#you would not believe how long it took to make that tree work; in the establishing shot it gets cut off | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stylesispunk · 4 months ago

Text

"Silent Strain" | Part ii

Outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

previous chapter | next chapter

summary: Joel and you knew that bringing a child into this mad world was a mistake, but he wanted to give you the best that was left of that world after all.

w.c: 9,8k

warnings: established relationship, age gap (Joel is 43 and Reader 32) angst, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of abortion, mentions of miscarriage, fluff, not proofreading, sorry. (The events in this story happened 10 years after the outbreak.) paragraphs in cursive are reader's journal entries.

a/n: Let's continue with this story. This was supposed to be only three LONG chapters but will be divided into four. Thank you to the ones who read the first part and shared their thoughts with me, you have no idea how happy reading your comments makes me. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

August

“We lost Tess.

I don’t know what to feel after losing Tess. She was always the strong one, the one who knew what to do. I’m angry at her for leaving, but I understand. She believed in something—believed in Joel and me, in Ellie. Maybe that’s why I can’t find the words, because if I admit she’s gone, then I admit I have to keep going… without her.”

A few days later, the three of you were on the road in Bill’s battered truck Joel had managed to get running. The engine growled low, the sound vibrating through your bones as you sat in the passenger seat, trying to stay awake. The steady hum of the road beneath the tires, combined with the rhythmic sway of the truck, made it hard to keep your eyes open.

Joel kept glancing over at you, his eyes softening every time he saw you fighting sleep. He was quiet, his hands gripping the wheel tightly, the muscles in his jaw working as he navigated the broken highways. You could feel his concern, even without him saying a word. Every few moments, he would sneak another look at you, checking if you were okay, if you needed anything.

Ellie, meanwhile, was in the backseat, her head pressed against the window as she took in the world outside. Her eyes darted around, watching the overgrown trees that lined the road, the crumbling buildings in the distance, and the occasional abandoned car. Everything was new to her—every stretch of landscape, every broken-down sign. Despite the grim situation, there was a light of curiosity in her eyes, a small spark of wonder.

"Never thought I'd get to see the world like this," Ellie murmured, mostly to herself, but loud enough that Joel and you could hear. "It’s kinda… pretty, in a messed-up way."

You smiled faintly, your head leaning against the cool glass of the window. "There’s a lot of beauty left," you agreed softly, your voice thick with sleep. "You just have to look for it."

Ellie shifted uncomfortably in the back seat, her eyes flicking between the two of you. She hadn’t known Tess for very long, but she could tell Tess's death weighed heavily on you. "Hey," she said softly, leaning forward between the seats. "You okay up there?"

You didn't respond, your gaze fixed on the road ahead, the passing scenery a blur of green and grey. You felt numb, your hands resting on your lap, fingers interlaced tightly as if holding on to something unseen. The guilt was an anchor, pulling you deeper into yourself, further away from everything and everyone around you.

Joel’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, the leather creaking under his fingers. "She’s just… processing," he said, his voice rough. "We all are."

Ellie frowned, leaning back against the seat. "Yeah, I get that. But it's not like it's your fault, you know?" she said, glancing at you.

Your eyes darted to her for just a second, then back to the road. You wanted to say something, but your throat felt tight, your chest heavy. It was like there was a barrier between you and the world, and you didn’t know how to break through it.

Joel cleared his throat. "We just need some time," he muttered, more to himself than to Ellie. He understood the pain, the way guilt could wrap around your heart like a vice. He knew that trying to force you to talk wouldn’t help. All he could do was be there, steady and present, like he promised.

The truck continued on, the road stretching out before you, endless and uncertain. You could feel Joel's occasional glances, the weight of his concern pressing against your silence. He wanted to comfort you, to reach out, but he knew there was no easy way to heal the wound Tess's death had left behind.

Ellie seemed to sense the tension and turned her gaze back to the window.

"I want to sleep," you murmured, your voice barely above a breath.

Joel glanced at you, his expression softening, the hard lines around his eyes relaxing just a fraction. He nodded, understanding in that quiet way he had, not pressing for more, not asking questions you couldn't answer. “Okay,” he said gently. “We’ll find a safe place to spend the night.”

He knew you needed rest, needed a break from the relentless march forward, both on the road and in your head. He’d seen this before — people carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders, burdened by guilt and grief that wasn’t always theirs to bear. But it didn’t make it any easier to watch you go through it.

Joel's hand tightened on the steering wheel, and he glanced around, scanning the road for a place that looked secure enough to stop for a while.

Joel spotted a narrow dirt path leading off the main road into the dense woods. It was risky — the woods always were — but it was also a place where they could hide, away from the prying eyes of anyone passing by. A place where they might find some peace, at least for a few hours.

He turned the truck onto the path, driving slowly to avoid the deep ruts and branches that stretched across the way. The trees grew thicker around them, the canopy overhead blocking out the last bit of fading light. The woods felt quiet, almost too quiet, but Joel knew that was a good thing. The less noise, the fewer chances there were of running into trouble.

Eventually, he found a small clearing, just wide enough for the truck to fit without being seen from the road. He pulled the truck to a stop and turned off the engine. The silence was immediate, almost a relief, as the engine noise ceased and the sounds of the forest took over — the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the distant chirp of crickets.

“We’ll stay here,” Joel murmured, glancing at you. “For tonight, at least.”

You nodded, feeling the fatigue weighing down on you even more. You just wanted to sleep, to shut your eyes and escape from the heaviness that seemed to settle in your chest. Joel got out of the truck first, moving to your side, opening the door for you. He offered his hand, helping you out carefully.

Ellie hopped out after, her eyes scanning the trees around them. “Seems quiet,” she whispered. “But I don’t think is a proper place for a pregnant lady.”

You couldn’t help but smile a little at Ellie’s comment, despite everything. “Well, there aren’t exactly a lot of options,” you replied softly, squeezing Joel’s hand for support as you stepped down.

Joel’s face softened as he looked at you, his hand steady around yours. “We’ll make do,” he said quietly, glancing around the darkening woods. “Just for tonight.”

Ellie wandered ahead a bit, her eyes wide and alert, taking in the surroundings. “I’ll check around, see if there’s anything useful,” she offered, trying to sound casual but with a hint of concern in her voice.

Joel nodded, his hand still holding yours, guiding you carefully toward the truck bed. “Just stay here and don’t give more problems” he replied, his voice taking on a protective tone.

Ellie gave a mock salute, “Yes, sir,” she joked, but there was an underlying seriousness to her words.

You let out a small sigh as you sat down on the edge of the truck, your legs feeling like lead. Joel crouched in front of you, his eyes searching your face. “You okay?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing motion.

You nodded, though you felt anything but okay. “Just… tired. My ass feels numb” you murmured, trying to make Joel smile.

Joel’s lips curved into a small, appreciative smile, though the concern in his eyes didn’t entirely fade. “Yeah, I bet it does,” he said softly, no long after, Joel's brow furrowed with concern, and he reached up, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “You need to rest,” he insisted. “We’ve got a long way to go tomorrow.”

You knew he was right, but the thought of closing your eyes, even for a moment, felt impossible. “I just can’t stop thinking about everything… Tess, the baby, all of it,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel’s face tightened at the mention of Tess, but he quickly masked it with a determined look. “We’ll figure it out,” he promised, his voice steady. “We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

You nodded, moving a little bit to accommodate the pain on your back and legs.

Joel reached over, gently rubbing your back to ease some of the tension you were feeling. “I know it’s hard,” he said softly, “but we’ll take it one step at a time. We’ve faced tough shit before, and we’ll get through this too.”

You took a deep breath, trying to focus on his words and the comfort of his presence.

“I just… I keep thinking about what’s next. About the future. What if I’m not strong enough for this?”

Joel shook his head, his eyes meeting yours with a fierce determination. “You’re stronger than you think. We’re all in this together, and we’ll make sure the baby’s safe.

Ellie, who had been quietly listening, looked up with a sympathetic expression. “It’s okay to be scared,” she said softly. “But you’re not alone. We’ve got your back.”

You managed a small smile at Ellie’s words, feeling a flicker of gratitude for her support. “Thanks, Ellie.”

Joel squeezed your hand gently, his voice unwavering. “We’ll take this one day at a time. For now, try to get some rest.”

As you leaned against Joel’s shoulder, exhaustion finally started to overtake you. His warmth and steady presence made it easier to let your eyes close, the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing lulling you into a much-needed sleep. You felt his arm wrap around you, pulling you closer, his thumb gently brushing against your arm as he tried to make you comfortable.

Joel shifted slightly, careful not to wake you, his eyes never leaving your face. He moved his other arm to support your head, cradling you as you slept. The lines of worry on his face softened for a moment, replaced by a rare tenderness.

Ellie watched the whole scene unfold with a quiet intensity. After a moment, she broke the silence with a soft, almost teasing voice. “You really love her, don’t you?”

Joel glanced at Ellie, caught off guard by her question. He hesitated, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his face before he responded in a low, steady voice, “Yeah… I do.”

Ellie nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “Good,” she whispered. “She deserves that.”

Joel’s gaze softened even more as he looked back at you, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “She deserves a lot more than just that,” he murmured quietly, almost to himself. He sighed, his eyes turning back to the darkness outside, staying vigilant for any signs of danger.

Ellie sat back, her gaze still on Joel, observing the shift in his expression. "You know," she said quietly, “I didn’t know you were this protective over her.”

Joel’s jaw tightened slightly, and he gave a small nod, his eyes still scanning the woods. "It’s different," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "It’s not just about me anymore. It’s about keeping her safe, keeping you both safe. And the baby."

Ellie watched him for another moment, her expression softening. "You’re doing a good job, Joel," she said earnestly.

Joel gave a faint smile, though it was tinged with worry. "I hope so," he replied, his voice filled with a rare tenderness. He looked down at you, still asleep against his shoulder, and felt a surge of protectiveness, stronger than ever.

For a moment, there was silence, only the sounds of the forest around them. Then Ellie shifted her weight, wrapping her arms around her knees. "We’ll be okay," she said, almost as if trying to convince herself too. "We just have to keep moving… together."

Joel nodded, his hand gently caressing your arm as you slept. "Yeah," he agreed softly.

"I didn’t take you for a softie.” Ellie joked.

Joel let out a low chuckle, his lips curling into a slight smirk. "Don’t go spreading that around, kid," he replied, keeping his voice light. "Gotta maintain my reputation."

Ellie grinned, enjoying this rare moment of teasing between them. "Your secret’s safe with me," she whispered, her tone playful. "But I think she already knows."

Joel’s smile softened as he looked down at you, still resting peacefully against him. "Yeah, she does," he murmured, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles on your arm. "And that’s all that matters."

Ellie watched him for a moment longer, a glimmer of warmth in her eyes. "You know," she said quietly, "I think you’re good for each other. Even if you’re all grumpy and stuff."

Joel scoffed, but his expression remained tender. "Grumpy, huh? You got a lot of nerve, kid," he replied with mock seriousness, but there was a lightness in his voice.

Ellie laughed softly, enjoying the back-and-forth. "Hey, I call it like I see it," she replied with a grin, leaning back against her pack. "But seriously, it’s nice to see you… you know, care about someone. Makes all this less… bleak, I guess."

Joel’s face softened further, a rare warmth breaking through his usual guarded demeanor. "I care about her, more than anything.” he said quietly, his gaze shifting from Ellie back to you, still sleeping soundly against his shoulder. “Now, go to sleep, Kid. I’ll make sure you both are safe”

“Three.” She said, before turning his back to Joel “me, her, and the baby.”

Joel's expression softened even more at Ellie's correction, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice low and filled with a tenderness he rarely let show. "Three of you."

Ellie settled down, pulling her jacket tighter around her as she prepared to sleep. She glanced back one last time. "Goodnight, Joel."

"Goodnight, kid," Joel replied softly, his focus returning to the dark woods around them. He kept one arm protectively around you, his thumb still tracing gentle circles on your arm, feeling the steady rise and fall of your breathing.

For a moment, everything felt almost… normal. Peaceful. The world outside was still dangerous, still uncertain, but right here, in this tiny clearing with you and Ellie, Joel felt like he had something worth fighting for again. A reason to keep going, to stay vigilant.

He glanced down at you, his heart swelling with an emotion he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years. "I won't let anything happen to any of you," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.

the night wore out, and you woke up with a blanket wrapped around your body. It took you some seconds to realize where you were, until you saw Ellie sleeping next you. You immediately look for Joel, until you saw him, standing some feet away, holding his riffle on his hands.

You slowly pushed the blanket aside, careful not to disturb Ellie, who was curled up beside you, her breaths deep and even in sleep. The blanket’s warmth still lingered on your skin, and it took you a moment to realize Joel must have covered you with it sometime during the night.

Quietly, you got up and made your way over to him, your steps soft against the damp ground. Joel heard you approach; his posture relaxed slightly, but he kept his gaze fixed on the distance, always alert. As you reached his side, he glanced down at you, his expression unreadable in the shadows.

“Hey,” you whispered, your voice still thick with sleep.

Joel’s eyes softened at the sight of you. “Hey,” he replied just as quietly, his voice gravelly in the early morning air. “Did I wake you up?”

“You didn’t,” you assured him. “I just… I woke up and saw you over here.” You looked out into the woods, the thick trunks of trees barely visible in the dawn light. “You’ve been up all night?”

He gave a small shrug. “Someone’s gotta keep watch. Couldn’t sleep, anyway.” His tone was matter-of-fact, but there was an undercurrent of something else — concern, maybe. “You should get some more rest. Still got a long way ahead of us.”

You shook your head, moving closer so your arm brushed against his. “I’m okay,” you whispered, “but you need to take care of yourself, too.”

Joel huffed out a quiet laugh, though there was no humor in his eyes. “I’ll rest when we’re safe,” he replied, his hand shifting on the rifle. “But thanks for the concern.”

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm, feeling the tension coiled in his muscles. “Joel, you can’t do everything alone.”

His gaze flickered to yours, something vulnerable passing through his expression. “I know,” he murmured. “I just… I can’t risk anything happening to you or Ellie. Not again. Not after…”

He trailed off, but you knew what he was thinking — Tess, all the others they had lost. You leaned in closer, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, feeling his warmth seep into you.

“We’ll be okay,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his torso, leaving a trace of kisses on his neck.

Joel stiffened for a moment as your lips brushed against his neck, his breath hitching at the unexpected touch. His hand tightened on the rifle, but slowly, he relaxed into your embrace. He let out a soft, shaky breath, his free arm coming around you, pulling you closer.

"Hey," he whispered, his voice a little rough, "don’t go getting all soft on me now." But there was no bite in his words, just a quiet plea masked by his gruff exterior.

You smiled against his skin, feeling the way his body responded to your touch, the way his heart beat a little faster under your palm. "Just admit you love it," you murmured between kisses, your lips trailing gently up his neck, finding the spot just below his ear that made him shiver.

Joel swallowed hard, his fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt as if holding on to you for dear life. "You’re gonna be the death of me," he breathed out, but his voice was thick with emotion.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. His eyes were dark, filled with fear, longing, and something else, something softer, more vulnerable than he usually let himself show. "I’m not going anywhere," you said firmly, your hand moving to cup his cheek. "And neither are you.”

He let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against yours. "Goddamn it," he muttered, almost to himself, "you make it so damn hard not to…" He didn't finish, but you understood. You always did.

You smiled softly, brushing your thumb over his cheek. "Not to what?"

Joel chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that was rare but welcome. "Not to fall harder for you every day," he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Joel's eyes searched yours for a moment, as if weighing your words, his breath still coming a little too fast. Then, without another word, he leaned down and kissed you. His lips were urgent, needy, as though he was trying to pour all his unspoken fears and desires into that single moment.

The kiss deepened quickly, his hand moving to the back of your head, tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer. You could feel the roughness of his beard against your skin, the way his heart pounded against your chest. There was something desperate in the way he kissed you, something that spoke of all the things he couldn't say, all the things he had lost and was afraid of losing again.

You kissed him back with equal fervor, your hands moving to his shoulders, then sliding up to cup his face, feeling the strength and the fragility all at once. His lips were warm, his breath hot against your mouth, and you could feel the way he was holding back, afraid to let go completely, but wanting so badly to let himself feel this.

When he finally broke the kiss, his forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged. "I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you," he confessed, his voice thick, barely above a whisper.

You smiled softly, brushing a thumb over his cheek. "You won’t lose me," you promised. "We’ve come too far for that."

Joel’s eyes softened, his thumb gently tracing your lips as if memorizing the feel of them. "I love you," he said, the words coming out almost like a prayer like he needed to say them out loud to believe them. You felt a warmth spread through your chest, your heart swelling with emotion. "I love you, too," you whispered back, leaning in for another kiss, this one softer, sweeter.

A few hours later, you were back on the road. The sun had just started to rise, casting a soft orange glow over the landscape. You sat in the back seat, your journal opened on your lap, a pencil in your hand. You leaned against the window, writing carefully as the truck bounced over the uneven road.

You wrote to your baby, your thoughts spilling onto the page.

“It’s been a long road so far. I hope one day you get to read this, to know that even before you were born, you were loved. Tess… she would have liked you, I think. I wish she could be here, but I promise you this: Joel and I will do everything to keep you safe. I know it’s not the world I wanted for you, but it’s the one we’ve got, and we’ll make the best of it.”

You paused, glancing up as you heard Ellie’s voice from the front seat. She was perched in the passenger seat, her feet up on the dashboard, and she was peppering Joel with questions — as usual.

“So, Joel,” Ellie asked, her curiosity unbridled. “You ever have a pet?”

Joel shot her a quick glance before returning his eyes to the road. "Nope," he replied gruffly.

“Really? Not even a goldfish?” Ellie pressed, leaning in closer with a grin.

Joel huffed, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Not even a goldfish," he confirmed.

Ellie rolled her eyes dramatically. "Well, that's sad. Everyone needs a pet. I used to have a stuffed bear… I named it Captain."

Joel chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Captain? What kind of adventures did Captain go on?"

Ellie’s face lit up. "Oh, you know, saving the world, defeating the evil cat empire… normal bear stuff."

You couldn't help but smile as you listened, their banter a small bright spot in an otherwise harsh world. You looked back down at your journal and continued writing.

“And Ellie… she’s something special. Smart, tough, got a mouth on her, but she’s got a good heart. She keeps things… lighter. Reminds us why we keep going, even when it feels like the worlds against us.”

Ellie’s voice cut through your thoughts again, her tone curious. “Joel, what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”

Joel shifted in his seat, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Crazy, huh? Well… probably sticking around to watch you try to figure out a joke for three hours.”

Ellie laughed, a bright, infectious sound. “Hey, that was a good joke! You just didn’t get it.”

“Maybe,” Joel replied, his eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror, catching yours for a brief moment. His expression softened, a silent reassurance passing between you.

You closed your journal, tucked it back into your pack, and leaned back in your seat, feeling a little lighter. Despite everything, there was hope in these small moments.

The truck came to a sudden halt, jolting you forward in your seat. You looked up, startled, as Joel’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched. The road ahead was a mess — cars scattered everywhere, some piled on top of one another, blocking the path completely. The remnants of a long-ago traffic jam, abandoned when the world went to hell.

Joel muttered a curse under his breath and cut the engine, the truck rumbling to a stop. He glanced back at you and Ellie, his expression tense. "Stay inside," he ordered firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Without another word, he pushed open the door and stepped out, his rifle slung over his shoulder. You watched him carefully as he moved towards the edge of the road, scanning the area, his eyes sharp and wary. The wind rustled through the trees, the only sound breaking the stillness around you.

Ellie leaned forward, her hands gripping the dashboard. “What’s going on?” she whispered, her voice low.

“Road’s blocked,” you replied softly, your eyes not leaving Joel as he stepped closer to the cars, looking for a way through. “He’s just checking if it’s safe.”

Ellie’s brow furrowed, her fingers tapping nervously. “Yeah, but what if it’s not?”

You didn’t answer immediately, your stomach tightening with a familiar knot of anxiety. You hated moments like this — the uncertainty, the vulnerability. “We wait,” you finally said, though your voice was tinged with the same concern.

Joel moved carefully, his eyes sweeping over the surrounding area, every sense alert. He disappeared around the side of a truck for a moment, and you felt your heart rate quicken, every nerve on edge. You leaned forward, trying to keep your gaze on him through the windshield.

After a few tense moments, Joel reappeared, his face set in a grim expression. He looked back towards the truck, his gaze locking with yours. He shook his head slightly, signaling for you both to stay put.

He approached the edge of the road, where a gap between two cars revealed a narrow path leading into the woods. His posture was tense, his rifle raised and ready. He paused, listening, and you could see his muscles coiled, ready for any sudden movement.

Ellie bit her lip, glancing at you. “Should we…?”

“No,” you cut her off gently but firmly. “If Joel says to stay, we stay.”

Seconds stretched into what felt like minutes, and your hand found its way to your belly, instinctively protective. The air felt heavy, thick with anticipation. Then, a distant sound — a faint rustling from the trees, maybe an animal, or something else. Joel stiffened, his head turning towards the noise.

He moved further down the line of cars, his rifle up, every step deliberate and cautious. You held your breath, your fingers gripping the edge of the seat, silently willing him to be okay.

Ellie shifted beside you, restless. “I hate this waiting,” she muttered under her breath, her eyes darting to the window.

You couldn’t help but agree, the silence growing louder with every passing second.

You glanced at Ellie, then at Joel, who was still moving cautiously among the wreckage. Your instinct to help was overpowering, and you made a decision.

"I'm going out," you said, your voice firm despite the trembling of your hands.

Ellie’s eyes widened. "Are you sure? Joel told us to stay—"

"I know what he said," you interrupted gently but resolutely. "But I can’t just sit here while he’s out there alone. Stay inside and keep the door locked."

Without waiting for a response, you grabbed your gun from its place in the truck and slung your arrow bow over your shoulder. The weight of the weapons felt reassuring for a moment.

You stepped out of the truck, the cool air hitting your face as you scanned the area. The sight of Joel moving between the cars, his rifle up and ready, filled you with a mix of anxiety and determination. You approached him, keeping your movements deliberate and steady.

Joel turned sharply as he heard you approach, his expression a mixture of surprise and concern. “What the hell are you doing out here?” he snapped, though his voice carried a note of relief.

“I couldn’t stay in the truck,” you replied, your voice steady. “Ellie’s inside, but I needed to be out here. Let’s see what’s going on.”

Joel’s eyes softened slightly, though his brow remained furrowed. “You shouldn’t be—”

“We don’t have time for that,” you cut him off, your tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m pregnant, not broken.”

Joel studied you for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. “Fine. Just stay close and stay sharp.”

You moved alongside him, your senses on high alert as you navigated through the maze of abandoned vehicles. The air was thick with the scent of decay and rust, the remnants of chaos that had long since passed.

“Looks like we’ve got a narrow path here,” Joel said, gesturing towards the gap between the cars. “We might be able to push through, but it’s risky. You see anything suspicious?”

You kept your gaze moving, scanning the area for any signs of danger. “No, but I don’t like how quiet it is,” you replied.

Joel nodded, his grip on his rifle tightening as he led the way. The two of you moved cautiously, Joel checking every corner and crevice, while you kept watch with your bow ready. The silence of the forest pressed in on you, making every sound feel amplified and ominous.

As you carefully made your way through the narrow path, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of adrenaline and focus. Despite the danger, there was a strange sense of purpose in being out here, working alongside Joel to tackle the challenges ahead.

“Be careful,” Joel said quietly as you approached the end of the blockage. “We don’t know what’s beyond this.”

You gave a quick nod, your eyes scanning the area beyond the obstruction. The path led into the dense woods, a faint trail barely visible through the underbrush.

“I’ll go first,” you said, taking a step forward. “Stay close.”

Joel followed close behind, his eyes constantly scanning the surroundings. The two of you moved with practiced efficiency, navigating the difficult terrain with careful steps.

Once you reached a safer spot, you looked back at Joel. “We should make sure Ellie stays safe in the truck while we scout the area.”

Joel nodded in agreement. “Alright. Let’s head back and check on her.”

You made your way back to the truck, your senses still on high alert. As you reached the vehicle, Ellie looked up with a mix of concern and relief.

“Everything okay?” she asked, her voice edged with worry.

“Yeah, for now,” Joel replied, his gaze shifting back to you.

“We’ve got a way forward, but it’s going to be tricky. We need to keep moving.”

Just as you were about to get back inside the truck, a sudden, sharp crack split the air. The sound was immediately followed by a searing pain in your shoulder, knocking you back against the side of the truck.

“Shit!” Joel’s voice was a mix of shock and urgency as he turned, diving towards you. He pulled you away from the truck and crouched beside you, his face a mask of fear and determination. “Are you alright? Where were you hit?”

You winced, trying to focus through the pain. “Shoulder,” you gasped, your breath coming in short, painful bursts. “I—”

Another shot rang out, the bullet whizzing past dangerously close. Joel threw himself over you, pulling you closer to the truck. “Ellie, get down!” he shouted.

Ellie’s panicked eyes darted around as she scrambled to find cover inside the truck. “What the hell is going on?” she yelled, her voice trembling with fear.

Joel’s hands were already working to assess your injury, his movements quick and practiced. “You stay put,” he ordered, though his voice was gentler than the command. He ripped a strip from his shirt, pressing it against your shoulder to staunch the bleeding. “Ellie, stay inside and stay quiet. We need to figure out where those shots are coming from.”

You gritted your teeth against the pain, trying to keep calm. “Joel, we need to—”

“Not now,” Joel interrupted, his voice low but firm.

He moved with purpose, taking cover behind the truck and advancing toward the trees. You could hear the muffled sounds of gunfire as he engaged the unknown threat, each shot echoing through the woods. Your breaths came ragged, the pain in your shoulder a constant, throbbing reminder of the danger you were in.

Ellie peered out from the truck, her face pale with fear. “Is Joel gonna be, okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ignoring the sharp pain in your shoulder, you struggled to get out of the truck. Ellie’s eyes widened in panic. “What are you doing? Stay inside!”

“I can’t just sit here,” you insisted through gritted teeth, moving carefully but determinedly towards the edge of the truck. “Joel needs help.”

Your movements were slow and pained, but adrenaline pushed you forward. You gripped your bow tightly, using it as a crutch to steady yourself. Every step felt like a battle, but you forced yourself to keep going, the need to help Joel outweighing the pain.

As you reached the cover of the trees, you saw Joel crouched behind a large trunk, his eyes scanning the area. He spotted you immediately, his expression shifting from concentration to alarm. “What the hell are you doing out here? Get back to the truck!”

“I’m not leaving you,” you said firmly, your voice carrying a blend of determination and desperation. “I can help.”

Joel’s gaze softened for a moment, but he didn’t waste time with arguments.

You took the gun, nodding as you aimed it towards the area where you had seen the movement. Your hands were unsteady, but you focused on the shadows darting through the trees. With Joel’s guidance, you managed to locate the attackers, your aim steadying as you fired a few shots, trying to provide cover for Joel.

The sounds of gunfire continued to echo through the woods, but gradually, the attackers’ shots grew less frequent. Joel’s movements were precise and calculated as he picked off the remaining threats. The tension in the air began to lift, the immediate danger subsiding.

When the firing finally ceased, Joel emerged from his cover, moving quickly back to your side. “You shouldn’t have come out here,” he said, his voice rough with both relief and frustration.

“I couldn’t just leave you to handle it alone,” you replied, your breath coming in ragged bursts. “How bad is it?”

As you caught your breath, Joel’s relief was short-lived. From the corner of your eye, you saw Ellie running towards you, her face a mask of fear and urgency.

“They’re coming back!” Ellie shouted, her voice trembling. “They took the truck!”

Joel’s eyes widened in shock, his expression hardening with determination. “Damn it. We need to move, now.”

You barely had time to process the information before the sounds of footsteps and shouts echoed through the trees, getting closer. Panic surged through you, but you forced yourself to stay focused. “The journal!” you cried out, the thought hitting you like a jolt.

“What?” Joel asked not even processing the moment you ran out of his sight.

You sprinted back towards the truck, the urgency in your steps driven by the desperate need to retrieve your journal. The pain in your shoulder was now a distant throb compared to the rising panic. As you neared the truck, you could see the man who had earlier hurt you rummaging through the cab, apparently searching for anything of value.

Your heart pounded as you reached the truck. The man’s back was turned, and you seized the opportunity to grab your journal. Your fingers closed around it, and you yanked it free from where it had fallen.

Just as you were about to turn and run, the man spun around, his eyes locking onto you with a menacing glare. “Hey!” he shouted, recognizing you. His hand reached for his weapon, but before he could aim it, you raised your own gun, your aim steady despite the adrenaline coursing through you.

“Stay back!” you commanded, your voice firm, though it trembled slightly with fear. The man hesitated; the tension palpable as he assessed the situation.

“You shouldn’t have come back,” he growled, his expression a mix of anger and surprise.

Without another word, he lunged towards you. Reacting instinctively, you fired a shot. The bullet struck him in the shoulder, causing him to stagger back, a pained cry escaping his lips. He dropped his weapon and clutched his shoulder, glaring at you with fury and frustration.

You didn’t wait to see his next move. Gripping the journal tightly, you dashed back towards the cover of the trees where Joel and Ellie were. The sound of gunfire and shouting had intensified, blending with the thumping of your heart.

When you rejoined Joel and Ellie, the fury in Joel’s eyes was palpable. His face was set in a hard line, his jaw clenched tightly. He glanced at you with a mix of anger and relief as you came back, clutching the journal to your chest.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Joel's voice was sharp, cutting through the chaos. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed!”

You tried to catch your breath, the weight of his anger hitting you hard. “I—” you started, but the words were caught in your throat. You knew he was right, but the urgency of retrieving the journal had felt so immediate, so necessary.

Joel’s eyes softened slightly as he saw the journal in your hands. “Is that really worth risking your life for?” he demanded, his frustration evident.

“Yes,” you replied firmly, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and resolve.

Joel’s frustration boiled over. Without warning, he snatched the journal from your hands and threw it to the ground, the impact sending it skidding across the dirt. The sound of the journal hitting the ground was sharp, and you watched in shock as it lay there, dust and dirt mingling with the pages.

“Damn it!” Joel shouted, his voice echoing through the trees. “This isn’t worth risking your life over! Not like this!”

You stared at the journal, your heart sinking as you saw it lying there, a symbol of everything you had been trying to protect. “Joel, no!” you cried out, stepping forward to retrieve it.

Joel moved quickly to block you, his face a storm of emotion. “Just... stop,” he said, his voice strained. “We can’t keep doing this. We can’t keep risking everything for things that can be replaced.”

The raw emotion in his voice cut through you, and for a moment, you could see how deeply he was affected by the constant danger. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure as you looked at him. “It’s not just a journal,” you said softly.

You bent down slowly, picking up the journal with careful hands, brushing off the dirt. You looked at Joel, your eyes meeting his with hurt.

Joel’s jaw was clenched as he watched you carefully retrieve the journal. His frustration was palpable, and though he wanted to say more, the sight of your hurt expression made him falter. His gaze shifted to the journal on the ground, and then back to you, his anger still simmering beneath the surface.

Ellie stepped forward, her voice cutting through the tension with a mix of authority and concern. “Stop, Joel,” she said firmly. “She’s okay, right? That’s what matters now.”

Joel’s eyes softened as he looked at Ellie, his anger meeting the reality of the situation. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice low. “I guess you’re right.”

You carefully brushed off the last of the dirt from the journal and looked up at Joel. “I understand why you’re angry,” you said quietly. “I really do. But this journal...You don’t get it” you said, walking past him towards the new direction.

The old building was a welcome refuge, its once-abandoned state now offering a semblance of safety from the dangers outside. Inside, you set up a makeshift camp, trying to focus on tasks that would help you ignore the pain and tension.

Ellie had been quietly assisting you with cleaning and bandaging your shoulder wound. Her hands were careful, though her gaze occasionally flicked towards Joel, who was sitting a few feet away, his expression a mixture of guilt and frustration.

After a few hours, Joel finally rose from his seat, his movements deliberate. “Ellie,” he said, his voice firm but softened with an edge of weariness. “I’ll take it from here.”

Ellie looked at him with a mix of surprise and relief. “Sure thing,” she said, standing up and giving you a reassuring smile. “I’ll go check on our supplies.”

Joel moved closer; his eyes focused on your wound. “You doing okay?” he asked quietly, his hands steady as he started to clean the area with a fresh bandage and antiseptic. His touch was gentle, despite the roughness of his hands.

You looked at him, the silence between you feeling heavy. “I’m fine,” you replied, your voice quiet.

Joel’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, the frustration and anger seemed to dissolve, replaced by a deep, aching concern. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I just… I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

You sighed, letting your gaze drop as you felt his hands working on your shoulder. “I understand,” you said softly.

Joel's hands paused momentarily, his voice carrying a hint of desperation. "No, don't give me that tone," he pleaded, his eyes searching yours for any sign of understanding.

You looked up, meeting his gaze with a mix of weariness and compassion. "I'm not trying to give you a hard time," you said quietly. "I know you’re scared. We all are. It’s just sometimes it feels like we’re caught in this endless cycle.”

Joel's expression softened, his fingers resuming their careful work. "I know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t mean to take it out on you. It’s just... hard, you know? Seeing you get hurt, and having to face the fact that I can’t always protect you."

You sighed, wincing slightly as he adjusted the bandage. "We’re all just trying to survive. We’re all scared and doing the best we can."

Joel nodded, his eyes still fixed on your wound as he finished wrapping it, and placing a kiss over the bandage.

Joel finished wrapping the bandage and leaned in to place a tender kiss over the newly covered wound. The gesture was both soothing and deeply personal, a silent promise of his care and commitment.

You looked at him, feeling the warmth of his touch linger even as he pulled back. “Thank you,” you said quietly, your voice filled with gratitude.

Joel’s eyes met yours, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry for how I reacted earlier,” he said quietly. “I was just... scared. Scared of losing you.”

Joel nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before he looked back up at you. “I just wish I could make it all easier,” he said, his voice carrying a note of frustration.

You took a deep breath, deciding to share something important. “The journal,” you began, “it wasn’t just any journal. It was from my sister. She… she gave it to me before everything went wrong. It’s all I have left of her. That’s why it means so much.”

He glanced at the torn pages. “I didn’t realize it meant so much to you,” he admitted, guilt heavy in his voice. “I didn’t mean to… to break it.”

You took a deep breath, finally looking up at him, tears in your eyes. “It was my sister’s,” you explained softly, your voice breaking. “We got separated when everything went to hell, and I never… I never found her again.”

Joel’s face softened, his eyes filling with a deep, aching sadness. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“I’ve been writing in it,” you continued, your voice trembling, “like I was talking to her. Telling her what’s been happening, telling her about… about you, and Ellie… and the baby. I wanted to believe that maybe, somehow, she’d find it someday, and know that I never stopped looking for her, that I never gave up.”

Joel’s expression crumbled with understanding and regret. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his hand finally settling on your shoulder, squeezing gently. “I didn’t know. I never would’ve…”

“I know,” you replied, wiping a tear from your cheek.

Joel’s eyes widened slightly, a mixture of surprise and understanding crossing his face. “I didn’t know,” he said quietly.

You nodded, feeling a bit of relief in having shared the significance of the journal. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not.” He said, “You helped me so much when I told you about Sarah,” he said, his voice catching slightly. “I should’ve understood why this means so much to you. I’m sorry.”

You reached out, placing a comforting hand on his. “We’re all dealing with our own pain and loss,” you said softly. “It’s okay. We just have to keep supporting each other.”

Joel’s eyes met yours, a glimmer of appreciation in his gaze.

As you spoke, a sudden, low growl interrupted the moment. Both you and Joel looked down to see your stomach growling audibly, the sound breaking the tension between you.

Joel’s eyes widened in surprise, and then a chuckle escaped him, his earlier frustration momentarily forgotten. “Well, someone’s hungry,” he said, his tone lightening.

You felt a flush of embarrassment, but the sound of his laughter was a welcome relief. “I guess this one is hungrier than me.” You say.

Joel’s laughter deepened at your comment, and he shook his head with a fond smile. “Guess we’ve got a hungry little one in there,” he said, his tone softening. “We should definitely get some food in you.”

Ellie, catching on to the lighter mood, chimed in with a grin. “I think that’s a good idea. I’ll help,” she offered, heading towards the supplies.

“I think we’ve got some dried fruit left… maybe a bit of jerky.”

You chuckled quietly, shaking your head. “Anything will do,” you assured him. “I’m not exactly craving a five-star meal here.”

Joel nodded, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “Sit tight, I’ll get somethin’,” he said, moving toward the pack he’d dropped by the door.

As he rummaged through the bag, you took a moment to study him—his face lined with worry, his movements still a bit stiff.

He returned with a small handful of dried fruit and a bit of jerky, holding it out to you. “A feast for a queen,” he joked softly, though his eyes were still serious.

You took the food with a grateful smile, feeling a wave of love wash over you. “Thanks, Joel,” you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity. He nodded, his thumb brushing against your hand as he handed over the food.

“Just tryin’ to take care of you,” he murmured. “Both of you.”

You smiled softly, a hint of warmth blooming in your chest despite the cold reality of the world outside. "I know," you whispered back. “And you are, Joel. More than you know.”

"Oh, I forgot," Joel said suddenly, turning back toward his bag. You watched as he rummaged around, pushing aside supplies until he seemed to find what he was looking for. He straightened up, a small smile playing on his lips as he held out a slightly crumpled chocolate bar. "Got this at Frank's house," he explained, his eyes twinkling a little.

Your eyes widened in surprise and delight as you took the chocolate bar from his hand. "Seriously?" you asked, a grin spreading across your face. "You’ve been holding out on me?”

Joel chuckled softly. “Just savin’ it for when we needed it most,” he replied, his tone light. “Figured it might come in handy, and I guess now’s as good a time as any.”

You looked down at the bar, your heart swelling at the thoughtfulness behind such a small gesture. Chocolate had become such a rarity—a luxury, even—that you hadn’t even thought of it in ages. "This is… thank you, Joel," you said softly, your fingers tracing the edge of the wrapper. “You have no idea how much this means.”

Joel gave a small shrug, but you could see the hint of satisfaction in his expression. “Just want you to have a little bit of comfort,” he murmured, his hand brushing your arm briefly. "You deserve it."

You felt a lump form in your throat, a mix of gratitude and affection. “You’re sweet, you know that?” you said with a playful smile, tearing open the wrapper.

He chuckled, his lips curling into a small, sheepish grin. “Don’t go spreading’ that around,” he muttered, his gaze softening as he watched you take a small bite.

You closed your eyes, savoring the taste, the rich, sweet flavor melting on your tongue. For a moment, the worries and fears faded away, replaced by a small, simple joy. “It’s perfect,” you whispered, opening your eyes to meet his.

Joel’s smile deepened, his hand settling on your shoulder as he leaned in a little closer. “Good,” he said softly. “You deserve perfect, even if it’s just a piece of chocolate.”

And for a moment, in that quiet, fragile space, it felt like everything might just be okay.

Joel’s gaze lingered on you, his eyes full of warmth and a hint of something more. Without a word, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. The touch was soft, tender, and you could feel the weight of his affection and apology in that simple gesture.

As he pulled back slightly, his expression searching yours, you heard a muffled, teasing voice from the other side of the room. “Gross,” Ellie said, her tone a mix of mock disgust and amusement. You turned to see her peeking out from under her blanket, a smirk playing on her lips.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound breaking the tension in the room. “Sorry, Ellie,” you said, trying to keep your voice light. “Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Just keep it PG, alright?” she said.

You reached into your bag and pulled out a piece of chocolate, offering it to Ellie with a playful grin. “Here, Ellie. Since you had to witness that, you deserve a treat too.”

Ellie’s eyes widened in mock surprise, and she grinned as she took the chocolate from your hand. “Thanks,” she said, unwrapping it with a bit of dramatic flair. “I guess I can’t complain about a bit of chocolate, even if it comes with a side of grossness.”

Joel chuckled softly, shaking his head at the banter between you and Ellie. “You two are something else,” he said with a smile, his earlier tension seemingly melted away by the lighthearted moment.

As you settled back with your own piece of chocolate, you felt a sense of calm and contentment that had been missing for a while. The simple pleasure of sharing a moment like this with Joel and Ellie, amidst the chaos and danger, made the world seem a little brighter.

Ellie took a bite of her chocolate, and her expression softened with genuine appreciation. “This is really good,” she said, her voice carrying a note of surprise. “Thanks for sharing.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied, your gaze meeting Joel’s once more.

As the night settled in, the room grew quieter. You could feel the exhaustion from the day catching up to you, and you rubbed your shoulder, still feeling the dull ache from the earlier injury.

Ellie yawned and stretched, then looked over at the lumpy couch against the wall. “Hey,” she said, her tone light and playful. “The pregnant lady deserves the couch.”

You raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, so now you’re feeling all generous?” you teased.

Ellie grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I mean, yeah. But only because I don’t want to hear you complain all night about sleeping on the floor.”

Joel chuckled from where he was standing by the window, keeping watch. “She’s got a point,” he added, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

You shook your head, feeling a warmth in your chest despite the soreness in your shoulder. “Alright, fine,” you said, pretending to be reluctant. “I’ll take the couch, but only because you insist.”

Ellie smirked. “Yeah, yeah, take it before I change my mind.”

You moved over to the couch, sinking down onto it with a grateful sigh. The cushions were worn, and it wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was better than the hard floor. “Thanks, Ellie,” you said, your voice more sincere now.

She waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t mention it. Just don’t hog all the blankets.”

Joel came over and draped a blanket over you, his touch lingering for a moment. “Get some rest,” he murmured softly, his eyes meeting yours with that familiar, protective look. “I’ll keep watch for a while.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the day settle in your bones. “Okay,” you whispered, pulling you whispered, pulling the blanket up around your shoulders.

Ellie flopped down onto the floor nearby, wrapping herself in her own blanket. “Goodnight, guys,” she mumbled, already sounding half-asleep.

“Goodnight, Ellie,” you replied, and then you turned to Joel. “And… thank you. For everything.”

Joel gave a small, almost shy smile. “Get some sleep,” he repeated, his voice softer this time.

A few hours later, the darkness of the room seemed to press in from all sides. The only sound was the soft, rhythmic breathing of Ellie, fast asleep nearby. You had drifted off into a restless slumber, the exhaustion of the day pulling you under.

But suddenly, you were jolted awake by a sharp, searing pain that shot through your stomach. Your eyes flew open, and you instinctively curled forward, your hand clutching at your abdomen. The pain was intense, radiating outward in waves, and it stole your breath, leaving you gasping in the quiet room.

You sat up abruptly, trying to steady your breathing. The room seemed to spin for a moment, and you felt a cold sweat break out across your skin. You gritted your teeth, pressing your hand firmly against your abdomen, as if that could somehow steady the panic coursing through you.

Joel, who had been keeping a watchful eye from across the room, noticed the change immediately. He was at your side in an instant, his face etched with concern. “Hey, hey, what’s going on?” he whispered urgently, his hands hovering near you, unsure of what to do.

You struggled to speak, your breath coming in short gasps. “I… I don’t know,” you managed to say, fear lacing your words. “It just… it hurts.”

His brow furrowed, and his hand moved to your shoulder, squeezing it gently but firmly. “Okay, try to breathe through it,” he murmured, his voice steady, though his eyes betrayed his worry. “It might just be… the stress or the baby kicking. We’ve been through a lot today.”

You nodded, closing your eyes for a moment, focusing on the rhythm of your breath. The pain had subsided slightly, but a nagging fear still clawed at the edges of your mind. “What if something’s wrong?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Joel’s grip tightened, his voice firm yet soothing. “Nothing’s wrong,” he insisted, his tone filled with determination. “We’re gonna get through this, okay? Just breathe… focus on me.”

You looked up at him, his steady gaze anchoring you as another twinge of pain rippled through your stomach, less intense this time. You forced yourself to nod, trying to push the fear down. “Okay,” you whispered, trying to trust his words, even as the anxiety lingered.

Joel continued to hold your gaze, his thumb gently brushing over your shoulder. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you,” he promised quietly. “Or the baby.”

You nodded again, trying to let his reassurance wash over you, even as a lingering dread whispered at the back of your mind.

But then, just as you began to feel the fear subside, a distant sound broke the stillness — a soft, almost inaudible creak coming from outside. Joel's eyes snapped toward the door, his expression instantly shifting to one of alertness.

He looked back at you, his eyes narrowed with concern. “Stay here,” he whispered, reaching for his gun. "Something's out there."

You held your breath, every nerve in your body suddenly on edge as you watched him move toward the door, the darkness outside seeming to press in, waiting.

And in that suspended moment, you felt it — the unmistakable sensation that something, or someone, was coming.

"Hey, little one,"

"I don’t know if you can feel it yet, but I hope you’re okay in there. I felt a pain that scared me more than anything has in a long time. Maybe it was just the stress, or maybe it was you letting me know you’re still there, and making your presence known.

I wish I could tell you everything is fine, that we’re safe, and there’s nothing to worry about. But the truth is, it’s hard out here. Harder than I ever imagined. Every day is a fight, a struggle to keep moving, to keep believing that there’s something better on the other side of all this. And some days, I wonder if I’m strong enough to do it — to keep us both safe, to bring you into a world like this."

"But then… I think of you. I think of holding you in my arms for the first time, feeling your heartbeat against mine, and suddenly, I know I have to keep going. For you."

"I’ve made some mistakes — like going after this journal, even when it wasn’t safe. I’m sure Joel would say it wasn’t worth it, but I need you to understand… this is all I have left of my sister. She was strong, like I want you to be. And she would’ve loved you, just like I already do."

"I don’t know what the future holds, but I promise you this: I’ll do everything I can to give you a chance. To give us both a chance. I won’t let fear win. I won’t let the darkness take that from us."

"So stay with me, little one. Hold on, just like I’m holding on to you. We’re in this together."

Always. “

Tags: @jasminedragoon @orcasoul @missladym1981 @hiroikegawa @eleganthottubfun @lumpypoll @cuteanimalmama @thespookywookies @goodvibesonly421 @karaslqve @greenwitchfromthewoods

605 notes · View notes

n1ght0f-nyx · 3 months ago

Note

WOVEN BONDS IS AMAZING!!!!! Pls make part 2,3,4,5,6 😭🫡💖

woven bonds pt 2

this was very requested so here we are!!

You've been sold to an orc by your father, and after shutting yourself in for a few weeks, youve finally started to come to enjoy your new husbands company

warnings/tags- bedrotting, arranged marrige but pertah loves you so thats nice, pert'ah speaks with semi-broken english

word count- 1167

The days that followed were filled with silence, but it was a different kind of silence. No longer filled with the heavy weight of anger or hopelessness, it was instead filled with uncertainty. Pert'ah continued his routine—bringing you food, speaking to you in soft tones, always giving you space while he worked outside or wove intricate tapestries by the hearth. He never pushed, never demanded anything from you.

Yet, you felt a change inside yourself.

It was small at first. One morning, after he had left a bowl of fruit by your bedside, you reached out and took a piece, biting into it with a sense of resignation. It was sweeter than you had expected, and you found yourself eating more. That night, you ate a bit of the stew he left. It wasn’t the same as the dishes from your old home, but it was warm, hearty, and made with care.

Pert'ah noticed. You could see the relief in his eyes when he glanced at the empty bowl later that day. He didn’t say anything, but the gentle way his lips turned upward spoke volumes.

As days passed, you started to leave the bed for longer periods. You’d sit by the window and watch him work outside. Pert'ah would spend hours weaving, his large hands surprisingly nimble as they guided the threads into beautiful patterns. Sometimes, he would carve small figures out of wood or clay, his concentration deep as he brought the raw materials to life. The more you watched him, the more you saw the softness behind his hardened exterior. There was an artistry to everything he did, a careful thoughtfulness.

Slowly, you began to speak to him.

It wasn’t much at first—a word here, a question there—but Pert'ah’s eyes lit up each time you addressed him. His responses were always careful, his voice soft and unsure as if he feared saying the wrong thing and scaring you away.

One evening, you found yourself standing outside the hut, watching him work on a large tapestry. The orange light from the setting sun filtered through the trees, casting warm shadows over his figure. He glanced up when he noticed you, his brow furrowing slightly as if he couldn’t believe you were there.

"I… I work on this for winter," he said, standing up slowly, dusting off his hands. "Keep us warm."

You nodded, stepping closer. The tapestry was beautiful, its rich colors weaving together in patterns of leaves and flowers. It was unlike anything you had ever seen, a testament to his skill.

"It’s… it’s beautiful," you said softly, your voice quiet but sincere.

Pert'ah’s eyes widened slightly. He looked at you as though you had given him the greatest compliment in the world. His lips parted, but he didn’t speak right away. Instead, he took a step toward you, his large hand tentatively reaching out as though he wanted to touch your arm, but he hesitated.

"You think so?" he asked, his voice low, almost shy. "I… I make it for you. For us."

You felt something in your chest stir at his words, a warmth that was unfamiliar but not unpleasant. Pert'ah had been nothing but kind to you, patient in a way you had never expected from an orc. And now, as you stood in the golden light of dusk, watching him look at you with such raw vulnerability, you realized you were no longer as angry as you once were.

In the days that followed, you found yourself drawn to him more and more. Pert'ah would tell you stories of his clan, how he had been raised as a weaver and how orc culture was not as warlike as humans believed. He would sit by the fire in the evenings, his deep voice filling the room as he spoke of the orcs’ long history of craftsmanship, of art, and of building rather than destroying.

And slowly, your barriers began to crumble.

One night, after dinner, you sat together in the hut, the fire crackling softly as you both shared a quiet moment. Pert'ah was working on another carving, his large fingers skillfully shaping the wood into something delicate. You watched him for a while, fascinated by the contrast between his size and the gentleness of his craft.

"Why… why do you make so many things?" you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Pert'ah paused, looking up at you with a small smile. "I make because I love it. It make world… more beautiful." His eyes softened as they met yours. "And now… I make for you."

The way he said it, so simple and yet so full of meaning, made your heart skip a beat. Pert'ah wasn’t just making things to fill the space. He was making them for you, offering pieces of himself in every woven thread and carved figure.

Over time, Pert'ah became more than just the orc you had been forced to marry. He became the person you looked forward to seeing each day, the one who spoke to you with care and treated you with a tenderness that slowly melted away your fears.

Pert'ah, for his part, was falling deeper in love with you with each passing day. He adored every small smile you gave him, every word you spoke. It was as though you were the center of his world now, and he wanted nothing more than to make you happy. He would wake up early to prepare your meals, always trying new dishes to see which ones you liked. He would carve small figures for you, weaving your favorite flowers into tapestries.

His love grew more intense, almost obsessive, but never in a way that felt suffocating. He watched you with reverence, always making sure to give you the space you needed, but it was clear in his eyes—Pert'ah was head over heels in love. You had become his muse, his heart, and every moment with you only deepened his feelings.

One night, as you sat together by the fire, Pert'ah spoke softly, his voice filled with emotion.

"[Name]… I never think I can feel like this. You make my heart… full." He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. "I love you. I love you more than anything. I do anything for you. Alway.."

Your breath caught in your throat at his confession. You could feel the depth of his feelings, the way his eyes searched yours for any sign of rejection or acceptance.For the first time, you didn’t shy away. Instead, you reached out, placing your hand gently on his. His skin was warm, rough but comforting beneath your touch.

"I don’t know if I’m ready to say that yet," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "But… I do care about you, Pert'ah."

His face lit up with a smile so wide it made your heart flutter. "That enough for me. I wait for you..alway.."

And for the first time since your marriage, you smiled back.

335 notes · View notes

hgfictionwriter · 8 months ago

Text

Bliss

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie and you are on your honeymoon. She can't keep her hands off of her new wife.

Warnings: Smut. Pool sex, facesitting, slight overstimulation, etc.. Language as well.

A/N: Okay. I'm a little out of control on this one. Buckle up because it's long. My imagination went a little crazy. Based on this request.

"Jessie, come look at the pool. It looks beautiful at night with all of the lights."

Jessie hummed as she came up behind you, gently pressing herself against your back and wrapping an arm around your waist. She tilted her head down to lay a soft kiss at the base of your neck. You chuckled lightly at how her breath tickled your skin.

"Want to take a dip?" She asked, subconsciously swaying both of you gently from side to side as you looked out the glass doors of your honeymoon suite.

You turned your head back to look at her with a quiet smile. "That sounds perfect."

You both got changed into your swimsuits and Jessie went in first. Once she was in she turned and reached up to offer you her hand. You took it and let her guide you into the private pool attached to your suite. Tall bushes and trees lined the area, ensuring privacy and freeing you from any prying eyes.

You smiled as she took a seat, the water resting just below her shoulders, and pulled you onto her lap. You readily obliged, wrapping your arms around the back of her neck as she held you.

"How is my wife liking her honeymoon so far?" She asked as she looked up to you. Your smile widened immediately at the acknowledgement of your new title. Marriage wasn't even something you necessarily knew you'd wanted growing up, but after meeting Jessie and falling in love with her, becoming her wife felt all too right.

"It's gorgeous," you told her as you leaned down to capture her lips in a kiss. "And how is my beautiful wife liking her honeymoon?" She grinned into the kiss.

"Even more amazing than I'd dreamed it would be," she told you. Even with the recessed lights around the pool, the area was fairly dark and you weren't sure if she could see your blush.

You'd been together for several years and it still warmed your heart when she spoke so romantically with you. Jessie wasn't known as an openly sentimental person, so for her to make such statements so unabashedly with you still made you feel special.

You deepened your kiss and thumbed her cheek tenderly. The past few weeks had been an absolute whirlwind with the wedding and all of the obligations and activities that went along with it. It felt like you two had been going full tilt for ages between the wedding, her competitions, and your work. You were grateful to be able to slow down and finally spend some time together, just the two of you. You knew she felt the same by how clingy she was leading up to this. Always with a hand on your back, her pinky hooked with yours, or her chin on your shoulder, with "I miss you" texts sprinkled throughout.

You loved that this composed - sometimes guarded - woman was so soft and loving with you.

"I can't believe you're finally my wife," Jessie whispered between kisses, awe in her voice.

"Took you long enough, Fleming," you teased, pulling a grumble out of her. Her fingers dug into your hips slightly as she gave you a pouting glare.

"I've been calling you my 'future wife' since year one," she protested lightly. You chuckled and kissed her placatingly.

"I know, my love. I'm just teasing. I never doubted your commitment or intentions."

"Good," she said with lingering disapproval. "Don't make me pull out years-old texts to friends and family where I told them I was going to marry you."

You pulled back and cocked your head curiously. "I don't know - I mean that sounds very appealing to me."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Jessie said as she rolled her eyes playfully and pulled you closer to her, wrapping her arms more fully around you and leaning down to kiss your collarbone.

"In the meantime," she went on, her voice now low, "I can think of some other ways to reassure you."

"Mm, you think?" You played along, letting your head fall back a bit and inviting her to kiss up your neck. "Tell me all about it." You felt her smirk against you.

"You know I'm really more of a doer than a talker."

Your body tensed up as you felt her tongue sneak out for a teasing lick before her lips closed on the sensitive skin of your neck and she sucked lightly. You rocked your hips in her lap without thought and she reached up to start massaging your breasts.

She took her time teasing you and small whimpers escaped your throat as the aching between your legs grew greater and greater for her.

"You really don't need these," she announced as she reached down to hook a couple of fingers into the band of your bikini bottoms and gave a tug. You reluctantly lifted off of her long enough for her to pull them down your legs and she discarded them on the pool deck.

When you settled back down onto her lap, she massaged your thighs with her strong fingers, her head tilted back as she watched you grind yourself down onto her lap in need. She smirked.

"God, I'm lucky. I have the most beautiful wife," she told you.

You gave a gentle laugh that was quickly cut off with a soft gasp when her hand nestled itself between your legs and her fingers began to explore between your folds.

"Oh my god," she said with a lazy smile as she looked up at you. "I can't believe this is all mine. You feel so amazing every time."

"God, baby, don't tease me. I need you," you told her as you rocked against her fingers, begging her to enter you.

You hadn't had sex since the night before your wedding. You weren't supposed to see each other - stupid superstitions and all - but you'd snuck out to meet, just to check in and because you missed each other. Well, it just so happened that your little rendezvous ended with her fingers deep inside of you, her lips on yours. Still, since then it had been longer than either of you liked because things had been so busy. You needed her badly.

She hummed and leaned up to kiss you.

"Whatever my wife wants, she gets."

A small groan of appreciation fell from Jessie's lips as she slowly sunk into you. She watched with eager eyes as your back arched and you let your head fall back in immediate pleasure.

"I love you so much," Jessie told you as she took your form in, cast in the soft glow of night. She bit her lip as you gripped her fingers. "You're so tight. I love it."

"Oh God, Jessie," you moaned softly as you slowly rode her fingers, aided by the buoyancy of the water, "I love the way you fill me."

Jessie's head rolled back against the edge of the pool as she bit her lip watching you. "Fuck, I love when you talk like that." You leaned into her, allowing your lips to brush against her ear.

"Like what?" You whispered, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth when you felt her shoulders tense and her free hand gripped your hips harder. "Like when I tell you I'm aching for you. How incredible it feels when your thick, strong fingers fill me. Stretching me."

You continued to ride her slowly, arousal building at how you heard her breathing grow heavier and she started to rock back against you with greater emphasis.

"How when you curl your fingers inside of me the way you do, it makes me weak in the knees. The way you play with my clit sends waves of pleasure through me. And how just the sound of your voice, the way you're breathing right now, the way you're rocking your hips against me, gets me dripping wet for you."

"Fucking hell, babe," Jessie cursed, almost in a hypnotic daze from your words. "You're going to make me fucking cum and I'm the one fucking you right now."

"Is that so?" You teased as you sat back to look at her, running your fingers through her hair before leaning down and kissing her deeply, grinding down into her hand harder.

She tilted her head up, readily meeting your kiss and then some before pumping into you with firmer, faster strokes. She smiled as you whimpered into the kiss, tensing up at the new sensation. She bit your bottom lip, giving it a tug.

"I'm going to make love to you again, and again, and again tonight," she whispered as she kissed along your jawline, bringing up her free hand to run through your hair before cupping the back of your neck and kissing along the side of your neck.

A low moan escaped you and your dug your fingers into her scalp. She groaned in response and nipped at youf as she continued to thrust skillfully into and out of you, her thumb circling your clit.

"Jessie," you panted.

"You look so gorgeous in the moonlight," she said. You opened your eyes to look down to see her watching you steadily with love and affection.

"I love you so much, Jess," you told her between breaths.

She let out a shuddering breath and leaned you back slightly so she could fully appreciate your form. Her free arm gripped you tighter and she started bouncing you up and down on her, pulling you down onto her fingers with greater force and picking up the pace.

Your mouth fell open and you felt that familiar tightening begin in your core. She knew the signs.

"Cum for me, baby," she told you as she watched you - this beautiful woman she could now call her wife, start to come undone on account of her.

You dug your nails into the base of her neck and dragged your fingers down. She leaned into the touch, not breaking her gaze from you for a second. You convulsed around her fingers and she continued to curl her fingers inside of you, drawing out your orgasm.

In time, your breathing slowed once more and the tension in your shoulders, legs and back melted away and you floated fully into her arms. She held you against her, her fingers still inside of you as she continued to lay lingering kisses along your collarbone.

Eventually she chuckled. You nudged her head with yours in question, still too spent to speak.

"The private pool was worth the extra money," she told you, drawing a laugh out of you. She squeezed you in her arms. "I love you."

When you were ready, you both got out of the pool and went inside to rinse off in the shower. Your hands were all over each other the entire time and you were locked in a hungry kiss. You'd just hit your climax a few minutes ago, but as her hands roamed your body and as you ran yours along hers, appreciating the meticulously sculpted dips and curves of her defined muscles, that familiar heat between your legs returned.

You were toweling off and you couldn't break your eyes away from her. Her tanned skin brought out her freckles and you couldn't help but swallow at the sight of her muscles moving and flexing as she dried herself off. You stepped forward and she gave you a curious look as you took the towel from her and began drying her off for her.

Soon, you gently pushed her back against the bathroom counter and began kissing down her stomach. Her abs twitched as you trailed your tongue down them. You dropped the towel to the ground and brought your hands up to her sides, letting your nails graze down until they rested on her hips.

You knelt down before her on the towel and looked up at her. She unknowingly licked her lips and leaned back into the counter, her hands now gripping the edges.

"You are absolutely perfect," you told her as you moved your hands down her muscular thighs and nudged them open.

She exhaled heavily and you saw her knuckles growing white already.

A taut moan escaped Jessie's throat as you leaned up and ran your tongue along her folds. You smiled at how wet she was - and it wasn't from the shower.

"I adore the way you taste," you told her as you tilted your chin up into her and continued to lick up and down her.

You watched as her head fell back and she rolled her shoulders out. You moaned into her. She was gorgeous to begin with, but with her head thrown back like that, it accentuated the chiseled structure of her jaw and the angles of her neck.

You leaned up into her further, rising on your knees more and you brought your hands around to grip her gorgeously sculpted ass. You kneaded the muscles there and she groaned low in her chest.

She let go of the counter and placed both hands on the back of your head, her fingers digging into you. You moaned into her and she started to bend her knees and rock into you mouth.

"Baby, you make me feel so good," she told you as she intermittently gripped your hair. You wrapped your lips around her clit and sucked hard, flicking the sensitive bud with your tongue. She let out a high moan and her knees gave just slightly before she caught herself.

She bit her lip with a low chuckle and looked down at you.

"I wish I had my wedding ring on," she breathed, locking eyes with you. "I want to see the band catch the light, my hand on the back of your head while you're on your knees for me."

Your eyes fluttered shut and you groaned heavily into her, the vibration causing her legs to give again and her hands tightened in your hair once more.

"You're gonna make me cum," she told you, her voice raspy as she rolled her hips against your mouth.

You continued unwaveringly and you heard her breathing grow strained and heavy. You opened your eyes when she moved one hand back to the counter, bracing herself. Her eyes were screwed shut, her jaw clenched and her thighs began to flex around your head.

"Oh fuck. Y/N." Your name echoed off the tile walls as Jessie tensed up around you and she inhaled sharply, practically whimpering as her orgasm took her.

Seeing her like this, riding out her orgasm, never, ever got old. It astounded you that you were the one that she let take her over the edge.

When she relaxed, she released your hair and her body slumped back against the counter. Her mouth was agape as she worked to catch her breath and her eyes were momentarily unfocused before honing in on you.

"Jesus," she said as she forced herself to stand back up. You rose from the floor, wrapping your arms around her waist and she gave a breathless laugh. "I wasn't expecting that."

"It's our honeymoon, baby," you told her as you narrowed your eyes playfully. "You can't have all the fun." She let out a single breath as a laugh.

"I don't know. I'd say I have been having all the fun so far." She looked at you wordlessly for a moment, a hint of a smile of her face before she cupped your cheek. "You're the one. I hope you always know that."

You smiled and gave her a kiss. "Well, feel free to remind me now and then."

She didn't speak right away, again just taking you in before suddenly her hands were under you and lifting you up. You squealed and wrapped your arms and legs around her as she carried you over to the bed. She set you down and climbed on, moving past you so she was laying on her back.

"On me," she told you. You smirked and crawled up the bed, swinging your leg over her waist and settling yourself on her hips. Your wet core made contact with her skin and she arched an eyebrow smugly at you.

"Like this?" You asked teasingly.

"You fucking know it," she affirmed with a smirk of her own. She gripped your hips and pulled you down against her as she rocked her hips up. "You're ready for me already, baby. Did seeing me cum for you turn you on?"

"You fucking know it did," you returned playfully.

Her eyes were bright as she watched you. She reached down and you lifted your hips to make room for her hand. She dug her head back into the pillow as her fingers slipped through your folds.

"I could never get tired of this. Every time I feel how wet you are for me it's like the first time all over again. God I love you."

"Well, I guess it's a good thing you made me your wife," you said as you ground yourself against her teasing fingers.

You threw your head back, a moan flowing freely from your throat as she sunk her digits into you.

"Say it again," she commanded. You came back to the moment and brought your head back down to look at her. She gazed up at you with hooded eyes.

"I'm your wife," you told her as you rose up on her fingers to the tips and sunk back down.

"You're my wife," she repeated with a satisfied smile, her other hand roaming up your side to cup your breast.

Words ceased as you started riding her. While outside in the pool was somewhat measured and sensual, now the motions were fast and hard as you rode her and she met you with fervour. Your head was thrown back and your needy moans filled the room as she filled you repeatedly to the brim before drawing out and sparking your desire all over again.

"God, you fuck me so good, Jess," you told her as she sent sensation after sensation through you. She grunted in response, eyes transfixed on you, and quickened her movements.

You were nearing your high when she stilled and held your hips in place.

A shameless whimper escaped you and you let your head fall back forward to look down at her in question. She didn't answer, she merely bucked her hips using the momentum to push you off and she shuffled down slightly before guiding you up the bed.

"Jess," you managed to say as she held you above her face.

"I want to taste you," she told you.

"Oh my god," you said, your legs already trembling as you knelt over her.

"I've got you," she said as she braced your thighs with her hands. "Come on, baby. I can take it," she encouraged. "You look fucking amazing from here." Her hands held you and she gently, but firmly pushed you down towards her waiting mouth.

A quick gasp escaped you as she reached up with her tongue.

"Jess, I don't know if I'm going to last long," you warned her. She took this as an invitation and pulled you down into her more fully. She laid her tongue flat on you and gave a few slow, soft licks before delving in.

You gasped again and leaned forward to brace yourself on the headboard. You glanced down to see Jessie, eyes closed, rolling her head side to side as she explored you, sending delicious pulses through your core while her biceps popped as she held you in place.

"Oh my god, Jess," you panted as you began to roll your hips against her tongue. Her grip tightened as she groaned into you.

The sounds of her lapping up your juices and moaning into you were driving you wild. Never mind the sight of her between your legs as she devoured you. You brought one hand down and gripped her hair.

"Jessie," you said as you felt your climax quickly approaching. She embraced it fully as she dug her fingers into your legs and tilted her chin into you.

"Fuck," you cursed as you began to spasm around her. You braced your hand on the wall as your legs threatened to give way.

Jessie held you steadily and moaned in appreciation as your arousal started to drip down her chin. She slowed her actions and gave you some reprieve. For now. You went to move off of her, but she held you in place.

"Baby," you half-pleaded, half-warned. Instead of letting you go, Jessie laid one slow, languid lick from your entrance up to your clit. You released a shaky gasp and your whole body shuddered.

Soon she was slowly lapping at you again and a series of "Oh my god"s fell from your lips as she sent more and more waves of pleasure through you.

She continued her attention and despite how amazing it felt, your legs were shaking and your thighs burned. You were so tired you could barely hold yourself up even with her help.

"Jessie, I can't," you panted.

She relented this time, and she reached up with one hand to brace your back and she rolled you both, somehow keeping her mouth fixed between your legs as she laid you out on your back.

The burning in your thighs was immediately pushed from your mind as Jessie tucked her knees under her, pushed your legs back and leaned her head further into you. You covered your face at the sensations that were rolling through your body and she worshipped you incessantly.

You pushed your head back into the mattress and dug your fingers through your hair as you felt Jessie trace her fingers around your soaking entrance. A heady moan escaped you as she slipped easily inside.

Her strokes were slow and patient as she continued to suck on your clit. You writhed beneath her and soon she lifted her head up, her fingers not missing a beat, as she began to kiss her way up your body. When her lips reached your neck she began to tend to the skin there with slow kisses.

"I love you so much," she said as she gently added a third finger, stretching you further.

"Oh my God, Jessie." Your voice was high with need and you were short of breath as you wrapped your arms and legs around her and clutched her tightly to you. She tucked her free arm under your back and pulled you close as she continued to tenderly stroke in and out of you.

"Y/N," she whispered, her head lolling against yours now, her lips grazing your ear. "I'm going to spend every day making sure you know how much I love you." Her fingers curled inside of you with slow, steady thrusts. "You'll never have to question it."'

Your moans increased and you both tightened your grip on one another. You could feel that coiling sensation deep inside of you building already and you dug your nails into her back.

Her nails dug into you and she teeth sunk into your skin briefly. You felt her back arching over you as she stroked you deeper.

“I can’t wait to keep building my life with you,” she declared, her own body writhing against you as she made love to you.

"If it was up to me," she said, voice husky as she panted above you, "you'd be leaving here with my baby inside of you."

Your mouth fell agape and you tossed your head further back, a shameless moan filling the room.

"Jess." Her name came out of your mouth as a needy whine. "Holy fuck. I'm gonna cum again."

A cry fell from your lips as another orgasm rocked you. You screwed your eyes shut, but it still felt like your vision went hot white. You mindlessly clawed at Jessie's back and she maintained her rhythm, coaxing you through before slowing to a stop and resting inside of you.

Your chest heaved up and down as you struggled to catch your breath. You didn't even realize she was laying soft, faint kisses along your shoulders as she waited for you to come around.

You weren't sure how much time passed before you were able to open your eyes and look at her. There had been other times where she'd pushed you to the absolute brink and you expected her to wear the same cocky look she normally would, but instead she was watching you with pure adoration.

"You're my favourite person in this whole world," she told you with a warm smile. You managed a small laugh.

"And you're mine."

She kissed your cheek and gave you a smirk. "You better get some rest. This is only day one, after all."

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso #woso x reader #jflem #woso community #woso imagine #canwnt x reader #smut fic

523 notes · View notes

goldfades · 24 days ago

Text

thanksgiving | JOE BURROW [009]

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine it's crucial that we stand in solidarity with those who need our support. right now, the people of palestine are facing unimaginable hardship, and it's up to all of us to do what we can to help. whether it's raising awareness, donating to relief organizations, or supporting calls for justice and peace, every action counts. we can amplify their voices, shed light on their struggles, and work towards a future where every individual can live with dignity and freedom. your support can make a difference! FREE PALESTINE!

MASTERLIST

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3.6k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | your first thanksgiving with hayes!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | domestic!joe + family. playful arguing, joe being the husband-est hubby ever, one cup of wine, nothing else! just a sweet, thanksgiving fic for the series!

The drive to the Burrow family home was picturesque in that cozy, Midwestern kind of way—all open fields, wooden fences, and the occasional rusty mailbox at the end of a long gravel drive. The trees lining the road were just barely clinging to the last of their autumnal colors, leaves blowing in the cool November breeze and scattering across the asphalt like a final hurrah before winter set in.

You weren’t sure why you were nervous. It wasn’t like this was your first Thanksgiving with Joe’s family. Far from it. But something about this year felt different—maybe it was the fact that Hayes was here now, his first big family holiday, and you wanted everything to be perfect.

"You’re quiet," Joe remarked, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting lazily on the console between you.

You glanced over, snapping out of your thoughts. "Just thinking," you replied, trying to keep your tone light.

He gave you a sideways look, the corners of his mouth quirking up. "About what? How Jamie’s gonna try to give me shit the second we walk in the door?"

You laughed, because he was right. Jamie Burrow was the king of light-hearted roasts, and you knew Joe was gearing up for it. But you shrugged in response, keeping your act casual. "Maybe. Or about how your mom is gonna sneak Hayes away and spoil him with who knows how much pie before dinner."

"Definitely pie," Joe agreed with a chuckle. His smile made your chest warm, even though the nerves were still lingering.

Hayes was making little coos from his car seat in the back, and you turned to check on him. His chubby cheeks were flushed from the heater, and he was clutching his favorite stuffed bear in one hand while kicking his feet. It was hard to believe that this little human was yours—yours and Joe’s.

"He’s ready for all the attention," you said, more to yourself than to Joe, but he heard you.

"Good. They’ve been talking about seeing him for weeks," he replied. "I think my mom’s got a whole picture board made up just from the five photos I sent her."

"Robin would," you said with a smile, your shoulders relaxing a little. The Burrow family had a way of doing that—making you feel like you belonged, like you were just as much a part of them as Joe was. It was one of the many things you loved about them.

As the car slowed down to turn into the long driveway, you sat up a little straighter, taking in the sight of the house. It looked exactly the same as it always did—a warm, welcoming mix of red brick and wood, with a wide front porch that was already decorated with pumpkins and a “Gather” sign leaning next to the door.

"Here we go," Joe said, putting the car in park and flashing you a reassuring smile.

You took a deep breath, your hands fidgeting with the straps of your bag. "Here we go," you repeated, and even though you still felt a little nervous, you couldn’t help but smile as you opened the door.

Joe was already climbing out of the driver’s seat, opening the back door to unbuckle Hayes. You stood there for a moment, watching the way his broad frame seemed to soften as he scooped up your son, cradling him with a gentleness that never failed to make your heart skip.

"Alright, buddy," Joe murmured to Hayes, who blinked sleepily at him. "Time to meet the chaos."

You grabbed the diaper bag from the backseat and slung it over your shoulder, walking up to meet them as Joe waited for you. The two of you exchanged a quick look, a little smile passing between you like an unspoken promise: whatever the day held, you’d tackle it together.

The crunch of gravel under your boots was loud in the stillness of the late November morning. Joe walked a step ahead of you, Hayes nestled snugly against his chest in his thick little jacket, looking adorably rumpled from the car ride. The baby let out a soft coo, still half-asleep, and Joe’s hand instinctively rubbed gentle circles on his back, soothing him like it was second nature.

The air was cold but not biting, carrying the faint scent of woodsmoke and dried leaves. A light breeze tugged at your scarf, and you pulled it tighter around your neck as you glanced up at the Burrows’ house. There were already signs of life inside—the flicker of movement behind the curtains, the faint clatter of dishes from the kitchen. A plume of smoke curled lazily from the chimney, promising warmth and something delicious cooking inside.

You couldn’t help but smile as you approached the steps. Robin had clearly been busy, her festive touch everywhere. The pumpkins on the porch were arranged in perfect, symmetrical groups, with a few gourds tossed in for good measure. The handmade wreath on the door was adorned with tiny pinecones, sprigs of holly, and a big orange bow that somehow managed to look charming instead of tacky. A set of hay bales sat off to the side, topped with more pumpkins and a scarecrow that was a little worse for wear after years of use.

"You think they went all out just for Hayes?" you asked, half-teasing as you nudged Joe with your shoulder.

Joe glanced back at you, his lips quirking up into a smirk. "Probably. He’s already their favorite."

"Not hard to believe," you said, tilting your head toward Hayes, who was now fully awake and blinking up at Joe with wide, curious eyes.

Joe stopped at the front door, shifting Hayes so he was perched comfortably on one arm while he knocked lightly with the other. The sound barely had time to echo before the door flew open, and Robin’s face appeared, flushed and glowing with excitement.

"There you are!" she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she immediately zeroed in on Hayes. "Oh, give him to me. Come here, my sweet boy!"

Joe chuckled, handing Hayes over with a kind of resigned fondness. "Barely even a ‘hello’ for me, huh?"

Robin waved him off, already cooing at Hayes, who rewarded her with a gummy smile. "You I can see anytime. This little one, though—look at him! He’s gotten so big!"

You laughed as Robin disappeared further into the house, bouncing Hayes gently and muttering about how he looked just like his daddy. Joe sighed but smiled, holding the door open for you as you stepped inside.

The warmth of the house hit you immediately, along with the unmistakable smell of Thanksgiving—roasting turkey, spiced apple cider, and the faintly sweet aroma of whatever pie Robin had undoubtedly baked that morning. The living room was cozy and inviting, with a fire crackling in the stone fireplace and a few throw blankets draped over the couch.

"Mom, don’t hog him," came a voice from the kitchen, and a second later, Jamie appeared in the doorway, wiping his hands on a dish towel. His face split into a grin when he saw you. "Hey! There’s my favorite sister-in-law."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling as Jamie pulled you into a quick, one-armed hug.

"Favorite by default," you teased.

"Still counts," Jamie shot back before turning his attention to Joe. "What took you so long? You get lost?"

Joe shrugged, unbothered as he dropped the diaper bag by the couch. "Traffic."

Jamie snorted. "Sure. Anyway, Dan’s in the kitchen pretending he knows how to cook. You should go make sure he doesn’t burn the gravy again."

Joe raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, patting your back lightly before heading toward the kitchen. That left you standing in the living room with Jamie, who was now peering over Robin’s shoulder at Hayes.

"Man," Jamie said, shaking his head in mock awe, "he really does look like Joe. Poor kid."

"Watch it," you said, swatting his arm lightly, though you were smiling.

Robin just rolled her eyes. "You boys always have something to say. Ignore them, sweetheart," she added, planting a kiss on Hayes’s cheek. "You’re perfect, aren’t you?"

Hayes gurgled happily in response, and you felt a swell of gratitude as you watched the scene unfold. It was moments like this that made all the chaos and exhaustion of parenting worthwhile.

"Alright," Jamie said, clapping his hands together. "Who’s ready to eat too much and regret it later?"

You laughed, shaking your head as Robin led the way toward the kitchen, still doting on Hayes. You lingered for a moment, soaking in the warmth and the laughter, feeling, for the first time in a while, like you could actually relax.

The warmth of the house felt almost like a physical thing, wrapping around you in layers of comfort and familiarity. You sat curled up on the armchair in the corner of the living room, legs tucked beneath you, holding a glass of wine that was just the right balance of fruity and rich. The first sip had melted the tension in your shoulders, and now, halfway through the glass, you felt completely at ease.

Across the room, Joe was sprawled on the couch, one arm thrown over the back as he laughed at something Jamie said. Dan was perched on the other side, gesturing animatedly as he told some elaborate story about a coworker, complete with ridiculous voices and exaggerated facial expressions. Joe’s laugh came easily, a sound that always made you smile, deep and genuine, the kind of laugh he didn’t always let out when the weight of everything was on his shoulders. But here, with his brothers, he was relaxed, his guard down in a way that made you love him even more.

Robin bustled in and out of the room, keeping herself busy but always finding a way to linger near Hayes. The baby was content in Joe’s dad’s lap, looking up at his grandfather with wide, curious eyes as they played a gentle game of pat-a-cake. Hayes giggled at the clumsy movements of his grandfather’s hands, a soft, tinkling sound that had the whole room glancing over every few moments to smile. Robin kept stopping to coo at him, her face lighting up every time Hayes smiled back at her.

"You’re spoiling him already," you teased, setting your glass down on the side table.

Robin glanced over, not looking the least bit guilty. "That’s what grandmas are for, sweetheart. Besides, look at him! He’s an angel."

"Yeah, until bedtime," Joe muttered, earning a laugh from Dan.

"Don’t listen to your daddy," Robin said to Hayes in a sing-song voice, tickling his chubby cheek. "You’re perfect."

"Perfectly spoiled," Jamie chimed in from the couch.

"You’re one to talk," Robin shot back, narrowing her eyes at him. "I remember a certain little boy who used to demand two desserts at Thanksgiving."

"Still do," Jamie said with a grin, leaning back against the couch.

You laughed softly, watching the easy banter unfold around you. It was such a stark contrast to the usual chaos of your day-to-day life. The house felt alive but not overwhelming, full but not stifling. There was a rhythm to it, a comfort in the way everyone seemed to fall into their roles so seamlessly.

Joe caught your eye from across the room, his lips quirking into a small smile that made your heart flutter. He tilted his head slightly, silently asking if you were okay, and you gave him a reassuring nod.

"Hey," Dan said suddenly, sitting up straighter and looking between you and Joe. "You two never answered—who was Hayes’s first word gonna be for? Mom or Dad?"

You raised an eyebrow, already amused. "Isn’t it a little early for that? He’s barely babbling."

"It’s never too early to start betting," Dan said, leaning forward like he was ready to instigate. "I’m putting my money on Mom."

"Obviously," Jamie cut in. "Look at how much time Joe spends at practice. This one’s got all the one-on-one time with him." He gestured toward you with a smirk.

"Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence," Joe said, though he didn’t sound the least bit offended.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and unrestrained. "I think we’re all underestimating Robin here," you said, nodding toward her. "If anyone’s going to win, it’s going to be Grandma."

Robin looked up, clearly pleased. "Now, that’s what I like to hear," she said, lifting Hayes into her arms. "Tell them, sweetheart. Your first word is going to be ‘Grandma,’ isn’t it?"

Hayes let out a happy squeal, and the room erupted into laughter.

"See?" Dan said, pointing. "The kid’s already choosing sides."

It was moments like these that felt so profoundly domestic, so deeply rooted in love and connection, that you couldn’t help but feel a pang of gratitude. This was what life was supposed to feel like, you thought. The laughter, the teasing, the small moments that weren’t flashy or grand but were filled with warmth and belonging.

As the conversation shifted to old family stories—Jamie reliving his disastrous high school football days, Dan reminding Joe of his most embarrassing childhood moment—you leaned back in your chair, letting the sound of their voices wash over you.

Joe’s laugh, Hayes’s soft coos, the crackling of the fire—it all blended together into something that felt sacred. And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself fully relax, the wine warming you from the inside out as you soaked in the feeling of being surrounded by love.

It wasn’t long before the front door opened again, ushering in the kind of joyful chaos that only a late arrival of more family could bring. Dan’s wife, Emily, walked in first, balancing a casserole dish in one hand and wrangling their two kids with the other. Their little girl, Claire, darted into the house immediately, a whirlwind of energy as she flung herself into Robin’s arms, shouting, “Grandma!” Her younger brother, Ethan, clung shyly to Emily’s leg, his face half-buried in her coat, though his eyes sparkled with curiosity.

The house shifted in an instant, going from comfortably bustling to vibrantly alive. Jamie, who had been halfway through a story about Joe getting tackled during a backyard football game as a kid, was cut off mid-sentence by Claire’s shriek of delight when she spotted Hayes.

“Is that the baby?!” Claire exclaimed, rushing over to you so quickly you barely had time to laugh.

“Yes, this is Hayes,” you said, scooping him into your arms just as she reached you. “Want to say hi?”

Her eyes went wide as she nodded, standing on tiptoe to get a better look. “He’s so tiny!” she whispered, her voice full of awe. “Can I hold him?”

“Maybe in a little bit,” Emily said, swooping in to kiss Claire’s forehead before gently redirecting her. “Let’s give Auntie a little space first, okay?”

“Hi, sweetheart,” Emily said to you warmly, pulling you into a one-armed hug. “You look amazing. I don’t know how you do it with a newborn.”

“Oh, I don’t,” you said with a laugh, glancing at Joe, who was now helping Ethan out of his coat. “It’s definitely a team effort.”

Joe glanced up at you, catching your eye with a soft smile, before looking down at Ethan and saying, “All right, buddy, what do you say we find a snack?”

Ethan nodded eagerly, finally warming up to the environment as Joe led him toward the kitchen, leaving you with a heart-melting view of your husband holding a tiny hand in his much larger one.

Robin, meanwhile, had taken Claire under her wing, walking her over to show her some toys she’d dug out of storage for the grandkids. Jamie and Dan were now animatedly talking over each other in the kitchen, their voices growing louder as they debated which team was better this season.

The dining table was already set for dinner, though the plates were still empty, and the smell of roasted turkey and fresh-baked rolls wafted through the air. The kids’ laughter mingled with the low hum of conversation, creating a symphony of family life that felt utterly perfect.

You leaned back against the armrest of the couch, Hayes nestled against your chest, his tiny fist curled into your sweater. The warmth of the moment settled over you like a blanket. For years, Thanksgiving had always been a holiday you loved, but this year, it felt entirely different.

This year, it wasn’t just about stepping into Joe’s family dynamic—it was about being part of it. Fully, completely.

Hayes stirred in your arms, letting out a tiny yawn, and you pressed a kiss to his soft cheek. The sounds of the house swirled around you: Jamie shouting at Dan about a botched play from years ago, Robin gently scolding Claire for nearly toppling a lamp, Joe’s deep laugh ringing out from the kitchen as he handed Ethan a cookie before dinner.

It was chaotic, yes, but it was also yours.

For the first time, you realized just how much your life had changed—and how much fuller it had become. You weren’t just visiting anymore. You were here, firmly planted in this family, and now you had your own little addition in Hayes to make it even more complete.

You took a deep breath, soaking in the moment, and when Joe reappeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a soft look on his face, you couldn’t help but smile.

“You good?” he asked quietly, nodding toward you and Hayes.

“Better than good,” you replied, your voice soft but full of meaning.

And as Joe crossed the room to press a kiss to the top of your head, the sounds of family and love filling the space around you, you couldn’t imagine life feeling any better than this.

As the remnants of Thanksgiving dinner were finally cleared away, the house slowly shifted into that post-meal lull, the kind that only happens after too much food and a full day of laughter. The dishes were stacked, the leftovers tucked neatly into the fridge, and the smell of pumpkin pie and cranberry lingered faintly in the air.

True to form, Joe and Jamie were in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up and good-naturedly bickering over who was doing more work as they washed and dried dishes.

"You're just rinsing! That doesn't count as actual cleaning," Jamie quipped, flicking a soapy sponge at Joe, who dodged it easily, his laugh echoing through the house.

"I'm faster, though," Joe shot back, grinning. "If you were in charge, we'd still be on the first plate."

From your spot on the couch, you watched the exchange with a small smile, feeling the warmth of the moment settle in your chest. It was always like this—Robin ran the kitchen like clockwork, and the boys cleaned up after, bickering and laughing the whole way through. It was a system that worked, one steeped in years of tradition and familiarity, and now you were part of it.

Hayes had been fed and changed, and after a day full of passing from one adoring family member to another, he was finally fast asleep, his little cheek resting against Joe’s shoulder as he cradled him gently. Joe had scooped him up the moment he was done cleaning, murmuring something about "making sure he settles down" when in reality, you knew he just wanted to hold him a little longer.

The game was on in the background—a close one, judging by the animated way Dan and Jamie were arguing from their spots on the other side of the living room. Robin sat in her favorite chair, knitting something that looked suspiciously like a baby blanket while quietly enjoying the chaos. Claire was nestled beside her, yawning but refusing to go to bed just yet, her eyes glued to the game.

Joe finally sank down beside you, careful not to jostle Hayes, who let out a tiny sigh before burrowing further into his dad’s chest.

“You okay?” he asked softly, leaning close enough that his shoulder brushed yours.

You nodded, your heart swelling as you took in the scene around you. “Yeah. This is... really nice.”

Joe smiled, his gaze flickering to the screen where the game was heating up. “It’s the perfect ending. Well, almost.”

“Almost?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Almost. If Jamie would stop yelling about bad play calls, it’d be perfect,” he joked, his grin widening as Jamie shot him a glare from across the room.

The sounds of the game blended with the laughter, the clink of glasses, and the occasional hum of Robin’s knitting needles. It was perfectly chaotic, just as it had been all day, but now there was a softness to it, a sense of winding down and simply being.

Joe’s arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you closer as Hayes snuggled deeper into him. “I think this is my favorite Thanksgiving yet,” he murmured, his voice low and full of contentment.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, letting the warmth of his words and the moment wash over you. There was nothing extraordinary about it—no grand gestures, no flashy celebrations—just family, love, and a feeling of belonging so deep it made your chest ache in the best way.

And as the night wore on, the game eventually fading to background noise, you thought about how lucky you were to call this your life, your family. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours, and it was more than enough.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#joe burrow #joe burrow bengals #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow smut #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x you #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow x oc #nfl fic #nfl picks

356 notes · View notes

rs-hawk · 11 months ago

Note

I'd love to see more yeti or Bigfoot dragging their mate off to their cave in the woods

They're just slightly smart enough to communicate with gestures but not enough to understand why you'd want to leave

Y’all fr making me lose my mind with this asks. Love it

You decided to go hiking with a group of coworkers. It’s supposed to be a team building experience, but you don’t care about that. You’re just glad that you’ll get paid to be outside. It’s better than being trapped inside all day, listening to people you don’t care about complain about things you also don’t care about.

You started to get a bit ahead, nor caring about the gossip and taunting that your other coworkers are exchanging. Your one work friend pulled out last minute, making you wish you’d stayed home today. That feeling wouldn’t last for too long though.

As you followed the path, you lost sight of the group behind you when you looked back. While you felt relieved by that, you also wondered if that would mean you wouldn’t get paid since technically you weren’t apart of any of the “team building” and “morale strengthening” going on behind you. You pushed that thought from your mind and decided to keep going on. They were lucky you came at all. Surely no one would be so petty as to not pay you because you got excited and got a little ahead.

When you heard a branch breaking just off the path, you didn’t think too much of it. Someone probably just was catching up to you. However, when you heard thumping on the trees, a shiver went down your spine. You remembered your Dad telling you about Big Foot and how he always made himself known by banging on trees, and that horrid smell. Luckily you didn’t smell anything, so you pressed forward.

Again, you heard the branch breaking. This time you froze, looking towards the sound of the breaking branch. Just as soon as you saw the flash of brown fur, you were scooped up by it. A scream ripped from your throat as you were carried away from the trail faster than you could comprehend.

You were taken to a cave, where the creature set you on a bed of moss and leaves. It was soft at least. The creature that loomed over you was a stereotypical Big Foot, making your heart leap into your throat. He gestured for you to lay down, but you shook your head.

He frowned, gesturing again. You shook your head. “What? No. I need to leave.”

You pointed to the opening of the cave, but this time, the creature shook his head. He lightly pushed you onto your back, burying his furry face into the crock of your neck. The feeling of his tongue, lips and teeth on your neck drew out an involuntary moan from your lips. He took that as a sign of invitation, moving his large, furry hands down your body.

You jerked away, moving slightly closer to the mouth of the cave. He drew you back to him, now pinning you under him. His huge cock was already leaking precum, which he smeared against your jeans as he grinded against you. You couldn’t believe how soaking wet this thing was making you.

He tried to pull off your jeans, but was clearly confused and agitated. After a moment, you decided that this wasn’t real. It was just a dream, right? Big Foot isn’t real. What could it hurt to have a little fun?

You slipped off your jeans, and he groaned, back to grinding his leaking cock against you. The tip of his cock pushed your panties into you, obviously not understanding the barrier at first. Just as you’re about to pull them off, instead, he ripped them off. Within a second, he slammed his giant cock inside of you. That mix of pain and pleasure made you realize that this wasn’t a dream. It was real. But you were too cock drunk to care at this point.

The furry creature abused your poor dripping cunt merciless. He bit and nipped at your neck, leaving deep bruises all over your neck and throat. His fat cock stretched you out with every thrust, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix repeatedly. You knew that if he was to cum in you that there was no way that you wouldn’t get pregnant. It was basically in your womb with every thrust. Again though, you couldn’t bring yourself to care too much.

Big Foot groaned and grunted, sounding animalistic and feral as he used your poor human cunt. He flipped you over, shoving your face into the moss so he could reach deeper into you. This drew tears from you as you gripped the moss. Tears ran down your face as your eyes rolled back into your head. Your cunt was wrapped around him, drawing him in deeper. You wanted to beg for him to keep going just like that because you were so close, but you couldn’t get any words out. Instead you just moaned and whined, pushing back against him.

Finally, as you felt him pulsing inside of him, so close to cumming, you clenched down around him. Your orgasm finally flowed, making you choke out a sob into the moss. Your mind was fuzzy. Your cunt was throbbing excitedly. He moaned loudly at the feeling of you clenched around him, and that was all it took for him to release inside of you.

His cum filled you up, extending your stomach, rounding it out. It gave you a precursor to what your stomach would soon look like, round with his child.

970 notes · View notes

spacechalk · 8 months ago

Text

Glass

After it was all over, Aziraphale sat on the edge of a bluff and let his feet hang over the side. Rivers and farmland stretched before him. In the distance he spotted a church crouched behind a copse of trees. His heel knocked loose a pebble. He watched it tumble into empty space and wondered what it would feel like to follow.

Behind him he heard the gentle rumble of an engine. The sound of a door slamming shut was muted, as was the crunch of boots on gravel as someone approached. He didn’t look around.

A wine bottle was thrust before his eyes. Automatically, he noted the vintage. He must have gone to some effort for this.

“Drink?”

Aziraphale nodded.

Crowley dropped beside him, sending another cascade of pebbles down the cliff. He produced two wine glasses and handed one to the angel.

Once the wine had generously been decanted, Crowley knocked his glass against Aziraphale’s with a bright ring that vibrated through his fingers.

“I believe congratulations are in order,” he said, taking a swig.

“Hmm,” Aziraphale murmured. He peered into his glass. He could see his reflection along the outer rim.

Crowley cleared his throat. “They underestimated you.” He hesitated, then made an aborted gesture with one hand. “I underestimated you.”

Aziraphale took a long pull from his glass.

Crowley planted his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, trying to catch Aziraphale’s eye. When the angel didn’t look up, he turned away, face etched with resignation. He kicked a heel against the cliff and watched dirt shower down.

Aziraphale took this opportunity to eye the demon’s profile.

“How does it work?” he asked.

Crowley looked over his shoulder. “How does what work?”

“No Heaven. No Hell.” The icy hand that had been stalking him the last few months seized his heart. “How do you know good from evil?” A dark void threatened to open up beneath his feet. If he put one foot wrong he would fall in and keep falling, forever. He struggled to breathe. “What if you can’t? What if there…isn’t? At all?”

Suddenly there was a hand on his arm. He could hear his breath harsh in his ears as he looked at it. He looked up into Crowley’s yellow eyes.

“It’s okay angel. Breathe.”

Aziraphale could feel tears gathering in his eyes. “The sheer – arrogance,” he murmured, “to think that I – ”

“Arrogant?” A strangled laugh struggled in the demon’s throat. “Aziraphale – you are the only person I met in all of Hell or Heaven who cared – at all – to even try to figure out what was right and wrong,” he said intently, every line of him leaning forward, eyes wide, trying to make him understand. “The arrogance to try? What about the arrogance of thinking you don’t have to?” His breath pulled rapidly in and out of his chest.

The tears Aziraphale had been fighting spilled over.

“I’m not sure this is going to be comforting but – I don’t think anyone knows for sure, certainly not me,” Crowley said. His grip on Aziraphale’s arm tightened. “I’m not sure that what the Almighty imparted in the garden was knowledge of good and evil so much that it was knowledge that everything is complicated and all of it matters so much. It deserves your conscience and your doubt. It deserves your best effort.”

He tilted his head, tried to catch Aziraphale’s eyes. “I am not worried about you at all,” he said, lips quirking in an attempt at a smile. “You, who gave your sword away at the very Beginning. You’ve always had a heart for these things.”

Aziraphale raised a hand to wipe his eyes and Crowley let go, turning to look out over the landscape below. Aziraphale immediately missed his grip; but he was still close, shoulders brushing together.

“’Sides,” Crowley said, aiming for nonchalance and falling staggeringly short, “I’ll still be here. It’s easier together, I think.”

Crowley looked out at the fields and Aziraphale looked at Crowley. He was swamped by the urge to put his head on Crowley’s shoulder and only just managed to resist it.

Aziraphale looked into his glass. “About what you said – in the bookshop –” he began.

Crowley flung up a hand to head him off. He drained the rest of his glass in one go. “We don’t need to talk about that,” he rasped.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “Don’t we?”

Crowley shook his head emphatically. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I said anything. Or…” He hesitated, his eyes dropping to Aziraphale’s lips before careening away. “…did, anything. You don’t need to say…what you’re going to say. I promise I won’t do it again.” He sloppily crossed his heart and pushed himself to his feet.

Aziraphale listened to his footsteps crunching back toward the Bentley. A kind of calm anger poured in and began filling up his chest. His face set like stone. “That’s a shame,” he said out loud.

The footsteps paused. “What was that?”

“I said – ” Aziraphale pushed himself to his feet and turned around. Crowley stood halfway to the car, bottle and glass in one hand, keys in the other.

“I said,” he said, “it’s a shame that you will never again tell me that you love me; will never kiss me again.” He twisted his hands together, fingernails biting into skin. “I was rather hoping you would.”

Crowley stared at him.

Aziraphale moved forward until they were only inches apart. He held Crowley’s eyes.

Crowley hesitated for a long moment, searching his face. Finally he swayed forward, almost helplessly, head tilted, and pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s.

Aziraphale inhaled sharply and leaned into the kiss. He brought one hand around to grip Crowley’s shoulder, and used the other to cup Crowley’s face. A tremor ran down Crowley’s body. Aziraphale brushed his thumb along Crowley’s jawline and deepened the kiss. That icy hand retreated and Aziraphale dared to hope he would learn how to keep it at bay. He felt like he had stepped outside in winter and found a patch of sun.

He pulled back and smiled to himself at the dazed expression on Crowley’s face. “Do you want to get rid of…” he indicated the bottle and glass still in Crowley’s hand.

Crowley slowly dragged his eyes away and looked at the offending objects. “Hm? Oh, right.” Unceremoniously, he tossed them away, stuffing the keys back into his pocket as he did so. His arms encircled Aziraphale and pulled him back in for another heady kiss.

The glass hit the ground, but instead of shattering into shards, it shattered into seeds, which germinated far too rapidly, extending tender green shoots and fragile white roots until a patch of wildflowers had rooted in the gravel beside the road, an eddy of pink, red, purple, and impossible blue.

#good omens #fanfic #soft #but soft what light #i hope everyone is having a good week #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands

474 notes · View notes

munefille · 2 months ago

Note

I’m not sure if you already answered this but why is Lorne disliked? You mention that his coloring isn’t the chief reason

Also does Lorne like the reader in a platonic or potentially romantic way? I’m only asking because I wonder how Lorne would react to the reader coming up to him and asking for a blessing to pursuit a romantic relationship with someone ô_ô

Love your work!!! Thank you!!

They kind of know he's not really... all there. His mother is also to blame for some of it too. He was conceived while she was already in a courtship with another male, which is extremely looked down upon in a species that typically pairs for life. Even though Lorne had nothing to do with his mother's infidelity, the fact that he was the product of it makes him perceived as tainted.

I would say he just likes you in general, whether that's platonically or romantically depends on the scenario. It wouldn't matter much though because he's not sharing you either way. You're his little worshipper and frankly he'd start spiraling if you held someone else to the same importance.

here's a drabble to expand on it more (took so long to answer bc I kept rewriting this)

cw: gore

✂┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"What’s going on?"

Cool night air brushed past you in a hurry, the breeze taking with it the unorthodox scent of iron and melted ice. Far above hung the pale moon, gazing down like a witness to what was occurring, clusters of stars accompanying it in its judgement. Your question was left unanswered by a few moments of tense silence.

“This is your beloved?” came a quiet voice from above you, so slightly hesitant as it asks. An excited nod was your response as you directed your attention towards the person on the other side of the trees. The man remained unaware of the presence watching, merely believing you had taken him on a night walk and had disappeared to search for something beyond the forest line.

The being beside you spread his wings a small degree, the white feathers appearing nearly iridescent when hit by wandering moonlight.

"And you asked for my approval. There is one thing that must be shown before I can offer that." He answered, gently tilting your head to the scene before you. "Watch. If you are still together by the end of the night, then you will have my approval."

You would've found such a proposal suspicious had you not trusted Lorne, the angel, with your life. That's why you had asked in the first place for him to bless your union; surely, he would guide you in the right direction. Not far from where your beloved stood was a cave. Your angel seemed rather adamant at bringing him here.

It wasn’t long before you heard deep growls echoing from within the dark hole. A lump formed in your throat. It was during this time of the year that bears searched for their last meals before their long sleep. You had never stumbled upon one yourself, but you knew from others that there were some that roamed the forest, highly territorial creatures they were.

Your suspicions were proven right as a beast lumbered out of the cavernous shadows, nearly as dark as the place it emerged from. Your lover remained unknowing of the threat approaching, his back turned to the path in wait for you.

You wanted to call out, to warn him of the danger that was coming upon him with a ferocious snarl, revealing teeth longer than your hand. A pleading expression enveloped your face as you looked up to Lorne, “Please-”

He hushed you with a far too large hand over your lips, but it was too late by then.

The bear launched itself at the man with a final roar, though the time for warning had long since passed. He couldn’t even turn around fully to face the creature before it got ahold of his arm, tearing it nearly clean off. The scream he emitted then would haunt you. Never had you heard a man wail like that, the wail of a man watching his own flesh be torn and eaten in front of him. Oh, there was so much blood spurting from the stump, yet that was only the beginning of it.

He attempted to scramble backwards, but the removal of one of his limbs distorted his balance, causing him to collapse on his side. The bear saw an opening, large jaws revealing those wicked teeth stained red, bits of skin caught in between them. It latched onto his side, shaking him around like a ragdoll in its maw. There was a terrible choking noise as the bear’s teeth punctured his lungs, and finally you could take it no more.

You pushed past the dense brush from where you were positioned. Lorne made no move to stop your mad dash towards the mauling of your lover, eerily silent at what had happened.

It was a foolish idea, yes, but you couldn’t just stand and watch as his cries for help died. You picked up a stick, throwing it to the bear to get its attention. Anything to draw it away from the poor soul it was torturing. With a sickly crunch, the bear dropped the surely deceased corpse of the one you had adored, now hardly recognizable as a mass of badly desecrated flesh. Its angry eyes looked towards you first before its whole body lurched itself in your direction.

Bloody matted fur and flesh decorated teeth was what you assumed would be your last image before closing your eyes, expecting the same fate as your lover to become of you.

A few seconds passed, then a minute, the sensation of ripping limbs never gracing you.

When you found the courage to open your eyes, the bear was before you; its head was snapped all the way backwards. A shaky exhale came from your chest, tears beginning to blur your eyes as the adrenaline and grief still coincided.

“Oh. What a pity. I suppose it wasn’t meant to be.” Lorne’s voice trailed on monotonously, clearly uncaring of the gruesome slaughter that had just occurred. It was disorienting at times how soothing it was when it really should've disturbed you. The tears finally released themselves then, a quiet sob wracking your body.

“You see, had I not been there, who would’ve protected you from such a threat?” He came closer to where you were trembling on the ground, hurling the bear corpse away from you.

“The one you had chosen was inadequate. Don’t spill such sorrow over something that would’ve died eventually.” He said, in what you assumed was supposed to be a reassuring way, yet the tears didn’t stop.

He frowned at your mourning. Your shaken form was lifted into his arms as your eyes remained glued to the explosion of guts that seeped into the forest floor.

“You don’t need to worry,” he muttered into your hair, “I’ll find you another one.”

He spoke so calmly, his words a halfhearted attempt at consolation. All you could think about was how brutal God could be.

#yandere monster x reader #ask #monster oc #yandere x reader #lorne the forsaken #yandere drabble

168 notes · View notes

llamagoddessofficial · 10 months ago

Text

The sirens are always rescuing Mc. But what if, for once, Mc was the one who came to the rescue of a siren...?

Amazing commission, courtesy of the delightful @our-brightest-stars. I love any chance I can take to write more arctic-based stuff!

---

You could immediately tell, upon entering the room, that they had been talking about you.

Despite the sweet smell of coffee, the air was heavy. The chatter you had been hearing through the door immediately stopped, like you were a teacher that’d walked into a room of gossiping school kids. Four of your colleagues were gathered together around the kitchen table, mugs clasped in their hands - Evan, who you already thought was a bit of a dick, put his hand up to his shut mouth and cast a wide-eyed look to Leo and Tom beside him. Antoni, who you considered something of a friend, had her back to you but sank sheepishly into her beige turtleneck sweater regardless.

You bit the inside of your lip. You could tell from their faces what they had been discussing before you interrupted. You had gotten to know their expressions pretty well, after so long occupying the same cramped arctic research station together.

... Yeah, figured they’d find out eventually. If anything, I’m surprised it took them this long.

You wordlessly made your way over to the coffee pot, shoes squeaking against the rubber floor. You put your rucksack onto the counter, grabbing your flask out of it, skin prickling from their staring. There was still a significant amount of coffee left - a bonus of working with people who were also coffee addicts was they generally respected the ‘never leave the pot empty’ rule.

You filled your flask. The coffee still had some steam coming off it. Stars, the silence was deafening.

“... Uh... going out?” Antoni asked, plaintively, as you screwed the lid back on and pushed the sealed flask into the mesh on the side of your bag. At least she had the decency to sound ashamed. Leo didn’t do a very good job of hiding his snicker.

“Yeah.” You hefted the bag back onto your shoulders, doing your best to not make eye contact with any of them.

Evan, clearly, couldn’t contain himself. “Gonna go track down mothman?”

You felt a flush of multiple emotions at the same time. Some embarrassment, some shame, all of it quickly washed away by aggravation. Heat rose to your cheeks, but you held your tongue. You wanted to point out what a stupid fucking thing it was to talk about tracking mothman (a cryptid from West Virginia) in the high arctic, but it was obvious he was baiting you, so you kept your mouth shut.

It wasn’t the first time you’d been made fun of for what you believed in. However... the words stung that little bit more, when it was coming from your fellow scientists.

“Evan,” Antoni sounded exasperated, “don’t be such a prick.”

Evan raised his hands. “What? So I’m not allowed to ask questions?”

You didn’t respond. You walked past them, headed to the main corridor; you weren’t going to let this spoil your plans. “See you guys later.”

As you left the room, you vaguely heard Antoni and Leo starting to berate Evan in low whispers. Someone definitely called him an asshole, cut off as the door closed behind you.

You sighed. The hallway felt a lot longer than usual. You passed through another set of doors, heavy metal ones, into the cold ‘buffer’ room between the warm research station interior and the outside world. After double checking you had all your gear, you stepped out of the doors, outside into the sun.

People didn’t realise how beautiful the arctic could really be. If you told someone to describe the arctic, they would probably just talk about the ice. And yeah, sure, there was a lot of ice, it would be unreasonable to say someone was wrong for thinking of that. But that was like describing a forest as ‘just trees’. The arctic at this time of year was endless slopes of rugged greens that rolled and swayed and disappeared far away into the horizon and beyond, carved into shape by ancient lakes and glaciers scraping the ground piece by piece once in a millenia. It was a sight to behold. Trees couldn’t take root, only the hardiest shrubs survived, and you were little more than a stone’s throw from the vast sub-zero ocean.

That ocean, a haven for the rarest kinds of sirens, was your goal.

You tugged your backpack into a more snug position on your shoulders, and continued trudging through the stones and bare grasses. Even now, with the sun high in the air and all but the most stubborn chunks of the ice gone, the arctic was... well, the arctic. It never got warm enough to be comfortable and it was a good idea to just keep moving if you wanted to make it to the shoreline with enough time to actually get some footage before sundown.

You loved your job. Some would call you crazy, for willingly spending months at a time in the arctic circle studying sirens. You’d always been interested in sirens. The mystery and culture wrapped up within them, the inherent danger, so little information could solve so much. Siren studies was one of those areas where even the most fractional of discoveries would be groundbreaking and important.

... Sirens weren’t your true passion, though. Your true passion was what Evan had probably just discovered, and shared with your teammates - why you were lugging such a giant cold-resistant camera kit in your bag with you.

You quietened your thoughts with a swig of warm coffee, and an increased walking pace.

Would some people call your Youtube channel conspiratorial? Sure. But cryptids were where your heart really lied. Cryptid study, cryptid research, cryptid sightings... you were incredibly proud of the modest following of like-minded people you’d built up online over time - there was no doubt your qualifications definitely gave your word some weight in the tight-knit community. Honestly, you considered your research work simply a way to fund your true passion. Every day when you had the free time, you took your camera out with you, out into the beautiful arctic land. There was so much to look out for. What would you find? You were giddy. If you found something truly incredible, your channel could blow up, and you could do Youtube full time. Today your mission was just to get some footage of the sea for a voiceover section you had planned.

... There was never a small amount of side-eyeing from people you knew, when they found out what you were passionate about. You weren’t sure what was worse; the ones who rolled their eyes and made stupid comments, or the ones who nodded along but looked at you like you were a particularly imaginative child. At least the more aggressive ones were honest about how they really felt.

Sirens, in a way, felt like they proved that you were right to keep wondering what else was out there. They were incredible creatures, not even fractionally understood, dangerous and magical - they perfectly straddled the line between science and fantasy and there was so much of them that couldn’t be explained by those who (so frequently) brushed you off. How did their songs lure people? How do their bodies consist of such strange combinations of beings? How do they effortlessly sink hunting boats? Why did so many cultures have matching stories of them that perfectly apply to real life? In your world, honestly, the existence of sirens meant that a lot of other cryptids didn’t seem like too much of a stretch.

You had dedicated your life to researching sirens. By studying them, you could follow a path that was suitably scientific enough to shut up the assholes who didn’t take you seriously... but also gave you the time and resources to pursue your real passion.

You had to admit, you took pleasure in people discovering you were a scientist and a strong believer in certain cryptids. The visual erroring on their faces was wonderfully karmic to observe.

There was plenty of time to spare on the arctic research station. Experiments were frequent but didn’t take literally all day. You were left with ample opportunity to do whatever you pleased. Like, for instance... go out and film for your Youtube.

Aside from wanting to take pictures and film some B-roll, you just generally enjoyed being able to be outside. It was all well and good in the spring and summer, but when autumn and winter rolled around you’d be lucky to be able to see out of the windows. There was nothing as endless as the darkness of an arctic winter; the screaming winds, the days as pitch black as the nights, the many weeks cooped up in one place because the outside of the facility was literally one of the most hostile environments on Earth. It was good to stretch the legs - soak up as much serotonin as possible before the winter months came.

After a decent amount of time walking, immersed in your thoughts, you found yourself able to see the flat expanse of the sea poking just over the snow-topped hills. You were finally approaching the shore. Even from where you stood, you could see the massive ‘islands’ of ice floating silently away in the far distance. It was a truly magnificent place to be.

You rifled through your pockets for your hearing protection as you came close enough to the water to smell it, eventually having to pull off a glove for the dexterity. Even just a few metres from the sea you had to be aware of sirensong. Sirensong was always something of a risk but it was an even stronger risk while you were somewhere as remote as the arctic.

... But just before you got your protection into your ears, you heard something. It sounded like scrabbling, a weirdly desperate scratching. You stopped walking, turning cluelessly and searching for the source of the noise.

A few yards to your left, a patch of snow was wriggling.

No. It wasn’t snow. You blinked in surprise; it was an arctic hare, a surprisingly large animal, lean and white and with beady little black eyes. The animals this far north were always so much bigger than you expected. When it saw you notice it, it scrabbled and flailed in a way that only a frightened animal could, clearly desperately trying to run away.

Something was stopping it. Upon closer inspection, from where you stood, you could see it had one back leg trapped in a small crack in the ice.

... Huh. You moved nearer, putting your hearing protection back into your pocket. The hare flailed again, wildly kicking its front legs, it reminded you of an injured bird trying to fly. Then it totally stilled; as if it could hide from you after all that movement.

“... I really shouldn’t help you,” you said, dejectedly, to the terrified animal, watching its little whiskers twitch, long ears pinned back against its skull as it tried to act indistinguishable from the ground. “Survival of the fittest, and all.”

The hare’s beautiful eyes stared up at you. You could see its little chest going up and down, heart beating wildly under its soft white fur.

...

You scanned the horizon. There was no one around for a long while. Sure, your GPS tracker told your coworkers where you were at all times in case of emergency. But until they thought there was an emergency you absolutely weren’t being followed anytime soon.

...

You pulled your bag off your shoulders, kneeling down and tugging your ice pick out of its strap holder.

“No one will know, right?” you told the hare. It was just one hare. Even though leaving it was the logical thing to do, you couldn’t genuinely bring yourself to abandon this animal to die slowly and painfully while lodged in the ground. Besides, it was just one hare, wasn’t it? And it wasn’t like it had been caught by a predator, or something. It must’ve got its foot caught by accident; this was simply a terrible stroke of bad luck. If you freed it, it could go on to be eaten by a fox or wolf. Better that than to just die and freeze solid.

Using your ice pick, you carefully went behind the completely still creature. You were impressed by its dedication to stay totally still even when you were close enough to potentially reach out and stroke its fur. You had to be careful it didn’t spin around and bite you - you gently chipped away at the ice, extremely cautious not to catch its tiny bony leg. The entire time you dug, the hare was as still as the ice itself, unable to shake its instinctive need to stay small.

It really didn’t take long at all. A few careful draws of the sharp end of your axe against the compacted ice... and suddenly, like a gunshot going off, the animal sprinted away from you. Its powerful legs sent up a spray of snow, some of which went straight into your eyes - by the time you staggered to your feet, hurriedly wiped your face, sputtered and looked back up again, the hare was completely out of sight.

... Well. That was definitely a story to tell. You sighed, grabbing your bag and hoisting it back over your shoulder. At least -

- splashing?

Your head snapped toward the sea, in the direction of the sound. Against the total silence of the icy glassy sea, the splashing was loud, loud enough for you to hear it several metres away from the beach. It sounded frantic, almost aggressive. What the hell? What was going on today? You pushed your hearing protection onto your head, and half-ran-half-jogged toward the shoreline. The bare rock, grass and drifts of stubborn snow sloped away into loose pebbles that crunched and slid underfoot, mirrorlike water lapping slowly at the tide line only a few metres away. Lumps of ice, mini-glaciers of their own, floated silently and ominously by. This was water that would easily kill you if you fell in.

You scanned the shoreline, searching visually for the source of the noise you’d heard only moments ago - and soon you caught movement in the corner of your eye, just around a ‘corner’ caused by a rocky outcropping that jutted up a little higher than the rest of the landscape. Behind the outcropping, you could see large ripples spreading out, fast and random like something was fighting just behind where you could see. It was easy to pick up, considering the rest of the shoreline was so millpond still.

Immediately, you jumped into action, running across the pebbled beach and scrambling up and onto the rock face. You weren’t even sure what you were expecting to see. Was it a person in distress?

... Except you could instantly tell it wasn’t a person, when the hidden section of the beach came into view, and you immediately saw a massive sleek outline that was easily twice as big as a person. It was for sure some kind of animal. But it took you a few crucial seconds of mind-whirring confusion to figure out what it was.

... Oh my stars. You ducked slightly, as if that would help.

It was a skeleton orca siren. A huge one. Partially beached, right there on the shore.

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. All the breath left your chest at once. An skeleton orca siren, right before your eyes, bigger than you ever could’ve imagined, arching white markings and strong bones unmarred by any scars that could show a loss. Its sockets were sharpened with frustration - its body was against the shore at an angle, you could tell from how its tail was still able to cause those waves that the sea probably deepened extremely suddenly. It was thrashing, clawed hands digging into the ground, the force of its thrashing sending up showers of both stone and sea.

Your breaths were controlled. The closest you had ever gotten to seeing a siren before was spotting their distant tiny shapes breaching near your boat, or the blurry low-quality images from underwater cameras. You’d never seen one in person so close you could touch it.

Clearly, you weren’t all that sneaky. Its rounded skeletal face whipped around, and razor-like white eyelights in pitch dark sockets landed on you.

Both of you were the rabbit this time. You froze, all your hair standing on end, nerves prickling. The siren froze too, waves stopping, it glared your way. At least... you felt like it was glaring. It was impossible to tell, its skeletal features were devoid of any of the usual emotional tells you relied upon. Whatever it was thinking, it was definitely staring, claws curling into the ground. Just its arms, twice the thickness of yours, could almost definitely snap your body in half.

Man. Chills spread across your whole body. Good fucking thing you put your hearing protection in, huh?

You took a slow moment to take it all in. From the shape of the dorsal fin, you could tell it was male; male orca had a tall, almost triangular fin, while females had a much more sloped and curved appendage. Those sharp white eyelights cut into you, he was taking in you just as you took in him, clearly analysing every part of you. There was something so terrifying about his gaze - the eyes of a predator.

He watched you. He seemed... alert. Very very alert.

...

Your heart was thundering in your ears, the only sound you could hear in your hearing protection. You unglamorously pulled yourself over the rock outcropping, scrabbling down it, and - against all advice you’d read before - approached.

He was beached. You had to at least see if you could help, right? It was one thing to have an inner battle about leaving a hare to die, it was another when the potential victim was a creature just as intelligent and sentient and aware as a person. He was laid at an angle, but still laid, the highest point of his back coming up to about your ribs. He had lost the advantage of movement. You nearly tripped over yourself as you moved closer, nervous feet skidding in the loose rocks.

... As you approached, he seemed to get... calmer? His eyesockets lost their sharpness, his eyelights grew in size. It was the opposite of what you anticipated. He wasn’t any less intimidating, though, no less scary. Your eyes kept darting to his teeth.

“How the hell did you manage to do this?” you asked, though you weren’t expecting a response, unable to hear even your own voice through the protection. “Where’s the rest of your pod, you dumbass?”

Was he smiling at you? Surely not. You dropped your bag to the floor, a few feet from him, digging through it until you pulled out your thick waterproof overclothing. Some other items tumbled out as you removed the gear but you paid them no mind. The waterproof outfit was like a boilersuit, it could be put on over the top of your other items and zipped to create a (theoretically) waterproof layer. Normally, it was a pain in the ass to get on, but you felt that you were on a time crunch and had somehow manifested almost superhuman speed.

You zipped up the suit, now protected in case you got wet. The closer you moved to him, the more you wished you had time to stop and fully admire him. The water on his bones and skin made him almost appear like he was shimmering.

“... Ok,” you said, despite not being able to hear your own words, “easy big guy. Don’t bite. I’m just trying to help. I’ll get you back in the sea, and then I’ll go back to the land, and we can go on our way.”

He didn’t say anything. Because of course he didn’t, he was a siren, why did that thought even cross your mind? You blinked and shook your head, as if dispelling the thoughts physically. Of course he couldn’t talk. Something about his face felt so intelligent, somewhere deep down you had seemingly decided he could understand every word you said. And even if he did speak, it wasn’t like that’d be of any use to you.

Something about him was eerily calm, even as you moved around him, coming close enough to his side to be within touching distance. Surely, a stranded creature like him would be thrashing and fighting when you came nearer, just like the hare? Surely he’d be making angry, earsplitting sounds that you’d be able to feel in your chest? The wind was picking up, tussling your hair. The siren stayed perfectly calm.

“... I’m... I’m gonna need to touch you. Ok?”

...

... You reached out, and traced his skin with the tips of your fingers, extremely gently. It was cold. You immediately pulled back, turning and watching his face.

You expected something. Anything. A jump, a twitch, a lurch. Maybe even an attempt to fight you off. You expected him to swing around; hell, you expected him to even look at you. Any kind of a measurement of his reaction to you. Your legs were itching to leap back and flee.

But there was... nothing. No response from him at all.

You came in again, this time putting your palm against his back, just beside his fin. It felt like electricity was running up your arm.

Nothing. Like he didn’t even care you were there. He was looking over his shoulder at you with a bizarrely soft look. Like he wanted you there. You felt very, very strange. This wasn’t at all what you were thinking would happen.

It felt like such a naive thing to even consider, but maybe... maybe he knew you were trying to help?

Well, you didn’t have time to ponder the implications or reasons. You knew he was alright with physical contact. Now, you needed to figure out a way to get him back into the water.

You started by trying to pull - it only made sense, right? It kept you away from his front half, where the damage could be done. You looped your hands around the strong muscular base of his fin, using it like an anchor, digging your feet into the stones and throwing your whole weight backward. There was an extremely faint rocking of his body, literally about as much movement as someone trying to pull a car and only succeeding in making it bounce. Unperturbed, you tried again, pulling as hard as you could -

- the loose stones slid out from beneath your shoes. It kicked up the smell of wet seaweed and salt; if you hadn’t had your hands on his fin, your legs would’ve gone out from under you.

“Fuck,” you said breathlessly.

Did the siren laugh? Your head whipped around, he was looking ahead again. You felt like you saw his body move.

... It must’ve been some other kind of vocalisation. You stood and turned around, trying again, this time pushing with your hands braced against the same spot. You pushed as hard as you could, nearly forgetting to breathe out, feeling your shoulders and wrists starting to twinge in pain.

Once again, before you could make any meaningful progress, the force of your body made the slippery stones dislodge. You stumbled, all but falling flat onto his back, regaining yourself last minute and turning and looking over your shoulder at the siren’s head.

“You just gonna sit there and stare at me?” you asked, breathless and only half joking.

He was looking back. You really really got the feeling he was smiling at you.

You tried to push again, since it felt more solid than pulling. Yet everything you tried, the stones dislodged. The ground itself was fighting you. Frustrated, you dug your boot into the stones, trying to dig down and see if there was sand underneath, but there was just more and more loose wet rocks. Like the beach was making fun of you.

... Wait.

You thought back to the hare. Chipping at the ice around its leg.

You let go of him, scurrying back to your bag, then returning just as quickly with your pick in hand. The siren cast you a questioning glance, but still did absolutely nothing to stop your nonsense. Quickly, you dropped to your knees by his side, holding the pick by the head and jamming the wooden handle into the pebbles around where his tail met the floor. They came loose, of course.

You dug fast, using big scooping motions to pull the rocks out further each time. When you found a particularly large and difficult stone you flipped the pick and used the sharp edge to hoist it out of the ground. Seawater would occasionally slip into the gap you’d made, as the tide made the most minute waves you’d ever seen.

Excitedly, you ran around the siren, to dig on the opposite side. You didn’t notice how you ran perfectly within range of his arms, yet you dropped to his other side unharmed.

Your knees hurt. You were certain they’d be bruised. But you kept digging, and digging. You weren’t really doing anything more complex than making a ramp underneath him - but you were excited and flushed nonetheless, tired muscles full of hopeful vigour.

Suddenly, his tail splashed, you felt his whole body moving like an earthquake. You jumped away as far as you could, this time successfully falling flat on your ass - just like that, the siren drew away from you, moving backward into the water as he regained his grip and pushed himself. You were shocked by the speed and agility with which his huge body turned... and how he almost instantly disappeared, under the waves.

Holy shit, you thought, heaving, finally letting go of the pick as you stared out into the rapidly calming waters. It was like he’d never even been there. I actually... I actually did it. I just unbeached a siren. I...

Speaking of waves. Exhaustion, like a sudden tsunami, washed over you. Your shoulders sagged and your knees screamed in pain, you lifted your hands up to your face to see you had great crescents of red irritated skin on your palms. You were probably going to get blisters.

... The cold started to finally twinge at your fingers. You managed to draw yourself up to your feet, but you flopped right back down to your knees once you made it to your bag.

You opened it up, looking for your gloves, a lovely warm feeling filling your chest.

Amongst the dry kit, you saw your camera bag.

...

Wait. Your eyes widened.

... You forgot to take a picture.

Welp - that was the lovely feeling gone. Immediately, you let out a frustrated shout, falling onto your back and putting your hands over your face. You forgot to take a picture. What a fucking moron! You’d just been closer than almost anyone ever to a massive orca siren, and you hadn’t even thought to get your camera out. He’d literally been a sitting duck, you could’ve photographed every side of him, every scar and mark, stars you could’ve filmed a segment for your channel. But the idea hadn’t even crossed your mind, you’d been so determined to save him.

You’d probably never get another situation like this in your whole life. The universe threw the greatest possible chance at you. And you blew it.

... You dragged your hands down your face, staring up at the mottled sky. It wasn’t yet sunset, but you could tell the sun was beginning to inch toward it. If you wanted to film you’d have to do it right now.

...

... You couldn’t tell anyone back at the station about this. You folded your arm over your eyes. They wouldn’t believe you; they discover your ‘conspiratorial’ beliefs, tease you about it, you leave in a huff and then you conveniently come back a few hours later with an elaborate story about how you unbeached an adult orca siren? Yet strangely, you have absolutely no proof of the matter, despite having a camera on your person the whole time? You weren’t even sure if your followers would believe it. Sure, they’d believe you encountered a siren. But unlike what the rest of the world wanted to think, they absolutely weren’t stupid - they’d be hard pressed to believe you RESCUED the animal and didn’t think to record.

Eventually, you sat up. You were really and truly gutted. But there was no point fretting; not when you had daylight to use.

Might as well just get some of that B-roll.

///---///

Looking at the comments was always nice. When you weren’t busy, and couldn’t get outside, your second favourite thing to do was scroll through the comments on your videos. Of course you always got the occasional idiots who called you nuts, but those were few and far between, most were people being sweet or recounting their own experiences that you always read with complete rapture.

You imagined some might find it hard to believe that being tucked up in your tiny warm station room was your second favourite activity. Walking around in the wind and cold was much more fun. But that, of course, didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy curling up on your desk chair with a blanket and a mug of tea while reading people’s encouraging responses to your passion projects.

You’d only posted your most recent video, the one about your siren encounter, about an hour ago. You scrolled, delighting in the serotonin that came with having an active comment section.

... Eventually, you came across a longer one that caught your eye. You paused sipping your tea to read it.

@bluesaphii1996

I grew up somewhere where we constantly see sirens in our waters. I absolutely believe you saw a siren, because I’m like 99% certain I can see a siren in the sea behind you at 14:51. Look just to the left of your shoulder, about 2/3s of the way between the beach line and the horizon. Its head pops up for a second before it rolls in the water and dives again. Either that or it's a VERY weird seal. But I’ve seen enough sirens to recognise their behaviour. That siren is 100% watching you when your back is turned. Be safe!!

...

You had to read the comment three times over.

Huh? What?

Immediately, sitting up and setting your mug aside, you clicked back over to your video and skipped to the timestamp in question. In that part of the video, you had set up your tripod, and you were talking to the camera with the sea behind you. You stared hard at the screen.

... You weren’t really used to looking at the ocean. You were pretty certain that someone who grew up by the sea would be a lot better at seeing strange movements in the water than you were.

But sure enough, just like the commenter had said, you could just about make out a shape in the water. It broke the surface, then disappeared down again.

You had literally put your hands against that siren. You’d know it anywhere. That was definitely him; watching you from the water, many minutes after you’d rescued him and he could’ve swam far away.

...

You sat back in your chair. You weren’t entirely sure how you were supposed to feel about that.

... Probably not excitement.

You just couldn’t help it. A massive grin was spreading across your face. You were absolutely, utterly delighted.

Despite everything, you did get him on camera!

#commissions #hes a sneaky boy that one #not sneaky enough to not get stuck though apparently #calmest and nicest wild orca sans interaction

496 notes · View notes

juustokaku · 3 months ago

Text

Unzipped - Mingi x f!reader

Summary: Your new boyfriend Mingi wants to prove you he can be as sexy as San.

Genre: fluff, tries to be funny, jealous and insecure Mingi

Pairings: Mingi x f!reader

A/N: My best friend wanted me to write a fanfiction of Mingi, so I thought I'd share it here as well! Not that good, I wrote it in pretty short time, but at least my friend liked it <3 This has a brief mention of OnlyFans and flashers, but nobody in this is one!

Word count: 1 756

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

Mingi might have not remembered to lock the door when he left his apartment, or to take the food out of the oven, or even pay for the groceries until there were guards running up to him; but those were all insignificant things in life. The important thing was you. Everything else was only useless information in his eyes, but he wouldn’t forget any little detail about you, even if he tried to.

That’s why he had quite a peculiar outfit on.

As Mingi checked himself out from the mirror, his mind was tangled in anxious thoughts. Would you like how he looked? Would you think he was your type now? Would you burst out laughing at him?

At the possibility of you making fun of his outfit, he pulled the leather jacket a little more over his bare chest, feeling insecure. He wasn’t used to dressing this revealingly, but the echo of your words was still clear in the little memory bank of his head.

“Wow, San looks so sexy,” was what you had said five months ago, when you saw a picture the said man had posted on his Instagram.

In Mingi’s opinion, San’s pictures seemed like they would fit better on OnlyFans. Or maybe he was just a tad too jealous at you calling San sexy.

Mingi had deluded himself into thinking your type was sensual men in little to no clothing. Although you had started dating him a few weeks ago, stubbornly, he refused to forget your comment about San and believe he, his unique self, was your type.

He took off the jacket and flexed his biceps, which were prominent and good-looking, but cringed at himself, noting that San’s muscles were even bigger. Mingi’s plans of showing you, how hard he had worked to be your ideal type, went down the drain; how could he compete against San?

You wouldn’t like if Mingi arrived to the mall with a discouraged and depressed look on his face, so to get into a more energetic and happy mood for you, he started dancing to the music playing on his speakers while his tight, black pants almost ripped around his butt. Yes, it was that big. His greatest weapon at beating San.

“I am sexy. I am Y/N’s ideal type. I am better than San and everyone,” Mingi tried to manifest. If he could say those things out loud, it was possible they’d come true as well.

Apparently, universe hated him, because the moment you saw Mingi, you gasped in horror instead of awe.

“Mingi! It’s way too cold for you to be out here without a shirt!”

It was late autumn. Colorful leaves had left the trees long time ago, turned brown on the ground, and given space for the freezing wind to make fools like Mingi, who wanted to impress their girlfriends, shiver.

The man pouted at your words, “I’m not cold. I was at the gym before this so I still feel hot.”

Mingi felt a little bad about lying; he was indeed very cold, and he definitely hadn’t been at the gym. Instead of lifting weights he had tried to lift his own spirits up at home.

“Besides, I have a jacket on,” he continued.

A little chuckle escaped your lips despite your worry for Mingi’s health, “Hun, that means nothing if you keep the jacket unzipped.”

“I can take the jacket completely off and show you that I don’t get cold,” Mingi suggested, already starting to take off his garment. A little hope flickered inside his chest, that with this excuse he could show his upper body, and you’d fall head over heels for him. He just couldn’t accept that you already loved him, just as how he was.

“No, don’t do that! You’ll get sick.”

You pulled the jacket back on him, the tips of your warm fingers brushing against his cold chest. He may have been freezing but your touch warmed his body, especially cheeks, up instantly.

He would have rather worn his light pink sweater that would have matched the blush on his cheeks but he had hoped to impress you. But now, he had only managed to impress you with how stupid he had been to go out without a shirt.

“Come. Let’s go buy you a shirt,” you pulled on the sleeve of Mingi’s jacket, to make him follow you inside the mall you had been standing in front of. Some teenagers had been snickering at the lack of Mingi’s clothing while older people gave him dirty looks.

Mingi couldn’t care less about other people’s reactions, but when you pulled on the sleeve instead of his hand, he felt devastated. He had known this would happen; you hated his outfit so much, that you didn’t want to touch him anymore!

He followed you into his favorite clothing store, overjoyed that you remembered what he liked. The love he had for you was so big, that every little thing you did to remind him you loved him too, made him almost want to jump around. He couldn’t do that though or his pants would surely rip.

“Look at this shirt! This would suit you well,” you took a shirt with a picture of a duck on it out of the clothes rack to show Mingi.

The shirt was absolutely adorable, but the man just shook his head. Deep in his heart, he wanted to throw the shirt on his body and feel comfortable and warm again, but he was not going to lose to San’s overflowing sexiness you seemed to love so much. Ducks and other cute things would be long gone, when Mingi finally emerged as a butterfly of sultriness from his casing.

“It’s not sexy enough.”

You frowned at Mingi’s words, “Is something wrong? You have started dressing in sexy clothes out of the blue, risking your health at the process.”

Mingi puffed out his chest, “I’ve become a man.”

“You’re 25 years old. You’ve been a man for quite a long time already.”

At every word you said, Mingi’s felt himself deflate a little. Couldn’t you see how sexy he was now? He started feeling even more insecure in his choice of outfit. His jacket looked cheap and was way too thin to keep him warm. The pants felt too tight, like the blood circulation on his legs had been cut off, making him dizzy.

“Can we eat something? My head’s spinning.”

Your eyes softened at his soft plead, and you agreed.

But even inside the small cafe at the mall, his behavior was odd.

Oh, how hard Mingi tried to charm you. He just needed the reassurance that you found him more attractive than San. Any compliment would be better than your total ignorance of his diligent attempts to get your attention.

"Mingi, stop undressing.”

Mingi felt like crying at your words. He had just tried to take his jacket off to reveal his chest to you. Thinking it was a good excuse to take the piece of clothing off politely, when he had to sit down, he had been proved wrong. If he got a tattoo of your face on his chest, would that make you want to see him? It would have been actually very romantic in Mingi’s mind. Carrying your beautiful face on his chest, like it was the greatest masterpiece known to man, would be an honor.

“You’re acting like a flasher. There are children here, you know?” you spoke in a hushed tone. You were both still sitting at the cafe, and it would ruin the atmosphere for everyone if you declared Mingi’s weird actions to the whole world.

“B-But I just wanted to show you I can be sexy too...” Mingi murmured, looking down in shame. He had completely embarrassed himself in front of everyone, not to speak of the awkward feelings he had definitely caused you.

The moment of silence, that followed his words, made him just more convinced that you hated his guts. There was no way you wouldn’t leave him right there and then.

Even your confused voice didn’t make Mingi to raise his head. He didn’t want to see the disgust in your eyes. You surely thought he was repulsive and worst of all – not as sexy as San.

“What makes you think I don’t see you as that?”

“Five months ago, you called San’s picture sexy,” Mingi sighed sadly, “But you haven’t called me sexy at all.”

He was almost offended as you laughed. It was not a mean laugh, but he still felt ridiculed and confused, because he didn’t know if you were amused by the stupidity of his jealousy or the possible inaccuracy of his insecurities.

“Hun, I thought it was obvious that I think of you as sexy.”

Mingi raised his head hopefully when he heard your words.

“You’re the sexiest when you’re comfortable and not on the brink of freezing to death, no matter what clothes you wear,” you assured him, looking straight into his eyes with an amount of love that almost scared Mingi.

He found new confidence at your words. They excited him, making him suddenly feel like he was the most attractive man on Earth, beating San’s muscles effortlessly. If you thought he was good-looking then surely, he had to be.

An arrogant look crossed Mingi’s face. The way his other eyebrow raised almost as high as his ego and he smirked made him look like the ultimate chad – which was not as sexy as he probably thought it would be. Nevertheless, you didn’t tell that to him.

“What if I want to keep using these clothes? They make me feel pretty... scrumptious,” Mingi chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows.

“The pants look nice. They accentuate your butt well,” you decided to ignore his prideful attitude which had suddenly emerged. At least, he was happy now, and that was what mattered the most to you.

“Oh yeah? You like my butt? I’ll give you a 360 view!”

As Mingi jumped up from the chair in excitement, ready to turn around and show his body and outfit in all their glory, a loud sound of fabric ripping reached your ears.

It was the sound of his tight pants having given up. Mingi had hoped to charm you with a revealing outfit, but the new state of his outfit might have been too revealing, as his boxers greeted the outside world happily from the rip on his pants.

“Do you still want to give me that 360?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Thank you for reading!

#kpop fanfic #kpop x reader #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #song mingi x reader #song mingi #mingi #ateez mingi #mingi x reader #ateez fluff #song mingi fluff #ateez ff

296 notes · View notes

weclassygirl · 2 months ago

Text

deception

⋆˙⟡ sauron x fem!elf!reader (witch) ⟡˙⋆

summary: years pass in Eregion and reader learns how much connected she is with Sauron

warnings: some blood, but none really

word count: 2,2k

author’s note: finally the fun begins. also keep in mind this is a story that spans over hundred of years. enjoy! (previous part -> visions)

It was no secret why you pursued the dark arts in the first place. A forgotten book in your father’s library when you were a child. A child. Who in their right mind would let someone so young to read upon the cursed texts? But what happened could not be undone.

You learned in secret, became obsessive at times, your family believed you to study, to one day become a respected diplomat for the realm. How disappointed they were to hear what you have done from the mouths of others.

Cast out and alone you made your new life. You never saw them again and yet you knew them to be long gone.

It became your solace, powerful and unpredictable but you preferred it that way. You had your days when you tried to leave it behind, stop this pursuit but it always lingered, drew you even more back in.

You look up from under the tree and up into the sky, your hand picks at the skin on your palm unconsciously.

The faint scar on your finger makes you wonder what his intention was. He drew blood that day in the cell and you never questioned, never thought that there may be an intention behind it.

The man you saw in the garden looked nothing like the Sauron you knew, but you heard he could take whatever form he liked.

He survived then. That beam of light was his doing, the pain you felt was his work, but how? You trace the scar and head to the library.

It’s been some time since that day in the forge, the High King has been informed and you’ve been confined to the forge, cleaning rather than creating. Celebrimbor saw with time how quickly the blackened fingertips faded with each good deed and requested for your freedom to be expanded.

There were some Elves who deemed it uncertain of what your time would be like if you started to dwell into Eregion‘s tomes and scrolls. Celebrimbor assured them that it would be supervised. And so you took out every piece of parchment you could find, book and a passage to ensure he did not do it.

You spend a whole evening in the library when you come across it. A short mention but nevertheless clear as day. He planned it, he smiled when you healed the small cut and there was this gnawing feeling within you when he did so.

The black blood looked indistinguishable from the one over your darkened fingertips.

You rush out of the library and the guards barely catch up with you, but let you be as they see you heading to your bed chamber. You lock the door and lean against it, your breathing heavy. Your feet carry you to the bathroom and you rub at your fingertips where the small scar is left, you move so harshly that you draw blood.

It drips down and you stare in horror, black mixed with red.

He bound you… to him.

You’ve heard of rituals involving exchanging blood but for this one you hope he did not speak the vow that sealed it.

“It suits you.” you turn startled to see him standing before you. A shadow this time, almost human like, not the man you saw before.

“Get out of my head.” you snap and storm out of the bathroom, he follows you and leans against the doorframe. You hope there’s no guards outside if they were to hear whatever you would say to a ghost in your mind.

“I told you we’re bound.” his voice is distorted, like a spell cast over it.

You scoff at his words and speak through clenched teeth. “To path to darkness, not to each other.”

“Not yet.” he moves closer.

You step back until your back hits the wall, he’s not truly there but his presence alone makes you move according to his rhythm. “You cannot think I would willingly give myself to you.” it’s a twisted thought and you tip on the axis of whether you want it to come true or not.

“With time, perhaps.”

Your eyes go ever wider. “You’re insane.”

He leans above you and you avoid his gaze as his phantom breath lands next to your ear. “One day, you’ll need me just as I’ll need you.” when he pulls back he looks at you with such adoration. If he were truly here, people would mistake you for lovers.

He’s right though, you will need him. Who wouldn’t want the help of a feared sorcerer? The one person who can show you the craft you so longed to learn.

A knock comes at the door and you tear your gaze from him, he vanishes in your mind and you run your hand down your face. Persistent shadow.

You open the door to a guard. “Lord Celebrimbor wishes to see you.”

You give him a short nod. “I’ll come by the workshop later.” you start to close the door but his spear stops you from doing so.

“He wishes to see you now.” you sigh but follow his lead.

When you walk down to the forge a distinct conversation dies down as you enter. You see Celebrimbor standing with… the High King. You march closer to them, the forge is quiet, the fire crackling in the pit.

“High King.” you give him a nod. It’s been a few hundred years since he sent you to Eregion, you wonder if he comes to judge your progress or to put an end to it.

“Lord Celebrimbor has informed me of your growth in your punishment.” he starts, though his voice sounds as if the words were poison on his tongue. You knew he never took liking to you and you never hid your disdain. His next words make you rethink that perhaps he had a heart after all. “We’ve decided to free you of your confines.”

You stare agape. “What?”

Celebrimbor steps closer. “Your hands are clean, have been for many years now. I believe this could be a start of something new.” he says as he takes your hands in his and cuts the metal around your wrists.

You feel as if a weight has been lifted from your soul, like you can finally breathe. You pinch yourself, this could be another dream, another illusion from Sauron but you feel the sting on your arm.

Gil-Galad comes closer. “This does not mean that you will be less watched. The moment you dip back into your old craft, the archers will kill you without hesitation.” a threat and you see the honesty in it.

“Of course.” you respond. The High King bids goodbye to Celebrimbor and you don’t know whether to feel elated or frightened. You’re free, no more chains to hold you down, after so many years. You look down at your hand and hesitate to conjure up the smallest speckle of light. Celebrimbor notices it.

“Go on.” he encourages you. “I must admit, I’ve never seen a wizard, much less a witch to create something without using a staff.”

You gather the courage and bring up a small mist of light, scattered across your palm. You laugh and your eyes fill with tears.

“Freeing, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” you whisper. You form an orb of light and almost caress it. You close the palm of your hand and the light that illuminated your face fades out in the wind. You feel a presence in the back of your mind but pay it no mind, you turn to Celebrimbor. “Shall we continue with our work?”

He smiles. “We shall.”

Time passes as you become a well-respected Elvensmith of Eregion and in those years you learn to create a perfect illusion of the effects from using dark magic. It didn’t take you long to be pulled back into it, a scroll here and there, you took many notes, crafted your own spells for your needs. Celebrimbor never suspected. Gil-Galad never knew.

And your shadow remained and with time you started to tolerate his presence but still refused to bind yourself completely to him.

You used him as much as he used you. You were his eyes in Eregion whether you liked it or not, you could not avoid it. He was a cunning sorcerer, that much you knew from your time under Morgoth’s and yet you never realized how inventive he could become. You’ve learned more from him than in all your years of studying the craft.

“Focus.” he tells you as you try to form your own illusion over your body. Your bed chamber is quiet, no guards posted outside, the balcony slightly opened to let the fresh air of the night. You pin your attention to your hands, the dark fingertips motionless in the air as they glide over your other hand.

After a moment your hand once youthful and smooth turns wrinkled with speckles of old age. “Good. You listened for once.”

“Believe it or not but your instructions sometimes prove useful.”

“Sometimes?”

You tilt your head at him. “Don’t mock.” your hand returns to its former beauty, the effects of dark magic visible in the comfort of your own chambers.

“You could leave Eregion. The High King has pardoned you, Celebrimbor believes you pose no threat. Why haven’t you?” he asks.

You could, but you needed to stay, you knew he would come here in the future.

“I can bide my time here a bit longer.” you admit. You did not wish to part from Eregion yet, you waited until Greenwood had all but forgotten your name before you could return to the calmness of your cottage. It may take years but you could wait, time was at your side.

You stand up from your spot on the bed and close the journal that lay beside you. You go over to your desk and hide it from any prying eyes. Your spells, your creation, your precious.

“Tread carefully.” he says and you turn to face him. He stands right next to you and you could almost feel his breath on your face. “They may have fallen under your deception but sooner or later you’ll slip.”

You lift your hand, the scar barely visible on your finger. “Then I’ll need you more than ever.” he looks down to your finger and gently takes your hand. Even through the illusion, the shadow you can feel the dulled touch.

“And you claimed you’ll never give yourself willingly.” he teases and raises your hand. You tilt your hand and move your hand further to place it where his cheek would have been. For a moment you think he’ll melt into your touch, a Dark Lord at your mercy. You grab his jaw forcefully and bring it down to you, even as an illusion he complied with whatever you wanted to do with him.

His gaze is unyielding and he smirks. “I won’t. At my deathbed I might, but not before.”

“I can arrange that.” you let go of him and his hand goes over his stubble. “In time, you will beg me to.”

He disappears once again leaving you alone in your chambers. This man… you grunt in annoyance and close the door to the balcony. Your sight lands on the desk, you’ve grown quite irritated at his constant disappearances. You lock the door to your chambers and sit up on the bed, your journal lays before you once more with hopes of mastering the spell once and for all.

You concentrate and lay back on the bed, you close your eyes trying to pin point where he is. You hear the water surrounding him before you see him. He lays there or so you think, below the deck, his eyes open as he senses you. The old man sees him looking around, not aware of your presence.

“Nightmares again? What haunts you so?” the old man asks. It’s then he notices you, you never sought him out that was his task but there in the shadows you stood just like he has before.

“I’ve done evil.” he says while looking at you.

The old man leans closer. “All of us have done things that we care not to admit.”

“Not like I have.” the silence weighs, you dare not to respond. The old man lectures him about choosing good, you scoff. You could never imagine him being in the light, every good act he’s done has been for his own gain. You understand, you’ve done the same.

You come closer and kneel before him. He watches you and when you try to speak to him the words caught up in your throat. He smiles for a moment, such a fleeting expression. You may have learned how to reach him but conveying a message would take time.

His eyes grow wide when he feels the beast beneath the deck and he aims for your head as if to push you down to the side. You disappear from his sight as the water crashes through the boards.

You gasp as you sit up on the bed and your hand flies to your head. You curse under your breath and try to get back to him but you’ve reached your limit.

You’ll have to wait until he reaches out again.

next part -> scheme

#hehehe #sauron x reader #annatar x reader #halbrand x reader #lord of the rings #rings of power #tolkien #charlie vickers

166 notes · View notes

torukmaktoskxawng · 11 months ago

Note

Hi I love your work! Would you have any sfw + nsfw relationship headcanons for So’lek x fem Sarentu Na’vi? I’m playing AFoP right now and I’m looking for crumbs in every in-game interaction lol

Pairing: So'lek/Fem!Sarentu!Reader

Taglist: @mooniequeen @avatar-lover @neteyamsyawntu

Warnings: nsfw (will be under the cut), minors dni

A/n: Using my favorite picture I ever took while playing AFoP 💕 Imagine that's how he looked when you walked into the room.

Also, my first headcanon request! Yay!

~~~~~~~~~

Sfw:

This man trusts you with his life and therefore trusts you are safe and loyal to him, no matter how far or how long you two are apart. (Doesn't mean he trusts Eetu to keep his overconfident hands to himself)

You're constantly traveling and never in one place for long, and while he used to be the same way, he finds himself staying in a chosen few places for long periods of time so that you can easily find him.

While he isn't much for PDA, he's still Na'vi, and he is going to grab your tail, both publicly and privately.

After losing his own clan, he understands exactly what you need to finally and properly mourn the loss of the Sarentu. He gives you what he wished he could've accepted from others after the loss of his people.

Doesn't like it when people tease him about your love. He takes your relationship very seriously and doesn't see the teasing as lighthearted. Priya learns quickly that he's more broody if your relationship comes up in the conversation.

And it's not like he's ashamed of your relationship. He's very proud of it, thank you very much. Even though he isn't into PDA, he still properly courts you in Na'vi tradition like you deserve. He wants you to experience Na'vi traditions since you never had them growing up.

He forces himself to appreciate the Sky People's communication devices because they ease his worries when he's able to talk to you from long distances. Yes, he trusts you to be safe, but he can't trust the rest of Pandora to do the same.

Takes his role as Big Brother to the rest of the Sarentu (Ri'nela, Nor, and Teylan) very seriously since you clearly trust him to guide your family when you're traveling and away from home.

Nsfw (minors dni):

I've said it once, and I'll say it again, this man has ZERO shame when he's eating you out. He's hungry, and he's messy. He's not gonna care how loud or disgusting it sounds.

I wouldn't be surprised if he spent a whole night with his mouth between your legs. I doubt this man has had any action during his life of solitude and path of revenge, so he's going to make up for lost time. If he's craving your taste, you better let him ravage you.

He's one of those lovers who refuses to pleasure himself unless it's to pleasure you, your care and well-being first and foremost in his mind. He doesn't care if it physically hurts not being able to cum, he's going to make sure you cum first. Please please PLEASE give him just as much attention because he deserves it. 🙏

When you two finally mate and form tsaheylu, he's supporting your weight as he takes you up against the nearest tree, being as gentle as physically possibly even with your gummy walls hugging his cock so deliciously. It takes a lot of his strength and willpower not to rail you right away. Since you're bonding for the first time, he wants it to be prolonged and intense. He wants to take his time.

Another reason why he sometimes refuses to cum is because believe it not, he doesn't have a breeding kink. At least not yet. He's not oblivious of the world around you, and even in his frenzied need to have every part of you, he remembers the war and how it's no place to start a family, no matter how much the both of you might want it.

He refuses to budge on the matter, and you need to respect that boundary. So you try other ways to get him to cum. Having him fuck you between the thighs was the best idea since the human invention of sliced bread. He. Loves. It. You have to hold onto his tail because it's always thrashing wildly behind him as he grinds his leaking cock into the tight space where you clench your thighs.

This man has been so deprived that when he cums, he cums a lot. A LOT. It's a shame none if that goes inside you 🫣 what a shame.

Growls. Enough said.

Actually, no, not enough said. Growls between your legs and the vibration puts toys to shame.

Mating bites 🫦 but they're mostly hidden between your thighs, under your loincloth. You definitely feel them as you walk around, and that is one of the little things in life between you and him that gets So'lek to smile.

~~~~~~~~~

I will happily write more about this!

RULES

REQUEST

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST

497 notes · View notes

emeritusemeritus · 2 months ago

Note

Hi love! If it's not too much to ask, could you maybe do a Fred fic with a bit of an insecure reader? As in, she hears some people say nasty things about her (mainly about appearance like weight) and her relationship with Fred, and she distances herself from him until one day she really can't handle staying away from him anymore? Sweet sweet fluff with a bit of making out by the end, maybe?

Hi Anon, I’m sorry this took so long! I tried to write it as if it was an insecure monologue, a little jumpy and janky like how the reader’s thought process would be. I hope you like it! 🖤

Warnings: Insecure reader, self-deprecating thoughts, bullying, verbal abuse, taunting, talks of breakups, appearance and other issues, negative mentions of weight. Kissing, implied sexual references. Happy ending I promise!

Word count: 2.7k

Fire and Ice

It wasn't easy being Fred Weasley's girlfriend.

Being with Fred, falling in love with him- that part was easy; but having such an extroverted, popular joker for a boyfriend was at times, not so easy.

You were quieter by nature, a little more introverted and a lot more insecure than Fred but you seemed to balance each other out well most of the time, ying and yang, fire and ice. Fred was always quick to silence your hateful internal monologue whenever it presented itself, reminding you that you were beautiful, important, loved- all the things he wanted you to feel, the way that he saw you. But sometimes the insecurities were too much, the voices in your head too loud that you began to believe them again.

Fred had been busy, the tri-wizard tournament had been announced and him and George were trying everything they could to work around the age restriction but upon the application. They’d been virtually locked in their dorm for days researching different ideas and brewing potions that would age them up, though you doubted it would work, they always surprised you in the end.

Their reclusion could not have come at a worse time for you, though of course you would never mention anything. You’d been stood in front of Fred when the students had gathered to watch the regal, horse-drawn carriage fly over the tips of the trees in the forbidden forest and across the Great Lake led by the majestic white winged horses that made it look effortless and well, magical. You’d stood with pure excitement as you watched the magnificent ship emerge from underneath the water and sail towards the bank until you’d all be called away for the feast.

Your excitement had dwindled almost immediately when the girls of Beauxbatons glided through the door in a whimsical and captivating display, grabbing everyone’s attention for their beauty and elegance- including Fred. You’d seen Ron look flabbergasted, a fresh pink hue on his cheeks as he looked upon the girls with mouth agape and a glazed look in his eye and couldn’t help but avert your eyes slightly to see Fred looking at them in a much tamer way, but seeing his eyes fixed upon them nontheless. It pulled at every single one of your heartstrings, that familiar sinking feeling in your gut instantly making you nauseated by the food in front of you.

Their uniforms were delicate and beautiful, tailored perfectly of the finest satin in such a rich colour that it was both feminine and powerful all in one. You couldn’t help but look away from Fred, from anything and began to pick at the edge of your frumpy school cardigan, suddenly disgusted by its mere existence.

When Dumbledore announced the entrance of Durmstrang, you didn’t even look up, already too consumed by your own self-deprecating thoughts. The uniform you’d once been so proud to wear now felt like a potato sack in comparison, shapeless and bland from head to toe. You suddenly wanted to get away, to do anything you could to get out of the shapeless mess and to prove to yourself and to others around you that you weren’t just a blob of blended wool and scruffy hair that had been haphazardly thrown into a high pony ahead of your long day of travelling back to school. But there was nothing you could do, forced to sit there in a mass of unflattering garments next to your boyfriend who had been looking at much more attractive females and pretend to be fine. Thankfully the arrival of professor Moody was enough to prompt serious discussion around you and you could blend into the background without notice, eating only tiny bits and slipping away before the end of the meal.

It continued for days, the stab in your side whenever you’d see the Beauxbatons girls in their pretty uniforms looking so sweet and dainty, often followed around by drooling boys that quivered with their every move. You were jealous, but you wouldn’t admit it, choosing instead to be disgusted by it all and very much wanting it all to be over and for them to be gone. You couldn’t forget the expression on Fred’s face when they made their grand entrance and the pain that it brought when you did remember. You’d never doubted his love for you, not really, though of course you doubted why he chose you in the first place- did he now regret that decision?

It had been days since you’d seen him and the messages he’d initially sent through Lee had dwindled to none, meaning that you were so out of communication that you felt that stinging dread all over again- was he preparing to break up? Had he found someone else? Someone undoubtedly prettier in a powder blue satin uniform?

So when you finally caught sight of that gorgeous red head in the hallway, you lit up, excited to finally get the chance to talk to him. You heard his laugh and smiled to yourself, feeling relieved already- until you noticed he was laughing with one of them. She was pretty, brown hair tucked perfectly into her blue hat and her satin cape bellowing perfectly around her.

Something inside you felt out of place all of a sudden, enraged by the injustice and the inevitable ending to your relationship. You were angry at everything, most notably Fred, the Beauxbatons, the whole stupid competition. It left a sour taste in your mouth and you realised that if Fred wanted out, he could have one of the stupid French girls.

You were sat in the great hall with Hermione quietly reading when you heard a group of people moving excitedly towards the cup which broke your concentration. You watched as Cedric Diggory placed his name in the cup and his friends cheered for him, smacking him on the back in a hearty well done when he suddenly stopped upon making eye contact with you and sent you a little smile of recognition. You smiled back with a little head nod and watched as his friends dragged him away, leaving the room in relative peace once again.

That was until Fred and George came barrelling into the room, their distinctive blend of voices crying out and echoing through the hall as they high five students across the benches, proudly clutching hold of something in their hands, professing that ‘they’d done it’.

You could barely look at them, for the first time not caring in the slightest about what they had created.

“It’s not going to work,” Hermione says from beside you and immediately you are met with their bodies either side of Hermione. You feel Fred’s hand on your shoulder, a little touch that should have given you hope but actually felt repulsive to you. You didn’t even look up from your page, nor acknowledge their arrival and if Fred noticed, he didn’t say anything- though you could feel his eyes in you. The second the Triwizard cup fought back against their tricks, propelling them into the air and forcing them back into the ground with a definitive thud, you were gone. You walked back towards the common room without so much as a glance, not caring to find out the predicted result of their attempt.

“I would just die if I had to wear their uniforms!” You heard from around the corner in a thick French accent that had you rolling your eyes. The stupid little French cackles reached your ears and it was all that you could do not to petrify them on the spot as you attempted to walk straight past them.

“Oh” one of them said, spotting you emerging from around the corner. Another small fit of laughter that was hardly concealed, upon seeing someone in the exact uniform they were mocking.

“Does it feel as frumpy as it looks?” Another one said, her accent almost indecipherable. You shot daggers at the group of four witches and tried to get past but they blocked you in.

“You’re with the tall redhead yes? I’ve seen you,” the blonde one says, making your stomach lurch at her mention of Fred. “He’s cute.”

You don’t retaliate, though you can think of many choice words you wish to say to her, presuming you didn’t reach for your wand first. Their words cut into you like a knife, though you try to block out the harsher things they say about your appearance, your weight, your ugly uniform. Only when they bright up Fred again do your barricades fall, their words tearing you apart.

“It’s funny actually, that he chose you. You look more of a girl he’d want to be friends with, definitely not one to be in love with.”

The final nail in the coffin for you was the round of laughter that echoed throughout the corridor, following you in your mind straight back to the common room until the second you passed out that night, still sobbing into your pillow.

The next morning, your eyes were virtually swollen shut from all the tears shed the night before. You felt retched, all of your fears coming true as the beautiful girls laughed at you, hitting every one of your insecurities. They may as well have called you fat, ugly, all the other things you knew about yourself but never said out loud.

You didn’t go to classes that day, never even attempting to step foot out of the dormitory or even your bed until you were certain everyone had left. You looked an ungodly mess with red puffy eyes and a mass of tangled hair that felt like a limp weight on top of your head. The tears started again within seconds of reaching the bathroom mirror, silently falling down your cheeks and landing in little droplets into the sink. You sobbed for your sorry appearance, for the loss of Fred and for the unfairness in life. Why couldn’t you just be pretty?

You eventually crawled back into bed, not even bothering to sort out the disastrous mess upon your head and forced yourself to go back to sleep, pushing all thoughts of him and them out of your head.

Three days you’d been confined to your bedroom, feigning a migraine that had managed to convince even Mcgonagall and Hermione. Ginny had tried to relay multiple messages from Fred, both verbally and in writing but you’d feigned a worsening headache, nausea and other ailments and asked her politely but definitively to leave, rendering the message unheard. You’d heard all about Harry’s selection from Hermione and how he and Ron were fighting but you’d barely listened to any of it, too consumed by your own issues.

The fourth day, you made it out of bed only to remember that it was a Saturday. You considered slipping back into bed and ignoring the sun completely but your bladder disagreed with your plan vehemently. You wandered to the bathroom and for the first time in days, looked in the mirror.

You looked so sad, so broken that it made your heart constrict a little, seeing a sad little girl staring back at you. You look younger somehow, like a first year all over again. Memories flash beneath your eyes, memories of meeting Fred for the first time, of being young and falling in love, of being the girl that he fell in love with.

Ignoring the vague rumbling of your food deprived stomach, you rush into the showers and attempt to untangle your hair using every product you can find. You shave, condition, lotion up your entire body and make a start on magically fixing your puffy face. You’re on a mission to look your best, to show those petty and judgemental bitches that you were just as worthy as them and more importantly, that you were definitely someone that Fred would- and did- love.

You dried your hair and curled it using a spell you’d found in an old teen magazine that worked surprisingly well and stood back to look at the result, feeling pleased. You looked like yourself again but better, happier.

You dressed in a nicer than usual outfit that was still casual but actually highlighted your curves rather than hiding them, something you knew that Fred liked after years of compliments on your curves. You momentarily considered grabbing a cardigan incase your confidence weakened but thought against it, instead grabbing a jumper than you’d stolen from Fred a year ago. You felt feminine and pretty for the first time in ages and actually smiled when you look in the mirror one last time.

“Well don’t you look nice,” Ginny said as you stepped out of the bathroom, closing the door from where she had walked back into the dorm, realising that everyone else was now awake. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” you replied honestly, smiling and nodding a little.Want to get breakfast?”

“I was going to have a shower, Fred’s down there though, he’ll go with you I bet,” Ginny says, grabbing a towel and her bathing stuff. You pursed your lips, not letting the glow fade as you nodded at her, butterflies starting to flutter about in your belly.

Walking down to the common room, your nerves were already starting to build as you scanned the room with your eyes, searching for the one person you hoped to see. The guilt of hiding from him, of pushing away was eating you up and you wanted nothing more than to just make it right. You spot George and Lee in one of the corners, Harry and Hermione on one of the sofas and a few more people dotted around but no Fred.

“Blimey,” you heard to your left but instead of seeing the boy you’d hoped to find, instead you found Ron. His mouth was slightly parted and he was looking at you with an expression he’d never looked at you with before, focusing uncomfortably on a piece of your chest never wished to have his eyes.

You flinched as you watched Ron get smacked in the back of the head unexpectedly, making him wince and rub his head but you didn’t see anymore after his initial reaction, instead focusing your attention on his assailant. Fred.

“Look at my girl like that again and I’ll transfigure every piece of furniture in your room into a spider,” he says gruffly as he walks past Ron, keeping his eyes on you and moves to stand directly in front of you, reaching for your hand.

“Are you feeling better?” He says carefully, eyeing you with slight trepidation, making you frown.

“Much better,” you reply carefully, watching his reaction.

“Good, then I won’t feel guilty for this,” he says, pulling you forcibly by the hand until you bump into his chest, his lips finding yours almost immediately as he kisses you with a fiery passion.

“You look so hot,” he mumbles against your lips, hands finding your synched waist and bordering on inappropriately low as one hand tucks into your back pocket. You kiss back with just as much passion, happy that all the doubts and the insecurity had been wiped away, though you still felt guilty for pushing him away. “You’re never hiding from me again.”

He begins to tug at your side and you realise he’s pulling you away, towards the stairs to the dorms.

“But Freddie, breakfast,” you weakly protest.

“Can wait,” he mumbles, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as he barely parts from you, only enough to push you up the stairs towards his empty dorm, giving you a teasing smack on the ass as you ascend, for good luck. You never doubted his love for you again, especially not for the next hour.

#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley masterlist #completed requests #request closed #requests

188 notes · View notes