#imagine if they were all in the same fic i would lose it

[uglyducklingofthe2000s]

All In The Name Of Love - LN4/CL16

Dark fic - if you don't like this or the warnings/themes make you uncomfortable. I can't stress this enough, DO NOT READ THIS

Request from @nocoolusernamesavailable-blog for dark Charles and Lando poly relationship - ngl kinds of smut with a plot

Warnings/themes: Very toxic relationship, naive!reader, somewhat kidnapping (she can leave technically), manipulation, smut (threesome obviously, overstimulation, briefly mention of toys, anal not directly mentioned but insinuated), some complicated parental relations

No part 2 requests please - really, it's not getting a part 2 but I may do other poly relationships

When y/n appeared in the paddock, Lando and Charles weren't the only ones with their eyes set on her. They were just the only ones unwilling to give her up, and so the agreement was made that they'd share her.

They just didn't...ask her if that was ok with her. In fact the decision was made without her knowledge at all.

Y/n is the very innocent and sillily ignored daughter of a billionaire in Monaco. Richer than both her boyfriends but she's one of many children from one of many ex-wives who also don't care much for the children who were just a ticket to guarantee they'd get money to live off of from their ex-husband. She doesn't even know most of her siblings because they're all from different countries dotted around the world.

Don't mistake her naivety as meaning she was some easy target that instantaneously made it easy. As much as it'd probably be a lot of peoples dreams to have both Lando Norris and Charles Leclerc as their boyfriends. She was a little scared by their forwardness and essentially her lack of choice.

The public is also fairly confused of the dynamic and the relationships. Since none of the them will acknowledge it and y/n is spotted with both Lando and Charles but only once of the two together. She's a face of controversy. But they figured not confirming the whole poly relationship would be in everyone's best interest.

Y/n does know if she’d go as far as to say that she loves either Lando or Charles but she definitely doesn’t like one more than the other. She just likes different things about them.

Lando is fire and ice. Sterner, firmer and usually rougher in all the best ways. He has given her rules and expectations which she needs to live by and if she doesn’t then punishment of his choice is given. Before he was in her life, she’d have thought him to be the type she needed to avoid, and yet that’s the last thing she could imagine wanting.

Charles is calm and grounding. His presence is assertive and controlled, he’s slightly softer with y/n treating her as if she’s slightly more fragile and breakable, she thinks he could trace her body with his eyes closed with the amount of time he’s taken to learn every inch of her skin and use any weak spots against her. But in the same way as Lando, he has rules he expects y/n to follow. He lets Lando punish while he comforts in the after.

Without one she’d unlikely have stayed with the other, well not without a much bigger fuss over the whole thing.

Which is why they’re wise enough to know this is a mutually beneficial situation and they don’t intend for either of them to lose their position.

Now one thing to note is that y/n wasn't by any means a virgin before she met Lando and Charles but she wasn't very adventurous in the bedroom either.

And while sex isn't a punishment really, pushing her into a position or situation that is not in her comfort zone at all is exactly what Lando does when she upsets him.

"I can't." Y/n hiccups laid leaning back onto Charles as he holds her legs apart, remaining so completely quiet she almost forgot he was there.

"You can." Lando states casually while holding some pressure over her g-spot and clit simultaneously.

Y/n has lost count of her orgasms, though she's sure both men have a count. The bed under her is soaked, she didn't even know what squirting was till today and she is in a layer of sweat as her head lols on Charles' shoulder.

Orgasms became on the line of pain at least 2 or 3 ago, again she's lost count.

"I think we can get a few more from you, what do you think Charles?" Lando questions feeling her already building up to another one as she whines and squirms trying to push back into Charles but it's not escape from Lando's touch.

"I think so." Charles hums just mesmerised by how pretty she looks against him.

Her mouth has long gone dry and when another orgasm hits her, she's spasming and trembling so much that she even notices Charles grip tighten on her while Lando doesn't let up for even a second.

"Ma belle." Charles whispers but she's too far gone, her body feels foreign and her mind is in a bubble that's floated elsewhere.

Lando follows through on another 2 orgasms before finally giving her reprieve. But not for long.

"Lando." Charles tries as he watches Lando pick up small vibrator

"She's the one who apparently wants all our attention at all times." Lando smirks sending Charles a look as if demanding he challenge him. "Anyway, it's for later."

Charles hums going to shift her but y/n mumbles a no and grips at his leg.

"Maybe get her to the guest room to clean up, we'll need to leave in an hour." Lando hums while Charles hums shifting y/n, whispering in her ear to settle her as she whines. Way to far gone to be processing their conversation.

Charles cleans around the toy and manages to get her somewhat in some clothes though she does protest it. Even just the brushing of clothes on her skin is too much stimulation on her.

But after a promise of cuddles and making sure Lando does turn on that toy before she can really handle it. She gets dressed and eagerly curling up next to him and even dozing in and how out of a sleep to try and recuperate some of her energy after what she hopes is a one time experience.

"I didn't mean to upset you both."

"We don't like seeing you flirt with other men, y/n."

"I wasn't-"

"Don't lie." Lando cuts in appearing in the room. "We saw you with Carlos."

As if it couldn't get worse, it had to be Lando's best friend and Charles' teammate. But she really wasn't flirting, he'd just made a comment about how Lando and Charles seemed to be in a game of tug over war over her and she replied saying he had no idea.

"He's right, mon amour." Charles states then sighing at her as he gently cups her face with a sad smile. "Don't do it again and we won't have to punish you."

Some would argue orgasms are a fairly good punishment but when it's a matter of limits and being pushed well over them, it's really not something she's eager to have happen again. Even if it means one orgasm at a time, she'd rather than then this again.

"I'm sorry." Y/n mumbles in defeat with a pout.

"You don't need to be sorry, just no doing it again." Charles assures her before looking at Lando. "No using the toy till she is actually steady on her feet again."

Lando grumbles but agrees making the young woman look visibly relaxed.

A ringing through the apartment is heard which Lando moves to pick up finding it's y/n's phone and an unfamiliar man's name.

"Who is Frederick?" Lando questions making y/n look up from playing with a ring on Charles' hand.

"Oh my gosh-it's my dad." Y/n gasps shoot forward and snatching her phone. "Hello?"

"Speaker." Charles instructs making her sigh and place it on loud speaker.

"Oh for fuck sake. You had my solicitor thinking you were dead. Where the hell have you been? My assistant checked your apartment and said it looks like no one has been there for weeks. The bank called to say there was unusual activity on your card. What is going on?" Her dad questions not so much relieved to discover his daughter is alive but seemingly annoyed that her being alive has caused a fuss.

"No one called." Y/n mumbles while noticing both Lando and Charles looking annoyed at the way her dad is speaking to her.

"That is not an answer y/n."

"I'm...away on a trip. And what unusual activity is happening on my card?" Y/n frowns since to her knowledge Lando and Charles have paid for everything for her. Despite her having access to possibly more money than them combine.

"You weren't spending anything. Everyone thought you were being held for ransom and the ransom note had been left in your apartment or something."

"Well I'm alive...I've just not needed to buy anything recently."

"Fine by me. I just needed to know if I had a funeral to attend. Your mother wouldn't tell me if she even bothered herself to know anyway."

Y/n winces at the harshness of her dad's words and when Lando and Charles both make a dive for the phone to take it, y/n quickly shifts since an interaction between them and her dad would only lead to her dad probably stealing her to lock her away for daring to spend time with men who would talk to him with anything other than respect.

"I have to go, Frederick. Thank you for the concern." Y/n mumbles before hanging up and look at the two angered F1 drivers. "You guys can't talk to him. He might not care in general but...he thinks of his kids like property when he wants to. Especially if he feels crossed. He'd track me down and kidnap me from the both of you as soon as the call ended if either of you had said something."

"You don't need his money or whatever he considers to be any amount of concern for your well-being. You have us." Charles states while Lando nods in agreement to the Monegasque's words. "We are your family."

Y/n softens slightly, when it's came to her parents neglect she's always found it hard to talk about it.

"We love you, y/n." Lando sighs making her move forward and hug him tightly before he scoops up her legs to hold her around his waist. "We love you a lot."

-

If there's one thing Lando and Charles both love it's having y/n at the races. Usually they split days, y/n spending Friday with one of them, Saturday with the other and then race day she usually finds a neutral place to watch from.

Both Lando and Charles have taken to being the ones to handle her phone, keeping her away from social media has proven to be a wiser move than they anticipation.

Y/n has been the talking point of a lot of hate, not even just towards herself but Charles and Lando have been getting shit talked for their choice to even spend time with the girl. Her being a billionaire's daughter seems to mean she's reflect on them as a poor taste in women (the irony doesn't escape them on that either).

"Alright, I'll see you later." Lando mumbles, while she smiles at him lightly, hanging her arms around his neck as she looks up at him with sparkling eyes. He knows for certain that y/n is exactly how they want her.

Y/n pushes onto her toes to kiss him, uncaring of any onlookers while Charles smiles and shakes his head.

"I'll see you later." Y/n mumbles with a grin before kissing him once more before she moves quickly to Charles who grins linking their hands and lifting it to make her spin under her arm as they walk to the Ferrari unit. "I'm hungry."

"Then we will get you something to eat." Charles smiles wrapping his arms around her and finding her capturing him in a day brightening kiss.

"I know I'm lucky to have you and Lando." Y/n smiles then tilting her head. "Can I steal your cap today?"

"You will have to wear something for Lando too."

"He chose my whole outfit." Y/n hums earning a look. "I will steal something from him though."

"Good." Charles smiles then pulling off his cap and putting it on her head. "You do look very good in red."

Y/n grins letting Charles notice the same sparkle behind her eyes that Lando had spotted before she's kissing him again.

When Charles is in his debrief, y/n runs over to McLaren looking for some sort of McLaren team wear she can steal.

"Y/n? Everything ok?" Jon asks making her nod looking behind him for her boyfriend. "He's in his room."

"Thank you."

And then she's off, jogging to Lando's room where he almost looks alarmed to see her.

"Can I borrow a jacket?" Y/n asks before he can get a word out and the looks of confusion is definitely there. "I want to wear Charles' cap but he said I should wear something from McLaren too..."

"I think orange and red might be a bit much together. But you can borrow my jacket." Lando states handing her the varsity jacket he'd arrived in the paddock with. "So long as it's mine, I won't feel too sore about you wearing a Ferrari cap."

"Ok." Y/n grins before she moves towards him and gets a kiss. "Good luck in qualifying."

-

Lando and y/n arriving later after the race than Charles wasn't on the plans but Charles had a bit of a rough race and he left before either had the chance to catch him.

"Charles?" Y/n mumbles walking into the suit and finding him fresh out the shower drying his hair. "Charles..."

Lando puffs out a breath leaving y/n to do the consoling, his race wasn't amazing but it was better than Charles'.

"You still did good." Y/n tries making the Ferrari driver grunt.

"I think sleep would be the best mood booster." Lando comments making y/n roll her eyes before she pushes the waistband of her shorts down and wiggles out of them before smiling when Charles senses her choice of mood boosting the white set earning Lando's attention.

"On the bed." Charles instructs making her move positioned on all fours over Lando, undoing his jeans and wasting no time because actually maybe she's more eager for their attention and needy for it than she ever thought she would be.

But also who wouldn't have sex with their two fit as fuck boyfriends?

Almost as if Charles was waiting for the moment, as soon as y/n take Lando between her lips he thrusts into her, only pushing the thong aside to gain access before he moves his hand to her waist setting a cervix bruising pace and depth while Lando very happily takes control of her head movements.

Both are caught up in using her for their own pleasure but just the feeling of being filled by the two is enough for y/n to get off and when Lando cums, pushing deep enough down her throat to see a bulge in her throat from his length the lack of air sends her over the edge, moaning around the dick still spilling cum down her throat before Charles uses the new tightness of her orgasm to fuck her through and into his own. Filling her as much as possible before Lando lets her up leaving her coughing a little.

Y/n whines when Charles gently pushes her forward onto Lando who more than happily holds the panting woman still trying to refill her burning lungs, aching from the lack of air.

"I'll be right back." Charles sighs while Lando hums and y/n climbs up to straddle his tummy, uncaring of Charles' cum leaking onto his stomach.

"If you're trying to turn me on again, you're doing a very good job." Lando smirks earning a grin as she leans forward.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, and maybe we could see if you might be ready to fit both of us."

Y/n's face pales in a second, there'd be some hints at taking them both and not just in the way she had just done.

"I-"

"Charlie!" Lando calls making her jump a little. "Come back in here, y/n's got a second surprise for you."

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[burntblueberrywaffles]

The Snowbaird fanfic rec list!

As usual, if anyone is interested in joining the snowbaird discord, just shoot me a dm for an invite!

Before we start, some notes:

As we all know Snowbaird is fucked up and toxic 😌😌 but there are;;; levels to it so for easy navigation I have color coded this fic rec! Blue is for fics that are less toxic (now that doesn’t necessarily mean there’s NO toxicity but it definitely stands on the sweeter side of the Snowbaird spectrum) whereas red stand for "god these fucked up bitches 😍😍" - Ive also added an orange category for the mid level fics/ones where I couldn’t quite decide where they would rank- still, do keep in mind that those rankings are based on my personal judgement (plus I’m going off memory for some of the fics) so they may not be fully accurate.

Im also adding a "heavy smut" mention to some of these fic - that means the smut takes center stage in the fic and is pretty much unavoidable to properly read the story, a lot of the other fics on this list will still contain smut, but to a lesser extent/in a way where it’s not an integral part of the plot - remember to read the tags and curate your reading experience!

Sadly several of these are incomplete - I have added a mention of when the last update was posted as of today (april 22, 2024)!

Anyways, now that all of that is out of the way, here are the recs!

Capitol AUs

Helpless, Tender, Open by perfectlystill

When his heartbeat stutters beneath her touch, when his mouth falls open, breathing heavy, Lucy Gray pops open her clutch. She’s the one pouring antidote down his throat.

Complete

if i'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? by eecwritess

It had been fifteen years since Lucy Gray Baird had escaped Coriolanus Snow at the cabin in District Twelve. But now, she had been captured. Brought back to the Capitol after all these years to be punished as a Rebel. But President Snow...well, he has offered to save her. Under one condition.

Heavy smut - complete

Songbirds, Snakes, and Wedding Rings by celestscrystal

“Even she can’t charm your way out of that predicament.” Dr. Gaul taunted. He was losing her. He could already see the disinterest in her eyes. Highbottom had been long gone, his plans at sabotage were shattered, now he was just waiting to leave. Coriolanus had to make this work. His Lucy Gray must be kept alive. He had one final idea to convince them. It was his most dangerous idea yet. “I could marry her.” In which Coriolanus was never sent to district 12 and instead got away with a slap on the wrist. However, Lucy Gray would not be granted the same fate. In order to save her, Coriolanus marries her. Clashes ensue in a tale of enemies, passion, and lovers. Updates every Saturday/Sunday!

Incomplete but is getting weekly updates! I really love this one :D

Burn by vvitchimage

Life in the wilderness is harsher than Lucy Gray Baird had imagined. Sick and almost dead, she's forced to return home to the only person capable of taking care of her.

vvitchimage is definitely one of my favourite Snowbaird authors so you will see more of her works down this list; the way she writes the toxicity is just chefs kiss 🤌 Heavy smut - complete

Safe and close at hand by framboise

In which Coriolanus Snow is handsomely rewarded for his tribute winning the Games and in turn handsomely rewards his prize, Lucy Gray, herself. He's gone solemn now in the afterglow, serious. He cares for his own, Snow, she sees that with his family, and now she is one of them. Not his family, but something he owns. His prize, his ward, his girl. Is she to be his mistress then? she thinks hazily as she slips towards sleep. Is that the future for her? To escape from the viper's den into the viper's mansion? She shivers and he drags her closer, one large hand tucked around her hip. Well, she can't escape now even if she wants to, she thinks, sinking into the softness of the plush mattress, burrowing back into the heat and warmth of her jailor.

complete

the girl and the prize by merkstave

In Lucy Gray’s defense, it was never supposed to go down like this anyway. She was just supposed to seduce him, to weasel herself into the snake pit that was Coriolanus’ bed so that he’d keep her around long enough for her to formulate an escape plan. She’d meet with Highbottom and he’d help her like he said he would after she was crowned victor and she’d be back to being a faceless girl amongst the cover of the districts. She just had to say the word and the dean of Heavensbee Academy would make her disappear. She’d be back to singing in bars in no time, back to her old life on the run. That had been nine months ago. And here she was, in her warden’s bed, naked and with his cum stuck to her inner thighs. +++ Lucy Gray is given to Coriolanus as his ward after the games. It's supposed to be a temporary arrangement, nothing more than means to an end. However, nothing is ever easy, especially at the hands of a Snow.

Sadly incomplete but the 4 chapters we did get are SO!!! Truly the delicious kind of toxicity 🤌🤌 (last updated: Jan 15, 2024)

All Of That Ultraviolence by ggs_29

He was well dressed in a suit that fit, hair combed back, still just as handsome as before, if not more so. A full pantry suited him well, helping him to fill out the spaces that were too thin on his figure, and building up the hard earned muscles of his peacekeeping stint. Today, he sits behind his desk in a fine dress shirt, a button undone on top, and his cuffs rolled up his muscular arms. Lucy remembers Barb Azure’s old tales, about a pagan creature from a time before Panem, a fallen angel; the most beautiful of them all, but so easy to succumb to the temptation of power and glory; “ You can leave us now, Heavensbee.” Coriolanus says, holding his gaze on her, and his eyes are dark, predatory. Fuck. “Of course Mr. President; Madame Snow.” Hilarius shoots her a look filled to the brim with trepidation, and suddenly, she is back there again, paralyzed with fear. A girl of six and ten whose name had just been reaped. They’d been found out.

heavy smut - complete

Peacekeeper Coryo AUs

This Little Life of Ours by voiceinthecrowd

"I'll sing for you soon," she promises, hand threading through blonde curls. “I’ll write you into all my songs." “Maybe even write a Ballad of Coriolanus Snow”, she whispers, gasping as her boy manages to pull her even closer. It isn't the immortality he's been looking for. It certainly isn't the marble presidential busts he tells her about when they both can't sleep; how their stony eyes would bore into the souls of passing Capitol children; a young, hungry boy in Academy rouge. But presidents die and statues crumble. Coryo might not know it yet, but it’s stories and songs that persist. His ancient heroes and her whispered poems. They’re all stories, and Lucy Gray is determined to give Coryo the greatest story of them all. He’ll understand, one day. She’ll make it up to him, the dreams he’s left behind for her. He hasn't lost everything in Twelve. Lucy Gray will prove it. In which Lucy Gray stays for Coriolanus, and Coriolanus stays for Lucy Gray.

foaming at the mouth over this fic. complete

i wouldn’t mind the hanging, but the laying in the grave so long by rainfrog

He’s a Peacekeeper since the beginning. And she’s still that Covey girl who falls in love.

SO GOOD; this fic is 2,4k words long and NOT ONE OF THEM IS WASTED truly so many excellent lines in there 💯💯 - complete

Deal with the Devil by vvitchimage

Lucy Gray had lived in the cabin for months after her falling out with Coriolanus Snow. When spring comes, he returns to take over Hoff's place in the Peacekeepers. The day she's found, Lucy Gray has to strike a deal with the devil.

Heavy smut - incomplete but is still being updated! (last update april 18, 2024)

persimmons and soup beans by kayladevitoo

Coriolanus Snow moved up in the Peacekeeper ranks in District 12, becoming an officer. He shares breakfast with Lucy Gray after a night shift — soup beans and a persimmon.

short and sweet - complete

Chaos and control by Anonymous

Her name was Lucy Gray Baird, and she and her group were called the Covey. Technically, they weren't from the Districts; as it turned out, they were a group of traveling musicians who got stuck in the Twelfth when inter-District travel was banned. This somehow reassured him – that she wasn't from the Districts, that he hadn't gone crazy falling for a girl from the Districts – she wasn't one of those responsible for the war. So he no longer felt guilty about his dreams, sometimes strange, sometimes blatantly indecent, in which she was always the main character. 18 years old Coriolanus Snow, an orphan, who lost his mother, his father and grandmother during the war now is a Cadet Peacekeeper in the District 12, preparing to become an officer. Here he meets the most beautiful girl in the world

This fic is not as Snowbaird centric as the rest of this list, but god is it fantastic. This Anonymous author is simply incredible 💯 - complete

Modern AUs

Free Ride by betts

“Does Lucy Gray like you back?” Tigris asked. Coriolanus hadn’t actually considered that. He’d just assumed she didn’t and never would. He’d grown up with anything he could ever want given to him instantly, but now everything he wanted was impossibly far out of reach. Lucy Gray was no exception. Or: Coriolanus is a full-time university student, restaurant server, administrative assistant, and on the weekends he cleans and presses gowns. Occasionally he sleeps. So he really doesn't have time to be giving the weird bartender a ride home every night. And he definitely doesn't have time to become obsessed with her.

having really enjoyed Betts' Anidala fic Lemon, I knew we were in for a treat when i recognized her in the Snowbaird tag AND I WAS RIGHT, such an amazing take on modern!coryo - complete

I'm yours to keep and I'm yours to lose by fkevin073

Their lips slide together, then their tongues curl and she moans, a light, heady thing, come alight with the realization that she is finally, finally home. It’s tender at first, but at the sound of her moan Coriolanus grabs her chin in between his fingers and plunders her mouth harshly. As if this is a punishment. You left me, every kiss he gives her, takes from her, breathes. You left me. And Lucy Gray— Well. For her this isn’t a punishment at all. Or: Lucy Gray and Coriolanus can't seem to let each other go.

THIS IS SO!!!!! see this is the kind of ploltline I might not love in other circumstances, but THE WRITING IS SO INCREDIBLE that it just hits - complete

when the sun goes down by astradeluna

small-town girl lucy gray baird moves from district twelve to the capitol to attend the university to study music. this is her first time leaving home and although the prospect of starting over is terrifying, she’s still excited to make the most out of the opportunity. that being said, after a shitty breakup with her shitty ex, the last thing she wants is to meet someone, but then she crosses paths with coriolanus snow, an arrogant but ambitious government major, who seems to get under her skin with ease and he brings out a part of herself that she never knew existed

incomplete and the story hadn’t gotten to much development in the relationship yet but GOD I still need to put this here bc THE WAY the dynamics were so perfectly transcribed to this modern setting were just chefs kiss. Forever hoping this fic will return from war and get an update 🙏🙏 (last updated: Dec 20, 2023)

Other

Your Selfish Ways by thpsyche

Ten years since her disappearance from District 12 Lucy Gray decides it’s time to return, finding a shelter and a silent life. All would be well if it weren’t for the mysterious encounters of a man cloaked in darkness. A deal is struck, twice a month she would give up to him in return for his silence of her existence. Only one condition: she’s to not ask or look at him. - For the snowbaird week 2024| Day 2 – Myth.

GOD THIS FUCKING FIC - IM FUCKING OBSESSED WITH IT;;; EROS AND PSYCHE INSPIRED AU MY BELOVED - I have reread many times;;; if you see a thumbs up crying cat pfp going insane in the comments that would be me;;;; I am not normal about this 🙈 - complete

doomsday is close at hand by fkevin073

But on the first train of her nineteenth year, as the snows settle on the ground and ice curls in their lungs, something new comes with the train to arrive in District 12. A man by the name of Coriolanus Snow. (But Lucy Gray doesn’t find that out until later, of course) - Or: Coriolanus Snow arrives in District 12, and finds his very own songbird, ready to break free.

incomplete but according to @fkevin073 's tumblr it is not abandoned and she has just been busy;;; truly such a good fic I love it sm (last updated feb 14, 2024)

When I'm Pure Like a Dove, When I've Learned How to Love by Realmermaid333

Lucy Gray and Coriolanus bask in sunlight by the edge of the lake, enjoying each other's presence and calming each other's fears.

Short and sweet - the kind of softness we need more of for Snowbaird 🥺🥺🥺 - Complete

Saving Each Other by flipflop_diva

Lucy Gray had already accepted that she was going to die here in the arena, that sometime in the next few days she would meet her end. But then something else happened — and now there were two of them to carry on the fight. (An AU in which Coriolanus goes to save Sejanus and doesn't escape the arena.)

complete

Silent songbird by KitKatKatherine

Coriolanus Snow thought he knew everything that had happened to him these last few months. Lucy left him, he got into the academy, and Gaul was overseeing his studies. It’s not until he wakes up in the hospital and experiences a rather concerning conversation that he questions everything he once thought to be solid, reason logic. Vowing to never once again help Gaul, and capital be damned, he turns his charms on his own people, and becomes their worst nightmare.

Now, this fic does get quite dark; the author gives trigger warning on specific chapters but if you would like to be warned before getting any investment in the fic, feel free to dm me for details ❤️ - that said, it’s a great fic, I thought the take on disability was lovely and the way it portrayed Coriolanus realizing how rotten the system is and redeeming himself was great; incomplete but worth a read (last updated: Jan 13, 2024)

This is Not a Love Song by FrostedGemstones22

Lucy Gray and Coriolanus never go to the cabin, so they never find the guns. They decide to travel together, but Lucy Gray isn't so easily fooled. Truth is; he needs her, and she needs him. Common ground has to be found somewhere. Speculation about if they traveled up to find District 13.

THIS FIC IS SO EXCELLENT and definetely the best take I have seen on a district 13 AU - incomplete but absolutely worth reading (last updated: Jan 22, 2024)

in the woods somewhere by OfPearlsAndSunsets

Sejanus. She must have figured out that Sejanus was the third person Coriolanus had killed. She wouldn’t have known the particulars, but surely she could have pieced it all together. Still, to think he’d kill her? After everything they’d been through? He looked down at the loaded gun in his hands. Maybe he should have left it in the shed. It's as if he was hunting her. He thought about the knife and how it paled in comparison to the weapon he was carrying. What are you doing, Coriolanus? Something inside of him asks, and then demands. Put it down. He does.

Complete

Monster by Lululemonee

Coriolanus Snow if given both a gift and a curse when he meets his tribute for the 10th Hunger Games. She changed his life in ways which he never could have imagined. She's a dream and a nightmare rolled into one. And she is keeping him with her for the ride. I am very bad at summaries. This was inspired but the music video for "Scars" by Hazey Eyes which stars Tom Blyth and is sooooo good.

Complete

Deep in the Meadow by vvitchimage

Lucy Gray's reunion with Coriolanus in the meadow ends with him protecting her from her jilted ex.

Heavy smut - complete

BONUS:

Two different tribute!Coryo AUs! Are they Snowbaird centered? Not at all, there’s only a few crumbs if you squint BUT they slap SO HARD I truly recommend! (both are complete)

for cassius, no one wept by marianara_sauce

"Why don't we start from the beginning?" "Where else would we start?" She grins at him, rouge cheeks almost glowing. "Stories can start in all kinds of places. They can go in any kind of order, too. Just like songs." He watches her carefully, this relentlessly bright girl no longer in her rainbow dress. His eyes glance down to the form, blank spaces taking over most of the page. Name. District. Age. Family. It's not necessarily chronological. But her dark eyes don't look away from him, even as her grin softens. "Alright," he says. He steeples his hands together, and the chains rattle. "I'm Coriolanus Snow. District 12." (Or, the world in which Snow is a tribute instead of a mentor.)

Hail Panem by Anonymous

"Hail Panem! Those marching to their death salute you!" AU where Coriolanus Snow is a tribute from District Twelve who takes part in the Hunger Games

And that is all! There are a lot of other lovely Snowbaird fics of course but I tried focusing on my absolute favourites ❤️

Do let me know if you liked the list and if you’re a fan of any of these fic feel free to come scream about it with me!

+ Once again noting that my DMs are wide open to anyone wanting to join the Snowbaird discord! It is genuinely an online space I love and I’m always happy to meet more shippers 🫶🫶

#snowbaird #coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird #tbosas #coryolucy #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus x lucy gray #burntblueberrywaffles #ballad of songbirds and snakes #fic rec list #fanfic rec list #fanfiction #rec list #snowbaird fanfiction

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

Hii! I love love love all of your finnick fics! Could I please request a fic where reader is also a victor from an earlier game and she is in an established relationship with Finnick. They both get reaped (not the same district) for the 75th games and reader gets critically hurt in the part where the cornucopia spins. Like she falls into the water after maybe being injured and she can’t swim, so Finnick has to risk everything to save her life.

I’m really looking for like a hurt/comfort with a seriously injured reader and Finnick going through hell to save her because he cannot imagine a life without her in it.

Thank you so much if you’re willing to write this or something like it, feel free of course to change anything to your liking!

two souls, one heart | f. odair

masterlist

summary: finnick refuses to lose the love of his life. your inability to swim complicates things, especially when the cornucopia begins spinning.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: pre-established relationship, heavy angst, drowning, death, bone fracture

notes: thank you so much!!! i really enjoyed writing this, shed a few tears but still enjoyed it lmao. listen to 'beginning of the end movement v' by the newton brothers on repeat for the full experience <3

A quiet nursery rhyme was being sung by the water's edge.

The calm waves around the Cornucopia lapped at the rocks, the blistering sun causing the surface to sparkle. Wiress' voice interrupted Peeta as he mapped out the arena's clock-like wedges in the dirt. Everyone was focused on the map; you should have been too.

Dark blue ripples had your eyes captivated. So tranquil. So hauntingly beautiful. Loving the sea was in your blood, as your District Four was your home. You would think coming from a fishing district would mean your swimming abilities were mastered. In reality, they were practically non-existent. No matter how many times Finnick had attempted to give you lessons, they never stuck.

Neither of you seemed to care though, always too enraptured by simply being in each other's company—feeling Finnick's hands support your body as you floated on the surface...

"Don't you let go of me, Finnick Odair, or I swear to god I'll drown you."

"Will that be before or after you drown first?" he chuckled, though ultimately tightening his grip on your body in an attempt to reassure you.

....hysterically laughing when he got wiped out by a sudden wave...

"No way! I can't—" You broke into a fit of laughter— "I can't believe that just happened!"

"Are you laughing at me, sweetheart?" Finnick asked, trudging through the water towards you, his hair drenched and swept across his forehead.

"Yes!"

You doubled over, knees buckling as you struggled to contain your laughter. Despite trying to put up a serious front, Finnick too let a few chuckles slip at the hysterical sight of you.

"Oh really?"

Just like that, his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you down into the cold water, earning him a squeal just before you crashed together below the surface.

...and washing up on the sandy shore in each other's arms, salty lips capturing one another.

"I'm covered in sand," you murmured against Finnick's lips.

He gave you another kiss before pulling away. "It's okay," he said, pecking your lips again. "I'll help you wash off in the shower when we get back." And then sent you a stomach-flipping grin.

Even though you wouldn't trade those memories for the world, if you had known your life would soon depend on the ability to swim, you would have paid much more attention to the lessons.

Finnick stood closely beside you, his trident digging into the dirt as he gripped it tightly in case of an attack. He had noticed your drifted attention, observing the way your eyes stared at the rippling water, like death was lurking just beneath the surface waiting to drag you down to the murky depths.

He could protect you from most things in the arena, but fear was something entirely different. A trident couldn't defeat the darkness in your mind.

A hand slid onto your lower back, rubbing gentle strokes to gain your attention. Your gaze tore from the blinding blue and settled onto Finnick's face beside you, watching his mouth curve into a light smile. You knew the silent words he was trying to convey: 'You're okay, sweetheart. I've got you.'

For a fleeting moment, the anxiety had disappeared. How could anything ever go wrong with Finnick by your side? The corners of your mouth quirked, preparing to send him a smile in response. But it never came. Something new had caught your attention. The woman by the water was no longer singing.

Wiress had been murdered.

The second Katniss let her arrow fly into Gloss' chest, everything around you seemed to explode into action. Anything that could go wrong would go wrong—Murphy's Law. And it did.

The Careers had initiated an attack.

Charging forward from the waterside was Cashmere, determined to avenge her brother's death. Instinct quickly kicked in and the spear in your hand was sent barrelling through the air and into her chest. As you watched her body slump to the ground, an enraged yell came from the side.

Finnick was fighting Brutus.

With your only weapon lodged within Cashmere's chest, aiding Finnick was impossible. Enobaria revealed herself beside Brutus, displaying her vicious fangs and throwing a dagger that sliced a small cut across Finnick's shoulder. Though the wound was minor, your heart lurched as he cried out in pain.

Before a single thought in your brain could form, your legs were moving. Not towards Finnick, but after Enobaria. Remember who the real enemy is—screw that. Finnick could have died. Your Finnick. He called out your name, his voice hoarse and frayed, but you continued on, hatred fuelling each step. It seemed Katniss and Johanna had the same idea, following behind you with their weapons bared.

Salt water sprayed onto your face, but you paid it no attention. Nor did you notice as the jungle surrounding the island began to blur into one overwhelming hue of green. Only when your body was thrown to the harsh rocky terrain did you realise what was happening.

The Cornucopia had started to spin.

Nothing could compare to the terror you felt as gravity's merciless force dragged your body toward the violent waves surging against the rocks. Just as your lower legs breached the edge, a hand grabbed onto your own. Katniss. She too was hanging onto Johanna whose only lifeline was an axe buried in the rocks.

A moment—that was all you were given to scan your surroundings. Supplies and sharp-edged weapons were flying everywhere. White water was spraying into the air. Finnick, who was thirty feet away, was gripping onto a rock ledge whilst keeping Beetee from sliding into the furious waves. His head turned to the side and even from a great distance, your eyes met.

It was at that moment you knew, you just knew the odds weren't going to be in your favour. God forbid you lived a simple happy life with the man you loved, days spent together on a calm beach. God forbid the Gamemakers gave you one last chance to be in his arms. God forbid you survived.

And with that sudden realisation, the universe, sick as it was, decided it was time.

Your hand began slipping from Katniss's; an unseen tear fell from your eye, and you smiled. A smile of goodbye sent to the love of your life. His face contorted into one of agony, lips moving but you couldn't hear his voice over the roaring waves. Still, you knew exactly what he was shouting.

"NO! NO!"

There was nothing he could do but watch your body disappear into the waves, repeating over and over "no, no, no," and praying his cruel eyes had deceived him. They hadn't.

Dark blue was in every direction you looked. The undertow tossed and rolled your body like a ragdoll in a washing machine and despite your attempts to swim, the surface only seemed to be slipping further and further out of your reach. Darkness engulfed you, so thick that you couldn't tell which way was up or down. That was when the panic set in.

Your arms and legs thrashed frantically, struggling against the water's force, desperate to reach safety or an air pocket. Cold water flooded your throat as you gasped uncontrollably. You screamed as every attempt at breathing felt like fire burning in your lungs. Finnick. Where was he? Where were you? What was happening? Why wouldn't it stop?

Thoughts submerged your mind in terror, and you were powerless to stop them. All you could do was feel. Pain. Fire. Burning

At some point, the Cornucopia had ceased its spinning and your body came to a rest in the water. An eerie calm suddenly washed over you; a sense of clarity stilled your wild movements. This was the end. There was no future. No hope. The world above wasn't yours to call home anymore. You now belonged to the sea.

Of course, your water-logged mind had forgotten that home was where the heart was, and your heart was still beating... above the surface, in the aching chest of another.

Tendrils of hair floated around your face like fronds of seaweed. Rays of sunlight penetrated the surface, turning the surroundings a vibrant sparkly blue. As you sank further down, the water, now a comfortable lukewarm, cradled you in its embrace. It felt safe, like being in Finnick's arms again. Like home.

You gazed at the sun's rays; they looked beautiful. You felt beautiful. But time was running out and the bright light soon began shrouding your entire vision, though not before you witnessed a dark figure dive beneath the waves.

**********

Finnick loved the ocean. He spent most days in District Four down by the beach, swimming, spearfishing, and watching the sun rise and set on the blue horizon. If he believed in reincarnation, he would have imagined himself to be a lionfish or dolphin in his past life, living in an underwater world, free from tyranny and oppression. He loved the ocean.

But that love was incomparable to what he felt for you. So, when he dove into the rocky waters to save you and felt the currents fighting against him, he determined there was nothing he hated more than the ocean. Not as he watched its strong grip drag your motionless body further down below him.

Your back had just touched the soft seabed when he swam far enough down to envelope you in his embrace. He should have swum you back to the surface immediately, but in his distressed state, he couldn't help but foolishly stare at your lifeless appearance. Your skin was blue. It's just the water's colour, he told himself. Your eyes were closed. She's just asleep. Your neck didn't pulse under his touch. She's... She's...

He had no justification for that. Feet planted firmly on the sandy floor, he propelled both himself and you back up to the surface. As Finnick paddled back to the Cornucopia, the others reached down and helped lift your limp body onto the rocks.

"Is she...?"

"Peeta," Katniss quietly reprimanded him.

Finnick paid them no attention. He said nothing but trauma screamed in his eyes. His breathing was ragged and his hands were trembling as he frantically checked your pulse again—in both your wrists and your neck; he even pressed his ear to your chest. All he heard was the waves lapping against the rocks.

"No," he whispered again.

It seemed to be all he could say anymore. No. No, this couldn't be happening. You were just standing beside him a few minutes ago; your eyes were just looking into his. However much he tried to deny reality, it didn't seem to make it any less true. You were gone.

He choked out a rough determined breath, interlocked his hands over your chest, and began pressing repeatedly over your heart. Wet strands of tangled hair were strewn across the rocks like dead seaweed. The usual soft pink accompanying your cheeks was nowhere to be seen, devoid of any life.

"Come on, sweetheart," he muttered before pulling down your chin to blow air into your lungs. The kiss of life. And when nothing happened as he pulled away, he restarted the chest compressions. "Oh, don't do this to me," he begged, voice breaking. "Don't do this. Breathe."

Any moment now. Any moment, your eyes would flutter open, the colour would return to your glowing skin, and your heart would beat with life beneath his hands. Your lips would whisper his name and he would pull you into his arms, where he would keep you safe until the end of time.

"Breathe."

Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Nothing. He did it again. Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Silence. Maybe he should've just ripped his heart out and replaced yours with his own. Death would come for him within seconds but hearing something beating inside your chest would've made the sacrifice worth it.

Life would flash before his eyes and your beaming smile would be the last thing he'd get to see. His last thought would be of relief that you were alive.

Johanna rested a tentative hand on Finnick's shoulder. "Finnick, she's—"

"No, she's not!" he exclaimed, continuing his movements. "She's fine. Aren't you, baby? You're fine." He cupped your jaw, his thumb stroking your soft skin before he pressed his lips to yours and blew twice. "You're fine."

The golden bangle around his wrist glimmered in the sunshine as he pressed on your ribcage. All he had to do was keep you alive until Plutarch rescued everyone. One simple task and he failed.

"Finnick, we have to go," someone said. Who? He didn't know nor care.

Leave me, he wanted to say. Leave me here to die. Let the Careers mutilate my body, take my life, my last breath, but let it be by her side.

Something cracked beneath his palms and he knew one of your ribs had fractured. His arms stilled, half-expecting you to cry out in pain but then he remembered. And with that sickening crack came a devastating realisation—you really were gone.

A sob erupted from his throat and his head fell to your chest, drenching your already-soaked wetsuit with hot tears. Everything else seemed to disappear. The arena, the Careers who could attack again at any moment, the spectators who were avidly watching. Everything.

It was just him and you. He didn't care that his screams and deafening sobs could bring unwanted attention or jeopardise the group's safety. Any tribute with half a mind would know crossing him in such a state would be a fatal flaw. Even if they did, it wouldn't matter. Nothing mattered. Life no longer had meaning.

Finnick pulled your lifeless body onto his lap and cradled you protectively in his arms, lightly rocking back and forth. His forehead rested against your own, cold and damp. You always were the cold one, needing his touch to light a fire beneath your skin. He loved having you rely on him for warmth, but not like this.

"Come back to me, baby, please," he begged almost inaudibly. Tears were running down his cheeks as he brushed pieces of hair away from your face. His lips were on yours once more, heartbroken and painfully delicate; not to fill your lungs with air, but to fill your heart with his love in the hopes it would be enough to bring it back to life. "Don't leave me."

Pleas, prayers, begs, and wishes flew past his lips, over and over. And then they stopped and Finnick simply stared. Silence fell across the entire arena. The birds didn't chirp, the other tributes remained quiet, and the trees stood still. Even the water had calmed, resembling a perfectly flat mirror.

Finnick only had three words left on his tongue. Three final words to give you, wherever it was that you were. He slowly leaned down, squeezed his stinging eyes shut, and pressed a long farewell kiss to your forehead. His eyes remained closed as he parted from your skin, unable to take another look as he whispered his final goodbye.

"I love you."

And then, for the first time since he had rescued you from the blue depths, he felt his heart beating again. Just like yours was.

**********

There was a voice, distant yet reassuring—a lifeline to consciousness. Black was all there was. Coldness was all that was felt. It was desolate. But that voice... that voice was so anguished yet so familiar and encouraging that it lit a fire inside your chest, warming you from the inside out.

In the distance of the dark void was a figure, their body made entirely out of a pulsating golden light. Each word the voice spoke enhanced the light's brightness. "Come... me, please..." Brighter. "Don't leave..." And brighter.

The light was warm and comforting, just like the voice attached to it. Whoever's voice it was that brought the light resonated deep in your mind, tugging at the strings within your heart.

Your heart.

The thumping in your chest was weak, almost non-existent, but it was still there. Though it seemed time was running out. Pitch-black darkness outweighed the golden light ten-to-one; you could feel its cold breath creeping onto your back. So, you started running towards the figure. Sprinting. Until all that surrounded you was golden.

"I love you."

Water. At first, it came trickling out in two fluid streams from the sides of your mouth. Then suddenly, it was spraying into the air as choked coughs forced the liquid from your burning lungs. Light flooded your vision—not golden and inviting, but vivid and overwhelming.

There was something warm beneath your legs, against your arm, rubbing at your back, holding you in an upright position. While you heaved, dry-retched, and gasped, that soothing warmth remained.

As your airways began to clear and the expulsion of water ceased, your half-lidded eyes rolled around the area. Still dazed and disoriented, you struggled to make out what surrounded you. There was immense rippling blue, vibrant hues of green in the distance, dark rough grey beneath you, and elongated blobs of colour that stood a few feet away.

"Just–just keep breathing, sweetheart." That voice. The one belonging to the figure of light that brought you back. It was madly repeating the same words over and over. "You're okay", "Deep breaths", and "You're alive."

Shaky fingers brushed the stray wet strands of hair from your face. So warm. With the little energy you had, your head turned to seek out the golden light again. And you found it.

The blinding sun shining down reflected off his bronze hair, turning it a divine golden hue. His brows were raised and scrunched together as though he couldn't possibly believe what he was seeing. Deep lines were etched into his tear-streaked skin, evidence of his previous turmoil. Those sea-green eyes stared at you, afraid that if he so much as blinked, you would fall lifeless in his arms once more.

"You're here," he whispered.

Finnick. YourFinnick. Your light.

When your eyes met, a splitting grin lit up his face, made up of an inconceivable amount of raw emotion. You weren't sure what to do—smile, laugh, cry, kiss him? Your mind was scrambled, overwhelmed with love for the beautiful golden-haired man in front of you.

Without warning, your face scrunched up and the tears began flowing. You weren't sure why you were crying. Maybe it was because you had just been brought back from the brink of death; maybe it was because you couldn't believe someone actually cared so deeply about you.

Finnick cradled your face in his hand. "It's okay," his voice trembled, tears now cascading down his cheeks. His smile, however, never disappeared. "You're okay. You're safe now. I'm not letting you go."

He took your face into two large hands, brought you to his lips, and pressed a tender kiss to each tear that rolled over your skin. One of your hands rested over his; the other was placed against his chest, feeling it rise and fall so you could synchronise your breaths.

His arms moved to pull you tightly against him, almost like he was trying to merge your body with his. Or perhaps, it was your soul. You didn't care about the pain aching in one of your ribs. You wanted to tell him that his soul was already intertwined with your own, but words couldn't describe the sentiment as profoundly as you felt it.

In the simplest of terms your water-logged brain could muster, you whispered, "You're my light, Finnick."

Brows scrunched together, he looked down at you, fighting back the urge to start sobbing in your arms. If he had been anywhere else, if there wasn't an entire country watching, he would've gone on for hours, explaining how stupidly, selfishly, and incredibly in love with you he was.

But he couldn't do that. Not now. So, he placed his hand over the one you had resting on his chest and readjusted its position. He could feel the thumping, even through your palm.

Your eyes were full of emotion as you stared up into his. You already knew what his next words were going to be and for the first time since you were thrown into the water from the Cornucopia, you smiled.

Rhythmically, your hand and his pulsed together. Finnick's gaze flickered across your face and he grinned. "You're my heart."

#wife-of-all-dilfs ✍️ #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x oc #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #thg finnick #the hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #peeta mellark x reader #sam claflin #hunger games #odesta

[lady-ashfade]

Bound By Birth

The yandere boy’s reaction to you being their sweet, smaller twin and being obsessed.

Characters: Lucerys Velaryon, Jacaerys Velaryon, Aemond Targaryen.

Theses aren’t complete HC’s just some I thought about, but if you want a part 2 or a fic based on it please let me know.

Warnings: Yandere tendencies, Obsession, Possessive, Targaryen ways if you know what I mean, stalking, a bit hinted or nswf a bit but nothing is said that much!

Aemond Targaryen

As soon as Aemond came out of the womb he had lost this sense of warmth and comfort, like he knew you weren’t with him. The new born screamed until you had entered the world a few minutes later and the room felt silent from his crys, only to be full with yours.

From his first breath he knew he belonged with you.

We all know aemond had no dragon that hatched from the egg so he lost that feeling but he had you. The gods had blessed him with something far greater then any dragon he could ever have. Needless to say he thinks of you as his to have since you are his twin.

Little man is possessive from the get go, like he can not bare to be away from you. So you always had him following your trail everywhere you went.

Aemond felt heartbroken when your egg hatched and his had yet too, only to discover the egg was never going to hatch. He was beyond jealous. He and you were supposed to have everything alike, dress the same, eat the same food and share the same toys.

But then that’s when it clicked into his brain you are his dragon. Yes, the gods did this on purpose.

No matter the gender his mind always pictured your wedding day.

Hates it when you train with your dragon and he can’t. Like gets really upset. He does get picked on but you’re there to save him, making him fall harder.

He swears one day he would protect you.

Aegon and the other boys are out of the question for him. You aren’t allowed to hang out with them at all, and if you are? He will pull you away quickly without a word and drag you off away from them.

When he gets his eye taken from him he couldn’t handle your eyes looking at him. Feels ashamed for the curse now on his face because he can’t be handsome or beautiful for you.

But the joy he feels inside when you weep beside him and hold his hand, he feels some sort of pride that you care for him deeply.

Female twin:

Knows you are meant to marry him. He doesn’t even have to convince Alicent very hard to wed you because she needs you to stay safe.

Matching your dresses to his outfit all the time.

He trains to impress you one day, maybe protect you in a fight. If you are ever watching the boys practice he will try his hardest which sometimes leads to him embarrassing himself. But you are there to smile and kiss his cheek with grace.

After that the two of you grow, well he changes into a different man but you stay the same sweet girl.

Aemond has become your protector. Always behind you and glaring at anyone who passes a glance that isn’t welcome. Man is ready to kill with just one word.

Since he is older his mind grows and he can’t stop noticing how beautiful you really are. The body, the hair, or just the sound of your sweet voice. He is addicted and can’t wait to have you as his wife.

Is a beast at fighting now. Gets a boost when you watch from above and see him win every time. Cole is his wingman and will pair him up with someone to put on a good fight just for you.

Male twin

Knows the gods made you smaller and younger then him just so you can be his. From the time he realized what marriage was he was thinking of you.

When you are younger and training he hates embarrassing himself around you, like hated it. Or when you’d pair up with the other boys, even Aegon. Aemond will hate to spar against you and he couldn’t imagine hurting you. But this is more time he can bound with you.

When he loses his eyes- Boy is more angry that he doesn’t look more like you now. You were his twin brother and are supposed to look the same. Aemond does feel the same when he sees you cry for him and tell him he will be okay. But he’s gained a dragon now. One to protect you.

Aemond is just glaring at people while you’re just smiling at everyone. Two separate handsome boys.

He doesn’t care if you’re a boy, you are his twin and he is meant to have you. He hates the thought of you marrying a woman, or anything- Will not share you with anyone.

You both match clothes all the time and he makes sure to tell the servants to dress you both alike or he will be angry.

He is still your protector at all cost and will let nobody harm you in any way. Not his sweet brother.

Just as well, when he grows his mind picks up on your handsome face, your smaller height. He feels better about himself because he could easily overpower you, being the bigger male twin does something to him. He loves it when you get angry at how you can’t grow as much muscle or height as him.

You both train together and he will teach you. Sometimes he will let you win, other times he wouldn’t because he loves you looking a bit sad- You might not be as big or strong but you have speed and can move away from him quickly. He loves to praise you for the smallest things.

Lucerys Velaryon

As I have said in my past fics he is a clingy boy. From birth he loves you because you are his partner in life and he knows it.

Lucerys does cry a lot when he is away from you, but he is also a happy baby as long as he is near you, just like aemond. I think at the young age he just knows you’re his twin.

I picture you however being the first one to walk and he’s just on the floor trying to follow you. Throws a tantrum when you walk away. But, his first steps are when rhaenrya tries to get him to walk and he does…only to walk passed her and over to you.

Growing up he follows you around like a lost puppy. Clings to you where ever you go and if you don’t give him your attention, he will find a way to get it. He does get jealous when jace is around because he’s older, boy just wants you to pay attention to him.

He has planned many pranks with you. Might even do a few on you but feels bad immediately afterwards.

When your father “dies” he realizes his role is to take on driftmark and he fears it. So he gets more possessive after that.

Hates being called Bastard but when someone calls you that? Boy is pulling you away and telling his mother for just the slightest judgement against you. Might even get daemon on it because he is more ruthless.

He tells his mother when he was younger to betroth the two of you and she sees how much you two love each other. However when you both get older he yells at her that he will not marry anyone else but you, no matter what. And he never disobeys her but this was different and she knows he telling the truth.

Even if you are a male he will take no wife. Because that means she would be yours as well. But let’s be honest, rhaenrya is planning to betrothed the both of you to someone. 

He kisses your cheek all the time or holds you hands, doesn’t really care who’s watching.

He still pranks you however, like taking your books and holding them above your head.

He is more clingy then the rest of them but not as dangerous- Well, not himself but will get others to do the dirt work.

Male twin:

He knows he’s small but he’s still young, but you? You’re shorter then him and less muscular and it makes him happy. Because that means he can protect you better then you can yourself.

He compares his frame to yours constantly, you’re such a smaller boy and he picks on you a bit. Not mean, but he can be a bit cocky at times.

You already know you both have matching outfits- Every day. Even pjs.

You both used to spar with each other all the time because it was so much fun, and he didn’t like you going against anyone in the fear of you being hurt.

Older sparring is fun because he isn’t that good at it and you’re almost just as bad. From any age he is so embarrassed to mess up in front of you. But maybe if he beats you then you can praise him for it.

Also, he can be alone with you and no one bats an eye because you’re both boys. So he can be as affectionate as he wants.

But nothing really changes for being a boy or a girl in his eyes, he’s just the same with both.

Female reader.

Younger him thinks it’s like a book about a princess and prince, just like the ones your mother read to the two of you.

Because you’re a female he gets more jealous of the males in his family, not saying he doesn’t for male you but this is different. You can easily be betrothed to any of them, he hates it.

Begs your mother to have you as his wife from a young age as well. It’s your birth right to be his bride. And again this means he has no use of another wife because you can have children. There is no one else he wants.

Matching dresses to his outfits and if you want to wear something else? Pouts. He can’t bare to not be in the same color as you.

Sparring is different because he is so terrified of hurting you. He will not even use force on his swings, but a few low hits. You can cry and get angry he isn’t trying but he wouldn’t care.

Kisses you in private all the time, “You’ll be my wife one day.”

Glares at any male that talks to you, even his brother. Tugs at your hand and just joins at your hip.

You can’t be alone together…Unless he sneaks in your room. Will just hold you until you both fall asleep.

Loves to braid your hair. Like he learns just for you.

Jacaerys Velaryon

He is the first born, so he knows he’s missing you. He, just like the others, is waiting for your presence.

Somehow even baby him wiggles closer to you in the cradle. They had to put you two in the same cradle because he wouldn’t stop fussing about being away from you.

He is more calm at this time, like if you get picked up? He’s going to watch but he’s just chilling unless you are out of his sight.

Loves to show you his toys, even though you have seen them so many times. Loves to share them with you too.

Have you seen those videos of babies hugging each other? Literally him with you.

He isn’t as different from the other two at this point.

Jace learns he is to become king and always calles you the future queen/king. And I mean actually correcting his mother or anyone else.

“The gods put us together, it stays that way.”

Loves when you hold his arm or chase him around playing tag.

Hates Aegon or aemond. He’s okay with lucerys, just don’t give him more attention.

Knows he is a bastard and that makes you one too and he fears for you the most.

Older him is just as bad if not more.

Tails behind you and always have his hand around your waist. Always doing everything together.

Even baths, not in the same room but at the same time- And he’s tried to be in the same tub. But going to clothes, studying and to the same sheets as you.

Gets angry if it’s even mentioned that you would marry someone else. Yells about how you will role beside him and no one can change that.

He’s kinda angry a lot when it comes to you. Wouldn’t really let anyone get too close, like not even your personal time. You want to read a book? Okay, he will be in the corner doing his own thing.

But he’s sweet to you always unless you say you can’t marry him, then it’s just him pushing you to think you have no choice.

Male twin

You think you can get away from this man? Um no, he is always near you.

From a young age he wouldn’t let you out of his sight. Can’t play without him, can’t study without him, or train. Anything you do is what he is doing.

Training with younger him isn’t that bad- Well, okay it’s a bit. He really loves to win against you and does the most. He wouldn’t hurt you but if you fall it isn’t his fault, you should be praising him for being so strong.

Dressing the same each time and will literally throw a tantrum if not. Saying the future king demands it.

After a few years, I think he might be the most possessive about you. The only time you can leave him or go somewhere in the castle is with his mother.

Man is always with you every step, linking your arms.

You already know he is picking on you for being so much smaller then him. I see him as such a cocky man for some reason. Saying things like

“You can’t get that, let me.” “I’m surprised you can even pick up a sword.” “How can a man be that small?”

Training with him older is him teaching you- Mostly useless stuff so he can still win. Just like when he was a kid, loves to win against you.

Matching outfits with you.

Boy knows you are to be king with him and will not stop at anything to get that point across.

Female twin

Boy is holding your hand as you lead him anywhere or him you. He with not leave you for anything.

Matching your dresses to his colors or you wearing his favorite colors- Or him just picking them out for you. If jace doesn’t like your dress he will make you change it.

Is ready before you get done in the morning and comes in as soon as you get your dress on, much to his dismay because he could help you change.

Wouldn’t let the maids touch your skin or go anywhere. The only place that can help you with is your hair and clothes. Loves to let his hands linger on your neck while he places a necklace on you. Or helping you pick everything out.

Escorts you everywhere you need to go. He isn’t afraid to have a tight grip on your waist if you try and get away from him. Can and will gaslight you anytime he wants.

Just like the others he already told his mom he will marry you. You think he will care if she says no? Ha, he wouldn’t care.

While he is studying you are in the corner or with your mother.

He doesn’t really like your time with the other children but is kinda okay with it. Only if you pay attention to him more.

Sneaks into your room at night and will kiss you for as long as he can. Holds you close and brushes your hair until you fall asleep. Doesn’t even care if he leaves marks on you so the others can see.

He does kill in secret if need be or gets them killed by guards, maybe even by daemon or rhaenrya.

Daemon has taught him a few things on how to wow a woman and how to keep you in line, even things to do to you in bed.

#lucerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon #yandere #yandere house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #yandere house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #Lucerys Velaryon x reader #yandere Lucerys Velaryon #yandere Lucerys Velaryon x reader #Jacaerys Velaryon x reader #yandere Jacaerys Velaryon #yandere Jacaerys Velaryon x reader #Aemond Targaryen #Aemond Targaryen x reader #yandere Aemond Targaryen #yandere aemond targaryen x reader

[chuluoyi]

only if you are up for a challenge. Naoya Zenin x f!reader in which he got her pregnant, then she left out of fear and he found her again and won't let her go :)))

when you loved me

- zen'in naoya x reader

you loved him... but you have had enough of the shit you've experienced—his arrogance, horrible family and another woman—and decided to leave him for the sake of yourself and your child

genre: angst to comfort, implied cheating, most likely ooc, honestly i almost made it a vs naoya fic with no consolation, happy ending aka naoya is decent

note: this ask... has been collecting dust in my askbox for about SIX MONTHS HAHAH, so sorry anon. i'll just leave it here and let it burn however just bc i don’t want to delete what i’ve written :’)

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

"How... how could you?"

Once, you thought, you were in love with Zen'in Naoya.

Well, you couldn't deny that he had personality flaws, but deep down, at one point in your life, you still believed that he too loved you.

You stared at him through tears brimming in your eyes, and he was just there, looking at the little being in your arms with a mix of shock and... something else you couldn't name. Dismay? Disappointment? Black rage?

"Go away, Naoya," you declared through your gritted teeth, pulling the baby in your arms even closer to you, as though fearing he might do something drastic. No way in hell would you let him after what he made you go through.

His eyes twitched as he tried to hold himself back from losing it. He took a few deep breathes in order to stay composed.

“Y/N, answer me,” he growled, still with the same condescending tone you remembered nine months ago, when you resolutely decided to leave him. “Is that baby mine?”

This was absolute madness. You had driven him insane. Naoya was certain he would go feral on you after you boldly left him without a trace, and when he found you, you were cradling this baby in your arms—which he was absolutely sure, enough to bet on his life, that the little thing was also his.

The woman he loves has given birth to his child.

You had imagined all sort of scenarios in which this very event would occur. This was one of them actually.

“No,” you firmly replied, gaze hardening. “Not yours. So kindly let yourself out of my house, Naoya.”

“Absolute bullshit!” he shouted and you flinched. His sudden rise of voice also woke the poor baby in your arms.

His heart hammered inside his chest. There were many things that made a mess of his head. You running away from him. The nights of madness he went through, wondering where you were and if you were alright. And now, the fact you had his baby without him ever knowing.

“Where were you? Why did you leave— you were having my—”

Fuck, he didn’t even know if he had a son or daughter.

You tried to console your child, now tears also streaming down your cheeks too. But it was more of frustration and anger rather than fear. “Can you blame me? Zen’in Naoya, you have made my life hell!”

“Hell?” It felt like an total insult to his pride. “How—!”

“You!” you screamed at his face. “I’ve had enough of your shit! And not to mention your father—that horrible drunkard who always looks down on me and treats me as if I were some gold digger! And also the whole of your goddamn, entitled clan—they always harass me right in front of my face!”

All of this stunned him on this place. Truth to be told, he knew a little to nothing at all about what his kin had done to you.

“I don’t need your family’s wealth! I can live on my own just fine even with your bastard!” Your tirade still hadn’t ended, but you had to put your baby on her cot first and dismiss her ever growing cries because you were tired of all of this. This life. This absolute nightmare that was caused by one fatal mistake of falling in love with Zen’in Naoya.

“But what the fuck? You’re asking why I left? How dare you ask me that after what you did!”

“What did I even do?!” His denial made a blood vessel about to burst inside your brain. “You never fucking told me what my father did! If only you did, I would have—”

“Look, you don’t even acknowledge it!” You were so tired of this. You wished you could die and just end all of this mental suffering. Why did this have to happen to you out of a billion people out there?

And yet, still, ultimately, you were happy with him. Those memories of the two of you together, just idyllically spending time together, or sometimes even playfully clashing opinions— to you, they were irreplaceable.

So, that's why...

Your heart shattered at the screeching cries of your baby. But you had to slam this in Naoya’s face.

“That was the last straw—seeing you with that fucking woman, you insufferable, demented, cheating bastard!”

That string of profanities you screamed at his face made Naoya finally lost it, as he gripped you tightly and his eyes flared with pure white-hot anger. “Say that again—say that again, you—!”

A toe-curling scream ripped out of your baby and you wrenched yourself out of his grasp through sheer will. Naoya was left reeling as he watched your horrified expression, as you plucked the baby into your arms again.

“Shh, shh,” you shushed your child amidst your own quivering lips. “Mama is here… Don’t cry…”

Right at that moment, it was as if something had pierced his chest and left a gaping hole. He really had a living baby. That baby was crying because of him.

The sting of the anger was still there, but now guilt started to overpower it as he regained his cool somewhat. “Is that a—” his breath hitched. He had to know. At the very, very least he had to know.

You didn’t immediately answer. You were still absolutely heartbroken by how it all turned out. But above all else, you could no longer deny him of his own child.

“A girl,” you sniffled.

A daughter. A daughter— in the one split second after knowing that, Naoya made the quickest decision of his life.

“Come back. Live with me,” he said, resolute. “You’re the mother of my child—I won’t let anyone lay their hand on you again. You have my word.”

Women are pain in the ass. That was what he used to think. Until you. Not when it's you. It astounded even himself how the sight of you like this was enough to drive knives into his chest.

“Look, that’s not it,” your tears were now falling free and fast, unable to hold it back longer. “How can you ask me that—when you went behind my back with another woman? Naoya, I love you—loved you. But isn’t this too cruel? How can you do this to me?”

“What woman are you talking about?” He tried to compose himself, but your accusation of him with someone whose existence he didn’t even know was getting in his nerves. “I have never been unfaithful to you! I know we don't always agree to things, but do you really think that low of me?”

“Evidently, I saw you with her. Your father made it a point that she’s your next plaything—or possibly even, fiancée!”

There was a memory that sprung into his head when you mentioned that. He recalled that vain, stupid woman, and he definitely remembered telling his father that he refused her. It wasn’t long before you disappeared.

Now everything clicked.

“Listen to me,” Naoya started, jaw clenching. “Whatever my father told you—those are all lies. I turned her down right there and then. I wouldn’t do that to you. You know that. You should have known that.”

Sobs wrecked your body and soul at this point. You knew where your place was. Zen’in Naoya was a man outside your league, his family made it so clear to you that you were nothing but dirt in their eyes. And perhaps that was why, back then, you chose to protect yourself and left him, believing he was capable of that too.

And now before you, you could see the man you loved once again.

“Come back to me.” His gaze burned you. “This time, for sure, I won’t let anyone touch you— I won’t let them even say a word about you! I will marry you, and we will raise our daughter together.”

“I… I don’t want to live there, Naoya…” you sobbed. You hated that place. Like hell would you have your pride stomped and deceived again.

“Alright, if that’s what you want. We won’t live there. You won’t have to see any of their faces again.”

Gazing into your face, marked by trails of tears, he finally, finally felt his heart break. And he thought, that in front of him now was the only woman who could upturn his whole trajectory.

“Just… come back. To me. I will take care of you. I swear it.”

#zenin naoya x reader #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk angst #zen'in naoya x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #zenin naoya #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk fic #jjk naoya #jjk x reader angst #jjk x reader fluff #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

[spdrwdw]

hi! I saw ur post abt accidentally deleting reqs and was scared since mine wasn’t answered yet (im not complaining bc ur other work is so so delicious to read 😍) anyways here it is. Ok imagine Miguel ohara being the heir to the mafia ‘throne(?)’ ima be so fr idk what they call it 💀 anyways and he’s in an arranged marriage w/ a girl from a diff mafia family as a way to make peace between the two families, except neither he or the girl are happy abt it. Enemies to lovers would just be majestic for the plot in my opinion 🤭. Anywaysssss thank u sm and remember to drink water 🫶🏻

Art by: Kimmy_art0912 Pairing: Mob Boss Miguel x Wife reader Warnings: Mentions of blood, very mild violence, no use of y/n Summary: You and Miguel come from different mafia families, forced to be married in order to form an alliance as threat from an outside. However, you and Miguel can only tolerate each other, at best. A/N: I swear I scratched and rewrote this like five different times.I am sorry it took so long. I am slowly making my way back into writing. I do thank anon and everyone else for their patience as I slowly make my way back to life and I will be writing more Miguel fics soon. I may do a part two to this, depending on interest recieved. I have been getting into mafia books so I am going to be looking into those for inspo if I do make more parts to this. Also, very very light editing was done. Word Count: 4.6k

Your family and the O’Hara’s have been enemies since your ancestors set foot into this country. Both immigrating from nothing but the clothes on their backs and pennies to their name. 

Your family started working in the food industry. Working in restaurants, bakeries, etc. Anything that had to do with food. Seven days a week. Working from twelve to fourteen hour shifts just to make ends meet. Your great great grandfather worked at the local deli as well as a restaurant. When he wasn’t cutting up meat, he was in the kitchen making food. Your great great grandmother worked at the neighborhood bakery as well as the tailors. Her dream was to make clothes- dresses. She wanted to be a fashion designer. She started taking classes at the local college once they saved up enough money to invest in her studies. 

Eventually, with their hard work and sacrifices, their dreams came true. Your family soon owned several restaurants as well as luxury boutiques. Everyone did their part in keeping the family businesses growing and going. 

At first, it was all simply honest work. Your family stayed humble and grateful for their dedication. Then, with your great grandfather, things took a slight turn. He wanted to expand and turn into construction. Nueva York continued to go and grow, with more people coming to try to make a living and a name for themselves. And in that mix, people with bad intentions also tagged along. The family businesses were in jeopardy of being taken over or shut down completely by these power-hungry thugs. He did not want that. So, he and the rest of the family banded together and began hiring people who would be willing to work for them and protect them, whether they were military vets, criminals, or even cops. Anyone who was willing to protect the family. 

Allyship with other mafia families also aided in the growth and protection. However, there was one family that yours always butted heads with. 

The O’Haras. They immigrated from Ireland around the same time your great great grandparents did. They built their own businesses, casinos, hotels, and clubs- and wanted their own power and a spot with the elites of the criminal world. 

At first, things were neutral between the two families. At one point, the two families were almost allies. However, one night, there was commotion going on at one of the O’Hara nightclubs. Members of your family got into a tussle with the O’Hara group and ended up being a blood bath, with both sides losing men. 

Ever since then, things were tense, and the bloodshed continued to grow as oppositions rose. 

No one really knew what it was that started the feud that night. Some suspected it had been over a woman. Others thought it was simply because some members were drunk and careless words were exchanged.

Either way, the rivalry continued on. Until a new threat entered the city. And there was no choice but to come together. 

—

It’s been six months since you moved into his house. Six months since you lost your freedom. Six months since you got married. To Miguel O’Hara. 

It all happened in an instant. First, you were out abroad, having recently gotten your first major job as a fashion designer in a luxury clothing company, wanting to be as successful as your great great grandmother, and now you were out on a little vacation to celebrate, when you received a call from your father, ordering you to come back home. 

You should’ve relished that Mediterranean breeze as long as you could, because once you got on that flight back home, your world was about to be flipped on its head. 

“I’m sorry…WHAT?!” You screeched at your father, you only looked at you with his calm, cool, distant, expression as he inhaled into his cigar.

“You’re getting married to Miguel O’Hara,” he repeated. 

“I heard what you said! But, why?!”

“The O’Haras had agreed to a truce. Kingpin is gaining on both of our families. We are losing men and traction left and right. We agreed by aligning our families together, we will gain strength in numbers and influence.”

“And you are shipping me off into an arranged marriage! This isn’t the medieval age or whatever! 

Plus, with Miguel?! At least have me marry Gabriel. He’s not an asshole like his brother.”

“Miguel is to become head of the O’Hara family as he is the first born. Plus, his determination has been promising.”

You let out a groan. You could not believe this was happening. You never wanted to get sucked into this life. That’s why you went off to college. To try to get away and make a life of your own. Your efforts were proven to be futile as you felt the rug be pulled from under you and you were being dragged along with it to the same life you were trying to escape. 

Your father’s eyes softened. A hint of sorrow filled them. 

“I know, sweetheart. This isn’t what I was hoping for you, either. But, it is the only way. We are running out of options. I am sure Miguel will take care of you, and you will be able to fulfill your dream of following your great great grandmother’s footsteps. I am sure she would be proud to have someone actively expanding her fashion legacy..”

You still shook your head. It was just too much for you to take in. Plus, wasn’t Miguel in a relationship with someone? Xina? No..they broke up months ago. That’s right. But, wait..he was seeing someone else? Ugh. The guy has a new girlfriend every other day.

Besides, you two did have a thing going on in the past. It wasn’t serious. Mainly the occasional hookups. You two were of rivaling families, after all. You both did have your reasons for disliking each other. So, the sex was pretty much hate sex? If that made sense. It wasn’t out of passion. Unless you could call hatred a passion.

Never did you think you’d actually be getting married to him. 

After the news broke out that you and Miguel were to be wedded, everything went by in such a blur. Preparations for the wedding. The actual wedding. The honeymoon- which was hardly a honeymoon because neither of you actually spent any time together. It was just too awkward, and you knew that he wasn’t happy with this arrangement as much as you were. 

When you first moved into his house, you wanted to sleep in a separate room from him, and he agreed. However, when both of your parents found out about this, they were all livid. 

“How will you two get to know each other more and become intimate with each other if you are sleeping in separate beds?” Your mom cried one day when she came to visit you. You assured her there would be other situations where you and your husband would bond. Public situations where you’d be surrounded by other people and talking to those people rather than each other. 

You two simply avoided each other as much as possible. And during the times when you two were together, your company was either met with silence or bickering. And sometimes even being at each other’s throats. 

He would call you names like ‘immature’ ‘wild’ ‘rowdy’ and so on, simply because you refused to listen to him whenever he demanded something from you. 

You’d retaliate and tell him that he was controlling and a perfectionist. Because well, he was. He had to have things done a certain way or it would ensue chaos. And while he was right about you being a little more rowdy and wild, it was simply because you had the luxury of growing somewhat more normal. Your parents did not drill the life of the mafia into your head the same way it was drilled into Miguel’s. Which is why you both clashed when trying to communicate with each other. 

Right now, you were at home in the library. You spend a lot of time there, and while Miguel’s taste in reading wasn’t usually to your taste, you’d sometimes find yourself reading some of the novels that he was currently reading, as well as reading some that you’ve been purchasing and adding to the collection. 

Which reminded you, you had to head over to the mall and purchase the next book of a spicy romance series you’d been reading. As well as look for an outfit to wear at the next charity event you and Miguel would be attending. 

One of the few things you liked about Miguel was that he was very generous and active in the community, helping those less fortunate.

Placing the book down, you rubbed your bag and keys and decided to head out for a bit. Saying goodbye to the house staff as you walked past them, you made your way to the garage, which housed Miguel’s collection of cars, ranging from vintage to sporty and modern to big black suvs that you’d use whenever a bodyguard was transporting you somewhere, like parties. You never understood why someone needed so many cars but, whatever, as long as it wasn’t your money being spent. 

You made your way over to your car, glad that you were able to bring it with you when you got married. It was your baby. One of the few things you were able to bring with you. 

Glancing over at the clock on the dashboard, you bit your bottom lip. You should have enough time to purchase some books before heading off to your parents for a bit. You did promise them you would show up. They were planning lunch for you. It was your birthday today, after all. 

—

Miguel stood in front of the battered man that kneeled before him, hearing the groaning of pain coming from their mouth as blood pooled around the cement floor. 

Miguel’s knuckles were bleeding. But, it wasn’t his own blood, but the blood of the poor bastard that withered before him. Miguel didn’t like to use violence. He thought it was a primitive way of negotiating with his enemies. However, there were times when a little violence was necessary to get his point across. And to send a message. 

Why was this man being battered like a sack of potatoes? 

The man spat blood, a tooth or two flying out with the glob of blood as he remained strapped to his chair. His face was covered in blood. Beat up and mangled by the hands of the tall, brooding man before him. 

Miguel slowly knelt down before the man, taking a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look up into his almost amber eyes. 

“ Eres un demonio! (You're a demon). Not even the devil himself will want you!” the man spat, a glob of blood landing on Miguel’s cheek.

Miguel let out a hum of disinterest. His eyes lacked any life in them. However, this was when he felt the most alive, seeing his enemies cowering and crumbling before him. 

He took out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and cleaned the blood from his cheek before tossing the now soiled material at the man’s feet. 

“I take that as a compliment, you know. Maybe I want the devil himself to fear me.”

Miguel took out a cigar from his coat pocket and lit it before giving it a deep inhale and exhaled a heavy cloud of smoke at the man’s face. He couldn't believe that one of Kingpin's goons had infiltrated his circle and posed himself as someone who could've been trusted. Miguel was definitely going to send that fat son of a bitch a message, by killing this guy and sending his corpse back to Kingpin's front door. 

Not only that, but it also meant that they were going to have to redo background checks on everyone working for the O’Haras. That was going to be a pain in the ass.

"Gabriel! Hand me my gun," Miguel called out to his brother.

Gabriel, Peter, and Ben were all standing several feet behind Miguel, all watching as their boss beat and battered the man before them. 

Gabriel was Miguel’s right hand now that their father had stepped down as head of the O’Hara family. Many thought Gabriel was going to take charge, however, Miguel was much more brutal and cut-throat than Gabriel. It made sense for Miguel to take up the mantle, despite him being an illegitimate son. 

Plus, Gabriel preferred being on the sidelines instead of making the decisions. 

Gabriel made his way over to his older brother, handing him the gun before stepping back to his original spot. 

“Now. We can do this the easy way. Where I ask you a couple of questions and answer them. Or, we can do this the hard way, when I ask you said questions and if you refuse to answer them, I get to shoot you anywhere I want.”

”I would rather you just shoot me! I will never answer to you!” The man croaked. 

“You never got shot before, have you?” Miguel hummed as he removed the safety from the gun and cocked it before pulling the trigger, shooting the man on the foot. 

The man let out a screeching howl as he thrashed on the chair, letting out a series of curses. 

Miguel simply nodded his head. “That’s what I thought. So..shall we begin?”

The whole ordeal took only a matter of minutes, as Miguel wasted no time in trying to get his questions answered. The man was not sitting lifeless on the chair as bullet holes decorated his body. 

Kingpin had sent a lower ranked grunt to spy on them, trying to scope up any valuable information to report back to his true boss. Unfortunately for Kingpin, those in the lower ranks didn’t really get to be part of the action and behind-closed door discussions, so, this man’s life was unnecessarily wasted. 

“Send his body back to Kingpin. Just leave him on his doorstep,” Miguel said as he examined his suit, letting out a grunt when he saw small splatters of blood. He was going to have to go home and change. “Will do. You should start heading back home. I am sure you wife is waiting for you,” Gabriel said as Peter and Ben began placing the body into a black body bag and carried him out to the waiting pick-up truck. 

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t hate you, but he knew that you hated him. And you had every right. You got married to him out of force, and while that wasn’t necessarily his fault, he didn’t blame you for holding a grudge on him. 

“Keep me posted on any activity. I need updated background checks on everyone working for us. We can’t let anyone else slip through the cracks,” Miguel stated as he made his way over to his car, with his brother following behind him. Gabriel nodded his head as he watched his brother leave. 

He had to make sure no on in his inner circle was actually working for Kingpin. Is someone indeed was, might as well just shut everything down then and there. 

No. Miguel wouldn’t give up just like that. He would just have to work harder and steer Kingpin off track. 

But, for the time being, his main goal was to get back home and get to his wife. It was your birthday, after all.

–

You spent the majority of the day with your parents. You had gone over to your former home- which you still miss deeply. It was such a stark contrast from where you lived now. There was just so much character, so much history in this house. It was the same house your great great grandfather had bought as a gift to his lovely wife, your great great grandmother, once their businesses were booming.

It had twelve bedrooms and sixteen bathrooms. A library where your mother would take you to read. When you were young, you’d pick out a book for your mother to read to you in bed. Mainly a fairy tale story. 

You always thought your life would be a fairy tale. You always imagined yourself as the princess or heroine, going on adventures and falling in love. However, the universe was not like those in the stories. Maybe in an alternate universe. But, not in this one. 

Instead, you were forced to marry the enemy in hopes of forming an alliance. Which, depending on how you looked at it, could’ve been seen as a fairytale. It didn’t feel like it. You weren’t in love with Miguel. You tolerated each other at best. Plus, you guys had shared history which made things pretty awkward at times. 

—-

You were back home, waiting for your darling husband to come home and wish you a Happy Birthday. He also supposedly promised to take you out to dinner. It was really an attempt for you two to get somewhat closer together. But, you weren’t sure how well that would play out. You both liked to push each other’s buttons. You were sure it would occur tonight. And honestly, you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. You wanted to be a thorn on his side. He was always so full of himself. Always thought himself to be this bigshot. Untouchable. Unweavered. You loved proving him wrong. 

You continued to wait and wait. The house staff had left for the night, including Miss Cheryl, your personally favorite housekeeper. She was an older woman, possibly in her mid-fifties. You never cared to ask her- mainly because you didn’t want to be rude and you actually liked her. 

Looking up at the clock in Miguel’s office, you saw that it was already seven thirty in the evening. Reservations were supposedly made for eight. Miguel had thirty minutes to get there. 

A part of you didn’t really care if he had forgotten or just waved it off. You didn’t want to force yourself to be nice with him, because who knew, you might just throw a glass of wine at him just as you did during your wedding reception.

You could hear a chime coming from the Alexa that rested on Miguel’s desk, signaling that someone had entered the house. 

Finally. You honestly thought he wasn’t going to come. 

Raising from his chair, you decided to go ahead and greet your husband. 

He was making his way upstairs as you made your way down the hallway, both of you making eye contact. 

“You’re late. I thought you weren’t going to come,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. 

As Miguel stepped closer, you could notice blood splattered on his white shirt. 

“I know. Let me get changed real quick,” he replied as he walked past you. 

You knew Miguel had a way of dealing with those who wronged him. You have seen his blood-stained knuckles, bloodied shirts and a dangerous look in his eyes. It’s pretty much like in the movies. Some poor unlucky soul gets tortured to death by the boss or someone higher up. You’d like to think that Miguel isn’t simply killing people just because of blood-lust. While it wasn’t your business to judge, you didn’t want to be married to someone who is a little too eager to get blood on his hands. 

You made your way to his room, standing by the door as you watched Miguel slip on a fresh pair of pants and button-up shirt, something more suitable for dinner. Once he was finished, he took another look at you, furrowing his brows a bit. 

“What?” You questioned. 

“What are you wearing?” 

“What do you mean ‘what are you wearing’?” You asked, looking down at your dress. 

“Don’t you think that’s too revealing?” He asked. 

“What? Revealing? Where? Don’t tell me showing a little leg and shoulder is prohibited. Come on! This is the height of fashion right now, as well as demonstrating body positivity.” Miguel simply gave you a look as if in disgust. Not for the body positivity part. But rather your fashion choices. He was aware of your family’s success in the fashion industry. He even applauded it. But, he was also a  man with much simpler tastes. Tastes that you would sometimes groan over. 

“Well, I’m not changing, so let’s just get going,” you said as you grabbed a shawl to compliment your dress, and to shut Miguel up. 

The ride to the restaurant was quiet, save for the music that was playing on the radio. You two had very different music tastes. Not surprising. Sometimes you’d change the station or hook up your phone to Bluetooth. But, you tried to sit back and let him listen to his music this time. 

When you two managed to get there, Miguel stopped in front of the valet and got out. The valet driver in-waiting opened the car door for you to help you get out as Miguel rounded the car, handing the keys over to the young man who then took the sleek black suv to the parking garage. 

He gave you his arm to take. It had become routine. Show some sort of display of affection while in public. You never knew who could be watching. Sometimes cameras would pop out in front of you two. 

The proposal was rushed. The engagement. The wedding. People grew suspicious, and rightfully so. Your families quickly came up with a story of how you and Miguel were seeing each other in secret despite the rivalry of the families. The alleged secrecy of romance and hurried marriage gave you two the the title of Romeo and Juliet. Two star-crossed lovers who went against all odds just to be together despite your families and their differences. But, unlike the story, your ending didn’t result in a double-suicide, but rather acceptance, wedding bells, and peace between the two families. Everyone bought it. Well..almost everyone. 

As you two made your way inside and were greeted by the hostess, you were taken to a more secluded area of the restaurant. There, the table had been set up especially for you. A bottle of wine rested over a bed of ice, candles were lit on the table, as well as around the perimeter of your area. It would have been romantic, had you actually had romantic feelings for Miguel.

Still, he was a gentleman and he did go out of his way to reserve a nice place for you.

 He pulled a chair out for you to sit and scooted you in before taking his seat across from you. The music from a live pianist in the main dining hall still reached your private area. Had it not been for them, the room would’ve been dead silent as you and Miguel silently looked through your menus. 

“Can I pour you a glass of your wine?” A waitress asked onceshe approached your table. She was young. Tall and thin with big blue eyes and blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. And wearing way too much makeup. At least for your tastes. 

You could see how she was looking at Miguel, batting her fake eyelashes. You thought they were either going to fall off or send her flying away. Either way, you simply rolled your eyes. You didn’t care if Miguel got hit on, but come on, at least not while you were right there to see. 

“Yes, thank you,” Miguel said, giving her a charming smile. It made you roll our eyes again. Yes, he was being polite and all, but you could see right through him. 

“Can I offer you both an appetizer to start?” She then asked, still looking over at Miguel. 

Miguel then looked over to you, giving you a nod. “Would you like something to start with?”

”Yes, actually. Some bread for the table. they usually bring it out at the beginning,” you started. Which was true. You were just trying to be a little petty. 

“And how about some crab cakes and a salad for the table?”

The waitress nodded her head, her smile now a straight line. So straight, you could swipe your card through it like a card reader. 

“Yes, of course. I will put those in for you and bring you your bread,” she said before leaving the table. 

You simply rolled your eyes once again as you settled back against your seat. 

“How was lunch with your family?” Miguel then asked, trying to make conversation. 

“It was fine,” you responded. Usually, your responses would be short, and Miguel wouldn’t entertain the topic further. You knew you should at least try to get along with him, giving that you are married and that you will be spending the rest of your life with him. You simply assumed that it just hadn’t kicked in yet. You were going to try, though. 

One day.

“Ah, Mr. O’Hara! Mrs. O’Hara! A pleasure to see you two here tonight!” Someone behind you exclaimed. You could hear their heavy footsteps before turning around and seeing the owner and head chef of the restaurant. “Javier. A pleasure to see you,” Miguel said. “We were just celebrating my wife’s birthday.” “Ah! Of course! Happy birthday, Mrs. O’Hara. You look as stunning as ever,” Javier exclaimed. The man was five foot three, a mix of tan to sunburned skin, and all round. He kind of reminded you of the Pillsbury mascot. He looked so squishable and jolly. 

“Actually, Javier. Would you mind me having a word with you, real quick?” Miguel then asked, scooted his chair back from the table and stood, easily towering over the man. 

“O-oh! O-of cours! Of course! Come, come! Let’s step to the side,” Javier stated, now looking a little nervous as he led Miguel out of the room, leaving you alone. 

All while Miguel was having his private conversation with Javier, the waitress came back with the bread and appetizers. 

“We are going to need a couple of minutes,” you stated as she placed everything onto the tables. 

“Of course! I’ll make my way back around in a few minutes,” the waitress said, giving you a tight-lipped smile.  

You tried your best to not roll your eyes at her again as she left. Letting out a sigh, you decided to dig into the bread and appetizers. You sure weren’t going to wait for Miguel to come back to start eating. You never waited for him. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you knew you’d be waiting forever for him. 

–

Soon enough, you were back home. You were still slightly curious about the conversation Miguel had with Chef Javier. But, you didn’t think you should press Miguel about it. Some things were meant to be kept in private. Besides, you wanted no part of this whole mafia stuff. It had stolen so much of your freedom already. You wanted to remain ignorant of what goes on behind closed doors as much as possible. 

You both made your way upstairs, neither of you speaking as you made your way to your rooms for the night. 

Tomorrow you were planning on heading over to the boutique. Your cousin was currently operating it and sometimes you’d go to help her out. It helped you get out of the house every once in a while. Plus, you were usually filled with inspiration when you were surrounded by your family’s clothing. You were still working on your portfolio to give out to various companies, in hopes they would hire you. 

You were confident that they would. You were talented. Plus, you have your family’s name to back you up. Now, all you had to do was to make sure you get a good night’s rest so you could get up refreshed. 

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o hara #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfic

[thesassypadawan]

Big Boy (Master Anakin x PadawanFemReader)

Summary: After overhearing a conversation between you, his padawan, and your friends, Anakin is surprised by your declaration of wanting yourself a big boy. But you don’t want any big boy…you want your dear, 20 years older, master.

Warnings: 18+, because all the lovely smut. Size difference, age gap, and Ani’s big boy, pussy splitting dick. Padawan reader is of age.

Notes: I would love to know your thoughts, and I will be trying to post a fic for Ani every other Friday!

Inspired by SZA’s song Big Boy. I know it isn’t exactly the song’s definition of what a ‘big boy’ is, but, let’s face it, Ani is a big boy in his own respective way.

“Yeah, I’d love to have a big boy to ‘keep me warm’ for the colder months. I mean, I already know who I want to ask. It’s just…I’m not sure if he’d want me to be his winter-wife,” you admitted bashfully to your friends.

To say Anakin was shocked at what he overheard was a severe understatement. You, his sweet, innocent, little padawan wanted yourself a big boy. But not just any big boy…oh no, the thoughts you unknowingly shared between the bond revealed it all. You wanted him…in the worse way possible.

He was surprised, but not so at the same time. Surprised, because he was twenty years your senior…practically old enough to be your father. Not so, because he had caught some minor glances and feelings from you…he usually just chalked that up to his hopeful imagination. And, not to brag, because he did fit the description of a big boy quite well…what with his towering height and having packed on an extra healthy, all muscle, thirty pounds since his younger days.

He was also both happy and turned on by this news. But he wasn’t just going to sit there and wait patiently for you to build up the courage to ask. He would give you one week. If you failed to do so, then he would take matters into his own hands.

In the meantime though, Ani planned to have some ‘fun’ with you. After all, it was a master’s job to keep their padawan on their toes.

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

He decided he was going to remind you how much of a big boy he really was. Starting out casually by grabbing things from the top shelf of the kitchenette for you, because ‘they were never that high up before’. To letting you borrow his oversized cloak, since yours ‘mysteriously disappeared’. And then slouching down to your height, acting like he ‘couldn’t hear you from way up there’.

Which progressed to not so subtly doing so. Taking your smaller hand into his larger one, so he wouldn’t ‘lose a tiny thing like you in such a huge crowd’. And getting on his knee to fix your braid, since it was ‘just easier to get on your level’. He made sure to flash you that dazzling smile after, ‘there you go, little one’, and kissed you on the nose.

And finally becoming outright blatant. Tossing you effortlessly over his broad shoulder, due to you ‘not being able to keep up with your short legs’. Coming up from behind and completely engulfing your entire form in his strong arms. Thanking you for ‘the delicious meal you made’ and telling you how lucky he is ‘to have a sweet, little padawan like you’. He even went as far as pulling you on top of him to watch a holomovie. The reason being that his long legs took up the whole couch and you deserved to have ‘a comfortable spot to sit too’…with his hard, fat cock pressing firmly against your ass the whole time.

Anakin really thought that would be the turning point, but you still didn’t ask. Instead, you said a small ‘goodnight, master’ and, like always, escaped to the privacy of your own room. Which was frustrating, but not all that bad. After all, he still got to enjoy all your delightful thoughts as you took pleasure from yourself. Thoughts that were not only tantalizing, but also inspiring.

Throwing out his original plan on how to finally confront you, he stealthily approached your door. Listening and feeling for the right moment…that came when a soft ‘master’ passed your lips and the image of you struggling to take three fingers, pretending it was his thick dick, into your tiny pussy.

Tinkering with the keypad, he unlocked the door and stepped inside. The smell of your perfume and arousal hanging heavy in the air.

You squeaked in shock and scrambled to cover your naked body. “Master, it’s not what it looks like!”

With a wicked grin, he began to strip. “What it looks like, padawan of mine, is that you’re in need a big boy…badly.”

Ani took great satisfaction in the way your jaw dropped as you gazed upon his absolute massive…everything. He twitched in anticipation of how he was going to split you in half.

He watched as you bit your lip, your hand boldly sliding down to rub your clit. Fingers dipping into your folds to gather wetness, wetness that he proudly knew was all because of him.

Crawling onto the bed with you, he spread your legs open. Dipping his head between your thighs; he inhaled deeply, making you whine pitifully.

“Let me take care of you,” he growled. Peeking up at you as his long tongue slithered between your folds. Lazily licking up and down, nipping at your clit teasingly.

You cried out as he sped up and he chuckled lowly. “You like that don’t you, angel.” His hand tightening on your thighs, your hips bucking. “You love the way my big, booming voice rumbles through you; straight to your aching core.”

A whimper flew from your mouth. “Please!” You begged, squirming in anticipation. “Please, I want you inside of me!”

Pulling back, he shifted. His hips pressed firmly to yours, his cock rubbing against your stomach to emphasize his large size. “Sure about that? Think you can handle all of me?”

You reached down to stroke him, running his tip through your folds. “Please, master, I need you.” And then lined him up with your soaking entrance.

Anakin pushed forward softly. “All right, then this is where the fun begins,” he said smugly, shoving his length all the way in.

A small cry escaped you as he felt your tight cunt stretch, desperately trying to accommodate him. With his enormous hands, he gently guided you along. Slowly inching back and forth…trying to help you adjust.

“You okay if I move, little one?” He whispered sweetly to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You nodded at his words, giving him a shy smile.

“That’s, my girl.” He pulled back just a bit before thrusting back forward. His hips beginning to speed up, bouncing your body with each movement. Your eyes sliding shut, face contorting in pleasure.

“Hey, look at me,” he muttered huskily. “Want you to see how well you’re taking my cock. So tight around me, my little wifey.”

He could feel your walls flutter in response to his words, your eyes opening wide. “That’s right, you’re my little winter-wifey,” he grunted. “Going to be your big boy and ‘keep you warm’ during these colder months.”

Ani hiked your thighs up onto his hips. Pumping into you deeper. Bullying your cervix. Making a small bulge appear in your stomach.

Factors that had you mewling, helplessly clinging to his bulging arms. “Master! So close, master!”

“Me too,” he panted. His grip tightening, thrusts growing faster, heavy balls slapping hard against your ass. “So be my good little wifey and cum with me.”

Slamming his hips flushed against yours, he somehow pushed himself even deeper inside. Groaning as you screamed out his name, your walls clamping down on his cock. Hungerly milking him, while he shot rope after rope of hot cum into your tiny pussy. Pumping you so impossibly full.

Pulling out gently, Anakin collapsed on the bed beside you; his arms lovingly wrapping around you. “You know, I meant everything I said. Except…”

“Except, what?” You hesitantly asked him, your eyes filled with worry.

“It’s nothing terrible,” he reassured, stroking your back. “Unless you don’t want to be more than just my winter-wife.”

You turned bright red and buried your face in his chest. “Yes,” you replied bashfully. “As long as you don’t mind always being my big boy.”

Ani placed a kiss on the top of your head. “Of course, I would love to, my little wifey. All you had to do was ask.”

#hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #anakin #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #star wars anakin #sw anakin #anakin smut #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars prequels #star wars smut #smut #smutty fanfiction #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen fanfiction #hayden christensen smut

[polaroidpascal]

paradise city || joel miller

AO3 || MASTERLIST || FREE PALESTINE

pairing : guitarist!joel x f!reader

summary : when you and your friends go out to a bar to see a local band gig, you can’t help but notice how the guitarist’s eyes somehow keep finding you in the crowd.

tags : M-18+, no use of y/n, no outbreak AU, i imagine joel is in his early 40s, no age gap mentioned, mention of reader’s breakup, mentions of alcohol consumption, joel starts off a little shy but truly there ain’t nothing shy about this man, size kink (kinda?? a little bit??) oral (f! and m! receiving), unprotected p in v sex, dom!joel, joel gets a little possessive (you’ll see what i mean…), praise kink, squirting, multiple orgasms, creampie, aftercare ofc

fic playlist : https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0afpHjoOFylI01OTbV5jol (picture joel playing during the guitar solos in every single one of these songs 😁)

WC : 7.9k… (no one look at me. not a single soul.)

a/n : 100 FOLLOWER SPECIAL !! i apologize in advance for all the song lyrics i’ve scattered in this fic… i opted to make a playlist of the songs i think joel’s band would play but there were just too many good ones to pass up and i was losing it a little bit 🫠 also, shoutout to @joelsdagger for constantly yapping with me about this idea and letting me tease her about this absolute menace of a man and also @haileymorelikestupid for beta reading for me 🥹😭 it feels extremely fitting to post a joel fic on international women’s day where he fucks you so good, so i hope y’all enjoy !! <3

You and your friends have had a week. 

Deciding you all needed a night to let loose and have fun together, your friend Erica found out about this place hosting a local rock cover band called Fetters Whiskey and thought it might be nice to come see them.

Earlier, you had all piled into the Uber and were headed out, a low girly chatter filling the car. The three in the back harped on about their spouses and all the little things that annoyed them. 

“He left the dishes in the drying rack!” “She helped me clean a little too well and used all the cleaner, now we’re all out!”

The complaining did help them destress a bit.

You and Erica were in the second row captain’s chairs of the car, the three in the back doing their pregame de-stressing. “Makes you rethink the whole marriage fantasy, huh?” she jokes, looking over at you playing with the rings on your fingers. 

You look up and breathe a laugh. “Yeah, I guess so,” you say with a weak smile.

“Well… have you had any luck finding anyone?” she asks sweetly, sincerely. Genuinely hoping someone has caught your eye.

You had a pretty nasty breakup a while ago, probably about eight months by now. You two had been dating for a while and the breakup honestly seemed to come out of nowhere, like some switch flipped one day and nothing was really the same. Your friends stuck by you through every up and down you had. You felt really lucky to have them.

“No. not yet,” you tell her.

“Well, maybe tonight’s your night,” she says with a friendly smile. “You deserve to unwind and let loose a little, y’know what I mean?” You breathe another laugh. “You do!” she exclaims, hitting your shoulder.

“Yeah, well, I guess we’ll see,” you say, the rest of the car ride seeming to fly by, a part of you kinda hoping she’s right.

The bar is crowded. 

You walk in, snaking the group between the crowd and making your way near the stage towards the back of the bar, men and women alike all brushing bodies the closer you get to the stage, drinks in hand, friends chattering away, everyone waiting for the show. 

Two of your coworkers disappear to fetch everyone a drink while you and the others stake claim on a little area near the stage. A couple of guys are on the stage setting up the instruments and making sure everything is plugged in right, the lights dimmed enough to not really draw much attention to them. It’s not long before the others join them on stage and start playing. The girls return just in time, handing out the drinks as the music starts.

The band is pretty good (you’re not sure what you were expecting, but you’re more than pleased with how good they sound). They play some fan favorites like Wanted Dead or Alive and I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll, and they mix in some random fun songs like Play That Funky Music. 

The drummer is clearly in his own world, head moving at a velocity you would think could give him whiplash. And he’s absolutely killing it, hitting every beat with fervor. You can feel the strikes of the sticks on his drums in the center of your chest. 

Another guy seems to be the swiss army knife musician: pretty good at almost everything, filling in wherever he’s needed depending on the song. One minute, he’s playing his keyboard and the next, he’s busting out a trumpet, and the next, he’s busting out a guitar. And no matter what he’s playing, he’s playing it with passion. 

The lead singer clearly loves all of the attention he gets. He’s feeding off the crowd’s energy like a cat lounging in the sunlight, basking in every cheer and whistle and fist pumping in the air from the crowd. He practically lives at the edge of the stage, crouching down to sing with the girls but backing up to sing and dance with his bandmates too, bringing them in on some of the harmonies and tying the whole show together.

But by far the unsung hero of this group is the lead guitarist. He hides off to the corner, leg posted up on his amp with the body of his guitar resting slightly on his thigh. He looks down at the instrument carefully watching his fingers strum each cord perfectly, furrowing his brow in concentration during his solos and lifting his head up to the sky. He looks like he feels every note in his blood, expressing it through the expert strum of his fingertips on the strings. He doesn’t have a mic and the singer doesn’t make him sing alongside him very much, but you catch him mouthing all the words and getting into the singing as well. 

He’s a particularly pretty man and your eyes linger on him more than the others, always finding their way back to him, and always during the more raunchy lines of the different songs…

Well, I am imagining // A dark lit place // Or your place on my place

I’ma paint his town red // Then paint his wife white

But I got both hands on the wheel while you got both hands on my gears // By now, no doubt we’re heading south // I guess nobody ever taught her not to speak with a full mouth

…but who can blame you when he has such a reserved, cool vibe. Plus, did you mention that he’s really pretty too?

And maybe it’s the couple of drinks getting to you more than you thought, or maybe you’re just crazy, but it seems like every time you look at him, he’s looking away from you. Like he’d been staring and you caught him. You swear he starts to look ever so slightly more flushed, but it’s practically impossible to see with the colored lights flooding the scene. No, you think, that’s crazy. You’re standing in a crowd of people, there’s no way he—

“Hey, I think the guy on lead guitar keeps checking you out!” Erica exclaims over the loud music and singing crowd.

You turn and look at her, eyebrows raised before you turn back to the stage. He does it again, averting his gaze the second he sees you look and you feel a flutter in your chest. He really is checking me out, huh?

You keep staring at him, waiting for him to look back in hopes that you’re looking away. When he lets his eyes wander back to you, you’re still staring. This time, though, he doesn’t look away. His eyes won’t let him now that you’ve caught his attention — like a fly in a spider web.

He turns his body ever so slightly, facing your direction more than anyone else as he plays the rest of the song. The lights focus on him, colorful spotlights of red and blue illuminating his face as he positively shreds his guitar solo. His fingers expertly tap dance across the neck of his guitar, his other hand working double time to strum on beat and hit every single note. You watch in a complete daze as he finishes, sealing off his musical escapade with the smuggest wink right to you.

He put on a show. All just for you.

Something stirs in your belly, a low heat kindling as the band continues to play. Their next song — god, their next song… — really puts the icing on the cake.

The jack of all trades band member busts out a sound board, the sampled sound of a snare drum filling the space, a warped, funky-sounding instrumental following.

You let me violate you // You let me desecrate you // You let me penetrate you // You let me complicate you

The guitarist shares a mic with the guy on the sound board, offering back-up vocals for the song. He’s getting a little bold now, you think.

I broke apart my insides // (Help me) I’ve got no soul to sell // (Help me) the only thing that works for me // Help me get away from myself

He’s locked eyes with you the whole time, changing the tides of who is winning this staring battle for dominance. Each second his gaze stays on you, you feel smaller and smaller, completely at his mercy. He backs away from the mic, preparing to play and licking his lips in a manner obviously made to make you even dizzier than you already are.

I wanna fuck you like an animal  // I wanna feel you from the inside  // I wanna fuck you like an animal // My whole existence is flawed // You get me closer to God

He glances back at you from his guitar, a smirk decorating his face before he turns to keep playing the song. You’re in a complete daze. He’s clearly won this battle, and you don’t even know what to do with yourself anymore.

You have to have this man.

Erica caught a some of his little show for you, watching him wink at you and the way your features fell to a focused stare at him. “Girl, get a room next time!” she teases and all you can do is smile back.

When the set is over, you and your friends walk back towards the bar, not wanting to leave just yet. You claim a few of the tiny standing tables, again gathered with Erica at one while the other girls try to cluster around another.

“So…” she starts, giving you a look of anticipation.

“So…?”

“What the hell was going on between you and that guitarist?” she asks, her tone of voice high with excitement.

You laugh, looking down and shrugging your shoulders. “I honestly have no idea,” you say, shaking your head and blushing a little thinking about his little performance. “I thought I was crazy until you said something.”

“Well, whatever it was, you should go for him!” she encourages.

“Please,” you scoff and laugh, “you’re ridiculous.”

“No, I’m serious! While you were having your little… whatever you were having, I was watching the whole band, and the other guys weren’t doing what he did. And he didn’t look at anyone else the way he looked at you.”

You stare at her, a blush creeping up on your cheeks and that small fire in your belly growing a little bigger, a little hotter.

Erica looks up over your shoulder, “Oh my gosh, there they are!”

As if on cue, the band walks through one of the back doors. Having just put away their instruments and whatever other equipment they brought. They saunter in, hair wet from the sweat of performing and lifting all their stuff back into their van. Trailing behind the rest is that damn guitarist. He scans the crowd before he sees you, his expression opening with a bit of an urgency as he quickly finds the bar to grab a beer.

You turn back to Erica, mouth dry and nervous. “Please, you have to go talk to him,” she practically begs.

“No, I- I can’t. I don’t even know what to say,” you plead. “I’m so out of practice.”

“Oh, quit it. I saw you looking at him first. You had him going before he got bold with you. You still have game, go get that man!” she says.

“I don’t know, Erica—” you start, but youre quickly caught off by a tap to your shoulder. You turn around and it’s him.

“Hi,” you say, desperately trying to hide the nerves threatening your vocal chords and smile genuinely at him.

“Hi there,” he says. God, his voice is so deep. You couldn’t hear it in all of its beauty before, but it has a bass to it that rumbles in your bones.

You stare blankly at him for a second before you finally pipe up, “Um, that was a good set you guys played.”

“Thank you,” he chuckles, looking down at his beer and leaning against the edge of the table.

Erica watches with wide eyes before announcing, “Well, I’m empty. I’m gonna go get a refill, okay?” She winks as she walks away leaving you and this mysterious guitarist alone together.

You turn your gaze back to him and fully take in his features now. His eyes have their own glow to them that persists even with the dim stage lights littered around this bar. His hair is patchy from sweat but still sits pretty. His strong features demand your eyes and you’re unable to look anywhere but him.

He extends his hand out to you, “Name’s Joel.”

“Hi, Joel,” you say, shaking his hand and telling him your name. He echoes it and it sounds beautiful off his tongue. “Listen, I--”

“Y’know, you’ve got one of those faces that stands out in a crowd, anyone ever told you that?”

You shake your head, “No, not necessarily.”

“Well trust me, we’ve played our share of shows and none of them had a pretty girl like you in the audience catchin’ my eye every two seconds.”

You blush, starting to gather your mind back from the sudden thrust into a conversation with who you think might be the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your life now that you’ve had time to really study his features up close. “You’re no different yourself,” you offer.

“How so?”

“I’m just saying, you’d think the prettiest member would be the one front and center, not tucked in a corner by an amp.”

His eyes bounce back and forth between your own not breaking contact as he takes another sip of his beer. “I don’t want just anyone lookin’ my way, I guess. You gotta work to see this pretty face.”

“Pretty, indeed,” you agree, stepping ever so slightly closer to him. “You put on quite a show up there.”

He leans down just a bit, closing the gap between the two of you even more, “Well, I did have quite the eager audience, didn’t I?” he asks.

You stare at each other for a moment before Joel starts, never breaking eye contact, “Listen, I don’t really do this… but I also don’t get distracted like I did tonight…”

You inch closer to him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah… your friends bring you here?” he asks and you glance at the other table where Erica lingers around your other friends and they’re all looking your way, trying not to be obvious and failing miserably.

“No, we took an Uber.”

“Well, what do you say to savin’ that money you’d pay for an Uber and lettin’ me take you home instead?”

Am I really gonna do this?, you think. Call it a gut feeling or whatever you may want, but the way Joel is looking at you, the way he put on a show just for you, how he spotted you in the crowd to strike up a conversation… Erica did say I need to unwind and let loose…

You grin back at him, “Whose home are we talking about?” you ask.

“I think you know, darlin’,” his tone drops low and deep.

A shiver runs up your spine, that ever-growing fire in your belly burning hotter and hotter. “Come on,” he says, taking your hand in his, making it look miniscule in comparison, and walks you towards the back door he came through earlier. You glance back to the bar, the girls still watching and Erica flashing you a smile and a thumb’s up.

Joel leads you to his truck, opening the passenger door for you. You see the backseat loaded with what must be his personal equipment before his door creaks open and he sits inside, the whole truck bobbing from the sheer size of this man.

He pulls you closer across the bench seat until your legs are touching, his hand snaking around your waist as you relax against his figure and his hands trace your sides.

“I meant what I said, y’know. That you stand out in a crowd.”

You turn to look at him as he quickly glances at you and you slowly bring your arms up, one landing behind his neck while the other cups his face. You slowly, softly, tenderly kiss the spot where his jaw meets his neck leaving open mouth kisses all over. He tilts his head to the side just a little, humming at the feeling and settling his hand right at the swell of your hip, pulling you even closer into his side and squeezing just a bit.

The drive isn’t long at all. He pulls into a parking spot lining the side of the road and once the car is safely in park, he grabs your face with both hands, kissing you deeply. You hum into his mouth, not expecting the sudden movement, and melt into his lips. His soft, warm lips. Your hands trace his body, the two of you unable to get where you want to be from sitting in this truck.

You pull away from him. “Take me inside.”

He immediately leaves the truck urging you to hop out on his side, offering a hand to help you out but not letting go even typing the code for his apartment and after you walk through the door.

You giggle as he pulls you up the stairs of his complex, the two of you itching to have your hands all over one another. You reach the top and he twirls you around in his grip, grabbing you with one hand by the hip and the other cradling the back of your head. He kisses you with an insatiable hunger, like his life absolutely depends on it, as he backs you up until you’re pinned to the door with his entire body pressed against you. 

He fumbles with his keys for the lock to his apartment door, lips locked onto you, eyes closed, lost in the soft sweetness of your lips. He snakes a hand behind the curve of your back to brace you as the door swings open and he pushes you inside.

Your hands tangle in his hair grabbing the soft, damp strands unable to pull him any closer but wanting every inch of him in your mouth, on your lips, practically in your skin. You bite his lower lip making him moan a little into your mouth and your hands reach around to his face, wanting to stay lost in the ocean of his tongue and cheeks forever.

He pulls you back and you whine, already missing the warmth and taste of his tongue, but your disappointment is short lived. “God, darlin’… Need to have you.” he says, voice low and completely feral as he grabs you under the swell of your ass and you jump into his embrace. Your hands wander back up to his hair, pulling and grabbing as he trails his kisses down your chin, your jaw, your neck, soft sounds escaping his lips with every tug and whimper you give him.

His legs mindlessly take him to his bedroom, knowing the pathway instinctively. His mouth leaves your body for just a moment when plops you down at the edge of the bed, but he’s right back on you in an instant, reaching down to the hem of your top. You lift your arms for him to pull it off and he removes it in one fluid motion. He moves his hands to the clasp of your bra next. “This okay?”

Your chest aches with these little moments of tender sweetness from him and you nod, letting him remove your bra and he does so with skill, not fumbling for even a second as he tosses it to the floor.

His eyes immediately dart down, taking you in. He’s all but drooling, his gaze burning hot against your skin. He sinks to his knees taking one tit in his mouth and sucking on your nipple. Your hands immediately run through his hair holding him onto you and humming at the feel of his mouth on you. His other hand grabs your other tit, massaging it and thumbing your growing bud before redirecting his mouth to the other side too.

His hands drop to your sides and run up along your ribcage trailing towards your back, closing you in and burying his face into your neck peppering kisses and licks and nips there. 

“I gotta have you, baby…” he mutters into your neck. “Lay back on my pillows up there.”

You do as you’re told, lounging against his pillows and the headboard of the bed as he pulls his shirt off over his head and crawls up to meet you, hooking his hands in the belt loops of your jeans. He looks up, his gaze silently asking for permission and you nod. He pulls them down along with your panties in one smooth motion.  

You didn’t think about how worked up you had gotten until your hot core, slick with your arousal, meets the cool air of the room sending a chill across your skin. You watch as Joel’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of you, subconsciously licking his lips and softly grunting at the thought of diving in.

You open your legs wider, inviting him in and he settles between your legs, his arms hooking under your thighs locking you right where he wants you, all spread and open for him.

He immediately gets to work, unable to hold back anymore and expertly licks through your folds. His warm, wet tongue feels amazing on you as it dances across every nerve ending down there, each one sending fireworks across your skin. You whine and lean back, lifting your hips up to meet his mouth and squirming under his face.

His hands gently rub your thighs while he drinks you down, his nose occasionally hitting your clit making you whine. He draws flattened circles with his tongue, the surface area hitting you just right. 

“Yes… fuck yes, that feels so good…” you moan.

He moans back, unwilling to leave you for even a moment and he keeps going. One hand falls from your thigh and you keep yourself open for him as best as you can when you feel his thick, calloused fingers teasing your entrance. He slides his middle finger in easily, so he adds his ring finger too, curling up and finding the softest parts of you. But God, are his fingers huge.

Your walls constrict squeezing his fingers and you leak more slick all over his palm. His other fingers flay across your lips and ass, gripping you slightly and he’s got you locked down. 

His tongue continues at your clit while his fingers pump in and out of you, the tips curling up and stroking you perfectly. 

“Right there, Joel… right there… don’t stop… please, don’t stop…” You feel yourself getting closer and closer, the flame burning in your belly all night erupting into a wildfire and igniting every inch of your skin. You feel a tightness start to grow in your belly, inching down your insides as he keeps going, and going, and going, never letting up and reveling in each twitch of your body.

You look up and see him lying flat, his hips subconsciously moving against his boxers and jeans and sheets, getting himself off just from your taste. Finally, he opens his eyes, dark with lust and locks his gaze with you with one especially deep push and curl of his fingers and another wink. That fucking wink. 

“Fuck… fuck…!” It sends you over the edge. The coil snaps and a warm flood fills your body spilling out onto Joel’s hand and into his waiting mouth. He grunts and whines, his tongue never stopping, not even for a second, as he drinks every ounce of your slick getting drunk on your juices.

He only pulls away when you pull him off by his hair, a single line if your arousal still connecting him to you and a groan leaving his lips as he lets you go. You fall back onto the pillow, legs collapsing from their own weight and twitching from your orgasm, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

Joel sits up licking his palm and bringing his fingers up to your mouth, jaw slacked and panting. Your mouth closes around his fingers and he groans, “That’s it, good girl,” he coos and you hum around his digits.

When you fully come back down to Earth, you can’t help but chuckle in the afterglow of your orgasm. Joel rests on his heels gently stroking your knees and you cover your eyes with your forearm, one big sigh leaving your lips. “I guess I should have expected a guitar player to have some skilled fingers,” you joke and Joel chuckles. “That was so fucking good.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not done with you just yet, pretty girl,” Joel teases, holding out his hand to help you sit up. You do and he meets you with a sweet kiss, his hands cupping almost all of your face as he kisses you sweetly.

When he pulls away and you open your eyes, you notice another amp sitting in the corner of the room. This one looks old, unused, and the cable management could use some work, to say the least.

Joel follows your eyeline. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

“That’s a lot of cables for a little speaker like that,” you say, following the tangled mess of wires scattered on the floor. “Why don’t you use that one?”

“Jus’ got old. Bought a new one and I didnt need it anymore.”

A depraved idea pops in your head and the question leaves your lips before you can even fully think it through. “Those wires… how strong do you think they are?”

Joel looks back at your face, eyebrow cocked up slightly, “What d'ya mean?”

Your bashfulness catches up quick, a shy blush pricking your cheeks. “I mean… just the outside looks braided, almost… it kinda looks like… I don’t know, kinda like a rope…”

His face softens, a look of intrigue spreading across his gaze. “Go on,” he says, his voice dropping impossibly low, dripping with sultry tease.

You look up through your lashes feeling more vulnerable that you have to ask specifically (he seems to love it, though). “Well… I guess, how well do you think they’d hold a knot…?”

He bites back a smirk but can’t quite hide his excitement. “Kinky…” he says with a little nod. “I like it.”

He rises from the bed but he doesn’t turn to grab the wires. Instead, he reaches for his belt, the buckle clinking against itself. “But you gotta earn it first, sweet girl.” He pulls his belt out of the loops of his jeans and tosses it to the side. 

He pauses a second before reaching for the button and zipper, enough time for you to crawl to the foot of the bed and rest your hands on his. You slowly move them away and take over, undoing his button and slowly zipping his pants apart. 

You reach under his groin cupping his covered balls in your hand and he hums. He barely fits in your palm and you salivate at what could be beneath those boxers of his. You look up at him with another gentle squeeze before pulling both down, his cock springing out and up against his lower tummy as he steps out of his pants, the tip already red and leaking.

Your eyes widen when you really take in his size and you salivate. You wrap your hand around him and very slowly pump his length, getting a feel for his size and weight and staring at him the whole time.

He looks down at you, eyes still dark and mouth slightly open. “Go ‘head, baby. Kiss it.”

You feel a flutter in your belly again already and you do as he says, kissing the slit before taking the whole head into your mouth and circling your tongue around it. His eyes roll back and he lifts his head up to the ceiling with a groan, his hand tangling in the hair at the back of your head.

You slowly take him inch by inch making him slick with your spit and using your hand to pump whatever you cant reach. Your other hand gently squeezes his balls and you feel his grip on your hair tighten a bit.

“That’s it, baby… Mouth feels so good f’me…” He starts to slowly push you down his length, taking him deeper and deeper and being careful not to get ahead of himself. 

But then you moan around his length sending lightning up his spine and it feels so fucking good… A guttural groan booms from his chest and he starts to slip, pushing you a little too far a little too fast and you gag, pulling off until it just rests on your bottom lip, spit gathering at his tip and spilling over the corners of your mouth. 

Tears prick the sides of your eyes and his hand reaches down to wipe them away. “Shit— I’m sorry… are you alright?”

You cough and catch your breath, something new and hot burning through your veins. Something about the way he lost all control… “It’s okay, I’m okay,” you say when you pull yourself together a little bit. You wipe the corners of your mouth and reach up to slowly pump his length again. “Let me try again.”

“You sure, darlin’?”

“I’m sure,” you say, looking up through your tear-soaked lashes, a small smile ghosting your lips as you nod. 

He nods back and you take him in your mouth again, closing your eyes and breathing through it, trying to focus on taking as much of him down your throat as you can.

His hands find the back of your head again, not pushing anymore but tangling through your hair as you work.

He looks down and sees your eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration and taking him so well. He drops a hand back down to your jaw, “Eyes on me, gorgeous.”

You carefully open your eyes to look up at him and when you do, his brows furrow with desperation, unable to look away from you as you bob up and down his length, hands once again pumping the length you can’t reach and massaging his balls.

“Shit, baby… that’s it…” he moans, watching the way your cheeks hollow and lips flush red from taking him. He’s twitching in your mouth and you think you’ve got him, flattening your tongue when he touches the back of your throat and swirling up his length as you pull back.

His abs start to tighten and you taste the slightly salty precum leaking from his tip. You work up the nerve to suppress your gag reflex as best you can, taking a few deep breathes before pushing yourself all the way down, taking his cock up to the hilt.

You stay there, letting your protesting throat constrict around him and he whines, his hand in your hair tightening and making you moan, another bolt of lightning taking over his entire being. His cock jumps in your throat and you think he’s a goner for sure—

He pulls you off his length completely and you gasp for air while he catches his breath too. “Nuh uh, baby. It can’t be over yet,” he says breathlessly.

You pout up at him, your doe eyes almost black from how blown your pupils are.

“Get back on the bed,” he demands.

So you do, rising a little wobbly from your knees and crawling back up onto the bed. Joel walks to the corner of the room and unplugs some of the cords plugged into the old amp. 

He digs around in his nightstand and pulls out a condom before walking back over to the bed where you’re kneeling on the mattress. He sees you eyeing the little packet pinched between his fingers. “What’s th’ matter?”

You look at him, a blush forming on your face. “Oh, I…” Your mouth goes dry and you clear your throat. “…um, you don’t— I mean, I’m on the pill so, um… If you don’t wanna…” you ramble, trying to find your words but failing in your shyness.

He smiles smugly, tossing the condom to the side. “’S okay. I hear you loud and clear.”

You take a relieved breath and watch him stand there as he starts separating the wires. He twirls his finger in the air and you turn your body to face away from him.

“Gimme your hands, darling,” he says, firmly but gently.

You obey, reaching your hands behind your back. His giant hand easily fits both in one grip and he wraps one cable around your wrists.

You can’t help but smile to yourself, facing away from Joel so he can’t see, but you’re sure it’s audibly obvious when you ask “So this must be where the band name came from then, hm?” as he ties a comfortable knot around your wrists.

“What d’ya mean?”

“Fetters. Like restraints. Usually they’re on the ankles but I guess it’s the same principle.”

He breathes a laugh. “I mean, I didn’t help with the name all that much, but I guess ya’ really do learn somethin’ new every day,” he says just as he tightens the loose, but still restrictive, knot around your wrists.

You shimmy in them a little, surprised at how well they hold together. His hands are still there, rubbing over the covering of the cords and brushing against the warmth of your skin.

“These look real pretty on you, y’know,” he mutters from behind you.

You chuckle and ask, “You tell all the groupies that?”

He grabs your chin to face him, eyes scanning over your face for a second and planting a kiss to your lips before a positively devious smirk spreads across his face. Before you know it, he puts his hand on your back gently pushing down so your chest hits the bed. 

“No, I don’t,” he says and you hear his footsteps fade. You sit there, face pressed against the mattress and ass in the air, desperately trying to crane your neck to see where in the world he’s going leaving you like this, all out in the open and exposed.

He treads back into the room and climbs back onto the bed right behind you, calves brushing up against the inside of your own as he grabs your hips to straighten them.

“I don’t tell the groupies nothin’,” he starts. “Usually jus’ ask if they want an autograph.”

The unmistakable click of a Sharpie cap rings in your ears and you feel the cold tip of the pen dragging along the skin right below the small of your back. You gasp, surprised at the unexpected feeling, completely shocked at the sheer audacity of this man, and you can’t help the butterflies it gives you, the way you mewl so quietly at the thought of him marking you with his name — his signature, no less — in such an intimate place.

You need to find a way to keep this man.

The pen trails off at the end and he recaps the marker, tossing it somewhere to the side before you feel his hands smoothing over your hips. He lets out a low toned, one-note whistle at you, staring at the dark ink branding your lower back. “Now, what a pretty view I have,” he says, a tantalizing, saccharine sweet tone lacing his words.

You can’t hold back the whimper that falls from your mouth at his teasing, his big warm hands rubbing big circles over each cheek. 

He sees you clenching around nothing. “Want me to fuck you now, sweet girl?”

“Yes, please,” you whine, earning you a light tap on your ass.

He pulls on the cords and wraps an arm around your torso, bringing you up flush to his torso and reaching a hand to your mouth. “Gimme some help.”

You spit into his hand and he hums in content. “Atta girl,” he says, gently laying you back down and pumping his length with the wetness. You feel the tip of his cock rub against your folds and you squirm. He grabs your hip with his free hand as he lines himself up to notch right at your entrance. He slowly pushes just the tip in, the pressure making you moan.

“I gotcha, baby. Jus’ relax f’me,” he coos, pushing inch by inch into you letting you adjust to his size. Your walls twitch at the intrusion and your breathing gets heavier, soft sounds escaping your lips. Eventually, he’s up to the hilt and you swear you can feel him in your lungs. You subconsciously swirl your hips, the movement inside making you whine.

“Shit, baby… so fuckin’ tight…” Joel breathes, squeezing your hips and trying not to lose his cool too quickly. His cock bounces and he grunts, taking a minute before slowly pulling out of you as you whine at the loss. It’s short lived, though, because he’s immediately pushing back into you, the stretch and burn pulling a desperate groan from your throat. 

“Fuck yeah, baby. You like how that feels?” he moans, picking up the pace slightly with each thrust. 

“Yes— fuck, feels so good…” you moan. The way his cock drags along your walls makes your belly burn hot. His grip on your hips tight and threatening to bruise if he squeezes any harder, but you couldn’t care less. Just another way for him to mark you as his.

“Squeezin’ my cock so good… she’s achin’, baby…” He’s very talkative, you think and decide to play into it. 

“She’s all yours, Joel. Pussy belongs to you,” you say as you squeeze him again, the pressure in your belly growing with each gentle kiss to your cervix that his tip gives you. 

You feel his pace falter for a second, his grip tightening at that. “Yeah? Say it again. Who’s she belong to?” he says, pounding into you now, unable to keep control of his pace anymore.

You whine loudly with one of his thrusts when he drags up a bit hitting something new inside of you, something your ex surely hadn’t ever found before. Something you definitely had on your own but never this deep…

“Theeere it is,” he coos, pressing your torso down some more to get the angle just right and he’s hitting that soft, spongy part of you with every snap of his hips. You can barely form the words to tell him how fucking good it feels, nonsense whimpers leaving your mouth instead.

“Answer me, baby… Belongs to who?” His pace doesn’t let up and you can’t get the words out. “C’mon, you can do it, gorgeous… tell me…” he insists, slowly rubbing his hand across his own signature that’s been staring back at him.

“Sh… fuck, oh my god… she belongs to you, Joel…”

“That’s my good girl,” he says, leaning down and planting kisses down your spine, snaking a hand around to your front and circling your clit.

You cry out in pleasure, all the sensations getting to be too much. A flood of wetness spills out with a twitch of your insides making Joel’s cock slippery, letting him push in and pull out easier than before. He picks up his pace again with ease, rapidly hurdling you towards the edge.

My good girl…

That one little word finally hits you after a minute. 

My.

His unrelenting fingers on your clit… the way his tip hits your cervix with every snap of his hips… my good girl… it’s all too much. “Fuck… fuck… fuck, ‘mgonnacome…” you mumble in a high pitched whine.

“Fuck yes, baby… come all over my cock, that’s it… feels so fuckin’ good, darlin’…” he moans from behind you, the grip on your hips definitely bruising now as he keeps pounding into you. Your back arches and your whole body writhes as your walls squeeze him impossibly tight. Your vision blurs and you have no control over the downright pornographic sounds escaping your mouth. All you feel is warmth everywhere.

“Holy shit—” you hear Joel but he sounds far away, your head still spinning with pleasure. “Fuckin’ hell, baby…” When you feel like you can finally see again, you see a wet spot on the bed and your eyes go wide, quickly craning your head around as best you can and see Joel’s thighs soaked from you.

“Oh, shit— I-I’m sorry, oh my fucking god, I didn’t meant—” you stop mid sentence when Joel plows into you again bottoming out completely, your words trailing off into a wailing moan.

He drags out slowly but quickly regains his momentum. “Fuck, baby… Chokin’ my dick so good… So. Fucking. Hot,” he says, punctuating his words with the slap of his hips on your ass.

Your legs start to give out under you and it’s like Joel already knows you’re almost too gone to take anymore as he unties the knot at your wrists, your arms falling to the bed. He flips you over, managing to stay inside, and lays you on your back. Your hair lays messily on the pillow and Joel leans down to fix it, tracing his fingers along the side of your face and kissing you deeply.

When he pulls away, he stares at your fucked-out eyes, his own completely taken over by his pupils so much that you can barely tell what color they actually are anymore. “Baby, you gotta give me one more…” he begs.

You raise your eyebrows worriedly, unsure if you can actually take anymore. You whine at his ask and he gives you another quick kiss, resting his forehead against your own when he pulls away, your lips barely touching. He’s moving in and out of you at a snail’s pace, so close to his own orgasm that any extra movement would cause him to snap. “Please, baby, I know you can do it. Doin’ so good for me already, just one more…”

You nod weakly and stare through hooded eyes. “Thank you, angel,” he sighs, gently fucking into you a little quicker and peppering kisses at the corners of your mouth. Your hands trail up to his shoulders rubbing up and down on his soft skin. Forehead pressed to yours again, you feel him panting, small moans and whimpers filling your ears.

“Feel so good…” you use all your strength to whimper out, barely above a whisper. His eyes open, brows furrowed in desperation. You feel him twitching hard now, so close to his own orgasm but not wanting this to end.

“S’good, Joel… so big…” He whimpers at your words, his hips moving erratically, unpredictably. He’s close, you think. And it eggs you on.

“Want you to come for me… Please…”

“Yeah? You want it?” he breathes. 

“Please…” you say again in a whimper, grabbing his face in your hands.

“Where, baby? Want it inside?”

“Yes, inside… please, please, please…” you beg.

“Come with me baby… wanna feel you squeezin’ me… fuck— c-can you do that?”

You whine and nod, having been teetering on the edge of overstimulation with another orgasm growing in your belly. You roll your hips slightly into him, the extra movement sending shivers down your spine.

“So close, baby, I can feel it… ‘s right there, she’s chokin’ me…” he grunts out, painfully holding back his own until you come undone under him again.

Which doesn’t take long, a flutter of your heart and one big wave of arousal covering you from head to toe making you see stars. Your mouth opens in a silent moan, unable to even make a sound as you come on his length all over again.

“Fuck… fuck… good girl, ‘m gonna come—”

Joel’s breathing quickens, becoming ragged and broken as he grunts and whines and spills inside of you. His lips press to your forehead suppressing his noises with kisses there as he empties himself inside of you, filling you up completely.

Your hands scrape his back at his shoulders, your senses all blurring into one another. Joel’s weight falls on top of you as he moves his kisses down from your forehead to your nose and finally to your lips, his tongue licking into you as you feel his cock finally stop twitching. He sits back to pull out of you watching as his cum leaks out of you. You whine at the loss feeling empty but still so full from him, shivering as you feel it dripping down your body.

Joel wipes his sweat-ridden brow and sighs with a goofy smile as he looks down at you. Your body is still jolting from your last orgasm. Any more and you would have been overstimulated beyond belief.

“Now that I definitely don’t do with the groupies, sweetheart,” he teases.

You give him a playful glare and chuckle at him. “What about all that autograph nonsense, then?”

“Well, you got the first of its kind. Never signed anyone there before.”

You blush and stretch a little, suddenly feeling that damp spot from earlier. You sit up in panic and sit back leaning against his pillows again. “Shit, Joel. I’m so sorry. That’s never happened before, I—”

“Stop,” he cuts you off. “Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for. Sheets can be washed.”

“But I made a mess—”

“C’mere, baby,” he says, extending a hand out to you. You take it and he pulls you towards him, both of you on your knees facing each other as his arm snakes around your torso pulling you even closer into him. “‘M gonna get you cleaned up, ‘kay? Got a spare bedroom we can use anyway.”

You stare into his eyes, his words bouncing around in your head. We can use. “We?” you ask.

He scrunches his eyebrows, raising one at you. “What, you wanna run away already? Was it that bad?” he jokes.

“Oh, quit,” you say, playfully hitting his shoulder.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, standing up at the end of the bed and holding his arms out to you. “C’mon, pretty girl, how’s a warm bath sound, hm?”

“Sounds amazing, actually.” You grab his hands and stand up, taking a second to get your balance before following Joel to the bathroom.

When you’re all cleaned up, you walk into his living room wearing one of his t-shirts, a pair of his boxers, and some very oversized socks that he left in the bathroom for you to change into, towel drying the rest of your hair so it's not dripping everywhere. He sits on his couch, fresh pajamas on and dampened hair from the shower he took in the other smaller bathroom.

He taps the space next to him inviting you to sit, TV on and low, playing some random movie he found to fill the silence around him while waiting for you. You curl up into him, you warm from your bath and him warm from relaxing. He squeezes you close, planting a kiss to the top of your head.

Erica was right. You really did need this. Maybe it's stupid that you're growing so fond of this guy and you've known him for just a night, but there really is something about him. Something you can't quite explain...

You spend the rest of the night curled up next to Joel, your entire being content and you can only think one thing:

You’re not letting this one go easily. This one’s gonna be yours.

All yours.

a/n : thank y'all again so much for 100 followers, it means so much seriously 💜🫶🥹 and thank you for reading this fic that absolutely got away from me in the end, this idea tortured me for weeks and hopefully letting him out into the world will give me some peace finally 😭 but really, thank you guys so much and i hope everyone enjoys !!

#100 followers #100 followers special #thank you all so much !! #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou one shot #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #the voices keep getting louder and louder and louder

[devilmademewriteit]

Ultraviolence

pairing: raider!joel miller x fem!afab!reader

summary: thank god—a handsome stranger saves you from the grips of a pack of cruel, cruel men. unfortunately, said stranger, joel miller, is cut from the exact same cloth as the rest of them.

warnings: oh. boy. rough sex/smut (fem penetration, fingering, cum play if you squint) so 18+ only content; fem!afab!reader; raider!joel; canon typical violence; mentions of hair pulling/reader having long hair; light dacryphilia; age gap; pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, girl); slapping, spanking, choking; !!!NONCON!!! (sexual violence/assault, coercion, allusions to more sexual abuse—Dead Dove, Do Not Eat y’all, protect yourselves).

word count: 4k+

no use of y/n in this fic

alright y’all!!! here is the non-con raider!joel fic!! stay tuned for the version coming out soon wherein Joel actually rescues the reader LOL join the taglist to be notified when I post it!!! y’all’s requests will quite legit be the death of me BUT this was fun to write so im not mad. this version is just purely depraved & Joel ‘Big Dick’ Miller is a mean mean man. wrote it pretty fast too so b nice 2 me.

love u all, sorry for searing your eyeballs:)

-em<3

—

The stucco prickles and tears at the flushed skin of your cheek, a reminder that it’ll be winter soon. The birds are sure of it, and most of them managed to get away before the frost stood a chance of nipping them.

You didn’t.

After a few years of non-stop struggle, losing everything but your own life, you figured there were worse ways to go. At least you would be… well—you, in the end.

In whatever shape this man and his leering group of accomplices left you in.

“Against the wall,” and his voice had been the crack of a whip, snapping by your ear as electricity shot up and down your spine, as the tingling realization that the chase was over—the jig, up—settled into your bones. “Spread your fuckin’ legs.”

There were more hounds around… waiting.

Always waiting.

They’d already gotten to your old, tattered clothes. The brisk air bites at your exposed skin, but at least the cold would account for the violent shivers wracking your limbs. Even as the beast pins you to the side of the decrepit house, forces himself between your knees, your primary preoccupation is to stifle your fear.

They’d get everything else on display—but they would never get to see that.

When the screaming starts, those confused grunts, huffs, and squelches of a blade carving into flesh, you mostly commend your own imagination:

“I did it. I’m in my happy place. This will be quick, then.”

But then a rough, unfamiliar hand grabs hold of your naked waist, flipping you around, slamming your spine against the frosty stucco.

This is real.

And you bear witness to his carnage.

He painted the side of the house into a mosaic of inter-mingling blood, splattered like a Pollock against the grass, the wrinkled clothes and the rugged face of your salvation.

His eyes rake over your still-trembling body before he wrenches a red-coated knife—never breaking eye-contact—from the throat of the man you’d been at the mercy of just a few seconds ago.

Blood gushes up from the fatal wound, and you both watch the cruel scene, mesmerized. The attacker’s eyes dull, all evil dissipating from that once-ferocious gaze. The rescuer’s big, wide hands flip him over, stripping him of his stained beige jacket. Then, he carelessly kicks the lifeless form face-down onto the yellowing grass.

“Put it on.”

You uncross your arms, snatching the coat from the stranger’s extended hands. It doesn’t bother you, its belonging to him.

He’s dead; you get his coat.

A fair exchange.

He keeps an eye on you as he sorts through the pickings: a few strips of dried meat here, a loaded gun there (two bullets in the clip—you watch as he checks), and a few good blades, stashed inside pockets, bags, and down shirt-fronts.

The man straightens up.

Tall.

“Get in front of me,” his low baritone strikes you, causing your knees to concede to a slight wobble. “You run, you die. Got it?”

Texan.

Slowly, you nod, and a firm grip circles your wrist, tearing you from the wall.

“Walk.”

Your heart hammers—near deafening in your ears—as the stranger stalks behind you, directing your trembling movements with brusque, snapped commands.

Finally, the scattered orangey-red leaves begin to multiply, the domestic remnants of a past civilization thinning. The neighborhood opens into a field; large oaks and slouching willows shiver under the weak glare of the afternoon sun.

There’s a house up there. It seems to be in alright shape (some things are built tougher than others) and it’s certainly a step up from a few of the more… unsavory places the outbreak had led you to.

Nearing it, you take not of how much it resembles a barn-house. Red, pentagonal roof, and a big, wide, brown front door.

Gingerly stepping a foot on the cracked wood of the porch, you turn to face your rescuer, uncertainty tying slippery knots in your tummy.

Because there’s clamour coming from inside. There’s people in there.

The momentary hesitation allows you to get a good look at your rescuer: he’s greying and dark—mixed, likely, or just disposed to a stubborn tan—and probably in his mid forties. Probably handsome, too, if it weren’t for the resident cruel scowl deepening his apathetic expression, or the violence dancing in his eyes.

A raise of his eyebrows.

“I tell you to stop?” He nods towards the looming house. “Move.”

But… you don’t.

“Are you gonna kill me?” and you’re downright shocked by the strength—the resignation—of your tone, the way the question comes out so matter-of-fact.

That sparse mustache crinkles in the corners, teasing into something wicked. “You want me to?”

“No.”

“So get movin’, then.”

That left little room for debate.

So, you turn, fingers and knees shaking with anxious anticipation. He cuts in front of you at the last minute, shoving the front door open with his knife at his side—for you or for something else, you’re not entirely certain.

He pulls you into the foyer by your forearm; to your great dismay, you’re faced with an entire group of middle-aged men. Killers—for sure—leering at you with that same starved, animalistic look your rescuer had fixed you with.

Then, he tosses the bag on the floor.

“Found ‘em by the school. Decent haul.”

Their eyes tilt to your shuddering frame, dwarfed by the jacket weighing down your shoulders. One of them looks strangely familiar, proud features reminding you of something else you were afraid of. “No shit, huh,” he commends, “Nice work, Joel.”

Joel.

As the shaggy-haired man speaks, his voice strikes familial resemblance, and it dawns on you. Your rescuer’s brother, or at the very least a cousin.

And what he says is a clearly marked taunt. That much is clear. Uttered with the kind of cruel camaraderie which collected on the tongues of men who committed acts of violence together.

Who hunted together.

And it’s obvious you’re not being rescued. Just… reclaimed. Redistributed.

Fuck.

Another voice joins the mix. “How much you think y’could get for her?”

Joel’s profile turns, harsh, brutal lines forming as he assesses you. “Depends,” and then—ohmothermary—he smirks.

“Gonna have to test her out first.”

A few snickers.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

You’re trapped with nowhere to go, once again surrounded by a gaggle of soulless monsters. Fear grips you, but thankfully, it’s muted, now, having been mostly expended during the harrowing events of the morning.

Just an hour ago, pressed to the side of an abandoned house, you’d allowed yourself to give up.

So, it feels easy—natural—settling back into that rhythm.

To submit to your inevitable, violent fate.

Joel’s voice cuts through the clamour of your racing thoughts. “Upstairs, the room with the open door. Go.”

Eyes glued to the floor, you put one foot in front of the other, your insides twisting and turning inside your core. Fuck, you can feel the pairs of eyes following you with every step you take. The stairs creak as your weight presses into them, squealing like wounded prey.

“N’ take that fuckin’ jacket off,” Joel calls after you, the echoes of his booming voice and the group’s degrading laughter chasing you all the way up into the room—the one with the open door.

And it’s nice, surprisingly. Dusty, admittedly, and clearly having belonged to someone else—a long, long time ago—but the bed is made, the window lets the light in, and the walls remind you of cinnamon.

No, this wouldn’t be the worst prison. Or the worst place to die. It’s a sure-fire step up from the gutter between two dilapidated houses.

You keep the jacket on, shivering under its weight. Even as you hear footsteps climbing the stairs, even as the more rational, civilized side of your mind urges you to accede to your (non)rescuer’s every command.

The conversation downstairs dies off just as Joel rounds the corner, appearing in the doorway—a giant. Though your stomach lurches, and though your legs feel like putty, you hold your ground.

“I’ll fight, you know,” you hiss, watching him seal off the entrance to the room behind him. His flannel has droplets of blood on the collar—reminders of your previous captor—would your other attacker have been a better option? Who’d be more merciful to your quivering body?

You charge your voice with every last modicum of strength at your disposal. “I’ll fight.”

He turns, smirking softly at your clenched fists. “S’good, sweetheart. I like a little fight.” He stalks towards you, swiping his thumb along the plushness of his bottom lip, his intimidating presence forcing your back to meet the flat hardness of the wall behind you.

So much for fighting.

There’s nothing living in his eyes as he says it—nothing save the roiling flames of hunger: “You see those guys downstairs?”

You glare up at him, trying not to notice the alluring hook of his nose, or the way your body works against you, responding to the earthy smell of him.

Then, you nod, wordlessly.

“Did you count ‘em?” He splays a hand beside your head, using one hand to pry your arms uncrossed.

Again, you nod. “How many?” He asks, his voice deceptively soft.

“Five.” Breathless.

“S’right, sweetheart. Ever had your lil’ holes stuffed by five guys at once?”

A swallow, and your voice cracks when you’re finally able to put it to use. “No.”

He pries your elbows to your sides, pulling the beige fabric open, revealing the torn remains of your underwear.

It’s almost a croon, feigned concern underpinning his low tone. “You wanna see what it’s like?” He drinks in the sight of your bare chest, almost groaning at the sight of your naked front.

It’s not cold anymore; no, suddenly you’re very hot.

“No, please, no.”

He slips the coat off of your shoulders, letting it fall in a heap to the ground. He assesses you once more: studying every square inch of your skin under his shadowed eyes.

“M’only gonna say this once, sweetheart.” All that fake-gentleness fades from his tone, replaced by the sadistic, authoritative timbre he’d first greeted you with. “I need you to be very careful.”

You’re frozen—all that fight, it drains out of you, captivated by the raider’s looming form, his mesmerizing speech.

“You’re alone, yeah?” A nod, which he acknowledges, trailing a hand up the length of your waist. “S’what I thought. N’ the way I found you today? That’s a best-case-scenario for a girl like you, out here on your own.”

He drags a finger up the centre of your breast, skilled fingertips just barely brushing the peaked nipple. You lean into his touch—the near imperceptible arch of your back doesn’t go unnoticed, and you kick yourself internally as the corners of his lips twitch up.

Still, the raider ignores your trembling.

“You’re mine, now,” he continues, egged on by your involuntary movement. “Means you’re gonna be a good girl n’ do as I say, n’ I’ll make sure I’m the only man who touches you.” His big hand drops to his heavy silver buckle, and the clearly defined, bulging lines underneath it have your heart clawing out of your chest. Joel senses your fear—and it only makes him harder. “I don’t like sharin’ what’s mine, y’know? But you try anything—you step outta line—I’ll throw you to my guys downstairs.”

His hand finds your throat, hunger and warning beating to the same rhythm in his gaze. “I have no problem watching.” He gives your larynx a squeeze, multitasking as he pulls the strap of his belt through the worn loops of his denim. “Understood?”

You have no words left, shaking from head to toe as the reality of the situation finally settles in.

As he works the intimidating weight of his cock out of his jeans.

A huff. Joel flips you over, impatient, pressing your scraped up cheek to the cinnamon-brown of the wall.

Déjà vù.

Your knees are separated by his own, and his weight flattens you. He wastes no time: lining himself up, his tip separates your folds. Resistance is futile—with one hand, he holds your thighs open—even as they try to press themselves closed, even as you whimper at the rough, male knuckles pressed to bruise on the insides of your legs.

Leaving his mark.

It’s not an option to simply take it. Joel forces you to participate in the sinful act: “I asked you a fuckin’ question,” he growls, gripping your chin indelicately. “You understand me, girl?”

A swallow and a flinch as you feel the head of his cock poke at your entrance. “Yes. Okay. Yes.”

“Yes, Joel,” he corrects. “Use my name. You’re mine now. Use my fuckin’ name.”

Tears prick the corners of your eyes at the promised savagery in his tone. Holding back a sob, you respond: “Yes, Joel.”

You watch his hand, large and capable, splaying out a mere inch away from the tip of your nose. “Good,” he commends. “Z’are the only fuckin’ words you know, from now on.”

His free hand slaps against your hip, yanking you down onto his hard length. Your hips buck up against his abdomen, responding to the pull of his fingertips, even as you cry out at the sting, the stretch. The raider tries to force himself between your walls—muttering a grunted “shit”—and thrusting up against your ass.

But you’re too tight, too tense, and your stubborn body refuses to open up for him. Finally listening to you.

“Relax,” he orders, surprisingly softly. He moves his hand from your hip to the apex of your thighs, rubbing rough circles against your clit. Fuck, how’d he find it so fast? You gasp at the feel of his fingertips against your most sensitive, touch-starved spot, hating yourself for the way his pressure makes you feel.

Because…

Because—fuck.

It feels… good. The man knows exactly what he’s doing—methodical in his ministrations, prepping you only enough to ensure his own eventual pleasure. “S’too tight, baby,” he breathes against your neck, “Need to loosen up for me, yeah?”

He’s not gentle. No part of it is gentle. Nonetheless, pleasure ripples through your centre and down your thighs as he effectively turns you on.

“Thaaaaaa’s right,” and his voice is mocking and taunting and degrading as he drags his digits away, grabbing and pulling at your breasts, instead. Feeling the involuntary release of your cunt, Joel finally pushes himself in, sheathing the long, thick length of his cock inside you.

“Need to show this pussy what it’s fuckin’ made for.”

A current of pain flutters up your cunt just as he fills it up to the brim. You can’t help it—your stoicism crumbles to dust—and a soft, scared, pained whimper tumbles from your lips.

And he groans at it, thrusting roughly, over and over again. And again. “Hurts, does it?”

His breath is hot against your ear, and despite the fear, the ancient instincts gripping your bones, telling you to run, run, run, fight, fight, fight—it’s… enticing.

Hot.

“It hurts.”

He laughs, low and dark, bringing his hands to circle your hips, steadying you as you stumble on your tip-toes.

“Cry about it.”

And he keeps on going, tearing you open. The way his girth touches every starved part of your insides leaves you wanting, even despite the sting of his fingernails biting into your hips, the tears and cuts stinging at your opening.

You hate yourself for it.

But you clench around him, stifling a pathetic moan.

God, no—I am not enjoying this.

He breathes another laugh. “Feelin’ full, baby? Tell me how good it feels, c’mon,” and your inhalations come in heaves as he pounds into you, delivering a harsh slap to the side of your hip, hard enough for your skin to ripple from the contact. “Do as I say.”

When you refuse to sate him, swallowing all of your little noises, Joel grips your throat, bringing your head slamming against his shoulder. Your back arches into a perfect crescent, spine contorting at his will. A gasped cry fans out against his salt-and-pepper jaw.

A sob—of fear, of frustration, of reluctant pleasure. “You’re evil.”

The grip on your throat tightens, and he looses another laugh, squeezing your skin, muscles, and tendons oh-so-tight.

You’d be wrecked, bruised—branded—come sunrise.

“Yeah?” He groans, cock slamming up into your very guts.

“M-mhmm—” and the saltwater tears start pouring, trailing glistening slopes down your cheeks in long, long lines. Distantly, you hear his answer—“Yeah, well, you’re wet”—as those silver droplets keep on falling. Where they come from, you aren’t certain; of course, the terror, the physical torture, and the frustration at your entrapment contribute to the mess under your eyes.

But that warmth… the unbridled desire radiating between your thighs… that wasn’t helping, either.

“Fuuuuck,” he groans, muttering another “S’it—s’right,” and releasing your throat to tilt your head up to face him. He drinks in his creation, the ruined sight of your tear-stricken face, and his cock swells between your beaten walls. “God, you look so fuckin’ pretty takin’ it from me—cryin’ like your lil’ pussy ain’t desperate for this.”

Joel smiles when you sob.

It goes on for a while. He doesn’t tire quickly, bringing you right up to the edge of reluctant ecstasy before you remind yourself of the hatred you owed the man fucking into you. You get used to the sound of his hips snapping against your skin, your cries mingling with his gravelly, low grunts. It’s a dirty, depraved symphony—orchestrated by the monster between your thighs.

You can’t help the moan that escapes your lips when he finally, finally brings his fingers back down between your legs. He grunts in approval, barely grazing the length of your folds, pressing his thumb into the delicate flesh of your thigh, instead. “Dirty lil’ girl—fuckin’ dyin’ to be an old man’s whore, z’that it?” and he doesn’t even touch you, focussed on his own pleasure, but the proximity alone is enough to have you wrecked.

And you just can’t help it: “J-joel—”

“Y’know,” he chuckles, slightly out of breath, slowing his strokes to address your wanton whine, “You’re gonna make such a good lil’ fuck-toy, baby, f’you keep makin’ those pretty lil’ noises for me.”

The reality of the situation comes barrelling down on you as he acknowledges—praises—your enjoyment of his torture.

This man… this man was cruel. He was hurting you, and enjoying it.

You struggle against him, a pathetic show of weakness. Joel holds you in place effortlessly, arching your back further, keeping your hips preened back to receive the harsh thrusts he delivers to your torn, ruined cunt. “Where you goin’?” He laughs at your pathetic attempt at resistance, grips tightening. “Thought we were havin’ fun, baby—don’t it feel good?”

And he quickens again, slamming into every needy spot inside you. His breaths grow shallow, as rough as his hands and the ferocity of this punishment.

“No,” you manage, fingernails digging into his forearm.

He tuts, the vocal click constricted with lust, and his hand travels the length of you, settling against that aching bud between your thighs. “Fuckin’ liar.”

He presses down, proving his point. Your entire body tenses as pleasure ripples through you—despite your best efforts, climax crests through your core, threatening to implode within you. Joel hums, smirking when he feels your legs parting even wider.

“S’mine now, alright? You’re mine now.” He crams every inch of his cock up inside you, pulling you flush against his chest. “S’okay to come for me—s’okay, baby, I want you to—s’fuckin’ right, let go for me, baby—” and his crooning takes you over the edge.

Christ, it feels so good.

You clench around him, high-pitched pleas and moans tumbling from your lips, his own pair dragging down the swoop of your ear. In that split second, Joel—the devil at your back—is your favourite thing in the world: your hero, your haven, your God. Fuck, you could just kiss him, marry him, fuck him over and over and over and over—

A hand clamps over your mouth during those brief, blissful moments; the man practically bounces you up and down the length of him, muffling the cries of pain and pleasure tearing from your sore throat against the rough skin of his palm. He groans inside your ear—a stammered, sinful “fuuuck”—and then he’s spilling his seed inside you, shoving it impossibly deep as those quick, harsh strokes stutter and slow.

You come to, waking up from your pleasure-drunk daze. Before you get the opportunity to wriggle away from him, the monster flips you over again, slamming your shoulders to the wall. With his forearm barring your chest, and despite your fear and ire—somehow, all you can think about is the fact that he’s not as out of breath as he really should be (given his age and, of course, what he’d just done to you).

Joel leaks out of you. His cum paints masterpieces down your legs.

He slides his free hand down the length of his cock, collecting the last bits of slick clinging to him and not dripping out of you. The intermingling juices are brought to the roundness of your breasts—the raider slathers your sore peaks with his own spend.

“Nobody’s gonna fuck with you—but that means you’re Joel’s girl. Hear me?” With your head bowed, you glare up at him through silver-lined spider lashes, shame beating at your cheeks. When you hum your acknowledging “uh-huh,” the stranger continues on, gripping your jaw to angle your gaze up: “Means you listen—you-you don’t fuckin’ try me—n’ you take everything I give you, every fuckin’ time. Understand?” He tucks his softening length back in his pants, dark eyes dancing with satisfaction as he leers at your destroyed form.

When you don’t respond, he brings the back of his punishing hand colliding with the side of your face.

Something between a squeal and a gasp tumbles from your lips; Joel catches it, placing the pad of his thumb to your bottom lip, pressing down. Your cheek stings from his harsh slap, delivered on top of the scrapes and wounds a different cruel man had left upon your skin.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, baby, but I will f’I have to,” and he’s earnest, commanding and pleading at once. “You gotta answer me.”

Slowly, you croak out a timid, “Yes,” and an “I understand,” followed by a final “Joel.”

Nodding, he straightens, the violence in his gaze fading just minutely. When he lets go, you stagger—the raider senses the instability of your knees, reflexively snaking a steadying arm around your waist.

You’re not sure where the impulse comes from. Perhaps it’s exhaustion, the aftermath of your orgasm, or maybe it’s just a sick, twisted desire to sink into something beyond your body—either way, you respond to Joel’s support by throwing your arms around his neck.

And he responds by lifting you, walking you over to the bed, and tossing you down on the sheets. Awakening into reality, you scamper back, grabbing and yanking at the surrounding bedding in a desperate attempt to cover yourself.

But Joel pays you no mind.

Having had his way, he’s through with you—for now. Nonchalantly, apathetically, he runs a hand through his hair, tracing heavy steps towards the door.

“Lock the door when I leave,” he instructs, but his tone is soft… possessive and commanding, yes, but… caring. “Don’t open it for anyone but me.”

He waits for your show of understanding, your near imperceptible nod.

Then, he sighs, yanking on the handle and giving you his final address over a pair of creaky, squeaky, rusted hinges. “Try to sleep, sweetheart—got a long night ahead of you.” Chuckling to himself, he leaves the sanctuary of the room.

All you can hear as your body grows heavy and warm, travelling somewhere far, far beyond this violent world are the echoes of male laughter down the hall, and a familiar, satisfied, gravelly voice:

“Not worth much, now. Might just fuckin’ keep her.”

And you slip away, dreaming of belt buckles, blood-stained collars, and the lung-squeezing heat of the setting Texan sun.

—

He used to call me DN

That stood for deadly nightshade

'Cause I was filled with poison

But blessed with beauty and rage

Jim told me that

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

Jim brought me back

Reminding me of when we were kids

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

I can hear sirens, sirens

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

I can hear violins, violins

Give me all of that ultraviolence

He used to call me poison

Like I was poison ivy

I could've died right then

'Cause he was right beside me

Jim raised me up

He hurt me but it felt like true love

Jim taught me that

Loving him was never enough

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

I can hear sirens, sirens

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

I can hear violins, violins

Give me all of that ultraviolence

We can go back to New York

Loving you was really hard

We could go back to Woodstock

Where they don't know who we are

Heaven is on earth

I would do anything for you, babe

Blessed is this union

Crying tears of gold, like lemonade

I love you the first time

I love you the last time

Yo soy la princesa, comprende mis white lines

'Cause I'm your jazz singer

And you're my cult leader

I love you forever

I love you forever

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

I can hear sirens, sirens

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

I can hear violins, violins

Give me all of that ultraviolence

—

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TAGS WILL CONTINUE IN A REBLOG (there are simply too many of you & I don’t want this post to crash <3)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #raider!joel miller #raider!joel #tlou #the last of us #joel miller the last of us #Joel miller fanfiction #Pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel the last of us #joel miller tlou

[the-music-maniac]

Not that I read mpreg all that often (not really my thing generally speaking) but I came across some "Sanji is pregnant" fics in the sanzo/zosan tag, and not nearly the same amount for Zoro. It got me thinking about the trope. I think the lack of Zoro fics here is a tragic oversight. I think we as a fandom are absolutely and tragically ignoring the potential comedy gold of Zoro being the one to be pregnant instead.

Because when people write Sanji, the general trend I'm seeing (upon scanning through some of the fics quickly) is that he's cautious about it. Conscientious, careful to make sure things are okay. Which - arguably I could see, Sanji is probably the more practical of the two (not by a whole lot but still)and he didn't have a good childhood. Sanji being pregnant is usually a fic about his heaps of parental issues, childhood trauma and angst - which is fun to read. It's good. It's amazing, even.

Zoro being pregnant is ONE HUNDRED PERCENT gonna be a COMEDY. We're talking about a man who once tried to fight Kuina holding like 20 bokkens. We're talking about a man who got stuck in wax and thought the reasonable solution was to cut off his legs.

The entire crew spends the next 9 months tearing their hair out, preventing Zoro from doing stupid shit (exhibit A: cutting off his own limbs). They spend the same amount of time trying to stop Luffy from gum-gum-grabbing Zoro and yeeting him anytime he needs to get them out of a sticky situation.

The crew (mostly Sanji) is on 24/7 prevent-zoro-from-drinking-alcohol duty (impossible). Chopper is constantly stressed in the later months cause no one puts it past Zoro to get lost somewhere, give birth out in the woods and come strolling back with a baby tucked under his arm. They have to start hiding Zoro's dumbbells.

Franky and Usopp design and build a nursery and spends the entire time suspiciously teary eyed. Sanji tries to pretend he's unaffected but spends an entire night creating a 9 month meal plan of all the nutrients Zoro and the baby are gonna need. Not even a day later, one of the crew finds him up at 2 am making a mountain of food because Zoro made the mistake of offhandedly mentioning he had particular pregnancy craving within earshot of Sanji. In the end Zoro has to sit on him to stop Sanji from running himself ragged.

Robin keeps spouting morbid childbirth facts and quotes from parental advice books in equal measure. Nami keeps going on shopping sprees for cute baby clothes and adding the cost of them to Zoro's debt. Brook keeps writing lullabies and trying to sing them to Zoro's stomach. Zoro 100% uses his pregnancy belly as an excuse to walk around without a shirt 24/7 without getting nagged.

Somehow word gets out that the famous pirate hunter Zoro is pregnant, and at the next big fight with the Marines, half the soldiers refuse to fight him and instead start telling him to sit down, take it easy, shouting advice at him etc. Etc. Zoro loses his shit a little bit and cuts their boat in half.

Mihawk, upon finding out, tells Zoro in no uncertain terms that that is his grandchild and he's expecting them to visit so he can meet the baby when they're born. Zoro vehemently denies that Mihawk is his father (he is). Zeff upon finding out, is almost as bad as Sanji when it comes to being a mother hen. Perona buys even more baby clothes for the baby. She buys one singular shirt for Zoro as a joke, and it coincidentally happens to be the exact same brand of "mama" crop top he was forced to wear in that one filler episode. Zoro tries to chuck it into the ocean (he fails).

I'm essentially saying it would be absolute chaos, and it would be the funniest thing I've ever read. 9 months of Marimo wrangling. Can you imagine the look on Zoro's face if one of the opponents he was fighting were to tell him that he's "glowing"?

PLEASE, I would actually wheeze myself to death. The best part is you can still have plenty of Sanji angst. He still has parental issues except now they're flavoured with "I'm not ready to be a father" and "I'm terrified I'm gonna become my biological sperm donor" and "please don't die because of childbirth complications, that happened to my mother(sort of, I know she died after but it kinda counts), and I can't handle that happening again to you". Lots of cute/tender moments of Zoro comforting and reassuring Sanji. We can even have Zoro angst. He probably views protecting his crew as the one and only job he's good for (not true but that's probably what he thinks). Not being able to fulfill that is probably not helping his self esteem, and that sense of uselessness warring with his need to protect the baby - but the contradictory thing here is that to protect the baby he HAS to sit back and let other people do that FOR him. That plus all the other restrictions, people treating him differently, but him at the same time refusing to view his own child as a weakness. Imagine the havoc that would wreak. Oh my god.

Y'all don't understand, I don't even read mpreg that often and yet this is literally my ideal fic HAHAAAAA

#we already know Zoro would be a good parent considering how he is with kids but pregnancy? different matter entirely #i don't know much about jimbei yet so sadly i can't write much about him feel free to comment any headcanons y'all come up with though #zosan #sanzo #zoro x sanji #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #cat burglar nami #monkey d luffy #nico robin #op franky #op brook #god ussop #tony tony chopper #mpreg

[ponderingmoonlight]

Geto's little sister finding out her husband got sealed by her big brother and going nuts

Pairing: Geto's little sister x husband!Gojo

Word Count: 3,1k

Synopsis: You thought you lost him forever, your big brother. Until Shibuya brings you back to reality, until your beloved husband gets sealed by none other than your dead big brother. Until you show your enemy what you're made off...

Warnings: this is a emotional rollercoaster, (y/n) is a bad bitch but damn that just hurts, drama over drama, cursing over cursing, I worked so hard to get this fic out tonight so please show some love 😭not proofread yet, will do that tomorrow!

„I’ll leave now.“

You look up from your magazine, furrowing your eyebrows at your oh so precious husband.

“Weren’t you suppose to leave…Like two hours ago?”, you question innocently.

“I wasn’t done in the bathroom.”

“You’re so vain that it hurts.”

“Watch your mouth, Geto”, he warns you by your former last name.

With a swift motion he lands on top of you, large figure almost swallowing you whole while you grin at him triumphally. Were you just teasing Satoru for him to grab you by the throat ever so slightly, for him to stare at you with his dirty blue eyes?

Definitely.

“Or what, Gojo?”, you bite back, emphasizing every syllable of his last name with so much provocation that it takes all his strength to stop himself from fucking you until you can’t stand anymore.

He never imagined you to lay under him this way. You, the sister of his best friend. You, who always seemed so threatful unbothered by him. Just before Suguru decided to leave all of you behind, just before he massacred both of your parents, you decided to give him a chance. And you didn’t even change your mind when he was forced to kill your big brother.

“You want me to stay here and leave our students out there alone?”, he hushes against your lips.

Because if you would, he’d definitely stay here all night.

“You know I’m always up for you, but not tonight. They actually called me as well when you were busy doing your pretty hair in the bathroom. Something serious is going on there. I’ll join as soon as I’m ready here.”

Since your brother decided to kill everyone apart from jujutsu sorcerers, you were always keen to do the exact opposite by saving as many people as possible. As much as you love him still, as much as you do in fact somehow understand him, he went down a path you couldn’t follow. He was like your older twin. Not only by looks, but also your cursed techniques were the same, made you a powerful weapon against these fucking curses.

Well, now you’re your own weapon as it seems. Your eyes stare up at your now husband who still looks at you with the same affection in his eyes like more than 10 years ago.  

No, you aren’t alone. After all, you’ll always have Satoru by your side.

“Get your pretty ass moving then. We’ve got some work to do.”

-later in Shibuya-

You desperately try to ignore the way your guts turn, yanking down the busted streets as if you’re haunted.

He’s sealed.

Satoru Gojo, your newly husband, the one and only who stuck to you all these damn years, the love of your fucking life.

Sealed, gone in the wind, trapped in a tiny box.

But as if that wasn’t enough, rumours reached your ear. Rumours about none other than your big brother being responsible for this. Your big, dead brother.

Your feet clash against the hard ground underneath, body sprinting towards what looks like a new battlefield. Whoever this fucker is will pay for what he’s done. Not only to your husband, but to your brother as well.

And what about your students? You didn’t arrive on time, not a single update reached your ear when you entered the curtain, eyes wide open in disbelief by all the death surrounding you. If that thing hurt a single one of them, if a single jujutsu sorcerer lost their life here…

You’ll lose it completely.

The second a wave of what looks like ice begins to dart towards the recognizable outlines of people you waste no time, shooting a bunch of grade one curses their way while using one as a curtain to hold back the ice.

“(y/n)…Is…Is that you?”

Yuji. A few other students from Kyoto, Utahime, Panda, Kusakabe. They’re injured, but alive. What about the rest? Where are Mei Mei, Toge, Nanami and that old Zenin fart? You give yourself a little shake, eyes focused on your curse and the wave of ice in front of you. Now is not the right time to think about all of that. Your priority is to finally catch that fucker who uses your brother’s appearance and saving who’s here at the moment.

And the most important, get your sealed husband back.

“You have some fucking nerve, showing up and making such a mess. And now you’re even dumb enough to attack other jujutsu sorcerers. Who the hell do you think you are, huh?”

Your heart is almost beating out of your chest, eyes focused in front of you. Maybe that person just looks like him, Suguru. You found peace with the fact that he’s gone a long time ago, it’s simply not possible to see his gentle eyes ever again. You accepted the fact that he won’t trade his pokemon cards with you, that the time of getting on his nerves while secretly loving him dearly is over. No one can copy him, no one can-

“You are pretty late, (y/n).”

No one can sound like him. You shake your head in utter disbelief, mind desperately trying to process the fact that this sounded exactly like Suguru Geto, that the frame behind the falling curtain of ice and purple is…

Him.

You can’t move an inch. Instead, you just stand there in silence, staring him up and down. This looks just like him, this sounds like him. Fuck, this even smells like him, radiates the same energy as him.

But no.

The way he said your name wasn’t the same. It missed the soft tone in his voice, how it always lightened up by his small smile when seeing you.

“And you’re in big trouble.”

Is it an hallucination, some type of strange technique? No, it has to be his body, it is his body. Somebody else seems to control it.

And that someone will pay for using him, for tarnishing his memory.

“Is my own little sister not able to recognize me? I guess that’s not as bad as getting betrayed by her, though.”

“Spare me with that bullshit. It seems like you really know nothing about me and my big brother. What do you want me to do, huh? Break down in tears and cry, believe that you’re actually him? I will wipe your ass from this earth without even blinking. But before that, I want my husband back”, you his through gritted teeth.

“What betrayed me, little (y/n)? How did you know it wasn’t him?”

His figure comes closer, makes you urge to touch him just once. This is still his body, a body that reminds you of all the things you’ve been through. The serious business of trading pokemon cards that you did until he left, your shared training sessions, him introducing you to Satoru, him holding you in his arms when you’ve got your first heartbreak only for him to hold you back when you tried to set that poor boy on fire. This body still holds all of those memories.

But it doesn’t hold him anymore.

Your husband lives, though. He might be sealed, but he’s still somewhere. And that fucker has him, you just know it.

You shake them off, those feelings of melancholy. Time to focus on reality. And reality is that Satoru killed your big brother a year ago, that this thing in front of you has nothing in common with him except his appearance.

“No one will ever by as charming as he was. Now, will you give me my husband back without a fight and let me kill you? I’m not in the mood for a talk with you, y’know.”

It’s impossible and you know it. There is no way in hell this thing will give up its plan and just hand Satoru over. But at least this will buy you some time.

“You should know best that you don’t stand a chance against his body, don’t you think?”

A disregarding huff escapes your lips while you straighten your shoulders and stare right into the eyes of the big brother you’ve lost a year ago. God knows you really tried to stay cool, that you were desperate to keep your composure. But the second it grins at you with his charming face, it’s over and out.

“You should know that I wasn’t only better at pokemon trading, moron.”

“Stand behind me, I’ve got this.”

“But (y/n)-“

You don’t waste another minute. With a blast of another wave of different curses, you hit him with full force. Over the last few years, you absorbed every curse you stumbled upon. Especially the night parade was the perfect opportunity for you to steal your big brother’s precious curses. And even though you swore you yourself that you’ll never lose them, that they will remain in loving memory by your side, this seems like the perfect time to release them.

For a brief moment, you feel like crying, the way it just laughs at you with his voice, wearing his yukata, even wearing his hairstyle. How did it even come so far? How did this thing end up in your big brother’s body?

He would have wanted this, right? That you destroy his body in order to stop this madness. Despite all the horrible things he’s done, Suguru would have never wanted jujutsu sorcerers to get hurt, especially not Satoru. No, he would have never allowed your husband to get sealed, he wouldn’t let anyone attack you this roughly.

Your husband…How is he doing? Is he still alive? You feel like throwing up, just the minor thought of him potentially dying in this seal…No one was ever able to get out, some of the strongest sorcerers ended up in that cube.

No.

This needs to stop.

“Get yourself together”, you hiss to yourself, shaking off your stinging thoughts immediately.

This is not the time for sadness or grief.

This is the time for pure rage.

“I will make you pay for every sin you committed with his body”, you shout towards him while attacking him from underneath.

This thing is so fucking fast, using Suguru’s powers so efficiently that you’re almost not able to follow its movements.

You clench your hands into fists, eyes narrowed while thick fury pumps through your veins. Get yourself together, this isn’t only about taking revenge.

This is about getting your husband back.

“What would he think about you, seeing you this way? I know how disappointed he was when you left him to die, leaving him for his former best friend. And I thought I am cruel”, it spits at you, shooting another wave of curses your way.

“You know absolutely nothing about him, let alone me. You’re nothing but a parasite in his body, a bug I’ll crush underneath my heel.”

You draw yourself closer, keeping him busy in hand to hand combat. You were always better than Suguru when it came to fighting without any curses around. Where the hell does he keep that damned cube?

“You and me, we’re both parasites, (y/n). But unlike you, I can still look into the mirror without being disgusted of the way I turned out.”

“That’s because you’re looking into his gorgeous face, idiot”, you bite back, landing a full-on hit against his ribcage.

“Is that Satoru Gojo’s wife?”, Noritoshi Kamo mutters in sheer disbelief, eyes not even able to follow your rapid movements.

“Yep, the one and only”, Panda confirms dryly.

“Take a few steps back. She’ll definitely freak out-“

“RUN!”, Yuji cries on top of his lungs.

Countless courses roam around you and your big brothers’ corpse, fighting each other for dear life. He can’t help but admire you, the spark that gleams in your eyes, the way you don’t even try to hold back despite the stinging fact that you’re fighting against your brothers’ body. You look so threatful that it almost takes his breath away.

If it wasn’t for the last weapon he has in store.

“You’re not giving it everything, you’re holding back!”, he screams over the deafening noise around you both, making your veins stand out even more.

You see nothing but red, nothing but the shell of the brother you used to love, nothing but a monster that trapped your husband. That thing…That fucking thing straight out of hell.

“Uzumaki.”

The word leaves your mouths at the same time. Like in trance you stand there, watch as a giant wave of condensed cursed energy builds up behind Suguru’s frame, watch as it shoots towards you like an arrow.

You aren’t a fool, fully aware of the fact that you might get killed right here on the spot. This is your only chance to win this fight, to leave your brother’s body where it belongs, to free your husband out of that things’ grasp. But…are you strong enough?

“I can’t believe you’re already stronger than me. Look at you, (y/n).”

You kneeled down in front of him, took his hand into yours gently while desperately trying to supress a sob. This was it, the time you had to say your final goodbye to your best friend.

“Well, I just stole a whole bunch of your curses at that parade. They did taste like shit though.”

His kind smile radiated through the dark alley, right through your heavy heart. This…this couldn’t be the end. You weren’t even able to spend one last evening with him, to show him the pokemon cards you stole some kid.

“I don’t want you to go”, you finally gave in.

Faster than he was able to react, you wrapped your desperate arms around him, rested your head against his bloody chest. This couldn’t be the end, Suguru couldn’t leave you like that.

“I fear I have to, (y/n). You still got Satoru-“

“Satoru is not you”, you interrupted him immediately.

“Satoru is not my big brother. Satoru will never be you.”

“I’m so proud of the person you have become, (y/n). You are far more than a normal jujutsu sorcerer, way better than all those monkeys. You are my special, my everything. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. You’ll always stay (y/n) Geto to me. And I’ll be with you the whole way.”

Your eyes widen. Suguru, he firmly believed in you, never even second-guessed your abilities.

“You…just beat me.”

Your heavy breath hung in the air between both of you, body collapsing onto the ground from sheer exhaustion. What did Satoru just say? What did even happen the last few seconds?

“Babe, you…You were actually able to beat me.”

You…beat none other than Satoru Gojo?

“Impossible”, you murmured to yourself, staring at your bloody hands in sheer disbelief.

“You became so damn strong. My god, I’m so proud of you, (y/n)! You just have to work your ass off even more. Come on, get up, attack me again.”

And Satoru, the love of your life, your precious husband, the strongest…You were able to beat him.

You take a deep breath in, whole body being on fire. This is your moment. And you won’t let a cheap copy of your brother defeat you like that.

Like in trance, you dash forward along with your thick cursed energy, hands stretched out for him. One last look into his chocolate brown eyes, one last glance at his usually so soft features before you hit him with your fest shoot, a toe-curling scream of agony and rage escaping your lips while slamming him into the ground. Deeper and deeper, harder and harder. Back to where he belongs: six feet under.

“Give me my husband back”, you spit at him, grabbing his throat so harshly that you can feel his windpipe struggle against your palm.

Instead of replying, he just plainly laughs at you, bloodshot eyes almost piercing through you. That’s enough.

“Is this how you let it end, Suguru? Are you really letting this moron take control over your body like that! Come on, defend yourself, give Satoru back to me!”, you cry on top of your lungs, staring into the brown orbs you used to know so well.

“Pathetic. I am the one who’s in control of this body now, stupid girl!”

“I still have the shiny flareon you gifted me when I was 6, I’m always carrying it with me. I’m still sleeping in the shirt I stole from you when you were 16. You’ve done many things wrong in your way too short life, please do this one last thing right! Please give Satoru back to me.”

Your heart almost stops when his trembling arms yanks into the air, uncontrollably roaming around his Yukata.

Until he stretches it right in front of your face. The prison realm. Your husband.

“This…this can’t be possible! I am the one who is in control over this body!”

Your body goes numb, widen eyes staring at his arm while your heart skips a beat. This is really him, your Suguru. He really is strong enough to even outstand death.

His fingertips brush over your cheek ever so gently. Fuck, you feel like breaking down and crying. This right in front of you is your big brother, the person you thought you lost a year ago, the man who slipped through your fingers when he was 16 without you even noticing. You weren’t there for him the way you should have been, weren’t able to drag him back onto your side, weren’t able to save him from his unnecessary death.

“I’m sorry, Suguru. I will always love you with all my heart.”

But you know you have to go.

Now.

With one last glimpse you yank yourself into the air, hand holding onto that little cube for dear life.

Focus on the mission.

“We need to go, now”, you yell towards your students, sending a curse in the form of a dragon their way.

You straighten your shoulders, chase away the memories that threaten to destroy you completely.

“Hey hot thing, long time no see. Guess you were just as surprised as me when you saw him again, huh?”, you mutter towards the cube in your hands that has its bright blue eyes set on you.

“I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but I’ll get you out of there, Satoru. After all, we’re the strongest…”

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr@kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @tachiharazsstuff @kawaiiakamaru @lilacsinjuly @nazeeraswife @eva-616 @revrse @thel0v3hashira143 @arehzhera @circe143 @mitsuristoleme @sugaremedy @sugurulefttesticle @sweetchildcloud @invmakitoge @a-daydreamers-day @rhinara-vy

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen shibuya arc #shibuya #jjk shibuya incident #shibuya incident #jjk shibuya arc #jjk scenarios #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk hurt #kenjaku #jjk getou #geto suguru #jjk geto #jujutsu geto #suguru #jujutsu kaisen gojo #satoru #satoru gojo #geto #gojo satoru x reader

[faeryarchives]

loved by the moon (riddle, leona, and azul x f!reader)

requested by @lydiacallas: Can i ask for a Moon Goddess like!Fem!Reader? Like they have magic linked to the moon, they have like- this ethereal, pure and calm vibe of the moon itself and their voice is calm too. Maybe their hair is a bit glow in the dark? With Malleus, Azul, Lilia, Riddle and Leona, please and thank you very much! 🥺✨ warning: minor spoilers to book 6 + somewhat long imagine note: reader uses she / they pronouns + is in the same grade as the boys !! this is very overdue im sorry 😣 and i based some characteristic and abilities to moonlight cookie and princess luna guilty as charged 😔 + malleus and lilia part will be in another post! recent fics: happy birthday (malleus x reader) & when your hopeless streamer gets a girlfriend (ace x reader) & its you, it always had been you

·˚ ༘ riddle rosehearts (2nd year ramshackle dorm leader)

"the decision of all professors and staffs of night raven college falls in favor for miss (name) (last name) to enroll here - exempting them from the all-boys rule. she will be in charge of the ramshackle dorm during her stay here."

riddle does not understand how on earth were you able to stay in the school and always hold yourself with such grace, he couldn't explain why your presence seems to be similar to vil like you were oozing of calm vibes

you were the total opposites - he is more accustomed to fire while you specialize in water magic*. he lose his rationality quickly while he had never see you even falter during the time you two were classmates + he always abides by the rules while you do what ever you want 

"you are not allowed to sleep in class!" "it's not sleeping, i am just resting my eyes..." "you must not pick flowers from the garden on wednesdays." "riddle, i am not under the queen of hearts rules."

and riddle actually holds a one sided grudge against you for that + makes it his mission always to remind you of the rules, going on about mini rants to which you nodded to while reading your books

typically, riddle would've mention something about the rule of the queen of hearts but he was strangely quiet. you see him looking down at his notebook, lost in his world. and that surprised you because never you would've thought you would know this side of him. "no rule trivia for today?" "...huh?" "there is something on your mind, no? why don't we talk about that instead our usual trivias."

as time passed by, you and riddle gradually close friends to the point that heartslabyul treats you like their saving grace whenever riddle goes on a rampage, even more when you became second years

when the first overblot happened, it was the first time he saw your face, usually so calm, crumbled like dust when the blot manifested into a large phantom

"hahaha! the law in this world is me! not even you, (name), can stop me!" "i'm not letting you go so easily, riddle. rules are meant to protect your people, but you don't realize you are using them to suffocate them. you even hurt my dorm mates, enough of this!"

riddle was sure you wouldn't speak to him again because you weren't there the moment he woke up. he tried asking trey and cater if you were avoiding him, but they could not answer him. the next few days, he didn't even get to talk to you.

then he found himself admiring nrc at night time, breaking his own rules, maybe it's okay to let is slide for now. as he needs some time to think

absentmindedly wandering around the school grounds, letting the cool breeze feel his skin, riddle had his hand brushing through the thick bushes until they got pricked by a stray thorn "ah-" he hissed, holding up his pricked finger. it was just a tiny injury that's nothing to worry about. the injury was nothing compared to what he saw next "riddle? what are you doing this here at this hour?"

riddle spotted you sitting under the tree where silver usually takes his naps, surrounded by bunnies as they piled around your lap.

after days of not seeing each other, riddle thought he was going crazy because the last time he saw you, he knew pretty sure that your eyes and hair do not have that silver glow - it was like you were the moon itself

"is it my fault that your eyes and hair changed?" "oh, this is awkward... " you look at the bunnies trying to hide behind you, being scared of riddle's sudden appearance, contemplating about something before sighing in defeat. "i think i owe you an explanation. but first, can you keep a secret?" this confused riddle very much. what do you mean explanation? did something happen while he was out? before he could even think of it, you were already in front of him - your point and middle finger placed on his forehead. 'the moon has come out to play, now bid your worries away.' a comfortable feeling of cold wrapped around riddle's body, feeling the fatigue from his overblotting disappear, the weight on his shoulder being gone and his pricked finger healed. while riddle stared at you in shock, you finally reveal your true appearance and float around him like a curious child. "would you believe me if i told you i am the descendant of the moon goddess?"

... oh. OH !!

prepare for him because this little goldfish right here is most likely a fan of reading books about your kind + cue the sparkling eyes

and oh my god are those butterflies he can feel in his stomach? or maybe he is just hungry but he only feel that way around you though. oh well !!

** okay so i think reader will be compatible with water magic because the moon has this gravitaional pull right which cause the high tides and low tides... and riddle is fire!

·˚ ༘ leona kingscholar (3rd year transfer student)

"kingscholar, think of this as your punishment for the spelldrive incident. i would gladly take miss (name) for a tour but alas, there are countless of papers that needs my attention."

leona knew that there is something like a cloak of mysteriousness around you the moment you appeared in the college mid-year as a transfer student from rsa

just you don't interfere with his plans and he will also stay out of yours but it turns out he was assigned by the crow to take you around

"... wow, do i look like a punishment worthy chore?" you sigh, shaking your head in disappointment before turning to leona and he could swear he could see your eyes glowing for a moment when you stare at him. "i take it that the dorm leader of savannaclaw will be my tour guide?" "just don't lag behind." giving you a shrug before he started walking ahead of you. despite his short descriptions and tour around the school, leona is thankful that you didn't seem to be a nosy type of person, just a little on the calm and reserve type than most people he knew.

doesn't understand how people seems to look starstruck whenever you walk by them i mean you are attractive yes but not being able to move? that's different

it also turns out you share most of your classes! maybe crowley was really punishing him for the incident as he was stuck with you, being your babysitter.

but you almost look like his babysitter + quickly became one of the most tolerable people in the school and he doesn't mind having you around

"leona? let me bother you for a moment, can you help me with this problem?" "oh that?" the lion lifted his head and stared at the paper you were holding before waving his hand in dismissal. "remember the activity we did as partners? that's the one." "..." you squinted your eyes and leona could see them literally glow in purple light causing him to blink several times if he was seeing it right but it disappeared quickly. "oh i get it now, thanks." "do your eyes really glow like that?" "huh? i don't know what you are talking about."

you were not the nagging type - letting him hide and snooze off behind you during class and surprisingly, you were fun to spar with during practical exams + too smart for your own good

he had never seen any kind of fighting similar to yours like your fighting style is only yours to begin with - not only you excel in defending, you never seem to get tired despite being a speedy defender.

you and the savanaclaw dorm leader spent the whole afternoon sparring with each other and by the time you notice it, the sun was already setting. "aren't you tired yet, leona?" "you better tell me how you manage to keep up with me all this time." you did say to keep up with you the first time we met." you twirl your spear around you before stabbing it on the ground, leaning on it and grinned at leona. "i'm just keeping my promise."

now leona was pretty sure you are not a normal transfer student + especially after fighting with you in the island of woe and it was pretty interesting how you unexpectedly exposed yourself in front him and jamil.

the moment you, who was assigned to be in the front of the group due to you having the most capable defensive powers, entered the room on the current sector, leona and jamil look at your back in surprise. "(name)-senpai?" "what's up, jamil?" "... is that a normal thing for you?" the room was oozing with the presence of phantoms everywhere and there was no source of light - aside from your hair locks that are now shining like a billowing night sky of twinkling stardust, borne in a void of black and fading in an indigo moonset "oh that's normal, we can just use it as source of light. save your magic for now." "no wonder your magic feels different from everyone else - you are a moon goddess, right?"

leona is not blind, he just need a solid evidence to confirm his gut feeling. unique magic spells + signature spear + glowing eyes and your hair locks literally looking like that?

while fighting along side each other, leona could literally leave his back open because heknew and trust that you always have his back and vice versa

"leona-senpai, watch out-" before jamil could jump in between the incoming attack and leona, you pulled the second year by his hood deflected the attack with your spear so effortlessly. "it's fine, moon fairy here got our backs." you hear leona said proudly before landing a critical hit on the phantom. "aren't you glad you're stuck with us?"

everyone in school knows how two of you would make an unbeatable duo when it comes to strategies and games

and not going to lie, leona thinks so too! you are strong, smart and everything above + treats you life his closest friend and respects you a lot but you do things sometimes that are not really necessary

"are you done yet?" he couldn't help but ask, his tail thumping on the floor with annoyance while you tried braiding some parts of his hair.

you peek over his should and smiled, trying to show him the small braid that you did on the side. "yeah, it's fun braiding your hair!" after your identity being revealed, you let yourself relax more around him - when you express happiness, your hair starts glowing as it did before and small crescent like moon thingy start appearing around you

... leona find that cute + now he understand why people become starstruck when it comes to you

**you know how moonlight cookie's hair color looks like? yeah that's the one!

·˚ ༘ azul ashengrotto (2nd year ramshackle vice dorm leader)

"did you hear about the rumors? recently, students are saying that when you go to the botanical garden at night and stand under the moonlight - all your questions will be answered!"

the fact that rumors like that exists made azul irritated because it means he got competition. and having competition in the thing he do best is not fun.

so he and the twins went to investigate - how and where the rumors first started and who are most likely to be involved in the case

surprisingly enough, it all leads to a certain ramshackle vice dorm leader aka you + azul already knew you due to being the same year and his 'rival'

he considers you as his rival because you two always seem to fight for the top 2 and 3 spot every exam but for you... i think he would be hurt if you say that you like to aim for the top spot because it's fun 🤩

it was during lunch time and you were planning to eat with yuu, grim and the others when all of a sudden, someone blocked your way out by leaning on the door. "(last name) can i ask a bit of your time? i would like to ask you regarding an important matter." the ever so charismatic azul asked, his usual charming smile on as if he wants to do business with you. "oh, hi azul. what is it about?" "how delightful! do you happen to know the rumor about your unanswered questions will be answered as you stand under the moonlight?" "there is a rumor like that? under the moonlight? why the specifics?" one thing that azul observed about you is that your emotion reflects on your eyes. call it his gut feel but just one look and he already knew you were telling the truth "a pity... it seems like i am back to square one." "... maybe i can go help you out? i am not that busy these upcoming days."

and so azul's little group grew in numbers consisting of him, you, yuu, grim and the twins. oddly enough, it was actually fun to hang out with you

azul never got to interact with you that much before and only knew information about your through papers and from what he heard from people but being with you right now exceeds his expectations

"if headmaster crowley is similar to crow... do you think he likes to hoard shiny things?" you suddenly whispered it to azul one day in class, your mind clearly wandering and not paying attention to what professor trein is writing on the board. "what is with the random thought?" what is we leave a trail of shiny things and create a trap, that would be really funny."

you were an oddball. sometimes you will joke around with him and trying to make him laugh during class. there are also times where he couldn't explain the calming feeling he had whenever you are around + he could never even feel any other intentions from your actions as if you genuinely want to become his friend

it took him a while to notice how you always seem to stand out and become the embodiment of grace and elegance - a confident yet modest person who knows what you want

you always help him out in solving the rumor mystery but there is something that made you look suspicious → you always go back to your dorm before sunset

it's not that he wants to take up all your time but the way you stand firm of not being able to join them during night time and saying how dangerous it is made him suspect you of something

so he went alone wearing his ceremonial robes (the twins are taking over his duties for a while i know very unbelievable but imagine) to investigate the botanical garden and there he saw you run inside - a trail of silver light following you behind

and when azul went inside to stand in the spot, trying to think of what to wish until he hears a familiar voice ringing in the building

"say your wish out loud and the moon will light its way to you." "well, now this is marvelous. can i see one guiding my wish for me?" azul looked up, trying to call out for you, even looking around to see signs of you. there was a moment of silence before he heard you sigh and in an instance, you appeared before him, avoiding his look. "i thought i told you to let it go?"

after finding out you were his competitor - he didn't really feel annoyed at all! rather he was intrigued on how you were able to do it ...? you help the students find the answers on their own in their dreams?!

seeing your hair glow in silver light in the dark reminds him of himself as some octopus also glow in the dark just like him!

"azul, do you know that i really admire you?" "me? what is there to admire about me? i do nknow i have a remarkable potential but compared to y-" "no, seriously. you don't need to compare yourself to me. having to do all these business related work AND studying at the same time? you should appreciate yourself more."

... do you want to make him cry on the spot? hearing such words makes him happy but hearing it from you aka one of the people he really admire and yes he admits he admire you as a rival - his emotions are going haywire.

even if he is smart, it will take time for azul to realize that his admiration is just growing stronger and stronger each day and bloom into something else

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #twst scenarios #twst imagines #riddle rosehearts #riddle roseheart x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #faeryarchives #a.twst #a.heartslabyul #a.savanaclaw #a.octavinelle #twst x reader

[dudeitiskarev]

My One and Only

Paring: Aaron Hotchner x female reader

Summary: It's Derek and Savannah's wedding, and to Hotch, you're the prettiest person in the room.

Content/warnings: mutual pining; secret relationship; food and alcohol consumption; smut (18+ only please. Minors do not engage).

Word count: 7.3k

Author’s note: this one of my all time favorite fics I’ve written that is also based on one of my fav songs by miss Taylor Swift ‘Dress’. thought I’d post it here since I’ve been gaining some new followers and as most of my fics, it’s only on AO3. If you’re new here, welcome and I hope you enjoy! Mwahh!

         Everyone’s eyes were on the bride—everyone but Hotch’s. Even before the ceremony started, his entire attention was on one of the bridesmaids: You.

         You, on the other hand, were mesmerized by Savannah walking down the aisle in her gorgeous wedding dress—you smiled even bigger when she joined Derek at the altar.

         “My god,” he said, staring into his soon-to-be wife’s eyes with a cheeky smile.

         Only then you sensed a strong gaze on you. You subtly turned your head to the crowd and like a magnet you found Aaron’s eyes. You gave him a quick threatening glance before bringing your attention back to the couple. You could almost hear him chuckle under his breath from that far.

         You’d talked about it when each of you got an invitation and he promised he would ignore you all evening, but it was hard keeping his eyes off you when you looked that stunning. That wouldn’t be a problem if one of Derek’s sisters wasn’t recording the wedding—oh, and if people knew about what you two had.

         “Maybe we should bring a plus one,” you’d told him as an idea to keep the best profilers clueless.  

         You’ve been more than his friend for almost a year and no one suspected a thing—truly. Apparently, profiling never worked when it came to people you interact with daily. You both were experienced profilers too, and since the beginning, you knew well how to act around each other to trick everybody at work into thinking you were still just two normal co-workers that got along.

         That’s how it was for over five years. Then it all changed when you both ended your respective relationships around the same time. Your breakup came first and was messier than his. He was there to catch your tears the same way you were all ears to him. You were lonely together and that woke up feelings neither of you thought would emerge from talking just a bit more than the usual. And one late-night kiss in his office was enough to start whatever you two had going on.

         You’d been confused for a while about how you felt about him and took the initiative to take it forward. You apologized right away because you didn’t plan to kiss him. Ever. But he said nothing, kissed you back, and took you right there over his desk—the first and only time he allowed himself to lose his professionalism at work.

         It was the most mind-blowing sex you’d ever had and you became addicted to it—to him.

         The officiant started his speech and when Derek began to say his vows, you snapped out of your flashbacks, holding your flower bouquet tighter by impulse. Your stomach fluttered while his voice floated inside the intimate venue, and you could only imagine how Savannah was feeling. She brought her palm to her pregnant belly, keeping it there the entire time Morgan spoke his heart out. He was like a brother to you and the fact that he had found the one made you wonder who you were gonna have the chance to share vows with in a hopefully not-so-far future.  

         You slightly turned your head to the crowd again when it was Savannah’s turn, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at Hotch, the only person you wanted a life with. The person you considered was the one for you.

         God, if he only knew.

         “ ...And I promise to love you, ” she said. “ Today. And tomorrow. And forever... ”

         Every word resonated with how you felt about Aaron and your chest swelled as if she was a messenger of your own heart. You hadn’t told Aaron yet but loved him, you have for a while now, but if there was another feeling beyond love, you sure felt it. You’ve never been so close to grazing the sky like you did whenever he kissed you; electricity rushed through you whenever you two were in between the sheets; with him around, you turned into the most stupid (in love) person in the room and you were more than fine with it.

         "... I'd choose you to be my miracle over and over again. In this world and in any other… ”

         You finally dared to look at him, finding his eyes on you again. Now he was the one who threatened you, gesturing for you to pay attention by raising his brows. You didn’t react—externally, anyway. Your heart was clenching because you’d never had this urge before; to jump over everyone and let the world know he was your miracle. That was the best way to describe who he was to you since he offered to be more than just a shoulder to cry on. He’d made you believe in love again and showed you how broken hearts can mend each other—heal together.

         You took a subtle deep breath and kept your chin up, determined to avoid any unspoken flirting with him until the ceremony got to the exchange of rings, ending with the most romantic kiss you’ve ever witnessed.

         “Okay! That’s enough!” Penelope—one of the bridesmaids too—said jokingly and the happy cheering got quickly replaced with laughs. You allowed yourself to search for Aaron then, something you always did whenever something funny happened just to see him laugh. His dimples were in their glory showing how proud he was. He may have never said it out loud, but you knew how much Morgan meant to him.

         And that was only the beginning of the big event. After the brief ceremony ended, it moved to another venue inside the same hotel and despite all the bright lights and loud music, love was still in the air. It even radiated through every photo taken at the photoshoot setup you and Spencer had built yourselves that same morning.

         “Didn’t know you guys were this artistic,” Morgan grinned as he ran his hand over a wall full of pink and white roses.

         “It actually doesn’t take an artistic person to build this exact wall at all. Even a toddler could’ve done it,” Reid said while nodding, giving him a tight-lipped smile.

         “Don’t listen to him.” You nudged his arm. “It took us four hours to build it.”

         “Oh, yeah,” Spencer agreed. “Four hours and thirteen minutes.”

         “We appreciate the effort,” Savannah laughed. “Now can we please take the pictures? Baby is getting hungry.”

         “Yeah, blame our baby,” Derek mocked her, placing his hand over her belly as he stood behind her, ready to pose in front of the professional camera. “I know you’ve been thinking about dinner all day.”

         Savannah replied something between her teeth that made Derek laugh even more as they posed like the most attractive couple you’ve ever seen.

         “They are so meant to be,” Penelope commented with the biggest smile, snapping her own pictures of them with her phone.

         “I know.” You folded your arms over your chest with a proud smile that disappeared as soon as a familiar perfume enveloped you from behind, making your shoulders stiffen.

         Although… that didn’t stop you from shifting your weight to one foot, a thing that made your curves stand out in a way you knew would only make Hotch react—more so when you were wearing that dress you’d picked with him in mind. His lips always ended up attached to your neck and shoulders. That part of you was his weakness and the day of the bridesmaids fitting, that was only one dress that made you think of his lips.

         He cleared his voice as you expected to start making small talk with Rossi about Jack. You’ve always loved the way his voice became soft when he talked to or about his son. He’d told you how he wanted to bring Jack to the wedding but that he’d chosen to go to a friend’s sleepover—which was understandable. At his age, you would’ve picked your friends over your parent’s friend’s wedding too.

         “Now pictures with your team.” Savannah smiled at Morgan. “You’re gonna want to see them when we’re old.”

         “She’s right,” you popped in. “Come on guys, let’s all take turns to kiss Morgan’s cheek.”

         “Mm-mm.” Derek furrowed his perfect brows, holding up a finger. “I’m a married man now.”

         You stood next to him and pecked his cheek anyway before resting your head over his shoulder and pouting your lips in a fake-sad face.

         “Spencer, you were so right,” you said loud enough for everybody to hear in between camera flashes.

         “I know. About what? Exactly?”

         “Today really should be a national day of mourning for all of us Derek lovers.”

         “Oh, come on now.” Morgan swung his arms over yours and Penelope’s shoulder. “Just because I officially belong to my woman doesn’t mean you can’t love me anymore.”

         “That’s true,” Savannah agreed.

         You blew her a kiss that was sure caught on camera, then the messy BAU photoshoot started. Everyone traded places every three pictures, and in the last set you ended up in the middle of Emily and Hotch. There he went again, clearing his voice just to say nothing. He hesitated to place a hand on you, so you did him the favor and broke his awkwardness by wrapping your arm around his waist—and Emily’s too, of course.

         “Is that a new perfume?” She sniffed next to your ear.

         “It is,” you acted surprised, turning your head to her but clutching your hand against Hotch’s waist to get his attention—as if it wasn’t already on you. You’d sprayed some of the perfume he kept at your place and some of yours too over it, creating a whole new scent.

         “I like it. It’s very… you.”

         “Thanks.”

         You could tell Aaron was trying hard to stay away from you as much as he could, leaning more to the opposite side. You did the same, pretending that Emily was the only person you were taking pictures with.

         Then after the rest of the guests got pictures with the newlyweds too, the party began. The team had their own designated table. You took a short bathroom break before settling and when you came back, the only empty seat was next to Hotch.

         There was no other choice, but you weren’t complaining.

         Your dress lifted to your mid-thighs as you sat down and it got even higher when you crossed your legs, exposing your bare skin a lot more. Aaron shifted on his seat, bringing his clasped hands up attempting to cover his mouth.

         He got so damn tense.

         “What’s the menu?” You asked everyone, subtly moving your legs under the table to touch Hotch’s.

         “You, apparently.” JJ raised her brows, gesturing behind you. “The photographer’s had his eyes on you all night.”

         “What?” You asked with a soft laugh, genuinely clueless.

         “Oh my god!” Penelope grabbed Jj’s arm in surprise. “I thought that was my imagination! He’s smoking hot.”

         You turned your head and caught the guy pointing the camera at your table. He really was attractive, but Jj might have been exaggerating because he gave you the kindest smile.

         “The alcohol is getting to your head already.” You rolled your eyes and scooted your chair closer to the table.

         “I don’t blame him, though.” Emily eyed you up and down while whistling. Even Spencer took a good look at you.  “I wouldn’t be surprised if there were more pictures of you in there than Savannah.”

         “Well, he better take pictures of my good side if that’s the case,” you played along.

         “Oh sweets, you don’t have a bad sid–” Three constant clinks of metal hitting a glass got everyone’s attention. “Quiet now.” Penelope shushed herself, getting her phone out again to record Derek’s sister’s speech. “Sarah’s gonna talk.”

         Aaron subtly moved his leg under the table and kept his feet next to yours. Whenever you sat next to him at the round table—which wasn't often—his feet always found yours. It was his way of saying he wasn’t being cold towards you as he pretended to be. And you hoped that was a new way of showing he’d gotten a little jealous about the hot photographer.

         You wanted to tease him about it, run your fingers through the back of his head and assure him you had eyes for him only. Because you did, more so when he'd chosen one of his navy blue and perfect-tailored suits that made it hard keeping your hands to yourself.

         You took a quick glance at his usually furrowed brows before focusing on the fun stories family members had to tell. You had a permanent smile on your face during dinner as they talked about Savannah's childhood and teenage years. There was a lot you didn't know about her despite her becoming one of your closest friends.

         Unlike Derek. You'd heard at least ten different versions of the same stories and you never got tired of it. And on a more serious note, his mom brought up his dad with pictures of him projected on a screen, reminding Derek how proud he truly must be for his son starting his own family.

         Morgan being emotional has always got to you. You knew how much he wished his son could’ve had the chance to meet his grandfather, but the sad moments didn’t last long. The dessert brought the sweetness and soon, it was time to get to the dance floor.

         You weren’t the greatest dancer, but you knew how to move so you were designated to keep the guests motivated to dance with the other. You took the chance to at least dance one song with everyone—including Hotch. You tried to keep things low-key as always, so you decided to walk up to him, choosing to dance with Rossi first.

         “Wanna dance?” You stretched out your hand to him.

         “Ehh...” David hesitated. “Maybe later. Take Aaron first.”

         “Don’t be lazy, Rossi. Come on.” You played it cool, ignoring Aaron completely.

         “I’ll sacrifice myself for you.” Hotch tapped David’s shoulder as he took the last sip of his drink and rose from his chair.

         “Sacrifice yourse-?” You looked at Hotch with a frown then waved your hand dismissively mid-sentence, casually holding him by his arm and said to Rossi, “You can’t escape me, Dave.”

         “If you find me,” he barked back and worked his way to the bar with his empty glass in his hand.

         You shared a casual laugh with Aaron as your feet took you to the dance floor.

         “Don’t make it awkward.” You wrapped your arms around his neck. Nothing special, just like you’d done with Spencer a few songs earlier. The only difference was that Spencer didn’t make you feel like the prettiest girl in the room.

         “I’m not,” he chuckled next to your ear and kept his hand respectfully over your upper back while the other stayed just a little lower as if you were made out of glass.  

         There’d been two slow songs in a row and the DJ didn’t seem to have the intention to change the mood just yet. They even lowered the lights, creating a romantic ambiance. Or maybe that was just your imagination and the fact that you were actually in his arms with everyone around like you’ve always wanted.

         “We’ve never danced before,” you murmured close to his ear trying to keep an unamused face. You prayed your voice got lost with the music so the people dancing around you couldn’t hear how you were trying to flirt with him.

         “We haven’t.” He softened his voice too. “But we’ve done way more than that.”

         There was a twitch of a smile threatening to take over your lips, but you didn’t let it slip. Instead, you took a deep breath and slowly let it out as you said, “We have.”

         It was strange. You were used to having his hands on you behind closed doors;  inside a room where the only noise was his heartbeat against your ear. But like you said, you weren’t about to make it awkward. You cherished the moment because this was probably the closest you’ll ever get to be with him in front of everyone without them saying a thing. So you stayed there, hands clasped behind his neck as if it meant nothing – as if they weren’t shaking; as if you weren’t dying to just grab his face, kiss him in the middle of the dance, and whisper I love you for the first time one breath away from his soft lips.

         “You’re tense,” he murmured.

         “So are you.” You smiled, finding Jj’s eyes over Aaron’s shoulder along the way.

         You pretended the smile was because of her and made an uncomfortable face, gesturing at Hotch with wide eyes. She’d never said a thing to you, but you were afraid she might be the only one who could suspect something about you and Hotch.

         You were casually texting Hotch who was only a few feet away from you in his office about the plans you two had for the night, and you didn’t notice Jj had walked up to you from behind. She scared the shit out of you and you suspiciously locked your phone.

         " Hiding something ?" She raised her brows.

         " Uh… it's a surprise ," you lied. Which she believed—or you hoped she did—since her birthday was coming soon.

         You told Hotch about it and he reminded you to be more careful when you made it to his place later that night. And though you liked how things were with him, you couldn’t deny that type of coldness hurt a little too.

         “Is that really my perfume?” He kept his voice quiet.

         “I don’t know. Is it?”

         He subtly breathed you in and you almost melted in his arms. “It’s sweeter on you.”

         You caught the photographer shooting pictures of you and Aaron and you waited until he moved around to tell Hotch, “I– I booked us a room. I thought since you gave us off tomorrow we could enjoy this place a little more.”

         “What am I supposed to do with that information?”

         “811,” you said before the song ended.

         Breaking that dance left you with an empty feeling. That’d never happened to you before – missing him while he was in the same room as you – but for whatever reason, that dance meant a lot to you.

         You tried to fill in that hole by dancing with the girls though it didn’t work much. You took a break from dancing and made your way to a quiet lounge room in the open. The sky was clear and the soft breeze was the only one who kept you company as you finished your third glass of wine.

         “Do you mind some company?” An unfamiliar voice said from behind.

         “Jesus christ!” You brought your hand to your chest startled.

         Maybe it was enough wine for the night.

         You turned around and caught a charming smile and a camera hanging from his neck.

         “Sorry,” the photographer laughed. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

         “No, you’re fine,” You laughed too.

         “I’m Louis.”

         You shook his hand and introduced yourself too. It may have been the alcohol but the guy was really funny and got to make you laugh more than once. You would’ve kept having a good time if he hadn’t tried to be smart.

         “So, would you like to grab a drink with me after the wedding?”

         Of course, he was trying to get inside your panties. What a turn-off.

         “Sorry, but I’m taken,” you said without hesitation.

         You really weren’t, though.

         “Oh,” he looked around. “Well, is he here?”

         Speak of the devil.

         A silhouette at the corner of your eyes stole your attention.

         There was Aaron—and Morgan—walking to the lounge room too with drinks in their hands. You wondered who’s idea was it to come just when you were being hit on by some guy.

         Derek teased you with his brows while there was nothing humorous on Aaron’s face. You focused on Louis again, but the smile on your face was because of Hotch. Jealous Hotch.  

         “No,” you finally responded, sighing deep. “But I don’t see how that matters. I’m still taken.”

         “You’re right, you’re right.”

         Nothing about Louis was interesting after you studied his behaviour and read his intentions. Still, you let him flirt with you—and definitely pretended to flirt back hoping Aaron would notice—until he excused himself to go back to his job.

         You wiggled your fingers as a goodbye and slowly made your way to Morgan and Hotch, making your heels clack more than you had to.

         “Someone took a special interest in you,” was the first thing Morgan said.

         You stood in front of them, clasping your hands behind your back, and shrugged carelessly. “You think?”

         "Princess, don’t act like you don’t know what you were doing.”

         “What do you mean?”

         “Batting those eyelashes, laughing too much, touching his shoulder–”

         “You think that was flirting?” you cut him off.

         “It was to me.” Morgan looked at Hotch.

         “Hotch?” You—subtly—taunted. “You think that was flirting?”  

         It wasn’t the first time someone has hit on you right in front of him, but police officers weren’t as much of a threat to him as a photographer was, apparently.

         “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you flirt—” he confidently responded “—so I wouldn’t know.”

         “I’ve seen her. She does this thing with her eyes,” Morgan kept going. “I’m telling you, Hotch, she was flirting.”

         “That was bad flirting.” You rolled your eyes. “Which somehow still works with guys like him.”

         “ Bad flirting? Well now I want to see your good flirting,” Derek continued, but his duties as a groom were needed and his name being called from the microphone saved you from that.

         It was just you and Hotch now.

         “Aren’t you afraid people are gonna see us, alone?” You stayed put on your feet, holding back the urge to get closer to him.

         “Not really, we’re just talking.” He raised his brows as he spoke.

         “We are.” Your eyes went to his lips and lingered there as you licked your own. “Party should be over soon, so… I’ll go back inside now. Are you coming?”

         “In a little bit.” He gestured at his drink.

         “Okay.” You took a step back. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

         “811,” he responded, sliding one hand inside his pocket and saluting you with his glass with the other.

         You subtly tugged your bottom lip in between your teeth and eyed him up and down. You knew exactly what you were doing, indeed. “811.”

         “Is this what your good flirting looks like?” He asked in a teasing tone as you were about to turn around.

         “I don’t know.” You matched his voice, tilting your head to the side. “I’m not very good at it.”

         He gave you a look that pierced through you, but you didn’t expose yourself and left him all alone.

         You impatiently counted heads once the guests started to leave and shared a few secret glances with Aaron the rest of the night, which built in the anticipation. But sooner than later, the party was finally over.  

         “Who’s leaving with us?” Emily massaged her temple.

         You didn’t pay attention to who answered as you were searching for Hotch. At this point, you weren’t even trying to be subtle about missing him, but he’d vanished.

         Or so you thought.

         You made it to your room almost with your heart broken, but when you checked your phone, his name lit up on the screen.

         I’m gonna walk around for a while.

         He was being careful—as always.

         The alcohol had worn off already, and you needed some more. You ordered a bottle of wine to the room to make the wait more bearable and paced back and forth around the room waiting for it until the expected knock on your door blared inside the bedroom.

         You smoothed down your dress and slowly worked your way to the door, dragging it open.

         Not room service.

         Aaron's broad shadow was standing there, both hands in his pocket.

         “Didn’t front desk give you a key?” You let him in.

         He shut the door behind him and kept on walking, forcing you to take a few steps back as he said, “they did.”

         “Then why did you knock?” You stopped in the middle of the room.

         “To make it more interesting.”

         “You’re funny,” you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck the way you'd meant to do while you danced, staring up at him. “Did anyone see you?”

         “No.” He delicately brushed his fingers across your cheek and placed a tender kiss on the other. “Did you have fun?”

         “Yeah.” You grabbed his tie to bring him closer and closed your eyes. “You?”

         “This dress—” he murmured in your ear “—had me distracted the entire evening.”

         “I knew you’d like me in it.”

         He smirked as his lips traveled from your jaw to the corner of your mouth. Then he finally kissed you.

         It was tender—too tender.

         “It was made for you.” He ran his thumb over your bottom lip while murmuring against them.

         “It was made for you to take it off,” you whispered and brought your hands to the back of his head, pressing your lips with his into the wet, desperate kiss you’ve been wanting all night.

         His arms enveloped you entirely and his tongue didn’t hesitate to sweep yours. You’ve longed to have his rough touch melting into your skin for what seemed ages. It was always like that. After spending an entire day treating each other like any other mortal—when it was just the two of you—you both acted like two different people that had too many clothes. But it was more than that too.

         To you, at least. And you liked to think that it was mutual.

         “It’s always hard to keep my eyes and hands off you,” he said out of breath, letting the kiss rest. “But today—” he pecked your lips “—you almost made me want to risk it all.”

         You returned the gentle kiss. “Why didn’t you?”

         That was a heartfelt question that he’d rather let get lost in the desire.

         His lips collided with yours again as his hands confidently sneaked under your dress, groping you with hunger. “God, I knew you were wearing the tiniest panties under it.”

         “I chose these for you too.” You whimpered when he lifted his mouth to your neck and nibbled your skin.

         “Not wedding appropriate at all,” he murmured in a playful tone while kissing your shoulder. He teased the strap of your dress with the tip of his tongue, lifting it off your skin and pulling it down your arm with his teeth. “Do you have to return it?”

         “No,” you gasped. “It’s mine.”

         “Good, because I’m gonna fuck you in it.” He scooped you by your thighs and plopped you on the bed, settling in between your legs. He trailed kisses from your mouth down your jaw and neck, getting rid of his jacket and tie in the process. “You should wear my perfume more often,” he panted onto the crook of your neck, nibbling your skin.

         “Does it turn you on?” Your hands flew to tug on his hair. “Smelling yourself on me?”

         With each of his kisses, your desire for him grew. Your heartbeat dropped to your pussy within seconds and it was nothing but ache and warm arousal leaking off you.

         “Everything about you makes me hard.” He started to grind his hips while his lips went back to capture yours. “The things you do to me, can you feel it?”

         You moaned into his mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist. His erection rubbed against you, nestling almost too perfectly in between your still clothed folds.

         “Yeah.” You bucked your hips to meet his.

         “Yeah?” He pulled back, breaking the desperate kiss.

         This time you were only able to nod and lift your hips off the bed to help him get rid of your panties. He dragged them down your thighs teasingly slow and threw them in the air.

         The hungry look in his eyes while he lowered himself and lifted your dress up to your waist sent sparkles all over you. Your bare flesh was exposed to him now and though it was fascinating how he seemed to be at your will when you were that weak in front of him, you couldn’t deny how intimidating it was.

         “I need you so bad.” You bent your legs up to your chest, tempting him with how wet you were.

         He petted your sensitive clit with his thumb twice with a cocky smile before making himself comfortable by rolling up his sleeves and laying on his stomach so his arms would wrap around your thighs. His face now was one kiss away from your slick folds.

         That embarrassed you in the beginning—how fucking wet he made you and how fast—but that only meant how much you wanted him, and you knew he loved the effect he had on you.

         “How much do you want to come?” He kissed your inner thighs, digging his fingers on them too.

         “Surprise me.” You relaxed your arms above your head, ready to receive whatever he wanted.

         He ghosted a smile over you before circling the tip of his nose on your clit. You were so sensitive there already your body jerked a little at that first contact. His nose then was replaced with his chin, tracing rougher circles, and when he laid a light-feather kiss right there , you decided to close your eyes and enjoy the endless minutes of pleasure Aaron was about to give you.

         There was no doubt he truly enjoyed being nose deep in between your legs, so you never felt bad when it was just him who used his mouth like that during sex.

         “ That feels so good, ” you praised him, bringing your hand to his hair and running your fingers through it.

         He hummed in response, sucking your clit into his mouth with light pressure and smoothly adding two fingers inside of you.

         You rolled your hips against his face and in no time stars took over your eyes.

         “Oh my g– mmm.” You pressed your lips together to shut yourself up because, shit, you were being embarrassingly loud and you didn’t want to let everyone know how good you were being fucked by Aaron’s mouth.

         “I’ve been waiting all day to hear you moan.” He kept going with his skilled motions . “Let me hear you.”

         His pleas were powerful and you couldn’t avoid letting yourself go. You moaned—loud—and smiled through it all because he deserved to know how good he made you feel; how good he was to you; how generous.

         After that one, he went in—all in.

         God, Aaron.

         Fuck.

         Just like that.

         Please don’t stop.

         Your mouth went dry from how much you praised him and gasped in pleasure. His mouth was exquisite. Every flick of his tongue and each sloppy sound he made brought you closer and closer to the—

         Knock. Knock. Knock.

         —Clouds.

         Knock. Knock. Knock.

         You were snapped out of what was supposed to be your fourth orgasm, propping yourself on your elbows.

         Knock. Knock. Knock.

         “Fuck,” you threw yourself back down in annoyance. “I ordered that like half an hour ago.”

         “That what?” Aaron said and went back to eat you out.

         “ Mmh, wine.”

         “More wine?” He reached for the closest piece of clothing and wiped his mouth, chin and fingers with them.

         “What are you doing?”

         “I’ll be right back.”

         He took a moment to adjust his erection inside his pants and worked his way to receive the wine.

         “Thanks.”  

         The way he just casually said that got a laugh from you.

         “What?” He placed the wine and two glasses over the night stand.

         “Do you think he could tell what you were doing just now?” you laughed again, propping your knee up and playing with the hem of your dress.

         “I hope he did.” He crawled in bed next to you and smiled into a kiss, sneaking his hand in between your legs.

         He started to massage your clit right away. It felt good, but you needed him. “Hotch, just fuck me already.”

         “Give me one more.” He grunted mid-sentence. “One more and then I’m all yours.”

         How could you ever say no to that?

         He rubbed your clit like he was against the clock, so fast and with the perfect amount of pressure.

         There was that pleasure building once again.

         Your sweet moans bounced within the room as the tingling sensations spread through you.

         "Fuck, Hotch I—" you fisted the bed covers under you and turned your head to him searching for his eyes.

         "I know, honey , I know." He had his eyes shut and brushed his nose across your cheek, subtly hissing under his breath as if he was in pain.

         That word only slipped when he was pleasing you. You reached for his hand while you came, clenching and unclenching around his fingers.

         You swept your tongue across his top lip to thank him with a desperate kiss. You hadn’t noticed how he had his eyes shut and his brows furrowed. You kept your eyes open to admire how much he was enjoying it and let your voice be free.

         “There we go,” he whispered. “Good. So, so good.”

         “It feels so good,” you whimpered.

         “I know it does.” He kept lightly tapping your sensitive clit making your body jerk a few times. “Feels so good for me too.”

         “Fuck. Please?” You begged.

         He brought his milked fingers up to your mouth and slid them in and out so you’d clean them up, and pecked your cheek as if saying yes, now.

         You clasped your mouths together and stood on your knees to help him get rid of his clothes between more desperate kisses. Your fingers shook as you undid his belt, and when all of his clothes ended up scattered over the floor, you lay on your back.

         He adjusted himself in between your legs and slapped the head of his cock over your clit a few times while pinching your nipples, turning them into tight tempting buds.

         “Fill me in, please,” you bit your lip, roaming your hands up and down over his forearms and biceps.

         He reached for his pants and got a condom from his pocket. Your first time with him was the only time you took him raw, and you had to admit you wanted his bare skin rubbing inside of you again.

         You stayed quiet while he tore the foil open and rolled it down his length, then without much warning, Hotch grabbed you by your hips and harshly flipped you around, angling your ass up in full display for him. You gasped between a small startled laugh, your cheek pressed onto the pillow.

         It wasn’t often that he allowed himself to be this harsh with you, but when he did you knew you were about to be sent out of the orbit.

         “Sorry about that,” he said in a cocky, deep voice that only got a moan from you in a positive response.

         One hand circled your ass while the other guided his cock at your entrance, slipping it in just a bit. You wiggled your ass and continued what he started, letting him inside you inch by slow inch.

         He groaned like a god and slid your dress up to your ribs, almost, but you didn’t want it off just yet. Like he said, you were waiting for him to fuck you in it. He withdrew his hips a bit to plunge hard into you again, making your ass bounce violently.

         Then began to pound into you—hard.

         You reached for his forearm and held onto it, glancing at him over your shoulder but your own smile distracted you mid way through.

         There was a mirror perfectly placed by the bed, giving you the breathtaking view of Aaron slamming his body into yours from behind. It was mesmerizing—the way he threw his head back and licked his lips while gripping your hips until his fingertips disappeared into your skin.

         You made eye contact with yourself, bringing your hand up to your mouth and caught your own moans against your palm, dissolving in the moment. The curves of his cock fit you everywhere and reached your spot with each of his loud thrusts.

         “ Oh shit, oh fuck. ” You muffled your moans into a pillow, squeezing your eyes shut.

         That’s never been one of your preferred positions. He went too deep and it’d hurt at times, but it hurt so damn good you arched your back even more and let yourself drown in the way he dug himself in you.

         “ So fucking good. ” You smiled, “ fuck, fuck ,fuck .”

         By the time your skin was glowing red by how hard his skin slammed against yours, you stood up on your knees and pressed your back onto his chest, turning your head asking for a kiss. He gave you his tongue while his hands reached for the hem of your dress, pulling it up and finally peeling it off your skin in the middle of softer thrusts.

         He pulled you close and kept plunging into you until his breathings grew loud, his muscles tensed and his cock twitched inside of you, groaning deep at the back of your head. He wrapped his arms around you like his life depended on it—with a kind of passion that could’ve easily been mistaken with love.

         You turned your head searching for his lips and return that same passion, but he circled his nose with yours and ghosted your lips with his breath.

         A tender frown took over his face while his eyes scanned your face from up close.  There was a glimpse of vulnerability in him right then. You couldn’t quite read what it meant, but it weakened you on the inside.

         “God, look at you.” He smiled, and finished with one last soft kiss.

         You both dropped like dead weight on the bed facing each other, legs and arms interlaced together.

         It was still there—that look. You could almost see right through him.

         He took a moment to toss the condom into the trash then joined you in bed again, bringing you close into a hug.

         “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I know you want to be home when Jack gets back.”

         “I’d love to stay.” He kissed you. “But yeah, tomorrow we have early soccer practice.”

         You returned the kiss while nodding and brought your hand up to stroke his cheek. It was soft and cold with sweat which you kindly brushed away with your thumb.

         If someone asked you two years ago if you ever imagined yourself like this—with an after-sex glow—because of Aaron Hotchner, you would’ve bursted out laughing. You still couldn’t understand how you ended up finding the love you always wanted in someone you’d known for half a decade.

         Sometimes, all those years where nothing more than a polite handshake and respectful hugs happened felt like a waste of time. Other times, you convinced yourself it was meant to happen that way.

         You stared at each other in silence and just the sound of the city in the background.

         “Did you get jealous tonight?” You spoke after a moment, tracing random patterns over his chest.

         His brows raised, thinking about it. “I might’ve.”

         “I kinda’ liked it.”

         “I bet you did.” He pecked your lips almost to erase your mocking smile.

         “It suits you. The jealousy.”

         “Well, it’s not a very nice feeling.”

         “But it’s hot.”

         “Oh?” He licked his lips. “You think I’m hot?”

         “I didn’t say that.”

         “I think you did.” He kissed your ear.

         You let him pepper you with kisses. Kisses that felt like home. Kisses that made you want to break the stupid wall you both had built and just confess how much you loved him; how you wanted those kisses all over your skin for the rest of your life.

         “Hotch?” Your voice came out small as if anyone else could hear you.

         “Mmh?” He groaned into another kiss.

         “I– I think I–” I think I love you. “I think I’m gonna go home too.”

         “You sure?” He pulled back and frowned with curiosity.

         “Yeah.”

         “Okay, I’ll call us a cab.”

         “Okay. I’m gonna shower first.”

         “Care if I join you?”

         “Not at all.”

         You ended up doing way more than just showering together, though.

         There was a large window in front of a spacious jacuzzi that let in the shimmering city lights. You didn’t even know you’d booked such a fancy hotel room. It was the perfect place to drink that expensive bottle of wine.

         You both relaxed in the tub, drinking off the bottle between slightly drunk laughs.

         Time with Hotch went by too fast, and if you hadn’t spilled the last drops of the wine in the bath you would've stayed there until the morning.

         “Now you can call your taxi friend.” You wiped a happy tear from the corner of your eye, wrapping yourself in a towel.

         You walked back to the room and searched for your dress. It’d landed over his jacket as if they were two matching pieces made by the same tailor.

         You handed him his clothes and dressed together, stealing glances. You really wanted to stay the night with him. You almost provoked him with the dress so you both ended up in bed again, but you kept your cool and made it out of the room.

         You were waiting for the elevator when someone came out of the room right next to it.

         Oh no.

         “What’s going on here?” Morgan’s eyes widened as he made a little gesture between you and Hotch with his pointer finger.

         “I– uh…” You looked up at Aaron. He was just as flustered as you, and the alcohol in your blood didn’t help much. “We uh–”

         It took Derek three seconds to put two and two together.

         “Please don’t tell me it was you who had that moaning symphony going on.”

         “W–what?” Your face was burning right now.

         “Hotch? Really?” Morgan seemed more hurt than anything else. He was your best friend after all.

         “I’ll explain it to you when you get back from your honeymoon.” You reached for Aaron’s hand and walked away as fast as you could without looking back while saying loudly, “Have fun in Cancún!”

         You hurried through the hotel hallways, paid the room and hopped in the back of the taxi without saying a word to each other. If you hadn’t booked a room at the same hotel, Morgan would’ve never found out and your most precious relationship would’ve still been a secret.

         The ride was quiet, but Aaron never let go of your hand. At least, he wasn’t mad about it. Or if he was, he didn’t want you to know. You felt guilty about it, but it felt so good too. You stayed looking out the window to avoid looking at him.

         Fifteen minutes later, he broke the silence.

         “Hey.” You turned your head to him and stared for the longest second before he spoke again, “I love you. Secret’s out. And I don’t want to hide us anymore. There’s no reason to.”

         Your heart started to race so fast inside your chest you couldn’t form any coherent words.

         “We’re here.” The driver glanced at you both through the rearview mirror.

         You were still trying to process what the love of your life had just said.

         “Hey, love birds, I ain’t got all night. It’s thirty bucks and counting,” the man spoke again.

         “Do you want to come inside? So that I can show you how much I love you too?” Was all you could say as you reached inside your purse to shut the driver up.

         But he didn’t. “Tik tok, tik tok, my friends.”

         “I–” Aaron sucked in a short breath, reaching for his wallet faster than you and handing the man his money. “I think that’s a good idea.”

#Aaron Hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner fluff

[heartfullofleeches]

I will turn this into a full fic eventually. I need to turn this into a full fic. Monster darling fears their hubby, Evan, is losing interest in them when he befriends a new intern. He still treats them the same and swears his love and loyalty daily, but they just don't like how close he's getting with that person. They talk about things a creature like themself wouldn't enjoy/understand and monster darling starts to think maybe they aren't human enough for him. They start to act against their natural habits and trying to present more human which upsets their husband greatly, but he never presses the matter as they insist its what they want to do.

Monster Darling comes home after picking up groceries one day to find clothing flung around the living room and odd noises coming from the basement. They descend the steps and open the door discover their shirtless husband covered in blood with bonesaw in hand. He would've liked to keep his clothing on before butchering his workmate, but remembered the shirt and tie he had on were a gift from his wonderful spouse. He's so sorry he made them feel neglected- he just wanted to cook them a surprise meal with their favorite cut of meat and- wait... were they jealous? Evan would never cheat on his saving grace and is almost hurt they'd even imagine he'd be unfaithful.....but that look in their eyes when they vent their frustrations.. It does something to him. He's never seen them so heated. So needy and possessive. They're almost as obsessed with him as he is with them and that's all the man could ask for in life.

Evan decides he needs his darling monster right then and there on the bloodstained basement floor. Monster Darling is glad to have their hubby's full attention again, but as they're about to get frisky they realize Evan's workmate is gravely wounded - but they aren't dead.

"Ahh...ahh..."

"Hm? What's wrong, hun? Gonna need to hear words."

"Evan... They're still...."

"Mmm... does that really bother you? You were just telling me a minute ago about how much you hated seeing them all over me... They'll get to watch me prove just how much I love you and only you before they go... - doesn't that make you feel better?"

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere blurb #male yandere #yandere insert #yandere oc #yandere scenarios #Evan my oc #suggestive

[antebunny]

a cuckoo in the nest

(Aka the Fae!Tim fic that I decided not to finish and thus am dumping on Tumblr)

The creature that the Unseelie Queen forces on Bruce is disguised as a human child. Worse, it resembles Bruce’s two current children. Skin on the lighter side, lighter than either of his kids, black hair, blue eyes, and a light sweater and sweatpants combination that either Dick or Jason might wear. It is quite the contrast to the wild fey flashing too-bright teeth at Bruce.

“You will welcome it into your home,” the Unseelie Queen commands. “You will treat it as you would your own son. You will do nothing to indicate that it is anything but a human boy.”

One gnarled claw curls around the creature’s shoulder. The creature’s expression remains eerily blank. Another point in favor of its otherworldliness. A normal human child would show some reaction to the Unseelie Queen’s possessive presence. This creature stays perfectly still.

“In return…” the Unseelie Queen crooks one finger of her free hand in a come here motion and a figure stumbles out of the dark trees surrounding their little clearing. 

It is Jason. Injured beyond belief, blue eyes red and weeping. Bruce’s knee jerks, but he forces himself to remain within the small summoning circle. A thin line of salt and iron protecting him from the Unseelie Queen’s unfathomable powers.  

“You get your son back.” She presents Jason to Bruce like she’s selling a prize horse at an auction. One hand on the back of his neck. “Alive and well. As he was before his death. The memory of his death will remain, but dulled. That is my bargain, Batman.”

Bruce is not fool enough to give the Unseelie Queen his real name, nor is he stupid enough to lie to her. Using his nighttime alter ego presents the perfect compromise. Batman is not his real name, nor is it a lie. So it is Batman’s black gauntlets that curl into fists as Bruce considers the Unseelie Queen’s deal. 

It is the height of stupidity to take a creature he does not know the abilities of into Wayne Manor, and pretend it is his son. Given what he knows of the Unseelie Queen, such a creature could cause unfathomable damage to his family, to Gotham. This is a bet of Bruce’s own intelligence against a fey hundreds of times older than Bruce. He could very well end up losing both of his sons this time. 

“B,” Jason sobs. “Wha’s goin’ on?”

But the alternative is to walk away from a chance to have Jason back. This is not the universe where Bruce is capable of such an act. At least with the Unseelie Queen’s bargain, Bruce has a chance to limit any potential harm. Perhaps he can even outsmart the creature and prevent all damage whatsoever. If she had asked him to kill someone, or something more direct, Bruce wouldn’t stand a chance.

Bruce uncurls his fists slowly. “I accept.”

With those two words, both the creature and Jason are invited into the circle. The creature steps forward calmly, Nike sneakers passing over the salt and iron easily. Its arms are flat by its sides, and its head comes up to Bruce’s chest. If it were human, it would be around the same age that Jason was when Bruce caught him stealing the Batmobile’s tires. A blatant attempt at emotional manipulation on the Unseelie Queen’s part. 

Jason is shoved forwards by the Unseelie Queen. He trips over his own feet, but Bruce is there to catch him this time, to gently fold him in his arms and check him over for injuries.  

“I’m getting you home,” Bruce promises. 

And if he has to bring home the Unseelie Queen’s little spy as well to make it happen, then that is a price Bruce is more than willing to pay to have his family whole again.

~

Tim finally has the chance to be part of a family again, and it is the best family he could have imagined. He can scarcely believe his luck as Mr. Wayne–Batman, for now–leads Tim and Jason (who doesn’t look so good) into the Batcave. Tim is so caught up trying not to gape in awe at everything that he misses the hushed conversation that Mr. Wayne has with his butler, and the slightly louder, much longer conversation he has with his eldest son. The original Robin is standing all of five meters away from Tim! He’s going to be Tim’s older brother!

A lifetime ago, when Tim was still fully human, with parents and the last name Drake, he’d been obsessed with Batman and Robin. Had followed them around pitch black rooftops, through the streets buzzing with neon lights and vices, just to get a glimpse of his heroes. Discovered Robin’s true identity shortly before Bruce Wayne adopted Jason Todd, and a new Robin came to roost in Gotham’s skyscrapers. 

Then Janet and Jack Drake gave their only child to the Unseelie Queen in exchange for money and power, and Tim lost his name, and his home, and his entire world. 

 “What is your name?” Mr. Wayne interrupts Tim’s memories. He looms in front of Tim in an empty Batcave. Mr. Pennyworth and both Robins are long gone. It is only Tim, in his ill-fitting human clothes, and Batman. 

Tim knew this question was coming. Mr. Wayne must think that Tim is a human child, and that asking for his name is a simple exchange of pleasantries. He cannot know that Tim is no longer fully human, and his name is no longer free to give or take, nor his own anymore. Luckily, Tim prepared a response. He does not want to lie to Batman, after all, but as much as he wishes he could trust Mr. Wayne with his name, he knows better.

“What do you want to be called?” Mr. Wayne amends, when Tim fails to answer fast enough.

Carefully, Tim purses his lips and whistles. Hoo-ooh. A sharp ho followed by a lower, longer oo sound. The call of a common cuckoo. Hoo-ooh. Hoo-ooh.

Mr. Wayne frowns in response. Tim panics briefly–did he not get the call right? He practiced so much!–and tries again, a little faster. Hoo-ooh, hoo-ooh, hoo-ooh. Please accept me. I know I’m an unwanted interloper, an imposter. Please accept me anyway.

“Do you have a name in English?” Mr. Wayne asks. He repeats the question in a few more languages. Tim recognizes the Spanish and Russian, but he’s not sure what the others are. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Tim nods frantically. He swallows with difficulty, and then whispers: “Tim.” 

It is not a lie, and it is common enough that hopefully Tim can remain anonymous. He is a common cuckoo bird, after all, not even remarkable in his imposition. 

“Well, Tim,” Mr. Wayne says, voice dropping to an ominous growl, “I will uphold my end of the bargain. But do not think for a second that I can be tricked into trusting you. And if you give me even the slightest indication that you intend to hurt a member of my family in any way, I will not hesitate to take you down. Do you understand?”

Tim has not cried in years, not since his parents gave him away. But tonight a peculiar wetness pricks at the corners of his eyes as he nods. “Yes, Mr. Wayne, sir,” he says quickly. “I understand.”

It isn’t as though Mr. Wayne is wrong. Tim is an interloper, here to trick Mr. Wayne and his family into caring about Tim. All Mr. Wayne did was make it clear that he will continue to pretend that Tim is part of his family and that he will not be tricked. There’s no reason for Tim to get emotional about it. 

It’s just that Tim hoped, if just for a moment, that it wouldn’t be pretend.

The Wayne family, aside from Mr. Wayne himself, is very easily tricked. Mr. Pennyworth (“call me Alfred, Master Tim”) lets Tim follow him around even though he won’t let Tim help with chores no matter how much he insists that he can do it. Tim is fine with that, really. For now it is better to be tolerated, if not liked, than not to be tolerated at all. He has noticed that even Mr. Wayne defers to Alfred in household matters, so it is good to have the real head of household somewhat in his corner.

Most days, Tim sits on the kitchen counter while Alfred cooks, and awkwardly attempts to answer questions about his previous life. It is mixed, as far as conversations go. The questions are very stressful for Tim, who is never sure how much he should say, but smelling and eating human food after so long without it still brings tears to his eyes. 

Simmering tomato floats through the air as Alfred adds a pinch of rosemary to his soup. Tim’s mouth waters, and he swallows before talking. 

“I had a really long argument with a rosemary plant, once,” Tim recalls ruefully. “It was dumb. But I was so desperate for human food that I’d’ve said just about anything.”

The rosemary plant refused, in the end. Everyone was too scared of the Unseelie Queen to help Tim. 

Alfred stirs his pot carefully. “You had an argument…with the rosemary plant?” He clarifies neutrally. 

“Yep.” Tim’s legs swing back and forth a bit faster. “I told you, it was really dumb. I would’ve tried with the mushrooms, but they’re mean and scary, really scary. And old.”

Some of the mushrooms are even older than the Unseelie Queen, which makes them even scarier. Except that the Unseelie Queen has Tim’s name, and the mushrooms do not. 

Tim blushes all of a sudden, mindful of his audience. “I didn’t mean being old makes them scary,” he mumbles, furious at himself. He is supposed to be trying to get Alfred to like him, and instead he insults him! What is wrong with him?

“It is quite alright, dear boy,” Alfred says. “I assure you no offense was taken. Now, what is it you were saying about being desperate for human food?”

Mr. Grayson (“call me Dick, everyone else does!”) is the easiest to trick into caring about Tim. He is actually not sure what he did to pull it off. Dick stays at Wayne Manor most weekends, and the first time he comes over, before Tim has a chance to enact any of his thirty-four “Trick Robin Into Liking Me” plans, Dick asks if he wants to get ice cream. Tim accepts eagerly, and Dick smiles so brightly that Tim nearly forgets about Mr. Wayne scowling in the background. After that, Dick always makes a point to seek him out. Tim is pretty sure he makes a bumbling mess of himself every conversation, but somehow Dick keeps laughing it off and taking Tim out for another slightly reckless and exceedingly enjoyable excursion. 

Jason is a bit harder to trick. He is still healing mentally and emotionally from his death, so he’s off-duty as Robin. Since school is out for the summer, this means he spends most of his time curled up in the library. Tim once hovered behind him for hours, trying to work up the courage to start a conversation, when Jason turned and snapped what so aggressively that Tim immediately ran away. 

In general, he is surly, defensive, angry, and reluctant to accept affection from his real family, much less Tim. Eight plans to trick Jason into caring about him are complete failures that end in Tim further earning Jason’s ire. Another fourteen plans are thrown out before Tim can enact them, after the humiliation of the eight failures. 

Eventually, Tim turns to Dick for help. Dick has alluded to a rough start with Jason, which sounds fake to Tim. Dick was Robin, how could anyone not like him? But maybe he can give Tim advice. 

It is a sweltering Saturday in late July when Dick pulls away from Wayne Manor in some type of fancy car with Tim in the co-pilot seat. 

“I need advice,” Tim says nervously as Bristol’s mansions flash by. Tim did his best not to look at the Drakes’ manor. He succeeded in not looking, but he wondered whether his parents started staying in Gotham more often once Tim was gone, and the question won’t leave him alone.

“What’s up?” Dick asks easily. He lazes in the driver’s seat, two fingers on the steering wheel. It is this nonchalance which convinces Tim to go through with his question. 

Tim’s hands tap out some pattern on his forearms and elbows. “How do I get Jason to like me?”

Dick curls his right hand around the wheel and glances at Tim quickly. Tim still struggles reading expressions, so he has absolutely no idea what’s going through Dick’s mind. Maybe he’s thinking that there’s no way that Jason will ever like him. Maybe Dick doesn’t like Tim. Maybe he’s only acting like he cares about Tim because he’s so nice.

“Jason doesn’t…” Dick sighs. “Not like you. He’s just going through a lot right now. On top of the stuff with his birth mother, he also, well, you know.”

“Died,” Tim supplies.

Dick’s shoulders inch towards his ears. Veins in his forearm pop as the hand on the wheel tightens. “Yeah. So, just, give him some time, yeah?” 

But Tim doesn’t have time. He has until the end of the summer, approximately two more months. To the fae the end of summer is not a specific day, but rather a sensation. Decay on the doorsteps, rot in the wind. Hot breezes melting into simmering afternoons. The crisp crackle of a leaf underfoot. 

If he cannot trick every member of the Wayne family into loving him by the end of summer, he must return to the Unseelie Queen, this time forever. That was her bargain. This is Tim’s one chance to escape her. 

Tim looks out his window at the cold, unfeeling mansions and nods miserably. “Okay.”

Jason does not like the new kid. Everything about him is just slightly off. He walks like he’s surprised that his feet come back down. He talks like he’s describing a dream and expects everyone else to understand. He’s constantly watching Jason silently with those eerie, unblinking eyes of his. Despite living in the same house as Batman, Tim is quieter still, always popping up unannounced and thrusting a trinket or a book at Jason. 

This isn’t even getting into the part where Jason knows he died but doesn’t quite remember it and keeps having nightmares he doesn’t understand. He vaguely recalls a forest that wasn’t a forest and a hand that wasn’t a hand, curling around his shoulder. Bruce won’t stop treating Jason like glass and Dick still looks weepy sometimes, but neither will let Jason out as Robin. All three are letting Jason get away with everything except the things he actually wants to do. It’s infuriating. 

In other words, the summer is off to a great start.

“Bets on the new kid,” Jason says. He’s in the middle of making himself peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, because he is the only one that Alfred allows in the kitchen. 

Dick is draped dramatically across the counter, because according to him it’s so tragic how Jason never wants to do anything fun. Jason hit him over the head with a spatula in response. Dick whined about that, so Jason hit him even harder. 

“What are we betting on?” Dick asks.

Jason half-shrugs. “Like…he’s clearly not human. What is he?”

Dick sits up on the counter. “Yeah, he keeps talking about talking to plants.”

“And plants are always a little bigger and shinier after he leaves the room,” Jason adds.

“Maybe he’s got some relation to Ivy,” Dick suggests.

This entire conversation would not be necessary if Bruce would just cough up the answer. But he responds to every question about Tim with some variation of “hmmm” or “I cannot say.” Jason even sucked up his pride and asked Barbara, but she doesn’t know what’s up with the new kid either. Jason suspects that Bruce promised Tim he wouldn’t tell, because–

“Have you seen his reaction to food though?” Jason asks rhetorically. “It’s like he’s so shocked he’s being fed.”

And he lets that hang, because maybe it’s true, and not a joke. 

Dick scratches his chin. “And he says ‘human’ like he’s not one.” 

“Okay.” Jason sets his mixing bowl down on the counter Dick claimed as his seat. “My theory: he’s a metahuman whose parents–or guardians–or whoever was in charge of him–treated as less than human, and he made B promise not to say ‘cause he doesn’t know we ain’t shit like his parents yet.”

“I mean.” Dick scoots off the counter when Jason comes swinging with the baking tray. He attempts to help Jason spread the parchment paper until Jason glares at him. “He thinks you hate him.”

Jason freezes in the middle of scooping a handful of cookie batter into the tray. Guilt curdles, expired milk and broken egg shells, in his stomach. “I don’t.”

“I know.” 

Dick doesn’t mention the part about Jason dying, because he’s ultra sensitive to that sort of thing. Jason has debated making extra jokes about his death just to force Dick to get used to it, but he hasn’t gone through with it. He’s never seen Dick cry like he did when Jason came back. They haven’t talked about it, because Jason is allergic to big emotions and Dick is nothing but an oversized bundle of big emotions. But it lingers in the back of Jason’s mind, everytime Dick pretends that everything is fine. You mourned me. It’s so obvious, said like that. Of course he mourned Jason. But it’s not an experience Jason ever expected to live through.

Not even Jason knows how he came back to life. He suspects Bruce had something to do with it, but Bruce won’t say. The continuous silence from him is driving Jason to insanity where the Joker and dying failed. 

“Fair tidings.” Tim’s head pops up by Jason’s shoulder and he forcibly suppresses a surprised reaction. Another weird-ism of Tim’s: what sort of American kid says fair tidings? “Can I help?”

“No,” Jason snaps immediately, curling one arm around the batter bowl. 

Dick makes a noise, and Jason winces. He didn’t mean to snap at the kid. It’s just that everything about Tim sets off sirens in Jason’s head. And usually by the time Jason is ready to invite the kid in, he’s run off. 

“Fine,” Jason grunts. He shoves the bowl at Tim. “We’re making cookies.” 

 Tim stares at the bowl with owlish eyes, and Jason clamps down on the urge to yell at the kid again. 

“Hey, Timmy,” Dick says faux-casually. “I never asked. You got a last name?”

Tim’s head snaps up. “Why do you want to know?”

Jesus, he sounds one wrong word from breaking into tears. Jason exchanges a glance with Dick, who is taken aback by the uncharacteristic bout of aggression from the weird kid, and reluctantly decides to intervene. 

“It’s ‘cause we wanna get to know the baby bro better,” Jason says gruffly. “Ya know. Bondin’ and shhhh, uh, stuff.” 

Tim’s blue eyes widen into twin moons. “You want to be my big brother?”

The naked hope in his voice is really not helping with Jason’s guilt. 

“Yeah.” Jason throws down a few more lumps of cookie dough a bit more forcefully than required. “Ain’t no way B is returning you to the kid store.”

Actually, he’s only seen Bruce interact with Tim once, and it was super awkward. But he’s pretty confident that Bruce wouldn’t take in a kid if he didn’t want that kid to be his kid. 

Dick is smiling dopily, so Jason is pretty sure he said enough right words in the right order. “So?” Dick prompts. “Got a last name, baby bird?”

Tim’s hands float to his elbows and start tapping out an unknown pattern. “It’s, uh. Drake.”

“Tim Drake,” Jason tests out, and neither he nor Dick miss the way that Tim does his best impression of a wooden plank at the sound of his name. “Why does that sound familiar?”

“Dunno.” Dick snaps his fingers and points at Tim. “Wait! You’re our neighbor!”

Tim gives Dick his weird blank stare, so Dick points at Jason instead. “The Drakes are our neighbors,” he explains. “The parents were always out of the country for vacation or something, but I remember they had a little kid tag along with them once or twice. What happened?”

“Bruh.” Jason shoves the tray in the oven with his bare hands, because he isn’t a wuss and he’s also not stupid enough to touch the burning hot metal with bare hands. “They supervillains or something?”

Tim shakes his head. His hands press flat against his legs. “They sold me.”

He says it so flatly that Jason exchanges another look with Dick just to make sure he heard right. But Dick’s jaw drops in outrage, so clearly they heard the same thing.

“How? When? To who?” Dick’s eyes narrow. He’s dropping into protective big brother mode. Jason has had the dubious pleasure of experiencing it first-hand a few times. “Does B know about this?”

But Tim shakes his head again. “I can’t say.”

“Are they threatening you?” Jason jumps in, pretending his tone isn’t leaning in the same big brother direction as Dick’s is. “You know B has Supes on speed-dial, right? Ain’t no one in the world who can get away with threatening you now that B’s got you.”

Tim shakes his head a third time, and Jason really has no idea if Tim actually means no or if he’s just moving his head. 

Dick and Jason exchange another worried look, but this time Jason isn’t sure what Dick is thinking. Mostly because Tim just gave them about a thousand more questions in the process of answering one. 

#batfam #batman #tim drake #my fanfiction #my writing #dick grayson #jason todd #bruce wayne

[dragonrider9905]

Infectious Love

Summery: After a failed, almost confession of love, you and Hunter's relationship is skating on thin ice...that is, until someone falls through (or gets stabbed in the gut), so to speak.

Warnings: Angst, lots of it, but comfort too. Lots of emotions. Mentions of blood and sickness.

Hellooooooooo @imaginesfordifferentfandoms tis I, your Secret Santa in the @cloneficgiftexchange!!!!! I really, really, hope you like it. I worked really hard on it ;D So I hope it turned out the way I imagined it in my head ;D Enjoy this kinda longish drabble XD Hehehehe now you understand all the questions I asked. I hope you don't mind I went with Hunter. You seemed to not mind any of them; he's my favorite so I know I can get carried away :D and I wanted to make sure the story was nice! Also, I gave Hunter's scarf a destiny. A fate. A sense of purpose. We now know what happened to it. I have spoken.

Furthermore, I'd like to throw a huge shout out to some people who deserve it. Firstly, @ghostofskywalker. Thank you so much for organizing this event and all the other ones like it. They are always so much fun and I enjoy them immensely. It is safe to say the others who join feel the same way. Thank you for all the hard work you put into it all! Also, thank you to @photogirl894 for being an awesome beta reader and supportive friend. I don't know if I would have finished this fic on time if she hadn't helped me through all the rough spots by her encouraging words. Bestie, you read everything but the ending...I hope you like it <3

The decree is written, now, let the story unfold.

“As a father, you couldn’t ask for a better place to raise a child.”

You’d heard Shep say these words to Hunter your first day on Pabu, and you had to admit, it made your heart flutter a little bit. You’d fallen hard for Hunter a long time ago but duty always got in the way. At first, you hadn’t realized just how much you cared for him during the Clone War, serving as their medic, until Hunter received a shot in the chest. It was then that you realized, or rather were honest with yourself, that your friendship was always more than just a friendship. Almost losing him gave you a clarity and an honesty with yourself that you needed, but that didn’t make things easy. In fact, they made them harder.

Because now you knew how YOU felt, but you had NO IDEA how he felt. Every day, you’d face a new challenge, a new battle, overcome insurmountable odds against the Separatists on top secret missions and won. Every night, you’d have a heart to heart with Hunter, talking about things that made him laugh, made you laugh, things that made you cry, or things that upset him. 

But never unburying that heavy secret locked away in your heart. 

You considered yourself brave in many aspects but not when it came to problems with the heart. You could tell Hunter anything and everything, except how you felt about him. Instead, you’d find little things every day to show him you loved him. You’d fix his caf the way he liked it, you’d make sure the others were considerate of his sense, you listened to him when he wanted to rant, you showed him you trusted him. You were his shoulder to lean on, his unofficial right hand man. Technically, Crosshair filled those shoes but not always. You tried to be the head of reason when the boys fought and patched them up when they were done arguing. 

Then the Clone War ended with fateful Order 66. Your world turned upside down and even though circumstances were different, your situation was the same. 

That secret would have to be pried out of your cold dead hands. 

You’d been on the run, constantly in fear for your lives and that of the child in your care. You’d started to love her as your own daughter, and you could see Hunter did too. You’d seen Hunter with Cut and Suu’s children before, but somehow, this was different. He’d cared for her as a father would. And that made your heart melt more than you ever thought it could. 

Now, here on Pabu, having something that resembled peace and a chance at a life, was it time? Could you actually have the dream you despaired of. The dream which was a nightly comfort but in the morning seemed unreachable as something you thought you couldn’t hope for? 

Shep’s words teased you. Taunted you. Pried at you. 

Perhaps, perhaps it was time to open your heart? 

“So have you reconsidered staying?”

“For soldiers, putting down roots is an occupational hazard.” 

“Is that all you are? Soldiers?”

You’d seen the thoughtful look on Hunter’s face. It was the one he made when he was considering something. There was no contention, just thoughtful pondering. 

Somehow, some way, that moment spurred you and you worked up the courage. 

Hunter sat in the cockpit, swirling his knife. You approached and leaned against the door. You’d love to sit there and watch that for hours. You smiled a little to yourself, waiting for him to recognize your presence so as to not scare him into a mistake (not that he’d ever but…better be safe than sorry.) 

“Echo said he’s on his way. Will be here in a few rotations.” he said without looking up. “Omega will be glad to see him.”

“Yeah, she misses him, the poor kid.”

Sheaving his knife, he turned to you. 

“So, what can I help you with?”

“Oh, you know, just checking in on my Sargeant. You’ve been in here all day.” You placed some fruit native to Pabu in front of him. You never could remember the name, but you’d noticed he liked them. 

“Thanks,” he gave half a smile while you took the seat next to him. “What kind of trouble are Wrecker and Omega getting into?”

“Ohhhh probably best not to know right now. Just enjoy the few moments of peace while you can.”

He chuckled and cut into the fruit.

“Soooooo” your heart pounded. You were actually going to do it. You got this…just had to breathe and remain steady, it’d be ok. 

Hunter gave you a side eye, silently offering you a piece of the fruit. Kriff, he can tell. You tried to slow your heart best you could. 

“So.” He prompted you.

You laughed. “I heard Shep the other day. Something about settling down…ever think about it?”

He sighed. “More than you know. I honestly don’t know what to do about it. I’d like to but… It’s … complicated.”

“Ever think about marrying a pretty woman and having a family? Raising Omega somewhere safe where she’d be happy…”

He huffed a little. 

“Who’d I marry? Please don’t suggest the woman Wrecker’s friend was trying to set me up with.” 

At the words, the muscles in your face felt heavy and turned sour. The twinkle in your eye went out and the joy in your demeanor dissolved. 

An empty smile remained on your face. No indication to the outsider that anything had changed. But Hunter wasn’t an outsider. He knew you inside and out. 

Who’d I marry? You weren’t even a consideration. You weren’t on the list. Of course you wouldn’t be. It’d be foolish for you to think that. Why’d you hope in the first place? You should have known better. 

Swallowing hard, you bit back tears and forced a laugh. 

You had Hunter’s full attention now. He sat up straight and leaned forward a bit. 

He immediately sensed the change of demeanor. Your heart rate plummeted but beat hard. Your focus was gone, staring into nothing. Even if it was just for a millisecond, he’d have noticed it, but it lasted longer than that. 

Your hollow laugh filled the cabin.   

He knew he messed up.

Hunter moved to speak again but it was too late. You’d gotten up and moved toward the door. 

“Well um, I should go check on Omega and Wrecker and see what they’re up to before they do too much damage. Yeah, yeah…”

The next moment you were out of the cabin and down the ramp without a second look behind you. 

Kriff. He had to fix this. 

He almost went after you. He almost made it out the ship, but an incoming transmission stopped him. This could be the one he was waiting for. He looked longingly out to where he saw you hugging yourself, making your way slowly across the shipyard, and went back inside the ship. 

Kark it all. This’d better be important, Echo.

Tech was gone. Omega was taken. Crosshair a prisoner. Echo abandoned them, again. It was just you, Wrecker and Hunter now. A ship once filled to bursting with life and light, warm with the love and laughter shared between its walls, was now cold with an emptiness, a magnanimous devoid maw that the ship had never known before. 

Tech was dead. Crosshair was gone. Omega was taken. 

He was lost. 

Hunter might as well have added you to the list of lost as well, because even though you were physically on the ship, you weren’t with him. You were distant. Gone. In every way possible other than physical. You’d done your best to keep Wrecker and himself together. You’d been the same insurmountable strength you’d always been for them to lean on. You were being the strong one for them because you knew they couldn’t right now. He was angry, frustrated, focused and lost all in one but didn’t know where to direct that energy. As always, you came through. You acted the same as how you did throughout the entire Clone War, except not. The actions were all there, but there was a lost life to it. 

A lost love. 

And it was his fault. 

Though you were strong, you weren’t invincible. 

During the day you’d serve them. Got them food, made sure they rested, used every resource imaginable to find the little lost loved one. You tried to make them laugh and smile if you could or focus on the task at hand. Completing small missions to get by was his bane, because all Hunter wanted to do was find Omega, but you brought him back to the present, reeled in his reckless side when it got to be too much. You kept track of the inventory and how and when to push on. 

But every night he’d hear you silently cry yourself to sleep. 

You’d go and comfort Wrecker, then you’d offer the best gesture you could to him to encourage him, then you’d retire to your bed, broken down by the day. Tired, exhausted, empty. 

He saw it. And he caused it. 

And he hated himself for it. 

He’d lost you in a hasty, foolish sentence. One he’d said without much forethought. One he said because he was afraid if he’d said too much, or given any indication of the deeper feelings he had for you, you’d have rejected him and he’d lose you entirely. He thought he could be your friend. You deserved so much more. So much more than himself and what he could offer. He’d wanted to stay your friend so that way, even though he couldn’t have you, you’d be happy. He’d make sure that whoever he was, the man you’d marry would give you all the love he couldn’t. 

Turns out he was wrong.  

You did return his feelings and he broke you.

He should have gone after you, but he didn’t. He thought he’d have time. He thought he could do it when you’d return to the ship and he could sit down with you uninterrupted but he was wrong, so wrong. Echo arrived and in moments, though he didn’t know it, his life turned upside down. When the mission was declared, his focus turned to that. 

He should have talked to you. He should have let you know how he felt. 

But the manner of your hurt shifted. You were no longer hurt, but cold. 

Perhaps you didn’t want him to love you anymore. He didn’t know what to do. So much was wrong. So much that shouldn’t have been, was now his reality. 

In truth, you DID deserve more than him. Perhaps this was for the best. This hurt would pass and you’d meet the one you were supposed to be with. You could get over this fancy for him and live an actual life with someone else. 

The thought made his stomach churn and threatened to vomit, but perhaps, that’s what was meant to be. 

After all, sometimes to love someone you had to let them go. And Omega, she needed him right now, fully focused on nothing else but finding her. 

It was late in the night watch, Hunter sat alone staring at the broken pair of goggles and a plush toy that belonged to the child of the ship. His child, not by blood but by choice. 

Taken from him in a cruel twist of fate. 

He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. Hunter wasn’t normally one for crying but he felt close to it now. He didn’t know what to do, but he knew Omega took priority over himself. He HAD to find her. Bring her home. Oh Force, what was Hemlock doing to her?

He felt his head start to pound and his brow furrowed. 

It hurt so much to love. This was love, wasn’t it? After all, what would he know? All he knew of it was what was in the novels and holofilms…

Something cold touched his head and he jumped in surprise. Opening his eyes, he found you had taken a few steps back surprised, with a blanket and an ice pack in hand. 

It didn’t go unnoticed you’d had the scent of fresh tears on your hands. 

“I’m sorry, I thought you were in one of your uncomfortable sleep cycles.” You offered gently. “You looked like you had a headache so I brought you this.” You shook the ice pack. 

Hunter sat up and rubbed his head. “I…can’t sleep.”

He looked down. It was so hard to keep your gaze. His throat tightened and tears sprung against his will. All he could do was sigh, long and heavy. 

Hunter was silent, not knowing what to say. He tried opening his mouth a few times but closed it at every attempt, frustrated. 

You slowly drew near him, considerate as you always were. Giving him a chance to stop you if he wanted or needed, but he didn’t. You crouched down in front of him and took his hands. 

A shock of surprise sprung his head up immediately and sent a shiver through his body. His brain registered your hands were cold and instinctively he moved to warm them, covering them completely with his own. But his mind was fully focused on your face. 

Your eyes glittered with unshed tears and your mouth had a half, crooked smile. A ghost of the one you’d had before. But there was something in your gaze he’d missed, he’d longed for. 

It was ‘that’ look. 

You hadn't looked at him like that in a long time. 

There was a warmth and a love aflame. A gentleness that hadn’t been there these long past few weeks.  

If eyes were truly the window to the soul, he’d seen that the embers were dying, but not gone. 

You squeezed his hand. 

“We’ll find her. I promise.” 

There was such a conviction in your voice, determination. A rawness that almost freighted him. A testament to the power you had. The power of your will and spirit. The power of your determination. One of the reasons he loved you so much. One of the elements in your looks that he yearned to see again after missing it for so long. 

He squeezed your hands. 

“Thank you for everything.” He swallowed hard, voice now scratchy and sore. 

You nodded and stood, pulling your hands from his. You placed the pack on his forehead and placed the blanket on him in two swift motions and made to go. You were fast, but not too fast for him. You’d tried to retreat, but Hunter jumped and grabbed your arms, centering you to himself. 

A surprised look crossed your face and he saw you searching him, wondering. 

“We need to talk.”

You looked away, tears starting to gather again, a breath catching in your throat wanting to break free. 

Hunter cupped your face with his hand and slowly, softly turned your gaze back to him. 

“Please.”

You nodded, but then looked away again. 

“Ok, but not now.” Your voice was heavy and empty. That void look entered your eyes, extinguishing the flame that was there before. 

“No, you should get some sleep, you look exhausted. You’re always looking after us. Tonight, take care of yourself, yeah?” He rubbed his thumb against your cheek, whipping away a tear that escaped. “Tomorrow.”

You nodded. “Tomorrow.”  

Lifting the blanket you’d brought for him, Hunter placed it over your shoulders with a reassuring squeeze then turned back to his chair, cradling the ice pack to his forehead. 

Tomorrow came, but started off all wrong. Emergency lights flashed and sirens blared. The Marauder made an emergency landing on the treacherous mountainous planet below. The hyperdrive malfunctioned and threw you out of hyperspace. It was a tumultuous, uncontrolled landing but Hunter managed with minimal damage to the exterior of the ship. The haul was a little banged up, but other than that, the smoking hyperdrive was the focus of your concern.

There was no Tech to fix the ship now. You were on your own.

“Do you think you can fix it?” Hunter looked at you worriedly. You’d helped Tech plenty of times in the past. You considered yourself pretty capable with all the training you received from him. 

Taking a look around, you carefully considered. 

“I think so, but it’s going to take time. This superficial stuff I’m not too worried about. We’ll have to make port somewhere soon anyway for supplies. We’re low on everything.” You’d been looking at the inventory the last few days and the lists were concerning. “I think we have enough credits to get by until we can do a job and earn more.” You rubbed your forehead. “I’ve been running numbers on how to keep ourselves sustained without needing to distract ourselves from our mission with a whole bunch of side missions anymore. I think it’ll work but you’re going to have to trust me. But I digress. I’ll patch up the hyperdrive which seems to be the main problem. I’ve got a weird feeling about this place, I don’t want to be here too long. Weather might not hold out for extensive repairs either.”

“Alright, we’ll discuss this when I get back. I’ll scout the area and see what we’re dealing with.” Hunter turned to leave, then paused. Half looking back he spoke: “And, I do. Trust you, I mean.” 

With that he put his helmet on and shouted to Wrecker. 

“Keep her safe. I’ll be right back.”

It’d been an hour. And Hunter wasn’t back. 

Whipping the sweat from your forehead you heaved a big breath.

“I think that’ll do it Wreck. Where’s Hunt?” 

Wrecker looked nervous. “Not back yet.” 

You looked at your wrist chrono and raised your eyebrows in surprise. Highly unusual.

“Ok, I’ll go look for him. Protect the ship.” 

“We should stay together.” Wrecker added quickly, “I’ll come with you.”

“I would like that too but at this moment that’s a luxury we can’t afford. We have to split up.”

Wrecker groaned. “Bad things ALWAYS happen when we split up.”

You softened and patted his shoulder comfortingly. 

“I know, big guy, I know. But the less we argue, the sooner we get Hunt back.”

Wrecker paused and nodded. “Ok.” He sighed and took his place by the ramp of the ship. “And…..it’s good to hear you call Hunter, Hunt again…”he trailed off uncertainly, “but it’s kinda making me scared. You think he’s….?” 

Your heart clenched in realization. You didn’t think how your hurt would shed and affect others. “Oh Wrecker….” You started but he stopped you. 

“Aw Doc, I am just worried about ya. You two always meshed together, you know? So when you didn’t, and now get soft again…” He shook his head. “Get Hunter back, and everything will be ok, yeah?”

“Yeah, it will. I promise.” You started off your sentence quaking but with every word you found your conviction. It was time to go. 

“I hope you two can work things out. I always liked it that way, ya know?”

You smiled, “Yeah I do actually, and I did too.”

“Well, do you think that … whatever happened…you two can fix it?”

Your smile faltered a little bit but Wrecker didn’t see that. Really, only Hunter would have been the one to notice.

“I’ll do my best.”

With one last nod to Wrecker, you set out.

You weren’t exceptional at tracking but Hunter taught you a thing or two. 

It was time to bring Hunter home.

Hunter skirted the edge of the cliff carefully. His foot set a few loose rocks tumbling into the unknown. Knife unsheathed and corned against the endless void beneath him, he glared at his enemy. Hunter met these villains almost as soon as he left the ship. It didn’t take him long to realize their harmful intentions and led them away from the ship, hoping to buy you as much time as he could to fix the ship. He’d taken out ten of these bandits already, but this one was of a higher status, he could tell by the large hat he wore and more expensive weapons he possessed. He’d be more of a challenge but that would only make it more fun. 

Hunter growled and lifted his knife in the ready. Blood and sweat dripped from his face from the few scratches and scrapes he had. 

He was prepared for anything.

“Get away from him!” An agonized voice filled with terror screamed. 

Your voice. 

Hunter’s heart dropped to his stomach and for the first time since the crash, terror entered his veins. He was prepared for everything, except that.

Garnishing your blade, you swiped the air to show the mysterious stranger you were serious. “Leave him alone!”

Hunter’s throat closed up. You didn’t have your blaster, and while still decent with the blade, you weren’t ready for this yet. He hadn’t finished your training. 

“Meshla, no!” 

Hunter reached out, distracted only for a moment but a moment is all it took. In the second he tried to get in between you and the enemy, a kick to his stomach sent Hunter over the side

“Hunter!” You screamed after him in terror. 

What you didn’t see was the flip he made or how he grappled onto the rock. If only you had the enhanced senses he did, you might have heard his hard breathing, the uneven sob, and the continuous prayer that somehow you could live long enough for him to get to you. 

His heart pounded. He wanted to call for you but that’d only make things worse for you. He grunted as silently as he could. He had to get to you. 

He heard your angry grunts, the slices of knives through the air, missing their marks. He heard you yelling unintelligibly and savagely. The man’s gleeful laughter. 

Your painful cry.

No

Those were some of the longest seconds of his life. What happened? He tried to climb faster but the rock was so slippery.

Watching Hunter get shot. Finding him shot again in the same place all this time later by Cad Bane, and now seeing Hunter tumble over the edge was more than you could handle. Anger like you’d never felt it bubbling all over you, tingling your fingers and guiding your blade’s every movement with hardened focus.

No, you couldn’t lose him like this. You wouldn’t. The man was quick, practiced. But you’d had a good teacher. Now wasn’t the time to doubt. Sure, you wished your blaster had survived the raid on Ord Mantel but there was nothing you could do about that except replace it when you made port.

You tumbled, dived, parried. This demon wouldn’t win. He made a hit on your arm and you cried out. The evil, smug smile he had was enough to refocus you instantly. Jumping for him unexpectedly, you caught him by surprise. You pushed your entire body against his in a close roll.

And your blade found a home in his heart. 

Breathing hard, it took you a moment to realize…you’d won. You defeated him! Hunter would be so proud.

Hunter!

Diving for the cliff, you slid toward the edge. 

“Hunter? Hunter!”

Hunter looked up at you, face hidden behind his visor but all the emotions were spilling from his mouth. “Are you ok? Mesh’la, what the karking hells?”

“Grab my hand!” Ignoring him, you reached down. “I’ll pull you up.” 

Hunter clasped your hand but you let out a cry of agony. Collapsing in a heaping pile. You were shaking but your grip held firm.

“Mesh’la…” 

“Don’t you dare let go. Don’t you dare.” Your demand was dry and forceful, but fear spilled from every word. “Please.” Your plea was soft, broken.

“Alright.” He tightened his grip.

Tears streamed down your face as you panted, hulling him up. Hunter seemed so heavy. You’d done exercises like this before and it was a lot easier. Hunter seemed to notice your lack of strength too.

You pulled and heaved and scooted and rolled until you managed to get his body over the lump. Immediately, Hunter started his barrage on you in between heaving breaths of his own.

“What were you thinking? Don’t you know you could have gotten yourself killed?”

You got to your feet and brushed yourself off, head dizzy with emotion and adrenaline.

“Do you,” you panted, “have any idea what you did to me? Don’t start with me…”

“Oh honey, just wait until I get started—“ 

You turned to look at Hunter who also had gotten to his feet, the words registering, but sounding quite distant. Was he yelling? You weren't sure. Suddenly, your breath was knocked from your lungs and a sharp pain invaded your entire body. 

Falling to your knees, you clutched your side to find it wet and sticky, and warm. You didn't need to pull your hand away to look at it to know there was blood, yet that's what you did, and you were shocked nevertheless to find the red, sticky substance on your hands. Gasping with wide eyes, you missed Hunter’s cry of alarm.  

“You’re bleeding!”

Hunter ran over to you and caught you as you crumpled to the ground in pain. Gathering you to himself, he rested your body against his.

Tearing off his scarf from around his neck, Hunter pressed it to your wound.

“You’re losing so much blood.”

“Nah, I know exactly where it is. Here, there, and a little over there.”

“Not funny.”

“I thought it was.” you faintly chuckled. 

With a dark look, he cut the red fabric into strips and bound your abdomen tightly. 

“I’ll get you back to the ship as soon as I can, just hold on for me ok?” 

You nodded but your eyes now felt so heavy. You just wanted to sleep. 

Scooping you up, Hunter started at a full run. 

The bouncing hurt. Every pounding bounce sent fire mixed with ice through your body. Your head rolled back and your eyes shut.

“Hey, hey, cyare, look at me. Look at me! Don’t give up on me yet, please.” 

Hunter came in running. 

“Wrecker! Wrecker! Get the ship started, we’re leaving NOW!”

Wrecker didn’t miss a beat. He saw you dangling limpless in Hunter’s arms and dashed up the walkway. Wrecker tore through the room, doing the start up sequences as fast as he could then meeting Hunter in the gangway, he threw the med kit at him. 

Back in the cockpit, Wrecker took the controls. 

Placing you in his bed, Hunter slapped your face.

“I know you’re in there, wake up! Wake up! Don’t leave me now, I need you. I can’t do this without you. Omega is depending on you. You’re stronger than this, come on!”

Injecting you quickly with a stim and re-wrapping your wounds, Hunter frantically chaffed your wrists until your eyes fluttered open. 

“Hunter?” You were looking around, trying to sit up. 

“Hey, hey don’t get up.” He placed a hand on your forehead, then your pulse points. He felt you slowly but surely starting to equalize. “Just rest for a bit, ok? I’m going to stay right here if you need anything.” He pulled up a chair next to you. 

“I’m ok,” you smiled weakly, “I was so scared when I saw those tracks. I thought I’d lost you again. But you’re ok, and that’s all that matters to me.” You squeezed his hand, then let the darkness take you.

All was still and dark. The Marauder gently rocked in what would pass for the early hours of the morning, if there really could be a morning or night in space. 

All was still and quiet inside the Marauder. Wrecker was by the controls watching the ship’s course and motion beacons, Hunter was fast asleep, leaned over the bed and holding your hand. 

You on the other hand were restless. Buckets of sweat fell from your forehead. Dizzy and disoriented, even laying down, a nauseous feeling crept up your stomach into your throat. 

You wormed your hand out of Hunters, not wanting to wake him. It’d been too long since he’d gotten any sleep at all and at last the complete and utter exhaustion took him over. You pushed on the bed, attempting and failing to drag yourself up. 

You glanced at Hunter, considering only for a moment, then resurfaced your determination. No, you’d let him rest. You could do this. Grasping the blanket’s cocooning you, you attempted to untangle the heavy sheet entwining you. It was so heavy, suffocating. 

With a heaving breath, you pushed your feet off the bed and lunged your body forward.

You were standing. 

But as soon as you got up, you realized your mistake. The ship spun and the dull aches over your body were awakened. Your stomach’s pain blew its trumpet and your ears felt like balloons that were going to pop. You must have swallowed marbles because there was barely any room in your throat. 

Oh well, you could only push forward. 

Stumbling into the bathroom, you turned on the cold water. Perhaps that would help. 

The first thing Hunter noticed was his hand was cold and clammy. The lack of warmth left a devoid and empty feeling embedded with a nervous foreboding. 

Next came the darkness, which became a haze, and that haze turned into a bubble as he fought he was to consciousness. The bed in front of him was empty and Hunter could vaguely make out the things around him, noises indecipherable. He thought he heard trudging of feet scraping against the floor, the turning of a facet with the gush of water, then a loud crash, and thud with a BAM!

Instantly his body was alert. Dashing toward the source of the sound, he knew subconsciously what he’d find. Your body on the floor, sprawled out and drained. Your face was pale as death, eyes hollow. You didn’t look like this a few hours ago? 

“Mesh’la? mesh’la! what happened? Did you hit your head? Why are you up?” A thousand questions spilled from his mouth in worry. 

Worming his body behind yours, he gathered you up gently. You mumbled something that was lost even to his hearing. 

Concerned, Hunter removed his gloves, and placed them on your face. 

You leaned into his warmth, shivering, unable to get warm, yet your skin felt like fire to him. You were burning. Beads of sweat danced on your forehead as large as the tears that fell from your eyes.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Cradling you now, he carefully wrapped himself around your body. This allowed you to curl in on yourself and tuck yourself in further to his chest.

“‘M sry.”

Kriff, you could barely speak. 

“Don’t be sorry. I got you now.”

“Hunter, I-I can’t hear you too well.”

A wall of realization hit him hard. Kark it, he knew what happened. 

The fever, the swelling, the loss of balance and your voice, not to mention your hearing? 

You had an infection. 

Fear invaded Hunter’s senses. He’d never been sick like this, having super immune genetics (one thing to thank the long necks for he supposed). But now, how could he help if he didn’t know what you were going through exactly? 

This wasn’t the first time you were sick like this. He remembered the story you told of your childhood, and how one winter, you fell through the ice which resulted in something like this. The incident left you vulnerable and weakened, and he worried about you. 

You were tough and fought it out. But what if you couldn’t fight this one off? Would your second brush with death be enough to claim you?

Tears swelled your eyes and poured onto your cheeks. Small sobs started to wrack your body as emotion overtook you.

“I…sorry…don’t burnden…’Mega, gotta find…” 

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, I got you, I got you. You’re not a burden. We’ll get you better then we’ll find her. Hey, I got you, it’s ok.” Hunter had no idea how he managed to sound so calm. He’d never seen you like this before and it terrified him. Your small sniffles and hiccups reminded him of a small child. Every nerve and essence of his being screamed at him to protect you. 

“I’ll get you some water, I’ll be back. You have to stay hydrated.”

“Stay, I’ll get it.”

Hunter looked up to find Wrecker looking down at the two of you with a sad look in his eyes. “You should be with her.” He disappeared then returned a few minutes later with a full flask of cold water. 

Hunter brought it to your lips, but you barely swallowed any before relinquishing your strength to an empty sleep, exhausted by the struggle. 

Silence bore down on the three of you as Hunter and Wrecker looked on while you slept an uncomfortable sleep.

“I knew we should have stuck together.” Wrecker said sadly at last, not looking at Hunter. “I told her I’d come with her…”

“It’s not your fault, Wreck.”

“Bad things happen when we split up, I told her that….”

“This is all my fault.” Hunter hung his head. “I—”

“That kind of talk isn’t going to help her, Hunt. Don’t even think that. She made up her own mind. She was scared for ya, Hunt. She even started calling you ‘Hunt’ again.”

Hunter looked up surprised, then back down towards you. You’d stopped that since that morning on Pabu. You’d been formal with him afterward. It was either Sargeant or Hunter. 

He shifted then lifted you in his arms, bringing you back to the bed. He set you down then ran his fingers through your damp hair, worry evident in his eyes. 

“We need to get her to a hospital, Wreck. I don’t know what to do…Without Tech…I’m really scared right now.”

Wrecker placed a large, comforting hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Then we go. We’ll get her better, Hunt. Don’t worry. I think we have a few of those fake IDs left Tech made. We’ll make something work.”

Swallowing hard, Hunter nodded.

Instead of letting go, Wrecker’s grip tightened. In one swift motion, Hunter was enveloped in a hug. If he was being honest, he didn’t mind in the least. 

Hunter sat by you in silence as the ship flew through hyperspace toward the hospital, watching your fitful sleep. Your forehead was creased in pain and your mouth turned into a pout. One hand carefully stroked your sweat soaked hair, the other intertwined with yours.

The waiting was the worst part. Not being able to do anything to help or accept, fate could only take its course and he could only stand by and watch. The worst enemies were the ones he couldn’t protect you from and he hated that. He couldn’t fight the infection with his blade, or take away your pain by shooting the cause with a blaster bolt. 

He leaned his forehead against yours and swallowed a sigh. Was this agony what you'd felt when he'd been shot? He remembered what delicate care you took of him. You'd been more than thoughtful, and tried not to show your concerns but he saw them anyway; just as he could always see you. But there was something else there that at the time he hadn't realized. And now he hoped he hadn't realized it too late. 

“You asked me before if I’d settle down like Shep asked……………and in my dreams, yes. I always wanted to, even before he asked, with you. It was you, it was always and only you.”

Silence was your response. 

 “Please, don’t leave me now. I already lost the others, I can’t lose you too.”

The steady rhythm of your heart was promise enough for him right now, he had to hold onto hope. 

“We can take it slow. Take our time. We don’t have to rush into anything but please, please stay with me and I’ll be yours for the rest of our lives. That’s my promise to you. I–I love you. Always have, always will.”

Perhaps if he’d hadn’t been so tired, he would have noticed the slight squeeze of his hand you have him. 

Hunter walked into the hospital carrying you wearing civilian clothing hoping he looked more inconspicuous than he felt. He approached the nurse at the front desk. 

“Excuse me, my wife needs help. She had an accident…”

“Chain codes.” the nurse said flatly without looking up but holding out her hand. 

Hunter fished them out and gave them to her. 

“It’s urgent, she needs to see a doctor ri–”

“Just sit down over there and the nurse will be with you shortly.”

“But she needs a doctor NOW!”

The nurse glanced up annoyed. 

“Keep that up and she’ll have to wait a full rotation, buddy.”

Hunter glared but didn’t say a word. Normally he would have fought back harder but with your life on the line, he couldn’t find it in himself to do it. So he did as he was bid, and took a seat in the waiting area. 

You blinked your eyes open with a smile. 

“Hey Handsome.” 

You reached up for his face, and he took your hand in his and gave it a quick kiss. 

“Hey,” Hunter kept his voice low, giving you a quick smile before making a quick survey of the area, “to catch you up real quick, we’re married. You’re my wife and we took you here after an accident on our farm. You’re going to be ok, ok?” 

His eyes darted across your face, looking, searching, for any indication that his words would come true. Even here and now on the brink of being saved, he felt like you’d suddenly vanish and be taken from him. 

He didn’t know what he expected from you, a nod of recognition maybe? But he didn’t get that. Instead, you chuckled. 

“Married? Already? So much for wanting to take it slow, Hunter.” 

To his surprise, a laugh burst from his lips, a smile replacing the worry for a second. He shook his head. Even now, you were trying to look out for him, making him laugh while you were the one who needed help. 

“Always looking out for me, aren’t you?” His voice was warm and full. The deepness of his voice like chocolate on your sore ears, not that he’d know that of course. All he could hope for was that you could hear the depth of love and gratitude he had in such a few words. 

You smiled, “always have, always will, I promise you that.” 

Hunter heard the nurse approach and looked up, only to be faced with a jaw dropping phenomenon. 

“How can I help you today? Wait…Hunter?”

It was Nala, your old classmate.

“Nala?” Hunter repeated, stunned. “You work here?”

“Yes…” her eyes drifted down to you. 

An unsettled feeling came over Hunter. You hadn’t been in touch with anyone since Order 66. Whose side was Nala on?

He didn’t have to wonder long when her face went white and she dropped down on one knee to be at your level. 

“What do you need? Let me assess her and see what I can do.”

Nala came running up carrying various vials and all but shoved them in Hunter’s pockets. 

“Give her this as soon as possible. It’s safer for all of you if you just take it and administer it on your ship. I got word of Imperials coming here shortly. I’ve listed instructions on how to give it to her safely. You should go before someone recognizes you and hands you over. Goodbye, and good luck. Take good care of my friend. When she gets better, tell her to give me a call!”

With that, Nala turned and left, trying her hardest not to give an impression of concern. 

Back on the ship, Hunter did as instructed. After making sure you were carefully placed in bed and made as comfortable as possible, he enlisted Wrecker’s help as soon as they’d jumped to hyperspace. Hunter knew Wrecker wasn’t going to like it, but there wasn’t another way. 

You’ll want to give this one to her first. It’ll regulate her body so she can take the following medications. It’ll help her breathe easier and adjust to what’s coming…it won’t appear so right away so don’t worry. You’re going to need to give this to her in quick succession so don’t wait to see the effects.

Hunter injected the hypo into your arm. 

This one is the IV with the antibiotics. Get her hooked up quickly and make sure the bag is drained before you take it out. 

He rubbed your arm and inserted the needle.

This one, inject into her chest near her heart. This one will hurt the most. 

This one, he couldn’t do. 

“This…is going to hurt.”

“I know.” You stared at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath and collect your courage. “It’s ok.”

Of course you knew, you were a medic. He would have cringed at his own words, but he couldn’t help it. His own fear mocked him and he wasn’t ashamed of it. Pain was pain, and nothing could make him like it or want that for you. All he could do was prepare you in any way he could. 

Your breathing was labored, huffing your breaths, greedy for air, gluttonously swallowing in as much as your lungs would let you. 

“Tell me.” You looked into his eyes, trying to focus, “tell me about it? I can’t seem to remember anything from our big day. What happened? Who was there? How did it go….How did I look?” You huffed a little laugh at the last question, “nevermind, don’t answer that.” Your laugh caused a coughing fit to follow. 

Hunter gripped you firmer as your body racked, fear unmasked in his eyes. 

Shutting your own, you tried to center yourself. 

“Crosshair probably made trouble, didn't he. He and Wreck competed to see who could eat the most cake and got sick, right?” Your voice was nothing other than a whisper, but Hunter could still pick up the dream-like tilt in your voice. The little smile as if it was a real memory, breaking across your lips. 

“Of course, would you expect anything less?”

Another chuckle turned into a gasp of air. 

Hunter kept his gaze on you as he spoke, his hand on your cheek facing him so you wouldn’t have to see what was to come. Rubbing gentle circles in your cheek and wiping away tears, he tried to speak without a shake in his voice. He didn’t know if he succeeded, but ever after that, he’d remember the images burned in his mind both, of the story he was telling and the raw reality of your pain. 

“Tech filmed the entire thing; we’ll have to rewatch it; would you believe Echo had more champagne to drink than anyone? He was so happy the entire night. He was also the only one next to Wrecker to cry.”

You smiled through gritted teeth.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You looked beautiful all dressed in white…” he stumbled over his words now as Wrecker garnished the needle, “your dress dazzled with little jewel thingies and you liked spinning in it because it reminded you of a waterfall or a butterfly’s wing. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. And when you walked toward me, I was a mess, because I knew I was the luckiest man in the world, and I couldn’t ever have imagined you more beautiful.”

You swallowed hard. 

“Omega couldn’t stop smiling or singing; and when the music at the Pabu sunsets starts and the orange sun starts setting in the sky, it hit you just right and…”

You screamed as muffled of a scream as you could, but it rang in Hunter’s head so loud it bounced around until he felt like he was going to be sick.  

“Aaand, and, when the sun set, we resaid our vows under the stars, just you and me. Always, just you and me. I’ve got you, it’s ok.”

Your eyes rolled back and all went dark.

Breathing never felt so sweet. You smiled, feeling like you could laugh and cry at the same time. The pain was gone and you felt great! Energy was surging, and life felt beautiful again. Despite the illness, you remembered everything that happened with vivid accuracy. Though your eyes were closed, your mind was very awake and registered everything in perfect memory.

Not just the pain, but the sweet moments too. Hunter taking such good care of you, his poor fear and concern, the thoughts he confessed because he thought you couldn't hear.

You felt the urge to stretch but couldn't move. Opening your eyes and looking around, the sight made your heart melt. Hunter was curled up half beside and half behind you. His body was curled in around yours, holding you as if he feared when he woke, you wouldn't be there. 

Your heart was gripped by the softness of the gesture and you didn't want it to end.

You reached your hand up, running your fingers down his face and neck. The touch was enough to wake him. He stirred, then jolted with realization.

“You're awake!!!” Tears gathered in his eyes as he cupped your face with both his hands. “You're ok.” He smiled and swallowed so hard you could hear it. You embraced him, burying your face in his neck.

“I love you.” 

You froze. You didn't expect him to actually confess to you while you were awake. Hunter sensed your hesitancy and started to pull away, but before he could move an inch, you were grabbing him toward yourself again. 

“I love you, too. So much.”

“Can…we talk? I can't wait anymore.”

“Of course.”

Hunter turned shy. He found his hands extremely interesting as he fiddled with the blanket rim. His face turned red and he tripped over his words.

“I only said what I did because besides you….I wouldn't want to marry any other woman. Who would I even marry…if it wasn't you?”

He paused briefly before continuing.

“I always felt like you deserved way better than me…I can't offer you anything but myself and that's not much of a gift.”

“Hunter! No! You—” 

He gave you a sheepish look and cut you off.

“And I'm so sorry for everything that happened, for how I hurt you. I should have gone to you sooner, I should have…”

Now it was your turn to cut him off, but instead of with words, you captured his mouth with yours in a kiss 

You felt his shock, which made you smile, and soon he joined and returned your soft show of love, holding you even closer than before.

“You scared me.” Hunter said, kisses becoming needier. 

“You scared me first!” You countered, meeting his veracity. “More than once!”

When you both stopped for breath, you settled back in his embrace. 

“Hunter, you're all I could ever need or want. The gift of yourself is more precious than anything or anyone in the galaxy, and that's more than I deserve. All I've ever wanted was the war to end so we could have a family of our own, your brothers all be near us if they're not with us while we raise Omega and children of our own.”

Hunter's face darkened. 

“I wasn't strong enough to protect you or keep this family together. I lost Omega.”

“You didn't lose her, Hunter. She made a choice. She didn't want to lose you, and neither did I. You don't control the galaxy or have some responsibility for everything that happens. It's ok to breathe, Hunt, and let go. All we can do is move onward and face the galaxy together, just like we always do.”

Hunter nodded, the shadow slowly falling from his face, replaced with something gentler. 

“And that story I told before, about you in the white dress?”

“Yeah?” You blushed sheepishly, recalling with a bubbling laugh trapped inside your chest. 

“What do you say we make that real?” Leaning closer, he whispered in your ear, “I want to see you all in white, for real. I want to be yours, only yours, forever. I want to have a family, with you and only you. My brothers can all live close by and we can all be together. We can raise Omega the way she deserves to be raised…and I can love you, the way you deserve to be loved.”

“Yes! Oh yes! My sergeant, I am yours and only yours, now and forever!”

Filled with new determination, you smiled even wider, gripped his hand and got out of bed.

“Come on, now, love, let's go get our kid. Time to bring our family home. Time to start healing and growing.”

"The Empire be warned, we're coming."

Dividers by @stars-n-spice @ve-ti-ver and @djarrex

#I gave Hunter's scarf a fate #We now know what happened to it #It deserved a story #Hunter's scarf is important and we recognize that here #sergeant hunter x you #hunter x you #hunter x reader #hunter #the bad batch #tbb hunter #star wars #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #tbb omega #tbb echo #star wars the bad batch #clone fic gift exchange #TBBE24