#anyway those are my thoughts for the night

[f1smutwriter]

Can you please write a smut about Charles that reader is a virgin and their first night is very hot (like very hot🥵) but Charles make it comfortable for reader. And Charles is madly in love with reader that he thinks she is love of his life ❤️

|𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 (𝐜𝐥𝟏𝟔)

Experienced!Charles x Virgin!Reader

Summary: He wanted to make your first time special. So he taught you the basics, or that’s what you thought it was.

Warnings: SMUT! Innocence kink, extreme corruption kink, fingering, oral (fem rec), breast play, dirty talk, unprotected sex (Big no no), praise, degrading, squirting, begging kink, pet names (Mon cœur, little bunny, princess, baby, etc), like way more that I don’t remember.

Notes: for the person who requested sorry this took literal years. This is probably one of my favorite fics. But anyways, Hope you enjoy!!

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I wasn’t one of those people who were craving for sex. I was okay being a virgin at first, but then I hit my twenties and it became a problem. I had a hot boyfriend and people thought we were going at it like bunny’s all the time. But Charles was actually extremely supportive about my choice. Til one day I couldn’t take it anymore.

I’m sitting on the couch while watching tv cuddling myself waiting for Charles. I hear the jingle of his keys making me get up and rush to him. The second he came in he sees me charging at him making him smile as he picks me up. “Well hello to you too Mon cœur” he smiled as he kissed my head as I scrunched up my nose making him smile. “So what have you been doing while I was out” he asked me softly dragging me to sit in his lap. “Nothing watching tv” I whispered as he started kissing my neck like he normal does making me whimper.

“Aww, did I make my little bunny nervous” he smirked nibbling at my sweet-spot. "Baby stop it" I whined in his neck making him chuckle a bite making him smile. "I'm sorry baby" He smiled thinking I was getting uncomfortable so he rubbed by back. "What were you watching" He asked softly as he rubbed my back watching the movie I was watching. "Some type of dark romance movie it's honestly crazy" I say cuddling into his side while we watch the movie.

As we watch the movie we see a scene where the two main characters starting kissing and it gets heated. I suddenly feel a rush of heat between my legs, making me squeeze my thighs shut as hard as I can to relieve the feeling. “You okay baby” Charles asked with a smirk, knowing exactly what was going on. “Yeah I’m fine love don’t worry about me” I whispered squeezing my thighs more and I feel his hand go on one of them. I feel him drag his hand up and down my leg feeling shivers down my back.

I subconsciously opened spread my legs so he could touch me where I craved the most. He slowly touched my inner thigh so close to my wet core making me let out small whimpers as he goes. He slips his hand in my tiny pajama shorts making me whimper softly. His fingers gazed my clothed cunt letting out a breathy moan. “Do you want it Mon cœur” he whispered in my ear before kissing my neck softly.

“P-please” I cried out wanting him to do more to me. As I said that his fingers started rubbing soft circles on my clit making me moan out and buck my hips from the feign pleasure. “Sshh let it happen” he chuckled as rubbed my clit faster before checking how wet I was. Once he felt I was soaking he groaned, slipping a fingering in me making me moan louder. I grab his wrist to tell him to stop moving them, I let out a shaky breath as he continued to rub my clit with his thumb.

He picks me up and walks to the bedroom. “Your first time is most certainly not gonna be on the couch” he smiled as he threw me on the bed making me giggle out loud. “Gonna let me take this off” he asked me pulling on my pajama shorts making me nod softly. He pulled them down my legs along with my panties making me shiver slightly. “Fuck I can’t wait to taste you” he smirked at me feeling wide eyed at his comment. “What did you really think I wasn’t gonna taste this pretty pussy” he chuckled looking at my face amused as he rubbed my thighs.

“I-I don’t know” I whispered blushing bright cherry red making him laugh at me a bit. “Don’t worry gonna make you feel so good baby you’re not gonna walk for a week” he smiled as he went back to kissing me gently like I was the most fragile thing on planet earth. “Charles you don’t have to be gentle. I want it to be good for you too” I mumbled softly making him smile at my response to his kiss. “Don’t think you’d want that, I can be really rough and I don’t want to hurt you” he smiled softly as he rubbed my face his his thumb making my head lean closer to his hand.

I kiss him wrapping my arms around his neck as we kiss. He holds my waist as we make out, him slipping his tongue in my mouth gently making me gasp against his lips. He breaks the kiss to start kissing my neck slowly taking off his my shirt. “I love when your in my clothes like they were made for you” he whispered in my ear before going back to kissing my neck, sucking on my sweet-spot.

He goes down and sucks on my nipple, while rubbing the other one feeling my back arch off the bed and whimpers spilling out of my mouth. He kisses down my stomach and pecked the very top of my cunt making my thighs close together. “Leave them open” he growled as he spread my legs roughly making me gasp at his roughness. His fingers run through my soaking fold. He leaned down and started eating me out savoring my juices like he’s been dying for it.

He sucked on my clit making me gasp loudly and closing my thighs around his head. I feel him chuckled against my cunt, grabbing his hair to push his face and tongue deeper into my pussy. “Fuck this pussy taste so sweet. So mean for keeping it from me” he groaned against me feeling my legs shake from the pleasure. “I’m gonna eat you out all the time, when your asleep when your awake, when your showering” he mumbled as he wrapped his arms around my thighs to dig his face deeper into me.

“B-baby feel s-something in m-my stomach” I cried out making him chuckle. “That’s called an orgasm let it go cum all over my tongue let me taste how sweet you really are” he whispered sticking his tongue in my tight hole making a scream rip out of my throat. My thighs start shaking around his head as I cum all over his tongue tugging his hair for dear life. I swear that I almost black out from that intense moment. “How was that baby” he chuckled rubbing my face with his hands. “G-good” I stuttered out still feeling like I’m on cloud nine. “Want it rough Charles please” I begged him wanting him to take me rough to feel the whole experience. “You sure don’t want to hurt you” he asked making me nod frantically.

“Hands and knees ass in the air” he said quickly making me obey him in an instant. “Fuck can’t wait to stick my cock into your tight pussy. Gonna squeeze me so good” he said as reached over to grab a condom. “No don’t want it. Wanna feel you” I say making him grin grow even bigger. “Oh my dirty girl wants it raw, want me to fuck a baby into you. Well don’t worry I will” he said putting his hand under my mouth. “Spit don’t want you to get hurt” he demanded feeling myself spit in his hand. I see him in the mirror rubbing my saliva on his hard cock, he looked up and saw me staring at him in the mirror. He winked at me through it as his cock runs through my sensitive fold. He slowly slips in me groaning in pure pleasure as I groan from the burning stretch he gave me.

Tears running down my face making him laugh softly. “Is it too big for you” he smirked making him lay me on my back to see my every expression. He start thrusting in and out slowly making sure to not hurt me. As I get used to the feeling I start clenching around him from the pure pleasure. “F-fa-faster please faster baby” I cried out making him grab my hips and pound in and out of me. I feel my eyes roll at the back of my head feeling him hit that one spot deep inside I just found out about. “You look so good on my cock” he smiled before adding “I can’t wait to teach you how to ride me, just wait Mon cœur we’re not having no vanilla sex just you wait” He grin making me clench around his throbbing cock.

He sucked my nipple before he put his thumb in my aching clit making me gasp out loudly. He started rubbing it fast feeling my air leave my lungs in an instant. “Yeah there’s my good girl, so desperate and eager to be my little cock whore” He growled pounding harder and harder feeling my nails drag along his back hearing him growl in my ear. “Gosh baby don’t worry I’m gonna fill you up all the time to a point when your not full your gonna feel it still” He smirked making me scream out being so close over the edge. “Wanna cum huh baby” he smiled making me babbled nonsense. “Y-yes” I whined as he licked and sucked my neck marking me. “Cum baby, wanna feel you cum on my cock” he grumbled making my vision go black as I have the most mind blowing orgasm ever.

I feel liquid come out of me, trying to stop it but doesn’t work. I look at him in pure embarrassment as he smirks at me. He moves my hips chasing his orgasm, overstimulating me a bit. As he cums with a loud groan feeling the liquid come out of me again. He palms my clit fast moving side to side at an inhuman pace making the liquid come out in large amounts. “N-no more no more” I cried out begging him to stop from the pure sensitivity. He smiled as he licked up my abused pussy clean. “What the heck was that” I asked him hiding my face in his neck. “That was you squirting and Mon cœur I’m gonna make you do it all the time your gonna have none left in you” He smirked as he rubbed my hair softly out of my face.

“Thank you baby” I whispered in his neck rubbing his back a bit. “Thank you for what Joli” He smiled softly scratching my head. “Taking my virginity the best way possible” I grinned softly making him burst out laughing. “You are one of a kind Y/n L/n” He smiled kissing my head before we fall fast asleep in each others arms.

I know I said I didn’t crave it. But when you have a hot boyfriend who knows what he’s doing, you want it 24/7.

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Notes: this was the story I thought I posted to someone but turns out my system was being dumb and it was in my queue. Kinda awkward anyways I hope you guys like it am I’m posting more soon so give me more requests please I’m begging 🙏. HOPE YOU ENJOYED

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 smut #formula 1 smut #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x female oc #Charles leclerc x

[shellshocklove]

does anyone know where the love of god goes? | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x female!reader – post breakout & no ellie AU

summary: crossing the country alone as he searches for his brother, joel stumbles on a farm. winter is closing in, and against his better judgement he's convinced to stay. as the frost covers the land like a blanket, a warmth ignites in his heart for the young woman who's home he finds himself in.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so minors dni!!! canon-typical violence, age gap (reader is mid to late twenties), swearing, dead animals, joel being a sad man, masturbation, no use of y/n

a/n: i soft launched this ao3 last month and it flopped lol so i'm gonna keep my expectations low for this series. anyways this has been a story i've been thinking about since probably october. this is the first part of what i'm hoping will be 3 parts. happy reading i guess

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3 / playlist

The leaves rustled against Joel’s boots with every step he took. The sun had turned traitor cold, and he couldn’t feel its kiss against his cheek no more. The trees shivered above him in the wind – the only sound for miles except his heavy steps.

Did he still exist, with no one around? Joel had never minded being alone; after the breakout he’d found that he sometimes preferred it. People could be… well, when you’ve seen the worst of humanity, maybe it’s best to leave it behind.

And wasn’t he the worst of humanity? The things he’d done. The people he’d killed, and killed for. The people he’d lost.

But he had to keep going. For Tess. He promised.

Every night as he stared into the flames his thoughts would drift to her – the memories flickering in the fire. They should’ve never gone through that museum – it was supposed to have been empty – they should’ve never left Boston in the first place. Now Tess is gone because of him, him and his stupid plan to find his brother.

And for what? How is he ever gonna find Tommy?

Joel didn’t even know where he was. Nebraska? South-Dakota? Maybe he’d made it to Wyoming and just didn’t know it? Abe had told him ‘Cody Tower’, but Joel hadn’t seen anything other than mother nature for weeks.

Everything had started to look the same. Trees and more trees, a mountain in the distance, a grey and heavy sky above him. He’d been walking for forever. Slowly he moved west– or at least he thought he was. On the days where the sun hung high in the sky and wasn’t shielded behind a cloudy partition, he liked to watch it as it dipped below the earth. As the days turned shorter and shorter, the display of color had started to get more vivid. Joel would watch the light blue turn red and bloody, fiery tongues of flames licking over the horizon while the sharp edges of the mountains, and the triangular shapes of the trees faded into an intense black– like the shape of the mountain and the trees had been cut out with scissors. There wasn’t much to stay alive for anymore– but Joel lived for those few moments where nature painted with fire. Humanity might’ve gone to shit, but the cyclical regularity of mother nature gave Joel a small sense of peace.

But he missed the kiss of the sun against his cheek now. He’d moved into a large forest a few days ago. Tall trees hovered over him like giants and cast shadows down at him. It was colder here than out in the open country, but at least he’d been somewhat shaded from the rain pouring from the grey cover above his head the last few days.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The sound stopped Joel in his tracks. Muscle memory worked on its own, gripping the shotgun slung over his shoulder. He listened for the sound again, to the steady rhythm echoing through the forest.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

With slow calculated steps Joel walked in the direction of the sound with the shotgun held tightly to his chest, his finger hovered over the trigger. The chopping sound got louder as he closed in on a man. He couldn’t tell his age with the man’s back turned – but he was strong – Joel could tell from how hard the man’s axe hit the tree trunk.

Taking another silent step, Joel got in position, “How ‘bout you slowly turn around and place that axe on the ground.”

Joel’s voice was hoarse after no use, but still cold and calculated as he spoke his order. He could see he’d startled the man, probably thinking he was alone, just like Joel had thought mere minutes ago.

The man obeyed, turning around slowly. He was older than Joel, maybe mid-seventies, maybe older if the wrinkles and creases around his eyes and nose were to be believed. His hair was white as snow matching his unkempt beard. Joel caught his eye. Strong and steady, no trace of fear one would think a man would feel while having a gun pointed at them.

Joel’s grip around the gun tightened. He wasn’t afraid to pull the trigger if that’s where this was headed. The man watched him calmly before he bent his knees, throwing the axe haphazardly on the ground.

“Kick it over here,” Joel commanded again, and the man obeyed, kicking the axe clumsily towards Joel.

Slowly Joel crept closer, gun still pointed at the man. He locked the heel of his shoe against the shaft, dragging the axe behind him and out of the way.

“Hands where I can see ‘em.”

“Are you going to kill me, son?”

The man’s question puzzled Joel. He said it so calmly, like how you’d ask someone to pass the salt.

“That depends on you.” Joel’s answer pulled at the old man’s lips, a small huff of a laugh escaping them.

“Well, you’re the one with the gun. I think it depends on you.”

Joel tightened his grip on the shotgun again – he didn’t know why –to frighten the man? He didn’t seem very frightened.

“Are you alone?” Joel asked.

“Not anymore,” the man answered.

“Don’t be a smartass,” Joel gritted through his teeth, “who you travelin’ with?”

“No one,” the man’s eyes never left Joel, “I live at a farm about a mile away.”

“Take me to it.”

The man walked with a limp Joel noticed. It was barely there, you wouldn’t see it if you didn’t pay attention, but it was there. The man acted tough enough, but his body revealed his weaknesses. It would be easy to kill him, Joel thought, if it came to that.

He followed the man through the trees with his gun pointed at his back. When they reached the end of the forest a clearing revealed itself. They followed a path through a field of, tall but wilted, brown grass until they reached an overgrown gravel road with a fence running along it. Looking out in the distance, Joel could see small spots of white and black wool. The gravel moaned under their feet as they closed in on a small farm. A two-story house sat in the middle of the barnyard where it was surrounded by a barn who’d seen better days, a silo, and a smaller farmhouse – a stable – Joel noticed as they walked closer.

The man trudged up the front stairs of the main farmhouse, a hand on the handrail keeping him steady.

“Put that gun away would you, son? I don’t want you frightening my wife.” The man broke the silence between them, speaking for the first time since they left the woods.

Joel’s grip on his shotgun didn’t loosen. How could he be sure that this man’s ‘wife’ wasn’t some gang of raiders hiding behind the front door? A question he asked the man through gritted teeth when he turned around to look at Joel.

“There’s nothing of the sort around here,” the man said, “we don’t even see any infected.”

When Joel didn’t say anything, and didn’t lower the gun, the man spoke again, “Who are you?”

“Just someone passin’ through,” Joel answered, making the man chuckle.

“You’re something else, passer-througher,” the old man smiled before he turned around again and stepped inside, leaving Joel on the porch alone.

Abandoned outside he lowered his gun slightly. Inside he could hear muffled voices, a deeper one, definitely the old man, and a brighter one, a woman’s voice. He listened, trying to make out their words with no prevail. The man seemed to have spoken the truth up until now. He most definitely lived on this farm – a seemingly normal farm. This man was just someone making an honest living – even after the apocalypse.

Lowering the gun completely, Joel put the safety on before he slung it over his shoulder. Taking a hollowed step towards the front door, movement in the window to the right of him caught his eye. It was there and then it was gone – just a ruffle of blonde curtains. Then, the door opened revealing an elderly woman.

The man’s wife.

“Welcome, traveler,” she greeted, stepping aside to let Joel in.

He passed through the doorway with a “Thank you, ma’am,” never forgetting his manners even after pointing a gun at her husband.

Inside it looked like a picture taken straight out of a Homes & Gardens magazine. The house was cozy, but it was small. He’d been welcomed into what probably used to be a parlor, but now served its purpose as their living room. It was hard to get a read on the house. Not like those open-floor plan houses he’d built too many of back before the outbreak – this was old, maybe hundreds of years old. The floorboard creaked under his shoes as he walked deeper into the living room, the rest of the house locked away like a secret behind three closed doors. The man was seated in a lounge chair by the fireplace, watching Joel with an expression Joel found it hard to decipher.

“Would you like some tea?” the woman asked, “It’s peppermint from our garden.”

Joel turned his head to the woman. She must be around the same age as the old man, Joel thought. He cleared his throat before he answered with a nod, “Thank you, ma’am.”

She pointed to the sofa, urging him to sit down with a smile before she disappeared through one of the doors to what Joel thought must be the kitchen. He felt the old man watching him as he slid his backpack off his shoulders, placing it on the creaky wooden floor behind the sofa. Joel hesitated for just a second when placing the shotgun up against the back, but decided he wasn’t in any imminent danger.

Joel almost groaned as he sat down. He’d been walking for so long, slept on the hard ground for months, he’d almost forgotten what a comfortable chair was. It almost felt surreal, being invited in for tea, like the outbreak had never happened. Here, it was like the time had stood still.

“So,” the man started, “where are you heading to if you’re just ‘passin’ through’?”

Joel cleared his throat again, “I’m lookin’ for my brother,” he answered truthfully, “last I heard he was somewhere in Wyoming.”

“If you’re going to Wyoming, then what you’re doing all the way up here?” The man queried with a chuckle.

Annoyed, Joel grinded his teeth, “Not many signs in the fuckin’ woods are there?” He huffed.

“I guess not,” the man shrugged, “but you’ve made a heck of a detour… where did you come from? Texas? You sound it.”

“Boston.”

“Boston?” the man didn’t hide his surprise, breathing out chuckles in disbelief, “I’ll give it to you, that’s one long trip.”

Joel only huffed in agreement, turning his head from the man to the window overlooking the barnyard.

“Well,” the man broke the growing silence between the two men, “you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner and for the night– you look like you could need a hot meal and a warm bed.”

Joel’s instinct was to say no, but before he could the front door opened, revealing a young woman. You.

You stopped dead in your tracks as you laid your eyes on Joel, “Oh!”.

The door slammed behind you. Under your arm you were carrying a metal bucket filled with apples. You were beautiful, young, but still beautiful – Joel couldn’t deny it.

“This is…” The man paused.

“Joel.” He cleared his throat, introducing himself, “Joel Miller.”

“Mr. Miller is just passing through– he’s looking for his brother,” the old man explained to you.

You nodded at the information, sat the bucket down before you reached out a hand for Joel to take, introducing yourself. Your hand in his was warm and soft while his own dwarfed yours, rough and calloused. He couldn’t help but think about what his hands had done, the people they’d killed. He shouldn’t be tainting yours, painting them red. Joel quickly drew his hand back, balling it into a fist at his side.

Joel looked over at the old man, “Your daughter?” he asked with a tilt of his head in your direction.

“Oh, no,” the man answered with a playful smile, “You’re not the first person ‘passin’ through’ who’s shown up on our doorstep.”

The door to the kitchen opened to reveal the old woman with a teapot in her hand, and a stacked tower of teacups in the other.

“Let me help you Alma,” you said, taking the teacups from the old woman’s hand before placing them on the table; one in front of Joel, a second in front of the old man, “Here you go Arthur,” and a third next to Joel.

“Did you also want some tea, sweetie?” Alma asked you as she placed the steaming teapot on the table.

“Yes, please, but I can grab a cup myself– sit down,” you smiled and padded the old woman’s shoulder, then you grabbed the bucket of apples and disappeared into the kitchen.

Alma started pouring the tea as a silence fell over the room. A small, “Thank you, ma’am,” left Joel’s lips as she moved on to pouring tea for her husband.

“So,” the man started before taking a sip of his tea, “what do you say Mr. Miller? You staying for the night?”

That night as he laid in a real bed for the first time in months, Joel had trouble falling asleep. He wasn’t used to this. Hadn’t been used to it for a while. His belly full, soft fabric against his skin, feeling warm, and clean. The old couple had offered him one of the two bedrooms on the first floor, the two mystery doors in the living room now revealed. Laying in his new bed he tried not to think about who he was sharing a wall with.

You.

You were something else, helpful and kind. Everything Joel hadn’t seen since the outbreak. At the dinner table you’d asked him questions and listened intently – even when his answers were short and brisk. There was a glimmer in your eye, and it touched something inside him he hadn’t felt in a long time. But you were young, mid to late twenties he reckoned, maybe a little older– anyways, he shouldn’t be harboring anything for you, it wouldn’t be right. Especially now, now that he’d agreed to stay.

After the dinner plates had been cleared, Arthur had folded a big map out on the table. “Here are we now,” he’d pointed a finger at the map. Montana. Southern Montana to be precise. “I’ll give it to you Mr. Miller, if you’ve made it this far on your own you probably won’t have any trouble making your way down south to Wyoming.”

“But?” Joel watched the grimace pulling at the old man’s face.

“But,” Arthur had said, “Winter is just around the corner and… well, going back out there in the wilderness alone during our winters is a dead trap, I’ll tell you that much.”

Joel had let the man go on about the far below freezing temperatures, the heavy snow, and the tough wind, but Joel wasn’t stupid. He knew the winters up here were harsh. It wasn’t even winter yet, but every day he’d felt the temperature drop lower and lower, and the last few of nights he’d even had to get a fire going, against his better judgement.

So– the deal was: Joel would stay over the winter. Just for the winter, he’d been adamant on not staying longer. He’d get a place to stay, a warm bed to sleep in, and food in his belly on one condition – he’d help out on the farm.

The fire crackled loudly, red tongues licking up the chimney as Joel fed it another log. He watched as the fire caught in the new log, devouring it quickly and with no mercy. It was really starting to heat up now. A small flicker of pride sparked in Joel chest. He’d always been good at building a fire. It was one of those things, Joel had come to learn, where you needed to pay attention, to have patience.

When he was younger, he’d take Tommy out camping sometimes, just the two of them. Mostly they’d go during the summer; Tommy wasn’t a fan of sleeping outside in the cold, though cold had meant something different back then in Texas. But Joel remembered one time he’d managed to convince him to go with him. It was right after he’d gotten his driver’s license, and his parents had given him a beat-up truck for his birthday – for sharing – they’d told him, “You need to give your little brother a ride when he needs it!” Joel wasn’t exactly thrilled about his future as Tommy’s private driver, but it didn’t mean he didn’t love his brother.

A few weeks into October he’d managed to convince Tommy to go camping. They’d packed the truck with their tents, sleeping bags, and fishing equipment, before they’d gotten on the road, driving to a lake where they knew there were fish to catch. Finding a place to camp was always difficult with Tommy. They’d parked Joel’s truck at the edge of the forest before they’d followed a hiking trail. Joel was convinced they’d walked at least three quarters of the way around the lake before they found a spot good enough for Tommy.

It had to be flat, but also shielded. There couldn’t be too many rocks, but there also had to be enough rocks to build a hearth. Tommy wanted it to be private, but he also wanted it to be open enough that he could see if someone would stumble upon their camp. Joel knew not to argue with him when he got like that, opting instead for a defeated, “Whatever.”

Setting up camp went relatively easy. They’d worked together building the tents, collecting rocks for their fireplace, and even managed to find a fallen tree to use as a bench. When the night slowly started to cover them in darkness, Tommy decided to get the fire going. Joel watched him work the logs into a pile as he started on filleting the fish they’d just caught.

“You’re doin’ it wrong,” he’d told his brother, “You’re suffocatin’ it.” He’d washed his hands in the lake, ridding himself of the slimy smell of fish, before crouching down next to Tommy.

The fire was one big bowl of smoke, and Joel caught himself wondering what messages Tommy must’ve been sending to the heavens. He removed some of the heavier logs, and the fire could breathe.

“See?” he’d looked at Tommy, “It just needed air.” Joel had shifted the smaller pieces of wood around and not long after the fire was alive.

That Joel, that green boy who liked to take his little brother camping, that Joel didn’t know how much those skills would come in handy in a few years when the world would get turned upside down.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?”

Your question pulled Joel from his memories. He turned his head slightly, meeting your gaze from where you were huddled up in the corner of the couch. You looked cozy, but he knew you weren’t. The house was cold this morning, outside a thin layer of frost had stuck to the grass during the night. It was early too, the sun not having climbed high enough yet to peek over the mountains. You looked tired where you sat, clad in a wool sweater with a blanket pulled over your knees. Under the blanket Joel remembered you were still wearing your pajama pants, and in your hand you held a steaming cup of tea, peppermint, Joel knew, his own cup abandoned on the coffee table.

“What?” Joel answered, eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?” you repeated softly, like the way people tended to speak in the mornings, like they were afraid they’d wake up the world.

His calves were starting to burn from the strain of being crouched in front of the fireplace for a moment too long, and he tried his best to hide his groan, biting his teeth together as he stood to his feet, knees cracking loudly.

“Um, no,” he said, confused about your question.

“I’ll knit you a pair then,” you smiled before putting your cup down next to his.

“That’s… that ain’t necessary,” Joel hurried, but you waved him off.

“Sure it is,” you smiled again, much to Joel’s annoyance. He didn’t deserve your kindness, but you gave it away like it cost nothing. “If you’re gonna be helping Arthur out in the woods this winter, you need some mittens.”

Joel watched as you got up from your home on the couch and vanished into your bedroom. A moment later you appeared in the doorway with a basket under your arm.

“Also…” you gave him another smile as you sat back down again, placing the basket in your lap. It was close to overflowing with yarn, balls of black and white in varying sizes peeking over the top, the homespun ends fraying against the rough edges of the basket. “I’ll have something to do during the evenings,” you winked before you rummaged through the basket and fished out a measuring tape.

Joel shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he watched you. Mittens? Joel can’t remember if he’s ever owned a pair of mittens. Gloves, sure, but mittens?

You patted the cushion next to you, urging him to sit down, kind smile hanging off your lips like always. Sitting down, he folded his hands in his lap, suddenly very aware of how close you were sitting. It wasn’t like he hadn’t sat next to you before; he’d been here a few weeks now, and he was starting to know you, but for some reason, this felt different. Maybe it was the early morning, the quiet house, or the fact that Alma and Arthur were still sleeping upstairs, but it felt like it was just the two of you, alone, and Joel didn’t know how to feel about it.

You shifted towards him, the blanket slipping slightly off the couch with your movement, in your hands you held the measuring tape while you looked at him expectantly.

When Joel didn’t move, a smile quirked at the corner of your mouth before you grabbed one of his hands resting in his lap. You uncurled his fingers slowly, one by one, making Joel hold his breath.

“I need to see how big I need to make them,” you whispered, holding his hand very gently.

Joel’s heart hammered in his chest. Your hand was warm and soft, like the last time he’d touched you as you’d introduced yourself to him. Joel didn’t dare look at your face, or he’d say something stupid, so he didn’t. He looked at your joined hands, his brain trying to remember the last time someone had held his hand as gently as you did, your thumb running over the back of it soothingly.

He can’t remember. His hands are always empty.

With your other hand, a finger curled around the measuring tape, you slipped it around his wrist before leaning closer to look at the numbers.

“Is this too tight you think, or do you want them to be looser?” You asked through your lashes, eyes sparkling in the low morning light.

Joel cleared his throat, “No, that’s fine.”

“Okay,” you nodded, slipping the measuring tape from his wrist to write down the measurement. He hadn’t noticed your notebook until now. It was a little rough around the edges from use, the spined cracked and the paper a little yellow. Placing the pen in the seam, you grabbed the measuring tape again.

Loosening your grip on his hand you placed it over the thick of your thigh. Joel drew a quick breath, his heartbeat hammering in his ears, under his hand he could feel the warmth of you through the soft flannel.

You continued taking your measurements. You didn’t say anything, so neither did Joel, but you looked up at him through your lashes sometimes, and Joel thought that maybe the most useful thing one can do with empty hands, is hold on.

The creak of the stair made Joel jump, and like he’d been burned his hand retracted on reflex, as Arthur’s heavy steps got closer.

“Morning,” Arthur greeted as he ducked his head through the door to the living room.

“Mornin’,” Joel mumbled, head lowered as he gathered his hands in his lap.

“Good morning!” you smiled, always with that kind smile, “Did you sleep well, Arthur?” you got up from your seat before grabbing your teacup to follow Arthur into the kitchen, leaving the yarn and Joel.

Taking a deep breath, Joel pinched the top of his nose. He needed to get it together. You were just being your regular kind self; your soft touch was nothing more than that. Standing to his feet, Joel grabbed his own cup, trudging into the kitchen.

In the kitchen Arthur sat in his usual spot at the dining table, the chair closest to the window. “I need to get on with this barn soon,” Joel heard him say as he sat down opposite him. “It’s gonna fall apart come spring if we get as much snow as we did last year.”

Joel tried his best not to look at you as he heard you hum. You were stood at the kitchen counter slicing the bread Alma had baked yesterday, readying breakfast. Instead, Joel opted to gaze down into his teacup, where the peppermint leaves had all gathered at the bottom.

“Um,” Joel cleared his throat, “what needs fixin’?”

“What doesn’t need fixing in that barn?” Arthur sighed, peeling his eyes from out the window to Joel.

“I can uh,” Joel eyes shifted quickly to you before he cleared his throat again, “I can take a look at it, if ya want?”

Arthur’s eyebrows met in a furrow as he looked at Joel.

“I used to be a contractor,” Joel explained with a shrug, before taking a last cold sip of his tea.

“So, you know a thing or two about buildings I reckon?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, well I used to,” Joel leaned back in his chair.

“Well, that would be very helpful Joel– I’d appreciated it!” Arthur smiled before leaning back in his chair making room for you as you started setting the table. Joel gave him a short nod in return, trying to fight the urge to look at you as you placed the food on the table.

Arthur had downplayed the state of the barn – it was a mess – it was dangerous, and had Joel told him as much. But it was nothing Joel couldn’t fix, as long as he had the right supplies, fortunately for him the forest would provide them with what they needed.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The axe dug a deep wound into the bark with every swing. Joel’s breath was heavy, and his arms ached, but it was a welcomed form of tiredness. A month into it, he was starting to get used to the work. There was something so satisfying about manual labor, of using his hands, of making something – he’d almost forgotten.

The routine of the work felt good. Waking up at dawn, then breakfast, he could use his body for something useful for the first time in twenty years and end the day with a warm meal for supper. This new temporary life was simple, but it was strangely normal.

Originally, Joel was only helping Arthur out in the woods for firewood through the winter– but now with the barn, they’d changed course. The last few days they’d started to become more selective with the trees; looking for the tallest and straightest ones that would fall safely.

A frozen sky hovered over the men as they worked. This morning when Joel had woken up, the thinnest layer of snow had fallen like powdered sugar during the night, turning the world bright with winter. Earlier in the week the frost had perched on the farm, and Joel had known winter was closing in. He’d lost count of the days and months passing while on his own, but Arthur had told him it was late October.

“It will start snowing properly soon,” Arthur said, breaking the silence between them.

Joel hummed before taking a bite of his packed lunch. They’d worked all morning – Joel felling the trees and Arthur cleaning them up and removing the branches. Now they were sat on a fresh tree stump each, their first break of the day.

“I have an old logging sled in the barn– used to be my father’s,” Arthur explained, “I think we should leave the trees here until the snow gets deep enough for the sled and have the horses pull them back to the farm.”

“Fine by me,” Joel took another bite of his lunch.

“The logs will have to dry out over the winter,” Arthur mused, “Then come spring we can start the repairs on the barn.”

Spring. If everything goes according to plan, Joel won’t be here come spring. He needed to find Tommy– he couldn’t, and he wasn’t gonna stay on the farm for any longer than necessary. He’d already decided– when the snow finally started to melt, Joel was gone.

Joel hummed, a non-committed answer. It was easier that way, to not get Arthur’s hopes up. He liked Arthur, he was a good man, a hard worker even in his old age, and silent when Joel wanted him to be. Joel liked Alma too, but her age shined through more easily than Arthur’s. Joel couldn’t help but notice her repeating herself more often and forgetting where she put things. It made life harder for you, Joel could see it. Your responsibilities were already a lot to handle as you took care of the animals mostly by yourself, but as Joel had discovered Alma starting to struggle with the housework, he’d noticed you starting to help her more often. In Joel’s mind it was unfair to you, but it wasn’t like he could blame Alma for growing older, in this world it was a feat.

Still, he’d try his best to help you when he could, like doing the dishes after dinner as you dried them off and put them away. The first few times you were both quiet, it was strangely intimate, only the sound of splashing water filling the space between you. One night he'd gotten brave, breaking the comfortable silence and asked you ‘What you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?’ You’d looked at him with big eyes, searching his own for something, but before he could figure out what it was, you’d answered him with a shrug. It was unlike you, unlike you to be this silent, but Joel didn’t push. The next night the silence persisted, and he’d thought adding ‘Sweetheart’ had been too much, but then the next night you’d sighed quietly and whispered, “I’m worried about Alma.”

Looking down at the mittens in his lap, the guilt gnawed at him. The look of worry in your eyes, Arthur’s hopeful wishes, and Alma’s aging. Joel couldn’t have anything tying him to this place. He was supposed to find his brother.

Suddenly, a black and orange butterfly landed on Joel’s knee. Joel stopped breathing, body going rigid as he tried not to move. How the hell was this butterfly still alive? It sat quiet on his knee, wings slowly retracting and widening behind it. Memories pushed its way to the forefront of Joel’s mind then.

Sarah. Another year had gone by, and the thought made his chest tighten.

“That’s quite a sight at this time of year,” he heard Arthur say, “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Y-yeah,” Joel stammered out an answer, afraid his voice would scare it away.

The longer Joel watched the butterfly he found his guilt started to slowly melt away. It’s okay, dad. It was like the rustling of the trees carried her voice with them. You’re on the right path.

“I can do that f’you want, sweetheart.”

Joel’s boots creaked under him as he walked across the barnyard. You looked up at the sound of his voice, smile blossoming across your face as you tightened your grip on the shovel.

“It’s alright,” you said with a grunt as you picked up more snow, adding it to the growing pile, “Good for me to get some physical work in.”

Joel nodded as you straightened up, hand going to your hip while the other leaned on the shovel, your heavy breath curled in small plumes out of your mouth. You took him in for a second, eyes flickering over his form before they fell on the rabbits hanging over Joel’s shoulder.

“Where’d you get those?” you asked, and Joel shrugged.

“Shot ‘em,” he said simply, “they walked right by me as I was choppin’– seemed too good to pass up.”

“Not for the rabbits,” you muttered, and Joel had to fight the urge to smile.

“You a vegetarian or somethin’?” he asked with a single raised eyebrow, and you waved him off.

“No,” you said pointedly, but a teasing lilt lingered, “Just stating a fact... we don’t eat a lot of rabbit around here, is all.”

Joel nodded slightly; it made sense. He knew there was a gun in the house, but it was a revolver– too small to do any real hunting, and Joel didn’t even know if there were bullets for it. So, Joel didn't ask further. Lucky for him, you did.

“So, you just shot those?” you asked, a frown pulling at your eyebrows, “Aren’t they fast?”

Joel made a nonchalant sort of face. “Ain’t that hard when you can aim straight.”

“Well, how do you aim straight?”

“You learn to shoot.”

You let out a small laugh, one that pulled at Joel’s lips. “And how did you go about learning that?”

Joel felt his smile drop, the leather strap of his shotgun weighing heavy on his shoulder, “Practice.”

You didn’t seem to notice the change in his demeanor as you dug the shovel into the snow, so it stood by itself like a watchman. “Can you teach me?” you asked, the snow creaking under your shoes as you took a few steps closer.

His lips pulled at the corner, “No.”

Your eyes widened with disappointment, eyebrows pulling together in a frown as you asked, “Why?”

“Nothin’ good ever comes from it,” Joel shrugged.

“Okay,” you huffed a laugh, “that’s sinister.” Then you narrowed your eyes at him, gearing up for an argument no doubt with the way you rested your hand on your hip. “What if I also wanted to go hunting?” you posed, and Joel shook his head.

“That ain’t happenin’, sweetheart.”

“Okay, but now you’ve brought us rabbits– and what if I end up really liking rabbit?” you bit down on your bottom lip, unconsciously showing off you own rabbit teeth.

Cute.

“Then I’ll shoot as many rabbits as you want,” Joel countered with a teasing smile before tightening his hold on the rope slung over his other shoulder (the one he’d tied the rabbits to), and walked towards the kitchen door at the back of the farmhouse.

He heard you huff in defeat behind him, your creaky steps following him up the stairs and inside. Walking into the kitchen Joel placed the rabbits on the table before he pulled at his mittens, stripped off his jacket, and hung it neatly over the back of one of the dining chairs. Grabbing one of the rabbits he brought it to the kitchen counter to start dressing it, fighting the urge to turn his head as he heard you enter the room.

“Come on, Joel,” you whined, “Why won’t you teach me?”

“Told you already,” Joel replied, “Nothin’ good comes from learnin’ to shoot things.”

Shifting the rabbit around on the counter he reached for the butcher knife in the knife block.

“You know, that’s a really stupid way of saying you don’t want to spend the time,” you told him, your voice closer now as you leaned against the kitchen counter.  

“When exactly did ya hear me sayin’ I don't wanna spend time with you?” Joel asked, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

“You won’t teach me to shoot,” you teased, and Joel could hear the smile in your voice.

Joel huffed out a laugh, “Damn right I won’t.”  

He heard you let out a whiney huff, before you turned on your heel, muttering out a curse under your breath when you accidently bumped your hip into the counter and Joel couldn’t help the smile teasing at his lips. You sat down with an overdramatic sigh, and Joel still didn’t look at you – he knew he’d cave eventually if he did, say yes against his better judgement – so he kept his eyes on the knife in his hand.

“How’s Arthur?” Joel asked as he worked.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, “The same I think– Alma was up there looking after him last time I checked.”

This time Joel allowed himself to look at you. You sat sideways on the wooden chair, legs crossed and tucked under your chair with your head hanging, eyes glued to your lap. Gone were the teasing, and gone were the smiles.

“He’ll be fine,” Joel said, his eyes back on the rabbit, “it’s just a cold.”

“Yeah… but he’s been getting sick a lot more often,” your voice was low, like you didn’t want them to hear you upstairs, “you can’t help but think the worst you know?”

Joel put the knife down and moved over to the sink. He quickly washed his hands before grabbing a towel to dry off, twisting it in his hands as he approached you. Placing the towel on the counter, he hesitated for a moment as he watched you, watched the way you twisted your hands in your lap with no sense of purpose or intent. It was like the worry dripped down your body. Pushing off the counter Joel knelt in front of you, a grunt escaped him as his knees clicked loudly, his balance slightly off on his haunches.

“Shit,” Joel huffed out a laugh, and you followed. Your palms landed on his knees to keep him steady, warmth spreading like jolting electricity.

“Sweetheart, I’ll tell you what–” he stopped himself when you looked at him through your lashes, trying to ignore the way your eyes focused on his mouth as he spoke. “’s just a cold, he’ll be up ‘n walkin’ tomorrow– man’s got gumption.”

“Yeah?” your eyes flickered upwards, meeting his.

Suddenly, under your gaze Joel felt brave. His hand moved on its own accord, cupping your cheek in his hand. He let his thumb ghost over your skin, still cold under his fingertips from being outside, but warming under his touch.

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, you only watched him with glimmering eyes, like you were under a spell. Maybe he was too.

“Still,” you sighed, “Would be better if I could pick up more of the slack around here... Arthur does a lot, and I wish I could do more to support them.”

“Like what? You take care of the animals all by yourself– that’s more than enough.”

“Well, I could learn to shoot rabbits,” you told him, before the corners of your mouth pulled into a pleased smirk as he rolled his eyes at you.

Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away, making a move to stand when you grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“I’m kidding, Joel,” you smiled, before a more serious look washed over your features. “I mean it’s… It’s gonna be empty here without you,” you said, “I’m starting to really like having you here, Joel.”

Joel turned his hand to rest the back of it on your thigh, your hand fitting in his.

“I uh,” his eyes fixated on your joined hands, then he cleared his throat, “I’ll stay as long as you need me to. I’m not leavin’ you alone, sweetheart.”

Your eyes lit up at his words, smile growing large across your face. Joel’s heart drummed in his chest as your eyes flickered down to his mouth again.

“Thank you,” you said in a low voice, and then you did something Joel thought was gonna make his heart stop beating. You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It bloomed against his skin, and made wings flutter against the walls of his stomach.

“You’re a good man, Joel Miller,” you whispered before you pulled away, looking at him with kindness in your eyes.

If only you knew, Joel thought, if only you knew the blood on his hands.

He couldn’t look at you when you looked at him like that. Like you believed your own words. So, he cleared his throat awkwardly and stood to his feet, his knees clicking as your hand slipped from his movement. He walked back to the counter, fingers grabbing the towel with no other purpose than to calm himself down.

After placing the towel back where it usually hung, he grabbed the knife again, turning his attention back to the rabbit, allowing himself to steal a few glances at you where you sat looking out the kitchen window.

“Hey, uh,” Joel broke the growing silence after a few minutes, “how ‘bout rabbit stew for lunch?”

Your head snapped to look at him as he spoke, a smile ghosting over your lips as you said, “I’ll go get some vegetables from the cellar.”

Joel wouldn’t necessarily call himself a good cook – he wouldn’t even call himself a cook in the first place. Back before the outbreak he’d been forced to learn the basics as a fresh single dad, but he’d never been able to provide Sarah with gourmet meals very often, and when Sarah had gotten older, he’d been embarrassed to say that her food was always better than his – eggshells and all. One summer he’d bought himself a nice grill– one of those way too expensive gas grills with too many fancy accessories for Joel to regularly use. He’d had a job that ended up paying well, some rich guy’s mansion that needed renovating, and decided to treat himself for once. That summer all their meals had come from that grill, well mostly, and afterwards Joel looked at himself as a pretty good griller, if nothing else.

You on the other hand, you knew what you were doing, it was clear in the effortlessly way you moved beside him as you got the vegetables ready for the stew. Joel seared the meat to the best of his abilities, making sure it was properly browned on both sides before setting it aside. After that, it was clear that you were in charge, and Joel let you boss him around and tell him what to do. It made his heart warm around the edges, watching how you put so much love and care into everything you did.

An hour later you finally sat down to eat; two hearty bowls of stew each as light snowflakes covered the world outside. You’d let the pot simmer on low over the heat as you’d wanted to bring up a bowl for Arthur and Alma later.

“So…” you started, watching as Joel dug into his bowl, “How’s the stew?”

“’s good!” Joel nodded through a mouthful, and he wasn’t lying. It was good, really good in fact.

“Yeah?” you bubbled through a smile, before you dug into your own bowl to see if he’d spoken the truth. He watched as you face brightened as you chewed, nodding your head to confirm his verdict.

“I think I really like rabbit, Joel,” you said through a teasing smile, and Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle from spilling.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, teasing smile not going anywhere, “So… when are you teaching me to shoot?”

“Shut up.”

The living room was quiet, safe for the cracking of the fire. It had almost died out when Joel had stepped out of his room. He’d been twisting and turning again, counting sheep, but nothing had been able to pull him under the blanket of sleep. He was plumb tired too, that was the worst part. The embers hummed with a low light, and with a small stick Joel had spread them out before placing a small piece of wood on top. No less than a minute later the fire fed on the log.

Taking a seat and leaning back in the lounge chair, Joel looked out the window with tired eyes. The moon looked down on him, big and bright, it shone its white light over the barnyard like a spotlight. His thoughts were clouded over as he gazed up. A billion little lights turning into bright spheres in the sky.

On nights like this, Joel felt like he was barely breathing at all.

His thoughts didn’t stray for long before they found you again. Lately, you were always on his mind. He thought about how you’d looked mere hours ago, when he’d sat in this same exact chair, only this time it was facing towards the sofa and not the window.

You’d been sat curled up in the corner, blanket thrown over your lap with a book in hand. You’d told him you’d read all the books in the house already, but it didn’t stop you from coming back to your favorites. Joel had been reading his own book, an old western he’d found in the bookshelf in the upstairs hallway a few days ago. It was entertaining, but not enough to hold his attention. He found his eyes had a mind of their own, slipping over the top to steal a peek at you as you read, feeling a smile tug at his lips at the barely there furrow of concentration between your eyebrows.

“Joel.”

Joel perked up at the whisper of his name, the memories fading like ripples in still water. He looked around the room –nothing. He sat quietly in his chair for a moment, listening, as his heartbeat quickened in his chest. It had been your voice, hadn’t it? Or was he starting to lose it? His eyes fell to the door of your bedroom. He hadn’t noticed it until now, but he could see it was slightly ajar.

“Joel.”

The voice was louder this time, almost strained, but it was yours. A thousand scenarios flashed before his eyes then at your tone. Was there someone in your room? Were you in danger? Seconds later Joel crossed the room, a mix of fear and protectiveness overcoming him.

Leaning up against your door he listened for the intruder as he readied himself. The soft crinkling of your sheets combined with your strained whimpers was all it took for him to push the door open, fearing the worst.

And…

It was empty, your room, you were alone. Joel immediately felt stupid– the only intruder here was him.

He was about to step out, embarrassed at his actions, when he heard it again, his name falling from your lips. It was all Joel needed to finally take in your body, squirming under your sheets, still asleep. The realization of what he’d just walked in on made Joel’s eyes widen.

Laying on your back, the duvet had slipped down your torso from your movements to reveal the thin t-shirt you wore to bed. Like this he could see your perked nipples through the fabric, as your chest quickly rose and fell, making Joel’s imagination start to run wild.

“Joel.”

In his pajama pants, Joel could feel his cock come alive from the soft whimper that left your lips along with his name. He couldn’t move, like some farm elf had glued his feet to the floor while he wasn’t looking. He watched as you scrunched your face together in pleasure, another whimper falling from your lips, and all the blood in Joel’s body rushed down south.

As if the soundwaves from your voice had broken against him, he took a step backwards, and then another, and another until he crossed the threshold of your door. He tried his best to be quiet, to not wake you and have you catch him in your room in the middle of the night.

The image of you squirming under your sheets, dreaming of him, didn’t leave him as he closed the door to his own room. With a sigh his head fell against the door, a strong hand gliding down his front to hover over his aching cock.

Joel Miller was no saint, but what he was doing– what he was about to do, was bad.

“Shit,” he quietly hissed, running his hand up his clothed cock. He hadn’t touched himself properly in a long time, not since he left Boston.

His cock reacted to his touch, growing harder and harder until he couldn’t take it anymore. He hooked his finger around the hem of his pajama pants, pulling them down to the thick of his thigh, freeing himself. He hissed at the cold air hitting his length, as it bopped with the movement of being freed. Bringing his hand to his mouth, Joel spat, before he wrapped his spit-soaked hand around himself.

His mind found you again as he started stroking himself, slowly at first, pumping himself with a practiced hand, squeezing himself at the base before bringing his hand up to thumb at the tip. Joel couldn’t get the way you sounded out of his mind. Couldn’t forget how you were squirming in your bed, dreaming of him. Couldn’t shake the thought of pulling those moans and whimpers from you with his hands, and his mouth, and with his cock.

“Fuck.”

Joel tried to be quiet, but he couldn’t fight the moan from slipping from his lips. Fuck, he wanted you. He wanted his hands all over you. Closing his eyes his mouth dropped open as he imagined what he was dying to do to you.

How much he’d wanted to help you out of your t-shirt, run his hands over your breasts and tease your nipples. Take his time to pull those moans and whimpers from your soft lips as he teased you with kisses down your body, down the valley of your breasts, your tummy, down to you to your–

Another low moan fell from Joel’s lips. He squeezed himself tighter as he jerked himself off, precum pearling at the tip, and slipping down his length, mixing with his spit.

The sound of the slick rhythm of his hand filled his bedroom as he increased the pace of his strokes. He had to bite down on his lip to strangle a groan when thoughts of getting between your legs, spreading them open and getting his mouth on you filled his head. He fantasized about how you’d taste falling apart on his tongue–Fuck, how you’d sound falling apart around his cock.

His eyes fell shut as he fisted himself faster. Joel could feel his orgasm quickly building, coiling tight in his tummy. With his free hand he cupped his balls, and then he couldn’t help but imagine it was you, a picture of you on your knees before him flashed behind his eyelids, your tongue lapping at his balls while your hand pumped his cock.

“Shit.”

With a strained groan, thick ropes of cum spilled over his knuckles and down his length, coating him in his release. His breath came out ragged, as he continued his strokes, milking himself of the rest of his release.

Fuck.

His cock softened in his hand as he calmed down from his high. With a quiet groan he pushed himself off the door, looking around his room for something to clean himself up with.

The guilt of what he’d done washed over him quickly, settling in his chest like a heavy weight. You were so young, and beautiful, and Joel just an old man. He shouldn’t want you like this, shouldn’t want you this much.

Climbing under the covers, Joel couldn’t shake his thoughts of you, of you dreaming about him in your bed, about your smiles, and your touch. A supercut of you rolling like a tape in his minds eye. A supercut of you bundled up under a blanket on the sofa, knitting him his mittens. Of you, your own knitted hat pulled tightly down over your ears as you stepped out into the snow to check on the animals. Of the way you’d looked at him for the first time, with the bucket of apples under your arm, and the sweet taste of them as you’d offered him one later, after dinner.

Finally, Joel could breathe.

i hope someone liked this? if you did a comment, reply or an ask is always welcome and they make me super happy <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal

[rash0roar]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬🪻 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary : in the late night, inside NRC, you are assaulted by a few students. Having no other options, you summon your trusted fae in hopes of him giving you a hand.

warnings : a slight mention of blood and injuries

a/ n : I saw a comic like this yesterday and it inspired me to write this short story after it. Credit to the artist bun0286 on Twitter for the original story. I just wanted to write this in a bigger story because I really like the plot! Please don't harass me :') ; Hi. Yes, it's me. I'm back. After months :')

Rushed footsteps could be heard outside the Night Raven Collage in the dead of night.“You can't run too far human!„ A voice said from behind. You never guessed people were awake at this our, hell, you didn't expect to be assaulted by them either! What was their problem anyway? You just wanted more snacks from the school's kitchen.

Shit. A dead end, great. You thought as you walked around the corner just as one of the three boys behind you swung his pen for a spell. “Stop running will you?„ “Hey you guys listen. Don't you know battling without permission is forbi- Ack!..Auch..„ Just when you almost reached the end of the road you tripped on a rock, causing you to fall flat on your chest. “Really now, how is this fair? A human like you being in this school? You can't even use magic! The headmage must've been quite stupid to let someone like you in this school„ Shooting another beam of magic. You've barely avoided it, as the beam shot and made a slightly deep cut on your cheek. “You're little cat isn't here to help you anymore, what are you gonna do without him? Heh. You're weak. You have no place here. And you'll never will„

Turning on your back to get up, you ran your hands on the newly formed cut. Man, can this situation get any worse? As you looked at the blood dripping from the finger slowly down your palm, you noticed it. The gift, the blessings, from your dear fae, Malleus Draconia. Ah, I guess there's no way around it huh?

* — a week ago — *

It was after hours. You've been called in the halls of the school hidden from the teacher's eyes by the one and only Malleus Draconia. I wonder why he would invite me here out of all places? Why not speak outside of Ramshackle? As you advanced in the halls you suddenly heard a silent voice. “Child of man„ “Ah Malleus! You scared me„ “Heh, my apologies, I didn't mean to startle you„ “Is uhm.. Is there a reason to why you called me here? „ “Quite. Can you give me your hand?„ “My hand? Sure..here!„ Putting your hand in his, you watched him closely to see what he was planning on doing. He silently took your hand and slowly, he kissed your hand slightly biting your index finger. “M-Malleus! What're you doing?!?„ “Fufu, your reactions are adorable as ever, my dear„ Now with a blushing face you took your sweaty hand away from Malleus. “I want you to listen closely to me, my child of man. If danger shall ever fall upon you, I want you to call me name. One call, even a silent whisper, that's all it will take for me to come and help you. I shall come to you and summon thousands of thorns on those who did you wrong. Promise me this child of man„ Malleus looked in your eyes as you did the same, a small smile slowly making its way to your face. “I promise Malleus. If I'll ever be in danger you'll be the first person I'll call. Even if it's a small whisper„ At your words Malleus gave you a smile. He believed in your loyalty, as you believed in his.

“And that's practically what happened„ “Man you really got yourself the best boyfriend in the whole Twisted Wonderland!„ The next day after school, both you and Grim were staying in the Ramshackle lounge. You figured that telling Grim this story could take his mind off of Tuna for some time. “Indeed! This story is quite intriguing!„ Startled by the mysterious voice, both you and Grim jumped back, only to be greeted by a familiar face. “Lilia-senpai! You scared me! How did you get inside?„ “Khee hee hee I have my ways human! Besides! I couldn't help but overhear your little story! Malleus never told me the events that happened in it„ “Yeah, I would tell you more but...I was so embarrassed I can barely recall all of the things he said„ Lilia's eyes curiously trailed over your figure, only to stop at your fingers. He was the first to notice the thorn-like tattoo on your index finger. The one that Malleus had kissed the night before, just a bit lighter than your skin, almost invisible. Lilia's eyes winded at the sight of it. “Oh my would you look at that! Did you and Malleus make a deal perhaps?„ “I-...what?„ Scooting closer to your face, Lilia looked right into your eyes.“I'm surprised you didn't notice it sooner! That mark on your finger there is quite the big deal you know? How did you do it?„ “I- well...it wasn't really a deal...it was more of like...a promise„ “Hm..is that so? Khee hee hee, you're a really lucky one. That mark, rather, that promise you made has given you quite the gift. As I said before, this is no big thing, it's a spell made directly by Malleus, the future king of the Brair Valley. It's both a blessing and a curse. This spell grants you protection, a protection that is formed by your strong bond and that alone. Shall Malleus' feelings change... you'll end up being covered by thousands of thorns. A charm from a fairy ....

* — present time — *

Yes. A charm from a fairy... Getting up and taking a few steps back, you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. “Heh what are you gonna do now? Cast a spell?„ And you said it. A small whisper, one that couldn't be heard, not even by the three boys in front of you. But didn't he say it? That's all it took.

One time a thunder stuck...then twice, and then thrice. “Huh? Thunder, there aren't even clouds in the sky„ The ground shook, slightly, but enough for the four to feel it. Another thunder could be heard, accompanied by a bright big flame that appeared behind your back. Two big wings had emerged from it and there he was, Malleus, he had come to help, just like he promised to do. “You called? Child of man? Fufu, having fun, aren't you all?„ “Is that? - Th- That's... that's Malleus Draconia!„ As he was standing behind, you felt an arm hook around your waist, pulling you close. “Ah! Malleus you came! Of course. You had called, and I had come to help, just like I promised that night„ As Malleus was looking at you, you noticed the three boys trying to run anyway, just to be stopped by a thick wall of thorns, blocking their way out. “Now now, don't tell me you want to escape? You wanted a duel, did you not?„ Summoning his staff, Malleus brought you even closer to him. Looking at his face, his bright green eyes had a tint of amusement in them. Of course he won't take them seriously. “Come on you three! I suppose you'll do your best? Hm, well, even if you did.... You won't be able to defeat me„

#yes I'm back after years of having writer's block #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #diasomnia #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #twst grim #twst x reader

[thoushallnotfall]

Walkin' After Midnight

Masterlist

Pairing: Marko x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Note: *finger guns* Ehhhhh...so it’s been a minute. How ya’ll been? So completely ignoring that’s it’s been...a long time, here’s another of my ‘imagine the boys in a decade prior to the 80s’ fics--and we’re moving right along to the 50s! (and for reference every subsequent fic in this...series(?) including this one are going to be named after songs from their decade because I am incredibly unoriginal. 🙃 I started this...a very long time ago, and then I didn’t like it so I just left it in my WIPs with like 15 other ideas/half-written fics/updates. I still don’t love it, but upon further reflection after the fact I don’t totally hate it--and it was already started so I didn’t have to work as hard to finish it, so there’s that too.

That being said, I'm kind of interested in writing a part 2, so we'll see...taking babysteps here.

(I’m really having to dig deep for these gifs)

Every kid from Santa Carla grew up knowing two things: Don’t go out after dark if you ever want to make it home, and stay away from the greasers who hung around the boardwalk.

It never really occurred to you that those two things could be related.

Unlike a lot of the teenagers in Santa Carla, who’d run there with nowhere else to go, you’d lived there all your life. You’d never left the city, and the older you got the more you doubted you ever would. Your dad had been killed in Vietnam, and your mom was around so little you half expected one day she’d just stop coming back home at all. You may not be one of the runaways, but you were still alone in Santa Carla.

Still, you were young; and while you knew you’d have to find a way to live on your own sooner or later, you decided to try and enjoy what little youth you had left. One day you’d have to grow up and start providing for yourself somehow, but for now you just wanted to live your life to the fullest before that all got taken away.

With that in mind, you’d taken to going to plenty of the dances and social events in town. You didn’t have a curfew, and no one was around to care about where you were, but even so you tried not to be out too late after dark. That’s always when the people went missing--and they never came back.

That’s why it was the first rule of Santa Carla: Don’t go out after dark.

The official numbers were never right, given how many of the people who disappeared were runaways, but the amount of missing people in Santa Carla had always been unusually high. The only thing they knew for sure was that they always seemed to vanish at night.

The prevalent theory among many of the local teens was aliens. They came out with their flying saucers and abducted unsuspecting people in the night. Others were more practical--they just thought there was a really good serial killer in town.

It could be anyone! They’d say.

But people have always gone missing in Santa Carla--is he an old man, still killing people in his 70s? Someone else would question.

Okay, so a family of serial killers! They’d say back.

Personally, you had no idea who or what was making people disappear. You only cared about surviving it, and the best way to do that was stay in at night.

Then, there was the second rule of Santa Carla: Stay away from the greasers.

There was a particularly nasty group of punks who usually hung around the Boardwalk at night. No one knew who they were--probably just another group of runaways--but people had grown to know they were trouble. A gang of greasers who didn’t care about the law and would sooner gut a man than say hello. That’s what people said about them, anyway.

So imagine your surprise when you broke both rules in a single night.

--

The night in question started out well enough. You and a friend had gone to the beach in the afternoon, and spent most of the day there. At one point, the two of you had attracted the attention of some boys--who ended up spending the day with you.

So when the sun got low and it was time to leave, your friend decided to accept the invitation from the boys to go get some dinner at the local diner. You however, weren’t as excited about the prospect. Not only did you not want to be out too late, you frankly just weren’t that interested in any of them. Your friend tried to get you to change your mind, but you held firm.

And so it was that your friend headed off with the guys. At least she brought you into town so you wouldn’t have so far to walk to get home. And while you weren’t jazzed about walking home alone you figured you could make it back quick enough that it’d be okay. Unfortunately, it was nearly dark before you even made it back to town--and well into the night by the time you walked past the Boardwalk.

You tried to hurry your way through the crowded streets of tourists and late-night couples walking hand in hand without any trouble. But of course that's exactly what you find.

"Hey there pretty lady, going my way?" A big guy in a varsity sweater asks. He looked like a jock--maybe home from college? You didn't know him, and you certainly didn't want to.

"Sorry, I'm in a hurry." You say, hoping to sidestep him and continue on your way. He moves to stand in front of you.

"Aw, don't be like that doll." He says, looming over you. "I just want to get to know you."

"Well I'm not interested." You say, trying to push past him. He grabs your wrist, squeezing so tight it makes you wince in pain.

"Not so fast girlie--we ain't done talking yet." He says, pulling you back.

Oh God, this is it. He's a part of that serial killer family and you're about to get murdered.

Your frantic thoughts are interrupted as the creep let's you go. He screams as he looks to his other side. You follow his gaze and see a greaser with blonde, curly hair standing next to him--the jock's wrist in his hand. He squeezes it tighter and the jock falls to one knee, yelling in pain.

"Don't like it so much on the receiving end, do yah punk?" The boy says, squeezing even tighter. Despite being smaller than the other boy, the greaser was still clearly stronger.

"What the hell man? Let me go!" The jock begs.

"You want me to let you go?" The greaser smirks. "Alright." He lets the guy go, before quickly using his now free hand to punch him square in the face. The boy falls back, holding his bloody, broken face in his hands. The greaser grabs the bleeding boy by the collar and pulls him up, smiling at him. "Now beat it before I decide to get serious." He says, dropping his collar. The boy scrambles up and runs off, disappearing down an allyway.

You watch him run off, stunned by what had just happened.

"You okay?" The blonde asks, having turned his attention to you. You practically jump out of your shoes.

"What? Oh." You look down at your wrist. "Yeah, it's fine--I mean, um, I'm fine." You stumble through before looking back up at him. "Thank you."

"No problem. Punks like that deserve a good beating." He says, before he smirks. "And I couldn't let him hurt a pretty thing like you, now could I?"

Uh oh, you may have just gone out of the frying pan and into the fire.

"So what's your deal anyway? You know it's not safe walking around alone at night, right?" He asks, ignoring your apprehensive look.

"We'll um," You hesitated, unsure of how much you should say about yourself. "I was out with a friend, but she had other plans. She drove, so..."

"So now you're stuck walking back. I get you." He says. "Pretty uncool of your friend, ditching you like that. But hey, I'll make sure you get home safe."

"What?" You nearly shout. "Um, no really that's not necessary. I'm fine now, so--"

"No way. I already told you--you're way too cute to be out here on your own." He says, cutting off your attempt to protest. "My bike's nearby, let's go."

"I would really hate to put you out," you try once more to worm our way out of the situation, but he wasn't having it.

He smirks, "I offered didn't I? Don't worry about it." He grabs your hand and all but drags you down the block.

Soon enough, you arrive at a parking lot, and he leads you towards a row of four motorcycles lined up in the corner. He lets you go, moving to the bike at the end and throwing his leg over to sit. He looks at you, holding out his hand. You were pretty sure you couldn't get away from him even if you tried, so you took a deep breath and accepted his outstretched hand. He helps you onto the back of the bike, smirking as gravity slide you down towards him.

"So princess, were are we going?" he asks, tilting his head back to look at you sitting behind him. You hesitated giving him your address, but at this point if he wanted to do something nefarious he didn't need to take you home first.

You were in too deep now.

You tell him, and he nods, "Yeah, I know the place." He starts the bike, giving you one last smirk as he revves the engine, "Better hold on tight."

Your arms instinctively wrap around his waist as the bike shoots forward. You gripped him tightly, you head resting on his back. You squeezed your eyes shut, fear coursing through you as your heartbeat raced. As much as you knew you should watch where you were heading, you were too scared to open your eyes. He was going fast--very fast--and with each bump and turn, you were sure you would crash and that would be the end of it.

But the two of you didn't crash, and before you knew it the bike slowed to a stop. You dared to open an eye, and saw you sat in front of your house. A little run down and a bit worse for wear, but still yours. You sat up, shocked you had not only survived the ride, but that he had actually brought you home.

"This it?" he asked like he already knew the answer. You turned to him,

"Oh, um--yes, it is."

"Doesn't look like anyone's home," he commented absently, and you felt your shoulders tense.

"Oh, my parents are here--they just go to bed early," you lied. Something told you he knew you weren't telling him the truth, but he didn't say anything.

You hoped off the bike, smoothing the wrinkles from your skirt out of habit. You took a step towards your door, then stopped. You turned, looking back at the smirking, curly-haired boy sitting lazily on his bike.

"Thank you again. For bringing me home, and for helping me with that guy earlier, " you were still scared of him, but he had helped you. It would be bad manners not to at least thank him for his help.

He laughs, the moonlight catching his blue eyes as he stared back at you.

"Anytime, princess," he replies. He started his bike, glancing back up at you, "I'm Marko, by the way."

"Oh, I'm y/n." You had certainly not planned to tell him your name, but at this point could it really hurt?

"Well, I'll see you around, y/n," he says, his smile wide and mischievous. Before you could say anything more, he rode off down the quiet street, disappearing into the darkness.

#marko the lost boys #the lost boys #marko x reader #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys imagine

[pinkeos]

A Bit of Banter || Wanderer x GN!Reader

Warning/s: Reader experiences trouble breathing caused by anxiety other than that it's just fluff

Notes: I wrote this sleep deprived from playing too much windtrace at 2am so if u see mistakes, no u don't🧍 I also don't know what to title this so

“You’re shaking.”

Your eyes lifted from the hastily scribbled words on the paper you were holding, meeting Wanderer’s indigo blue eyes. You let out a snort, shaking your head with a strained smile on your face.

“What are you even talking about? I’m not.” You chuckled, the sound so forced he could tell from miles away.

“I’m not blind. Just admit it. You’re nervous.” He added with a roll of his eyes, leaning back on his chair as he crossed his arms over his chest.

In silence, you stared into his eyes for a moment. And he stared back, as if challenging you to prove him wrong. But it was so painfully obvious you weren't coping well with the creeping anxiety, your heart dropping to your stomach as you plopped down next to him, hands clutching either side of your head.

“Okay, fine, I am! It's just! My team and I worked so hard on this, if we can't defend this research, I’m going to bawl my eyes out right there and then!” You groaned, hands messing up your already messy hair even more.

“You’re speaking as if you haven't done this before.” He pointed out, “You’ve defended countless of your research and opinions better than most other pretentious idiots out there, what's the difference with this one?”

Your eyes sparkled at his words, and you nudged his side playfully, “Oh? So you're saying I'm at least a bit better than others?”

‘You’re not just a bit better, you’re the best one this place has probably seen in years’ was what he would've said if he wasn't so in denial of his honest feelings for you.

“You’re hallucinating.” Wanderer replied, closing his eyes and looking away from you.

Your small smug smile dropped at this and you let out a ‘tsk’, “Yeah, sure, whatever.

But when you turned back to the paper you had in your hand, which contained messy notes you wanted to review before you had to meet up with your research group, the feeling of dread came back once more. You only invited him to accompany you because you wanted a distraction from the nerves, totally not because you enjoyed his presence, yeah, totally not.

“Anyway, back to the topic at hand. Do you mind listening to this again?” You asked him, flicking the paper with your other hand.

“You've already repeated that at least four times. So, yes, I do mind because I don't want you to talk my ears off.”

“Rude. But how come you were still listening then?”

His ‘hmph’ as he looked away again caused you to roll your eyes at him. However, there was a small tug at your heart at the realization that he was still listening to your yapping even though he claims he doesn't want to anymore because if he truly didn't want to listen, he'd be out the House of Daena in record speed.

You plopped your head onto the table, forehead meeting the wood with a thud as you let out a strangled noise of stress and exhaustion. You've been working tirelessly on this and if you failed, you'd have to revise it and present it again. All those sleepless nights, arguments with your group members, disagreements and draining trips to gather research materials are going to waste (not really, but your paranoia was acting up). Just the thought of it made you feel the worst.

“Hey, breathe.” You heard his voice.

You hadn't even noticed how your chest was rising up and down faster than ever yet only little air managed to make its way into your lungs for some reason. Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to relax, fists shaking and crumpling the paper.

“Hey.” He called again, using his hand to cup your cheek and make you turn to face him. His eyebrows furrowed, and you didn't know if you were hallucinating but was there a tint of worry in his eyes?

“Breathe in.” He instructed, and you followed, gazing back into his eyes and focusing on every little feature of his pretty face with how close you were, “Breathe out.”

You breathed out, repeating the process and following his instructions while he helped lightly fan you with his anemo powers until you could feel air freely flow in and out of your lungs without anymore trouble. His eyes lingered on your face for a moment though, before he pulled away, much to your displeasure.

“You’re worrying too much. You're going to do fine, you'll just have to have faith in yourself.” Wanderer spoke, no tint of sarcasm or anything like that present in his tone, “I have faith in you, so you should too.”

A tint of red coated your cheeks at his words. If he wasn't so sincere as he looked and sounded now, you'd probably think of it as a joke but he was making you feel butterflies.

“Thank you. Were you worried for me just now?”

His nose wrinkled in faux disgust before he stood up and started towards the exit.

“H-hey, wait! Where are you going?” You stammered as you followed behind him.

“Out. There's still time, let's go for a walk.”

#genshin #genshin impact #wanderer #genshin wanderer #genshin impact wanderer #wanderer x reader #x reader #genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin scaramouche x reader

[dianneking]

The Bet - Brienne/Reader bookshop AU

Hi dears, in case you wanted some trashy, slightly angsty romance bookshop AU starring none other than the majestic Brienne of Tarth as well as yourself...well, look no further cause you're in the right place! It is with great pleasure that I present you

The Bet

Tags: Alternate Universe - Bookshop, Out of character, Angst with a happy ending, POV second person, Idiots in love, Mutual Pining, Misunderstanding, Panic Attacks, Hints of past violence, Swearing. Word count: 5423.

AO3 link in the title above.

"Hello?" 

You did a double take when you lifted your eyes from the monitor. You didn't mean to, but the woman in front of you was not the kind of person that usually found her way to your tiny bookshop. 

She was...well, she was imposing , to begin with: taller than you'd ever seen a woman be, with broad shoulders that the t-shirt she was wearing did nothing to hide...and she looked clearly out of her environment among the shelves, standing with her back ramrod straight and her hands clasped in front of her, shifting from foot to foot, a frown taking over her face the more and more you looked at her without saying anything. As if she was waiting for your reply...

Oh!

Right.

"Oh uhm sorry, yes? Uh hi, welcome! What brings you to our bookshop today?" You cringed at your own awkwardness, but her expression didn't change too much from her frown.

"I lost a bet."

"A...bet?" Well this was unexpected. Surely your little shop was not so scary that getting into it was a dare? And this woman in front of you looked as if she'd be afraid of very little. She looked more disgruntled than scared anyways, light eyebrows corrugating over those piercing, beautiful blue eyes, lips pressing together as her nostrils flared out. She looked like the type of woman who spends more time in a gym than in a bookshop but apart from that, you had no idea what kind of bet would bring her here. Not that you were complaining. 

"Yes. I lost a bet and now I have to buy a book here. Surely you can provide me with one." She enunciated, as if she was talking to the dumbest person alive. You didn't care. Her accent was melting your insides into a pile of goo. 

I'd like to provide you with my number , your mind dreamily suggested as a reply, but you squashed it ruthlessly down. Not every woman with muscles is interested in other women, you reminded yourself. And even if she were, it didn't follow that she would be interested in you , anyway - the woman was the definition of Out Of Your League, with her short blonde hair, her chiseled jaw, her strong arms crossed on her chest…and you had lost your train of thought once again. 

"Hmmmm yes sure. Uhm not a fan of reading?" She bristled as if you had insulted her.

"Of course I read .” She scoffed “I make time to read daily. I simply don't waste my time with all of this..." she gestured around her, vaguely including the manga section and the horror shelves in her speech "...this fiction ." She spat the word as if it had offended her by its own existence.

Right.

If you had to be completely honest, if it had been anyone else insulting your beloved books, you'd have been all up in their faces. These weren't just books, they were your babies, your companions during the long days at work and your even longer sleepless nights, they were your best friends in a way no human ever could aspire to be. From the moment you had understood that in those pages lied countless stories, adventures you could partake in, emotions you had never felt, you were in love with reading already.

That's why you were working here, day after day, smiling up at the shelves filled to the brim, cursing the paperwork and cleaning and everything that kept you away from cracking open the newest release and losing yourself in its pages.

You loved your job because you loved books.

So anyone insulting your papery companions would be treated to your Cold Stare™ and Dismissive Attitude™.

And yet...you guessed this woman was clearly misguided in her dismissing all fiction with such a sneer. The fact that her sneer was so damn attractive didn't absolutely play any role in your sudden conciliatory attitude. Absolutely not. Nuh-huh. Not at all.

"Hello? Are you still there?" 

Well, fuck. Daydreaming of a client when they are in front of you. Great way to appear professional, and to make a good first impression on a gorgeous first-time client.

"Huh. Yeah, uhm sorry, I was thinking of possible recommendations that would suit your needs. What are your general interests?" You tried to patch things up only to be once again met with her frown.

"That is a useless endeavor. I will not enjoy wasting my time reading it anyways. Just give me one." 

"But you will read it?" 

"Of course! I did give my word."

Her word . Who said that nowadays? Giving your word? That was the stuff of old, of knights, of epic tales of heroism, of... fiction .

Oh.

You might have the right book for this hard, formal, stunning woman.

You stood up, surprising her with your sudden movement, but you didn't notice the way her eyebrows shot up, nor the way her eyes followed you as you made your way to the book, rising to your tiptoes to reach it.

You presented it to her like a hunter presents their caught prey.

"This." 

She gingerly caught it between her fingers, as if it could bite her, or worse, contaminate her with the debauchery of reading for pleasure.

"This?" 

"You'll like it." 

"Haven't you listened? I said I don't like fiction."

"I heard you. You didn't say you don't like it. You said you don't read it." You didn't even know where the confidence came from, but you were sure. This was the right book for her.

She seemed to be surprised by it. Surprised enough to give up her fight with a huff. 

"I guess I might as well get this since you're so sure about it." 

She started skimming the first pages as you rang it up for her, and you could see her frown slightly easing up.

You hid your smile, feeling it pulling at the corners of your mind as she absent-mindedly handed you her card, paid and wandered out the shop, her nose still in the book.

____

"So about that little bet we had, did you get the book?" 

Brienne didn't like admitting she was wrong. She sure as shit wouldn't admit that to Jaime of all people. She wouldn't hear the end of it.

But no matter all of her misgivings, she was enjoying that book. The plot had captivated her against her will, and more than one time she had found herself up until the early morning hours glued to the pages, lost in the description of adventures that had never happened if not in the fantasy of the author.

Such a far cry from her usual dry, factual fare of nonfiction books. Boring , some would call them, practical , she’d counter. You see, Brienne was a practical woman and she happened to like that about herself. And if people found her boring, it was their fault, not her own.

"Yes, I did get that" she replied in a bored tone, hiding her excitement below her well-polished mask.

She thought of the excitement on your face as you got the idea of suggesting this book to her. Of how smug you had looked when handing her the volume.

So sure she'd like it. And the most shocking aspect of it all was the fact that she did. 

And maybe, maybe in the privacy of her own mind she could admit to herself that she also thought of the way your shirt had risen as you reached for the book, exposing a sliver of your midriff as it did so. And the way your eyes had sparkled when you had handed her the novel, challenge and amusement and confidence mixing in your gaze. 

She had liked that too, just like the book, and just like the book she had liked it almost against her better judgment.

________

"How did you do it?"

Your heart skipped a beat as she charged into the shop, the bell ringing behind her long after she had entered, a thunderous frown on her face, the copy of the book she had purchased from you tightly held in her slender yet strong fingers.

She had gorgeous hands too…some people were just blessed with beauty, you thought. And you were blessed with being able to see and talk to such beauty.

The smile that climbed to your face was not your usual customer service one, but a warmer one, a special one just for her.

"So, did you like it?" 

She looked taken aback at your warmth, and you could see the faint beginning of a blush on her cheeks.

"I did, if you must know it!" She looked offended at the very thought. It was adorable.

"Oh I am so glad to hear that! The author is an emerging one, only has another one published, if you liked their style you might enjoy this too!"

"What for?"

"Why, as your next fiction book, of course. Isn't that why you came back?"

"I…maybe."

This time your smile got a definite hint of smugness in it.

"Are you going to fight me over this one too? Should I dare you to read this as well?"

"Listen here, don't get cocky. You just got lucky there. It won't happen again."

It did.

As a matter of fact it kept happening, and you fell into a sort of beautiful bookish routine. Depending on how long the book was and how busy she was, your favorite client would grace your shop with her presence once every couple of weeks or more, always putting up an offended front at having liked the fiction book you had suggested and yet always asking for another one.

Slowly but steadily she would start opening up about what she liked in them, allowing you to start collecting tidbits of information about her as well - she loved historical fiction, and fantasy too. She wasn't so keen on sci-fi and urban fantasy unless the plot was somehow worth it. She loved strong female main characters and complex character arcs. 

During the day she was kept busy from her work (law enforcement, she told you on one occasion, and didn’t go in more detail, you wondered if she was just a regular cop or maybe something cooler), but she found time to read in the evenings ("Mornings are absolutely for working out, no way I am skipping that for a book. Even if it is a good one.” she had stated, as if it was the law, and you had nodded dumbly, once again mesmerized by the intensity of her gaze, even if you woke up with a book and read it during breakfast and on the commute to the shop and couldn’t think of a better way to start the day). 

_______

“And I loved the world building in this one, the interaction between the characters, and I can't wait to read the second part and understand where these mechanical enemies are originating from!” 

You looked up at her as she agitatedly waved her copy of Clockwork Boys in the air, trying to express how much she had enjoyed it. You found it hard to believe how different she was from the hard, reluctant person that had first set foot in your shop. Mesmerizing. Just as she was. 

Suddenly you felt brave, braver than you'd ever thought you could be.

“In two weeks the author is going to be at our local book fair, if you'd like…maybe we could…go together?” you stumbled on your words a little and you could feel your cheeks getting hotter but that didn't change the fact that you had managed to ask your crush out!! 

And she didn't say no! She looked a bit stunned for a second but then she ran her free hand through her hair (oh it looked so soft and silky, you wanted to bury your hands in it too).

“Sure! Is it going to be Tuesday in two weeks, right?”

“Y-yeah.” Had she just…?

“Cool, I have the day off anyways, so it works like a charm.” She… She…

While your brain was still reeling, unable to process the fact that she had said yes , she grabbed the stack of post-its and pen and started jotting down something.

You blinked at her, unsure of what to make of the string of numbers you were seeing until she straightened up and handed you the sticky note with a…was it a shy smile pulling her lips up? Her eyes had never looked so big before, of that you were sure.

You looked at the sticky note. It was a pink one, and you had to resist the childish urge to draw hearts all around the numbers. You just were so happy! You thought as you went to save it into your phone, only belatedly noticing a glaring tactical error on your side. 

You still didn't know her name!

You felt like hitting your forehead on the desk. How was this even a thing? Who doesn't know their crush’s name? You, that's who. Too busy ogling her and inviting her to book fairs to remember to ask her her frickin name! 

Hehe. But you did ask her out and she did say yes. That had to count for something, right?

You looked down at your phone and then typed up “ My Knight 🩷 ” in the name field, struggling to contain the giggle that threatened to escape your lips. In another world she would have totally been a proud knight, protecting the defenseless and fighting for justice, you were sure of it. And she would have looked gorgeous in armor. 

Tomorrow, you told yourself. You'd text her to work things out tomorrow. Surely you could resist that long. The fair was ages away anyway. You could resist a handful of hours to avoid seeming desperate, surely you could.

You texted her that same night, of course. 

But she did reply almost instantly, and you managed to start a conversation beyond the bare minimum details of your…was it a date? It had to be a date, right?

She told you about her dinner, and how she had already started on the sequel of the book she had just finished. You could almost feel her excitement through the message.

You fell asleep with your phone beside you on the pillow, dreaming of soft blonde hair and armor  and book fair dates. 

____________

"Are you the one who's been selling Brienne fiction?" 

You were pretty sure you had never seen the man who had just entered your shop as if he owned it. 

"I'm sorry?" 

"You know, Brienne? Tall, blonde? Hates all fiction books except the ones you've been selling her?" 

So that was your knight's name! And what a roundabout way to learn it! Just like in the best novels, it seemed that you had been spared the humiliation of asking her for her name after you’d known each other for months. 

Brienne.

You liked the way it sounded. 

Brienne.

It sounded like the name of a warrior, a strong, hard-headed and hard-working woman who'd stop at nothing to achieve her dreams. A knight. 

“I am Jaime by the way, nice to meet you. So are you the one?" He offered you his hand, you took it mechanically, trying to answer his question without giving too much away. Your knight’s reading habits were none of this dude’s business,that’s for sure.

"I don't know if I am the only one. Maybe she just doesn't tell you about all the fiction she enjoys."

"Nice try to defend her honor. I see why she likes you."

She liked you?

Butterflies erupted in your stomach and it took all of your self-control to avoid bursting into a happy dance.

She liked you!! Shelikedyoushelikedyou.

She liked you. 

She liked you.

She liked you !

The man in front of you kept talking, oblivious to the cheering going on within your brain.

"Listen, I know Brienne, okay? She's a lovely girl but I had to bet with her to make her unwind enough to consider reading something for pleasure."

“Well she probably didn't find the right book until now.”

“Or the right book dealer… so are you hers or not?” 

"Maybe I am…But why do you want to know that?"

“Well if you were , I'd owe you a huge thanks and possibly a round of drinks, cause she's been in a downright good mood for the past months, and especially in the past week or so. As her partner, I spend most of the day with her, and believe me, I am beyond grateful for the change.”

Oh.

Her…

Oh.

Of course.

Of course she had a boyfriend. No, a partner. That's even more committed, right?You had been so stupid. Stupid and stupidly hopeful. So hopeful and you'd once again mistaken friendship for something else, just like you did so many times in the past. 

You tried to swallow around that piece of news, you kept on a brave face while he still waffled about something or something else, but you had no idea what he was talking about.Nor did you care, all the joy that had taken over you had just as quickly dissolved, leaving a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

You didn't remember him leaving, but you knew that you were quick to lock the door after him and close up shop.Only then, surrounded by your beloved books, you allowed yourself to break down and cry all of your tears.

____________

You didn't cancel on Brienne, even if a part of you wanted to do nothing but stay home and mope. Yet you were sure you'd regret it for the rest of your life if you didn't go. 

And she had looked so happy when you had invited her. She probably didn't have a lot of female friends, you thought. When she talked of her hobbies, it had always been things that she did on her own. Working out, reading, jogging. 

She was probably glad to have some company. Someone to talk to that she vibed with. That was that. It had always been that, and you reading more into it didn't change the harsh truth.

Your heart was beating faster when you pulled up to the parking lot of the venue, but it was more due to trepidation than happiness. You had been preparing yourself mentally for a bookish date with your crush, not for…an outing with a friend. You weren't sure how to behave now, your mind too busy going through every single interaction the two of you had had, dissecting each word, each smile, each playful joke at each other's expense. When did you start thinking you could have a chance? At what point had your hopes become delusions?

Your phone started buzzing as you got out of the car. “My Knight 🩷” appeared on the screen, and you had to swallow against a hard knot. 

You know you should have changed the name. You knew her name now, and she most definitely wasn't your knight. And yet…you still hadn't.

With a sigh, you picked up, trying to be optimistic despite the dread pooling in your stomach. You could do this. Friends. You could hang out with your friend that just happened to be the hottest woman you'd ever seen. It was going to be okay. 

_____

It was not okay. 

It was anything but okay. 

Who thought that Brienne was going to be the kind of straight girl that gets all touchy-feely with her female friends? She had hugged you when you two met up and you thought you would die on the spot, surrounded by her arms and her perfume and the happiness of her voice.

And then as you walked through the venue, weaving through the stands, checking out books (you couldn't remember a single one you'd seen, preoccupied as you were with your companion) her hand kept finding excuses to touch you, once on the shoulder to get your attention, once wrapping around your elbow to direct you to a certain stand, once simply splayed on your back as you discussed cover designs.

It was torture. Every time her warm hands touched you, your heart would start racing, still stubborn in its hopefulness. But then you’d remember that it was all in your head and your heart would painfully constrict because oh it would have been so nice if it had just been true.

By the time you sat down in the auditorium where the author panel was about to start, you were a jittering mess. 

You kept replaying each interaction you had with Brienne, trying to rationally explain to your heart why, even if it might seem like she was coming onto you, she had a boyfriend and therefore it had to be her way of being friendly. 

Yes, even when she placed her hand squarely on your knee as the authors started their introductions.

To be honest you weren't sure what had been said at the panel. You mechanically laughed when you felt others do the same, and studied Brienne’s profile out of the corner of your eye. She had a soft smile on her face. As if she was enjoying herself. As if there was nothing wrong with the way her hand was resting on your leg, absentmindedly stroking lazy patterns with her thumb. Driving you mad. 

You were so engrossed in your thoughts and in her touch that you hadn't even noticed that the panel had ended, and most of the spectators had filed away, leaving the two of you alone in the auditorium.

You did notice Brienne shifting in her seat to turn towards you. Mainly because that caused her hand to climb slightly up your leg, putting it decidedly in the thigh area. Clearly an oversight on her part, but you could feel your breathing getting slightly quicker, and looking up to see her stunning eyes trained on you with laser-sharp focus didn't help you with that.

How unfair.

How terribly unfair for her to be so close, and yet unreachable.

How crushing that her hand, searing hot on your thigh, was not a promise of something more.

How sad that you'd never get to kiss those lips even if they were getting closer as Brienne leaned towards you…you could see her blonde lashes fluttering slightly, the small scar on her upper lip, her breath light on your face…

Suddenly she was too close.

Your heart jumped in your throat, and it felt like it had cut off all of your air supply. 

There was a ringing in your ears, and your skin was crawling hot and cold at the same time. 

You could see the little scar on her lip almost flickering, as your vision swam with black, and you knew without any doubt that you had to 

GET OUT OF HERE!! 

______

"So this is where you've been hiding." Brienne's voice was not warm anymore. You guiltily looked up at her from your spot on the bench. She wasn't smiling at you anymore and you wanted to hit yourself for that. It wasn't her fault that you had misunderstood all of her cues and kept seeing what your wishful thinking desired, and yet she had been the one to go through the pains of searching for you while you hid away to work your way down your panic attack.

She sat down beside you, a heavy sigh on her lips.

"I need to ask you something."

Oh. There it comes, you thought. The direct questioning that preceded the gentle let down. The 'I'm flattered but I don't feel the same' speech. As if you had never heard it before. Your heart remembered the pain as if it had been yesterday, and valiantly tried to brace itself for the inevitable rejection.

"Why?"

Huh? That…that was not what you expected her to start with, but she kept talking, and you had no choice but listen. "Why ask me out if you're so clearly uncomfortable with me? Is this some sick joke? It wasn't enough to prove me wrong over and over again? You wanted to humiliate me, too?" 

You could only stare open-mouthed at Brienne as she rained down harsh words on you, anger and pain mixing on her face. She was so beautiful. Even when angry. She looked like a vengeful angel, the righteous hand of God, coming to punish you for daring to hope too much .

"I-I'm sorry." You tried to explain yourself, but she didn't let you, her voice hard and cutting and relentless.

" You are sorry ? Is that all you can say? That's not enough for me. Especially when it's clearly bullshit. Do you think that's the first time people make fun of me? That someone thinks that going out with Brienne The Beauty is the funniest prank on Earth? Did you do it for a laugh, hm? Didn't expect me to say yes when you asked?" 

"No, actually I did not."

"You! The fucking nerv-"

"I didn't dare to hope you'd say yes because you're out of my league!" 

A stunned silence met your words. You didn't know where the strength to interrupt her came from but you had to. You couldn't let her go on thinking you had asked her out to make fun of her or something. And once you started talking, you couldn't help yourself. The truth had to come out, so you pushed on: "Which clearly you are. But you said yes and I…Brienne, I am so sorry. I tend to live in my head and you were so nice to me and I thought…but clearly I shouldn't have. Thank goodness Jaime told me before I made a fool of myself. Which apparently I still did. Fuck. I am sorry for that, I promise you I am enjoying myself today and I am sorry I am awkward and I understand if you don't want to see me anymore after this." 

"Jaime? What does he have to do with all of this? Did…did he set you up to do this?" You could hear the betrayal seeping in her voice and you couldn't bear it. If you couldn't have her, at least you could do your best not to have her break up with her boyfriend over a huge mess of a misunderstanding that you did all by yourself. By thinking you had a chance with this goddess.

Better if she hated you instead. Which she would do anyways. If she didn't already.

"No. Nono he's been nothing but friendly. He just dropped by the shop because he was curious about the books you've been reading." 

"Then why did you bring him up?"

"I didn't know, okay? When I asked you to come here, I didn't know."

"What didn't you know?" Oh she wasn't making it easy on you, was she? 

"I thought…I thought you might be interested in me - which I now realize is ridiculous. That's why I asked you out. I asked you and you said yes and you gave me your number and I thought it meant…I swear I didn't know! But then he told me and now I can't help but be awkward because I had thought this was a date and now it's not and I didn't want to ruin it for you which I guess I did anyways. I swear I didn't know when I asked you."

" Know what ? What did Jaime tell you?"

"That he's your…That you're his…That you two are together. Which makes sense, because you are so well assorted and you look perfect for each other and I am sure he can make you happy in ways that–" 

"WHAT?" The roar that came out of Brienne's mouth was almost feral.

"What 'what'?" You babbled back. You looked worriedly at her shaking hands. You knew she was going to be angry at you once she found out about your silly crush. But you still hoped she wouldn't hit you or something. She didn't seem like she'd be the type to take out her anger on you but…but those hands looked like weapons, clenched as they were into tight fists. 

"WHAT DID HE TELL YOU?"

You flinched away. You couldn't help it. The loud angry voice booming next to you, the hand shooting out towards your shoulder…you flinched away, your hands instinctively coming up to shield your face. Trying to make yourself as small as possible. Just as instinctively, apologies started dropping out of your mouth.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!" 

Silence.

Well, not really silence but the soothing pitter-patter of rain on the tin roof above you. 

But no words.

No more loud anger.

And no new pain blooming on your body.

You dared to open your eyes and peer beyond your hands. 

Brienne…well, she was beautiful, as always. But she was also white as a sheet, her deep, blue, stunning eyes wide open and bright with unshed tears. Her whole face a mask of hurt as her gaze took in your shape, as far away from her as the small bench allowed you. Her hand was still in the air, but it had lost all the strength, it was just hanging, palm half-opened towards you as if to show you it was harmless. When she spoke, her voice was little more than a broken whisper.

"I…I wasn't going to hit you."

"I…huh…I'm sorry."

She sighed and straightened in her seat, tearing her eyes away from you to settle them on her hands, now clenched in her lap. Her back was once again ramrod straight. Just as she probably was , your mind cruelly reminded you.

"No. You have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, to make you think that I was…unsafe. I guess that with how I look, it's an easy assumption to make."

"Beautiful."

"I'm sorry?" 

"You said 'with how I look' and that's beautiful. You're beautiful, Brienne. He's a really lucky man."

It wasn't her fault and you knew it. You couldn't blame her for this huge misunderstanding, you couldn't let her think that she or her appearance was to blame for your reactions.

You put your hand on top of hers, trying to get her eyes back on you, to show her how truthful you were. Her hands were so cold. She still didn't look at you.

"He…We huh we're not together together." Her whisper was so soft that you thought you had misheard.

You had to. 

"I'm sorry?"

"Jaime and I are not together." 

"You two…are not?"

"No! I don't know why he would…wait. What did he say? What were his words?"

"Huhhh I don't remember exactly. He said something about you being his partner." You tried to keep the accusation out of your voice. She didn't seem like the type to try to cheat on her partner, denying she was in a relationship at all. Gaslighting you for her own ends. And yet, you didn't dare to hope that…

"Oh for fuck's sake! Is this where all of this came from? He's my work partner . Not my romantic partner!"

"Your… oh . Fuck."

"Yes, fuck. And since we're on the subject, when you asked me, I thought it was going to be a date as well, that's why I gave you my number!! But then we were here and you kept avoiding me and you tensed up every time I touched you and when I tried to kiss you you just ran away and I thought…I don't know what I thought."

"Could you maybe…try that again?"

"Try what?"

"To kiss me. I promise I won't run away this time. Or have a panic attack."

"Just like that? That's not how it's done! The moment must be right and mmmmph–"

You didn't let her finish her sentence. You threw yourself at her, lips on lips, slightly smashing your noses together in your haste. 

But neither of you cared, lips moving against each other, her hand tangling in the hair at the base of your neck, and both of yours coming up to cradle her face. You didn’t care, because unbeknownst to the other, each one of you had dreamed of this moment so many times, and yet now that it was happening it was better than any fantasy. 

Comments are always welcome. If you want to read more of my fanfictions, here's my masterlist.

#dianneking writes #dianneking fanfiction #dragonmist fanfiction #brienne of tarth x reader #brienne x reader #brienne of tarth #brienne of tarth fanfiction #gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie fanfiction #got fanfiction #asoiaf

[celaenaeiln]

been listening to a good amount of hozier lately and i’m just fixated on these lines from “Almost (Sweet Music)”

I'm almost me again. She's almost you

AND

I got some colour back, she thinks so, too

I laugh like me again, she laughs like you

and i can’t help but associate it with robin!dick and batman. what do you think. i can’t stop thinking.

oh my god.

THIS IS SO GOOD!!!!!

Also this part! -

"I came in from the outside Burned out from a joy ride She likes to roll here in my Ashes anyway"

This is literally Batman!! Coming back from breaking down after 3 years of fighting crime only to come face to face with Dick Grayson who grins brightly at him, tells him everything is okay, and cheers him up as if he wasn't covered in the blood of his enemies and hatred of himself. Bruce could be in the worst state ever and Dick would still love him for who he is because Dick's love for him is unconditional.

"I wouldn't know where to start Sweet music playing in the dark Be still, my foolish heart Don't ruin this on me"

Bruce fighting with himself that this isn't just a passing thing but he can't resist the happiness but he's also scared and loves Dick. It's about him opening up his windows and slowly breaking down his defenses in the face of Dick's continued persistence and pure positivity and warmth.

"Let's get lost and let the good times roll Let smoke rings from this paper doll Blow sweet and thick 'til every thought of it Don't mean a thing"

THIS IS CLASSIC GOLDEN AGE BRUCE AND DICK. During Golden Age, Bruce and Robin Dick literally were just living life for the thrill of it. They fought dinosaurs, met Leonardo Divinci, gasped at famous actresses, played pirates with Blackbeard - it was The Golden Age. The first line of the stanza is a callback to that. Of Bruce simply enjoying himself. Out with the bad, in with the good was their motto. Even the second line - "Let smoke rings from this paper doll" - could be Bruce reminscing about that time because bruce used to smoke cigars. Which he contemplates those times about through "Blow sweet and thick 'til every thought of it". It's all enjoyment - none of the bad that happened means anything. All forgotten.

"The very thought of you, and am I blue? A love supreme, seems far removed I get along without you very well Some other nights

Lord, the radio newsreader chimes Reporting Russian lullabies She'll turn to me, awake and ask "Is everything alright?" And, Lord"

"She'll turn to me, awake and ask 'Is everything alright?'" THIS IS CANON. IM SOBBING WHY DOES THIS FIT SO WELL. NOT TO MENTION THAT DICK ALSO DOES SPEAK RUSSIAN SO THEM LISTENING TO RUSSIAN LULLABIES IN THE 1950S ON RADIOS WHILE THEY READ THE NEWSPAPER?!! THIS IS!!

Batman (1940) Issue #1

IS THIS NOT WHAT THIS SONG IS ABOUT?!

#dick grayson #nightwing #robin dick grayson #bruce wayne #batman #cl anon asks #cl asks #thanks for the ask!

[pinky-mouse]

The Sorrow of The Blue

Note: I don’t know what compelled me to write this crossover, but I did. I’m also not too great at writing fanfics either. That being said, enjoy, I guess. lol.

GIF by pieropann

You were not supposed to be here. Most likely.

It’s strange, you had previously said that every gem that had visited this planet had turned traitor. And look at you now, enjoying the very earth that you had so callously declared to despise many millennia ago.

Were you a traitor then?

Perhaps.

You sat quietly on the steps of a worn staircase, your cloak’s hood covering you as a veil. You had come alone, you wanted to be, needed to be.

Yellow thought you were hysterical too often. You were a Diamond, not some puny, overly emotional lower life form. You were supposed to act according to your expectations - the very expectations set by the controlling White.

You sighed, your hands folded neatly on your lap. A thick tear dribbled down your cheek, but you didn’t bother to wipe it away. There was no point. More would follow shortly afterward anyway.

“Oh my,” You heard a voice say. It was a male. A male human. You kept your gaze ahead, looking at the flowers growing through the mulch in the garden. They were so organized, not a petal out of place.

Unlike your life.

The thought made a few more hot, salty tears of anguish spill down your cheeks. You let them flow. You were used to crying, though the feeling was never therapeutic. Crying was supposed to make you feel better, yet all it had done for you was make you feel so much worse. You felt weak and helpless.

“Miss, are you alright?” The voice asked again. You turned your head, a look of surprise on your flushed and watery features. It was an older human male.

“Ye—yes, I’m quite alright.” You responded, wiping your eyes as you fruitlessly attempted to collect your bearings. “I was just…lost in thought.”

You look ahead at the garden again. It’s so beautiful and serene, especially considering that it’s coming from the hands and care of a human.

“Your garden is lovely,” You swallow the lump lodged in your throat. It hurts, but you push the feeling away. “I did not think that a human would be capable of creating such beauty, but it seems I was wrong.”

“Why, thank you, Miss?” The old man says expectantly, but you’re back deep in your own swirling thoughts of grief, longing, and blame to notice. Your head hurts, like someone is rapping their hand against it as if it’s a door that needs to be opened.

He takes a quick glance at you and noticed your unnatural skin color, but makes no mention of it. Rather, he opts to sit next to your tall form as you remain seated silently on those steps.

You’re trespassing on private property, but he knows better than to openly acknowledge that. He has no clue if you know that fact or if you’re a threat. He’s playing with fire just by getting close to you like this, but somewhere in his heart he can tell you need something to bring you back to the present.

“Something on your mind?”

“Yes.” You answer faintly, your head bowing a little further as your hood covers more of your face. “I just miss what life used to be like, long ago. I could smile more. I was happy. But now, I am not. And I—”

“—Wish you could go back?” He asks. “Me too, sometimes. But unfortunately, we cannot turn back time.”

“You ‘too’?” You echo, your head lifting as you look at him in mild surprise; another tear rolls down your cheek and lingers at the end of your chin. “You know how I feel?”

“Of course,” He nods solemnly. “There are days I wish I could go back and change the past. Some nights I think to myself what could’ve been had I done something differently.”

“I’m surprised a human being is capable of understanding how I feel.” Your quiet voice murmurs. He doesn’t acknowledge the way you worded that. “What have you lost?”

“I’ve lost many people in my life. Some gone too soon, and others not. The pain doesn’t get any better, but I have learned to keep looking ahead. I can’t take care of the people in my life now if I spend my days dwelling on the past.”

“That’s very intelligent of you to say.” The words aren’t necessarily groundbreaking, but they are reminding. Reminding you that you need to learn to push forward, that there’s nothing more you can do. And it is what it is.

You feel somewhat better, for the first time in hundreds of years.

You pause, a tired, melancholic smile etching itself on your face as you lean in and look at him. You lift your hood enough so that your face is no longer covered. “You know, I really shouldn’t be here.”

“I am aware.” The older man comments offhandedly. Just as he ignored you calling him out as a “human,” you pretend not to hear that little remark of his.

“But, I’m glad I came here.” You continue. “You remind me so much of the others. I wish you could meet them.”

Just as you say that, you have an idea. Standing to your full height, you reach a hand down and pick him up, cradling the man to your shoulder. You pay no attention to his stunned gasp as you begin to walk to your destination.

Oh, the others will be so happy knowing you’ve made a new friend.

Hours pass, and the sun begins to set. The pink, purple, and orange colors paint across the sky as if it were a canvas, and the moon’s glow begins to shine faintly through the passing clouds.

A young man, with black hair and a tuft of white at the front looks at the others behind him, his eyebrow raised in confusion and his blue eyes squinting in disbelief.

“Where the hell’s Alfred?”

#dc universe #steven universe #blue diamond #alfred pennyworth #jason todd #tim drake #dick grayson #damian wayne #nightwing #dc robin #red robin #red hood #batman #batfam #crystal gems #steven universe crossover

[calicoheartz]

hey! i saw u ask for pazzi related ideas so i though i'd shoot my shot, i honestly am leaning on the suggestive side... but if not i love fluff to so thats perfect and maybe the plot can be a jealous paige bc of azzi (nonchalantly) talking to some person who came up to here at a bar or anywhere else n P is like "no she's mine!" . Anyways I love your work so work your magic girl!!!

𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 ; 𝐏𝐀𝐙𝐙𝐈

꣑୧ — summary | basically the 2 prompts !! 🪩

wc ; 687

— warnings | angst , suggestive content (read at your own risk) mature themes , swearing , jealousy , etc

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : yippee my first pazzi fic !! sososo much more to come in the future! Thank you so much for requesting (the both of you) & enjoy besties ◡̈

The bar was filled with a lively crowd, the thumping bass of the music reverberating through the air.

It was one of those rare nights when Paige and her girlfriend Azzi, along with their teammates, could unwind and let loose.

Paige was at the bar, grabbing drinks for the group, when she spotted Azzi near the back of the bar, engaging in conversation with someone that she did not recognize. The stranger was leaning in close, their eyes fixed on Azzi with a look of lust that made Paige’s blood boil.

Azzi, always the friendly one, was smiling and laughing, seemingly unaware of the stranger’s obvious intentions. Paige’s jaw tightened as she saw the stranger place a hand on Azzi’s arm, their fingers lingering for a moment too long.

Paige made her way through the energetic crowd, the drinks long forgotten, with her eyes never leaving sight of the brunette and the mysterious figure. As she got closer, she could hear the stranger’s voice, practically dripping with flirtation.

“So, Azzi, you must get a lot of attention. I mean, you’re pretty incredible on the court and even more stunning in person.” Azzi chuckled, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Thanks, but its really a team effort. I couldn’t have done it without my girls.”

The stranger smiled, clearly enjoying the conversation. “Well, your humility is just as attractive-” Paige’s patience snapped right then and there. She stepped in between the two, slipping an arm possessively around Azzi’s waist. “Hey babe, everything alright here?”

Azzi looked up, a bit startled but quickly recovering. “Oh, hey P. Yeah, just talking to a fan.”

Paige’s eyes flickered to the stranger, her gaze cold and unforgiving. “Well, thanks for the support. We appreciate our fans, but it’s time for us to go.”

The stranger took a step back, sensing the tension. “Of course. Nice meeting you, Azzi.”

As the stranger walked away, Azzi turned to Paige, a mix of amusement and irritation in her eyes. “Paige, what was that about?”

Paige’s grip on Azzi’s waist did loosen. “I didn’t like the way they were looking at you. You’re mine, Azzi. I don’t want anyone else getting any ideas.”

Azzi sighed, gently pulling Paige towards a quieter corner of the bar. “Paige, you can’t get jealous every time someone talks to me. It’s not healthy for us.”

Paige looked down, her expression softening. “I know. It’s just… I can’t stand the thought of losing you. You mean everything to me, Azzi.”

Azzi cupped Paige’s face, her touch soft yet firm. “I’m not going anywhere, Paige. You have to trust that. Trust me.”

Paige met her gaze, the fear and love evident in her eyes. “I do trust you. But seeing someone else trying to move in on you… it drives me crazy.”

Azzi leaned in, her lips brushing against Paige’s in a tender yet passionate kiss. “Then show me,” she whispered against Paige’s lips. “Show me that I’m yours.”

Paige’s breath hitched, a spark of desire flaring in her eyes. She deepened the kiss, her hands roaming over Azzi’s back, pulling her closer. Azzi responded eagerly, her fingers tangling in Paige’s hair.

The world around them faded as their kisses grew more intense, each one a claim, a promise. Paige pressed Azzi against the wall, her lips moving down to Azzi’s neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses. Azzi’s breathy moans spurred her on, her hands gripping Paige’s shoulders for support.

“Paige,” Azzi gasped, her voice a mixture of need and longing.

Paige pulled back slightly, her eyes dark with desire. “You’re mine, Azzi. Only mine.”

Azzi nodded, her own eyes glazed with passion. “Only yours, Paige.”

Their lips met again, the kiss more urgent, more demanding. Paige’s hands slid under Azzi’s shirt, her fingers tracing the smooth skin of her back. Azzi arched into the touch, her body craving more.

Just then, the bartender called out, breaking their trance. “Hey, you two! No funny business here.”

Paige chuckled, her forehead resting against Azzi’s. “Guess we should take this somewhere more private.”

Azzi smiled, her eyes still filled with desire.

“your place or mine?”

#wcbb #wlw #wlw imagine #wcbb x reader #my hcs #headcannons #paige bueckers #paige x azzi #pazzi is real #pazzi #azzi fudd #uconn vs iowa #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #uconn x reader

[middlingmay]

Horse Trainer!Gale x Veteran!Bucky AU

Part one of my headcanons for this AU is here!

Some warnings to get us started: slight mention of alcohol abuse, references to gun violence, war, death, PTSD and a car accident.

Something bright and cheery for your Wednesday, eh? I promise it gets cute later down the line, just not today! Today we mean business. So here we go!

Bucky couldn’t remember wanting to be anything other than a pilot when he grew up.

His ma used to draw all kinds of aircraft: jets, airliners, gliders, helicopters, even a seaplane once. John would tuck himself into her side and watch, mouth open and fascinated as she drew smooth confident lines.

She explained to him why the nose was this shape, and how the wings and tail needed to be in balance, why the placement and size of the engines mattered. She went to school for it, before he and his sisters came along. Well, before his dad came along, really.

He didn’t take much of it in, he'd be ashamed to realise later, but he did absorb her obsession with aviation. Just not for the design. He would however, try to encourage her to go back to school to finish her degree.

Mama Egan took him to his first air show when he was eight, and she had to scruff him by the neck to stop him from taking off like a shot towards the real, live WWII B-17.

Instead, he thrashed at the end of her hand, jumping around like an eel as she walked him towards it anyway, and accepted the boost inside once his ma had convinced the pilot to let John take a peek inside.

He never looked back.

He enlists when he’s eighteen, and rockets up the ranks quickly. By the time he becomes Major - and a very young Major - the new recruits look at him like he’s some kind of maverick, some kind of legend.

The higher-ups see the natural born leader he is, and the boys in his squadron know him as brave, quick thinking, and with instincts that couldn’t have possibly all come from training. He could read situations in the air like most of them read books. When John Egan had a feeling, or ordered you to do something out of the blue, you did not ask questions.

Although he joined up out of pure enthusiasm and desperation to be a pilot, he quickly sees his time in the air force as an opportunity to help people. But, almost as quickly, he realises that he and the Brass have different views on how to go about that.

He dislikes combat missions the most. Sometimes it’s pretty black and white, and John can feel pride when he sees enemy targets crumble into dust. Or when he’s lost one of his men and he feels a thrum of vengeance he knows he shouldn’t and tries to suppress but sometimes can’t quite help on the darker nights.

But mostly he learns how devastating combat missions are. He much prefers supply drops and recovery missions, but these are so few and far between, that he gives up that privilege to those in his squadron to help keep up their morale. Their morale was his responsibility, after all.

John takes to drinking, just a little bit. Never enough to affect his work. But on days when he can’t shake the anger or the gloom, the glow of whisky helps him hide it better.

Somewhere along the line, his passion burns out and he starts to want out. He’s still one of their best pilots, still a role model for all the pilots, navigators and serving men and women on base - that is to stay, he still acts the part. He signs up for his second eight-year contract, but two years into it, he can’t stomach the thought of the remaining six.

He admits as much on a tearful phone call to his ma, who promises him he doesn’t owe anyone anything, and if he needs to he better get his ass into that doctor’s office or she’ll come and drag him by the ear and drop him at the counsellor’s door herself.

“Don’t you go doing anything stupid, now, John. I didn’t raise a fool.”

And John doesn't. Do anything stupid, that is. But someone does.

Because the mission fucks up, and fucks up in a big way.

It's a recovery mission his squadron all but forces him on, all of them insisting it's his turn, and what did he do to deserve those guys and dolls, huh?

But Ken hadn’t given him the run down of his plane, because he’s taken some PTO, and his replacement ground crew chief was nowhere to be found. And from then on, John just has a bad feeling about the whole thing.

Afterwards, he can't ever remember much, but what it boils down to is two bullets in his shoulder, a dead co-pilot, a murdered political attaché left behind on enemy ground, and a package, called Robert ‘Rosie’ Rosenthal, safe back on American soil. And his superiors patting him on his good shoulder, telling him what a good job he did.

A good fucking job. Like some green kid hadn’t died choking on his own blood, staring at Bucky like he could do something. And a fella in his late 50s, who’d been harping on about his first grandkid, was never going to meet him because his body was never going to make it home.

So, when the doc tells him the physio isn’t working and his mobility is compromised, he barely feels a thing.

Major John Egan. Honourably discharged at twenty-eight.

He’s been warned he might feel a little lost at home. But no one warns him that he’ll mistake a framed photo of his old man as that dead attaché and it would start talking to him: “You left me behind. Who’s going to teach my grandkid ball, now?”

No one tells him he’ll scare the life out of his ma coming home from ladies' brunch, to see John, who’s been standing there God knows how long, still heaving in ragged breaths surrounded by smashed glass with blood running down the hand that holds a sizeable shard of it.

So he agrees to therapy.

It doesn’t go well. Crank sets him up with a friend of his experienced in medically discharged vets, but Bucky can’t disassociate them from the military. They get all mushed up as part of the problem in his head, so he stops going and avoids Cranks calls for a while.

And the dreams get worse. And the sleepwalking hits him like a freight train, although it only happens once. Once is enough.

He ends up on a back road. It’s the only reason, Bucky thinks, he didn’t die. He veers between the grassy verge and the road. It’s dark and he’s wearing all black, and the car doesn’t see him before it’s too late. They weren’t going too fast, but they clip him all the same and he wakes up in a hospital.

And the docs have evidently spoken to his ma, because whilst they’re treating his physical wounds, someone comes for a psyche eval and he gets a stern warning that either he gets proper counselling voluntarily, or he’ll legally be forced to. A much less pleasant experience.

And he meets the driver who clipped him. A shorter guy called Curt who walks in rubbing the back of his neck and not quite able to look John in the eye until he says, “Irish, huh? That how you didn’t hit the bullseye? Too short to see over the steering wheel?”

Curt cackles and the two of them talk easy after that.

In fact, John finds it easier to talk to Curt than anyone else since he left the air force. He tells Curt about the disillusionment of it all, the anger, the dreams, all of it. And Curt understands because he used to be in the medical corps and he knows there are things you can’t unsee. Some things a man just can’t reckon with himself.

But, Curt also tells him about the horse ranch he goes to, that helped him when no shrink or medication could.

Cleven Ranch he calls it, and tells John that when he’s up and ready, he’ll take him there.

#clegan #buck x bucky #horse trainer!gale #veteran!john #mota au #alternative universe #headcanon #john egan #gale cleven #curtis biddick

[toxic3mmy]

I need black out drunk Alex to beg you to fuck him and it ends up being kind of cnc (not rape js cnc)

u guys are killing me with these requests, they’re SO good🫦🫦

prompt: you and alex fire up an old flame between the two of you

warnings! smut!! [both parties are not sober!!]

alex was drunk. you and your mutual friend group were out at a summer house party.

people were all over this huge house. they were smoking, drinking, and even doing other substances that you quickly would look away from because woah.

anyways, alex was really really drunk. you and him were close once but things were different now, honestly. you both had a small thing together but it quickly ended when his ex wanted him back.

he shouldn’t have drank so much… you shook those thoughts away. you assumed someone else would step in and take care of him.

you had a few drinks in you but nothing too major, considering you had only been at the party for a few hours. it was just enough to let you shed your usual shy personality and be able to easily talk to the people around you.

you didn’t even realize that your body had led you to the dance floor. they were playing some really good music and you couldn’t help but move your body to the beat.

you felt a warmth at your hips and look behind you to see rubius dancing with you. you smiled and began to press yourself up against him, your ass on his dick. you felt his warm breath tickle your neck as he told you how beautiful you looked tonight. you turned around and held him close to you as you continued dancing. the two of you had been together basically all night. you were flirting openly and neither of you really cared.

from the corner of your eye, you saw alex near the kitchen. he had an angry look on his face, almost like he wanted to punch something or someone. you made eye contact with him and he rolled his eyes as rubius began to kiss your neck.

alex held a bottle of tequila and tipped it back, taking a huge gulp straight from the bottle. you were starting to worry about him but rubius caught your attention.

“c’mon hermosa, let me take you home tonight” he asked in a flirty manner

“o-oh… i—”

a huge crash cut you off. both you and rubius quickly made your way to where alex had fallen over in the kitchen

“alexis, let me help you—”

“fuck you rubius…” alex slurred, wiping his face from the alcohol that had spilled

rubius was concerned and very confused about what he did but before he could make the situation worse. you stepped in, quickly sobering up

“alex, let’s go home, yeah?” you cooed gently, helping him up to his feet

you held him steady as you walked through the crowd and out of the house together. you drove to alex’s house in silence. the atmosphere felt tense and you weren’t sure what to say.

instead, you said nothing and helped alex out of your car and to his front door. you opened the door and let the two of you in.

“lets get you to bed” you whispered and did just that

after you tucked alex into his comforter, you let him know you’d be on his back porch smoking a bit since there wasn’t much alcohol left in your system.

you smoked your weed for a little over twenty minutes and heard a notification from your phone. smiled at your phone as you saw that rubius had messaged you about having fun with you tonight.

“talking with your queue of men? or is it just my son of a bitch best friend?”

you nearly pissed your pants as alex’s unexpected presence scared you. you quickly put your phone away to avoid any arguing.

“hey.. why are you out of bed? you need some rest, lexie” you said, putting out your joint

“dont call me that” he said through gritted teeth

“w-what? alex, are you okay?”

“no. i’m not okay. you know exactly what you were doing at the party. tell me y/n, how many of my friends have you fucked behind my back?”

“excuse me?” you said, not believing what he was saying to you

“you heard me. i saw you all over rubius. and i know you’re probably sleeping with all of my other friends, too. do you seriously think any of them can compare to me?”

you didnt have time to respond before alex pulled you flush against his shirtless body.

“c’mon y/n… you know you miss me. you miss the way i fill you up completely, don’t you? please… please let me fuck you, sweet girl”

“i don’t— no… alex, you’re drunk” you shook your head

“please y/n… look at what you do to me” he whined, reaching forward and placing your hand on his clothed hard on

“alex….”

“i’m begging you, you don’t know how much i need that sweet little pussy of yours… please, princesa”

“i—”

“please dont say no yet...”

“what do you mean?” you asked

he grabbed your hand and took you inside. he took you into his bedroom, or more like you helped him as he was still not able to walk normally. he gently sat you on his bed and you didn’t know what to do.

your head hurt from smoking way too much and your thoughts were foggy from it, too. you let him lay you down. he started to run his fingers lightly from your legs up to your face

“y/n… i’ve wanted this for so long. i’ve missed you so much. i’m so sorry it took so long for me to say something. and im especially sorry that i let my jealousy get the best of me tonight. i thought drinking would help distract me from seeing you and rubius… but it only made me want you more”

“are you sure you want this? we’re both not sober… what if this isn’t what’s right?” you asked worriedly

“baby, ill always want you. sober or drunk, i want you. do you understand?” he said genuinely

you thought about what he was saying and you realized you wanted him too, sober or high.

he smiled as he leaned in to kiss you. as your lips connected, you felt an eruption of warmth spread from your belly to every part of your body. his lips made your head spin and you loved it.

“you feel so good, lexie”

“and you taste so good, baby”

as your tongues fought for dominance, you felt yourself slowly change positions. you were now sat on his lap and kissing him deeply.

your hands found their way into his hair as his hands rested on your naked thighs.

when did you take your clothes off? you were in only your panties and bra now and alex in his boxers. alex pulled away, only a line of saliva connecting your mouth to his. he began to tug at your bra, wanting it off

“i want to see you” he whimpered softly into your neck as he finally unclasped your bra and threw it aside

he felt almost feral at the sight of your naked breasts sitting prettily in front of him. his breath was caught in his throat at the sight.

“you look so beautiful like this, so pretty and needy for me” he praised

he began to suck and nip at your neck, one of his hands rolled one of your nipples in between his fingers while his other hand was in between your legs. his fingers teased your wetness, only slightly dipping a finger halfway into you. he’d quickly take it out and trace circles around your entrance, making you clench, needing more.

“please… don’t stop” you whispered into his hair as a mix of the weed and the pleasure he was giving you took over your every last sense

“i wouldn’t dream of it” his mouth was now sucking at your tits eagerly as you let out more and more whiny moans

you reached in front of you and took his thick and leaking cock out of his boxers. your hand slowly wrapped around him as you teasingly rubbed at his tip. in response, he bit down harshly on your nipple and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your throat.

“s-sorry hermosa, its just… you still remember how i like it” he gasped and chuckled soon after

you smiled and began to move your hand slowly as he rubbed your clit at the same pace. the two of you kissed one another as you touched each other intimately and slowly.

you took your panties off and lifted yourself up a bit, making sure to sit right on his cock. his face was scrunched up in pleasure as he let out incoherent whines.

“god… yes… oh fuck, just like that…” he said as his hands made their way to your hips, helping you steady yourself on his lap

you lifted yourself up and sat down eagerly with him buried inside of you.

“you’re all mine y/n, not ruibius’, and not anyone else’s. did you miss me? did you miss how good i fuck your brains out, hm? just look at how desperately you’re riding me” he touched your face gently and suddenly grabbed your chin and harshly faced you to him

“look at me when im talking to you, slut. did you enjoy having other men fuck you when we weren’t together? i bet none of them were this good, were they?”

“n-no..” you managed to choke out

“tell me im the best cock you’ve ever had, tell me baby” he said as he began to fuck into you at a faster and rougher pace

“y-you’re the best i’ve ever had”

“aw, you can do better than that. be a good girl yeah? tell me again or don’t even think about cumming”

“ive never been fucked so well… i dream of your cock, i need you alex please”

“that’s right sweetheart, so then,” he flipped your positions, having you faced down into the bed while he fucked you from behind, “who’s pussy is this? who does this pussy belong to, hm?”

“y-yours.. its yours”

“nuh-uh, you can do better than that” he shook his head, a smirk on his face

“this pussy is all yours alex, please let me cum, please”

“well, since you asked so nicely”

he fucked into you like his life depended on it. one of his hands was on your ass while his other was rubbing your sensitive clit. his hips snapped against your ass, making a loud noise as the two of you filled the room with panting symphonies of moans.

“im close, so c-close”

“shhh, its okay baby. i need you to take my load, okay? and i need you to cum with my cock inside of your cunt”

you nodded with tears of pleasure in your eyes. you felt yourself getting closer and closer. you shut your eyes as your body trembled and your pussy clenched tightly, your own juices seeping out of you. with a few more thrusts, alex came inside of you hotly.

the two of you cleaned up and fell asleep together, deciding to deal with the situation tomorrow when the two of you were sobered out.

#alex quackity #alexis quackity #quackity #quackity x reader #quackity fanfic #quackity x y/n #quackity smut

[yandereunsolved]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯤ Yandere Scott Summers ᯤ ᯓᡣ𐭩

You were new to the school, barely able to grasp the abilities that had manifested in your body. Scott was the one to find you. It was purely accidental. You were having a panic attack behind the dumpster of the local supermarket. You were so vulnerable then, even more so now. You are in the one place that is always either under physical attack or social scrutiny.

You hadn't connected with anyone as of yet. Scott noticed that he has grown to have a tendency to follow you around. He wouldn't call it creepy or stalking; he is merely observing you. There are certain responsibilities that come with being a mutant. He is just following through on them.

You sat all alone in between classes. Your figure shys away from anyone who approaches. The professor asked him to try to be friendly with you. Apparently, your thoughts were less than healthy, and Professor Xavier didn't want to embarrass you. You poor thing. He completely gets it.

"Hey." He neutrally greets you.

He wasn't bold enough to sit next to you, but he wanted to do nothing more than scoop you into his arms and tell you that he was here for you. You are safe. You aren't a monster. 

"Mhm—Scott."

Your face was discolored; there were heavy, dark circles under your eyes. You hadn't slept well since you got here. He often peered through your dorm window at night to see you anxiously tossing and turning. It was lucky for Scott that you were on the ground floor. It made it even easier to monitor your condition.

He had gotten a response from you. That was better than nothing.

"I was gonna sneak outta here in a few hours. Get some ice cream floats and catch a movie. Wanna come with me?" He does his best to keep his tone level, but there is still excitement creeping up the back of his throat.

"No, thanks." You return meekly.

He felt crushed for a moment. He could see you retreating back into your shell. No, no. It wasn't supposed to go like this.

"We can go at night. No one will be around. We won't even be recognized." He urges.

"Too many things could go wrong." You mumble in reply.

"How about I sneak some treats from the kitchen, and you can hang out at my dorm? I could really use your help eating them. I was planning on doing it anyway, and if I got caught, I could say I was doing it for a good cause." He states it cheekily with a wink. You are unable to see it because of his protective glasses, but you get the spirit of it.

"That would be okay. I guess."

Finally, success. He sighs in relief.

"See you later?" He questions hesitantly.

"Yeah. I would like that."

He saw a small smile on you.

He was afraid his eyes would burn through his glasses because of how hot he suddenly felt. His heart was thumping so heavily against his chest that he was worried that it would burst out of his body. He just wanted to plant a kiss on those ravishing lips of yours. He refrains from doing so. Small steps. Small steps for you, for the both of you, and for your relationship as a whole.

#x men #cyclops #scott summers #x men movies #x men comics #yandere x men #yandere x men x reader #yandere #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #male yandere x reader #yandere scott summers #yandere scott summers x reader #yandere aesthetic board #mcu #marvel #marvel mcu

[awwfur]

New WoF OC my night/sea lanternshark :)

she hatched under a solar eclipse so I’ll explain her powers that I head cannon under the cut. it’s gonna be a little long.

There’s no cannon abilities for Nightwings that hatch under solar eclipses, but there are for lunar so I decided I’d head cannon some abilities and make an OC based off them!

so instead of Future sight, they get star sight (something I’m stealing from Guardians of Ga’Hoole if anyone knows those books. I don’t remember if it is called star sight in those books though) and what it does is the dragon can only have visions of the future in their sleep, BUT doesn’t remember them until the event is unfolding in real life.

and then! Instead of mind reading I thought, “hey, wouldn’t be cool if they could see ghosts? Because ghosts would be like, the soul and memories and thoughts of a once living dragon?” So yea. They can see Ghost instead of reading minds!

so what power does lanternshark have?

both

let me explain. due to the fact we can only assume the three moons operate on different cycles one moon can be full well the other is new and the last is waxing or waining (this would explain why brightest nights are so rare)

So! During the solar eclipse Lanternshark hatched under, one of the moons was full, one was new (causing the solar eclipse) and the other a crescent

I actually put this detail on her wings if you look at her close! (Multiple times really her wings refrences the three moons)

anyway she’s also an animus and seawing royalty. Why? Because she can be, and I want her to be. The bracelet she wears is enchanted so she can breathe underwater. She also has no fire and her tail isn’t strong enough to make waves like a seawing’s.

#art #digital drawing #my art #oc #dragon #wingsoffire #wings of fire #wings of fire oc #wings of fire hybrid #nightwing hybrid #Seawing hybrid #wof hybrid oc #wof hybrid #wof #wof oc

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 28/34 - cigarette smoke

[Read on AO3]

The scent of cigarette smoke wakes her, burning her nostrils with its offensive odor.

It reminds her of the days before—when he’d come in the night, speaking in hushed tones with her husband and effectively plotting the end of her life and happiness. The downfall of the family she’d worked so hard to hold together.

It had been a long time since family meant more to her than heartache and regret. She’s not about to let him take it away again. Not when she might have just gotten it back.

“Get out of my house,” she says, her voice coming out strong and commanding despite the late hour.

“Teena,” he intones, as if surprised to find her in her own home. “How nice to see you.” 

She flicks the light on above him, depriving him of the precious darkness he likes to hide behind. He’s always been too theatrical for her taste. It used to intimidate her, even scare her. Not anymore.

She grips Bill’s old shotgun in her hands.

“Are you going to shoot me, Teena?” he says, squinting at her and chuckling a bit under his breath. It doesn’t look like she’ll need to, at this rate. He’s already run himself halfway into the ground without her help.

A pity.

She adjusts her hold on the weapon anyway. It’s loaded, of course. She isn’t a fool. 

“What do you want, Spender?” she asks impatiently. “There’s nothing more for you here.”

“Is there not?” he asks coolly, leaning toward the coffee table where he has set out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “I thought you might like to celebrate. I heard the good news, of course.”

The hairs on the back of her neck begin to rise. Of course he’d heard. He has eyes and ears everywhere. She’d given up long ago trying to keep things from him. It never ended well.

“You stay away from my son and his family,” she spits, raising the barrel of the gun toward him. He doesn’t so much as flinch.

“Don’t you mean our son, Teena?” he asks, smirking up at her. “I think that makes them my family too, if I’m not mistaken.”

She reels back in disgust. “You don’t know the meaning of the word,” she says accusingly. “And you are not his father.”

The smoking man chuckles heartily again, taking a long drag of his cigarette before speaking. “Oh, I assure you, I am. I’ve had Fox’s DNA tested on several occasions. The results are quite conclusive.”

“I don’t care what your results say,” she says, a fire burning in her eyes. “DNA doesn’t mean one thing when it comes to family.”

Spender purses his lips, but otherwise doesn’t respond. He knows there’s nothing he can say to that.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he says after a tense silence. “But that doesn’t mean he can’t be convinced. I don’t need to be his father to leave an impression on him, do I?” 

He gets to his feet, approaching her one step at a time, unbothered by the weapon she holds.

She holds her ground.

“I can be very persuasive, if you’ll recall,” he says, reaching up to touch a stray tuft of hair on her head.

Enough.

“You relinquished any hold you may have had on him the day you entrusted him to Agent Scully,” she spits, jabbing the mouth of the gun into his side and pushing him back a few inches. “Now, you can either heed my warning, or face the consequences.”

He tilts his head curiously, the ever-present smirk on his face unwavering.

“Is that so? And what might those be?”

He has no idea, does he, how much damage she could do. Decades of righteous anger stored up inside her, a front row seat to some of the most horrific and evil acts of mankind…

“Do you forget that I was there, Spender?” she asks, the corner of her mouth twitching. “I was there from the beginning. I’ve heard it all—seen everything. Can you really risk letting what I know get out?”

“You seem to think I can’t kill you where you stand,” he says, leveling her with a menacing stare, dropping his earlier unaffected demeanor. “If sleeping pills are your method of choice, that can easily be arranged.”

She scoffs at him.

“You won’t kill me,” she says confidently. “And I will not be intimidated by you.”

For all the times she stayed silent, for all the fear that once controlled her—this is her redemption.

C.G.B. Spender is a stain on humanity, and she will not allow him to meddle in her life any longer.

“There are two ways this can end,” she states, her voice low and serious. “Either you disappear, and never come near my family again—or I watch you bleed out all over my grandmother’s rug. Your choice.”

He lifts his cigarette to his lips. As he exhales, a cloud of smoke envelops her face, but she does not waver.

“I’ll go,” he says evenly. “No need to desecrate such a lovely antique.”

That’s the thing she had never noticed as a younger woman: that this man is nothing but a coward. Everything he does, every action he takes, is to save his own skin and nothing more. Only her son was bold enough to stand up to him. He had shown her the cracks in Spender’s armor.

“You’ll stay away from Fox and Dana,” she states, watching as he turns to leave.

He glances back at her.

“Your threat holds no real power over me,” he says offhandedly, notably not agreeing to her terms. Bending down over the coffee table, he picks up the glass of whiskey he’d poured for himself and takes a sip. “Anything you might reveal of my business would be dismissed as the ravings of a madwoman. And you’re right, I don’t want to kill you. But I will, if you force my hand. Nothing will be revealed that I do not wish to be revealed.”

“Ha,” Teena laughs humorlessly. He thinks so highly of himself, like he’s some kind of all-knowing god, controlling the events of this world like some grandiose puppetmaster.

She’s seen behind the curtain, though, and she knows better. She’s learned how to play his game.

“If you think my death would stop the truth from coming out, you’re more of a fool than I thought,” she says. “How long have I known you, Spender, that I wouldn’t have put in failsafes in the event of my death?”

Oh, is that a flicker of fear, she detects?

“I’ve had the better part of three decades to plan for your downfall,” she continues. “I do not fear death as you do.”

His lips remain tightly closed, his whiskey forgotten.

She leans in close, meeting his cold, unfeeling eyes head on.

“And that is why you will always fail.”

There’s a kind of delirious satisfaction in watching him go. It’s a waste of oxygen, she thinks, that he continues to live, but she will not stoop to his level. Not unless absolutely necessary.

He slinks back into the shadows from whence he came, and she prays that’s the last she will ever see or hear from him again. She’s prepared to follow through with her threats, if it’s not.

The shotgun goes back to its rightful place under her bed, with all her husband’s old things. He had been a good man, before he got swept up in Spender’s world. She tries, now, to remember that side of him, and not the one that came later. Enough of her life has been spent being angry, and she’s tired of it. She’s tired of the sadness and the bitterness.

It’s time for her to move past all that.

She lays back in her bed, the one that had almost been her deathbed, and breathes in deeply. Once upon a time, she had needed copious amounts of sleeping pills just to get through the night. The horrors that awaited her when she closed her eyes were unbearable, so traumatizing that she’d even experience nightmarish hallucinations.

But now?

Well, for the first time in years, Teena Mulder has a peaceful night’s sleep.

~~~

I can't make you go a day without Mulder and Scully in the update...

He knows he should be sleeping. Scully is snoozing away on the bed, and has been for quite some time now. Then again, once her head hits a pillow, he knows she’s hard-pressed to stay awake for even five minutes.

Chapter 29/34 - rocking chair

Him, however…

He sits up on the ugly upholstered couch, stretching his neck in a futile attempt to straighten out the kinks.

He’s a father.

The thought is almost beyond comprehension. If he’d actually been asleep, he might have thought it had all been a dream. But, no. He’s sitting in a hospital room a mere ten feet away from Scully, and they’re parents.

It feels both sudden, and like it was years in the making.

Casting a quick glance over to his sleeping partner, he rises to his feet and tiptoes to the doorway, pulling the door open as quietly as possible. The brightness of the fluorescent lights in the hallway causes him to squint momentarily until his eyes can adjust. A sign comes into focus in front of him on the wall, pointing him in the direction he wants to go.

A few hours ago, the nurses came by to check on the three of them, ensuring that they had everything they needed for the night. They’d offered to take the baby to the nursery so that the new parents could rest, and though it was tough to see that little cherubic face go, he and Scully both knew that their nights of getting a somewhat acceptable amount of sleep were numbered. They eventually agreed, and like magic, Scully had slipped into her silk pajamas and under the paper-thin hospital sheets before he even knew what happened.

Now, though, he figures he might as well do something useful with his insomnia-induced awake time, so he heads down the hall until he comes to a large glass window. Behind it, the lights are dimmed, but bright enough that he can see the seven or eight babies sleeping peacefully in individual plastic bassinets.

His cheeks twitch with the beginnings of a smile as he takes in the gentle rise and fall of their little bellies, their first soft breaths of this new life.

Each one has a name tacked onto the plastic bin of the bassinet, proudly announcing the date and time each was born. His eyes roam over every one until he spots her. His little girl.

Madeline Samantha Mulder May 2, 2000 10:13 a.m. 6 lb. 4 oz.  /  18 ¾ in.

Though he’s already had the better part of a day to get to know her, the sight of her still knocks the breath out of his lungs.

Almost as if she senses she is being watched, she begins to fuss, the hat that was keeping her head warm beginning to fall off. He can see wetness building around her eyes, tears leaking out and drying on her rosy cheeks.

Mulder puts his hand on the glass, wishing there was something he could do.

Thankfully, a nurse comes bustling in, bunching the little pink stocking cap back onto her head and whispering soothing words that he can’t hear.

He taps softly against the glass, not loud enough to disturb the other sleeping infants, but sufficient to get the attention of the nurse. After adjusting the baby’s blankets, she looks up, offering Mulder a small smile.

“Can I see her?” he mouths, pointing at his daughter. He raises his wrist and points to the hospital band that declares him the baby’s father, and the woman’s smile widens. After double-checking that Madeline is back asleep, the nurse comes around to the hallway, clipboard in hand.

“Already on that new parent sleep schedule, I see,” she jokes, eyes scanning down a list of names.

Mulder chuckles. “Been practicing for years,” he says.

“Can I see your band?” she asks, and he presents it to her. She checks the ID number on it against the information on her documentation, and nods. “You wanna take her back to your room?”

He hesitates. “Uh, my… wife’s still sleeping. I don’t want to wake her.”

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to calling her that…

“Not a problem, Mr. Mulder. We’ve got a room back here you can use, if you like.”

“That would be great.”

The nurse leads him back to a side room at the back of the nursery equipped with a few chairs and all the necessary supplies.

“Let me go get your little girl,” she says, before disappearing through the doorway. She’s back moments later, the baby now blinking awake in her arms.

Mulder mentally kicks himself.

“I shouldn’t have had you disturb her, she needs her sleep,” he says, a tinge of regret causing his shoulders to slump as she rests little Madeline in the cradle of his arms. Parent rule #1, if your baby is sleeping (by some miracle), don’t even breathe in the wrong direction. Just count your blessings.

He’s already messing it up.

His self-chastisement is cut short by the warm chuckle of the night nurse. “She’ll go right back to sleep, don’t you worry. She’s all tuckered out from her busy day!” she assures him.

Mulder relaxes, smiling a grateful smile up at her.

“Let me know when you’re heading back to your room,” she says, taking her leave.

Once she’s gone, Mulder’s attention falls to the wide-eyed little creature staring up at him. Her eyes are baby blue, a different shade than Scully’s, but he’s probably the only person on the planet that could tell you so. The flutter of her eyelashes mesmerizes him.

“Hi,” he breathes, tears involuntarily pooling in his eyes for what must be the millionth time that day. Maddie wriggles in her tightly swaddled blankets, and Mulder tugs on them to make sure they don’t fall loose.

After some effort, one tiny little arm escapes its confines despite his attempt at stopping it. He shakes his head with a breath of laughter, reaching out with his free hand to let her wrap his finger in her miniscule fist. With his thumb, he begins tracing soft circles on her warm, baby soft skin.

Has he ever held a hand so small? Five perfect, pudgy fingers on each hand. The tiniest fingernails he’s ever seen. That cute button nose and chubby cheeks. Rosebud lips and a chin that he’s noticed juts out just a little when she’s about to cry.

She’s perfect, his Madeline. And he vows to protect her from all the harm in this world.

“Sorry for waking you up, baby girl,” he whispers, lifting her fist to his lips and placing a kiss there. “Don’t tell mommy.”

Her wide eyes stare up at him, trusting and content.

“Come here,” he says, and he shifts her so she’s upright, then transfers her to his chest. The second her cheek—still sticky from tears—falls against his chest, her eyes flutter shut. He can feel her every breath, laying like this. From the rise and fall of her chest to the almost imperceptible exhales of air from her nose, there is a living breathing person relying on him now.

What had he ever done to deserve this?

He rubs her back, patting lightly at a steady rhythm that he hopes is comforting and relaxing. The repetitive motion plus the rocking chair ought to be enough to put any person to sleep—even himself.

Her fist curls against the neckline of his worn, gray t-shirt, fastening it in her iron grip. He lets his cheek fall against her head and breathes in deeply. This is a moment he wants to remember for the rest of his life.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he mumbles, his lips brushing against her head before he pulls back.

He pauses for a moment, as if waiting for an answer. He thinks he can hear a clock ticking somewhere in the hallway, and a door somewhere in the distance snicks shut.

He lowers his voice even further, speaking so only his baby can hear.

“I’m in love with your mommy.”

The words are barely audible, but they’re the truth. And a truth spoken softly is better than nothing.

“What do you think of that, huh?”

On his shoulder, Madeline’s face has gone slack, a little bubble peeking out between her lips with each even breath she takes. She’s fast asleep, and in hardly any time at all.

He prays the pattern will continue when they get home.

For a good half hour, he stays planted in that chair, humming softly to every song he can think of that might qualify as a lullaby. Eventually though, after two rounds of Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis, his own eyes begin to droop shut.

He’s loath to part with her, but the nurse stops by again asking if he’d like her to take the baby back to her bassinet, and he agrees. Before long, he’s back in the hall, the phantom weight of Madeline on his shoulder as he carefully opens the door to suite 509.

“Mulder?” he hears her voice, raspy and disoriented. The sliver of light from the hall illuminates her face, and she blocks it out with a raised hand, squinting adorably. “Why are you up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he answers, making his way back to the couch.

“Were you trying to sleep on that thing?” she asks, looking at the couch in disdain. He wants to laugh at the messiness of her hair sticking up every which way, but instead he feels his heart clench at the sight of her.

I love you, he thinks.

“Mulder…”

He realizes he hasn’t answered her question, so he clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. Might be a little short, but not bad,” he says.

The furrow of Scully’s eyebrows is visible even just by the light of the moon streaming through the horizontal window blinds.

“I sat there earlier. It’s terrible,” she says, confusion lacing her features.

Mulder shrugs, not sure what else to say.

She purses her lips, the expression on her face one he recognizes to be her puzzle-solving face. He’s seen it plenty of times at crime scenes, but he doesn’t have a clue what it may mean in this context.

“Come over here,” she says.

He looks up, his eyes meeting hers.

She’s serious.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he stands from the couch, approaching Scully cautiously lest she change her mind.

But instead of changing her mind, she shuffles backward, making space on the not quite queen-sized bed for Mulder to lay down.

“How is she?” Scully asks knowingly as the bed dips below his weight.

He toes his shoes off, swinging his legs up on the bed and tucking them beneath the covers.

“She’s perfect, Scully.”

She smiles. Her hand reaches out as he’s settling into the mattress, and catches his hand in hers. Their fingers intertwine like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and he hopes she can’t feel his heart hammering in his chest.

This somehow feels different than the other times they’ve shared a bed. Unlike those times, there’s no great need for comfort and security, and no cow has flown through the roof of the building.

It’s just two parents trying to catch some shut-eye. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Thanks for being here, Mulder,” Scully mumbles sleepily, her eyes having fallen shut once again. “Thanks for being her dad.”

He squeezes her hand once in acknowledgement. There are too many words he wishes he could say, gratitude he wants to express for allowing him to do this with her, to be a part of it. For giving Maddie his last name. For honoring his sister. He doesn’t even know where to begin, but now isn’t the time anyway. He is rendered functionally mute.

The air conditioner hums in the silence that settles, and he counts the seconds, sure that she must have gone back to sleep.

Just as he begins to feel himself drifting off, he hears her again.

It’s almost inaudible. Spoken like a secret into the night, an accidental admission that wasn’t meant for his ears. Part of him isn’t sure it’s her he hears at all, merely a wishful auditory hallucination experienced on the cusp of a dream.

“I love you.”

And, even if it’s not real, he thinks he hears himself utter back, “I love you too.”

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @clo-thespin @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @gillian-anderson-in-the-tardis @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @msrafterdark @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear

#msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #of our own making #ooom #msr adoption fic #adoption

[pinkflower2003]

where are my F1 & Harry Potter guys and girlies??? hello let’s chat!

i am currently in DESPERATE need of some submissions and requests or just general ideas for blurbs about the F1 & HP men.

Send in your deepest darkest fantasies or just general fluffy thoughts and let me know if you want a fic or a blurb outta them.

This is all i’m gonna be doing tonight because what else would I do on a Sunday night other than write about men I will never date??

ANYWAY, my masterlist is pinned on my profile if you want to ready any Max Verstappen Imagines🫶🏻

Send those submissions in rn, thats an order🫡

Mills x

#formula one imagine #f1 smut #f1 imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen smut #daniel ricciardo #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #daniel riccardo x reader #oscar piastri #alex albon #charles leclerc #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #marauders #imagine #sirius black

[babybluebex]

no because let's talk about the breeding kink 🤨

sigh, i SHOULD be doing anything other than this... getting ready to move tomorrow... getting ready to start my job tomorrow... my daily cardio... but whatever let's do it

so BIG warning below the cut for explicit smut, if you aren't into that, maybe sit this one out :) cw for obviously breeding kink, a brief diatribe ab safe sex practices, edging/overstim, use of "mommy/daddy" but not sexually (you'll see), a surprise munch!dom shows up at the end

but yeah. he has a thing about breeding you. he doesn't think he does, bc like?? doesn't everyone like that?? he has experience before you, sure, but he's not exactly up to date on what fetishes are normal and what fetishes appear in porn a lot (he is, after all, a 21 year old guy, we can't give him too much credit)

but you don't find out about this kink of his for a little while, you guys have slept together a handful of times but your relationship is starting to get a lot more serious than before, and even though it seems a little quick, it feels right to already be thinking about getting married to him

but you're talking about everything one night, just trying to have healthy communication with a glass of wine yknow, and you ask him like "how do you feel about kids?" and he seems a little nervy?? and he's like "idk... i never really thought about a future of mine that didn't have kids in it" "but do you want them?" "of course. it's just, like, i want them, but i've also never thought about not having them. it's just always something i've wanted" and you're like cool, cool... "i think i wanna have kids with you" and he gets a little pink in the face "aw... thanks... that's sweet"

and you move on from that part of the conversation, and you think it's been forgotten, until a few days later

your man has been fuckin stressed out, luckily he's filming in jersey so he gets to stay relatively close to you, and you manage to rent a little airbnb in the town he's filming in so that he can come home to you, but he's about to tear his hair out, he's trying to film this but then also learn lines for his next project, and he's still slinging out audition tapes for every door his agent can manage to get his foot in, and you hate to see him like this, so he gets home from set one night to the smell of his favorite dinner cooking, and he sets down his stuff and is like "baby?"

comes into the kitchen and yes you're cooking, but you've got your hair done up all pretty with those sparkly pins you wore to the baftas, and you're wearing that lipstick that drives him crazy, and... are you?? you can't be?? wearing one of his shirts and his favorite panties of yours that show off all your assets?? his favorite outfit on you!! and all he can manage is a dry-mouthed lil "wuh?"

and you smile at him "just in time, sweetheart, that oven's about to go off, and then we'll be ready to eat" and you go to him and kiss him gently, and he's still like ‼️ and you go "everything ok? you're quiet"

"what is this...?" and he grabs your hips and does the thing that vision did to wanda in ep1 of wandavision "what are you wearing??"

"well you've been so stressed out..." you start "i wanted to do something nice for you"

"oh baby this is very nice" he says and he can't get his eyes off of you "i might have to marry you if you keep this up"

"is that a promise?"

anyway yeah, he's worked up now and marriage is on his mind (therefore kids are too) and you have dinner, but he eventually gets you in his lap and is rubbing your thighs and kissing your neck and you're trying to talk to him like "should we put on a movie? or i can beam my spotify to the TV and we can listen to some music?" but he's got tunnel vision on your soft skin

so you give it up and start to get into it, kissing him back and tugging off his shirt, and he does the same to you so that you're skin to skin, and like of course you know what a loverboy dom can be, but this is something completely different, this is devotion and admiration and complete sickening love, and you just can't help yourself from whispering "want you to put a baby in me, dommy" and he doesn't skip a beat, almost like he was hoping you'd say something like that "yeah? you wanna have my baby? aren't you on the pill?" "yeah, but i can—" and you pause to bite him bottom lip gently as his hands slink down to your panties "i can get off it" "fuck, baby" he whispers, tilting his head to press a kiss under your ear "don't tease me like that" "not teasing you" you tell him

and he checks with you a couple of times as he gets you in bed and gets you naked, kissing down your body and dragging his tongue around your soft flesh, really making sure you're truly down for all of this, but even through his gentle care, you can see the brick in his jeans and like fuuuuck he wants this so badly too

finally getting him out of his clothes and closing your legs around his waist, and he kisses you deeply as he starts to lean off to the side to the nightstand, and he sorta chuckles "guess we, umm... don't need that... right?"

and you smile and shake your head, and dom gives you a soft melty look "if you change your mind, please let me know" he says gently, taking up his rock-hard dick into his hand and stroking himself a few times "i don't wanna, like, knock you up and it turns out you wanted me to put on a condom halfway thru, like just let me know—" "dominic, i know you're trying to be nice" you start "and i really appreciate that and love you for it, but i already told you: i'm all in. i want this"

and like you have never in your life had unprotected sex before, like the pill was really more for hormone management than actual birth control, and with past partners you've always been cautious and made them wear condoms "just in case" (which like irl is a good practice, it's never a bad idea to be cautious ab sex bc like sti's and various things can be spread without a condom, so like whatever, off my apple box, basically wrap it before you tap it pls) but with dom, you don't have any reason to worry bc you know he's clean and like the desired outcome would only happen without a condom

but maybe it's that safety and security that makes his raw cock inside you feel so much better than usual, and you whimper as he laughs a little "s'okay, baby" he tells you "i've got you, daddy's got you" and you smile and laugh, and you're like "is this me discovering you have a daddy kink?" "no" he scoffs "but it is daddy taking care of mommy. right?"

and he's got those big eyes at you, gnawing on his bottom lip, and you gently use your thumb to pull his lips from between his teeth and you kiss him, and he gets down to business

he's being a little more feral than typical, just holding onto you harder and fucking into you with a quick pace, and he can't keep his mouth off of you, he's either kissing your lips or kissing your neck, and towards the end he presses his lips to your neck and just sorta pathetically moans as he nears his finish

and every sensation inside you is making fireworks pop, all you can do is moan and whimper and claw down his back as hot pleasure spreads throughout your whole body, and your breath catches in your throat when he reaches down and starts playing with your clit, your hips bucking at the sudden onslaught and near overstimulation, but he's being VERY attentive and he notices your breathing change and he goes "you ok?"

you nod quickly, biting your lip harshly "m'close!" you squeak, and he smiles, reaching out above your head and grabbing the headboard to keep himself up, and you really understand what it means to be animalistic, bc he raises his arm and you smell the sweat and pheromones seeping out of his pores and you go a lil crazy for a moment "dom! dom, baby, please, please..." "oh yeah?" he asks and he smiles when you sob out "is it good, baby?" "yes!" you hiccup and you reach up and wrap your fingers around his wrist and just fuckin hang on for dear life and then he suddenly stiffens and freezes and you gasp, worried something's wrong, but his smile is too coy, his eyes glittering too much "tell me how much you want it" he tells you, his fingers hovering so close to your throbbing clit that you swear you can still feel them and you can only manage to mumble a confused "wha...?" "tell me" he says "how much. you want it. tell me how badly you want me to cum inside you and get you pregnant" "you're fucking evil" you gasp and shift your hips to try to get contact with his hand, but he shifts further away, denying it to you "i never claimed to be anything else" he laughs "you want me to knock you up so badly, you gotta tell me" "dommy" you whine "please! you're close too, i can feel you throbbing" and like yeah he's so close to his finish that you don't know how he hasn't busted inside you in the last 30 seconds "well then you better hurry up and talk to me" dom says and you swallow with a dry throat and squeeze his wrist, and you watch his bicep flex and your mouth waters "want it bad, baby" you tell him "want you to fill me up, want it to leak outta me when we're done" "mhm" dom nods, and he leans down and gently kisses your lips "you're gonna get all pregnant, all big with my fuckin baby... walking around like that with my ring on your hand, and everyone'll know what a slut you are, what you let me do to you... s'that it, baby? you wanna be my little slut?" you nod quickly, trying to chase him back into a kiss, but his hand moves from the headboard down to grab your neck and force you back down, and he's not even remotely squeezing or doing anything, he's not even putting force into the push, his hand is just There, and you gasp "yeah!" you whimper, and you throb, flexing around him, and he hisses through his teeth "w-wanna be yours, baby, wanna be only yours"

and with his hand on your throat, he starts fucking into you again, his smooth stomach flexing with each thrust, his tattoo shifting with his skin, and he presses his forehead against yours and kisses you, and he mumbles "gonna..." and you just nod and curl your fingers in his messy hair (that's getting increasingly frizzy and crazy with the sweat and heat), and his eyebrows knit together as his reddened mouth opens against yours, and he chokes out a groan, and then you feel him spilling inside you as his thrusts slow down, filling you and making the whole thing like 1000 times louder with the wet sound of him still fucking you through it

and he keeps going even when he's panting and wincing, and you're like "baby, stop, it's ok" and he cuts you off "gotta make sure it takes..." and goes for a little longer before he slowly pulls out and sighs as he watches his cum seep out of your poor little cunt, and he chuckles lightly "cool"

and you smile and start to reach out to hug him, but he sours pretty quickly "did you cum?" "umm... no" you tell him and he rolls his eyes "fuck, momma, you didn't think to tell me that before i came?" and you laugh but try to hide just how much you love him calling you that "just didn't think about it" and he shakes his head and licks his lips "nah, that's not gonna fuckin work" he says, and he shoves his sweaty curls off of his forehead as he slinks down your body, laying open-mouth kisses on your skin as he goes, and he finally reaches his destination, looking up at you thru his pretty eyelashes before he dives in

and yay munch dom makes an appearance!! bc he's having the time of his life down there, holding your hips in his hands and smoothing his thumbs across your skin, and you're jostling around with every kitten lick he gives you, and he's getting messy and loud, and you just tug on his hair and squeak "dom!" and then the wave of warmth and energy washes over you, and you're just laying there, twitching and sobbing as he continues to eat you through it, and you hear him whisper "good, good, just like that, momma, so good for me"

once you settle down and dom wipes your tears off your face, he gets up and pulls on a pair of sweatpants and they hang all low on his hips as he bustles around, reaching into the bathroom and starting up the shower, find your panties that he had tossed across the room and now hung from the plant in the corner

and he notices u all quiet on the bed and he's like "you ok, sweetheart?"

and you know it's cheesy but you tell him "yeah. we're fine"

"you think it worked?" and he sits next to you and rubs your thigh soothingly

and you nod, and he smiles and kisses you "well, i can't wait to meet them"

#bex answers #anon ask #dominic sessa #dominic sessa x reader #dominic sessa smut #dominic sessa x reader smut