while you bank the wood stove for the night, he eventually joins you in the bedroom, bringing in the smell of cool night air with him. Already in bed, you’re propped against the headboard with your book in hand, and you admire him as he gets ready for bed himself: the edges of his curling locks catching the light in a glowing chestnut, the warmth held in his tanned skin as he peels off his shirt, the soft give of his still trim stomach as he pads over to bed. He climbs in, adjusting the covers around the two of you.

“What about Mae?” you ask absentmindedly, skimming the book in front of you.

He shrugs. “Not bad.”

You make a face at the reception. “What about….Lauren?”

Stretching out on his side to face you, he rests his hand on your bump, smoothing the fabric of your sleep shirt down. A small movement nudges underneath his palm, and the corner of his mouth lifts. An intimate, quiet moment, you keep reading while he chases the constant movements with his touch, his fingers splayed wide, searching.

“Always so squirrely at night,” he says, the words rounded with softness.

“Tell me about it,” you sigh.

You set your book to the side and slide down next to him as he reaches to turn off the lantern, and the two of you lay facing each other, your belly between the length of your bodies. His hand finds your stomach again, and you let yours rest over it, guiding his touch lower. Lower, until the tips of his fingers brush against the band of your underwear and also right where a set of feet (or hands) slide underneath your skin. The taut skin shifts with rapid movement, a sensation that never fails to mesmerize you, but it’s something else when he’s the one who gets to see it. Watching him experiencing it is your favorite.

“What about Margaret? I’ve always liked that name.”

He makes a face, telling you all you need to know. “What makes you so sure it’s gonna be a girl?”

You shrug, lifting the hem of your shirt so you can feel his skin on yours, and his hand slides right back into place.

“Have you thought of any names?” you ask quietly.

“I, uh…I was sorta thinkin’ about June.” His dark eyes flit up to yours. “After June Carter Cash. Or Pearl, after –”

“You wanna name my baby after Pearl Jam?” your eyebrows raise. You’ve heard him humming “Future Days” while working outside, you know the band is a favorite of his.

He grins at your reaction. “That a no?”

“I should have guessed it would be music related,” you tease with a smile, scooting closer. “I like June. It’s pretty.”

The gentle exploration of his touch soothes you, and you close your eyes to savor it.

“What about boy names?” you ask. “I can’t really think of any. It’s actually what makes me think it’s a girl, like she’s trying to tell me something.”

“I haven’t thought of too many either. Thomas, for my brother, maybe?”

“That’s a good one.” You yawn, and sleep softly rounds the edges of your words. “Are you ready for next week?”

The preparation of his gift has your hands aching and grasping one with the other, you rub the tender knuckles, working some of the soreness out. Wordlessly, he reaches for your hand and takes it into his own, kneading the joints.

“I think so. S’kinda nice, havin’ a Christmas.” His touch lingers on the tips of your fingers, warming them. “Too cold in here? I can put another log on if you want.”

“No, it’s just…they ache. They're so swollen they get stiff sometimes. I don’t think the damp is helping.”

You hear it now, peppering the window in the dark. The steady drum of rain on the window, the sound makes the room all the more inviting: warm and safe, his body heat radiating underneath the quilt. He keeps rubbing your fingers, his own larger hands cradling your smaller one, and akin to someone rubbing your back to sleep, the touch lulls you, your eyes fluttering shut.

“This good?” His mouth brushes lightly against your knuckles, his lips pressing against your fingers before he breathes warm air on them.

“Mmmm, yea.” Silent for a moment, you speak. “Joel?”

He hums in acknowledgement of his name, and you voice the nightly request you started asking him weeks ago.

“Tell me what you know.”

A prompt he’s seemingly ready for, he shifts to get comfortable, letting out a sigh. The motion similar to someone getting ready to tell a bedtime story, your reaction to curl tight next to him is the same.

The first time you asked him this, he barely remembered anything. Other memories taking their place, the finer details of pregnancy and birth were buried deep, most of them forgotten. He remembered the doctor's visits but not the frequency. The general concept of birth but not the stages. The pain, but as someone who didn’t go through it, he couldn’t tell you what labor actually felt like.

All guesses and long ago recollections, you took them because they were better than nothing. Tonight, he tells you about the night feedings.

“Babies, they uh…” he begins in his gravely, lowered voice, trying to speak softly in the darkness. “You know they eat every couple of hours or so for a while after they’re born. Weeks of it.”

You nod against his shoulder, listening to his deep drawl.

“I don’t remember much because when you don’t get a lot of sleep it all tends to blur together, y’know? But I do remember some of them. Peaceful, sometimes. Everything is so quiet and still, and there ain’t nothin’ but you and them, sittin’ together.”

He stops, and you reach up to brush your fingers along the edge of his jaw, just enough to let him know you’re listening. He sighs, a heavy, contemplative thing.

“They are so small in your hands. So small it’s scary. I remember bein’ so careful, always feelin’ like I was gonna accidentally hurt her, or –” his breath hitches, and he swallows hard. He’s silent for a moment, and your breath slows and evens out. “Anyway, they don’t let you get any sleep, not for a few months, but sometimes….sometimes, you don’t mind.”

Your body loose and relaxed next to his, you’re on the edge of sleep when the words tumble softly out of your mouth.

“Joel?”

“Yea?”

“I’m scared.” The confession is whispered into his bare skin, and you breathe in his comforting, familiar smell, the steady drum of his heart beating underneath your cheek. His hand is a weighty drag down the line of your spine, the feeling of it steadying you.

The wind blows outside, rain pelting the glass.

“I know, honey,” he answers. “Me too.”

–

Long after you’ve fallen asleep, he stays awake, his mind lost in a memory.

Her tiny body rigid with deceiving strength, he struggles to force her arm into a small sleeve. His hand is huge compared to her fragile arm, her skin downy soft under his palm, and moonlight shines through the window in her bedroom just enough to light the features of her scrunched, upset face. A small wail pierces the darkness, and succeeding in dressing her, he lifts her up.

One hand cupping her entire bottom with the other covering her back, he makes low shushing sounds with his mouth to soothe her, inhaling the milky sweet smell that clings to her skin.

“Hey baby girl, shhh. I got you. I got you.”

Her tiny face burrows into his chest, her body squirming until she gets comfortable, and he keeps soothing with low hums, his hand rubbing a slow circle over her purple pajamas as she settles.

Moving slowly so as not to disturb her, he sits down in the rocking chair and continues to hold her; the carpet plush under his bare foot that gently pushes off the floor. His sleep blurred eyes focus on the small turn of a glass butterfly that hangs from her window, the rounded curves catching the moonlight as she sleeps on his chest.

He lets the unearthed, vivid memory wash over him as his chest constricts, the pain suffocating. Finding himself in this position more and more since you started asking him about what he remembers, he closes his eyes and succumbs to the pain: worth it, to see her face again. To remember things he’d thought he’d forgotten.

The edges of the memory blur and crumble, his mind losing its focus on that purple room and on the cusp of sleep, he tries to grasp and hold on tight to the details until they fade away.

–

“Keep your eyes closed, okay? Wasn’t much to wrap with.”

Anticipation thrums through you, your features lax with fondness as you wait patiently on the living room floor with your eyes closed. A fire crackles in the wood stove next to you, shadows pooled in the corners of the living room where the light doesn’t reach, and you scoot a little closer to absorb more heat.

Never one to linger in bed, he’s been up since dawn, and when you awoke alone, there was a weighted, peaceful stillness in the air—a significance to the day that was at best, a guess. Still, you felt it all the same: through drinking tea with him on the back porch this morning, through reading on the couch this afternoon, through helping him prep the small feast you allowed yourselves for dinner.

You hear and feel a shift in the air when he comes to sit in front of you, setting your present at your feet.

“Okay, you can open ‘em.”

Laughter bubbles bright and loud when you see what it is.

“Joel Miller, you shouldn’t have.” Picking up the bottle of vinegar, you tilt it in the light to see how much is left: about half, which is a find indeed. “How long have you been hiding this?”

He shrugs, looking pleased with your reaction. “Not too long. I found it when I went to check out that last cabin. I know it’s not a lot, but I thought it would be useful.”

Vinegar means pickling, means cleaning, means acid for the soil of your plants that you moved inside for the winter, and even though the label is half peeled off and the contents might not be as potent as they once were, you have never been so happy to see a bottle of the stuff in your life.

“Thank you,” you say softly, leaning forward as much as you can, presenting your lips for a kiss. He gives you one, and you pull back, your mouth twisted in an apologetic pout. “This is a way better gift than what I got you.”

“That’s not true,” he argues. “You fixed my favorite jacket. Feels brand new.”

After snagging it on a tree branch while hunting, he had been so disappointed when he inspected the size of the rip when he came home. Handing it to you, he had declared it no good anymore and told you to use it for something else, but knowing it was his favorite, you’d been mending it in secret while he went out for the day. Textiles being a scarcity aside, that jacket was also your favorite: it’s the one he’s been wearing since you first started out; the sight of it comforting to you.

“I actually got you somethin’ else, but you’ll have to close your eyes again.”

You automatically squeeze your eyes shut, your hands playfully grabbing the air as you squirm on the floor, and the sound of his low chuckle makes you smile wider. Hearing the front door open and then close, you frown when the object he places at your feet sounds heavy.

“Okay, open em’ up.”

It’s immediate, the way your expression drops from delight into something more reverential. Your breath frozen in your lungs, you reach out and touch the smooth edges of the cradle. Tracing the perfectly fit together corners, you take in how small it is – so small - but perfect.

Your eyes lift to meet his, tears blurring your vision. “Did you make this?”

“Yea,” he replies softly. “I kept in the shed, workin’ on it when you were napping. I knew we needed somewhere to put her, so I thought –”

“Her?” Your fingers brushing along the neat edges, you look up at him with a small, watery smile, and he matches it with a soft one of his own.

“Sure, why not. You’ve convinced me.” Affection is open and obvious on his face, the lines that normally crease his forehead softened as he watches you look it over.

“This is…so much, Joel. It’s beautiful. I don’t even know how…I was thinking we’d have to put her in a dresser drawer or something, and I –” Overwhelmed with his thoughtfulness, you’re at a loss for words. “Thank you,” you eventually settle on, hoping the sincereness in your words expresses everything you feel.

“You look so surprised,” he says, teasing laced in his tone. “Did you really think I would get you just a half bottle of vinegar for Christmas?”

“I don’t know!” you laugh, a hitch in your breathing as you settle your emotions. “We can’t exactly go Christmas shopping, so I figured you did the best you could.”

He reaches to swipe a tear from the round of your cheek, and you chase the heat of his palm, leaning into it. “It’s been so long since I gave anyone a Christmas present. Glad I’m not totally out of practice.”

Gently sliding the cradle out of the way, you rise to your knees to give him a kiss.

“I love it.”

You kiss him again, his lips tinted red from the wine at dinner, and the bitterness sweeps through your mouth when he gifts you a slow slide of his tongue. The tentative heat held in his response passes to you, and swallowing his hunger, it spreads through your limbs to pool between your legs. Pressing forward, your hand reaches out for his shirt, and you deepen the kiss.

You hope it conveys everything you want to put into words but can’t: appreciation, love, gratitude. Keeping your mouth on his, you slip your hand around the back of his neck and threading your fingers up through his locks, you hold him in place, his hand grasping your elbow to steady you as a soft sound rumbles from his throat.

“I guess you really liked it.”

You just nod, pulling him in for another kiss, his familiar taste and scent filling your senses as he presses himself closer, and when you let out the catch of a moan in your throat, he pulls back just far enough for you to see hooded want in his eyes.

“We done with the gift exchange?” He presses a kiss to your your throat, his lips warm and delicate over the skin he finds and you nod, letting him taste.

“Here,” he asks, his mouth moving just below your ear, “or in the bedroom?”

“Here,” you breathe, cupping his whiskered cheeks to pull his mouth back to yours. Your hand slips between his thighs, finding him half hard under his jeans, and groaning into your mouth, he shifts on the floor to kneel in front of you. Your fingers work the buttons of his flannel open, pushing it from his shoulders at the same time he grabs the hem of your shirt to work it over your head and off. Undoing your bra, you fling it onto the floor as his hand reaches back to tug his t-shirt off in a smooth, overhand motion, and your hands drop to his belt buckle, tugging it open.

The back of your knuckles swipe through the line of coarse hair that leads under the waistband of his jeans, a slight shakiness to your movements betraying the need you feel, and it’s something he sees and rewards with another consuming kiss.

The rest of your clothes tugged off in a rush, he rests his back against the couch and guides you onto his lap, the soft inside of your thighs straddling the outside of his firmer ones. One of the only comfortable positions you’ve got left, it’s been your favorite because it gives him unfettered access to your breasts and when he palms them in appreciation, anticipation sends a warm thrill up your spine.

Using both his hands, he cups the sides of your jaw to draw you in, holding you in place while he opens your mouth with his, his tongue sliding smoothly against yours. His fingertips dig into the nape of your neck, one hand dropping to palm the plush weight of your breast, and you kiss him back even harder while he delicately teases your nipple with his thumb.

The calloused pad skims over the top of it, the contrast between the tender touch and the fierceness of his kisses making your head swim with arousal, and pulling back, he takes in your kiss-swollen mouth only for a moment before bending his attention to your breast.

Using the cradle of his hold, he pushes it up to draw the peak of it into his mouth, and your head tips back, a broken cry coming from your throat.

“Please. Please.”

He would give you anything – anything – you ask for, and this is no different. He laves his tongue over the peaked bud, dragging firm pressure over it as he draws it into his mouth, and when you dig your fingers into his hair and pull with a moan of pleasure, his hand cups the underside of your breast to push more in. Frenzied, rough, desperate for more, a deep groan slides out of his throat at the same moment you feel a strange, tingling sensation on your nipple.

Surprise shows in his brown eyes when they flick up to yours, and pulling back, you both stop.

“Was that –” you ask, and he looks down at your breast, his thumb dragging delicately along the peak.

“Yea, I think it was,” he answers, slightly mesmerized.

A drop of milky liquid hangs from the tip of your breast, and he wipes it away, smearing it on your soft skin. Another one takes its place, and his eyes flicker with interest.

“Holy shit.”

The words slip out faster than you can stop them, and the corresponding lift of his eyebrows makes you laugh, his own deeper chuckle joining your lighter one. He pulls you in for a kiss right as you’re leaning down for one, and you find there was no hunger lost while the moment was broken; instead it comes back even stronger as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and he holds onto your back with a splayed grip so fierce it makes you squirm.

Unsure of when you started grinding your hips against his, you work them slightly faster. Spread and wet on his lap, you’re so achingly empty right over where you can feel the heft of him pressing between your bodies, and fire lights under your skin with how much you want him to just take.

He’s been so careful with you, so considerate in his handling of your body these last few weeks. Always taking care of every need that you have, he’s done so with no less attentiveness, but you can tell that he’s been holding back—a telling rigidness to his muscles when he moves above you, a tightness to his strokes every time he fucks you as if he’s keeping his body in check to make sure he doesn’t lose himself. Missing the sharp edges to his love, you kiss him harder, and he groans as if in pain, his tongue sliding deep into your mouth. His beard rubs your chin raw, the pressure of his response forcing your body to tip back slightly in his hold.

“Fuck me,” you whine, the words breathless against his lips, and he groans again, breaking your kiss.

“Christ, honey, turn around.”

Desperate to follow anything he tells you to do, you grip his shoulder to steady yourself as you turn yourself around, your back to his front. His mouth is an immediate brush against the nape of your neck, a heady sensation that has you melting back into him, and his hands travel up your sides to cup your breasts, pulling at the peaks.

Your ass grinds in his lap, the thick, stiff line of his cock trapped between your bodies, and when you arch your back and lean forward in a silent invitation, he reaches down to line himself up. Easing yourself back down, the stretch is delicious but so tight it’s almost unbearable.

“Goddamn,” he groans over your breathless whine.

Wrapping your smaller hands around his thick wrists for purchase, you pull at your bottom lip with your teeth as you sink all the way down to the base, and when he’s fully seated inside you, he bands his arms just under your breasts in a tight hold, keeping you in place. You can feel how hard he’s breathing between your shoulder blades, his beard rubbing against your skin, and squirming in his lap with a soft sound, you start to roll your hips.

He’s so deep this way, so much deeper than he’s been in weeks, and taking a moment to get used to it with a couple of slick strokes down, you chase the thick, filling stretch of his cock. Leaning forward, you brace your hands on his knees, and the deep groan you hear from behind you makes you wetter; your body physically reacting to his wordless praise.

“You feel so fucking good, honey. So good.”

His hands traverse your back—one splayed wide to drag heavily down your spine, the other curled around your hip to guide your movements–and when you bend forward as much as your stomach allows, his hand drops to your ass, spreading you from behind.

“I wish you could see how wet my cock is. I want you to see how you’re soakin’ it.”

“I can feel it,” you moan, your hips working faster.

You can: every down stroke is smooth and audible, the tight walls of your cunt stretching around him to take him perfect and fluid every single time, and when you start to pull him deeper, he sits forward with a cinch, pulling you back towards his body. The solid, warm wall of his chest cages you in, his arm looping around your hip so his hand can reach your clit, and when he finds it, everything spreads warm and thick from your center outwards, your head tipping back to rest against his shoulder.

“There’s my girl,” he smiles when your body drapes pliant and loose against his, your hips chasing the pressure of his fingers. Forward into his touch and backwards onto his cock, you can hear him breathing heavy and low into your ear and your hands find his forearms to hold on tight, your nails digging into the thick muscles as you work yourself faster.

He rubs your clit in quicker, more precise circles, just right with the firm slip of two calloused fingers, and your thighs tighten in their tremble, your release a bright, shining edge that beckons.

When it happens, it breaks you – clamping tight around him as you’re suspended in a state of strained rapture, his hand comes up to cradle the base of your throat in a possessive hold while his other hand keeps working, and a second wave takes you by surprise, washing over your skin as you cry out. You can feel the wetness that soaks his fingers when he reaches down to feel where you’re stretched around him, letting out a groan against your skin.

His hand smears damply across your hip as he lifts you from his lap, slipping out as he guides you on to your hands and knees, and loose and pliant, you let him position you anyway he wants.

“Just a little more, honey. Just a little longer,” he coaxes.

Resting your cheek on the floor, you arch your back to put yourself on display for him as you catch your breath, but it’s stolen just as quickly when he gives you a rough, open mouthed kiss to your cunt. He eats you like a man starved, the wet muscle of his tongue flattening against you as he keeps you open with his hands splayed on your ass, and a deep rumbled groan is felt against the inside of your thighs when you reach back to tug on his hair.

His tongue dips deep inside you for a taste, and just when he pulls back, he goes in for more, like he’s changed his mind because he can’t get enough. Harder this time, more forceful, the action pushing your hips forward, and when you cry out, he’s dragging himself back, pulling away to position himself.

The heat of his body radiates along the back of your thighs, the thick tip of his cock notched against the slick dip of your entrance only for the barest of moments before he pushes himself in with a stroke of his hips, and you hear a hiss behind you, one you almost don’t catch over the low moan that spills out of your mouth.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans, his hips fitting neatly along your ass. He slides out and then back in, giving you time to adjust to his size. “I want – Christ – I want…can you take it harder for me?”

“Yes. God yes. Please.”

He answers with a rougher slide in, an audible muted pound of his hips against your skin. “You tell me if it’s too much, honey, okay?”

After turning your head and nodding so he can see you, he gives you another rough, smooth stroke in and then another one, each one filling you until the air feels like it’s being pushed from your lungs, and then he picks up his pace, letting out a low, heavy breath for every thrust. It sounds obscene: his rumbled, low groans and grunts, but you can barely focus on it for how sensitive you are to his thickness. Everything tighter, the fit is a snug, slick slide in every time, and you squeeze around him, earning you another hiss of appreciation.

“This pussy is gonna kill me,” he groans and then holds nothing back: his hips snapping against you with his hand resting flat on your tailbone, every jolt rocking your body forward.

Exactly what you asked for and what you’ve been missing, you let him know.

“It feels…it feels so good. God I’ve missed this.”

“Yea?” The word is a breathless growl, and you clench down on him again. “What about this? Did you miss this too?”

His hands wrapping around the inside of your elbows, he tugs you back and up until your back is arched with your ass in his lap and then he’s pounding into you.

“Joel!”

Faster and harder, his hips work ceaselessly behind you for a dozen strokes and when he comes, his fingers dig tight into your skin, your arms aching as he holds you in place to take every last drop. Panting behind you, his strokes slow into a rhythmic grind and sliding out, he eases you gently down onto the floor where you slump, your cheek resting on the fold of your arms.

Dazed and loose, with a content smile on your lips, you lay down on your side and he joins you, dropping to the floor. His arm slung over his eyes, you watch his pulse pound in his neck as he tries to catch his breath.

“So…was that also a Christmas present, or….?” you tease, the question coming out slow and saturated with contentment, and he laughs, a breathless thing that’s carefree and deep.

“Sure,” he answers, rolling onto his side. “Merry Christmas.”

The light of the flames dancing across your bare body, shadows slide over his tanned skin and the bluntness of his reply makes you laugh.

The two of you look at each other for a moment, his hand coming up to brush away an errant lock of hair from your temple. His hand glides down the length of your torso, coming to rest on the swell of your stomach and leaning in, his mouth meets yours.

Still smiling, you cup his cheek and with a slick slide leaking between your thighs, pull him closer to deepen the kiss.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller/you #joel miller/reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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russellsppttemplates · 8 months ago

Note

Would you be able to write a blurb with Charles or lando with reader going through it with postpartum? Feeling down and sore maybe recovering after a c section or like issues w breastfeeding. You always write them so well and I need more to tame my baby fever

Note: this can also be considered a sneak peek of a big piece request I have coming up 🤍 also, thank you for taking the time to leave the compliment, it truly makes my day ✨️

Cw: breastfeeding, c-section, post partum, scarring, low mood, self-doubt

"Love, can you fill this bottle again, please?", you asked Lando so you could drink water while you fed Fraser, "it's supposed to help with healing and milk production and health stuff", you gestured.

Chuckling at your words, Lando went to the kitchen to fill it and brought it back, straw ready for you to drink from.

"He's getting bigger, don't you think?", Lando said, sitting next to you on the sofa and kissing your naked shoulder, "you're doing such a good job, baby, I love you", he whispered.

"Just doing what needs to be done", you shrugged your shoulders. It had been a whole rollercoaster with Fraser and you were just grateful that you were home with your family, safe and sound. The rest, you were taking day by day.

"You've been amazing, beautiful. I don't know how to thank you for how much you do for him, for our family", he said as he squeezed your arm reassuringly, "I know it can be hard to believe, but I'm telling the truth. Matilda kept telling her friends that mummy is her hero when I dropped her off", he smiled.

Having surgery, not being able to hold your baby straight away and all of the complications that arose stretched you to the furthest of your physical and emotional abilities, trying to make sure everything was right and doing well, but it was exhausting you.

After feeding and burping Fraser, he was also put in the tiny bedside cot, making you take advantage of the fact that you were up to get your nightitme routine down. After your shower, you rubbed moisturiser on the skin, grabbing the ointment to put on your scar. You wouldn't trade it for the world, your baby boy was brought earthside from there, but the pain and sensitivity were still heightened despite the medications you were taking.

"Baby, is everything alright in there?", Lando said as he opened the door slightly, not missing your rushed movements to pull your nightgown down, "yes, just need to brush my teeth", you attempted a smile.

"I want to take care of you tonight, if you'll allow me", Lando said as he kissed the nape of your neck once you sat on the bed next to him.

"Lando, I don't- we can't-", you attempted, tears falling from your eyes the minute you felt his hands on the side of your boobs.

"Baby, Y/N, darling, I'm not doing anything you don't want to, but I'd like you to relax for a little bit", he encouraged, kissing away your tears, "I hate seeing you like this and I wish I could take this pain away from you", he muttered.

Taking a deep breath, you fiddled with the bracelet on your wrist before you seeked the comfort of his hand in yours, lacing your fingers as you traced his wedding band, "I've been feeling... a lot of things", you started softly, your husband not pressuring you to speak and accepting your touch, "I feel like we're out of the woods - finally - but then it still hurts and I can't do all the things I want and it sucks", you said as tears welled up again,

"Baby, that little boy loves you so much. You're his mummy, and it is because you're so attentive to him that you can't do him wrong. Matilda, who was the biggest daddy's girl I have ever met, doesn't even care about me anymore", he joked, "she's always like, 'yes,b but mummy did this and that and so on', and you know I can't argue with her because she's right! She's in awe of you and you're the best example for her", he kissed your forehead.

"I just feel like I'm slower than everyone else else and that I'm not coming back as quick, and I'm not on top of all of it already", you groaned, "he just learned to latch properly this week - and it's not his fault because he's so clever already -, and then I look at his handsome face and there's this rush of love", you shook your head, "it's so much, all at once".

"It's normal, gorgeous. And you're taking it like a champ, I'm so proud of you for that. I love you for that and so much more", he said earnestly, "you're the best mummy - me, Fraser and Matilda all agree", he smiled, pulling you to rest against his chest and rubbing your arm.

"Tilly's really said that?", you chuckled, "I think it was more like 'mummy was able to feed Fraser and help me with my homework at the same time. Why are you struggling so much?', but, you know, maybe I'm just reading too much into it, you know?", he shrugged his shoulders, happy to see you smile genuinely and calmly.

(Thank you for submitting an ask ✨️)

#lando norris blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

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balkanradfem · 15 days ago

Text

Come to a chestnut roasting adventure with me!

I found all these chestnuts this morning, and realized it would be a good day to go and roast them. My only condition for this is that it didn't rain in the last few days, so I would be able to find dry wood for the fire. Here's the preparation:

I carved in little x's on the chestnuts, if you don't do this, they explode in the fire, I've tried it out! I gathered all my resources: an old pan, some newspapers, matches, some easily flammable sticks, and the chestnuts. I packed it in my backpack and added a bottle of water, which is also important!

Now we can start the adventure, here's where we're going:

We have arrived! Now let's see how our designated fire spot looks like:

It is, in fact, filled with mud. From here on, we are doing chores. The first chore is to find some rocks, and position them so they can hold the fire up, because the fire should not be lit on mud. There's plenty rocks around the river so this wasn't a lot of work!

The next chore is to find fuel for the fire. There's little branches, sticks, pieces of bark and wooden debris everywhere, so this is a matter of foraging. We are going around picking up little sticks and wooden logs!

It's almost like a little cleanup, the place looks nicer afterwards. Now, these need to be broken into smaller pieces, and sorted into categories of 'tiny branches, medium sticks, and big pieces of wood'. There we go:

It is a satisfying task, and a good way to figure out which pieces are truly dry; dry wood will snap easily, if it's bendy and refusing to break, then it's not the best idea to put it in a fire, it's going to cause a lot of smoke and refuse to catch on fire quickly.

Now we can build a fire!

I don't know what the professional way for this is, but I've been lighting fires since I was a kid so I got this. I want the fire to be as far away from mud as possible, and for it to draw oxygen from underneath, so I will first add a few of the biggest sticks, and light the fire on top of them. This will make sure the fire has air! Then I'm scrunching up some newspapers, and adding the driest little sticks on top of them. I'm not trying to make this part airy, I'm trying to surround the newspapers with pieces of wood completely, so the heat cannot escape! The more heat there is trapped under the wood, the easier it will all light up. Heat escaping out would be a waste.

It's all ready, I'm grabbing the matches and lighting the newspapers:

I took a video of how fast this fire started, and it was almost scary, I had to keep backing away to not get burned. This is 10 seconds after I lit the newspapers:

The fire is immediately successful, so much so that I added everything I found on it, and then had to go get more pieces of wood! The fire for roasting chestnuts needs to achieve a certain amount of heat before we can start; we need glowing embers. I let it burn for 15 minutes, and at that point it is so hot I can't even get near anymore, and I could see embers. Now the fire is to be rearranged so it can accommodate the pan!

I moved the wood around so the glowing embers were exposed and put the pan right on top of them; it's being held by other sturdy pieces of wood that are not going to fall apart easily.

While they were roasting, I took some time to make a little origami box out of newspapers, to put the chestnuts in when they're done. After about 20 minutes of roasting they were finished!

I tried one and they're perfect! And at this point if you remember to look up, there's a beautiful sunset going on in the river:

I went on to make a second batch, to share and have some for dinner later. By the time they were done, the sun set completely. Our roasting adventure went successful! Chestnuts were roasted, good times were had, sunsets were enjoyed. I made sure to put the fire out with water before leaving. My fingers still smell like fire!

#roasting chestnuts #foraged food #foraging #building a fire #adventure #sharing adventures #story #making food for free #i am so well fed today #i took more videos but tumblr wouldn't let me upload many #i will make another post

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iadoreoldermen · 1 year ago

Text

Day 1: Shower sex

Pairing: fem!reader x Lando Norris (first person pov)

Word count: around 1.5K

TW: unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it guys!), oral (m receiving), smut smut smut, fluffy Lando at the end, slight angst if you squint.

A/N: literally something I would love to experience, hope you enjoy it! MDNI

Third place again. It felt like the whole world was trying to rip my heart into tiny pieces. Looking up at Lando I could see the smile on his face, but I knew it wasn't a real one. He took off in such a great place and now this.

I made my way back to the garage as fast as I could to ask where he was. Passing Oscar I could see defeat in his eyes so I hugged him tight, feeling him relax a bit. After the hugging I patted his back in sympathy and made a beeline towards Lando's driver's room.

Knocking on the door I spoke. "Lan, are you in there?" Before I could say anything else, the door was pulled open by him, facing me with glazed eyes. I gently pushed him in so we could fully be in his room. I grabbed his hand and led him to the couch and he sat down immediately.

"Baby you did amazing, why do I see tears in your eyes?" I asked concerned.

"I could've, no, I should've done better, I don't get how I cannot get a win at all." He sniffled and as I was still standing I pulled him close so his head was resting against my tummy.

Patting his hair gently I whispered "Your time will come Lan, you did your best, we both know that."

"Yes but still, I just-I don't-ugh I just don't know what else to do, I mean, I know the strategy isn't the best but still." He trailed off, I knew it was time to head back to our hotel.

"How 'bout we go back to our room, shower, eat, rest and you can tell me all about it?" I suggest and I feel his head tilting up, looking at me.

He whispers "That sounds good" and stands up to hug me properly.

The ride back to our hotel went by fast, Lando driving with his hand resting on my knee and I felt him relax a bit. Making our way up some stairs we finally made it and after fumbling with the key for long enough we were inside.

"Alrighty, set some comfy clothes out for us while I start the shower please darling." I said as I moved around in the bedroom to find our towels.

"Okay hun" he said with that gorgeous accent of his.

The shower was ready and I ushered him in the bathroom in only my underwear. "Tell me if you're done okay?"

"Would you please shower with me?" He looked at me with the biggest eyes known to mankind.

"Of course, give me just one second." I said whilst stripping. "Alright, let's get you cleaned."

Washing each other off I could feel him staring at me but I payed no mind, he was tired after all. I got behind him and massaged through his thick muscles and heard him groan in painful pleasure. After I've done that I got back to work on ridding him from the champagne leftover from his abs and he leaned his head on my shoulder. I felt him gasp in my neck so I asked him "What is it baby?"

"Need you." He nearly whimpered.

"How do you need me?"

"I need your mouth..please." He murmured and looked down at me as I got on my knees in front of him. Stroking his thighs I could finally taste his sweet cock, licking him softly and he tangled his hand in my hair, not to control me, just to have something to ground himself. Grabbing his cock I take his tip in my mouth and the whiny moan he let's out tells me I'm doing a good job. I take a big breath through my nose and take him down my throat. The response I get is one of the most beautiful moans I've ever heard. So beautiful, I have to sneak the hand that's not holding the base of his cock to rub my aching pussy to get some relief.

"Oh baby you must be drippin' -fuck- you're so good to me" He coos and damn yeah, my arousal leaks down my thighs. "I'm not gonna last long, I'm -fuck- so-sorry ngh" Oh my god, he's trying to kill me, I feel my end approach too, I could cum just by the sounds he makes. In a matter of seconds I can feel his thrusts halt and eventually stop as his cum leaks down my throat while I try my hardest to swallow all of it. Looking up at him we make eye contact and I moan around his lenght, but just as I feel a euphoric wave wash through me, he grabs my arms and swaps places with me, getting on his knees in front of me. Just as I'm about to ask him why he stopped me, he lifts one of my legs to hook over his shoulder and licks a broad stripe along my wet, awaiting cunt, making my knees buckle.

"Fuck- oh my god Lan!" I moan in pleasure and I can still feel him panting against me but that's the last thing on my mind. It's embarassing how close I got from only this much stimulation. "I'm close, Lan- yes!" With the way he thrusted two fingers inside me while licking at my clit I cum on his face so hard, I see stars. I tug at hsi curls a little harsher than I intented and when I feel like it's too much. He groans but kisses his way up my body until he reaches my mouth and kisses me like I'm his last source of oxygen. When he finally pulls away I giggle and he lifts his head to look at me and started laughing as well.

"Hello you" I said with a huge grin on my face as he scrunched his nose up.

"Hi babe" He said while nuzzling my neck. "May I still fuck you please?" How could I possibly say no when he asked so nicely.

"Go ahead, you don't even need to ask baby boy." I said while running my hands up his back delicately. I reach his hair and I have to grab his shoulders quickly because he raises my leg and thrusts up into me deeply. I feel my knees buckle and thank god he's holding me close or else I would've fallen. My eyes roll back to the back of my head as he strokes my warm walls in the most perfect way.

"Shit..You like that huh?" I can barely hear him say because he's continously hitting my g-spot. "Talk to me baby, d'ya like it?" He whines in my ear and I clench around him, Iknow he feels it because his grip on my thigh tightens.

"I-yes, yes I like it-fuck" I manage to answer as he speeds up his thrusts and I feel myself getting close again as I rock my hips against his and he groans, no growls out my name and that alone brings me close to the edge and I feel him getting closer too. I feel his hand cupping one of my breasts and in the blink of an eye he's sucking my nipple into his mouth, I suppose to gain some composure, like he always does when he doesn't want me to see him in this state, so I slowly lift his face. He looks up at me with his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, an almost invisible string of spit connecting my nipple and his mouth. I drag his face further up to kiss me and I moan into his mouth as I get pushed over the edge. The kiss is nothing short of messy. Tounge and teeth.

I slowly come back from my mind numbing orgasm and he's moaning into my mouth as he sucks my tounge and with a last couple of thrusts his hips stutter and he spills into me. We pull back from the kiss and he drops my forehead against mine as he slowly calms down but still pants against my face.

We stay like that for a couple minitues until he pulls out of me with a hiss, making sure I'm okay before washing me down. I return the favor and wash his face and and chest and arms. I notice after a while that he's just looking at me. I look at him and see him have the biggest smile on his face and he giggles a little.

"What's got you smiling like that hm?" I ask.

"I adore you, you're all I ever needed, I can't think of anything else but how beautiful you are. I don't even care about the race anymore just..you" he nearly chokes on his words, still grinning like an idiot.

An idiot in love.

I grab his face and look him deeply in his eyes. I'm smiling now too, tears running down my face.

"Oh Lan...I love you so much." I pull him close and kiss him briefly before pulling him into the tightest hug ever, because that's what he deserves.

Love..

A/N: Hope you liked it! I'm still a little new to writing so feedback and critisism is welcomed! ❤

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 #lando norris fanfic #f1 fanfic

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genericpuff · 3 months ago

Note

With LO being done, a mass layoff apparently happening recently, and high profile creators like that of Bugtopia bailing from them, do you think Webtoons is gonna last much longer?

So I had heard about the layoff through the grapevine (as in, pals that I know who are aware of the situation) but honestly, I don't think this is the end of Webtoons as an app... I think this is definitely an end of a version of Webtoons that we were all familiar with as both creators and readers. I've been noticing this shift over the past couple years and now it seems to be coming to a head, a status quo shift from Webtoons being an earnest "anyone can find success with us" community of readers and indie creators to just another enshittified corporate platform that's only interested in churning out content to keep up its bottom line.

Before I continue, obligatory reminder that I am not an Originals creator, just a former Canvas creator and avid webcomic reader. None of this post is to accuse Webtoons of foul play or spread misinformation, these are simply my opinions based on my own experiences with the app and its staff, research that I've done into Webtoons' practices and history as a company, and firsthand + secondhand accounts of experiences on the backend from various Originals creators who have willingly spoken up on the matter. Take the following dissection and rant about Webtoons with mountains of salt.

The biggest sign of this shift I've seen has definitely gotta be the reduction of greenlit Canvas series in favor of imported Korean series. Now I will say there was a time that there genuinely were too many greenlit series, back when they used to do their launch weeks, and I think scaling that back isn't necessarily a bad thing to prevent oversaturation, but oversaturation is still very much happening, it's just through imported series now.

Though I will say a counter argument to this is that Webtoons' own audience has a habit of believing that EVERY piece of work needs to be read and kept up with. This is surely a side effect of Webtoons going from being a smaller platform with only a few select Originals series to suddenly launching hundreds more over the course of the last couple years, there WAS a time you could genuinely keep up with most of the series on the platform if you wanted, but now that's no longer possible, and while some would argue that's a flaw, I'd argue that greenlighting so many series isn't necessarily an invitation for you to read them all, it's just to buff up their library with more choices for those who are more particular about what they read. Do you enjoy isekai but don't like the one about the girl being reborn into her favorite medieval romance book? Well there are 50 other isekais set in medieval times for you to choose from.

That said, the ratio of greenlit Canvas series : Korean imports definitely feels like it's skewed more towards the latter over the past couple years, as we're now seeing them simply opt to import and translate series from their Naver platform. Some people don't really care or notice the difference, and there's certainly lots to be said about the popularity of many Korean works, but many other readers are now feeling iced out by the platform's sudden shift in art styles and storytelling tropes because Korean webtoons and manwhas do generally aim for a different audience than what a lot of veteran Webtoon users are used to. Plus from the creator side of things, it's undoubtedly making the playing grounds feel uneven where greenlit Canvas series now have to compete with the webtoons from overseas that are made in studios with teams of people and seem to also be paid far better than what NA creators are being paid. Webtoons already severely limits what series they choose to advertise and that's only gotten worse over the years with the ongoing oversaturation of the app's library.

That's only regarding quantity though, as there's surely lots to be said about how a lot of the higher quality stories are ones here made in North America, and a lot of that I feel has to do with the benefit of them being comics written in English by people who natively speak English. Unlike Korean manwha/webtoons, they don't have to go through the process of translation and localization which can unfortunately cause an otherwise well written manwha to lose its subtleties and specific writing choices due to rushed or poor translating (people who read scanlations of manga and manwha or who even just watch dubbed vs. subbed anime can certainly attest to this.)

With all that in mind, my own personal theory (*again, this is my opinion and tinfoil hat suspicions, not fact) is that Webtoons/Naver has essentially been outsourcing to North America to build up their app through titles like Lore Olympus, and now that that audience has been built, they seem to be bringing in their Korean series to benefit off that audience while reducing the amount of NA Canvas series they greenlight, particularly their most popular genres like Romance, Fantasy, and Action. How much they'll benefit, I can't say for certain, considering this is a company that has been operating in the red for years and IIRC they even practically admit to this in their IPO proposal (it's actually really funny to read if you're familiar with legal jargon and Webtoons as a company)

Fact of the matter though is that despite Webtoons building up that audience through legacy NA titles, they seem to have forgotten one fundamental thing - most of the people in that audience just don't seem to be interested in the content they're now trying to sell. Credit where credit is due, the aggressive marketing campaign surrounding Lore Olympus for the last 5 years did a great job at pulling in new people to the app, many of whom never read webtoons before. In all its flaws, Lore Olympus is very beginner friendly for people who are new to Webtoons, with guilty pleasure romance writing that a lot of NA readers enjoy nowadays and an art style that was very unique at the time.

But out of all those people who were attracted to the app through series like LO, how many do you think are reading Korean manwha? I don't have the numbers to back up this argument 🧂🧂🧂 but I personally doubt it's very many if all the complaints about Webtoons becoming 'samey' over the years is anything to go off of (right alongside the complaints of LO being marketed way too much lmao)

So no, I don't think Webtoons as a company is going anywhere. They've made it this long operating at a loss, mostly in part to their parent company Naver injecting them with funds (and for anyone unaware, Naver is essentially the Google of Korea, they're a massive tech company that owns Webtoons as a separate venture, not too different from Google owning Youtube in a sense) and now they're turning to public funding.

I do think Webtoons as we know it is dying and changing, for better and for worse however you may define it, and regardless of which way it goes, it's going to come with the consequential shift in both audience and creators that such a transformation brings. I was there when it happened to Tapas, I was there when it happened to DeviantArt, and now we're seeing it in real time with Webtoons all over again. Whether or not they rise from the ashes reborn anew or simply fester like a dying animal, that remains to be seen, but considering this is the same company that's currently exploiting and underpaying creators to keep their bottom line afloat, developing AI tools, and running an app that's held together with staples and glue and doesn't even have tagging implemented, I'm not holding my breath for the best case scenario. The company and its app may live on but the Webtoons that we knew for years is long gone and may never return again.

And that's my many cents on that.

#ask me anything #ama #anon ask me anything #anon ama #webtoon critical

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solaris-amethyst · 2 months ago

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🪻Lego Friday🪻

✨Pairing: Seonghwa x gn!reader ✨Prompt: Building a lego set with seonghwa I don’t have much of an idea around this one I just really wanna build a lego set and from watching seonghwa lego lives building with him just looks like so much fun. ✨Requested by @beabatiny🫶🏻 ✨Word Count: 0.9k ✨Genre: fluff, non idol au ☀️Authors Note: Thank you for requesting this! It was fun writing and I hope you enjoy it🥰 also sorry this took me so long to write😭

"I wanna build legos."

It was announced to you as you were making some desserts for the two of you. Seonghwa was standing in the kitchen holding two enormous lego bags he had pulled out from somewhere whilst giving you the biggest puppy eyes.

"Do you want me to build legos with you?" You ask fighting back a chuckle at the way he was standing and pouting.

His little nod brought a smile to your face as you finished up the dessert.

"Then we will build legos together! Got any I can build? Nothing too complicated please!"

As you said that Seonghwa was already picking up the different lego sets he had, eager to find one you could work on.

"Baby Yoda? Or maybe some flowers?? Or both??" He holds two sets up for you showcasing one where you'd build baby Yoda or some flowers to have for display.

"Hmmm Yoda looks a bit easier, can I start with that one perhaps?"

"Yes!!!" He nods and then quickly hurries to the living room moving with urgency to move everything to the side so the two of you can build the legos together comfortably.

"Cutie." You say to yourself shaking your head with a little laugh before entering the living room with two cups of dessert and two spoons.

You sit down next to him looking curiously at what he's doing.

"Here! One baby Yoda box for you! I'll work on a darth vader one then!" He says happily while handing you your box.

"Thank you!" You say as you take the box and empty it on the floor in front of you.

The two of you sit in silence for a while sorting through the pieces before you remember something you wanted to share with him.

"Did I tell you what Wooyoung and Yeosang did yesterday when we went mini golfing?" You ask him as you start putting some of the pieces together.

"What did those two do this time?" He asks curious to know what your friends had done. Knowing that Wooyoung was involved it could mean anything from silly things like stealing a bite from someones ice cream to something more chaotic.

"Well they started arguing about the best way to push the ball in the hole and decided to make it a competition." You start telling him and Seonghwas boba eyes are focused on you.

"I'm sensing a but?" he says chuckling and you can't help but laugh and nod.

"Yeah, Yeosang did better and to try and distract him, Wooyoung decided to full on chomp on his shoulder." You show by imitating Woo's chomp on Yeosangs shoulder on Seonghwas shoulder without actually biting him.

His laugh ring through the apartment as he shakes his head at your friends antics.

"That sounds just like them to be honest." He says as he hands you the piece you're looking for whilst showing you where it should go.

"Yeah they truly can't be stopped. We almost got kicked out because of Wooyoungs loud chatter but we managed to get him to quiet down by promising we'd buy him food if he could be a bit quieter so we could play to the end."

The two of you sit and talk for hours, giggling about everything from the legos, to your friends, to things that has happened recently in your life whilst enjoying the dessert from time to time that you had prepared.

"Look! Isn't it cute once it's finished?" Seonghwa ask as he shows you the little Darth Vader figure hes put together and you look at him in surprise.

"How did you finish so quickly?! I'm still trying to figure out what I've done wrong." You say as you hold up your Yoda figure which looks a bit wonky due to you putting the wrong pieces together.

"Ahhh well I'm the pro aren't I? You'll learn quickly if you build legos more often." He says whilst moving closer to you, taking the lego from your hands and undoing what you had put together wrongly.

"Here, let's try again okay? This piece." He holds up a big piece and gives it to you "goes here okay? Whilst this one goes over there."

He helps guide you by pointing where certain pieces will go.

"Thanks Hwa, this is really calming you know." You mumble as you focus on setting up the last pieces of Yoda before showing it to him proudly.

"Ta-daaaa!" You show the lego piece off and he claps his hands excitedly for you.

"It looks great!"

"That's because I had such a great teacher!"

You two take a little break after that, sitting facing each other and chatting about anything and everything.

"I saw that they're playing Coraline again in the theaters for its 15th year anniversary. All nine of us should go and see it since we're nearing spooky season." Seonghwa says while rummaging through the rest of his unbuilt lego.

"It's in theaters?! All of us have to go! We should go dressed up as the characters! Wooyoung could be the talking cat!" You exclaim and Hwa looks excited at the idea of dressing up and going to see it.

"Yes!! I wanna be one of the old ladies with all the dogs." He lets you know.

"Hongjoong should dress as the other old lady then." You laugh and the night ends with you two planning who would be which character as you start on a new piece of lego, this time deciding to build it together while laughing at the idea of getting dressed to go to the movies.

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nytehavyn-circle · 5 months ago

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Darkness Hidden

(Open starter for Tolaas' Partners)

(Trigger Warnings for: mention/depiction/description of suicide/murder/death; alcohol abuse; graphic depictions/descriptions of torture; depictions/descriptions of toxic relationships; depression)

Hello Darkness, my old friend I've come to talk with you again Because a vision softly creeping Left its seeds while I was sleeping

It had been two weeks or more since anyone had heard from Tolaas. Sometimes when this happened, he would tell those who missed him that he had been extremely busy with a job, or he was visiting the ShadowLands for one reason or another. Sometimes it was the truth. This time it was not. In fact, he hadn't even told anyone before he disappeared. This was uncommon but not rare, it had happened before in the past, but it had been a while this time before the darkness set in. He hadn't even answered his texts or voicemails.

His nightmares had gotten increasingly worse over the last month or two. He'd tried to fight them off - staying up late until he was so tired he couldn't think, and then he passed out, sometimes taking sleeping pills to make him tired enough so he couldn't think, and then falling asleep. But nothing had worked, not even being in the arms of those he loved.

Now, he stood in front of his sink, staring at himself in the mirror. He was still drunk, which partially explained his bloodshot, tired eyes, but the biggest explanation was that the nightmares kept waking him up, and thinking had kept him up, where he had crossed the line from 'tired enough to pass out' to 'too tired to sleep.'

Tolaas stared at his face in the mirror. He looked like he had been sick. And he had been; sick of nightmares, sick of smiling all the time, sick of pretending he was always positive and happy-go-lucky. None of them knew exactly what he lived with. None of them knew because he wore the perfect facade. Oh, he was happy alright, for the most part. Therapy in the past had helped him a bit, and had helped him understand that sometimes actually keeping an honest smile would make said smile an involuntary action on the daily, and smiles meant 'happy.' This wasn't always the case. Neither was 'thinking positive,' not always, anyway.

The facade had started to crack over the last few weeks. He'd felt himself sinking, slowly going down, down under the water until it was above his head, and he was flailing and drowning and no one could see him. For a very long time, he wasn't one to ask for help. With anything. Over the last several years, he began to realize that asking for help wasn't a sign of weakness, that there was actually nothing wrong with asking for help because those who cared, who truly cared, would jump at the chance to help. And they did, with a lot of different things he needed help with.

But not with this. Never with this. No one could help him with the darkness.

He stared even harder at his reflection until he finally brought his fist up and slammed it into the mirror, shattering it, pieces of mirror glass flying everywhere.

The facade was no longer cracked, it had broken in that moment. (Just as it had broken before when his mind became full of the hell that was his life.)

Tolaas ran his hands through his air and burst into tears. He covered his face and fell nack against the bathroom door, slowly sliding down until his ass had hit the floor. The violent sobs that came through wracked his body.

"Monster! Demon! Thing of evil!" the villagers cry out. "Now we will do to you as you have done to us!" Rope tied, stretched taut. Arms and legs spread. Naked body. A whip, unfurled and held up. The sound it made as it hit his naked back echoed in his ears. One, two, three, four lashes... Laughing. Food is being thrown at his head. Five... six... seven... eight more lashes... Fire. A stick on fire. Burning tip pressed against the flesh of his torso. Nine... ten... eleven... twelve more lashings. Blood coating his back, dripping down his legs to the ground. Stoned, rocks flying by him, hitting his naked, vulnerable body, smacking him in the head. Waking up to being tossed in an open grave in the forest. A few shovelfuls of dirt thrown on his body, not caring if he was buried or not. At least the animals would get him.

Tolaas continued to sit there and cry, his body heaved and shuddered. He crawled out of the bathroom and managed to make it to the couch. Empty bottles of Jack were strewn across the floor and many sat on the coffee table. Being what he was, he needed more to get drunk than a human could. So, he'd been drinking more than a human would over the last couple of weeks. He picked up one half-full bottle and took several gulps from it. He had been living on take-out and Jack Daniels the last couple of weeks.

He leaned back against the couch, bringing one leg up to rest on the table in front of him. Several bottles clattered to the floor as he moved his foot on the table.

His eyes closed. Tears still streaked down his cheeks. His mind was flooded again with images.

Images of him in the bathtub. Cliche, of course, but that's how it is. He looks down at his wrist and the blood streaming from the smooth, vertical wound. It didn't hurt. He'd been beaten, stabbed, tortured in his life, all of it hurt. Not this. He'd had his heart broken several times, and each time hurt more than cutting his wrists did. Strange, that. The water turns from a light pink color, to a dirty coppery color. He slinks down into the water, head just barely above it. He feels tired, sleepy. His eyelids are heavy and all he wants to do is close them. To close them and fall into the abyss. He wonders what he'll find behind the curtain. Will it be a small man manipulating everything without knowing much, or will it be echoes of those from his past, those whom he'd loved, or possibly saved that had passed by now? He didn't know but he was surprisingly eager to find out. He allows his eyes to fall closed. There's a light shining in his eyes, people talking, a beeping sound, more talking, people excited. Demon, angel, some humans. Then Terran is there, he recognizes the face. Is he here, too, beyond? He wakes up in a hospital bed and looks around. His wounds are bandaged. He supposes he should be grateful, but he isn't sure if he is or not.

Tolaas continued to lay back and drink. He wanted to be numb, to not feel. Possibly he wanted to die, but he didn't know right at the moment. Probably not, because there were too many people that depended on him, and counted on him. "Hero," some of them would cry. Tolaas wanted to argue, to scream that he wasn't a hero, that he was a monster atoning for his mistakes. That they shouldn't applaud him for what he's done, because it was something he needed to do.

Some people loved him, and their images ran through his head. Mori, Anne, Rebecca... Tolaas loved them, too, so much. So very much. He needed to stay for them. But they probably shouldn't love him, he thought. Not with what he'd done in his past. The hate he held in his heart centuries ago. The way he'd hurt and killed people before he began to understand. The way he hurt and killed people in battles and wars after he'd began to understand. One thing he couldn't wrap his mind around at the moment was exactly why his partners loved him like they did. He loved them with everything he had in him, but he was a monster, and he didn't understand why they loved him. If anything, he probably should have been burned at the stake, or dismembered and scattered across the countryside so very long ago.

Over the many, many years, he'd made a conscious and significant effort to change, to be better, to try to make other people's lives better.

But sometimes, he didn't believe he deserved the same. Hell, he wasn't worthy of people like Mori and Anne. They saw more in him than he saw in himself. Because the darkness he'd experienced centuries ago, was still there, hiding, hiding and waiting. And he was scared of what would happen if he ever let it go.

Over the years, he'd tried cutting his wrists again, but either he didn't cut them deep enough or someone had found him before it was too late; he'd tried pills, but always puked them up before they could really take effect; hell, he even tried putting a bullet through his skull before, but they were duds. All of them. More often than once, he tried to get himself killed during a battle or a war... someone either always saved him, or his saving other people would somehow take him out of the danger zone. Something was keeping him here, he'd come to believe. The question was why? Why the hell was he so fucking important? And everybody he'd met and gotten close to believed he was, too. In some way, somehow, he was important.

Most days, he was thankful and glad to be alive. Other days, he felt as if he was living a nightmare. Sometimes, he felt as if he were living a lie, and if the truth ever came out he'd end up completely alone. And he'd deserve it.

One thing was certain - he would make sure he died before he ever let that darkness hurt anybody he loved.

A heavy knock at the door woke him from his stupor, but he was still shitfaced. He kicked some bottles out of the way and stumbled to the door. He yanked it open and stared. "Yer not the Italian I ordered," he said thickly. "Why er ya here?" he asked, annoyed.

#tw: alcohol abuse #tw: suicide mention #tw: suicide description #tw: torture #tw: death #tw: depression #tw: murder

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foxyola · 9 months ago

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Another piece of art, this time for @masque-of-plague's fic Anchor & Tide as part of the @hermitshippingbigbang :D!

It was the biggest piece I've done in a while, will never do this again (I'm lying, I will probably do that again)

#hsbb 2023 #trafficblr #traffic smp #trafficshipping #life series #team rancher #rancher duo #solidaritek #tangotek #tangotek fanart #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #jimmy solidarity fanart #solidaritygaming fanart #mcyt #art #fanart #foxy draws arts

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sabrondabrainrot · 6 days ago

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It's tinfoil hat times I have more observations for eagle eyes listeners (yes a Nightvale ref)

This will contain spoilers for recent TSAMS and LAES!

I gotta go to bed so I won't be able to contain everything but just some stuff I noticed recently and something I've been thinking about.

I won't be as organized as usual, warning spoilers below!

Picking apart what Dark Sun said and did...he used the word expunge. I don't know if this is problem of VA's picking a word that sounds cool...or they picked it know what it means? Expunge is a word that means 'to remove', 'delete', 'strike from the record'. So...why would he collect data on Sun's choice to kill Nexus and expunge that across the multiverse? Why would deleting that make Suns turn on Moons? I'm too tired to think about it past this but...it's interesting. What if D!Sun did delete something?

The biggest thing between Sun and choosing to kill...its his love and trust...but I wonder how Sun's decision to choose the greater good and his family would delete something? That sparkle nighttime Sun was beating his Moon while crying that he hated him...but did he actually? How can we know? I can't wait to find out more about the entire Sun on Moon violence. D!Sun said it was his hate for Nexus but that's not the case...because Sun himself stated he still can't get himself to hate Nexus. We also know, the only reason Sun's magic worked was because of what Ruin did...so I think my theory about the NSP and SP interacting to possibly make Nexus into a new being still stands. D!Sun knew Ruin planted that device when he made Sun choose.

I feel like history just keeps repeating itself where Sun's choices will never be choices and his decision will always be made for him. Moving into more stuff! The recent episodes omigod!!! Moon! He finally stepped up! I still have many things to point out though. I was talking in @goodolddumbbanana dms because like...we're both still disappointed by the episodes...(I won't type the entire dms cause like I want banana to do their piece too without me speaking over them)

When Moon talked to Sun at the pier, he still managed to make it about himself. Did anyone else notice that? He turned it into his normal "I hate myself" routine. He proceeded to let Sun know he's the best brother ever...but Sun just...I don't think he believes it. Even if Lunar and Earth also both tell him that. Even Solar. He just won't believe it.

Looking at how Sun's entire...existence has gone, it's pretty understandable why he'd think and feel this way.

He hasn't been shown by his family (except Earth) he's the best so why would he believe it? Especially coming from Moon who's done nothing but lie to him and break promises. Moon stepped up but...was acting annoyed to take care of Sun. He just was acting like he was ready to get stuff over with. Then...When Sun finally asked the million dollar question. "Did you hate me? Do you hate me?" He's always been asking that and never got a straight answer. Moon has always acted like he really did hate him in the past. Worst of all? Moon told Sun he did.

He told his emotionally beaten brother who's soul is shattered, that 'Yes Sun, I did hate you'...Moon...being honest in this particular situation...I don't think it's the best idea.

Moon, to an emotionally unstable - highly fragile - Sun, basically confirmed Sun's darkest fear. The soul deep ache Sun feels. It's not...gratifying...Sun may now have closure that 'wow he treated me like that because he did hate me' but the big issues with this? Moon has not really changed how he treats Sun. He stopped physically hurting him but he still hurts him. In small ways. We saw that first hand in the last few eps. He left to avoid Sun entirely. He broke promise after promise. He'd rather throw himself a pity party then buck up and just be there for Sun.

Sun always leads with the best intentions. He tells Moon he loves him. He encourages him. He builds him up. (I think i've said this before lol)

Then we get the MVP Earth ep. That episode was honest to God beautiful. Earth is an amazing sister and Kat knocked it out of the ball park with her vocal performance today. She put in so much emotion. I like how Earth's breaking point wasn't her taking care of Dazzle or Sun. Her breaking point was how her family was treating her and Sun like shit. They both left them to their own devices. It was so sad. I was wondering when they kept showing Solar who was taking care of Sun and honestly it makes so much sense it was Earth.

Then in the same episode she said Lunar is acting strange. I'm going to be honest, I know exactly why Lunar is acting mad at Earth.

I don't get a ton of opportunity to talk about Lunar. In the recent episodes his sorest spot was prodded by Taurus. Taurus is basically telling him to get over himself.

Which...I don't agree with how Gemini and Taurus are going about it. Letting go of your hate and hurt is so important but them just telling Lunar to do it isn't going to work. He needs to be taught how to.

So why is Lunar mad at Earth? Never forget, Lunar hasn't developed much he's still a very selfish immature person. He's mad at Earth he's stagnating. He's blaming her for his stunted emotional growth. He chose to numb himself to deal with his emotions and if he admits that was wrong then it'd be a long time of wasted efforts. He would have so many regrets if he admits he's been doing everything wrong.

After all, If Lunar wasn't so apathetic about N!Moon would he have made a difference in him becoming Nexus? (No, but Lunar could be thinking about that)

Lunar, I believe, is blaming Earth for not 'fixing' him. He doesn't understand he needs to want to change himself for it to happen. (it's the same thing for Moon, he knows he's flawed but has given up on improving) I think Lunar just kind of assumed Earth was supposed to automatically make him better with him not doing any work himself.

Then the crux of why he's mad at Earth.

It's simple.

She's friends with Eclipse.

That's really what it is.

Think about it, he hates Eclipse. Eclipse is now in the front of his mind to the point he's acting odd and watching Nutella ads for hours. He's trying to mute his rage. What Taurus and Gemini said would anger anyone.

Telling a victim to not only get over their abuse but also get along with their abuser? It's plain wrong. Lunar has the right to hate Eclipse, the only problem is that it is harming him. Hatred will always be someone's undoing. It is a negative, putrid thing that only destroys.

He's been shoving his emotions down for so long they're bound to explode. I know Lunar loves Sun and wants to be there for him but he's been apathetic for so long now he can't. So he's lashing out and projecting his own self anger onto Earth. She's right there after all.

Solar is basically acting like a keeper to everyone and despite doing better for Sun, Solar is still emotionally distant. Moon physically isn't there. Lunar won't lash out at Monty. He won't take his frustration out on kids like Dazzle and Jack.

Earth is also just...too nice. So yeah, I absolutely understand why Lunar is angry at Earth. He's being totally unfair and immature about it too, because it's not like there's other problems, ie Sun is literally broken and can't leave bed.

but I digress, I like that Moon is stepping up. I just hope he doesn't keep dropping the ball. I think Sun right now truly doesn't think Moon cares...Moon is going to have to do a lot to show him otherwise. I'm glad Lunar finally checked on Sun and I hope he does it more often, because Sun loves Lunar too. He loves the entire family. Earth was right to cry about how they were failing Sun.

I'm really proud of Earth and Solar for stepping up to help Sun.

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