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chrollohearttags · 3 months

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snooze • portgas d. ace

your boyfriend can’t sleep unless you’re by his side..for many reasons.

sleepy/sonmo sex, hints of free use, modern au, black fem reader, early morning quickie, creampie, nipple play, teasing, him whimpering a lot :(, just some domestic, soft smut, pet names used

word count: 2.0K

📝: as you all can see, my brainrot for this man has become so god awful, I fear it will take a shovel to dig me out of these trenches. But I love it here! (also, the title is not based off of the song by any means.)

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2:15AM…

night had long fell cast over the sky..faint inklings of stars littered the black backdrop as tiny white dots. The vibrant moon illuminating the entirety of the sleepless city as the daily bustle of blaring car horns and menial chatter has slowed to the sounds of a few cars either heading home or starting the day early. Through the window of the third story apartment where you resided..shined a single beam of light on two sleeping bodies. Entangled in the warmth of the sheets on the chilly winter night..underneath, limbs intertwined as you enjoyed the bliss of sweet slumber..

“Mmmph..”

faint mumbles arose as they vibrated against the crook of your neck. Your boyfriend’s face was nuzzled between the crevice of your neck as he shuffled around in his sleep. His muscular, inked up forearms coiled around your waist with his hands placed to your abdomen; holding you close to him. Nowhere else in the world that either of you would rather have been..it was paradise, an absolute dream..and for your doting, sweet man..he was enjoying it quite a bit! The friction of his lower half rubbing against your backside; gently rutting his hips into your plump flesh as to not ruffle too much but make you subtly aware of his intentions. Those hands eventually roamed from your waist and tummy to the top of your body, resting idly on your breasts. He seemed restless, for a better lack of terms. Although he probably slept more than the average person due to his narcolepsy, Ace did have his weaknesses. For example, he couldn’t be at peace unless you were plastered to his side. You were his comfort, his peace and he couldn’t function unless you were right there. But alas, it wasn’t the only reason he enjoyed lying next to you every night..it definitely had its other perks. Just like at that moment, where he was toiling with the lace on your short silk teddy. The one that barely even covered your ass as you walked away..the one that had his mind straying to less than savory thoughts when you were awake. It couldn’t be helped..your body was an absolute work of art that he could admire for hours on end and never grow tired. Neither one of your eyes were open; still far too exhausted to do so, but he’d slowly feel you up as you laid there quietly. Running his fingertips along the delicate portions of your skin, still muttering and eventually, leaving gentle pecks on your shoulder blade. “Baby…” the only thing he managed to get out before muttering against your neck once more.

Meanwhile, you could still feel his pelvis bumping against you..naturally, you didn't hesitate to meet him halfway. It was obvious that neither of you were going to truly be able to rest until you achieved your mutual goal. Because truth be told, when you couldn’t doze off the way you wanted or your body wanted craved more than just sleep to replenish it, there was only one way to quell that urge:

“..need you so bad..”

hell, it was all the more fun when you pretended to be fully asleep..giving him full fledged permission to use your body when he saw fit. Taking claim to it when he was ready. Sometimes, you loved it when he woke you up with his cock nestled deeply inside of you or vice versa, when your pretty little lips, wrapped around his shaft, drove him out of slumber. It was easy to surmise that he was going to take advantage of said consent..made things all the more sexier. Still mumbling, you’d begin to whine very faintly as you felt the covering of your top be pulled down and your nipples exposed to the cool air. They were erect and sensitive to the touch. Practically writhing each time he so much as even brushed them. By this time, you were also wiggling your hips and bogging yourself onto his crotch. It was clear that things were about to intensify and neither of you wanted to put a halt to this little charade either.

2:30AM…

“..you’re so wet, baby..this all f’r me?’ His words seem to have fallen on deaf ears but he could tell by your physical reaction, that wasn’t the case..you were clutching the sheets far too tight for someone that couldn’t feel a thing. You were only becoming more and more aroused by the minute..that silky slick coating his fingertips. Meanwhile, you could feel his bulge pressing against your cheeks..so swollen, it were as if he’d burst any minute. “Don’t be shy, you can tell me..” a faint chuckle rising among his deep voice, rattling off whilst he held you close. This man had talked you through many orgasms with that heavy tone of his and he knew how much you loved when he spoke to you all quietly like this. “That’s okay..I know what you need..” he was very much vocal and yet, he was still seemingly asleep. His eyes still shut!..but it wouldn’t remain that way for long because as Ace reached down to tug at his waistband, removing his cock from its confines, (y/n) very subtly hoisted your leg, assuring him that you wanted this just as badly..taking the hint, he’d clutch your waist and pull you towards him, smacking that tip to that warm, juicy slit of yours. Almost as if his senses were incredibly heightened..his mind constructing a roadmap of your beautiful body and no vision was needed. A giant smirk lay plastered across his face. He couldn’t wait to be inside of you.. “Let me have you, please..fuck..” that once deep voice becoming desperate and whimpering in a high pitched wail; that mushroom tip aching and leaking with the absolute need to be fill your hole. To take claim of your special spot only the way he knew how.. “..shit..” “..mmph!” Simultaneously reactions from each of you. It seemed that you could no longer maintain your silent charade and he could no longer fight those insatiable urges..and both of you were ready to fuck until your bodies truly tired out beyond repair. The kind that would undoubtedly put you right back to sleep..

2:40AM

sounds of clashing flesh ricocheted around the room, the clapping noises of his pelvis colliding with your heavy asscheeks as he pounded into you. A cusped hand stationed around your throat to keep you reigned in when you began to pull away from the strokes he was feeding your greedy cunt. Unable to quell his whiny cries because of the sensation. He’d never felt anything like it! So warm and silky..it was a miracle he hadn’t gotten you pregnant yet..constantly finding it hard to pull out once he was inside of you. Rutting into you like a pathetic pup rutting his pillow. A sheath of wetness forming from the constant thrusting..and his earlier teasing. “Oh fuck, you’re so tight, baby..pussy’s so fucking good..” the sweet nothings rattled off into your ear with his dick nestled deep between your folds.. “..shit! Right there..so good..” heavy huffs breathing down your neck whilst he persisted. Pulling you even closer, Ace tilted your head back slightly to lace your jawline and throat with sloppy pecks. It was absolute bliss if you’ve ever felt it. “I love you..love you so fucking much, baby. Thank you for letting me wake you up like this..” a faint chuckle arising from between his moans. It was blatantly clear to see that he was enjoying this little early morning rendezvous more than you could imagine. “I love you—oh fuck!…’s too much..'' crying out with your hand smacking the mattress and clutching the sheets. Your legs shook violently and all you could do was withstand the sensation of that thick, throbbing cock bottoming out inside of you. Sometimes, it was a miracle if you could fit it all..he was so lengthy as well and you’d oftentimes find yourself begging him to take some out around the five inch mark. “Aw, baby..you’re so small. Just makes stretching you out all the more fun..” referencing not your body type, but rather that pretty pussy..regardless of how many times you two had sex, you still managed to wrap around and squeeze him to no end. Cream slathered all down the entrance and he would lean up to examine the mess, along with the ripple of your thick ass via the moonlight..

2:48AM

“F-fuck..gonna come, daddy..please!”

“Ooh, I love when you call me that..are you gonna let go f’r me, sweetheart?”

Still lying on your side with your leg hoisted high, he’d continue going..even teasing your clit to add to the euphoric feeling. Both of your eyes had peeled wide open and there was no halting this passionate round of love making. The name causes a throbbing sensation to rattle off inside of you as his cock twitches yet again.

“So let me see that pretty face when you do, baby. Come on, let it out—“ amid the resuming of his deep strokes, Ace would coddle your face in his palm, sweet talking you through that impending orgasm. Spinning your face around to meet his own. He was always such a kind and attentive lover. Making certain that you got yours long before his own. His true satisfaction lies in seeing you grip the sheets and call out his name. It didn’t take long before he was granted his wish and you were heaving as that orgasm came barreling out of that entrance and splattering his thighs as he fucked it out of you slowly. Emitting gentle streams with each thrust until you couldn’t spill another drop.

“Aww, good girl..good girl..you’re squirting. So fucking wet..I love it.”

you’d find yourself caught in another kiss shortly thereafter; passionately and slowly…but that wasn’t the end of this. He needed to keep going until he had nothing else left to offer..until you were filled to the brim with every last drop of him. “Nnnngh!..” “I know, pretty..I know..but you’re doing such a good job..I don’t wanna stop.” Growling and laughing in your ear as his strokes became a lot rougher and more sporadic. He was nearing his peak. That much was evident by the way his nails dug into the flesh of your hip. Met with the recoil of your thick ass each time. You were squeezing him so tight, he could barely withstand it. So with a couple more sharp, pounding thrusts, you’d find your boyfriend clutching onto your skin and drilling until you felt it all come to an abrupt halt.. “f..fuck!..hold still, baby. I’m so close—“ a mere few seconds later, you’d feel his movements cease but those hot, thick ropes of cum pouring into your womb. Filling you up with every ounce of his seed until he couldn’t go any further. Whimpering and crying out for you in the process. Begging you to let him breed you..and once he finished, Ace would remain inside of that tight cunt, stroking the side of your face and marking your temple with light kisses.

“That was perfect, sweetheart..”

“Yeah..thank you, baby..”

3:00AM

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luvjunie · 11 months

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— sleepover

pairing: e-1610!miles x fem!reader

contains: fluffff! jeff and rio being realistic parents, miles being stubborn per usual

summary: miles’ parents finally agreed to letting the two of you have a sleepover, on one condition. however, miles was never the best at following directions. wc: 1,630

New york. The city that never sleeps.

The faint murmuring of bustling cars and the habitual honking of horns seeped through the tight seal of the shut apartment window; ironic in the way it somehow lulled you. An imperfect melody you welcomed—also the same one deemed a nuisance by those foreign to the chaos that naturally assimilated to comfort the longer you remained in Brooklyn. It usually helped you slip into a slumber with ease—but now— was succeeding in its attempt of doing the exact opposite.

And when you heard Miles expel a weighted, disgruntled sigh; you were led to believe the two of you had more in common with each other apart from the fact that you both lived here.

After weeks and weeks of begging, and endless explanations as to why exactly he needed his girlfriend to sleep over when they wouldn’t even get to utilize the time spent together because they were supposed to be asleep, Miles had finally convinced his mom and dad to let the two of you have a sleepover.

Fun, right?

Yeah, well you thought it’d be. Until his mom insisted the two of you bring your pillows and blankets and fantasies of your life as a matured couple to the living room and sleep out there. Six feet away from each other. You guys were practically social distancing like it was 2019 all over again.

The curt reasoning she offered included something about her not wanting the two of you in his room alone at night; not that she thought her son would actually be dumb enough to do anything along those lines with her in the house. You loved Mama Rio, but even if you didn’t, it wouldn’t matter. This was her house, and that meant you had to follow her rules. The fact that you were even able to come over as much as you did was a blessing in itself, so you took everything else in stride.

Miles let you take the couch of course, and he was currently sprawled out on his back on the floor, a pillow tucked beneath his head as he studied the minuscule cracks in the ceiling as if they truly interested him. Scrolling through his instagram timeline had gotten old fairly quickly, and at 1:00AM in the morning, neither of you were really motivated enough for conversation.

You were more than grateful to spend a night with your boyfriend, but this wasn’t necessarily how you expected it to go. Whenever you guys would hang out during normal hours of the day, you’d always end up in his embrace, curled and cuddled into each other comfortably. Whatever movie or tv-show you’d put on in the background begging for the same attention you’d give each other. After growing used to such a routine, that was really the only way you could fall asleep at his house.

But alas, holding your pillow close to you instead of him would have to suffice, you decided, as you let your eyes close once again.

“Baby?” Miles called out into the darkness, lip chewed in anticipation.

Silence.

He’d said only a word but you knew better than to engage. A conversation would end up with the two of you in trouble in the morning, so you pretended to be asleep.

“I know you’re awake. I counted exactly three seconds between your last two breaths and when you’re asleep it slows down to five.”

You stifled a laugh, ultimately blowing your cover. “Okay, now that’s just creepy.”

“People who are asleep don’t laugh!” he quipped.

A smile snuck onto your lips and you hadn’t the heart to reprimand it, lids peeling back open to stare up at the same ceiling he was.

“Yes, Miles?”

“Can you not fall asleep either, or have I become an insomniac all of a sudden?” The question came with a sigh, long arms spread to their full wingspan as he tried to count how many full rotations the ceiling fan made in a minute. That was how bored he was.

You sighed disappointedly, toying with the frayed tassels on your blanket. A moue on your face. “No, I can’t fall asleep either.”

“I think I know why.” he sung the last word in suggestion, hands absentmindedly drumming against his abdomen.

“Miles,” you warned, letting your head fall to the side so you could stare at the top of his head and address him directly. “Your mom gave very specific instructions, and personally, I would like to return home to mine with my head still on my shoulders.” grumbling your response, you shoved down the urge to invite him up there with you like your mind was telling you to.

He propped himself up on an elbow at that, eyes immediately making contact with yours. Your first mistake was not looking away, because those pretty pools of hazel were already starting to convince you and he hadn’t even opened his mouth yet.

“But how is that fair?” he complained, sounding exasperated. “We take naps together all the time when you’re here, I just wanna cuddle with you.” he sulked, as if you were the one who’d come up with the rule. Never in a million years would you submit the both of you to this kind of torture. You loved falling asleep in his arms.

You rolled your eyes at him, “Well, yeah. But that’s during the day, when she can check on us anytime she wants to. I don’t think your mom wants us that close to each other at night for,” The last part of your sentence faded to a jumbled murmur as your gaze traveled back to the ceiling. “…obvious reasons.”

He impishly raised a brow as if he didn’t know what you were referring to, chin resting in the palm of his hand. With only the faded lights of the city to illuminate the living room, the cheeky smile on his face went unnoticed, though you could hear it in the tone of his voice, loud and clear.

“And what reasons are those?” Miles asked, feigning innocence. His long lashes blinking at you.

Hand smacking to your forehead, you recited a silent prayer, a plea for strength. It was beginning to look like you weren’t going to get yourself out of this. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

His hand gestured to the air, plainly. “Well obviously. But still, we’re not dumb. That’s why I always take you to the roof when we—“

“Miles Gonzalo Morales do not finish that sentence!”

He snorted at the squeak of your voice and you used your pillow to hide your heated face.

“This is not going to help us fall asleep.” your irritated statement was muffled from the fabric of the pillowcase.

He hummed. “Exactly, meaning there’s only one thing left to try.” Slow to catch on, you didn’t realize what he meant until you felt the couch dip from the weight of his knee.

A hand trickled up the exposed skin of your thigh and it stopped when it met your sleep-shorts clad hip, the pillow snatched from your face and tossed onto the floor where he previously resided just a second ago.

“What are you—?”

He hovered over you, one hand pressed into the cushion beside your waist to hold himself up. Your question fell short when he swiftly parted your legs with his other hand and comfortably slotted his body between your thighs. A relieved sigh escaped him, his cheek nuzzling into the soft of your chest when he laid on top of you. His favorite way to cuddle.

“Shhh, trying to sleep.” murmuring a dismissive answer to your query, he let his eyes flutter to a close and snaked his arms around your waist, forearms cradling the curve of your back.

Contrary to the fight you were putting up just a minute ago— your arm curled over the expanse of his shoulders, fingers idly twirling at the baby curls that dusted the nape of his neck, something you always did to help him fall asleep faster. He let out a low, satisfied sound and relaxed into you completely, his hold on you tightening. While a part of you wanted to protest, an even bigger part wanted to remain under him like this. His weight was comforting; made you feel secure in the way a weighted blanket did.

“Your mom is not going to be happy with us.” you reminded him, stretching your other arm down enough to grab your blanket and pull it up over the two of you.

“It’s worth it. I’ll happily take the blame,” he drawled sleepily, snuggling in closer to the kiss that grazed his forehead. “I love you…” The laggard pace to his words let you know he was already dozing off, and you smiled, fatigue finally catching up with you too.

“I love you, Miles.”

— extra scene

Jeff stood in silence, arms folded over his broad chest and lips puckered awkwardly. Rio occupied the space next to him, hands perched on her wide hips, fingers tapping against them and her jaw clenched in disapproval. Her expression was everything but amused at the scene in front of them. He stole a tactful glance at his wife every two seconds, silently trying to gauge how irritated she was without having to ask her.

Sometime during the night you and Miles had switched places, and now his lanky legs were draped over the arm of the small couch and you were on top of him, clung to his body like a wet T-shirt, face barely visible seeing as it was nestled into the crook of his neck. With his mouth hanging slack as he loftily snored, Rio felt her eye almost twitch while she stared down at her stubborn son, who seemed to have magically teleported from his assigned spot on the floor and into yours instead.

“Well, I coulda told’ya that would happen.” Jeff said quietly with a laid-back shrug, to which Rio responded with a back-handed swat to his chest.

“Ow!”

Through her aggravation she still kept her voice low as to not wake the two of you, eyes narrowed at her husband. “I am going to strangle this boy, Jeff. Dios ayudame. ¡Tu hijo nunca escucha! (God help me, your son never listens!)” she griped, gesturing towards Miles’ arm that was loosely circled around your waist. She tramped down the hall, hands tossed up in defeat while she grumbled something incoherent under her breath.

Lips downturned into an offended frown, Jeff coddled his chest with his palm and followed after her, voice kicked up an octave like a nagging child. “Why is he only my son when he does something you don’t like? We made him together!”

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms!

likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated 💗

#junie’s works ᥫ᭡#across the spiderverse #1610 miles morales #miles morales #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales fluff #miles morales x black!reader #miles morales x fem!reader #miles morales x you #across the spiderverse fanfiction

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mkscatgirl · 2 years

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Actually speaking of eye contact I have made a weird amount of DIRECT eye contact with my crush the last few days

#like i was thinking recently that i didnt actually know his eye colour cause i never make legit eye contact #but then yesterday we made a bunch and there was a specific moment last night were i was like this is A LOT #so like theres a guitar in the phys common room and we kept our stuff in that room when we went to the Halloween party #anyways thats not important when we got back into the room to get out stuff we started talking about some stuff and then my crush started #playing the guitar in there because he can and like other people were talking so they werent really paying attention but i was cause of #of course i was teehee anyways he like figured out how to play the opening of roundabout aka the outro of jjba #and then he was like you know what this is? 👀 and i was like omg YEAH! and then as he played it he just like made eye contact???? like th #the WHOLE time????? like he only looked away once for a second to double check his fingers but it was like a solid 5 to 10 seconds of just #pure direct eye contact WHILE hes playing the guitar which i thought was crazy #and also today when we were talking about phil stuff he was explaining a concept and again we made like Eye Contact where he only looked a #away to the other people like once briefly and then right back to me and it felt weirdly disproportionate #but maybe thats because i was looking too intensely or smth???? idk how that works i barely understand eye contact to begin with #but like i dont think i was being weird he was the one talking so i was looking at him thats called Active Listening #but also i need to take every thought i have in regards to him with MANY grains of salt because naturally i will be very biased LOL #anyways i need to STOP talking and instead go to sleep or at least try (AGAIN) because i need to be up in 7 hours because i DO WANT TO go #to my phys lectures but alas i have cant fall asleep and thus am sleepy in the morning disease #and my phys elective course is much less important than the essential math course afterwards #so id rather be more rested in math and have to read phys lecture slides than be TIRED and miserable through both classes

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pterribledinosaurdrawings · 11 days

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Was it you that made the "how to sew a nice thing comic?

this one?

yes, that's an old one from before I had a tablet and (unfortunately) from before I started putting watermarks on them.

OH ALSO! speaking of watching sewing a nice thing videos, I would like to mention that I have my own sewing youtube channel now!

I am quite slow at making videos, but there are so many I want to make. If you've ever watched a sewing video and gone "Hey, wait, you're glossing over too many details, how did you do that? Oh, if only this video had more autism in it!" then you might like these ones, because I do my very best to explain every little thing as clearly as I can! Which is why it took me 22 minutes to say everything I had to say about basic 18th century hand sewn buttonholes, and an entire hour to cover making 2 pairs of gloves.

I'm working on a very very long one right now, and I've been posting monthly updates on Patreon. I started the patreon for the dinosaurs, and I still do 4 extra dinos a month there, but now I'm also doing monthly progress posts on whatever video stuff I've been working on. Quite a disjointed sort of patreon, alas.

#ask #sewing #youtube

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2btheanswertothequestion · 1 year

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(part 2 of November Paramedic; part 1 is here.)

Steve's honey-sweet eyes, gleaming with confidence, ask 'why don't you take a bite?'

His pink mouth, deliciously curved, wonders 'don't you want a taste?'

His dark chest hair, leading a mouthwatering path down his pants, says 'you know you want to'.

And Eddie does. He really does. He would, if Steve was actually here. Alas, all Eddie has is the calendar photo currently staring at him from where it's propped on Eddie's dresser, and he's not biting into it. It's the only one he's got, you see; he won't be ruining it with bite marks and drool due to his intrusive thoughts.

If he had a copy machine close at hand, though? If he could make as many pictures as he'd possibly want? Oho, watch out, Slobbertown!

It's been one week since Steve the sexy paramedic revealed himself to be a real person and not just a dude in a softcore porn calendar. One week since he Florence Nightingale'd Eddie before vanishing in a flurry of bloody gauze and blinking blue lights, leaving both Eddie and Gareth breathless.

(Though in Gareth's case, it was due to laughing so hard he choked on himself.)

The calendar doesn't do it for him anymore. Don't misunderstand – he still uses it when beating the meat. In fact, it has exclusively become his primary masturbatory aid, and it has served him especially well the past few days. The moment those 48 hours were over and Gareth left, Eddie chucked off his sweatpants and went to, well, Slobbertown. But it's not the same anymore. How could it be, when he knows the real Steve's hair smells like a meadow and his aftershave like lemon and spice? When he's felt the pressure of Steve's fingertips on his jaw? When he's seen the faint scar running down Steve's chin from his mouth? When he can still hear Steve's voice use his name, give him orders, call him 'sir'?

It's impossible. Fuck, just whenever Eddie closes his eyes Steve's face appears, as vividly as if it happened yesterday. Of course, that might have something to do with Eddie already having made himself oh so familiar with Steve's face, and chest, and hands, and… everything else, for the past two years. Jesus damn it, if he knew this was where he'd end up he never would've bought the calendar in the first place.

Groaning, he throws himself back on his bed; then he shouts as his head thumps into the wall. Typical. He rubs at the spot to soothe it. No bump, though it hurts like a bitch. Pain (and suspicion he just aggravated the previous head injury) aside, he's comfortable, thus he sprawls out and stares at the ceiling as planned.

He's been distracted. He knows that because literally everyone has been on his case about it. Gareth gives him smug smiles that have turned alarmingly calculated as the week has passed. Jeff and Marv, having been filled in by Gareth, are rather more amused in a benign way. His boss almost sent him home to recuperate after catching him staring into space for the third time. Uncle Wayne noticed something was off through the phone. And Max has been giving him weird looks.

Ah, little Max. The only person in the complex who doesn't steer clear of him. She doesn't actually know what went down – not completely. She knows he got injured, because she caught him and Gareth as they stumbled home while she was exiting her apartment to toss the trash. Her sharp eyes zeroed in on the plaster, and on Eddie's arm that was slung over Gareth's shoulders for support (at Gareth's insistence).

"You got in a fight?" she asked.

With a grin he'd exclaimed, "Battle? You know me better than that! Nay, I did my utmost to escape the violence... but the ruffian got to me regardless."

"Huh. You okay?"

Gareth had rolled his eyes. "He's fine. I mean, listen to him."

"Don't worry about me, Red." Eddie tapped his own head. "This ol' noggin is harder than it looks."

A corner of her mouth twisted up, though if it was in amusement he couldn't tell in the dim hallway. They ought to team up against the super; maybe their combined whining will have him finally fix that broken light bulb.

"Make sure you don't take aspirin or ibuprofen," she said. "It can-"

"Yeah, I know. Paramedic already told me."

"Good. Is our lesson still on?"

"Certainly, m'dear."

And then he'd tipped an imaginary hat, she snorted, and Gareth hauled his ass to bed.

He didn't see Max again until Sunday afternoon, when she came by for their aforementioned weekly guitar lesson. Parking themselves on each end of the couch, his acoustic in her lap, he'd made her play the 'homework' from the previous Sunday. It sounded pretty good. She honestly won't need his help soon – probably doesn't need it now. She understands basic theory and is diligent about practicing. He'd be fine with awarding her temporary custody of the guitar for a while. She insists on coming over, however, claiming she has to be perfect by the time of the next open mic down at Connie's Corner Coffee.

The reason she has to be perfect? Well. Eddie is pretty sure it's to impress her boy. She hasn't confirmed that it's for her boy, or even that she has one, but it totally is and she totally does. He knows this because 1. she becomes flustered and grumpy (grustered? Flumpy?) every time he brings it up, and 2. if she was learning to play for herself he'd be subjected to a lot more Pink Floyd and a lot less Curtis Mayfield.

It's cute, to be honest. Picking up an instrument for a boy you like? That's romantic as fuck. If he hadn't been the Lord of All Losers he would've serenaded tons of boys when he was younger. Hell, he'd do it now, if only there were anyone willing to listen. But he hasn't had as much as a date in ages, and none of his previous attempts at relationships ever reached the 'romantic gestures' stage.

Maybe he should ask Max to set him up with someone. Why not? She probably meets dozens of people every day, at the campus, at the skatepark, wherever else she hangs. If there's anyone who could sort out his disastrous love life, it's Max Mayfield. She's so put together, and she's not even 20 yet. She's got her own place (in a supremely shitty building, but still a place), she's got a man (reluctant as she is to admit it), and she is halfway through her math degree. A fucking math degree, for Christ's sake! Math majors are built for solving problems!

Maybe she could even calculate how many times he'd need to injure himself before he'd meet the one paramedic he wanted to kiss… him better.

It was around that point of his daydreaming that Max shot a hair tie at his forehead and demanded he stop zoning out and correct her hand placement.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowing deeper than usual. "Have you been resting?"

"Yes. For the prescribed 48 hours, and then some. I'm fine."

She'd frowned, scrutinizing him with those pale blue eyes. He squared his shoulders and met her gaze like a man. Easier said than done, to be truthful. He likes Max – she's fun, easily the most kickass neighbor he's ever had – but she can be intense. And when she gets her stare on? She's downright creepy.

"I'd prefer to cancel over you fucking up your head more," she at last said, posture stiff and chin jutting. 'Don't lie to me,' is what she meant.

Eddie sighed. "Red… I'm fine. Seriously."

And he was. Physically speaking, at least. Mentally, he'd always been a little off. Part of the patented Munson charm, really.

She must've realized that, because she relaxed, her expression going from 'active bitch face' and back to 'resting'.

"All right. Sorry for being overbearing. It's just." She shrugged a shoulder, gripping the neck of the guitar as it started sliding off her crossed legs. "One of my closest friends is a medical professional. Another one is studying biology. They've been discussing human anatomy and… I guess they've gotten into my head."

Damn his friends for caring. How was he supposed to sell this image of a dark, dangerous, rocker dude if he was constantly misty-eyed from how sweet his buds were to him? He leaned forward to pat her knee.

"I appreciate the concern, unnecessary as it is. But!" He drew himself back and pointed in the air. "We're not postponing! Open mic is less than a month away – you only have so many days left before you'll be on that stage, in front of aaaaall those people… and your beau."

He's certain that if she hadn't still been sorta concerned about his health, she'd have smacked him.

That was Sunday afternoon. Now is Wednesday evening. He is still hung up on Thursday. He doesn't even know why. Yes, he was face-to-face with the hottest guy ever. Sure, that same guy has been the star of his most critically acclaimed fantasies. Indeed, he hasn't gotten laid in eons. Of course, he's pent-up with sexual frustration and yearning for another man's touch.

But still. He's not an animal or a sex-crazed teenager. He's smart enough to know that nothing good will come of this. It's not like he'll ever see Steve again. That'd be so unrealistic.

A knock on his front door reaches his ears. Eddie makes no effort to get up and answer it. He's not expecting anyone – whoever it is will have to return another day.

The knocking turns into a pounding, followed by yelling.

"Eddie! Let me in, asshole, I know you're there!"

Ugh. What does he want? Hasn't he heard of texting?

Eddie drags himself off the bed and toward the door. Yanking it open, he's met by Gareth's self-satisfied visage.

"Good evening," he says, heedless of Eddie’s glare. "I come hither with your solution."

"My solution?" Eddie mutters as he stalks to his couch to crumple into another heap.

Gareth follows him inside. "I have a plan to get your man!"

"What? Who? What?"

"Steve. November-paramedic," Gareth says, like it's obvious, which, what the actual fuck?

"He's not my man?"

"But he could be."

"Gareth, what the fuck-"

He moves to sit up, but Gareth's palm hits him square in the diaphragm and pushes him back down.

"No, listen: you are a terrible patient."

"I'm not-"

"Remember back in high school, when that asshole rear-ended us in the intersection at Hickory and 5th?"

Eddie grimaces. How could he forget? They'd stopped at a red light when a drunken motherfucker plowed into them, sending them careening into the T-junction. One car managed to break before hitting them; another veered only to crash into a fourth car. The result was, for them, whiplash injuries and, for the people who collided, bruises, sprains, and a dislocated joint. It had been the scariest moment of Eddie's life, and the neck pain had been excruciating. That wasted piece of shit was lucky no one died.

He says, "Yeah?"

"You were so snarky with that poor EMT."

"Okay, first off, I was a snot-nosed brat back then-"

"Dude, you were nineteen."

"-and she was rude to me first."

"She was following protocol!" Gareth shakes his head. "The point is that you never follow orders or instructions, not even when a doctor tells you to. But November-Steve? I've never seen you be so pliable."

"I-"

"And after, when I had to babysit you for two fucking days? I expected it to be difficult. But you were so busy sighing and yearning-" he says, ignoring Eddie's indignant sputtering, "-and replaying him tenderly caressing your face with his big, manly hands and holding your gaze with those big, manly eyes-"

"Do you want to fuck him?"

"-that you forgot to complain or be a contrarian about everything." Gareth smiles, sweet as cavities. "It was great. I'd like to recapture that. And if November-Steve is the one to bring it out of you, well!"

Eddie glowers at him. No, really! With the metaphorical thunder clouds swirling over his head and everything! His world has been shook. It is tilted off its axis, and it's his best friend's duty to mock him relentlessly for it. But this? Trying to encourage him? Give him hope? That's going too far.

Gareth notices. Of course he does; curse the heart on Eddie's sleeve. The sickly-sugary smugness evaporates off him, and he takes a seat on the dingy couch seat.

"Eddie," he says with a softness reserved for a select few individuals. "Seriously. You've been all moon-eyed for a week. You've been thinking about him. Really thinking."

Eddie balloons his cheeks and huffs out the air. "Well. If you spend two years jerking it to a guy-"

"Gross."

"-and then he suddenly appears before you, in the flesh? I've been fantasizing about it. He's a fantasy. And when it actually happens, that's…"

He trails off. Gareth knocks their shoulders together.

"He seemed nice."

Eddie scoffs. "I spoke to him for fifteen minutes. Tops."

"Fifteen nice minutes. You haven't dated in ages. Maybe this is a sign?"

Chuckling, Eddie slumps his head onto Gareth's shoulder. They're the wrong heights for it, so it's awkward and strenuous on the neck. He remains.

"You're just looking for another opportunity to embarrass me," he says.

"Embarrass you and improve your life. Like only true friends strive to do."

Eddie hums. "So what's your fucking plan?"

Gareth shifts, turning toward Eddie, but doesn't say anything yet. Glancing up, Eddie is met by a zoomed-in, upside-down view of Gareth's pointy grin, his canines gleaming.

"The university!"

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

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No longer adding to the tag list, due to numbers and (hopefully temporary) technical difficulties. Please save or memorize the tag #steddie fic: november paramedic instead; all the parts will be there (unless something goes terribly wrong).

Thank you for reading! 🖤 ☺

Part 3

#no steve this time (he's there in sexy spirit) but you get more gareth AND some max #steddie #steddie fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson #gareth stranger things #max mayfield #my writing #steddie fic: november paramedic

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digital-domain · 23 days

Text

Retrieval

Alastor x Reader // word count 4.4k

Pt 3 to Spring Cleaning and Clean Slate

In which you attempt to leave.

Tags/warnings: yandere, intimidation, noncon kissing, choking, Alastor’s shadow doing things a shadow should not be able to do

A/N: Really thought this was gonna be a one-off but here we are. I usually don’t even write one follow-up, much less two, so this is unfamiliar terrain for me. Alas, I could not resist. Enjoy (or don’t. I’m not in charge.)

You remember a time when this was good. Well - no. You’re sure, now, that it was rotten from the beginning. But there was a time when it felt good. When you invited it in. When you wanted more.

Time for bed, my dear.

He’s said this to you many times. Now, each repetition deepens the never-ending pit in your stomach. But the first time…how long ago was it? You don’t remember. You don’t even remember how long you’ve been here. Here at this hotel, or here, in hell - each one distorts hours and months in its own way. They tug at you until you slip through the fingers of time, and end up on a day you don’t remember arriving at, in a place that is only yours if you forget what has happened there.

It’s far too late for you to be thinking as deeply as you are.

You’d been sitting on the top of the stairs for a long time that night, however-long-ago, fending off the inevitable onset of your dreams. He’d been gone all day, and when he had finally returned (from where, you never found out), he’d seen you from the lobby. Called out to you, in a voice far too quiet and gentle to carry to your ears as well as it did. It wasn’t the first time he’d spoken to you, but it was the first time he’d spoken to you alone. And even if that wasn’t true, there would have been something different about it.

And, in my opinion, far too fair a night for such misery.

From the beginning, you’d known that nothing about him was entirely unfiltered. The first time you’d met, he’d given a wonderful little performance. Shaken your hand, taken you by the shoulder, quickly escorted you away from the people who would soon warn you not to trust him. And you’d known it was fake. Of course you had. You weren’t, perhaps, the most excellent judge of character, but you knew no one acted like that by instinct. It was calculated. Not to be trusted.

It struck you oddly, then, to hear such an allegedly inhuman character talk about something as mundane as the joy of pleasant weather. It felt entirely real, even at an hour when almost nothing seemed real at all. Hell did have its decent moments, now and then; there were no seasons, so to speak, but very occasionally you’d get a day that felt like summer, and a night to match. It was nice, when it happened. Delightful, even.

But, if you insist upon staying awake - and I admit, I do understand that impulse better than most - I suggest you do it somewhere with an open window.

The realization had hit, somewhere in the middle of this, that he was being kind to you. You hadn’t wondered why at the time. You’d take anything you could get, in those early, confused days after your death, and receiving it from an unexpected source somehow made it better. He didn’t do things like this out of obligation. He cared, for some reason you could only guess at.

You’re still guessing, now. But that night, you hadn’t thought so deeply about it. You’d only stared back at him, and nodded almost imperceptibly at his suggestion.

He’d paused, matching your silence for a long stretch. Considered your expression, in the way those unblinking eyes always seemed uniquely suited for.

Shall I escort you to your room, my dear?

You’d nodded mutely, and he’d ascended the stairs, offered you his hand, helped you to your feet, guided you to your door.

And then, a mistake. Grateful, exhausted, feeling utterly alone in a strange world - you’d invited him in.

He’d opened your window for you, and lingered beside it for several quiet seconds before you asked him to sit down in your desk chair. He’d smiled strangely at that, softer than you were used to, and left quickly, almost hastily, after only a few minutes. But he’d stood motionless in the hallway for several seconds before you’d heard him walk away.

After that night, you never invited him in again - you didn’t have to. He came of his own accord. Only occasionally, at first. Then, more often, until hardly a day went by without it. It was almost pleasant, at first, and then a slow, unyielding creep towards what you have now. Something you don’t understand. Something you only started resenting after it was too late to back away.

You’ve spent a long time wondering why he chose you, of all people. Why he feels so entitled to your space, to your life, why he wants it to begin with. Why he holds onto you so tightly. You’ve even asked him, in roundabout ways, to no avail. But somewhere in your mind, a shoved-down place that only now rises to the surface, you think that it might be your fault. Your fault, for being so desperate for solace, for company, that you’d take it from anyone you could. For feeling proud to have gained his attention, long after the point where it stopped doing you any good.

Now, lying above your bed covers, you toy with the hem of your slip, which you’ve absently pulled up to mid-thigh. Perhaps you don’t need to be wearing it tonight. Alastor has been mysteriously absent from the hotel in the two days that have passed since his last appearance in your room. You doubt whatever’s called him away has left him much time for spying upon you. And still, you feel compelled to act as if he is watching. As if he might return to your bedside at any moment.

Your memory flashes back to two nights ago, and you try to yank it away. You don’t want to think about what he did to you then. You certainly don’t want to think about why. The way his eyes were fixed not on your body, but on your face, as if it was your shame he wanted to see, and nothing more.

It was unsettling. But perhaps not surprising. If it was only your body that he wanted, after all, he wouldn’t be trying so hard to control the rest of you. That, you don’t understand. That - it’s what really keeps you awake.

The light from your lamp, which you have no intention of turning off, stings beneath your closed eyes as you lie rigidly on your back. You barely slept the night before, either, so this day passed in a sort of stupor, the adrenaline of early morning giving way to a numb, heavy feeling as the afternoon dragged on.

But the numbness is good, in a way, you think. It lets you do things you wouldn’t otherwise. With your eyes still closed, you bring your other hand to the hem of the slip. The lace and the silk above it are delicate, and you pull hard with both fists. The light ripping noise that follows is beautiful, for a moment.

Then, the familiar dread snaps back into place, worse for your act of stupidity.

He will be back, before long. His sudden absence has not been a reprieve, but a looming threat, a two-day stretch in which you have not taken one proper breath, and you have the feeling that he will know what you have done the moment he returns.

If he does not somehow know already. If you haven’t already summoned him back by the rebellious movements of your hands. There is panic coursing through you, fear not of what is here now but of what has been, and what will be. It’s not the panic you’d feel at an immediate threat, like a wild animal baring down on you in a dark forest - instead, it’s the sort of inescapable head-buzzing sensation you experienced often in life, when you’d been in a room for far too long, and were not yet allowed to leave. An overwhelming feeling that you are trapped, not by physical bonds, but by the consequences that might ensue if you walk away.

If you were to walk away, to run away…what would happen? You do not know, and you don’t want to think about it. You want to leave. No - you need to leave. If you do not do it now, now, you never will. And the idea of never leaving, of this stretching on until he decides that it’s time for it to end - if he ever does -

You sit up, and swing your legs over the edge of your bed. He will be back soon. You’re sure of it. And you cannot bear the thought of being here when he returns.

What can you do about it? You can do something. You can stand up. You can find the large backpack stuffed into the corner of your closet, and start shoving things inside. You don’t have many things at all, and most of the things you do have are not important enough to keep. You’re certainly not bringing any of these clothes with you.

All these things, you do quickly, in a sort of daze, driven by a single motive. Get out, get out. It is easy, if you don’t stop moving. If you don’t think more than you have to, if you let this one idea drive you all the way out the door. One set of clothes, you do have to bring - the one that goes on your body. The only one that you feel even remotely comfortable wearing. Black trousers, red sweater. The contents of the small compartments of your dresser have been replaced, so you do not feel comfortable with the things you are wearing underneath these clothes, but they are quickly hidden. You are not in strong enough possession of your body to feel them clinging to your skin.

You’ve discarded the slip onto the floor, and with the way it’s crumpled, you can’t even see the small rip in the hem. It’s not enough. You pick it up and rip it further, until it is torn all the way to the neck, before dropping it like it’s on fire. Perhaps it would be better to take it with you, to get rid of it in a place where he won’t see the remains, but you do not want to have it for a second longer. It flutters back to the floor, and you cover your clean, white, unfamiliar socks with the ragged sneakers you’ve somehow been allowed to keep.

Where do you go? Where can you go? For reasons that you certainly didn’t come up with yourself (reasons that seemed like cloying but utterly convincing advice, at the time) you barely speak to anyone outside of these walls. You haven’t even got a phone. And even if you did, you can’t imagine pulling anyone into this mess - your mess, a quiet voice in your head reminds you. This is your creation, and you will see it through alone. There is a motel, you remember, a shoddy building a few streets away that you’ve taken notice of every time you’ve passed. You will go there, and you will sleep, and tomorrow -

Tomorrow does not matter yet. Tonight, you only need to leave.

You’re sure that no one in this building is awake. Or at least, no one is awake enough to check on the noises your feet make as they collide, painfully loud, over and over, with the creaking hallway floor. And yet, you advance as slowly and carefully as you can manage, barely keeping at bay the adrenaline that urges you to run. The night is pleasantly warm, but a shudder runs through you as you crack open the front door of the sleeping hotel. This, too, you keep at bay, instructing your feet to keep moving until you dislodge the disarming chill from your bones, and settle back into your skin. You are walking quickly, but not running, as you wade into the dark streets before you. It is a bad idea, being out here alone, at this hour, and running is loud.

Then again, you think your breathing might be harsher, at this moment, than any noise the soles of your shoes could create.

You didn’t realize until now that you already had this route mapped out in your head, so clearly that you can follow it without thinking. It’s not far. Quicker if you slide through the little alley to your left. Quicker still if you speed up, just a bit, just enough that your breath catches oddly in your throat, exertion mixing with the faintest glimmer of hope. There is a breeze flowing out from behind you, gentle against the nape of your neck. The streets are mercifully quiet.

You are not thinking. If you were, you might not be able to tell yourself that all was well.

As it is, you buy yourself a few more seconds of hope. But your eyes are wide. Too wide and too alert to miss the strange thing that comes your way. Once you see it, you cannot look anywhere else.

Your stomach drops. You slowly ease your bag off of your shoulders, and let it fall to the ground beside you. You will not be taking it any further than here.

You know this, because there is an inexplicable shadow pressed against the side of the alley. It is cast by nothing, darker than the night that surrounds it. A long, abstract shape unfurls bit by bit, extends its tendrils across the worn brick, and drips down until it spills onto the polished boots that have appeared suddenly on the ground in front of you.

There’s a horribly familiar sigh, but no words. No touch. Not yet.

Soon. Too soon, you’ll hear his voice.

But you find that you do not have the impulse to scream, like anyone else might in this situation. Nor do you want to run. You do not want to take so much as a step backwards. You do not do these things, because you are not scared like you might have expected. No. The thing that quickens your pulse is not fear, but anger. You were so close. You could have made it. And you should have made it.

You should not have had to run to begin with.

You answer a question that you didn’t realize you were asking until this moment. This is not your fault. None of it. Nothing that makes you feel like this could possibly be your doing alone. So, instead of looking up and apologizing, you stare at the ground, and imagine that your eyes shine as intensely as the ones above you. It’s a striking contrast, your worn, comfortable shoes toe-to-toe with polished leather. A victory, in its own small way.

You feel Alastor lean over you, and your hands curl into fists of their own accord.

“Do you have any idea,” he murmurs, his voice deceptively calm, “what a terrible risk you’ve taken?”

“Some idea.” You’re seething, just as you know he must be underneath the surface - the only difference is that you aren’t bothering to hide it. “You’ll forgive me.”

“Oh…I’m not talking about my own impulses, my dear. Running was a terrible idea for many reasons.” His glove catches you beneath your jaw - you press back against it for a moment before following its guide. Before looking up into the eyes you never wanted to see again, and the grin that bears down upon you. “You might find it hard to wrap your head around, considering its current misguided state, but I assure you that I am far from the only threat that the nights of hell have to offer.”

“But you are a threat.” He’s shown his hand, you think. It’s satisfying to point out - until it’s thrown back in your face.

“Only when provoked, darling.” His eyes are a brighter red than you’ve ever seen them, glowing with some intense emotion - whether it’s hatred or a deep appreciation, you don’t know, and will never know. He releases your jaw, runs his finger slowly down the line of your neck. “But you’ve no need to worry…it would take quite a lot of provocation for me to hurt you. Even now, I’m not even close to taking such drastic action.”

Your teeth grind together, clenched as tightly as his pasted-on smile, as the fist wrapped around his staff. “You think you haven’t hurt me already?”

“Oh, my.” He laughs gently, dismissively - but it’s not quite as convincing as usual. He’s standing rigidly, pressing the bottom of his staff tightly against the ground, holding his free hand not behind his back, but at his side. Fingers stiffly curled, practically trembling with the effort of holding still, as if they’re itching to grab onto something.“You are feeling bold tonight. Not as if I couldn’t tell by the little present you left behind in your room…but it is rather strange to experience it in person. You’re usually such a sweetheart.”

You tune out the syrupy condescension of his voice. You’re done with listening to him. Done with beating around the bush, done with getting brushed aside again and again. “What do you want from me?”

“Cliches don’t suit you, my dear,” he intones darkly. “Especially not when paired with that expression.” He slowly raises his hand, and reaches for your face, as if he hopes to rearrange the features he finds so unpleasant. Without a second thought, you jerk backwards, and slap his hand away.

He holds it frozen. Poised in midair. The last time this happened, it was enough to make you tug back everything you’d just done.

Not this time.

“What,” you hiss, taking another full step back, “do you want from me?”

The corner of his grin twitches so severely that you can almost imagine it dropping from his face. “At the moment, I only wish for you to return home.”

“That’s not what I mean.” You hold your fists at your sides. Spine straight, shoulders pressed back. Toes curled inside your shoes. You can feel the unfamiliar undergarments clinging to your hips, your ribcage - you want them gone. You want him gone.

“Then pray tell, my dear”-

“All of it.” You hold his gaze as his head tilts slowly to one side. Listen to the cracking of bones, and press on, before you can think better of it. “You won’t let me go. You can’t. And I don’t even get to know why.” There’s a desperation in your voice, rising with the volume of it, quickly spiraling out of your control. “All I know is that you’re - you’re trying to control me, and that I hate it, and that I don’t fucking understand it.”

Images from two nights before descend upon your mind, and your train of thought comes entirely undone. It’s more than images, really. You can certainly picture him standing over you, his red eyes flaring as you stripped yourself bare in front of him, but you can also feel it, the awful heat under your skin battling with the chill of the air, the brush of his finger along your hip, the gentle kiss to your forehead. The hands pulled tightly behind his back. And the way you felt then, the thing you’d be afraid of, if it was anyone else.

“You - you don’t”- You feel strangely distant from your body, as if your mind is a separate entity, floating somewhere slightly outside of your skull. Your mouth takes a sharp breath, and more words cascade out before you can return to stop them. “I was fucking naked in front of you, and you didn’t feel anything. If you don’t want - that”-

Any other stupid words you might say are cut off by a rising buzz of static, which emanates from him as his staff disappears before your eyes, and his newly-free hand takes on the stiff, barely-restrained posture of the other. You wonder, in that detached manner your thoughts take on when you are frightened, if he’s doing this on purpose, or if it’s somehow leaking out in a way that’s beyond his control.

You feel tears welling in your eyes, and try in vain to shove them back down. You don’t know where they came from. “I don’t understand.”

For the first time, you see his grin drop - not all the way, but enough that the line of it changes, enough that it becomes a grimace. It’s so unsettling that you wish the usual, terrible smile would return. “That much is obvious, my dear. I wonder if you even realize how tragic what you just said really was.”

You freeze as your wrists are snatched by coils of shadow, smooth and inexplicably solid. Your arms are yanked straight down, and when you try to tear them away, you fail. Your hands are free to form fists, but remain trapped against your sides.

“That you can only fathom being desired in such a shallow way…”

His image flickers before you. You’re already half-turned around when he reappears behind you a moment later, but there’s nothing you can do to stop his hands from curling, one finger at a time, around your shoulders, far too close to your neck for comfort. You stare straight ahead as his face twists into the periphery of your vision.

And he whispers in your ear, his voice bare of any effect, just the hint of some old, earthly accent slipping through. “I’m afraid that I want much more than that.”

He slides around you at the same moment the bonds around your wrists release, and effortlessly turns you by your shoulders - he does not push you against the wall that now stands behind you, but you step back out of instinct and flatten yourself against it. He matches your steps with his own, traps you between himself and the rough brick at your back, and latches his gloved hand beneath your jaw, wrenching your face upwards. With his other hand, he reaches down, flips your palm so that it’s no longer facing the wall and interlocks his fingers with your own. His grin springs back into place, and oh - you wish you could run now. You would, if you could.

His eyes slide away from you for a moment as he puts something together in his head. “These little acts of rebellion from you…I think I ought to thank you for them.” He blinks slowly, and returns his gaze to your face. “I don’t think I would have realized just how close I wanted to keep you, if you hadn’t attempted to leave. And now…oh. I understand perfectly, now. I know exactly what I want.” He bows his head, lowers his lips to your ear, so that you can hear the shudder of his breath. “I’ll have your soul one day, my dear. A day when you’re already bound so tightly to me that such a contract will be a mere formality.”

“And until that day comes…” He draws back from the side of your face, stares not into your eyes, but through them. His teeth part. His tongue flicks out from between them, and slides quickly over their jagged edges. “I feel as if I’m prepared to do anything, if only it will bring you closer.”

The last vestiges of your anger burst forth, and you attempt to wrench your face out of his grasp. He lets you, and moves his hand to the back of your neck, his long fingers pressing harshly into the sides. You look up, eyes wide with terror, as the palm that has been flattened against your own releases your hand from the wall, and rises to curl tightly around your waist.

He pulls you close. You do not see the moment that his smile disappears, as it surely must - your eyes are already closed when he kisses you, screwed tightly shut as his hot, rancid breath works its way into your lungs. There’s a hint of whiskey beneath the rot, and something metallic, the same taste that floods your mouth when you bite the inside of your lip a bit too hard. His hand slides around from the back of your neck, and closes at your throat - he keeps it there after he’s pulled away, and watches as you struggle against his grip.

“You have a decision to make now, darling.” He takes a deep, satisfied breath, the tension leaving his posture even as you fight to breathe beneath his hand. “You can return all by yourself…” His fingers curl tighter around your neck, and tendrils of shadow lash at your wrists and ankles, slowly twisting their way up your limbs. “Or, I can bring you back. I imagine that would cause quite a scene..but the choice is yours.” He tilts his head, stares down at you through narrowed eyes, and - after another moment of watching you struggle - eases his grip just enough for you to answer.

You don’t hesitate for a moment. Even if you had the air to argue, you wouldn’t dare. “I’ll - come back” -

“Lovely.” He releases you, and takes a step back. Pulls one hand slowly behind him, as if doing so takes a tremendous amount of effort. “Since you’re so attached to your freedom, I’ll allow you to walk back unsupervised.” He traces the back of his other hand gently down your cheek, stopping only briefly to press the tips of his fingers against the hardened clench of your jaw. You let it go slack - only then does he pull his hand away. “But as I told you before, darling…there are many threats lurking in the shadows of these streets. So I do suggest that you watch your step.”

His image fades away before you. In the same moment that you watch him disappear, there is a shift in the surface under your feet. You no longer feel the familiar soles of your shoes, but the ground beneath, rough with the texture of cracks and debris. Cold. Not damp, exactly, but carrying the faint suggestion of something wet having only recently become dry.

Your toes curl inside your pristine white socks, which will soon be stained by the filth of the ground beneath them. There’s a new shadow against the wall - it slides along with you as you carefully retrace your steps home.

#yandere alastor x reader #yandere alastor #alastor x reader #tw yandere #tw power imbalance

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lesbiansforboromir · 2 months

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In a BoromirLives fanfic, Faramir must be forced to confront this line of his in particular; Whether he erred or no, of this I am sure: he died well, achieving some good thing. His face was more beautiful even than in life. It's vital to me that this is addressed. Because in Tolkien beauty is holy, they are intertwined inextricably, the holy will be beautiful.

Boromir did not live a beautiful holy life according to most, his life is not spoken of with uncomplicated worth by any but Denethor, Eomer, Theoden and Pippin (all either 'simple' or outwardly rebellious against god). But he did die a beautiful holy death, it is what most people praise him for and in Faramir's mystical dream where he sees Boromir's dead body floating down the river, this is his reaction. Boromir's corpse was more beautiful than his living body, because in death he was 'redeemed' and served his purpose in the great holy plan. He 'died well'.

This is horrifying right? It horrifies me when I read it. And I think it so concisely reveals how Faramir and many others viewed Boromir. I am essentially here to argue that this is all about piety, once again, yes I'm a one track record.

Gandalf, when hearing of Boromir's death from Aragorn, declares; It was a sore trial for such a man: a warrior, and a lord of men. Galadriel told me that he was in peril. But he escaped in the end. I am glad. It was not in vain that the young hobbits came with us, if only for Boromir’s sake.

Now, what is Gandalf saying here? Boromir did not escape, he died. Does he mean he escaped corruption? Well, no, since apparently this 'escape' had something to do with Merry and Pippin and Boromir shook off the pull of the Ring long before he was sent to find them. What role did Merry and Pippin play in this 'escape'? Well, Boromir died for them, he had too, there was no other way out of that ambush. So by process of elimination the only thing the 'young hobbits' did that was 'for Boromir's sake' was... to be there so he could die for them, right?

And remember, his death did not actually save them or really help in any way, the hobbits are still taken and the Uruk-hai's downfall has nothing to do with Boromir. In fact Aragorn squandered any time Boromir might have given him to catch up to the Uruk-hai by spending hours on his funeral. So, the death alone is what is being called 'good' here, what is beautiful. Boromir dies and that is beautiful and something to be glad for, according to Gandalf and Faramir.

But why do they think this? Faramir has his 'alas for Boromir, whom I too loved' and Gandalf laments 'poor Boromir', so they have at least some pity for him. What was 'good' to them about Boromir dying? Well we all know this one don't we, it's the accepted narrative of it all, Boromir 'redeemed' himself with this deed. He tried to take the Ring, and for this crime he needed redemption that he gained through vainly giving up his life to try and save Merry and Pippin.

But, in fact, Boromir himself has a slightly different way of phrasing it. Boromir says, of his own death; ‘I tried to take the Ring from Frodo,’ [-] ‘I am sorry. I have paid.’

He paid for it. To Boromir, in this cosmic exchange, he chose wrongly and paid for the offence with his death. This wasn't redemption, it was spiritual commerce, crime and punishment. Which is a perspective that once again demonstrates Boromir's enduring lack of 'faith' or spirituality. The powers of the west and Eru may exist, but they exist to him as forces of nature, some fact of the world we all must just live with, not something that fills him with hope or brings him nobility or meaning or a 'higher purpose'. Boromir does not want to be closer to divinity, he does not want to be beautiful or noble, he wants his people to be safe.

But of course, this is entirely opposite to Faramir's perspective, and if not downright heretical then at least unfaithful. So, when alive, Boromir cannot achieve 'beauty' in Faramir's mind, because he is unfaithful. It is only when he is dead, when 'fate' draws him into this spiritually good 'end' that sees him give up his life for a holy quest, when Boromir's life is no longer defined by him but by his death, that he can be beautiful.

And bringing this all the way back around, there are two ways you could do this in a boromirlives fic. Either, Boromir comes back but he does not look like he did in Faramir's dream. He did not pay, he is still alive to define who he is and Faramir finds himself slowly drawn into this terrible psychological horror as he realises he misses his brother's death more than he missed his actual brother.

Or Faramir needs to be confronted with a brother who looks dead to him. Boromir has come back and to Faramir's eyes he looks exactly as he did in the dream, but now this corpse moves and speaks and can no longer be confined to one perfect conceptual moment. And this also horrifies him. It is for authors to decide if this is just an aspect of Faramir's perspective, or if Boromir actually 'came back wrong' as it were, he did pay but somehow he came back anyway.

#text post #boromir #faramir #erran vs tolkien

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unfortunatebrainfarts · 1 month

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Cussing out anyone and everyone is fun until you get lasso'd out of bed to do it on behalf of your casual space cowboy co-worker who for some reason knows where you live

Boothill x f!reader

A/n: soort of part 2 to my previous work but can be read seperately‼️

"For the last time — let me go before I literally unscrew your dick off."

"Psh, as if ya got the balls for that lil' missy."

You don't even have to look at Boothill to know he was immensely enjoying himself right now — hell you couldn't even if you wanted to since you were currently getting dragged through the ice cold floors of wherever the hell you were, with a fucking lasso firmly binding your legs and arms.

"It's like 5 a.m. in the morning, what the hell could you even want at this god forsaken hour?!" You righteously grumble, but alas, you were met with nothing more than silence probably because you've asked similar questions before. Yes. This has happened before. Many times before.

For Boothill, tracking down enemies and pinning them down was great. Not being able to curse them out and instead calling them a 'cutie' and blessing their soul? Not so great. But that's where you come in! His lovely fellow galaxy ranger who's been with him long enough to know what he wants to say, and is far too weak(compared to this baby shark looking freak of a cyborg) to refute him. Physically that is — you always make sure that you complain his ear off to at least ensure some sort of mental damage.

"Hey! If you're going to take me somewhere could you at least not drag me all the way there? Ugh these floors are so cold I feel like I'm gonna get hypothermia. If I do and I sue you, don't you have to pay me compensation for that? I'm expecting at least a million credits or so cause I don't think Lan provides health insurance for the galaxy rangers—"

Your pitiable monologue was abrubtly cut short by Boothill firmly gripping the rope which binded you and roughly jerking it upwards so that your body would fall limp directly on his shoulder like a giant worm, your head just centimeters away from his.

Of course to which you responded with automatic aggressive squirming and wiggling only making you look more and more like a worm. But honestly who could blame you? I mean, who just DOES THAT and expects the other party to be calmly subdued?!

"Oh sugar honey iced tea, could ya quit strugglin' for just one moment—" A large, metalic hand was promptly placed around your waist and no amount of wiggling could even get it to so much as budge. "Now that y'r off the darn floor ain'it 'bout time ya shut yer trap? Heh... we're almost there."

Now that you were head to head with Boothill, although not in the most favorable position, you could see his face now — his face with probably the most shit eating grin you have ever seen on it. His sharp teeth making themselves apparent, and unwavering eyes focused on just whatever lied ahead.

And then his feet stood still.

"THERE," he shouted unrestraintedly like a madman, while pointing his free hand at... a random lady in purple?

Without warning, Boothill launched himself forward stopping only inches away from the woman who looked just as confused as you.

"Now, go tell 'er that she's a wonderful ray of sunshine that deserves absoloutely nothin' but the best. Oh Acheron, bless your soul ya lovely imposter, be prepared to go on a playdate and have some teatime with me soon! Until then, you should keep yourself safe."

The sheer passion that Boothill had in his tone made it clear that he had a message to get across. Though you don't think the other woman, or supposedly Acheron, understood a word he said. You exasperatedly sigh, you felt just as bad for this lady as you did for you yourself.

"Well?! What'cha waitin' for," the arm around you tightened just enough for a squeak to involuntarily come out of you and you knew you weren't getting out of this.

You mentally apologise for this poor lady before translating his thoughts into words, "Er... what he means to say is uhm, 'you're a disgusting piece of shit who deserves to die seven times over by my hand. Oh Acheron, you absoloute dumbass fucking imposter, be prepared to meet me and face me off in a showdown soon, but you might as well just kill yourself before that."

"...," Acheron's face remained unchanging and blank throughout the whole spiel, Boothill's however, was characteristicly smug and maniacal.

To others, the three of you looked as if you were frozen in time for at least a minute or so, until Acheron simply tilted her head and monotonously responded,

"Sorry, who are you?"

#I wrote this in like 30 minutes pls help #li actually writes🤯#boothill x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader

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thefanficmonster · 2 months

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Piss off your parents pt.1

PART 2

PART 3

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Drinking, Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, Friends to Lovers, Fake Dating, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: You just wanted to rebel a little, how did it get to this?

"Y/N, you're fucking insane." Colby grumbles, struggling as he unbuckles one of his best friends out of the backseat of his car. She, however, seems completely unbothered by him maneuvering her into an upright position. She's giggling, actually, a direct contrast to her mascara streaked cheeks. She's drunk, wasted. Three sheets to the wind, if you will.

He already had to put two other drunk messes to bed tonight, Y/N's his third. He should be getting paid per person and per difficulty. Nate was the easiest to subdue, followed by Sam who put up a brief 'I'm not even drunk, dudeeee' kind of fight. And now her.

The party was at Sam's house so the previous two didn't require any special treatment other than being dunked into Sam's bed. Y/N however...

She'd pleaded with Colby, the most sober one of the bunch, to just let her be. Let loose, get drunk, flirt around a bit. That being said, four hours later - two hours past her curfew - when he tried prying her away from the drink table she put up one hell of a fight.

"You have the balance of a newborn giraffe! You're done! I'm cutting you off!" He'd yelled over the music, hearing his own parents' scolding in his tone but he ignored it. He had to take on the parenting role with his friends, it was his turn after all. He knows they'd do the same - they've done the same - when he was plastered. He owed them the same curtesy. Especially Y/N.

She's usually on parenting duty, not really on the heavy drinker side. But after the fight with her parents she told him about earlier, he can't blame her for wanting to drown it out with a few extra shots.

A few too many extra shots.

He was planning on just safely storing her in one of the guestrooms for the night and playing nurse the following morning when all three would undoubtedly have a hangover. But that's when Y/N's cognitive thought kicked in.

"My parents are gonna kill me if I don't make it home tonight! I can't sleep here!" She was - and still is - heavily slurring her words but the thought of further pissing off her folks drove her into an almost sobering panic. "Call me an Uber while I find my shoes. What time is it?"

Colby had carefully dodged around answering that question, knowing it would send her into a full blown heart attack knowing she was running so late. He tried telling her on time but she'd blown him off, saying she didn't care about the stupid curfew or at least that's how much he'd caught from her string of slurred rambles.

"You're not getting an Uber at this hour. Come on, I'll drive you." He'd said reassuringly as he picked up one of her stray shoes.

They soon found the second one and her missing purse and within fifteen minutes they'd gotten in his car and were gliding down the road with the speed of a tortoise. At this point in time Colby was neither drunk nor tipsy but that didn't stop him from sweating bullets as he operated the vehicle.

"I don't wanna go to Barton!" He'd believed she was asleep after the long stretch of silence following their departure so her sudden exclamation was quite startling.

"You won't, Y/N. You're coming with us to LA, remember?" He believed in that lie as much as she did, but he needed to soothe her somehow.

"Not according to mom! I'm gonna be stuck here in Kansas all my life!" Her anger was now engulfed by sobs Colby gently offered tissues for.

He stayed quiet and let her ramble, only partially listening to the words spilling directly from her heart. He especially tried drowning out the part where she went on a whole rant abut her massive crush on Nate.

But, alas, he wasn't successful, seeing as how he was white-knuckle-gripping the steering wheel more than half the way to her house.

That's how they've ended up here - one a giggly and mascara stained drunken mess and the other a bitter and regretfully sober babysitter. Well, babysitter, Uber driver and therapist all in one. He really should start charging for his services.

He wraps one of Y/N's arms around his shoulders, securing it there by holding her hand while his other arm fixates itself around her waist to keep her upright and at least semi steady on her feet.

With a silent prayer, he tries pushing the front door open with zero luck. It's locked.

He's cycling through all the stages of grief as he comes to terms with the fact that he will, unfortunately, have to ring the bell and alert Y/N's parents of their arrival.

He does just that, although quite begrudgingly, sighing heavily when he sees a light turn on through one of the windows. The sound of oncoming footsteps follows.

His eyes are soon met with the unpleasant glare of Y/N's mom who - as he's picked up on from their handful of interactions - already isn't very fond of him.

Just him!

She's lovely to Sam and Nate, but he's not extended the same curtesy. You can visibly see the air around her get colder when she approaches him whereas she's always been so kind and welcoming to the other two people in their friend group. He hasn't been able to figure out why. Bringing it up to Y/N proved futile as she just shrugged and shook her head.

"No clue, Colbs. But don't take it personally. She's just like that." She had said, but it didn't sit right with Colby. It made no sense. And it continues to bother him.

And unnerve him, specifically now as he's being stared down by her icy gaze.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Y/L/N....just bringing Y/N home. She had a little too much to drink." There's no way in hell he could've concealed her drunkenness. She's hanging off of him with her head bowed, her hair forming a curtain over her face. He wouldn't be surprised if he were to find her already asleep.

"You know where her room is." There's an edge to her scoff that could slit a man's throat, but Colby chooses not to dwell on it. Truly, he can't, seeing as how she's already moving away from the doorway and down the hall into the living room, leaving him to deal with the mess she thinks he caused.

He can't find it in himself to be offended right now, although he probably will be later. He has bigger fish to fry.

And so, with his options limited, he opts to pick her up bridal style so he can easily carry her up the stairs. He hopes to God her parents don't see this and get the wrong idea.

Oh if he only knew what's to come...

As carefully as he can, he settles his unconscious best friend on her bed, tucking her in. He's murmuring reassuring words under his breath as he does so, not sure if they're meant for her or him but in the end it all works out.

"Night, Y/N." With that whispered in the darkness of the room and a gentle kiss on her temple, he makes his exit, briefly stopping at the bottom of the stairs to peek into the living room, "Good night, Mrs. Y/L/N."

"It's almost morning." Her reply is on-par with most of their interactions so he just pushes past it, shaking his head slightly before leaving out the front door.

As he does so, he notices the sky has taken on a brighter shade of blue, signaling Y/N's mom really wasn't exaggerating. With a sigh, he gets back behind the wheel, heading to Sam's house to check on his other two patients.

* * * * *

Her head is pounding but you'd never be able to tell from the giant grin on her face as she sprints through the neighborhood, skipping through backyards and hopping the occasional fence to cut the trip short. The strap of a duffle bag is slung over her shoulder, she's clutching onto it tightly. It has all her belongings in it, after all. It's of upmost importance she doesn't lose it.

That's be rather unfortunate right after spontaneously moving out, wouldn't it?

She wouldn't say she got kicked out of the house per-se. That would indicate that she was thrown out against her will. Quite the contrary actually. She was more than happy to leave. Had she known those were the magic words, she would've said them so much sooner.

She catches herself before she can make a face-first collision with Sam's front door, stopping to catch her breath and knock a couple of times. And a couple more times. And a few more times.

It's safe to say she's impatient. But with the news she has, you can't blame her.

"Stop! Stop!" A disheveled Sam finally opens the door, one hand partially covering his pale face, "Too loud..."

Y/N gives herself a moment to feel guilty and hug him apologetically before dashing inside. "Colby's here, right?"

"Yeah!" She hears his voice coming from the kitchen and immediately makes a beeline in his direction, dropping her bag in the foyer.

Upon entry, she finds Colby and Nate sitting by the kitchen island, both in different stages of 'the morning after'. Despite the crippling headache, however, the latter finds it in him to give her a genuine smile, sliding off the stool to envelop her in a hug.

"Aww, is someone hungover?" She mocks Nate, sneaking a sip from his Gatorade.

"Hey!" He complains, reaching over to snatch the bottle from her, "Give it back! I need it way more than you do."

Colby, unable to stomach their interaction - for reasons he doesn't want to get into right now - busies himself by looking down at his phone.

He's known of Y/N's little crush on Nate for months now. At first it was only speculation based off her demeanor around him. And then it was more like a punch to the gut when she tipsily confirmed it one night.

"Colbs?" Her voice snaps him out of his brief bitter spiral, forcing him to look up, "Can I borrow you outside for a sec?"

He's struggled with saying 'no' to her since the day they met. Not that he wants to turn her down, he just wishes he could.

And wishes she didn't. Without even knowing it. Turn him down, that is.

With a nod, he follows her out to the patio where the sun isn't kind to either of them, adding gasoline to the fire of their raging hangovers.

"Sup?" Try as he might, he has never been good at feigning nonchalance around her.

It's surprising to see her nervous. For once, he believes their playing field to be even. "So...I've got good news wrapped up in bad news."

Her words would panic him a lot more had she not come in like a force of nature with a gleaming smile adorning her face. Still, it's not at the top of the list of things he wants to hear on a Saturday morning. So, with an exaggerated sigh, he signals for her to continue, "I'm all ears. The last twenty four hours can't get much worse."

He watches her face twist as she cringes, well aware she's about to prove him wrong, "Well...." With a deep breath, she finally spits it out, "The good news is, I'm coming with you guys to LA."

Colby doesn't spare a second, momentarily forgetting the bad news she'd mentioned as he scoops her up in a hug, "No fucking way! Hell yeah! I fucking told you!" He can't describe the immense joy and relief he's feeling right now. "Kiss that Barton College shit goodbye!"

Giggling, Y/N kicks her feet, looking for solid ground beneath them. Not that she's in a rush to be set back down. In fact, for a split second, she wishes this moment could last forever.

But, she's aware it's impossible.

Suddenly, she feels guilt creeping in for even letting that thought run loose in her head. She doesn't even know how or why it popped up.

She just knows she's about to ruin it all.

"One problem..." It's actually far more than one, but they'll dissect that later on. She just has to get the main one out the way, "You see, how that came to be...."

"You have no shame! You get wasted at parties, break rules, come home past curfew." Mrs. Y/L/N's voice is shaking the house, echoing twice as loudly in Y/N's head as she's just trying to eat a bowl of cereal. "Random people are bringing you home at dawn!"

She has the gull to argue back, "Colby is not just some random person, mom!"

"Oh yeah, he of all people was the one bringing you home! What the hell, Y/N?!"

Her mom has never liked Colby. The problem is, no one knows why. Y/N isn't sure if her mom even knows why. She tried asking once, it didn't go over so well.

But that's when two and two click together into a four in her head - a bright idea. Actually, 'dim' would be better. Nothing bright is welcome within her proximity with the splitting headache she's nursing.

Without a second thought, she blurts out: "What's so wrong with having my boyfriend take me home after a party?"

Her words ring out like a gunshot in the quiet house. Yet they are nothing in comparison to the explosion of her mother's anger in response.

Colby's mouth is hanging open, his gaze piercing through more so than focusing on his friend.

She, on the other hand, is sweating bullets, anxiously waiting for him to say something and break the long silence that has fallen upon them. When he doesn't, she wills herself to whisper a mousy little "I'm sorry."

Finally, a voice leaves his parted lips: "Y/N, you're fucking insane."

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gothbitez · 1 year

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linger, ellie williams

pairing: dealer!ellie x afab!reader

chapter: one shot (5.5k words) (theres hope for a continuation tbh) proofread but I'm dyslexic so if you see a missing word, double words and errors- mind ur business </3

warnings: explicit sexual content, 18+ so minors do not interact!!!, dealer!ellie so mentions of drug use and marijuana, afab!reader and gendered nicknames, poc friendly!! blasphemy, choking, use of trusty strap. ellie's a bit rough but it's all consensual she just gets pussydrunk tbh, (think that's all)

summary: reader returns from patrol to find her stash is empty, relying on her trusty masc dealer who loves calling her nicknames and teasing her.

Disclaimer: I do not support the genocide of the indigenous Palestinian people, and neither should you, please don’t buy the new Remastered or continue giving any more money to Druckmann. Educate yourself, learn the history, it is vital. From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free 🇵🇸

A sigh escaped your lips, damn.

You looked at the almost empty baggie with a slight pout, almost pleading to the bag, hoping its substances would magically reappear. But you knew better than that.

You glanced at the clock behind you, it rested on a mahogany wall which had seldom been cleaned or decorated, you simply didn't have the time or effort, to be honest. Even after so many years.

There was too much to do in Jackson, whether you were on patrol, sorting out stables or farming crops. There was rarely any free time, but tonight you had returned from a three-week patrol, and all you had wanted was to spark up and relax for a few hours. Maybe finally get some good fucking sleep, in your own bed.

Alas, you had returned to Jackson to find your stash box considerably emptier than you remember. You could've sworn you had some more left, but knowing your habits, three weeks prior you had probably decided it would be best to smoke it all, as a going-away present to yourself. You sighed at your own stupidity.

The clock's hands ticked as you reevaluated your situation. Another look at the clock told you it was now 2:36 a.m. What were your options?

You could attempt to sleep without a joint and lie awake all night, your mind consistently reminding you of all the shocks and horrors you'd seen that you'd hoped had all been forgotten. Sometimes, you'd see the restless faces you had killed, sometimes you'd see the people who tried to kill you. Other times, flashes of infected, masses and masses of them charging after you. You shook your head to yourself. Needless to say, going cold turkey was not something you had wanted to do, especially at nighttime.

With that in mind, you collected some things and put some denim pants on, they were a bit on the baggy side but in the apocalypse, beggars can't be choosers, they fit around your waist that's all that matters. On top rested a tightly fitted green shirt, it was actually one of your favourites as it let you see what was going on underneath those clothes, it made you feel confident and you'd need all the confidence you had for this.

You had no other choice, it was almost 3 a.m and the only other person who was likely to be awake, someone with the same sleeping struggles as you, was none other than Ellie Williams. Your cheeks flushed. Would she even be awake? Would she even want customers at this hour?

You hesitated as you reached your front door, this probably wasn't a good idea but you were desperate, with a final sigh you unlocked your door and stepped outside into Jackson's winter weather.

***

With a light tap, you knocked on Ellie's door, suddenly unsure of yourself. A few moments passed as you thought no answer was going to come when you heard shuffling from inside the building and a shadow moving across the window.

You sighed, happy that she was awake.

You heard the door unlock before it opened revealing the auburn-haired girl you had hoped to see. Her brows were furrowed, a hint of confusion on her features.

"It's a bit late, you know." She spoke, her voice raspy, she was probably tired. It was then that you realised how desperate you probably looked, knocking on Ellie's door at ungodly hours of the night.

"Sorry, ran out of weed." You muttered, that was all you could say, a gust of condensation exiting with your words due to the cold. Hopefully, she'd be kind enough to give you some and spare you the embarrassment. Ellie had a reputation for being a bit of a menace, though.

Ellie chuckled quietly, looking down at you. "Well, that explains it," she hummed, her green eyes locking onto yours. Unable to hold her gaze, you looked down at your hands. They were slowly becoming numb from the extreme weather, your jacket not padded enough to protect you from this cold. "I know it's late, I just can't sleep without it..." you trailed off, "sorry, I can come back tomorrow if that's better."

Ellie simply shook her head, a soft smile grazing her plump lips, "I couldn't turn away such a pretty girl," she stopped, "especially at this time of night, it's dangerous out there."

At her words, you felt yourself fumble. You knew there was little to worry about in the safe confines of Jackson in terms of danger, except for a few raids here and there. Memories flashed in your head from a few years ago, you blushed at the thought, refusing to entertain it any longer. You wondered if she remembered it, too. Probably not.

"Only if it's no bother," you said, unsure. "Of course, not. It comes with the job of being the only source for miles," she reassured, to which you smiled and shook your head, agreeing.

"Come in, you look like you're freezing." That you didn't expect, usually in your meetings you would quickly exchange goods before returning home. But this time, she was looking at you with that smile of hers, and the cold was slowly decreasing your energy. "Yeah, okay." you hesitated, following her into her home.

Ellie closed the door behind you, before speaking again, "It's upstairs, I'll go grab it, you can take a seat wherever." She accommodated, I sat as she left the room, hearing her footsteps trail upstairs.

You took this time to look around, your house was comfortable, but it wasn't quite lived in as Ellie's, who seemingly had personalised and decorated her space. You wonder if she has people over often. For some reason, that thought tightened your chest.

You were quickly pulled away from your thoughts as Ellie reappeared in the living room. "Here," she threw a bag towards you, you smiled as your mission had been successful, catching the bag in your hands. "Thanks," you spoke, gratitude all over your voice.

"Don't mention it," she paused, "Seriously, don't mention it, Maria's been on my ass about it." "Having a domestic dealer probably wasn't what she wanted for Jackson." You joked, knowing Maria always made disapproving comments when she'd catch a whiff of it at your house. "Well, too bad. If I had to deal with an apocalypse sober, I'd have shot myself." She deadpanned, and you laughed in return.

"Thank you for providing sanity for us all." Ellie laughed at this. Her eyes looking over you, it reminded you of that day so many years ago. You shuddered.

"Well, I'll head off, don't wanna bother you more than I already have." You said, thinking that it must be at least four in the morning by this point. "Rude as always, I see." she joked, putting her hand over her heart in feigned hurt, "not even gonna stay for a joint?" Ellie pressed, finding herself entertained with the pretty girl in her living room.

To be honest, you were quite comfortable and warm. Not wanting to face that cold again, you mulled over what she said, surely one joint with her can't hurt right? "If you insist," you finally said.

With that, Ellie picked herself up off the floor, making her way over to Joel's vinyl player. You took this time to really look at her, she'd only gotten more attractive over the years you'd known her. Her short auburn hair was tied into a half bun, the rest of her hair left down, biting down on her lip softly as she scoured for a good record to play, god she really was attractive, you thought.

Against your will, memories of ardent kisses, lingering glances, heavy breaths and harsh touches appeared in your brain again. God damn it, you thought, not now. You pressed your legs together as Ellie had finally picked a record, placing it delicately on the player before turning her attention back towards you, music playing softly in the background.

"So, we've not really spoken for a while, huh?" Ellie said, grabbing the baggie and her paraphernalia as she settled down on the floor to roll. Ellie knew you could roll perfectly fine, you had been getting weed off her for years, but she couldn't help herself from wanting to show off her skills a little. You glanced at her arms, toned and tanned, adorned with a tattoo, your glance reaching her hands as you inspect the delicate way she grabs the items. Her hands are so pretty- veiny and strong, your thoughts roamed, thinking about what she could do with them, you blushed to yourself.

"I've been on patrol the past three weeks, only got back tonight." "I was wondering where the beauty of Jackson had disappeared off to," she half-smiled, looking up from hands to you, "Glad you're back."

You felt the blood in your cheeks rise, you were far from the prettiest girl around. "Me too, couldn't take another day of Jesse and Dina sneaking around during the night." You joked, those two thought they were so subtle and you couldn't shatter that blissful illusion for them. "Why do you think I refuse to go on patrol with both of them?" Ellie said, the joint rolled in less than a few minutes.

You couldn't help but be impressed, it usually took you a good amount of time before you could perfectly tuck the paper into itself, that part always annoyed you. But, Ellie? She did it all so effortlessly, her fingers habitually manoeuvring the paper before bringing it to her lips, licking the edge of the paper to stick it all together. Her eyes never left yours as she did this, lingering on you.

You watched, wordlessly as she finished rolling it. What could you say? Yeah, that was really hot, do it again, never. "Why are you so far away, I don't bite," Ellie said, trying to soften the tension that glazed over the room.

You didn't realise the distance there was between you two, you being happily sat on the couch whilst Ellie settled herself on the floor. "Alright," you scootered down next to her on the floor, resting your back against the couch. "That's more like it,"

With that, she held the joint up to your face, placing it lightly between your defined lips. You froze, watching her grab a lighter and bring it to the joint, lighting it for you. You inhaled, securing the flame was actually lit before pulling away and exhaling.

You remembered something Tommy had said, how before the outbreak, men would sometimes light cigarettes for women they find attractive and were actively pursuing. You wondered if Ellie was making a subtle move on you, but before the thought continued, you passed the joint back to her, fingers lingering on each other briefly. She established eye contact, not breaking it as she inhaled. You felt something in the air switch.

"You know something?" She broke the silence, exhaling the smoke as she did so, you thought she was about to say something really serious, so you listened. "I think you've never had to roll a joint in your entire life," she accused, an impish glint in her eyes letting you know she was officially reaching teasing territory.

"Excuse me, I can roll very well, thank you." You responded, feeling confident in your abilities. "No, I don't think that's true," she paused, taking a drag, "Pretty girl like you, I'm sure men are fawning at the chance to roll for you to impress." Ellie teased. "What, like you?" You retorted, not wanting her to have the upper hand. This seemed to catch her off guard, "What? You think I didn't notice you 'fawning to roll to impress me'?" Ellie was silent, then. Her teasing had backfired and she was left with nothing to say. You felt a swell of pride, you had made the confident Ellie speechless.

Passing you the joint back, Ellie thought back to the same day you couldn't stop remembering, she recalled that day clearly. The way your mouths had fervently collided, a haze of lust in each other's eyes. You had probably both been about 17 at the time, succumbing to each other after a night of secretly drinking Tommy's whiskey behind the stables. Of course, the lovely make-out session had been interrupted by Jesse, who was roaming around the stables. Ever since then, they never mentioned it, and nothing further happened. To make it worse, she found out that the day after you two had kissed, there was a certain man trying to grab your attention.

Ellie was never insecure, but seeing you laugh at this random bastard's jokes made her feel inferior, so she gave up. She left you alone and decided she wouldn't mention it. Though, her body craved to feel you again. She had assumed you were straight, in all honesty, but she never bothered to ask. If she did she would've found that you were the exact opposite. You had dated men in the past, slept with them, Ellie knew this. However, she was none the wiser to the truth that you were, in fact, dealing with a heavy dilemma as you realised you weren't actually attracted to men. You had always known you were into women, but finalising that you weren't into men at all, was a recent development.

Ellie sighed, thinking of that night. You had probably forgotten, she thought. It was so long ago now. "Penny for your thoughts," you said, after exhaling and passing it back to Ellie. "I'd rather stay penniless." She stated, not wanting to expose what she was really thinking about. "Come on, that's no fun." You said, feeling light-headed.

"I was just thinking," she trailed off, realising she had lost the upper hand. Ellie wouldn't have that, she craved being in control of the situation again. Ellie liked control, she liked to have her bearings and to be honest, you were making her lose it. "What?"

"I was wondering if you remember that night." You gulped, eyebrows slightly raising and stopped the movement of your hand raising the joint to your lips. There it is. Ellie thought, a smirk grazing her lips, she remembers. "I don't know what you're talking about, Ellie." This was the first time in the entire night you had said her name, and the rush it brought her was unreal, feeling more confident to press further. She saw you shudder and she wanted to see it again, she wanted to see you in all sorts of compromising positions.

"You don't?" Ellie teased, "Really?" Inching closer to you, gaze dropping down to your lips, not believing a word that was coming from them. You tensed, of course, you remembered. How could you possibly forget? The way she grabbed your waist, kissing up your neck. It was heavenly. You sighed, and she ate it up.

It was an unspoken thing, you both quietly decided that it'd be best to never mention it. But now, Ellie was reaching dangerous territory, and she couldn't pull herself back.

"Cos I remember," she leaned closer to your ear, "I remember everything." Your mouth hung open, feeling the heaviness of her breath hitting your ear, almost making you flinch. "You do?" you breathed, moving your head so it was level with hers.

"Everything," Ellie stated. Her eyes were blown out, the joint almost neglected as the smoke kept disappearing into the room's air. Ellie grabbed the forgotten joint from your hands, bringing it to her lips and inhaling, before moving it back to your lips. Your faces were so close, she blew the smoke at you. You latched on to the joint taking a final drag before Ellie stumps it out and throws it aside, "Let me jog your memory," grabbing the back of your head, bringing your lips closer.

With the smoke still in your throat, you close the gap, lips meeting in a needy manner. Her hand still latched on to your hair, pulls your head back as you have no choice but to sigh into her mouth. Ellie sucks the smoke from your lips, taking her final drag before ripping her lips from yours to blow it out.

You had never seen anything like it, you felt a rush down to your core at the action, then realised you were sad that she had taken away the warmth of her lips.

With a groan, she replaced her hands at the back of your neck, breathing heavily as she reconnected your lips together. God this was so much better than you remembered, Ellie's gotten good at this, causing a pang of jealousy to hit your chest.

Your hands travelled, meeting her waist and letting out a small gasp as Ellie grabbed the back of your head and pulled your neck back again, exposing your throat to her. This time, she leaned down and placed her soft lips on your supple skin, groaning as she sucked, causing soft hisses to escape from you. Ellie chuckled and continued leaving marks all over your neck, she was enjoying this, fucker.

Her roaming hands grasp the skin underneath your shirt, gripping you tightly. You let out a sigh as she manoeuvred her hands up, reaching the hem of your bra. Ellie brought her lips from your throat back to yours, almost laughing at how much she wanted this. She grabbed your thighs, a noise reverberating in her throat as she felt how warm they were, with a slight squeeze of your inner thigh, she hoisted you on top of her lap. Legs spread over hers.

Ever since that day, Ellie had never forgotten about you. Haunted by the memories of the night she held sacred. She often wondered if you thought about it. She wishes she had gotten further with you that night, but Jesse had to ruin everything. Here, today, she was given another chance, another chance to claim you, to mark you and make you feel the best pleasure you've ever felt.

It was almost carnal, her desire. She thanked her gods for bringing you to her tonight, she had a taste of you that night, and now she was ready to have the whole serving. "Ellie.." you trailed off, suddenly embarrassed, looking at her with those doe eyes. How can you look at her so innocently? Ellie almost melted at the sight, your eyes needy and chest rising rapidly, tugging on her waist harder. "What is it, pretty girl?" You almost moaned at the nickname, feeling a wave of shyness hitting you.

"Use your words, baby." Ellie hummed, placing her lips on your earlobe as she bit down gently, her hands caressing your back as she grabbed you tightly by the waist.

"Ellie... I.." You finally moaned, allowing yourself to give in, "Yes, angel?" Her raspy voice in your ear was causing your thoughts to run at a million miles per second. "Please," you finally said, covering your eyes with your hands.

Ellie was having none of that, she quickly raised her arms to grab yours, pulling them away from your face. "Why are you hiding, pretty girl?" You locked eyes, the longer you looked at her, the less resolve you had. She was just... so hot. The scar on her eyebrow brought a certain toughness to her appearance, her plump lips slightly red from kissing you, you could only imagine what you looked like. "I want you." You said, to which her smirk reappeared.

"Is that right?" she pecked your lips, "What do you want me to do?" She was teasing you, she knew damn well what you wanted. But she'll be damned if you weren't going to say it.

"Ellie!" You groaned, "Don't make me say it." hiding your face into her neck. "Say it." Her voice deadpan, "Say what you want me to do to you or this stops."

Her sudden change in demeanour took you by surprise, not expecting the way her words dripped with honey and hung in the air. You heard Ellie had a reputation, word travels fast in a small town, but you didn't realise just how quickly she could switch to being so dominating. You had no choice, now. Ellie wanted you to submit to her, assert her power and give you everything you needed. You just needed to say the word.

The tension hung in the atmosphere as you stared at each other, her pupils were dilated so large you could barely see the green eyes leaning on you. You couldn't take any more, you needed her, like a flower craves sunshine. "I need you to fuck me, Ellie." That's all that was needed. As soon as those sweet, sweet words left those tender lips of yours, Ellie knew she was a goner.

"That's all you had to say, pretty girl," she whispered into your lips, her hands at your thighs. It's like she just knew where to touch you, like she was born knowing. You let out a moan when she placed her knee in between your legs, grabbing her neck for support. You were still on her lap, your hips started moving automatically at the feel of her knee where you needed her the most.

"That's it, baby." she hummed, "Keep moving those hips for me," Her hands moved down to your ass, grabbing it and pulling you down further on her knee, all you could do was moan, and she had barely done anything. The power was quickly going to Ellie's head as she became unabashed. Loving how you looked so weak right now, so powerless, so... hers.

Ellie took notice of the way your cheeks darkened whenever she called you those names, she wanted to use that to her advantage. With a quick hand, she unbuttoned the pants that were still in the way, dragging them down your legs to reveal your silken thighs and lace underwear. Ellie groaned at the sight, fingers already making their way to your underwear before either of you noticed. She almost slapped herself for not doing this sooner, then remembered that guy.

"All those times you came here, saying you wanted a joint," she paused, "What you really wanted was for me to fuck you until you break." Her fingers teased circular motions at the inner part of your thighs, the sensation making you squeeze your legs. She was so close. "Isn't that right?" she questioned, "You just want to be fucked properly, can't fault you there, baby girl. These stupid men don't know what they're doing."

"Ellie... please." you moaned, feeling her fingers so, so close to your dripping core. "Is that what you want, hmm?" she cooed, her lips going to your neck again, "You want me to fuck you like those guys never did?" Fingers inching closer and closer, they slid the fabric of your underwear to the side. "Fuck.. Ellie.. please." You couldn't believe yourself, you were someone who liked to be in control, and Ellie was completely undoing everything you thought about yourself by the second. You heard the desperation in your own voice, almost ashamed that you could ever sound that needy.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good, baby." She dipped her finger into you, rotating it in small circles that made your skin feel as though it was on fire. The slight pressure of Ellie's finger stretching you out brought moans from your lips, it had been so long since you had been touched. And even longer since you felt this turned on. You craved more, you craved her.

Rutting your hips against her finger, Ellie decided to add more digits. Watching you as your face contorted with bliss, your eyebrows raising slightly as your mouth hung open, delicious sounds escaping your lips. It was music to Ellie's ears. This was officially the furthest you two had ever gotten.

"Do you know how long I wanted to do this, to see you rocking on my fingers? God, I could've killed Jesse that night." She groaned, her eyes gleaming as she smirked, feeling your hand grab her wrist, almost to say, more, more.

You were becoming breathless, but it still was not enough. You wanted all of Ellie. For her to give you her hardest. "Mhmm..." you moaned, smiling at the thought of Ellie being annoyed that your time in the stables had been interrupted, she thought about it as much as you did. It was clear now.

Ellie caught the smile and grinned, bringing her hand up to your throat. Smiling darkly up at you as she applied gentle pressure to your windpipe. You gasped, anytime a man had even tried to lay his hands on you like that, you'd tell him to kick it where the sun don't shine, yet with Ellie? With Ellie you would let her ravage you, take complete ownership of you. It was so natural. "You think I didn't see you practically drooling over my hands, you're not as subtle as you think, doll."

Her toned arms gleamed in the dark as she fucked you, her other hand grabbing your breast under your shirt and rubbing your nipple, placing her lips over it as she sucked. You were getting close, the knot in your stomach tightening at her actions, and then she halted, pulling away from you and directing you onto the couch.

All you could do was whimper. Pathetically. That was until she leaned over you, your back resting against the couch as she spread your legs. She was tall, and she towered over you. Her fingers removed your shirt as yours removed her sports bra and shorts, throwing the garments with reckless abandon, uncaring of where they ended up, meeting each other's lips with a fever.

You felt your heart beat faster, the anticipation nearly making you come on the spot, you clenched wondering what she was about to do. Ellie lifted herself off you and onto her feet, "I'll be back, baby." She said before ruminating through a box in the room, you couldn't see what she was doing though, her back turned to you.

When she returned to you, she reconnected your lips, feverish hands moulding themselves over every inch of your body. As if she was worshipping you. Her head travelled down, dropping kisses on your collarbone, down to your stomach and finally reaching the top of your pelvis. You felt your thighs being pulled apart before Ellie placed her warm tongue down on you.

You moaned, relaxing at the sensation of her wet tongue lapping up your juices, she was good at this, there was no denying that. You were quick to lose control, hands clawing at the back of Ellie's head, as she wrapped your thighs around her head, bringing her tongue deeper. "Fuck..." you gasped, grabbing her head to relieve the pressure as she licked harder, alternating between soft and harsher pressures. It wasn't long before you were a moaning mess, whimpering and clenching around nothing.

Ellie decided to multitask, stretching you open with her fingers as she ate you out. She groaned herself, even without you touching her she was already so turned on, her mind reeling and all she could think about was you. You, those moans and that body. She felt drunk from the sounds you released, and wanted nothing more than to continue hearing them.

She removed her mouth from your core, fingers still dipping in and out of you. "You like that, baby? Huh?" She breathed, "You like having my fingers inside you?" She teased, looking up at you with those darkened eyes, before dipping her head back down to your core. "Ye-mhmm, yes, fuck!" You never knew head and fingers could make you feel so good, just goes to show the kind of previous partners you had.

"More, plea- Ellie!" The pace at which she was going in was unmatched, you were surprised a smoker had so much stamina. "Did you say more, pretty girl?" She hummed, waiting till you closed your eyes and nodded, "I think I know how I can help." There was an impish look in her eyes, as she stopped. You heard her shuffle around with something before you realised what it was.

Fuck. That had all just been a teaser, foreplay before the main event. Ellie had manoeuvred herself into the harness, glancing at you as you bit your lip, watching her silently, as she slid the plastic tip over your folds. Running the tip along the wetness of your core, you ground your hips against it, hoping Ellie would take the hint.

If she did, she made no acknowledgement of it, teasing you slowly as the tip became covered in your slick. Ellie just loved teasing, curious to see how long she could drag this out until you couldn't take it anymore. "Ellie, if you don't fuck me with that already, I'm leaving and never coming back," you groaned, your voice breathless as you tried to level out your breathing.

"Don't worry, darling, all in good time," she said, before finally slipping in the tip to your entrance. You couldn't bite down your moans anymore, feeling more full by the second as you stretched around the object. "Oh-," you gasped out, barely able to speak, this is what Ellie had wanted all along, you around her in this way as she grinded her hips into yours.

"Like that, baby?" she cooed, caressing your thighs, you nodded, "Yeah? Is this what you wanted?" "Mhm-my god," you moaned, finally feeling relief as the object dipped in and out, hitting you where you craved, filthy sounds left both of your lips. "No god here, just me," she smirked, with an air of cockiness, as she grabbed your hips, locking them into place as she went deeper inside you, relishing in the delicious sounds erupting from your lips.

"Ellie, feels so- so good," you nuzzled your face into your arms, feeling your eyes roll over to the back of your head, conscious about what you looked like, you hid. But Ellie seems to like it when you're confident, not shy.

Grabbing your arms and ripping them away from your face, she thrust into you as she held your arms over your head, keeping you in place, all exposed for her. She loved the filthy expression on your face, lips in the shape of an 'o', brows furrowed and eyes rolling. "Who knew?" she teased, "That you were just a dirty little girl just waiting for me to fuck you," she loved the way her words had an impact on you, feeling high off your reactions.

"Please," you were reduced to whimpers and moans, the air felt obscene. Ellie suddenly grabbed your hips, flipping you over so you were on your stomach, she delved her hips into yours and the new position left you seeing stars. Her hand grabbed your hair, and you raised your hips, arching your back and rocking your hips with hers. The auburn-haired girl rubbed her palm softly on your ass before smacking her hand down with force, you yelped, not expecting the sudden hit and Ellie almost got scared until she noticed you settle into yourself, moaning louder.

"Fuck, doll, you're so hot like this," Ellie breathed, smacking her hand down on your cheek again, this time there was the red mark of her digits imprinted into your skin, it was devilish how much that riled Ellie on, losing control over her mouth as the obscene words escaped her lips. "Look at you," she scoffed, smirking, "So perfect, just made for this cock," At her crude words, you cried out, almost feeling overwhelmed by all the sensations you were experiencing, that didn't stop Ellie, though.

"I bet no man has ever fucked you like this, huh?" Her hips thrust into you, slower this time but deeper, you were already close, she didn't have to do much, taking long pauses before entering you again. Her fingers moved down to your clit, rubbing the bud to enhance your orgasm, as she leaned over your ear, your hair still bunched into her hand, which was handy as it allowed her to bring your head closer to her own. "Answer me, doll,"

"No, Ellie-" you struggled out, "No one, ju-just you," You were delirious, evidently having lost your grasp on yourself as your body shook, you were so close. "That's what I thought," she whispered into your ear, dropping your head back into the couch, fucking you relentlessly.

Her fingers on your clit exacerbated your orgasm, as you let out a final "Fuck!" as your body rode out the high, twitching in Ellie's arms. "Fuck..." you whispered again, as you rested your head on your crossed arms, taking deep breaths as you slowly came back to reality. Ellie slipped herself out of you, rubbing circles into your thighs as she placed sweet kisses on your spine.

"You are... wow." she hummed, you were better than she ever expected. At a loss for words she decided to wrap her arms around you, you still lay on the couch, catching your bearings as you felt her strong arms cover your body. "I could say the same for you," You giggled, covering your face, "Come on now, still shy?" Ellie chuckled, "What we gonna do about this, then?"

"It's your fault, you're just so.." "So what?" She continued, her fingers rubbing against your skin. She was so different now, all affectionate when she had been a lust demon just seconds earlier. You two clearly had a lot to talk about. "Irresistible." "I'll take that,"

"I think I'll come down to your house at 3 am again," "I'd like that."

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie willams fanfic #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader smut #the last of us #fanfic #smut

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teyums · 1 year

Text

“I only want you.” | Neteyam Oneshot

wc: 2.3k

pairing: neteyam x fem! na’vi reader

warnings: none, contains fluff

a/n: this is a one shot, meaning there will be no part 2

Summary: You had a painfully long day of helping the elders with their tasks, and all that’s getting you through is remembering you’ll meet Neteyam at your spot later. However, when you get there you find him with another girl and feel a piece of your heart break. He finds you, and reassures you that you’re the only one for him, sealing his promise with the proposal you’ve been waiting for.

Today had been an excruciatingly long day. You spent majority of the sunlight helping with tasks bestowed upon you by the elders.

First, it was picking what seemed like a harvest’s worth of utumauti (canopy fruit) that would be used in a celebration for the war party’s successful raids. You agreed begrudgingly and trekked through the mossy forest, holding three baskets that were stacked into each other.

After spending hours hopping from branch to branch, at times to the highest point of the tree, you had finally gathered a sufficient amount to return to the village. You even surprised yourself with how many you had collected from the canopies, seeing as utumauti isn’t in season this time of year—hence why no one wanted to do the job in the first place and passed it onto you.

You wobbly trudged back into town, balancing one basket atop your head and holding the other two in your hands, they were painfully heavy. Once arriving at the elder’s quarters, you attempted to set them down as gently as possible, letting out a sigh of relief once realizing you could now take it easy.

But alas, you were foolish to think one task wouldn’t lead to another like always. It seemed like today was the day for every na’vi in an authoritative position to drop their responsibilities onto you.

Without even five minutes to take a breather, you were then tasked with repairing the splayed and broken strings upon the bows of the latest warriors who had returned. You stared down at the piles of splinted, battered wood that lay out in front of you, strings tangled into a jumbled mess. You tried your hardest to contain your agitated expression and keep the twitch of your eye at bay to avoid a scolding.

God, this was gonna hurt.

It took you over an hour just to detangle the strings, receiving specific instructions that forbade you from simply cutting them loose and replacing them all anew. Something about ‘respecting the great mother enough to not waste resources’. You spent another hour weaving new string into the bows that needed them. Looping the strings into the bow nocks over and over again proved to be an even more tedious effort than picking fruit.

By the time you finished, your fingers were terribly sore. Your cuticles were reddened and bruised, a few snags and hangnails forming in the delicate skin around them from dealing with rough wood.

You stacked the bows in a neater pile than you had found them, standing up and brushing the sawdust off your legs and loincloth. Finally, after hours of what seemed like endless work, you could now focus on what your day was really supposed to be about.

Him.

There had finally been a commonality in your schedules, so you and Neteyam had dedicated the entirety of today to spend with each other. Neteyam’s training had only picked up in frequency the last couple weeks, leaving less time for the two of you to spend together. This proved to be extremely hard on you guys, but especially you. You had been cursed with the love language of quality time and right now you were terribly missing the nights where the two of you would lay in each other’s arms, stargazing without a care of what tomorrow would bring.

You shooed the thought away, a small smile rendering on your lips as you reminded yourself that the hard work was done, and now the two of you could be together. Though you were bummed that your time would now be cut short, you relished in the fact that you would still be able to spend the evening with him, just like old times.

You skipped along the battered path that housed the ghosts of footsteps from your clan, trying to contain your squeals of excitement as you neared the spot Neteyam said he would be waiting at for you.

A small pond with bountiful vegetation surrounding the perimeter slowly came into view, as well as a head of long, black braids and a pair of strong shoulders that belonged to your lover.

You felt your shoulders relax for the first time today and started towards him. You used your hand to move a large anthurium leaf out of the way, your feet stopping dead in your tracks when you caught sight of someone next to him.

A girl.

Your mouth fell slightly agape at the scene in front of you, your brain rushing to make sense of things. She stood with her back to Neteyam, a bow in her hands and her arms stretched clumsily, feigning inexperience. You watched as he used his hand to tip her elbow upwards, helping her correct her form.

Okay, calm down. He’s just helping her. Right?

Neteyam was always known for being friendly, it being both his most admirable characteristic and biggest flaw. Because of his kindhearted, always eager to help like nature, it was hard for him to realize when someone had an ulterior motive to get close to him.

“Here,” he stepped closely behind her, both their gazes set down at the pond in front of them. “Straighten your back. You need a strong form.” His hand pushed against her mid-lower back to fix her posture, resulting in her arching it and repositioning her arms to shoot the bow the correct way. It was now excruciatingly obvious that she knew how to do this from the beginning. You felt your stomach flip.

There stood Neteyam, with his hands on another girl.

Your Neteyam.

“Like this?” She questioned innocently, in which Neteyam hummed as a response. He probably would’ve noticed how close the two of them were to each other, skin nearly touching; if he hadn’t been so focused on the fish darting around in the water below them

Maybe you were hallucinating, but you vaguely recall your heart plunging out of your chest and flopping around pitifully on the forest floor beneath you. You felt the painfully familiar feeling of your throat constricting, the burn of approaching tears following suit. Your face twisted like you had smelled something rotten and you turned away, not wanting to watch any more of this.

You had already figured he would have been a little bummed when you had to move the time of your date, but had he really been so upset that he couldn’t even wait for you? How long had this been going on before you found them and why the hell was he so close to her?

You backed away silently, wiping the tears you hadn’t noticed had fallen with the back of your hand and storming back to your hut.

Neteyam hadn’t been aware of your arrival, instead, his attention was set on the girl he now noticed had been faking.

“Ah,” He removed his hand as if her body burned and stepped back, putting a disrespectful amount of space between them. “It seems you do not need my help, after all.” He says, the unamused expression on his face matching the tone of his voice.

She smiled shyly and lowered her bow, tucking a braid behind her ear. “Fine, you caught me. I actually just wanted to spend time with you.”

“So we are done here, then. If you’ll excuse me, I’m expecting someone important.” He took a seat on the rock where he had previously been resting before the girl came up to ask him for help, resuming the sharpening of an unfinished project he had brought to keep busy.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Her head tilted curiously, not quite understanding his behavior. “I said I wanted to spend time with you, Neteyam.”

“I am not a fan of liars. Whatever it is you want, I cannot help you with.” He nearly interrupted her while continuing to shave the now forming spearhead. “You may go now.”

She scoffed, more out of embarrassment than annoyance. She stood there for a second more, his eyes snapping up to shoot her a pointing stare that had her turning on her heels and hastily exiting.

He sighed to himself and shook his head, silently cursing himself for even agreeing to assist her. He knew it was hard on you, having to listen to the girls of the clan rant and rave about who was soon to be your mate. He tried his best to avoid them, but there were times like this where they would take his kindness for granted, only to run back to their friends and exaggerate what really happened. He felt terrible now that he knew her main goal was only to have his hands on her for bragging rights.

He tore his attention away from his task, peering up at the sky and using a hand to shield his eyes from the blazing sun. It was almost eclipse, you had told him that you would be done by now. If anything, you should have already met up with him. He gathered his things, wondering if you had made a stop home first and decided he would meet you there instead.

___________

You laid in your hammock silently, back facing the entrance as you picked at a stray hemp string to distract yourself from the immense wave of sadness that refused to stop crashing over you. The wooden steps outside your hut groaned from supporting the weight of footsteps, and an involuntary sigh left your lips when your nostrils filled with the scent of mahogany and petrichor. Neteyam.

“My love?”

The tall na’vi stepped through the flaps of your tent, and you tucked your body into itself further, successfully giving off the impression that you weren’t interested in speaking. You figured if you closed your eyes you could play it off as stirring in your sleep.

It didn’t work.

He immediately became worried when catching site of you, wondering if you had fallen sick and that being the reason you hadn’t come to him. He was across the room and by your side in an instant, taking a seat next to you to see your eyes shut.

Neteyam was observant, more than others at that. He knew how your breathing slowed a few paces when you were truly asleep, how your lips would stay parted just the tiniest bit, or even how your nostrils would flare here and there depending on how deeply you inhaled. Something was wrong.

“My love, what is the matter?” It took everything in you not to lean into his touch when you felt his gentle fingers brush the hair from your face, his digits grazing over your skin before cupping your cheek.

“I do not want to talk about it, Neteyam.” Your eyes stayed closed, an effort to remain withdrawn from the conversation.

The use of his full name instantly ruled out any other option he had been thinking of. You were upset with him.

“No, you know we don’t do that. Come on,” his large hands delicately took hold of your small frame, bringing you into a sitting position. “Open.”

Your eyelids reluctantly peeled apart, amber eyes streaked with red veins and eyelashes dewy from prior tears. His eyebrows furrowed with worry at your puffy appearance, gaze softening once he saw why. You had been crying.

“Princess,” his voice was pained, hands coming up to cup your tear stained cheeks and caress them with his thumbs. “What happened? Why are you crying?”

Your lip quivered and you felt that painfully annoying sensation creeping back in. You opened your mouth to speak but the tightening of your throat stopped you before you could respond.

He continued. “I waited for you, but you did not come. Why?”

“I saw you,” You sniffed, dropping your gaze down at the netting below you instead of his eyes. “With her.”

He appeared confused at first, his mind jumping through hoops to try and figure out what you meant. Then, his head fell to the side a bit and a deep sigh of realization joined afterwards.

“[Y/n], that was nothing. I promise. I was waiting for you, then she found me and asked me to show her how to catch a fish.” He explained, his hands now on your shoulders.

“You think she doesn’t know how to catch a damn fish? She just wanted your attention.” You spat, hating the way your voice was cutting in and out.

“I know, I know. I wasn’t thinking straight, I was so excited to see you that I just helped her so she would leave. But as soon as I saw her true intentions I sent her away. It was nothing more than that, princess, I swear.” He took notice of you turning your head away from him and felt a pang in his chest. He hated seeing you like this, and it hurt even more knowing it was because of him.

“Do you believe me?” His voice was quiet and you finally peered up at him to see he looked just as hurt as you did. You nodded your head slightly, his tensed shoulders relaxing a bit the moment you did.

“Of course I believe you. But it still hurts.” A single tear fell onto your cheek and he was quick to clear it without a word, giving you time to express your feelings to him. “I cannot stand to hear the way they talk about you.”

He noticed your fingers starting to twiddle anxiously, taking both of your hands into his and holding them firmly. “But you know I am yours, only. I only want you. Those girls will never change that.”

“You don’t understand.” You shook your head and went to pull your hands away from him, but he tightened his hold. He was already one step ahead and knew how you preferred to run from conversations like this rather than have them.

“Please, help me understand.” His voice soft, warm yellow eyes pleading and seeing into the part of your soul no one else could.

“They laugh at me, when I tell them you are spoken for. They do not believe me,” You inhaled shakily, biting at the inside of your lip before continuing. “because we are not mated yet.” Your voice merely a whisper, like you were embarrassed to admit what had been ailing you.

“Oh, [Y/n]…” He pulled you into his chest and embraced you in his arms, placing a light kiss to the top of your head. He was so careful with you, it was as if he felt you would crumble to pieces.

You melted into his arms, you couldn’t help it even if you tried. He really was your safe place, and even if he had been the one to upset you, he made it known that you could always come to him no matter what. You felt him lean back and lightly pull you away.

“I had no idea you have been feeling this way. There is nothing I want more than to be with you for life, my love. I just didn’t want to rush you into it, in case you weren’t ready.” He smiled, his excitement written all over his face.

“Really?” Your eyes grew big, pupils leaking adoration and swelling in sync with your heart.

“Really.” He hummed.

The space between the two of you grew smaller as he fell in, your lashes kissing before your lips could. By the time your eyes fluttered to a close his lips were melded against yours, and with every second that passed you felt your doubts withering away— the passion from his embrace and his hands on your waist served as ample reassurance.

You broke for air, eyes dazed, bodies longing for more. “I’m sorry if I ruined our date, Nete…”

“Nonsense, you could never ruin anything.” He chuckled, pecking the tip of your nose. “Forget about that, just come with me.”

Before you could agree you were off the hammock and up on your feet, fingers laced as he led you out of your home.

“Where are we going?” You smiled.

“To tell my parents to begin preparations for our ceremony. I don’t want to spend another moment not mated with you.” He glanced down at you and gave your hand a squeeze, an elated grin overtaking his face to match yours.

Likes + Reblogs are much appreciated, thank you for reading! 💗

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xarniae · 2 years

Text

☁︎ ᴇᴛᴇʀɴᴀʟ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ ⋆⁺₊⋆

a/n: should I write more things like this??? synapsis: after falling into a coma you find yourself stuck in the dreaming and in love with the Lord of Dreams, and when you eventually awake you leave him in despair. warnings: hot and heavy makeout sessions......(i tried y'all😭) not proofread or edited pt2

☆.｡.:*

Years had gone by, and many seasons had changed. But you were still injured. You lay motionless in your hospital bed. Peace was drawn on your face. Your mother and father had withered and aged, Your siblings and friends had empty hope that you would make it. But they could never bring themselves to pull the plug. That’s how it was in the waking world. However, in the Dreaming it was different. Your face had life and color, and your smile was brighter than a million suns. And all signs of sickness left your body. You were walking, running even dancing. It truly was a dream you never wanted to wake up from. But alas all good things must come to an end.

The first time you and Morpheus met in the dreaming,he was awkard. You had wandered into the palace library and met the lovely Lucianne. You were quite confused, you remember your eyes going heavy after being placed in the hospital and your chest tightening and then here you were. The librarian was nice and sat you down. She told you all about the dreaming and reassured you that you would awake in a few hours when morning came. So you sat and enjoyed the day, the library was magnificent. It really took your breath away. Its large shelves filled with books could only found in a bookworms dream. You wandered around the library not wanting to bother Lucianne. Your look for a familiar book, any familiar book. A surge of happiness runs through your body as you finally find a familiar title, Romeo and Juliet. It wasn’t one of you favorites but it was familiar so you picked it up off the shelf. It seemed to be freshly printed. The spine was crisp and untouched.

“Lucianne.” deep mellow voice calls out,

“I think she went out for a moment.” you reply softly, your head swivels around trying to find the source of the voice.

“I beg your pardon-” you finally see the man walk out from behind the book shelf infront of you,

“Who are you.”

The man was very pale and had messy hair as dark as molasses. You quickly tell him your name and greet him holding out a hand,

“Whats your name?” You gently ask

“Morpheus.” He leaves your hand hanging until you eventually drop it. It was very awkward. The silence made you squirm under his gaze. Just as you were about to open your mouth to say something to ease the silence Lucianne barged in,

“Lord Morpheus-” her voice trailed off as she saw the two of you,

“I see you’ve met our new guest.”

His gaze shifted to Lucianne,

“What do you need me for.” they both walked away from you. Leaving you with the comforting silence of the books.

After that occurrence, he would see you around every corner of the palace. You were like a curious mouse, looking at every crevice. Running your hand on every solid object. Time had passed and you should have awoken by now. But here you were, still in the dreaming. This predicament seemed to alarm not only Lucianne but also Morpheus. They had their fair share of humans who fell asleep for months even years but never usually were lucid, or conscious of the fact that the dreaming was there. Nevertheless, there was nothing they could do now. You were stuck in the dreaming whether you liked it or not.

Many weeks had passed since you first entered the dreaming. You had already gotten bored of being confined to the palace, you didn’t even get to sleep in the dreaming. It was eternal morning. You had gotten to the point in your life where you were begging Lucianne to help her with her work, but she would only shoo you away. A huff left your lips as you sat on the large staircase in front of the large palace doors, your knees up to your chest as you buried your face in your legs. You wanted to wake up. You were going insane due to boredom, you had read so many books that your brain physically hurt to see letters on a page, and the smell of the books made you queasy. You craved human interaction, physical affection, and adventure. Lucianne was working 24/7 and Morpheus was out of the question. After your first meeting you hadn’t spoken to him again, he was too odd for you to socialize with. At that moment you heard the large doors creak open and footsteps tap on the floors. You knew who it was but kept your head down.

Morpheus kept moving until he reached the top of the stairs where you sat, slumped over. He wouldn’t lie, he felt for you. Being confined to the dreaming must be agonizing for you. He wished to relieve you of that burden even for a few moments.

“Would you like to go walk in the gardens?” Your head snapped up to where he stood next to you

“Yes please.” your eyes twinkle pleadingly

He leads you out the palace doors and into the flourishing gardens located behind the palace. The sun gleamed down onto you for the first time, it felt so pleasing and euphoric. Morpheus watched as you observed every flower and plant with awe. It was amusing to him, watching you gawk at unknown flora.

“Are those fruit trees!” You exclaim turning around

He nods and gestures for you to go explore. And you did.

“I didn’t know the dreaming had fruit trees.” You strolled shoulder to shoulder with Morpheus,

“The dreaming has anything anyone could dream of.”

“That's amazing.”

He felt a sense of pride at your praise for his domain.

“May I eat one?” Your fingers point to the dangling juicy red apple.

“You do not need to ask permission for every movement you make in this realm.” He grabs the magnificent fruit and hands it to you to devour. You weren’t hungry but you ate it, the sweet taste invaded your tastebuds and drove you to feel ecstatic. Maybe you were wrong about Morpheus, he seemed to care more than he liked to show.

“Thank you Morpheus.” your smile pierces his heart, when was the last time a human smiled so gratefully at him? He could feel his lips curve,

“It is no problem, the gardens are yours to roam.”

Your heart swelled with joy,

“But what if I wish to roam them with you, would that be permissible.”

“Of course, I would be more than willing to keep you company.”

Your smile only widened, Life in the Dreaming might not be so bad.

For the next month, Morpheus took you out into the gardens every day without fail. Somedays you would go fruit picking or have a picnic. Other times you would make a pie or a fruit-flavored pastry and bring it to him in his throne room. You two became very close in a short period of time. You might have even called each other friends. But I hardly think friends suck each other's faces in the gardens. But there you two were, smushed against an apple tree your mouths locked onto one another. The kiss was hot and heavy, your teeth clashed and your tongues invaded each other's mouths. Even the sun wanted to secrete behind the clouds at that act of indecency. Your hands grouped every part of each other's bodies as if you wanted to tear each other's clothing off. Only after you have to pull Morpheus off your body could you catch your breath. A dopey smile was planted onto your face as you watched his chest heave. He looked like a mess, his hair was more tousled and messy than usual. His clothing was wrinkly and he had love bites on his pale neck. Some old and some newer ones growing in hue.

“We really should go back inside,” you say after finally catching your breath,

�� Do we really?” Morpheus challenges leaning his face closer to yours, his short breaths hitting your lips

“I guess not.” Once again the messy kiss fest began,

One might wonder ’how did this start?’. It happened to start after the fourth week of Morpheus taking you to the Palace gardens. Morpheus was starting to feel his heart gravitate toward you and his eyes capture you more beautifully. He felt his feelings for you were becoming more romantic. You on the other hand also started seeing Morpheus more romantically but you were also severely touch starved and craved physical connection and affection. This is why when Morpheus explained his feelings for you in the valley of berry bushes you wasted no time kissing him on his lips, your heart was frivolous and floating. He grabbed your waist and held you close as you both locked lips until you both pulled away, sweet smiles on your bruised lips, and walked back to the palace hand in hand. No words were ever spoken about the status of your relationship and never would be until further on in the future. Ever since then your garden trips always either started or ended with your mouth on each other. This leads us to the current time, Instead of your usual kissing spots you both were currently locking lips on his throne. You sat on top of him as you both vigorously kissed, your tongues dancing the waltz and his hands finally found purchase on your waist as he had previously been groping your chest. You gripped his dark black coat, seeking some stability, you felt as if you would float away into the clouds. After you both had your fill, you both settled down, you rested your head on his chest and sat there absorbing his warmth.

“Morpheus.” You whisper

He hums in acknowledgment, caressing your hair,

“What would you say we are” Your head lifts to watch his expression, its the epitome of adoration

“Lovers.” He fondly pecks your lips

You contently hum and lean back into his chest. It was perfect, everything was perfect. But nothing lasts forever.

Many months pass. It has now been about 4 years since you entered your coma and ventured into the Dreaming. All day you had felt odd, your entire body tingled and felt floaty. Like you were groggy. You sat in the library with Lucianne and Morpheus. The pair were coming up with ideas for new dreams and nightmares. You were sitting on a comfy brown plush chair, reading a book when it happened. You could hear voices in your head. Like they were in your skull. Your book dropped to the floor and you gripped your head. You could smell the faint scent of antiseptic and plastic. It was familiar. You could hear the heavy footsteps of Morpheus and Lucianne rushing towards you,

“Are you alright darling?” His voice was filled with worry

“My head.” You groan, the voices were all too much, their yelling mixed with Morpheus's voice was all too much

‘Grip my hand if you can hear me.’ you heard in your head

“What is happening,” Morpheus asked turning to Lucianne for help, she was more knowledgeable in these situations,

“It seems as though they are waking from their coma.”

“No,” his voice was soft and filled with disbelief. You had never heard him use that tone, or have that look in his eyes. As if his world was crumbling. The feeling was getting stronger and you were starting to fade. The sound in your head was getting stronger and the smell was growing. You could faintly feel cold metal. Before you fully disappear you grabbed Morpheus's hand and give him a sweet smile,

“See you in my dreams.”

Then you awoke. Leaving Morpheus broken in the Dreaming.

“It’s alright Lord Morpheus.” Lucianne comforted,

“You shall still see her while she sleeps, or you may even visit her in the waking world.”

“No Lucianne.” His voice was filled with despair

“I won’t be the same.” His heart mourned, you were happy in the Dreaming, his kingdom. He wanted to be by your side forever but now you were gone from his home. He never expected you to leave him so soon. He sat in the library in front of that brown chair for hours after you left, his hands rested on the plush cushion of the chair. A few tears left his eyes, but no sounds left his throat. You had left him.

{end}

(maybe I'll write a happier part 2)

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