#where he came from (since he just appeared one day as a full grown man with no identification) since he’s made peace with that maybe it is | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lopsicle · 3 months ago

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We’ll Take Care Of You

TickleTober Day 8, Exposed Body Part

Characters: Lee! Vox, Ler! Velvette, Ler! Valentino (Romantic, polycules give me life), Zestial (Background/Implied Zestmilla).

Summary: Vox gets injured during a fight with other overlords; Vel and Val help treat his injuries.

Warnings: Fighting, Blood, injuries, scars, Valentino.

•••

Blood. Vox couldn’t tell from where it was pouring, his whole body felt like it was trying to rip itself apart, the distinctive sting in his abdomen clued him in though. The way his leg wobbled beneath him also wasn’t a good sign, he couldn’t keep himself supported for long, his knees hit the pavement. Fuck, why was there broken glass there’s?! Oh right, from his screen. It has been shattered, a large, ugly crack covering his right eye.

He might’ve convinced himself he was on a bad trip with the way his sight was glitching out, different shapes and colours all buzzing in his vision, much like the ones you’d see flashing on an error screen, worsening his throbbing headache. Weakly, a swarm of wires emerged from behind him, crackling with electricity. He lunged his arm forward, commanding them to ram into his assailant, who side stepped easily.

“Thou hath grown weaker since the disappearance of The Radio Demon.” Zestial commented, making his screen flash with a furious, cyan blue brilliance. Vox’s eyes shot open, well, his one good eye did, Zestial had created a sizeable crack over his over one.

“Tell me, art I noht worthy enough to be a challenge to thou?” Zestial asked, his lanky figure looming over Vox, seeming much bigger than it ever had before. Vox stares up at those soulless, toxic, feeling much like a fly caught in Zestial’s web.

“Jesus, y-you proved your point..” Vox managed to muster enough strength to speak, though it was muffled beneath all his static and glitching. Zestial tilted his head, leaning down to examine Vox, his suit torn with sweet, blue liquid pouring from his wounds, face destroyed and humiliated. Zestial smiled and returned to his full height.

“It appears that I have. I hope this serves as a reminder to thou of whom the real overlords of this realm are. Do not think about spitting poison in the direction of Carmilla again in my presence.” Zestial warned him, though Vox wasn’t listening. His audio receptors were too clogged with his own blood. It was only when Zestial began to walk away, leaving the shivering, pained man behind that he reached for his phone with upmost need, even if his movements were weak and limp, like a skeleton clinging to their own grave. A ringing filled the silence around him, answered almost immediately.

“Vox, where-fuck, what happened to you?! Where are you?!” Velvette bellowed on the other end, her stern look boiling away to concern. Vox squinted at her with his good eye and smiled, relaxing his muscles, not having any remaining strength in his body.

“Hey Vel,” his voice came out uncharacteristically weak and tiny, “you look beautiful.” He mumbled, Velvette’s worried, frantic cries for an explanation fading away as his world blinked into darkness.

When Vox came to, he felt like shit. Not as shitty as before, there were no burning pains in his body, just mostly sore. The world around him felt soft and a quick glance around revealed him to be back in his room, though it looked a little different. On his bedside drawer were various types of bandages, cotton balls and ointments, iodines, peroxides and such, along with some medicine and…was that a card? Vox squinted at it. “Get Well Soon,” apparently from his assistant Papermint. Well, that didn’t explain why he was here-

Oh right. The fight. Ugh, did Velvette really see him like that, all injured and gross and sappy? Vox sighed at the thought, before pulling up the covers slightly to take a look at his body. His thigh had been thoroughly bandaged up, so comfortable he hadn’t even noticed until now. His shoes and shirt were gone, revealing a good few scars littered across his torso, precise and thin. Zestial’s nails. That fucking eight legged was freak was going to get what was coming to him, Vox was sure of that at least. He didn’t have long to linger on the thought though, due to the sound of incoming footsteps heading for his room.

“God dam it Valentino, he’ll be fine, he just needs rest!” Velvette screeched.

“Bullshit, he’s been out for a whole day, our novio is strong, he would’ve pulled through by now.” There was a small part of Vox that was resentful that he had indeed woken up and that Val was about to be proven right. His door clicked upon, Valentino’s imposing figure stood next to Velvette’s short one. Valentino’s coat was gone, letting his wings breathe freely, wearing nothing but a comfortable dark tracksuit beneath. Velvette’s hair wasn’t styled at all, simply left to hang freely, a style that Vox found gorgeous. Valentino just smirked confidently at Vox though it was aimed at Velvette, who just stared flabbergasted, before breaking into a relieved smile.

“Really picked an inconvenient time to wake up, didn’t you?” Vel commented, a rare sound of softness in her tone as she approached Vox; Valentino in tow.

“You know me, Vel, I always show up in places I’m not wanted,” Vox smirks, trying to regain some of the confidence he had lost from that humiliating defeat. He could pretend for now. Valentino leaned down next to his bed side, stroking his hand at the top of Vox’s TV head. At this distance, Vox could see through the tint of his red-sunglasses, his eyes were full of clear relief and love.

“You had us worried, hermoso.” He said in a tone that made Vox shiver, not used to Valentino being so affectionate. “Christ, Vel was a mess when she came to me.”

Velvette huffed. “Well excuse me, Vox was talking like he had one foot in the grave already! Who even did that to you?!” Velvette asked, there was fury in her tone, but it wasn’t directed at Val or Vox. Vox really did think he was a goner there, huh? He cringed at the thought of getting all sentimental and mushy in front of Vel…ugh, at least it wasn’t Valentino. He wouldn’t let Vox live that down, though the way Velvette was being so worried about him almost made him prefer Valentino.

“That old spider prick Zestial, but it’s fine, really. I-I just couldn’t see and I thought I was..you know, a lot more worse for wear than I was, it’ll take a lot more than that to keep me down.” Vox bragged, though the other two weren’t all that interested in his ego right now. Valentino pulled out two golden pistols he’d kept on his body, because that’s a responsible thing to bring into a make-shift hospital room.

“So, we’re going to kill this guy, right?” Valentino asked, unable to stop a grin from forming on his face though he was dead serious. Vox interjected before Vel could passionately agree.

“No, no, you two are not about to go and worsen the mess I created. We could hit him where it hurts though, his reputation, I’m sure some of my cameras caught what went down, we could easily spin this and frame him as-.” Vox put a hand to his chin as he rambled though Velvette waved her hands dismissively.

“No, no, no, you are not working right now, your hurt and your not doing anything until your better!” Velvette stated, crossing her arms over her chest, practically daring Vox to argue with her. He still get like absolute Hell, that fight has taken a physical, and unexpected emotional toll on him. He couldn’t let his image continue to slip though, he’d already looked like an idiotic sap to Velvette and a useless, banged up meat sack to Valentino. Now what was he, some helpless baby?

“Yes, I am-ow!” Vox tried to pull himself up, though the second he began to get up, it was like his torso was trying to split open.

“Careful, querido, we haven’t finished with the cuts on your torso. At least let us handle them.” Valentino asked, squeezing Vox’s hand in his own. Vox’s face heated up at the feeling and he leaned back into the bed.

“Thank you,” Velvette added in an exaggerated tone, before comfortably pulling back the covers to leave Vox’s torso on show. She grabbed some of the cotton balls on Vox’s desk and doused it in the antiseptics she had accumulated there. “This is gonna sting a little.” She warned him.

Vox rolled his eyes. “Oh, please I’m not a kid-oh fuck!” He screeched as Velvette dabbed and pressed the cotton ball against the scrapes on his torso, one by one. He squeezed onto Val’s hand tighter instinctively and hears the man chuckle; Vox blushed even more. Velvette winced and worked as fast as she could, thoroughly disinfecting all his cuts. Vox took in a deep breath, trying to regain any semblance of composure as he swatted away Val’s hand.

“You two really didn’t have to do all this, for me,” Vox added quietly at the end, Val put a hand on his hip.

“That’s a weird way of saying thank you, Voxy.” He teased, though Velvette made sure to lightly smack his arm, having finished treating Vox.

“Shut up, Val! And yes, Vox, we did, did you want to wake up half blind with a useless leg? I didn’t think so.” She seemed to shudder slightly as she described it. He hated that she saw him like that already but that just made a little bit of guilt crawl up to his throat like bile.

“I just…never wanted either of you to see me in that state, I-I apologise, it won’t happen again.” Vox’s voice shifted to the tone he’d use when discussing business deals, formal and matter of fact, dropping with false confidence. That seemed to set off alarm bells in his partner’s head. Velvette considered for a moment what to say, but Valentino beat him to it.

“Voxy, darling, baby,” he leaned in, placing his hands on Vox’s shoulders, “do you know how stupid you sound right now?”

Vox’s eyes narrowed with insecurity, Velvette looked about ready to rip off Val’s wings before he continued.

“Do you know how many times you’ve seen me ripping apart this whole tower because of some shit Angel did? Or how Velvette was a blubbering mess when she first came to Hell? None of us three are perfect, we’re in Hell, so stop lying to all three of us.” Vox’s eyes seemed to soften as he looked away, actually taking in something Valentino said. Velvette seemed shock that Valentino said something actually useful.

“You know you have to be wrong if I’m agreeing with dick for brains here. Vox, we’re not gonna view you differently for this, your still our leader. This place couldn’t function without you, we still value you.” Velvette sat down on Vox’s bed next to him, who was feeling warmly trapped between the two.

“Well…that is certainly got to know, just make sure that the details of all this stays between us? You didn’t tell anyone else, right?” Vox asked, to which Velvette shook her head.

“Only your assistant.” She explained, Vox seemed to relieve, able to relax once again.

“Good, good…thank you for doing all of this for me, truly.” Vox managed a smile for his partners, Velvette politely returned one. Valentino remained smug as always but kept his hands on Vox’s body, playfully dragging his fingers down his arm.

“Very good, I like it!” Val praised him in a sickly sweet tone, which just made Velvette roll her arms. Vox on the other hand was much more preoccupied with the way his hand was travelling down his arm, with his index finger gently dragging against Vox’s chest and then just his side. Vox eyed Valentino’s hand, biting at his lip though he was much too weak to hold back his laughter right now, softy cracking up and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Gohohod, Val, stop thahahat!” He ordered, swerving his body away from the man slightly, but Val’s fingers caught up with him, a wide grin on the man’s face as he realised what he was doing.

“Oh, don’t be such a princesa, Voxy, it’s just tickling, it’s not like I’m doing anything…sinister.” That last word came out in a dark whisper, Vox felt his face sparkle with electricity, unable to meet Valentino’s smug gaze. He tried to curl up on himself but one of Valentino’s pair of arms took a hold of his wrists, forcing them above his head.

“Vahahahl, the tickling is the prohohoblem!” Vox whined, his laughter coming out slightly crackly and hoarse, doing his best to contain his snickers. Velvette starting to scribble her nails along his abs didn’t help with that.

“VEHEHEHEL!!” Vox shrieked, tensing his legs; Velvette simply smirked up at him, squeezing at the solid skin.

“What? You gave me a proper scare, you dolt, consider this my revenge!” She declared, skittering those wonderfully manicured nails of hers over his torso, her touches a lot more precise and decorate than Val’s large hands.

“Fuhuhuhuck, why yohoHOHOHu thehehen?!” Vox spat out at Valentino, who just shrugged, his crimson teeth shining with glee.

“I just like doing this, you look adorable, Voxy~!” He teased, pinching the side of his screen, before sharply withdrawing his hand at the feeling of a sharp shock bubbling at his fingertips.

“CAHAHN YOHOHU BOHOHTH QUIHIHIT IT?!” Vox whined in a flustered tone, wishing he could just disappear, or hide under the covers. His partner’s fingers were not compliant with that wish however, Velvette continued skittering her nails all about his torso whilst Valentino squeezed up and down his ribs, leaving Vox’s midriff in sensory hell. Velvette looked a little apprehensive as she noticed how hard Vox was squirming about, he looked about ready to blow a fuse in his head with how hard he was blushing. It was cute, obviously, but she couldn’t help but come concerned for Voxy, pulling away her hands and ushering for Val to do the same by slapping his wrist. Surprisingly, he complied.

“You got off lucky this time, mi amor, but you owe me~!” Valentino made sure to remind him, but Vox wasn’t listening. He smiled appreciatively at Velvette as he laid down, trying to recover.

“You two..you two are assholes..” he spoke with a small grin before figuring to add, “thanks though but, I can handle myself from here and you both can’t afford to stay here watching me all day.” Velvette huffed, knowing he was right. Valentino looked down at him, something close to love in his eyes.

“As long as you say so, Voxy. Come on, Doll, I have a shoot to film.” He stated to which she just rolled her eyes in disinterest and turned her face towards Vox.

“Stay safe, baby,” Velvette murmured, kissing him on his cheek gently, before she stood up. Vox’s eyes had a little twinkle as he looked up at Velvette.

“I will, I promise.”

#sfw tickling community #tickle fic #tickle content #sfw tickle #tickletober #tickletober 2024 #augtickletober2024 #hazbin hotel tickle #lee vox #ler valentino #ler velvette

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obislittleone · 1 year ago

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Your Beauty Never Ever Scared Me

Dbf!Joel Miller x College!Reader

A/n: Listen… I don’t have any excuse for ditching my other three active series except for tiktok made me do it… That, and the CLM series by @macfrog has ascended me to a new level of crazy and I just needed an outlet for it somewhere. Another shoutout to @theatrelove3000 who keeps putting up with my dbf joel shenanigans, they are indeed insane.

Warnings: girl this whole concept should be a warning but anyways… age gap, some fluff, light smut, uncomfortable situations with readers father… probably some editing mistakes bc ya girl is tired ok its 2am

Please be kind to this chapter, I actually like it, despite the horrors.

Decided on the song ‘Mary On A Cross‘ by Ghost for this one bc it fits ig.

MASTERLIST

Age gap is approximately 15 years or so, reader is over 21 and joel is about 37

"I think I'd probably only slow'ya down," you chuckled, looking to Sarah who seemed to read the displeasure off your face from your dad's offer. "I'm studyin' to be an archeologist, dad. I don't know nothin' about framin' and all that house buildin'..."

Maybe it had been your dad's idea, but he wasn't the one who planted it into his own head. Joel subtly turned to you and cooly uttered a response.

"You could work on interior stuff with me."

It had been almost three days.

You looked out the window to the front of your house repeatedly to try and remember it clearly. The drive home, the kiss, and how abruptly it ended with a promise to see each other around. You thought about it so often you almost wondered if it happened the way you perceived it, if any details had been skewed in your mind simply because you wanted to keep it there, fresh, untouched. Maybe he thought of it differently... but maybe he didn't.

"Did you bring home the stuff I asked ya?" Your dad came into the kitchen with a smile, embracing you with a side hug and turning to help you unpack the groceries.

"Course' I did, Pa," you handed him the bag with the six-pack of bud and the other one full of snacks.

It was the first Rangers game night, and as per tradition, that meant the company of the next-door neighbors. It had been a while since you'd been around to enjoy it, but now that you were back, there were quite a few more reasons why you were on edge to now participate. It would look weird if you came up with an excuse not to be there, and you knew that. You also knrw that you'd gotten into a rather complicated entanglement with your father's closest friend, and weren't sure what the outcome really was.

Had that driveway light not spooked you both apart, and had that little black stray cat not made an appearance, how far would it have gone? Things were pretty heated, but even still. Would he have said something? Maybe along the lines of 'I've known you since you were sixteen, and this isn't appropriate at all.'

You didn't have time to think about it, you were set to work on helping your dad cook dinner for the soon-arriving neighbors. Dinner and a baseball game, once a relaxing and enjoyable time to bond with your dad, now turned into an anxiety fest where you were convinced you'd have to walk on pins and needles around every topic.

"So," your dad piped up from his silence at the stove, stirring the pot of chili he'd been prepping. "Joel told me he gave you a ride 'few nights back."

You knew it was harmless, and that he wasn't asking for any reason, other than that he was probably curious. You hadn't seen Joel in a while, not since two Christmases ago. Your dad had driven up to Dallas to spend both Thanksgiving and Christmas with you last year, and you didn't come home for summer break given an internship opportunity. You must have seemed different to the man in some way. All grown up.

"Yeah, gave me a ride n' saved me at the bar," you chuckled, trying to seem playful and unsuspicious about the encounter.

He seemed to be confused, his brows furrowed and a funny look on his face.

"Whad'ya mean he saved ya?" he of course was continuing to speak all the while dumping his favorite spices into the pot of chili, looking across here and now to keep engaged.

"Just scared off some weirdo who couldn't take no for an answer," you let a sweet and genuine smile fall across your features, but didn't let it get out of hand. Your relationship with your father was airtight, and he could read you pretty damn well. You weren't going to give anything away, not with what was potentially on the line.

"Glad he was there," he replied with a chuckle, sending you a soft glance. "Never thought you'd have grown up so fast, now I gotta carry a shotgun whenever we go places. Fend off the wild beasts."

His jokes were only so funny now, because in this situation, you knew he wouldn't hesitate to shoot Joel if he found out what had happened. All in the nature of protecting you, but it made you sad to think of the situation that way. Joel wasn't just another weirdo following you around at a bar.

"It's only because I'm so pretty," you did your best to respond lightheartedly, making a quip that would soothe the silence. "And I believe that's yours and Mama's fault, givin' me the genes and what not."

You'd finished chopping a nice garden salad by the time the doorbell rang. You ran upstairs to change your shirt to the Jersey your dad bought you for your birthday, claiming it was good luck for the team. Truth be told, you didn't wanna be downstairs when Joel and Sarah got here.

Sarah was here, too. Her, you could easily handle. You were almost hoping that she would be in a rather talkative mood, that way the attention could be swayed to her inconspicuously. You doubted Joel would even try to talk to you, anyway.

"Lovebug, come on down, Millers are here!" Your dad shouted up, even though he saw you run upstairs right when the doorbell rang to change your shirt.

"I'm comin', hold on," you replied sassily while heading for the staircase.

You got to the bottom and had to take a breath before turning the corner into the entryway. Joel stood there with a sweet smile to you, and you tried your best to hold back the one you wore. It was too bright, too happy to see him. All despite your nerves.

You were quickly embraced by Sarah, whom you paid immediate attention to.

"My lordy, girl," you held up your hand by your shoulder to show the height difference, "last time I saw you, you must've been this tall."

"Dad tells me I'm growing like a weed," she tossed a finger over her shoulder to where he was standing, and you gave him a small glance and a smile.

"Us daughters do have a tendency to grow up," you laughed, slinging an arm around Sarah and pulling her along to the kitchen as your dad and Joel did the same behind you.

Why had you been so anxious? Joel is happy to see you. He makes causal conversation with your dad, but he catches your eye every chance he gets. His expression doesn't change, except for the tug of his lips in a smile that's barely there. Joel doesn't smile too often, except apparently when you and Sarah are around.

It doesn't take long for everyone to get situated with their food at the table, playful banter between Joel and your father filling the air as you made less rambunctious chatter with Sarah.

She's doing pretty well since last you saw her. She was always a bright girl, but as she grew it became more apparent that she would probably excel further than anyone in her graduating class. You were sitting across from a future valedictorian, you were sure.

You'd tried to ask her about her out of school interests before your dad interrupted with a question.

"How about you, lovebug?" He watched your eyes flick over to him with a turn of your head. He added context, given you hadn't been listening to them earlier. "Are you gonna look for a summer job?"

You really should, if you're being honest. There's not much work in your aspiring profession located here, but you weren't as lucrative as you used to be, given your educational expenses.

"I've thought about it," you tilted your head back and forth, and your dad seemed to need more from your answer. "I need to earn some cash before I get back to Dallas, but I'm not really sure where to apply."

Sarah seemed to know where this was going before you did. She'd been around the last time your dad was begging Joel to find some help for the contracting team they worked with. But surely your dad doesn't expect you to build houses, does he? Your dream job is to dig holes in the ground, not fill them in and put homes on top.

"We got some spaces to fill, you should come work with us 'few months. The pay's good and you don't have to stay on long, probably just till the end of July."

You gave him a look, and he instantly knew you weren't interested, but you figured you'd try and justify your reasoning. It was an argument either way.

Maybe it had been your dad's idea, but he wasn't the one who planted it into his own head. Joel subtly turned to you and cooly uttered a response.

"You could work on interior stuff with me."

Did he just-?

"S'not much more fun than what your dad's been doin,' but at least it's out of the sun, and easier to learn."

You were almost dumbfounded. Your dad offering you a job that potentially could give you heat stroke with your lack of experience seemed like the worst idea in the world... but working on interior projects? With Joel of all people? Well, that didn't sound so bad.

You didn't want your dad to catch on, of course. Being so protestant of his suggestion, but then falling right into it as soon as Joel was the one to offer would be a dead giveaway to some sort of favoritism to his best buddy. It simply wouldn't look right.

"What kinda interior stuff?"

He smirked. The motherfucker was smirking. He knew you'd changed your mind, but couldn't exactly just come out with it. He understood, but it was still slightly amusing to him.

"Flooring, cabinets, countertops... 's things like that," he explained, knowing you really didn't care what all it entailed. He was still happy to play along. "S'not as fun as archeology, but it pays alright."

You nodded, acting as though you were turning the thoughts over in your head.

"Well, if you're sure I won't mess it up, I'd be happy to try it out," was your final response. You figured it left some leeway in case your father became suspicious, but gave a good enough answer to end the conversation on.

"That's my girl," your dad clapped a hand on your shoulder in excitement. Truth be told he would very much enjoy your presence on a work site. "I'll go ahead and call Eddie in the morning, let 'im know I found someone to replace Charlie for interiors."

It was said more to Joel, you figured, because you didn't really know who either of those people were. He'd nodded to your dad, taking a sip of his beer and then looking back to you. You smiled sweetly, nobody catching it but the one it was meant for.

"Game's gonna start soon," Joel spoke aloud, drawing everyone's eye to the clock over the stove.

Sarah cleared her throat before jumping in on the conversation.

"About that," she looked to her dad with the same puppy dog eyes she used to use against you. He was just as poor at saying no to her when she pulled those bad boys out. "Sammy texted me to ask if it's okay to stay over at her place tonight?"

Joel sighed. He knew that no matter the attempts he made for her to like baseball, it wasn't her thing. It was summer vacation, and he had no reason to say no, so he didn't.

"Is she coming to pick you up?" He began, fishing his keys out of his pocket to drive her if need be. The girl lived five minutes away, he'd be back only a few minutes after the game started, but he didn't really want to leave.

"I can ask her," she pulled her phone back out of her jeans, opened her screen, and checked her messages.

"No need, I can take you," your voice rang out, standing from the table and taking your bowl to the sink. It was a genuine offer, but it was also to get out of the house and process what just happened with the job situation.

Joel was the first one to stand up with you.

"You don't have to-"

"It's fine," you cut him off, leaving no room for discussion. It was lucky he liked you, otherwise, Joel Miller might have put up quite the argument for such a small dilemma. As was his way, of course. He huffed, but accepted he had been overruled.

"Thanks, then." It was mumbled, but there was gratitude in it.

"We gotta hop over to ours real quick and grab my stuff," Sarah told you, waiting for you to return from the kitchen before beginning to head out through the front door. You'd grabbed your keys off where they hung on the wall before going behind her.

"I'll be back soon," you called over your shoulder into the house, and got a chirped 'alright' reply from your dad.

You walked out passed your driveway, seeing the light flicker on as you both went passed the censor on the ground.

"Y'know, I didn't think you'd have caved so fast on that job thing." She had piped up once you were almost to her porch. You found it only slightly funny that she chose the exact topic which had been swirling in your mind since it happened.

"Not sure I really wanna do it, but your dad made it sound better than every time my dad's talked about it, guess he just convinced me," you chuckled, playing it off in a way that she absolutely was about to use against you.

"That's another thing," she turned to you as she backed into the house through the door, only turning once she was inside. "Since when are you friends with my dad?"

She said it in a joking tone, but having known a few things she didn't about interactions that occurred between you and her father, you felt constricted to answer seriously. Probably with a lie if need be.

"I've always gotten along with your dad," you gave her a confused look, accompanied after by a playful smile.

She grabbed her backpack and opened it, checking to make sure she'd taken all the school stuff out before starting to shove things in, her charger, headphones, etc.

"Yeah but... you're just all young and cool and stuff," she shrugged, turning around to walk towards the staircase. "My dad is all old and boring and only talks about baseball."

"Thirty-seven isn't old, babe. My dad is two years from fifty, and I don't even think he's old, yet. Boring? Maybe..." you reasoned, hearing her laugh before she sprinted up the stairs, giving you time to think of some answers before she asked any more questions. Had she really caught onto you that fast? You didn't think you'd acted noticeably. If Sarah was able to see it, then maybe your dad did, too. You needed to be more careful, in that case.

Sarah returned a few minutes later, her backpack now stuffed and her pillow under her arm. You nodded out the door and headed back to your driveway to open the door for her, seeing as though her hands were full.

The drive after Sarah had been dropped off felt so much longer. Maybe it was just your thoughts, or maybe you consciously drove slower to avoid getting home too quickly. Your dad was waiting, but above that, Joel was there, too. Probably sitting back on the leather couch, relaxing with his feet kicked out on the floor. He usually leaned onto the armrest with his elbow, and held his face against the hand it supported. You'd noticed it years ago. He only ever spoke up when your dad did, usually in reply to him.

He was content simply watching the game in the presence of a friend. It was endearing.

When you pulled into the driveway, you had come up with an excuse to not remain downstairs for the duration of the game. It was too risky, and you weren't apparently as good with self-control as you'd thought you were.

You went inside and hung up your keys on the hook, immediately passing the living room on the way to the stairs.

"Hey, lovebug, you missed the top of the first," your dad called. He knew you liked baseball, so if you were to lie and say you didn't want to watch, he'd know something was up.

"Y'know, pa, I think I'm just gonna watch it upstairs, I forgot I still got some stuff to unpack," you peaked your head into the room to respond, and saw that Joel, just as you had pictured, was sitting in his most usual position on the couch, feet out on the floor, arm up with a hand holding the side of his face.

"Can't you do it later?" Your dad pleaded, but you knew, seeing as how your father occupied the recliner, you would have no where else to sit but on the floor or next to Joel. You didn't trust yourself with that.

"I could, but I might fall asleep if I wait too long."

He sighed, throwing an arm in your direction and shooing you away. He wasn't annoyed, but he'd admit he missed watching these games with you. It had been like a tradition, but if Sarah wasn't here either, he wasn't gonna make you stick around.

"Sure you don't wanna stick around? We could use your lucky jersey down here," Joel piped up, lifting his face from his hand and giving you a pair of soft eyes. That was exactly the reason you would not be staying. He didn't even realize how much he affected you, but you'd make sure he did at some point. Maybe you could just tease him a little.

"You're right, it would be a shame to take the lucky jersey with me."

You walked behind your dad's chair, out of his sight, and tauntingly stripped the jersey over your head, revealing the tight black tank top beneath it, just like that night at the bar. Joel's jaw clenched and his eyes turned darker, even under the bright light of the flatscreen in the living room. You never took your eyes away from his as you slung him the jersey.

"Hey pa, can I get you anything from the kitchen before I go upstairs?" You leaned over the back of his recliner, looking at him upside down. He chuckled and shook his head, trying to move your hair from obstructing his vision.

"We're all good, lovebug," he spoke in addition to his physical response, his laughter dying down as you stood back up. "Come on down if you change your mind."

"I'll probably be down later," you spewed a half-lie. You weren't sure if you would be or not, especially if Joel was still lurking in the living room.

You gave those brown eyes one last look before heading straight upstairs.

You grabbed your remote and flicked on the TV. It was already on the right channel, so you tossed the remote aside onto your bed and flopped back into it. You didn’t actually have anything left to unpack, but they would never have known.

Your phone buzzed beside you, and you lifted the screen to your face to see a text from an unsaved number:

Missin you down here…

You’d never put Joel in your contacts, because in highschool, your friends thought it was weird to even text or call him regularly, but you had his number for years, always just as a backup. You’d known it by heart, now, and nearly had it memorized back then, too, for the times you needed his help.

I’d come back if there was an open seat.

A bit sassy of a response, maybe, but you were hoping he’d understand the hidden meaning behind it… Although, Joel didn’t usually pick up on those things very easily.

Open seat right next to me

Yeah, that’s why I’m up here…

You huffed, realizing it wouldn’t be that easy. The three little dots indicating his next response was on the way slightly nerved you. Maybe he took the last text you sent the wrong way. You didn’t mean it to sound badly.

What’s that supposed to mean?

Means that I can’t keep my hands to myself.

You quickly rectified the situation, although you might have gone too far. He was taking far too long to answer, now. The little dots that before nerved you would now be your saving grace if it meant he would just fucking respond, already. You dropped the phone on your chest, raising up and down in a scattered rhythm while you wiped your hands over your face. Your phone vibrated over your shirt and you immediately opened it.

I can’t either. Stay up there.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. He was thinking the same things you were, and likely was under more stress for it, given he sat right across from your dad, responding to his comments about the game here and there. Your dad had no idea what was happening right under his nose.

Wasn’t thinking about leavin.

This little back and forth went on, the majority of the game, in fact. It was more-so about the plays then on, because you didn’t have anyone to talk to up here.

Joel thought it a bit funny, your dad would say something oddly specific about one of the players, and then you’d text him right after saying the exact same thing. You’d been a product of watching baseball with your old man for just about ever.

“I’m thinking about gettin’ some tickets over the summer for a game or two. They’re always cheaper in them group packages, you n’ Sarah should come along,” your dad was barely paying any attention to the words he spoke, but they came flowing out anyway, clear and cool. “Could be fun.”

Joel knew that there was only so much group interaction he could handle with you, and you with him. It stands to why you’re upstairs, an he’s down here, fist wrapped tightly around your lucky jersey. All out of your father’s sight, of course.

“It could be. Don’t think Sarah’s much for baseball anymore, though.”

He’d hoped that your dad would drop it. Halfway through his third beer, he hoped the man was a little more than tipsy, and maybe didn’t even mean the words he was saying.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t still tag along,” your dad was definitely still sober enough to keep it up, although the way he spoke became slower. Maybe he was getting sleepy.

“I’ll think about it.”

His response was followed by a hum, then a lull of silence that endured the rest of the game. He sat all the while and thought about his predicament a bit more.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you. It was insane… like you’d leeched yourself to the inner workings of his mind and he wouldn’t be able to pull you off without hurting himself, too. You were just upstairs, and had been texting him. You were within his vicinity, and yet… so unreachable.

He’d wished for you to be down here, or for him to be up there with you. Obviously, that wouldn’t go too well with the man sitting next to him, but he’d be asleep soon. If he could just touch you again, just kiss you one more time, maybe his cravings would be satisfied and he could go about his days… but what would happen if he kept feeling the addictive urge to do more? What if he was never satiated enough to quit you?

The game was called, and you’d texted him a small ‘victory’ at seeing the Rangers had won.

It was wrong, and the presence of his friend beside him was a constant reminder that you were his kid, and he would have a final say. Even though you were an adult, he understood this was completely taboo, and you should be off with guys your own age... but he’s made up his mind about the thoughts spinning in his head.

He didn’t respond, though. Your dad stood up out of his chair, his arms stretching outwards with a loud yawn as he took a few steps forwards, clapping his hand down on Joel’s shoulder.

“I hate to kick you out…” your father joked, a low and tired chuckle under his words.

“It’s alright, I got some stuff to sort out anyway.”

They started making their way towards the door when light but fast footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs.

Joel turned quickly, a smile on his lips and in his eyes when he saw you trying to catch your breath after sprinting down here.

“Leavin’ already?”

They both laughed heartily. As if Joel hadn’t been here almost three hours, most of which you spent upstairs. Your heart was beating far too fast for your liking, but there didn’t seem to be a way to stop it. Now that you were present again, in the room with him, you didn’t know what else to do.

“Your dad’s half asleep as it is, if I stay any longer I’ll send ‘im into hibernation,” Joel’s response made you giggle softly, although you withheld most of the laughter, because in all honestly, it wasn’t that funny, and you needed to learn to control yourself.

“He’ll be over next week, we’ll talk about gettin’ you into that job.”

You nodded, turning back to Joel as your dad opened the front door. What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t hug him, could you? That’s too much… maybe just wave, or maybe-

He held his hand out… for you to shake it. A hand-shake. Yeah, sure, fine.

You shook it, but he pulled you in half way, tapping your back once and then letting go.

He just bro hugged you. This man just-

He turned and did the same to your dad, giving you one last glimpse as he stepped out the door. Your dad closed it behind him and you were almost clean out of words to say. That had to have been the strangest interaction you’ve had.

“I’m beat, love-bug. I’m gonna head to bed,” he slung an arm around your neck and kissed the top of your head before turning and going down the hall to the stairs. “Don’t be up too late.”

“I won’t, just got a few things to do.”

You waited approximately ten more seconds before running to the garage door, going as quickly and as quietly as you could through to your front yard. Joel was still on his porch when you got out there, but was about to go inside.

You ran out to the sidewalk in font of his house and called out to him, all the while still barefoot.

“Hey Miller,” you crossed your arms, watching him turn around and lean in one direction. “Did you just bro-hug me? Or did I imagine that?”

He stepped closer to the edge of the porch, leaning against one of the wooden beams closest to him.

You slowly walked up to him, tilting your head to side as you observed his stance. he looked rather good. Hair tousled, body adorning a black t-shirt and some dark jeans. He was a sight, even in the dark light of the neighborhood.

“I reckon I oughta’ try again?”

"Seems like the fair thing to do."

“You’re takin’ your sweet time, baby,” he irked, grabbing gently under your elbow and pulling you up onto to porch once you were close enough.

You smiled to him, and wrapped your arms round his neck, over his broad shoulders. He pulled you close, tucking a head into your shoulder. The anxiousness you felt before fell apart, the rapid beating of your heart slowed, because you were comfortable. You felt immense peace in his arms like you’ve never felt before.

He backed away too soon, but still kept you relatively close to him.

“Was that better?”

“Yeah, I’d say so.”

There was a moment of silence, of contemplation, but it wasn’t stiff, and it wasn’t awkward. It was just there, a nice and pleasant quiet, and you standing still with Joel Miller on his porch.

“You wanna come inside a while?”

Sarah wasn’t home, and wouldn’t be till morning. Your dad was probably passed out in bed by now, leaving the opportunity completely open. You had nothing to lose, no risk to be had.

“Yeah, I think I will.”

He didn’t let you go, he just walked you both backwards until he was able to reach the door, reaching with one hand to open it before stepping slightly to the side to allow you entrance first.

“Ever the gentlemen,” you smiled, walking inside before he followed you in.

“Gotta make up for all that nonsense earlier,” he closed the door, taking your hand and walking to the kitchen. He pulled out a stool at his counter and let your hand fall to your side as he made his way to the fridge.

He pulled out two beers and uncapped them with the tool hanging on the side of his fridge. You think you remember your dad buying it for his birthday one year. You can remember sitting in this exact seat many times before, actually. Never alone, though. Never just you and Joel, and nobody else near.

He slid you one beer an you smiled at him in thanks, taking a sip.

“Last time you had one of these, I didn’t know if you liked it or not,” he gestured to his own bottle, drinking some and setting it down on the counter.

“I don’t know, I think it’s growing on me.”

He looked straight to you, leaning both hands on the edge of the counter. You leaned forward, mimicking his more stern face of features before he said anything else.

“I didn’t wanna say so with your dad around, but you look awful pretty tonight,” he spoke the compliment smoothly, but he had to drop his head after he said it. Seemed that giving you compliments alone in the night was something of a struggle for him, since he was blushing still even when he looked back to you.

“I seem to be feelin’ a lot prettier as of late whenever I’m around you. Think you’re just good for my self esteem,” you paused, leaning back onto the stool to take a drink of your beer. “That, or it's just nice to be complimented by a handsome guy like yourself.”

He didn’t seem to believe you. His scoff was loud and heard immediately after your compliment returned to him.

“You think I’m handsome?”

He’d always thought he was average. Maybe even slightly below. As he got older, that notion grew until he felt that maybe he was beyond trying for a woman on behalf of his looks. Perhaps there were women from time to time that would agree to a date, but there were none since Sarah’s mom who actually stuck around, not until you… but you were different as far as relationships go, because technically, you shouldn’t even be considering one with him.

“Absolutely, I do. Why wouldn’t I?” You were curious, because he was clearly attractive. Maybe you’d spent too much time around the more traditionally preferred young men in dallas, but something about Joel intrigued you that never did with anyone else. Maybe it was the forbidden aspect of what you two were doing, but before that, it was something else. He was rough and rugged, and good looking in a mature way that the boys your age couldn’t mimic if they tried. Those dark brown eyes with little crows feet at the edges every time he smiled were a dead give away to his age, but it was so appealing somehow.

“Don’t know. Guess I’m just old,” he spoke, trying to hide the insecurities that phrasing brought about. He was too old for you, he shouldn’t be sitting here with you you alone and calling you pretty, and yet…

“Maybe that’s a good thing. Too many boys my age are still very immature these days.” And it was very much true. Too young, too immature, and too stupid to see what’s in front of them and really appreciate it. Older men have a tendency to take care of the things they have, because they know that with time they can lose them.

“That so?”

“Mhm.”

“They don’t even realize what their missin’ out on, do they?”

You shook your head in reply. Nope. Not a single one of the younger guys you’ve dated has treated you with the care you know he could. He’s always treated you with care, before… why would that change now?

“They probably figure there’s a million girls linin’ up after me that they can take a shot at,” you raised your eyebrows and drank some more. Maybe it was just a thought of some past experiences, but this beer was tasting better and better to you.

“I pity them,” he said nonchalantly, without really thinking about it.

“Who, the girls? I mean, I kinda feel bad, but other times, I think we all know what we’re getting ourselves into n’ we just try to ignore the red flags.”

It was meant as a joke, but he was being genuinely serious.

“No, the guys. I pity ‘em.”

“Oh, do you?”

“I do,” he nodded, thinking of the right words to say. “They lost you, didn’t they? Biggest mistake of their lives and they didn’t even know. Pity ‘em just for that.”

You didn’t know what to say. You figured the wide smile you wore was doing a fine enough job, but he wasn’t looking like he had anything else to voice yet.

“You think I’m somethin’ special, Joel Miller?”

He set his bottle down on the counter and walked around it to stand right in front of your barstool. He took both your hands and pulled them to his chest, just holding them there and looking to you with the sweetest expression you’ve ever seen from him. He’s so different than what you remember in your earlier years. He used to be so stoic and serious. Sometimes even a little grumpy. Guess time changes things.

“I wouldn’t be gettin’ myself into sum’ this crazy if I thought anything else,” he mumbled it almost, but he definitely meant it. His words rang true in every aspect of the implications they made. This was crazy, it was very unlikely in the first place, but even still, it was happening. Neither of you backed down, neither of you said no.

“If it helps, I happen to think you’re pretty damn special, too.”

He didn’t respond, just leaned closer towards you, nudging his nose against yours, before letting your lips meet in a kiss. it washed rushed and hazy like the last time. It wasn’t forceful or fast or anything of that sort. It was gentle, and it was meaningful. All the years he’d known you, but never like this. You knew this attraction was new, but it was still real. You wondered how many women pined after him over the years, only for you to now gage his attention when clearly no one else did. The man’s been single since Sarah’s mom left, and otherwise, you didn’t know him to be much of a ‘dating around’ kinda guy. Standing here with him, now, you felt such excitement in knowing he’d pursue you, the off limits woman, over anyone else. It was a true victory, or at least you thought so, sitting on a stool in his kitchen while he kissed you softly, his thumbs going over the backs of your hands that still lingered in his.

When the kiss broke, you inhaled deeply, the scent of him so close to you, surrounding you. He was like a warm blanket you just pulled out of the dryer. He was comforting, and soft, and his skin was currently hot to the touch. You could only hope that you had something to do with that.

“Baby,” he breathed, hands letting go of yours and finding a new home at your waist. You left your hands on his chest, feeling his heart rate fluctuating. “Gotta know something before this goes any further…”

You hummed in response, still trying to even your breath intake. He backed away a few inches to be able to look you in the eyes correctly. He’d spent enough time with you in the past to know if you were telling the truth, and he was going to use it just this once to his advantage.

“What we’re doin’, you sure you’re okay with it?” He knew better than to jump into this without clarification. “Don’t want you feelin’ pressured if you’re not.”

“I want this,” you spoke softly, just loud enough that he could hear. “Promise.”

You had thought you’d been the instigator to this, if memory serves you correctly. Even still, you know now that whatever happens, he won’t take it somewhere you don’t want it to go. This show of good faith was something you could put trust in him over. He’s a good one, you always knew that.

And again his lips were on yours, differently this time. It was a bit more hasty and fervent like the first time, but there was still something different from then that you couldn’t quite decipher.

You absent-mindedly opened your legs and he instantly came between them, letting your bodies become flush with one another. His hands ran up and down your sides, every once and a while dipping to your hips and somewhere below on your thighs.

There was a heat between them that you didn’t realize was there until he came so close to touching it. He never actually did, though, and you were both endeared by and upset about it. He was the one making that heat spread, he can’t just leave it there… but he’s testing his limits, and you think it’s respectful that he is.

He doesn’t want to cross any lines… as if this entire entanglement has not already done that. This situation in every sense of the definition, has crossed the line. Him hugging you that tightly on his porch, him inviting you in after dark when it’s only you and him alone, having a beer with some very personal conversation, and now making out with you in his kitchen. They all crossed the line of what should happen between a man and his best friend’s daughter.

“Tell me to stop,” he mumbled against your mouth, almost as if reading your mind. His hand on your thigh drifted between your legs, just barely caressing the heated pool sitting there, waiting for him. It was still very reserved, and you had to buck against his hand for more friction, but at least it was something.

The taste of him somehow made it worse, the feeling growing inside you without an end in sight. The arousal was evident, but you weren’t sure he would be able to do anything about it, yet. You could tell it was weighing on his mind, what was okay for him to do, and what wasn’t. You would beg him if you had to, you just needed more.

He had an idea, one that could allow both of you to explore this dynamic easier, and one that could potentially keep him from overstepping like he was afraid to.

He removed his hands only for a minute, bringing yours up and over his shoulders before he settled his back down below your ass.

“Hold on,” he told you, lifting you from the seat and walking until he got to the living room. From there, he let the space guide him until the back of his knees hit the edge of the couch. He sat almost abruptly, and when you relaxed your weight onto him, you felt the stirring between his legs as well. You moaned into his mouth at the mere size and feeling of it, beginning to slowly grind down onto him. He encouraged your movements, and used his hands to guide your hips as you went, back and forth, getting into a rhythm.

“That’s it, baby,” he praised, tearing himself away for a moment to expel his breath from his lungs at the new feeling. Your head fell against his, and suddenly it was the movement of your lower half taking you over.

He let his hands move over your body a bit more freely, now, but still careful not to make any harsh movements, or grab in places he felt he shouldn’t linger too long. He knew you wanted this, but something inside him questioned how comfortable you really felt… that was until you started doing the same, roaming his body with your delicate touch, making him feel like the most important man in the world. You could have sworn you marked the exact moment he snapped, rolling his hips upwards into yours shamelessly. It was so deliciously addicting, the feeling of his body pleasing yours, and vice versa. His rough and sturdy hands, though still gentle, ravished any part of you available to him.

The air between you was hot and thick, and you could swear that by breathing it in, you were drawing even more arousal into your body.

The motions kept going until there was a quickening of pace brought on by you both simultaneously. You couldn’t mark a distinction of when it increased, you just knew that the speed you were going wasn’t where you started. All you could think of was that your spend was fast approaching, and you wondered if his was, too.

“Gettin’ close,” you murmured, barely able to get the words out for the moans that slipped passed your lips. “M’gonna…”

He heard you, and understood. Truth be told, he’d started getting hard since that moment on the porch, so this was just nothing but sweet relief to him. He kept on, trying to meet you at your finish.

“Let go , baby.”

You had no qualms about being told twice when it came to him. You gave it up easily, the muscles in your body contracting when you felt the wash of utter ease through every inch of you. He tensed beneath you, but relaxed with a groan of relief right after, and you could feel his length twitch in his jeans.

You just dry-humped Joel Miller on his couch. Like a horny teenager. What the fuck.

The dawn of realization was cut short by his hand softly coercing the back of your neck, bring your lips back for him to claim as he did earlier. Soft, and gentle, no rush, no heat. Just that feeling between you both that started this mess.… and it was indeed a mess.

“You wanna stay over?”

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climbthemountain2020 · 7 months ago

Text

Your Eyes Whisper Have We Met - Chapter 2

Part 2/? Ao3

Biggest thanks to @witch-and-her-witcher and @tunaababee for the best betas a gal could ask for!

[In a world where the Archerons never lost their fortune, fate finds Feyre on the night of a masquerade ball.]

As always, let me know if you would like to be on a tag list! This one is shaping up to be a long one, haha

Feyre shot awake, her hair waterfalling across her eyes as her upward motion stopped abruptly. The bright light of dawn was spilling through her windows and across her duvet as she collected herself, her breathing evening out as her senses awakened to the world. Quickly, she rolled to her bedside table, pulling the drawer open and reaching in to grab the notebook and pen she kept stored there now for exactly this purpose.

She flipped to the page with the bookmark, a pressed bit of the weeping willow, the veiny leaves becoming translucent in the eight months since she’d picked it. Before the dreams could slip away, she was writing furiously.

A creature with no form. Whispered threats. “Look at me. Look.” If you look, it can kill you–if you ignore it, it has no power.

The Creatures of the Abysmal Middle

She tapped the pen on her lips, trying to see if there were any additional details she’d missed. Her dreams came in fragments these days, no longer long stories and adventures in her sleeping mind, but rather flashes of a life that seemed to belong to someone else. She’d hear snippets of voices, see close ups of soft, gorgeously embroidered fabrics, experience creatures the likes of which she’d had no inkling existed months before. Often, she dreamed of him.

Rhysand.

She set her bookmark back into place and put everything back in the drawer, pushing it closed and stretching deeply on the bed. She reached into her nightdress and grabbed the ring on the delicate chain that hung perpetually between her breasts, pulling it out as she did every morning, surveying it sparkling in the early morning light.

It was a silver band, thick around the middle and meant for the fingers of a full grown man. The edges were smooth and gently sloping, a clear sign of years of wear and a comfort to run her fingers across, as she often did. Set in the center of the ring itself was the strangest, shiniest resin she’d ever seen, a deep navy inlaid with flecks of silver and diamond. All together, the pieces seemed to show a picture of a night sky, beautiful in its dark splendor. She ran her fingers over it habitually, soothing that piece in her soul that seemed to catch just a bit each time her thoughts roved over it.

She’d found the ring the morning after the masquerade ball when she’d ventured back out to the weeping willow just to see if it had perhaps all been a dream, thinking it might all have been too good to be true. Instead, she’d found the ring there on the stone bench, and she’d known immediately he’d left it for her. She’d remembered him wearing it, the ring so at home on his broad, lovely hands. But it was also so unmistakably him that she would have known it was his either way. There, under the shade of the weeping willow, she had the strangest feeling that a new life had begun for her, that he had been the beginning of something entirely new.

From her bed, she could see the willow in the distance through the window. She’d visited many times since, running her hand across the cool stone and closing her eyes to remember. If she focused hard enough, she could almost hear his voice there, the low hum in her ear. Many things had changed since that night, but at the same time, it seemed like very little had changed at all. She hadn’t heard from him in the eight months since - at least, not in any physical way.

The dreams, however, were another story.

Between the visions of mythical people and beautiful lands and terrifying monsters, often, he would appear to her. Sometimes, he was fully corporeal, real enough that she’d have believed it to be actually happening instead of only in her mind. Sometimes she only felt the ghost of a touch that she knew in her heart was him. Fingertips dancing along her spine, her hips, her neck. She would hear the lightest fragments of his deep voice, just whispers on the wind.

Feyre. Feyre. Feyre.

By now, she was long used to gasping awake, the skin slick between her thighs and her heart racing.

Occasionally, she would take care of it herself, trying to hold on to that presence in her mind with grasping hands, willing him to just stay. Sometimes, she tried to push it from her mind right away, refusing to suffer needlessly and fruitlessly over a man she truly may never see again. But still, she’d given her word, and she didn’t regret it. She would wait for him, no matter the circumstances. Rhysand was undeniably a part of her now, and it felt more right than anything she’d ever had in her life.

Once she was out of bed for the day, she threw open her drawers to grab a tunic and pants. Her father was away, as he had been more and more frequently, and she was trying to pull off a more comfortable style of dress. Without her father or a governess looming over her head, it wasn’t difficult to do, though she did get some cursory glances when she went into the village and Nesta and Elain would be too mortified to be seen anywhere outside the manor walls with her.

Fortunately, the big gossip about her family revolved around Nesta’s stubborn refusal to take a husband, despite both her father and Elain’s desperate pleading. There had been a time after the ball that everyone thought she’d acquiesce to the advances of a local man, Tomas Mandray, but she had abruptly cut him off, ceasing to answer any further inquiries from him and refusing to discuss it, or any other potential suitors, with anyone who asked. Privately, Feyre was relieved. Of course she worried for her family, but Nesta’s blatant refusal would buy her time. She knew that if Nesta relented and chose a husband, Elain wouldn’t take more than a second to find hers, and Feyre needed all the time she could get. She had a feeling that the dreams she’d been having were pointing her to something bigger, some answer to an unasked question, and she needed time to figure it out.

Feyre tucked her loose shirt into her trousers, then proceeded to tie her hair back in a practical braid.

A half-wild beast.

She smiled at herself in the mirror. Yes, she was.

She stepped quickly and quietly down the hall to the servant’s staircase, making her moves as swiftly as possible to avoid having to talk to her sisters on the way out. She made it to the kitchens, grabbing an apple and a pastry, and then she was in the bright sun of April, the crisp morning air and floral scent embracing her as she went. She tucked into the woods, wrapping around silently to the path that would take her into the village. All in all, it was about a forty-five minute trip on foot, but one Feyre didn’t mind making at all. She yearned for this time by herself in nature, viewing all the plants and animals and colors that she itched to put down on canvas. Here, she could be alone with her thoughts without judgment. Even though the trip was brief, being ensconced within the woods awoke something in her. She felt that familiar and comforting call to adventure every time–embraced if like a warm blanket and spent her time walking to the village daydreaming about those adventures that now seemed closer and more attainable than ever.

The village had become a second home to her with the amount of time she spent there, especially in the cafe and small, adjoining bookshop. It sat right on the outer edge of the village, a modest stone structure with two chimneys, both puffing steadily throughout the winter and shining like a beacon in the sky. The owner was an older man named Vincent, perhaps in his sixties, who had started the cafe and bookshop with his wife long ago. She’d long since passed, and he couldn’t bear to see either fall into disarray. Instead, he’d moved himself upstairs, merging the cafe and bookstore into a single business that he now managed himself.

Feyre had been drawn in the first time last October on a meandering trip into town as the leaves were changing colors. She’d been enticed by the huge, plump pumpkins outside the door and the sharp tang of cloves and cinnamon in the air surrounding the shop. She’d tugged out her coin purse and let her nose lead her in, delighted to find the bookstore was a part of it too. Since then, she’d made it a point to visit each week, if not more often, for a warm drink and a few books. At first, Feyre had selected the books typical of a woman of her stature: needlepoint, romance languages, and some popular love stories. When the dreams had become more pressing and harder to ignore, however, she’d started searching through the stacks for something a bit more specific.

Vincent had never questioned her sudden interest in all manner of creatures and myth, nor had he batted an eye when she suddenly began searching more fervently for the topic of Prythian in his old stacks of books. In fact, Vincent had noticed what she’d been doing and encouraged her habit, ordering more books that might interest her and slowly pushing them across the counter towards her with her hot drink at each visit. She’d come to trust Vincent, thinking of him as a bit of a father figure if she were being honest, and his warm smiles and excited eyes always warmed her from within when the tiny bell over his door chimed.

Today was no different as she shut the door behind her, turning to find him grinning behind the counter.

“We’ve just gotten in a big bushel of lavender. I have just the tea for you, Feyre.” She smiled and went to tell him that it sounded lovely, but he was already bustling away behind the counter.

“How have you been this week, Vincent?”

He hummed a bit as he rustled beneath the counter. “Oh, not bad. The storm Wednesday was a mighty one. Thought I might lose some tiles off the roof, but we held our own.” Feyre loved how conversationally he spoke with her, pretending that this was how he might talk to his family. Pretending she was one of them.

“The wind was howling so loudly it was a wonder anyone slept at all.”

“Aye. But it’ll make those spring flowers bloom, I’d wager.”

She’d seen some already popping up along the path through the woods, smiling to think of how Elain might enjoy them. Perhaps she could pick a few on her way back home.

“So what creatures do you have for me this week, dear? You know I do so love a challenge.”

Feyre slung her bag down across a table and sat near the counter. Vincent wasn’t one for wasting time or mincing words.

“What do you know about a creature that is only dangerous if you look at it? A terrifying voice, commanding you to look, to see, or it will tear the skin from your bones?”

Vincent popped up from behind the countertop, a machine hissing and steaming in front of him as he pushed his glasses back up his nose.

“Ahhh a bogge! I haven’t heard talk of those in ages.” It turned out to be just Feyre’s luck that Vincent had a penchant for all the creatures that her dreams had her aching to find out more about. He almost always knew what monsters she referred to, and if he didn’t, he was quick to guess where he could find out.

“And they truly can’t hurt you if you don’t look?”

“Truly, though most people are so frightened by the voice that they can’t seem to keep from looking. A tragic and very painful way to go, I imagine.” Feyre grimaced.

“I’m also looking for a book by the name of The Creatures of the Abysmal Middle. Does it ring any bells?”

He thought for a moment, tapping his fingers on his bearded chin as he did. “It does, though I’m not sure I have a copy.” He focused back in on the whirring machine, pulling a steaming cup of purple, frothy liquid away from it. “Try this, and I’ll go have a look-see.”

He was already toddling off, wiping his hands on his yellow apron, when she pressed the cup to her lips, the hot liquid burning her mouth but the flavors so wonderfully potent that she hummed contentedly anyway.

“Vince, this is lovely!” She shouted across the store.

“You’re going to burn your tongue clear off, Feyre!” He yelled back from behind the massive stacks of books that reached far up into the beams.

She took another scalding sip as she leaned back in the chair.

The bogge.

She’d learned so much in the last few months, a whole world that she’d only known from stories used to scare children in the night before last September. She thought she might never tire of learning about these distant lands and creatures, especially the fae. At first, admittedly, the dreams had terrified her more than intrigued her. They were like nothing she’d ever seen–strange people in strange places, a woman with nails as sharp as weapons and hair the color of blood, monsters with teeth so sharp they could easily have ripped out Feyre’s throat, a throne beneath in what appeared to be a cave, the dais covered in bones and gore.

But then…then she’d dreamed of Rhysand. Where she would pause with terror, he’d appear to soothe her with his touch, his words. He didn’t always speak, but the message still felt the same. I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.

She believed him. And when she saw him in those dreams, his handsome features suddenly framed with that otherworldly elegance, she was not afraid. She saw his violet eyes filled with stars, and wondered how she’d ever missed the galaxies hidden within them. She saw his delicately pointed ears, and longed to run her fingers along the edges of them, to feel him shudder beneath her touch. She imagined his sharp teeth when they’d glanced along her neck that night beneath the willow, and now she second guessed whether she’d imagined them being that sharp at all. She knew that in all the stories that the fae were meant to be feared.

Feyre didn’t know what it meant that, when she saw him in her dreams, she was never afraid at all.

She thought more often than not now about the place beyond the wall and what or who might be waiting on her there. Could that have been what Rhysand meant by “north of here”? Could he actually be a fae like the ones in the books? Would she still want him just as badly if he was?

She could ask the questions as much as she wanted, but if she were honest with herself, she knew the answers already.

She took another sip as Vincent hobbled back in and set down a stack of books on the table between them, taking a seat across from her and sighing as he leaned back.

“We don’t have the exact book you were looking for, but I did have a good one that has inserts on the bogge. There are some additional stories in there, too. A creature who carves predictions of the future into bones, and of people so traumatized that the darkness begins to flock to them like a protector.”

Feyre’s eyebrows raised. “You never let me down, do you?”

The old man grinned, motioning to the other books.

“These are the ones you requested last week. Another on edible plants and then the guidebook on swordplay forms. Was that everything?” She nodded, already flipping through the book on the fighting styles.

It hadn’t just been the myths she’d found a new interest in this past year, but weapons and fighting and survival too. For someone who’d had everything available at arms reach or through a simple request her entire life, she wasn’t sure why all this knowledge suddenly appealed to her so fully, but the urge to know more had become overwhelming. She ached to hold a sword in her hand, to feel the taught pull of a bowstring against her cheek as she held it steady. She’d all but begged the guards to show her how to handle the weapons, and they’d begrudgingly agreed, provided her father and sisters weren’t around. Feyre felt powerful with a weapon in her hand, and while she was far from adept at it, she could tell that she’d improved.

“I added another special one in there on the Great War. I thought you might like some firsthand accounts.” Her mouth dropped open as he waggled his brows at her. Even before all this, she’d loved the history of the humans who fought in the war, the devastation and loss overwhelming, but the tales of bravery and hard-won battles had kept her awake at night even as a child.

“Oh, thank you so much.” She reached across the table to grab his gnarled hand. “Thank you, Vincent. For always helping.” He smiled and patted her on the wrist.

“At a certain point, Feyre, you’re going to run out of books,” he said quietly. Her eyes darted up to his. “Then what will you do?”

“What can I do?” The air was suddenly hushed, the moment leaving her breathless for reasons unknown to her. She was on the precipice of something, something big.

“Books are the most wonderful tool we have in this world, otherwise, why would I devote my life to them. But…” His watery blue eyes took on a mischievous glint as she focused her rapt attention solely on him. “There is somewhere else to find the answers you seek, if you're brave enough to look, that is.”

Feyre felt like she was about to jump into the wild air, nothing beneath her to catch her. Still, she didn’t hesitate.

“Tell me.”

#feyre archeron #rhysand #feysand #acotar #acotar fics #feyre and rhysand #a court of thorns and roses #Your Eyes Whisper Have We Met

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micahweissberg · 8 months ago

Text

full name: zevi micah weissberg

nicknames: mikey, doc (his mom only), zm, zeems, zeemo

age: 29 (october 25, 1994)

zodiac sign: scorpio

gender/pronouns: cis man, he / him

sexual orientation: bisexual

hometown: manhattan, ny

occupation: comedian / employee at assembly depot

financial status: middle class (though his family is upper class)

current residence: an apartment in cardinal hill

time in blue harbor: since april 2024

family: saul weissberg (father), terry lowenstein (mother), cassie westwood (ex-stepmother), thalia edwards (ex-stepmother).

significant others: none.

trigger warnings: depression, brief mention of medication and drugs.

micah was born into wealth and prestige, the kind that, as an only child, he just sort of had to live up to. his parents divorced when he was young and was mainly raised by his mother.

micah thought the world of saul weissberg, though, and considered him a hero in many regards. each time he came to visit (sporadic as these visits might be) was like a holiday in itself, though he never stayed long and always had something urgent to take care of. more urgent than spending time with his son, apparently, but for a while, these glimpses of his father just made them all the more special.

until he grew older, and at some point beyond the tenth birthday party no-show and the thousandth missed call, micah no longer considered his father’s flakiness special but more irresponsible.

it was lonely to be a weissberg (perhaps this is why his father had married twice more after his mother), a malady that, fortunately, was not unique to a single human being on the planet, but it sure did feel like it. micah always had trouble relating to his peers, found that his interests were too niche for kids his age. despite his family’s status, he was not spared from the bullying and the scathing remarks about his appearance: he was frequently likened to a certain french mouse with a penchant for the culinary arts and by the time he was in eighth grade, he was already standing at six feet but barely had any meat on his bones.

his humor was also dark and dry and grotesque, though humor was a tool that he often used to self-medicate with. in the golden age of the internet, this meant youtube videos and blog posts that were never meant to be seen by kids at school but had somehow become lunchtime entertainment, for better or worse.

(often, it was for worse)

you’re a real comedian, his mother had said to him in the car after teachers and several parents at a pta meeting had raised concerns regarding her son’s alarming behavior online and how this was affecting the other kids. growing pains was all she’d attributed it to, and had too much pride to consider the recommendation that micah speak to a professional to help cope.

it was a suspiciously broken leg after a particularly rough day at school (according to micah’s best friend, who also suggested that it was decidedly not from falling down the stairs but refused to say more) that had prompted his mother to have him see a therapist, who referred him to a psychiatrist, who had put the boy on adderall and SSRIs at sixteen. his mother wasn’t one to judge, not with her own prescription of xanax in the medicine cabinet.

it helped him get through the rest of high school, though. the youtube videos and the blog posts also stopped the second he got into college, where he found more like-minded company, created new memories, experimented with relationships and substances (he'd once even bought coke from the same dealer his father used to back in the day after the guy recognized his last name). he was brought out of his shell and got involved in more extracurriculars, his favorite one being the humor publication on campus where he eventually became editor-in-chief.

graduating with a bachelor’s degree in english, however, was like arriving at a cul-de-sac, not much different from the street he’d grown up in, and there was no other way but to turn back around. his accomplishments in college didn’t seem to matter in the real world — who cares about a college humor magazine, anyway?

ironically, it was during a depressive episode that he decided he would go to law school. which was fitting, considering he associated the field with his father, who was yet another depressing thought. while a career in comedy was something he kept in the back of his mind, he considered being a lawyer as another form of standup. besides, he thought this might make him more relevant to his father. maybe, if he was a lawyer, the man would no longer take forever to return his calls.

so off to law school he went, as many weissberg men did before him. it was a miserable three years that, on what was supposed to be his last two semesters, pushed this particular weissberg to the brink of sanity and had a rather public meltdown on campus.

the time he took off was supposed to be a break, a recovery period. however, his spontaneous decision to go backpacking across europe and asia for a year had him effectively withdrawing from the institution.

the clarity this trip afforded him upon his return to new york allowed him to pursue that career as a standup comedian he’d always been dreaming of. he started posting videos on his old youtube page again, made content on social media, performed at open mics, networked with a bunch of other comedians he’d perform at bars with until he was getting paid to do the kind of work he was passionate about.

but it wasn’t going to be enough, not for a while, and he didn’t know how long this could sustain him, especially with his mother's passive aggressive reminders that he could do much better. he wasn’t getting any gigs for a while, which he later discovered was on purpose after he was confronted by the other comedians that he just wasn’t up to par with the lineup they put on.

this sent him into another downward spiral, a reckless cross-country bender that landed him in the ER with a broken arm. returning to his childhood home with his tail tucked between his legs, he finally followed his parents’ advice to finish law school (it was nice to see them both agreeing on something for once) and intern for his father in his law firm in illinois.

HEADCANONS.

micah is a grandma in a 29-year old man's body. he enjoys old music and loves craftsy, nature-y hobbies like knitting, crocheting, embroidering, gardening, hiking, and bird-watching. he also loves all things vintage; most of his clothes are thrifted and he makes 'real' mixtapes with a tape deck.

he went under the online moniker 'doczeem' when he first started posting comedy videos on youtube in high school as his friends used to call him 'ZM'. when doing standup, he uses the stage name zm weissberg.

his 'comedy claims' are john mulaney and nick kroll, but more deadpan and awkward. he's still finding his voice tbh.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

roommate , micah currently resides in blue harbor with a roommate. i imagine the two (or three) have very different personalities. micah is a bit aloof and awkward and has a few peculiar habits that his roommate might have to get used to, but once you coax him out of his shell, he has much to offer by way of conversation and is just a fun, chill guy to hang out with.

first friend , besides his father (the charming mr. saul weissberg) and his father's most recent ex-wife, thalia, micah doesn't really know anyone in blue harbor. upon first meeting, this person would've known that micah needed help getting around and has since then become micah's unofficial tour guide around town.

father's clients , since starting an internship at his father's firm, saul weissberg's clients will often find his son at the front desk (side by side with his father's secretary) making cheeky and sassy remarks at future divorcees and heirs of blue harbor.

tinder/grindr dates , micah often utilizes the app to meet people, though hasn't had much luck in the long-term relationship front, resulting in many nights ending in disappointment. so, most of the time he just uses it to hook up and manages his expectations.

people who watch his standup / people who work at a bar he performs at , micah does standup at local bars that host open mic nights. perhaps these are people who perform their own material (could be music or something else!), bar regulars, or even people who work there!

#intro.bh

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secondsovereign · 20 days ago

Note

For someone who made a point becoming overly attached to and involved in the life of the Astral Express crew for a considerable length of time, Dan Heng would always memorize the dates of birthdays and other occasions of personal importance the moment he learned about them. Initially, he was not much for gifts - it is not as though he was ever taught matters so trivial as what makes for a good birthday gift, of all things. His previous incarnation's sinful past was the main type of knowledge that mattered in the darkness of the Shackling Prison, after all.

It was not until after he joined the Express and began to slowly, carefully, come out of his shell, that he began to learn more about big and small parts of what constitutes a normal life, including birthdays and how one is supposed to celebrate them. Crew members sharing gifts and trinkets for various occasions is a tradition he recalls from the very beginning, and eventually, though it took some time, he began to engage in it as well - firstly just because it would be rude not to offer something in return when he received a gift, but eventually he came to the realization that he had grown to enjoy it, even though he remains somewhat insecure about it.

So it is, that on this day, when he spots that Welt is free, he comes closer, a little shy, before handing him a carefully wrapped package. "Mr. Yang... Happy birthday," he says; unlike for most occasions, he doesn't need to remind himself to smile this time. "This is the first time I can give you something from my homeland. It's not much, but... I hope you enjoy it."

Inside, Welt will find a book of Xianzhou stories and legends, full of not only fascinating texts, but also beautiful illustrations for almost every tale it tells.

Welt Birthday 2024 (accepting)

WELT'S ROOM IS RUSTICALLY DECORATED, a stark contrast to the fine metallics of the rest of the express. The layout is exactly the same as his apartment in New York, with wood panels methodically fixed to the wall to reduce the stark harshness of metal that the man had never been too fond of. The door is rarely shut, only closed when paper is strung across the room at the whim of his imagination, prompting a new project to record for Bronya to peruse upon their fated reunion. It's when he's hunched over a desk that the now 80-year-old man can finally think and reflect, Dan Heng in particular is the focus of his musing for the evening, a source of reflection after an arduous year.

When they'd first set out for Penacony, Welt hadn't expected it to lead where it had, nor had he been entirely comfortable with the idea of leaving the Young Vidyadhara with only Pom-Pom for company. Joachim isn't sure when it started, when his solemn vow to journey beyond the Intertidal Zone in an attempt to thwart the plans of those above had become caring for others. It was undeniable to Welt that he'd cared for Dan Heng since they met, which is why he's unsurprised that the young man is shyly approaching even as the door closes behind to grant privacy to the duo.

The tightly wrapped bundle is held and cherished, carefully placed beside the drawing table and a photo from Belobog that Welt had mysteriously acquired. No words are needed for his appreciation, not when a hand is raising upwards to gently pat the spot between where horns lingered. Yes, he would continue to treat Dan Heng the way he did Joey, myriad headpats and the occasional respectful hug.

"Thank you, Dan Heng, for both the thoughts and the gift." Words filled with the love only a parent can feel for their child, uncaring of appearances as he shows his appreciation to the Vidyadhara beside him.

#WeltBirthday 2024 #Dan Heng ;; renascinem #[ little bonding time thrown in bc why not ]

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florencetypemaniacs · 2 years ago

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARCEL!~Short Story

MARCELLUS'S BACKSTORY SPOILERS BELOW!!!

The sun glistened on the Sarno River, where ships floated aimlessly while others were anchored at port. People were all about enjoying the sunny morning, not even minding sailors ordering their men to get the nets drawn so they could get to work selling their fresh scores of fish down at the market.

Further north, crisp hills rolled from a large mountain to the crowded city to the west. The streets were bustling as people shopped, visited relatives, and even children drew on the walls of a big arch with speckles of paint that their guardians let them buy when the merchants came into town only a few days ago.

Although people were walking down one street in the center of the city, heads turned as shouts bounced off the stone walls covered in floral motifs.

"Thief!"

"Stop him, you fools!"

A man, or more accurately, a teen dressed in a cloak, ran down the busy street, bumping into people as he ran from city guards.

"Sorry!" The teen said this as he jumped through a fountain, splashing water on an older woman who was resting.

“Es stercus!” A man yelled, helping the woman up.

"I said sorry!" The teen yelled over his shoulder; his feet burned from the hot cobblestone marked by the sun.

Need to lose the old dogs.

Looking to his right, he smiled like a lemer and ran towards the narrow alleyway, knowing full well that the guards would not be able to follow him with the bulk of armor they torture themselves with.

Marcel held his breath as the guards ran past the alleyway, not noticing the hunched figure of the sixteen-year-old boy.

Letting out a chuckle, he held the bag full of his precious cargo closer to his body, making sure none of it was smashed.

Looking up at the sun, he knew he should be getting back and quickly climbed the wall of the building next to him with the help of a few boxes and overgrown vines.

Balancing on the roof, he leapt from house to house, gracefully and practically dancing in the warm sun.

It only took a few minutes, and knowing the city like the back of his hand made it easier to navigate even while he was on rooftops.

Finally arriving at his destination, he easily jumped on a balcony and swung to a tree branch hanging by until his feet hit the ground.

"At last....home." Marcel said, looking at the old torn-down villa built with tan bricks and red pine wooden decorations that hung in the front to ward off evil spirits.

The closer he got, the more he could hear the sounds of laughter and crying from children. Through short, wide windows, if he narrowed his eyes and focused, he could see heads of hair run past.

Marcel let out a smirk and opened the front door.

"Mars!" A small girl squealed and threw herself into his arms, which spined her around.

"Oh, Cassia! It's been forever since I saw you!"

"You saw me this morning, Mars!" Cassia giggled and hung onto the taller boy.

Marcel grinned. "Did I? Well, you've grown since then!"

Cassia blushed and stood on her tiptoes. "You really think so?"

"Well, of course."

"Is that Marcellus?! Oh, I have a word to pick with you."

From down the hallway a young woman appeared with black hair all the way down to the floor in a braid and the most stunning blue eyes that seemed to distract people from her dark bags that were under them.

"Decima! It's good to see you."

"I don't want to hear it, Marcellus." Decima spoke with narrowed eyes, then turned to Cassia.

"Little Shurb, how about you go play outside with the twins?"

Cassia wrinkled her small button nose. "But they always want to play Terni lapilli."

Decima frowned. "What's wrong with Terni lapilli?"

Cassia crossed her arms. "Nothing; they just always lose the marbles, and it takes us till sundown to find them." She pouted.

Marcel got down on his knees and booped her nose. "How about this? You play with your brothers, and I'll get you new marbles tomorrow."

Cassia's eyes widened. "Shiny ones?"

Marcel nodded, the small girl's smile being infectious. "They will be as shiny as Sol's chariot."

Cassia nodded her little head. "Deal!" The small girl ran out of the arched, cracked doorway.

Decima sighed as she rubbed at a stain on her lavender stola.

"Marcellus, what have you done this time?"

Marcel lips pressed together, knowing full well a lecture was coming.

"Please, on Astraeus's stars, do not start pestering me, Decima.

"Oh, shall I not, Marcellus? If the sweat on your forehead and the dirt on your feet are any indication, you have been participating in Mercury's sinful tricks."

"Don't pretend that his sinful tricks do not keep us from drowning."

Decima glared. "They may keep our heads above the tide, but for how much longer? Once the guards catch you, that's it!" She slammed her hand down on the table, and Marcel was surprised her copper wedding band on her finger didn't crack.

Marcel's brows furrowed. "Don't you see I am doing what I must? With Octavian gone—" Decima's eyes closed as if in pain at the mention of the name. "—we are all at risk even with our union. If we don't manage to keep up with our debt, then our ruse would have been for nothing, not to mention what Rufus would do."

Decima looked away, and Marcel took the older girl by the shoulders, making her look him in the eye. "You are my truest friend... I am doing what is right for all of us. For the children. For you as well."

Marcel and Decima stared into each other's eyes for what felt like minutes. They knew everything about the other—what stalked their dreams, what pushed them to keep going—but they never judged, for they completely trusted the other.

Decima nodded at her friend. "May Juno be with you."

Marcel smiled, a little bitterly. "No gods are with me."

Before Decima could utter a sound, Marcel walked down the hall. "Cerdis is in the children's room, I'm guessing."

Decima called back, wiping her hands on the front of her stola. "Yes, you know he has been waiting for you."

Happiness surged through him, suppressing the fear that was slowly creeping into his mind.

Marcel smiled and opened the door to the largest room in the very small, cracked domus where they lay their heads each night.

Candles lit the room where no windows let their light in. Two dark wooden cribs were in the corner, while there was a small bed on the other side of the room, which kept two growing children resting their heads, although there was barely any room for one child, much less two.

Although right then there was only one child, whose hair was raven and nappy, even under the covers, anyone could see the boy was small—too small. Most considered the boy to be cursed by Asclepius and wanted him put out of his misery, although Marcel knew better.

Marcel sat on the bed, making sure not to startle the sleeping figure.

Gently, Marcel uncovered the face of the small boy to reveal sunken eyes and paste-like skin that seemed to be coated with sweat; however, there was a small smile that played on the sleeping boy's lips.

The older boy spoke softly. "Cerdis, it is time to wake; Sol's chariot has already passed."

Eyes slowly opened, blinking before the little boy grinned from ear to ear; his brightness could put a smile on anyone's face.

"Mars!" A raspy voice came from Cerdis as he sat up, wrapping his small arms around the older boy.

Marcel softly kissed the boy on the top of the head. "Ah! Finally, you wake from your slumber." He held the raven-haired boy close. "Are you feeling blessed this morning by the gods?"

Cerdis nodded his head, looking confident. "Yes, because it is my day of birth!"

Marcel smiled. "Yes, it's not everyday that someone survives five winters."

Cerdis frowned. "I am still not as tall as Cassia."

The older boy laughed. "No, but maybe with the help of Juno, you will catch up." He said it, hoping that the bitterness would be kept out of his tone.

Cerdis gave him a toothy grin. "You really think so? I won't only be older than her, but taller as well!"

Ah yes, Cassia does hold her height over Cerdis very often, although it is probably due to the fact that Cerdis was the only one who questioned her when picking games. Hmm. I wonder what Cassia will do when Cerdis comes into manhood. I'm sure Cassia will find something else to hang over the poor boy's head.

Marcel patted Cerdis's head. "Well...I have you a present."

Cerdis shook with excitement and, with almost lightning speed, reached for Marcel's satchel but with speed was snatched back. "Now, now, Cerdis, I have a few other things in here."

Cerdis crinkled his nose, although the comment didn't make his smile waver. "I cannot wait any longer! Please Mars! What have you brought me?"

Without a second thought, Marcel opened the bag, minding the trinkets that were valuable, however small enough that their owners would not even notice they were gone until it was too late.

Cerdis's eyes widened as Marcel pulled something oval-shaped and quite small into his palm and wrapped it in cloth.

The raven-haired boy smelled the sweet aroma, and his mouth watered. "Is that-?"

Marcel uncovered the item to reveal the room-temperature sweet bun, smashed a little on one side, which made the honey sweetness drip over until the cloth was covered with the sticky substance.

"It was no trouble." Marcel once again kissed Cerdis head.

"A maritozzi!" Cerbis, not minding the stick, grabbed the sweet treat with full hands and took a bite. Marcel tried not to cringe at the mess on the boy's face.

But it was quite easy, with the happiness shining through. "Mmm."

"I see you are quite enjoying my present."

Cerdis showed his dimples through his smile, licking his fingers. "Thank you, Mars!"

Marcel smiled in a moment of weakness, asking the gods to bless his little brother with many more winters.

#My Inner Sins #Interactive Fiction Short Story #Interactive Fiction #Marcel #Marcel Short Story #Backstory #Marcellus De Rosa #Marcel De Rosa #Interactive Story #interactive fiction twine #twine interactive fiction #interactive novel #interactive story #interactive fiction #interactive game #RO Short Story #twine if #twine wip #MIS-RO:Marcel

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zombie-rott · 5 months ago

Text

Survival Is A Talent: 4.5

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4

Pairing: Gen. None.

Rating: Mature for difficult themes throughout.

Summary:

“Weakness was not something Phantom had ever been permitted to show back beneath the ground. His father, a tyrant leader of their pack, came down harshly on anyone who dared to show an ounce of discomfort or disdain. Male or female, grown or child; he was a brutal man with brutal ideals. But despite Phantom’s inept ability to hide his pain, he’d never felt quite like this before. Nor had he trembled quite as much as he had done since coming to the surface.”

Phantom, the new quintessence ghoul, is struggling to adapt to live on the surface. What started as surface sickness has quickly developed into quintessence burn out. And with a reluctance to ask for help, Phantom finds himself down a dark path. It’s up to Papa, Aether and the pack to drag him back; kicking, screaming but alive.

In full on A03.

Over the following days, Phantom grew more confident that Copia was genuine in his concerns. While he hadn’t quite returned to a place where he was comfortable enough to seek solitude in the clergyman’s arms, he began to at least respond to his texts. His one-word answers slowly grew to something more akin to a conversation, and soon he was attending yet another meeting with the man. This time, the dinner Copia suggested, a meal Phantom felt his stomach wasn’t quite ready for.

That afternoon, as he prepared to meet Copia, he contemplated cancelling. His fingers fidgeted with his phone as he mulled over how he could get out of this but nothing felt right. Everything sounded like a cop-out because it was, and Phantom didn’t quite know how to go about disguising it as anything else.

Instead, he focused on pulling his hair back into a ponytail, and how he could possibly cover the dark circles beneath his eyes. As he studied himself in the bathroom mirror he couldn’t help but cringe. The ghoul staring back at him was a stranger, an impostor zipped up inside a vaguely familiar skin suit. There was no sparkle in his violet eyes, his hair was listless and even his horns had lost their glimmer. But the body beneath his clothing was the most jarring of all; Thin, with bones protruding where flesh should be, and carved up like a pumpkin during Samhain.

Yet, despite his obvious disorder, Copia still wanted to associate with him. The clergyman simply wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’d sent pastoral texts daily, and offered things such as ‘calming’ walks or an evening watching something called ‘Schitt’s Creek.’ While Phantom knew it was from a place of genuine concern, he couldn’t help but feel like a burden specifically when Copia had arranged for him to take adequate time off from laundry duties to aid in his recovery.

Recovery.

A word Phantom had heard before but could never quite grasp in his situation. He knew what it meant regarding a physical ailment, but what did it mean in his circumstance? How could one recover from the darkness creeping within their own mind?

His phone rang, alerting him to the time. It was almost time to leave if he didn’t want to keep Copia waiting. Despite this knowledge, Phantom couldn’t quite encourage himself to pull on his shoes. It had been a struggle enough to get dressed in something other than his usual sweatpants and oversized hoody, but he had wanted to at least appear to be trying. It wasn’t until he zipped up his pants, the same he had been wearing since he was summoned, that he realised just how big they’d become. He’d been forced to text Dew to ask for a belt and almost cried with embarrassment when he’d promptly arrived at his door with several to choose from. The fire ghoul had been overtly kind, making sure that Phantom picked the right one to match the colour of his jeans. He’d even refrained from saying anything about the weight the little ghoul had lost. But it was written all over his face, and Phantom was in no doubt that several pairs of eyes would be watching him as he walked through the common rooms and towards Copia’s chambers.

Six twenty. He had ten minutes to will himself to put on his sneakers and get to the other side of the ministry if he didn’t want to be late. With shaking hands he worked at lacing up his sneakers, all the while whispering to himself.

“It’s just dinner.”

He did one final check in his mirror, hating the image reflecting back at him before gingerly sliding out into the hallway. There was the distant din of the ghoul pack from the common area, a sound that in the past would have sent him running to their embrace. But not now. Now he wanted to run back to his room and bolt the door, their worrisome looks too much to bear.

“Hey, little bug.” The familiar baritone voice of Swiss greeted him as he shuffled through into the living area.

Phantom forced a smile so small it would easily be missed by anyone else. But Swiss crossed the room and gently patted the fellow ghoul’s shoulder.

“Do you want me to walk you to dinner?”

While Phantom appreciated the offer, he couldn’t stand the thought of holding a conversation. Yet, he also loathed to be alone; Open and exposed to the world around him. Despite every fibre in his body begging and practically pleading for company, Phantom shook his head.

Swiss continued to smile, but his eyes told a different story. He reluctantly let the little ghoul go and affirmed his decision.

“If you want one of us to come walk you back, just text. Okay?” Cumulus chirped from where she sat on the rug by the fire.

“S-sure,” Phantom muttered. He excused himself and hurried out the door before any of his other pack mates could offer their assistance. Or sympathies. Or anything akin to pity.

~ Read In Full Here ~

#the band ghost #my fan fiction #my fanfic #ghostband #ghost tumblr #ghost band #ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfiction #papa emeritus iv #papa copia #nameless ghoul #nameless ghouls

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eloquentornot · 2 years ago

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"Happy anniversary!!"

"Wait, what?" Grian spluttered, falling from the shulker monster he was balancing on. "Ren, what are you talking about?!"

"It's been a year, dude! A year since we finally got out of that stinky Hermitheus, finally set foot on real life solid ground once more!"

Grian struggled to parse what Ren was trying to say for just a moment longer, and then it dawned.

"We've been on this season for a year now?!"

"That's right! I can't believe no-one else seems to have remembered the date, I was hoping there would be great celebrations, far and wide! But so far, everyone I've talked to today has been as surprised as you, dude! I'll catch you later, man, I feel like I've got to talk to everyone, now!"

Grian watched blankly as Ren rocketed away.

So. It had been a year. A year since he'd woken from the long dream of the void, with visions in his head, plans from a great beyond… Then that meant, it had probably already been more than a year since he'd first met it, but…

"It's been a year since I made the Entity." A year since he'd carved out that stone form, the perfect boulder, knowing and yet not knowing what it would grow into, what it could become…

Suddenly, feelings he'd forgotten and laid aside came flooding back, the deep waves of something, the blindingly hidden memories of what he had promised and been promised, and he realised once again that he needed to restock the Entity. Did it want another upgrade, too? Or was that feeling his own, his guilt for having forgotten about it, for having needed someone else to remind him of its…

With a gasp, he knew what to do. He dropped whatever random items he was carrying into the nearest box that was empty enough, and rapidly started planning. He'd left this far too late, and only had a few hours…

~~~~~~~

The sun was setting, and several hermits were gathering in the shopping district.

"So, what do you think this is all about?" Impulse asked Pearl. "Grian hasn't put on a big event like this for his shop here before…"

"Well, it's been a while since I've observed any strange activity from the Entity," she replied, and he noticed she was wearing her fancy suit. "It doesn't look like it's changed appearance again, at least not from what I can see…"

"Maybe he finally figured out how to get his son to send customers inside it?" Cub wondered.

"What? But Grumbot's not here… is he?" Impulse asked.

"No, no. I meant the shulker."

Before the crowds could speculate any further, Grian appeared in a flash of bright red and white fireworks!

"Ow," he said, taking a mental note not to fly so close to the dispensers next time. "Welcome, everyone! Now, as I'm sure some of you will be aware, it's now been a full year since we all arrived here in this world."

"Heck yeah!" Ren cheered. "You set up a party for us in one day?"

"That's right! But, this isn't just a party for our anniversary. On this day, one year ago, I created a vessel for a very special being, known only as the Entity…"

The crowd had started to murmur at Ren's outburst, but now fell silent, as Grian continued ominously.

"This Entity has grown, over the past twelve months. It has grown stronger, wiser, and if I do say so myself, cuter!"

xBCrafted, who was lying in a tree nearby with his bow prepared as usual, glanced upwards at the strange stone monstrosity, a variety of large items protruding from its surface, six mechanical legs holding it high above the ground, green vines growing from a hole with blood slowly dripping down but never seeming to reach the ground beneath, where many shulker boxes full of all sorts of useful things were currently piled even higher than usual. He and a few others hummed in suspicion, but said nothing.

"I cannot say for how long the Entity has truly existed, indeed, perhaps it haunted the void long before what we would consider the start of time itself… But, one year ago today, I gave it the body it asked for, I brought it into this world. So, today, I have more than restocked my shop, I have filled it to overflowing, and I invite you all to join me in celebrating the Entity's first birthday!"

He stepped backwards onto a pressure plate, and several more red and white fireworks went off, accompanied by slight applause from some of the audience. Grian frowned, then sighed.

"And, to celebrate its birthday, the Entity offers a special deal for this evening only, half price for everything, or, only one stack of diamonds for however much of anything you want, whichever would be cheaper!"

The crowd cheered, and Grian stepped aside as they all flooded in, the sounds of shulker boxes being opened and closed blending nicely with the sounds of the actual live shulkers in the small cave beneath.

Boxes were emptied, items were replaced with diamonds, and a warm breeze of contentment filled the air, pouring forth a sweet scent from the Entity's opening. Grian smiled, leaning against one of the Entity's legs. All was right with the world. All hermits would be loyal customers of the Entity. Entity would provide all. All would become Entity. Just as long as he kept remembering to restock…

#hermitcraft fanfic #grian #hc9 anniversary #entity hc #slight horror #happy birthday to hermitcraft season 9 and the entity!

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thegeekybaker · 2 years ago

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Little Black Box

Characters - John Price X OC

Summary - 5 times Person A was afraid + 1 time they faced their fear.

Word Count - 1,033

Warnings - Angst, grieving

A/N - Another story written late at night I thought I’d share. Be warned, this one is full of angst! This is, once again, inspired by a prompt from @love-me-a-good-prompt

--------------------------------------------------------

Ever since she and John had gotten engaged, Eliza was always a little scared to answer a random knock at her door, always fearing the worst in the back of her mind. She could picture Kyle standing there, a pained look on his face, those three awful words, “I’m so sorry,” tumbling out of his mouth. But that day had never come, even if her heart did beat a little harder when she got deliveries.

The first time that happened, CIA Director Kate Laswell, of all people, had shown up on her doorstep. Eliza knew she looked terrified by the way Kate talked to her, trying to assure her that nothing was wrong. Eliza invited her in, made tea for the both of them, and started an awkward, halting conversation that became easier the more tea she had. Kate never came out and said it, but Eliza knew she was taking her own measure of her. She knew John and Kate trusted each other greatly, that Kate knew he was a grown man able to make his own informed decisions, but she could tell Kate was looking out for John in her own way. And, after the tea and Kate’s seat had gone cold, Eliza was grateful John had someone in command who cared about him that much.

The second time, Simon had appeared in her doorway, almost immediately assuring her that John was ok, but injured. The brief seconds between her worried look at Simon and his assurance felt like an eternity. After dropping their son and daughter off with Eliza’s sister-in-law, Simon drove her to their main base just outside of London, explaining that John had been shot down while in a helicopter. Even though he was injured, he was a tough man, and he would be just fine. She was able to hold back her tears until she saw him in a hospital bed, dressings on an arm, a leg, his torso, small burns and cuts on his face, but she couldn’t help but laugh at the irony that his beard was still immaculate.

The third time came, and when Eliza opened the door with their youngest child on her hip, the smile she held for Kyle immediately fell when she saw his demeanor and his crisp dress uniform. She could see tear stains on his cheeks, and the little black box he held was the most dreadful thing she had ever seen. She still had a hard time remembering that day, the “I’m so sorry,” he almost sobbed sounded distorted, even after many years, but she does remember clinging to her children for dear life, her oldest son taking the youngest before she collapsed and her daughter helping her to the floor. They sat there in a heap for a what seemed like an eternity, clinging to each other and the dog tags from that loathsome little black box.

The fourth time was at John’s funeral. She could barely force herself to think that word, that that was what she going to. She did her best to stay strong for their children, but she felt like a ghost, a sad imitation of herself, where the only thing she felt was fear and immense grief. She knew the children wanted his casket to stay open during the service, but she was too afraid to look at him, worried she’d lose herself when their children needed her most. All she could do was sit with her youngest in her lap, grasping her oldest son’s hand, and try to remember that it wasn’t John’s.

The fifth time was a month after the funeral. The kids wanted to go by the cemetery to put up some new flowers for their father, but she couldn’t bring herself to go with them. She was scared to see his tombstone, scared to leave the house, dreading the day she came back and nothing smelled like him anymore. So Kyle took them, their favorite Uncle knowing the way by heart now. When they all arrived back at the house, Kyle had gotten them ice cream, and even though their cheeks shone with drying tears, they all had smiles on their faces.

Six months had gone by since John’s death when she finally willed herself to go see him. His birthday was coming up, and she knew their children would want to visit. Their daughter had already talked about baking a cake for them to have at the cemetery, and Eliza knew she needed to prepare herself, so she didn’t fall to pieces on the day. She didn’t trust herself to drive, fearing she might just turn around and go home, so she asked Simon to take her. He was steadfast and seemed to know how much she could take better than the others, so she knew he would help her finish this. Although she was weepy the entire ride there, Eliza managed to hold her tears back long enough to see John’s headstone, the words, “Beloved Husband, Father, and Soldier,” written on it, but the thing that drew a sob from her was seeing her youngest child’s favorite stuffed animal lovingly placed against the stone. It was one of the many John had gotten for her on his travels – a pastel pink bunny, with long, droopy ears and a fluffy tail, now slightly muddied by its time outdoors. She gently picked it up and held it close, sobbing loudly, desperately wishing it was John instead. Simon stood by her, glaring at anyone who dared look her way, and when her loud gasps had dwindled to quiet sniffs, he coaxed her up and away from the graveside, helping her adjust the bunny by the stone once more. That might have been the first time she visited John, but it wasn’t the last. The grief was always there, but, with the help of her family and found brothers, it eased over time, enough to where she would smile at the thought of John instead of breaking down in tears. Instead of being afraid when her youngest asked for stories of her father, she smiled gently at her, and proudly told her of the man named Johnathan Price.

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howromantic · 1 year ago

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𝑀𝒶𝓇𝒾𝑒 𝐵𝑜𝓃𝒻𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓁𝑒 ;; ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴛ'ꜱ ᴍᴇᴏᴡ

Bisexual ⋆ She/Her ⋆ Twenty-Three

Occupation ;; Singer, Freelance Writer

♫ Currently Playing ♫ ;; Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl by Chappell Roan

☀ Capricorn ☾ Libra ↑ Gemini

Being a triplet one might think the three Bonfamille children had a lot in common but it wasn’t quite that easy. From the moment they came into the world Marie was a spitting image of her mother. It was always clear that she was the daughter of Duchess who had already been well known as an heiress to Madame Adelaide Bonfamille fortune as she was her only daughter. This meant that they grew up in the spotlight of society. The children would have to attend events in their finest clothes and of course, they were infamous for going home a mess. One of them would get into trouble and the other two were sure to follow. However, it was Marie who felt like she got the biggest scolding when she wasn’t acting ladylike or the way that a girl of her stature should. As she got older she started to get more restrictive of herself to make sure that she was appearing in society as the woman her mother wanted. This meant she studied music diligently, the latest fashions, and even dabbled in business. Marie cared about how people saw her or at least she was taught to. In her free time, she was just that, free. She would climb trees, sit in the grass with a white dress on, and was known to never start a fight but always to finish them.

Things were going well or so she thought, she had plans to go to school to obtain a degree in design and finally break free of the bubble she’d grown up in when everything changed. Before their 18th birthday the triplets world changed forever. Edgar Balthazar had been their butler for as long as Marie could remember, by now he was practically considered part of the family or so she thought. When it came time for the children to get their trust fund money he was furious upon hearing how much money they were getting while he was left empty handed. That’s when he deviated a plan and kidnapped them in order to get the money he so believed he deserved. The children had been betrayed by a man they saw as family and they would never be able to see him the same way again. Each of them was pulled for their own torture since he was finally able to release all the anger he’d felt towards them all these years. Marie found out the hard way that she was desired, having always been naive when it came to that sort of thing but this event changed her. She never told her brothers the details of what Edgar did to her, not wanting them to feel as though they couldn’t protect her. Instead she held onto that silently and tried to stay hopeful that they would be rescued. The children were held captive for a total of 9 days until the ransom money was pulled together and they were able to be found. Edgar vanished without a trace, leaving the kids to deal with the trauma and no sense of closure for the entire family. Madame and Duchess decided it would be best for the children’s safety to be sent to live full time at their vacation home on the Isle. Little did they know this was also where their estranged father, Tristan Tramp also resided. Marie is doing her best to move on with her life since then. She’s been singing more, as it feels like her only way to express how it all truly made her feel. When she sings, it’s the closest to her truth. Her life didn’t end up going how she planned but Marie is doing the best with what she has. After Edgar already took so much from her she doesn’t want to let it control the rest of her life though they all can’t deny the fear of him returning. All she can hope is that he never does but she’ll be ready if he does.

She’s been learning taekwondo and boxing in case she ever needed to protect herself again she wanted to be prepared.

Her best friend (besides her annoying brothers) is her cat, Princess Antoinette.

Since coming to the Isle she’s become more adventurous and found herself getting into trouble more often than back home. Without her mother’s watchful eye, she feels like she is able to let loose a little.

She struggles with sleeping, often getting nightmares about what happened when they were kidnapped. Even though she doesn’t talk about it she’s become quite dependent on drugs to sleep but when she can’t is when she writes her music.

Marie runs a successful gossip column in the weekly newspaper as well as a fashion blog. Her real passion is in music but she hasn't taken off yet.

More tbd.

#ᴇᴠᴇʀʏʙᴏᴅʏ ᴡᴀɴᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ 𝒸𝒶𝓉 ( about. )#tw sa mention #tw kidnapping

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autolovecraft · 2 years ago

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The thing must have happened at about three-thirty in the afternoon.

The afflicted man was fully conscious, but would say nothing of any consequence; merely muttering such things as Oh, my ankles! Great heavens, Birch, just as I thought! It was just as he had recognized old Matt's coffin that the door slammed to in the wind, leaving him in a dusk even deeper than before. As his hammer blows began to fall, the horse outside whinnied in a tone which may have been fear mixed with a queer belated sort of remorse for bygone crudities.

Tired and perspiring despite many rests, he descended to the floor and sat a while on the bottom box to gather strength for the final wriggle and leap to the ground outside. The air had begun to be exceedingly unwholesome; but to this detail he paid no attention as he toiled, half by feeling, at the heavy and corroded metal of the latch.

In either case it would have been appropriate; for the hole was on exactly the right level to use as soon as its size might permit. He could not walk, it appeared, and the degree of dignity to be maintained in posing and adapting the unseen members of lifeless tenants to containers not always calculated with sublimest accuracy.

There was nothing like a ladder in the tomb. The undertaker grew doubly lethargic in the bitter weather, and seemed to outdo even himself in carelessness. In this funereal twilight he rattled the rusty handles, pushed at the iron panels, and wondered why the massive portal had grown so suddenly recalcitrant. He changed his business, but something always preyed upon him. Just where to begin Birch's story I can hardly decide, since I am no practiced teller of tales.

Why did you do it, Birch? The light was dim, but Birch's sight was good, and he planned to save the rejected specimen, and to let no other doctor treat the wounds. In the semi-gloom he trusted mostly to touch to select the right one, and indeed came upon it almost by accident, since it tumbled into his hands as if through some odd volition after he had unwittingly placed it beside another on the third layer. Three coffin-heights, he reckoned, would permit him to reach the transom; but he could do better with four. He was curiously unelated over his impending escape, and almost dreaded the exertion, for his form had the indolent stoutness of early middle age. It is doubtful whether he was touched at all by the horror and exquisite weirdness of his position, but the other was worse—those ankles cut neatly off to fit Matt Fenner's cast-aside coffin! As he planned, he could not but wish that the units of his contemplated staircase had been more securely made. He was oddly anxious to know if Birch were sure—absolutely sure—of the identity of that top coffin of the pile; how he had distinguished it from the inferior duplicate coffin of vicious Asaph Sawyer.

After a full two hours Dr. Davis left, urging Birch to insist at all times that his wounds were caused entirely by loose nails and splintering wood. Just where to begin Birch's story I can hardly decide, since I am no practiced teller of tales. His head was broken in, and everything was tumbled about. The day was clear, but a high wind had sprung up; and Birch was glad to get to shelter as he unlocked the iron door and entered the side-hill vault. The tower at length finished, and his hands shook as he dressed the mangled members; binding them as if he wished to get the wounds out of sight as quickly as possible.

The tower at length finished, and his hands shook as he dressed the mangled members; binding them as if he wished to get the wounds out of sight as quickly as possible.

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empresskylo · 3 years ago

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It's Raining Vengeance - Ch. 1

Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Batman x Female!Reader

Series Summary: (Based on The Batman 2022) It happened a while ago: the day you stumbled into the batman. And ever since, he seemed to pop up exactly when you needed him. You thought it was stupid to try and be his friend. He thought it was dangerous to let you in. Both of you did it anyway. Rating: Explicit (smut, violence, gore, swearing) Word Count: 1.2k+ Notes: I have been writing/posting this on my Ao3, but decided to post it here. Let me know what you think!

series masterlist | main masterlist | AO3

You stumbled down the dark corridor, your head pounding so loudly it prevented you from seeing straight. Your hand reached out and caught yourself on the cold brick wall, your breath wavering.

You paused to catch your breath, taking this moment to see if they were still after you.

Running footsteps sounded on the puddled pavement behind you.

Shit.

You weren’t sure how you were going to get out of this one—your strength had already been used up and your forehead was bleeding pretty badly. Your leg ached and made it impossible to keep running.

Your hand rummaged your side for your gun when it stroked across an empty belt. Right. You dropped it earlier when you took a hook to the face, your body collapsing on the cold floor and your gun skidding across the concrete.

You went for the next best option, your knife. You turned around and the footsteps caught up to you.

There is no way in hell I can fight four grown men on my own. Not in this condition… And probably not even in my best condition if we’re being honest.

“You’re a quick little thing, isn’t she, boys?” The stocky man called out to you. His voice made you sick.

Your hand tightened around the handle of your knife, readying to attack when a dark figure appeared out of thin air behind the thugs.

Batman.

–

Several punches later, the four men laid in agony on the ground just as you did earlier that night. It was a nice sort of full-circle situation.

“I had this under control,” you panted out, your body still trying to balance itself.

The man in the dark suit walked closer, not saying a word.

“No, really, I had things here!” You weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

Either way, he ignored you. His frame came into perfect view under the flickering streetlight. He towered over you, his blue eyes shining and staring at your own through his dark mask.

His hands found their way to your thighs and waist as he effortlessly hoisted you off the ground and into his arms.

“Hey!” You tried to fight, but you knew it would be no use.

“You can’t keep doing this,” he finally said as he carried you down the street, his boots echoing with every step.

“Doing what?”

He wanted to roll his eyes but he refrained. You knew exactly how to play him. The batman appeared intimidating and rough, but you soon found out he wasn’t the best with social situations. You certainly used that to your advantage.

“What if I’m not here to save you one of these days?” His voice was thick and hoarse like he hadn’t spoken to anyone in days.

“Then it looks like I’ll be fucked.”

His eyes shot down at you, clearly not holding the same humor as you did about the situation.

“Okay. God. I don’t know… I didn’t think tonight would go the way it did. I was only following one guy. Who knew it would have led to a mob meeting facility?” You realized how close you got tonight. You may have overstepped a little bit, getting in way over your head.

Your hair clung to your back as the rain began to pick up. At least it was washing away all the blood.

“Where are you taking me?” You finally asked after the batman decided to continue on in silence.

“Home.”

“Damn, already? You haven’t even bought me dinner yet!” You wined, looking up at him through your eyelashes when he predictably glared down at you.

You pouted, “You’re no fun tonight.” He wasn’t even shooting insults back. Was your close encounter with death really upsetting him this much?

By the time he walked you back to your apartment and up the many stairs, he slid you out of his arms. You didn’t realize how safe you felt being held by him until his hands left a trail of heat along your thigh and back in the absence.

You unlocked your apartment door and slid inside. He promptly followed you, much to your surprise, into your tiny studio apartment.

“Do you need help with your forehead?” He asked, referring to the gash.

“Nah. I can bandage it up myself. It’s not so bad.”

You slipped your shoes off and saw your disheveled reflection in one of your mirrors.

Your clothes suddenly felt cold and heavy from the rain against your body. You absentmindedly unbuttoned your pants and pushed them down your legs.

It wasn’t until you turned to see the tall man’s eyes widen that you felt a blush form on your cheeks.

Your shirt was enough to cover most of your exposed underwear, but you still felt a bit embarrassed.

“Oh—I don’t know—I didn’t mean—“ you quickly stuttered out. And instead of reaching for a blanket, a towel, anything to cover yourself, you just stood before him like a mumbling idiot.

You could almost, almost, see the hint of a blush form across Batman's cheeks, but with the way his mask covered most of his face, it was hard to tell.

“You’re hurt.”

“Huh?” You asked as he stared at you.

He pointed to your calf where a deep purple bruise was forming around your entire leg. “Oh.”

“Sit,” he instructed.

You did as he said and plopped onto the couch, pushing your damp hair out of your face.

He moved over to your fridge and opened the freezer looking for ice. He turned his head to look at you.

“Oh, right,” you mumbled embarrassed again. Your freezer had been full of only popsicles, not an ice pack in sight.

He felt himself begin to smile and he quickly turned back to the fridge to prevent you from seeing.

He grabbed a couple; they would have to do.

He walked over to the couch and handed them to you.

“Not the purple ones!” You wined, taking the frozen popsicles from his hand. He just stared at you so you pouted defeatedly and held the popsicle to your leg. Such a waste.

Your leg laid across the couch cushions, your shirt sliding up slightly to expose the top of your thigh. His eyes traced along your calf and up to your waist. He swallowed hard and caught your gaze, pink forming on your cheeks once again.

At your blush, he felt embarrassed for looking and he decided it was best to go.

He quickly walked to your door and opened it as you watched from behind the couch.

He paused before he left. “I’m serious. I don’t know what I’d do if you were hurt and I wasn’t there to protect you.”

You looked down at your leg shyly. “I can’t just—“ When you looked back up, he was already gone, your apartment door closed in his absence.

Ch. 2

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peachycoreroo · 4 years ago

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the forbidden fruit | zeke yeager

summary: zeke was like a second father to you and you were his favorite little girl. maybe, it wasn't normal to like your dad's best friend that much, but who cares if it's normal when it feels this good.

pairing: dad’s best friend!zeke x college fem!reader

genre: smut, pwp

word count: 5.4k

warnings: age gap, vaginal penetration, lowkey pseudo-cest bc you call zeke 'uncle', daddy kink, oral fem!receiving, fingering, oral m!receiving, mini degradation, praise kink, a few spanks, choking, zeke spits in your mouth, usage of ‘slut’, ‘whore’ and ‘slutty’, bunny as a pet name, kinda exhibitionism?, manipulation, corruption kink, dub-con vibes but you actually want it, jealousy, mentions of alcohol, smoking, dumbification, manhandling, unprotected sex (pls wrap it up kids), creampie, size kink

authors note: this is for @weepinglevi‘s adult movie tropes collab, thank you sm for letting me join!! def check out the other amazing fics in this collab<3 this is a lot darker than my other stuff so far, but i had so much fun writing it, so enjoy my first piece for aot!! here’s a link to my masterlist

uncle zeke, or uncle zuzu as you liked to call him when you were still a child, has always been your favorite person since you were little. technically, you weren’t blood-related, but you might as well have been with how integrated into your family he was.

him and your father were best friends since middle school and you did call him ‘daddy’ a lot back then as a three-year-old, when you couldn’t grasp the concept of him not also being your dad. he was there for your birth, your childhood, your embarrassing teens and now even for your 20th birthday.

you don’t exactly know when the thing happened though.

one day, you were all a big, happy family and the next you suddenly realized, how attractive zeke yeager really was. maybe, it was the way you noticed that he was so much more athletic and broader than your father as they walked around your pool in their swimming trunks on a hot summer day. maybe, it was the way you suddenly became aware of how tall he really was, when you tried to reach a cup on a shelf too high, only to feel his presence directly behind you with his chest against your back as he reached his arm above your head and grabbed the cup, only to hand it to you with a teasing ‘you should really try this thing called growing. i heard it does wonders against high shelfs.’ or maybe, it was the way you finally registered how his gray eyes shamelessly checked you out as you walked around in your flimsy crop tops and shorts, barely covering anything.

it was so wrong, but that didn’t mean you would stop your little teasing. your dresses got shorter and shorter, dropping your keys on purpose on the way out just to flash him your lacy panties. hugging him longer than usual as he was leaving, just to press your breasts up against his hard chest. you wanted him to know you weren’t a little girl anymore. you wanted his mind to be filled with lewd thoughts about you. only you.

even when you left for college, you couldn’t stop thinking about the blond man, especially when you were in your bed late at night, with your hand stuffed in your panties and your mouth whimpering his name into the pillow. images of him, with his hard cock in a large palm, pleasuring himself with you on his mind, groaning your name, always brought you to an orgasm, but it wasn’t enough. you knew the only way to quench your need for this man was by having him, no matter how rotten your desire was.

at last, it was finally your birthday, and you couldn’t wait to get home and act upon your ploy to seduce zeke yeager. it was a foolproof plan really. nobody would even suspect you were trying to rile your favorite uncle up, and he would only react, if he wanted you just as much. what better gift for your birthday, than ultimately having the forbidden fruit you’ve been trying to deny yourself of for so long.

“happy birthday, angel!”, your family exclaimed excitedly as you came downstairs. you quickly scanned the room to see uncle zeke already sitting in his usual spot on an armchair in the corner of the living room, getting up and joining your parents at the bottom of the stairs when he noticed your presence.

knowing that he was there, you finally smiled happily, thanking them softly before being pulled into a tight embrace by zeke. “yeah, happy birthday, angel”, he lowly murmured into your ear as he pressed you firmly against him, goosebumps erupting at his slightly suggestive tone.

“thank you, uncle zuzu”, you whispered back, squeezing him tight, hoping to get the message across that you were more than happy to be in his arms.

alas, you were forced to part as your mother shoved him to the side to embrace you, your dad jokingly complaining about you going for a hug with your favorite first instead of your parents, in the background.

“well, i can’t help that i’m so much cooler to her than you”, zeke retorted playfully, earning him a light-hearted punch to the arm from your father.

the rest of the day felt like an eternity. it’s not that you didn’t enjoy spending time with your parents, especially if zeke was there, but the prospect of getting the blond male to act upon your, hopefully, mutual desires, had you looking at the clock more times than you would like to admit.

“are you waiting for something?”

you quickly snapped out of your daydreams of what could happen later, as the man with the main role in them sat down closely beside you, your thighs brushing against each other. you couldn’t help your gaze lingering where your skin touched before blinking up at him through your lashes, only to see him grinning down at you, clearly amused by your stare. time for the first part of the mission.

“oh yeah, i’ll be going clubbing with a few friends later.”

“clubbing?”, zeke pressed with a frown, “and your parents are letting you?”

zeke has always been very overprotective of you. your dad joked that it’s because you’re basically like his daughter, but you hoped it was more than that. that’s why you were counting on his overprotectiveness to eventually lead you to the desired outcome of the day aka you, stuffed full of his cum.

“mmm, yeah. it’s my 20th birthday uncle zeke, not my 10th, you know. i’m an adult”, you retorted provocatively before getting up. “’m gonna go get ready.”

you could swear you felt his irritated glare burn into your back as you made your way upstairs, grinning at the first bit of your plan succeeding.

the second step, was your appearance. just a week before that, you went shopping for the shortest dress you could find, ready to turn heads, or specifically, one head. shower, hair, makeup, baby pink lace underwear, see-through tights, black dress. you haven’t felt this hot and confident in a while with college forcing you to wear hoodies and sweatpants all day every day. no way in hell were you going to make yourself suffer through endless lectures in cute skirts and dresses.

five minutes before your friends came, one of your essential male friends included, you decided to head downstairs to make sure zeke had enough time to admire how hot you looked.

as you came downstairs, you could hear your dad exclaiming ‘look at my beautiful girl, all grown up’, making zeke turn around. goosebumps erupted as you felt his eyes slowly trail along your figure, your skin tingling where his gaze burned into your exposed skin.

you did a full spin, showing off your outfit to the three people in your living room, but only caring about the opinion of one. to your disappointment, you didn’t quite get the reaction you wanted, with zeke turning back around to your mother, continuing to talk about whatever.

no matter how much you hated it, you couldn’t stop the jealousy crawling up your tightening throat, making you sick with disgust. you knew your mother was just as much as a friend to the man of your desires as your father, but it didn’t stop you from feeling this way. you wanted his eyes on you and not some other woman, even if that woman was your own mother.

as if on cue, the doorbell rang out, your mood immediately lifting at the chance that the third step of your plan finally elicits a much-craved reaction from zeke.

you opened the door, your best friends immediately throwing themselves at you, screaming their congratulations and complimenting your attire. just like you hoped, the boy you’ve been friends with and flirted with since high school, jean kirstein, was the last one to congratulate you. he hugged you tight, leaning down, whispering a low ‘happy birthday, pretty girl. you look good enough to eat’, at the same time as your parents and zeke came into the foyer.

the hug you shared with jean lasted just a tad too long for it to count as appropriate, with you giggling excessively at his comment just to be sure that zeke heard it. and as you parted to say goodbye to your family, your flirty friend kept his strong arm around your waist, as though it belonged there.

you don’t miss the way zeke glared at jean’s arm around you or the way he had the slightest frown on his face as he told you to ‘have fun and be careful’, but when you turned around and left the house to get into jean’s car, disappointment filled you when you realized that the blond male didn’t do anything to keep you from going. all this planning and finger crossing for nothing. ‘happy fucking birthday to me’, you bitterly thought, as you drove off into the night, mood already completely ruined.

after hours of trying to enjoy the end of your birthday even for a bit, you finally had enough. jean took you home, trying to make out with you on the backseat of his car in the parking lot, but as tempting as the idea of letting him fuck zeke yeager out of your mind sounded, you couldn’t bring yourself to. the fact that today was supposed to be the day you got your dad’s best friend right where you wanted him, was enough to make you crave a nice shower and your warm bed. you couldn’t wait for this day to end.

when jean pulled up to your house, you parted ways with a quick kiss and a cheeky promise of tomorrow, before making your way into the house. it was already 3 a.m., so you were sure everybody was already asleep, as you quietly made your way inside.

“there you are. welcome back, pretty girl.”

at hearing zeke’s raspy voice out of nowhere, you flinched and let out an unvoluntary squeak. what was he doing here?

you brought your hand to your heart, feeling it hammer against your chest, your eyes snapping to the spot your dad’s best friend was sitting in, in the kitchen. “uncle zeke! you scared me, what are you still doing here?”

as you made your way into the kitchen, you finally noticed the empty tequila bottle on the table and your unconscious father, snoring on the coach in the living room, just a few feet away.

“mmm, wanted to make sure you come home safely after your dad passed out, so i waited for you”, he casually retorted while his grey eyes inspected you from head to toe. smeared lipstick, a light sheen of sweat on your skin and your dress hiked up dangerously high on your thighs.

feeling small under his calculating gaze, you once again looked at your sleeping dad and gestured towards the bottle. “guess you also had a wild party going on?”

“mh, your dad’s just a lightweight.”

the air inside the kitchen was heavy and suffocating. you knew something was wrong with the way zeke wouldn’t stop staring at you and only answered with short sentences, his usual playful chattiness nowhere to be seen.

trying to get rid of the awkwardness and your nervousness, you asked: “where- uh, where’s mom?”

“asleep”, was the short answer you got, making you even more uneasy than before. “oh, w-well. i’m gonna go and also hit the hay. thanks for staying up for me uncle zeke, good night.”

“stop.”

this one word made you halt in your tracks just as you were about to turn around, making you look questioningly back at him. what you didn’t expect however, was to see zeke yeager spread his thighs and pet one of them with a simple ‘sit down, angel.” somehow, the pet name sounded condescending as it left his lips, but that didn’t stop your pussy from clenching at the sight of him with his legs wide open, looking positively inviting like never before.

your gaze quickly flickered towards the unconscious figure in the armchair, but even that couldn’t stop you when uncle zeke was offering you to sit on his lap, like you dreamed of for so long.

your legs slowly took you towards the spot he was sitting in, only for him to pull you on one of his thighs as soon as you were in his reach. his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, while the other found its place on your thigh, your heartrate skyrocketing at the close proximity.

not really knowing what to do with your hands and where to look, you once again brought your gaze to your dad in the living room, having the perfect view of him from your position on zeke’s lap, your fingers interlocked in your own lap as to not touch him too much.

“how was the party?”, he questioned seemingly nonchalant, but his tone had a certain edge to it, that made you feel as if you were being scolded.

you chuckled nervously, keeping your eyes locked on your unconscious father, as you started uttering: “oh, uh… it was- “

only to have zeke’s palm grab your cheeks, squeezing them together in a pout, as he turned your head towards him, forcing you to focus your gaze on him.

“did you fuck him?”

zeke was watching your expression closely when he practically growled the question, taking note of how your eyes widened, your breath deepened, and your thighs automatically pressed together as the meaning of his imposing words settled in.

the jealousy could practically be grabbed as it rolled off the blond male in waves and you knew, that if you wanted your birthday wish to come true, you had to play the part of the innocent and unsuspecting little girl.

“wha-? no!”, you exclaimed supposedly offended and distraught that he would even ask such a thing, as best as you could with your lips pressed together in a pout by his large palm.

the man’s dark grey – were they always this dark? – eyes narrowed as you seamlessly pretended to not know what he was hinting at, but the way you immodestly battered your eyelashes at him, one hand finding it’s way onto the palm that was squeezing your plush thigh, showed him at you weren’t as oblivious as you feigned to be.

“no, huh?”, he chuckled darkly, his hand leaving your face to push you down onto your knees between his legs instead, “then you’re not against helping your dear uncle with a certain issue, or are you baby?”

stammering out a little confused ‘what?’, you quickly checked whether your dad was still asleep, only for yeager’s palm to return to its place on your cheeks, squeezing them once again as he yanked your head back towards him. “don’t act like a brainless, useless slut, angel. it really doesn’t suit you. you’re my smart little girl, aren’t you?”

the sickly-sweet tone he used worked like a charm on your praise-starved brain. you wanted to please him and be his good girl, no matter what it took.

looking up at him with big, wide eyes, a drop of drool fell from your pouty lips onto his jean-clad crotch when he tightened his hold on your cheeks as you nodded like an obedient little toy, making him smile proudly.

“that’s my girl. now,”, he declared, unbothered by the tiny wetness seeping into his pants, his veiny hands made quick work of his belt and zipper, “show me how much you want to help your uncle zeke.”

just the sight of him whipping out his hard cock out of the confinements of his jeans and boxers, was enough to make a small pool of wetness gush out of your cunt, not that it mattered anyway. your lacy panties were already long soaked just from sitting on his lap.

zeke’s cock was longer and definitely thicker than you could’ve ever imagined, bigger than any you’ve ever taken with a prominent vein running on the underside, the tip flushed in a pretty pink. the saliva collecting in your mouth at the prospect of having him down your throat soon made you swallow hard, while you waited for his next instructions, not wanting to disappoint him by acting impulsively.

seeing his best friends’ daughter so submissive and eager-to-please on her knees between his legs as said best friend laid, passed out, just a few feet away, made zeke’s cock twitch. he knew it was sick and wrong, but he has always been a weak man when it came to you.

“go ahead, sweetheart. make uncle zeke feel good.”

at his permission to go, you nearly lunched forward, your pretty lips coated in sticky lipgloss instantly wrapping around the sensitive tip of his dick, making him groan deeply somewhere in the back of his throat.

you alternated between swirling your tongue around his cockhead and slowly sucking, as zeke put a cigarette between his lips, lightning it. normally, you hated the foul smell of nicotine and complained numerous times about how much you hated smokers but… the sight of it dangling between his thick fingers, as his other hand lost itself inside your hair, guiding your head to bob up and down on his length, awakened something deep in you, that you didn’t even know existed.

it didn’t help that while every other person reeking of smoke repulsed you, the same scent clinging to zeke brought you a sense of comfort. the fact that he also looked hot as fuck doing it, certainly didn’t hurt.

above you, the tall man made sure to let his eyes wander to your father from time to time, mostly keeping them locked on your lewd expression and your full lips wrapped around his cock though. he knew that the man a few feet away was a heavy sleeper, especially when drunk, so he wasn’t afraid of letting you know just how pleased he was with you.

“that’s a good girl. doing so good for me, want me to cum down your throat, sweetheart?”

you mumbled a small ‘please’ around his cock, causing him to groan huskily as your vocal cords vibrated against his sensitive tip. knowing he was almost there, you hallowed your cheeks and tightened your throat, wanting him to lose himself in the inviting warmth of your mouth.

as soon as zeke felt himself teetering at the edge, he couldn’t stop himself from quickly putting out the cig in his hand and holding your head still with his large palms as he started frantically thrusting up in your mouth. having zeke use you to chase his own high made you clench around nothing as you gagged around his length, doing your best to try and keep your jaw slack just so you could hear the man praising you again.

at the feeling of you choking on his cock, zeke’s head fell back as he moaned hoarsely, the sound going straight to the fire in the pit of your stomach already forming just from sucking him off and hearing his erotic grunts.

on the next thrust inside your warm, wet mouth, zeke emptied himself in the back of your throat with a low growl of ‘good fucking girl’, making you whine around his dick. the blond pulled you off as you started coughing, instructing you to ‘swallow, angel.’ being the whipped, little toy you did as you were told, looking up at him as you licked the remaining cum of your spit covered lips.

zeke smirked at your sensual display, whilst he stood up, pulling you up to your feet, only to push you against the dinner table and impatiently smash his lips against yours.

you had half the mind to think about how he didn’t even seem to care that his sticky cum still lingered in your mouth as he kissed you before your brain completely shut down because you were making out with zeke yeager.

strong palms wandered up your thighs under your short dress, cupping your ass while the flimsy fabric rode up as a consequence of his wandering hands. the display of strength as he easily lifted you up on the hard surface behind you, made your head spin. everything this man was doing had you weak in the knees and if you weren’t already seated, you were convinced your legs would’ve given out underneath you.

as yeager made room for himself between your thighs, spreading them in the process, your arms found their place around his broad shoulders, pulling him down even closer towards you as you tasted the whiskey and smoke on his slightly chapped lips. you could hear his soft chuckle at the displeased whimper you let out when he removed himself from you, before tracing his thumb faintly over your clothed clit. just that slightest contact with your puffy bundle of nerves had your hips twitching up, your face heating up at the obvious display of his effect on you.

“aww, is my slutty little baby desperate for her favorite uncle?”, he asked in mock empathy, ripping your tights like it was nothing, before his eyes soaked up the sight of your baby pink lace panties completely ruined by your slick.

“i see you were ready for something to happen today. were you hoping the little boy from earlier would fuck you?”, he almost snarled the question, before adding: “or were you hoping for me, bunny? are these pretty panties just for me?”

as your core gushed out more of your juices at the pet name, you obediently shook your head at his accusation of you dressing up for jean, mewling out: “y-you, daddy. only you.”

zeke closed his eyes to compose himself when his cock twitched alive once again at the sweet melody of you calling him daddy. he knew this was the point of no return. he could’ve stopped this before, he was sure of that, but not anymore. not when you oh so sweetly called out for your daddy to take care of you.

in one swift motion, your panties were gone and thrown into a dark corner of the kitchen, the only light illuminating the space coming from the turned-on lamp in the foyer from when you came home. forcing you to recline back as zeke lifted your legs up on his muscular shoulders, you shuddered as his hot breath hit your drenched pussy.

after just one kitten lick to your core, you heard zeke’s pleased hum, mumbling something along the lines of ‘just as sweet as you, bunny’, but you couldn’t tell for sure because the very next second he was diving tongue first into you, sucking, licking, and slurping like it’s his last meal. the moan that left you at his intense ministrations was downright pornographic and you could only clench around nothing as his large palm came up to silence you.

“as much as i’d love to listen to your cries, sweet thing, gonna wake your parents up if you keep at it”, he muttered against your sensitive clit, the vibrations only making you mewl against his hand.

your hands tried to find purchase somewhere, the hard surface of the table, your plush thighs, before your nails finally got a grasp of his blond locks, using the leverage as an advantage to push his face even further into your slick cunt.

the obscene, wet sounds that echoed in the room were making your face heat up, but the embarrassment didn’t stop you from grinding desperately against his tongue, his thick beard rubbing painfully but oh so deliciously against the delicate skin of your inner thighs.

when you felt two of his thick fingers probe at your entrance before pushing in, instantly hitting that one spot inside you, you threw your head back as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, thighs trembling against his head as you reached your peak around his digits. your back arched off the wooden table, thighs snugly pressing against the sides of his head, almost suffocating him in the process, while you moaned a long, high-pitched ‘daddy’ against his palm.

zeke yeager could proudly say that he’s had his fair share of women, but the sight of you, succumbing to the pleasure he was providing you with, was by far the most erotic he had the privilege of witnessing. the mix of your cross-eyed expression, your sloppy cunt clenching impossibly around his thick fingers and your body twitching from the aftershocks of your orgasm, only fueled his desire to see you go dumb on his fat cock.

a hard slap against the fat of your right thigh caused you to squeal, your legs sliding down from his shoulders, completely limp from all the spent energy. zeke leaned down, once again capturing your lips in a heated make out. his warm tongue still had the distinct taste of your release on it as it slipped between your lips, his full beard soaked in your juices scratching against your cheeks and chin, but you certainly didn’t mind as long as you could have him between your legs, mouths interlocked.

“wanna see your cute lil’ ass while i wreck you, bunny. can you turn around for daddy?”, he questioned, voice raspy, but he didn’t actually wait for an answer, grabbing your hips in a bruising grip and flipping you over on your stomach, ass pressed up against his crotch already. not being able to control yourself at another clear display that his muscles weren’t just for show, your hips automatically grinded back against his painfully hard cock.

another strong blow was delivered, this time to your bouncy behind, your small mewl echoing in the large space. “slutty, desperate whores aren’t appreciated here, bunny. thought you were daddy’s good, little girl? guess daddy was wrong about you”, zeke sighed in faux disappointment, knowing you would do anything for him to keep praising you.

“n-no! am your good, little girl! ‘m sorry, daddy, please don’t leave”, you practically sobbed out, to drunk on his touch to realize the manipulative undertone in his phrasing.

smirking victoriously, the blond tenderly smoothed his huge palm, with his fingers covered in your already dried up essences, over your ass check, his fat tip nudging against your soaked entrance, whilst he shh-ed you, promising that he’s ‘not gonna leave you bunny, ‘m all yours.’

at the promise of him belonging to you, your eyes rolled into the back of your head, just as yeager decided to push his aching dick into your tight pussy. at the first bump against your gummy walls, you both knew no one would ever be able to compare. it was a tight fit as he continued to push past the resistance of your cunt, hissing at the continuous contractions around his sensitive cock. no way in hell, he thought to himself as he already had to hold himself back from cumming as if he were some virgin all over again.

when he finally bottomed out, his patience was close to non-existent, so without waiting for you to adjust, he started thrusting in you like a mad man. your hands flew out to grab the other edge of the wooden surface to have some kind of support, as his powerful thrusts made the whole table shake and drag across the tiled floor.

“’s too much, daddy! slow down!”, you wailed, knowing full well that this was exactly what you waited for all this time. the dark chuckle that left his panting and grunting mouth told you that he was also very aware of the fact that you didn’t actually want him to slow down, so the only reaction you got, besides his acknowledging chuckle, were his thrusts picking up in speed.

after another strong hit to your jiggling ass and a groan that sounded suspiciously like ‘such a perfect ass’, zeke leaned over you, completely covering you with his large frame. his hand found its way to your front, giving your tits a quick squeeze through your dress, before continuing its journey up, finally settling around your neck.

as it constricted around your neck, thick fingers expertly pressing against the pressure points, restricting the air flow oh so deliciously, your spit-covered lips fell open in a silent ‘o’, the act lurching you impossibly closer to your orgasm. at this point, the only coherent words you were able to formulate were ‘yes’, ‘daddy’ and ‘please’, causing the tall man’s chest to fill with pride at your dumbed out state.

“my cute, submissive, little bunny. have i fucked you stupid with my cock?”, he teased, only to get his confirmation by the lack of response on your side, too far gone to process that he asked a question.

the rhythmic clenching of your warm core reminded him that his dick was practically begging him to let it stuff you full of his sticky cum, so as his grip on your throat and hip tightened even more, he let his carnal desires take over as he rutted impossibly faster inside you.

every thrust caused his fat tip to poke harshly against your cervix, the feeling of pain only fueling your pleasure, as you silently took all your favorite uncle was giving you. somewhere in the back of your mind the thought of your father sleeping just in the next room flew around, but it quickly got fucked back out by zeke’s fat cock.

at the next rough plunge inside your warm walls and the low growl of ‘cum on daddy’s fucking cock, bunny’ directly beside your ear, you came undone with a loud moan of his name. you were pretty sure the force of your orgasm made you blackout for a second, because the next time you came to your senses, zeke was shooting his load inside your inviting cunt directly at your cervix, your name leaving his lips like a prayer.

you were exhausted. your whole body shook and twitched, your stomach hurt from being pressed against the edge of the dinner table for so long, sweat dripping down on the surface from your face and neck.

suddenly the room was way too quiet, safe for the heavy breathing and your occasional whimpers. slowly, zeke pulled out, only to spread your cheeks apart to take a good luck at your abused pussy pushing out his white cum. it slowly trickled down your legs, mixing with your leaked juices on the tiles beneath your feet.

not having the energy to move, you let the blond male pull down your dress back over your ass, listening to the rustle of fabric and belt clicking as he got dressed again. just as he gently helped you stand-up again, you could hear a yawn coming from the doorway that led to the living room.

“what’re you both doing?”, your half-awake father asked as he made his way through the kitchen past you to get to the foyer. your nails dug into zeke’s muscular forearms as the panic of getting caught formed in the pit of your stomach, only to hear the older man murmur a casual, seemingly sleepy ‘she just got home, gonna go sleep now’, as though he wasn’t blowing out your back just a few minutes prior.

with an unsuspecting ‘’aight, night you two’, your dad disappeared in the shared bedroom with your sleeping mother.

“fuck”, you breathed out, stressed at almost being caught and your legs buckling, only for zeke’s strong arms to hold you up right.

“hey, look at me, angel”, the male softly demanded, gaze tender as your eyes met his. “i’ll bring you to bed and clean up here, okay? don’t worry about a thing.”

a sleepy, but happy smile stretched itself across your lips at him caring for you so deeply.

“open your mouth, sweetheart.”

without second-guessing the request, you obediently opened your mouth, only to feel his saliva hit your outstretched tongue. the taste made you mewl needily as you realized what it all meant. you were his and he was yours.

zeke chuckled, amused by your blissed out expression, before pecking your lips, picking you up and caring you to your room with you mumbling a satisfied ‘best birthday ever’ against his neck.

2K notes · View notes

meffuyu · 2 years ago

Text

𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐗𝐘

Free from anxiety and unpleasant emotions. The calm after the storm

⚠️ slight angst , manga spoilers

tanjiro. k x female reader , 2.2k words

a/n :: first work , first angst feel , the manga is so bittersweet for me. 🥲

Two hands were intertwined with one another, while two beings walked alongside each other on a dirt pathway.

It was that time of evening where a bustling breeze would pass by the trees. Which allowed very few leaves to twirl about; as the current of wind forcibly detached them from their branches.

Peace, that's entirely what the atmosphere felt like. Though what could be better than to have company attending this relaxing moment? Gazing at the horizon, as the contrast of colors bled through the sky into what appeared to be the pool of night.

He was amazed at the view, it had been long since his heart was really at ease like this. He inhaled the scent that infiltrated his nostrils soothingly; raising his chin up to fully exaggerate his nature-welcoming gesture.

Your eyes softened at the view, mesmerized with how beautiful the environment really was. Tanjiro would agree, because from the moment you even glanced at him you knew he felt bliss.

Which was what the both of you needed to feel, after defeating someone notorious as Muzan. Life now was too good to be true.

To be snapped out of your trance of admiration, Tanjiro called your name softly.

"We really did win, didn't we?"

The first thing he uttered was a question. Like you thought, you too had the same question; it was hard to believe that this was real. You won the battle, and you won the war.

You were speechless, as the man in front of you had grown since the day you met. His burgundy locks tousled with the heavy gusts of air that slammed against your faces. Even the Hanafuda earrings he wore were carried by the weather.

In order to not leave his question hanging you nodded before looking afar. His features always made you feel butterflies, threatening to escape your abdomen.

"Yeah, we did. In fact, I really can't believe it." You replied.

"Are our demon hunting days really over?"

You cracked up a mild bittersweet joke. Reflecting on your journey with joining the Demon Slayer Corp, you came to terms with yourself, with how much of a thrill it kind of was.

At the same time, that thrill was always replaced with sorrow; as many lives were lost in the process. Bonds you had formed with other people were now mere memories you would ever so often remember.

Tanjiro smiled fondly, as he understood that your so-called 'joke' was a coping mechanism. He knew that it was hard accepting the reality of a loss, ever since his family had been slaughtered; he wasn't given time to grieve himself. He understood such a feeling of loss after the Flame Pillar: Rengoku Kyojuro.

"I'm sure they would be proud of us right now. We succeeded with everyone's help, finally putting the decades-long reign of atrocities to an end. I'm happy but I'm also sad." Tanjiro was comfortable expressing how he felt around you.

In fact, he never imagined he would be able to get this close to you despite everything that was going on.

He was grateful you stuck around, actually; he was even more grateful you lived.

Such a thought made the palm of his hand lightly apply pressure, much of a squeeze of security.

"I'm sad too." You admitted.

Many people crossed your mind. When those feelings resurfaced, you did not realize how emotional you were, until the bottom lids of your eyes suddenly became full with liquid.

"But, you're right Tanjiro, they would be proud, everyone. Most importantly I know that you're relieved as well."

You didn't hesitate when you used your thumbs to wipe the tears that escaped. However despite this, Tanjiro released his hold on your hand and cupped one of your cheeks to get a greater look at your complexion.

It had already transitioned to night, but he still was able to see you with just one of his eyes. Breathing in the scent of your presence, and hearing your every word that left your lips.

"Thank you. For being on this journey with Nezuko, Zenitsu, Inosuke, and I." He said, with the utmost reassuring pair of eyes you have ever seen.

Yes, he was like that. Always able to touch the heart of any person, animal or even demon. He was one of a kind.

"Tanjiro," You began, as you could no longer conceal the tears that left your eye ducts. "You're very special to me, y'know. Don't thank me, I should be thanking you." You expressed, as it merely felt you were pouring your heart out once again. Like the day the two of you confessed to each other and you received his feelings.

Tanjiro only smiled at that.

He loved you dearly, cherished you with everything he had in him.

You motivated him to continue to push forward, even when things weren't going to plan. Even though it was hard engaging in the action of love, even when he once thought he did not have time for it.

Tanjiro wanted someone like you in his life forever. You were one of the people he did not want to lose.

Not ever.

But, there were the two of you now, near the edge of a cliff meeting eye-to-eye. There was silence, before he responded with the utterance of your name.

"Do you want to get married?"

If he was honest with himself, the proposal just slipped out. He was so immersed into the emotional moment that he did not realize until a few seconds after that he revealed the wish he had ever since the two of you got together.

It was kind of embarrassing, he always wanted to propose to you in an area that had romance; setting the mood for the two of you before your hearts fully became as one.

Now that he dwelled further in the thought of letting such a question leak, you could notice a faint rose hue dusted on his cheeks. You for one, were speechless, as he removed his palm from the contact it had with your face.

Your fingers gripped one of the draping sleeves of your yukata, as your tear-coated orbs stared at his radiant ruby ones.

"Yes." You finally spoke.

"Wait … what?"

"Yes, I do want to marry you."

Before the young Kamado could process the acceptance of his proposal, you enveloped him into a tight embrace. A whiff of your comforting fragrance, made him feel at home.

The scent of lavender accompanied with the smell of honey. The two of you weren't even married yet but this surge of feeling reminded him so much of how his parents were with each other.

With Tanjiro's healthy arm, he used it in order to somewhat hug your frame halfly. Splotches of wet globs were imprinted on his evergreen yukata. Such heartfelt emotion could only be expressed between the two of you.

After pulling away from the tender embrace, you were locked in a stare with him. It wasn't intense, more baffled.

The crescent moonlight luminously reflected on the two of you which allowed your irises to glow. To him, they looked absolutely stunning; staring into those celestial hues as if there was no tomorrow. Before he could realize, he began moving on his own.

Tanjiro …

Inch by inch, his face gradually got closer to yours, with the same awestruck expression remaining.

You refused to move, actually, you were stiff. Your movements came to a complete halt without a thought in mind at all. All your attention was distinctively focused on this man.

The man that you loved.

Tanjiro …

His focus flickered back and forth; to your lips, then your eyes. He was debating with himself, whether to take the chance on a cliff, under the moonlight, with just the two of you. It was a once in a lifetime chance to have that perfect moment where the season for romance was just right.

Tanjiro …!

So he leaned in, hoping for the best as your lips were mere centimeters away. You closed your eyes shut, preparing to feel the one thing you have been waiting for, a-

"Tanjiro! Why'd you leave us all alone!? It's so scary and dark out here, and my legs are tired! I can't walk any further!"

A petrified yelp could be heard in the far distance, which made you both turn absolutely pale, like the blood that was circulating in your veins, had already dried up from such an interruption.

Following that cry of agony was another daunting, yet familiar voice.

"Hah? Monitsu this is nothing! Not scary for the King of the Mountains!"

Tanjiro moved aback, perplexed, and shocked over registering what just happened. As he looked away from you, he was greeted with three beings walking toward your direction.

"Zenitsu there's nothing to be afraid of, don't be so scared, hehe!"

Zenitsu, Inosuke, and Nezuko.

They had finally caught up, after the two of you had snuck away for some alone time. Or, that's what Zenitsu believed, Tanjiro wasn't sure if he was going to hear the end of it from the blond.

Inosuke became immediately occupied, he had only followed to specifically find you and Tanjiro. Since the goal of the mission was complete, the boar-headed lad rushed over to the edge of the cliff to get a close up view of nature's wonders down below.

And Nezuko, she took your hands in her own and then gave you the most cheerful smile you had ever seen.

"We almost thought you weren't going to be at the festival, it starts in twenty minutes!" She excitedly explained, as she bounced your connected palms happily.

That was right, actually that was the main reason why everyone wore yukatas at that moment.

You were apologetic, you even wanted to bow though your hands were held with Nezuko's. "Twenty minutes? We've really been out here for that long … time really flies. Sorry for keeping you all waiting, we had no idea we would take this long."

"I think my legs are burning from all that walking. You two were hiding, don't you know how long we walked out here? I-" The blond paused when he noticed something on your features. That's when, before you knew it he was right beside Nezuko; just examining your face.

"Did you cry?" He suddenly asked.

Zenitsu didn't even allow you to answer because he immediately went straight to Tanjiro with a loud gasp. You already knew he got the wrong idea, and you were worried for that burgundy haired man. Zenitsu didn't even want to hear any of the explanations Tanjiro would try to stutter out because he immediately pestered him.

"Tanjiro! Did you make her cry? What did you do? You never make a woman cry! That's vile!"

"Zenitsu it's-"

"I know what it is!"

Inosuke batted an eye through the mask he wore, fumbling with his yukata slightly irritated by it's fabric, while you and Nezuko were pin-drop silent. Tanjiro raised his arms, despite one of his hands no longer being in its proper state of function, he wanted to somewhat calm the squealing male down.

"So he made you cry?" Inosuke approached you from behind, which made you absolutely jump out of your skin. You could already tell everyone was getting the wrong idea because even Nezuko looked as if she had a string of doubt untangling.

"No he didn't,"

This time you tried with one of your explanations, however not even you could pitch in a word for Tanjiro's defense.

"Apologize Tanjiro, Apologize!" Zenitsu wailed, shaking his head in distraught. He latched his hands on his shoulders and violently shook him as if he was betrayed.

"Kentaro! Fight me!" Inosuke was just being Inosuke. You couldn't tell if he was doing it for you, or doing it for himself. As you could see him marching his way over to where the other two men were.

"Inosuke, Zenitsu, please- hear what I have to say!" Tanjiro protested with all his might.

How was it that the dead of night was so peacefully quiet, but now it was loud enough that even the birds that were in their nests couldn't get proper rest. You watched carefully at the situation unfolding in front of you, and you really had no idea how it came to this.

Though, no matter how you looked at it, this was the same old group since the beginning.

It made you subconsciously smile at the thought of it. It was another thing you were grateful for, their presence; it made you feel like you were entirely a part of a family.

"Everyone listen here!" You shouted, breaking through the barrier of the three painfully loud voices.

The disruptive banter stopped even though there were evident tears in Zenitsu's eyes. Inosuke turned his head, but not his entire body because some part of him still wanted to fight Tanjiro disregarding his physical state. Nezuko lent a listening ear, as the group fell silent to your serious aura.

"Tanjiro and I plan on getting married."

Tanjiro could only watch you, in awe. If anything, the only person who could see your growth from years back would be him, and he was proud.

Proud of you.

#tanjiro x you #tanjiro x y/n #tanjiro drabbles #tanjiro x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny fluff #kny angst #tanjiro angst #kny x you #kny x reader #ㅡ meff writings!

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