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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 month

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Take Care of You [10]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 5.7k

Mood board and borders by @saradika

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It’s why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn’t look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn’t be so hard. Would it?

[A/N: 🤡. I came back to life to immediately die off again i'm so sorry. here take this next part and all my love. speaking of my love, i already closed beta readers on tiktok but for anyone on here, if you wanna see why i've been so MIA, shoot me a message with your email if you wanna beta read my original work (i do ask that you do a questionnaire afterwards but that's just to help me out). But, imagine a scifi/fantasy where the book 'Six of Crows' meets 'The Last of Us', and I have good sources that y'all like TLOU👀]

[A/N pt.2: I did not edit this to the degree I should have and there is no tag list at the bottom i am so so so so sorry].

10: THE EVIDENCE IS PRETTY DAMNING

The ceiling wasn’t right.

That was your first, foggy thought when your eyes opened. Rather than the bumpy, plaster speckles collecting dust it was smooth and off white. You slowly sat up with a groan, head spinning and mouth dry, and you blinked three times before your situation dawned on you. This was not your bed, not your house. Fuck. You set your hands on the bed to lean back then winced. With a hiss, you pulled your hand up and saw the bandaged injury from last night.

You cradled the hand with your other and turned to hang your legs over the edge of the bed. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a note on the nightstand. You leaned over. There was a full water bottle and a bottle of tylenol resting on top of a piece of paper. On the paper, in scratchy, nearly illegible, writing was, ‘Come downstairs when you’re ready. Feel free to use the shower and change if you want. ⏤Joel’. You dragged your fingers to trace the words.

With a shaky breath, you grabbed the water bottle and took a couple pills in hopes to nurse the aches and pains you felt. You stared at the words again. Last night, Joel admitted to being married to Sarah’s mom and you had responded by passing the fuck out. You had tried to argue, demand more information, but your body fought against your curiosity. All the drinks you had prior and the fading adrenaline from the fight probably hadn’t helped.

You rose from the bed with a groan and crossed to use the bathroom adjoined to Joel’s bedroom. When you flicked the lights on, you took the first movement to glance around the space. The walls were beige with white tile floors. On one side was a large jacuzzi style tub next to an expansive walk in shower. On the other was ample counter space and drawers with matching him and her sinks. In the back was the small room where the toilet sat and beyond that a walk in closet. The space was lived in. A dirty clothes basket off to the side half full, toiletries on the counter and on the shelves in the shower, you spotted a pair of glasses you had never seen Joel wear resting by the sink on the right side of the counter. That must be the one Joel used most. A toothbrush sat by it and you noticed water by the rim like he hadn’t wiped up when finished.

Also on the counter were a stack of clothes, you stepped toward it and saw it was a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants that must have belonged to him. On top of it was a brand new toothbrush. Your gaze lifted to look at yourself in the mirror and you flinched. You looked a mess⏤ your hair, your clothes, everything. You rubbed at your face with a sigh and slipped into a morning time routine despite the unfamiliar setting.

Celina.

The name rang in your head over and over and over again. It didn’t matter that you had been only half with it last night. You remembered that clearly. As you cleaned up, your headache began to improve and by time you left the bathroom you at least felt human again. A new anger bubbled just under your skin. You couldn’t quite yet put your anger into words, but you knew it was there. After washing up, you traded the clothes you wore to the bar for the ones Joel left you. The shirt was worn out, like it was aged, and navy in color. It read ‘Miller’s Contracting’ with a number on it for contact. It reminded you of the kind of shirt a small company would make and not a multi-million dollar one. You tightened the waistband of Joel’s sweatpants. They were at least joggers so you didn’t have to worry about tripping over yourself.

You crossed the upstairs, open space to the stairs. Faintly, you heard the sound of someone moving around downstairs. A brief wave of nervousness had you hesitating at the top of the stairs, but it slipped away back to anger. It seemed that was where your heart was making camp this morning.

Slowly, you descended the stairs. The wooden floors under your feet didn’t creak or make noise as you padded into the living room first. A few couches were situated in front of a wall that held a large flat screen TV and a fireplace. The back wall was made of glass, a window and door all in one that revealed the back patio where a small pool and deck were, and the space beside it was the kitchen. Just as open as the rest of Joel’s house. The cabinets were made of dark wood with matching countertops and at the center was a large island with chairs.

On the island counter looked like to-go boxes of food. You stared at them a moment longer, but a door hidden just out of view on the wall in the kitchen opened. Joel stepped into the kitchen nonchalantly until he spotted you and did a double take. He froze and stared. The two of you were actually similarly dressed. He had on a t-shirt that looked tight on his broad shoulders and a pair of sweatpants that hung low on his hips. Joel looked exhausted.

“Hey.” He said softly. “Mornin’, sug⏤” Joel stopped himself, it looked like he choked on his words, but he locked his jaw and changed direction. “Mornin’. How did you sleep?” You gave a small shrug and a tight lipped smile. “Right. How’s your…” Joel lifted his own hand. “Your hand?”

You lifted it up to stare down at it. The bandages had been pulled away when you washed up this morning. It didn’t look so bad. “It’s fine. Thanks for the⏤ the tylenol. And the toothbrush. And the,” You motioned to the clothes hanging off your frame, “You know.”

“Can I?” Joel nodded toward you.

“I said, it’s fine, Joel.”

“I…” He sighed and the look in his eyes was agonizing. “I know you’re pissed at me. Understandably so. But, please let me…”

You walked over to sit down at one of the tall chairs at the island counter and set your hand on the marble top. Joel mumbled a quiet ‘thank you’ and disappeared for a quick second. He was back with a small first aid kit again. You twisted your lips when you felt his warm hand cautiously take yours. It was quiet as he reapplied a bit of medicine to the hand before wrapping it up again.

“You don’t…” Joel started then cleared his throat. You never would have used the word anxious to describe the Joel you had gotten to know thus far, but nervous energy seemed to radiate off him. The tension in his shoulders looked painful to keep hold of. “I had breakfast delivered. Some stuff I know you like.” Joel pulled his hand away from yours. “But you don’t have to stay if you don’t wanna.”

“No. I want to.” You replied. Joel looked briefly hopeful. “I want to talk about this. I want⏤ to know. I want answers.”

“Right. Of course.” Joel nodded quickly. “I owe you at least that.” You nodded in agreement. Joel straightened from where he stood and ran a hand over his chest and shoulder with a quiet cough. “Can I make you something to drink? Coffee, tea, juice?”

You gave a small nod, mumbling a response, and watched as Joel put it all together. He poured himself a cup of coffee after serving you. Rather than take the seat beside you, he stood on the other side of the island counter across from you.

“You mentioned the girl from Vegas last night briefly, but how did you know…”

“Yo-yo told me you had a sugar baby before me. That you married her.”

“I did have a sugar baby before you, yes.” Joel sighed.

“Why did you lie to me?” You demanded.

Joel shook his head, “I never lied to you. I just⏤ I never told you, and you never asked.”

“Really?” You scoffed. “That’s what you wanna hang your hat on here? Semantics?” Joel hung his head then shook it a bit. “I didn’t want to believe her, but yesterday Nima texted someone she knows. A private investigator⏤”

Joel’s eyes widened, “You hired a private investigator??”

“I didn’t hire anybody! Nima just texted them and they confirmed⏤”

“You went to a PI before just asking me?” Joel replied sharply. You leaned back in your seat⏤ in shock at his audacity. He must have noticed how you felt because he held up a hand. “I just mean, that’s a huge invasion of privacy and all you had to do was call me⏤”

You pushed out of your seat and turned to leave. Joel called out after you before following. He grabbed your hand to tug you to a stop and you glared at him over your shoulder. You snapped, “If you’re just going to stand there and be defensive then there’s no reason for me to be here, Joel.” You pulled your hand out of his grip and spun to face him. “I understand that getting in contact with a fucking PI was a crazy move, but yesterday I felt a little crazy.” You scoffed. “I felt like an idiot. I felt like a naive, desperate idiot who got played. So, yeah, I let Nima text her cousin’s cousin’s cousin to find an answer because the thought of standing in front of you and asking⏤”

The rest of your words got caught in your throat. You didn’t want to get emotional in front of Joel. More than anything you wanted to keep your cool and be collected. Just in case he did break your heart, you could walk away with at least some of your dignity intact. Joel took a step closer. Thankfully, he didn’t try to touch you, but he did lift his hands slightly in surrender.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m sorry.” He said. “I’m being defensive. Hell, I'm being an ass.” You locked your jaw and let your eyes focus on something over his shoulder. Unable to stare into those deep, dark eyes. “This is… This isn’t an easy subject for me to talk about and I⏤ I panicked. I want you to hear me out. I want you to know the truth.” He shifted in his stance so your gaze was forced to meet his. The longing there made you suck in a sharp breath. “Please. Give me another chance to explain this. I’ll do better.”

You rubbed the back of your neck with your non-injured hand and gave a small nod.

“Thank you. Thank you.” Joel repeated himself. He took a step back but kept his shoulders facing you as if he thought you were a flight risk. Joel motioned to his couch. “Do you wanna sit? I’ll grab our drinks.” You sighed and meandered over to sit down on one end of his leather couch. Joel didn’t move back into the kitchen until after you were seated. He came back with both of your drinks and handed you your own before sitting on the other side of the couch. One cushion of space between the two of you.

You took a sip, trying to gather your thoughts, before nodding once. “I want to know about your wife first. Celina, you said? I want to know about her.”

“Yeah.” Joel swallowed thickly. “Do you remember anything I mentioned about Sarah’s mom before?”

“I didn’t know her name.” You replied. “You said the two of you had dated for, like, three months?” Joel nodded. “She got pregnant, and you worked it out. Things were fine, but two weeks after Sarah was born she left. You never said the two of you got married though.”

“Because we didn’t.” Joel replied softly. “I asked. Proposed to her when we found out she was pregnant with Sarah, and she said no.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but he wasn’t meeting your gaze anymore. Joel stared down at the coffee mug in his hands. “I loved her. She was my first real love, actually. I knew our situation wasn’t ideal, but… I wanted it to work. I saw a future with her.” Joel ran his thumb back and forth on the edge of his mug’s rim where it reached. He chuckled, “When Sarah was born… Those two weeks? It was⏤ It was good. But, uh, then she left.” Joel shrugged in a way that attempted nonchalance but did not meet the mark. “Her leaving hurt for a lot of reasons. For one, in no way was I prepared to take care of a newborn.”

You set your drink on the coffee table before leaning back. Joel stayed silent, his jaw clenching and unclenching, and you recognized the look of someone getting stuck in their own memories. You spoke up, “What happened then? When did you get married?”

“Celina is…” Joel began. He rubbed his jawline. “I spent a lot of time being furious with her⏤ hating her. Not just for leaving me behind, but for leaving Sarah. Sarah deserved better.” He shook his head. “But she… she came to me, needing help, and I⏤ I couldn’t say no. Not to her. And not because I still had any sort of feelings for her, but because no matter how angry I was at her she gave me Sarah.” A vulnerable softness filled his features and he finally lifted his head to meet your gaze fully. “Without Celina, I wouldn’t have Sarah.”

You could understand that. You knew that his daughters meant absolutely everything to Joel. More so, despite all the shit going on between the two of you right now, despite Joel arguing otherwise, you knew he was a good man. You had a very hard time picturing him saying no to anyone who came to him for help.

“When did she come to you? And why? What problem is solved with marriage?”

“Three years ago. Just about.” Joel mumbled. “It’s… She was sick. Cancer. The only feasible treatment was going to bankrupt her because her insurance refused to cover the cost. Celina came back wanting to see Sarah. Get to know her before she died.” Your eyes widened in surprise at both the news and the confusion that came with trying to connect the dots. “I told her that was up to Sarah⏤ she was old enough to make that decision for herself and I was gonna support her with whatever she chose.”

You nodded slowly, “Okay…”

“Sarah decided she did want to meet her mom. And I…” Joel paused. He set his coffee mug down on the coffee table as well and laced his fingers together. He was fidgeting. Another nervous tick of his. Joel could never seem to keep his hands still when he was caught in his own mind. It was like his hands so desperately wanted to fix what stressed him out⏤ even if it wasn’t a physical problem they could fix. “I⏤ I couldn’t stop thinking… remembering…”

Joel squeezed his eyes shut, and the palpable pain had you shifting closer. It dawned on you. Words clicking in your mind. You set a hand on his forearm and gave it a small squeeze, “Your mom.” Joel had told you, ages ago, that he had lost his own mother to cancer. “You lost her. I remember you telling me.”

“Yes.” Joel unlaced his own fingers so he could settle one hand on top of yours⏤ still resting on his forearm. The tip of his thumb dragged back and forth against the knuckle of your index finger. Tracing the shape of it. “It wasn’t… It wasn’t the exact same, I know that, but… Sarah technically had already lost her once.”

“Joel…”

“I offered to pay. Pay for the treatment in full.” Joel’s thumb stilled to squeeze your hand once. “I’d cover all the costs, but⏤ but Celina refused. Said she didn’t want,” Joel scoffed with a humorless laugh, “Didn’t want to be a ‘charity case’. Said she didn’t come back for my money, or for me to fix the problem, she came back for Sarah.” Joel shook his head. “We argued in circles for God knows how long. We finally settled on this. If we got married, she’d have my insurance instead of her own. My insurance would cover most of the treatments and she’d pay what it didn’t.”

You understood that. It matched up with what you knew about Joel. “How is she? Now?”

“In remission. Since seven months ago, she’s been in remission.” A small smile flickered on his features. “She lives in Waco. Wanted to be closer to Sarah. One of the only reasons I could stomach all of us coming to LA while Sarah stayed in Texas for college. I knew she’d at least have her there in case of emergencies.”

Your face scrunched in question, “Then why… Why are you still married?”

“I don’t have a reason. Not a real one. Not beyond me just being lazy.” Joel said firmly. He held your hand tight, keeping it pinned to his arm, like it was a lifeline. “Up until now, it didn’t matter to me. It made no difference. That’s it. I swear to you, sugar.” The nickname fell out of his mouth like second nature. “And I’m working on changing that already. You can ask Tommy or⏤ or hell I’ll give you Celina’s number or our lawyer’s number. We started the official divorce paperwork the day you and I got back from Vegas. It was the first call I made after dropping you off at your place.”

You did believe him. As Joel held your gaze, all you could see in those soulful eyes was a deep desperation. An ache seeking the comfort that would come with reassurance. “I believe you.” You said softly and his eyes closed in relief. His entire body sagged as the tension seeped out of it. You really did believe him, and of all the ways this could’ve gone wrong technically you supposed this was the best case scenario. However, learning this made you realize what aspect of this bothered you more than most. You slid your hand out from under his. “Why… Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I was… I was going to. After.”

“Why though? Why after?” You shook your head. “Why didn’t you trust me with this?” Joel’s face fell again. “I know we haven’t known one another for long, but…” You bit back your words before you admitted to the naive truth that you felt some sort of connection to him. That being with him was as easy as breathing and you foolishly let yourself get carried away. “I don’t…”

Joel quickly scooted closer, a hand held up in surrender, “Had nothing to do with⏤ with me not… I do trust you. I do.” Joel shook his head. “Me not mentioning this had nothing to do with you. It was me.” His words reminded you of Vegas. This excuse was sounding familiar and the more you heard it the harder it was to believe. He hung his head and winced. “I need to tell you about⏤ about Erina.”

“That’s…” You began. “Is that your sugar baby?

“Yeah.” Joel nodded. “But it was more complicated than that.”

“So, I’m gathering.” You mumbled. The words of frustration left your lips before you could filter them. In this situation, you felt you had every right to be upset and bitter, but the look of pained guilt that filled Joel’s features made every cell in your body vibrate with regret. It felt like you had just kicked a puppy, and those sad, brown eyes were heart wrenching. “Sorry.”

Joel shook his head quickly. “No. Don’t. You don’t need to be sorry. I do.”

“You’re talking to me⏤ answering my questions.” You replied with a small shrug. “The least I can do is not be petty.” You twisted your lips. “So? Tell me about her.”

“She wasn’t my sugar baby to begin with.” Joel started softly. He turned his head to keep his gaze on the mug sitting on the coffee table, and you found the story easier to stomach without those powerful eyes focused on you. “My company got hired for a job. It was a big one, which is why it came across my desk. Some summer project. A finance guy wanted his vacation house completely renovated in Malibu. I decided to take a more hands on position for the entire thing. Stayed on site to work.” It wasn’t a shock to hear. You were plenty aware that Joel spent most of his work time on site if he could. Joel only donned a tie for the board room when Tess wrestled him into it. “The guy who hired us wasn’t there, but his wife was. At least, I thought it was his wife.”

“But it wasn’t.”

Joel gave out a sad chuckle, “No. She wasn’t. Erina was… lively and energetic. She was fun, and I… It had been a long time since I experienced that kind of light hearted fun. Plus, the client, when he did come around, was such an asshole to her and I⏤” Joel sighed. “She left him midway through the project, but we didn’t get involved with one another until after it was over. When it started, it was great. The honeymoon phase was…” His voice trailed off as a small, sad smile crossed his face. You found your stomach churn in jealousy at him talking about this other woman. It was damn near nonsensical, but the emotion rose up regardless. “The issues started a while in. I realized that we saw the relationship differently. I thought… I thought what we had was real, and she only saw me as her new sugar daddy.”

For a while, we just went on. I didn’t think the difference in how we viewed things would matter. Stupid, I know, but… I thought I was happy.” Joel mumbled the last bit. He lifted a hand to rub at his jawline. “As you’ve probably figured out, I’m not⏤ I’m not good at this. Relationships and…” He tensed. “Some people are just better off alone, but I’ve been too hard headed to accept that.”

“Joel.” You interrupted the flow of his story at his claim. You didn’t believe that and you especially refused to believe it about Joel. “That’s not⏤”

“Things were still working until I…” Joel shook his head. “I told her about Celina. Tried to explain the situation to her, but when she told me to get divorced and I couldn’t⏤ that’s when it all started to crumble. I didn’t actually end the relationship until after I found out she was seeing a few other guys.” You opened your mouth the speak, the beginnings of a sentence you didn’t know how to end slipping from your tongue, but Joel suddenly turned in his seat to face you and the look in his eyes silenced any attempt at speech. He hesitantly reached out and let his hand settle on top of yours. When you didn’t pull away, he squeezed his grip tighter. “You and Erina are not the same. It wasn’t until after we stopped seeing one another that I realized how terrible our relationship had been. So please, please, don’t think I’m comparing you to her because I’m not. I know how she reacted is not some⏤ some default and you wouldn’t necessarily react the same, but… but every time I considered telling you about Celina, all I could imagine was you leaving. And I, selfishly, stopped myself from admitting the truth to you because I didn’t want to ruin this the way I ruin everything else.”

You murmured his name. Early on, you recognized Joel had trust issues, but you had never realized it stretched this far. Joel didn’t trust even himself. It broke your heart that he thought so poorly of himself. No matter how upset you were at the man you knew deep down he was a good. His mistake had hurt you, but it hadn’t been born of malice. You saw that now. Fear and self doubt had brought the two of you to this crossroads.

“Joel, that isn’t true.” You said softly. “You don’t ruin everything.”

“The evidence is pretty damning.” Joel chuckled sadly. You opened your mouth to argue, but he shook his head quickly and held out a hand to stop you. “That’s not the point of… I should’ve told you. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. I should’ve told you, been up front about it all, and I’m sorry.” Joel sighed. “I’m sorry, sugar.”

He had answered a number of your questions and with the truth came the relief of knowing. Plus, the answer technically hadn’t been your worst case scenario. God knew your brain was plenty capable of thinking up some nightmare-ish situations. So in comparison, it would be worse. Still, there was an itch that hadn’t quite yet been scratched.

“Why… Why seek out a new sugar baby?” You asked. His experience with Erina had obviously been less than ideal so why try again? You shook your head, “Why me?”

“Those are two very different questions.”

“How do you figure that?”

“I …” Joel began hesitantly. You could see his thoughts jumbling in his mind as he struggled to string one along. Conversations like this were hardly considered Joel’s comfort zone so you did appreciate that he was trying. That went a long way as well. “Erina came back into my life not so long ago.” You felt your stomach drop and your heart clench painfully. The emotional response was so physical that it nearly made you sick. Joel must have noticed because he quickly reached out and settled a hand on your shoulder. “No. Not like that. She means nothing to me. She came to me wanting to get back together, harassing me about it, but I’ve made it crystal clear to her and everyone around us that I have no interest in restarting something with her. Especially now.”

“Okay…”

“The idea was…” Joel winced sheepishly. “The idea was to hire a sugar baby as a way to show her that I was serious. We were done and I was moving on.” It was ridiculous enough that from anyone’s else mouth you wouldn’t have believed them, but they had been said in Joel’s sincerity. “I know how that sounds.”

“Not good. It sounds not good.”

“I know. Everyone told me it was a bad idea. Tess, Sarah, Ellie.” You found it interesting that his daughters knew about their father’s love life to that degree. It spoke to how close they were and his stance on honesty. Joel chuckled. “Actually, the only person who agreed with me on the plan was Tommy, but I suppose that should’ve been a sign to give it up.” Your lips twitched up mildly in amusement. “But, deep down I knew it would hurt Erina, and I… I wanted to be petty.”

You shrugged, “And I’m apart of this… how? To annoy Erina?”

“No.” Joel said firmly, almost roughly. “Absolutely not. Remember the day you bought me that coffee? I said I had been meeting with some other, um, women?” You nodded and let him continue. “By time I made it to the that coffee shop, I had already half decided to give up the idea. It was obviously going poorly. I was literally just looking for someone I wouldn’t mind spending time with and I couldn’t even do that. But you were… God, meeting you felt like a breath of fresh air.” He messily ran a hand through his hair while his other continued to fidget. “You stayed on my mind and when I spotted you again…”

“I…” You tried to find the right words. The ones he would want to hear. It felt odd to give forgiveness for a misunderstanding, but you knew that’s what he was seeking. Validation. “I forgive you.”

The relief on Joel’s face was staggering and when he held a hand out to you, you knew exactly what he was asking for. You closed the space and let him pull you into a hug. His warm, large hands enveloped you as he craddled the back of your head to hold you as closely to him as you could. You wrapped your own arms around him and lazily dragged your thumb up and down where it rested.

You did forgive him for this. That was the truth and you meant it with your whole heart, but this entire experience was eye opening. You had fallen for Joel so dangerously fast. It made you realize that if this had been a different scenario, one of the nightmare-ish ones you imagined, it would’ve destroyed you. With the speed you were moving in, you would’ve hit the ground at a million miles per hour and shattered. You forgave Joel, but you needed to figure out a way to better guard your heart.

“I’m sorry for reaching out to a PI.”

“No. Don’t be.” Joel pulled back and the hand at the back of your head dragged forward to cup the side of your face. He sighed, “You were right. I should’ve handled this better, but I… I do appreciate you saying so.” The two of you sat in a moment of silence and for the first time since you met him that silence felt awkward. Joel must have felt it as well based on the clearing of his throat and fidgeting. “So… Are we— Are we okay?”

You nodded, “I think so.” The tension left Joel’s shoulders and you quickly stood. “I should… I should go.”

“You’re off today though, aren’t you?” Joel stood as well.

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Stay. Please.” Joel motioned back to the kitchen. “Have breakfast. I called Tommy and he’s gonna bring over your stuff.” Your eyes widened in surprise and he shrugged. “Tommy is gonna bring over your friend who has your stuff I should say.”

You hesitated, nervous after this heart to heart, but Joel held out a hand to you. Equally a peace offering and lifeline. You just weren’t sure if it was a lifeline for you or him. You set your hand in his and he gave it a small squeeze. The smile on his face was soft and open. Two words you knew not many people were able to claim as a description with him.

Joel led you back toward the kitchen and when you turned to try and go back for your mug he stopped you. He settled you on one of the bar stools, hands lingering on your hips briefly, before going back to the living room for both your mugs.

“You know, when I pictured you spending the night here this wasn’t quite how I thought it’d go.” Joel chuckled and grabbed a plate. You leaned on the counter and waited since you knew that plate he was making was meant for you. It took a second for his words to dawn on you. Joel pictures you spending the night in his home with him? Your face and neck warmed at the thought. It wasn’t like you hadn’t had those kinds of ideas, but hearing it from him still made your heart flutter. Even with the disaster miscommunication still lingering in your rear view mirror. “Here. Lemme know if you want anything else.” Joel set the plate in front of you and handed you a fork. After making his own plate, he pulled the barstool beside you closer and sat down. He sat sideways to face you and his knee pressed against your stool. “We could, uh, we could have a day in.”

“Hm?” You took a bite of your food.

“We’re both in pajamas and neither of us have work.”

“You don’t have work?” You asked in surprise.

Joel shook his head. “I already called Tess and told her I wasn’t coming in today. Told her I was feeling sick.”

“Did she actually believe you?” You smirked.

“No.” Joel chuckled. “She didn’t. But she also didn’t call me out on my shit, so…”

He gave you a charming smile, obviously trying to lighten the mood, and you found you appreciated it. Things weren't perfect, but for the sake of what had been you were willing to try.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #sugar daddy!joel miller x reader #sugardaddy!joel miller #i forgot what tags i used to use #oh lord #uh #reader insert #joel miller

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mochiroreo · 8 months

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Oh goodie! Pt.1 [cherry pies, vanilla, and cigars]

18+ MDNI

Pairing: Older!Eddie Munson x innocent!nerdy!reader (afab!reader) x Older!Steve Harrington

Wordcount: 5.4k

Summary: being a latchkey child, you are used to being alone. So when your parents announced that your whole family is moving to Hawkins, you paid them no mind and just packed up your bags. What you are not expecting was that the house that your family just bought comes with two neighbours that are in dire need to have you in any way.

Trigger Warnings: [this chapter: manipulation. Gaslighting. Fingering. Titty sucking. Taking advantage of reader’s vulnerable state.] she/her pronouns. DUBCON. NONCON. 100% FILTH. Smut. Unprotected P in V (wrap it before you tap it). Hidden relationships. Age gap. Cream pie. Size kink. Degradation. Corruption. Choking/slapping (in a pleasurable way). Pet names (no use of y/n). Fingering. Squirting. Overstimulation. Public sex. Non-consented Recording.

Author’s note: hello hello~ sorry for the long wait! Steddie are now on the move~! As usual, thank you so much for your support on my first fanfic ever! And sorry in advance for the grammar mistakes as English is not my first language. Not beta’d as well (we die like Nanam— *gets mugged in Shibuya arc*) Enjoy! 💖

“Hi..?” Ever so softly,you whispered and let it hang onto the air. Both men just looking at you with wide eyes and an expression that you aren’t sure if its embarrassment because they know you have heard what they were talking about or they just don’t expect a woman like you to be in front of their door around this time. Both of them staring at you with intensity, making you unconsciously grab the boxes a little bit tighter,feeling your palms sweat before turning your head away slightly to try and ease the warmth that is slowly creeping up your body from being ogled openly. One of the them,the one with thick,luscious hair ran his eyes all over you,unconsciously biting his bottom lip. The other,arms littered with tattoos,doing the same thing, holding such intense stare that you cannot stand it anymore which made you clear your throat and snap them out of their trance.

“Hi..?” The tattooed man answered,also clearing his throat before leaning against the door frame. Taking a deep breath, he looks like he is about to say something before closing his mouth again. He ran his fingers through his shoulder length hair upwards,clearly in distraught on what to say to you,not minding how it ruined his hair a bit. He did not expect someone,a woman (who is definitely his type) to be standing in front of his friend’s door. Hell,his best friend looks like he did not expect someone at all too with how he is standing awkwardly beside him.

“Uhm.. are you lost? I— we—“ stumbling on his words, he looked at his friend with annoyance “fuck— help me out here man!” He whispered harshly to his best fried beside him with a bit of a shove,which seemed to take his friend out of his staring competition against you and made him fold his arms over his chest. “Uh,sorry, I’m Steve. Steve Harrington. and this is Eddie Munson” Steve introduced his friend and himself politely before extending his hand,which he retreated back after noticing how you’re balancing two boxes. He wanted to help you but does not want to seem like he is already overstepping his boundaries. “Is there anything we can do for you?” Steve combed his hair,a nervous habit of his,but you only stared at him.

With the presence of both men and the slowly cooling air of Hawkins,your cheeks slowly grew red. You snapped out of it when it felt like minutes has passed after his question,making your cheeks warmer in embarrassment “I uhm.. we just moved here and my mom baked these pies for you and uh the other neighbor.. I’m just here to give you yours.” Eddie clenched his jaw with how soft you spoke. God forbid him for already having feral thoughts about someone he just met. The way your cheeks grew red, the way your eyes slowly raked over him and Steve’s frame before tilting your head to stop staring at them, and how your skirt fits perfectly and shows the meaty expense of your thighs. He knows he is fucked with the palpable attraction that he is already holding for you. And its seems like his best friend holds it for you too with the way Steve looks at you. Hearing you say the statement though made him and Steve feel like they won a million bucks. What are the odds of leaving next to someone looking so divine?

“Oh-!” Steve exclaimed,grabbing both boxes from your hands,to which shocked you and almost made you fell. Eddie quickly managed to grab your arm,immediately shooting Steve a glare. “Jesus” he mumbled. His hand is warm,firmly holding you and making sure you’re standing properly before gently letting go. Your eyes widened with the sudden physical contact,mumbling a “thank you” and looking down to fiddle with your fingers,trying to calm your nerves and the odd sensation in your stomach. Steve only eyed you and Eddie sheepishly,giving you a small chuckle “Sorry. I just really wanna help you out the moment I’ve noticed you were having a hard time with these boxes” he leaned onto the door to open it wider “if you’re planning to give the other pie to the other neighbor, you’re in luck cause this guy—“ he paused before pointing his head to Eddie “this guy is your other neighbor.” Eddie gave you the friendliest smile he can muster, before extending his hand. Blaming your nerves for short circuiting because of the full blown interaction, you grabbed his hand with both of your hands and shook it gently. “Nice to meet you both.” You tried to answer sternly but your voice just won’t come out clearly. He lets out a booming laugh, looking at both of your hands before copying you and shaking both of your hands with his.

“Its nicer to meet you.”

Noticing how his voice dropped a tad bit when he said the statement,you cannot help the slight shiver that crawled under your skin. It already felt so wrong. Standing in front of two men that are literally strangers and knowing that you are already infatuated with how good-looking they are is definitely not what you expected on the first day of moving to a different state that you barely knew exist. And definitely how you reacted to someone before. Biting your lip out of embarrassment,you just nodded to him and let go of his hands. Steve,smirking with the interaction,gestured towards inside his house “would you like something to drink-? You must have been standing there for a while.” The question took you off guard,looking at them both with hesitation while you struggle to answer. “I don’t want to bother—“ before you can even finish your sentence,Steve had already cut you off “nonsense. Its alright,you’re not bothering anyone.” He waved you off,carrying the boxes with ease. “Come on in,honey.” With a boyish smile given your way, you took the invitation,the nickname making the odd feeling inside you growing stronger and hard to ignore. You followed him,stepping inside the house while Eddie closed the door with a knowing smile, which Steve returned when he looked at him.

“You just moved here today..?” Steve started as he put down the boxes on the countertop. The design of his house is very modern,neutral colours were dominating every space but not without a pop of colour here and there which just screamed like him with how he’s dressed with some brown slacks and a pale yellow sweater. You stopped looking around,realising you haven’t told them your name yet so you did,taking a seat on one of the bar stools to which Eddie followed and sat beside you.

“Aww, what a pretty name.” He cooed,chuckling with the way you immediately blushed. Both men took the opportunity to look at you closer. Glasses sitting perfectly on your face, red pouty lips that looks like they will feel like heaven once they kiss you, the soft pink skirt that fits you perfectly and shows of your curves. Something akin to feral were slowly being awaken with just your presence.

“Uh yeah,just moved in. Me and my parents.” Adjusting your glasses,you gave Steve a small smile when he handed you and Eddie some lemonade. “I see..” he nodded,taking a sip out of his own glass before continuing “are you planning to continue your studies here then,hon? Hawkins doesn’t have much to offer but the universities and public colleges here and surrounding areas are quite nice— or are you still in high school?” Eddie knows what Steve is really asking you without all the formalities. He gulped his drink,slowly taking small sips while he waits for your answer. He is hoping that if the heavenly beings are real,that they are on his side on this. Him and Steve would be disgusted with themselves inside and out if you choose the latter as the answer to Steve’s question,already planning to drop you home just in case.

“Oh no” you quickly answered,shaking your head “I am planning to attend a university here but I haven’t decided what to pursue yet.. which kind of explains why I’m out here on what should’ve been a school night. I’m turning 19 this summer” politely answering before focusing on your lemonade and removing the slice of lemon wedged at the edge of your glass. Steve sighed in relief,a little too loud, with how quick you looked at him. “Are you alright?” You asked him, tilting your head in concern to which Eddie answered “He’s fine sweetheart” the nickname rolled too easy at Eddie’s tongue, giving you a smirk. “He’s just really happy that his lemonade tastes good.” Steve only chuckled, agreeing to Eddie’s statement before he moves to open a cupboard and a drawer for some plates and cutlery for the pies. Noticing him grabbing 3 plates, you started feeling restless that you are overstaying “I uh— sorry Sir, I’m alright. I- I can just eat the pie at home. My mom bakes them all the time.” Slowly getting down from the bar stool, you grabbed your glass that was once full, along with the coaster “I don’t want to over stay, your family might come home and ask why a stranger is inside their house.” You tried to joke with them, smiling and mentally giving yourself a pat on the back for thinking that you’re really doing well at socializing, oblivious to the effects of what you called Steve. Eddie shifted uncomfortably on his seat, easing the growing pain behind his jeans while Steve took some deep breaths to steady himself. Sir. Fucking Sir. That was said with the most innocent intent but went quickly to their groins. If they thought that hearing you speak earlier was like the loveliest melody wrapped in honey, what more would it be when you’re breathless and a moaning mess underneath them?

“No, you don’t need to worry about that” Steve clarified. “Me and Eddie live alone, so you can just call us by our names. No need to be too polite,sweetie.” Walking towards where you are, he gave you a firm squeeze on your shoulder, to which you looked at him in surprise “We’re already neighbors, we’re going to see each other every day starting tonight. Might as well be comfortable around us already.” Shyly looking at him with doe-eyes, you can only give him a sincere smile while staring at him to which him and Eddie gave you a grin. Steve is ecstatic. His eyes can’t hide the emotions that he is trying to keep at bay. His excitement. Curiosity. All the things he already wants to do with you to open you up to him is slowly filling his mind. Excusing yourself to put your glass on the sink and to wash your hands, Eddie gave Steve a look. A knowing look that they’re going to talk about important things later, forgetting about all the things he laid out tonight that he said he will finish before the day ends. Wiping your hands on a tea towel, you asked them “would you perhaps know any stores around that are hiring? I would really like to apply to one..” Eddie never thought that he will smile so wide that he felt his cheeks starting to hurt. If he felt like a million bucks earlier, he felt like a million times luckier than Steve now. What are the chances that he owns a record store that clearly doesn’t need any employees except you-?

“I own a record store, if you wanna apply? No need for a resume. You look trustworthy enough.” You gasped then squealed,forgetting where you are before giving him a quick hug. You were too happy about already landing a job without going store to store and talking to every manager to notice how Eddie’s eyes widened, before slightly hugging you back. You pulled away immediately,mumbling sorry’s continuously,cheeks now back to being red at what you just did. “I’m so sorry,I’m just—“ you mumbled too quickly,while he just gave you a grin. You felt him rest his hand on the curve of your back,acting as if it doesn’t give him the same gnawing feeling at the pit of your stomach. “You’re alright. Like Stevie here said, we’re going to see each other now every day. Might as well feel comfortable,right?” You nodded at his words,relief evident on your face when you thought you ruined the night with your sudden bold move. “I- thank you so much.” You gave them both a genuine smile,to which they cannot help but be in awe with how cute you look. You feel giddy,not only did you think they’re handsome but they are also the nicest neighbours already. You cannot think how it will make your parents pretty proud. Your mom’s voice ringing inside your head “I told you so.”

Both of them guided you towards the door,you cannot stop yourself from thanking them. You stepped out of Steve’s house before turning around to look at them with a shy smile on your face. “I will bring more pies in the future. It was so nice meeting you both!” You promised to them,waving your hand goodbye as your feet found the asphalt once again,skipping on your way home.

They both waved goodbye before Steve closes the door shut,releasing a breath he’s been holding before giving Eddie a look to which he returned. Eddie clasped both of his hands on his chest. “Whoever divine being is in heaven. They are fucking real.” Steve cannot help but to run his fingers through his hair while figuring out what just happened and what he is currently feeling. He had never been smitten with someone he just met. Even with his beloved ex,Nancy, it took him a few weeks to figure out how attracted he is to her. He groaned,running his hand on his face. “I take back what I said to Robin. I take it back” he walked towards his fridge, opening it to grab a pack of beer for him and Eddie. Sitting down, he opened his beer and quickly chugged almost half of it “we were fucking teasing her with how quick it was for her to be smitten when she met Vicky. And now—“ Eddie couldn’t help but laugh, grabbing a beer as well “we are way more worse.” He shook his head,sighing at how his mind seem to drift towards a particular neighbor already. “I want her.” Eddie stated, there was no hint of playfulness nor humour in his eyes while he looks at Steve. “Do you?”

“Yeah.” Steve stood up, drinking the last of his beer before crushing the metal can and chucking it in his bin. Sighing,he plopped down on the sofa and closed his eyes. “Yeah, I want her too.” He gave Eddie a sly smile, having a mutual understanding on what they want to do.

And how they want to do it.

Tonight is like a fever dream.

You immediately changed your clothes back to your sleeping ones with a smile on your face. Laying down, it sinks on you that you’re alone now, so you had let your mind wonder to the things you felt earlier. The feelings that were foreign to you but mixed with uncertainty. You touched your arm that was squeezed gently by Steve while the feeling of Eddie’s hand that rested on your backside felt like it’s still there. Butterflies still erupting at the pit of your stomach though laced with uneasiness and doubt. You try to calm yourself, telling yourself that they’re just your awfully nice neighbours and that they don’t deserve the doubts you’re thinking about them. Finding sleep at last.

A week went by quickly. Days filled with sticky shirts and the smell of chlorine.

Immediately telling your parents the next day how you managed to land a job after meeting your neighbors, they were proud and happy for you. “They are just the kindest” you told them,saying how they did not hesitate to offer it to you without even getting to know you. You busy yourself with arranging your things from the move, helping your parents decide which curtains fit the living area better, and going to some good spots around Hawkins. Your days being spent mostly with your parents while they enjoy their days off with you before they go back to working again.

You went out with your mom to grab some groceries, the car slowly coming to a stop as she parks on the driveway. Talking about the things you’ve noticed about Hawkins that you did not have from where you used to live. The town kept tons of things that made it look like its stuck in the 80s and 90s. Drive through movies, vintage theaters, a mall called “Starcourt” that have a vibrant blue and red retro sign. You quickly hopped out went straight to the car trunk and opened it,trying to grab as many bags as you can. Hearing your dad’s voice not too far, you turned around to call and ask him for help before noticing that there’s two familiar silhouettes in front of him that he is currently talking too. “Dad?” Calling him a bit louder than earlier, he turned around before Steve and Eddie followed. Your eyes widened a bit, feeling the warmth that you felt that day when you met them,both of them giving you a small wave. Awfully conscious with your choice of short shorts and oversized shirt, you turned back around and focused your gaze on the bags you are trying to carry.

“Need some help,sweetheart?” The deep timbre of Eddie’s voice made you shiver, goosebumps trailing over your arms. He’s already grabbing some bags, taking the ones on your hands too. “T-thanks..” you mumbled, trying to put some space between you and him so he can carry the bags easier. Quickly shutting the trunk, you see your parents talking to Steve,clearly laughing at whatever he said. You and Eddie walked towards them, trying to grab some bags on the way even though he’s too stubborn. “Oh goodness, thank you!” Your mom exclaimed “would you gentlemen like to come in and stay for dinner? I’ll be making my casserole,which everyone says that they love. I’ll love to put that statement to the test.” Your mom asked them both,already opening the door with your dad following her “It’ll be our pleasure” Steve answered,throwing a grin on your way which made you give him a small smile back when your dad grabbed his attention,letting his eyes wander on your body for the last time before immersing himself on another round of sports talk.

Everything’s going well on their end,it seems.

Dinner went by smoothly.

Your parents seem to love them both already,smooth talking their way on several topics that mostly focused on you in which your parents are happy to tell them about. Your mom was telling them how you are always on top of your class and subjects you find interesting. Your hobbies, your achievements, your preference in food even. While your dad tells them how you kicked a bully on 8th grade, when you did something funny in the middle of the grocery aisle that your mom snorted too loud. This made Steve and Eddie looked at you while you try to hide your face, blushing while whining “mom, dad, my god stop”. They were both taking mental notes, thinking of ways how to pamper you, how to take care of you while also how to defile you. It was a mixture of gentleness and filth, the gentle part only there to make you open up to them and their desires. After helping you mom in cleaning up and washing the dishes, you excused yourself and said goodnight to everyone, yawning on the way to the stairs to go up to your room.

Througout the dinner, Eddie cannot help but steal glances your way. How lovely you look in that oversize shirt that he wishes was his, how it showcases your neck and enough skin to leave it in his imagination, already looking forward to painting it with hickeys. He hates the fact that this is Steve’s “plan”. He hates the fact that he needs to take things slow, but he knows that all this planning and acting on it will be worth it.

And seeing Steve’s massive grin when your parents asked them after a week if both of them can look after you as they work all the time and how they don’t want you to feel alone in a new town, it is indeed worth it.

By the time your parents left after a few days of getting told that they will be out of town for a week, you quickly found yourself in your room, burying your whole body underneath your blanket. That gnawing feeling of loneliness is now back after feeling your happiest for the past few weeks.

Your eyes slowly becoming blurry as your tears cascade down your cheeks, your hands trying to wipe every single tear away though it just kept on coming. You hated how the empty house kind of made your sobs grow louder in your ears, covering your mouth to muffle it out. The ringing of the doorbell halted your sobs, turning into sniffles while you stand up and try to look presentable on the way to your door. Only wearing your oversized sweater, you adjusted it and wore your house slippers. With one last look at a mirror near your hallway, you opened the door to find Steve and Eddie.

“Hey, sweetheart! We were supposed to come here earlier but got stucked in traffic.” Eddie explained,looking down while adjusting his watch that kept on getting too loose for his liking,. “Yeah, sorry for the sudden visit honey. They have mentioned that they’re leaving for a week and if we can look after you— why are your eyes red?” Steve asked, looking at your face intently, his smile now replaced with a scowl. The statement made Eddie look up quickly, his soft demeanor quickly changing like Steve’s. Your lower lip was jutted in a pout, trembling while you try to stop yourself from crying. “I- I’m— Mr. Harrington.. Mr. Munson—“ you tried to answer that you’re fine, just feeling off but your voice wobbled and suddenly you cannot stop your tears from spilling. Both men went rigid because of what you called them before snapping themselves out of it. They can appreciate your tear-stained cheeks later if it was in a different situation.

Steve immediately stepped inside and wrapped his arms around you, his bigger frame enveloping your body in a warm embrace. All the emotions that you were trying to keep at bay now coming out, sobbing in his chest. Steve had one of his arms wrapped around you, his hand resting on your lower back while the other holds your nape gently, drawing soft circles to calm you down. The action made you cry harder, your hands finding its way on his shirt, clutching on it tightly. “Oh baby, its okay. Its okay. We’re here” He tried to calm you down, feeling his breath on top of your head as he continue to gently rub your back. Eddie closed the door, concern written on his face as he watches his friend hold you. “How about we move to the couch, pretty girl?” Steve said, his voice laced with softness. He felt you nod on his chest, still sniffling as him and Eddie guided you to the couch. You already missed Steve’s warmth. His scent,a mix of something sweet and tart, like cherries laced with vanilla, filled your senses the moment he wrapped his arms around you. You did not dare to look at them once you sat down, feeling embarrassed about crying, and about wanting to be hugged by either of them. “Sweetheart, can you please tell us whats wrong?” Eddie softly asks, placing his hand on your knee while Steve sat down on the other side, holding your arm and rubbing it in an comforting manner. “I just— I feel so lonely.” Wiping your tears using the sleeves of your sweater, you continue “I can usually ignore it but today I’m—“ you covered your face out of embarrassment, out of thinking that they must have been annoyed by now with how much of a crybaby you are. “Oh sweet girl, come here. You don’t need to feel shy about this” Eddie said, shuffling closed to you and wrapping his arms around you, he rested his head on top of yours. Your smell intoxicating him as he take deep breaths. You gripped his arms, letting his scent consume you like Steve’s. His is a mix of cigars and grapefruit. You looked up at him with doe-eyes, his hand quickly catching your falling tears. “Me and Steve are here now, yeah? You won’t feel alone now.”

He whispered, hand now caressing your cheek in a loving manner while he looks straight to your eyes. You stared at his long lashes, pink lips that looks too soft, cheeks kissed by the sun with how there are freckles here and there up close. Steve’s arm wrapped themselves around you as you face Eddie, resting his head on your shoulder. He had let his hands wander, playing with the hem of your sweater. “Our sweet girl..” he whispered directly to your ear. You shivered, a foreign feeling crawling under your skin while you gasped. Your stomach twisting into something that is uncomfortable but at the same time pleasurable.

“No more days and nights feeling lonely..” Eddie swiped his thumb on your lips, watching you let go of your bottom lip that you did not realized you’ve been biting. “We’re now with you all the time, your parents told us to look after you. Take care of you..” Steve’s hands began to crawl their way upwards, his hands now caressing your bare thighs, before realizing you’re only wearing an underwear underneath which made him release a deep groan. You froze, feeling wetness pool in the middle of your legs. “M- Mr. Harrington..” you tried to close your legs, changing your position on the sofa before Eddie stopped you and held your face to make you look back at him again “Shhh.. its alright, sweetheart. This is how you forget. This is how you can forget how lonely and sad you’ve felt.” You tried to focus on what he was saying but Steve’s hands are now playing with the lace of your panties while also peppering soft kisses on your neck, making you release a whimper. You felt Steve’s smirk on your neck before sucking your skin, leaving his mark on you, Eddie’s pupils now blown wide with lust and desire. You continued to whimper before feeling Eddie’s lips on you. You gripped his arms, trying to control his pace, as the rational part of your brain screams how wrong it is to kiss your neighbors that were just trying to comfort you. Eddie grabbed both of your arms with one hand and pinned it to your side, while the other held your face to crane your head back a bit to let him kiss you deeper.

Steve continued his assault on your underwear, pushing your underwear down before hiking your sweater up to expose your pussy. He moaned on your neck when he touched your bare cunt that is soaking wet, fingers swiping your juicy lips before he lifted it to know what you taste like. “God, honey. You taste so sweet. So fucking sweet.” One of his hand now holds your hip still, the other going back to play with your pussy. He found your clit and kept on rubbing it in a pace that made you buck your hips. You threw your head back, Eddie quickly latching his mouth on the other side of your neck. You moaned at all the sensations you’re feeling, everything foreign but welcomed with how you unconsciously try to open your legs wider to let Steve’s thick fingers play with you more. Your mind is slowly becoming blank, pleasure numbing all the other emotions you were feeling earlier with how good they’re touching you. Eddie’s kisses travelled lower, hiking your sweater up to release your breasts before him. His mouth quickly finding your hardened nipple, sucking it hard while your other nipple gets toyed with his calloused fingers, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. Breathy moans left spit-slicked lips, catching hold of Steve’s hair. The tight hold on his hair urged Steve to finally soak his fingers on your cunt, one thick finger breaching its way inside you. “Fuck!” Steve exclaimed as you moaned loudly, watching how his finger disappears while he build his pace.

Feeling you relaxed, he added another finger that made your eyes roll back. With Eddie still sucking your nipples and leaving hickeys all over your chest, and Steve’s unforgiving fingers pumping in and out of your pussy, you were starting to see white. “Yes baby, that’s it. Oh, how can you be this pretty? Even the sounds you’re making— jesus, I’m gonna explode.” Eddie mumbled on your skin, continuing his actions to your sensitive nipples. “Fucking perfect for us, made for us—“ Steve grunted, rubbing your clit using his thumb. You clenched on his fingers, the pleasure slowly becoming too much for you. “Mr. Harrington—“ you tried to call out to him, wanting to grab his arm but forgetting that Eddie is still holding it in place. “Yeah, baby? Feeling too good?” Drool pooled around your lips, losing your train of thought. High-pitched moans leaving your lips continously as Steve furrowed his eyebows in concentration. He felt you clench on his fingers, hips bucking to meet his fingers to which he knows that you’re close to cumming. “S-stop please— M-Mr. Harrington- it feels weird,I’m gonna pee—“ you tell him with shaky breaths, trying to stop the urge to not embarrass your self further. Steve chuckled, quickening his pace. Eddie inserted his thumb on your mouth, to which you immediately suck. He groaned at the feeling of your tongue enveloping his thumb and to the sight of your tear-stained cheeks and drooling mouth with how fucked out you are. One thrust of Steve’s fingers towards the spongey texture made you trembled, releasing Eddie’s thumb to let out a high-pitched moan. Steve continued before whispering on your ear. “Let go, our good girl.” He gave your neck a kiss, before feeling you still underneath them with your eyes rolled at the back of your head. Your legs quiver, creamy white cum now coating Steve’s fingers.

You whined when Steve took out his fingers, lapping your up your cum before offering his fingers to Eddie. “Taste her.” He said, Eddie quickly lapping your creamy release on Steve’s fingers while staring at your figure. He let out a deep groan, closing his eyes while he savours your flavor on his tongue. “Like fucking honey.” Both men looked at you, body coated in sweat, eyes closed with drool on your lips. Eddie took of his shirt, wiping the remnants of your cum between your legs before standing up and grabbing water for the three of you while Steve slowly arranged your position to lay you down comfortably on the sofa.

“See, honey? We got you. No more crying every night or day..” he softly talked to you, brushing your hair out of your face. He cupped your cheek on his hand, “we will be here,okay? This is what we’ll do when you feel sad and lonely. So you can forget all those.” Leaning on to his touch, you slowly opened your eyes. “B-but what about mom and dad..” you looking at him so innocently made his forgotten boner throb underneath his slacks. Not today, he told himself. “This is our little secret, yeah? Mommy and Daddy doesn’t have to know.” He gave your lips a quick peck, smiling when he watched your cheeks go pink. Eddie walked in, handing Steve your water and his. Steve made you drink a bit before letting you drift to sleep, cheeks squished on a throw pillow.

Eddie drank his water, plopping down on another chair while Steve does the same. “This is like a fucking drug.” He groaned, putting his hair in a low, messy bun. “Tell me about it” Steve combed his hair, both men watching your sleeping form in awe. “You think she won’t tell her parents?” Eddie asked, the idea making him a little nervous. “Mhm, I doubt. Besides—“ Steve looked at Eddie with a smirk, before he moves to fix your sweater from exposing your bare ass more to them. “You still have that video camera, right, Munson?” Eddie chuckled darkly to his friend, nodding his head. “Yeah. I still have it.” He looked directly at Steve’s eyes, mimicking the devilish grin of the other.

“You’re evil. And you know it. Don’t you, big boy?”

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cease-your-release · 1 month

Text

Little Dog (Smut ver)

After a long day of work, and with absolutely no time to see each other throughout, Copia gets a little impatient once you're back in his arms.

Content warning(s): Copia is compared to a dog, he also licks himself off of the reader's behind.............

Haiiii I'm back from my little hiatus! Hopefully this one is better than my first smut attempt... hehe...I may add more to this since it was ended on a cliffhanger, especially if the people want it!I've had some brain rot thanks to an artist on X depicting Copia doing puppy-play, that doesn't totally happen here but it definitely has influence. Hope you like!

Also on A03!

Fluff version

You and your partner, the esteemed cardinal of your ministry, Copia, are dutifully working at your respective jobs, and due to that, being separated the entire day. Not a single lunch break, passing waves in the halls, nothing.

Hours later, the end of the day comes, and the both of you meet back in your room. The two of you shed your uniforms, and you are about to put something more comfortable on when you feel a pair of hands on your waist, as Copia walks up from behind you and wraps his arms around your torso. His face is hidden in the curve of your neck as he presses a kiss to it

"I missed you..." There's just something about him right now that's completely and utterly smitten with you. The feeling of you in his arms, your back flush against his body... it's all too good. He's lost in your presence - even when he's trying his best not to be a mess about it.

A shiver runs down your spine at his touches, ending in a shaky sigh. “I know, sweet boy, so did I.” You slide your hands down to rest over his own where they are on your body, and you caress the back of his palms with your thumbs. “You’re very gentle, did you know that? You treat me like glass.”

Copia lets out a small noise, leaning into your touch and savoring the sensation. His cheeks flush with this new level of closeness with you. He is just so vulnerable around you. He's not used to being treated with such delicate care, but he absolutely adores it. "That's the idea." He murmurs, his heart fluttering at you and the gentle way you're touching him. "You're so precious to me... I don't want to hurt you..."

“I’m okay, baby.” you mutter in response, and guide his hands a little more firmly against you. “If you'd prefer to be softer, that’s fine, I like that too, I just don’t want you to hold back on my accord.” is your addition, not breaking your gaze from his own behind you.

He nods and presses himself into you just a bit more, letting you feel his already hardened cock. With you being so comfortable with his more intense touch, your words and actions giving him the green light to be more intimate, he's all over you. "I like it when you call me that." Copia’s voice is warm and the nervous blush is starting to die down - he's getting used to this.

A faint gasp comes from you involuntarily at the suddenness of his grasp, his hands moving around your frame fervently. “I know, I see how you react to it.. it’s very cute.” But words fail a moment later when you feel his crotch moving against your rear. They don’t seem calculated, which leads you to believe it’s not on purpose. In any case, it feels good, and you can’t help a few quiet noises.

He chuckles at your moans, though finding himself just as, even more, affected by this contact as you are. He's grunting and rutting on you, but he is more aware of it now. His touch, the little kisses, the sounds you're making... it all has him on a whole new level of infatuation with you. His hands go from gently holding you to squeezing you tightly, grasping you around your middle and carefully, but with haste, bringing you down onto his lap as he sits on the edge of the bed.

You go where he guides with no resistance, only reaching up to grasp the bedpost for support.

He buries his face into your neck and begins moving his hips up and down with more purpose, effectively dry humping you.

“That’s good, baby, just like that~” You groan out, your head falling back against his shoulder. You can feel his movements getting a bit more desperate, and the way his face is nuzzling into you tells you everything that you need to know.

Copia nips at your neck ever so softly, not wanting to break skin but to make you feel just as good as he does. His hand finds its way across your thigh and moves up, where it then takes a handful of the supple flesh of your ass. "Your little noises... my god.” He hums, burying his face deeper in your neck.

You gasp, which turns into a trembling moan at the various sensations of him. The grinding was one thing, but the bite and grope have you melting. You whine, starting to sway your hips over his lap, then turn your head to press your lips to his neck in return, your breath heavy and hot against his skin. “Good boy~”

He is so far gone at this point, he's not even trying to retain his composure. Copia whimpers at the mixed feelings- your kisses, the way you move so expertly over his stiff member, which is weeping with pre-cum -and bites his lip, his eyes closing as he moans. You can already feel his cock twitching occasionally. “Ti senti così bene…” He tilts his head so that you can kiss his warm flesh more and uses his free hand to grab your hip, holding you tighter. He’s fully thrusting up against you now, and making noises so adorable it's almost painful.

You smile when you notice the shift in his sounds, along with his actions, but it doesn’t truly register what’s happening until it’s done.

In another minute or so you feel hot and wet hit your backside, and shudder with the sensation, then feel him slump behind you, his body limp. It occurs so suddenly, he must have had this desire pent up for a while. You don’t say anything, only sit there and caress his hair where his head rests on your shoulder, anticipating his upcoming reaction.

Copia blushes, mortified. He's almost frozen in embarrassment as he tries to process the fact that he, well, he came before even being inside of you. He tries to calm himself down, sitting up properly and putting his hands on the side of his thighs. They're shaking with that much of a rush, and Copia sucks in a breath. "Cazzo! M-Mi dispiace, I-" He's at a loss for words. He just looks at you, hoping you aren't disgusted with him.

You cut his apology off with a soft, tender kiss. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ll take that as a compliment, hm?” Is your response, followed by a chuckle. “You’re adorable, sweet thing.”

Your kiss makes his legs wobble even more. He leans forward and wraps his arms around your waist, trying to compose himself. You're too kind to him right now, he doesn't think he can even handle your compliments while his heart is still racing. "I'm not adorable." A little blush comes to Copia's cheeks as his gaze falls to the floor. No, he's not adorable at all. "I'm just a... a-"

“What, a pervert?” Your soft expression and tone turn into teasing ones, and you tilt your head at him with a grin. “Like I said, it’s cute. You’re like… a little dog going through its first heat.” You say with a giggle, caressing his cheek with one hand.

His face turns a deep shade of red, his head bowing to stare down at his lap, at you still sitting on it. Your comparison is accurate; the thought of him being like an excited, horny dog, humping its favorite toy, just makes him so embarrassed- and a bit warm. But he leans into your touch as you caress his face. "Amore..." His voice has reduced itself to barely a whisper. He sounds so... vulnerable.

Your playfulness comes to a halt at the sound of his voice, and you lean in to mutter a response. “Yes, Copia?” You ask softly, almost sensually, making sure to look him directly in the eye. Your gaze is as sweet as your voice, lips parted and eyes half-lidded.

He swears he can hear his own heartbeat as it thunders loudly in his ears. Your words, your touch... they make him want to crawl into his own skin and hide. Your gaze is like poison and he swallows thickly as he looks right back at you, his expression a combination of shy and sultry. "You're making me, eh… do that again." He admits quietly in return, his eyes closed tight as if to block out the sight of your seduction because it's too much for him to handle.

You bite your lip and shift slightly on his lap, a muffled noise coming from your mouth. “I know, I can feel it.” Then you suddenly stand up, your behind in full view. He really did make quite the mess, it having smeared over your skin. Being compared to a glazed donut would be surprisingly accurate. “Let’s go clean up and we’ll do that properly, okay?”

The feeling of your warmth leaving him makes Copia open his eyes, and his breath hitches at the sight of you. He could never deny how perfect your body is, but seeing your behind like that makes his stomach flip. His hands reach out to cup your ass without really being aware of what he's doing, which causes you to gasp and look over your shoulder at him. He nods in response to your question, not even bothering to try and tear his gaze away from the view before him. His gaze is firmly fixated on you as he takes it all in. "Yes... yes, let's take a shower. I don't care how long that takes, I could just look at you all day."

“You like what you see, I take it?” You ask playfully, then wiggle your hips a little in his grasp. “Hm, puppy?”

He bites his lip, trying to form words but failing at it entirely. When you move, those gorgeous hips and bottom come closer to his face. "If... if you call me that again, I..." He sighs, not even knowing what himself. The words wouldn't even be coherent with how he's practically drooling over you.

He leans in and nuzzles one of your cheeks as he hums. It's a very sensitive area for him and seeing your ass coated in his spend... yes, Copia likes what he sees very, very much.

Your confidence slips at that, eyes widening and mouth falling open in shock- and partially pleasure. “Copia, I’m covered in your-” You try to remind him, as if he can’t see it right in front of his eyes, but of course, it’s too late. You bite your lip and watch it happen, the sight being surprisingly attractive as you find your blood running just that much warmer. “I-I’ll help wash your face too, okay?”

He looks up at you with a sly grin as his tongue comes out to lick you clean, loving the surprise on your face. Your body is so perfect that he can't resist touching it, eating it up with his eyes and tongue. "Yes please..." He watches you with adoration as he does, Copia is all yours for the taking at this point in time. He doesn't mind. He just wants more of you.

Your breath hitches and you tense up, a few quiet whimpers escaping you at the feeling and image of him licking himself off of your ass. “Fuck, baby~” You sigh, white-knuckling the bedpost and subconsciously, slightly lean yourself against him.

Copia grins at how you hold onto the frame as if you might fall, because you're in his arms, and it's the safest place you could ever be.

He lets out a low groan, that name making him ache with how much he wants to hear you say it in the way that's most intimate to him. He hums and takes your cheek with his tongue and lips, rubbing his face against you until he’s satisfied with the work.

You taste delicious, and Copia can't wait to have you again.

"Ti senti così bene…" ~ "You feel so good..."

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gothamlonelyhearts · 6 months

Text

prompt; first kiss

warnings; none

word count is 491 because i have malicious wicked writer's block ^_^"

“I’ve never done this.”

It’s embarrassingly honest and vulnerable in a way that makes you feel like you’ve been dipped in gunk. Being open, being earnest, being truthful doesn’t come easy to you. Not in the slightest.

“I haven’t either.”

Guess we’re even, then. You catch yourself biting your lip again. You’re nervous. It’s a good nervous, but nervous nonetheless.

You’ve got questions. Lots of them, really. Questions that you would hate to answer yourself – how come no one’s kissed you in 20-something years? Have you ever been in love before me? Are you in love with me? Would you build a life with me? Why don’t you just kiss me already? Somehow these questions seem even stupider when you’re about to ask them to someone whose limbs you’re tangled up in.

Instead, you just clumsily push his bangs off his forehead and run your nails through his hair.

Are you sure that I’m the one you want to share this with? Tense words die on your tongue and you decide that you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t, so you do.

You lean in and smack the bridge of your nose against Edward’s. You mumble out a panicked apology but he just snorts out a laugh and pulls you into a tighter embrace and you wonder if you’re dreaming for a second. You’re stupid and apparently he likes stupid – a lot.

“Can I kiss you?” You manage to breathe out, barely audible.

“If you wanna,” He mumbles back, suddenly embarrassed as it seems the reality of the situation has hit him. It’s hit you too – a real guy, flesh and blood and bundles of emotion – wants to kiss you. So, you guess that you’re in this together and you decide again, either you do this or you don’t, so you do.

It’s clumsy and awkward and you end up knocking the both of you over on the couch you sit on, but neither of you care. He pulls you in closer and kisses you back just as clumsily and when you break apart your head is the emptiest it’s ever been, full of hot air and love and electricity.

“I think I – I… I love you,” You stammer out.

“I love you too,” Ed admits, his voice quiet and shy.

Words are failing you right now so you decide to just show him that you love him, leaning in and pressing soft kisses on the side of his neck. Edward squirms at the unfamiliar feeling, failing to stifle a giggle. “Val, come on, stop it,” He feigns sternness, but his voice is still so full of mirth.

“Make me,” you mumble, playfully nipping at his soft jawline.

He snorts and pulls away, his nose crinkled a little.

“I love you,” You mumble again, the words falling out so much easier this time. This is all you could ever want. This is all that you’ve ever dreamed of.

#meow!#my stuff

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snowe-zolynn-rogers · 1 year

Text

Anything? Anything.

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1,451 Words

Summary: Eclipse takes Monty’s fake deal, to Lunar’s detriment.

Warnings: Near Death Experiences, Pain, Injury, Eye Trauma, Blindness, Mild Gore, Violence, Paralysis, Blood (in the form of oil), Abuse, Abandonment, let me know if I should add anything else.

Chapter 1: Kill Lunar

It began with a deal.

"Anything?"

"Yes, anything."

"Kill Lunar." It was stock still in Lunar's head, but he knew Eclipse had grabbed him, the ringing in his ears drowning out anything that may come until he heard-

"Be here within an hour." Eclipse demanded of Monty. Monty didn't seem to know what to say but, eventually he began fighting once Lunar was in a tube and strapped to a chair. The machine turned on with a soft ping as it tightened the straps to his body and made sure he couldn't wriggle free.

"Deactivate Moon." The machine made its directive clear.

"Eclipse?" Lunar asked him but the orange bot looked away.

"I'm sorry, Lunar. It must be done for the star." Eclipse told him.

"Wait!" Monty tried in vain but Eclipse had already left as the machine descended.

"Monty?" Lunar asked as the pincers descended first.

"Fuck, kid! It's gonna be okay, just breathe. I'm coming just-" Monty tried. But the pincers latched onto his eyes and a sudden yank had them leaving his faceplate with a piercing scream.

"Focus on me, Lunar. Focus on my voice. You're gonna be okay. Fuck, I'm so sorry!" Monty fumbled out for him but Lunar felt the machine grab at his knee and tear it out of place with a scream. "Breathe, Lunar, breathe!" Monty urged him but the machine yanked his other knee joint out of place with a sob.

His elbow joints getting yanked out of place only earned sobs and hiccups as he couldn't scream anymore. He couldn't even find it in himself to feel anything more than exhaustion. How long had this been going on now? Why wasn't Monty coming? Why did Eclipse leave? Wasn't Eclipse supposed to love him!

The machine opened his chest plate and he felt one of the pincers inside the wiring, rooting around for something, probably Moon's personality chip and Lunar's by proxy. It was going to kill them after leaving them entirely vulnerable.

"Moony, I'm sorry!" Lunar sobbed out, readying for the chip to be broken soon. But then he felt the machine suddenly crush him instead. His faceplace was cracked and his engines were cracked, a vessel for oil broken and leaking into them, making it almost impossible to breathe.

He couldn't feel anything in the endo from the waist down. It had been too close to his spine. The arm rooting inside him for the chip had shoved through their spine and through the table. Lunar was shivering, it felt cold now. Everything felt cold now.

"Oh my god." Monty cut the call but sounded close and Lunar let out a keening whimper to get him to help, sounding more like a wounded animal than an animatronic likely. "Kid, I'm so sorry." Monty told him as he came to hold his faceplate and Lunar weakly leaned into it.

"I'm cold." Lunar whispered.

"I know, I'm gonna...I'm gonna help. I have to get this thin outta you. It fucking broke!?" Monty growled at the machine as Lunar felt the weight leave and the arm get carefully taken out through his back.

"No vessels in there, thank god. But the spine..." Monty wounded so sad. "I can fix it. I can fix this. Don't you dare die on me." Monty demanded.

"I'm so tired." Lunar warned him.

"Hey now, talk to me. Tell me something, Lunar. Stay with me." Monty demanded of him.

"W-Why did Eclipse do this to me? I didn't do anything wrong!" Lunar whimpered out.

"It's my fault, kids, and I'm so sorry I put you in the middle. I shoulda known he'd do it. God, I'm so stupid! I was just trying to get him out of the room so I could talk to you alone. I shoulda stopped him, shoulda backed out. It was supposed to be a fake deal of something he wouldn't do!" Monty told him while he was getting him unstrapped from the chair.

"Monty, Moony feels all the pain. But I felt it too." Lunar warned him. Monty immediately did something in another language that Lunar couldn't understand. But he heard Moon stop screaming within his head finally and he hummed and nodded at him softly.

"Moon, you're there?" Monty asked.

'Lunar, what happened!?' Moon asked.

"Fake deal...to kill me...Eclipse put us...in a tube...I'm sorry." Lunar was struggling with his engine filling with oil. But then Monty's fingers carefully found the right vessel and sealed it off, ceasing the oil-flow going into his engine.

"Hold your breath." Monty told him. Lunar did just that as he felt Monty take out the engine that was cracked and replaced it. "Breathe." Lunar could take much deeper breaths now, no longer struggling to do so.

"I'm getting your legs, do you feel them?"

"No." Lunar admitted.

'You can't feel them!?" Moon asked in a panic.

"Spine. Shoved out." Lunar was trying to focus on anything but the pain of it all. Everything ached. Well, everything he could feel. And Monty moved quickly to his elbow joints. "Don't move your arm, it'll mess up the wires." Monty warned him and held his hand to take the useless joints out one handed.

Lunar felt pain in the endo from the lack of a joint when Monty took out the ripped one but Monty replaced it quickly and then moved to the next arm, letting his left elbow recalibrate while he did the right. It was just painful. Everything was painful. Was fixing someone always so much pain?

'Lunar, stay awake.' Moon urged him.

"'M tired." Lunar complained.

"We know, Lunar, just a little longer. I need to fix your spine." Monty told him.

'We'll be okay. It's a part that can be replaced. But he needs you awake to make sure we'll wake back up.' Moon told him.

Lunar felt Monty's hands carefully bringing something into his chest cavity, claws retracted to not nick anything. Lunar winced feeling the new spine get pressed to the top into place, then the bottom and Monty stopped holding it quickly.

"Can you feel everything now?" Monty asked.

"My legs hurt." Lunar told him.

"I know, recalibration hurts. I'm sorry." Monty apologized again as he closed his chest plate before carefully moving Lunar onto his side, almost laying on his stomach. "Just the casing on your back now." Lunar sighed at that and let Monty take off and replace the casing before putting him back on his back.

"What about our eyes?" Lunar asked.

"Your eyes. Fuck." Lunar heard Monty seem to throw up as he realized his eyes were gone. "That fucking machine crushed them." Monty sounded sick to his stomach at that.

'I have replacements.' Moon offered.

"Moon has replacements." Lunar relayed.

"In his room?"

'In here. In a box in the closest storage room.'

"In the closest storage room in a box." Lunar relayed.

"I'm not leaving you. I promise. I'm coming back with eyes." Monty told him and Lunar laid his head down and rested as his legs felt to have calibrated.

'You did so well. I'm so proud of you letting Monty help you and not falling asleep yet.' Moon praised him.

"You're proud of me?" Lunar asked.

'Of course I am. You're the bravest person I know. You withstood everything that machine did to you. You let someone you didn't trust take care of you. You're still alive and awake. I'm so, so proud of you, Lunar.' Moon told him.

"Moony, I'm scared. What if Eclipse knows?"

'We'll tell him the creator did it.' Moon told him.

"Huh?" Lunar hummed.

'We disappear for a couple days and come back saying the creator fixed you.' Moon told him.

"Okay, eye replacement. And faceplate fixing." Monty spoke in that weird language again and his faceplate felt better, seemingly healed. Then the new eyes popped into their sockets but nothing.

"I still don't see anything." Lunar warned.

"You don't? I attached the wire even." Monty asked.

"No, I still can't see." Lunar sniffled.

"Let me see." Monty plucked one from its socket carefully and examined it and the wires. "That damn machine! It cut part of the wires. Those wires are irreplaceable." Monty sounded so sad again.

"Monty, it's okay. At least we look normal." Lunar assured him and Monty defeatedly placed his eye back into its socket rather carefully but effectively.

"Alright. I need to get you outta here. He's gonna come sniffing around eventually." Monty wrapped him up in a blanket and picked him up, Lunar snuggling into him and hiding against him as he felt himself being carried, slowly falling asleep from the pain he'd gone through and holding tight to Monty.

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hanmine · 3 years

Note

hi tee! i hope you’re having a fabulous day so far because u deserve it

i really liked your scenario about draken and mikey thinking you’re scared of them, could i request the same prompt with baji and hanma? pls drink water i luv uuuu<3

𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐘𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃

PART ONE — draken and mikey

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: baji keisuke and hanma shuji

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: anon, i drank a glass of water just for you before i started writing this <3

✿ 𝐁𝐀𝐉𝐈

baji is quiet as he sits before you, which is uncharacteristically new for him as is, but it’s the way he seems oddly distant from you that catches your attention.

no throwing his head on your lap and begging for study breaks, no suggesting to go grab something to eat, no ranting about things on his mind, and most importantly, no moves latch onto you in some way. it’s clear there’s something on his mind, but the part that makes your heart drop is the way he seems to grow more and more uneasy the more you reach out.

as if you were the problem.

“kei—”

“go home,” he growls. his eyes don’t meet yours, he doesn’t want you to catch a glimpse of them either. he knows the second you do, you’ll see the hurt swimming in them, and baji doesn’t want you to see through any more of him, doesn’t want to open up any more pieces of himself to you than he already has.

it won’t ever be enough. not to keep you around, anyway.

“keisuke,” you say firmly. the sound of his full first name and not the sweet nicknames you usually call him by make his heart squeeze even more.

baji wonders how something could hurt so intensely, how the thoughts of one person could make him question himself so much, but you do that to him. and he’s falling apart at the seams—and he doesn’t want you to be here to witness it.

“just go,” he spits, voice raising. “you want to anyway, don’t you? i won’t stop you,” he shrugs. but you can see the tremble of his lips and you can hear the shakiness of his voice.

don’t go. he wants to say that, but he can’t bring himself to. you don’t deserve to be tied down to someone like him. but the gentle brushing of a thumb over his knuckles makes him look up, seeing you stand before him as he stays slumped in his chair.

“baby? where’s this coming from,” you ask gently. “you can tell me,” you insist, leaning down and pressing a soft peck to his forehead.

he shouldn’t bear his heart to you now, it’s the perfect opportunity to crush it in one go, but he can’t help himself. old habits die hard, it’s always been that way for him.

“i heard some shit,” he mumbles.

“okay…and what did you hear?” he shrugs again.

“some shit,” he tries to avoid your eyes, but you tilt his head up and force him to meet your gaze.

“keisuke. i’m serious. what did you hear?” and if you see the way his eyes are a bit glossier, you don’t say anything, opting you stroke his cheek with your thumb. the soft drag is comforting, it’s home, and he loses himself to it for a moment.

“people said you were looking for a way to get away from me,” he mumbles. the hurt in his voice is clear, and your heart aches at the thought of him carrying the weight of his doubts alone all day. “but you’re too scared that i’ll…” his hands clench into fists. “that i’ll hurt you if you do.”

sighing, you smooth back some hair from his face, cupping both cheeks and cradling them in your palms.

“and you believed them?” he shrugs once more.

“isn’t a far fetched idea,” he says dryly. and there’s a soft kiss to his forehead, and then one to his cheek, and then two to his other. and finally, one last kiss to his lips makes him grip your waist tightly, hoping you’ll stay.

“yes it is,” you hum. “you wouldn’t last a day without me,” you poke his forehead. “i gotta stick around.” and even if you don’t say them, for his sake more than yours—he’s never enjoyed being vulnerable—baji knows the words underneath. i care too much to go.

“i wouldn’t ever hurt you. or let anyone else hurt you,” he says seriously. you nod gently.

“i know,” you whisper. “and that’s why i love you,” you speak against his hair, kissing the top as his face buries into your stomach. “feel the safest with you, kei.” and he stays like that for a bit, buried into the fabric of your shirt, inhaling your scent while your fingers trail through his hair. you’re here, and you don’t want to leave—and he’s grateful.

“love you too,” he breathes. “gonna kill whoever spread those rumors.”

✿ 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐌𝐀

hanma swears if he didn’t love you so much, he’d make you regret pounding on his door at three am. with a sinister glare, he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you in, slamming the door behind him as you cross your arms.

you have some nerve, he thinks. showing up to his door unannounced even despite your view of him. and even if his heart hurts, even if it physically aches at the thought that you would think lowly of him, he can’t bring himself to regret you.

never you.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” he seethes. you flare your nostrils at his attitude.

“oh, me? i’m here wondering why my boyfriend is suddenly dead to the world. how about you, though? how’ve you been doing?” you answer sarcastically, making him pinch his nose. pointing a finger at you, he narrows his eyes.

“don’t get bold with me,” he spits. “you sure your boyfriend’s safe, baby? aren’t ya scared he’ll hurt you?” face scrunched up in confusion, you sigh exasperatedly, making hanma clench his jaw.

you’re mocking him, he thinks. and he should be mad—and he can’t understand why he’s not mad. he’s drowning in hurt, and the feeling doesn’t make any sense.

“shuji, what are you on about? i swear, it’s never straightforward with you, you always gotta go around in circles,” you groan.

his hands are clenched into fists, and he’s unsure what else he can say. there are so many questions on his mind, but none of them can form into audible words.

why are you here? what did i do wrong? why would you think that?

they all keep him up at night, and he wonders when everything had turned from so right, to so wrong in moments.

“oh, you think i’m dumb? take me for a fool, huh? people talk, you idiot,” he screams. “if you’re too scared to leave me, don’t get so bold with me here! what, not scared i’ll hurt you now?” and it’s his way of pushing you away, the hurt and betrayal masked as anger, the wicked grin on his face to draw attention away from the pain in his eyes. but you know hanma, and you won’t let him hide away from you.

“whoever you’re getting intel from is really bad at their job,” you sigh. you hold an arm out for him to come over. “because i’m not going anywhere. and i’m not scared of your stupid ass,” you mutter.

hanma freezes, and he stiffens when your hand offers itself to him. does he take it? he doesn’t know if he wants to risk the heartache once more, doesn’t know if this is all an elaborate scheme to see him at his lowest.

but he’s always at his highest when he’s with you, and even if his mind screams no, he heart cries yes, and he’s taking cautious steps towards you.

“you…you’re not trying to get away?”

“no,” you shake your head.

“not scared of me?”

“absolutely not.” his once tattered heart finally starts to heal, and he’s using every fiber in him to keep from falling into you from relief.

“not even a little?” he pouts a bit when you shake your head again. “you should be, ‘m a scary guy,” he insists. you snort at the way he’s switched up already.

“not to me,” you say with a cheeky grin. “i can do whatever i want,” you say confidently. “you wouldn’t dare lay a finger on me.” and though he rolls his eyes and pinches your nose, he’s internally pleased with your response.

because it’s true, he could never hope to hurt you, no matter what you do—and he needs you to know it. it almost feels like his life depends on it.

“get out of my apartment, you brat,” he mutters, but he meets you halfway, kissing you desperately, needing the feeling of you against him like it’s his lifeline. and you latch onto him, anchoring him as he finally reaches a peace of mind.

“not going anywhere,” you murmur. “can’t make me.” he grins against your lips. he’s a lovesick fool, he thinks, but perhaps he doesn’t mind it too much.

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crazypaperwasteland · 2 years

Text

Old Acquaintances

Jasper x Reader Oneshot

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: Jasper knew Y/N when he had just escaped Maria, she had begun helping with his bloodlust but then disappeared off the face of the earth. Jasper moved on with the Cullens, thinking that she was dead. Only to find out when Carlisle calls for her aid against the Volturi that she is alive, well, as alive as she could be.

Masterlist

Vampires filled the entirety of the Cullen house, every one of them had traveled far and wide in order to witness Renesmee’s existence. Jasper sat on the couch, leaning his elbows on his knees and tapping his foot on the ground impatiently. Carlisle walked into the room and saw this, chuckling with a knowing smile. Jasper looked up at him, cocking a brow.

“She’ll be here, Jasper, don’t worry,” Carlisle sat down beside him. “I know you’re just dying to…” Carlisle trailed off, “if you could die again you’d be dying to see her. I can assure you, she’s coming.” Carlisle shook his head, “I know she’s important to you, and that it was a relief to you that she was, well, somewhat still alive after all this time.”

Jasper had known her for two years after he’d escaped Maria and her grasp, (Y/N) had been the one to bring him back from that. She’d been a vampire for much longer than he had, and when she found him in England in 1956, she offered to help him learn to control his bloodlust. She’d be the one that could do it, she excelled at control. But after two years of nothing but pure bliss being with her, even through the struggle he faced, the Volturi came for her and he didn’t see her again.

Not long after that, Carlisle found him and weaned him off of the human blood, switching him to animal instead. It didn’t take very long for (Y/N) to come up in conversation, and that was when Carlisle revealed to him that he’d known (Y/N) for centuries, from the day he was first turned. (Y/N) was old. She was almost as old as Aro and the rest of the Volturi.

Carlisle didn’t disclose any more information than that to Jasper, but decades later, Jasper was faced with seeing her again. Seeing the face that just wouldn’t leave his mind, he could never move on from her. She had likely done so already, she’d had decades away from him to do so, and she was a very appealing person, men fell at her feet, begging for even a scrap of her affection. Just like he had done.

Carlisle snapped in his face, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Jasper, she seemed just as excited to see you. She’ll be here any moment.” Carlisle sighed and slouched into the couch, “I know it may be a bit uncomfortable, she was taken by the Volturi and never came back to you. But she has a reason for everything she does.”

Jasper looked at the man who had become something like a father to him in the decades he’d known him, “Carlisle, if she didn’t come back, it’s because she didn’t want to.”

Carlisle’s eyes flashed to him, “if she didn’t want to, she wouldn’t have been so cruel as to leave you with the memory of her existence. She would have simply erased herself from your memory and given you different memories of what your life was.”

Yes, her gift. Memory, the manipulation of memory. A pesky thing, but perhaps it might be able to help Renesmee understand her own gifts better. If anyone could teach her, it would be (Y/N).

“What if she’s changed, Carlisle?”

Carlisle hummed in understanding, “you still love her.”

“I don’t know how anyone couldn’t,” Jasper muttered. “She found me at my most vulnerable and didn’t take advantage of that fact, she helped me become better, I was on my way to controlling my urges when the Volturi came.”

“She’ll be happy to see how far you’ve come, I know that,” Carlisle assured him. “And if you tell her just how much you missed her she might be downright gleeful.”

Jasper huffed a small laugh, he felt like his cold, dead heart was going to burst out of his chest while he waited for her to show up. Carlisle stayed beside him in silent support. After a bit more time though, Carlisle got up after he checked his watch, “I’m gonna go look for her, she may have gotten lost on the way here.” Jasper went to nod, but was cut off by an eerily familiar feminine laughter.

“I’m flattered you’re willing to go and get me, Carlisle,” she said, Jasper turned on the couch and saw her sitting on the balcony railing outside, “but it’s quite unnecessary. I’m right here. Although I did get a bit lost earlier.”

Carlisle’s mouth pulled up into a smile. Her hair was longer from the last time that Jasper saw her, and the last time Jasper had heard her voice, she had a British accent, he guessed she decided to switch to American at some point.

(Y/N) hopped off the railing and moved to give Carlisle a hug, her red eyes glinting in the setting sun that shined through the various windows. She then turned to Jasper with a soft smile, “Jasper, it’s good to see you. I’m quite honestly very happy that Carlisle found you, considering I couldn’t continue helping you. I’m glad that he did.” She smiled wider, “you look a lot better than the last time I saw you.” Her eyes flicked him up and down from where he sat on the couch. “Are you too mad at me to give me a hug?”

So observant. Yes, Jasper, along with being nervous, was angry. Angry that she survived the Volturi and didn’t say a word to him, didn’t even let him know that she was alive. He thought she was dead all of those years, or being kept in a dungeon by the Volturi somewhere. “Yes,” Jasper said flatly.

(Y/N) sighed and walked around the couch, behind him, she wrapped her arms around his shoulder. “Well too bad,” she kissed his cheek lightly. “Because I’m hugging you anyway.” She pulled away before he could even hug her back in any way, touch her arm or something. “So, where is this kid I’ve heard so much about? It’s not everyday that you see a human vampire hybrid.”

Bella and Edward brought Renesmee down, keeping a close eye on (Y/N) for fear that she might attack. Edward read each and every one of her thoughts just to be sure. But it was all just curiosity and wonder when she kneeled down and let Renesmee show her what she showed every other vampire in the house.

She sighed and a smile came to her face while she closed her eyes, either because of the memories Renesmee showed her, or because of the warmth that she felt from the child’s palm. When she opened her eyes she took Renesmee’s hand in one of her own, taking it off of her face. “You know, that is extraordinary.” She leaned in to whisper to Renesmee, “perhaps I’ll show you a few tricks when this is all over.” Renesmee nodded shyly, not saying a word.

(Y/N) stood up and looked at Edward and Bella, “well, we’re all going to hell anyway with the Volturi coming after you. Why not make it difficult for them to do so?” She looked around at all of the Cullens in the room with her, her eyes stopping on Jasper a moment longer than the others. “Aro will realize that she’s human, he will, he won’t harm her.”

“He’s killed countless immortal children, (Y/N),” Carlisle crossed his arms, “that sounds a bit optimistic to me.”

“She was born how long ago, and she has the mentality and body of an eight year old child? Whatever part of her is a vampire is aging her quicker, if it didn’t, the moment she was born she would have been stuck as a baby, that would happen if she was a full vampire anyway. But it didn’t, she’s human. And say what you want, but I know Aro. He won’t kill her.”

“You’re wrong,” a pompous voice drawled.

A condescending smile made its way onto (Y/N)’s smile before she turned to look at the source. “Vladimir,” she greeted in a sickly sweet voice, “you and Stefan had your fortress burned down by the Volturi because you didn’t see it coming, I don’t think you’re the best source of judgment for this kind of thing.”

“And you allowed the Volturi to blackmail you into giving up the man you love,” Stefan clapped back, making (Y/N)’s nostrils flare in anger. Jasper had to take a moment to process, to figure out if he was the man they were talking about. From the way she glanced at him, he knew he was. “The almighty vampire princess allowed Aro, Aro, to blackmail her.”

“Pick your next words wisely,” (Y/N) sneered. “I never liked you to begin with, either of you,” she glanced between the two of them. She bared her fangs at them, her back turned so that Renesmee wouldn’t see and be scared. “And I have centuries on the two of you.” Vladimir and Stefan crouched as if they were about to launch at her, but Jasper grabbed her arm and quickly sped her away. He brought her into his room with his hands on both of her arms now.

“Are you crazy?” Jasper asked, “that’s two vampires against one. No matter how ancient you are-”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes at his rant and raised her hands to his face, running her fingers through his hair. She pulled him down, raising herself onto her tiptoes in order to reach, and then she placed her lips on his. Effectively shutting him up. He froze for a moment before he kissed her back, his hands moving from her arms to her waist, pulling her closer.

(Y/N) pulled back and rested her forehead on his, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She whispered to him, “I didn’t want to leave you, you must know that.” She ran her hands up and down his sides, as if trying to remind herself that he was real and not just a figment of her imagination.

“Why come back now?”

(Y/N) swallowed needlessly, “because it wasn’t entirely for you. You were part of the reason, but it was mostly for Renesmee.” Jasper chuckled, his lips brushing her again. He ran his fingers through her hair, “they said they would kill you if I didn’t, Jasper. I had no choice, I couldn’t gamble with your life, even if they were likely just bluffing.”

“I know,” Jasper sighed into her mouth when she kissed him sweetly again. “What now?” He questioned, because there wasn’t really a plan for what would happen if the Volturi heard about her being in the same vicinity of him again.

“Well, first we survive Aro’s wrath, and then we figure it out,” she told him in a hushed tone, the way she was kissing him getting much more heated than it had been.

Jasper leaned down into her more, gripping onto her more fiercely as he backed her towards the bed. “Sounds good,” he mumbled before he pushed her onto the mattress.

#jasper hale #jasper whitlock #jasper x reader #jasper x y/n #jasper fluff #jasper angst #jasper hale imagine

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whythinktoomuch · 3 years

Text

Andrea sighs. “I hate this part.”

“And what part would that be?” Kara spares a small glance for her, but continues to tug on her socks, her shoes, and anything else that she might need on her way out of Andrea’s apartment without a second thought. Again.

“The part where you make me sleep alone.”

Kara whips her head around. “… I’m sorry?”

“Nothing.”

Andrea regrets everything as she buries her head underneath her pillow. Maybe she can blame this sudden onset of weakness on her most recent trend of foregone sleep, or maybe even the very reason for said lack of sleep now standing at the foot of her soon-to-be half-emptied bed. But it certainly isn’t something that deserves any more elaboration, much less voiced.

Unfortunately though, Kara’s never been one to let something go. The rustle of clothing dies away, leading to a padding of steps which leads to the sagging of Andrea’s bed as Kara sits down beside her. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Andrea repeats, her voice firm despite being muffled under her pillow. “Make sure to lock the door on your way out.”

“No, come on…” Kara’s tugging on Andrea’s arm, thumb rubbing gently into her skin. “Talk to me. Please? I’m right here.”

Groaning to herself, Andrea finally sits up, frown deeply set and disgruntled. “Where are you even going anyway?”

Kara takes a deep breath before answering, and Andrea hates how these are the kinds of things that refuse to escape her notice now. “I told you,” Kara says slowly. “I’m meeting a source downtown.”

“Right now? After midnight?” Andrea says with a scoff. “You don’t have a better, more business-friendly time—I don’t know—during the day to be meeting up with these people?”

“I have to go where the story takes me! And I also have to meet my sources on their own terms if I want to cultivate a lasting sense of trust and profess—”

“But for what article?” Andrea demands. “You’ve already met all your deadlines for this week. You wouldn’t be here”—she gestures aimlessly about her bed—“otherwise, so what else could you possibly be researching right now?”

“It’s…” Kara stumbles slightly, and Andrea wills her heart to harden into something that can never sink. “This is for a new story. One that I’m thinking about pitching. Soon.”

“Okay. What story?”

“I can’t tell you yet! It’s not ready,” Kara says, and Andrea just scoffs again. “Hey, seriously. What’s really bothering you? You never care about my work.”

“I’m your boss, Kara. It’s literally my job to care about your work.”

“Just tell me what’s actually bothering you, and I’ll fix it.”

Andrea rubs at her face. “I’d just… really like to know what it’s like to sleep next to my girlfriend for once…”

“Your girlfriend?” Kara echoes. “Who’s your girl—oh!” Her eyebrows nearly shoot up to her hairline. “Wait, oh…”

Groaning once more, now about ready to bury her entire body beneath her pillow if possible, Andrea just waves her hand. “Never mind, okay? Just go.”

“No, hey, hey, hey…” Kara tugs on Andrea’s wrist, refusing, per usual, to let an unwieldy moment die down on its own. “Girlfriend?”

“Forget I even said anything…” Andrea starts, but Kara seems quite unwilling to. In fact, she’s looking at Andrea in complete awe, and Andrea can’t help but straighten up at the attention. Maybe even pushing out her chest a bit just to make a point. “All right, fine, we can talk about this. But you should know right now, that I can’t date anyone who refuses to sleep with me.”

“Pfft, what do you mean? We literally sleep with each other all the time,” Kara protests, until Andrea shoots her a meaningful look—glare. “Oh… Right. You meant, just sleeping, sleeping. Um. Okay. Well, I guess that’s something we can try if you really want…”

Andrea rolls her eyes. “I don’t want you to try it just to appease me, Kara. I want you to want it too. For your own sake.”

“I do want it too! I just didn’t realize that it was something that you’d want. From me, especially.”

“Why the hell not?” Andrea says. “I’m sorry—was the past hour and a half not convincing enough for you?”

Kara flushes all over, sputtering, “No, what I meant was… I didn’t realize that you actually liked me like that?”

“Again. Was the past hour and—”

“I get your point,” Kara says, flapping her hands. “And okay. I, you know… like you too.”

“Oh, how promising,” Andrea mutters, but her nerves were undeniably starting to settle. The flow of conversation now comfortably in her favor.

“And I do want that too,” Kara continues, cracking a smile. “So… let’s do it. Let’s be girlfriends who, you know, sleep together.”

“Deal.” Andrea clears her throat, fidgeting with her sheets. “I imagine that it’ll have to start another night though, no?”

Kara rubs at the back of her neck. “I’m sorry. I just really have to meet this source tonight. It’s really important, I swear.”

“Fine,” Andrea says in a sigh. “It’s not like I don’t understand the need to put one’s career first.”

Kara pouts. She reaches out to cradle Andrea’s face, thumb tracing down her cheek, and Andrea’s not melting, she’s not melting, she’s not.

“I’ll come back,” Kara says at last. “No matter how long this meeting goes for, I promise to come straight back here and sleep with you.”

“Oh, you promise?” Andrea laughs, but there’s a serious glint to Kara’s eyes, twinkling in the way that they do in the strangest moments sometimes.

“Absolutely. I’ll be right back. And I’ll be right here for you, okay?”

Andrea lets out another laugh, ducking her head slightly. “Okay. I guess we’ll see how you do then.”

“Thank you,” Kara says, beaming. “But for now, I really do have to go. I’m actually kinda late now.”

“Then go. I ain’t keeping ya.”

Kara leans in, clearly in askance of a goodbye kiss, but when Andrea goes to cup her face, Kara resists just a tad. “Trust me,” she says. “You kiss me like that, and I’ll never make it out of here.”

“Want to test that little theory?” Andrea asks, her voice dropped into huskier territory, and Kara accordingly flushes pink cheek to cheek.

“Oh… boy…” Kara says in a hushed whisper. “I… er, I gotta go though, so…” She quickly shakes her head. “Yup, gotta go, gotta go. So sorry, but bye!” Pecking at Andrea’s cheek, Kara all but bolts out the door.

With a tiny unseen pout, Andrea sinks back into her bed, her moment of vulnerability already regretted with that aching part of her chest. But Kara promised to come back, and she seems the type to keep promises like that—the girlfriend type, that is.

Andrea’s final thought as she’s drifting off is a fleeting hope that wherever Kara’s rushing off to meet her source wouldn’t be anywhere near the sirens that have been going off. The last thing this would-be relationship needs is for Andrea’s would-be girlfriend to get stuck in traffic this late at night because of fire trucks or something.

Andrea wakes up to a sudden dip in her bed, coherent thoughts still slow to return as a column of warmth wraps around her middle from behind. She blinks blearily into the darkness. The sharp bite of smoke lingering in the air somehow only seems to get stronger the clearer her vision gets.

“Sorry I’m late, baby,” comes a sleepy mumble close to her ear, and Andrea starts to chuckle, her surprise melting into blessed relief.

There’s a wry comment sitting on Andrea’s tongue as she glances over her shoulder, but the specifics of it all gets lost when she sees Supergirl curled up against her. “Whoa. W-wait…”

“Oh, m’s’rry…” Supergirl says softly, eyes still squeezed shut. “Forgot to ask… Can I call you ‘baby’ now, since we’re girlfriends who sleep together and stuff…?”

Andrea is reeling, as she takes in the sight. That is to say, the sight of National City’s darling and daring hero rapidly passing out in her bed, blonde hair strewn across Kara’s go-to pillow like a golden halo, her bulk scrunched up into a tiny ball of warmth pressed into Andrea’s side, cape splayed out without a care.

“You’re…” Andrea clears her throat, hopefully ridding herself of the dry stutter caught within. “Excuse me, you’re wearing boots in my bed.”

Supergirl lets out a small whine—there’s a literal, bona fide superhero whining all disgruntled in Andrea’s bed right now—and kicks out her feet. “But I’m so tired, maybe-baby.”

“Maybe-baby,” Andrea echoes, rolling her eyes, because okay, this is definitely Kara all right.

She manages to extricate herself from Kara’s embrace with surprising ease, considering, then manages to tug Supergirl’s boots off one by one with far less ease. But the sight that Andrea’s greeted with startles her into soft laughter.

“Hey. What’s so funny…”

“I like your socks,” Andrea says, slipping back under the sheets, eyes fluttering shut when Kara sidles right up against her once more. “You know, you weren’t wearing those when you left me.”

“Is it really leaving when I come right back?”

“Yes.”

Kara snorts, burying herself into Andrea’s hair with a sigh. “Mm, I like my socks too. Was a gift from Santa,” she says, and Andrea can almost feel Kara wiggling her toes. “I like the smilin’ fruits…”

“Yes, I figured you would.”

Kara lets out a mock scandalized gasp, “It’s s’pposed to be secret Santa, you know…”

“You know what else is supposed be a secret?” Andrea shoots back, arching an eyebrow that is of course lost on her half-asleep almost-girlfriend. But Kara seems to know, because she grins.

“Hm. We can talk about it in the morning, mm’kay?”

“Oh, we most certainly will,” Andrea says, turning on her side, allowing herself to be happily spooned. “Good night, Supergirl.”

“Yeah, yeah, good night, maybe-baby.”

#bloooooooop.#my words.#superrojas

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iiraven · 3 years

Text

Odyssey

Pairing: Poseidon!Armin x Reader

Genre: romance, smut

Warnings: slow-burn, minor character death, manipulation, stalking, possessiveness, Yandere behaviour, puppy play, piss play, body worship, throne sex, implied age-gap, oral(male receiving), hair pulling, collaring (without consent)

Word count: 9.8K

Synopsis: Armin’s quest for revenge leads him to you, daughter of a merchant and object of his infatuation.

Author’s note: thank you @bubbleteaimagines for hosting this collab and allowing me to join <3 Also, thank you @onyxoverride for teaching me how to write about pee!

Attack on Titan Masterlist

Present day:

If the river could speak, you wonder what it would say.

In the silence that surrounds the rushing of the water, you’re sure you would hear it. Sometimes, you’re sure you can hear it, but then you remember the dangers of trusting unfamiliar voices. Especially unfamiliar voices in a place like this.

No one goes near the river Shiganshina. And you forget the reasons why much too often.

It’s rocky, slippery, there’s no path to walk on, and the nymphs grow sharp teeth when men approach them, hissing and eyes glowing red. But that’s what makes it perfect for you.

Sasha first mentioned the river months ago, recalling the places on the island that her and her father avoided whenever they went hunting. You hadn’t paid much attention to it until days later, when Connie recounted with round eyes how Floch’s body was found beside the river Shiganshina, mouth full of water and eyes gouged out. You knew you needed to go there yourself.

A pearl necklace is what you stole. And under the guise of going to wash clothes at the well, you made your way south of your small island with only Sasha’s vague instructions and your intuition guiding you.

You could hear the ocean as you walked through the untouched woods, your heart hammering in your chest every time the waves crashed against the island’s cliffs. You weren’t allowed to see the ocean- you weren’t allowed to be around any large body of water, for that matter- but you still knew your island well enough to know that a step in the wrong place could lead you tumbling down the cliff.

You would die before you got to feel the water on your skin and that, you thought, would be the most tragic part.

As your feet began to sink into the muddy ground, you could smell the salty water, and a slight metallic scent behind it that only drew you in closer until you reached a clearing. It was small, crowded with foliage with only a few dead plants on the ground where you could only assume people had attempted to step foot.

And there was the river. It was small, its water emerging from underground before the tide pushed it to the edge of the island- to a waterfall. So loud that it could drown out any noise, any screams. You shivered. For a moment, you just stood back and watched. The water was was green, but so clear that you could still see the fish swimming beside the floating objects. Coins, silver, small statues, and whatever else hopefuls had tried to offer. You pulled out your own offering and whispered a short prayer before throwing the necklace in.

It could have been your imagination, but the water calmed. It was quieter. And, like that, you felt as if the river had opened up its arms to you. Strong arms that you have to be cautious not to spend too long within lest you get trapped.

Thankfully, you’ve learned to read the signs. You know when the river wants you to leave, when it wants you to keep your distance, when it wants to keep you close, and even when it wants you to bathe. Those are the special moments. It’s rare the river is calm enough for you to dip your naked body into, but surrounded by the cool water, you feel like you could stay their forever.

If the river could speak now, however, you’re sure it would tell you to fuck off.

Either that or it would tell you to come back when you have something more to offer its god than a single golden bead from your grandmother’s necklace. Only three are left on the thin string, though you think you might keep the last one to honour her death. After that, you’ll have to go back to offering coins and whatever other trinkets that will keep the god of this river sedated long enough for you to dip your feet into the cool water, maybe take a sip, and then return home before your father realises where you’ve been, much less where you’ve been unchaperoned.

The latter is hardly your fault. Sasha and Connie are too scared to step foot in the Shiganshina forest, let alone the river itself. And you can’t trust anyone else to accompany you, especially the servants whose tongue could slip at the drop of a golden coin. Your father would never forgive you for spending time in the territory of the God of the Ocean or- as he liked to call Armin- the destroyer of seas. And thus, being left alone seems to be the only way.

Well, that’s unless Mr Arlert decides to join you.

The owner of the stable who appeared on the island out of nowhere is the last person anyone would expect to be brave enough to spend time at the river Shiganshina. He mostly keeps to himself, only ever seen tending to his horses or immersed in scrolls of literature and poetry. And yet, he’s here almost as often as you are, almost as vulnerable as you are.

Despite his solitary nature, Mr Arlert has been quick to make himself adored. Mothers swoon over his charm, scholars constantly indulge in his curiosity, and sailors are fascinated by his knowledge of the world and its oceans. He’s no warrior, and already in his late twenties, but he’s still without a doubt one of the most eligible bachelors on Paradis. And, yet, to any marriage proposal sent his way, he declines with a polite “A husband is not what I am fated to become”. Even Annie Leonhardt- whose father Mr Arlert would constantly visit- had her heart broken. But no one blames Mr Arlert, of course, who was there to comfort Annie, to make her realise that she just needs to be a better person, that’s all. It’s not his fault her heart broke, Mr Arlert reassured.

Thinking about it now, you’re amongst the handful of women who haven’t been offered to the tall blond. And with that comes a sigh of relief as you drag your fingers through the water.

It’s not like you dislike him- the opposite, actually- but being with Mr Arlert is like taking the hand of an invisible man in the dark and letting him guide you.

His words constantly have your thoughts spiralling in directions that they shouldn’t be. Thoughts about leaving the island, thoughts about going to the ocean, thoughts about becoming a priestess. Thoughts you aren’t allowed to have.

You fate is bound to the home you were born in, a thick rope tied to your ankle, only letting you go as far as this very river. And Mr Arlert sits beside that rope, a knife in his hand, blue eyes staring into your soul, waiting. You’re not sure what he’s waiting for. But what you’re sure of is that to be taken away from the life you know of is an inconceivable fantasy. The unknown is a dangerous thing, after all.

The small island of Paradis may lie far away from the rest of the world, but their core values remain the same. A woman must grow up to either serve her father or her husband. Your fate has already been decided for you. And, frankly, if it means not having to share a bed with an old man who marries you for your dowry, you’re very happy with taking care of your father until the day that he’ll be put into the ground.

But then there’s always the third option. A woman who serves neither her father nor her husband will serve her god.

You had never been given that option by your god-hating kin. Simply suggesting a future as priestess would earn you at least five lashes, so why… why can’t you stop thinking about it? Your instincts have you blame Mr Arlert, but you know that your fixation began before he arrived on the island; all he’s done is vocalise your thoughts.

As a gust of wind blows the leaves and the salt from the sea gently caresses your cheek, you wonder who your god would be. Do you resonate with Pieck’s beauty, or Zeke’s creativity? Maybe. But as you look into your reflection, you know that your god is no other than Armin, the god of the ocean. The fates must think this is hilarious, but you just want to scream.

“It’s getting late. I wouldn’t want your father worrying about you.”

You jump at the sudden voice, turning around at the familiar face, leaning against a tree with a gentle smile.

“Thank you, Mr Arlert.”

His footsteps are so gentle, as are his apologies.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ve come to invade your space, after all.”

“It’s not my space, it’s Armin’s. The god is only letting me stay here.”

He smiles a knowing smile, one that you would usually find patronising on any other man. But Armin is charming, too charming for you ever to think that of him. “I suppose you’re right.”

He comes to sit down beside you, taking his usual place at your right- the voice of reason. It’s quiet for a moment, before you remember.

“Lemnos,” you say.

The blond smiles. “I’m not named after a place.”

And you roll your eyes, as you’ve done every time he’s given you a useless hint. “That hardly narrows it down.”

“Well, I can’t make it too easy of a game.”

“You can’t make it impossible either!”

“It seems like I already have.” And you’re not sure if you want to wipe the smirk off his face or just stare at it.

“What about Tree?”

Arlert laughs. “No, but you have one guess left.”

“What?!” You sit up straight, eyes wide. Now you really want to wipe the smirk off his face.

“You have seven guesses, and in the eleven months we’ve known each other, you’ve used up six.” His explanation is calm and rational enough for you to almost convince yourself that the rule has been there from the start.

“Wait- wait. I never knew about this!”

“I thought everyone did. It’s traditional wager rules.” Mr Arlert’s tone is sorry, but you know he’s everything but. So, you cross your arms and pout, hoping that staring him down might at least give you the smallest chance of winning your wager.

He leans forward, mirthful and you feel a shiver go down your spine. “What is it, little puppy, sulking because you’re afraid you can’t win?”

You flush at the implication of your loss- “No- no not at all- no”- before registering his actual words are and only then can you feel the heat rise and you’re sure it’s doing you no service. “I know I can win!”

“I know you can too,” he assures you.

You frown. “Are you being sarcastic?”

It’s his turn to flush. “No, not at all! You can win- the water god favours you, after all.”

And although you shrug, his words stick. They always do.

Before you go home, you pass by Armin’s temple and place at the foot of his statue the remainder of your grandmother’s necklace.

A year ago:

Amrin knew how fickle the gods were and he thought that this knowledge made him impervious to those feelings. He watched how Eren jumped from woman to woman daily, how Reiner picked and chose his battles without a care, how every single fixation a deity would have never lasted more than a year. He thought of how stupid it was to spend a life of immortality indulging in such temporary pleasures. And he looked down on his kin for that very reason.

It was only after one argument too many that Armin finally let it slip. The god of the sea was usually quiet, offering soft smiles, casual conversation, and minimal conflict. That was his only rule: keeps quiet before the gods of the pantheon as he takes his anger out on the humans below. But that day, he forgot about his rule.

Maybe it was the years of silence that caused the Eathshaker’s outburst, or maybe it was just Eren’s bored expression as he talked about his mistresses in front of Mikasa. Armin couldn’t take it. Gathered at a marble table beside all the Olympians, he scowled and told them how stupid they all were.

“Don’t you realise? You’re all wasting your immortality by being so idiotic, so fickle! Everything you touch becomes a temporary pleasure, ruined by your inability to act like real gods.”

He should have stopped; he really should have stopped. But the crack in the glass bridge had been there for years, and now the shards of glass were dropping down into the sea. “You might as well be human!”

The room went silent. Eyes went wide, and mouths gaped, but the gods opted for silence. Every deity wanted to speak up, maybe even draw their swords, but they were more intelligent than Armin was in that moment, which was more unusual than one might think. He had never snapped so violently before. Armin may have been aggressive, but he knew his place. Knew when to be docile. Now, he felt like he could crumble Olympus itself with his rage and bury the Olympians with their dead parents.

The king of the gods, however, leaned forward. His emerald eyes were unmoving, devoid of emotion though his lips tilted into a monstrous grin.

“You’re just as fickle as the rest of us, brother,” was all Eren said.

When Armin lunged at him, knocking the fine glass off the table, it was Mikasa who pinned him down. Arms locked behind his back, all Armin could do was watch as mirth flooded Eren’s face, and the god of the sky laughed. The bastard laughed and laughed and licked the small wound on his hand from a shard of glass. It healed immediately. Even their pain was temporary.

And like he had been doing for the past millennia, Armin found solice in his only rule: if he couldn’t take out his rage on his brother, Armin would take out his frustration elsewhere.

His first instinct was to find a woman, but the thought of seeking out temporary pleasure, from a mistress no less, reminded him too much of Eren. So, he descended to earth, trident in one hand as the other gripped the reigns of his horse and they rode for three days and three nights. That’s all it took for the god of the sea to find what he was looking for- someone deserving of his hatred.

There are many humans like the merchant. But most of their hatred is silent. And when it’s not, blasphemy often falls upon deaf ears. The merchant just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time when his drunk rambles led him up on the deck screaming out Armin’s name like it was venom in his throat, until he could scream no more. He was drunk, but the merchant’s hatred for the god of the sea did not cease when he was sober.

And when Armin heard his name, the god wasted no time calling forth a storm to sink the merchant’s ship. He took care to ensure that the arrogant man watched each and every one of his men be swallowed whole, their bodies only resurfacing lifeless, before the storm calmed.

It took five days for the merchant to swim back to his island.

He never returned to the sea.

As the weeks passed, he relocated his home to help him stay away from any body of water and made sure that his family followed suit.

But Armin followed, and the merchant’s father died weeks later with saltwater water found in his lungs.

Unfortunately, that was not enough to sedate the god of the sea’s need for vengeance. Fortunately, it was not enough to sedate the merchant’s hatred either. The hubris didn’t leave him. Instead, it just grew and grew and grew until the merchant considered himself more of a god than Armin would ever be.

“Oh, oh.” Armin couldn’t help but smile as he watched the man urinate before his temple. “This is perfect, so perfect.”

Armin was going to show his uncaring brother how different he was from the rest of the miserable Olympians. As he stood above the island of Paradis, golden hair blowing in the ocean wind, the god vowed to begin his Odyssey. An eternal Odyssey. A journey that would last longer than the ten fleeting years he had with the Greek hero- a journey that would last longer than the universe itself.

And he knew exactly where to begin. A man’s most valuable possession: his child.

It was only after your grandfather’s death that Armin noticed you. When he first began watching the merchant’s household, under the guise of either a guest or a bird, he had been surprised to learn that the blasphemous man had no wife, nor children. Armin only realised his mistake one night, when you came to lay a blanket on the drunk man’s barely conscious body. The merchant had pulled you towards him, muttering apologies and you had wrinkled your nose before offering him a soft smile. “It’s okay, papa”.

A daughter sheltered from the world, it seemed.

The god had initially thought you were one of the servants. There were only two in the house, and your tasks were all similar. But as Armin began to watch you closer, he saw how you did have a life outside your home with friends, interests, men- a life your father was blissfully unaware of.

The merchant hardly left home- playing the part of the sick man- and you took care of him- playing the part of your dead mother- in a happy sort of agreement.

You didn’t speak about it to your friends, but you detested your doting role. Armin could tell. The way you wrinkled your nose every time your father walked through the door, the eye-roll when you were given a load of laundry. The god couldn’t help by laugh at how pathetic the merchant was that not even his only daughter- his lifeline- cared for him. The merchant didn’t know, of course. Your fake smiles and gentle hands were enough to deceive him, keep him sane. But Armin was going to break that pattern.

The merchant didn’t deserve the care of a woman. He didn’t deserve anything. So, Armin was going to take you away from him.

His initial plan was to kill you. Simple, efficient, quick. And then he thought of dumping your body somewhere far so that the search for you would break your father’s spirit even more. He hesitated, though, he wasn’t sure why, but he did. And then, you changed your routine.

After meeting up with the two individuals you called your friends at the Sunday market- instead of going back home- you carried on walking. Through the houses on the outskirts and into the dense trees, you almost stung your sandal-clad feet twice before reaching a river. The river had no god of itself, but you still threw in an offering and muttered. Stupid human. And then you sat beside the river and- nothing. Your routine was boring, obviously a ritual to let you escape from reality. Yet, he couldn’t tear away from you. The woman at the river Shiganshina was a different one than the woman who served her father. The one here relaxed her shoulders, cursed at the world around her, smiled- albeit randomly but it was real. He decided there that he would kill you tomorrow.

But when, the next day, you led him back to the river, Armin was lost in you again. Lost in your honestly, lost in your need to escape. He wanted to see more, he needed to see more. Metaphorically, of course. But when you began undressing, the pleated robes dropping to reveal soft skin and tender curves, the god of the sea realised that he wouldn’t mind literally seeing more of you. Armin had been with goddesses and nymphs and, hell, even Aphrodite herself, but never had he been this awestruck. He had to hold himself back. Even though the way you were bathing made it seem like you were worshipping him, water dripping from your body, wet hair hiding the swell of your breasts. Armin’s breath stuttered. He couldn’t reveal himself. He couldn’t.

So, he watched, and watched. Trying desperately to take in everything you were from a distance. Armin didn’t count the number of times he visited you before finally decided that killing you was no longer an option. He told himself that his change of mind was progressive. A practical choice to draw out his revenge into the most painful and convoluted Odyssey. To do that, he couldn’t kill you. No. He was going to take you for himself. Armin was going to turn the daughter of the merchant into a servant of the one God he detested.

Putting the thought into your mind was pathetically easy. As you walked past his temple on your way home, an echo of laughter emerged from the marble building. You paused for only a moment, but it was enough for Armin to catch the look in your eyes. It was one of longing, mixed with a curiosity that threatened to pull you in. But you seemed to catch yourself in the act and hastened yourself home.

And so, Armin’s true Odyssey began.

For his journey to progress, he had to meet you. Not as a bird or a horse or through glances as a guest. He had to meet you properly. This was the only way to draw you in, he told himself. The only way for you to submit completely and willingly.

Armin could have forced you too your knees, but he had to ensure that your father watched has his daughter chose Armin over him. And chose Armin you would. Every piece was in perfect place. The fates seemed to have woven a beautiful cloth of gold for the god of the sea.

What he failed to realise was that the cloth was in fact a snare- a trap which he will never be able to escape from.

Eleven months ago:

A short gust of wind had the pears in your thin basket tumbling down onto the rocky ground. You rushed after the fruit, crouching down to pick it up when a shadow appeared, and a hand reached out to pick it up for you. The sandal-clad feet were pale- paler than anyone living on this warm island and the robes a fine, ironed white. He somehow seemed to glow brighter than his clothes, and you purposefully let your fingers graze his as you picked up the fruit.

“Thank you,” you said, standing up.

You were hoping that he wouldn’t catch your staring. But even if he did, you couldn’t tear your eyes off him. He was lean, taller than you but not intimidatingly so and his eyes were like oceans that you found yourself staring into as he introduced himself as Mr Arlert. Just Mr Arlert. The new owner of the stables with a voice so soft, it took a moment before you remembered to introduce yourself.

“Y/N. And thank you, again.” It isn’t appropriate for an unmarried woman to be talking to a man on her own, but you couldn’t help but ask. “Do you have a first name Mr Arlert?”

His smile was contagious. “I do. But names are a powerful thing. I’m afraid I can’t give mine up freely.”

“Oh.” You scrunched your nose. “Can I pay for it then?”

You were dead serious, but the blond man laughed. How can someone look so pretty when they laugh? You wondered.

“I’m serious! I can pay you; name your price.”

Mr Arlert looked down at you, blue eyes twinkling. “I’ll think about it.”

“So, is that a no?”

“It’s a no, for now. One day I’ll tell you my name.”

He was sweet, so sweet, but you still gave him a sceptical frown, nose scrunching and eyebrows furrowing. Mr Arlert in turn gave you a sorry look before his eyes lit up and he pulled out from his brown satchel a small book of yellowed pages and a dusty blue cover, the gold embossing hardly visible. You nose only scrunched further.

“My name is in this story. It’s mentioned few times, but it’s an important one,” he said to you.

You took the book and flipped through the worn pages, immediately recognising the tale of Aphrodite and Ares. The lovers.

Why the challenge? You wanted to ask Mr Arlert but you knew the answer you your get would be too cryptic. Besides, you think, I like a challenge.

“How long do I have?” You asked instead.

“A year and a day.”

“And what will I get if I figure it out?”

At this, he pondered. But it seemed feigned, and you wondered, just for a split second, if the man had planned this from the beginning. But why? This was another one of your questions that went unanswered that day. Because before you could say anything more, Mr Arlert leaned forward and said, “Your reward will be divine”. And he walked away.

Nine months ago:

Life was well after Armin arrived. There was no other way to put it. Your father was confining himself to his room more often than before, and you were finding more opportunities to visit the river, leave the house and, eventually, you met the handsome baker’s son. Jean was kind, a gentleman, but not the arrogant type like most the men your age. You didn’t even feel too much guilt when you thought that spending a future with Jean- taking care of him and his home- wouldn’t be too bad. It’s quite pathetic that your life had been reduced to not being “too bad”, but the idea of marrying Jean sat on the comfortable line between reality and fantasy. Safety.

And then you were visited at the river.

Mr Arlert wasn’t even surprised to find you there, he had just smiled and sat beside you as you clenched your fists and forced yourself to smile back at him. You had always enjoyed him, his company, his challenges, but now it was like he was provoking you. The river Shiganshina was your river, your special place away from the hellscape that was the town. And now Mr Arlert had brought himself and his ordinary life into it.

You pulled your sandals back on, the crease in your brow evident. He clearly couldn’t get the hint. But before you could stand up, he spoke, and you paused.

“I wish I could jump in and swim away,” he said.

Curiosity got the best of you, as it often did with the man.

“The waterfall would kill you.”

The awkward laugh again. It had an effect on you so that your jaw couldn’t help but unclench. “If it means that I get to touch a waterfall, I wouldn’t mind, you know?”

You knew. You knew exactly what he meant. But you didn’t tell him.

“Didn’t take you as the suicidal type,” you said.

“I might get saved, who knows.”

“If you’re counting on me to jump after you, I’m letting you know I won’t.”

“I know,” he laughed. “I was thinking of more of a divine rescue.”

You finally looked at him, and- unsurprisingly- his blue eyes were glued to yours. What was surprising was his unwavering tone, his straight face. Mr Arlert was being serious. Why was he opening up to you this suddenly? So far, your interactions had consisted of him staring, you trying to guess his name, and him continuing to stare. In that order. You knew there was more to him, but it’s only now that you found yourself wanting to seek that out.

“You think Armin would save you?” You didn’t miss Arlert’s smile.

“I’m hoping I’ve gained his favour- done enough for him to allow me freedom via waterfall.”

It was your turn to smile. “You probably have, You’re at the temple often.”

“Thank you.” He blushed and you quickly pushed down the thought of how cute he looked. Sitting beside you, trousers rolled up and feet in the water, Mr Arlert looked more than cute. He looked like he belonged. You weren’t sure how that made you feel but, in that moment, you didn’t mind him entering your world.

“I think you would also be saved if you jumped into the waterfall,” Mr Arlert said.

You laughed. “Is that your way of saying I’m a nice person?”

“Something like that.” He paused. “I think Armin would appreciate your- uh- honesty. You’re like a priestess.” He laughs nervously at your expression. “You know, they have this personal affinity with the water and such.”

You knew exactly what he meant. How a stranger could read you so perfectly, you weren’t sure. But as you hid your smile between your hands, you wondered whether you were prepared to face the fear of the unknown. Maybe, with Mr Arlert, it would be a bit less unknown.

A few days later, Jean was announced missing. A search party was sent out and even Mr Arlert, on his recently acquired brown horse, couldn’t find him.

Present day:

Armin isn’t sure if he likes playing the part of the nice boy or not. Humans are simple creatures who praise him continuously and, without divine responsibilities, there is no need to take his rage out anywhere. But a god is who he is, and every day, he yearns to be seen as one. To be seen as one by you. He watches as you worship him, but you never look at him- not like you do the statues, or even the small river which you think is your only true connection to the god of the ocean.

You both want more, and you both know that, but you only ever admit it to each other when you sit beside that very river. There, in those moments, Armin feels a bit more like a god. Whenever he’s around you, he feels a bit more like a god.

He’s told you before, but your perfect honesty has made it easy for him to unravel around you. He wants to unravel around you in other ways, too, and he wants you to unravel around him. Armin can’t count the number of times he’s sat beside you at the riverside and wanted to do nothing more than to kiss those lips of yours, to press the hard cock that he hides inside of you and watch as your eyes roll back, and you call out his name.

But the God of the Sea is not Eren. Armin will earn you. And he’s very close to doing so. Not Mr Arlert. You have no interest in human men, that much is clear. You yearn for something more powerful. And you’re right. Only a god is worthy enough to stand beside you, lay between your legs, be in your arms. Mr Arlert is simply a means to push you to realising that the god in question is Armin.

In the meantime, he’s been nothing but patient.

It’s only when you come to his door one night, eyes puffy and red, that he lays his hands on you for the first time. He rubs your back as you cry and cry, fat tears refusing stop falling. You tell him about bout your father. About how, since he got better, he’s been refusing to let you out of the house, snapping at every moment and accusing you of being a filthy god-worshipper.

“He s-sai-d- he said we’re ‘gonna move away- said we’re gonna get as far away from the s-sea as possible.” You can hardly speak, though the tears have stopped, your voice still shakes violently. But Armin listens, he holds you close to him and repeats that everything is going to be fine.

You can’t stop thanking him as you leave, and he promises that his door is always open for you. “Whenever you call for me, I’m here,” Armin tells you. “Right beside you, always,” he adds as he watches you walk away.

He’s reached a new chapter of this Odyssey.

Present day:

You suppose your father’s death should have been expected. He was an old man, obviously depressed, and his only lifeline was his daughter who hated him.

You also suppose you should feel guilty. You don’t.

Familiar faces give their condolences and whisper questions of what is to happen to you now. You only pay heed to Sasha and Connie, though, who give you a soft hug before Sasha tells you that her family would be happy to take you in. You reassure her and everyone else that you have a plan, though your best friends are the only ones who seem to believe you.

“I heard Marie has a son who’s single, maybe they can-“

“You’re not actually talking about marriage here are you?”

“Well, the girl is all alone in the world, now! She needs a man to lead her on the right path.”

The old women are wrong, so very wrong. You don’t need a man. You’re fucking sick of men- sick of them all- everything they’ve created and everything they stand for.

What you need is a god.

The head priestess of Armin’s temple in unsurprised when you knock on her door with nothing but a bag and the clothes on your body. Those clothes are burned soon after, along with many of your other things, leaving your old life behind.

She tells you that you’re lucky there’s a place for you. The last priestess left running off with a man, “Which is a cardinal sin”, she makes sure to repeat every-so-often. The head priestess seems to hate men more than you do, sneering whenever Connie comes by.

Sasha and Connie are unsurprisingly shocked at your choice of work and even if they visit almost every day, they always tell you that they miss you. They think you’ve come the temple out of desperation- everyone does- and you let them believe. Because despite cleaning the marble floors or whatever other arduous duty you’ve been given, a smile is never far as you realise that you’re free from man. Indeed, explaining the truth to anyone would be far too difficult.

Well, except one person.

You’ve never missed anyone before. Not with your father keeping you so sheltered for most of your life. But as you push through the Head Priestess’ relentless schedule, you can’t help but miss Mr Arlert. He disappears after your father’s funeral, so you leave him a note at the empty stable with your final guess. You like to think he decided to follow his own path, you also like to think that he too wishes you were beside him, a guide in the unknown.

Present day:

The room is a box of marble, with a throne sat upon a dais at the centre and one fountain at every corner, each one sculped into a horse. The object of your interests, however, is the large bowl of water on the floor in front of the throne.

This is your initiation. You will emerge from this room not as an apprentice, but a Priestess.

You kneel down and lift the pot of clay to your lips. The head priestess kept on repeating how important it is to not put it down until you’re finished. So, you gulp the water down until you can see the image of Armin. You’re the one who selected the pot, with its faded paint depicting Armin and Hange’s fight for patronage of Sina. It’s a powerful image, but when you put the pot down, you come face to face with something very different. Armin is standing in a room-this room, you realise- and crouched down before him is a young woman, looking up in awe. It takes bit longer of a moment for you to realise that the woman is you.

Looking up slowly from the pot, the first thing you see is sandal-clad feet. Golden sandals, just as fine as the robes he wears, draped in perfect waves. The first word you think of to describe him is divine and it’s indeed accurate because-

“Mr Arlert.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

But you know that’s not correct. The man- no, not a man- before you is taller than Mr Arlert, by a foot and a half at least. His muscles are more prominent that the stable boy’s ever were, strong legs visible through the large slit between the layers of fabric draped over the god’s figure. Half of his shoulder-length hair is tied back using a golden pin whilst the rest frames his perfect, perfect face. You can’t help but think that Armin looks nothing like his statues- no medium of art could capture the ocean within his eyes, glowing in the dull light of the room. Then again, the stories didn’t capture the way the god acts either.

“Armin,” you say, this time your voice louder.

Now, you know.

His sad smile is familiar, but there’s something there that never was. “Oh dear,” he says. “I’m afraid you’ve lost out wager.”

Armin can’t help but compare you to a puppy, with large eyes staring up at him from your crouched position and an expression a perfect mix of excitement, curiosity, and shock.

You reach out a hand tentatively, but it hovers in the air between the two of you once you notice Armin’s raised brow. But he doesn’t rebuke you for it. After all, it’s only your first encounter with the god. He can’t expect you to behave perfectly, to adopt the right etiquette- no, he’ll have to train you first. Like he would a baby mutt. The thought makes him smile.

“I’ll accept any consequences, my god,” you say. Your voice sounds so sure of itself, so unlike your usual ramblings, those that Armin could and would listen to for hours. Right now, though, the certainty, it’s laced with desire that sends blood rushing south. You don’t notice. You’re too lost in his eyes to notice anything.

When he places his hand on your chin to hold it up, he can feel you shiver. “Such a perfect little worshipper,” he says. “I couldn’t possibly punish you.”

Armin can swear he sees disappointment in your eyes before he turns around and walks up the dais. The marble of the throne is cold beneath him, but the sight of you looking up at him with such longing is enough to warm him up. Now, Armin is sure you’ve noticed his growing erection because you crawl towards the dais, not yet climbing it, but close enough to see and lick your lips.

“Let me thank you at least, Armin.” He almost groans at the sound of his name. God, he wants to hear you say it over and over.

“Come here.”

And you climb up the dais only to pause before Armin leans forward and grabs your hips. Two lips, as if led by an invisible string, meet. You kiss like you’ve been waiting years for Armin and, in a way, you have. His tongue is inside your mouth quickly and he’s kissing, sucking, letting his teeth gently graze your lips as he revels in the feeling of you. As your bodies lean against each other, you can feel his heart hammering against your own. His chest is stone, but his lips are so soft and your hands find his golden hair. It’s also softer than it looks, and Armin can’t help but let out a moan as you gently tug.

When you pull back, his pupils are blown. “Thank me, then,” Armin says, breathless.

Sitting between his legs, your hand is tiny compared to his cock, and you can’t stop staring at it. Long and somewhat slender, but veiny with a flushed red top- he can see you gulp before you take an experimental lick at him. Armin’s hold on your hair only tightens and you look up at him, doe eyed and seemingly innocent.

“Put it in your mouth, pretty girl,” he says, guiding your head gently. “So obedient- Yes, exactly, just like-ah- just like that.”

But he doesn’t need to push down- no- he lets you set your own pace only because you do it so perfectly, almost as perfect as the wet noises you make. Armin doesn’t have time to be surprised, he’s just able to react fast enough to suppress his own moans so he can hear your wet tongue caress the base of his cock, as your lips create the perfect o-shape to accommodate him. Your drool is everywhere in a matter of seconds- his balls are coated with it, and so is your lap, where the spit seeps through the thin white fabric you call a robe.

“Like a puppy,” he murmurs. And you look up quizzically. “You’re drooling over me like a desperate puppy- a puppy in heat,” he grunts. “You just want to please me, don’t you? ‘S alright, puppy, I’ll let you do that.”

If you could nod your head, you would. Instead, your cheeks burn, and Armin is so lost in the way that you look- not even able to take his entire cock in his mouth- that his hips begin to buck unconsciously. He hits the back of your throat, and you gag at the sudden impact, but he hisses and murmurs “What a good, wet hole. So good, good-”

The earthshaker is afraid that if he speaks any louder, his voice will slur into incomprehensible sultry sounds. But as you struggle to take his cock even deeper into his mouth, he lets out groans that go straight between your own legs. You moan around him, and the reverberations make his head roll back. God, you could stare at him forever. And he would let you.

“Look at me,” he says whenever your eyes go astray. “Look at your god.”

As his hips buck more violently, Armin can feel the pressure in his lower stomach, the impending orgasm and he wants to stop- wants to hold out the way he always has. But he can’t, it’s too much and he just cannot pull out of you. He simply pushes further and further into your tight throat, repeating your name like it’s a blessing. “fuck, puppy, ‘m going to- I’m going to cum down your throat. You want that, do you you’re your god’s cum- ah, fuck, ahhh”-

Pushing your head down to the base, both of his hands at the back of your head, Armin cries out you name and you can feel the warm liquid go down your throat, thick ropes filling up your mouth, some of it dribbling out. Armin reflexively pushes it back in your mouth, ordering you to swallow it all, to show how grateful you are. Of course, you oblige. But before you can even regain your breath, Armin suddenly pulls you off his cock. His pupils are dilated, and he wears an expression- anger? Shock?

“You’re not a virgin,” he hisses, teeth gritting against each other. His breath is frantic, uneven. It’s not a question and you begin to recognise his expression. Rage. “You’ve done this before.”

Fuck.

The God of the sea has his fair share of consorts and mistresses. Some of them virgins- though he never chases them the way Eren does- some of them not, but none have made him cum so fast. He would like to blame it on the year of pining, of restraint, but he knows better. It’s you. You do this him. You make him so wild, so willing, so pliant even.

In that moment, as he looks your worried face, so desperate to please, he thinks that he’ll never be able to let it go. You’ve consumed Armin and he wants to do nothing more than burn eternally. You must understand that- that you exist as his beacon, that’s where you’ll be your happiest, but those thoughts are too complex for a human. You, in your fragile state, can’t understand. It’s alright, he’ll just have to show you bit by bit that you’re his. But to do so, he must first take on the role he’s familiar with. That of the punisher.

“Who is he?” Armin snaps.

“It was only-“

“Who is he?”

You pause. Memories of nights spent together, huddled close and trying to keep quiet already fading. “Berthrolt Hoover.”

Armin’s shoulders relax, “I see.”

His breathing slowly goes back to normal, and, at the back of your mind, you know you’ve signed the young warrior’s death. But your worry is fleeting as Armin grabs you by the neck and hoists you over his knees, laying you down on your stomach effortlessly. “A priestess who isn’t a virgin?”

You look up as see Armin’s familiar sweet smile, but it’s laced with mirth that makes you forget the Mr Arlert he was before. You cry out at the first slap of his hand on your ass, more out of surprise than pain.

“I don’t think the people of Paradis will be very happy to hear that,” he says. “An unmarried woman giving herself away to a pathetic boy.”

Slap!

“I’m sorry!” you cry out. “It was a mis-”

He slaps you thrice.

“No excuses, dumb little puppy. I’m afraid you’ll have to endure this punishment.” His voice is deceptively soft, as if he is actually sorry. And when you look back up at Armin, his face betrays no malice. But it doesn’t show any cruelty either. Instead, there’s a fascination.

Armin has you sprawled across his lap, at his mercy and he is discovering you bit by bit. As a god. His cock twitches and then suddenly he tugs off the fabric of your robes and they disappear.

The way you squirm is half- hearted, and Armin has to laugh. “Embarrassed? Now of all times? I didn’t know you were such a prude. Or is this all just to compensate for the fact that you’re a whore in my temple?”

You shake your head, “I swear, I’ve never belonged to any man!”

Fingers trace the expanse of your naked body, soft enough to send shivers down your spine. “Oh? Really?”

“Yes yes, I swear, ah!” His fingers find your naked ass and they grab onto the flesh, massaging, groping, feeling you. Armin’s other hand rests on top of your head, stroking it gently and you’re so lost in his touch that you almost forget to speak.

“I belong to no man, I never have. Only you. It’s always been you, Armin.”

The god’s eyes widen, and he gently pulls you up from his lap only to seat you on it, upright and, this time, there’s so much more to admire. ��You’re right,” he says. Armin captures your lips and this time, it’s longer, rougher. He doesn’t want to pull back, doesn’t want to lose the feeling of your soft lips against his, but his hands have already found your breasts and soon, his tongue joins them. You moan as he begins to lap at your breasts, leaving hickeys and spit in his wake as his finally finds your nipples and begins sucking them like a child as you whine and lean into him.

“You do belong to me,” he finally says, his voice partially muffled as he loses himself in the worship your breasts. “You’ve always belonged to me.”

And you can do nothing more than nod your head as your fingers tangle in Armin’s hair and you’re pulled into another kiss. His hand goes down your body, squeezing every single mound of flesh as if it needs to be touched so that when he finds your cunt, Armin can’t help but smile at how wet you are.

“Already, but I’ve hardly done anything to you?”

What a liar, but you don’t have a chance to tell him before he plunges a finger inside of you. “Oh, puppy, my puppy,” he groans at the contact the same time you moan, pushing your hips against his digits. “You like my fingers like that inside of you?”

“Yes, yes, I do, I really love them- it feels, oh my god, it feels too good!” you grip his shoulders, unable to do anything but desperately buck your hips at the smiling Armin. He knows what he’s doing, he knows that his fingers are giving you just that satisfaction, but it’s still not enough to bring you over the edge.

“Please Armin, please.” You squeeze his shoulders.

“Tell me what you want, tell me, I’ll give it to you- I swear.”

“I want to feel you, all- ah- all of you. I need to feel you inside of me!”

You’re not sure at which moment Armin removes his robes, but as he moves both of your legs so that you’re straddling him, your hands are on his bare, lean chest. The god’s nipples are flushed pink and pert, practically calling to you and you respond by brushing your fingers over them and watching him twitch ever-so-slightly in response. You withhold the urge to take them into your mouth, even as Armin rubs his cock against your cunt, releasing the sweetest of sounds.

He’s already leaking precum and it mixes with your juices so perfectly, his cock being dragged back and forth, only making you gush even more. “So messy,” he mumbles as he uses his tip to spreads your juices across your thighs. At this point, you can practically feel it throbbing, ready to be sheathed inside of you and the whimpers of your desperation echo against the temple walls.

When Armin slips inside of you, simultaneous gasps escape your lips. The god pulls your body closer to his as you throw your head back, stars in your eyes.

“Look,” he whispers. “Look how easily I slip in- it’s- it’s like your cunt is made for me.”

“Armin,” you whisper back. “Armin, Armin- ah- Armin.”

He sinks you down slowly, the stretch hitting every single spot that leaves your legs practically limp. The god is holding you up, whispering his own mantra that you can’t hear over your bliss. Once inside, your eyes look lock with Armin’s and he’s staring at you in a way he’s never done before. You’ve never seen pupils so dilated and the two of you stay like that as if making up for the moments when you should have been connected in this way. An eternity, it seems, the two of you have needed each other.

“I’m your god,” Armin finally says. “I’m your god and- hng ah-” He begins moving you up and down his shaft. “And I’m going to make you cum all over this cock- okay? All over your god’s cock.”

You nod your head pathetically as he lifts your hips and slams them down against his own. He is strong, ruthless in the way he bucks his hips up every time he lifts you from his cock, as if he can’t bare the empty feeling of not having your tight pussy clamped around him. At this relentless pace, you’re sure that the sound of your connecting bodies could penetrate even these marble walls. And yet, you don’t hold back. Thanks and praises spill from your swollen lips and Armin can’t help but lean forward and push his tongue between your mouth, as if he can absorb all of your word. “So good, so good, it’s- uah- I just want more, more of your cock, you fill me up so good!”

Armin can’t deny you. He pushes your thighs to your chest and picks up your entire body to fuck himself. He manoeuvres your body like a toy and as your tongue rolls out and your eyes become glassy, you begin to look like one too. The only sounds coming out of your mouth are incomprehensible, even as Armin attaches his mouth to one of your bouncing tits, you can only squeal.

“Such a good puppy,” he says between kisses. “Letting me use her holes like this. A god using a puppy’s holes- you should be- you should be grateful! Tell me, tell me you’re grateful!”

“I am!” you cry out. “I am grateful!”

“Good girl, good puppygirl.”

When Armin flips you over, you’re sat on his throne and he fucks into you harder, harder than he was doing before, and you swear his moans are louder too. He’s looking down at the movement of your stomach as if hypnotized by the way his cock disappears into you. And, in a way, he is. The fascination of being inside of you- just the idea even- is enough to make him want to cum.

The sudden position has him hitting new spots and the build-up is so fast, you hardly have the time to warn him. “Armin, Armin I’m cum-“

He grabs your face as you release around his cock, body spasming but unable to look away as Armin’s gaze burns through you. “Good girl,” he says. “Show me, show me how you cum. Just like that, just like that.”

He continues to plough his hips into yours and the spasms of your pussy leave him unable to hold back. “Inside of you,” he practically growls. “I’m going to cum inside of you- yes, yes, yes I am puppy. I’m going to cum inside of you and you’re going to show me how you take it yeah?”

You’re too far gone to even register the implications of what he’s saying, but he buries his cock in your warm walls and releases his cum inside of you with a heavy groan. “Just like that, just like that- I’m going to fill you up with my seed, puppy, my puppy.”

Armin feels like he’s emptied his balls- two powerful orgasms which leave his legs shaking violently. And yet, he pulls out of you slowly and stands back up to his full height, cock in front of your face. Almost instinctively, you rub your cheek against it, giving Armin soft kitten licks and he coos at you, stroking your hair. But he doesn’t push, he just holds his cock there and pumps softly as he stares at your fucked out face. Messy, covered in his spit, his hickeys, his bites, his cum- you look perfect, divine. Only one thing is missing. “I’m going to give you everything I have, puppy. And you’re going to take it, okay?” You nod and open your mouth for him and, immediately, a strong stream of pee emerges.

At the bitter taste on your tongue, your eyes roll back, and you spread your legs even wider, a welcome to the mess he is about to make. Armin accepts and angles his cock to release his pee over your chest, then your stomach, and then your already-throbbing cunt. He lifts a foot to rest on the throne and Armin doesn’t think he’s even seen such a beautiful sight in his life.

As if guided by an implicit will, Armin’s foot hovers on top of you and suddenly, he presses against your lower stomach. Your eyes snap back into focus as you whine out for him to wait, wait just a moment “I just had water,” you cry out. “It’s gonna- It’s gonna come out!”

But Armin simply grins. “Let it come out,” he says and presses his foot down harder. “Pee yourself dumb little mutt, be a good puppy for your owner.” The trickle that emerges is involuntary, but Armin’s grin is wider. “Yes, good girl, just like that. Let me see more, let me see more of you.”

The pressure that was holding the bowl of water back broke and you felt the warm liquid against your thighs before you realise what’s happening. Armin practically moans as he watches you whimper and struggle to hold your pee back as it spreads over the throne, the dais, and even Armin himself. He doesn’t stop until you’ve given it all to him.

You expect Armin to disappear.

You’ve given him everything. His goal is complete, you think, he has nothing more to do with you. But, as he has done many times before, the god surprises you. Armin’s body is heavy against yours when he collapses on top of you, but the weight is comforting. Despite the malaise of urine and cum rubbing against both of your bodies, you wrap your arms around the god of the ocean and hold him close.

Even as you close your eyes and lean your head back on the marble throne, Armin doesn’t leave you. Even as you open your eyes back up and see blue ones staring back at you, the look he gives you is so familiar and long hair in such unfamiliar disarray that you can’t help but smile.

He doesn’t ask why. Instead, Armin calls forth a stream of warm water from the adjacent fountain to clean the both of you. It feels like a fever dream the way floating droplets caress your bodies, and when Armin stands you up, his hands not leaving you, the perfume that suddenly envelops you is heavenly.

“Can I give you a last kiss, please?” you ask when your robe appears once again. And Armin leans forward to capture your lips, dragging his tongue on your bottom lip as if to taste you.

It doesn’t feel like a final kiss. You’ve had many of them- Jean, Sasha, Berthrold, your father, and even your mother, though you can’t remember it. This kiss is different. It feels less like a kiss and more like a promise, a vow. a shiver runs down your spine.

“I am your god,” he says and lifts his both of his hands slowly to wrap around your neck. “And you’re my worshipper.” You gasp as a cold sensation spreads around your neck, just below Armin’s fingers. It’s sudden, and heavy and when he removes his hands, yours fly to your neck and there’s a metal band there where there was none before.

“It’s sculpted from Hephaestus’ gold,” Armin says as he strokes his fingers along the metal. But he’s not looking at his gift, instead he looks at you.

“Armin- I- this is. But why?”

For the first time, he can’t read your expression. But it doesn’t matter. You belong to him. You always have, but now you know. And if it takes time for you to understand, Armin can wait. He’ll wait right beside you, always, always there to guide you.

“This is not the end of my Odyssey. My Odyssey is eternal,” he says before giving you another short kiss and disappearing, the warmth of his lips still present.

The gods might not all be fickle, you think, so you just smile sadly. But the gods are all selfish, so you touch the collar around your neck.

A/N: This is my first ever collab and I was- as still am- a bit insecure about how this story turned out so I appreciate all of your support ❤️. I would also like to apologise to my fellow history nerds for the historical inaccuracies.

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slasherhaven · 3 years

Note

If you have time and if it hasn't been done before, maybe slashers with a blind s/o? :O

The Slashers with a Blind S/O:

Thomas Hewitt

Main form of communication is touch. It’s certainly difficult at first, since Tommy isn’t much of a talker and you can’t see his nonverbal gestures, and he wouldn’t even think about touching you and making you uncomfortable. It had been your idea, holding out your hands and telling him to touch them in certain ways to communicate. Eventually it just started to become natural for you both, learning how to understand each other. He swears that you can just sense when he’s in a bad mood, he doesn’t even need to let you know. You both work well together.

Letting you touch his face for the first time. He has to admit that you being blind has helped him relax a little, he’s been able to remove his mask while he’s with you since you couldn’t see the scarring that he was so insecure about. You obviously didn’t care about what he looked like and had never even asked, but you had felt the mask and asked about that. Eventually he decided that you were going to end up feeling the scars one way or another, so why not now? He was nearly tearing up as you gently touched the scarring on his face, getting used to the feeling and trying to figure out what could have caused it. He relaxed when you smiled, leaning in to give him a light kiss.

Very protective and worries about you. Oh God this house is not exactly safe for your average person, never mind somebody who can’t see the ever changing hazards. He knows you’re not incapable, and he would never claim you were, but he worries so much about you tripping or cutting yourself on a new obstacle. Whenever he’s around, he’s always watching you like a hawk, and is by your side as much as he can be.

Michael Myers

Takes the mask off a lot earlier than he normally might. The mask isn’t just to hide his identity, everyone knows who he is, it’s more of a safety thing for him (even if he won’t admit that). So it’s still on quite a lot of the time, and you had questioned him about why he was wearing a mask when you were the only one in the house and you couldn’t see his face anyway. He didn’t answer. But without the added pressure of revealing his face to you, the mask comes off more than it might if you could see him.

Eventually starts to ‘announce’ himself. This man has snuck up on you more times than you can count, something purposely but most of the time by accident. For such a tall man, he moves absolutely silently. When he realises that his habit keeps making you jump, he starts to make you more aware of his presence. Shutting doors a little louder, making his footsteps a little heavier so you can hear them. It’s the little things that count.

Secretly very protective. Being stoic and not caring is to be expected from Michael but he does care about you, he wouldn’t be around if he didn’t. He already sees you as needing to be protected, so your blindness only adds to that.

Jason Voorhees

Communication can be a little hard. You’re blind, he’s mute. You can talk and he can hear you, but he can struggle with expressing things to you. But you become an expert and being able to read him just when he’s with you, being able to feel what he’s feeling or get the general idea of what’s going on. He uses a lot of touch to communicate but he nervous about doing so at first, worried about startling you or making you uncomfortable. It all gets easier as time goes by.

Letting you touch his face for the first time. Jason wants you to know and understand everything, and you do for the most part. You know who he is, what he’s done, and why he’s done it, and you’ve stayed through all of that. The last thing he wants to be honest with is his deformities, so you know exactly who you’re in relationship with. It’s all very sweet and tender as you smile, caressing his cheeks. You adore him the way he is and you fell him that.

Brahms Heelshire

Honestly, impressed by you. He and his parents had been unsure when you first arrived for the job, but you seemed confident in your ability to do the job and he had taken a liking to you. So you got the job. You go about your chores just like you were supposed too, you followed the rules perfectly, and that’s good enough for Brahms.

Likes to mess with you. You have lost count of how many times you had scolded Brahms for moving things around or purposely scaring you, his little pranks given away by his own giggling. But he always apologises, wrapping his arms around your waist and whispering apologies against your neck.

Letting you touch his face for the first time. You accepted Brahms happily, but were surprised when you touched his cheek for the first time and touched cool porcelain. You had accepted him for all he was, questioning the mask but moving on quickly. Eventually he removed the mask, all because he wanted a proper kiss, and he warned you about the burn scars. You just smiled, kissing both of his cheeks before kissing his lips. You didn’t care about some scars, you loved him.

Bo Sinclair

Assumes you’re incapable of nearly everything. Whether he actually believes that you’re incapable or just says that to bother you, you’re not sure. Either way, you prove him wrong every day, he’s almost impressed. Almost. And he’s jokingly tell you that, but will never admit that he was wrong.

Likes to scare you. He will sometimes try to sneak up on you and surprise you, just getting a sadist enjoyment from watching you yelp and jump in shock. Other times he’s not as quiet as he thinks he is, always muttering to himself when you don’t get surprised, just telling him to try harder next time.

Is more able to be vulnerable around you? He feels like he can let his mask fall every now and again because he thinks you might not notice because you can’t see it. He often found himself looking at you, just fondly watching you without you catching him. He’ll never admit that to anyone though, not even to himself.

Vincent Sinclair

Frets about you. Ambrose is a dangerous place and Vincent is so worried about you accidently getting hurt. He cleans up his workroom more than ever, making sure there are no sharp objects lefts out, nothing on the floor for you to trip other. It seems like he’s coddling you a bit but it’s just to ease his concerns and give him peace of mind, so just let him tidy up even if you’re not going to die just because he left some tools out on a table. He’ll slowly realise that and relax, don’t worry.

You can still admire his art. His heart skips a beat when you examine a small figurine he made, complimenting him for the intricate work and telling him how impressive it was. He focuses on creating more of those intricate figures so that you can enjoy his art.

He doesn’t worry about his mask so much. The two of you can actually eat your meals together because he doesn’t have the worry about revealing his face. You can always be by his side, even when the mask is off or needs some repairing. It just takes away some of his insecurity while you’re spending time together.

Letting you touch his face for the first time. He was so nervous to let you know exactly what his face looked like. You already knew that he had scarring and you knew why, you just hadn’t felt it before. But you caress and kiss his cheek, just to assure him that it doesn’t bother you in the slightest.

Lester Sinclair

Hates the idea of you wandering around Ambrose. The town is so dangerous and he knows that Bo isn’t going to do anything to make it any safer for you. Lester just frets about you, whether you’re blind or not he worries about you being in town.

Doesn’t underestimate you. Despite all his fretting, Lester doesn’t underestimate you because of your blindness, he knows you’re perfectly capable. You have proven that many times around the house. You won’t get any babying from Lester. You might actually get him forgetting about your blindness for a moment...but it’s okay.

Jokes that you can’t see how dirty he is. When he comes home from a hard day, covered in dirt and...roadkill? he jokes that at least you can’t see the grime. But you retort with ‘yeah but I can still smell it’, making you both laugh.

Bubba Sawyer

Worries about you. The Sawyer household is chaotic and dangerous, with sharp objects randomly scattered around the house, and debris always moving around. Bubba is so worried about you getting hurt, he’s always following you around, watching over you and babbling his concerns.

But he’s constantly impressed. You navigate the house with ease once you get used to it. It’s like you’re aware of the chaos, always watching out for new debris and usually avoiding it. You’re surprisingly good at avoiding Nubbins and ChopTop running around, handling them both well. You fit right in at the house and Bubba loves you for it.

Billy Lenz

Gives him bad ideas. As soon as he realises his, his mind runs wild with thoughts of being elsewhere in the house without you noticing. If you could see him, maybe he could even be in the same room without you noticing if he was quiet enough! He even hints about it during his phone calls, it’s a little unsettling.

Loves to mess with you. Billy can be pretty playful and when he’s in a playful mood he often enjoys trying to scare you, but he’s not always as quiet as he thinks he is. You’ve sometimes even pretended to have been surprised by him, just to hear him laugh like that.

Asa Emory (The Collector)

Doesn’t underestimate you too much. Asa isn’t an idiot, he knows that you’re perfectly capable of everyday things despite being blind, even if you have to do things a little differently. So, he won’t underestimate you. For the most part, he treats you no differently.

There is still no way you’re going to the hotel with him. All of that being said, and being true, he will not take you to the hotel with him. He’s already reluctant to take his s/o to the hotel and he’s even more reluctant with you because he knows you can’t even see the traps and dangers of the run down building. If he does take you, you will not be leaving his side for a second, forced to hold his arm the hold time. At least it reminds you that he does care about you.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

Likes to guide you even if he doesn’t need too. He knows that you don’t need his assistance but he enjoys guiding you around. Maybe it’s just an excuse to have you hold his hand or his arm, or for him to keep a hand on the bottom of your back. It’s a little possessive, a little protective. He also likes when you put the trust in him to just follow his lead.

Text to speech is a must have. You’re communication relies heavily on text to speech and touch, since Jesse is mute. He becomes good at communicating to you through touch but more complex thoughts need to be spoken though his phone. He makes sure that you have a phone that has a text to speech function for when he goes on business trips, so that he can text you (since phone calls aren’t great for a two way conversation in his case).

Otis Driftwood

More protective than he likes to admit. He knows you’re not helpless but he’s protective over his s/o and he’s very protective over you. Always glancing at you, hovering around you in some way. But he gets defensive and huffy if anyone dares point it out.

Likes to keep you close when out of the house. Otis likes to keep his s/o close when outside the house anyway but he uses your blindness as an excuse to keep you close. You don’t want to get lost or trip, do you? You always roll your eyes, knowing you’re perfectly capable of going to the bar with him without his arm around your waist, but why would you tell him that?

Is ready to kill anyone who makes fun of you. The family doesn’t exactly hang around establishments filled with polite people, it’s possible that a joke or two will be made at your expense. Don’t worry, if Otis can kill them, he will. He’s gotten into a lot of arguments and fights on your behalf, even if you hadn’t been all that bothered by the initial comment.

Baby Firefly

Really doesn’t bother her that much. Some times it can be a little difficult to keep up with the family when you can’t see what’s going on but you figure it all out pretty quickly, with Baby’s assistance. She also likes to surprise you with hugs and kiss, loving when you gasp and laugh when you didn’t expect her attack of affection.

Jokingly complains that you can’t see her. When she gets all dressed up, she pouts about you not being able to see how pretty she looks but she’s just joking with you. Still, you always grin and compliment her, telling her that you don’t need to be able to see to know that she is beautiful.

Yautja (Predator)

Let’s you do a lot of exploring. The first time you touched it, it was fair to say that you were surprised despite him having told you he wasn’t human. Plus, it only made you more curious about him. So, he lets you explore at your own pace. He understands curiosity, he’s a curious creature himself, so he lets you sate the curiosity patiently. He loves seeing the little faces you pull, intrigue and confusion on your face followed by a pleased smile as you formed an idea of his appearance.

Impressed by you. You are clearly a capable human, a brave one too, and that’s all he needs to know. He doesn’t care if you’re blind, and you certainly aren’t letting it hold you back!

Still watches over you. He’s overly protect of a human s/o anyway, it doesn’t matter who you are, it’s just in his nature. No matter what, he’s going to be watching over you, making sure no harm comes to you.

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extasiswings · 3 years

Note

“I felt it shelter to speak to you.” for Buddie

This was...not supposed to be this long but all the recent promo content has been...inspiring. Anyway...on ao3 here.

The first attack happens on a Saturday afternoon.

There’s nothing special about the day, nothing strange. Christopher is at a friend’s birthday party, Buck is off somewhere with Taylor, and Eddie is grocery shopping before he’s meant to meet Ana for an early dinner.

His shoulder aches a little—that’s what he notices first—but that’s not too unusual. It happens sometimes. Even as physical therapy has helped him regain strength and mobility in his arm and shoulder, a high caliber sniper round ripping through his upper chest is no minor injury. Plus, while he’s hardly ancient, he’s not even as young as he was when he was shot the first time, and those bullets left behind their own patches of scar tissue and occasional twinges.

So. His shoulder aches. It’s fine. He ignores it and moves on. Goes through the store, checks out, put his bags in the backseat—

There’s a glare off a window in the apartment building across the street.

Eddie reaches for the handle of his door.

Suddenly, his fingers start tingling, uncomfortable pricks of icy numbness traveling up his hands like they’ve fallen asleep, but shaking them out doesn’t help. And then, without warning, pain lances through his chest, sharp and acute, and he can’t breathe properly, as if his torso has been trapped in a vise that’s slowly tightening more and more.

His vision swims. He sways on his feet, grasping at the door handle with clumsy, numb fingers to keep himself upright.

He feels like—he feels—

He feels like he’s dying. It strikes him with sudden clarity. He’s dying. Dying in a random parking lot—he always assumed he was too young to have a heart attack but the symptoms fit and he’s just—

He can’t. He can’t die. Not when he’s survived everything else. This can’t be—

“Sir?” There’s a woman with a station wagon parked in the space next to his truck and she’s looking at him with no small amount of concern. “Are you okay?”

Eddie’s mouth is so dry and his breathing so irregular that it takes him a moment to respond.

“I—I think I need to go to the hospital,” he grits out as another wave of dizziness threatens to send him to his knees.

She calls 911. Eddie spares a moment to be grateful that the paramedics who show up a few minutes later aren’t from the 118.

As it turns out, he’s not dying. And he didn’t have a heart attack.

“A panic attack?” Eddie’s voice is distant to his own ears as he stares at the ER doctor in disbelief, his stomach flipping with a new kind of dread. “Are you sure?”

“Your symptoms resolved on their own and your EKG is normal, Mr. Diaz,” she replies as she flicks through the screens of his chart on her tablet. “And nothing in your prior history or other recent tests indicates that there’s anything physically wrong with you—you were healthy before you were shot and your recovery has progressed smoothly up to this point.”

She pauses and looks back at him. “Have you...spoken to a therapist? I noticed that your treating physician made a referral for counseling when you were originally discharged, but…”

Eddie clears his throat roughly. “Yeah, no, I, uh...with the PT schedule and everything else going on, I never followed up with that. But I’ve been fine. It never seemed necessary.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Diaz,” the doctor says, “you’re in the emergency room because of an acute stress response in which your brain tricked your body into believing you were in danger to such an extent that you thought you were dying. I’m not sure you’re as fine as you think.”

There’s probably some truth to that. Eddie can admit that much. But that doesn’t mean he needs—he’s been shot before. He’s been in a warzone. He didn’t need therapy to move forward from it then and he shouldn’t now. He can—he can handle this. He can make himself get over it.

He’s already spent months leaning heavily on everyone around him. The thought of not being okay, of asking for more help when he’s finally easing back into working, when things are finally getting back to normal, when they all have their own issues to focus on—

God, it makes him want to throw up.

So...no. He’s okay. Because not being okay isn’t an option.

He’s fine. The panic attack was...a fluke.

“I appreciate the advice,” Eddie says finally. “I’ll think about it.”

He can tell the doctor doesn’t believe him when her lips thin.

“You know, more likely than not, the panic attacks will keep happening if you do nothing,” she points out. “Ignoring this won’t make it go away.”

“I understand,” Eddie replies. “If that’s all, does that mean I can get out of here?”

The doctor sighs. “Sure.”

Eddie’s phone rings while he’s in an Uber on the way back to his truck. It’s Ana.

He swears under his breath as he sees the time—he hadn’t called anyone, hadn’t wanted the hospital to call anyone either, but that means he’s now late for a date that he doesn’t really want to keep after everything and further doesn’t leave him with any good excuses for his absence except the truth which...he doesn’t really want to admit.

Before the shooting, Carla told him to make sure he was following his heart. And he’s been too exhausted and focused on his recovery to really think too hard about that. But now—

For a moment, Eddie considers it. Telling Ana the truth. Showing her some of the dark, messy, ugly pieces of himself. Being vulnerable.

The very idea makes him recoil. Not because he thinks she would run away necessarily, but because he just...can’t.

He can’t. Not with her.

And if he’s that uncomfortable with the idea of letting in someone he’s been dating for over half a year, if he can’t imagine himself ever actually being comfortable with that...then what the hell is he doing?

He calls her back when he gets to his truck.

“Hey—I’m so sorry, I had a little emergency—yeah, everything’s fine now, but I’m not sure I’m up for going out. Can I meet you at your place? ...okay, great. See you soon.”

He may know even less about ending a relationship than he does about dating in general, but he figures he at least owes it to her to end things in person.

Eddie goes to work on Monday feeling fine. Great, even. He sleeps well the night before, he gets Christopher off to school on time, traffic is light enough that he gets to the station early—

Everything is fine. By all accounts it should be a good day.

At least, that’s what he thinks right up until all of them get different emergency alerts sent to their phones and they find out the city’s systems have been hacked. From that point forward, everything is chaos. Damage control. Twenty-car pile-ups because stoplights are being messed with, an outbreak of animals from the zoo when the electric locks on their enclosures released—

Eddie’s fine though. He’s fine. It’s nothing he can’t handle—in fact, he’s usually great with chaos. He’s focused and sure and capable. Nothing else matters but the work, certainly not himself. When he’s busy, he has no time to think about anything else.

The gradually worsening tension in his shoulders can be ignored. The way he has to clench his hands into fists to keep them from shaking in a way he hasn’t had to do since his earliest days in Afghanistan can be brushed off. He doesn’t have time to think about anything but the jobs in front of him, which means he doesn’t have time to think about his own state.

Brush it off, pick yourself up, keep moving forward. That’s what he knows, that’s what he can do.

Except, then they end up at the hospital and—

A medevac helicopter falls off the roof. Bobby nearly joins it. Buck and Eddie barely manage to get him back.

A cold sweat breaks out on Eddie’s brow as Bobby leans heavily against the wall next to the roof access door to catch his breath. His stomach roils. He doesn’t feel fully connected to his own body, caught somehow between present and past, a rooftop in Los Angeles and a desert in Afghanistan.

He breathes in. He tamps down on the rising panic.

Bobby is fine. The helicopter pilots and their patient are fine.

He’s fine. He’s fine.

“Are you okay?”

Eddie jumps at the question, his head whipping around to find the source. Buck’s brow furrows as he holds up his hands.

“Sorry,” Buck says quietly. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Eddie swallows hard and shakes his head. “You’re fine, don’t worry about it.”

He glances toward the door. “You know, I think I’m going to head back down,” he says, hoping Buck won’t notice the fact that he hasn’t answered the original question. “I want to make sure the pilots are holding up alright.”

“I can come—” Buck starts to offer, only for Eddie to cut him off.

“Someone should stay with Bobby,” he replies. He forces a smile as Buck’s eyes search his face. “I’ll be fine.”

Buck glances at Bobby, then back to Eddie before he finally nods.

“Okay,” he says. “But here, take the radio. If anything happens—”

“I’ll let you know.”

Eddie makes it down one flight of stairs before he decides to take the elevator the rest of the way down. The numbers on the top of the doors tick down, down, down—

And then, abruptly, the elevator lurches to a halt, throwing Eddie off balance and into the wall as the lights go out, plunging him into total darkness.

His ears ring from the impact.

He’s trapped. Trapped in a metal box in the dark. A box that could easily become a coffin if the emergency stop failed and sent it careening down to crash at the bottom of the elevator shaft.

Eddie’s breathing speeds up against his will. His chest starts to hurt.

Not again, he thinks vaguely. Not here, not now, not again.

But. He can’t move. He can’t breathe. Some distant part of his mind recognizes that what he’s feeling isn’t real, that he just needs to calm down, but he can’t—

He’s going to die. He’s going to—

The radio crackles in his belt.

“Eddie? Eddie! Can you hear me?”

Eddie’s mind latches onto the sound of Buck’s voice like a lifeline in an ocean of distress. It takes him a moment to make his trembling hands work through their numbness, to remind his fingers how to work the buttons, but eventually, he lifts the radio to his mouth.

“I’m here,” he says. His voice shakes. “I’m in the elevator. It’s—I don’t know which floor. Or if I’m between floors. I don’t—”

He shudders. His eyes close, not that it really matters given how dark the space is already.

“It’s okay,” Buck replies. “It’s okay, Eddie, we’ll find you. We’ll get you out, don’t worry.”

“I don’t want to die here.” It slips out of him before he can pull it back. Buck takes a sharp breath on the other end of the line.

“That’s not going to happen,” Buck says firmly, although his own voice seems less steady than usual. “I would never let that happen. I’ve got your back, remember? Always.”

A shudder rips down Eddie’s spine and he slides against the wall to sit on the floor. The walls still feel too restricting, like they’re closing in on him more each moment that he looks away.

The radio crackles again.

“Eddie. What can I do? What do you need?” Buck asks.

I don’t know. I don’t—I can’t—

“Eddie.” The fear and desperation in Buck’s voice cuts through the fog in Eddie’s mind.

He never wants Buck to sound like that.

“Keep talking?” Eddie replies. “I—just keep talking to me. Please?”

Don’t go, is what he really means. Stay with me.

He’s never allowed himself to say those things though. Not during the early days of the pandemic when they were sharing a bed in Buck’s loft. Not after he moved back home with Christopher and the other side of his bed felt too empty for sleep to come easily. And certainly not after he started dating Ana.

During his recovery, he never had to ask Buck for anything really. Buck was always just...there. Even though he was with Taylor, he was still there with Eddie and with Christopher whenever Eddie needed him. Like he knew somehow. Or maybe as if he needed to be there as much as Eddie needed him there.

Eddie hasn’t looked too closely at any of that. He’s not ready to. It’s too much, too complicated, too—too—

Dangerous.

“What do you want to talk about?”

Eddie swallows hard as his head rests against the wall. As he allows the sound of Buck’s voice to wrap around him like armor. Like home. Insulating him against the panic and isolation.

“Anything,” he says quietly. “Just keep talking.”

And Buck does. He talks about everything and nothing, random facts and stories from his past that Eddie hasn’t heard before, he talks and talks and talks until his voice grows hoarse in Eddie’s ear and the pressure on Eddie’s lungs eases.

Eddie exhales shakily and takes a few deep breaths as he continues to listen, as his body shifts from hyper-awareness and panic to wrung out exhaustion. When Buck finally cuts off, it’s because there’s an ugly screech of metal as the elevator doors are pried open, as light filters back in.

Eddie’s legs are unsteady as he gets to his feet. He trips on the edge of the elevator door when he exits—

Buck catches him before he can fall. Because of course he does.

“Thank you,” Eddie breathes into Buck’s shoulder as he finds his balance.

Buck shakes his head. “I promised we’d get you out, didn’t I? Besides, I—I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”

“I decided—”

“I shouldn’t have let you,” Buck repeats, low but insistent. His eyes meet Eddie’s and Eddie swallows hard.

“You weren’t okay. Were you?” Buck asks. And Eddie—

He wants to lie. Part of him does at least.

But he can’t lie to Buck.

Not to Buck.

“No,” he confesses. It’s half a whisper. “No, I wasn’t.”

Buck bites his lip and nods once.

“Okay,” he says. “We’ll figure it out.”

And somehow, Eddie believes him.

#chapel writes #prompt fill #letmetellyouaboutmyfeels #buddie #eddie diaz #buddie fic #buddie ff

221 notes · View notes

aetherarf · 3 years

Note

omg im love w your blog!!! 😭😭😭 (you won me the moment you said you like heavy angst bc i LOVE it. 👌🏻) can you write something angst with childe, zhongli, kaeya and diluc where the reader finds out shes pregnant and is happy and excited to tell her partner but he doesn't take it very well? as if the baby was going to spoil his plans or they were not comfortable with the idea. (and yes, please, you can exaggerate the sadness if you want)

> and as im a lover of sad and painful things, if you can skip a time later where the reader loses the baby and how they would react to it. (It's ok if you don't want it!! I'll love what you can give me!) anyways, have a nice day and be safe!! 🥺<3

Of course! However, I'm going to have it be AFAB!Reader, and using gender neutral language... not everyone who can get pregnant is a girl, you know? Plus gender neutral language can refer to anyone ever.

But ty for your kind words, and here you go <3!

[[ WARNING: ANGST, PREGNANCY, MISCARRIAGE, INJURY ]]

[[ Summary: You're pregnant! And you're so happy to be bringing a little bundle of joy into the world with your lover... but they aren't so happy. Worse still, it turns out that little bundle of joy never get to see the light of day, not even for a moment.

Total Word Count: 2'521

Childe Word Count: 680

Diluc Word Count: 809

Kaeya Word Count: 528

Zhongli Word Count: 504 ]]

Childe

When he had come home, there was a meal cooked, his favorite alcohol, and you were dolled up, dressed up to look perfect--He could tell you were preparing something. Seeing you standing there, back to him, he walked over and wrapped his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder,

"So, what's the occasion? Or are you just so madly in love with me you have to spoil me?" He teased. You grabbed one of his hands, pulling it down to your stomach, leaning back a little bit into him--his eyes widened before you spoke, and you confirmed the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind-

"You're going to be a father."

In a fit of excitement, he scooped you up, holding you close and pressing kisses to your face, nuzzling up to you in excitement--"I'm gonna be a daddy!" He chirped, "Oh, oh, if it's a boy we're calling him lil Ajax, promise me he'll be my little Ajax Junior?" He asked, excited.

Through the night, the two of you had already been gushing out with countless ideas, about names, about the possibility of twins, more than a few crass jokes from Childe, until the two of you went to bed...

And when you were sound asleep in his arms... he was given a chance to think.

And it hit him.

He was not only making you more of a target to anyone who despised the Fatui, or himself personally... But...

Was he ready to be a dad?

He was gone all the time.

Was he... ready...?

His excitement turned to dread. Only after the initial shock, did he realize that... no, no, this was awful.

As quietly as he could, he sobbed into your shoulder, desperately trying to not wake you up. He was... terrified.

He had not known terror before, because this was not something he could kill and be done with.

Desperately, he tried to delude himself into thinking everything would be okay, to keep a smile on his face. When you called him out for his oddness, he confessed only a fraction of the truth, "I guess there's just.. a lot of feelings going on, you know?" He asked, the shrugged to himself. "I just need a little time before I'm settled with the idea."

He wasn't sure if he'd be okay with it at all. He felt like a child himself... Could he raise anything without destroying it? Even his own siblings... he stayed away just to keep them sane. He was nothing but a danger to them. He couldn't neglect his own child...

One day, he came home...and you weren't there. Probably just doing something on your own, he didn't really care, just sort of minding his own business, doing some cleaning since there was always something he could at least polish up when trying to burn time.

And there was a knock on the front door. He opened it, and there was a panicked Fatui messenger.

"Your-Your, uh, partner. They-They got into a bad fight, and they were... hospitalized."

Never had he run so fast in his life to find you. When he saw you, you were covered in bruises, black and blue, and a few bandaged cuts. He sat beside your bed, holding your hand, "... Talk to me," he pleaded, unable to hide his cracking voice.

"It's dead," you said, weakly. He shook his head, not understanding,

"What do you mean?"

"I'm... okay. But... Ajax," you whimpered, looking at him, having already cried every tear out of your body, "Our baby."

It hit him.

"I got hit in the stomach."

"Oh... Oh no, babe, love... nono..." He tried to hug you as best as he could without hurting you...

But... was it bad of him to be relieved? He knew this would happen... he knew you were in pain, but... he'd rather have an unborn infant he had never met die compared to a child he held and loved.

He'd still stay there with you, but he only wished he could fix it. Not everything could be killed with brute violence.

Diluc

"Diluc... I'm pregnant. You're going to be a father."

Diluc's face paled. The first thought that hit his head was his death, leaving you and your currently unborn child to suffer alone... or worse.

He couldn't be a father, he-he... He wasn't mean to be part of a family. He lost his father, his mother, Kaeya... Even the Knights, that at one point he could have called family, have left... Or he left them, knowing that he simply couldn't exist around them.

Your once ecstatic and happy face fell... Sure, the two of you only, idly, had spoken about the possibility of children... and you didn't mean to get pregnant, but you wanted a child.

It seems Diluc did not exactly share your feelings.

"I'm going to bed," he said, standing up suddenly, feeling like he was about to fall over.

"Is this news... really so horrible?" You asked, no small amount of pain... and he sighed.

"I... don't know how to deal with it. I need time to think."

You knew it was a big thing... you'd give him time. After all, in the end, Diluc was a good man. He did the best he could and took care of those he cared for, even if he didn't want a child, he would take care of them... and, of course, you.

The next day, he was no better, he looked at your sleeping form, your stomach, and from pure distress and terror, he had left to go to the bathroom, just to vomit pure acid, trying to hide how tears poured under the guise of being sick, of being in pain.

How could he be a father?

The next few weeks were tense, and his gaze would linger on your stomach...

By the end of the first month, he set his hand on your stomach... with a small, vulnerable smile.

"I'm excited," he finally said, rubbing your stomach that was barely any larger than normal... "I'm afraid, but... I'm excited for our baby."

You cried, and he did too, holding each other as you cried. Exciting, concerning... hopeful, there was so many emotions, but in the end, you slept happily.

Things would be okay. Diluc would make a family he couldn't lose.

Each month, Diluc would fuss more and more. He desperately tried to help when you were sick, from morning sickness, giving you massages when your body was aching from the new weight, the new life inside you.

Whenever he was sitting next to you, or lying beside you, especially as your stomach grew, he always had a hand on it. On the fifth month, when he felt the baby kick, he looked at you with a smile wider than you had ever seen before, excited like a young child getting its first toy.

He spent the next two hours pressing kisses to your rounded belly, whispering to the baby as though it could hear him.

By the sixth month, was when it happened. The two of you were talking, standing in the kitchen as you talked about what to make for dinner, and you felt it-Water flushing from you, soaking your clothes and making a mess on the floor. Diluc stared at you, shocked, and you felt the worst pain in your life--

"Diluc," You half collapsed in his arms, "I-I think I'm in labor," you said, with no small amount of horror.

It was supposed to be three months, but Diluc didn't question that, even if he was aware something very, very wrong. He brought you all the way to the Cathedral, and the Sisters, too, were in shock when you had told them. Moved to a back room, away from prying eyes, Diluc didn't let go of your hand as you tried to push...

For hours, you sat there, tears in your eyes, "Diluc," you sobbed, weakly, "I'm so tired."

"You can do it," he reassured, "I promise you, you can do it."

Finally, the baby was out. However, the sisters had taken the baby somewhere, you and Diluc sitting there, you exhausted, and Diluc terrified. Finally... Barbara walked in, tears in her eyes.

"... Your baby is dead." She said, "I'm sorry for your loss. Would you-Would you like to see them, or..."

You only began to cry, weakly.

"No," Diluc said, not wanting to look at the corpse of the child he failed to father, "But... can the Sisters arrange a burial?" He asked, trying to stop himself from losing it. Barbara nodded.

"Of course," She said, "I will leave you two be." She walked off, leaving the room as she tried not to cry for your loss.

He held you, and you both sobbed.

Once again, the Family that Diluc could never have, one he fought for with tooth and nail, was taken from him again.

At least he still had you.

Kaeya

"Fucking paperwork," he grumbled, detesting how everything had an absurd about of work to do. No wonder they were always overworked...

He'd rather be, who knows, hunting some monsters or getting some time off, sitting in the Angel's Share with you on his lap...

Huh.

That sounded really nice right about now.

Just as he returned to his work, ceasing to think of you, you knocked on his office door and practically burst right in, an excited look on your face.

"Oh, what's got you so happy?" He asked, leaning back in his seat and he grinned, watching you walked around his desk, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"I have some news~" You said, in a singsongy voice, and he tugged on your hips, pulling you onto his lap. "So, tell me, don't make me wait with baited breath, I'll probably suffocate," He teased, sweetly.

You tugged him close, speaking in a low whisper right into his ear-- "I'm pregnant."

He was glad you weren't looking at his face, with the horror on his face. He was able to put on a mask of excitement, as fake as it felt, when you leaned back, looking at his expression, and he held you close, pressing his lips to yours.

"I'd say let's go celebrate, but I guess you can't have wine anymore."

You huffed, "We can celebrate in a different way."

In the end, the two of you went to the Angel's Share, the two of you deciding to keep it a secret for a little longer.

That night, while you cuddled up to him, he lie in bed, unable to close his eye, staring blankly...

Terrified.

As time passed, you had hit halfway through your second month. Kaeya still insisted that you keep it a secret-- "It's more fun if some people have a suspicious feeling, and then it's so exciting when you do tell them."

He was just too afraid to tell the world thus far. You had mostly agreed, but you were excited... you wanted to tell.

"I want to talk about this more," you admitted, "But I need to get a check-up for our little baby," you patted your tummy gently, and he pressed a kiss to your temple,

"Alright," he dreaded that conversation, "You go be safe."

"I will."

He sat silently, on the bed, blankly staring forth. What was he supposed to do...? To even think?

He was so scared.

He was able to hear you before he saw you, hear the sounds of your sobbing, and as he turned to see you, you jumped into his arms, openly crying. Somehow--he could tell your stomach was... smaller. If only a little.

"You were right to not tell anyone," you whimpered, weakly. He gently rubbed your back,

"What do you mean?" He asked, softly.

"I... I had a miscarriage."

He felt elated, but also so, so terribly guilty.

But he knew, with everything... It was for the best.

"I'm so sorry," he said, softly, holding you close, "Tell me--what can I do to make this better?"

"I don't know, I don't know," you sobbed, broken and weak.

For now, he'd just hold you.

Zhongli

With a wide smile and bright eyes, you told him: "I'm pregnant!"

Zhongli gasped in surprise, for a brief second, he was only pleased, his hands almost touching your stomach... then he recoiled, pulling back, hesitant... And he looked down and away.

"... Love," he said softly, "You are aware I am still an adeptus." He said, gently. You didn't understand,

"Of course, but... there's Ganyu, and Yanfei, they're both half-adeptus, half-human... Isn't this fine?"

He was quiet for a moment, sighing. "Yanfei's and Ganyu's adeptus parents were mammals. I... Was not-You understand, I was one a dragon of the earth, correct?" He asked,

"Of course, I wouldn't forget anything like that."

"Normal half-adeptus children already have problems, but one who is a dragon..."

He looked away, thinking.

"Are you sure you're not just afraid? It's okay to be afraid." You reassured, reaching out and holding his hand.

He was not afraid.

He was simply certain. The idea-The idea of having a child, a little bounding bundle of joy that would giggle as he tickled them, seeing their beautiful, adorable little smile that held features of you and himself...

How idealistic. But he had endured tragedy before, and he will endure it again.

This will only be another agony. If, perhaps, he was in his original mating season, having gone through it delicately how it was meant to, rather than pure chance and accident... Then there was hope.

He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand.

"Perhaps I am."

The days passed, and he would admit, he was shocked to see that your menstruation cycle had stopped--oh, period. People called it periods more commonly. Good to know.

And your stomach grew, you demanded him to touch your stomach, of which he would not argue, listening to your hopeful words.

You felt a pain in your stomach--naturally, you would be in pain.

You had left to go get it checked, to see why there would be pain, and what issue there would be for your child.

Alone, he curled up in bed and sobbed, unable to save you from this tragedy, sobbing pathetically in desperation, where no one, not, even you, could see his pain.

You did not come back that day, but you returned the second, pale and sickly, with bandages around your stomach. You collapsed into your arm,

"They... they had to do an emergency surgery," you wept weakly, too exhausted to sob, "It was... dead... and hurting-killing me."

He nodded. He knew this.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, softly, "I'm sorry, love."

"I just... I just want a family... Something to call my own."

Zhongli was quiet for a moment. Both of you had time before his original cycle would come in line...

Maybe-maybe, through an odd union of human and dragon, you could give him this family. But it would be a long, long conversation, and you would need to wait well beyond your wounds.

Oh, but your pain... how could he endure.

He would have to find a way.

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s-brant · 3 years

Text

Baby Names

(gif: @mishellejones) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: Y/N gets frustrated while putting the crib for her and JJ’s baby together and finds herself missing her dead brother more than ever.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Fluff and minor angst.

A/N: Asks and ye shall receive, here’s a little blurb about what happens after Tokens! You don’t really have to read the other parts to enjoy this fic if you don’t want to, but I do recommend it for some backstory. This was slightly inspired by this fic by @cognacdelights, so go give her stuff a read! Let me know if you liked this. Have fun!

Y/N Routledge thought she got over her brother's death long ago.

Though you never truly "get over" losing a loved one, though there will always be a small part of you, however small, that aches for their presence again, she thought she moved past the tragedy to the best of her ability...until last week.

To say that the pregnancy was a surprise would be the understatement of the century. She and JJ were both on the same page about children when their relationship began, and that page was that neither of them wanted them yet. Sure, the idea of it in the future stirred their hearts with fond emotion, but considering that they had yet to graduate high school and barely scraped by on their own, they weren't jumping headfirst into that aspect of adulthood.

They were meticulous about safe sex. They couldn't afford another mouth to feed, she wasn't sure she could handle the emotional trauma of having an abortion, and, underneath it all, he had some reservations about being a father. It wasn't that he didn't envision a future with kids in their relationship, he did, but the topic of fatherhood always took him down a dark path within his mind.

So, she went on birth control once they started dating and they went along with no scares for the next six years as they graduated and started figuring out what the next step for their lives was going to be.

Y/N could get lost thinking about it, honestly, but she tries not to get too swept up in the minor mistake that led to this.

"You, my friend, need to stop moving around in there," she whispers down at her protruding belly with a hand cradling the heavy weight of it, "I'm trying to get your crib set up without JJ yelling at me for not asking for help, and if you don't stop kicking me, I'm not gonna get anything done."

She's sprawled out on the floor in the living room of the Chateau with her legs stretched comfortably in each direction while she hunches over to read the directions of the Ikea furniture. The sugarcoated description makes her want to hunt down the company CEO for sport, because for how "simple and easy!" the construction of it claims to be, she is at her wits end.

The last thing she needed after having her grief over John B's death reignited by their decision to name their kid after him last week was to stress herself out over something as stupid as this, but she won't quit. With how much JJ has been coddling her the further into the pregnancy she gets, she wanted to prove that she could do something for herself.

Whenever she brings in the groceries from the car and goes to lift the bag of dog kibble out of the trunk, he rushes up behind her back and scoops it out of the trunk before she dares to touch it. It always ends with her hollering after him that it's under twenty pounds, the upwards limit of the weight she's allowed to carry according to her doctor, but he refuses to hear any of it.

Inside of her, she feels a sharp sensation of something hitting her right in the ribs in response to her comment, and she groans in frustration. It's as if he did it because he knows she wants it to stop, the feisty little fucker.

"You're definitely your daddy's son, aren't you? It's already enough having one of him, the last thing I need is a JJ clone."

Their three-year-old Rottweiler rescue huffs a sigh from where he lays, frog-legging it, on the floor next to the unboxed crib pieces she can't put together to save her life. His drooping jowls produce a puddle of slobber on the her favorite carpet that is past the point of saving from his constant wear and tear. After a year of having him, she decided to stop trying to prevent him from ruining it. There’s no point.

She smiles at him as she leans forward to read through the directions for the billionth time, saying, "I actually think he'll be a lot like his uncle, but that's just me. If he isn't, I'll feel a little stupid over the name situation."

John Booker Routledge-Maybank.

Hell of a name if you ask her yourself, but for every internal struggle it reopened inside of her, she couldn't help but love it as soon as JJ casually proposed the idea on his way out of the door for work one morning.

Going on without John B has been a learning experience in every aspect. Any time she wanted to turn to him for advice or tell him something about the recent events in her life, she had to walk out back to their dying magnolia tree and sit under the shade to talk to the wind. Then, once the tree finally died and they were forced to cut it down, she took to sitting on its stump and doing it there.

It got easier as time went on, but she can't keep herself from wondering what it'd be like if he didn't die ever since she saw the results on the pregnancy test six months ago. Whenever she does something like going to her OBGYN appointments or, case in point, setting up the crib, she pictures him there.

She can see him here now, petting Bowie's shiny coat until he falls asleep with his head propped onto John B's outstretched legs. He'd be twenty-three years old by now with his life barely starting to blossom to its full potential, yet here they are. Correction, here she is, and he's off somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, already decomposed to the extent that not even his bones can be salvaged anymore.

Her chest sinks in another sigh, and she flips through page after page of the instructions with increasing aggression.

"This crib is so fucking—"

"What are you doing?"

The sound of her yelping in surprise at JJ's voice coming from the door is enough to make him laugh to himself, though his amusement is buried partway by what he's walking in on. He specifically asked her to wait for him to put the crib together, knowing damn well it wouldn't be the easy task she thought it was, but he should've known she'd do it anyway.

She looks over her shoulder with a mixture of guilt and frustration painting her features as she throws her hands up in the air and gestures vaguely to the unassembled crib. Her eyes are shining with the rapid onset of hormone-induced tears.

"I can't put this crib together 'cause the instructions aren't right, all the pieces are labeled wrong, your son won't stop kicking me, and I miss my brother so much right now," she spews the words with no pauses to breathe until the very end, when she stops short to suck down a breath as soon as she gets the last part out.

It leaves JJ standing at the entrance to the house with this stunned expression.

There's no amusement to be found anymore. Once she turned and flashed those wide, teary eyes that never fail to spark an ache in his heart at him, his tired smile vanished and his feet started moving before he could say anything to her.

The floorboards creak beneath his half-laced boots on his way across the room to her. It prompts Bowie to pop his head up from around the side of the coffee table to catch a peek of whoever it is that's approaching his emotionally distraught owner. Upon seeing JJ's familiar face, the dog relaxes back into his lounging position atop the carpet and tracks JJ’s movements until he's seated next to her.

"This is about John B?" he asks.

Her cheeks are flushed in embarrassment at her sudden outburst, and she can't bear to meet his gaze right now. Despite him being her closest friend and husband, she feels as small and vulnerable as she did six years ago when she first learned of her brother's death from Shoupe. Time might as well be shaped in the form of a never-ending circle for them, directing them back to their seventeen-year-old state of mind every time things turn sour.

Y/N finally lifts her hanging head to look over at him after another few seconds and thinks she might crumble at the look on his face. He hates watching her cry.

"I guess," she says through a sniffle, "It's about the crib too, but I've been thinking about it a lot more since we picked the name. Our baby’s gonna grow up never knowing who his uncle was..."

With that, JJ takes it as his cue to pull her closer.

He scoots up behind her and lets his chin rest on the curve bridging her neck and shoulder together as he twines his arms around her body. It's a closeness that's as natural as breathing for him, so natural that he can hardly remember the years before it became normal for them to take part in little moments of intimacy like this. The warmth of their bodies cohabitates in the blurred line distinguishing where she ends and he begins, and he feels her relax, sagging in his embrace in appreciation of his miraculous ability to make her feel better no matter how worked up she is.

One of his hands rests on the swell of her bump in an absentminded effort to calm him too. Even though he isn't consciously thinking of it, he knows that her distress must upset the baby too. The contact steadies her, keeps her grounded to the moment rather than allowing her to slip away into the current of her negative thoughts, and she clings to every word he has to say.

He says, "You and I both know that isn’t true. He's gonna grow up seeing all the pictures you have of John B and ask about him all the time. And we'll tell him all the stories"—there's a pause of contemplation as he recalls a few particularly non-PG memories of his best friend—"Well, maybe not all of them, but you know what I mean."

This draws a soft bout of laughter from deep within her chest that he feels with how her body shakes ever so slightly with it. It seems so wrong to laugh with tears in her eyes but she can't help it. Her emotions have been scattered in every direction since the pregnancy began, and it has only gotten worse the further along she gets.

"If you ever tell him about the kief incident, I'm never giving you a bl—"

His free hand smushes over her mouth before she can say the rest.

"Don't even think about finishing that sentence.”

It's said so frantically, it makes her erupt in laughter hard enough to tickle her abdomen muscles with the aching sensation of it. The vibration of it under his palm makes him drop his hand a second later with the need to hear the beautiful sound. After seeing her cry, it's a welcome shift in mood, even if it's at his expense.

Her head is thrown back on his shoulder, mouth parted into a smile with the gleeful giggling filling the room. His stomach churns with butterflies at the sight of her. Even after all these years, he has the same reaction to her laughter every time. It makes him smile to himself and watch her in quiet reverence. It makes him ache with the same inklings of longing he felt for the first time when he was much younger.

Her laughter begins to die down by the time she can draw enough breath in to murmur a soft, "Sorry, angel," to him and reach down to hold the hand he rests on her belly as consolation for her joke.

They remain this way for another few minutes, tangled up in each other's arms on the floor of the living room with Bowie snoring a few feet away, before he manages to convince her to let him be the one to set up the crib instead. It takes a good five minutes of playful back and forth before she concedes under the condition that he'll let her paint the nursery by herself when the time comes, and that's all it takes for her to abandon the task in favor of finding something to snack on in the fridge.

In her defense, the crib is actually quite difficult to put together.

JJ doesn't consider himself an expert handyman by any means, at least not with anything outside of his area of expertise as an electrician, but he likes to think he knows enough to put together a "no assembly required" Ikea crib without wanting to bang his face against the wall.

In the end, it gets finished by the two of them in the middle of the night over a box of cold leftover pizza from the previous day. It takes them two hours of struggling before they get it fully assembled and placed where they want it in the room that'll soon belong to their son.

He pretends not to notice her sneaking back in to tie John B's old bandana around the wooden railing before they go to bed.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, @krisphann, @astrydis, @k-k0129, @zarahsloves, and @stilesflannels.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks #obx #fanfiction #obx s2 #okay but ive been doing some thinking and i can formally declare that i think their song is call it what you want (by taylor swift)#it fits tbh

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