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mandowifey · 1 year

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Bury

Miguel O'hara x Fem!Reader

Miguel Masterlist

Warnings: Reader is 18+,NSFW, oviposition, creampie, breeding mentions, non-con mentions, dark!Miguel, my version of Miguel, dub con, violence, aggressive heroing, Miguel being a massive ass, pet play, reader is held against her will. Oviposition - the process of having eggs laid inside of you.

Another one I needed to do before my brain exploded. Not proof read, enjoy!

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One face in a sea of millions, and he picked you. Miguel liked to say,'I saved you,' but you knew better. You were taken. Whisked away from your home and locked somewhere unfamiliar and daunting. Most people swooned at the notion of being rescued by Spider-Man, but they didn't know the truth like you.

Spider-Man wasn't a hero.

He was a monster, and you were his prey.

Miguel liked to watch you. When he was in thought or pondering his next move, he would often linger in your presence and quietly observe. You hated it, feeling like a zoo animal under scrutiny. Sometimes, he'd cross the room and sit down on the bed near you with his face towards the wall. Other times, he would lay his head on your lap and rest his eyes to the sound of your pattering heart. If you felt brave, you'd tassel your fingers through his brown curls. Being soft with him helped to temper his mood.

That afternoon, he came to you as usual and climbed onto the bed. You folded the book you were reading and sat up, adjusting the silk blue nightgown he'd given you. The look on Miguel's face is different. There is uncertainty in his eyes, and his body language feels off. You watch him for a moment before tentatively touching your hand to his back. "Miguel?"

"I'm going to need you to do something for me today."

The weight of his tone makes you jump. A man who had done nothing but take from you was asking you to help him. You felt uneasy, watching him as his expression twisted into disgust, and he looked away. Ultimately confused, your eyes track him in silence as you wait out whatever internal struggle he was dealing with.

"You aren't going to like it."

Now you laughed.

His head swiveled, and his eyes went from that warm, chocolate brown to hellish red. Bristling, his clawed hand grabbed your cheeks and squeezed until your lips stuck out. "You think it's funny?" He spits, his lip curling in a snarl. "You have no idea, not a one, of what I'm going to do to you today." With a shove, he sends you sprawling onto your back and knocks the wind out of you. You are left flailing, arms and hands catching yourself before you could topple off the bed.

"I'm sorry," you squeak, heart hammering. "I'm sorry, I just -" The way he looked at you made you panic. "You have never asked me before." It was honesty. He had taken you from your home, stolen your virginity, and hadn't stopped using you since. Spider-man's dirty little secret, locked away in his tower forever. You press your knees together and turn your eyes downward, your shoulders slanted. "I'm sorry." You reiterated, as it was the only thing you could think to say now.

Miguel watches you tense like a snake in the grass. "You're right," His voice growled. "So what's the use in asking now. Come here." A fist closes around your ankle, and you're torn closer to him in an effortless display of his strength. The gown you wore rode high, exposing your underwear and soft stomach. His eyes flick over you, taking in what he'd claimed as his long ago. Tonguing one of his growing fangs, Miguel leans down to cage your body with his own. Balanced on his knees between your legs, he brings his mouth to your ear.

"You are special, Y/N. You think I picked you randomly, that I just happened to like you for your looks?" He smiled into his words now. "It's much more than that. You see," One of his hands touches your knee and causes you to jump, a whimper tightening in your throat. "What happened to me didn't just give me fangs, or venom, or red eyes and this charming disposition I know you love so much," A breath wafts against your neck, and you shiver. "My body, every couple of months, goes into a sort of rut." Miguel adjusted himself between your legs, leaning his weight into you to let you feel the growing bulge he sported.

Sucking in a soft breath, you close your eyes as he kisses the nape of your neck. Of everything he did to you, you hated the fact he was able to make you melt. Miguel knew everything you liked and enjoyed using it against you. Grazing your flesh with his fangs, Miguel continued. "It doesn't just make me violent, hungry, and territorial, but in fact, it also makes me produce eggs." Hearing that made your eyes open and head turn to look up at him. With your faces so close, Miguel ghosted his lips over your own. "That's right," He continued. "Every time it's happened and I've tried to pass them manually, it doesn't work. The pain is fucking excruciating, Y/N." Sighing, he nips your mouth. "I came to the conclusion that for this to work, I had to find the right incubator."

That wasn't a compliment. It struck fear in your chest, and another wave of nausea rolled through you, making you hot. "Oh god," you gasp, your voice twisting in distress. Miguel was unflinching, his eyes - now back to brown, staring down at your distraught expression. "It's going to hurt, I'm guessing, but since you're such a good girl, I know you'll take them just fine for me." A sickening smile crossed his features as he kissed you, bruising your lips before drawing upwards.

"W-wait, wait, wait- Wait, Miguel, f-fuck, Miguel wait -" You babbled, helpless as the super human moved your body around to his liking. "P-please, please let's talk about this!" Tears stung your eyes and clouded your vision as he drew you close and pushed your legs apart. The only thing hiding you from him now were your panties. "Nothing to talk about, kid." He sighed finally. "Maybe you'll even like it, who knows." Miguel was unbothered by your tears as he let his suit crawl back until he was bare.

This couldn't be real, and most certainly couldn't be happening to you.

Heaving a sob, you put your face in your hands as he rips your underwear off and exposes your soft folds. "Besides, you used to beg me to stop before and now look at you, I practically make you cum every time we fuck." Chuckling, Miguel wrapped a fist around his cock and dragged the weeping tip through your slit, collecting moisture. He tuts at you. "You're kidding me! You're wet, too? Sheesh, I'm starting to think you really do like me, princess." You were humiliated and frustrated at your body for defying you. In no way did you want to be used by some maniac to harbor his clutch, and certainly didn't want to cum for him.

Miguel rumbled above you, brooding and large as he notched at your entrance. "Try not to tense up this time." He smiles when you peek at him from between your fingers, then shoves forward. His cock stretches you brutally and bottoms out as he hilts. Your hands fly from your face to grab the blankets while a scream bellows deep from your diaphragm. "Shh, shh shh, you're doing great." Cooed the hero, his body leaning forward so he could balance on his forearms above you.

He begins to thrust, drawing back until only the head is left submerged before slowly shoving back to your end. The drag of his cock is maddening, stroking the deepest reaches of your cunt and making you mewl like a cat in heat. Miguel drops his head to yours, stealing a kiss to swallow your cries and lapping into your mouth. You felt smothered as he rocks his hips, driving deep into you with each brutal thrust he gave. "Ghh-god, f-feel so fucking good." He hisses against your lips, his breath fanning your face as he bucked. Your body bounced helplessly under him as you tried so hard to fight that rising heat in your abdomen.

"That's it." Miguel purrs against your gaping mouth, dipping his tongue over your teeth and breathing in your scent. Your cunt squishes around him, embarrassing you further as it made his girth pound easier within you. "M-mi-guel-" You choke, your words broken by each impact. Finally winding your hands into his hair and scratching down his back, you cave. As hard as you fought, he fucked you well, and you couldn't deny it.

Spurred by your affection, Miguel thrusts harder. His cock pounding into you rough enough to bruise, pulling cry after cry from you. Your nails scour his back, making him snarl as his head drops to your shoulder. The both of you are panting in tandem, your mouths brushing as you breathe eachothers air. He was losing it, his thrusts becoming uneven and frantic as he draws closer to his end.

"H-hah, t-too m-much-!" Your voice breaks, nearly sobbing as he rocks just right, the tip of his cock forcing against your gspot and bringing you closer to your own release. The sounds you make encourage him, and he suddenly sits up to grab your ankles and fold you at the hips. With this knee-to-chest position, you gasp. Miguel looks down at you, his eyes cloudy with emotion and need. Some of his hair came loose and dangled in strands in front of his face.

"C'mon princess, cum for me."

And that was all it took.

The mans cock brushes something explosive and sets you off. Your world becomes white hot, body tensing and arching as you clamp down around him in waves. Later, you will hate yourself, but now you ride out your release while you cry out and rock your hips to his. Miguel, now satisfied that you finished, braces himself on his hands by either side of your head. His face changes to a look of near pitiful desperation, the sounds escaping him paint a different picture of the man who held you against your will.

As you come down from your high, you watch as he unravels. Eyes closed lightly, and head lowered, Miguel bucks into you. He sought your warmth and the comforting squeeze your little cunt gave him. Harder, until he bumps your cervix again, and you keen softly, then he crumbles. You feel him throb, followed by a hot spray of thick, heavy fluid. It doesn't hurt, even when he begins to frantically rabbit his hips into you.

He's muttering in Spanish, like he's talking to himself. The thrusting slows, and you feel strangely full and warm. Miguel eases down until his larger frame is resting against yours, caging you under him while leaving his cock nestled inside your walls. His lips press to your neck and jaw, peppering you in what felt like gratitude. You were apprehensive and uncertain if this were really all there was. It gnaws at you, but you bring your arms to wrap around his neck.

"Does it hurt?"

Your eyes open and catch Miguel's worried stare. "No. Should it?" The man frowns and moves one of his hands to pet and paw over your abdomen. He looks unsure, and you realize this was equally new to him. After a moment, he reluctantly pulls out of you and moves to curl around your body. You were dwarfed by him as he wrapped you in his arms and drew you into his broad chest.

Affectionate was not a term you would ever associate with Miguel. He presses kisses into your hair and inhales your pleasant scent, his hand drifting down to cup your abdomen once more. As you settle into him, you look down and notice the slight bloat under his hand, like you'd pulled a muscle and were pushing it out. Fear prickles up your spine as he pets you there, your mind racing with dozens of thoughts.

Are there really eggs inside of me?

What happens when they hatch?

Miguel can feel you starting to tense, and he kisses your temple. "You'll be just fine." He churrs into your ear, making the color drain from your face. "Motherhood will suit you." He nipped your neck before laying his face into your shoulder. Miguel was giddy at the notion of any of those eggs taking. Imagine you swollen with his child, giving him a new life to love and raise, an opportunity to be a father again. It was all he wanted.

He falls asleep curled with you, his hand planted against your growing abdomen. You mourn the loss of your bodies autonomy, silently laying there in his arms while dozens of tapioca sized eggs clung to your hot womb and begin to grow. You were certain you could feel the process as it underwent. The sensation made your throat dry and eyes wet, knowing that Miguel, your captor, left a part of himself inside of you. He claimed you in every way, violating you so deeply that you knew there was no coming back.

As the day descends into night, you listen to him sleeping soundly and wonder if he was right.

If motherhood would suit you.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara headcanon #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #oscar isaac #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spiderman into the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman x reader #spider-man x reader

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widowmaxff · 2 months

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In overwhelmed, it mentions that Y/N used to be in a dark hole and how Wanda is afraid she’d go back to it. Can you write about it? Like what happened?

hope ur ok

pairings: mom!wanda × daughter!reader (platonic)

warnings: depressed reader, cryingg, bad thoughts, and sad sad things

a/n: okay how did you pay so much attention to what i wrote in overwhelmed bc i didnt even remember writing that 😭 BUT THANK YOU for the request i literally just ramble what was in my head but hope you like it love!

HOW YOU CAN HELP PALESTINE!

You don't know when it started, much less why it started. Maybe a few days ago, a month ago, maybe a year ago the signs that something was wrong started to appear. It was almost as if these feelings were always there, just hidden by a layer that was slowly removed and made everything more difficult. It seemed like there were days when you could easily deal with it, maybe ignoring it or just hiding it very well, you didn't know. But there were days that were more difficult. It was more difficult to get out of bed, your appetite was barely there, you didn't want to leave your room, just stay in darkness and total silence. Even though this silence made your head spin, it was better than anyone talking and making you even more depressed.

If someone asked the people closest to you if you were sensitive, you were sure that more than half of them would say no. They would talk about how you had a frozen heart, that you didn't cry when you watched a sad movie, that you didn't fall in love with the character when watching or reading a novel, that you didn't care when someone was fighting with you. But deep down, you knew it was a lie. You felt hard feelings most of the time, including when watching sad films. Maybe you just don't like showing the sadness and emptiness you feel. It makes you feel weak, worthless, and selfish, especially selfish. You shouldn't feel this way, not when you had the perfect life: a loving mother, food on the table, new clothes, and expensive sneakers. Then why?

You didn't really care that you felt depressed, you knew that eventually it would pass, just like every other time - even if that feeling came back some time later, even worse. It wasn't like anyone noticed and said anything to you, even though you were sure most of the adults around you blamed it on teenage hormones when they saw you sulking or just isolating yourself in your room all day. Maybe a few questions like 'are you okay?', even though they knew you would respond with something positive even if everything was falling apart. But there was always someone. Someone who knew that it wasn't just teenage hormones but something that was slowly consuming you. Wanda, your mother, was that someone, and she certainly didn't let those details slip.

The first time you actually showed that you were in a depressing state was on a random Thursday at six-thirty in the morning. Wanda didn't mind much in the first moments when you refused to get out of bed, it was normal for any teenager to not be able to stand school. But when you finally decided to show up for the morning in the Compound's kitchen, she was surprised. You had big black bags under your eyes that were tired and red, looking like you hadn't slept well that night and maybe you had been crying most of it. Wanda didn't take long to ask if something had happened and if you were okay, only receiving a murmur of something like ‘'m fine' before turning back to look at the emptiness of space. Tony who was nearby joked “Maybe the red eyes are because of something she used. Don't tell me you snuck out to a party, Mini Maximoff?”, you'd laugh on any other day, even replying something like 'Yes, I did some hard drugs at a party. How do you know?', but that wasn't the case. Stark laughed to himself after saying that sentence but soon the sound of his voice disappeared when he realized that you hadn't heard him and, apparently, nothing around you.

The second time was right after a mission Wanda had done. It was only three days away from you and everything seemed different when she came back. The first thing she noticed was that you didn't run into her arms when she stepped inside the Compound, much less respond to the messages she sent you a few hours earlier. Obviously like a worried mother she went after you, not taking long to find you in your room with all the lights off, two blankets around your body and how it looked like the things in your room had been in the same place since your mother left for the mission. She turned on the light in your room, hearing a soft growl leave your lips. You were awake and conscious, so it didn't make sense for you to want to be lying down and almost sinking into your mattress at four o'clock in the afternoon. She remembered when you were little and couldn't sleep if at least one light wasn't on, now it was ironic to think that you just lived in the darkness and emptiness of your room without fear that some monster would catch you, because no monster could hurt you like depression was.

Wanda couldn't count how many more episodes like those happened and lasted for several days. She was worried, very worried. She was afraid that you would end up doing something that would hurt you, end everything. It was obvious that your mother tried to ask you what was wrong, how she could help you, but you always said that you just woke up on the wrong foot that morning and that everything was fine. Of course, how were you going to tell her what was happening if you didn't even know. There was no reason for you to feel down like that and not even the absurd desire to just want to close your eyes and not open them again. And every day that passed, this dark hole you were in would get deeper and deeper. You knew you needed to ask for help before it was too late.

It was no longer strange when once again that week you had no will to live. You look at the clock next to your bed and realize that your mother would be coming to your room to call you for another day in two minutes and a few seconds. Just the thought of 'one more day' made you want to throw up the food you didn't even eat the day before, as that empty feeling made your hunger go away. But as much as vomiting, you wanted to cry, cry until you couldn't take it anymore. And it was no surprise when the tears started to fall and you couldn't stop. Even though you are not a loud person, trying to keep yourself in your own bubble, the sobs wanted to get out of your throat anyway.

“Darling?” Wanda didn't mind knocking on your bedroom door in the morning, since you would be sleeping, well, not at that moment. When she heard the choking sounds you were making to keep from crying, she didn't take long to run towards your body on the bed and get under your covers, pressing you against her chest giving the perfect comfort to let you know that you weren't alone. “Oh, my love.” Wanda has seen you cry, many, many times, but it was so different to see you cry as if you were drowning in a sea and needed help from someone, anyone. “It's okay, Mama is here.” With each passing minute it seemed like the tears were getting even bigger than before, but you tried to focus on Wanda's heartbeat as you placed your hand on her chest, making you feel calmer despite all the panic.

The lullaby that starts to leave her lips and go straight to your ear makes you start paying attention to the soft melody and not your terrible thoughts. The language Wanda sang in, Sokovian, was not understood by you, but you still remembered when she sang you to sleep on the days you had nightmares. It was as if Wanda was using her magic to calm you down, even though you knew she would never use her powers on you without your permission, but her voice was so sweet that it was more powerful than any of her red magic. Your breathing becomes soft and your movements slow, as if you were choosing the right words to get rid of that moment, but with your mother there it was almost impossible to lie.

“I wanna get help,” You murmur for just her to hear, despite there being no one else in the room with you two. “b-but I don’t even know why I’m like this.” Your crying had stopped, but you still choked to say a few words. Admitting those words out loud seemed like a challenge for you, and when you said them, a weight seemed to lift off your back despite not having yet deciphered all your feelings. And Wanda knew that. She knew how hard you were to avoid looking like a weak person even if you weren't, even if asking for help wasn't a sign of weakness but rather of improvement.

Your mother kisses your head, taking a few seconds before cupping your face and looking at it. “I'm so proud of you, my angel.” You didn't see pity or lies in the expression on her face. You didn't see disappointment and much less as if you were a problem for her. “I'm glad you want to ask for help, and I'm here for it, yeah?” You felt a little guilty when you saw a tear come out of your mother's eyes, but she was still smiling. The same smile you saw when you woke up, or when you told her some good news, or even when you told her a joke. Wanda never wanted you to feel anything negative about her. She never took out any frustration on you, never made you feel bad when you got a bad grade at school, or when you accidentally knocked a glass on the floor. “I will help you with whatever you need, my love. It will be slow, but I promise that the tightness in your chest will pass, okay?”

“I trust you.” She nods before pulling you into a hug that she knew you needed more than anything at that moment. The process would take a long time until you felt well again, you both knew that, but it was never too late. It's never too late to ask for help, because it's normal to need someone to pull you out of the dark hole sometimes, it's normal to not feel good all the time. Having feelings is normal, even if sometimes they are too deep, or too shallow. You just needed to realize that you were never alone, that people around care about you and will always want the best for you.

“I love you so much. Always remember that.”

“I love you too, Mama.”

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applebutter-and-cinnamon · 2 years

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Dancing with You

Summary: A dance with Bob leaves you infatuated and slightly surprised that a man like him actually exists.

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

A/N: Warning, I wrote this so fast and had no idea how to close it. I'm sorry for the weird plot, it was just an idea that I had in my head that I had to get out.

You had never been any guys first choice. That was a fact that you had accepted as true by this point in your life. It wasn't that you were unattractive because you knew that you had moments that you could knock any man on his ass. You were just shy.

You were a shy, introverted person who was friends with bubbly, outgoing people. You didn't think anyone was trying to be rude they just tended to glance right over you, their eyes not registering the person sitting or standing there as well.

It's why you were surprised that he was talking to you.

You hadn't bothered to look up from the table when a figure made it's way to the place you were sitting with your friends. It was only when your friend that was sitting next to you nudged your arm that you looked up to meet the eyes of the most handsome man you'd ever seen.

Feeling the blush rise in your cheeks, you said, "I'm so sorry, were you talking to me?"

He nodded, "Yes ma'am. I was wondering if I could steal you away for a minute. I was hoping to grab a dance with you."

He had a kind demeanor, unlike a lot of the other men in the Navy who had been flirting with your friends all night and he seemed genuine in his interest for you. He had a cute southern drawl when he spoke that made your heart beat a little faster.

"I'd like that a lot," you told him, giving him a sweet, surprised smile.

His eyes were sparkling as he offered you his arm after you slid out of your chair to meet him around the table. Your friend gave you a thumbs up before you turned towards him to slip your arm through his.

He led you through the crowd of couples towards the dance floor where a few people were already dancing themselves. You passed a group of people who he seemed to know as he nodded in their direction. They all turned to stare at the two of you in disbelief as he pulled you close to him for your dance.

His right hand settled respectfully on your waist and his left hand hung in the air, waiting for yours. You let him pull you close, slipping one hand in his and the other up to rest on his shoulder.

"So," you started, staring at the collar of his uniform. You were too afraid to look at his face. "You're name's Bob?" You asked, eyes staring at the name that was sewn into his shirt.

He shrugged, "Yes and no. Technically, my name's Robert. Bob's is my callsign."

Your eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, "Bob is your callsign?"

"Yeah, before I'd been giving a callsign everyone just called me Bob. They liked it better than Robert, which makes sense and it just kind of stuck I think," he told you.

He was leading you in simple steps around the floor. His hand on your waist guiding you gently in the direction you were supposed to go. You had no idea what song was playing, too focused on the way his voice sounded so close to your ear and the way his hand felt in yours.

"Does it bother you?" You asked, daring to look at his face.

His eyes were soft and his expression open for you to read at your will. You hadn't noticed that he had any walls up before but between the table and where you were on the dance floor, his expression had changed.

"That I don't have a crazy callsign?" He asked, eyebrows raising.

You nodded, moving your hand on his shoulder so that it slid closer to his neck.

He shook his head, "Not really, I've never had a different one. Plus, it's way more unique than anyone else's."

This made you laugh a little as you nodded, "That's a good point."

He hummed slightly. His eyes scanned your face for a minute before pulling you so that you were a little closer to him.

"What's your name?" He asked, his voice coming out in a whisper.

You cleared your throat, "It's y/n."

His grip on your waist tightened involuntarily for a moment, "That suits you."

"Thank you," you told him, "I didn't pick it."

"Touche," he granted.

You had turned enought that you could see his friends just over his shoulder. They were all turned in your direction. A beautiful woman with dark hair was high fiving a man with a moustache and the blonde man had a giant grin on his face.

"You're friends are all staring," you whispered, hiding your face in the comfort of is chest. He smelled really good, a mixture of something woodsy and sweet.

You felt him turn to glance behind him for a minute before he shook his head, "I'm sorry. I think they're just excited 'cause I don't normally do anything like this."

His voice vibrated through his chest and you were hesitant to pull away from it to look at him.

"Why did you?" You asked him.

He tilted his head and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "What do you mean?"

You shrugged, "If you don't normally do this, why tonight? Why me?"

"It's not really why you," he told you, "You are the reason I did this tonight. I saw you come in with your friends and I couldn't look away. Phoenix, she's the pilot for the plane that I fly in, encouraged me to go over and talk to you."

"Honestly," he continued, "I really thought you weren't interested at first, you didn't even look at me."

You shook your head quickly, "It wasn't that at all. It's just, men normally come over to talk to them, not me. I just assumed that's what was going on."

"I find that hard to believe," he chuckled.

You gave him a confused look, "Why?"

He stopped dancing all together, looking you right in your eyes. "Y/n, you're the prettiest girl in this room," he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"That doesn't mean that people ever try to talk to me," you pointed out.

He chuckled, starting to dance again. "What I would bet," he said, leaning down a little to whisper in your ear, "Is that most of the men that hit on your friends were originally coming over to talk to you but were stolen by your friends."

You rolled your eyes, "Why would you even think that."

He went a little pink before he answered, "That's what was starting to happen when I walked over to talk to you."

He hurried to explain, "I had asked if you wanted to dance but you were off in your own little world so your friend spoke up and said that she'd love to dance. I had to explain that I only wanted to dance with you."

You looked at him in amazement, before going up on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

"What was that for?" He asked, giving you a little half-smile.

You shrugged, "For going after me anyway."

His eyes slid off your face for a second before he tightened his grip on you to pull you closer, "The pleasure was all mine, ma'am."

You rested your head on his shoulder as he swayed, enjoying the feeling of his arms and simulataneoulsy trying to figure out why you felt so comfortable in the arms of someone you'd just met.

"The song's over," Bob said as he dropped your hands. "Thank you for the dance."

You nodded as he led you both off of the floor. He started to walk back in the direction of your table but you stopped him.

"Hey Bob," you said, tugging his arm to stop him.

He turned to face you. "Yeah darlin'," he said.

"Would it be alright if I spent some more time with you tonight? I don't want to leave you yet," you told him, fighting through the nervous butterflies that were storming in your stomach.

He gave you a mischevious smile, "I wasn't planning on leaving you there, I just figured you might want your stuff. I was going to ask if you wanted a ride home."

You felt your mouth fall open slightly as you took in the man in front of you, "I- yeah. Alright, that sounds really nice."

He smiled, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and you were content to let him lead you wherever he wanted to take you.

#robert bob floyd #bob floyd #robert floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd x you #bob x reader #bob top gun #robert floyd x reader #top gun maverick #top gun x reader #top gun

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itsjustrosee · 23 days

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hiii rose!! back with another fem reader x Minho request because I love the first one you did 🥰🫶🏼

Could you do one where fem reader is wondering the glade one day and exploring it by herself because she’s curious and still fairly new, and she ends up in the deadheads, finding the runner’s hut. Coincidentally, the runners were having a meeting inside and she’s curious so she watches them through one of the holes between the branches. The meeting is adjourned and they all leave except Minho who stays behind and continues working, she hides from them as soon as they leave the hut but stays back to watch Minho cause she lowkey has a crush.

Minho hears noises outside and gets defensive, “Who’s there?! Only runners are allowed here-” etc. but he softens when he realises it’s her. And lets her inside to show her around. LOTS of seggsual tension cause it’s only two of them in the hut and this is their first proper interaction with one another. And the rest it up to you hehehe (idm if it ends in spice or fluff) 🥰🥰

Thank you for yet another request!! this one is so cute and wholesome I literally couldn't wait to do it. I really hope you like it <33

Soft Spot (Minho x fem!reader)

Context: Read above ^ (pre-Thomas)

Warnings: none, just fluff, sunshine!reader x grumpy!Minho if u squint

Wordcount: 2.8k (proofread, but again, if u see spelling mistakes don't be surprised)

You'd been in the glade for about a week.

And fortunately, it only took a week for majority of the gladers to get over you being a girl. But that only really happened after Alby threatened that the next person who made any sort of advance on you would have two days in the slammer, without food or water. His rule did seem a little harsh to you, but you were thankful that his means of discipline proved to be effective because most boys practically steered clear of you from that moment on.

Every boy except for Chuck. The little shank was one of the few people in the glade to treat you like a normal person and you had to thank him for that. He showed you around the glade and told you as much as he could about it, which wasn't much because he'd been there only a month longer than you. But still, you appreciated his help nonetheless.

The next issue you needed to overcome in the glade was finding out what you were good at. Embarrassingly enough, through a process of trial and error, you found out you weren't good at a lot of things. But you were good at one thing, being a medjack.

To be fair though, there weren't a lot of qualifications for the job. You knew how to bandage people up but your best skill by far was being able to send everyone that walked in the medhut with an injury, out in a better mood than the one that they had walked in with.

You'd like to say that that was one of your greatest abilities, you cared about everyone's feelings. You were positive in negative situations, and you were always there to listen to anyone's problems and anxieties. That's probably why every glader had developed a soft spot for you. Even Gally out of all people recognized how you boosted everyone's morale and he couldn't help but respect you, along with all the efforts you made toward being someone the gladers could rely on.

So it's safe to say you were slowly becoming an important part of the glades community, but despite that, you still didn't know much about the glade. That being said, whenever you weren't in the medhut or when work got slow, you spent your time wandering the glade and areas you hadn't explored thoroughly. And today was no different.

The maze doors were closed and you had just finished eating dinner. The area you planned on visiting today was the deadheads, the place you'd been looking forward to exploring the least. It didn't help that it was already getting dark out when you set foot in the forest. Branches and leaves crunched under your feet as you walked further, and a crisp breeze traveled through the air making you shiver.

You didn't quite know why the deadheads creeped you out so much. I mean, maybe it was the name. Like seriously, deadheads? Really? They couldn't have chosen anything that sounded slightly less intimidating?

So the name was definitely a contributor. But it's not exactly like there were any animals or any monsters in the woods, nothing that should prove to be any sort of threat. Regardless, something about it still made the hair on your arms in the back and the back of your neck prick up for some reason.

Before you could convince yourself that you'd visit the deadheads another day, you heard a noise. It was a voice, but it sounded like it was coming from further into the woods.

Out of curiosity, you followed the direction where the noises you heard seemed to be coming from and eventually, you came across a poorly built hut made out of branches and wood, held together by string and cement.

You could tell you weren't supposed to be there, or have found this place to begin with. It was concealed well by the forest but somehow you stumbled upon it anyway. Against your better judgment, you decided to walk further towards it to try and hear what was being said by those inside better.

"What do you mean you found nothing new?" Minho asks irritatedly to someone else in the hut. Your heart skipped at hearing Minho's voice and you cursed at yourself for how you subconsciously reacted to hearing his voice.

It was hard to believe that it's only been your first week in the glade and you'd already started developing feelings for Minho, a boy you've only talked to once. You couldn't help but think it was stupid that you liked him because you barely knew him, but then again it was hard not to find yourself crushing on him. He's held in such high regard by all of the gladers and he's the main person looking for a way out of the maze for everyone.

Also come on, with a build like that, anyone could find themselves daydreaming about him.

"Shuck Minho, what do you want me to say? I'm sorry that I explored areas we already explored and didn't find anything?" You heard another voice pierce the air and you could recognize it as Bens. You stepped closer to the hut, avoiding stepping on anything that could blow your cover and peeking out through one of the branches that the walls of the hut consisted of. Thankfully it had gotten dark so no one would be able to see you peeking in.

You could see Minho, Ben, and two other runners inside. Ben and Minho were standing up, and it was clear they were in the middle of an argument. You weren't able to recognize the other gladers but they were sat down at a large round table which had scattered papers and- a scaled-down model of the maze? Okay, you definitely weren't supposed to be there.

"Minho come on. How much longer are you going to keep denying it?" Ben asked again in response to Minhos silence. You suddenly felt guilty about eavesdropping on a conversation like this because you had a feeling that what they were talking about definitely wasn't meant to be heard by you or anyone else in the glade.

"There has to be a way out, I know there is-" Minho starts, trying to calm himself, but he gets cut off again by Ben once more.

"Seriously? Because it doesn't look like there is," Ben said with a cruel laugh as he exasperatedly threw his hands up before speaking again, "Just face it, we're shucking stuck here."

"Slim it alright, Ben?" Minho shouts while slamming his fist on the table which definitely makes Ben and the others jump slightly. "You know what, just get the shuck outta here. Meeting adjourned or whatever," Minho finished with a sigh.

"Minho come on," Said one of the two other runners who had now stood up.

"No, it's fine. I just need some time to think, alright? It's getting late anyways." Minho explained and after seeing his expression, you're assuming neither Ben nor the rest of the runners had any hope of getting through to Minho tonight so they began making their way to the door of the hut.

Suddenly, you remembered that you weren't even supposed to be there. You quickly hid behind a nearby tree and waited to hear the runners walk off. As their footsteps grew more and more faint, the coast was clear.

You should've walked away then. You should've understood that you'd already intruded on enough and heard way too many things that you shouldn't have, but part of you wandered back to your spot standing near the door of the hut.

You tiptoed closer to the slits in the hut wall, looking at Minho as he fiddled with papers and checked them with the model of the maze that you're assuming that he and the other runners had made.

You were so interested in watching, and kinda sorta stalking Minho, that you shifted your weight on one of your feet and accidentally stepped on a twig, snapping it in half during the process.

Oh, shuck.

The noise the twig made after breaking in two was nothing short of loud and it definitely gained Minho's attention.

You backed away from the hut quickly as loud footsteps approached the door of the hut, "Hey, who's there!? Only runners are allowed over here!" Minho says angrily as he reaches the doorknob and twists it.

His gaze is hard as he opens the door but once he sees you standing on the other side of it, his gaze softens. His jaw unclenches, and his body unstiffens as you stare at him, scared out of your mind that he might yell at you more.

"I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean to eavesdrop. I mean- I didn't hear anything I just-" You could barely say more than two words without stuttering, and thankfully Minho cut you off before you could embarrass yourself more.

"It's fine, don't worry about it," Minho sighed while leaning against the doorframe with his foot propping the door open. He crossed his arms before he brought one of his hands up to the back of his neck, rubbing it while he spoke again, "Sorry if I scared you," He added while giving you a genuine look and a soft apologetic smile that made your cheeks redden.

"Oh- no, it's okay," You say while crossing your arms and clearing your throat, "Cool model you got there. I'm guessing that it's related to the maze out there right?" You ask, nodding your head behind Minho and to the maze model sitting on the table, and you regret ever having said anything the second the words come out of your mouth. Why couldn't you just mind your own shucking business?

"Oh shuck." Minho mutters while looking behind his shoulder and then back at you, "Sorry it's just uh, you really weren't meant to have seen that. But I'm guessing that's not the only thing you've seen or heard tonight is it?" Minho asked you.

"Well, I might've heard a couple things," You lie, trying to avoid eye contact with Minho but you can tell he's giving you a look, "Alright I might've heard a lot, but I really didn't mean to. I'm sorry," You finally reply.

"It's okay." Minho sighed, "Want to come inside?"

"What?" You replied a little too quickly, "I thought other gladers weren't allowed in here?" You asked with a look of confusion on your face.

"Well, I think it's a little too late to be keeping any more secrets from you." Minho chuckled, "And you don't seem like the type to go around telling everyone about this," Minho looked at you, hoping to confirm his statement.

"Right- yeah of course I won't tell anyone. Your secrets are safe with me."

Minho smirked at your response and he held the door open for you as you walked in after him. You sat down in the seat right next to Minho's and looked at him as he ran his fingers through his hair. Past his stoic expression, you could swear you saw stress mixed with exhaustion in his eyes.

"Are you alright Minho? You seem a bit stressed," You asked.

"Yeah it's just- shuck I don't know," Minho replies frustrated as he rests one of his arms on the table and pinches his eyebrows with his other hand, leaning his head down as he does so. You can tell there's something more that he wants to say but for some reason, he's stopping himself.

"Hey, it's okay," You say while putting your hand on top of his on the table. "I really don't know anything about what's going on in the maze, but I'm always here if you need someone to talk to," You continue while giving Minho a soft smile. You can swear you see a blush on his cheeks as he removes his hand from his head and looks at you.

"Alright then," Minho replies while leaning back in his chair but he begins holding back onto your hand as he continues, "I'm sure you've kinda already heard, but it's not really looking too good for us with the maze. We've discovered basically the entire thing and we still have no idea how to get out," He finished. He looked at you to see if you were even paying any attention and you looked at him eagerly, giving him an encouraging look and urging him to continue.

"And well, I don't know. I just really expected us to find a way out by now. I mean it's been two years. Two shuckin' years and we still haven't found a way out." Minho continued.

"Well, I don't think the people who made this place intended for it to be easy to get out of did they?" You replied.

"What?" Minho looked at you confused.

"I'm saying that even though it seems like there isn't a way out, doesn't mean that there isn't. And just because things aren't looking good right now doesn't mean that there isn't hope for us." You say as look up at him, "They wouldn't have just trapped us here without an exit. Regardless of that, everything that you've been able to accomplish since coming here is beyond impressive Minho. If anyone is going to be able to figure out the maze, it'll be you." You say with a warm smile while giving Minho's hand a tight squeeze.

Silence filled the room for a moment before anyone spoke, "Do you really mean that?" Minho asks with genuine concern. You can see his cheeks redden the longer you look at him.

"Of course I do Minho," You reassure him. The look in your eyes made Minho feel hopeful and appreciated as he wrapped you in a warm embrace.

You were shocked at the sudden advance but quickly reciprocated the hug. Your arms found themselves wrapped around his back while his were wrapped around your waist. Minho held you tightly and firmly, almost as if he was afraid you could slip away if he ever loosened his grip.

"It's okay. It's all going to be okay," You cooed softly into Minho's ear while rubbing his back.

After a moment longer, he pulled away, looking at you silently. You practically held your breath as he took one of his hands away from your waist and brought it up to your face. He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear and your heart was going a million miles per hour as he did so.

Suddenly you felt the temperature in the room increase drastically. Thick tension filled the air, it was a mix of longing and desire and it was itching at you. You couldn't help but feel a burning sense of eagerness, and as you looked into Minho's eyes, you could tell he felt it too.

Minho's eyes lingered on your lips, and almost as if it were an instinct, you both leaned in, his lips merging with yours.

As he kissed you, it was as if time stopped. The only thing that mattered at that moment was you and Minho and how heavenly it felt to be kissed by him. It made both of you forget about everything else that was going on in your hectic lives. You could only remember how Minho held you, how he made you feel so safe and secure, and especially how his lips felt on top of yours.

You moved your hands and wrapped them around his neck as he kept one of his arms around your back and the other on your cheek. You couldn't help but melt into his touch as he pulled you closer to him.

Minho pulled away from your lips first, pressing his forehead on yours as he spoke, "Thank you," he murmured, and rather than replying, you put your lips on his once more.

As he kissed you again, he was gentle and he held you carefully as if you were so fragile that with one wrong move, you could break. Minho felt nothing but loved and cared about whenever he was with you. You were the only person who made him feel hopeful and optimistic about being trapped in a maze. He felt motivated by the idea of being able to find a way out of the maze, if not for him, then for you and everyone else living in the glade.

The kiss became more passionate and heartfelt as it intensified. Being held and loved by him was better than anything you'd ever felt before, and you could already tell that you'd gotten addicted to Minho and how he made you feel. You wanted to stay there forever. It didn't matter if the world began to crumble around you, as long as you were with Minho you felt safe.

All right thats it yallllllll. I think this may have been my favorite one to make so far, I just love how wholesome it turned out. I thought I should take a lil break from all the smut and spice anyways 😪

But seriously I hope you guys like this as much as I do!! I love reading and working on all of your requests and I really hope you guys continue to send me them!!!! It genuinely makes me happy knowing you guys like my writing so much <33

BTW THANK YOU GUYS FOR 40 FOLLOWERS!!!!! i really cant thank you guys enough for how nice you've all been and your compliments mean the world to me!

#the maze runner #tmr fandom #minho the maze runner #minho tmr x reader #tmr #tmr fanfic #minho tmr #minho fic #x reader #minho x reader #minho fluff

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misssakuramochi · 4 months

Text

NOT QUITE REQUITED

In which the reader confesses to Alastor, not quite knowing what to expect

Fandom; Hazbin Hotel

Genre; Fluff (I guess)

Characters; Alastor, Reader

Pairing; One sided!ReaderxAlastor

a/n; I did my best on aroace!Alastor, but please feel free to give me any feedback you may have on writing an aroace person more accurately ❤️

---

Demonic ears perked, twitching ever so slightly as they picked up on the sound of soft footsteps coming their way. Each step was careful, near silent, as the demon behind them tried oh so desperately not to interrupt.

Normally this would alarm Alastor - he didn't become the ever famed (or perhaps innfamous) radio demon without pushing a few buttons. But, between the sound of the footsteps and the soft whispering that became apparent as it got closer, it wasn't difficult for Alastor to figure out just who was sneaking up behind him.

"Hello there, my dear." Head turning fully a moment before the rest of his body swung to match, Alastor met your surprised expression with his usual ear-to-ear grin. It made you jump, just a little, and yet you couldn't help but find the uncanny nature of the demon before you charming.

"Hi! Um, that is to say good evening. I was hoping you might have a quick moment to chat?" Alastor fed on the anxiety in your voice. It was pathetic in a way he found delictibly adorable, in his own way. Meek as you had begun, this was perhaps the boldest you'd been in your 5 attempts to tell the overlord of your feelings. At least, it was until you opened your mouth again.

"Unless you're busy! Of course that's fine, if you're busy I can come back later--" Alastor's smile twitched upwards, shifting for a moment from friendly to uncanny valley as he resisted the urge to chuckle. It was amusing, really, how shy you were-- how you thought for even a moment that he hadn't long since seen through you and your intentions.

"Too busy? For you?" The way you stopped dead, already pink, made Alastor want to eat you right up, "Never! Come now, tell me what it is you need." Speaking as if he didnt already know, Alastor's arm wrapped around your shoulder. He could feel you turn to lead under even the simplest of his touches, and he allowed himself to relish in the feeling of power for just a moment.

Leading you with a little more difficulty than anticipated towards the office he'd taken use of while in the hotel, you moved stiffly.

You found yourself almost unable to breathe this close to Alastor. About to confess in a way that you had imagined a thousand times, each another way it could go spectacularly wrong, your heart had fallen into your stomach. It sat like a lump, making you nauseous.

You'd tried this already, more times than yoy cared to count. Each time you'd found a reason not to confess. Each time, you'd scolded yourself for your cowardice. You couldn't let yourself down like that again.

"Now," you'd arrived at the office before you knew it, Alastor quickly ushering you onto one of the stools adjacent his desk before finding his place at the almost regal chair behind the desk, "What was it thay you needed from me?"

The way his voice lowered, eyes narrowed, made the lump in your throat almost impossible to speak around. He was trying to read you, discern out your real intentions. You knew him well enough to know when those eyes eyes were calculating.

It was strange to say the least that you had seemingly fallen so innocently for him. At least, Alastor thought so. After all, you, loathe as he was to admit it, knew him better than most. But, he supposed that strange as people often saw him as, you were... well, rather quirky yourself. That, and Alastor knew you - being able to read you like a book was one of the reasons he'd let you get so close.

Ego and caution battled in Alastors brain as he half-listened to you ramble on, thanking him for his time as you tried to work up the nerve to say what you really meant.

"What I mean to say is... I kind of... well, really like you Alastor." There it was. Part of Alastor was relieved-- after all, on the one hand, he had been waiting nearly a month now for you to finally make your confession plainly rather than dancing around him like a sore subject. The other part, however, couldn't help but tense: because on the other hand, he had been dreading this encounter in equal measure to his expectation of it.

It wasn't that Alastor didn't like you, exactly - at least, in his own way. But love... well, even if he particularly wanted to he couldn't love you quite the way you would him. Or course, there was no way you could know this - personal facts were something Alastor kept close to his chest.

The way Alastor chucked, deep and less malicious than usual, set butterflies in your stomach. Their dance made you feel all the sicker, heart racing in an anticipatory fluster as clawed hands ruffled your hair.

"I am the beloved radio demon after all." Alastor could tell he hadn't quite nailed that landing when he felt you cringe at his words. Undeterred, his smile remained unchanged as he took back his hand and clasped it together with the other behind his back.

"So? What is it you're looking for then my dear?" The way Alastor sat across from you, leaning back and letting his hands rest into a steepled position made you feel like you were in a business deal.

"Um, I guess..." It was a question you didn't really know how to answer. What did you want out of this interaction? Of course, in your wildest fantasies you knew what you wanted -- to form a relationship. But this was Alastor, enigma extraordinaire. You had no idea how the man truly felt about anything let alone the idea of being in a romantic partnership. You could dream, perhaps, of a future by the demons side, but what did you realistically expect?

"I guess I just wanted to tell you. I've been thinking about it a lot, and I thought you deserved to know." Alastor blinked slowly, oke eye before the other. You'd done something extrodinsrially rare in this moment - you'd surprised him.

Unused to genuine connection, to kindness, especially whilst literally in hell with the actual worst of people, Alastor hadn't expected your reasoning to be so... selfless. Or benign. It was strange, and yet he couldn't help but feel his smile tug upwards, just a little. It was... amusing. It reminded him why he'd helped you find your way to the hotel in the first place.

"Well then thank you for telling me!" It would be a lie to say the lack of response didn't stirr a pot of disappointment in your gut. But, the way Alastor smiled at you, judgement free and unchanged, made you smile, "Now was there anything else?"

You couldn't help but laugh at how casual Alastor sounded, as if you hadn't just taken perhaps the biggest risk in your afterlife. Even as he tilted his head, not quite understanding your joviality, you simply smiled.

"Never change, Alastor."

#headcanon #imagine #oneshot #alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #x reader #reader insert #fluff

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yrbladie · 1 month

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—﹒୨` TELL ME GOODBYE (part 1/?)

˖ ࣪ summary. in which they're gone, but you call them one last time to hear their voice. but instead of the silent beeps and the voicemail message, you hear his quiet breathing. or in which you get one last chance to say goodbye.

˖ ࣪ characters. diluc, kaeya.

( warnings ) around 1k words. angst. gn!reader. heavy mentions of death (his). kind of modern setting since it has phones. mentions of living together (diluc). non-fluent writer

( a/n ) this is based on a book called "you've reached sam" and on a personal experience. also i'm not 100% sure if i should make a series out of this or not, i just had this idea randomly after reading the book and relating to it. and i kind of wrote this in a rush after an entire night awake so... if there is anything confusing or any mistakes, i'm sorry. and yes, i know it's small but i'm starting back slow :')

It had already been a year since your life had completely fallen apart, ever since your lover's passing. You kept wondering if you had made a mistake somewhere down the line or if your life had simply always been this dull.

Though time had completely stopped for you, the outside kept moving on, only precious memories remaining, like flames that spring to life one last time before being completely diminished to ashes.

Before, it was common to joke that you'd never be able to spend even a moment without his presence by your side, but who would've thought? Now, you'd have to spend an entire lifetime without him.

You, above everyone, knew how unfair destiny could be. But of all people, did it have to be him?

It's almost as if things hadn't changed much.

Your reserved seat in the tavern is still there, but this time it's Charles who greets you every time, a compassionate look in his eyes. And you don't know why — actually, you do — but you always find yourself waiting for him. Waiting until the moment you'll hear the door to Angel's Share open, and this time, surely, this time it'll be him. And you'd smile at him like you always did, and ask "where have you been? I've been waiting for you all this time!". But for some reason, you can't imagine what his answer would be anymore.

You always look for him everywhere you go, his red hair in the middle of the crowd, standing out like a rose in a field of lilies. Back then, no matter how much you tried to surprise him from behind, he'd turn around and greet you, like he was able to find you anywhere. He always did.

You always find yourself waiting for him to come back from wherever he is — even if you know where he is. Besides his father, in the cemetery next to the church.

On his birthday, his grave was filled with flowers of all kinds, and on most days, there was a single Small Lamp Grass that you'd change every few times. Sometimes, Kaeya would add a pink carnation to the pile on the days you couldn't go visit Diluc.

It was by no means a lonely and abandoned place there. And if you could be honest with yourself, you'd even say that spending your entire day besides his grave was better than to come home to a empty house. The place in which your voice echoed to nothingness and the silence was unbearable. The future, so meticulously planned together, now mocking you from a distance, out of reach.

Walking from room to room, you find bits of Diluc everywhere, your voice barely above a whisper as you try to connect all the pieces back together. As you try to remember how it felt to have him there. And you can't. You realize, with a coldness in your chest and a choked up sigh, that the human mind could be something so fragile.

So instead of dwelling on a life that no longer exists, surrounded by the shadows of a presence forever gone, you call him, just like you used to do. And for a single moment, it feels like you're back to the past. During the days where Diluc would never let it ring more than twice before answering.

And it seems like it rings forever as you wait for the usual voicemail to start playing, his casual voice saying that he'd call again later if it was something important. But this time, you're greeted by silence. And you're about to start wondering if your phone had glitched, before a familiar voice greets you again.

"(Name)?"

And maybe, you've really gone insane after all this time. Because it was still his voice, in the same way he used to say your name, although now he whispered, almost as if he couldn't believe it himself. Even if this was all a dream, just the fact you could hear him say your name again was a blessing in itself.

So you whisper back, "I'm here".

You can't help but feel like you've been there before. More times than you'd like to admit. It was like people around you were always doomed to disaster, so much so that it made you wonder whether you were somehow cursed.

"Well, then maybe we should be cursed together." Was Kaeya's lighthearted answer to your worries. Although he had quite the charming smirk at the time, you knew he was being serious.

Kaeya was someone that spoke about forever as if he was talking about the weather. In the way he joked about never leaving no matter what happened, and making promises under the stars.

In the end, you won the bet that neither of you chose to participate, the one you didn't even know you were part of. A bet with fate. It was like it was a cruel and twisted joke from destiny itself. To show you that indeed, your 'curse' would always be your downfall. Because no matter how many times you'd been there before, watching yet another loved one being buried, you still never expected it.

A fool's hopeless dreams. Like a firefly chasing a shooting star. Always looking up for the brighter days only to end up in the rainiest ones.

You had always loved rain. But now all your flowers where withering and your plant pots were overflowing, because as much as water can nurture, it can also destroy when it has nowhere else to go.

Mourning sometimes led people to the strangest places. Some would start swearing they could hear their loved one voice calling for them in their home, in the street. Some would even see them. And you couldn't help but wish this paranoia to yourself, because ever since Kaeya was gone, there was a simple and unending cycle of silence. No matter how much time you wasted waiting for something to happen during the late nights awake, you were never blessed by his faint presence again, created by a mind affected by delusions.

And so, with trembling hands you decided to dial Kaeya's number again. Like it had been on instinct, a habit too difficult to let go of. You heard the familiar ringtone as you took comfort in it. Slowly trying to delude yourself that things were still the same, that Kaeya was somewhere simply busy with work and he would call you back in a few minutes.

But the call was unexpectedly picked up. You wondered whether someone else already had his number, and you couldn't help but be angry, because how could they? But it wasn't their fault. Instead, you decided to speak as if it was Kaeya there, on the other side.

"Why?" You asked. Why did you have to leave? Why did you accept to go on that trip? Why didn't you stay when I asked you to? There were many questions you wished to ask, but knew you'd probably never hear the answer to.

"Uh… shouldn't I have picked up?"

The other person in the line suddenly says, their voice cheerful and so painfully familiar. You wondered if there was anyone else in the world that could have his voice, and now that you paid attention to it, you could hear his calm breathing through the phone, the same one that you used to hear when you'd call each other late at night only to sleep 'together'.

It seemed almost impossible to be him, but this time you wished to fool yourself just a little bit.

"Kaeya?"

And you can swear you hear his quiet chuckle, the one he always did when you said something silly.

"Yes, it's me."

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x gn!reader #genshin angst #diluc x reader #diluc angst #kaeya x reader #kaeya angst

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loustat-0 · 5 months

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Here's the reasons why I don't connect well with Loumand in the book :

So one of them is because Louis never even once admitted to Lestat or Claudia so ruthlessly that he loved Lestat and suddenly with Armand he became more free in love & more open , I don't think it was because Armand listened to him or understood him better because there are some parts of iwtv book where Lestat was capable of those yet Louis thought it was manipulation 🙄 . Why didn't he ever think the same about Armand ? 😏 The answer is simple because Armand didn't exactly shown his mind powers to Louis yet . And even when he told Louis he did that & he used it on Louis to make him turn Madeline Louis still forgave him ??? And just asked not to do it again ! And Armand didn't do it ? 😏 What makes us sure he didn't ? Cause there are two sentences which showed he most probably did use it again . 1. " Go to sleep Louis " after Louis burnt the theater & wanted to escape Paris & 2. When he admitted that when he heard Lestat survived he said this :

While it is true that Armand might have kept the fact that Lestat was alive from Louis to protect him it is also worth mentioning Armand does many manipulative things to help the people he loved too . Armand is able to read anyone's mind & if he had read Louis's he must've known if Lestat being alive will make Louis feel anything or not , right ? And why didn't he tell Lestat about Louis being alive ? 😏 What was he protecting Lestat from ? Other than the fact that if he knew he would probably do whatever he could to find Louis again & talk to him & they would probably leave Armand again & get back together ? 😬 So no it wasn't all about protecting Louis from himself or anyone it was for himself too .

All I can think of is how numb Louis became when Claudia died & Armand & Louis kinda fell apart & just lived together because there were no other vampires who would accept them & they were both afraid of being alone & not finding anyone who could love them again as they once loved each other . In my opinion they practically stayed together out of desperation for not being alone & for Louis because he didn't have anyone else to lean on as powerful as Armand . And Armand was emotionally so obsessed with Louis & he couldn't end it easily.

Armand tried to make Louis separated with Claudia a lot he wanted Louis for himself & he didn't want to share him which in the book Lestat never tried to do . And then he orchestrated a whole show to get rid of Claudia & make Louis believe Lestat was responsible for her doom 🙄 although poor Claudia was already doomed because of Lestat's selfishness of making someone so young but let's not forget that they punished her for killing her maker & one of their kind . Another attempt of Armand to separate Louis & Lestat & let's not forget did Louis ever actually ask himself if Lestat was still in the theater or not when he burnt it down ? Yes He didn't even care at that moment he was angry & he was mourning & that can make you not think of whatever you're doing at that moment . Because later when Louis said this :

Doesn't this indicate that Louis cared who was burnt in that theater ? He said I didn't really care I hadn't thought of Lestat at all the night I torched the theater . Isn't it weird to you that he thought of Santiago & Celeste but didn't really care about Lestat ? 🤔 And if he didn't then why did he burn Lestat with them ? He said he didn't hate him for Claudia's death . Don't you sense some mind power here ? 👀

And look what Louis said about Lestat being alive : I cannot convey to you the feeling that came over me when I heard this .

I mean what does that say ? Why does Louis say this ?

And one more thing if Lestat had escaped the theater who helped him escape ? He didn't escape in fact Armand had taken him again to the tower 😏 .

4. Finally this is why I don't like book Loumand . No hate on AMC Loumand what so ever because I haven't seen anything from them but if the show runners want to do the books they have to at least notice one of these flaws & voids in Louis & Armand's relationship as much as they did in Louis & Lestat's relationship . 😉

#iwtv speculation #iwtv spoilers #the vampire chronicles #loustat #loumand #armandstat #lesmand #interview with the vampire #iwtv #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #armand the vampire #the vampire armand #amc iwtv #iwtv 2022

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sardonic-the-writer · 2 years

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Better Call Saul characters with saying I love you for the first time? Don’t care who you have but can it at least include Howard and Nacho?

yeah sure! slight spoilers for season five.

—JIMMY ☆

The first time Jimmy ever tells you he loved you happened after his trek through the desert. He had come back, sunburnt to hell and dehydrated out of his mind. Looking like he had just dragged a few bags of bricks from hell and back—which wasn't far off from the truth. So when you picked him up, fingers anxiously tapping on your steering wheel, it was the most he could do to reassure you with a slight squeeze of your hand.

Only once you had gotten back home and lowered him into a cool bath did Jimmy close his eyes, letting a small 'I Love You' slip from his chapped lips. Which were swiftly rewarded with a kick kiss, the first genuine smile breaking out on his face in days.

—KIM ☆

You said it to her first.

Kim has a difficult time reading people and their emotions outside of her workplace, something that bled into your relationship together. Of course, you understood, taking your time with her and getting comfortable as a pair. That's why it took so long for you to say anything to her that would take your relationship to the next level.

It most likely occurred on some random movie night. The both of you in sweatpants sitting on the couch watching a black and white movie, curled around each other and just forgetting about life's worries. She took a moment to pause the movie, facing you and your caring gaze. Kim captured your lips in a soft kiss after a moment, washing away any worries that might have been lingering at her delayed response.

—HOWARD ☆

HMM had the privilege of being the place where Howard first confessed the true depth of his love for you.

He hardly could sit still. It was the third boring meeting of the day, discussing something he couldn't care less about when you were sitting next to him. It was all he could do to contain his giddy feelings, occasionally nudging your foot foot under the table with a barely contained smile. So the minute after everyone had slowly trickled out of the conference room, he caught the tail end of your suits cuff, pulling you into a heart melting kiss, both of your teeth occasionally clicking together on accident.

"You know what?" He mummbled against your lips, his own buzzing with electricity. "I think I love you."

"I think I love you too Howie."

—NACHO ☆

Part of the reason Nacho was so invested in you was the feeling he got when catching a glimpse of you. It was one he didn't feel often anymore; after getting involved with the drug ring and such. One of security. Warmth. Being home. The only other person who ever made him feel like that was his dad. And things hadn't been going to well in that department lately.

Nacho was quiet around you. Not the same stony kind of silence he presented in his pine of work. That was pure defensiveness, not letting anyone see into his head unless he wanted them too. No, around you he was quiet becuase he preferred to hear your voice. To listen to you talk to him about your day and carry on a conversation just by looking at him for a non verbal response. He loved how you knew what he was trying to say without actually saying it.

"I love you (Y/n)." He had mummbled into your hair one evening—between your tales of horrid days working in customer service. "I love you more than I've ever loved anyone."

—LALO ☆

Light had barely begun to peak through the curtains, and Lalo was already rolling out of bed with a sigh. Pulling away from your warm embrace, yet another night without sleep plauging his mind with things he had to do today.

"Sorry querido." He would chuckle, slipping into more formal clothing as you quietly called for him to come back to bed. "You know I have to go tend to some things."

His smile softened even more as you rolled over in his direction, eyes still closed and scrunched with drowsy annoyance. Accompanied by a small frown.

"Fine. Bu' be quick. L've you."

Lalo paused, a patterned shirt draped over his bare shoulder in the moment. You would later remember the dozens of kisses he peppered across your face in a moment of adoration, mirroring your accusation of love in between each one.

"Por dios serás mi muerte."

#jimmy mcgill x reader #jimmy mcgill #kim wexler #kim wexler x reader #howard hamlin #howard hamlin x reader #nacho varga #nacho varga x reader #lalo salamanca #lalo salamanca x reader #better call saul #better call saul x reader

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wh0refornikolailantsov · 1 year

Note

omg you write for Nikolai too?? could you do a part 2 to Better Late Than Never - i love the idea!!

Sure can do, Nikolai is my love. Tolya content is because I love my bestie and apparently the fandom as a whole is deprived of Tolya content which is unacceptable honestly. But yeah thought my username might give away the Nikolai enthusiasm, and I'm more than happy to write content for him, he plagues my every waking thought and honestly I'm not mad about it.

Part 1

Better Late Than Never Part 2 - Nikolai Lantsov

Content Warnings: Vasily. No Beta/Proof Reading.

All Nikolai could do was think about you, about his brother and about all the ways he wanted to bring a stop to everything.

The thoughts consumed his every waking moment, his conscious thoughts being entirely clouded by you. Your laugh. Your smile. The way you had looked at him the night he found out about your engagement, that pleading look in your eyes, that wishing he could do something, anything to fix it. You had given him that look once before, before he left. When you'd begged him to stay without saying a single word about him leaving.

He had left anyway, and a day had not passed by when he had not thought of how sad you were to see him go. He had often thought about returning, and what it would be like to see you again. He had never in those worst thoughts considered that he would return to you stuck and so resigned to it.

It's not like you hadn't considered your options, you'd considered just leaving Ravka, which you admitted was a bit of an extreme method for getting out of an engagement, but this was to Vasily Lantsov, First Prince of Ravka, destined to be King of Ravka, and you took no joy in the prospect of being his Queen.

It was late when you heard the knock on your bedroom door, you'd been moved in months prior to the engagement, it was a matter of your familys relationship with the crown and the manner in which of the countries war. Your father needed so often at council meetings you had been relocated for convenience, which hindsight let you wonder if that had not just been an excuse on Vasily's part to get you close.

He knew you hated him, you'd never been good at hiding it, and he adored just how much you disliked him, he treated it like a game. It only made you hate him more.

You opened the door and of all the people you'd expected to be at your door, Nikolai had not made the list. And yet, it was his deep eyes, and his soft, sleep tousled hair that you laid eyes on. His rob hung loosely tied, the fabric not held close across his chest, he was showing far too much skin to just be walking around the halls and you both knew it.

"Nikolai," you grabbed his hand and pulled him inside your room without thinking. You leaned quickly on the door until it closed and stared at Nikolai, who tried to look like he had a good excuse for the intrusion but you both knew he did not. Not with that look on his face, you knew it better than most of his looks, this was he was causing trouble, for him, for you, for both of you, was anyone's guess, and he couldn't find it in himself to be sorry about it. "What are you doing here?"

"You just pulled me inside your bedroom in the dark of night, and you're asking me about my intentions," he teased you, he should know better but he doesnt, "people will talk."

"Nikolai," you mumbled.

"I have been thinking about your situation," Nikolai said and for a moment you pondered if maybe he had been drinking, but no, this was something else. "And I've been trying to think of how I could fix this."

"Fix it?" You laughed, and it was more bitter than you intended.

"Yes," the softness in his face made you want to grab his face and shake sense into him, or kiss him but those feelings were like old friends to you and you would not let them shake you.

"Oh Kolya," you sighed, and gave him the softest smile you were capable of mustering. "You have to live up to your name, don't you?"

"Saint of Sailors," he tried, desperate for you not to say it.

"Can't you see I am a lost cause?" you asked. He didn't look at you then, unable to handle the look he knew he would find in your eyes.

"I will not believe you are a lost cause," he says, "I cannot believe that."

"Then you can believe in me for the both of us."

He stepped close and you moved to step back but were quickly reminded of the door you leant against. You couldn't let him be close to you, not after all this time. Not like this. Not because he felt guilty for never noticing. Not because he felt guilty for leaving. Not because of Vasily. Not because Nikolai thought he owed you something.

Not because you are engaged to his brother.

"What if I took you away?" He asked. You would be sure he was drunk now if he wasn't holding your gaze so adamantly, his voice so serious and steady. His eyes bored right into you.

"Nikolai, my life is here," your voice deflated, given in.

"What life do you get to have with my brother?" He asked.

"A frustrating one, and I do not want it but it is mine," you argued. "What choice do I have?"

"I could not stay before," he said, and looked away from you, his shoulders lowered like he was finally admitting to a long awaited confession. "But I should not have left you."

"What did I have to offer Sturmhond," the words fell from your lips and Nikolai saw in plain view just how much you knew and understood. Exactly how much you'd always seen him, how much none of the other things had mattered. How much he hadn't noticed in all those years felt like drowning.

He regrets his response before he fully made it but the words came out of him and they felt like knives, "What did I have to offer you, as the royal spare to the throne?"

There was anger in your eyes and he saw it. White, glaring anger. "None of that mattered to me, you knew that, it was never about-"

"I know," he stopped you. "I'm sorry, I am sorry for all of it, for leaving, for not taking you with me, for letting Vasily ever set eyes on you, for not coming back sooner, for not realising sooner. For all of it."

"Nikolai I spent our entire youth hoping, that maybe one day you'd wake up and you'd see it, all of it, but that was stories, and this isn't those stories, you cannot rescue me from this, not without..." you stopped, you knew you were just as much a pawn in Vasily's game to anger his brother as you were a prize in your own right to him. You knew all the things that Vasily might do or say to bring Nikolai down if he dared to try and interfere. Vasily's play was this slow suffering, this hope of inflicting quiet, longing and regretful suffering on his brother. His brother who had never done anything to harm him except be a better man than Vasily was capable of being. "I do not like to think of what he would do to you Kolya," Nikolai watched your movements, the way you struggled with your words. The idea of his pain, and what he might lose was more painful to you than your own suffering and Nikolai understood it with perfect mirrorlike reflectance, because he felt the same.

"What if you married me?" He asked. You laughed. You couldn't help it.

"Swap one prince for another, on what count, Vasily would sooner see me hanged for dishonour than allow that," you argued.

"Not as a Prince then."

"As Sturmhond?"

"No... well... yes. But no, not as someone else, not as a Prince who never had a shot at being King, not as the person I pretended to be to get away from a life felt could not serve me or my country, but just as me, Nikolai, not a Lantsov or a Privateer, not a Prince or a facade. But as me," he said. Saints you'd wanted that, of course you wanted that. It's all you'd wanted for so long but never allowed yourself to think you could have.

"The Crown-"

"I'll renounce my right to the throne."

"You wouldn't," your tone was far too serious, you looked far too stern that Nikolai couldn't help but laugh.

"I love Ravka, it's my country and I would live and die for it, but I cannot serve Ravka's best intentions walking around this place with no real sway and no chance to make a difference. But I will not leave without you again, and I will not let you fall into a life that we both know you'd rather die than live in. Especially if one of the reasons you're doing it is to protect me from the same slander and rumours Vasily has taunted me with my entire life." He steps closer again and you don't try to move away. "So please, let me take you away."

"You know Kolya, I have waited my whole life for you to ask me that," you admitted.

"Is that a yes?"

"I do not care to be a Lantsov, Nikolai, I only care to be yours."

Tagging Those Who Asked About Part2: @xceafh , @marchingicenotes7 , @goldenpoison , @number-0-iz , @hauntedenthusiasttragedy

#shadow and bone #grishaverse #six of crows #nikolai x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai x you #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lanstov x y/n #sturmhond #vasily lantsov

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aylacavebear · 2 months

Text

Retribution Chapter 1

18+ for numerous reasons

Summary: You had DID for most of your life, over forty years, since you were two. It wasn't until after you were forty-three that you were finally able to heal it and become a singular. You're a hunter and have been with Dean for a very long time. Once you become singular, you have to face the horrors that your mental illness subjected on those you cared about, loved. Can you get past seeing yourself as worse than any monster you've ever hunted down?

Pairing is Dean Winchester x Reader/You

Warnings: Sexual Abuse (memories), Physical Abuse (memories), DID - Dissociation Identity Disorder (AKA MPD), Mental Health Issues, Alcoholism, Self-Deprecation, Thoughts of deserving to have it all done to "you".

Please, if you suffer from any mental illness, seek help. There are people out there who can help you get through it, no matter how alone you feel now or how hard it may seem.

A/N: This is going to be very dark, darker than anything I've written thus far. It will include many triggers - abuse both sexual and physical - in memories and what happens to the reader. I'm hoping it will have a happy ending but right now, I am not sure where this will go. This is your main warning before you begin reading. A/N: Dreams and Memories are indented in italics. Thoughts are in italics only.

Word Count: 1849

----------------------------------------- Chapter 1 - The Night You Run Away

You had DID for most of your life, over forty years, since you were two. It wasn't until after you were forty-three that you were finally able to heal it and become a singular.

The DID and having 42 personalities made life easy in some ways and horrible in others. Some personalities had valuable skills which helped while you took on cases and hunted down monsters. Other personalities were like scared children, hiding most of the time in the mind. Then there were the ones that partied after a successful hunt, taking the body on a ride that included whiskey, men, music, and sex. It was the ones who abused your partner, the man who loved you, that hurt more than anything.

He was being sexually and physically abused by your personalities every night. Lashing out at him and him alone. He would tell you about it, but you had no memories at the time. It wasn't until after you became a singular that most of the memories hit you.

You ran that night when the memories came, leaving the man you loved, as you couldn't face him, let alone face his brother. Not knowing what you know now. It hurt far too much, and you felt more like a monster than any monster you'd killed.

The roar of your truck's engine is the only sound echoing in your ears as horrible scenes played through your mind. Tears flowed from your eyes, threatening to blur your vision as you drove further away from the bunker and out of town.

You wanted to die for what you'd done while you had DID. The people your illness had hurt, had abused.

Your screams filled the cab of your truck as you stepped on the gas. You'd made sure to turn off the GPS on your phone before you had started driving so he couldn't track you down. He deserved better, and you knew it.

Somehow, you forced the tears to stop. You had to get as far away from him as possible. At the moment, it didn't matter that he hadn't handled things well when your personalities were abusive. He could have handled things differently in some cases. The thing driving you was that he never put his hands on you in retribution for what your personalities had done to him, and he'd never left, kicked you out, or cheated on you.

Sometime around four in the morning, you finally found a motel in a town far from the bunker, from him. After checking in, you walked to the corner store, purchased a couple bottles of whiskey, then locked yourself in your room, proceeding to drown yourself in alcohol.

Your phone went off, but you'd ignored it for the umpteenth time. Half the first bottle was gone, and at this point, you were relatively drunk and hadn't stopped crying. An hour later, you'd cried yourself to sleep, which were filled with nightmares of what your personalities had done to the man you'd loved.

The room was dark, but you'd recognize the furnishings anywhere. It was the room the two of you shared. You were standing between the bed and the door in an invisible bubble. On the bed, he was sleeping soundly, naked, like you both usually did after an intimate evening. You watched as your body on the bed next to him woke. It sat up, turning to him before slowly dancing its fingertips along his bare chest. He let out a low moan, his body responding to their touch. At first, you watched in mild curiosity, but fear soon took over as they looked at you, smirking. They turned their attention back to his body, their hands moving down his chest, teasing along his inner thigh, then slowly jerking him off to get him hard. You pounded your fists against the invisible bubble, screaming for them to stop, for him to wake up, for him not to touch them, but he couldn’t hear you. He didn’t wake, not from their touches. All you could do was watch as they climbed on top of him, lined his cock up with their entrance before slowly sliding down, taking him to his base. They rode him, rocking their hips against his, grinding him deep inside them. You heard their orgasm hit them and watched as they rode it out. That was when he reached up and grabbed their hips, and the entire situation changed. A switch happened, causing another personality to come forward, now fighting an invisible attacker as they were thrown into some flashback you couldn’t see. They punched him in the face, getting off of him the moment he let go to cover his face. He was still partially asleep, though, as they shied away, trying to get to the far side of the bed in utter terror. He rolled to his side, trying to comfort them, but the moment he touched them again, they swung at him. He did block several hits, but they got several in, and you knew he’d have a black eye from all of it. They even brought a knee up, getting him in his stomach. You felt the tears fall down your cheeks as you hit your knees, sobbing, unable to stop what was happening in your nightmare, the memory replaying.

Your eyelids felt heavy as you began waking up, not wanting to open your eyes. Again, your phone was vibrating on the night table. Another call you couldn’t answer. Slowly, you pulled yourself into a ball on the bed, feeling the burning of fresh tears as you opened your eyes.

“Noon…” you mumbled, glancing at the clock, not really caring.

There had to be a way to get through this, but you weren’t even sure where to start. You couldn’t understand why he’d stayed with you or kept you around, let alone love you with what your personalities had done to him. You also knew you couldn’t stay in one place too long.

He deserves better. I’m a monster.

Somehow, you managed to get out of bed, grab your belongings, and leave. The brothers knew you well and your habits, at least when you had DID. Things were different now. You couldn’t go anywhere that anyone might know you, so you drove further north from where you were.

At least by having their memories, you could avoid anywhere they would have gone. Sleazy motels were out, as were bars and small towns. You had no desire to go into another bar for the rest of your life due to the memories you now had. You couldn’t even count how many times your personalities had cheated on him, and that broke your heart into pieces.

“You need to get help, Y/N,” Sam argued with yet another personality. You were sitting in the library, reading a book, the personality in charge of driving the body doing the research needed for the next case. They didn’t even look up at him. “I’m busy doing the research for the case. I don’t have time to get help,” you replied nonchalantly. “It’s getting worse. He isn’t telling you everything anymore. This has got to stop, Y/N,” Sam continued, his tone stern and angry. “I don’t have any memories of the stuff he brings up-,” you began, still casually, but Sam cut you off. “Damnit, Y/N! Have you not seen the bruises? The black eyes, the split lips, the black and blues from you hitting him? Seriously?” he pushed angrily. That was when you stood up and got in his face, “Look, I don’t remember any of it. I don’t know how to stop it or do anything about it. I even tried sleeping in another room, and things still happened, according to him. What the hell do you want me to do about it?!” you growled at him, getting pissed. “Get some help, Y/N. Go see someone-,” Sam began, but you cut him off. “You mean admit myself to the mental hospital,” you began, but looking back on this memory, you saw it, the switch to a different personality, “If you want me to leave, I’ll leave. I don’t want him to get hurt because of me,” you said somewhat quietly as your entire demeanor changed. Sam sighed, seeing the switch as well, “That’s not what I meant. Neither of us wants you to leave. We just want you to get help for what you have.”

You felt the tears stream down your cheeks as you drove. There were so many memories like that now, where you could see the switches. Only now, there were the nightmares where the memories you didn’t want, tortured your mind.

When you reached the next motel, two states later, you began drinking again. They had both tried to call you numerous times, leaving you voice mails and text messages to call them. You couldn’t though, not now, not with what you’d done to them. Alcohol wasn’t the best option, but to you, it was better than being sober and crying.

How can either of them see me as anything other than a monster? How can I even see myself as anything other than a monster? Could I make up for what I did when I had DID?

With that last thought, you remembered how when Dean had died and spent four months in hell, it was equivalent to forty years. Your eyes almost lit up at the thought of that. It was a bad idea, and if you were in your right mind, you might have been able to talk yourself out of it. It was worse than a bad idea. It was a horrible idea. The brothers would never have let you even consider this.

I can summon Crowley. I don’t need to die, do I? Would I have to die for the time thing to work? I could go to hell, have it all done to me. They would all get retribution that way. What I dished out when I had DID would be done to me tenfold.

Your mind continued to wander along this thought process as you sipped the whiskey. That first bottle now almost gone, and you were quite drunk, again. At the moment, it made sense to you. In most cases, those who had been abused wanted their abuser to experience at least a fraction of what they’d done to the person abused.

Perhaps Crowley could put my body on ice or something if he has to take my soul to hell for this. It would be poetic justice. This way, I’d be able to feel what they did. What would Crowley want in return? He’s always stuck to deals in the past.

The phone buzzing pulled you from your thoughts. It was him again. Just seeing his name brought fresh tears to your eyes, and you looked away from your phone. You barely finished the bottle of whiskey before you fell to your side onto the bed, passed out in a drunken, dreamless sleep.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 2 - Too Many Thoughts

Retribution Master List

Tag List: @jc-winchester

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simpingcowboy · 1 year

Text

Not a Meet-Cute

Pairing: Young(er)!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader, no gendered language, reader is characterized as a hopeless romantic

Word Count: 6.5k+

Warnings: SMUT!! Angst!! Lots of feelings on both ends, light gun use, slightly meta, language, implied age gap, references to masturbation, outdoors sex, oral (F receiving), protected PIV sex, gratuitous use of pet names

Summary: About 5 years since the outbreak, a group of smugglers come across your camp looking to trade. Despite your efforts, this was not a meet-cute. (Basically reader and Joel fucking the feelings out of each other)

A/N: There is a AMAB!Reader version of this available here! This definitely escaped me, but I'm very happy with the way it turned out <3 enjoy!

It began as all good "love" stories do, with loaded guns pointed at each other. He had arrived the day before. A handsome stranger among the crowd of smugglers that happened upon your camp. Though their initial arrival was quite dramatic, a two hour standoff happening before trade negotiations were met, things had actually been quite calm since they came. They were allegedly making their way to the Boston QZ, though of course you had no way to prove that.

Most of them were quite polite. Some are even friendly. The younger Miller brother Tommy for example, was very talkative. Though frequently being pulled back by his older brother, Joel. That was the one who caught your eye from the moment he walked into town.

Tall. Handsome. Looked around forty. A few grey hairs grew in from his temples and dotted along this beard. He was cold. Quiet. Definitely the muscle of the group. His accent was deeper than his brother's. Richer.

Later in the night, after his group had gotten settled in an old warehouse, people began trading. Their low to mid level goods set out on the ground. The much better items tucked away behind them for safe keeping. You stop by, curious as to what these outsiders had and secretly hoping to catch sight of the older Miller brother. You spot him. Standing off in a corner with a woman. You approach slowly, not wanting to seem eager. They greet you with a silent nod as you look over the goods they had.

"What's that?" You ask the woman, gesturing to a book they've laid out.

"A book." She says with a shrug. Books weren't exactly high rate items. Common, but scattered to the winds.

"What kind?" You ask, intrigued by the cover. The front features a handsome man, a halfway unbuttoned shirt on. Shoulder length hair looking wind blown.

"A romance novel. It's not really my taste but-"

"I'll take it." You interject.

Joel raises an eyebrow at your interest. He'd been trying to tell Tess to just drop the damn thing if she was done reading it. Insisting it was worthless. No one trades for books. Words he'd surely be eating later tonight.

"We just got a bunch of medical supplies in. Tell them I said you can have three of whatever you want." You say, clearing the book off the ground.

Your love of romance wasn't exactly a secret around here. Over the past five years you'd grown fond of the genre. You hadn't exactly had a whole lot of dating experience when the outbreak happened. Being too young to really get to experience much of life at all. But you had these books. Had some idea of what life might have been like before. Bumping into handsome strangers in the grocery store. Or coffee shops. All the typical meet-cute story lines. All the things you knew you'd never have.

Under the protection of the barely functional streetlight outside your apartment, you peacefully read the new romance novel you'd gotten when a low grumble interrupts you. Looking up from the tattered book pages you see the familiar stranger. Joel.

"The book." He says, lips pouted down at you.

"Yes?" You answer, your own eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"Why?"

"Why?" You repeat. "I just like them." You answer defensively.

"It's not real, ya know." He states boldly. Though you can't help but feel an edge of sadness at his proclamation.

"They're marked fiction for a reason." You say, tapping the spine of the book labeling it as such.

The man grunts in response. "They only cause problems for people." He tries to reason. "You read it enough and you start believin'." It happened with Tess. She read as many as she could get her hands on. At first it was endearing…in a way. Then she began to give him that look. Of expectation. Of desire.

You couldn't exactly understand why this stranger cared. He'd hardly spoken a word in this town, but decided to waste his breath lecturing you for your choice in literature. It didn't make his words sting any less. But you wouldn't let him know that. "I don't know…this would make for a pretty good book, huh? Meeting under the street light, on an empty street. Pretty romantic if you ask me."

"Weird. The word you're looking for is weird." He corrects you. Annoyance laced through his voice.

"Yeah yeah, whatever you say." You wave him off.

The man rolls his eyes and walks away, considering it a lost cause.

Maybe, you think to yourself, this is the start of something. You smile to yourself, a plot forming in your mind. It'd take some sleuthing…but you could deal him an offer. Something vague so he doesn't hold any expectations. And you knew just the place to do it.

That's how you ended up, squatted behind the forest line outside of the warehouse. You'd correctly figured they'd hold a night watch, in case you were not as friendly as you appeared. The letter you'd slip him in hand. You drift in and out of sleep, listening in for a change of voices. Then, Joel. You hear that sweet Texas accent through the creaky warehouse doors. He's awake now and has taken watch duty. After a few minutes, waiting for the prior watch guard to fall asleep you quietly approach the main door. Sliding the folded letter under the small gap in the door before running out of sight.

Now, you just had to wait for tomorrow.

You got up early to wash before heading out to the disclosed location. Just up the side road was an old abandoned barn, long forgotten about even before the outbreak. Surrounding the miles around it were the tall dried stalks of corn. It was one of your favorite places nearby. The best place to go to be left alone. Though, today you were hoping to be joined by Joel Miller.

So you waited, shaded under the overarching roof of the barn. A long shadow appears along the edge of the barn. You stand up gun in hand, not wanting to be too careless. The mysterious shadow narrows down as they get closer. Eventually revealing Joel Miller to be its owner.

"You came!" You say cheerfully, a bright smile on your face. Quickly packing your gun back to your side.

"Yeah, I came." His brown eyes are sharp like a hawk as he slowly moves in closer. Keeping vigilant of every rustle for a possible ambush. "I believe you have something for me?" He asks, getting straight to the point.

"Kind of." The air is still.

"Go on." He prompts you, looking expectedly at your bag.

You shake your head, body full of nerves. This is nothing like the books you think to yourself. "Well I, it's not so much of a something. More like a someone."

"What the hell are you getting at?" He just short of growls out at you. Eyebrows pinched together in annoyance. This is a waste of time, he thinks.

"I just thought you were handsome!" You spit out, face going hot with embarrassment. You're not nearly as smooth as those romance protagonists in your books "I was hoping we could work something out…" Your voice comes out much meeker than intended.

"Like what? You want me to court you or something?" Joel shakes his head, unbelieving the scene before him. "Yeah- not happening." As he turns on his heels, you reach out to stop him.

Taking his shoulder in your hand, "We can fuck." You spit out quickly. For a moment, you swear someone else's voice comes out.

That stops him. Dead in his tracks. Voice catching in his throat. Hands flex at his sides. Slowly, he turns back around. Dark brown eyes locked onto your face. He needs to have misheard you. Needs you to take it back.

"You want me to fuck you?" He says, slow and dangerous.

Your hand snaps back to it's place by your side. "I mean only if you want to I-?' you answer with a tilt of your head. Mindlessly stepping back from the man before you.

Wordlessly he grabs you. Hands catching your forearms, forcing you still for him. "There's no teasing in the goddamn apocalypse, Kid. You're either offering or you're not." His breath is heavy. Chest rising and falling drastically. "I'll ask you again." His large hands fall from your arms. "You want me to fuck you? Yes or no?" No, he thinks, please say no.

"Yes." You swallow your nerves, or pride. In truth it's hard to tell which is which.

Joel feels himself go lightheaded. His mouth is parched. He fends off the image of you below him spread wide and taking him. He has to do this right. "Do you have condoms or something because I'm not-"

"I have some!"

With the roll of his eyes, Joel goes to scold you, but you stop him before he can even start.

"Give me a second." Throwing your bag off, you reach into the innermost pocket. Tucked away safely between the edges of a notebook is a roll of condoms, about six in total. "Here." You say, tossing them to him.

He catches them with ease. "Where did you get those?" Joel's eyebrows pinch together at the sight of a condom.

"We raided a clinic awhile ago and I um grabbed some in-case I needed them…"

"Shit, should've grabbed the whole box." He scoffs. Contraceptive methods had been one of the first things after medical supplies to grow scarce. Looking over the wrapped condom for the date, Joel's surprised to see it's still good to use. The older man chews at the inside of his cheek. His eyes drift over your body, languishing his will power. His mind searching for a reason to say no. To do what he knows he should do and turn you down. Never should have come here in the first place. But fuck- the sight of you gets him harder than he's been in years. "Fine." He says flatly, caving into his own desires. The roll of condoms thrusts back towards you for keeping. "Where?"

You fiddle with the roll of condoms, haphazardly putting them back in your bag. In truth, you had expected him to say no. "I figured here is good."

"Here?" He remarks, hands on his hips. Glaring around the dead field, the dried corn stalks lining the perimeter around the barn did offer some privacy. The ground was flat and not too dusty. Though he's sure even the pathetic cots you each slept on would be more comfortable than this. "Why not in the barn?"

"The whole thing is rotted…it's practically a death wish to even try to open the door."

"Jesus." He swears under his breath.

"I can lay my jacket down? Or go get a blanket-" You offer with an unassured smile.

"No." Joel's quick to cut you off. "We'll use mine." He says, shucking his thick jacket off his broad shoulders. "Yours is too nice for this." He huffs, kneeling down besides you and rolling his jacket out as wide as possible. Brown eyes meet yours from where he kneels. His eyes look down to the makeshift bed, if it can even be called that. "Well?" He prompts you. A part of him is hoping you run. For you to change your mind. To stop him from making another in a long run of follies.

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your lungs are as parched as the dusted ground beneath you. You want to frown. You want to feel ashamed. Or embarrassed. Or another other than the hot throbbing between your thighs. But you don't. Years of yearning for romance. For love. Boiled down to the base desire to just be wanted.

The jacket you wore peels from your skin, and is tossed to the side with your bag. Your knees hit the ground with a soft thud, as you shift to lie down onto Joel Miller's jacket. The hem of your shirt riding up just enough to feel the delicate threads of the cost against your back. His warm brown eyes blow out as he watches. Suddenly, it doesn't matter whether he loves you or not. He wants you. And that'll be enough for now.

"Well?" You return the question.

"Fuck." He practically groans. Large hands finding their way to your waist; unbelieving he's being allowed to touch you. "Let me get you ready." Joel shifts between your legs, working your bottoms off. Fingers hooked into the waistband of the garment.

You watch for a moment, fixated on the flurry of movements Joel makes. Noting just how good he looks between your legs. Just as he groans at the reveal of your underwear, you pause. "Aren't you gonna kiss me first?" A warm tinge heats your cheeks. A touch of romance wouldn't hurt, right?

He freezes. Eyes shooting up to meet your gaze. Fuck. He's way out of practice. "Do…you want me to kiss you?" He asks with uncertainty. It's been so long since he's had this. Someone to touch. To hold.

"Yes?" You answer with a hitch of your voice. "If that's okay."

He swallows. The Adam's apple of his neck bobbing. Kissing usually comes first, right? "Yeah…" you don't miss the way his voice quivers. "Yeah- come here."

With that, his hands return to your waist. His broad frame arching over you to reach your lips. He moves slowly. So unlike the quick pace he'd adapted moments earlier. His right arm curls up around you, supporting your back. That beautiful arched nose bumps against yours in a graceless manner; you suppress the urge to laugh at just how awkward he is at this. You hear his breath hitch in his throat. Joel's eyes flutter shut as he closes in the short distance, pressing a short peck to your lips. Pulling away before you even get to sink into the plushness of his lips. Arms unwrap around you, switching to being propped on either side of your head. His eyes are wide and nervous. He looks like a schoolboy who just kissed someone for the first time.

"I'm sorry." Joel whispers above you. That smooth Texas accent soothing the injury to your ego. He didn't want to pull away. It felt good. Too good. Too close. Too intimate. Too much of all the things Joel has run from since the outbreak.

"It's okay…" you murmur. Deciding to mask your disappointment with humor, "You're not that quick with the rest of it, right?"

He huffs, a small smile on his face. "Let's hope not." Fingers dip back along your waistband, "Let me take care of you."

With the nod of your head, Joel is back again. Sitting on his hunches between your legs, shifting your bottoms off. A groan escaping him at the sight of your underwear. His mouth watering at the small wet stain building along the interior. After fully freeing you from the contrates on your bottoms and setting them aside; Joel leans in close and inhales. Letting the scent of you linger in his lungs. Letting it intoxicate him. You silently thank yourself for remembering to shower earlier.

The flat of his tongue presses through the threadbare panties into your folds. Making the sizable wet mark grow even larger.

"Fuck-" you whine, hips bucking against his mouth at the contact.

His mouth is so warm against you. Instantly making your whole body go hot. The unabashed moan he lets out gets you so fucking aroused. He peers up at you from between your thighs, a look of satisfaction obvious in his eyes. Thick fingers wiggle their way to the side of your panties, playing with the hem. Barely dancing over the edge of your cunt. You let out a whine, grinding up against his face again.

"Need it bad, huh?" He teases.

As much as he enjoys teasing you, Joel can't deny himself anymore either. Fingers hook into the waistband of your panties and make quick work of removing them. His mouth drops as he's greeted with the sight of your bare cunt, glistening in the afternoon sun. You watch as he rubs over the growing bulge in his pants. Eyes focusing on the large length barely concealed under the thick denim. His hands spread your thighs wide, wanting a fuller look.

You whimper when his hand makes contact with your cunt. Spreading your lips apart to see you even better. A sudden wave of self-consciousness hits you. The open air makes you feel so vulnerable. A cool breeze wafting over your most sensitive parts. Shadows trick your eyes, feeling as if someone is watching. You whine, pressing against Joel's hands to close your thighs.

Never one to miss things, Joel catches the way your eyes dart around the open space. Sensing your sudden hesitation. "No one else will see you but me." Joel assures you. "It's just us." His hands rub the length of your thighs with great affection. "I can go look-"

You shake your head, comforted enough by his own confidence. He has a way of speaking that puts you at ease. "No, I'm okay now. Please, touch." You plead, pulling one of his hands back over your heated core.

Joel groans at the feel of your wet pussy. His thumb rolling over your throbbing clit. "It's alright, Sugar." The nickname extracting itself from his memory of a time before. A time when you greeted one another with politeness instead of with the end of a gun. "I'll take care of ya." He promises, leaning down to lick a stripe along your folds. Moaning at the taste of your unfiltered wet sex.

His tongue is strong. Forcing its way between your folds. Pressing heavy against your clit, flicking up on the sensitive nub. Joel is slow to start. Still adjusting on the ground where he lays. Mind spinning around how the hell he got here, but unable to deny the persistent throb in his pants. His tongue draws soft shapes on your clit, causing another rush of slick to escape you.

"Joel." You whine beneath him, hips rolling up against his mouth. It was good. But you needed more. Needed him to devastate you. "More." You plead.

With that he begins to devour you. Jaw unhinged and pressed over your wet cunt. nt. That beautiful arched nose rubbing over the top of your sex as his tongue eagerly laps at the warm slick dripping out of you. Eyes still fixated on your face, watching it contort with pleasure. Though his eyes burn hot through you, Joel ensures there’s no time for you to be self conscious with the manner in which he hastily matches you, moan for moan. Enjoying the raptures of your cunt as much as you enjoy his tongue. Each moan of his sending waves of vibrations through you.

“Taste so good,” He groans into you “like fucking honey”. Face pressed into your sex. Hands stationed on either side of your thighs, propping you open for his enjoyment. Joel fucking missed this. As he pulls from you to catch his breath, you’re greeted with a sinful sight. A layer of your slick glimmers off his mustache and around his beard. His pretty nose and lips glisten with it too. Joel looks so good covered in you.

You moan with each roll of his tongue on you. Letting out a shameless cry of his name when he plunges his hot wet tongue inside of you, breaching the walls of your sex. Fucking you hard and fast with his tongue. His thick fingers digging even harder into your thighs. That tight band in your core threatening to snap. Your hand goes to entwine in his short messy hair, needing back some of that control. Holding his head still, as you grind up against his open mouth. The need to cum rapidly grows within you.

“Close! S-so fucking close!” you tell him.

Joel shakes your hand off his head, knowing just what you need to make you snap. “Cum for me.” he demands.

Strong hands push your legs up, forcing you even more open for him. Wet slick covered lips wrap around your throbbing clit and suck harshly. Eyes once more fixated on your face, needing to watch you cum for him. Just as he sucks, the band snaps. Your legs shake on either side of Joel’s face as you find your own euphoria. The feeling of cumming on his tongue is so superior to any orgasm you’ve had on your own since your last partner. Your body caught in a pulsing heat, releasing waves of slick down over his chin and down onto his jacket beneath you.

“Too much, too much-” you whine, sitting up and nudging his face off of you.

But it’s not enough for Joel. He’s waited too long and worked too hard to give up his prize that easily. He growls at you, moving his face back to your sensitive cunt, “Wait.” he commands sternly. Leaning back into your entrance and diving in to collect your delicious cum. “Taste too good.” His tongue presses in at the bottom of your entrance, and he fucking slurps you. Taking in everything you have to offer and swallowing it down. A happy sigh comes from the man between your legs, blowing a soft huff of air over your sensitive cunt. Brown glossy eyes peer up to see you, almost like he forgot you were even there. Reality catches him in it’s cruel grasp again as he remembers, He shouldn’t be here.

You work to catch your breath, still recovering from your orgasm. Mind blurred and pliable with desire. Everything you’ve ever read before paled in comparison to the real life man still situated between your thighs. You want to hold him. To kiss him. Really kiss him. But mostly at this moment, you want to make him feel good too.

“Come here,” you beckon him. “Want you.” You turn to reach for your bag, digging out the roll of condoms and tear one free. When you return to face him, you expect him to be tearing away his clothes. Instead, he sits in silence. Resting back up on his haunches. Breathing heavy. “Joel?”

It’s not too late to stop. Not too late to pull away. He tells himself, hoping you’re satisfied enough to want to stop. Hoping to save you from himself.

“Joel?” you begin.

Don’t ask. He silently pleas.

“Will you-”

Don’t ask again.

“Please” your arms wrap around his neck.

If you ask again.

“Please fuck me?”

He can’t deny you.

“Yes.” he answers warmly. So unlike the first time you asked. His head leaning in to press against your forehead. “Yes.” Warm half-lidded eyes pool into yours. “Take off your shirt.” He instructs, pulling off of you to work on his own clothes.

“Yeah, yeah I can do that.” Immediately tossing off your top and discarding it to the side. Leaving you totally bare, other than your socks.

A small smile plagues Joel’s lips at your eager behavior. Slowly, he unbuttons his top layer. Sliding off the warm flannel, leaving him in a tight off-white undershirt. He catches the way you eye him, drinking in the sight of him. Admiring his broad build, and strong full arms. A smirk appears on his face.

“Those books don’t have pictures?” Joel asks in a teasing tone, referring to the romance book.

A warm heat comes up your cheeks, a look of embarrassment obvious on your face. “Nothing more than what’s on the cover.”

“Let me give you a visual than, Sugar.” He says, thick fingers coming to the hem of his shirt. Drawing out the reveal, Joel lifts his shirt slowly. Enjoying the way you stare at him, relishing in each new inch of skin he bares to you. Fuck he loves this. The way you make him feel. So wanted. So desired. There were other man at your camp. Other single men in his group. But you chose him. And it felt so fucking good to be wanted. To let himself be wanted.

Joel's shirt is eventually lifted over head, revealing his body to you. His pretty tanned skin shining in the sun. Soft freckles scattered across his broad chest. Along his shoulders are evidence of fights, knife fights, gun fights. You name it. It appeared that Joel had been in several of each. Your eyes lower down to his soft stomach, just barely pronounced. A light trail of hair guiding down to where you really want to be. His hands come down to the waist of his jeans. Teasingly rubbing along the outline of his hard cock. Letting out a groan of relief at the light friction.

"This what you want, Honey?" He asks in a sickeningly sweet accent.

"Yes." You moan, keeping your hands from touching yourself. "Please."

He happily answers you. Undoing the brown leather belt of his pants, and opening his jeans. Pulling them down over his hips to reveal the grey boxer briefs he sports. A darker grey spot forming where he leaks precum. His thick fingers slide into the waistband, slowly pushing them down. A loud groan escapes him when his cock bobs free. Proudly jutting out towards you. Hard and pulsing. It's the perfect length. Just wide enough to give you a good stretch and leave you aching. The pretty uncut head of his cock covering the throbbing purple head.

"Condom." Joel grits out at you, quickly growing impatient.

"Yeah just let me." You practically throw yourself off the jacket rolling over to grab your bag.

Quickly retrieving the condoms and ripping one off the roll. You toss it in his direction. Which he easily catches. He tears it open, tossing the foil to the side. He works efficiently. Pinching the tip with one hand and rolling it down with the other. You work to resituate yourself under him. Laying back against the dusted earth, hands methodically rubbing along the edges of Joel's jacket beneath you. The frayed seams keep you grounded. Your eyes watch as Joel spits in his hand, coating his condom covered cock with it. Lubricating himself more for you.

"Ready?" He asks once more, an edge of insistence in his voice. He needs this.

"Fuck yeah." And you're just as bad. Pushing your hips up, ushering him inside.

Joel kneels between your thighs, knees spread apart. He hitches your legs up on his hips as he lines up at your entrance. The top of the jeans he neglected to take off rub against the insides of your legs. A low groan catches in his throat as the tip breaches the walls of your sex. You let out a gasp at the stretch of him around you. Your body barely has the give to take him. But you do. Inch by inch, letting him drown himself inside of you. To get lost in your tides. His cock fills you perfectly. Your mind goes blank of any worries. You swear you could die happy with his cock buried inside you.

And as Joel sinks into your warm tight walls, guilt hits him like a freight train.

He feels bad. Fuck he feels bad. He always fashioned himself a gentleman. A man of southern manners. He doesn't even wanna think about the whooping he'd get if his mother was still around to see what he was doin. Fucking this sweet young thing he barely knew on the filthy ground. He'd hardly even kissed you when you asked. This wasn't like him. Not even close.

"Joel" you whimper below him, pulling his attention back to you. Legs wrapping around his waist to pull him tighter. Desperation growing in your core. The need for him to move becoming difficult to ignore.

"Shhh I gotchu, Sugar." Joel hushes you with a tentative thrust. A shiver shot up his spine. The pleasure was almost foreign to him, but the memory quickly reformed. "Fuck that's good." He moans, taking a fistful of your breast in his hand.

Joel carves his way into you. Opening you up more and more with each roll of his hips. His cock dragging heavy along your insides. The tip catching on that perfect spongy spot that made you see stars with each thrust. That perfect cock reaching places you'd been unable to yourself in so long. Joel looks so good above you. Broad and strong. With every thrust into you, his stomach clenches and arms tighten. His hands keep a strong grip on your hips, working to keep you stable for him. Dark brown eyes fixated on where you're taking him. Drunk of the way his cock splits you apart. A layer of sweat accumulating on his warm chest. He reeks of sin and sex. Evidence of your prior orgasm still lingering on his mustache. It's like a dream.

"So perfect, Baby" you murmur in your lust-filled haze, not noticing the pet name slip from your lips.

With each thrust into you, his conscious blurs. The old Joel Miller would never have taken such a young thing to bed. Hell he'd probably never even entertain the thought. The old Joel Miller would have at least taken them to dinner…

"F-fuck Joel!"

or the movies…

"Takin it so good, Sweetcheeks."

or out to a game...

Not to the back of a goddamn barn for a quickie. That much he knows for sure. But the old Joel Miller was happy. Happier at least. He had a life.

"You're so big!" You cry out.

He had a family.

"Tight little thing." He groans.

He had his Sarah.

So why? Why couldn't the new Joel Miller have something? Something that made him feel good? Feel anything other than pitiful sorrow? Something in the form of a pretty babe to let out all that frustration on. He wasn't hurting you. Or cohorecing you. You had wanted him. Asked for him. He was just fulfilling a need. Just like he'd done since the beginning.

Raiding when needed.

Fighting when prompted.

Killing when asked.

He'd done worse things since the outbreak. This? This was nothing.

Joel begins fucking you with reckless abandon. Ruthlessly snapping his hips into you, making your body bounce. "Need you." He grunts out between thrusts. "Need you to cum." His hand releases itself from your hip, and comes down onto your sensitive clit.

A shudder runs through you as his hard calloused thumb rubs hard fast circles over you. Your walls flutter around him. "J-Joel." You whimper. He leans down closer, groans of satisfaction echo in your ear as you just take everything he gives you. It's too much. Too much and yet not enough. The way he fucks feels like a bit of karma for your romantic ideations.

There was nothing soft in his voice. Or in the way he took you. Maybe there is no softness left in Joel Miller. Maybe there is no softness anywhere on this planet. A part of you wants to cry. Wants to feel disappointed. To run away back to your books. But you don't. You can't. Because no matter what you thought before, you can't deny you love this. The fire within you, burning brighter with each touch. Rough hands on your tits and clit. Rubbing you raw. Each scrub of his long hard cock along your walls brings you to the edge of ecstasy. Even the way your legs on his hips absorb the shock of his powerful thrusts. It all feels good. So fucking good. And you never want it to stop.

Not like he had a choice, Joel reasons with himself. There were no more nice restaurants.

"Close- so close" you moan beneath him.

Or movie theatres...

"Soak that cock, Honey."

No place to go with the rested assurance you wouldn't be swarmed by infected...

"I love your cock!"

There's no time for romance...

"Pussy is so fucking good."

Or love...

"Gonna cum!"

All there is is survival. And this…the soft enveloping warmth between your thighs. And the pleasure he could offer you. Joel could never sweep you off your feet, but he could at least leave you with shaking legs, and his name on your lips.

With another thrust, he succeeds in his task.

"Joel!" You cry out, vision blurring out along the edges. Your cunt catching him in a vice grip, squeezing him tight. Soaking his cock in a rush of slick as he struggles to continue rocking into you. Legs convulse around his hips as pleasure enraptures you in its grasp. "G-good so good." You murmur, panting out.

Joel continues rocking into you, extending your orgasm and seeking his own. But it's not enough. He needs something. More. He needs more. He lurches forward, fully grasping you in his embrace. Strong arms pressing you into him. His lips catch yours in a heated kiss. Soft plush lips devouring you. That sweet arched nose bumping against your cheek as he kisses you, tongue licking along the seam of your lips. The sweet whine you let out is all it takes.

With that he cums, happily moaning into your mouth. Cock throbbing heavenly inside you. Pulsing against your fluttering walls as he fills the condom with himself. Grinding his hips down against yours. Not wanting it to end. Never wanting to pull away from you again. Joel stills inside you, his cock softening. His lips linger on a final delicate kiss, before begrudgingly pulling himself away. His eyes reel down your body as he lifts himself off you. Slowly pulling his cock out of you. Making quick work of the condom, tying it off and tossing it to the side where the foil still lies. He quietly tucks his still wet cock back into his pants. Rolling over beside you, laying on the cool ground.

It's quiet between the two of you. Nothing but an exchange of breath and the rustle of the corn can be heard. You both stare silently up at the bright blue sky.

"Been too long." Joel pants out, breaking the silence.

"How long?"

"Since before."

"Before the outbreak?"

He answers with a silent nod. Eyes closed and head pressed back against the ground.

You scoff. "Definitely too long." You tease. Deciding to get redressed you grab your top and throw it back on. Not feeling particular about staying naked much longer.

He huffs a small laugh out, "You're telling me." The rustle of clothes catches his attention.

Looking over and finding you dressing, he can't help but pout. He wants you to stay. To say something stupid and romantic. But that's not how this works. Not anymore. Especially not after what you two just did.

You ease your way off Joel's jacket, a layer of cum and spit sticking you to it. The wetness between your legs makes you wish you'd thought a bit harder about the after effects of your plan. Things were never this messy in the novels. You think, wanting to roll your eyes.

Joel noticed the way you shift uncomfortably, still coated in the mess. "Here." He says getting back up to his knees. Grabbing his jacket from the ground and going closer to wipe you off. "Gonna have to wash it anyways." He says simply. Carefully cleaning the excess of both of you from between your legs. "That's better."

"Thank you." You say softly, feeling much less sticky now. Quickly going to finish dressing. Tossing on your top and shoes.

Joel remains kneeling on the ground, trying and failing to hide the way he watches you. Following your lead, he retakes his shirts in hand and throws them on. Standing up, he quietly rebuttons the outer flannel. Tucking his undershirt into his pants.

"So…you're leaving tonight. Is that right?" You ask in a hushed voice.

"Yeah…"

"Where are you headed again?" You ask, trying to keep things casual. Not wanting to show you desperation for him. How you are silently hoping for him to stay.

"East Coast. Thinking of heading up to Boston."

"Mmm…well if you want-"

"Don't ask me." He cuts you short. Not wanting you to ask what he thinks you're gonna say.

"What?" You ask, put off by the shift in behavior.

Joel feels his heart beat in his chest. Fists flex at his sides. "Don't ask me to stay. Or to come with." He says, jaw locked. Folding the soaked jacket over his forearm. Eyes stay low, focusing on the caved foundation of the old barn.

The corners of your mouth twitch with the taste of irony. "Wasn't going to. " You say casually, picking through your backpack for something. "I was going to say there are showers in town. Figured you'd wanna clean up a bit before getting back to the road."

He answers with a nod. Cheeks heated at his slip.

"Here." You say flatly, offering him three of the six remaining condoms. "They go out this year…I'm not so sure I'll use them all."

Joel gently takes them from your hands. "I wasn't kidding when I said I haven't-"

"I believe you." You interrupt. Throwing your backpack onto your shoulder. "Trade them. Use them. Sell them. They're yours to do as you please."

He nods, seeming to accept your offer. He tucks them away safely in his breast pocket.

"I guess this is it then." You stay, staring up at him. Trying to commit this stranger to memory. Marking his lowbrow and arched nose. Cropped curls and patchy beard.

"I uhh …thank you." He spits out, unsure of the right way to end this. "And I'm sorry…for what I said."

You raise a curious eyebrow at his apology, not quite catching what he's saying.

"About the book. It's good to have something for yourself."

You chuckle softly, "Oh that…it's fine. Really. You're right." Feeling bold, you finally look back into the stranger's eyes. A warm familiarity washing over you. "It's just fantasy."

"Right." He nods in agreeance. "Well, can I walk you back to town?"

A soft smile comes upon your face, ever the gentleman, "Yeah, sure. I'll show you where the showers are."

The walk back is silent. Nothing but the sound of shuffling feet fill the empty air. The sun lowers in the sky, just staying high enough to rest above the corn stalks. Eventually, you return to town. You can already imagine the kind of rumors that will plague you for the following weeks ahead. You guide him to the showers. Planting your feet firmly in front of the shower station.

"Here we are." You declare, sliding him a coin to use for the wash. "That should cover you."

"Thank you." Joel replies, wondering if things could be different.

"I guess this is goodbye, then?" You say with a soft shrug, feeling content with your short adventure.

Joel turns to you with a softened expression, his eyes big and round. "Goodbye and thank you-again for everything."

"Goodbye Joel Miller." You say with a smile, turning to head back to your apartment.

Just as all good "love" stories end, he watches as you walk away alone towards the setting sun. The taste of you still lingering on his tongue.

#Am writes #joel miller x reader #joel mill x AFAB!reader #joel miller x F!Reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut

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randomperson3736 · 11 months

Text

Visit my dreams

Paring(s): Evan "Buck" Buckley x reader

Genre: Sad

Warning(s): Mention of dead love one

Word bank: Y/N- your name

Summary: When the ladder truck tripped over, Buck not only got crashed but he also lost the most precious thing in his life.

Notes: I just finished watching season 6 of 911 and omg I have not stopped crying 😭 like they seriously need to give buck a break.

(Listen to this while reading)☝️☝️☝️

Buck couldn't stand it, he couldn't stay there for longer than 3 seconds.

"Hm? I think Buck would stay the longest at my grave"

He recalled, that moment cutting through his heart as it always does for whenever he's reminded that you'd expected him to stay the longest, when in reality he can't, it pains him. The smile you had as you said those words, you looked almost grateful about the conclusion you had.

Though he finds himself inside the jeep, looking outside the window. Avoiding the direction of you, the direction he dreaded. You weren't there, he hadn't accepted it. Parts of him never will, how could he? The love of his life is now underground, how could one achieve acceptance?

You were his whole world.

With you he was somebody, he had a purpose to live. A reason, a will, a lover.

Now that you're gone it's as if he's yet again pulled into the hole, where his voices controlled him. Where he can't sleep peacefully as he's gotten used to burying his head at the back of your head, cold. It felt cold and lonely.

But he can't run away from you forever, he's hurting, yes, but you'd be disappointed to see him in this state. He knew he needed you still, he needed it hold on longer, with every pit of strength he had left.

So, he pushed the car door open, striding terribly slow towards the direction of your grave– a place he refused to accept as your new home, because it wasn't. Your home was with him, in his arms. Not six feet under, under all that filth.

"It's been a long time huh?" He spoke, bitterly, standing in front of your grave. As he read again, your credentials, the details. He hated it.

"It's hard, Y/N, harder than before."

"Right now, It's hard to even breathe." He chuckled, "I don't know how I did it, you know? Be who I was before I met you."

"After– after the accident, life's been awfully quiet. Even at the fire house. Everyone's been quiet and more distant after you... left. I guess their just missing you just as much as I am." Buck took a deep breath before continuing. "I simply just hate having to wake up in our bed and be reminded that's your gone. It hurts Y/N."

Buck stared blankly at your grave as tears started to form at the corners of his eyes. He tried to keep them in but his emotions got the better of him. "If you're hearing me, can you... I don't know, visit my dreams?" His voice cracked as warm, salty tears rolled down his cheeks.

"I've called your phone, multiple times actully." He looked down, fiddling with his fingers. "Just to hear you, just to hear the voicemail."

"I know I didn't lose you, you're still here with me right? Our memories are here– if I choose to be petty I'd say I don't want the memories but saying that won't bring you back," he looked down at the flowers that people have brought to your grave. Buck tried to fight back the tears, so more didn't fall down because he didn't want you to see him cry, that'll make you upset and he didn't want that.

"I can't accept it, I probably never will. At the end of the day I'll find myself crying for you, because I can't forget you. I can't." Buck sighed heavily, bringing himself to sit down in front of 'you', plucking some of the grass on the ground as he distracted himself from the tears that still travelled down his face and the agonising lump on his throat.

"Nothing will make the pain go away. So please visit my dreams, so I can feel your embrace again... even if it's only for a little bit."

For the rest of his visit, Buck kept quiet. He didn't mind the silence, though he partly hated it because you weren't beside him enjoying it together with him. The more time passed, the more he felt himself crumble. The realisation was the worse, he hated it, you were really gone for the rest of his life.

"I love you, Y/N." His voice was so quite it was almost like a whisper. He placed his lips gently on your grave stone as he kissed you goodbye before slowly bringing himself up from the ground.

He wouldn't be able to set you free.

And he knew his heart will keep crying for you, until his silent calls reach you.

#evan buck buckely #911 #sad #fyp #the 118 #evan buckly x reader #x reader #911 x reader #911 buck #Spotify #buck imagine #911 fanfic #buck x reader #911 show #evan buckley x you #x yn #evan buckly sad #buck x yn

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literally-noone83 · 10 months

Text

More Than You Know

College!Henry Cavill × Fem!reader

About: The polarity of you and Cavill did not stop at your popularity status; when it came to affection, Cavill was always most comfortable in initiating it. However, you were not. Until one afternoon study session you find you were a little too touch starved to resist him.

Warning: Cussing and Kissing, nothing more. Mainly fluff. Not entirely proofread - literally got the author of moby dick wrong, welp.

Word count: Not that long.

Author's note: I DONT KNOW WHAT I WROTE. Honestly really like this one, especially the last bit. In the beginning I can't help myself but explain the background of their relationship - I realise I do that a lot and I feel like a lot of people just don't want that. But I thought this one was cute asf. Anyways, this also is probably most likely cringey so beware of my corny shit. Enjoy.

"You know I've never seen you this distracted when studying." Henry suddenly said. He glanced over to you, his lips curving into a smirk upon seeing your face become flushed with pink, quickly looking back at your text books.

He's caught you staring at him about a hundred times now.

It's supposed to be your traditional study session. In your dorm, you sat at your desk cluttered with notes and piling content he wouldn't even try to comprehend, and him laid on you'd bed comfortably studying Econ and business.

Henry was never really studious. It wasn't till he met you did he want to try. Who knew one banter with you in a library he'd once never catch himself dead in, about a book he'd only seen the movie of, meant meeting someone like you.

It wasn't hard to note how school orientated you were. You spent more time in the library than anyone on school campus. Volunteering to work there, shelving book after book, at the front desk scanning borrowed items or in between rows of mahogany shelves reading your favourite pieces for the third or fifth time. He thought you were a snob like most. Pretentious, an academic elitist, on your constant high horse. But the afternoon he had to finally sit down and read an overdue assignment of Herman Melville's Moby Dick, his grueling hardship to read one chapter amused you to no end. College's greatest macho man complaining this shit is so boring compared to the movie. The offence you took from such a comment he caught from a mile away. It was the moment he finally took notice and in annoyance he had to ask.

What, you disagree?

You shrugged. He hadn't known your name yet.

Yes, I actually do disagree, Cavil. But it's not like it matters to you.

Huh. But you knew his.

So you think this wad of crap is better than Hollywood blockbuster movie with Chris Hemsworth?

If you had half a brain and a attention span longer than child you'd see Hollywood doesn't do justice to Melville's writing.

... What's your name?

You scoffed and ignored his question.

You were definitely hard headed. You snubbed most of his questions about the book until his inquiries slowly turned on you. You always found a way to evade them. The times you took mercy and helped him in understanding literature were caveats of your walls coming down. Banter turned into teasing. The moment he heard you laugh — and quickly apologised for — his heart spurred with elation he didn't expect to feel. He wanted to hear you that sweet and smile so unabashed. Coincidental study sessions and run-ins with each other turned into late night walks he offered to your place, and hangouts in other bookshops and markets.

The polarity between the two was clichae to say the least but Henry couldn't care less. You become someone he liked to talk to, speaking in ways he hadn't before. And you were someone he loved to listen to. You were nothing like he expected, and he was a far cry from your own expectations. Reputations that proceeded you two crumbled in each other's presence.

In the end the biggest irony was that he couldn't finish Moby Dick for the life of him — you ended up spending hours talking to his about in library shifts — but he could read you so easily.

"I'm not, I'm not distracted." You denied, scribbling some words that wasn't relevant to your Lit course. You heard him chuckle.

"You're also awful at lying," you glanced to your right. He shifted onto his side to face you, taking a break from glossing over his assigned textbook.

"Whats wrong, babe?" He asked seriously, yet his voice still gentle. "You've been staring at me all of a sudden, something is clearly wrong."

"Nothing is wrong," you affirmed.

"Then why were you burning a hole in the side of mu head?"

"I was'nt!"

"So you werent looking at me?"

"Is it such a crime to stare?"

"So you do admit it!" He jutted a finger at you.

You groaned, "Oh hush, you're my boyfriend. Yes, I stare at you."

His heart clenched at your words. He loved it when you claim him as yours. A reminder that I'm yours, made him feel wanted. And in this case, it egged him on to tease.

"Baby, I think you want to do more than stare." You could smell his smirk, you refused to look at him. He watches you crane your neck further into you books, to hide the blush that dusted your complexion. If there something more he loved to hear you say he's your boyfriend was making you flustered.

"You are so lewd." You mumbled.

"So that's a yes." He teased.

"Wh- no!"

"No? you don't want to touch me." He feigned offence.

"I- I never said that!"

"You rather stare at me."

"I'm not saying that-"

"Then what are you saying, darling? C'mon tell me."

Your moment of silence makes him smirk self satisfied. "Aww baby, don't be shy. You are my girlfriend after all."

You finally looked at him. His stupid lopsided smile that made your chest pulse, and stupid sly glint in his eyes, knowing his effect on you. You saw his lips move. So pink and full. You heard the hum of his voice, the playfulness laced through it, and you saw his lips continue to move in speech but you didn't comprehend anything that came out. Maybe you were distracted.

He took your silence as annoyance, he shuffled closer to the edge on his elbows to reach out to you.

"C'mon babe," a laughed sprinkled in his words. "I'm sorry, I'll quit teasing and I'll leave you to your studying. I swear it." He looked up at you. Your gaze was on him but somehow so far from the now. He stretched out his hand to place it on your thigh to bring you back, "Just after you tell me what is going on inside that big brain of your-" The moment he touched you, your hand suddenly grabbed his stong jaw, tilting his head up to you. You leant down and connected your lips to his.

The force of your lips stunned him. You swallowed his words and he couldn't been more pleasantly surprised. It wasn't often that you were so assertive outside the realm of verbal debates and banter. For the longest time you were rather shy when it came to physical affection; the way you stuttered slightly behind a cough when he'd snake his hand down your arm and intwine with your fingers, or never push for more when you kissed. He knew this, and so he was always gentle and you let him lead every time. But this. This was different. His lips were still, at first almost just registering your lips on his. Feeling you press into him further, his hand around your wrist loosened and his eyes fluttered shut relishing at this change.

It was intoxicating. The felt of his lips, the way his bottom lip fit so perfectly between yours. Soft, tender, you had half a mind not to bite into it. You pulled back only millimetres before drawing into for another, a rhythm you were setting he was gladly falling into. All stress and tension dissipated from you, entranced by him, the feeling of him. You want him and you have him, you remind yourself.

Henry was undeniably annoying as fuck. He teased you and never backed down from a banter. He talk to you about anything, so unfiltered you became around him was frightening before. Yet now you find comfort in it; the way he listens and some how picks up on ques from you without saying anything. He was gentle, and understood even when he couldn't possibly; he always tried. He didn't yell or was aggressive as most assume. He plays tough, and has been since you've known him, but he's so soft, he's a sap for romance and a nerd for fantasy. He's genuine, and he's thoughtful. You loved him.

The fact overwhelmed you, and your languid kisses began to pick up. You couldnt get enough of him. Suddenly you were pecking him on the lips. The change in pace, humoured Henry, funny to note you had no time for patience when you dominated. You now held the sides of his face, you felt his lips curl and you kissed the corners of his smile. He was so irresistible it made your heart ache and stomach flutter. As your kisses travelled to his cheeks, to his nose and even eye lids, a chuckled escaped his lips, your touch so feathery it tickled. Until you reached his forehead.

You kissed one last time in the centre between his temples. You held it for a second longer to let him know this was out of affection and infatuation, settling for the spur of physical aggression. An affliction he enjoyed.

You felt him fingers softly caress the back of your hand that cradled his left cheek. Back to earth, you rested the crown of your forehead against his own, too embarrassed to see your flushed complexion as if he hasn't already seen it about a thousand times. Regardless his eyes were on you, closely watching the way your lips parted to release a semi-labored breath and your evasive gaze half-lidded. He couldn't help it either, his cheeks burned at this new affection. It excited him. He wondered if you could feel it under the pads of your finger tips.

"You are actually annoying me." You breathily said and a laugh erupted from his lungs. His breath tickled your face and you couldn't help but join him.

"And you're distracting me." You continued with a smile you couldn't suppress.

"Oh yea?" He swayed you against him.

"Yea, so I think I do need you to leave." You didn't mean it in the slightest.

"After that? I don't think I'll ever leave your side, baby." His voice grew soft, turning his playful comment into something sincere. Soft chuckles slipped your lips, and gently he pulled back. He needed to see your face.

Your hand left his face as you let up some space—just a little—in between you and your lover, rather letting them glide past his side of his neck, dip in the crook of his neck and slide to his chest. One of his hands followed. He warmed your palms and his hand pressed it against him to make sure you rested there.

"I'm sorry," you began, "I don't- I don't usually do that, I just..."

You felt his thumb career your knee and his soft lips peck your cheek, nudging you to look at him. You hadn't realised you were still avoiding his gaze until you met his light eyes.

He leaned in and kissed your other cheek in routine. "Don't do that," his looked at you and you saw his eyes dance between your eyes, "Don't apologise."

You exhaled through your nose, nodding. "I just wanted to kiss you"

"Really? I couldn't tell."

"Shut up" Leaning back instinctively out of embarrassment, he kept you close to him.

"But really, sorry I was so..."

"So assertive?" He raised his brows and you nodded, "Well, I actually quite liked it." He admitted.

"Really?" You asked.

"Yea," he had a soft smile. Not teasing or mischief, just sincere and elated.

"Really really?" You leaned in close, a smile breaking out against your will as you leaned in close.

"Yea," he whispered, his eyes dropped to your lips, as did you yours. You kissed him.

"Well I could practice..." you mumbled against his lips, pressing his hands against his chest to push him slowly back, "to be more assertive."

He followed your lead, smirking at your words. "I would..." He spoke between every kiss, "... love... that..."

"Yea?"

"Fuck yea..." His heart preened at your giggle.

"More... than you... know, baby"

#henry cavill #fanfic #comfort fic #touch starved #idfk how to tag this #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill hellraiser #mike hellraiser #not him but yknow #I envisioned that image of henry

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rosanna-writer · 8 months

Text

a simple name, and everything has changed

Summary: we said hello and your eyes look like coming home, Rhys POV chapters Or: Rhys's slow realization that he's mated to Prythian's most chaotic human (and how much he loves her for it) Warnings: implied/referenced sexual assault Word Count: ~3k

I decided to pull together some of my notes on what's going through Rhys's head and write a few Rhys POV chapters of we said hello and your eyes look like coming home! This is his POV of chapter six: this mad, mad love makes you coming running, which is his reunion with Feyre Under the Mountain.

Read on AO3, or you can find it under the cut.

The bond shifted as Feyre woke up. She was too tired to shield, each stab of pain from her broken ribs shooting across the thread tying us together. My own hand flew to my chest. Thank the Cauldron this hadn't happened until I'd finished enough rounds in Amarantha's bedroom that she was sleeping like the dead. A small mercy, but at least it went quicker now that I knew what she liked.

Even with her head swimming, Feyre was assessing her injuries and scrambling to her feet, like a prizefighter gearing up for a second round. All tenacity, which wouldn't be infuriating if she weren't hellbent on putting herself in danger. I winnowed to her cell.

At the sight of her covered in bruises, I couldn't hold back a snarl. She shouldn't have come down here—humans were so easy to hurt. "What the hell are you doing here, Feyre?" I said.

"I wasn't going to leave you down here to rot," she said. Her voice was strong, as if she hadn't just been unsteady on her feet a few seconds ago.

There was another bolt of pain from her broken nose, and I tamped down on the instinct to summon up a scrap of magic to heal every last injury. Everything in me was screaming to just winnow her back to Velaris, consequences be damned.

"You were supposed to be safe. If nothing else, that was the one thing—"

Yet again, she dug her heels in, cutting me off. "Who did you kill, Rhys?"

"A human woman about your size," I forced myself to say. I'd killed for her, and she had a right to know, even if it made me a monster in her eyes. "I mangled her corpse so it was unrecognizable, glamoured it to smell like you, and left it for Tamlin to find. Amarantha was delighted I'd sent him a clear message to think twice about breaking the curse. I didn't want anyone to come looking for you."

At first, she said nothing. The swelling and broken bones made her expression hard to read, but if I wasn't mistaken, she was thoughtful, not horrorstruck. I didn't understand it.

"What you're telling me is that you felt strongly enough about me to kill on my behalf after one night, but you didn't think I'd come back for you?"

That wasn't the point. I wasn't the point. All of this was to keep her safe, and for some reason I couldn't fathom, she was determined to get herself killed. Despite my best efforts, I was likely going to watch my mate die in front of me, sooner rather than later. Just the thought of it had darkness leaking from me.

"You have no idea how relieved I was when you got to Ve— When you got home. All of this was worth it if you were safe. But now you're not."

"You clearly think you're worthless, so If it makes you feel better, tell yourself I'm doing this for all of Prythian instead," she snapped, blue-grey eyes flashing. I stilled. "I can't go back now, so help instead of lecturing me."

For a moment, I said nothing, just blinked in surprise. I hadn't known what to expect coming down to her cell, but not for her to be upset with me. A horrible new possibility bloomed in the back of my mind—that she'd seen Velaris and discovered that somehow I hadn't protected my people as well as I'd thought and that she rightfully considered me a failure.

"Did you think I haven't been helping you this whole time?" I said, sounding pathetic even to my own ears. "Tamlin gave her your name, not me. While those faeries were beating you, I broke into their minds and ensured they didn't leave any permanent damage. It was the best I could do without them realizing I was in their heads. There were too many of them for me to also get into yours and take away your pain. I'm…sorry it wasn't enough."

She sighed and leaned back against the wall, the fire gone from her eyes. When she spoke again, her voice was small. "Thank you for all of it. I didn't— It's not that— I just…needed to know that you're in my corner. That's enough. You're enough."

I didn't understand Feyre—and odds were, I'd never get the chance to—but I was suddenly very certain that someone important had abandoned her. Maybe more than once.

One day, I'd kill whoever had done that to her.

But now, we had a task at hand, and I needed her to know I was on her side and always would be. I'd do everything I could for her, even if Under the Mountain, that wasn't much.

"May I?" I said, reaching a hand towards her face.

She nodded, and I swept my thumb along the small patch of unblemished skin on her cheek. For the first time in weeks, I was touching my mate.

The crackle of electricity along the bond told me she was thinking along the same lines.

Fifty years Under the Mountain made it a wonder to touch someone I wanted to touch. It didn't matter that it was nothing more than the pad of my thumb brushing her cheek, the feeling was intoxicating. I'd never wanted to put my hands all over someone like this.

And I could feel that she wanted it, too.

"I can't heal everything without arousing suspicion, but I won't let a crooked nose mar the most beautiful face in Prythian," I said, sounding more like the person I'd been before that bitch had trapped me here.

For a moment, Feyre looked too stunned to speak, which was ridiculous. It wasn't as if I'd been lying when I'd called her beautiful. "Are you flirting with me? Now?" she said, her voice seeming to rise several octaves.

I shrugged. "If not now, when?" She seemed to accept that answer. And the flirting had felt good—and probably kept us both somewhat sane—but I couldn't keep ignoring her obvious injuries. "I have to set it in place first. It will hurt," I added.

"Just do it. I won't scream," she said with a defiant lift of her chin.

By the Cauldron, if you dropped this woman in the middle of the Blood Rite, she'd make it to the top of Ramiel with no killing magic, just sheer stubbornness alone. I'd known plenty of human warriors, but they didn't hold a candle to Feyre. And she was my mate.

"So stoic. Are you sure I'm on the only Illyrian here?"

But she just looked at me expectantly—even a bit impatiently, if I was being honest—and I wanted to laugh. Nothing stopped her. With a bittersweet twinge of pride, I thought about how easily she must have slotted herself in with Cassian and Azriel.

True to her word, Feyre was silent as I pushed her nose back into place and reached for the scrap of magic I was still allowed, thanking the Mother that it was sufficient to heal Feyre's nose. Her grey-blue eyes just held mine through all of it.

"Thanks."

Once her pain abated, I could breathe easier. I kissed the tip of her nose and moved closer, her scent drawing me in. Or at least, the scent of the glamour hiding the bond. I drank it in anyway, resting my forehead against hers. That lavender and pear scent had haunted my dreams for years now, and it had kept me from breaking.

More clear-headed, I straightened up after a few moments. Amarantha wouldn't be asleep forever. "We need to plan while I have time with you."

"How did you manage to get down here for so long anyway?" Feyre said, immediately wincing. But at least this time, the movement in her face didn't send more pain lancing across the bond.

"I tired her out," I said, forcing a smile. Feyre still looked horrified, and I refused to burden her with this. I made a gesture to indicate it was no big deal and hoped she believed me.

Feyre started to pace. I leaned against the wall and watched her for a moment, just appreciating the view. I'd heard her describe me as feline in her thoughts often enough, but I don't think she really understood that in this cell, she was the one who moved like a caged tiger.

She didn't hesitate to get to the heart of the matter. "There's nothing stopping them from attacking me again, is there?"

"Whatever I'd have to subject you to in order to get you out of this cell might be worse," I said. It was an unpleasant truth, but there was no use in talking around it. "I may be able to spare you pain, but not humiliation."

"What are you thinking?"

"I can keep you with me if I treat you as a toy to taunt Tamlin with. Dress you up, degrade you in front of your so-called beloved, and make it clear to everyone else that I don't share."

I wished I had more to offer her, but I'd been turning this over in my mind for hours and hadn't come up with something better. I half-expected her to snap at me again, just for suggesting it. I wouldn't blame her for it.

She didn't, though, just shrugged and said, "There are worse fates."

I was glad she hadn't panicked, but it still seemed horribly insufficient. I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated. "The trouble is, it may cause complications when we all get out of here."

"Complications?"

I was obvious enough to me, but maybe not to her. Since Calanmai, I'd been dreaming of what a future for us could look like when we got out of here but perhaps….perhaps she didn't want that, too. I reminded myself that she hadn't known about mating bonds until a few weeks ago. Feyre hadn't grown up thinking she could have a mate one day, and now she'd permanently accepted one without realizing what was happening.

If she didn't want anything to do with me, I understood completely. She deserved better. She deserved choices.

"A human will have enough trouble being respected as Lady of the Night Court, if…you want that," I said, hating how uncertain I sounded. I caught the look on her face that told me she'd noticed, and now wasn't the time to talk about it. I pushed ahead before she could interrupt. "Parading you like that in front of everyone here will make it worse, even after revealing it's a ruse."

Obviously frustrated, she just paced faster. It was an effort not to push past her shields and read her thoughts on the matter. She could tell me herself, no matter how curious I was.

Then abruptly she froze and said, "What about my maidenhead?"

Cold horror gripped me. The thought hadn't crossed my mind before, but I'd been foolish not to have seen it. Cauldron boil and fry me, Feyre was so young.

"Your maidenhead? Cauldron Feyre, on Calanmai, did I—"

"You didn't. And before you ask, Tamlin didn't either," she said, voice flat. That was strange—I hadn't been thinking of Tamlin at all. "But no one else needs to know that if you can ensure Tamlin and Lucien won't expose the lie. Tell everyone you intend to make an event of taking my virginity. It would give you a reason to make sure no one touches me and still leave me down here."

Brilliant. She was utterly brilliant, and I could have kissed her right then and there. Stubborn and strategic.

"Now there's an idea," I said, pressing my fingers together under my chin. The rest of the plan formed in my mind easily, the pieces coming together. "It would work, if only for a short while. They'll question why I haven't just done it if it drags on too long, but I'll take whatever time we can get. I'll ward the cell and have someone trusted bring a change of clothes and body paint for when Amarantha drags you out for housework."

Her smile could only be described as mischievous. If I wasn't mistaken, by some miracle, she was flirting back. "And of course you'll have to come down here frequently to ensure the paint is still intact."

"It would be far too important a task to delegate," I purred in that way I knew she liked.

Feyre gave me one more smile then resumed her pacing; I was beginning to suspect she never sat still. "And the riddle? Has she given it any consideration?" she said, all business again.

"Not yet, and before you ask, we've all been barred from helping you solve it or telling you the first task. I have her ear, and I'll keep pushing her to make plans that play to your strengths."

She nodded, and I shared everything I could think of that might give her some small advantage Under the Mountain. I couldn't arm her with weapons, just information. It was better than nothing. As I deposited the information in her head, I was careful not to push deeper into her mind accidentally. She deserved privacy.

We had a tentative plan in place, and I doubted Amarantha would stay asleep much longer. Swallowing my disgust, I brushed against her mental shields just briefly enough to reassure myself she was still asleep without alerting her.

I turned my attention back to Feyre quickly. "I don't have to go right this moment, but soon."

She nodded, not quite able to maintain that same stoicism from before. We were both suddenly very aware that I'd have to leave her here in this cell. The thought of it was already ripping me apart.

Feyre was impossible to leave. But if I had to force myself to do it, at least I'd leave her with something.

"Feyre, do you mind if I…Could— Could you please come here and take a seat?" I said.

She eyed me curiously but did as I said, sitting down on the pallet of hay that had been left for her. I knelt behind her, and she kept watching me over her shoulder. The confusion was still written all over her face, as if she had no idea that she was the only one in the world I'd ever willingly get on my knees for.

"That bruise towards the top of your ribs is going to make it uncomfortable to lift your arm, at least for another day or two," I said, sliding the tie off the end of her braid.

As gently as I could, I ran my fingers through her golden brown hair, smoothing out the tangles but mostly just savoring the feel of the strands against my fingers. Given the opportunity, I'd card my fingers through her hair for hours.

But we didn't have hours, so I started to braid. It had been centuries since I'd done this for anyone—Mor had been the first, when she'd insisted I learn because she didn't have any female friends in the Court of Nightmares, then my sister when she'd been a youngling, and eventually even Cassian when his hair had been longer and we'd been bored to tears in the war-camps and desperate for a laugh. And now Feyre.

"I won't be there if you wake up and vomit tonight, so consider this my way of holding your hair back for you," I said softly. I'd felt her nightmares, watched through the bond as she'd emptied her stomach into the toilet, and spent too many nights wishing I could be there for her.

It wasn't enough, but she needed to know she wasn't alone.

I tied off the end of her braid, and she turned to face me so we we sitting knee to knee "Thank you," she said. "And you have a lifeline, too, you know. Use it."

She tugged on the bond, and I nodded, unable to talk about this. It was something I couldn't bear to burden her with, not when she was looking at me so sadly. I was feeling horribly insufficient again. I'd done something for her, I realized, but maybe there was more she needed to hear me say.

"Don't think I'm not still upset with you, but while we can speak face-to-face, I should say that you were brilliant in that throne room. It was a clever bit of bargaining. And I know you were training before, but that much tenacity can't be taught. It's an innate gift."

She smiled. I memorized the sight of it because I'd made her smile. At least I was good for something.

"That's the nicest way anyone's called me stubborn," she said.

Somehow, I was smiling, too. Under the Mountain, a real smile felt like an impossibility. But Feyre had made it happen.

She stood and held her hand out to me, as if she was ready to lead me out from this place. I took it and got to my feet, desperate to follow her.

"Stay safe," she whispered, ridiculous as it was when she'd just thrown herself into the line of fire in that throne room.

"You too," I said.

I wanted to kiss her goodbye, but my eyes landed on the swelling in her lips. Even the slightest pressure against that might hurt, and I wouldn't risk causing her pain.

And besides, Feyre Archeron was the Queen of Night. A beating and a cell didn't change that, and she deserved to be treated like it. And I was still a High Lord of Prythian, even Under the Mountain. I bent at the waist and kissed the back of her hand, then winnowed away.

Before summoning Nuala and Cerridwen, I took a moment to breathe. On the other end of the bond, Feyre—brilliant, brave, unstoppable Feyre—was already thinking about makeshift weapons.

We were going to get out of here.

#feysand #pro rhysand #a simple name and everything has changed #we said hello and your eyes look like coming home

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