#I been following him for ages only just occurred to me to gif him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

covetyou · 4 months

Text

when we begin again

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: dub-con (reader was paying a debt, less so now), oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation, thigh slaps (three small ones), small description of a hand injury, cumplay/cumshot/cum marking, praise kink, maybe Joel has a bit of a pain kink idk, possessive slutty Joel, derogatory names ("whore"), drug reference, unspecified age gap word count: 4.1k summary: He wasn't one to lick his wounds, but after a deal gone wrong Joel finds something he'd much rather put his mouth on.

A/N: and here we be, the first of the SWAT oneshots that serves as a sort of bridge between the main series and the few ideas I have brewing and ready to go. This is a whole re-write in less than 24 hours because the original fic I was almost finished with felt too me and not enough SWAT. no one needs sad girl monologuing about life and death and grief with their porn. you're welcome.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

"Hrrrmph!"

Joel's lips crash into yours the moment you step inside. One moment he's running an anxious hand through his graying hair, and the next he's making quick work of the space between you, striding across the floor to grab you and plant his lips firmly on yours.

It's not what you'd come here for, funnily enough. You wanted to talk and, glorious as it was to have your lips against his, you couldn't talk like this.

Wretching yourself away is stupid. After everything you know it's stupid, yet you do it anyway.

"Joel -"

Cupping your head in his hands his lips find yours again before you can get another word out, teeth knocking together as he licks into your mouth, and you briefly lose yourself, turning to putty in his arms, ready to sculpt into whatever he sees fit that day. Before the bonelessness takes hold completely, you pull back once more.

Searching his face you look for the sudden need, the sudden rush, the desire to kiss you and have your face in his hands that hadn't been there any other time until now. You see nothing, his dark eyes refusing to meet yours as his hands find themselves at the front of your pants, deftly unbuttoning them before you can even question him. Before he can unzip them, your hands find his, holding him gently in place.

Joel freezes, hands stilling on your zipper, and he pulls a small, sharp breath of air in through his nose as if you hurt him, wounded him by daring to slow him down.

"You want me to stop?" he growls.

"No, I just -"

"Then quit your complainin'."

You do. Briefly. Until the zip snags as he pulls on it again and he curses in frustration.

"Let me do it." Until last time, which wasn't really like any other time, he'd always asked you to strip yourself, made you strip in front of him before he touched out. His clumsy hands on your clothes felt alien, and as it was he was being too slow, even in his desperation.

"You not want me to touch you or somethin'?" he snaps, frowning down at your pants now as he fiddles with the zipper, trying to get it to budge.

"I never said that."

"Then quit your fuckin' complainin'."

And this time you really do when you finally see the tremble in his hands and the blood on his knuckles, and it occurs to you that maybe you did hurt him, that grabbing his hand to stop his frantic movement caused him pain.

Joel hadn't been in a rush before you got here. He'd been the opposite, pacing the floor, willing himself to slow down, calm down. And it had been working - each turn he could feel himself relaxing, all the pent up energy from a deal gone to absolute shit steadily leaving his bones. But your delicate knock on the door had sent his blood boiling in a different way. He'd fought with himself to ignore it, to tell you through the door to fuck off for another day, but the idea of something warm and wet and compliant to soothe his aches and pains was too enticing to pass up. Making you in particular moan and writhe and give in to him was even more impossible to let go. In the end, the door had practically let you in all on its own.

So when his hands pull at your zipper again, yanking it in frustration, you will it down, beg with your mind for it to not snag again, and you sigh with relief when it doesn't.

In one fluid movement your pants are unceremoniously pulled to your knees, and Joel is crowding you back against his dining table, rough and aching hands on your hips to guide you. Your exposed ass collides with the solid wood, and he's pressing into you, the hardening lump in the front of his jeans poking into the softness of your belly. You can feel the frustration in him and how it twitches through his fingertips, swells in his cock, and each time you feel how the need wins out over frustration as he grinds into you, latching him onto you as his veins hunt for some kind of relief.

Another yank of your jeans and he's pulled them to your ankles, stepping on them as he pushes you to sit on the table. Your jeans stay behind, dragging your shoes from your feet with a dull thud, and Joel kicks them away. Winters in Boston are bitter, none moreso than this one, and your frozen ass barely registers the feeling of the wooden surface as you sit on it, still kitted out in your hat, coat and gloves. When you move to pull them off his hand pushes between your breasts, knocking you back onto the table. A second later there's a harsh scrape of a chair across the floor and, just as you manage to tug one glove off, he's yanking you down the table toward him.

You sit up and look down where he sits between your legs, enraptured by the softness of your skin beneath hands that glide up and down your thighs, gripping and squeezing the soft flesh more gently than the wounds on his knuckles suggest he's capable of. He's holding off, you realize then as you watch his hands, trying to slow himself from taking what he needs.

Tossing your hat to the side you lift your hips, shimmying your panties down just enough for Joel's fingers to work them down the rest of the way. Sitting back in his chair he looks between your legs, and you know that he can see what you've been feeling since you stepped onto his street. By this point, the response was Pavlovian. Each step closer to Joel's apartment you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, your cheeks feeling hotter and hotter. You wonder if one day he'd stop having this affect on you, or if he'd stop responding to it exactly how you knew he would, but with a knowing quirk in his brow, you know that day is not today.

"Fuck me, sweetheart. You sure no one else been down here today?"

Shaking your head, you manage one more look at him before he's pulling your legs up, hooking them over his shoulders and diving into your slick folds with a firm lick.

"N-no," you gasp, bucking slightly into his face with your legs spread over his broad shoulders. He should know that you haven't, that you wouldn't, but you think he just needs to hear the confirmation, needs to know that this thing in front of him right now is just his for the taking, and so you let him have it. "Haven't even touched myself today."

He moans into your cunt, cold nose pressing into the softness of your mound as his tongue laps and laves you. With a slurp, having cleaned up the arousal that had leaked out of you on your way here, he looks up at you, ticking his head to the side and nodding down to your bare pussy. "Well, shit, looks like all o' this is just for me, huh?"

There's no air left in your lungs for you to respond when his tongue circles your clit and makes you groan into the cold air. Whatever he needs, if this is how he was going to take it, you were damn well going to let him take everything you had.

And so, pinning you to the table he begins to devour your cunt, licking messily all over you, coating you in his saliva. He pulls you open with his arms hooked over your thighs, spreading your lips further for him. The chill hits you for just one second when you're fully spread to the cold air, but his mouth soon descends on you and all you can see are his eyes and the curve of his nose, his mouth hidden as he buries it into you.

You shuffle your jacket off, the room suddenly feeling much warmer than when you first entered it, and earn yourself a small slap to your thigh, making you squeak out a yelp of surprise, when Joel's mouth involuntarily pulls from your cunt.

"You gonna keep still? Or you gonna keep fuckin' wrigglin'?"

You shift again, biting your cheek as you test him. Channelling his energy into eating your cunt is working wonders for him and he seems calmer already, but that doesn't stop him lightly slapping your thigh again, shooting a warning look up at you.

"Got a way to keep you still if you can't fuckin' do it by yourself, sweetheart," he warns and, as if sensing you're about to test him again, he unhooks one arm from you and pushes a finger straight into your wet heat.

You moan, gasping again when he sucks your clit for good measure.

"Huh?" He's coaxing you, trying to get you to wiggle again and earn yourself another surprise. Not one to push your luck you simply moan, letting your back arch slightly when he begins to move his finger inside you. "What was that?"

"Fu-nothing. Just - fuck - so good."

You mind is liquid, seeping out of your ears and making a mess of your jacket when he licks you again, dancing the tip of two fingers around your entrance before sliding both into you. If it hurts him, he doesn't let on, but you can tell it does something to him by the groan he makes into your cunt as his fingers curl in you, making your walls clamp and twitch around his fingers.

"That's it," he murmurs. "Like gettin' this pussy ate, don't you?"

"Mm."

"Thought so. Needy fuckin' pussy. Not just your mouth that wants to be kissed is it, she needs it too?"

"Oh god, yes please, she needs it too."

And you can feel it, the moment he switches from eating your cunt to kissing it. You know the shapes, the trails he kisses, the way his tongue dances. You'd committed it to memory the past week, made yourself come at the thought of his mouth, the scratch of his beard, the feel of him beneath your fingertips, touching him as much as he was touching you. His mouth and the memory work together then, bringing you so impossibly close to coming you can feel as your moans leave you more high pitched, how you push into him, chasing and chasing that feeling that's right there -

"See," he says, stopping your orgasm in it's tracks when he pulls back, a knowing smile on his face. He pushes another finger into you too, watching as your legs twitch open wider to take him, the rim of your pussy spreading across his fingers with slicked up ease. "Don't even gotta stuff your mouth, just gotta keep this thing right here stuffed and suddenly you're actin' all nice and polite."

There's a brief hope in you that he'll go for a fourth finger, stretch you out across his sore knuckles and ready you for his hard cock, but the hope fizzles away, cast to the side and forgotten, the second his mouth joins his hand back between your thighs.

You're almost there again already, the crest of the orgasm he stole from you a moment ago barely behind you. His tongue laps rhythmically, never ceasing, and his breaths come in heavy, fanning across your folds as he feasts on you, fingers pumping so deep you're sloshing around them. You're hot, so impossibly hot in spite of the cold. You want to shed more layers, bare yourself for him, but you're so close and he's getting you there fast, goading you on with each satisfied groan into your cunt.

"That's it," he mumbles into your twitching pussy. "Fuck that's it sweetheart, come on my fingers."

You can feel it build, Joel's mouth engulfing you and lapping at everything you have to give. The beginnings of your orgasm start to shudder through you, your legs stuttering with every flick of his tongue. Your back arches from the table, toes curling in thick socks as your heels press into his back, pushing him into you. And then it hits you.

The coil in your belly snaps, letting loose an orgasm that swamps all your senses. Held down by Joel's muscular arm and pinned by the fingers hooked in you, you buck into his mouth. Quivering thighs have clamped around his ears, attempting to draw up and pull back as you squirm in his firm grip. You're screaming too, you think, a breathy high pitched shout of his name that you just can't hold back, that gets shakier and shakier the longer it goes on.

And it does go on. Joel doesn't stop, determined to wring from you as much as he can. His fingers are locked inside of you, forced to stillness by the pulsing in your pussy. Still, he can flex them, curling his pruning fingertips into you while he tongues your clit, groaning with each twitch of it beneath his tongue. You know that sound, how it's gotten deeper and more desperate as he's devoured you. It's a sound that tells you he's hard, that he needs relief and will be desperate for it the second he pulls away from you. That thought only makes you come harder, and by the time your cunt has stopped its erratic pulsing around Joel's fingers and you've fallen limp, deaf, and winded against his table, he's already standing, pushing the chair back and letting it crash to the floor.

Dragging his fingers from you he pushes between your legs, pulling his jeans open as best he can, wincing when he rasps his knuckles on the fabric a little too harshly. You reach for him, wanting to help, wanting to be a relief for him like he is for you.

"Let me -"

But he knocks your hand away, tugging down his jeans a moment later, his cock springing free and knocking into your thigh before he can capture it in his fist. It's hot against you, burning and dripping, likely feeling as achey as his knuckles do.

You expect him to plunge into you immediately, to take advantage of the position between your thighs and your pussy still fluttering with want at the sight of him, but he doesn't. Instead you watch for a moment as he strokes himself, the bloody scrapes on his knuckles contrasting harshly with the smooth, solid plains of his cock.

"Your hand, Joel, I can -"

"Fuck, my hand," he growls, resting his unmarred hand on your though to hold you still.

Your legs fall open further, his touch light on your thigh barely applying any pressure to open you up for him. Still, he doesn't take the clear route in, and you're rocking forward trying to notch his tip on your entrance just as the rough scrape of his knuckles drags across your sensitive inner thigh.

"Please put it in me," you finally beg, needing to feel the deep stretch of his cock as it pierces you.

"Nuh-uh, sweetheart, you get what you're given and you be grateful. You gonna take it?"

"Yes," you say quickly, following on with a small, "Please."

He groans at your eagerness to please. Making a man like Joel desire you so much he can't help but moan, just with small words and gasps of your own, makes you feel a power you've never had before and your eyes just about roll back in your head.

"Use your hands, show me that hole," he demands, giving you a little space to reach down and spread yourself for him. Your pussy is leaking, still, you can feel the slick spread on your fingers as you spread yourself for him. "That's it, hold yourself open. Fuck she's still twitchin'. Fuuuck. That's it."

His strokes become longer, more fluid, as he stares at your aching, empty cunt. You still want him inside, would do anything to get him there, but the desire in his eyes tells you he's getting exactly what he wants right now, and you almost want that more.

Tilting his head back as he strokes his cock with pussy drenched fingers, his bruised knuckles rub against your cunt with every stroke. Holding yourself open is easy, but keeping your legs from snapping shut each time his fist rubs your clit feels almost impossible. As if noticing, Joel pulls back, looking down where your cunt is spread open for it.

"That's it, keep it open. Good girl."

You know you're glistening for him, he'd eaten you so fiercely his saliva had been dripping from you, mixing with your own slick as you came on his tongue. He can see the evidence of it now, and the evidence of what his words do to you at the tell tale twitch of your cunt at his praise.

You can't take it any more and you beg in desperation again. "Please put it in, please."

It does nothing but earn you another soft slap to your thigh, which he rubs, grabbing the meat of you and squeezing in his large hand as his cock twitches and drips in his damaged one.

"No," he grunts, breath coming in more ragged now. "Want you to fuckin' wear me. Know who's pussy this is?"

"Yours."

"Fuck," he hisses. "Yeah it is. Pussy's mine, sweetheart. Mine."

Gripping your thigh tighter he moves in closer again, his hand bumping your sensitive nub as he jerks so closely you slick up his knuckles, soothing the soreness and jerking your clit in tandem.

"Oh fuck, that's it, sweetheart. Keep it just like that, show me that pussy. Show me," he's saying, over and over as he watches you.

A second later he's looking up, staring straight into your eyes and pinning you there on the table with them. You nod, words stuck in your throat when all you want to scream is for him to come, to cover you in it, to claim your pussy just like he needs, just like you want.

The sneer on his lips tells you he wants it too, and before you know it his tip is pressing firmly to your clit, jerking it with every frantic movement of his fist, his hips thrusting minutely into it like he can't control it, can't hold it back any more. And neither can you. The pressure and the movement on your clit is too much and you're coming again, so soon after the first it brings tears to your eyes.

"Ohhh, f-Joel, pleasecomeonme."

Looking down where he's pressed to you, he hisses a breath in through his teeth, holding it for just one second until it pushes out of him with a deep, shakey moan, cum exploding out of his tip and coating your folds, dripping through you until the last spurt coats your mound and he's left breathless.

You flop onto the table, grateful for the padding your coat offers your bones as you collapse into the wood. He's leaning over you, finally releasing his grip on your thigh and running a thumb across his mouth, cock still in his aching fist. Using the oversensitive tip, he smears the cum into your bare cunt and the insides of your thighs, catching your eyes just in time to watch them turn from glassy to rattling in your head, your mouth in a small O when he jerks your clit with his head, making you both gasp.

"You did say this pussy was mine," he says, letting a small wry smile tug at his cheeks. He pulls back then, letting go of his spent cock to run his fingers through your cum covered folds, scooping up a drop with his thumb.

Leaning leaning over you, he swipes his cum slicked thumb against your lips. You suck on it, tasting him, salty and bitter and sweet and Joel exploding on your tongue all at once. You want to thank him for it, but he pulls your mouth open with his thumb and pushes two fingers in, making you clean them with broad soothing strokes. You're careful not to catch him with your teeth, still aware of the wounds on his knuckles as you taste yourself off of his cum soaked fingers. If his hand looks like that, you wonder what the person on the receiving end looks like - the thought shouldn't make your cunt twitch, you know it shouldn't, that it's likely sick and twisted and wrong, but it does, and you moan around his fingers just has he pulls them from your mouth.

When your eyes flick to his lips, he smirks, knowing what you want without even asking. Cupping your face with his bruised, wet fingers, he makes you look at him, waits for the desperation in your eyes to ramp up to the point of frustration before he gives it to you.

Just a peck, that's all he gives, soft lips and the tickle of his facial hair so fleeting you could have blinked and missed it, before picking up the chair with a groan and settling back in it with a deep sigh, inspecting his wrinkled fingers. They'd spent so long buried in you the tips are starting to pucker, the ache that your warmth had soothed slowly crawling back down his knuckles.

Your mind is slowly pulling itself together, slowly crawling back into your ears and taking root in your skull again. Joel's eyes scan across you before finding something apparently considerably more interesting on the floor by his dining table.

"Where the fuck you shoppin' this late in the day?" he says with a frown, and you sit up, following his gaze to the floor.

Your pants are in a tangle, a sprawled mess on the floor with your shoes from where Joel had dragged them from your body and there, next to them in a messy pile, is a small stack of cards that you'd brought with you.

"Oh."

Right. You came here to talk to him, to renegotiate your arrangement, before Joel had needed more from you than a chat in that first moment through the door and pushed all thought of conversation from your mind. You clear your throat and square your shoulders, pushing away the last haze of orgasm and look back up at him. "I'm not. They're for you."

With a groan, he bends to pick them up, counting them as he stands and then raising them to you with a question on his lips.

"What're these for?"

"For the pills," you say, like it's obvious, like you hadn't been using your body as payment for months.

"I've already taken my payment," he says with a look to your cum coated cunt. "'n' if you wanna pay me for your daddies pills, you know it's more than this, right?"

"I can take 'em back if you don't want 'em. I just figured we can pay a bit now and, y'know... I wanna come here because I wanna come here, for me, not just for pills all the time." It sounded better when you rehearsed it in your head this morning, but coming out of your mouth now it sounds ridiculous.

He looks at you for a moment, taking you in, sat pantsless and dripping on his dining table.

"Y'know, there's a simpler solution to this than dumpin' cards on me without warnin', right?" If there is, you haven't thought of it. "Stop only comin' by when you need pills." Oh.

"If you want somethin' else, you know where I am. Now, if you don't wanna whore yourself for meds anymore, if you wanna be respectable, then that's fine. I'll take your cards. But I ain't takin' all of 'em. I'm keepin' these," he says raising a few cards up to you. "And you're takin' these," he pushes the remaining ones into your hand along with a small bag of pills he slips out of his pocket and you frown. You already weren't offering him enough.

"Now I get a nice respectable, good girl to fuck, and you get to pretend you're not a whore. Win-win."

"I'm not a whore," you insist, rolling your eyes, even though you know it's not exactly true.

Joel simply shrugs, shaking out your jeans and throwing them on the table next to you before placing his hand by your ass, thumb stroking delicately along the soft skin there, and leaning down toward you. He tilts your head up to face him, his nose catching yours as your eyes meet his.

"Whore or not, sweetheart," he smirks. "Pussy's still mine."

You weren't going to argue with him there.

taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller/reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #fic: SWAT #coveted fics

937 notes · View notes

divinehedons · 11 months

Text

you're losing me.

navigation: how reader broke her ankle

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

word count: ~4.2k words

summary: at one point, you think you've found something with joel. a moment of peace, a fragment of joy. now, you're not so sure.

warnings: this is an explicit fic, minors DO NOT INTERACT! hurt/comfort fic, LOTS of angst i'msosorry, implied age gap (somewhat mentioned here and there), a play on the miscommunication trope with an uncommunicative joel, angsty make up sex, explicit p-in-v sex, oral sex (f receiving), anal sex, aftercare, occurs somewhere after the events of season 1.

a/n: i'm incredibly thankful for all the love this fledgeling little hedonist got from such a community. thank you so so much for reading!

likes, comments, and reblogs much appreciated! please let me know if you have any requests, just shoot an ask and i'm certain to see it!

Life, as you imagined it in the days that came after, was much simpler before you and Joel arrived in Jackson. It was a description you settled on, long after you’ve combed through your mind’s vocabulary, through the haze and vertigo of heartbreak. Easier was simply a lie. Nothing was nice nor easy in those autocracies from the QZs. When you look back to those days, painted only in broad strokes of inhumane bloodshed and secret dealings in the dark, he remains, nevertheless, at the center of the shell of empires you had once deemed eternal. Your gruff, quiet Joel, with bloodstained fists and sharp eyes, always strong to rage battle with the days and emerge victorious.

Perhaps life was easier pre-Jackson because you and Joel never truly defined what you had back then. You lived next door to him. You suggested he hid his contraband with you because, God, why would they ever search there? You still try and figure out when the fucking started. When you stopped sleeping in your bed and started waking up in his. Whenever it was, shortly thereafter, you followed him in his dealings, tried to look for some damn car battery that seemed to excite him so much.

You remember waking up at dawn one morning, drenched in sweat as the shadows receded in your mind, his hand on your shoulder as his eyes searched yours. You don’t remember the nightmare, you remember the panic in his eyes. “You good, darlin’?” You’d nod and watch him open a window. It was autumn, you remembered, and the breeze cooled your burning skin.

“Who’s the guy I’m meeting today?” you tried to ask, sitting up in his bed and watching the way his eyes seemed to look at anywhere but you. You tried to ignore the subtle way his brows furrowed, the grinding of his jaw. “Talk me over the plan again.” When he returned to you, his hands pull you down by your legs, spreading you wide open as his mouth kisses the questions out of your mouth.

“We’re not talkin’ ‘bout business when I can still have you for a few hours, sweetheart.”

So he’d take you, with your neck stinging from razor burn, legs thrown over his shoulders, his shirt which you wore pushed up while he bites your nipples as his hard cock dives into you in one languid thrust, moans reverberating from the both of you at the feeling.

When Joel fucks, he does so with the candour of a greedy child in a candy shoppe. He takes whatever he can get. You still remember the aftermath of when he first fucked you, one that broke a few years of celibacy, according to the man himself. You remembered the teeth marks, the broken skin, burst capillaries, and fingerprints imprinted wherever he felt the need to. He had been bashful, then, muttering about how he didn’t mean to be so rough. You remembered laughing and pressing his fingers to your aching cunt, smiling at him. You were still wet. He hardens there and then.

Even when you were neck deep in each other’s affections, he never quite lost that eagerness. You remembered that morning because you remember gushing against his cock. You remembered it because it was the morning you realised it was never like this with anyone else. Actually, you realised as his hips stutter and the familiar warmth of his spend fills you, since Joel, there had never been anyone else.

Perhaps everything was simpler then, when you look back at it. You’d fuck, wash up, go do your jobs for some rations. Sometimes he’d nod at you from across the street, and you wouldn’t see him again until he knocks on your door at night, taking you by the hand and pulling you into the night. You always stood in his corner, kicking and punching with so much vigor that he’d chuckle and mutter something about the “youth, nowadays”. He’d wash the blood from your hands, wrap you up in bandages, and tell you to not be so reckless next time. You never really listened.

Sometimes, when an exchange ends early, he’ll take you to some empty building, tell you about some renovation of one decade or another. You’d laugh and climb over him, chasing to get a taste of his cock in your mouth. You never addressed the elephant in the room, never asked what you meant to him.

It was the unspoken rule, however, that there was never going to be anything that came between the two of you. By hell or high water. He walked you home every night you did your business, even if he still had things to do. He never forgot to hand you a share of meat whenever it came his way, sometimes finding you wherever you were stationed that day just to slip it in your hands without speaking.

It was the same rule that prevailed when he woke you one night, telling you he’s leaving. You packed a bag, shook hands with the kid he was with, and followed.

No questions asked. Through hell and high water.

–

Somewhere between those days and arriving in Jackson, he does start talking more. You learn about Sarah, the worries he tries not to tell anyone, the pain in his bones.

In easy silences while the kid slept and vulnerability left you both awake, isolation made you complacent, vulnerable. It made you believe something good still existed in this world. It made you believe you and Joel could survive unscathed from the same love that had burnt others.

“Stay with me,” he whispers in the cradle of darkness, hand on the trigger as he watches you pace back and forth, trying to tire yourself enough. You look at him, blinking momentarily as you try to comprehend as to whether or not you imagined the words from his mouth. “When we get out of here–if we get out of here–promise me you’ll stay with me.”

Of course you will. That was how you ended up in Jackson, too.

Looking back, when you try and trace everything back to a singular point in space and time when the end of all things began, it began when you stand in stunned silence, watching what seemed to be a sanctuary in the midst of mortal damnation. Laughing children, playing, men lifting, hammering, building. People chattering in the street. The tipping point, however, was none of that. The tipping point was Joel recognising his brother from the crowd and embracing him with a smile you had never seen on your face before.

For a moment, you feel guilt— you knew how long Joel had wanted to see Tommy. You knew, too, that this had been everything he had worked towards for. It warms you, to finally know Joel was still human, after all. At least for a moment. Then the uncomfortable thoughts trickle in.

Perhaps, you thought once in a microsecond, perhaps you just weren't enough for him to be that open with you.

Just like that, the isolated bubble from which you had adored, and perhaps (definitely) even loved Joel, dissolves, leaving you exposed, vulnerable, and somewhat alone in a sea of people. You supposed Ellie felt it too, from the way she held on to your arm, worrying you’ll disappear too.

“I’m here, kid,” you murmur as you pretend not to see. “You’re all good.”

Even when your little group left and came back from the Fireflies, even when Joel pulls you out of a burning building and kills men for you, you can’t shake off the feeling. Can’t shake the knowledge that you weren’t as important to him. Not even a little, not even at all. You swallow it whenever he pushes aside your underwear and lets you take his fingers. You ignore that itching feeling when you take him for yourself, seating yourself on his lap and fucking him needingly, kissing him as if his lips were everything you needed, chasing your orgasms with the same greed you had in those early days.

Sometimes, you couldn’t stop it.

“Tell me you want me, Joel,” you whisper, fingers tangled in his hair, tugging, pulling, teeth gnashing.

“‘Course I fuckin’ want you, peach. This fuckin’ cunt is all mine.” He’d flip you over, lay you on your stomach, fucking up into you as your back arches and your eyes roll back in the sweet symphony of skin on skin on skin. “No one else knows how to even make you feel as good as I do.” His fingers would reach down. Thumb and forefinger. Pinching your clit until a squeal escapes you.

“Yours, Joel.” Your gasps, his grunts, the fleeting ache in your chest as these moments become less frequent, turning few and far in between. “Yours, yours, yours.”

–

It all comes to a head one evening, over some stupid argument. Even now, when all is said and done, you can’t seem to remember the trigger that set things off. When you think of that night, only a fragment of the conversation comes to mind.

“The truth is, Joel, I just don’t know what we are,” you had been saying, separating from him like shrapnel. “I used to stupidly think that maybe you wanted me to stay because you were working up some fucking courage to do something about us.” He looks at you wide-eyed, pupils blown. You could hear his thoughts from that distance. Where was all this coming from?

“It never mattered t’you before,” he muttered, leaning against the wooden table as his eyes bore down on you. A beat drops, and he is striding towards you, taking your shoulders in his gruff hands as his tired gaze met yours. ”I don’t understand, why the fuck are you tellin’ me this now?”

I know you don’t. I never asked you to.

For a moment, you struggled in his arms. The feeling of his fingers against your skin was too much. It felt too close, too intimate, too little, and nothing all at once. You whine, trying to avoid his gaze and control your tongue before it is you who eventually did ruin things.

Just tell me. What’s in that head of yours?

“Because you never touch me anymore!” Your small fists, his broad chest, hitting what you could as you finally sob and tear yourself away from me. “I’m glad for you, I really am. But you barely even look at me anymore!” When you did free yourself, your feet take you backwards by a few steps, just enough to see the quirk of his lips at your confession. “But God, it makes me feel so fucking small- like I’ve turned into some nagging bitch, the shrew at home.” You hiccup once, twice. You see him about to speak and you jump in again. “It’s like you found your life and I never had a place in it, so you forgot me.”

The last confession lay on your lips, escaping before you could stop it. “Like I was never enough for you, Joel.”

Your back hits the wall as you look him in the eye, eyes blurred from the onslaught of tears that finally stop you. “I have always stood by your side, I’ve followed you blindly across this fucking wasteland. I never asked for anything, never wanted anything but you, and yet…” You wait for Joel. As you always have. You wait for him to say something. Anything that might finally end your misery. When he doesn’t, you wait for him to do something.

You sigh. “I… I lo-”

“I’ve had enough of this,” he finally says, catching you off-guard as he moves away, grabbing his coat as he shakes his head. “Tommy’s waiting for me.” With that, he leaves. The pit in your stomach swallows you whole, remaining there, in the strange hallways of your memory, as the moment you finally understood the misery that walked hand in hand with love.

–

That was how you ended up with the singular backpack of your things, moving across all of Jackson and putting the entire commune between the two of you, and moving into the small apartment near the shops. You know the jobs he works, asked (almost begged, actually) for Maria to keep her as far away from him as remotely possible. And you did so before he returned from patrolling– some two day affair beyond the gates.

The first night proved impossible. In the darkness, you heard the arms of your watch ticking by as time moves ever so slowly. Without noticing it, you counted the minutes before he and Tommy should be back. You tried not to wonder if he ever thought of you on jobs like this. When all there is to kill is time. Did he ever touch himself in the darkness? Did he ever think of you touching yourself wherever you lay, too?

Then you remember his dining room. “I’ve had enough of this.” No. You know he wasn’t thinking of you.

You fuck yourself with your fingers until your wrist aches from the effort; and still yet, nothing. You cannot reach the places he does. Your hands too soft to mimic the sensation of his calloused fingers forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you. The sleep that comes, therefore, is uneasy,

You dream of him, lying beside you in the bed you shared back in the QZ, his gruff hum signalling he was awake. “You’re not happy, are you?” he whispers, and you look to him, hands reaching in the darkness.

“Of course not,” you whisper. "I’m in love with you and you don’t even want to see me.”

–

Joel sees the empty house first before he heard the news. It is only in your absence that he finally understood how empty his home was without you.

Without the books on the coffee table. Without the flowers you picked yourself. The bathroom felt barren without your little luxuries– the lotion you had found back on the road, the smell of your shampoo long evaporated from the room. His bed, most of all, felt inhuman without the shape of your frame imprinted on it.

Ellie rushed in when he stood in the living room, looking over in silence. “What the fuck happened, man? I tried to stop her but she was crying, all over the place. I don’t even fucking know how she left the place so pristine the way she was running around-”

“Where is she, kid?”

–

When he finally does see you, you look far worse off than he is. The apartment Maria pointed him to is nice, it’s warm. Bright, even. As if anywhere you go turns into a sanctuary. You’re reading when he sees you. With your back turned to him, you roll your shoulders in a way that tells him you slept wrong. If you even slept at all. The slight tilt in your gait tells him you overworked yourself and your ankle is giving you hell for it.

He leans against the doorway until eventually, he finds the strength to speak. “So you don’t even say goodbye? Some people would think it’s just good manners.” You turn around just enough for him to see the swooping shades of exhaustion beneath your eyes, tinged by the reddening of your nose, your sore eyes. You had just been crying. He could tell, even when no traces of tears are left on your skin.

Now, he waits for you. Attempts to weed out the silence as if it could tell him something.

“Ellie said you cleaned up. Thanks for that, darlin’.” He sighs, moving closer in an attempt to bridge the gap between the two of you. He doesn’t notice the way you tense, the way you prepare yourself to flee. “I found somethin’ for you, It’s out-”

“Just stop it, Joel.” He looks to you, sees the way the tears bead in your eyes before you look away, rising from your seat as you allow a shaky breath. “You said you had enough and I’m- I wanted to respect that.” He tries to hold you and your arms fly out, pushing him away before he gets too close, shaking your head. “But I can’t do it when you’re always around.”

He calls your name, and it stops you in your tracks. He says it again, and you realize why. He says your name with so much emotion, the teeth-gritting ferocity of the riptide. “It was never you that I had enough of. I can never have enough of you-” When you look at him, his brows furrow, eyes soften, reaching for you, hands on your wrists as he slowly brings you toward him. He calls your name, and for a moment, you feel as you did back in the old days of the small rooms in the QZ. You remember the whistling of the wind between the window shutters, white noise that soothed you to sleep.

His confession comes spilling forth in an uncontrollable gush. “I never wanted to make you go, peach,’ he murmurs, almost incomprehensible, rough hands pulling you against his chest as he finally breathes in that familiar scent of your hair. He smells of snow and pine–the same smell of the soap you bought for him last week. “I don’t know how to do this… to feel–” His thumbs cup your cheek as your gaze returns to his own tear-filled face. “Losing you is like cutting my fingers off, sweetheart, I can’t bear it.”

He kisses you, and you feel the desperation of a man starved. He doesn’t stop, does not want to stop. If this was a dream, he thinks, he’d rather consume you than wake up somewhere without the warmth of your skin on his. You kiss him, too, and it’s nothing like what you had before. When you kiss him in that quiet little apartment, it’s wanton, messy, your tears melting into his own, your whines swallowed and consumed before you can even actuate them. You only break apart when you feel his lips move to your cheek, his beard rubbing against you as you sniffle and tug him closer by the loops of his belt.

Joel continues to speak. In disjointed whispers, murmurings you try and decode. “Always wanted you to stay, darlin’. Always dreamt of you, always-”

“I thought you dreamt of ten-month summers,” you manage to tease between tears, catching his lips as his arms lift you, pressing you to the nearest wall to wrap your legs around his waist, thrusting his clothed cock against you. You remembered that dream particularly because it had been a miserable winter, one that he confessed to have felt in his very bones. How he grumbled then, in the silences when he thought you wouldn’t hear.

“Even with that summer, without you there, I don’t fuckin’ need it, sugar.”

You both make up that afternoon, slowly, lovingly, with him begging you to stay as he pushes your bottoms off and you promising that you will. The burning stretch of his girth makes you tear up again, just as he cups your face and soothes you through it. “Doin’ so good for me, baby. Let me make it up to you…” You let him do many things. You let him take you again. You let him regain control over himself again.

Oftentimes you wonder if uncertainty struck fear into him. Perhaps it was why he had always kept himself at an arm’s distance, even when you slept in his bed and wore his shirts. Perhaps that was why he had never allowed himself to feel. Never allowed himself to name that love he had for you.

“I love you, Joel.” The whisper comes between moans as his lips mark your neck in rough kisses, taking you again as he had taken you everytime. “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.” He groans at the sound of your promises, a low guttural sound, just as his lips nip at the skin of your neck, making you whine and squeal against him.

“I fuckin’ love you, peach,” he finally manages to say, hips pistoning in and out of your weeping cunt as he makes you look at him. “I could never have enough of you… fuck!” He doesn’t care if the whole of Jackson hears you, sees the two of you locked in this embrace. As long as he had you, he knows, nothing else mattered. Gently, he lets you down to turn you around, manipulating your hips as your hands keep you balanced to the wall. He sinks so easily to his knees, tongue swiping from your clit, your weeping hole, your perineum, and even up to your ass, spreading your wetness and his precome with a low chuckle. “Tell me you need me, darlin’, come on.”

You do tell him. “I need you, sir, please,” you whisper, with such gentleness that he chuckles. He loved the way your begging sounded, the way you called him sir, like you did in those shy beginnings when you could barely look him in the eye. Loved the way you whine and try to reach down to touch yourself, only for him to tsk in warning, your hand immediately returning to the wall. “Please let me cum, sir, I just want you, please!”

Finally, he indulges you. His tongue fucking you, hands spreading your asscheeks, beard digging into your skin and his nose, his nose, just teasing your asshole enough to make you clench down in expectation. He does not stop, does not pause even when you buck against him, clenching your teeth as you feel his tongue reach there, that point that makes you fucking feral, bucking until he pushes you off the edge, and continues to push you over the edge, knees weakening and trembling in the aftermath of pleasure. You thank him, louder than you’ve ever thanked any deity for each day of survival. If you were honest, you didn’t care so much about religion, about believing. Not when everything you ever believed in knelt before you, asking you if you’d let him take your ass.

You nod breathlessly, pressing your cheek against the cool wallpaper. “It’s yours, sir. It’s all yours, and you know it.”

He smirks, kissing the small of your back. His perfect, willing girl.

He slowly draws you into it, knows you’ve never done anything like this. He starts with his tongue, helping you relax around him, helping you relax when you take one finger, then another. You had never felt so empty and yet so full at the same time. You feel the walls of your cunt stretched out over nothing, your fingers digging into the plaster as he finally stands, lips pressing kisses and assurances into your shoulders. And there, just there- you feel the head of his cock entering you, your body welcoming him so willingly, without much effort nor pain.

He fucks you with renewed vigor, your moans intermingling as his hands trail on separate directions. His left hand trails from your neck, to your chest, and quickly to your nipples, pinching, tugging, His right trails from your stomach to your wanton clit, rubbing concentric circles softly and gently prolonging your pleasure to match up with his stamina. Even as he batters your walls, his lips are so gently, praising you and kissing you. “Of course I fuckin’ love you, sugar. Always fuckin’ did.”

It’s the confession, you would think later on, that pushes the both of you over the edge. You beg him to let you, and he chuckles at how needy and willing you are in his hands. “Together, baby, yeah? Come on, be a good girl and come with me.” HIs fingers intensify his efforts, so do his cock, and it’s even more easier, You feel yourself gush at nothing, his hands the only thing holding you up now as he finds his high, rolling off with you, fucking his spend deep within your ass. “Fuck, yeah. Just like that, princess. Fuck!”

You cry for him and cum even harder, clenching and collapsing, saved only by his trembling frame. It is then that you feel his teeth biting down against your skin, guttural groans escaping and reverberating against your sweat-slick skin. You call for him, hand reaching back to tug against his hair, giving him the consent to sink his teeth deeper against your flesh.

You exchange words of love, you kiss slowly, gently. Joel carries you gently to the small cot you had been resting on, his gaze scolding you for putting your body through this uncomfortable surface every night. You whine when he leaves you, but he smiles. “I’m not goin’ anywhere again, sugar. Promise.”

He makes good on that promise, returning with something to wipe you clean, slowly, gently, not wanting to make it any worse for you. He praises you, nonetheless. So good f’me, baby. My perfect girl.

You fall asleep, slowly, gently, to the same words, your hand on his, his mouth on your cheek, kissing you all over. It’s the most peace you ever felt in a long time.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

proxima-writes · 11 months

Text

title: stranger than a stranger

pairing: pre-boston raider!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 4964

summary:

When Joel sees you searching for supplies in an old school, he removes your companion from the equation and convinces you that you need to join him for your survival.

author's note: a gift for @dreamingofdaddydin, fellow depraved slut, who sent in an ask that i completely changed. please heed the warnings on this one, as there are dark and potentially triggering elements. if you do decide to read and you enjoy, please consider reblogging or commenting!

content warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), undefined age gap, no use of y/n, post-outbreak/pre-boston QZ, dark!joel miller, perv!joel miller, survival as coercion/manipulation, dub/non-con somnophilia (the actions are not agreed upon before hand but reader is receptive once waking), sex as a thank you, voyeurism, masturbation, canon typical violence (mentions guns, knives, blood), handjobs, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, baby, honey), cum eating, huddling for warmth but manipulative, wet dreams, thigh fucking, fingering, unprotected p in v. please let me know if any are missing!

You never expected to live through an apocalypse. In fact, before the cordyceps outbreak, you and your boyfriend had watched Night of the Living Dead and you joked that if the time ever came, just throw you to the zombies or demons or whatever hell unleashed.

Yet here you are, ten years post-outbreak and the collapse of one QZ that you and your boyfriend had been living in, climbing through a destroyed school building, picking your way through rubble as you follow Liam in his search for more supplies.

“The stores around here are probably picked clean, but a lot of people don’t think about checking schools. They’ve got plenty of non-perishables in the cafeteria. Remember? We ate like shit growing up,” Liam explains. He shines a flashlight down a hall. “Well, I guess we ate better than we do now.”

“I miss chicken nuggets,” you lament. He chuckles.

“I could definitely use a cheeseburger,” Liam replies.

You continue moving quietly through the school, the cement and linoleum cracked by overgrowth and the abandoned classrooms of overturned desks making you feel like you’re in a whole different world and not just in an elementary school in Massachusetts.

“You got your knife and gun, right?” Liam asks quietly. You nod, pulling the gun from the waist of your jeans and showing it to him. “Good, keep it handy. You know those fuckers are always hiding around buildings like this.”

You and Liam had just started dating when the outbreak occurred, and you managed to stick together for the last ten years. He’s taught you a lot about survival - shooting a gun, starting a fire, and finding edible vegetation in the woods, among other skills. Despite your original desire to be spared from an apocalypse, you’ve somehow managed to persevere.

“Remember to aim for the head,” Liam says.

You roll your eyes. “No, I figured I’d aim for a foot. Of course I’m aiming for the head.”

“Alright, smart ass. You go down that hall and see what you can find.” He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m gonna look for the cafeteria. Meet me back here.”

With another nod, you part ways.

You both miss the figure lurking in the shadows.

________

Joel watches you disappear around a corner before his attention returns to your companion. The man walks quickly in the opposite direction, holding only a flashlight in his hands. Joel clocks a holster on his hip that must hold a gun or a knife. The man looks like the type to know how to fight, weapons or not.

Too bad Joel is the predator here.

He leaves the dark shadow he’d hidden himself in, following the man with quick, quiet steps. The other man seems alert, but not alert enough to notice Joel following him.

Good.

Joel watches the man draw a gun from the holster, holding it in front of him as he kicks open a set of double doors, sweeping his flashlight and gun into the darkness beyond. Joel slips through the door before it shuts, darkness surrounding him as he lets his eyes adjust.

It looks like a gymnasium, cracked hardwood basketball flooring with faded court lines illuminated in the small flashlight beam of the man, who continues across the court and out another set of double doors.

He follows him back out to a hallway, brightly lit thanks to a hole in the ceiling, crumbled plaster and cement littering the ground. He takes a few steps closer, stopping when he hears a clicking sound that sends a shiver down his spine.

The man freezes, too, eyes wide, hands tightening on his gun. Joel slowly brings the shotgun slung over his back around to his front, taking it up in his hands.

The clicking grows louder, more insistent. It echoes down the hallway and Joel knows that the creature is aware of their presence. No matter how quiet you are, those fuckers know how to find you.

He aims his gun, finger poised on the trigger. Heavy footsteps approach from the end of the hall, punctuated by the clicking noise that makes his hair stand on end. The creature enters the hall, overgrowth of cordyceps blocking its eyes and features. It pauses, head turning with jerky motions as it seeks out its prey. He watches the other man shift his stance, trying to widen his legs, but his foot catches a rock, sending it sliding across the floor.

The creature’s head snaps at the sound and it ambles closer, faster. Joel takes aim, pulling the trigger and blowing its head across the room. The man turns in surprise.

“Damn, man. Thanks,” he says, taking a deep breath and giving Joel a smile of gratitude. He reaches a hand out as he says, “I’m Li—“

He pulls the trigger and the man collapses to the ground face first, blood rapidly pooling beneath his body.

Joel approaches, crouching beside him. He opens the bag on his back, rifling through the contents for anything that might be of use. There’s a med kit, ammo for the handgun he’d been using, gloves, a jacket, and a hunting knife. He shoves all of it into his own bag before grabbing the gun beside the man’s body as he stands.

Joel slides the gun into his waistband before turning and heading back the way he came. He imagines the gunshots will have you rushing back to investigate.

Just like he wanted.

________

You hear two gunshots go off, freezing in your exploration of a classroom. You listen closely, ears straining for any sign of clicker activity due to the noise as you slowly draw your gun from your waistband. Hearing nothing in the aftermath of the gunshots, you race back towards the area where Liam had agreed to meet you, heart racing as your mind begs you to choose flight and not fight.

In your panic, you don’t notice the man in the hall until you’re colliding against him, his arms gripping your shoulders to steady you.

“Who the fuck are you?” You ask, scrambling out of his hold and pointing your gun at him. He’s tall with broad shoulders, a flannel beneath a faded denim jacket stretching over his frame. He has tan skin and dark hair with brown eyes that look at you with concern. “Back the fuck up,” you shout.

The man takes a step back, holding his hands up. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

“I heard gunshots. Where’s Liam?”

“I came up on a guy fightin’ a clicker. He was in bad shape,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a buzzing in your ears as your brain catches up to his words. You blink, eyes burning with tears that you fight back.

“H-he’s dead?” You whisper.

“‘Fraid so.”

You drop to your hands and knees with the realization, gasping for a breath that won’t reach your lungs. There’s movement from the corner of your eye, the strange man taking a step closer, and you raise your gun once more.

“Don’t,” you snap. “Come any closer and I’ll shoot.”

“Listen. I’m sorry about your friend. But if there’s one clicker, there’s bound to be more. You can come with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. I’ll be fine on my own.” You keep the gun trained on him as you slowly stand on shaky legs. “I’m leaving now. Don’t fucking follow me.”

You only make it a few steps before he’s calling out after you. “There’s worse things out there than the infected. Girl like you won’t last long.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“It means,” he says, the tone of his voice grating your nerves, “that there are bad fuckin’ people out there, ones that’ll take advantage of a girl headin’ out on her own. Some who won’t give a shit that a gun is bein’ pointed at their heads if it means they die tryin’ to bring you down with ‘em. Is that really somethin’ you wanna go through right now?”

Your resolve waivers. He’s probably right. In the ten years you’ve been struggling to survive, you’ve always had Liam at your back. Even in the QZ, before it collapsed, he kept you going. You could survive out there when it came to skill, but would you make it far on your own when clickers move in packs and raiders run rampant?

“I…I guess I’ll come with you,” you say, lowering your weapon. You flick the safety on and the man smiles.

“The name’s Joel.”

________

It’s been a week since joining Joel. The two of you keep a steady pace in your travels, though there’s no real destination in mind. He’s been on his own for a while, he tells you, having split from his brother who had gone to join the Fireflies in their fight.

“Fuckin’ stupid if you ask me,” he grumbled after telling you that little bit of information. “They ain’t gonna change shit.”

You just nod along, wrapped up in your own thoughts. You can’t pinpoint it, but something about Joel makes you wary of him. He’s been nice enough, sure, but there’s something off about the way he looks at you.

You’ll catch the older man staring at your ass when you’re walking ahead of him, or see the way his eyes go dark when you’re on your knees starting a fire. His hands will linger on your hips a little longer than necessary when he’s helping you jump down from something, or he’ll watch a little too intently as your lips wrap around the mouth of your water bottle.

What’s worse is how it makes you feel hot all over when you shouldn’t feel anything, least of all attraction when you’ve just lost your boyfriend.

It’s starting to get cold at night. The days are still tolerable, since you’re always on the move and the sun is shining, but once the sky goes dark, you struggle to stay warm. You layer your two jackets and even that’s still not enough as you lay shivering in your sleeping bag. You turn over until you’re facing where Joel has his bag set up, curling your legs closer to your chest and squeezing your eyes shut.

Past the sound of your teeth chattering, you hear the shift of fabric, the glide of skin on skin, a low groan. Your eyes snap open and as they adjust to the inky darkness, you can make out the vague shape of Joel on the ground. Another choked off moan rings in your ear, the sound of it making your blood go hot. You listen as his movements and breaths and sounds grow more frantic, the desperation they’re laced with making you rub your thighs together as subtly as you can.

“Fuck, fuck,” Joel pants quietly. The air goes still, the sound of his hand moving over his cock slowing to a stop. You wonder where he’s finished. In his hand? On his belly? Your brain conjures an image of you licking the spend from his skin, salty taste of him on your tongue as you look up into his eyes and he groans.

You have to bite your lip to keep your sounds to yourself. You wiggle a hand between your legs, clamping your thighs around it tightly and rocking slightly. It’s not nearly enough and it’s so frustrating you want to scream.

Eventually, as the adrenaline seeps from your body, sleep takes its place, your eyes fluttering shut as darkness consumes you.

You dream of bitten off groans and curses in a voice that belongs to a stranger with dark hair and brown eyes.

________

Two weeks after joining the two of you encounter your first band of raiders.

You’re in a small town picking through a convenience store. There’s a surprising amount of things left on the shelves, including cans of food that you’re tossing into your backpack when the sound of a gun being cocked makes you freeze.

“Hey, pretty girl. Why don’t you put some of that back for the rest of us, yeah?” An unfamiliar voice says. You glance over your shoulder, a large man with a thick beard smiling at you. You turn slowly, hands raised and mind racing with your options.

He’s blocking the exit. You could try to dart around him, but the gun trained at your head is a bit of a worry. Your own gun is in the waistband of your pants, pressing against your low back. Not much help to you like that. You should have been holding it the whole time.

“Hand over your fucking bag,” he says, the calm in his more alarming than if he were yelling at you. “Got me some food and a pretty little pet to keep, too.”

Your blood turns to ice and your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you swallow hard, bending down to grab your bag.

A shot rings out, glass shattering and you shout, dropping lower to the ground. You open your eyes slowly, you gaze landing on the body of the man lying on the ground in a rapidly expanding pool of blood. You look up, eyes finding Joel’s beyond the shattered window of the convenience store as he lowers his gun.

A shout has Joel whirling, gun drawn as three men appear from an alley. He shoots, one of the men dropping. Grabbing your bag, you rush to the front of the store as another shot rings out, shattering the glass of the door. You drop to the ground, pressing your back to the wall beside the window and peeking out.

Joel slings his gun over his back, landing a kick to a man that rushes him, the stranger landing on his back. A second man points a gun at Joel.

“On your fuckin’ knees!” He barks.

Panic courses through you, but you reach behind you, grabbing your gun. You switch the safety off, leaning from your hiding spot to take aim through the window at the man. Your hands shake as you take a breath in, like Liam taught you, pulling the trigger as you exhale.

The shot lands in the man’s abdomen, making him stumble and drop his weapon. Joel stands, rushing for the man as he pulls a large knife from his hip, plunging the blade into the man’s chest.

The man he kicked is getting to his hands and knees when Joel turns on him, knife held at his hip. A wicked grin spreads across his face before he plants his boot against the man’s ribs, knocking him onto his side. Joel shoves at him with his foot until the man is on his back and he stands over him, a foot on either side of his hips.

Joel raises the knife above his head before swinging it down into the man’s chest, holding it there for a moment before he twists it savagely and pulls it free. You stand there, equal parts horrified and something worse, eyes wide as you watch Joel wipe the blade against the man’s clothes to clean it.

“Get their guns, will ya?” Joel calls out. The sound of his voice makes you jump, your muscles finally spurring into action as you comply with his request.

Later, as you settle in for the night in your respective sleeping bags, you hear the tell-tale sound of shifting fabric and bitten off moans. You stare up at the dark sky, pinpricks of starlight winking back at you, as you gather your courage.

“Joel?” You murmur. The sounds stop abruptly, the only thing you can hear is his heavy breathing.

“Thought you were sleepin’,” he grunts.

You turn over on your side, facing him. You can barely make him out in the dark, only his silhouette, but your heart beats faster all the same as you say, “I could…help.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, so long that you’ve got an apology on the tip of your tongue when you hear the zip of his sleeping bag being opened.

“Come help, then.”

________

Joel tries to contain his enthusiasm. Nights of coming into his own palm while he knows you’re listening, imagining your hand around his cock instead of his, and now his patience has finally paid off.

You’re crawling across the grass to join him in his sleeping bag, your body pressed to his in the tight space. He takes a shuddering breath, the feel of your heat alone almost enough to make him come.

Your hand rests on his belly, tentatively sliding lower until your fingers brush against the hair at the base of his cock. He hisses as your cold hand grips him at the base, slowly sliding up to his leaking tip. Your thumb circles his slit, smearing a bead of precum around the sensitive head as he groans into the night.

“That’s it, baby,” Joel says. Your face is tucked against his neck, and he wishes you’d turn your face up, let him kiss you, but he has to be smart and only take what you’ll give so that one day you’ll offer more. “Tighter, just like that, fuck.”

Joel’s hips flex to chase your fist, the soft feel of your palm driving him wild. He moans, louder than he should be given the vulnerable position this puts you both in, but he doesn’t give a fuck. All he cares about is you.

“This a ‘thank you’, huh? For killin’ those guys?” Joel pants. Your head nods against his neck and the admission makes his head feel light and fuzzy. “Told ya you needed me, sweetheart. Needed someone to take care of you, right?”

You hum, squirming against him. Your lips graze his neck and that’s the final nail in his coffin, his cock pulsing in your hand as he comes harder than he has in years. He can’t help but whine a little when you let go, already missing the warmth and the softness of it.

“Clean it up for me, baby,” Joel says. You bring your hand up, nothing but a dark shape against darker air, and he hears you licking at the cum coating your fingers. “That taste good?”

“Mhm,” you hum. When you’re done, you roll away from him, crawling back over to your sleeping bag and zipping yourself inside.

With a sigh, Joel shimmies his jeans back up his thighs before turning on his side, letting the sounds of the night lull him to sleep.

________

You’ve been with Joel for a month when winter really starts to settle in and you’re forced to keep moving in your travels until you’ve found abandoned buildings to sleep in to stay out of the harsh winter air. While the snow might not reach you inside, the cold certainly does.

It’s one such night that Joel suggests sharing body heat.

“It’s the best thing we can do to keep warm,” he explains. “Can’t keep a fire goin’ inside. Too dangerous.”

You swallow nervously. He’s zipping together your sleeping bags so that you can fit beside each other, laying it on the ground of the old stockroom you’ve barricaded yourselves in for the night, a little camping lamp on a metal shelf providing a little light.

Joel kneels to untie his boots, removing one then the other and setting them aside. He stands, sliding his arms free of his jacket and setting it on the shelf. When he starts to unbutton his flannel, your blood rushes in your ears.

“W-what are you doing?” You ask. He pauses, hands on his buttons.

“Gettin’ undressed. Can’t share body heat with clothes in the way.”

You stand there frozen as he continues to strip, t-shirt and jeans and boxers all joining his growing pile of clothes until he’s naked in front of you and you’re struggling to keep your eyes on his face with so much muscle and skin on display. He slides into the sleeping bag, staring up at you expectantly.

“You gonna stand there all night?” He asks, lips tilted in a little smirk. “Come on. We’ve come a long way today and you gotta be tired.”

You’re exhausted, really, the kind of tired that settles into your bones and makes your limbs heavy. Slowly, you follow the same steps as he did to undress, starting with your shoes. It doesn’t escape your notice that he’s watching you with dark eyes the entire time, until you’re down to your underwear.

“Those, too,” Joel says.

“Why?”

“I don’t make the rules, sweetheart, I just follow ‘em. Skin to skin is the only way this’ll work.”

Reluctantly, you reach behind your back to unclip your bra, letting it fall to the floor. Your nipples are tight in the cold room and you grit your teeth against their chattering as you quickly tug your panties down your legs and add them to your pile of clothing.

You slip into the sleeping bag beside Joel, the heat of his body immediately making you feel warm all over. You zip up the sleeping bag, cocooning your bodies in the insulation. Joel turns on his side, sliding his muscular around your tummy and tugging you closer. The hard length of his cock presses to your thigh and you lie perfectly still, afraid to move.

“Go to sleep,” he grunts. You close your eyes, the tension slowly leaving your muscles as you listen to his deep breathing in the dark room.

Somewhere between the warmth of his body and the feel of his breath against your cheek, sleep finds you.

________

Sometime in the night, you’ve turned on your side, your ass pressed snugly against Joel’s hips with his cock slipped between your cheeks. He wakes to the feel of you grinding against his length and his arm tightens around your middle as he groans.

“Joel,” you murmur. He lifts his head to see if you’re awake, but your eyes are shut, brows pinched together. Your hips move against him again and he bites into his lower lip to keep his sounds contained, not wanting to wake you and ruin this.

You murmur his name again and his head drops back to the arm he’d been using as a pillow. He gives a little experimental thrust of his hips and you moan, the sound making his cock jump against you.

With careful movements, he lifts your top leg, laying it over his hip. He lets his hand drift lower, gliding over your tummy until he’s cupping your pussy gently. His fingers slide through your wetness, catching on your swollen clit and making your hips jerk.

Joel worries that you’re awake, but you’re not scrambling from his grip yet. He circles his fingers slowly, so slowly, your hips moving against him and your breathing coming more quickly. You let out little whimpers and whines that Joel wants to commit to memory, the sound of them sure to plague him any time he closes his eyes.

You’re growing wetter and Joel grows bolder, slipping his middle finger into your tight entrance, not able to hold back his moan of appreciation over how your cunt flutters around the digit as he slowly pumps it inside of you.

Another whimper of his name from your lips has his sanity fraying further, his hand moving faster against you, damn the consequences of you waking up to him playing with your pussy. Your muscles go tight against him with your release before going limp, your breath stuttering. He lifts his head once more to check if you’re asleep, surprised to find your face lax with bliss, eyes still closed as your breathing slows to normal.

Joel withdraws his hand, using it to grip his cock, sliding your juices over his length. He angles himself to where his cock is pressed up against your lips before gently lowering your leg. He’s surrounded by warmth, your pussy and thighs cradling him perfectly.

He thrusts his hips, his cock gliding through your wetness with ease. He loses himself to the slick glide, the tip of his cock catching against your swollen clit with each thrust. His fingers dig into the meat of your hip for leverage, pulling you back towards him as he groans against your shoulder.

Your muscles go stiff against him and he freezes as you whisper, “Joel?”

His name is a question this time and he knows he’s been caught.

“It can be another ‘thank you’, yeah? For keepin’ you warm?” He asks, dragging his nose across your bare shoulder. “Could feel so good for us both,” he whispers, thrusting against your clit and reveling in the shaky moan you give him in return.

“O-okay,” you stutter. Joel presses a kiss to your shoulder in gratitude as he returns to the rhythm he’d set before you woke. He slides an arm over your middle, hand finding your breast and gripping it forcefully as you moan.

“That feel good, baby?” He asks. You nod, whining and squirming against him now. “Know what would feel better?”

“W-what?”

He draws back, positioning the tip of his cock against your hole. Your breath catches as he slides inside the slightest amount. Just the tip.

“Would feel so good, right? Fillin’ you up, stretchin’ you,” he whispers. “You could keep me warm just like I’ve been keepin’ you warm all night.” You clench around him and he moans, hips flexing and sliding him deeper into you as you gasp. “So goddamn wet and tight.”

Joel slides the last bit deeper, until his hips are flush to your ass. You’re panting, cunt fluttering around him as you adjust, and he feels drunk on the feel of it, on the feel of you. He pulls out part way before sliding back in with a harsh thrust, the start of a punishing rhythm that has you chanting his name.

The slick slide of you over his cock feels like heaven, but he wants more, wants you cock drunk and earning your pleasure. You are supposed to be thanking him, after all.

He pulls out, lying on his back. “Get up here, sweetheart. It’s time to do your part.”

You turn until you’re facing him, and Joel gets impatient, grabbing at you until he can haul you into his lap, your slick, swollen pussy gliding over his cock. He groans, reaching between your bodies to hold himself steady, notching the thick head at your entrance.

“Take it, baby, come on,” he groans. You rock back until his cock is buried in your cunt, your knees pressing tight against his hips as you whine.

“S’deep,” you slur, rocking yourself over him.

“Feels good though, doesn’t it? So fuckin’ deep in you,” he growls. Your chest is pressed to his, your lips so close he takes his chance, slotting his mouth against yours.

You kiss him back, messy and desperate, moaning against his lips as you take his cock like you were made for it. And maybe you were. Why else would he have been in the right place at the right time, getting the chance to keep you all for himself?

You sit up further, hands planted on his chest as you ride him with fervor. Your blunt fingernails dig into his skin and make him groan, hips punching up into you as you rock back. When you moan desperately, he does it again, and again, until you’re letting out a choked little sob that makes his cock pulse inside of you.

“Come for me, honey, wanna feel this pretty pussy choke my cock,” Joel demands. He can feel your walls flutter around him, your noises growing desperate. He brings a hand to your clit, thumb circling the sensitive bundle of nerves until you tighten around him, squeezing his cock as you come undone with a shout.

You collapse forward and Joel wraps his arms around your low back, holding you steady as he plants his feet and pounds his cock into you with harsh thrusts, chasing his release. Your teeth dig into the sensitive skin of his neck and the sharp sting sends him over the edge. He pulls out at the last moment, his cum splashing between your bodies in thick spurts.

You lie on top of him, catching your breath. Sweat grows sticky on Joel’s skin as the cool air settles around them, your back erupting in goosebumps as you shiver. He maneuvers your bodies until you’re cradled against him again.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

When you nestle closer, body lax against his, he smiles in triumph.

_______

You wake before Joel the next morning, body sticky with the mess from the night. You cringe, wiggling away from Joel’s hold. You find your discarded shirt and water bottle, intending to soak the fabric to wipe yourself clean, only to find your bottle is empty.

You locate Joel’s backpack, knowing he keeps his water bottle in there. You dig through the contents, hand bumping against the familiar bulk of a handgun. Your brow furrows. You haven’t seen Joel use a handgun. He uses the shotgun on his back, the other weapons you’d collected from the raiders stored in your bag.

You pull the weapon free and inspect it. You know this gun. It’s the same gun you’d learn to shoot with, the first one Liam found in the aftermath of the outbreak. Your blood turns to ice.

Joel said he’d seen Liam get attacked by a clicker. If that’s the case, when did he get Liam’s gun?

The sound of Joel moving in the sleeping bag has you shoving the gun back into his bag and grabbing the water bottle you’d gone in search of in the first place.

You’ll have to worry about your discovery some other day.

Want more Joel Miller? Check out the masterlist

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #no use of y/n #joel tlou #joel x reader #dark joel miller #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic request #joel miller masterlist #the last of us

908 notes · View notes

theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Text

A Fresh Start [6]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, but with like immediate follow up comfort, medical trauma? if you’ve ever been blown off by a doctor in the office and that frustrated you then be forewarned

Word Count: 5,119

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

Ch. #06: TRIKAR’LA, BUIR!

Chapter Summary: Grogu goes to the doctor, and the Marshal decides he might need to murder said doctor. You get comforted by your boys.

"Watch carefully,

the magic that occurs,

when you give a person,

just enough comfort,

to be themselves."

- a t t i c u s

Nevarro didn’t have a large hospital. It had an emergency center and a clinic for routine appointments. Anything that couldn’t be healed or cared for within a day got transported to a nearby settlement on a neighboring world. Luckily, the transport time wasn’t very long, and Nima told you that the travel there wasn’t intense. The High Magistrate had worked out a deal to keep it that way.

Coming from a Level One Trauma Center on Coruscant, the office was shockingly puny. A simple two story building with emergency services on the first floor and routine medical care on the second. You had learned ages ago that the size of a medical center didn’t correlate to the kind of care a patient could receive. Some of the best physicians you’ve worked with came from smaller hospitals. You had no criticism there. The only thing that made you nervous was not having the kind of resources a Level One hospital would have. Coruscant had spoiled you in that sense.

For what had to be the hundredth time since leaving the station, you glanced over at Mando who walked right beside you. He held Grogu in his arms casually chatting with the boy. Grogu responded in a mix of Mando’a, Basic, and gibberish. It was painfully cute watching the Mandalorian interact with his son. Every inch of him screamed danger and intimidation, but the tender voice leaving his helmet’s modulator was nothing but soft and loving.

“Is something wrong?”

It took you a second to realize Mando was talking to you. “Hmm?”

“You keep looking over at me.”

You were getting pretty decent at reading Mando’s body language, and weirdly you could tell the difference between his head tilts. All of that, yet you still had a bad gauge on how far he could see out of his peripherals while wearing the helmet.

“Oh, er,” You scrambled for a response, “No. Nothing. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. I was just checking on you.”

You opened your mouth but stopped yourself when you realized you were about to apologize for apologizing. Instead, you tried to steer the conversation away from your staring. “Do you know how many doctors work in Nevarro?”

“Not enough.” Mando replied. “Three rotate on the schedule right now, I think. Karga is still trying to recruit more, but until Nevarro really makes a name for itself it’s a hard sell.”

“It’s pretty impressive so far.” You motioned around to the clean and cheerful street surrounding you. “And growing fast.”

Mando nodded and your lips curled up in a smile as you watched him allow Grogu to crawl onto his shoulder and cling to his helmet. He kept one hand up just in case the child slipped. “Yes, but as always, it comes down to credits. Karga spent a lot to get this place built up. Doctors are expensive.”

“True, but if you’re gonna spend credits anywhere healthcare is a good bet.” You shrugged. “There are doctors out there who’ll take less pay to work somewhere rural. I⏤” You stopped yourself and at the sudden halt Mando glanced your way. You had nearly told him you once considered working in a rural setting. It hadn’t crossed your mind in ages, since before the incident, but you didn't think twice before nearly blurting it out. You cleared your throat. “I knew someone. From the clinic I worked in. They were specifically looking for a job somewhere rural.”

Mando nodded. “Maybe you should send their frequency number to Karga.” You forced out an awkward chuckle. “For now though, we have Bacta and cautery. You could probably find e-bacta if you asked the right people.”

“Spoken like a true bounty hunter.” You teased.

Mando let out a laugh and began to wrestle Grogu from the makeshift jungle gym of his shoulders and helmet. The clinic had come into view and you felt a ball of nervous energy begin to form in your chest. This wouldn’t be your first time in a medical facility since that night, but it would be your first time going willingly. All this morning, you hadn’t thought about it. You didn’t think this would bother you at all, but staring at the building now your mouth was becoming dry and your palms clammy.

The weight of a hand on your shoulder startled you, and your head snapped to the side to see Mando facing you. Nothing about his helmet looked concerning, but you could feel the worry radiating from him. “I’ve been calling your name. You didn’t answer.” Grogu hummed in his arms and tilted his head. “Are you sure everything is okay, cyar’ika?”

“Yes. Just...zoned out.” You tried to find an excuse, but nothing was coming to mind. So, you went for the next best thing. Topic change. “What does that word mean?”

“What?”

“The word you called me. Uh, ‘shar ekah’?” You repeated it best you could, but the word was always spoken so swift and softly that it was hard to remember the exact pronunciation. Saying ‘buir’ had been much easier.

Mando’s hand fell from your shoulder and his entire body went tense. You furrowed your eyebrows at his reaction. He let out a soft cough, and now it seemed like he was the one searching for something to say. Your distraction had been successful. However, now you were very curious as to what he was calling you. Mando didn’t seem like the type to secretly be calling you ‘dumbass’ all the time.

“It’s nearly 2.” He blurted. “We don’t want to be late.”

“Right!” You nodded. As curious as you were, you’d happily accept any advancement of this moment. Anything to avoid him asking you what was wrong again. He passed you to enter the building and you took in one last shaky breath before following.

The clinic’s waiting room was filled with children. This office saw patients of all ages, but with school starting up next week it seemed most families were doing exactly as Din was⏤ getting his child ready for day one. The schedule was running late so despite it being nearly half an hour past the appointment time, Din sat in the waiting room right beside you. Grogu had wiggled out of his lap to run around the room with other kids around his age. It made him nervous at first. He wanted his son to have friends to have fun to not ever feel left out, but the anxiety of him not fitting in was painful. You had reassured him that everything was fine, and you had been right. Grogu squealed and laughed as he played with three other kids.

Din was leaning back in his seat, hands clasped over his abdomen and ankles crossed, in an attempt to look as casual as he possibly could. The truth was the opposite. Din couldn’t stop peering out of the corner of his eyes at you. Luckily, the helmet made it a lot easier for him to hide his actions unlike you. Din was still worried about you. It was obvious something was making you uncomfortable, and he had been determined to get to the bottom of it. Until, of course, you innocently asked what ‘cyar’ika’ meant. That had thrown him.

The first time he called you ‘cyar’ika’ it had been entirely accidental. You had been hesitant about asking him questions about himself, and he didn’t want you to feel that way. In his reassurance the word had just slipped out. Since then, it fell out a lot more. Often by choice. Din liked the way it sounded when he was referring to you with it. He liked that every time it left his lips, you’d turn to give him attention with your pretty smile.

Technically, the answer shouldn’t be embarrassing to him. The best translation of ‘cyar’ika’ was ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’, but that didn’t necessarily mean it had to be used in a romantic setting alone. It was a generalized term of endearment. He could’ve said that. Din’s problem was that he knew, deep down, he didn’t feel just a ‘generalized endearment’ for you. Din was much too attracted to you to pretend it was said with any other connotation.

His panic hadn’t helped his situation. Din spent his entire life being trained for a fight. He was taught from a young age that panic led to mistakes and mistakes led to death or worse. It had been ingrained into every single cell of his body to the point where staying calm was a muscle memory for him. It didn’t take a conscious decision. It was his default, and that default was half the reason he was so successful as a bounty hunter. Despite all of that, all it took was one innocent look from you⏤ one simple question⏤ and he melted into a pathetic puddle.

Din glanced your way again. You sat ramrod straight in your seat, shoulders tense, and your fingers were tangled together in a vice grip. He wasn’t sure how you weren’t hurting yourself holding your hands together like that. Whereas his entire body sat casual, though a farce, yours screamed stress. His own hands came unclasped as the urge to touch you in reassurance overcame him. Din managed to resist and instead crossed his arms in hopes that this position would better control his instinct.

“I haven’t been to a doctors office in a while.” You blurted. The sound of your voice had his head snap to look at you in a nearly comical speed. You were watching Grogu play while you spoke in a whisper. “I guess I’m just nervous. It’s stupid.”

“How you feel is never stupid.” Din replied. He shifted so he sat up rather than leaned back. “You didn’t have to come with us. If I had known—”

You chuckled, “I know. You wouldn’t have made me. I think you might be a little too understanding for a boss.” Din swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. That was true. Kriff, if you knew any of the thoughts he had you’d consider him the worst boss in this world— maybe in the entire Outer Rim. “I wanted to be here. For Grogu and— and you.”

“I appreciate that.”

“It’s no big deal.”

Din disagreed. You were acting against an active fear you had for him and his son. That meant a lot to him. He knew the kind of strength it took to press onward into a setting of discomfort.

“Can I ask why?” Din asked. “Why haven’t you been to a clinic in a while?”

You shrugged and your gaze drifted down to your hands which you began to wring together. Din stayed silent. He was content with giving you all the time in the world to respond. Finally, you looked up to meet his gaze. You smiled and your words came out jokingly, “Nobody likes doctors.”

“Still important to go now and then.”

“Uh huh.” You tilted your head at him, smile growing impish. “And when’s the last time you saw a doctor? Mr. Big Bad Bounty Hunter?”

Din’s lips curled up in amusement. He loved that you were comfortable enough to joke with and tease him. He shook his head. “I have bacta and a cautery at home. Those don’t require me to sit in a waiting room for 45 minutes.”

“Fair point.” You chuckled. “Bacta and cautery do have their own faults, you know.”

“Like?” Din asked. He didn’t really care about the faults of either, but if this distracted you from your nerves he’d play along. Plus, the sound of your voice was like music to his ears. He’d sit and listen to you read the instruction manual for a caf machine without complaint.

“Well,” You began, your shoulders beginning to relax, “Bacta is incredible. No doubt. Society called it a medical miracle and they weren’t wrong. It’s only as good as the person using it though. If the wound isn’t cleaned right or debris is left inside when the Bacta is applied then everything gets trapped inside as your tissue heals. Plus, if it’s already an internal issue Bacta can’t target that. It does nothing for fever control or symptom management.” Din could tell you were getting into the conversation because you twisted in your seat to face him. “If you use Bacta on a fracture, but you don’t set it right then it heals wrong. If you mess up the measurements in a Bacta tank or the settings are wrong it can ‘overheal’ a person which just means a person’s tissues and cells rejuvenate and are reborn so fast that it floods the body. Those excess cells wreck havoc and turn to tumors wherever they land.” Din let his eyes shamelessly trace your features. This was the first topic, other than Grogu, that he had seen you get so excited about. You pointed at him with a mocking grin, “And don’t get me started on a cautery gun.”

Din chuckled, “And what exactly is wrong with my cautery gun?”

“You’re essentially creating a wound to fix a different wound.” You scoffed. “It’s great for stemming blood loss and destroying infected tissue, but between infections and scarring⏤”

Din leaned toward you, a confident tilt to his head, “I’ve never had a cautery induced infection.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

You twisted your lips, amused, and he shifted so he was as close to you as he could manage in the separate chairs. You shook your head. “Fine. You, Marshal Mando, are the one exception of the system. Congratulations.”

Din let out a breathy laugh, and he wondered what it would sound like to hear his name spoken in your voice. The beeping of his communicator made you alter your position in the chair so you were back to where you had started. Din did the same and resisted muttering the curse words bouncing around in his head. Looking at the screen he saw it was Cara. Dank farrik. She’d only call if it were actually important.

He accepted the call and Cara started talking without preamble.

“Mando, we got pirates. Mayfeld and I are on our way to the tarmac where a group of them are causing trouble, but Karga said a few were spotted by the school.”

This time he didn’t hold back the curse that came to mind. Din turned to look at you and you gave him a reassuring nod. “Go.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Din stood.

“We’ll probably still be in here.” You motioned to the waiting room.

Din reached out to squeeze your shoulder and on his way out told Grogu to behave.

Kriffing pirates.

Mando had been an excellent distraction. You had never been a fan of pirates at baseline, they were always the worst to deal with when they stumbled into the hospital in Coruscant, but now you really hated them. You tried to focus on Grogu who was still playing with a different set of kids as the ones he had been with before got called back to be seen. Before they left, you had actually exchanged a few frequency numbers to set up play dates at some point.

“Grogu?” A nurse poked her head out of a door.

He dropped the blocks he was holding to perk up at the sound of his name. Still in a playful and active mood, Grogu wanted to walk on his own rather than be held so you walked by his side as you both followed behind the nurse.

She went about taking vitals and getting some more information before leading you back to a simple room. You sat down in one of the two chairs in the corner, by the exam table, and let Grogu bounce around the room to burn off his excess energy.

“You are gonna sleep so good tonight.” You chuckled.

“No sleep. No.” Grogu chirped. “No, no.”

That was quickly becoming one of the kid’s favorite Basic words to use. You glanced up at the clock on the wall to see it was about an hour after your appointment time. Understaffed clinics got backed up, it happened, and you understood that better than most. You felt bad for the poor physician running around the office today. You were actually hoping you’d have to wait a bit longer though.

Mando wanted to be here for this, to be here for his son, and you hated that the damned pirates got in the way of that. If you could swap roles with him and handle the pirates so he could stay here with his son you would’ve. Unfortunately, that would’ve been messy for every single person involved. You didn’t have an extensive history doing well in a fight, and the only kind of blade you knew how to use was a scalpel. You’d never even held a blaster before.

“Skraan!” Grogu called out.

You shook your head. “We just ate lunch, buddy. I think we have some snacks left.” You dug around the baby bag you had packed for the day and found the container of star shaped cereal puffs you had put together this morning. “Here we go.”

Grogu bounced over to you happily and held his hands up to you. You dropped a few stars into his palms and watched him eat them one by one. He’d explored the room while eating the stars and would only return back to you for more stars. That became the routine for the next ten minutes and by then you were out of star shaped snacks.

A knock at the door startled you. “Come in!” You placed the container into the bag and motioned for Grogu to come sit on your lap. “Hi. I’m⏤”

“This is Grogu?” The man interrupted your introduction. He was older, you’d guess in his late sixties or early seventies, and was human. Thick gray hair covered his head and it matched the thick mustache above his lips.

“Yes. We’re here for⏤”

“Let’s see, school registration check up.” He read off the holopad in his hand. You shifted in your seat, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, and bit back a snarky reply. “We’ll get some blood for lab work, give the usual booster shots, and get you on your way, yeah?”

You held Grogu’s hands, skeptical, “I was actually hoping⏤”

“There’s no need for⏤”

“Please stop interrupting me.” You snapped. There was nothing you hated more than not being able to get a thought out. Maybe you’d have more patience for it if you hadn’t spent all your training being looked down at for being a young woman. You couldn’t count the number of bloated attendings you worked under who were just like the man in front of you. The doctor stayed silent but you could see annoyance on his features. “Who are you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“When you came in, you never introduced yourself.” You said but paused before saying more. This wasn’t a hospital you had any sort of credentialing in. That meant if you wanted anything done, you were gonna have to stroke an ego. You cleared your throat and shook your head. “Sorry, I’m sure it slipped your mind with how busy you are today. I bet they have you running all over the place.”

The man chuckled. “You aren’t wrong. My name is Dr. Daelar. I am sorry about the wait time. I was caught in a different procedure room for the last hour doing a cryoablation of some skin lesions.” You resisted the urge to scoff. Doing cryoablation correctly took five minutes tops. Doing it insanely, incorrectly could maybe stretch it out to ten. You didn’t appreciate the excuse because you knew it was a lie. “As I was saying, we’ll draw some blood and get those booster shots going.”

“Thank you. We’re actually going to be forgoing the blood tests, and I was hoping you’d take a listen to his lungs.” You replied. Over lunch, Mando had explained that he wasn’t comfortable with anybody drawing blood from Grogu. He hadn’t explained the exact reasoning, but you gathered it was something from their tricky past. Even with your back to him, you could tell the topic made him mildly uncomfortable. “He’s had this night time cough I’ve noticed⏤”

Daelar shook his head. “That’s not wise. I strongly recommend the blood tests.”

“Okay.” You drew the word out. “Thank you, and I appreciate your thoughts on the matter⏤”

“These aren’t my thoughts, these are the facts.” Daelar interrupted again. “Blood work should be checked routinely for chronic illnesses. He needs this done.”

You didn’t know if Grogu could tell that you were in a bad mood, but he began to squirm and whine in your lap. He turned around and pushed up on his tip toes so he could bury his face into the crook of your neck. You scooped him up to hold him closer making the action easier.

“I understand the benefits of routine lab work, and I understand the risks of refusing.” You said as calmly as you could. If this was about legal issues then you’d say the magic words that he could type in his chart and waive all liability off himself. “That being said, we’re still refusing a blood draw today.”

Daelar scoffed and shook his head. “You’re being unreasonable. As a first time mom it’s understandable to be nervous and jittery, but it’s no reason to put your son at risk.”

Oh, you really didn’t like this man. Karga had somehow managed to hire a physician that represented everything wrong with healthcare. Nice. Between the bullying and assumptions, that would be enough to piss you off alone. Add the stress of being in a clinic after so long? You really had no chance of getting out of this without losing your cool.

“You’re not drawing labs on Grogu.” You snapped.

Daelar shook his head and shrugged. “Then I don’t know if I can clear him to start school.”

“Blood work isn’t necessary for school registration. Just the boosters.” Your voice began to raise.

“Ma’am⏤” He began once more but a solid knock at the door interrupted the interaction. A nurse poked her head in one second later and Daelar snapped at her. “We’re busy in here.”

“Sorry, sir. The child’s father is here.”

Daelar smirked at you. “Good. Perhaps, this will settle the matter at hand.”

The nurse slid out of the room and was replaced by Mando. You took in the sight of him, unharmed and unmarred, and a wave of relief washed over you. If dealing with the pirates had led to a fire fight then Mando came away with no obvious injuries. Mando’s helmet tilted just a bit and you could feel his eyes on you in the same way you had looked over him. His shoulders stiffened marginally, his stance still intimidating, and you wondered if your anger was notable. You rubbed Grogu’s back soothingly.

“Oh. Marshal!” Daelar greeted. “I had no idea this was your son. I⏤”

“What’s wrong?” Mando walked over to stand beside you, ignoring Daelar entirely. He rubbed Grogu’s head and let his hand trail from his son’s head to rest on your upper back. The way he stood beside your seat nearly blocked Daelar from your view.

You lifted your chin to stare up at the T-shaped visor. “Dr. Daelar has been adamant about a blood draw despite my very clear refusal.”

Mando turned around and his hands drifted to his hips. Daelar shifted awkwardly from across the room and he let out a cough. The doctor held his hands up with a smile, “No, I think this is simply a misunderstanding.” Your eyes widened, jaw falling open. “The little Mrs," Again with the assumptions, “She misunderstood me is all. I was simply offering my recommendation, but obviously the decision falls to your hands at the end of the day. We can just work on the boosters and finish the paperwork for registration.”

A disbelieving guffaw left your throat at the audacity of this man. Mando glanced over his shoulder down at you, and you took a sharp breath through your nose. Whatever. As long as Grogu got the care he needed. Mando looked back to Daelar.

“Have you listened to my son’s lungs?”

Daelar’s eyes widened. “Hmm? Why?”

“I know Soran would have brought it up. She’s attentive. Was there a misunderstanding about Grogu’s cough?”

“No. Not at all. Sorry.” Daelar sighed. “Bring the little guy over to the exam table.”

Without speaking, Mando held his arms out to take Grogu, and you tried to hand him over. Grogu clung to your shirt, his claws digging into the material, and he buried his face further into your neck. He grumbled, “No.” You shot Mando a look, and he reached out to help detangle Grogu from you. The little boy didn’t give in.

“Grogu.” Mando said firmly. He set a hand on his back. “Come to me, ad’ika.”

“No, no!” Grogu finally lifted his head to look at his father’s visor. He shook his head and you had to lean back to keep his ears from hitting you. Grogu whined, “Trikar’la, buir!”

Despite all the tension, despite the fact that you still only knew very, very basic Mando’a, you gasped with a swell of pride. Unable to bite back the smile you wore, you cooed. “Grogu, that was so good.” You had no idea what he said beyond referring to his father, but his words sounded like it could’ve been a full sentence. Plus, he had said it in front of Daelar, a virtual stranger. “Good job, sweetie.”

You lifted your eyes to Mando, expecting a similar reaction, but his entire frame was tense. Again, his helmet gave no signs of anger, but a seething energy radiated from him. You furrowed your brow in confusion. Grogu went back to hiding his face in the crook of your neck, hugging you, and Mando shifted his hands so one rested on your back and arm.

“Let me help you up.” Mando whispered in a kind tone. “You can sit on the exam table with him.”

“Alright.” You mumbled.

You didn’t need any help standing, but Mando kept his hands on you while you rose and all the way to the exam table. Once you sat down on the sanitation paper, Mando settled beside you. He kept his arm behind you, his hand leaning on the table by your opposite thigh. You turned to look at Mando, and because of his positioning you found yourself dangerously close to his chest. If you leaned forward you could bury your face in the crook of his neck the same way Grogu was doing to you.

His head began to turn to look at you and you quickly focused your gaze forward. Daelar came over with his stethoscope and began to listen to Grogu’s lungs. He did this for a few minutes before pulling back with a nod. Daelar cleared his throat. “I’m hearing a little wheezing. Very mild. I can prescribe a nebulizer treatment at home before he goes to bed. Hold the mask over his face and just let him breathe in the medicine.”

“Thank you.” Mando said, but his tone was more intimidating than grateful.

“I’ll send a nurse in with the boosters and the medicine.” Daelar said before rushing out of the room.

You scoffed, still in disbelief on how that had gone, but when the door closed Mando shifted so he stood directly in front of you. Now he had a hand resting on the table on either side of your thighs. You blinked in surprise at the sudden motion.

“Are you alright?” Mando asked.

You forced a chuckle. “Yeah. I mean, that guy was a total ass, but he wasn’t the first jerk I’ve dealt with. Won’t be the last.” You continued rubbing Grogu’s back, not knowing what else to do with your own hands. “Granted, I could’ve done without the gaslighting, but…” It occurred to you then that Mando hadn’t hesitated to take your side. “Thanks. For having my back, I mean.”

“Always.” Mando replied with ease. He let out a soft sigh. “I’m talking to Karga about this.”

You laughed. “You’re gonna get a doctor fired because he was rude to me?” Mando didn’t reply, but his shrug was highly unconvincing. “It’s fine.”

“He upset you. That’s not fine. Grogu said⏤”

You gasped, “Yeah! What did Grogu say?”

Mando paused before leaning back. “He said you were sad.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you glanced down to gently pull Grogu away from your chest to look at him. He stared up at you with concern in his large eyes, and you gave him a smile. “I’m okay.” You gave his head a light scratch and let your fingers trail to give his ear a light, loving tongue. “Thanks for looking out for me, little guy.”

Grogu lifted his hands toward your face so you brought it down toward him. He lightly patted your cheeks and did the same thing he did this morning⏤ pressed his forehead as close to yours as you could get it. Everyone in Nevarro showed different forms of affection to Grogu, he was too cute to not pay attention to, but the most important sign of affection was the way Mando lightly set his forehead to his. You had to assume that in Grogu’s mind, that was an important thing. The fact that he was sharing that bit of love with you was overwhelming. You tried not to linger on the thought too long this morning⏤ not wanting to fall apart⏤ but Mando being here sticking up for you without hesitation only added to the situation.

You felt yourself begin to get choked up and quickly cleared your throat.

“Here. Why don’t you go to your dad?” You held out Grogu, and Mando must have sensed your distress because he took the child with no question. You gave him a broad smile. “I⏤I have to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

You hopped off the exam table and as you pulled the door open Mando called out. “Are you sure you’re alright, cyar’ika?”

You let a wide smile fill your features, every bit of real, and nodded sincerely, “I am. I promise. I’m⏤ This…” Considering how grateful you felt right now, you owed him as much truth as you could give. You nodded. “This is the best I’ve felt in a really long time.”

Mando nodded once, silent. Grogu lifted a hand and gave you a small wave. You rushed out of the room and made a beeline straight for the bathroom you had passed on the way into the procedure room. Finally away from prying eyes, you leaned against the locked bathroom door and began to trace the scar along your collarbone. Even with your fingers ghosting over the ugly patch of skin, you felt happy⏤ cared for. Maker, you didn’t think you’d actually feel that way ever again.

mando’a translations:

cyar’ika: darling, sweetheart

trikar’la: sad

buir: father

555 notes · View notes

cyyfics · 7 months

Note

Heyy! Can you please if you what to Yandere farmworld Finn story please if you do Yanderes request and can you make it some what long? Like how would the kid react to this?

——————

Stay Here

Pairing: Farmworld! Finn X gn! Reader

Warning(s): general YANDERE CONTENT, fighting/arguing, gaslighting, lying, manipulation

Synopsis: You stumble upon a hidden room in your friends house, only to find a shrine of you sitting there. Events occur.

Note: I’m gonna update my req rules to specify something- I need ppl to tell me if they want the reader to be into the yandere shit or not :,) bc if it’s not specified then I’ll just do whatever I want to tbh….

Spoiler note (spoiler for the story):

I decided to make Finn’s kids sort’ve yandere too, since they’re his kids I feel like they would’ve learned some if not all of his tendencies.

Extra note??: sorry abt the ending idk… also this is just sfw idk if u wanted nsfw or anytbing jdk.. I hope this story is good ^^

|2nd Point Of View

—————

Today was the same as any other day, you would pop in by the house to see Finn and his children as per usual- but this time things were different. Felt different, I mean.

The house was empty and eerily creepy, despite the sunlight shining through the windows it still felt rather dark and scary. However, you still trudged on forward and marched inside the house. As you walked through the doorway, the door shut behind you. The sound of the door closing behind you startled you actually, but you didn’t give it much attention.

‘I’m just extra jumpy today, that’s all..’

You told yourself as you crept through the house slowly, looking around for any sign of Finn or the kids inside. It felt wrong to be inside their house if they were gone, but you just had to check if anyone was there. You hoped someone was, because leaving your door unlocked and unattended is really dangerous.

“Finn? You there?”

You started to call out, walking through to the kitchen “Who’s there?” You turned around and smiled as you finally saw a familiar face, it was Jay standing in the doorway. He was leant against the frame for a moment before noticing it was you, immediately running up to hug you. You ruffled his hair as his arms wrapped around your torso, his adorable young face looking up at you.

“Hi there Jay, where’s everyone else gone? You alone today or something?” You asked him as you gently pulled away from the hug, Jay’s smile faltering for a moment as you do. “Alone? No, of course not! Me and my siblings have just been playing hide and seek! Bonnie suggested it.” Jay explained, giggling to himself as he spotted a tuft of blonde hair coming from under the table.

Your eyes followed his and you noticed Bonnie hiding under there, trying to hug herself to make herself look smaller. Hoping she wouldn’t be noticed and lose the game. “Bonnie is that-“ Jay cut you off, pressing a finger to your lips to shut you up. “Shh.” He whispered. “My, oh my..” he moved away from you and then began to walk around the table, marching around it with his arms behind his back.

“Where is my dear sister? It’s been ages- but alas, I cannot find her!” He dramatically draped an arm over his face, causing Bonnie to have a giggle fit from under the table. “Got you!” Jay bent down and picked her up, dragging her gently from underneath the table. “No fair!” She shook her head at him “How is it not fair?” He furrowed his eyebrows, trying not to laugh at her.

“.. because.”

You couldn’t help smiling at the two bickering, your lips curled upwards and stretching from ear to ear. “Well, Bonnie, you were the last one to be found. So you’re it.” Jay poked her cheek, Bonnie immediately grumbled “fineeeee!” She hopped down from his arms and walked up to a nearby wall, leaning her head on it as she began to count. “How are the rest of the kids supposed to know she’s it?” You asked curiously “I’ll go tell them. She takes a while to count.” Jay began to walk off “Oh and by the way! You better hide too.” Jay left the room.

You glanced towards Bonnie, watching her struggle to count “-ten.. eleven.. twelve..” she counted out loud “…” she stayed quiet for a moment “thirteen.” You whispered to her “..thirteen.. fourteen..” she continued counting. You furrowed your eyebrows for a moment ‘Maybe I really should go and hide, I should join their fun little game.’

You left the kitchen and started to look around for a place to hide ‘where’s a good spot to hide..? I don’t wanna go anywhere I’m not supposed to either..’ you pondered to yourself, kneeling down behind the couch and seeing a crawl space right there. ‘A crawl space? They’ll never find me.’ You pushed the little door open a little, inspecting the hole with your eyes before hesitantly crawling in ‘.. maybe that’s a bad thing actually.’

Hands and knees were now aching, stinging and slightly red from having to crawl the whole way. You finally made it to the end of the crawl space, seeing a small yet big enough room; big enough for you to stand in at least. You stood up and started to look around, your breath getting caught in your throat as you saw something weird something off. You were definitely not supposed to be here.

Looking straight at you was a picture frame with a photo of you right in the middle of a table, the photo looking badly damaged. You didn’t recognise the picture of yourself at first, you couldn’t remember yourself nor the kids nor Finn taking it of you. It was a simple photo of you looking away, the outside world in the background behind you. Around the picture frame was many little tea light candles, most of them already been lit before, you could tell from the melted wax.

You reached out hesitantly to touch some of the weird things around the photo of yourself, one thing immediately catching your eye. You grabbed what looked to be a lock of hair inside of a small bag, making you grimace and drop the bag back onto the table. You didn’t wanna be there anymore, you didn’t wanna see anymore of the shrine! You-

You took a deep breath, deciding to give the family the benefit of the doubt. Surely, this was just a weird thing that the kids had made, you didn’t need to get upset over it. That’s what you believed for a quick moment at least, hope fleeting before your eyes. You felt a chill going up your spine, turning around in fear only to see a child standing there in front of you.

“Neptr?” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, watching as he stood to the side and revealed the rest of the kids standing there too. Jay finished coming out of the crawl space, standing there in front of you now with a look you couldn’t make out. “Yeah Dad, they’re in here..” Jay called out, facing towards the crawl spot. Your heart dropped and your blood ran cold, what in the world was going on?

“Y/n, I’m so sorry. I didn’t wanna do this but- please don’t leave! You’re the closest thing our family has had to a parent since our mother died!” Jay began to plead with you “Yeah! Please stay, we need you. And you like us, right? Right?” Bonnie asked, trying to put on the cutest little face ever in order to manipulate you into staying.

“That’s enough, kids.”

Your eyes switched from the kids over to Finn who had finished coming out, he was sweating and panting like he’d just been on a run. “Finn, what IS all of- this?” You gestured towards the shrine “You weren’t supposed to find it.” Finn started stepping towards you, making you walk backwards until you eventually bumped into the shrine. Your back pressed against the table, making you scrunch your face up in pain for just a moment.

“Careful there.” He grabbed your waist and pulled you away from the table, making sure you wouldn’t be hurt.

“What. Is. This. Finn?” You repeated, letting him know you were definitely upset with him. “I made it in your likeness, you like it?” Finn’s eyes darkened for a moment, and for a moment it was just like he had become the ice monster again. “No!- it’s creepy! Why and how have you gotten this stuff?” You tried not to get too upset because of the kids standing there, even though you wanted to shout and scream at Finn for the weird shit he’s done.

“Please don’t be mad at Dad, he just likes you is all! Please don’t leave us, we really like you here!” Bonnie started to give the puppy dog eyes, pouting her bottom lip out at you. “It’s true, I do like you. I’m sorry for the weird shrine, I just- have a hard time expressing my feelings for people and I mistakenly thought you’d enjoy it. Please, allow me to fix this. Don’t leave us..” Finn was definitely manipulating you. But despite knowing that fact, a part of you still wanted to believe it, so you stayed.

“You thought.. I’d like this weird thing?” You didn’t trust his words exactly “..Yes, I thought you’d find it flattering. I’m so sorry. I’m not a bad guy, I’m really not. You know that, don’t you?” Finn came up a little closer to you but this time you didn’t back away “I- I mean..” he wasn’t exactly wrong per say. You remembered the many times he was kind to you, giving you food when you had none and even sheltering you at times. “Fine. You know what then? Leave if you wish, I won’t stop you. I know that you don’t really care about us, or like us-“ you cut Finn off.

“Of course I like you guys!” You exclaimed, not realising you were falling into Finn’s trap. “Really, you do? Oh, but then why do you wanna leave us so badly?” Finn gave a fake saddened look, tricking you into feeling sorry for him “Did we do something wrong?” Stormo and Neptr asked in unison. “N-No, nothing wrong! It was just a mistake is all, and Finn was right-it is… sort of flattering.” You couldn’t help giving in, all the manipulation getting to you.

“So, you’ll stay? Stay with us?” Finn looked directly into your eyes, it felt intimidating. “Y-Yes.” You weren’t even sure if you had a choice, what would of happened if you’d said no? “You make me the happiest man in the world! Y/n’s not leaving Kids!” Finn hugged you, squeezing your torso with his stronger arms. It was only a simple hug, and yet it was also a reminder that he really could crush you if he wanted to.

“Yay!” The kids came around to hug you as well, the whole family and you hugging each other. “Okay, okay, that’s enough..” Finn broke the group hug apart “Kids, please the two of us alone for now.” Finn instructed “Okay dad!” Bonnie started to leave, the rest following not long after her. Jay was the last to leave, turning his head back to look at the two of you for a moment “See you later, mom/dad/parent.”

His words had unknowingly trapped you, you couldn’t leave him and the family when you were seen as their new parent! It’d be wrong. And you’re not a ‘bad person.’

“I just- wanted to talk to you..” Finn spoke up, startling you. “About?” You questioned “Its true, I really do like you. I’m sorry about this whole mess. I just haven’t liked anyone in a long time and so I didn’t know what to do with my feelings.” Finn was lying through his teeth, and yet you had went and bought it. “I.. guess I can understand that.” You sighed “I fell in love with you because of your personality, you’re so kind to me and the kids- and you’re such an honest and smart person.” He stepped a little closer towards you.

You didn’t back away this time, but you weren’t sure what to do. “Do you feel the same way, at all?” Finn’s voice grew slightly deeper at the end there which sent a chill through your whole body. “Well..” you began to think to yourself, not sure what to say “- yes. At least a little.” You confessed, not knowing what you’d gotten yourself in to. Finn gave a big bright smile before opening his big strong arms up and pulling you into a tight hug, lifting you into the air by your waist.

“Yes! Amazing! Now I don’t have to make you like me.” Finn couldn’t help let that bit slip, making your eyes widen slightly “W-What?” You questioned “I think I can hear the kids calling for their mom/dad/parent.” Finn distracted you, which you then again fell for. “They are? I’m coming!” And you immediately went to them, because that’s just who you are. You’re a nurturer, a real kind and honest person, you couldn’t just leave the kids when they need you.

#fionna and cake #send requests #adventure time #adventure time smut #fionna and cake x reader #anon ask #adventure time x reader #fionna and cake smut #send asks #adventure time x reader smut #finn and jake #finn the human #finn mertens #farmworld finn #farmworld finn x reader

270 notes · View notes

bridgertonbabe · 1 month

Note

So having read the bridgerton spouse group chats by you and bridgerton family group chats by @holybatgirlz I’ve realised Benedict seems to always been one of the ones getting injured during family games night…

Does Sophie ever ban him from playing after an Injury or flat out refuse to go after she’s had all four kids and Benedict ends up back in hospital and ends up out of action for a few weeks meaning Sophie has four kids and a husband to tend to (and forces the injuring causing party to wait on him hand and foot for the duration of his Convalescence)

Also on another point… reading these makes me wanna write a family games night fic 😂😂

I feel like by the time all the spouses are married in and as they all start their families that Bridgerton game nights would become a bit calmer - only fractionally, but enough that the hospital visits aren't as frequent and the injuries sustained are far less serious. Though the Bridgertons (and Kate) remain insanely competitive to a terrifying degree, the spouses manage to limit game nights to once a year at most and then following the annual game night the spouses make it very clear how little they care for the family's version of a casual night of board/parlour games, and at the very least some of the Bridgertons take their partners feelings on board and attempt to mellow their competitiveness (kinda).

But with that being said, just because the injuries at game nights wind down, doesn't mean casualties don't occur through other competitive dumbass means...

BSSG Group Chat

Sophie: Guys I'm at the hospital.

Penelope: omg are you ok?????

Lucy: oh no what's happened?

Sophie: Ben broke his leg.

Phillip: Shit how did he manage that?

Sophie: He broke it go-karting.

Gareth:

Simon: What the ever living fuck was he doing go-karting?

Lucy: and not to be ageist - but at his age????

Phillip: The fuck is he playing at?

Gareth: i have to know

Gareth: did he go by himself?

Michael: Gareth please don't make this any more tragic for Ben or any more embarrassing for Sophie

Sophie: For your information he wasn't by himself.

Lucy: then who the hell did he go with????

Penelope: wait

Sophie: Well I hate to be the bearer of bad news

Phillip: Oh no

Simon: Please don't say it

Sophie: But it was a Bridgerton sibling day out

Michael: Oh for fuck's sake

Lucy: but greg told me he was going to spend the afternoon helping his mum pick up the flowers and decorations for penelope and eloise's baby shower on saturday!

Penelope:

Simon: As much as I can share in your dismay Lucy I can't say I'm remotely shocked to learn that Daphne and her siblings all lied about their whereabouts to hide the fact that they were having a sneaky go-karting afternoon 😑

Michael: I'm well aware I'm including my wife in this but do none of them have jobs??? Who goes go-karting on a Wednesday afternoon????

Phillip: Lets just be grateful that there was only one casualty from their go-karting escapade.

Sophie: ...

Sophie: Well I hate to be the bearer of bad news again

Simon: Sophie don't you dare

Penelope: oh god do we even want to know

Sophie: But they've all been hospitalised.

Lucy:

Michael: Why

Simon:

Michael: Why must they be like this

Gareth: just how exactly do 8 people get taken to hospital from a single go-karting afternoon?

Phillip: Soph is El ok????? I'm on my way right now

Sophie: She's ok Phil and so is the baby, she's just got a sprained wrist. She fared the best out of them all injury wise.

Penelope: El's fared the best???????

Michael:

Michael: Just what exactly is the extent of the damages we're talking here @ Sophie

Sophie: So Colin has a broken leg to match Ben's, Anthony's in a neck brace, Fran's fractured a couple of ribs, Daph's fractured her arm while Greg's broken his and has bruised his coccyx, and Hy's broken her big toe and is currently sporting an eye patch.

Penelope: COLIN'S BROKEN HIS LEG???????

Penelope: I'm 4 weeks away from giving birth wtf am I supposed to do with Limpy for a husband?!?!?!?

Lucy: ffs greg and i were supposed to be playing tennis with hermione and my brother this sunday 😤

Gareth: at least this isn't your wife:

Gareth: and soph how exactly did hy end up with an eye patch from go-karting?

Sophie: Greg shot her.

Lucy: HE DID WHAT

Simon: He shot her?????

Michael: Wow Greg shot Hy?

Michael: Honestly I would have imagined Fran snapping before Greg

Gareth: @ Sophie if you've previously failed to mention that my wife is wearing an eye patch because she's been blinded in that eye NOW WOULD BE THE TIME TO MENTION IT

Sophie: Relax she hasn't been blinded, it's just precautionary until the swelling's gone down.

Lucy: CAN WE GET BACK TO THE PART WHERE MY HUSBAND SHOT HIS SISTER

Penelope: yeah wtf is Greg doing with a gun????

Simon: And why does he have one for go-karting?!?!??!

Sophie: Ok so it was a BB gun he was using

Lucy: AND HE HAD IT BECAUSE?!?!?!?!?

Sophie: Well you're all going to love this

Sophie: They weren't just doing regular go-karting

Phillip: What

Sophie: They were doing it Mario Kart style.

Michael:

Simon: I actually can't stand them.

Gareth: not to be pedantic but they don't have guns in mario kart

Gareth: did they get it mixed up with gta coz that would make way more sense with all of the injuries they've acculumated

Lucy: are you seriously telling me they were driving go-karts around a track while shooting at each other??????

Penelope: I'm a month away from giving birth to a Bridgerton baby 🙃

Sophie: Basically they were using an assortment of items like hurling banana peels and pouring out oil on the track to make the others slip, they were throwing frisbees and balls at each other which were meant to be like shells and they had a variety of water/nerf/BB guns to take each other out that way. All of which contributed to the massive pile up that caused most of their injuries.

Michael: God almighty

Gareth: question; was hy not wearing a helmet?

Sophie: She was but she had the visor open after Eloise sprayed it over with paint which was how she ended up getting shot.

Kate: Omfg

Kate: I cannot believe this!

Sophie: It's a lot to take in I know.

Kate: I can't believe they didn't invite me!

Michael: Kate do you even care that your husband is in a neck brace?

Kate: Well that's what he fucking gets for not including me! Karma's a bitch and so is Anthony!

Simon: @ Kate

Phillip: God can you imagine what Violet's reaction to this is going to be when she finds out?

Sophie: No need to imagine she already knows.

Penelope: omfg

Gareth: damn you already told on them???

Sophie: Violet was the first person I told as soon as I heard about it all. I'm sick to death of them all acting like this and being so stupidly reckless. Not one of them even stopped to think that it might not be a good idea and now I've got to see after 4 kids with an invalid for a husband, and the rest of their injuries will come as just as great an inconvenience to all of you as well!

Sophie: So yeah I immediately went to Violet to tell on them because I want her to wipe the absolute floor with them for being so thoughtless!!!!!

Penelope:

Gareth:

Michael: You did what had to be done Soph and for that I applaud you 👏👏👏

Sophie: But that's not all, I'm also punishing Ben for being so feckless.

Kate: Oooh kinky

Sophie: Far from it. For starters when I got here Ben wanted to cuddle Vi to cheer himself up but I told him no and that he's getting no snuggles with her from now until his cast comes off.

Gareth: holy shit you're gate-keeping his own daughter from him

Lucy:

Lucy: and i love it

Michael: How quickly did he start to cry?

Sophie: Instantaneously. It was incredibly rewarding.

Sophie: And I'd encourage you all to do the same with your respective Bridgerton in whatever way you see fit.

Penelope: once Colin's home I'll keep offering him food but then just sit and eat it right in front of him 😈😈😈

Gareth: i'm going to get a toy parrot and perch it on hy's shoulder and call her patchy 🦜

Simon: I'm not even going to bother picking Daph up from the hospital. She has to learn she can't keep pulling stunts like this as a mother of four.

Simon: That and I've already started drinking to deal with this nonsense so I couldn't even if I had to.

Phillip: I'm going to make El take and stay with the twins at back to back children's parties this weekend. She'll absolutely fucking hate it.

Kate: I'm just going to laugh in Anthony's face. Probably get the kids to join in too.

Lucy: damn i'm not sure what i'm going to do with greg

Michael: I'm going to withhold sex.

Penelope: damn that's a bold move

Simon: But is that going to be more of a punishment for her or you?

Michael: Not to give you all too much of an insight but that's going to kill Fran more than you'd think it would.

Michael: But that's what she gets for going along with her fam's unhinged competitive behaviour.

Michael: No more snu snu.

Penelope: I actually think if we all withheld sex from our respective partners that they might finally learn their lesson.

Lucy: that's... actually a very valid point that could very much work

Kate: Well we don't call them sex idiots for nothing.

Michael: They're essentially a bunch of horny Tinkerbells; they need sex to live.

Simon: I truly hate that sentiment. But you're not wrong.

Michael: So are you all following my lead? It's your own choice obvs, no pressure if anyone would prefer not to.

Gareth: i'm not exactly chomping at the bit to be having snu snu with patchy

Kate: Yeah neck braces don't make for a turn on either.

Penelope: And being this pregnant I'm not really in the mood for it as it is.

Sophie: Like I'm going to have the time or energy seeing after the kids while Ben's bedridden anyway.

Lucy: fine by me

Simon: I have 0 qualms with this method of punishment.

Phillip: Same here.

Michael: Then it's no snu snu all around! Vive le resistance!

#asks #group chat au #bridgerton spouses #obviously the no snu snu rule wouldn't have lasted for too long at all #but the spouses would have at least had some satisfaction in making their partners suffer for the time that they did

73 notes · View notes

findingnemosworld · 8 months

Text

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 - 𝐛𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥

・𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: @a-little-bit-rascal

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥.

Y/N was a firm believer of fate, that whatever occurs was predetermined for her - and apparently going through two heartbreaks seemed to be the case, and while it does not seem that big of a deal to some, for her it was; as her heartbreaks were plastered online for everyone to see, Y/N was no ordinary girl, she'd been fortunate to break through the industry as a popular actor and dancer which had garnered her a sizable following, the exact following that saw her break down and come undone only to rise and get straight to work not allowing herself to fully grief the heartbreak until she was in her hometown, and yet somehow, after those heartbreak she was blessed, and it all started the day she had been invited to attend Wimbledon.

She was seated next to a handsome brunette man, around her age dressed in an all black casual yet stylish ensemble, with sunglasses over his eyes, and it wasn't until he removed them that she realized exactly who he was - Chelsea and England's star, Ben Chilwell.

The pair exchanged small talk which quickly formed into a conversation after the event as they exchanged numbers, Ben had even taken the initiative by asking her out on a date, then another and another when time was possible, yet in the midst of those six months nearing seven, they'd never discussed the possibility of becoming anything more than just two adults casually spending time together, while she didn't fault him for not labelling their relationship ( that's if it's a relationship ) she couldn't help but feel lost.

She knew she liked him, quite a lot yet the fear of abandonment, or worse, being dumped for the third time took over, hence why she never brought it up, firmly believing that Ben didn't see them going as far as they can.

Except he did.

You see, while Y/N was stressing over the prospect of them going far in their relationship, Ben was so enamored by her that his England teammates were the unfortunate victims of his affinity for the dancer, particularly James Maddison.

" Mate " James interjects, " I know you're obsessed with her, but for the love of all that is holy, stop! "

It was then that Ben realized that he had been oversharing a bit too much, " Sorry bout that " he murmurs.

" It's fine " James said, " I understand how you feel, I mean I was like that when I first met Kennedy, and here I am, three kids in and happily in love " he grew silent before smiling, " I have an idea, why don't we invite her to come? "

" I don't know mate, she's probably busy " Ben shrugs, as he knew she had a tight schedule of performances and the fact that he didn't want to scare her by making such a big move.

" Listen, Kennedy won't be able to come because she has to watch over the kids, I'll ask her to phone Y/N and see if she can come to Poland instead " James said, then adds with an eye roll, " If she says yes, you will man up, ask her to be your girlfriend and hopefully, get me out of my misery "

____

This is ludicrous, she shouldn't have allowed herself to be persuaded like this yet here she was, at the airport in the small shop looking at something to get for Ben - all the while she was debating if she should just walk out and miss the flight, her thoughts were soon broken by a familiar sound, she looks up to see Aine May in front of her, the girlfriend of Ben's teammate, Conor Gallagher.

" Y/N " Aine May smiles, embracing her before frowning. " You alright? "

Y/N attempted to wave it off with a smile, " Yeah, I just - I was looking for something to get Ben before the flight and I ... " she trails off and swallows the lump in her throat, " Am I making the right choice? I mean, we aren't even serious and here I am acting like a girlfriend " she chuckles.

The blonde girl shakes her head, " Show me your ticket? "

Y/N complies, giving her the ticket; Aine May grins, " we are literally sitting next to one another, come on, I'm getting a new cologne for Conor since he finished his last one "

They spent the next hour roaming through to get what they felt was fitting, and then boarding the flight. Y/N's mind felt messy, yet Aine May assured her that she'll be fine, that Ben would be happy to see her as several of the other WAG's would be there, the only thing she can hope for was that Ben would be happy to see her, otherwise ... this will be a terrible idea.

______________________________________________________________

( I know England flopped in the match but let's pretend they didn't )

The teams were in the tunnel, Ben stood behind James - and while he tried his best to focus, his brain draws back to Y/N and when James turned to him, he sighs. " Mate, relax! " he said, Ben sighs and shakes his head, " I should have asked her to come, I mean ... I miss her a lot, I know I sound like a sap but it's true "

" Yes, you do sound like a sap " James sighs softly, " Now, focus on the game and who knows, maybe she did come, I mean Kennedy didn't say anything but you never know " he shrugs.

They were ushered out onto the pitch, and Ben opted not to dwell on Y/N and instead try his best to pour his focus onto the upcoming match - they'd taken the pictures and were then dispersed onto the pitch in their assigned positions, the first half was definitely intense for England as clearly Ukraine were attempting their best to score early and unfortunately they'd done just that, the goal had definitely placed a damper on them throughout the first half up until the extra minutes when they walked in.

Y/N was able to catch the end of the first half and was heartbroken seeing the dejection on Ben as well as the England players as they had hoped not to concede, she took her seat next to Aine May who filled her on what happened earlier, the pair continued to chat until the second half began which seemed to pan out better for England who had thankfully equalized the scoresheet thanks to Kyle Walker's goal.

At around the 58th minute, England were awarded a corner which Ben jogged up to the corner to perform, and right then; he looked up and saw her, his face lights up almost instantly and just then, he turns around executing the corner which thankfully had the ball pushed into the net by Jude Bellingham thus granting England the lead over Ukraine, and provided them with momentum to keep the match in their favor until the very end.

Aine May nudges Y/N to alert her of Ben running over to greet her, what she didn't expect was to be greeted by a warm embrace followed by a soft kiss that radiated a deep sense of longing, " I missed you so much " Ben whispers.

" Yeah? " Y/N beams.

" Thank god you're here " James interrupts them, " He was driving us mad with how much he missed you " he laughs.

" Finally mate " Jude yells with a laugh.

" God knows how long we had to sit and endure him sapping over how much he missed her " Declan joins in.

" Stop it you two " came the voice of their captain and friend Harry Kane, " it's not his fault he's in love " he chuckles.

" But he had us wanting to drive heads up the wall Haz " Jude groans.

" Yeah, plus we couldn't sleep well " Conor said.

Y/N looks at Ben who blushes, " That bad huh? "

" You can't even imagine " Ben chuckles.

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell fanfiction #ben chilwell one shot #ben chilwell imagine #ben chilwell fluff #ben chilwell fanfic #ben chilwell x reader

87 notes · View notes

psycholuvrgirl · 1 year

Text

hale (pt. 1 | n.s.)

summary: the sully family arrives at the pandora atolls and they’re met with an important figure from jake’s past.

hale [noun] the hawaiian word meaning home

pairing: srewtompa [metkayina!oc] x neteyam

warnings: script following (this'll occur quite a bit considering the plot of atwow makes up a good percent of the story, but fret not it is not just the script word for word every chapter)

a/n: the kids are aged up (including tuk to keep age gaps consistent, don’t be weird abt it). neteyam and aonung are 19, lo’ak and kiri are 18, tsireya is 17, and tuk is 12! (basically add four to their canonical age). also, i've never written an oc story before, so i hope you all enjoy it! this is very near and dear to me as the oc is a lot like me and has a lot of aspects of my background and story. this will (probably) be my only oc story, all my other fics will most likely be x reader stories :)

word count: 1.7k

series masterlist

The large crowd forming on the beach is her first hint that something was going on. Her eyes move to the new, unusual Na’vi on the sand -- their color a stark difference from the people’s. Srewtompa peeks her head above the water, eyes just poking above the surface. Ronal and Tonowari make their arrival, meeting the new Na’vi in the middle. Heat, pure anger rises throughout her body and she swims to the shoreline, sprinting across the sand. The word “uturu” rings in her mind, but she’s too caught up in her protectiveness to care.

She jumps in front of Ronal and Tonowari, hissing at the group of unwelcome visitors. The one who seems to be the mother pushes the man behind her, baring her teeth with a returned hiss. Their eyes lock onto one another’s -- the newcomer was older, that much was clear. She’s most likely stronger and faster too, but the smaller Na’vi doesn’t let her guard down.

“Why do you come to my home?” Srewtompa shouts.

“Ann?” her tough demeanor falters at the voice, at the name. She looks up, eyes meeting with those that belong to the man. Her eyes widen with a gasp that she can’t seem to stop. Her hand clasps over her mouth, disbelief flooding her body as she looks at the Na’vi man.

“Jake, you know her?” the woman asks. The name confirms her assumptions and she can’t fight away the smile that makes its way onto her face.

“Oh, Jake!” Srewtompa exclaims, running up to him. The woman hisses, but is ignored by the recipient. Srewtompa’s arms wrap around Jake, his doing the same.

“Neytiri, this is Ann. Little Ann, remember?” he says. Neytiri straightens up, nodding at Jake’s words. Tonowari clears his throat and Srewtompa turns to look at him.He gives her an all too familiar warning look, eliciting a nod from her.

She gives him a final hug, “And it’s Srewtompa now.” He nods as she makes her way to the spot with Tonowari and Ronal.

“You know our Srewtompa?” Ronal asks.

Jake nods, “I knew her when she was just a little girl.”

Confusion spreads over Ronal’s face. She looks at the girl for confirmation and she nods. Ronal’s mind doesn’t seem to pick up on the implication, the implication of Jake’s background; otherwise Jake probably would have been turned away without second thought. She turns back to Jake, “And you seek uturu here?”

Jake nods and Tonowari looks at them, “We are reef people. You are forest people. Your skills will mean nothing here.”

“Well, we will learn your ways, am I right?” Jake says.

Ronal continues her circle around the family, grabbing at their features as she mentions them. “Their arms are thin. Their tails are weak. You will be slow in the water.” She pauses, grabbing one of the children’s hands. “These children… are not even true Na’vi. They have demon blood!”

Srewtompa can see the family’s shame as Ronal announces it, picking up another kid’s hand to show their fingers. The girl looks at them, sorry for what was being done.

“As do I,” she says, stepping in front of Tonowari. Ronal’s head whips towards her, anger flashing in her eyes. The whole clan knew it; they knew she was not always Na’vi, but it isn’t something that typically affected her interaction with the people. She walks over to Ronal, taking the boy’s hand away from her. “Look, we’re the same, Ronal. Me and these Na’vi, we are the same. To deny them as Na’vi is to deny me as well. I was born from a Sky Person turned Na’vi -- a demon blood, but I adapted.”

“That’s right,” Jake says, “ We will adapt.”

“My husband was Toruk Makto,” Neytiri says, making her way in front of Jake, “He led the clans to victory against the Sky People.”

“This you call victory? Hiding among strangers?” Ronal asks. She points to Srewtompa, “She had no choice. She was only a child.” She averts her gaze, unsure if there’s anything she can say will make Ronal see what she sees. “It seems Eywa has turned her back on you, chosen one.”

Neytiri hisses and Ronal returns it, both women staring one another down. Jake is quick to separate the two.

“I apologize for my mate. She’s--”

“Do not apologize for me.”

“--flown a long way and she’s exhausted.”

“Jake,” Neytiri scolds. Jake is silent, but his warning look to his wife is clear with instruction. She falls behind him, making her way to join her children.

“Toruk Makto is a great war leader. All Na’vi people know his story,” Srewtompa says, trying to build reasons to allow them uturu. Her words earn murmurs from the crowd.

“But we Metkayina are not at war,” Tonowari says. The small spark of hope dies with the sentence and she gives Jake a sorry look. Tonowari turns to Jake, finalizing his statement. “We cannot let you bring your war here.”

“I’m done with war. Okay?” Jake says, “I just want to keep my family safe.”

“Uturu has been asked,” Neytiri says, eyes closed and a frustrated tone.

Ronal and Tonowari look at each other, communicating quietly through glances. Tonowari’s eyes catch Srewtompa’s for a moment and he sighs, looking back at his lover. Although he still stays silent, she nods -- an act of permission. Tonowari places his spear into the sand, standing tall as he addresses the whole clan.

“Toruk Makto and his family will stay with us. Treat them as our brothers and sisters. Now, they do not know the sea. So they will be like babies taking their first breath. Teach them our ways, so they do not suffer the shame of being…” Tonowari looks directly at Jake, finishing his speech with one word, “...useless.” The family thanks him, mostly grateful except for their daughter in the back, who seemed almost tired of what was happening. “My son, Aonung, our daughter, Tsireya, and… Srewtompa will show you what to do.”

“Come! We’ll show you our village,” Srewtompa says with a smile. The group gathers the belongings and Tsireya takes the lead in showing the family where to go. Srewtompa walks next to Neytiri, clearing her throat to get the woman’s attention. “Mrs. Sully, I’d like to apologize for--”

“No,” Neytiri interrupts, shaking her head, “You were protecting your people. I understand.”

“Thank you,” she says, “Had I known who you were, I never would have acted that way.”

“This is for you. Your new home,” Tsireya says, pulling the attention away from the conversation. Jake says a few encouraging words, trying to get his family to cheer up as they all place their varying belongings down.

“I live right there,” Srewtompa says. She points to her marui pod in the distance, all of their eyes follow her finger. “Quite the walk away, but you all can come over if you need anything.”

“Who do you live with?” Jake asks, looking back at her. She hesitates, knowing that he won’t like the real answer. Then she realizes if she doesn’t answer, he will just worry and pry till he gets one.

“Nobody. I live alone,” she says, avoiding looking at him.

“What?” Neytiri says. The sound of panic in her voice makes guilt rise through Srewtompa’s body. “That can’t be right. Where are your parents? You are barely an adult. You still need your parents.”

“They are… They’re gone,” she says, “And nobody really wants to take in the freaky demon kid, so it’s just been me down there.”

“Sounds like you’re living the life,” their older daughter says.

“Kiri!” Neytiri scolds.

“What? I’m just saying.”

“Ann-- Srewtompa,” he says, correcting himself, “You shouldn’t be alone.”

She shrugs, putting on a smile for the man, “I’m alright. I’m happy there.” He sighs, looking at Neytiri who has a worried look on her face. She catches a glimpse of it and shakes her head, “I will most likely see you guys all day, everyday. Alright? I’m only really in there to sleep. Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, mother, leave the poor girl alone,” one of the boys says. Her eyes travel to him and he bows his head, hand moving from forehead out towards you. “Oel ngati kameie. Nice to meet you, I’m Neteyam.”

His brother copies his greeting and their sister, who you now know as Kiri, mocks their bows. She feigns a male voice, doing a more fluttery version of the bow towards Srewtompa, which causes a giggle to leave the girl’s throat.

“I’m Tuk!” the little one exclaims. Srewtompa laughs at her excitement, sending Tuk a small wave.

“I’m Srewtompa,” she says, then adds, “But you all already knew that… I usually go by Tompa though.”

Someone at a distance calls her name, a sense of urgency in their voice. She glances out into the ocean, then back to the family. She says a rushed farewell, running out of the home and jumping into the ocean.

“She’s… interesting,” Kiri says. The other siblings nod in agreement.

“You all better be nice to her. She’s very important to me,” Jake says, “And she’s probably going to be your lifeline here. She’s gonna keep you knuckleheads alive.”

“What’s so special about her?” Neteyam asks, looking out the large open doorway. He sees her in the ocean, forehead resting against some creature’s head as she rubs their side gently.

“She was a human once, like me,” Jake says, “Where she came from… her people are similar to us-- to the Na’vi. And when the Na’vi needed her, she showed up. She was only a child when she got here.”

“She could teach you kids a lot,” Neytiri says.

“You protect her like family,” Jake says, “She is family. She may not be a Sully, but she may as well be.”

Neteyam’s gaze lingers on the girl as she climbs out of the ocean, water dripping from her body. He notices how her features don’t completely match those of the Metkayina, enough to be identifiable but there’s something else. Her eyes catch his and she smiles, waving at him kindly. He bows his head a little, which makes her giggle. She does a fancy version of the normal greeting bow, which causes him to laugh as well. A child runs up to her, stealing the girl’s attention away.

147 notes · View notes

runnning-outof-time · 2 years

Text

Birmingham | Tommy Shelby x Reader (Part 2)

Previous Part

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: Tommy assigns protection for (Y/N), who feels a bit uneasy about it at first. She learns quickly, though, that it may not be a bad idea. Later on, Arthur suspects something major about her.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2918

A/N: so I’m doing this....it’s been a while since I’ve written a proper series, so bear with me, please. I’m hoping to have a new part posted each weekend. I’d love to hear what y’all think of it!! Enjoy! :)

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!!

A week had passed since Tommy assured that (Y/N) would be safe as long as she was living in Birmingham. Within that week, nothing much happened. She went to her shifts at the Garrison, she got some more sideways looks from Grace, and she continued with trying to make her apartment into a home.

She had been asked to stay at the pub later than usual tonight. A large shipment of stock items had arrived only an hour before closing, so she was stuck with unpacking it. This would be the first time she'd be at the pub at night since the incident that occurred a little over a week ago. To say her nerves were on high alert was an understatement.

Humming to herself quietly while she worked on organizing and stacking crates, she didn't even notice the man standing in the doorway to the stockroom. "(Y/N)," he called out, making the woman jump in her spot.

"Mr. Shelby, I didn't see you there," she said as she tried to collect herself, her hand going up over her heart. "You scared me," she stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I need to have a word with you," he told her, and although he didn't explicitly comment on her reaction to his presence, a hint of an amused grin played on his lips.

"Ok," she nodded, moving to walk to the door once she was completely calm again. "Is something wrong?" she asked the same question as she did a week ago while they walked down the hallway to where the establishment's office was located.

"No," Tommy responded with a slight shake of his head. When they got to the office's door, he opened it, allowing (Y/N) to step into the room first before he followed her and closed it behind him.

(Y/N) immediately noticed that she and Tommy weren't the only two people in the room. Standing in the corner were two men, who looked to be around her age. They wore straight-faced expressions and similar garb to what Tommy and his brothers donned daily. "I'm...confused?" she couldn't help but comment on the two random guests that she didn't expect to be meeting.

"These men have been brought on to watch over you," Tommy answered her question as he moved over to the leather chair, "to protect you," he continued after sitting down.

"To do what?" (Y/N) was still confused.

Tommy ignored her question and continued on with his explanation: "their names are Ian and Mason. They will be with you when you are traveling from your home to here; and to wherever else you decide to go. They will act as surveillance and will make sure that there will be no surprise visits from your family. In the act that that would occur, they know how to neutralize the situation."

(Y/N) let the silence hang in the air for a moment, allowing the information she'd just been hit with to sink in before she responded to him. "That's very nice of you, Mr. Shelby, but I think I'll be fine on my own," she finally said, trying to politely decline the help he was offering her.

"I told you that you would be safe here, (Y/N)," Tommy told her, his eyebrows raising slightly before he continued, "this is me keeping you safe."

"And I appreciate that, I really do," she stressed to him before taking a deep breath and thinking over her next words. "I don't think having two men follow me around is necessary though."

"You've had two men come to try and take you back to Sheffield after you were only here for a handful of weeks," he reminded her of the very event she was trying to forget, "I find it hard to believe that your brothers will give up after this first attempt...especially after their men didn't return home."

That was just that one time. Those words were hanging on the tip of her tongue, but she didn't say them. He brought up a good point. She just wished she wasn't still caught up in the middle of being involved with a gang. "Mr. Shelby..." she sighed as she trailed off, not knowing what to say next.

He took her cut off response as her conceding to his plan. "These men will stay with you. I've chosen them myself...I know they're good for it," he assured her, nodding his head as he spoke.

(Y/N) glanced over at the two men after Tommy was finished speaking. The man on the left was slightly stockier in his build than the man on the right, but both looked as though they were physically fit. 'Mr. Left' had a peaked cap on, with no hair sticking out from under it, making (Y/N) wonder if he was completely bald. He had a mustache, but it was a good bit smaller than the other man whose mustache was the staple of his appearance: Arthur Shelby. 'Mr. Right', who had a thinner build, was standing with his peaked cap clasped in his hands. Because of that, (Y/N) was able to see the head of sandy brown hair he had. It was, of course, tapered off at the sides, but it was not done nearly as harsh as any of the Shelby brothers' were. He had no facial hair and his jawline was soft, which made him look to be the youngest man in the room.

"They're good for it?" she repeated his statement with her eyebrows raised slightly. She didn't say it in a condescending tone; rather it was her way of making sure that what he was telling her was true.

"They're good for it," he flipped her question back into a statement, nodding his head once more to show his certainty, "they will keep you safe."

She looked between Tommy and the men a few times before eventually nodding her head. "Ok," she then said, her eyes falling back onto Tommy.

"Good," Tommy responded to her single word statement with one of his own, happy to hear that she'd accepted his plan. "They'll take you home tonight."

"Ok," (Y/N) repeated her previous response, nodding once more. "Am I free to get back to finishing up my jobs for the day?" she asked him, jerking her thumb back in the direction of the door.

"Yes, you are," he nodded, allowing her to begin taking steps back towards the door.

Before she opened it, she turned back to face Tommy. "Thank you, Mr. Shelby," she said, a slight smile on her face as a physical show of gratitude. She then glanced over at the two men and sent them similar smiles.

"It's my job to keep you safe," Tommy responded, a ghost of a smile flashing across his lips before his expression turned serious again.

It's not your 'job', and I can keep myself safe, (Y/N) wanted to say, but the words died before they left her lips. She instead decided to accept his offer and continue on with her night. "Thank you," she mused again before opening the door and exiting the office.

She returned to the stockroom and exhaled a long sigh. This was not necessarily where she wanted to be at the moment...she didn't like that she'd gotten mixed up in the activities of yet another gang, and was now being offered protection by them. Protection. The same thing that was offered by her family's gang back in Sheffield. She hoped that protection from the Shelbys didn't come with the same backlog that protection from the Weller Boys entailed. Only time would tell, and all that she could really do was wait and find out. Something about the way that Tommy went about it though gave her the feeling that things might be better this time around...that she may actually be safe.

Trying to put her mind to rest, she focused on humming a tune and continuing with stacking and organizing the remaining crates. The work wasn't going to do itself. She needed to get back to it.

—

After finishing up her jobs and making sure that the lights to the stockroom were turned off, (Y/N) made her way to the main doors of the tavern. The two men she'd met earlier were standing by the door, which didn't surprise her because Tommy had said that they'd be escorting her home.

"Are you ready to go, ma'am?" the man who she'd previously nicknamed 'Mr. Left' asked, his voice gruff.

"Yes," she nodded, wanting to correct him so that he'd call her (Y/N), but she ultimately let it be. She continued on to the doors and opened them, making the men fall in beside her.

The walk back to her apartment was quiet, but it wasn't awkward. She didn't quite know what to say to these two hired bodyguards, and it also seemed like they weren't up for conversation, so she just let them be.

"This is my lodging," she announced as they approached the building with the sign hanging overhead.

"We will be here tomorrow morning before the start of your shift," the brown-haired man, 'Mr. Right', told her, as they all stopped at the entrance of her building.

"Thank you," (Y/N) smiled appreciatively.

"Just doing our job, ma'am," 'Mr. Right' responded, flashing her a smile before he bowed his head slightly and tipped his peaked cap at her. The gesture made (Y/N)'s smile widen as she simultaneously made the mental note to make sure he wouldn't call her ‘ma'am’ either.

"Have a good night," she told the two men as she opened the door to the building.

"You as well," 'Mr. Right' answered, finishing the conversation before turning to walk off with 'Mr. Left', who was already in motion. (Y/N) continued into the apartment building, heading straight up to her unit and locking herself inside.

She took another deep breath as she made herself her nightly tea, mulling over everything that had come to light that day. She hated how much her situation now reminded her of what she was running away from, but she held onto a slight hope that maybe things wouldn't play out exactly how they did back in Sheffield. Tommy and his actions towards her gave her that hope.

——

The next day, (Y/N) made her way down to the apartment building's door and exited onto the street. Upon glancing to the side, she found that only one of the two men from last night was present today.

"Good morning, ma'am," he greeted her with a tip of his cap, similar to the gesture he'd done last night.

"Good morning," (Y/N) returned the greeting before glancing around again. "You're alone?" she decided to ask him after her searches for 'Mr. Left' came up short.

"Yeah," the man nodded his head as the two began walking, "Ian requested another job...said that babysitting a helpless woman was not what he signed up for when he joined the Blinders," he then gave her some information on 'Mr. Left''s, who she now knew was named Ian, whereabouts.

"Oh, ok," (Y/N) nodded at the information, not really sure how to take it. Although she didn't like being referred to as a 'helpless woman', she understood why she could be seen as such. These two men were tasked with watching over her; constantly making sure that she was safe...she recognized his comparison to babysitting. "You decided that you're up for babysitting though?" she asked him after they'd been walking for a few moments.

"Me?" he asked, glancing over at her briefly before a smile broke onto his face, "yeah. I recognize that it comes with the life...I knew I wasn't going to be startin' off in the upper ranks; doing the good jobs. You've gotta work your way up somehow, and I figured that doing a job that the boss specifically asked for me to do himself would be a good way to do so," he explained his motives behind taking the job to her. (Y/N) nodded along in understanding.

"Your name's Mason then, right?" she asked after a few moments had passed.

"My last name's Mason, but people just tend to call me by it. My first name's Matthew," he corrected her before politely informing her of his actual first name.

"Ah, ok," (Y/N) nodded as she committed the change to memory, "up until a minute ago, I was calling you 'Mr. Right', so knowing your actual name is a big help for me."

Matthew grinned at her words. "'Mr. Right', huh? You have a premonition about me or something?"

(Y/N)'s cheeks heated up as she realized the other connotation behind the nickname that she'd given him. "No, uh...I only referred to you as such because you were the man standing on the right," she defended herself, feeling bashful all of a sudden.

"That makes sense," he agreed with her thought process, his grin still present, "forgive me for taking it in that direction."

"Oh you're fine. I didn't realize it until you brought it up," she brushed his apology off, "however...you could be considered 'Mr. Right' because you're the only one who stuck around," she then sent him a smile. Matthew only chuckled at her statement before dropping his gaze to the ground. "Is there a reason why you're called Mason as opposed to your first name?" she asked after silence had fallen between them for a few moments.

"It's a...tradition I guess. My father, his father, and then his grandfather and several generations before that were all stonemasons. They worked various jobs around Small Heath and it's been my family's legacy for quite some time...hell, it's how we got our family name. We were always known as the masons, or mason, and it's stuck. I've decided to break away from that though...manual labor doesn't seem to interest me," he gave her some backstory on his family.

"So you've decided to join a gang instead," (Y/N) pointed out, unable to hold the slight chortle back from escaping her lips.

"I suppose so, ma'am," Matthew responded, chuckling as a smile formed on his face.

"Call me (Y/N)," she corrected him, not wanting to hear herself be addressed as 'ma'am' again. She'd grown up calling her mother, and every other older woman in her life for that matter, by that name, and hearing herself be called it now made her feel like she was old.

"Ok...(Y/N)..." he tried it out for himself, a grin forming on his face, "I like it."

"Thanks," (Y/N) laughed slightly as she looked down the road, seeing the Garrison coming up in the near distance.

"Mr. Shelby mentioned your family last night when he brought you into the office...are they the reason why you're being protected?" Matthew switched the conversation to a more touchy topic, making (Y/N) stiffen up slightly.

"I, uh....it's a long story, actually," she stated, all of the mirth now absent from her voice.

"I wouldn't mind hearing it," Matthew didn't quite catch her shift, "was there bad blood or some sort of family fallout or something? Some sort of business deal gone wrong? Are you acting as a spy?" he started firing off guesses, his voice lowering as he finished his statement, making it sound like he was uttering some forbidden words.

(Y/N) locked up even more at his questioning, subtly quickening her step so that they'd get to their destination faster. "I don't think I'd have enough time to tell you it," she said, only a few steps away from the Garrison now.

Matthew finally noticed the shift in her nature. He paused for a second before falling back in behind her, walking with her right up to the Garrison's doors. "Some other time then," he dismissed the topic before grabbing hold of the door's handle and opening it for her.

(Y/N) wanted to correct him and assert that he'd never be learning about her backstory, but she instead decided to thank him for his gesture and stepped inside the building. Their conversation ended there, and (Y/N) tried to shake off the feelings that were starting to arise so that she could go to the backroom and start her shift.

She'd just gotten into organizing the bottles of alcohol when she heard her name being called from down the hall. Setting down the bottles in her hand, she exited the stockroom and made her way to the office. "Yes?" she asked, seeing Arthur Shelby sitting in the chair behind the desk.

"Get in here," he said to her, a serious expression on his face.

“Is something wrong, Mr. Shelby?” she asked, inwardly hating how many times she’d asked that question over the past few days.

“Yeah,” Arthur nodded, glancing down at the paperwork on his desk before his eyes met hers again. “Yesterday’s payout ain’t matchin’ up...there’s less money in the register than what was recorded. You were the last to leave last night. All hands point to you in this.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened at his accusation. She went to defend herself, but her throat went dry; her mind spiraling as she tried to think of how she could get herself out of this situation.

“Did you take the money, (Y/N)?”

Next Part

Tagged: @alreadybroken-ts @mgcllovdrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @golden-hoax @elenavampire21 @peaky-cillian @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @easilyobessedbutflighty @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @sunsetmourners @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @l1-l4 @chlorrox

**Note: I’ve added my Tommy taglist to this...if you’re on it and don’t want to be added to this series’ taglist, please let me know! I’ve also added those who responded to my initial question about this...again, if you don’t want to be added, let me know!

SERIES MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby series #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders series #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

560 notes · View notes

otakuworks · 1 year

Text

❛ 𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐘 𝐌𝐄! 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒.

NOTE: I'm currently in Lesson 68 & Lesson 46(Hard) so if there's an answer to most of these questions and theories in further lessons then please let me know in the comments.

WARNING: SPOILERS, loads of 'em

Addressing the Elephant in the Room

LILITH's LOVER / HIS IMMORTALITY / HIS PACT

— IMMORTALITY.

In Lesson 36-C, Solomon himself tells us that his immortality stemmed from tricking a grim reaper from collecting his soul by playing a game that he knows he can outwit them (thanks to the Ring of Wisdom). It's not because of the fruit Lilith died for. Additionally, the fruit was supposed to HEAL her lover from the incurable sickness, not make them immortal.

But I like to headcanon he got his immortality because of his own cooking💀

— BEING LILITH'S LOVER.

It doesn't make sense. I don't want to outwardly call out the people who believe this theory, but think about it. With the given information thus far, Solomon being Lilith's lover makes a whole bunch of plot holes.

People think he's Lilith's lover mainly for his immortality, which I already steer clear in the first one.

Had he been Lilith's lover, Asmodeus would've recognize him on the night he made a pact with him.

But no, Asmodeus claims he first met Solomon when he was in the Human Realm getting drunk and that was also the night he woke up learning he made a pact with Solomon without his knowledge.

Obey Me developers tend to follow most canon stuff in the Bible with a few differences to make their story (e.t. Lilith being Lucifer's sister instead of lover) and if they applied the cannon timeline in the Bible then Solomon should be around 1000 B.C which is a huge gap of time between the supposed 3,000-4000 B.C when the Celestial War occured.

How do I know this? Well, I'm only speculating.

In Lesson 11, Mammon claims to be around 5,000 yrs old and it seems to me that the brothers spent most of their life in the Devildom than the Celestial Realm. I think 1,000-2,000 yrs (i'm following Mammon's age in this because the brothers ages are not mentioned) in Celestial is a good time before the War broke out.

If Solomon is indeed Lilith's lover then the Brothers and Solomon would've had more tension brewing; Belphie will cuss him out in every second he has. Lucifer once said that Lilith's lover WAS A GOOD MAN. And we all know Lucifer thinks of Solomon anything but a good man, one of the minor reason was probably because Solomon tricked Asmodeus into forging a pact with him. Not a trait you'd see on a good man.

In conclusion, if Solomon is Lilith's lover, the brothers should've more familiarity toward Solomon. Not just some shady sorcerer who can massacre the whole demon race with his cooking.

I like to think Solomon met Lilith as a human reincarnate and he probably knew just by looking at her. I mean, he's the smartest of all humankind, he knew MCs name before they introduced themselves, that's saying something.

Or. . .

There was a love triangle going on between him and Lilith's lover.

In Lesson 36, Solomon vaguely mentions his failed love all the way back in his youth. Perhaps. . . it has something to do with Lilith? Lilith chose the other human over him. Le cries.

The love triangle was probably not a big deal at that time so it didn't reach Lucifer's ears.

Solomon also tells us he's not a big fan of romance, he was probably curiosity what love was all about at that time and felt the puppy love brewing with Lilith.

But as you can see in his GIF, there's a bittersweet smile in his face.

I interpret this as both of sweet that he's not suffering from loss as much as her closed ones but also bitter that even if he hasn't fell deeply for her he still lost a friend.

— HIS PACTS.

It's canon that he has over 70 demon pacts, including Asmodeus and Barbatos. Now Asmodeus forging a pact with Solomon isn't really that surprising for me regardless of what happened behind the scene.

What I personally want to know is the pact of Barbatos.

Around Lesson 50+ Barbatos revealed that Solomon managed to summon him even though he's on the brink of life and death because summoning a powerful demon such as himself can take a toll in a mortal's body. When MC asks why he would do such thing, Barbatos replied along the lines "He must be desiring something that death can't stop him from doing so."

What was it? What did Solomon want that he doesn't even consider death as an obstacle to achieve it? And mind you, Barbatos described it as if Solomon was DESPERATE.

Have you guys seen this old man being desperate to the point of dying? Imagine lesson 16, but with Solomon, and not dying. Yeah, I don't think so. This man far too smart for his own good. If summoning Barbatos is considered as his last resort then you know it's serious.

DIAVOLO'S MOTHER / BARBATOS

— DIAVOLO'S MOM.

Many people speculate Dia's mom is a human which is why he's so abnormally fond of the humans.

I mean, when do you hear the mom dying of child birth in these fantasy settings? Oh yeah, when their body couldn't handle supernatural fetus hence taking their life (e.t. Bella Swan)

If she was just another Demoness then there's no apparent reason why she shouldn't have survived childbirth unless there was unprecedented circumstances she couldn't avoid.

I'm completely sold to this theory. That's all there is to say.

— BARBATOS.

I've never seen someone so enigmatic, serious, devoted like this mf right here then be scared of some rodents. I'd understand if it's spiders or roaches, but rats? Yeah, understandable. Solomon probably threatened Barbatos to forge a pact with him if he doesn't want to get the rats.

Moving on, it was explicitly mentioned that Barbatos was never a child, meaning he just popped out fully grown. Where? I don't know, maybe he was created by some Demon similar to the Angels being created by the Father? It is also said that Barbatos is so powerful that it even rivals the Demon King himself.

Where did this mf came from???

The MV

SIMEON'S DEMOTION / SATAN / SOLOMON and the ATTIC

— DEMOTION.

Not only the brothers complete demotion from being Angels, Simeon was also demoted from being a Seraph, the Highest Ranking of Angels. It wasn't specified what he did to warrant him such punishment, but we'll probably get our answers soon.

If I were to speculate what he did based on his compassionate personality, he probably helped Lucifer and the brothers in some way that left them unscathed except Lilith.

In Season 3 Lessons, we got to know Simeon's in depth sentiment toward the brothers. He cares deeply for them and misses the time of Celestial realm where the brothers were still there.

The Angels were having the thoughts of eliminating the brothers and their treacherous sister, and they did except for the brothers.

And Simeon is probably behind the brother's safety.

Simeon is somehow similar to MC, kind and compassionate, even after learning Lilith's attempt to steal the fruit and the brother's rebellion, he probably had the thought of joining them.

But Simeon is also a righteous person who obey the rules and value himself, so he couldn't possibly join them. He lacks the courage to act to what he really wants. He's torn between his compassion and values.

The farthest thing he could've done was to discreetly aid them.

But somehow along the process, he wasn't discreet enough.

— SATAN.

One of the hints given in the stream was 'Satan and his brothers' and many people jumped to theorize something about that. All of the theories have been remarkably on point, some of which I don't understand how they correlate to Satan.

As simple as the statement is, I think the game will be focusing on the development of Satan and His Brothers after the Fall.

But then again, when did OM became very simple?💀 I kinda understand why people would go crazy over this.

In my standpoint, they chose to categorize Satan as single than the rest because Satan was never an angel, he was born Demon the moment he made a noise for the first time.

It may sound cruel, but I'm only stating facts.

Satan is by far one of the most mysterious character in OM. All of the brothers already have back stories in the Celestial Realm but Satan is a demon born out Lucifer's hatred.

'Satan and His Brothers' probably will focus on the times when Satan is still learning about the world AND HIS BROTHERS.

Yes, he mentioned he has seen the world and his brothers through Lucifer's eyes but it's only in fragments.

Now he has his own sets of eyes to see the world and to learn more about his brothers.

THIS IS THE START OF HIS STORY and HIS BROTHERS.

— SOLOMON and the ATTIC.

This sounds so random and by far the most out of the plot hint, not gonna lie. I thought OM has totally lost it. When I first read this I thought of the Attic Club but with Lilith in it. Perhaps Solomon is acquainted with the twins and Lilith?

This brings me to my theory that maybe Solomon is in a love triangle with Lilith's and her lover.

I don't even know what I'm writing at this point. OM is driving me nuts! I just want to know when will it release.

edit on the same day ;

According to @simply-chaotic-richness in the comments, it's not actually Solomon and the Attic but rather 'Solomon under the same roof' which is more confusing if I may add.

Whose roof are we talking about here? Do the devs even mean this as literally or figuratively? Or maybe both?

I think I'll still stick to my understanding that maybe it has something to do with the brothers.

Maybe Solomon had to take care of Satan once and teach him what he knows, hence his intelligence, but only for a brief period of time, short enough to spark Satan's curiosity and indulge himself in the world of knowledge. I'd like to see that.

THE FORESIGHT

— FORESIGHT.

We all know Barbatos can see through the past and future. He can also make portals through different locations, even opening a portal from a different timeline. He's strong, that much is obvious. Diavolo has to make a rule for Barbatos to never use his ability unless he deemed necessary.

With that, I think we can all theorize that Barbatos must have predicted the Fall and Diavolo thought it's a good idea to help Lucifer to pledge his loyalty to him.

Why? Diavolo was still in his prime back that day, he was still trying to manage Devildom after the absence of his father. He also has the strong desire to unite all three realms by all means, and to do that he has to gather more allies and build connection.

LOTAN

Y'all probably didn't expect that, did you? Everyone's been talking about the details of the Trailer, but no one has ever been curious how Leviathan met Lotan.

In the main story, Lotan rarely appears, he only appears for comedic purpose which I think is quite funny and dumb. I've been trying to catch up in the Hard mode in hopes to get that fresh lore about Lotan, but there wasn't really anything useful, I don't think he ever appears in the Hard Levels.

Similar to Cerberus, only one person can command and tame him; Lucifer. This also applies to Lotan whose master is Leviathan.

With the new hints given to us, it's safe to say we'll be getting closure on the things we want to know regarding Lotan.

I just want to say that maybe after the Fall, Levi must have ended up near bodies of water and met Lotan along the way.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄; there you have it. i'm only expressing my humble thoughts so if you think it clashes with your theory then i have no qualms to anyone who wants to state their own theories. i really love having these type of talks, all i ask is for everyone to be humble in the comments. I'll be glad to entertain anyone.

#obey me shall we date #obey me #otome game #obswd #obey me nightbringer #obey me thoughts #obey me theory #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beezlebub #belphegor #solomon

162 notes · View notes

kit-kat-katie · 2 months

Text

I love you, but you love him, and he loves me

A/N: Sometimes I forget that the things that I say have a tendency to age like milk... apologies for the lack of updates and fics. I've been drowning in schoolwork since the semester started and I haven't had much of a chance to work on an extended fic like Our Time. The current plan is to have this post up for February, put up a Johanna fic in April/May, and then finish up Our Time over the summer (hopefully). Anyways, here's some Clove fluff that's a week late for Valentine's Day! :D

oh, thanks for 100 followers! I am so happy that people enjoy my content without a regular schedule. thank you so so much again!

TW: underage drinking/smoking, brief mention of weed, small fighting scene, reader is put into uncomfortable romantic situation

Pairing: Clove x GN! Reader (Rivals to Lovers in 2x speed)

Summary: You love Clove. She likes Cato. Cato likes you. Your life is a comedic love triangle until your best friend's drunken disaster causes you to connect with Clove and discover something new about her.

“On your left.”

Catelyn gives you a quick warning before flipping you on the back and slamming you against the mat. You squirm against her grip for a moment before spotting a weakness in her legs.

An opening.

You grab her leg and pull her to the ground before taking her hands and pinning them to the ground.

“Don’t count me out yet.” You sneer as she scoffs.

“Fucker.” She mumbles as a buzzer goes off in the distance.

You immediately jump off of her and offer a hand up, which Catelyn begrudgingly takes.

“Trying to impress your girl?” She raises an eyebrow before you shove her aside.

Clove’s staring at the two of you, well, just you since Catelyn’s stepped off the mat to grab a drink of water. Her eyes immediately drift off to look elsewhere as you let out a sigh.

You wish she’d look at you longer, as much as she looked at Cato.

It’s funny, in an ironic way.

You love her.

She loves him.

And he’s paused his sparring to walk over to you.

Probably to ask you on a date or to go drinking or to go do something with romantic undertones that you don’t want to do.

So he loves you.

Catelyn had egged the two of you on before realizing that you wanted nothing more than for him to leave you alone. You didn’t want to refuse Cato’s invitations - he was the choice for a Hunger Games tribute in the near future, and that’d piss off more people than your trickiness could outmaneuver.

Perhaps running through a nearby window would be the best way to avoid him?

…And he’s right in front of you.

You glance behind him, only to see Clove's jaw tighten.

Fuck.

An invite.

“That's all he wanted?” Catelyn teases as you make your way to the place where Cato always invited you after sparring practice.

It wasn't like the two of you were going to be alone. It was a tradition for the top contenders for this year's Hunger Games to engage in a few… adult activities before the Reaping occurred. This way, the two tributes shipped off could get to enjoy a little bit of adulthood before heading to the Capital.

It wasn't anything too awful, just some cheap booze and a few blunts to pass around. Any people that passed you all by would simply look the other way - who'd want to risk being harassed by a group of teenagers?

You didn't usually partake beyond a few sips from some cheap bottle of booze - someone needed to carry Catelyn home, after all.

When the two of you slip behind a pair of buildings, a few boys around Cato's age wave you over.

“Let's get this over with.” You grumble, hoping to spend this evening without uncomfortably resting in Cato's arms.

You failed.

Horrendously.

When you arrived, Cato threw an arm around you and hasn't let you go since. You're tempted to drink more so you don't remember what he's said or done, but seeing your friend nearly face plant into a campfire has you rethinking that decision.

As if matters couldn't get any worse, Clove arrived just in time to see Cato place a kiss on your cheek. She huffs before glaring at the two of you from a fair distance away.

This time, you notice, her glare isn't directed at you.

She's glaring at him.

Catelyn's barely able to stumble forward as you throw an arm around your shoulder. She excitedly points at a lamppost and tries to point at it, but she ends up falling out of your grasp and onto the barren road.

“Catelyn, c’mon,” You try to coax your friend from the ground, but she shakes her head, “We've got to get home before sunrise.”

“Nu-uh!” She slurs, face-down in the pavement.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose until you hear footsteps come from behind you.

“Need some help?”

In all of her brazen glory, your knight-in-shining-armor (a black leather jacket, a plain t-shirt, and blue jeans), Clove, offers to help.

“If you don't mind, I know you might be busy with someone else.” You quietly say as she shakes her head.

“I wanted to take a walk to clear my head, away from everyone else.” She grabs Catelyn from the ground, who whines like a petulant child, before you hoist one of Catelyn’s arms over your shoulder.

Clove does the same, and the three of you walk in silence until a biting question slips off her tongue.

“Do you like Cato?”

“Absolutely not.” The answer leaves your lips before you can refine the words with a bit more thought. “We're friends, sure, but I don't feel anything for him.”

Relief escapes her lips as she takes a deep breath out, then in. She smiles, as do you in return.

“Good, good. I was worried that you were into him.”

“Why?” You stop, which causes Clove to stop.

“I thought- I thought I liked him, but I saw him kissing you and… I didn't like how it made me feel.” She blushes at her honesty as you bite your lip.

“If you like him, Clove, you can have him. I certainly don't want him.”

She harshly laughs before turning to look at you.

“Don't you get it? All of those times that I saw you two together, I thought I was jealous of you. Today, after seeing him draped over you, I realized that I'm jealous of him.”

Her confession leaves you breathless as you pause to consider her words.

She… likes me.

“Clove, I…” It's your turn to get nervous as you try to meet Clove’s unwavering gaze. “I really, really like you too.”

Catelyn, in a moment of drunken clarity, lifts her head up to look at the both of you before loudly sighing.

“Just kiss already, you idiots!” She lets go of the both of you to (not-so) gracefully fall on the ground as your arm finds its way around her.

You lean in to kiss her, before pausing.

“Is this okay?” You mumble, centimeters away from her lips.

A mischievous smile slips onto her face as she answers by kissing you back.

You wouldn't have many nights like this again, but this night would always be special to you.

#fanfic #the hunger games #the hunger games fanfic #the hunger games fluff #the hunger games x reader #x reader #clove kentwell fluff #clove kentwell fanfic #clove kentwell x reader #clove kentwell

20 notes · View notes

ransprang · 3 months

Text

thank you to anon for your support <3

if anyone else wants a personalized drabble this is our ko-fi

Vash x male! reader drabble - SFW

You stood on the precipice of a steep cliff as the wind made the sand swirl around your feet. You were gazing morosely at the sunset, fear and uncertainty pooling in your stomach. Only hours ago Knives had revealed your secret, and you had seen hurt cross Vash’s pretty features as he had looked at you. You don’t know how, but Knives had found out you were a plant, probably having looked into your past in his quest to free all plants. You had broken Vash’s trust, and now you might lose him as a consequence. You recognised the footsteps behind you.

“Are you upset?” You decided to break the silence.

“I just don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me earlier, y/n? That we were the same?” Vash’s startling blue eyes bore into yours. “Did you not trust me?” he added in a softer voice.

“No- I don’t know. I just couldn’t tell you. Couldn’t tell anyone. I’ve seen how plants are used, are coveted, hunted in this world. I thought it would be wonderful if I could just live as a human, even if it was just a lie.”

Vash stood in silence for a moment, “I think I can understand that. I’ve thought the same way, but I could never stay in the same place for long or Knives would come for them. I had to find a different way to live. At least I could protect and help people instead.”

You smiled ruefully, “That’s what made me follow you in the first place. You were so sure of your principles, your ideals. It was admirable.” Soft pink blush spread across Vash’s cheeks, as he fiddled with his hands.

“Are you going to leave? Now that I know?” He asked. You could hear the fear in Vash’s voice.

You turned to him, surprised. “No? Not if you and the others don’t want me to. I thought you would be upset with me, for deceiving you for so long, even though I knew what it would have meant to you.”

Vash looked introspective for a brief moment, and responded with a soft smile. “No, I understand. You didn’t hide your identity to hurt us. You’re a good person, y/n.”

You felt something unwind inside you and suddenly you felt a lot lighter.

“Good, then. I’m glad.”

“It just never occurred to me that there could be others like me and Knives on this planet. I thought we were all alone after the crash.”

You took his hand in yours. “No, not alone anymore. Never alone,” you confirmed.

Vash looks up to meet your eyes, his eyes brimming with emotion, “You’re right, my fellow plant.” You let out a hearty laugh and open your arms wide, “Come here.” As he shyly stepped closer to you, you pulled him by his mechanical arm into your embrace.

You let a moment pass in companionable silence before pulling away and asking, “You know, I thought you would have figured it out a lot sooner, after being called the ‘Plant specialist’. I mean I suspected you were a plant just days after I met you, especially whenever I saw you fight. Humans don’t move like that.”

Vash shrugged sheepishly, “I guess I’m not very observant I guess? Most independent plants are women. Being a man and all I didn’t expect you to be a plant, at all.”

You tutted. “A bit sexist of you Vash,” you teased. Vash looked panicked, “N-no that’s not what I meant-”

You put a finger up to his plump lips, “I’m joking. Relax.” Vash’s cheeks reddened as you retracted your finger and continued, “Now, you have to tell me, one plant to another. Exactly how old are you?”

Vash put his hands on his slim waist and looked up at the sky recalling his age, “It’s been way too long. Maybe 140, 150 years give or take?” You let out a noise in acknowledgement, and started to walk away from him. Vash tilted his head back down to see your form waltzing away from him. Trying to match his stride with yours he called out, “H-hey you haven’t told me your age. Y/n? Hello?”

your 150 year olds,

admins sar & san

#vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #trigun x reader #trigun stampede x reader #vash imagines #vash #vash stampede #vash trigun #trigun vash #vash the stampede #tristamp #vash x you #vash x y/n #trigun x you #trigun x y/n #vash the stampede x you #vash the stampede x y/n #trigun

21 notes · View notes

rottngdeer · 1 year

Text

Bloodsuckers — 1

Pairings || Hannibal Lecter x Vampire!female!reader x Will Graham

Part 1/?

Contents/Warnings || Cannibalism, blood, decapitation, light gore

Part 2 is here

Hannibal had found out your little secret before you found out his. You only took late-night calls, never went out during the day, and you rarely ever ate, even at his dinner parties. These little things made a little more sense the moment he saw you rip into the flesh of a man in the woods and suck all his blood out from his neck. Funny that you were both out tonight on a similar base. He stayed still and hidden, not wanting you to know he was there. You thought that you could smell him nearby, but you also knew that you were close to a murder sight you had been with him to last night. You composed yourself and left the scene, leaving the body behind.

Hannibal had used that body in his latest creation, which Jack called both you and Hannibal about the next night. Since it was 8 pm and past sunset, you headed down there. You were surprised to see the man you had drank from as part of the grotesque scene, and even more surprised to see that his head was gone. He was completely decapitated, but his head and hands were gone. Hannibal and Jack walked over to you and Jack immediately started to ramble about the body and how the Ripper was back at it again. You glanced at Hannibal, who was looking at you. The look in his eyes was different than usual, and you couldn’t pinpoint the emotion. Understanding? Curiosity? What was it?

“I’d like to invite you over for a nightcap, “Hannibal stated once you were beginning to leave about an hour after you had gotten there.

“You should get your sleep, Hannibal.“

“I insist. Don’t have me ask you twice.“

You were slightly confused, expecting him to have dropped it or made some sort of remark about your sleeping schedule. You hesitated but sighed, “Alright. I’ll follow you.“

You followed his car in yours, arriving at his house. He had you take off your coat and shoes, offering you wine and a seat. Once the two of you were settled with glasses of wine and a soft instrumental tune playing in the background, Hannibal began to speak.

“So, how old are you, Y/N?“

“32. You knew that.”

“32… so, 132? 232?“

You chuckled nervously, “What?“

“Sorry, is it older? 432 perhaps?“

You stared at him, hoping he didn’t actually know, and he was just messing with you.

“I suppose it’s rude of me to ask your age so bluntly. I apologise.“

“Where— where did you get those numbers from?“

“Well, considering that you’re a vampire, I assume that you go based off of the tens in your age as it would be the easiest.”

“A… vampire? “

“Yes. You must have known I was there last night, right? Sensed it?”

You began to stand up, but he put his hand on your knee and kept you sitting, “I won't say a word to anyone else.“

“I don’t know that for sure.”

“I’ll tell you something of mine then. A secret.“

“Nothing you tell me could possibly-“

“I’m the Chesapeake Ripper,“ He stated. “All of the missing organs, I cook for my parties and myself. I noticed that you always looked at my food like you were confused, but never ate any. I suppose your sense of smell was messed up by the number of people at the parties and all of the meat I serve. “

You laugh, “You’re lying.”

Hannibal sighed and stood up. He set his wine glass down on the table and took yours from you, also setting it down, “Follow me, my dear.“

Hannibal led you to his kitchen. He opened the freezer, pulling out a frozen chunk of meat. The neck. The neck of the man you killed last night and that was displayed in the Ripper's design. You could smell it; you could see your teeth marks.

A long silence occurred between the two of you. You were processing everything. Figuring out what to do next. Hannibal being the Chesapeake Ripper would be a lot more believable to the FBI and everyone else than you being a vampire.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t turn you in right now, “You said in a low voice.

A slight smirk appeared on Hannibal’s face, “Your saliva is all over this. Tell me why I shouldn’t hand it over to Jack, tell him I found out in your home. Frame you for the crime, which Jack would use to connect you to more Ripper crimes if he can find a loophole. And he would.”

Another silence.

“You and I would work perfectly together, don’t you think?“ He added, tilting his head slightly. You were silent, calculating if you should kill Hannibal right now.

“I know what you’re thinking. I think that you know an alliance could benefit you. And that if anything happened to me, Jack would do everything to figure out what,” He gently took your hand after putting the meat back. He led you back to where the two of you had been sitting previously, and sat down closer to you this time, almost thigh to thigh. “You’re a smart woman. I suggest you make the right decision. The only option, really.”

You knew that you would outlive him, obviously. Or you could move, leave the FBI. But you wouldn’t know how Hannibal would react to you up an leaving, taking his secret with him.

“I really don’t like you right now,” You mumbled.

“I think you’ll get over that. We’ll work well together. Too well for you to resent me for long.”

Silence for a minute before you finally spoke, “I’m actually 332. You guessed wrong.”

“My apologies. May I ask how you’ve been feeding yourself all these years? It will be helpful for me to know how you pick people out.”

He listened to you intently as you answered his question. He wanted to learn everything about you, about your life, about vampires, about your eating habits, your living conditions. And he would keep you around in any way that he could.

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #mads mikkelsen #will graham #hugh dancy #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #hannibal x y/n #hannibal au #vampire oc #vampire au

375 notes · View notes

mikalara-dracula · 1 year

Text

⚔️ Shu & Reiji fencing hcs—

Warning: 18+ content below; don't read if you're a minor and aren't comfortable with this topic and slight NSFW. This is a fictional work and should not be taken seriously.

Caution: Unfortunately, Tumblr has a history of admins quarreling over completing carbon copy asks due to users sending the same request(s) to multiple admins, thus, resulting in unintentional plagiarism. With this, please DO NOT send the same request to multiple blogs as it can cause unintended plagiarism discord to other blogs across Tumblr. The word “plagiarism” stems from the early 17th-century Latin word, “plagiarius,” meaning “kidnapper.” So please, do not send in the same request to multiple blogs and make admins appear to be “kidnapping” other people’s work when it isn’t their intention. If this is to occur with any of my posts, please contact me so we can work something out.

I suppose if anyone’s been in the DL fandom long enough, they’ll know that both Shu and Reiji have swordsmanship skills under their belts.

So @liannelara-dracula and I thought we’d make hcs about this concept.

So here we go. :)

Question: Who do you think is a better swordfighter? We'd love to know your thoughts. :)

References to fencing:

Parry positions

Sword types

Target areas

- Shu -

⚔️ He’s unfairly skilled and leans more towards having a natural talent for this.

⚔️ He makes it look so effortless too, which is really infuriating to opponents, especially if Reiji’s his opponent.

⚔️ Shu probably started training when he was around nine or ten in physical age (it’s hard to tell how old everyone is due to them being vampires in DL).

⚔️ Beatrix thought it would be necessary for her precious heir to be skilled in fencing since it is a royal-like hobby/skill.

⚔️ Plus, what’s a prince without swordsmanship skills?

⚔️ So with this, Shu followed a pretty paced schedule everyday regarding training—two hours everyday after he finished his studies.

⚔️ In fact, sometimes Beatrix would push him harder than the instructor would since she expected so much from him. This was mostly to flex and show off to Cordelia that Shu was better than her triplets.

⚔️ Beatrix was quite strict about his training and there were no exceptions for him to miss it.

⚔️ He usually wouldn’t as a kid, but as he got older, he started to skip or find excuses to not attend these training sessions.

⚔️ It eventually got to the point where Beatrix found out about his ‘slackery’ and scolded him for it time after time again since he persisted to do it.

⚔️ And you can best bet that these arguments always encompassed the fact of him being the “heir” and that he was supposed to “act like one.”

⚔️ But of course, Shu had tactics of his own to counter his mom’s attacks by spouting one excuse to the next.

⚔️ To cover his ass well enough, Shu at one point even came up with the excuse that he just didn’t like the teacher he had for fencing.

⚔️ So with this, Beatrix quickly found him a new teacher who also happened to have a daughter that assisted him in teaching.

⚔️ There were times where the instructor asked his daughter to be Shu’s opponent whenever he had to step out of the sparring room or just to give Shu a different opponent.

⚔️ And with this, there was quite an attraction between the instructor’s daughter and Shu—all that attraction building from distant glances and the tension rising with each clash of their swords as they dueled, lust conspiring heavily as they met face to face, their swords being the only barrier preventing their desire.

⚔️ Okay, enough with the poetry—through all that tension they ended up sleeping together.

⚔️ They started to pursue each other for a while in secret as a fling, but that was all until Beatrix found out of her son’s sexual escapades and fired the instructor and his daughter as a result.

⚔️ Anyways, going back to his fencing style.

⚔️ His favorite sword to use is probably an Epee blade because he's able to score points by having the tip of the blade touch any part of his opponent. It's just easier and it doesn't limit him.

⚔️ However, he does have to deal with the fact that it is the heaviest type of sword in fencing, but it doesn't bother him.

⚔️ Plus his vampire strength does help so it's probably not as heavy to him compared to a human. He just prefers to not have limitations when it comes to scoring against an opponent.

⚔️ Will fight dirty if he's fencing his s/o or one of his brothers.

⚔️ Like, he'll be a total ass.

⚔️ If he's sparing his s/o and they don't know shit about fencing, he'll make up rules about how to spar.

⚔️ Such as telling them they missed or that their attack didn't count when it did, or he'll point out something that'll totally distract them.

⚔️ "Oh look! A bird." He'd say to throw them off guard.

⚔️ "What? Where?" And here, he'd take the opportunity to score a point through them being distracted, or even come towards them, cup their cheeks and pull them in for an unexpected kiss.

⚔️ Or if he really wants to be an ass, if by any chance his s/o turns around when they're distracted, he'll either have the tip of the sword touch their ass or he'll just come up behind them and clutch it.

⚔️ Loves pulling dirty moves on his s/o too, such as tripping them and then catching them before they fall, just so he can have the excuse of having them in his arms.

⚔️ He sometimes likes to practice fencing outside in the mansion’s courtyard/garden just to change scenery or even by the lake.

⚔️ Has ended up sparring some of his opponents to the point that they fell into the lake. And Reiji just so happened to be in this position once lol.

⚔️ His fencing style is a rather unusual and unpredictable style but it happens to work for him.

⚔️ Always likes to leave himself open for his opponent to strike, but this is honestly a big trap.

⚔️ He likes to make it look like he's being careless by being open when in reality he's not.

⚔️ So the minute his opponent tries to score, he immediately parries, moves in an unexpected direction, and strikes.

⚔️ Essentially, he likes to take on his opponent in unexpected ways in order to score and it works every time.

⚔️ A signature move of Shu's is probably thrust (oh lord, good luck not getting any lewd ideas there lmao).

⚔️ Anyways, this is essentially one of basic moves that allow one to launch towards their opponent aggressively, so kinda like a powerful attack.

⚔️ He may like to fool his opponents, but beware that when he attacks he goes hard, like really hard.

⚔️ His favorite parry position is probably neuvieme since it allows him to block attacks coming from above and potentially make his opponent lose their grip on their sword since it's vulnerable due to being up high.

- Reiji -

⚔️ Tbh, Reiji didn’t start fencing out of will or because of Beatrix pushing him.

⚔️ Sad as it was, he only started to prove a point—that he could surpass Shu in something.

⚔️ So with this, Reiji began his training and strove to be better than his older counterpart.

⚔️ And tbh, Reiji sucked at first and found himself having a really hard time with fencing.

⚔️ It took him a good while to establish a grip he was comfortable with whereas Shu held it a certain way from the start and never changed since he found it to his liking.

⚔️ Reiji studied each movement piece by piece and really took his time into not only memorizing movements, but also into calculating how his opponents would move based on how they looked.

⚔️ Don’t ask me how he did that.

⚔️ Because Reiji sought to be better than Shu, he challenged himself to master the foil sword, which one can only score points if the tip of the sword touches an opponent's torso.

⚔️ Definitely not as easy as the Epee sword that Shu prefers, but foil swords are the lightest in fencing, so there's a plus.

⚔️ And you can best bet he has pushed and tried over and over to surpass Shu in regard to skill—down to every little detail.

⚔️ But no matter how hard he tried, he never felt satisfied, especially since Beatrix always preferred Shu and found his fencing skills to be better.

⚔️ If he’s sparing Shu, he does not go easy on him at all.

⚔️ Like, he doesn’t hold back.

⚔️ And there was a time when both of them went at it.

⚔️ The match started out fine, but that was until they started smack talking each other when one scored a point against the other and then the smack reverted to bringing shit up about the past and then it officially turned ugly.

⚔️ It went from intense sword clashing, to slashing each other’s uniforms and then dropping the swords and resorting to fists.

⚔️ It got so bad that it took two directeurs to pry them apart, and it took more than one try for the directeurs to be successful.

⚔️ As for fighting style, Reiji is pretty predictable, but bear in mind that this mf is fast---lighting fast.

⚔️ Like, his opponent barely has time to think about what move he'll pull next because he's so fast.

⚔️ Reiji loves lunging--it's probably his favorite but also signature move since he spent so much time mastering it. He loves this move because it allows him to launch at his opponent and show what he's capable of.

⚔️ As for parry positions, he likes getting into pronation prime since it allows him a great amount of protection from getting struck by his opponent.

⚔️ Also likes using quarte when parrying because it allows him to block his opponent in a different direction and gives him more control when doing so.

⚔️ Reiji doesn’t give his opponent a break when sparing. He so unfair.

⚔️ Like if his s/o is sparing him, he’ll literally keep poking them with the tip of the sword just to tease them and will just laugh as they tell him to stop.

⚔️ Fuckin’ ass.

#diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers headcanons #shu sakamaki #shuu sakamaki #sakamaki shu #sakamaki shuu #diabolik lovers shu #diabolik lovers shuu #reiji sakamaki #sakamaki reiji #diabolik lovers reiji #anime #anime requests #anime headcanons #diaboys #dialovers #diahell #diabolik brothers

200 notes · View notes

sotwk · 1 year

Text

The Story of Thranduil's Great Losses

My overarching theory about Elvenking’s broken heart is that he actually lost multiple family members over the course of the Third Age, in events borne about by the spawning of evils from Dol Guldur and the resurgence of the orcs in lands close to Mirkwood.

However, the biggest loss that hit him hardest was that of his beloved wife. Prior to being softened by marriage and fatherhood, Thranduil must have been a bit difficult to get along with. Based on his portrayal in the The Hobbit trilogy, we can picture him as arrogant, cocky, snobbish, stubborn, impatient, hot-tempered, and carrying the emotional and mental damages of war. Remember that he witnessed the Sacking of Doriath, one or potentially two Kinslayings, the War of Wrath, and likely one or two of the great Elven wars in the mid Second Age. (I’m not listing the War of the Last Alliance here because I think he was already married at that point.) Essentially, he was a grumpy, battle-hardened soldier who just wanted to live the rest of his life on Middle-earth in peace and free of care.

Eventually, he met an elleth who not only saw the goodness and kindness behind these flaws, but helped him temper his demons. She understood and respected his desires but also inspired him to fulfill his potential as a great ruler. With their union, they helped each other grow and under their rule the Woodland Realm flourished and thrived for about a thousand years into the Third Age.

And then, sometime around TA 1000, the Necromancer (aka Sauron) came to Amon Lanc and set up shop, turning it into the cesspool that is Dol Guldur. Thranduil’s blissful existence began to crumble from then on, slowly but surely.

Almost two thousand years later, he was still working hard to serve his people and sustain his kingdom which was being plagued by the Necromancer’s evils, even after he'd lost the beautiful home he and his wife built together and raised their children in. In his fight against the Enemy, he lost dear friends and even his own children (who, or how many, I will not say, because I have yet to write those stories!). The fact that an estranged Legolas was the one left remaining to him by the events of The Hobbit speaks to the extent of his personal losses.

After TWO THOUSAND years of enduring this decline, injury, and strife, can you imagine what a blow it was to him when, due to one weak, unguarded moment, Thranduil failed to protect his Queen and she died?

How did it happen?

Honestly, I am still working out the specifics in order to write a story about it, but in the meantime, I have some notes to share.

If we choose to subscribe to The Hobbit movie’s claim that the Elvenqueen died in Gundabad, (which I do, loosely, in my own headcanon history for the SOTWK series I am building), a logical time when this might have occurred was in TA 2793 during the War of the Dwarves and Orcs and the Second Sacking of Gundabad.

My belief is that the Elvenqueen was not a fighter, because her husband was already a renowned warrior who commanded a formidable army, and a more practical and fitting role for her would be that of a healer, ready to tend to her King and sons should they suffer injury. Elves who are healers generally avoid combat, because as Tolkien’s “Laws and Customs of the Eldar” states: “the dealing of death, even when lawful or under necessity, diminished the power of healing” (from “The History of Middle Earth").

Details of about how the Elvenqueen’s death occurred include my following assumptions: (Bear with me, because a few are leaps and stretches of imagination, although still logical in my mind.)

The Elvenqueen was Noldorin and a dwarf-friend, similar to Celebrimbor or Elrond (in Rings of Power). Since dwarves helped build the underground halls as seen in The Hobbit, a congenial relationship must have existed between Thranduil’s house and the dwarves of Durin’s Folk. I believe the Queen was the source of this, being a friend to Thrain I (ancestor of Thorin Oakenshield).

In TA 2770, when Smaug besieged Erebor and turned the Dwarves into nomads, Thranduil refused to give them aid (for reasons I can discuss at a later time--but I have a theory for this too!). At the time, the Elvenqueen was residing elsewhere and was unable to prevent this.

Twenty years later: Wanting to make up for past mistakes, the Elvenqueen persuaded her reluctant King to send a portion of their army to fight on the Dwarves’ side, arguing that the orcs are also their people’s sworn enemy. (Does the argument sound familiar? Maybe that’s why Thranduil found Tauriel so aggravating!)

The Elvenqueen accompanied Thranduil to the first assembly of the forces, to facilitate the interactions between her hot-headed husband and a still-angry Thrain II (Thorin’s dad).

After a few battles had been fought and won, Thranduil convinced his wife to return home. She was to be escorted by Elven warriors and taken by a safe route provided by the Dwarves, but due to either betrayal or faulty intelligence, the Elvenqueen was instead ambushed and captured by orcs and taken to Gundabad.

Learning of this, Thranduil rode to her rescue and engaged the forces of Gundabad in battle. But his efforts were in vain because the Queen had already been slain; the orcs had no intention of returning her and had merely tried to set a trap. All Thranduil found was her lifeless body, and he never had a chance to say goodbye.

It was Thranduil’s rage that cleansed Gundabad of orcs during that war. (Take his fight scenes in the movies and multiply by the fury of a thousand suns.) However, once this was done, he took his army home, refusing to continue fighting the rest of the six-year war. He blamed the Dwarves’ negligence for his wife’s death, which led to the open hostility between his and Thrain/Thorin’s houses.

Thranduil’s anger was so well known (and feared), that Dain Ironfoot (who wasn’t even there!) later made the movie claim “he wishes nothing but ill upon my people” and called Thranduil a “faithless woodland sprite”, in reference to him not completing his participation in the war.

At the time of the Elvenqueen’s death, Legolas was already over 2,000 years old, so when Legolas tells Tauriel “there is no memory”, he means a grieving Thranduil likely discouraged any mention of his dead wife in his presence, songs of her are not widely sung, and images/memorials of her are scarce. “There is no grave” could mean that she was perhaps buried somewhere secret, not easily accessible, or not a typical resting place for elves. Thranduil's grief was just too deep to bear this.

#thranduil #thranduil fanart #thranduil oropherion #king thranduil #thranduil fanfiction #the elvenking #legolas #thranduil wife #the elvenqueen #the hobbit #lee pace #thranduil headcanon #lotr headcanon

137 notes · View notes