#the original 'man inside every woman looking at her' girl

[spacebarbarianweird]

Dadstarion prompt:

Caretaker takes the kid to a fair, playground, restaurant or shopping, just spending the day and having fun together

Ha! Take that. Pure fluff. What could possibly go wrong??

Synopsis: Tiriel and Astarion take Alethaine to a fair.

Tags: dadstarion, dhampirs, fluff, a snippet into the future

Another fluffy thing I have written! And there is also a snippet into the distant future with adult Tiri who hasn't inherited her mother's macabre nature!

Alethaine's age - 12-years-old

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Guide on How To Skin Monsters

Tiriel stops at the daggers’ stall. All of them look rather dull and Tiriel decides to search for something better for Astarion. Besides, he prefers to choose weapons for himself and Tiriel can always get something else – a book, jewelry, or a shirt. He always huffs when she brings him gifts, but she knows he is grateful for those little reminders of her care.

“Looking for something?” A merchant, a halfling woman, asks.

“Nothing in particular,” Tiriel says.

The halfling is definitely in the mood for talking and starts gossiping about a feud between two noble human houses, a serious plague “originated by giants” and someone’s wife cheating with an ork.

“Oh, and have you heard? There was a murder in Secomber! The whole family was slaughtered and by whom? A dhampir!”

Tiriel takes her eyes off the daggers.

“Yes! A half-vampire! Can you imagine sleeping with a vampire? But I think their mother was assaulted. Anyway, the dhampir grew up and slaughtered the whole family! Those half-undead are merciless cruel creatures, and they say there are so many of them!”

“Yeah… cruel monsters they are,” Tiriel mutters.

She heard of the slaughter, but there were no dhampirs or vampires involved. Just a young man possessed by a dryad. He was hanged a week later, but someone started spreading rumors his mother fucked a vampire and that’s why her child grew up so bloodthirsty. 

Tiriel feels pale hands hugging her waist from behind. Alethaine presses her face against her back – she is 12 but she is still cuddly as a little child.

“Oh, is this your daughter? Such an adorable little girl. How old is she?”

“Alethaine,” Tiriel touches her fingers.

“I am twelve,” she says, trying not to betray her fangs.

“Oh… I am sorry… didn’t notice she was an elf.” The merchant apologizes and then proceeds  to tell other gossip.  

“Have a nice day,” Tiriel says, taking Alethaine’s hand.

“You too! And beware the dhampirs!”

“Beware the dhampirs my ass,” Tiriel says, moving further away from the obnoxious halfling.

“I can bite her,” Alethaine suggests. She is twelve, but elves mature slower than humans and half-elves and Tiriel notices her daughter sometimes behaves like a younger child.

“No, we are not biting people we don't like.”

“Dad wouldn’t mind if I bit her!”

“Hm, good thing it’s daylight then!” Tiriel rubs Alethaine’s ear. She knows her daughter too well not to notice the merchant’s words upset her. 

Cruel merciless creatures? Alethaine cries her eyes out every time someone dies in the books she reads! Well, she mostly sympathizes with dragons and monsters – but also with orphan children, victims of arranged marriages and curses. 

And little dead animals. 

Little dead animals are a whole different story. It’s been three years, but Alethaine still feels sorry about an albino kitten killed by a stranger. The dhampir accidentally resurrected the pet and now Tiriel and Astarion also face the issue of raising a necromancer.

“Hey, don’t be sad!” Tiriel leans to a little dhampir. “Do you want anything?”

Alethaine doesn't answer. She stops by the book stall completely enchanted by a huge black volume covered in leather. 

How to Skin Monsters.

Aletaine immediately flips the pages, and Tiriel sees intricate and creepy pictures of the insides of different beasts and monsters. She’d fought many of them in her lifetime (beholders in the Underdark are still one of her worst memories), but never ever did she want to look at their remains, let alone study them.

“Hey, don’t touch it!'' The merchant tries to take the book away from Alethaine’s hands, but the dhampir keeps holding it with her iron grip. “I think this book is rather dark for a little lady like you.”

“Mum, look, the cover is made of human skin,” Alethaine casually says. “No. It’s half-elf actually.”

“No it isn’t!” The merchant protests. “It’s… wolfskin!”

Liar, Tiriel realizes. She has good perception skills, and the merchant lies. And the dhampir necromancer has already passed the verdict. 

Alethaine puts the book away and takes another one – a green volume with letters in Espruar. 

“Is it just a collection of stories or the real guide on Feywild?’” Alethaine asks. “People who have never messed with fey write all sorts of fairytale stuff about pink unicorns and fairies who grant wishes.” She opens the book which is written with trembling handwriting. “Oh, I see. Looks like a feverish nightmare. So the writer has been there.”

The book merchant looks at Tiriel with a facial expression she knows too well. 

What crypt did you find this child in?

“I have some ballads and traveler guides. Maybe...it is more for your age?” he asks

“Travelers guide on what places?”

“Icewind Dale, but it’s a rather uncomfortable read…”

“I’ve read about Icewind Dale,” suddenly something else attracts her attention and she points at a small book with a dragon on its cover. “Show me this!”

The merchant sighs in relief and reaches for the storybook. Tiriel looks at the pages – even though she still experiences issues with reading, she sees that it's just an adventure story about knights, princes, dragons, and treasure hunting.

Something her daughter stopped reading when she was five or six.

“I will take this too,” Alethaine declares.

“Eighty silver for all three,” the merchant says.

Too much, Tiriel thinks. Alethaine frowns but doesn’t try to bargain. For some reason, she is very shy when it comes to arguments.

“Thirty silver,” Tiriel intervenes. “And we are not telling anyone about the half-elf skin you’ve bound the book with.”

“It’s not made of anyone’s skin!”

“I can hear her screams,” Alethaine whispers, flipping the book pages. “They flayed her when she was still alive!”

The merchant gulps. Tiriel chuckles. So, this is true and the merchant knew it.

“All right. Thirty,” he mutters and Alethaine happily gives him the silver coins. 

Alethaine puts the books in her black bag and wishes the merchant good night. The man mutters something not appropriate for children’s ears.

“Did you catch the scent of the skin or it’s more like your necromancy skills?” Tiriel asks, taking her daughter’s hand as they stand by the stall with needles and threads. 

She shrugs. “I-I don’t know. Maybe both.”

“Do you know if Dad needs something to sew?” Tiriel still can’t really tell apart shades of the same color and all needles look the same to her. 

“Take the black threads,” Alethaine says, touching the samples of fabric. “He’s always out of them.”

Tiriel nods. She doesn’t know why and when Astarion decided to make all his daughter’s wardrobe black, but here they are. Alethaine got from black onesies to black dresses, from black nappies to black skirts, gloves, and coats. Only her shoes and boots aren’t made by Astarion - and they are as pitch dark as everything else.

A few hours later, at sunset, they sit on the grass outside the market. It’s a beautiful summer sunset and Tiriel adores the light. Alethaine sits on her traveling cape and takes out one of her new books. 

“Interesting?”

“Uh-um,” she nods, completely taken away.

Tiriel smiles to herself. She’s never been a stranger to violence and dark things – if you faint at the sight of a blood sacrifice, you won’t survive in the wilderness. But having a child like this takes everything to another level.

Death, dark arts, corpses – they have  a special appeal to Alethaine, the same one Tiriel feels towards fights.

The sun sets and Tiriel sits beside Alethaine. Darkvision allows her to see in gray colors and Tiriel sees a picture of the monster inside.

“All right, now I understand who all these people were who hired me to bring them certain parts of the beasts I killed.”

“Dad is coming,” she says. “Or another vampire, but I think Dad scared all of them away.”

Tiriel smiles. “Good thing vampires hate the presence of each other.” She stands up and approaches the edge of the hill. Yes, Alethaine is right – Astarion has left his daylight shelter in the nearby inn. She can see his silhouette from the distance – white hair and black armor she can’t mix with anyone else.

She waves to him and he quickens his steps. 

“Hello, darling,” he murmurs in her ear the moment he hugs her. Astarion pecks her cheek and Tiriel rubs his left ear.

“Dad! Look what I’ve bought!” 

Tiriel thinks Alethaine will show him the anatomy book, but, instead, she hands him the adventure story.

Astarion studies the first page, then another. Tiriel watches them carefully.

“I just don’t get it,” Alethaine admits. “Is it about how to enter the thieves’ guild or how to smuggle drugs?”

“None,” Astarion returns her the book. “It’s about how to find a job as a bounty hunter in Neverwinter.”

“Oh, I misread the symbols then,” Alethaine pouts.

“Wait, the book is in Thieves Cant?” Triel asks.

“Yes. Hidden deep under snotty stories,” Astarion answers. “And what are these two monstrosities?”

Alethaine proudly opens the anatomy book as Astarion studies the Feywild one. Tiriel barely prevents herself from laughing as she sees Astarion cringing at the pictures. Vampire or not, he saw so many disgusting and cruel things he hated looking at them. 

Then Alethaine yawns. 

“Let’s go home,” Tiriel says. It will take them till sunrise to return to Daggerlake. If they don't hurry they will need to set up a camp for the daylight - or leave Astarion behind which Tirel absolutely hates to do.

It’s not like it’s a big deal right now – thirty-two years since he gained his freedom, he has nothing to fear. More than that, Tiriel is sure there is simply no other monster in the area who could be a threat to Astarion. He is a vampire, an undead, a skilled rogue, a dangerous assassin.

But when he is alone, the nightmares slowly crawl back. The loneliness fuels his memories and there are so many of them. Thirty-two years are simply not enough. Astarion can handle that too – he’s learned to. But Tiriel doesn’t want him to face mental struggles if it can be avoided.

Alethaine walks in front of them and Tiriel takes Astarion’s hand in hers. They are her little family – everything she’s ever wished for. 

She looks at Astarion and notices his lips are squeezed and there is some anxiety in his eyes.

Hunger.

“Go for a hunt, we will wait for you”.

“Nonsense, let’s return home sooner.”

Tiriel doesn’t push it. They agreed years ago that Alethaine isn’t to see him dining on her mother (because it’s absolutely a sexual thing and must remain behind closed doors) and also that she shouldn’t see him feed on animals (because her dhamprisim might get awoken – blood will tempt her and they don’t want their daughter to become more a vampire then she already is).

Of course, she isn't stupid, she knows her father drinks blood. She often sees bite marks on Tiriel when she forgets to cover them – but the process remains out of sight.

It’s already sunrise when they reach Daggerlake and Astarion walks forward not to risk staying in the sun.

By the time they return home, Alethaine rushes upstairs to prepare for sleep. She sleeps a lot, even more than a human would – and Tiriel wonders how much dhampirism affects her sleeping habits.

“So, is the book really about how to be a mercenary?” Tiriel asks closing the door to the bedroom

Astarion has already put off his doublet and now sits on the bed watching Tiriel.

He waits.

“Yes. It was a guide on how to find people who will give her a job as a mercenary,” he slowly answers as if he had to concentrate on speaking. His eyes are focused on her neck. 

“And can she read this book?”

“She thought it was about smugglers and thieves. Her skills aren’t that good.”

Tiriel approaches Astarion and he tugs her closer, forcing her to sit on his lap.

Astarion is no longer a sweet caring elf – his predatory side is on the loose and he pierces her skin with his nails as the fangs are looking for the vein.

Tiriel wraps her hands around his neck and lets herself drown in painful pleasure. 

“Take as much as you need,” she murmurs. “I love you.”

She feels like falling into the warm dark void and, when she almost crosses the border of no return, the tender hands let her go and she finds herself on the bed with Astarion carefully applying a bandage on her fresh bite mark.

“Thank you,” he says, kissing her with his blood-stained lips.

“Will you stay with me when I sleep?”

“Of course,” he chuckles. “Besides Alethaine has occupied the bathroom – she isn't getting out any time soon”

“Oh… and I forgot…” Tiriel points at her bag. “I’ve bought you some black threads and new needles.”

Astarion kisses her cheek. “Such a caring and thoughtful wild girl. Now I have something to occupy myself with while you are asleep.” He takes her nightshirt from the floor. “Do you have anything in mind? I noticed you’ve ripped it.”

“Me? Astarion, you rip my clothes all the time!”

He unfolds the shirt showing the ripped collar. “Yeah, I agree. My fault. So, what patch do you want?”

“Maybe a dragon? A black one?”

Astarion covers her with a blanket – the one she uses when she sleeps alone – and sits on the floor with the shirt and the needle.

“I have a daughter who likes seeing monsters’ inside-outs and a wife who likes murdering monsters. Can someone in this family enjoy nice and cute things?” He pouts.

“Imagine Alethaine having a child who enjoys such things. She will pout then, ‘no one in her family has taste for macabre’”.

Astarion chuckles, and Tiriel wraps herself in the blanket. 

Safe. She feels safe. 

And loved.

**

Sewing has always helped Astarion to concentrate. It’s been centuries since he needed to shut the darkness up. Memories of his enslavement, memories of the misery have faded away and feel like a distant nightmare. 

But habits never truly go, and Astarion enjoys sewing patches and repairing clothes even though the old purpose of that process has long gone.

“You know, for someone who is an elf and was raised as an elf, you are very messy,” Astarion says looking at the ripped cape. It looks like it was chewed by a tarrasque.

“It’s not my fault! I was careful!” Tiri objects. She is making new arrows (as she lost the whole quiver while running from a particularly nasty behir in the Underdark the previous day).

Astarion chuckles. Tiri, his granddaughter, showed up at his place deep in the Fairgheight Range five years ago. Red-haired like her grandmother, she was eager to see the world beyond the Isle of Evermeet – and she still doesn’t show any desire neither to return to her parents nor leave him be and travel alone. 

“What patches do you want?” Astarion asks and takes his sewing kit from the traveling sack. 

“Well, I am an adult independent woman…” Tiri starts.

“You are thirty and you are an elf. You are basically a child.”

“Hm, you were a magistrate and mum would work for smugglers using her necromantic skills. Barely a child activity.”

“So?”

“I want a unicorn patch,” Tiri finally admits. “Or a butterfly. Don’t laugh, ar’o’su!”

“I don’t, damia,” Astarion finds white threads. “Besides, Alethaine has never been fond of cute and nice things.”

“Mum has her own idea of what is nice and what is cute,” Tiri touches a thin tiara on her hair. While all Tiri’s clothes are made according to Wood Elves traditions, her father’s ancestors, the tiara is pitch black and with a small skull in the center. It definitely belonged to Alethaine and then she just passed it to her only daughter. 

Tiri puts the new arrows on the ground and lies on her bedroll to reverie. Her drake, Aurix, immediately nestles on her chest like a cat.

Astarion casts a glance at his granddaughter. She has a certain similarity to Tiriel – and Astarion knows she would have loved her. But half-elves have such an offensive short life span in comparison with elves she had no chance to see little Tiri. At the same time, her facial features are her mother’s and sometimes she speaks like her. There is something else, something unfamiliar – Tiri’s father and their ancestors.

And she loves cute and nice things - and cringes at the sight of monsters’ inside-outs. Necromancy scares Tiri and she admits she’s never been to her mother’s dungeons just because of how uncanny it was for her.  And elves would often joke that their “witch-queen” just kidnapped Tiri because no way someone like Alethaine could give birth to such a sweet young woman. 

Astarion pierces the fabric with the needle.

“Well, so be it, a unicorn.”

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#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 #astarion romance #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #alethaine ancunin #astarion being a dad #dadstarion #astarion fluff #spacebarbarian fics #astarion ancunin #astarion baldurs gate #astarion brainrot #astarion fanfic #tiriel of the sunset mountains #tiriel the barbarian #astarion x tiriel #oc tav: tiriel #dhampirs of the sword's coast #snippet of the future #elves #baldurs gate 3 astarion

[mrsbarnesblog]

my everything

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Summary: The last thing that Bucky ever expected to see was the love of his life from the past trapped in one of the Hydra bunkers in the cryofreeze chamber. Yet here he was almost two days later, staring at your still unconscious body through the window at the medical wing, imagining the horror and disgust on your face when you found out that he was no longer the innocent and happy boy you knew before.

Word count: 6.8K

Warnings: angst and fluff, I fucked up original timeline so there is no civil war in here, bucky needs and gets a hug, you're bucky's gf from the 40's, cryofreeze, self hate talk, happy end.

Author's note: enjoy💘

“Aren't you fucking tired of this?” Bucky growled as he burst into the common room where Sam, Steve, and Natasha were sitting. "If you set me up on another date, Wilson, I'll break your fucking wings."

Sam rolled his eyes and said, "Calm down, cyborg. Look at you, all angry and stressed out; you need to get laid! When was the last time you’ve been on a date?"

Steve raised his eyebrows in surprise as he glanced between his two friends.

"Sit down, Barnes." Nat nodded her head at the couch across from her. Bucky hesitated for a few seconds, as too many feelings were bubbling inside of him, but he obeyed and sat down, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now explain what happened.”

 "This idiot is trying to set me up again.” He said, nodding towards Sam. "And I told you I'm not interested."

 “But why? Don't you want to feel like back in the days and have some fun with pretty women? This Hydra shit clearly wasn’t good for you. You’re too tense and always mad. Go on a date, maybe you’ll find a good girl to spend some time with.” Sam genuinely wanted to help his friend, and he didn’t understand why Bucky was so mad about it.

The look on Bucky’s face was weird. Like he wanted to say something but, at the same time, didn’t want to share his thoughts. 

“Are you already dating someone?” Natasha leaned with her elbows on her knees and studied his face. There was definitely something that Bucky didn’t want to say.

Steve looked between the three of his friends, and when Nat asked Bucky a question, it was like a bulb turned on in his head.

 "Buck…" Bucky met Steve's eyes, holding eye contact for a few seconds, like they were talking about something that only they knew.

 “Hey!” Sam said, waving his hands. “What are you two doing? Do you know something, Rogers?”

 “Buck, is it because of her?” The blonde said it almost in a whisper. “You still remember, right?”

“Did you have a girlfriend before the war?” Natasha, as always, understood everything immediately, and it was funny to see how Sam’s mouth fell open in shock.

Bucky clenched and unclenched his hands in his lap, not sure if he should reveal the truth. He had kept it to himself for so long—ever since he escaped Hydra and the memories from the past started to flood his head. It was too painful to think about you. To think about the woman who was his whole life many years ago. He remembered everything, and now he sees you in his dreams almost every night. Sometimes in nightmares, sometimes in the good ones, about the life that you two would’ve had if he hadn’t gone to war.

“What the hell are you hiding from us?” Sam shouted again, trying to get attention.

 “I…” Bucky frowns, staring at his hands. “I had a girlfriend... before the army, before the Hydra.” He closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. Just the thought of you hurt him, making him regret everything. That he left, that he didn’t marry you, and that the universe had this shitty plan.

 “And that’s why you don’t want to go out with someone?” Come on, man, how long has it been?  80 years? Get over it. It must have been another one of your girlfriends that you hooked up with when you were young.” He chuckled, looking between his friends, none of whom seemed happy with his choice of words.

 "Sam, don't—"

“You sound like an asshole.” 

 “Get over it?” Bucky didn’t let Steve or Nat finish their sentences before he barked at Sam, looking even more angry than before. “Just another one of my girlfriends? Do you have any idea what the fuck you're talking about, Wilson? " He looked like he was ready to kick his friend right in the face. “She wasn’t one of them. In fact, there was no “them”. In my entire life, I’ve never even touched another woman because I've been in love with Y/N since I was 14. We started dating when I turned 18, and I proposed before I had to go to the war.”

Bucky’s emotions quickly changed as the hot rage turned into a longing for memories and feelings. He felt a lump in his throat, so he reached into his pocket for his wallet, from which he pulled out your old and shabby photo, gently running his finger over your face.

“Y/N was everything to me. She said yes, and I promised her that I would return so we could get married. I imagined that I would spend my whole life with her, you know? I don't need any other woman. I do not want it. I still love her, and I don't care if either of you find it funny.

The room fell into heavy silence. Steve just looked out the window, remembering the times when the three of you went to Coney Island, and he was always the third wheel. You were his friend too, and the aching feeling in his chest was too heavy.

Sam felt a little bit awkward after saying these things about your relationships. He wanted to tease Bucky, not be rude.

Natasha was the one who took the first step when she stretched the arm so Bucky would give her the photo. “You two look so cheesy. She’s really gorgeous.” She smirked, looking at the old black-and-white photo of you two sitting on the bench. Your back was almost lying on Bucky’s body, and his arms were wrapped around you. It seemed like you were talking about something and enjoying the private moment. Bucky had the biggest smile Natasha has ever seen on his face, as he was looking at you with heart eyes.

 “Can I see?” Sam finally asked, nodding at the photograph in Natasha's hands. She passed him the photo and Bucky moved in his place, feeling a little bit uncomfortable about revealing this part of his life. 

“You two look cute. Weird to see a smile on your face.” Sam chuckled.

“Where did you find this photo?” Steve leaned closer to the picture, immediately remembering the day you and Bucky took it and the way Bucky has had it with him ever since.

 “I took it to the war. Always had it in a jacket, even on missions. She was with me that day on the train. I think Hydra found this in my pocket. When I ran away from there, I found a box with my stuff; the photo was there.”

 “Have you… tried to find something about her?” Steve lifted his head, studying his friend's reaction.

 “Yeah,” Bucky sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I don’t know how, but I didn’t find anything. Two years after my fall, there was no record of her. No marriage certificate, no place of residence, no place of work. Nothing. Like she just disappeared.” He shook his head in despair. 

 “But it's impossible.” Steve frowned, giving the photo back. “A person can't just disappear and leave nothing behind.”

 "I don't know," Bucky shrugged, looking back at the photo for a second and then slipping it back into his wallet. "Maybe it's for the best. I don't know how I would come to terms with the news of her death.”

It’s been almost two weeks since that conversation, and luckily for Bucky, Sam didn’t attempt to set him up with anyone anymore.

Earlier that day, Tony announced that his new technology had spotted some weird activity in something that looked like an old and hidden Hydra base. It was pretty much abandoned, but there were signs of small energy consumption, as if something was still constantly working. That’s why the team of Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Tony had to check it out and destroy any possible danger.

After being free from Hydra, Bucky didn’t take part in many missions because the team agreed that it would be better for him to heal and stay far away from triggers. But this base brought up many concerns: it was hidden far away, there was no information about it in nonofficial papers, and even Bucky himself had never heard about it. Tony insisted that someone with knowledge of the Hydra system should go there too.

When the four of them arrived on the quinjet at something that looked like a well-hidden abandoned bunker, they decided not to split up and go through the main and only entrance.

“Be careful; we don’t know that they might hide in here.” Steve said, going in first with a shield in front of him. Bucky and Sam went after him, holding rifles and checking the big and almost empty room.

“They should clean in here, kinda dusty.” Tony chuckled in his usual playful voice. 

“It’s not a good time for your jokes, Stark.” Steve was always a little too serious during missions, and Tony really liked pushing his buttons. “I see the light in the other room.” He whispered, carefully opening the door. 

“Holy shit.” Sam and Tony spoke at the same time when all four of them entered the giant room.

There were five big glass machines that were a little bit foggy and had a little lightning in them.

“What is this?” Steve ran closer to one of them and saw that there was a man inside. “Oh my god, there is a man in here... It looks like he’s alive.”

“There is a folder called “The Winter Soldier Program” with personal information.” Sam said, picking up a file from the shelf in the corner of the room. “George Harris, 27 from New York. Kathleen Hill, 21 from New York…” He read, mumbling to himself.

“It’s a cryostasis chamber. Hydra used it to freeze me.” Bucky lowered his rifle, coming closer to one of the chambers. Another man. “It lowers your body temperature to the point that you can be kept like that for many years. Hydra– “ Bucky went silent when he got to another glass camera. 

“Barnes? Why is there—” Sam didn’t finish his words when the sound of Bucky’s weapon falling on the cold concrete filled the room. 

“No-no-no, please, no!” He whispered, moving closer to the glass. He couldn’t believe what he saw. 

You were right in front of him, with closed eyes and too pale skin. That was impossible. It’s not you. There was no chance that you somehow ended up with Hydra. 

Bucky felt like he was unable to breathe. He tried to inhale some air, but the lump in his throat was too big. The tears blurred his vision; he didn’t hear anything around him, as your almost lifeless body was the only thing that he thought about. You, his sweet girl, somehow ended up trapped with monsters, and he couldn’t do anything to save you from it. 

“Bucky!” Two pairs of hands dragged him from the chamber, and the blurry vision of his best friend was now visible in front of him. “Bucky, listen to me! You should calm down, buddy. Just breathe, okay?” Steve deeply inhaled and exhaled to help Bucky, and after a few minutes, he was finally able to speak.

“T-that’s impossible, Steve. She shouldn’t be there! She should’ve found another man and lived a happy life with her family!” He said in a shaking voice, angrily wiping away tears from his face. 

“I don’t know how this happened, Buck; I really don’t. But she may be alive there.” Steve supportively squeezed Bucky’s shoulder. 

“We can’t just take these people out. We should transport them to the tower and find the safest way to unfreeze them.” Tony said in a serious voice, not joking around anymore. He walked closer to the chambers, studying each of them. “It looks like they are working on their own power, and this one, “he pointed at the one that was dark and with water drops from the inside. “Doesn’t work anymore. The man is probably dead.” 

“Are there any chances of getting them out of there alive?” Sam glared at Bucky, who was just staring at your peaceful but haggard face through the glass.

“I don’t know, but me and Banner will do everything we can.”

It took another day to find a way to move four of the still-working chambers to the compound and ten more hours to defrost everyone. and to say that Bucky was completely stressed out and exhausted was an understatement. He didn’t sleep at all, staying in the room near the lab to get all the news as soon as possible. He walked around the room for hours, overthinking everything—what will happen if you die or if you survive? Is it really better for you to wake up and see all the damage that he has done for the past years? To see the empty shell of the person you loved in the past?

“Barnes!” Tony blasted through the doors with a grin on his face. “We did it.”

“You did it?” Bucky’s whole body was buzzing with energy and anxiety. “Where is she? Is she alive? Is she conscious? Can I see her?”

“Wow-wow, calm down. She is alive, but you can’t see or visit her right now. Dr. Cho has to run many tests to find out whether your lovebird is healthy or not.” Tony nodded his head toward the corridor so Bucky would follow him. “We put each of them into a different room, and your Blonde Bestie insisted on putting Y/N into the best and the biggest one. There is a special window through which you can see her, but she cannot see you from the inside. So you can be as creepy as you want to until she gets better.” Stark slapped Bucky on the shoulder to show some kind of support when they stopped in front of the said window. 

You were lying on the bed, surrounded by too many wires and monitors. Dr. Cho was standing above you, writing something down, and checking the device near your head.

She said something aloud, probably talking to FRIDAY, and came out of the room. 

“Oh, Mr.Barnes, I heard that Y/N was your girlfriend, right?” She smiled, and Bucky slightly nodded, not being able to completely drag his attention from your body. “I’ll tell you this: it’s my most difficult and unique case, but she’s a strong one. Her body heals faster than other people’s from cryo. I believe she’ll be fully awake tomorrow.” 

“Thank you, Dr.Cho.” Bucky felt a little bit better now that he had more hope that you could really be back. Dr.Cho gave him another smile and left to check on her other patients. 

“I have to find out if these people have families. Did Y/N have someone who might be alive?” Tony asked. 

“No, she didn’t.”

“I’ll go, and you, Barnes, will stay away from her for now, understood?” He pointed a finger into Bucky’s face. 

“Yes. I’ll just watch from here.” 

You were alive. You were awake. Bucky saw with his own eyes as your body started moving and you slowly sat on the bed, confused by your surroundings. He saw panic on your face because you were clearly disoriented and scared to be alone in an unknown place. 

As fast as he could, he found Dr. Cho, who was in the room with Steve and Natasha. When he, choking on all the emotions, told them about you, it was a mess. 

Dr. Cho and a few other nurses ran to your room to check your condition because you were the first one to open your eyes.

Bucky, Steve, and Nat stood on the other side of the window. Bucky wasn’t able to fully convince himself that it was true that you were so close to him. It felt like a dream, like a weird picture that his brain created to comfort him. 

“She’s okay, Buddy.” Steve placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder because it seemed like he didn’t even blink or breathe. “You can see her soon.”

“No.” He mumbled.

“What?” His friend’s head shot in his direction.

“Someone else should talk to her first. Tell her about my past. Maybe she won’t even want to see me after everything I’ve done.”

“I can go and talk to her first.” Natasha softly smiled. She knew the feeling when you’re afraid that someone will leave you because of your past. “I think it’s better for Y/N to first find out that she woke up in the new century and that she was cryofrozen for many years. I’ll tell her that Steve is alive, and then me and you can both tell her about Bucky.” 

Bucky just nodded to her words, still not being able to look at anything besides you. He wasn’t sure that after you find out all the truth, you’ll allow him to even be around you, so for now, he tried to memorize you as much as he could. 

Since the moment you opened your eyes, everything felt unknown and different. You couldn’t explain it, but something had changed. You didn’t know where you were, what time it was, how you ended up in that place, or who all these people were. You felt scared as too many doctors crowded your room and fussed around, talking about tests and medical procedures. 

The young woman who seemed to be in charge was actually really sweet. After only you and her were left in the room, she sat on your bed with a pile of clothes in her hands and smiled at you. 

“So, Y/N, my name is Dr. Cho, and I’m here to help you heal faster and without any consequences.” 

“Where am I?” Your voice was too raspy and harsh. It felt like you swallowed a glass of sand. 

She sighed, looking at her journal. “It’s hard to explain, but I promise that there’s nothing to worry about. You are safe. In a few minutes, someone will visit you to talk about everything and answer any of your questions. Now, I was told to give you these clothes so it would be more comfortable for you. You can change in the bathroom right there; there is also anything you might need like a toothbrush, soap, and so on.” She pointed at the door in the corner of the room. 

You stayed silent until Dr. Cho left your room, and then slowly, feeling kind of scared to move around this place, you went to the bathroom to change out of the hospital gown. 

The bathroom looked even weirder than the main room; you had never seen such furniture and interiors. And when you unfolded your new clothes, it took you a few seconds to figure it out. It was some kind of soft pants and a large t-shirt. What kind of clothes was it? Yes, they were actually comfortable, but it wasn’t something that you saw in the stores. 

While you were brushing your teeth, your brain was working too hard trying to figure out what the hell was going on, until you heard someone calling your name. 

“Hey, Y/N, my name is Natasha.” The pretty red-headed woman was standing near your bed with a tray and food in her hands. 

“Please, tell me what’s going on. Where am I? Why does everything look so strange here?” You said in a desperate voice, you almost wanted to scream because you woke up several hours ago, but no one told you a single thing.

“Don’t be nervous, honey. Let's sit on the bed; you’ll eat your special meal, and I’ll tell you everything you want.” She was so nice and genuine, so you nodded and sat down. 

Natasha placed a tray near you, and you saw that it was your favorite food of all time. You took a bite, and your taste buds were immediately filled with the taste of the meal that James cooked you almost every day. James. It was his recipe. The tears flooded your eyes when all of the memories about your dead boyfriend returned to your head. Yeah, how could you forget that it had been at least two years since he was gone? 

“Y/N? What happened?” Natasha’s worried voice distracted you. 

“It just reminded me of someone. I felt like I was home, and it hurts me because nothing is the same anymore.” You wiped your tears away, taking another bite. 

“I promise you that everything is going to be okay. You are not alone here.” You frowned at her words but still nodded. “So ask whatever you want to.” 

“Where am I, and why does everything look so different?”

“You are at the Avengers Tower, located in Manhattan, New York City. I know that might sound ridiculous, but you were in the cryostasis chamber up until now. It’s 2023, and a lot of things have changed in the world; that's why it might be confusing.”

You stayed silent for a few seconds, overthinking Natasha’s words. “It can’t be true. I can’t be more than one hundred years old now. And I look the same.” 

“This is how cryostasis works—it freezes the body so it can survive many years without any changes. Now tell me how you ended up with Hydra. What is the last thing you remember before waking up here?” 

“Back in the 40s, I was a nurse. My– my boyfriend— he died during the war.” You stopped because of the lump in your throat. It was too hard to bring back these memories because it was the first time you said these words out loud. “He died, and then my closest friend died too, and I just had no one left. I was alone, and I didn’t even know what to live for because all of my dreams about family and a happy life with the person I loved died too.” Natasha put her hand over yours on the bed and gave you a supportive squeeze. “Then one day in our hospital, scientists were looking for people who would like to test new serums. I decided that I had nothing to lose, so me and a few other nurses signed in.” 

“Kathleen, Josh, Adam, and Frank, right?” The woman in front of you gave you a sad smile.

“Yes, how do you know that?” 

“We found them with you. Adam’s camera was broken, so he died a long time ago, but the rest of them are here too, but, unfortunately, they haven’t regained consciousness yet.” 

You nodded. Your food was now done and set aside, and you sat on the bed more comfortably, bringing your knees to your chest. “These scientists were running some tests on us in the lab that they brought us in. It felt weird, and I remember that Kathleen always complained that it was painful. The last thing that happened was that they told us to step into a weird-looking machine that was meant to be a part of some kind of experiment. That’s it.”

“It was Hydra. A terrorist organization that tried to rule the world. They were evil, and you were lucky to get out of there alive.” Natasha pursed her lips. “Thank you for telling me this.” 

You two sat in silence for a few seconds until she looked over her shoulder at the weird-looking mirror that took up almost a whole wall. 

“Is anything wrong?” You furrowed.

“I have to tell and show you something really important, but everyone is worried about how you are going to react to this.” She studied your face with a weird expression. 

“Is there anything more crazy than me being in another century after I was frozen?” You tried to smile, but Natasha just nodded. 

“I’ll be right back. Please, try to breathe, okay?” She stood from your bed, took the tray, and left. 

Natasha came back, and behind her was the last person you ever expected to see again. You jumped on your feet, feeling like your eyes were lying to you. 

“This—this can’t be true... No, Natasha—Steve, you died.” You mumbled under your breath. Your heart rate was way higher than usual, and it felt like you were drowning. You put your hand over your eyes, as your body started shaking. It’s just a dream. It’s just a weird fucking dream.

Two large hands wrapped around your body, pulling you into the hard chest. “Sh-s, Y/N, breathe, just breathe.” His familiar voice filled your ears, and you started crying harder, gripping his shirt. He was rocking you from side to side like a baby, while your tears and sobs filled the silent room.

“What– how– how is this possible? You crushed the plane into ice.” You shattered, tears running down your face.

“The Super Soldier serum saved me. The S.H.I.E.L.D. found my body 12 years ago.” Steve loosened his arms around you, allowing you to look up at him. He was exactly the same. This blonde hair, these light blue eyes, and that soft smile that he always had for you. “Please, sit back on the bed. We have a lot to talk about.” His face was now more serious. Even though he was extremely happy to get back his second closest best friend, he knew that Bucky was dying without you.

Steve and Bucky both looked at your interaction with Natasha, and it was obvious that everything Bucky wanted was for you to be near him. He looked through that window without any distraction, and his face lit up with a small smile when you tasted the food that he cooked for you and became emotional. He knew that you would appreciate it.

“About what?” You wiped your face with the back of your hand and sat down, holding Steve's hand. Natasha, who was still standing in the middle of the room, passed him a thick folder and left. Steve sat near you and gave you a supportive smile. 

“Bucky.” 

You froze and snatched your hand out of his. 

“Steve, no. Please—” You wrapped your hands around your body, as if you were instantly trying to hide from the pain that was aching in your chest. “Please, don’t hurt me anymore. I can’t handle that. Talking about him w-when he’s not with me anymore.” The sods started to get out of you, and you hid your face from Steve’s soft and apologizing eyes.

“He is alive.” Steve’s hands fell on your shoulders, and he lowered his head, trying to make you look him in the eyes.

“Don’t lie to me! He is dead; I saw the reports; I got the letter from Phillips saying that he’s sorry for our loss!” You particularly yelled at your friend. 

“Y/N, listen to me, okay? Bucky is alive. He is here. Behind that door, he’s watching us right now.” You were shaking your head in denial. 

That was impossible. You knew all this story; Steve himself told you what happened that day. There was no chance for Bucky to survive the fall from that height in the middle of nowhere. Yet here was Steve, sitting right before you. His big blue and soft eyes were looking into your eyes, and you didn’t see a single sign of hesitation or lying in there. He was so genuine that you wanted to believe that your boyfriend was, in fact, a few meters away from you.

“How? And why? James– he would’ve been with me if he were alive. Why isn’t he here?” You sobbed, and then the realization came to you. “That food—the food that Natsha brought me. It tasted exactly like he made it.”

“Bucky thought that it might comfort you. He found you in that laboratory, he has been near you since that day, and he saw that you were scared and disoriented when you woke up. And that's why I am here. Bucky insisted that I should talk to you first and tell you everything. He is afraid that you might not see him anymore after finding out everything that is written here.” Steve picked up the folder and put it on your lap. 

“The Winter Soldier” was written on top of the old-looking piece of paper, and for some reason you felt something weird in your chest.

“I want to let you know that whatever is in here, it cannot make me hate him.” You mumbled, hesitating to open the folder. “What’s in there, Steve? Tell me everything.”

“These are the papers that S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra had on the Winter Soldier. Everything that happened to him: experiments, torture, assassinations, crimes. This is what happened to Bucky after the fall. This is what Hydra did to him over these years.” 

You felt a lump in your throat when you opened the first page and saw Bucky’s photo from the army. But nothing prepared you for everything you read and saw after that. He wasn’t even James or Bucky anymore. He was a Soldier. An Asset. Someone without an identity. All the detailed descriptions of the medical procedures, brainwashing, electroshock, torture, and punishments with attached photos made you want to vomit and cry hysterically. You couldn’t stop crying when your shaking hands took a picture of the love of your life sitting shirtless and unconscious on some kind of stool with wires attached to his head. 

How could someone do that? How could someone torture a person almost to death and then just write about it like it was a fucking dairy? 

“His arm, it’s metal. Why is it made from metal?” Your teary-red eyes shoot back to Steve’s face. 

“Bucky lost it during the fall. They gave him a new one, but it causes him a lot of pain. Physical and mental.”

“I don’t— Steve, I don’t understand.” You took another picture with Bucky standing in his full black costume and a mask, not a single emotion on his face. “Why did they do this? For what?” 

“Hydra wanted to have the perfect asset. Killing machine. To commit crimes, kill unwanted people, and basically rule the world.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, looking at the floor. “They made Bucky the best. They completely cleared his head from the memories of his past; they trained him to be invincible and invisible. They had a special combination of words to control him, so he would always come back and do as he was told.”

You closed the file and moved it aside, closing your face with your hands while you were crying.

“And he thinks that I can reject him?” You whispered.

“Y/N, please try to understand what such things can do to your brain. Bucky goes to therapy, but he probably would never be able to fully heal from this experience.” His hand fell on your shoulder and squeezed it slightly. “Bucky always was a good person; that's why right now he feels so much guilt that it’s unimaginable. Even if nothing of this is his fault, he can’t forgive himself for these murders and damage. He has PTSD, nightmares, and a lot of trust issues.”

“I understand, but I would’ve never rejected him. He’s everything that I had, and when I lost him, it felt like hell.” You took a deep breath, looking Steve in the eyes. “Please, let me see him. I need it, and he needs it too.” Steve’s eyes softened at you. He almost forgot the love that his two best friends had for each other. 

“Give me a minute, okay?” He smiled, kissed your head, and left your room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You were really going to see the man that you thought you had lost forever in a few seconds. It was almost three years for you, but almost eighty for him. A wave of anxiety washed over you when you thought that maybe he doesn’t feel the same anymore and doesn’t have the same feelings as you do. You almost went down a rabbit hole until the door started to open. 

You slowly stood up, feeling a little bit uneasy. Even though you and Steve were just talking about it, seeing Bucky alive felt unreal. Your eyes were sliding up and down his face to remember every little part. He looked different, more mature, with a broad chest and shoulders and long, silky hair. 

Bucky’s heart was pounding in his ears, and his mouth was completely dry while you were observing him. You had tears in your eyes, and your lower lip was trembling when you tried to hold yourself from crying out loud. You were in some baggy clothes that Nat found for you, but you still looked fucking gorgeous. Still the most beautiful girl on the whole planet. 

“Doll…” Bucky’s raspy voice filled the room, and it was everything you needed. 

In just a second, you ran to him, falling right into his body. Arms wrapped around his shoulders, and your face hidden into his neck. 

As soon as Bucky finally hugged your smaller body and felt that it was real and that you were real, he broke down. Every last piece of strength went through the window as the tears rolled down his cheeks, probably soaking your t-shirt.

He wanted to drop to his knees and beg for your forgiveness for all of the awful things that he had done. He didn’t deserve you anymore, not with this much blood on his hands. But Bucky couldn’t do what he wanted because your grip on him was so strong that he wasn’t even able to move away for an inch. 

“James…” Your quiet voice filled his ears, and it sent shivers down his spine. Only you and his ma called him that, and he missed it so fucking much.

Bucky’s hands moved from your waist a little bit lower, and you viewed it as an opportunity to get even closer. Your legs instantly wrapped around his body, and Bucky, making sure that you wouldn’t fall, went to the bed and sat down with you on his knees. 

“I’m so sorry... I’m so sorry for everything that I’ve done.” He sobbed, shaking his head. You pulled away a little bit, finally meeting Bucky face-to-face. 

“Don’t you dare apologize for the things that you weren’t able to control, James!” Your voice suddenly became rough, filled with so much anger toward the people who hurt your precious boy. His hand on your waist tightened, and you slid your own to cup Bucky’s face. “I want to kill every one of them. Everyone who hurt you, who punished you,” Soft fingertips traced the delicate skin of the templates where, as you remember from the photos, wires with electricity were placed. “You didn’t deserve to go through this, James. I wish I was there for you.” 

“You were always with me. Even when they wiped me, I still had someone in my head. A woman with a soft voice, who told me that I'm strong and that it will end soon. I would’ve died without it.” You both were looking into each other's teary eyes, both feeling too much love and desire. 

Your head slightly tilted towards his, connecting your foreheads, and for a few seconds, it felt like home. Like nothing happened and you two were just having a lazy morning in bed.

The calloused hand on the side of your face brought you back to reality. Bucky’s beautiful blue eyes were looking into yours, and, sharing one thought, you both moved closer and connected your lips. The kiss was so soft, slow, and gentle, like you had the whole time in the world. It was this type of kiss that said that you both were there and alive. It was a reminder of the love that you had for each other. Reassurance, that no matter what, you will be there.

“I missed you so fucking much, doll. Since the day I first remembered everything, all I could think about was you. Even tried to find you, but there was not a single document. I started to believe that you just found a man, changed your last name, and moved away from that mess.” You were so close to each other, not wanting to split up even for a second. Your hands were moving up and down Bucky’s hard chest while he was rubbing the soft skin of your cheek with his thumb.

“Are you joking, James? No one was able to replace you. The only people I talked to during that time were your mom and Becca.” His facial expression slightly changed at the mention of his family, and you placed a soft kiss on his stubble cheek. “I should’ve been the one who took care of them, but I was nothing without you, and Winnie almost made me move in with them. That’s why I jumped at the opportunity to be a volunteer for these tests.” 

Bucky shook his head, his eyes again full of regret and pain. “I hate that it happened because of me.”

“At least I’m here right now. With you.” You smiled, sliding your hand into his dark, long locks. “You know, James, you look really good for someone who’s older than one hundred years old. I like your hair. And stubble.” His eyes rolled back at the feeling of your nails on his scalp. It had been so long since someone touched him without an intention to hurt him, and the realization of that made your heart swell with the need to take care of your boyfriend. 

“You know that you’re one year younger than me, right?” Your favorite little smirk in the whole world appeared on Bucky’s lips, and you smiled, moving a little bit closer to his body. The metal hand on your waist tightened, and you realized that you hadn't seen it in person yet. 

Your right hand reached behind you, grabbing a hard wrist that was covered in leather. Bucky’s body immediately froze under you, and his eyes snapped open. 

“Doll, no… You don’t have to...” 

“I want to. Give me your hand, James.” You said without any hesitation. Bucky looked you in the eyes for a few seconds, but then brought his metal hand between your bodies. “It’s just me, okay? I’m not scared, and I want to know everything.” You wrapped both of your hands around his hand and then gently started to take off the glove. 

The dark metal with beautiful golden stripes was shining under the bright light of the room. Your mouth slightly opened when you moved each finger with interest. Your gentle hands slid higher, rolling up the sleeve of the red henley Bucky was wearing. It was so smooth, without any sharp details, just an amazing and mind-blowing mechanism. 

“That’s so beautiful.” You mumbled in awe. Suddenly the plates under your hands moved, and a quiet whirring sound filled the room. You shot your eyes back at Bucky in shock, only to see that he was already looking at you with so much love that you almost melted. “Did you do that?” 

“It’s a new arm, not from Hydra. It reacts to my emotions. No one ever touched it without any fear.” You almost missed that last sentence, but the hurt in Bucky’s voice made you grab his face with your hands to get his whole attention.

“Listen to me, James. I’m not afraid of you. I won’t reject you. You are everything that I want. You still have the biggest and kindest heart of the guy that I met many years ago, and I’ll do everything to prove to you this.” The metal hand carefully touched your hand on the side of his face. “I love you. I love you so much, James.”

“I love you too, Doll. More than anything in this life,” Your lips crushed into each other, now sharing a more passionate and deep kiss. You slightly tilted your head, allowing Bucky to part your lips with his tongue and playfully bite you. It was almost too overwhelming, and you both were completely lost in each other until you finally needed to breathe. 

“Stay here with me, please. I don’t want you to leave.” You whined, trying to push your big and strong super soldier onto the bed. 

“I won’t leave, baby.” He chuckled, allowing you to push him back. You happily giggled and laid near him, interlacing your bodies together. 

You two were just staying in your own little bubble on your bed for what seemed like forever, talking about everything and nothing at the same time, until you finally fell asleep, feeling happy and peaceful in each other's arms.  

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #marvel #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x y/n

[little-sleepy-owl]

ᴄʜᴀʀʟɪᴇ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

the reader is a sinner woman, who starts to act all motherly around the princess of Hell.

platonic, fluffy and wholesome.

originally I was going to publish this after Alastor x virgin!reader thingy. but holy hell, this weekend wasn't kind to me, and it seems this work week will not be kind either. so while it's still in progress, i offer you this little thing.

she's very quick to pick up on what's going on. she's is in so much doubts and mixed feelings it drives her crazy.

yeah, her mother wasn't around for seven years, but still… how can she betray her? how can she let another woman fill this role just like that?

but you're so good to her. she can't help, but feel safe and secure and happy, when you ask about her day, care for her and fuss over her in this way.

you support her on every step she takes and it sometimes genuinely makes her cry of joy.

oh, how she missed that feeling. she missed being a little girl in her mother’s arms.

sooner or later she'll definitely have a talk about this with Lucifer. a heavy one.

he's not happy with the whole situation at first, but still supports her feelings and urges to let her heart guide her.

she doesn't have to give up on her real mother to accept the found one, right?

she thinks of how your hands are so warm and welcoming. and how your eyes are so gentle when you look at her.

maybe... maybe it's okay to allow herself this happiness.

deeply nervous, yet somewhat exited, she'll come to you and ask if it's okay if she calls you “mom” sometimes.

and the warmth that spreads in her chest the moment your face lights up tells her that she made the right choice.

ooh, she wants to do so much stuff together now!! all things she was scared to allow herself before with you. go shopping, have little silly sleepovers in her and Vaggie’s room (you basically get two daughters for the price of one), draw each other, read books by roles, and go to Lu Lu Land of course! yaay, rides with hell's horses!!

she loves engaging in the silliest things. you gotta get used to this.

at one point Lucifer will come to have a talk with you. he sees how much genuinely happier and relaxed Charlie has become, and mostly now approves of your new role. still, he has to be sure you understand that he won't tolerate it if you hurt her.

“you're taking care of my little girl? Ỳ̴̲͈̻̒͊o̷̬̗̙̦͒́̇̂ͅŮ̸͍̺͝ ̵̣͎̼̖̝̞̋̒̃̾͋͘B̷͔̹́̐̉͌̚E̶̼̺͗͋͛̌̕t̵̛̛̜̮́͛͆Ṯ̵̡̢͉͕͉͇̋̈̋̏͝͠e̸͍͖̅͐̐̂́̊̊̌́ͅR̷̰͚̩̜̲͖͍̈́̓̃͗̐͆̀͐͘̕ͅ ̸͚̌̀͒̈̃̉̈́̃̋̕b̵̯̥͓̦̺͈̫̑É̷̩̤͕͈̂̂͒̕͠͝ 👹” basically.

don't worry, if there's ever some little dispute between you and Charlie, he won't just kill you for it on the spot. probably.

(the man will develop some soft feelings for you, so really. it's fine. he can't help, but be fond of someone who Charlie adores so much.)

Charlie will want a new portrait with you and her together to hang inside the Hotel.

just choose the place and pose, and a painter will be ready to start! you two can also drag Vaggie with you for this one.

maybe even Lucifer, too? or you can have a separate one with all four of you.

ah, what a nice family.

congratulations, now you're practically a new Queen of Hell, but by adoption of the Princess, instead of a marriage with the King.

although it only serves as a matter of teasing by other staff/patrons of the Hotel, still, kinda cool.

long live the Queen and her adorable loving daughter!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel charlie #platonic #charlie morningstar x reader

[wardenparker]

For Pleasure

Joel Miller x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ content!! Word Count: 11.9k Warnings: Cursing, food, people pointing guns at each other, non-sexual nudity, alcohol consumption, angst, mentions of death, oral sex (f and m receiving), 69, fingering, hair pulling, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, Joel smut comes with its own warning. Summary: A chance encounter outside of the QZ will change two lives forever, even if neither you nor Joel realizes it at the time.  Notes: The much-requested prequel to For Her ! The response to the original piece was completely overwhelming and we are so grateful and humbled by everyone’s enthusiasm for this couple’s journey. Thank you for reading!

Going outside the walls, outside the so called ‘safety’ of the FEDRA Boston QZ was always a gamble. It was better to go in numbers, at least with Tess, so someone had his back. Another set of eyes and another weapon to handle the surprises that always spring up. That wasn’t possible though. Tess was not speaking to him. The on and off arrangement that they seemed to always drift back to was currently adrift, deciding that she would go back to her own place and give him space. It irritates him, but he’s not going to go groveling. She wanted to sleep beside him or not, her decision. She was a big girl, not a fucking child and he didn’t have the patience for that shit right now. He doesn’t even have Tommy. His brother abandoned him for the Fireflies. Caught up in their patriotic bullshit about bringing back democracy. Hard for democracy to survive when the entire house of cards is built on a shaky foundation. Every year more of the city was lost, more people lost. It wasn’t like people were having a shit ton of kids to boost the population. Tommy had left a year ago to head out, some secret mission and had barely said goodbye. The last words between them in person were slightly bitter, but Joel regrets that. So here he is, moving alone. His gun is a firm, familiar weight in his hand as he moves through the decaying remnants of society. Two fucking miles outside of Boston and he could be on the moon for all it matters. He had lost hours waiting for some infected to move from where he was crouched, too many of them for him to take on. Now it’s getting dark, and he’s needing to find someplace to stay.

The house doesn't look special from the outside. That's why he chooses it. The layer of dust over everything doesn't look interrupted, things haven't been upended. It isn't until he gets well inside the structure of the old Dutch Colonial farmhouse that Joel realizes he isn't alone. The sound of the door creaking open is deliberate. You had been investigating the kitchen, checking stores of food that might still be usable and been delighted with the discovery of running water. A shower - even a cold shower - is more than you've been able to have in weeks. Traveling from your last settlement after infection had taken hold turned out to be even harder than you expected, and it's not like you didn't know you were living in an apocalypse of sorts. There's a man on the other side of the doorway that looks like he would shoot a person as soon as look at them, so your gun is already aimed at the back of his head when you nudge the door open with your foot. "Turn around slowly." You order, trying to sound as icy as possible.

“Woah.” Joel closes his eyes for a moment and mouths a ‘fuck’ to himself. “Woah, easy….” He pulls his fingers away from the gun’s trigger. “I didn’t know anyone was here. I’m not wantin’ trouble.” He’s too tired for trouble, or maybe he’s tired of trouble but he just wants to find a place to bunk down, and apparently this area is taken. Slowly, he turns his body to face the voice and the gun in front of it. He’s learned that it doesn't matter if it’s a man or woman, both are deadly.

"You figured you'd just walk up in my house and start looking around?" It isn't yours. Not anything like it. But you're going to throw yourself into an act of over-confidence to cover up the fact that you almost just squeezed your thighs together when this guy turned around. How are some people still so fucking sexy after the end of the world?

“Your house?” Joel cuts his eyes around, taking in the tatty cover on the sofa and the inch deep layer of dust. “You’re a hell of a housekeeper.” He huffs at you in amusement. You’re pretty and obviously alone because he doesn’t hear anyone else knocking around. He would have been barreling in from wherever if he had been if he was with you.

"Didn't figure I'd be entertainin' gentleman callers," you gripe, imitating his light Southern accent. Wherever he's from, it's not Massachusetts.

Gentleman. Joel nearly snorts, appreciating the snark and slowly lowering his hands as he watches you closely. “Was just lookin’ for a place to hold up for the night.”

"Nothing else around here but empty houses with no food." The slight waiver to your hand is unintentional, and you swallow down your nerves. This man is the first person you've been near since leaving Maine and there's a mix of fear and relief coursing through you that you hadn't expected.

Joel sees your nervousness, the wariness that comes with coming across someone uninfected. The thought makes him narrow his eyes on the tremor of your hand. “You’re infected.” He hisses, the gun that had been hanging from his fingers now gripped tight and pointed right at your head. “When were you bitten?” He demands harshly.

“I’m not!” There’s more panic in your voice than you’re proud of, and instead of doubling down with keeping him arm’s length away you end up putting your free hand up in unconscious surrender. “I just — I left someplace where everybody else was. I’m not sick.”

He hasn’t survived nearly twenty years by believing someone. Too many people lie, not willing to face their fate. He rocks his jaw. Ten years ago he might have just shot you, but he doesn’t. Motioning to you with his revolver, Joel grunts. “Strip down. All of it. Let me see.”

In the world before the Outbreak you might actually have slapped him. Spit at him for being such a pig. But in the world before the Outbreak, a complete stranger demanding that you strip naked to prove your health would have deserved it. “Guns down.” That’s your first compromise. If you’re going to strip you don’t want to do it at gunpoint, and it’s not like you’ll have your own gun in hand to get the drop on him. “Then you prove it, too.”

It's an acceptable compromise. Joel nods and slowly lowers his weapon so he can slide it into his hips holster as soon as you start setting your own down. "Sounds fair." He tells you. It's not about seeing you bare, although you are gorgeous enough to make his mind stray, it's about making sure you don't turn in a few hours and come after him. It's only natural you would have the same fears, or worse.

"If we're both clean, we split the food." There's enough cans and things in the kitchen to give you both supplies. Whoever lived here was really into lentils and preserved meats which leads you to believe they had planned on living a good long life in the new world. That clearly hadn't panned out for them. "There's running water, too."

Joel tilts his head, surprised that you would be that generous when you were obviously here first. "If you aren't infected, I'll secure the house while you clean up, shower or whatever." He offers, knowing that for now there is a wary truce.

Barely pausing in unbuttoning your shirt, you glance up at him with a twisted smirk. "You want me to cook dinner while you shower, darling?" You bat your eyelashes at him dramatically, and you would roll your eyes at the same time if you could, but it's actually a good plan. Working together could help keep you both alive and actually let you rest. Being on your toes at all times is fucking exhausting.

He snorts, barely repressing a smile as he gives a small shake of his head. "Depends on if you can cook." He jokes, nearly groaning at the idea of a shower and shuffling slightly when you strip off your shirt. He inspects every inch of skin, even though he knows he's going to make you take it all off. Looking for bites or marks that would be indicative of infection. Unlike FEDRA agents, he doesn't have a scanner.

"Yeah. I can cook." It says something that you can't remember the last time you were naked with anyone, let alone anyone you found attractive. Instead of being tense from attraction, though, you're tense at the evidence of being attracted - hoping that you crumble your underwear away fast enough that he doesn't smell arousal on the fabric. You shove your clothes onto the chair next to where you're standing, arms out like you're at a doctor's office or dealing with the fucking FEDRA troops. "Satisfied?"

"Turn around." It's not to get a perfect view of your ass, but his eyes fall immediately to it. Admiring it. Hell, he's fucking alive and still enough of a red-blooded man to enjoy a beautiful woman naked in front of him even though he wouldn't touch you. His eyes sweep over your back, your neck and shoulders and he even checks your ankles for marks. Quickly nodding, he doesn't want to make it weird. "Okay. My turn I guess."

"Yup." Relief is an unexpected thing to feel, but you know he could easily have shot you while your back was turned. You don't know anything about him except that you're both survivors, and survivors can do a hell of a lot of things to make sure they stay that way. But you push the thought out of your mind for now and grab your clothes, swiftly redressing while he starts unstrapping his various belts and untying his boots.

He's got no shame in undressing. Some like the look of him naked, or at least they did, but it's not about that right now. His jeans are shucked, thankfully the half chub he was sporting wasn't too obvious that he had been reactive to your naked body. Peeling off his clothes to stand straight and let you inspect him as he holds out his arms just like you did.

You’re embarrassed how fast your eyes go to his dick. Determined to pretend that you simply intended to start his inspection at his legs instead of his face, you don’t touch but mentally mark every bruise and healed cut along his skin, pushing away the impulse to fucking lick when you’re eye level with his chest. “Turn around.” Alright. At least he has no ass, you think to yourself with a smirk when his back is to you. If he looked like that, had that big a dick, and had a perfect ass you might have moaned or something equally ridiculous and horrifying. “Fine. Neither of us is infected.”

Turning around, Joel picks up his clothes. Amused that now you are looking everywhere but at him when you first saw him naked you could barely stop staring at his dick. "Do you want to make use of the running water first?" He asks, aware that the sun will be setting soon. "Or do you want to start dinner, sweetheart?" He chuckles, using a pet name like you had before. "If you want to soak in some water, I can make my shower quick and warm up a pot?" He offers, unsure why he is but the words are already out of his mouth. Perhaps because tonight will feel as normal as it could be in this world. Like the past twenty years weren't there.

“I’ll shower first.” There’s no point in trying to be precious about things, and you saw clothing on one of the upstairs bedrooms that will probably fit you. Having left Maine with almost nothing, it would be nice to have a change. “You secure the house.” Halfway to fleeing the scene, you catch yourself at the bottom of the dusty staircase and turn around. He’s buttoning the last few buttons on his shirt when you swallow your nerves and introduce yourself. First names are all that’s needed anymore, so it’s all you give, but it still feels polite.

Joel snorts, realizing he’s seen you naked and doesn't know your name. Like it was nearly thirty-five years ago and he was partying and bringing home chicks he didn’t know. “Joel.” He offers quietly. “Miller.”

“Nice to meet you, Joel Miller.” It’s about as polite a meeting as anybody can have these days, and you offer him a nod before turning up the stairs. There’s lukewarm water calling your name, and you swear you saw bars of Dove soap up there, too. Not just the government issued shit FEDRA rations.

Joel listens to you moving around up there, just listening for a second before he starts looking around. The windows are all still intact and the door still locked, the frame still good. The house must have just been abandoned and never looted. He slides the entryway writing table against it just in case bad moves to the kitchen to secure the door there. It will be nice to sleep with only one eye open tonight, since there’s a stranger here.

******

Wrinkled clothing means nothing anymore. Not if it’s clean, and the carefully stored and arranged things arranged in the master bedroom upstairs are all familiar choices to pick through. Jeans, t-shirts, plaid flannels alongside deeper options that have no place in the world as it is now. Though something tells you that Joel might have appreciated that little black dress twenty years ago. Or maybe that’s wishful thinking. Very unnecessary, wishful thinking.

With the house secure, Joel has already started cleaning up a spot for dinner. There’s no gas, but the fireplace looks decent and the idea of a hot meal after a shower sounds downright decadent, making him start the small fire and bring in a clean pot and an assortment of cans and jars into the living room to open and dump into a stew.

“Did you find the lentils?” Seeing that Joel already has things underway when you come downstairs gives you a truly unlooked for feeling of home. You can’t let yourself get attached to it, but it’s a nice thought to have.

“I did.” He nods and jerks his head back towards the kitchen. “Wanna grab the spices?” He asks as he stands and wipes his hands on his jeans. “I’ll go clean up too, just– use whatever you want.”

“I hope they still have flavor.” You nod though, ready to dump in an entire shaker of cumin or cayenne just for a little bit of warmth or spice. Whatever it takes. “The shower in the master bedroom works. There’s good soap, too. Stuff we can split.”

Joel nods but he doesn't say anything, just strides past you and heads towards the stairs. He still has his gun on him, but that's just smart. Just because you didn't seem like you had ill intentions didn't mean it was a good idea to act like there wasn't danger around.

He’s gone maybe twenty minutes - a luxurious amount of time in this efficient world - and you’re sitting by the fire rifling through the nearest bookshelf while dinner bubbles away. When was the last time you were around this many books all at once? College for sure. Before the Outbreak. Before paper of any kind was for wiping shit and building fires.

The jeans he finds are a little big, but he doesn't give a shit. They are clean. Allowing him to wear something fresh and the t-shirt is soft. He even steals new socks and the boots are left off in favor of the ugly ass slippers he had found. He would put the boots back on later, but it was amazing to have them off for a while. "Damn near feel normal." He grunts as he walks back down the stairs and sees you look up from the bookshelf. "Like it's a stormy night and the power's off, right?" He jokes, shooting you a grin.

“Want me to read to you, darling?” Keeping up the joke, you bat your eyelashes and hold up the two books you had in your hands. “We’ve got a shelf full of classics here.”

"Better than flipping a table over an old game of Monopoly." Joel snorts, giving a small shrug as he looks around. "The house is secure and there's plenty of wood to keep a small fire goin'. If you want to bunk down here, stay warmer."

“Might be nice,” you admit, looking around the picturesque little house. The place was well loved and miraculously escaped being looted since whoever the owners were had died. “I’ll pull bedding out of one of the other bedrooms. You can take the master if you want it.” Falling asleep with a book in front of the fireplace might be the most luxurious idea you’ve heard in a decade and you love it.

Joel snorts and shakes his head. "Nah. I'll pull down a mattress for you and take the couch." It looks like it might only give him a few springs in his ass. He doesn't know why but the idea of you sleeping downstairs while he's upstairs bothers him but it does.

“A veritable sleepover.” You offer him a half smile, unsure why you feel so damn comfortable around a man who barely smiles and certainly doesn’t seem friendly. Probably just the fact that he’s sexy. You have to be honest with yourself. “Dinner’s going to take a while. Nothing to do but read or shoot the shit.”

Joel chuckles and looks around. "You didn't find any alcohol around here, did ya?" He asks. "Seems like either one of those is better with something to drink." He's not a man who likes to sit around and shoot the shit, but there's nothing else to do and he's not going to stay awake if you start reading to him.

“Bottom of the other bookshelf is false.” On the other side of the room, a large bookcase stands next to a window with a writing desk nearby. “I don’t know anything about scotch, but it’s supposed to get better with age, right?”

"I don't think it's gonna hurt. It's still liquor that we can't ever get again." Joel nearly drools when he sees the bottle. "Yeah, that's– that's gonna be good." He looks towards you. "You want a glass?"

“Sure. Why not?” It just adds to the domesticity of the random encounter, like two complete strangers playing fucking house in the apocalypse. You get up from where you were kneeling and nod toward the kitchen. “I’ll grab glasses.”

He hadn’t expected you to get them, but he lets you go into the other room. “Not a bad setup.” Joel hums to himself as he looks around the room. It will be nice to have an evening where he’s not completely on edge, although he drifts over to the windows, happy that the heavy curtains will block the scant light of the fireplace once the sun finishes going down.

“It’s a shame it was abandoned.” When you come back into the room with two glasses, he’s looking out the window and the setting sun that outlines his profile makes him look downright romantic. “They had real sipping glasses in the cupboard but that felt too fussy,” you tell him, offering him the set of heavy-bottomed double old fashioned glasses that you picked up instead.

“Too bad there’s no ice.” Joel smirks as he takes the glasses over to the bookcase where the bottle is to pour the scotch out for both of you.

“Ice.” You groan, almost a sound of ecstasy as you curl up on one corner of the couch. “I would do some extremely questionable things to have ice cold lemonade again.”

That actually makes Joel toss his head back and laugh. A deep, surprising belly laugh that seems to roll from a sense of humor he had long since buried in bitterness and sarcasm. “Lemonade, huh?” He asks, bringing the glass over to you and sitting down in an armchair beside it. “Just lemonade? No sweet tea or iced coffee?”

“Lemonade.” You tell him definitely, accepting the glass that he hands you as he sits. “FEDRA dickheads have coffee and tea. It’s shitty quality but it’s there. You can still get close to tea and coffee if you have access. But when was the last time you saw a damn lemon?”

“Uh….two days ago?” Joel asks, raising a brow as he takes a sip of his scotch and wincing at the burn. “Yeah, two days ago.”

"Where?" The demand pulls an absolute pout from you, eyebrows knitted together in dismay. You've had sexier dreams about lemonade than some of the men you used to date.

He snorts, enjoying the put out expression on your face. “Near Boston. Little….farm I know about.” He would never give away Bill and Frank’s location but they have a lemon tree in their backyard.

"Shit." The sour expression on your face seems to amuse him, and for some reason you deepen your pout just to see if it will make him laugh. When he laughed for real a few minutes ago it was such a gorgeous sound. "Well...cross your fingers for me that they have them out west. Cause we definitely didn't up in Maine."

“Too cold up there.” Joel reminds you. “Shit, it’s too cold in Boston.” He takes another sip, “is that where you’re headed, out west?” He asks, curious as to why you are by yourself.

"Yeah." You nod, pausing for a second to take a sip of the amber coloured liquid in your glass but being careful not to gulp too much and end up coughing like an amateur. Joel seems barely phased, but it's been so long since you had alcohol that you know you'll end up looking like a college freshman at a frat party if you go too hard. "It was time to leave. So that's where I'm going to go. Nothing like a little cross-country hike, right?"

“By yourself?” He asks, shocked that you would do that yourself. It doesn’t look like you’re terribly well equipped and it was dangerous. “That’s a hell of a journey alone.”

"I don't have a choice, really." Shrugging your shoulders, you take another sip of your drink and enjoy the burn, deciding that it's a damn shame you'll probably never have Scotch again in your life after tonight. "A couple of years ago I was going to leave campus and go down to Pennsylvania with some people but..." you shrug again and look down into your glass. "One of them got sick. She couldn't travel. So we stayed put. But now they're all dead, so I'm just...me."

"Pennsylvania?" Joel frowns, hating that it seems like you've lost everyone but that is life now. It's full of loss and very little joy. "What was in Pennsylvania?" He leans back in his chair and looks over at you in the firelight, curled up and comfortable. Like you are discussing heartbreak and loss.

"Nothing, really. Not anymore." The fire crackles beside you, wood popping occasionally and making the room smell cozy and inviting. Like it's an intimate dinner instead of an accidental encounter. "My family used to vacation down there when I was growing up. This town called Lake City. It's a little colony now...like a commune, I heard. Some kind of little paradise at the end of the world, ya know? I doubt it's actually like that, but dreams are hard to come by these days."

"Dreams are hard to come by." Joel murmurs, thinking about Tommy disappearing out west, chasing a dream of freedom, a life beyond FEDRA. He rocks his jaw and glances down at his watch, remembering Sarah and her silly, funny dreams for the future. A future that no longer exists. Maybe it never existed. "Sometimes, dreams are all we have though." He admits, downing the rest of his drink quickly and reaching for the bottle he had put on the coffee table.

"Am I going to get a gun pointed at me if I ask what you dream about?" The side arm isn't in sight but you doubt he left it upstairs. You certainly didn't store yours away - it's right on the coffee table beside you.

"I dream of the past." Joel murmurs quietly after a long moment, contemplating not answering you at all. He won't talk about the past, doesn't like to think about it but he dreams about it. "Anyway, Lake City, huh?" He asks, taking another swallow of the fiery liquid and welcoming the burn. "Still a long way from there."

"Yeah." Swallowing the last sip of liquid in your glass, you hold it out to him in a request for more. "I don't know that I'll go there, but even if I do it won't be for long. West is the goal."

Joel leans forward, holding out the bottle and pouring more into your glass. "You're gonna need a car, and supplies." He warns you. "And more fucking people."

"I'll manage." He's not exactly offering help, just advice, but you nod anyway. "Aren't you going to need shit to get wherever you're going, too? It's not like either of us has back up."

"I'm not going anywhere." Joel tells you. "Scavenging." He's not going to tell you that he's meeting his supplier for contraband. It would be too risky to do something as foolish as that. "Planning to head back to Boston in about a week."

"Boston." Every sip of alcohol goes down smoother than the last and you smile absentmindedly. "I went to a Red Sox game once. So much fucking fun."

"Field's nothing but a huge fungal growth." Joel tells you, frowning as he remembers that kid that Tess had brought with them to go on a run. He had stepped wrong and awoken a dozen infected. It hadn't been pretty. "Fuckin' shame."

"Shit." That earns a shake of your head, though you don't know why you're surprised to hear it. "Lemonade and baseball. I guess I know what I miss."

"Went to a few baseball games back in the day." Joel chuckles. "I get it. Nothing was like a hot dog with everything goddamn thing on it and an icy cold beer."

"Getting a ton of friends together, screaming shit at the field that the players will never hear in a million years but it just makes you feel like part of the game." You laugh, shaking your head and feeling the scotch actually start to hit you for the first time. It's been a long time since you had booze meant to do anything but numb pain. "My cousins all played. Used to draw out a makeshift diamond in the backyard of the rental house in Lake City."

"I played too." Joel admits after a moment, shrugging when your eyes widen slightly. "What the fuck else is there to do in Texas during the summer except baseball and swimming?"

"Texas!" One finger goes up like a symbol of epic success and you laugh, feeling much looser and freer thanks to the drink. "I knew I heard an accent."

"Yeah, yeah, the damn accent." Joel grumbles, although he's smirking at your overly excited face. "Never knew it would be so damn telling at the end of the world."

"It's sexy," you admit, and the words are out of your mouth before you can rethink how wise it is to say them at all.

"Sexy?" That was a word that hasn't been used to describe him in a long time. "Well, I'll keep that in mind, honey.” Joel teases, sending you a small wink.

"Just...ya know...being honest." Though you do sink down into the couch cushion a little more deeply and hold your glass in front of your face. The fucking wink was sexy, too.

“Well, then I guess I should be honest too.” Joel tells you, watching you sink into the sofa a little more. “I looked at you longer than I needed to when you stripped down. Because you’re ‘sexy’.”

"Oh yeah?" There's a smirk in your voice as you lower your glass again, almost putting it down on the table before you decide to finish off the last sip first. "So that was a little bit of a chub you were sporting, huh? I thought I was just imagining it."

“Still alive, ain’t I, honey?” Joel snorts, sending you a smirk with a small shrug. “Can’t exactly help it. But it’s a compliment.”

"Then I'll take it as such." And lock yourself in the bathroom later to get off to thinking about his dick, probably. Since he insists on sleeping in the living room you'll have to make your own privacy.

Joel taps his hand on his thigh before he stands. “I should get the mattress down the stairs if you’re wanting to be cozy.” It would give him a moment to clear his head, the thought of bending you over that sofa very appealing.

"I'll get bowls." You practically jolt up from the couch, nerves and liquid courage both at work in your veins. "Food's probably ready by now."

Joel nods and starts for the stairs again. Making his way to the bedroom with the queen sized bed and pulling the mattress off of it. Sure the two of you could sleep in beds, but it would get cold tonight and it would be warmer near the fire.

This stew that he threw together smells amazing when you take the lid off the pot in the kitchen. You scoop some into two large bowls and dig for spoons in the drawer before also coming away with glasses of water. Food and water are good. They'll keep you from climbing into Joel's lap and making an idiot out of yourself.

With some mild cursing a little bit of muscle, Joel gets the mattress down the stairs. “Move the table, honey.” He grunts, moving the mattress into the living room so he can put it down in front of the fireplace, far enough back that it would catch on fire if an ember popped out.

Scrambling to do what he asks quickly, the bowls and glasses are put down on the coffee table so you can slide it out of the way and Joel gets the mattress down onto the floor a lot more easily than he got it down the stairs. "There." You nod when it's done and toss a pillow onto the mattress from the couch. "Comfy and cozy."

He snorts and shakes his head. “Guess we can get your blankets and shit after we eat.” He acknowledges. “Thought you might want to be warm and comfortable tonight.”

"Sexy and considerate." You offer him a smile and look back down at the mattress, wanting to point out that it's definitely big enough for two but also not wanting to ruin the light tone that the night has taken on. "Thank you, sweetie," you tease instead.

He snorts and nods. “Let’s eat, it’s been a few days since I’ve had a hot meal and it smells delicious.” He wants to make you smile again, tease you more but he also knows you have to be hungry.

His chair is boxed away by the mattress being on the floor so Joel sits down next to you on the sofa to take his bowl. The proximity of him makes your body hum but you force it down, telling yourself to ignore it. It's just that it's been a decade since you got laid, so of course you're hyper aware of the sexy Texan who admitted to finding you attractive. That's all.

The clinks of the spoons on the sides of the bowls and the sounds of eating accompany the crackling of the fire. Making Joel hum when the spice tickles the back of his throat. “So, you were in Maine the entire time? Or-“ He never starts conversations but he doesn’t want to stop talking to you. He looks over at you as he digs through the bowl for another tasty bite.

“Yeah…” Slightly surprised that he’s picking the conversation back up but happy to enjoy whatever companionship he’s willing to dole out, you nod a little and take a sip of water. “I was in college when the outbreak hit. Renting a big house off campus with a few friends, taking off jobs to pay the bills and partying every night we weren’t working.” It sounds silly now, or maybe you think that because you miss it so desperately, you can’t tell. “We stayed in that same house. Locked it down, defended it. Basically the whole neighborhood was ours but we never went far.”

“Ahhh those days.” Joel assumed you were younger than him and he was right. He nods and spoons up another bite. “How did you manage to survive? Someone taking farming classes?”

“One of us was in agriculture. Another was pre-med. Third girl was engineering and she’d grown up with an electrician for a mom.” The sigh you let out borders on long-suffering. “We used to joke…before it happened…that we were the perfect apocalypse crew. Cursed that for ourselves, didn’t we?”

“The irony of that joke.” Joel shakes his head, not mentioning all the times people he had known cycling through their ‘what I would do if’ scenarios. All of them were dead as far as he knows. “At least they were skills that were useful. Do you know the going rate is for a seamstress that’s worth a shit?”

“Portland QZ fell years ago,” you tell him with a half-shrug, scooping up another spoonful of your stew. “And we never had much contact with any of them anyway. I don’t know that much about how they work, if I’m honest.”

“Lots of control.” Joel grunts. “The biometric scanner is the lone determination for life or death. If you don’t pass….” He trails off and takes another bite. “Let’s just say that most of the bodies we dispose of aren’t coming from inside the walls.”

“Sounds fun.” Another mouthful of stew sounds better than talking about the end of the world or mass murder, and you chew slowly before glancing back at him. It doesn’t mean anything that he looks sad - everyone left in the world is sad - but there’s a knot in your stomach that wishes you could make him laugh again.

“Real riot.” Joel mumbles, poking at the stew and sighing. “Anyway- so how did your crew get sick? It wasn’t the fungus was it?”

“All but one.” You end up nodding again, shrugging like it doesn’t matter. Like the people you love most in the world weren’t ripped from you. “Zoe died first. Probably cancer, but it’s not like that’s easily diagnosable anymore. The rest…they were scavenging for firewood, nuts, berries, all that stuff. One wrong step and you wake up a dozen clickers. Priya came back with a chunk taken out of her shoulder, but Nadia and Claire…they didn’t make it out of the woods.”

“Sorry.” Joel murmurs softly. It wasn’t like there was much he could say to that. Everyone’s lost someone. Most have lost everyone and you fall in that category. “Fucking shit is what it is.” He sighs softly, glancing down at his watch and remembering his own loss.

“We all lost someone.” The impulse is there. To ask. To get to know him better. To have a genuine human connection with this man even just for a little while. But with so much sadness literally everywhere you look, you have to wonder at the fact that you’ve actually laughed with Joel and enjoyed his company. That there has been some small amount of light in the pervasive darkness of life around you. “I was very lucky to spend the time with them that we had.” Is what you say instead, offering him a soft smile. “Just like whoever gave you that watch was lucky to have you.” You didn’t miss the way his eyes went to the broken timepiece - so lovingly cared for and dedicatedly worn despite being obviously broken.

Instead of opening up, Joel sets the bowl down on the small table and gets up, deflecting. “Need to add more wood to the fire.” He excuses, unwilling to get into why she hadn’t been lucky. How he had failed her. He is well aware of the way you are watching him, can feel your eyes on his back as he crouches down and feeds a couple of pieces of nearly crumbling wood into the fire and poking it around.

“Thank you for cooking.” He has essentially done all the work himself - securing the house, setting up the fire, putting supper on to cook - and you wonder how much of it is because he doesn’t trust other people to do things right or if he’s used to taking care of people. Used to being in charge. Or maybe both. “A-and…for being nice enough to let me babble. You’re the first person I’ve talked to besides myself in weeks.”

“Tired of being the smartest one in the conversation?” Joel asks, chuckling slightly. “I get it. But you don’t have to thank me. You didn’t shoot my ass when I stumbled on your spot.”

“I appreciate you not shooting me to take the place for yourself.” You shrug your shoulders, twirling your spin around in your hand. “Plenty of others would have. The Outbreak brought out the best and the worst in people in all the most ridiculous ways. Mostly the worst.”

That was true, but Joel just nods and acknowledges that before he turns back towards you. Moving back to the sofa to finish his dinner. "There is something to be said for the evils of men."

"And the good in them." For as terrible as the world has gotten, you've refused to give up on humanity. Until very recently you had spent the End of the World with your very best friends - extraordinary women who made you believe that there could actually be a light at the end of the tunnel. "The good that men do shines brighter in the dark."

"Some shine brighter than others." Joel murmurs quietly, aware that his own light is very dim.

“And some are brighter than they know.” There is a certainty in the pit of your stomach about Joel - and it isn’t just the scotch talking, either. He’s special. You really don’t know how, or if he’s just becoming special to you, but there’s something there that tells you that you won’t forget the particular shade of deep brown of his eyes or the one lone dimple you saw displayed when he actually, truly laughed.

Joel takes another few bites of his meal before he scrapes the bowl clean and sets it down with a sigh. "Now I have to say that was the best fuckin' thing I've eaten in a long time." He groans, looking over at you. "Good to you?"

“The closest I’ve gotten to gourmet in decades.” Your bowl stacks in his, scraped clean with your own spoon. He clearly doesn’t want to talk so you just sit back and watch the fire quietly, unsure of what to do or say and desperately reminding yourself that this is not a fucking date.

"We should get your bed made up." Joel murmurs after a moment, aware that after his stomach is full, he likes to pass out. It'll just get darker and it's better to have it ready. "You can lay by the fire and read like you wanted to."

“What are you going to do?” Probably twenty years ago he would have fallen asleep with a bad movie on the television, but that time has long since passed.

"I could listen to you turning the pages, the fire crackling." He muses, smirking at the very domestic idea. "Saw a couple of candles upstairs too. Those big three wick things. Maybe we light a couple for my old eyes and I can read too."

It sounds romantic. Soft. Things he would probably hate to be called. “Sounds relaxing.” You decide on, lifting yourself off the couch to go upstairs and retrieve the bedding. “Can’t remember the last time I was relaxed.”

"Long fuckin' time ago for me." Joel snorts, shaking his head and standing up to follow you. "I think we deserve a relaxin' night, right?"

"Why not?" The two of you head upstairs, deciding to grab every blanket and pillow in sight and distribute them between you when you get downstairs. The candles he mentioned have various autumnal scents that will all more-or-less compliment each other if the scents are still noticeable after twenty years of sitting in a drawer. It will be a nice night, even without the romance that has no place in the world as it exists now.

Once the candles are lit, Joel looks around. Seeing the glow of the light, he gets up to check the curtains, wanting to be sure that no light is escaping out into the night and creating a beacon for anyone living outside. While both doors are secure and blocked, he would prefer to have a night of no late night surprises.

"We good?" His diligence gives you the freedom to peruse the bookshelf again. There was a copy of Lady Chatterly's Lover up there that you intend to read very discreetly.

“Should be. Want to sleep through the night for once.” Joel snorts, aware that it’s rare now, but he likes the idea of it here.

"I'll let you get in here." Moving away from the bookshelf, you toss your choice on the mattress and hope that even if he does glance over, that the plain fabric cover doesn't interest him enough to ask questions.

Joel snorts and walks over to the books. “Anything good?” He asks, lifting a brow. “A good romance in there?”

"I wouldn't have taken you for a love story kind of guy." It's just a tease, but it deflects from the fact that you did, in fact, zero in a romance novel immediately. "There's plenty, if that's what you want. Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, Sense and Sensibility, The Great Gatsby..."

“Oh fuck that.” Joel rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Hated readin’ that shit in high school and I ain’t readin’ it now.” He grumbles. “They don’t have any of the good romance books? The ones with the large, throbbing members pulsing against her core? Or whatever shit they write to make it word porn?”

You snort, surprised to hear that that is what he's looking for - although you can't really blame him. It's not like anybody had porn to watch in the last twenty years. "Um..." Clearing your throat makes your ears burn, but you point down at the mattress where your choice of novel landed. "There's one like that."

“Damn, taken.” He huffs, fully aware that it had been what you had taken from the shelf. He had a feeling. “You could always read it aloud.” He suggests, smirking slightly.

"Now you go for that suggestion?" The look on his face has you burning with embarrassment, and you rub the back of your neck in an unconscious gesture of amusement. "I'm gonna need more scotch if you want me to read porn out loud." High-class porn, but porn nonetheless.

“We could read it or we could make it.” Joel suggests, enjoying the way that you are positively burning with embarrassment. Your eyes widen and your mouth drops open in shock and he smirks again, barely resisting the urge to make a dirty joke.

"Are you serious?" That's a damn sight further than you thought he would have gone, and when you finally pick your jaw up off the ground you look at him with one raised eyebrow.

“If you aren’t interested, say the word and it won’t be brought up again.” He tells you seriously. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but laying you out on the mattress in front of the fire sounds a hell of a lot better than reading anything.

"The booze wasn't what made me want to flirt with you." You admit, though you really didn't see this coming at all.

“Flirting’s a hell of a lot different from laying out on that bed wearing me for a blanket.” Joel huffs.

"You do this a lot with people you've just met out in the wild?" Of course he could lie, but so could you. For all he knows, you're a prostitute playing the virgin. The fact that you're neither of those things is beside the point.

“Can’t say that I’ve trusted anyone enough.” Joel admits, raising his brows at the obvious statement. “Don’t know why I trust you, maybe it’s because I’ve seen you naked.”

"You already know I don't have any weird rashes and or an alien head growing out of my shoulder." The ridiculousness of it makes you shake your head and huff a laugh. "It'd be a shame to waste the atmosphere. Fireplace, candles, little nest of blankets and pillows. It's the kind of thing somebody would have done on purpose back in the day."

“Kinda romantic.” Joel chuckles. “And I’ve got that throbbing member books always talk about.”

You snort, not expecting him to dive into dirty jokes, and step forward carefully. What throbbing you've got is a hell of a lot more discreet but just as insistent. "Yes...you definitely do."

It’s probably the ‘funniest’ Joel’s been in years, but you don’t seem to mind. Edging closer to him and he closes the gap slightly. “I’ll pull out.” He promises, knowing that no birth control lasts twenty years, even if you had one of those things inside you when Outbreak happened.

“I should certainly fucking hope so.” This isn’t the kind of world you want to bring a baby into, even if other people are. The need for sex is an instinct, one people give into every day. And a fucking fun instinct, which is why people still do it despite the danger.

Joel watches you for a moment before he reaches up and slowly starts to peel the t-shirt off. Watching you to make sure you don’t object before he tosses it down.

Watching him undress himself a few hours ago was perfunctory. It was careful and you were concentrating on the potential for danger instead of anticipating pleasure. “Let me.” If you’re going to do this, you’re not going to make the man undress himself.

He arches a brow, but he doesn’t stop you from coming closer. His own fingers itching to remove your clothes and get a closer look at your body. To touch you.

There’s nothing complicated about what he’s wearing. It’s not like anyone is walking around in elaborate suits anymore. The belt he has on must be his own because it’s seen far better days, but you slip your fingers into it and look up to find him watching you. The darkness in his eyes isn’t cold or hard, but curiosity and lust. It’s deep enough that you get lost in it entirely by accident, and without realizing it you’ve moved in close enough to tip your head back and kiss him while you pull his belt apart.

His own hands get greedy, pulling your shirt up and chuckling when you whine as he has to pull you away from undressing him to get it over your head. Your bra is worn, nearly to pieces but he’s careful as he unhooks it.

It’s really like someone set off an alarm that let both of you free. The way a tentative kiss turns hungry and you know you’ll have beard burn on every part of your body he drags his lips across. The calluses on his hands feel gorgeous on your sides, or maybe it's just that someone is actually touching you. No matter the reason, your entire body is on fire already.

Joel groans at the sight of your breasts, now fully able to touch and he doesn’t hesitate to fill his hands with you. Squeezing them and massaging them in his hands, feeling the tip hard against his palms.

All you can think right now is how fucking grateful you are that this house still had a usable shower. Because of that you have no problem leaning in to his touch or letting him study you now that he has his hands on you. Having sensitive tits was always a blessing when you were spending time with boys who hadn’t yet mastered foreplay - who knows if it will matter or not now, but it means every touch is going straight to your pussy.

He loves the way you moan, each squeeze eliciting another sound from you that makes his cock twitch as you unbutton his jeans. “Fuck.” He groans, watching as you bite your bottom lip, revealing the boxers he had swiped.

It’s better because you know what’s waiting for you underneath the last layer of soft cotton, and you gently scrape your nails along his skin as you pull the boxers down along with his jeans. You drop to your knees along with the clothing, knowing that he may not let you stay there but you at least want the smallest taste of the precum beading at the head of his cock.

“Shit!” Joel gasps when he feels your lips against his cock, not expecting that at all. Especially for this being a random, one night encounter. His hand immediately cradles your jaw and he pants. “You don’t- I don’t expect-“

“I want to.” You hold his eyes when you pull back, one hand wrapped around his base to feel the way he pulses in your hand as he hardens. “Do you know how long it’s been since I saw a cock worth sucking?”

It's on the tip of his tongue to remind you that you said you hadn’t been around anyone but all he can do is moan. “I- let me- we can do it- together.” He grunts out, not willing to just let you be the only one giving pleasure.

That’s as unexpected a suggestion to you as you offering a blow job was to him, but you pump his full length twice in your fist and pull away to shove your pants off. “Lay down.”

Joel is quick to lay down on the blankets and sheets you’ve piled up on the mattress. Watching eagerly as you finish stripping down. “Hurry up.” He urges.

“So impatient.” Not like you really disagree. Tossing your pants and stolen panties aside and kicking off the slippers you had found in the closet, you smirk to find Joel eyeing your pussy like he hasn’t eaten in weeks. “Comfortable?” There’s no way you’re going to sit on his face unless he’s in a comfortable position.

“Perfect.” Joel pats his chest and smirks at you. “Have a fucking seat.” He orders, enjoying the small shiver that seems to run through your body. He’s not been this carefree in awhile and he’s liking it. Just enjoying the moment and getting to touch a beautiful woman.

The shiver just keeps on going as you lower yourself over him. Feeling his hot breath on your legs is completely foreign and completely tantalizing, and you shut your eyes just for a second when you hear him inhale and groan. "Tap twice if I start suffocating you," you joke, bending forward to get your mouth around his thick cock again.

The retort in his lips dies swiftly when the heat of your mouth surrounds his cock again. Hands cupping your ass to drag you back to his tongue. Licking into you with the same eagerness that you are taking his cock down your throat.

Even the first touch is enough to make you moan, legs shaking with the intensity of a pleasure you had all but forgotten and your own vocal response making you double down on how ravenously you’re swallowing his rapidly hardening cock. The weight of him against your tongue is gorgeous, all those throbbing veins making you feel like you’ve stepped into some pre-outbreak pornographic fantasy. And even more so when you move the hand applying gentle pressure to the base of his length down to roll his heavy balls between your fingers to give them some stimulation as well.

Joel moans into your folds. Completely obsessed with the way that you are so enthusiastic about sucking his cock while still pushing your hips back for the slide of his tongue. He’s methodical, tasting you with firm swipes before delving into the quivering hole that is begging for a deeper taste.

The best cherry on the best sundae you could ever ask for is the way he tongue fucks you more determinedly when you swallow around his shaft. He’s too big to deep throat and you’re obviously out of practice anyway, but that doesn’t stop you from taking as much of him as you possibly can and letting your moans vibrate with every bob of your head.

There’s something to be said for feeling a hand that isn’t his own around the base of his shaft. He groans, loving how you use your hand in tandem with that mouth to make sure every inch of him is covered in you. “Fuck.” His muffled curse is poured into you before he pulls his tongue out to slide to fingers in that hole up to the knuckle, shuffling his chin down so he can latch onto your clit.

The squeak you let out is muffled by the cock that’s halfway down your throat, but your hips grind themselves down on Joel’s fingers eagerly. You genuinely can’t remember the last time you had anything inside you but your own fingers and his are so much thicker and the angle makes them feel so much longer. The pressure on your clit makes you sob in pleasure, the coil in your belly that has been building so quickly threatening to snap all at once under his attention.

It’s a glorious cascade effect. Every moan you make vibrates around him and makes him respond with sounds and moans of his own. Both of you filling the room with desperate, needy sounds as you work the other closer to that blinding pleasure. It’s just a matter of who will get there first.

It’s too much, but in the very best way, when Joel crooks his fingers Nearly against your g-spot like that and you wail. Tears streaming down your cheeks, spit escaping the corners of your mouth, legs shaking, pussy clenching down on his fingers like your life depends on it, your orgasm hits you all at once but you never take your mouth off of him for a second.

Joel throbs as you come apart for him. The sounds of his moan adding to the stimulation of your clit with his tongue. Fingers still buried deep in your cunt as it flutters around them, making him feel like a fucking god as you shake over his head, your thighs pressing against his cheeks.

Even though it's reluctant, you have to pull off him just momentarily. It's too hard to catch your breath with a dick down your throat, but the second you gasp for air it's his name on your lips instead of unintelligible moans of pleasure. "Fuck Joel. Oh my god."

He smirks, his tongue flicking over your clit one last time before he pulls away with a very smug chuckle. “Break your dry spell in a good way?” He asks, fingers still curled up inside you although he’s not applying quite as much pressure.

"Oh, you're gonna be smug about it?" Twisting back to look at him, there is a lopsided grin on your face regardless of pretending to be stern about it. "Yeah. Okay. You fuckin deserve to be."

Winking, Joel slaps your ass with his other hand. “Two for two, or do you want the main event?” There’s nothing else to do and he’s never been a selfish lover, so making you cum again would not be a problem.

"I'm not going to turn you down if you're offering." There were men you were in actual relationships with who avoided eating pussy like the plague. If tonight can be full of extended pleasure, you're not going to turn it away. No way in hell.

“Get on your back.” Joel slaps your ass again and pulls his fingers from your drenched walls. As much as he enjoyed your mouth on his cock, he won’t be able to stop himself from cumming a second time. Better to just make you cum again.

That answers the unspoken question of whether or not he wants you to keep going, and you lift yourself off of him with only a little reluctance. As much as you could spend hours like that, you know it's rarely the same for men. And Joel is closer to silver fox than not - he wears it so fucking well - so if he needs to cool down a little before fucking you, that's totally fine. You just take over the place where he was laying a second ago, piling the pillows under your head so you can watch him go down on you again.

This time, Joel gets to see more of you. It makes for a surprisingly tender moment as he slides his hands up your thighs, wiggling down so that he is lined up with your cunt. “Pretty.” He coos, looking at you in the firelight. He knows he doesn’t have to compliment you, but it’s true and it feels like you could use a compliment or two, to save for those lonely days.

Simple and direct. To the point, just like Joel is, and you can't find it in yourself to think that that one word is anything less than perfect. "How do you feel about hair pulling?" If you need to be digging your fingers into the sheets instead of his thick hair, you want to know.

“Why’d ya think I told you to get on your back?” Joel flashes you a very uncharacteristic, wolfish grin before he he diving back into your cunt.

“Shiiit!” You’re halfway laughing when he lowers his head again, but your hand goes right to his thick salt and pepper curls. You don’t know how you got lucky enough to stumble across this man in the wilds, but you’re definitely not going to take it for granted.

He hums, enjoying the first tug of pain as your fingers wind too tight around a few strands of his hair pull against his scalp. He loves the way you don’t hold back.

Apparently, without distraction, Joel is even hungrier with his tongue as deep in you as it will go. The gorgeous, prominent arc of his nose nestled against your clit isn’t something you ever would have thought to add to your fantasy list but it’ll be tucked away in your spank bank for the rest of your fucking life. Hopefully just the way your voice crying his name and choking curses will be for him.

Joel hangs onto your thighs like they are a life preserve. Curling his tongue up and relishing the way that you respond to him. He had expected maybe a halfway decent house to huddle up in overnight and maybe some hard beef jerky but he’s been treated like a king and currently having a fucking four course meal.

He’s methodical, voracious - not gentle or coaxing, but you don’t care about that right now. This isn’t a seduction, it’s the very definition of a one-night stand. There’s no reason to be quiet so you let him hear every gasp and moan, squirming under him and reveling in your amazing fucking luck that he stumbled across your hiding place today.

Joel keeps his tongue moving, his jaw flexing open and shut and his fingers finally join the mix. This time he’s not sinking them into you. No, his hands spread across your hips bones, both thumbs peeling your lips back to he has more access to you.

“Oh holy fuc—” If he’s trying to crawl inside you, you just might let him. “Fuck Joel, oh my god!” The praises tumble over each other but aren’t forced. You’re far too lost in yourself and how fucking good he makes you feel for anything to be a performance.

God, it’s been too long since someone has wailed his name like that. Nothing behind it but pure pleasure and he needs to hear more of it. Burrowing deeper, he attacks your cunt like he is starving and you are the tree of life.

If anyone were still around to walk by the house, they wouldn’t question what’s going on inside for a second. All of Joel’s double checking off curtains and lighting and securing the doors is moot in the face of the pornographic sounds coming from inside but for right now - for just a little while - you seem to have blissfully forgotten the state of the world at large. Your entire reality has hyperfixated on Joel.

Every stroke of his tongue begs you to cum, his eyes fixed on your face and he grunts into you when you pull so hard on his hair that moisture builds up in his eyes. The scene is completely debauched and all he needs is for you to soak his face once more before he fucks you.

The second time comes faster than the first. Maybe because you're primed for it now or maybe because he's learning your signals, but either way it doesn't matter. The way he builds you up to that second peak speaks to years of experience all focused directly on your dripping cunt. His name is on repeat, like your heartbeat falling from your lips, and by the time your legs start to shake you're convinced you might actually see stars.

Joel pulls away, watching your entire body seize with pleasure and he smirks happily. His cock is throbbing and he’s ground himself into the mattress enough that there’s a wet spot on the blanket.

"Fucking hell." When you can take a deep breath again you're shivering with the aftershocks of pleasure and grasping at his shoulders, silently begging him to crawl up your body. As intimate as the thing is, all you want to do right now is kiss him.

Obliging you is not a problem. His lips trail up your body, making small detours from areas that he wants to map. Until he’s finally pressing his lips to yours.

Tasting yourself from a lover's lips has never been an issue for you, and right now you're relishing how messy and fucking filthy this whole encounter has become. With one leg hitched up on his hip and her arms around his shoulders you feel like you could drown in him and it would still be a perfect encounter.

“You are so fucking responsive, honey.” Joel growls into your mouth. His hand slides up to wrap around your shoulder. “But I need to be inside you.”

You're nodding almost faster than you can say the words, just as desperate as he is to know what having him inside you will feel like. "I–fuck, do it, baby."

There’s no reason to rush except for the aching need to be buried inside you. Keeping his lips pressed to yours as he lines up and starts to slowly roll his hips forward to make sure that he’s snuggly pushing into your cunt.

The gasp he pushes out of you is drawn out - luxurious and indulgent and becomes a moan with that small pinch of momentary pain that comes from fitting a baseball bat into even the most flexible straw. When his hips are flush with yours you look down, taking in the sight of your joined bodies for the first time. “So fucking sexy.” You stand by that assessment, especially right now.

His jaw is tight, teeth grinding slightly at how hard he is clenching them together. You’re so fucking tight and hot around him. “Fuck, baby. You’re sexy.” He manages, his hand on your shoulder pulling you closer.

“Need you to move, baby.” If he feels good just staying still, you might cum again after about four thrusts.

“I can do that.” Joel huffs, nearly laughing as he draws his hips back.

“Oh fuck.” The feeling of being entirely empty only lasts for a second before he’s pressing forward again, filling you faster this time and more roughly. It’s perfect.

When it comes to actually fucking, Joel isn’t gentle. He’s not brutal, unless it’s wanted, but his pace and thrusts are rougher than a slow and gentle lovemaking session. He wants to be breathless, numb to everything but the pleasure and he wants his partner to be the same way. He hisses the first few slaps of his hips as he plunges into you.

Your hips rock in time with his, meeting his thrusts eagerly, and you shove the pillows out of the way in every direction to be able to twist and turn in any direction he wants you. The heat from the fireplace isn’t why you’re both starting to sweat and you pull your thighs up a little higher on his waist so he can plunge that much deeper into you with his next thrust. You want every ounce of pleasure he can give you and you’re going to make sure that you feel just as good for him.

“Good, so good.” Joel groans, rocking his hips just a little faster, sweat slicking up his body and making it easier to move over you. He doesn’t care though, turning his head and kissing you before biting your bottom lip.

His arms twine under your back, tugging you close and giving him more leverage to push deep and give both of you something to curse about. You wrap your legs around his waist, giving him complete control and yet not letting him get too far away. It's probably just the sex talking, but there's a connection tugging at you that only seems to shut up with the force of each thrust - so the more, the better.

His dark eyes watch you, humming when you accept the force of each thrust, your body begging for more even if you weren’t breathlessly urging him on. Both of you needing the sharp snap of his hips and the feeling of his cock beating into your body like humanity depends on it.

The closer to your peak that both of you climb, the more ragged and desperate his pace and your voice become. The harsh slap of skin on skin fills the room and dominates it, reverberating back any breathless cry that Joel doesn’t swallow down with a greedy kiss. The aching soreness you’ll be nursing tomorrow will be so worthwhile though, as you hang on to the gorgeous memory of tonight.

“Come on honey, need- fuck, need you to cum for me again.” Joel manages, grunting through every swing of his hips. Desperately close to cumming, but he wants to feel the clutch of your cunt around him before he does. “Come on honey, one more.”

It really isn’t that far away, but your words have left you and all you can do is moan your acknowledgement and slip your hand into the tight space between your bodies to rub your clit - that little bit of extra stimulation that you know will push you directly over the edge.

“That’s it.” Joel hisses, his frantic, unmeasured thrusts ramping up even more. Wanting to hear you scream in pleasure again.

Your back arches, hips practically rising off the mattress in an effort to get the most out of your own fingers as well as his increasingly erratic thrusts. Every time he bears down on you it becomes a little more desperate and that much sexier, until the last remaining thread tethering you to reality snaps entirely and sends you careening over the edge of pleasure with his name on your lips.

When you shatter, it’s like the world stops. Joel can’t even breathe, all he can do is watch as you fall apart in the most glorious fashion you possibly could. “Fuuuuuuuuck.” Joel groans, one thrust later he’s pulling free of your body, cumming over your stomach in hot, sticky ropes of his seed.

It leaves you both panting. Chests heaving and bodies shaking, you don't even realize that you've lifted your head to steal a kiss until your lips find his. The messy, drawn-out meeting of tongues is indulgent - like the longest form of punctuation on the end of the sentence that is tonight.

Joel doesn’t hesitate to gather you close again, not caring if his cum is smearing over your and his skin. It’s not like he’s not been covered in worse. Instead, he just relaxes against you and hums happily into your mouth.

“Mmmm.” Embracing the moment for the simple but not insignificant thing it is, you just slip your arm around him and shift over, making sure he has room on the mattress to lie down beside you if or when he wants it. You’re going to sleep like a baby tonight, thoroughly exhausted from a moment of light in a world of darkness.

“Lemme clean you up and then we can sleep.” Joel grunts, moving over to grab a rag that had been set off to the side. Used as a pot holder, it was now perfect to wipe your skin clean.

“Hell of a way to spend a night.” You sigh, opening your eyes again to watch him as he cleans both of you up. Add aftercare to the list of things you weren’t expecting.

Joel chuckles and tosses the rag to the fire, watching it catch and burn. Turning back to you and settling back beside you to open his arm to invite you closer. “Best night in a long goddamn time.”

Coming closer immediately, you settle with your head on his shoulder so you can sleep on his chest. “Might have to think of a creative way to wake you up in the morning.” You have no illusions about the situation. Tomorrow you’ll go your ways and most likely never see each other again. He’ll forget your name. Your face. The sound of your voice. But maybe he’ll remember the way you made him feel, and that will be enough. “If you’re into that kind of thing.”

He smirks and curls his arm around your shoulders and hugs you against him. “I was just about to say if you can get him up again tonight, feel free to ride him.”

“Mmmm.” The hum is more indulgent this time. Laced with a dirty giggle. “Better get a nap in, then. So I can wake you up after whatever inspirational dreams I’m sure I’ll have.”

His own chuckle is low, raspy and matches the playfulness of your tone. “Then we better get some sleep, honey.” He murmurs, closing his eyes and feeling more relaxed than he has in a long time. One that was just for pleasure.

“Night, Joel.” You murmur, leaving a fist of a kiss on his chest before closing your eyes. “Sweet dreams.” Yours, at least, will be the sweetest they’ve been in years.

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swhor3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv For series: @lol-im-done @sezren @kyuupidwrites @spxctorsslxt @mythrielofsolitude @missmarmaladeth @midgetpottermills @spishsstuff @wrathofcats @rickysgrimes @that-friend-in-the-corner @123passwort @taygra5shaon @buckysmainhxe @mariwinns16 @superflymaterial @s1xthirty @gothicxbarbie @pedrettilov3r @flyingmushroomss @littleshadow17 @lovelyygirl8 @hairspeaks @zliteraturehoe @princessgriffin1998 @belahbelieve 

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Joel Miller #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x female reader #The Last of Us #The Last of Us HBO #TLoU

[stupid-sloot-headcanons]

Jason Voorhees/F!Darling: First Love

Because Jason is triggered into killing if he sees people having sex, and because his one real positive figure is his mom Pamela, I think he'd only develop an obsession for a Darling in a very specific circumstance. Like I'm imagining her coddling him and talking about how he'll grow up into a handsome young man, and that ALL the girls will probably faint at the sight of him (ironically, she would be right). But that he shouldn't be so sinful and lustful about it! No, no. Only a woman like her can be her precious Jason's wife. Most women are rotten little harlots. He needs to look for a girl who's kind, gentle, not at all sinful, and who would make a good momma just like her.

Pamela never liked talking about Jason's father, but she did say that Jason is a million times better than he ever was. One day he came back to the house with a fistful of flowers and she just about cried from happiness (after he drowned, she kept them hung upside down in her house so that they would always last). Or when he would shuffle to try and open the door for her, she'd praise him for being such a chivalrous little man. So years later, when he sees a woman sitting by the lake one autumn, drawing or writing and enjoying the same scenery his mother loved, he can't help but stare from afar.

He stalks her throughout the day until seeing her come back to a section of the woods closer to one of the main roads leading to the ruins of the camp. These prefab cabins were originally meant to be a tasteless tourist trap for curious ghost hunters after the first set of murders, but were quickly abandoned after Jason was revealed to be very real, VERY dangerous, and the surrounding real estate becoming very unprofitable due to the high murder rate.

When he peeks inside, he sees the woman talking on a landline and listens in.

"Hey Mom, it's me. I'm back in the cabin--no, I'm alright, I swear! I told you, whatever Jason is, he won't be interested in anyone not wearing a camp counselor's uniform. I'm just here for a cheap summer vacation, some alone time, and some inspiration. Something about being somewhere so serene while knowing the brutal history behind it is...well, I hope it sparks something." She settles down on the couch and continues to chat with her mother, never noticing Jason eavesdropping as night starts to fall.

"I'm not going out there at night, I promise. I mean I'm not superstitious, but I don't want to make you worry anymore than you already are, haha...Yes, Mama, I've been locking the doors every night....YES, Mama, I brought my pepper spray and my knife...Though if a ghost-zombie was gonna come at me, I don't think it'd do much--Mama, of COURSE I'm being responsible! I can't look out for my safety and make a joke? Ok, ok, I'm sorry." She smirks and curls up on the couch. "Though I'm pretty sure he doesn't kill virgins, so I should be fine if he shows up. We can chat about everything we have in common: lack of bedroom experience, lover of the wilderness, uber-protective moms..."

She holds the phone away from her ear as a loud angry outburst comes from the speaker. Her reply is deadpan. "Yes ma'am, I'll smack myself on the head since you aren't here to do it yourself." She lightly pats her head and yawns; the sound makes Jason think of the kittens he had played with when he was younger.

"I'm gonna head to bed. I'll call you in the morning, ok? Yeah, by 10 am, I promise. And when I head out, too. Yes ma'am, and no more smartass comments until I'm back home safe...Love you too, Mama."

Jason watches her put the phone back onto the receiver and then walk into another room. He skulks around the outside and sees her in a modest bedroom, taking off her socks and the rest of her clothes.

He cocks his head and stares, breathing heavily and feeling strangely warm. Whenever he saw the other fornicators at the camp, he'd never felt anything like this. A woman's body was just a body, and those wicked women's bodies were just there to be cut down. But this one wasn't wicked, at least he didn't think so yet. This one was...lovely. He couldn't stop staring, breathing, and feeling his belt strain against--

He heard his mother shriek in his ear. "JASON VOORHEES!"

He ducked down underneath the window frame and covered the eye slits of his mask. He wasn't being lustful, Mama! He was just admiring her, like a pretty flower. Maybe he can keep her, just like the flowers Mama had kept in the house. Something pretty and pure, all for himself.

"If you look at her like that, you'll defile her," Mama hissed. "You need to make her an honest woman first, like me. You aren't to look at her like that until you've courted her, put your ring on her finger, and made her your wife. And if you even think about something as disgusting as fornicating with her before you're married, you'll both burn in Hell, young man!"

He hesitantly moved back up to check if his Flower was decent, and saw that she was thankfully now wearing a set of pajama shorts and a faded t-shirt. When his eyes wandered to her exposed thighs, he quickly forced his gaze upwards to avoid another scolding from his mother. Flower shivered from the nighttime breeze whistling through a drafty corner of the room and she slips something else on over her head. Jason's eyes widen behind the mask--a cable-knit sweater, as soft and warm as her skin must be.

Just like his Mama.

She stretched her arms and for a moment, the way they're outstretched makes Jason think she really might be an angel. Once she turned out the lights in the living room and curled up in bed with a book, Jason set off into the forest to start courting her. He's going to make Mama so proud, marrying a pretty Flower and fulfilling that wish to become a Grandma. He's gonna be a good boy, a good beau, a good husband, and a good father...

The next morning, ____ made her first phonecall check-in of the day with her mother after breakfast and headed out for a day of hiking and relaxing by the lake again. When she opened the door and stepped outside, she stopped and froze as her foot landed on something damp and she heard a strange jangling sound from the doorknob. "What the fuck?"

The entire porch had been covered with handfuls of green pine needles and flowers yanked out of the ground, some with the roots and clumps of soil still attached. She looked at the doorknob and saw a loop of fishing line with various bits and bobs tied to it: beads from other random pieces of jewelry, bottlecaps, animal teeth, bird feathers, and a pendant in the middle made of bone. A small brown heart had been smudged onto it, and ____ prayed that it was just paint or muddy water.

She immediately ran back inside and slammed the door shut, locking all three locks and trying not to hyperventilate. Her chest tightened as she racked her brain for what to do--call the police? Yes. Definitely. Even if it's just a prank from some asshole locals or something, it's worth having someone with a gun coming around to look into it.

From the bushes nearby, Jason was watching her pace back and forth in the cabin while holding the phone.

"I already told you, it's Crystalside Cabins, Number 3," Flower said irritably. "It's on an unpaved road, it's about...I don't know, a quarter of a mile from the lake? I--yes, I know that pranks are common around here, but I would really appreciate it if an officer could come here and check things out...No laws broken, are you kidding me!? What if the bones on the necklace are from a corpse or something!?" She scoffed and listened to the officer, shaking her head in disbelief. "With this kind of incompetence, I'm surprised the body count in this town isn't even higher. Maybe Jason Voorhees and his mother started this up just to see if you'd get out of your chairs for something that wasn't a pie stolen from a windowsill or a cat stuck in a tree!" She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "No, ma'am, I'm not trivializing the work of suburban police officers--yes, ok, I know that local teens like to mess with people who visit the town, but I really don't feel safe knowing some strangers know I'm in this secluded location all by myself.."

She finally huffed and held a hand up. "Fine, fine, you'll make an official report and give it to someone. Great. I'll thank you now since my severed head won't be able to say it later, you've been such a great help. Don't strain yourself, wouldn't want to waste those tax dollars."

Jason looked at the necklace and bouquets left on the porch, and then back to his Flower. She didn't like his presents? Or maybe she was just scared. Most people were afraid of him, but she wasn't most people. She was his beau, but now she was upset and calling the police.

Flower crossed her arms and stared at the front door, chewing her bottom lip and wondering what to do. "It probably is just a prank," she muttered to herself. "Just some cheeky asshole kids trying to mess with a tourist." She took a few steps forward and opened the door, preparing to sweep away all the plants and throw away the creepy necklace, but she stopped just as her fingers curled around one of the beads. It was likely just a prank, but...maybe, on the scientifically impossible off-chance that this was the undead spirit/corpse of a serial killer...throwing away his creepy present would probably make him angry.

She stared at the necklace in her hand, almost holding her breath as she thought about what to do. "Fuck it," she sighed. "I'd rather be gullible and dumb in the eyes of some high schoolers than risk pissing off...whatever he's supposed to be." Reluctantly, she put the necklace on and headed back inside to slip her pepper spray and knife into her backpack before going out.

Jason's breath hitched when he saw his Flower wearing her present. She looked so pretty with it on. She liked it. She wanted him to court her. "Of course she does," Mama cooed. "A handsome, chivalrous, strong man like you? She's lucky to have my little boy's affections. Now go on back home now, Jason, you need to get everything ready for tonight when you bring her home to meet me."

#yandere jason voorhees #.jason voorhees #.myshit #fem darling #yes this will continue but Sloot needs sleep #yandere friday the 13th #.friday the 13th

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Nobody's Girl - Chapter Three.

Check your girl out over here like Oprah. YOU get another chapter, and YOU get another chapter, and so on! I am seriously so flattered by everyone loving the story so far, and watching you all so rabidly consuming it makes me so very happy :)

With the time off work I have had recently, it's meant the story has virtually written itself, I'm up to chapter eleven in the writing, so what I thought would originally be a shorter series has turned into a longer one, meaning I can update more regularly. Well, I can only hope you like this chapter just as much as the previous two, and if you do, remember to leave me a little comment, or a reblog. You would have my eternal gratitude for doing so!

Previous chapters - One Two

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 4,300

Warnings - Adult content throughout, minors DNI!

Conversation. With a woman he wasn’t involved with. Truly, Luca couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever enjoyed such, but there he was on an otherwise quiet Thursday night experiencing just that. A soft flurry of snow gently drifted down outside, his apartment the warm cocoon he and Emily sequestered themselves within, sitting on the couch, mostly her sharing stories of her life before she’d literally fallen into his.  

“I remember there was this one time, back when I first got caught up with them, I was taken for a game at this house in Queens. Joey had loaned me to his brother, Giacinto, but of course there was the issue of how he could get me in at the table. So, he made a bet on a bet, I guess you’d call it. Strode in there and announced that he bet each player two hundred bucks they couldn’t beat me in a game of seven card stud.  

“Of course, part of the point of poker is counting cards, but I can do it faster and better, and I did. I won Giacinto five grand in one night, and most of the guys were pissed as hell that I’d beaten them, except for one. He was an older guy, thick glasses, big birthmark on his cheek. He told me I was every man’s worst nightmare, a pretty blonde with a brain, and he respected that.”  

“That’s Jimmy Phelan, Irish mob from Philly,” Luca nodded, quite impressed that she’d grabbed his attention.  

She clicked her fingers in remembrance. “Yeah, Jimmy. That was his name. I’ve met so many wiseguys that it’s hard to keep up with all of the names. I remember the ones who have curious nicknames, like Carmine the Boots, and Duck Foot Silv. I never asked how they got them, though.” 

Luca knew, of course. “Carmine is the boots ‘cuz that’s what he does to those who earn it, fits ‘em with a nice set of concrete boots and sends ‘em off for a swim in the Hudson River. Silvio, they call him duck foot ‘cuz the guy was born with webbed toes.” 

Her eyes widened, leaning forward in her seat. “Have you seen the toes?” 

“I have,” he smirked, scratching his jaw,. “He does this trick, sticks a quarter on his big toe and flicks it about ten feet in the air.” 

She snorted with giggles, sipping her drink and catching an ice cube to chew upon. The sound of her cracking it between her teeth did something to his insides that he couldn’t explain, but was very, very pleasant. “I bet he’s a good swimmer too, huh?” 

“Guy don’t need no flippers, that’s for fuckin’ sure.” 

He looked at her for a long moment, enchanted as usual by her loveliness. It was so easy with her. She knew exactly who and what he was, and she just accepted it without fuss, acting unguarded with him, rather than either trying to work him out or shrink in intimidation. It made a nice change, to simply experience a slice of normality like that, and especially with a woman. Most only wanted him for his money or the association of who he was.  

Or his cock. He was famed for having one hell of a nice cock, after a woman he’d bedded had been very loud in her praise of it one time.  

“So yeah, back to Jimmy being nice to me. He gave me a hundred dollars, said I’d earned it, being such a good card player. I was amazed, and I thought the cash was mine to keep, but not according to Giacinto. Copped a huge beating for that assumption, ended up with this.”  

Hooking her finger into her mouth, she pulled her cheek back to reveal the empty gum space where her back teeth should have sat, Luca feeling caustic within. How hard must he have punched her to knock a both a double and fucking wisdom tooth out, he had to wonder, remembering how tough his own had been to have extracted by a dentist.  

“Bastardo,” he hissed, picking up his drink and knocking it back, refilling it. “Ain’t no big man’s game, sluggin’ a broad. You wanna prove you have cojones? Fuckin’ walk up to the biggest fella in the room and crack him in the mouth. S’what I used to do whenever I got thrown in Sing Sing as a kid, not long after I arrived here from England.”  

“Have you ever done serious time for your endeavours?” she asked, lifting the wool shawl where it had slipped from her shoulders, Luca wishing she’d left it. Any chance he got to view more of her beautiful, lily skin, and he shamelessly took it. It had been gnawing at him for the past fourteen days since she’d been there, chewing away at his resolve like a starving wolf.  

Usually, he’d have made his move by now on somebody he coveted. Hell, his record was ten seconds upon seeing a woman he desired, walking up to her and brashly asking a simple, three worded question. “Wanna fuck me?” No woman ever refused him. With Emily, though, because of her sheer loveliness, as tempting as it would be to corrupt, he held himself back.  

It was a fierce internal conflict he waged war with, his rampant libido dictating he simply take her to bed and bounce her on his cock until she screamed his name, the very little morality left within him castigating such, because of how innocent and sweet the girl was. He couldn’t tarnish something that lovely and pure with the infection of his darkness. Until he could come to some resolve, he supposed he’d have to simply deal with the juxtaposition of wanting to cherish her like a princess and fuck her like a whore.  

She was a billion miles away from the latter, though. Hence the conflict. 

Also, he got the distinct impression that she was still too scared of him. For the most part, she was settled around him, a little shy still, but definitely comfortable enough to open up to him and talk, just like she was doing on that particular evening. If he showed the weight of his desire for her, though, she’d surely bolt. The last thing he wanted was for her to flee.  

“I did a few years for theft, when I was eighteen,” he eventually replied, once he’d managed to finally pull himself back out of his thoughts. “Few times being locked up here and there in the time between, too.”  

“Don’t you mafia guys have the police on payroll, or something?” 

That was another reason why he held himself back. Would she truly want to remain in the world she’d been held prisoner in, should he instigate anything with her? Then again, at least this time she would have a choice. “We do now, yeah. Hence why I ain’t seen a cell in a while.”  

“I think I’d cry if I was ever arrested. Jail sounds scary,” she spoke, sipping her drink, her sweetness making his chest hurt. Why did she have to be the loveliest little thing he’d ever met? It was making him crazy, the want to protect her, the need to fuck her dirty, both colliding with the resolve that he’d solely keep here there until he knew all he wanted about the Calabrese family.  

It was a resolve that seemed to fracture away with every second that passed in her company.

She’d given him very useful information so far, too. Safe house locations his guys had duly gone in and looted, details of deals that she’d been made privy to that he’d been able to scupper before they’d had a chance to come to fruition. Because of Emily, he had the upper hand in the war against the family who – in his mind, at least – needed to show respect and fall back into line.  

What would happen when the well that was her information dried up, though? What, he was simply meant to let this beautiful little creature, this utter mythical princess of a woman unlike any others he’d encountered simply be on her way, and leave his life with a little less pure, iridescent sparkle in her wake? 

He was glad of the distraction when a heavy fist pounding the door below interrupted their evening, Emily nearly jumping out of her skin.  

“S’okay,” he assured her as he stood, resting a hand to her shoulder. “That’s Angelo, he has a habit of knocking like he’s the fuckin’ police.” He headed to the stairs, descending, opening the door but remaining out of her sight as he and Angelo exchanged hushed whispers. Luca appeared again after a few minutes, looking lamentable, but also angry as he pulled himself into his thick, black coat. 

“I have to go out, something I gotta attend to,” he spoke, Emily rising to her feet. 

“Oh, alright. When will you be back?” 

He shrugged, not looking pleased at all. “Hopefully not too long, but don’t wait on me, alright?” 

She nodded, and then completely on blind impulse, reached for his face, pulling him down to her tiny level and kissing his cheek. “Be careful.” 

His heart all but broke the ribs covering it with the force of its rapid thuds. He winked, thumb stroking the apple of her cheek. “I will, doll.”  

As he walked back down the stairs, he could still feel the soft press of her lips against his cheek, his pulse amped up from even the tiniest display of affection from his houseguest. He truly hadn’t expected it, and when he should have left the building with nothing but business on his mind, instead, it was only getting back to Emily again that occupied his thoughts.  

Meanwhile, the girl herself flopped back onto the couch, sighing as she covered her face with her hands. “Oh, god help me. I want that man so badly!” she grimaced, groaning with discomfort. Truly, she didn’t know how the hell to play it, either, feeling so conflicted.

Sometimes, he’d flirt with her, but she was too shy to reciprocate it, meaning he’d pull back and cool down with how he acted around her. Other times, she knew only too well he was trying to wheedle information regarding the Calabrese’s from her, information she found herself giving, getting herself furtherly wrapped up in a world she knew truly wasn’t any good for her.  

How much danger was she in, though, from her place beneath the albatross-like wings of Luca Changretta? Nobody would be fool enough to touch her. However, that was only if she became more to him than whatever she was, she supposed. Then again, he had told her several times already she was safe with him. 

Falling into a silly daydream, she imagined him taking her in his arms, kissing her, those big, tattooed hands laying worship upon her, that sultry voice of his speaking his wants and desires. She let her mind wander for so long that she was still partially in a daze when she heard a rapid knock at the door, followed by the creak of it opening, the music no longer playing.  

“Luca? It’s only me,” a female voice called, her heeled feet alighting the stairs. Before she could speak, a buxom looking redhead appeared, her face surprised as she took Emily in. “Oh, hi! I’m Maggie, and you are?”  

“Hi, Maggie. I’m Emily, and Luca is out,” she spoke, picking up her drink and finishing it. 

“Oh, oh alright. I must’a missed him leaving,” she muttered, holding two large jute bags in her hands. “I was just bringin’ up the takings to him, but I guess I can leave ‘em with you. You’re his new gal, right?” 

She shook her head. “No, just his, uh, his friend.”  

Maggie snorted, placing the takings down on the coffee table. “Luca don’t have gals who are just friends, sweetie pie.” She viewed her carefully, watching the way the young blonde blushed furiously, reaching for the vodka bottle. Only a tiny drizzle remained within.  

“Damn,” Emily pouted, “I drank it all.”  

“Hey, I gotta load of premixed cocktails I’d otherwise throw out. Fancy coming and helping me drink ‘em while I clean up for the night?” Maggie offered, suddenly feeling like she would be being rude to go and pour it all away, and leave the girl upstairs alone, waiting on a man who would likely be gone for hours. Especially too after she’d blatantly embarrassed the hell out of her by her assertion over her boss and his lack of female friends.  

Who was she to judge? Stranger things had happened, she guessed, although she had to admit, she was very curious. If Luca wasn’t giving her a good fucking on the regular, then just what was she doing there? She had noticed her boss not present down in the joint for the last two weeks, with none of his usual rotation of females making their way up to the apartment. Curiosity demanded an answer. 

Smiling, Emily rose to her feet, stuffing them into her shoes. “Sure, that’d be nice.”  Following Maggie back down, she was ushered over to the bar, taking a seat on one of the high stools, the clean up in full effect as people swept, tidied and mopped, the band disassembling their instruments and returning them to their respective cases.  

“Here, I hope you like Manhattan’s,” Maggie spoke, pouring a large measure into a copper mug and passing it over, topping off her own and holding it out. “Cheers, Emily.” 

“Cheers.” She took a swig, the alcohol hitting her throat so hard, she almost coughed, the redhead throwing her head back. 

“Sorry, sugar. I make ‘em potent!” she smirked, taking a soapy cloth and beginning to clean down the bar. “So, you and Luca. What’s the story, darl?”  

Emily didn’t really feel comfortable with revealing the whole truth to a perfect stranger, even though obviously she was a trusted person by the man himself. She wouldn’t have been working in his speakeasy if she wasn’t. “I’m staying with him for a little while.” 

“And you ain’t knockin’ boots with him?” she was then asked. 

“No, definitely not,” she replied, taking another sip of the rocket fuel in her grasp.  

Maggie raised an eyebrow, beginning to pick up liquor bottles from behind the bar and clean the runs and drips away with her cloth. “But you wanna, amirite? Everyone wants to fuck Luca, ‘cept me. I like ‘em a little prettier.”  

Watching her wink as a cute, almost angelic looking blonde saxophone player walked past and waved goodnight, Emily caught her drift immediately. Turning back to Maggie, she shrugged lightly. “I mean, I don’t know. I don’t think I’m his type.” By that point, she’d seen a picture of Filomena, his ex-wife when he’d shown her some photographs of his children. She was dark haired, buxom, Italian and glamorous. Everything she wasn’t.  

“True,” Maggie spoke, pausing to light a cigarette, her cleaning endeavours finished. “But men like somethin’ a lil’ different, they’ll find themselves urging for a taste of the unfamiliar when it’s presented to ‘em. You should give him a go, darl. I hear he’s good with his cock.”  

It was an unfortunate time to take a sip of the lethal Manhattan, Emily half spraying it back into the mug at her brazenness. Maggie couldn’t resist in teasing further. “One of the dancers here was fucking him a while back. Said he was hung like a bull and had the stamina of a guy half his age.”  

Emily felt herself shrinking with every word, Maggie throwing her head back and laughing hoarsely. “Oh, ain’t you a cutie! Gettin’ all shy. Sorry, I know I’m brash. I’ll behave.”  

Perhaps having a female perspective into her predicament might be helpful, she then pondered. Maggie seemed nice, friendly, too. It wasn’t like Emily had a whole lot in the way of friends, either, no gal pals to run her thoughts by. “Okay, so the truth is, I do want to,” she began, Maggie’s face lighting up as she leaned over the bar, huddling close. 

“Tell me more, sugar!” 

Pausing, she took another sip of her drink for courage. “I want to, but I never have before. With any man.”  

The barmaid’s eyes all but fell out of her skull. “Really?” 

She nodded.  

“But... why? Sex is amazing with the right guy!” 

Just then, a door flew open down at the other end of the room, one of the dancers striding out, mid-tirade. “It’s the fuckin’ same with all you fuckin’ Italian jerks!” she screamed, the guy following her looking nonchalant. “All of youse expect us to fuckin’ suck dick, but when it comes to returning it, nadda, nothin’, no sale! Would it fuckin’ kill you to eat me out just once, Luciano?” 

He shrugged, lighting a cigarette. “I ain’t about that.” 

“Yeah, me and my thirsty kitty cat know only too well, you two-bit fuck! We’re done!” She was out of the joint in a blur of sequins and fury, Emily and Maggie sharing a wide-eyed look at having front row seats to such a show. 

“Yeah, he ain’t the right guy,” the latter snorted, jerking her thumb in the direction where Luciano, one of Luca’s street guys had just walked in, softly cussing to himself in Italian.  

“To answer your question, I don’t know, really,” Emily confessed, thinning her lips momentarily. “I’ve never found anyone I like enough to do it with, I guess. It’s like I’m a beacon for shitty guys with bad intentions.”  

Her confidant didn’t truly know how to answer that, since Luca did seem to go through women like they were entering and exiting in a revolving door. However, there was a plus point. “Well, if you decided to, at least it wouldn’t be a lousy first experience for ya. He’s forty-three, the man has heaps of experience, so it wouldn’t be like my first. Two pumps and a squirt, baby. I was so disappointed,” 

The women both snorting laughing, Emily throwing her head back as she truly began to cackle loudly. Oh, she was funny, this brazen woman who had taken her under her wing and plied her with lethally potent cocktails. While she was beginning to relax and find herself making a new friend, the topic of their conversation was walking into a speakeasy in Bushwick, his crew around him.  

“Luca, glad you could join me,” Giacinto Calabrese spoke, leaning back in his seat. “Drink?”  

“No thanks,” he drawled through the chew on his toothpick, “won’t be stayin’ all that long. So, Angelo here tells me you gotta deal for me, huh?” 

His adversary gestured to a chair, Luca taking a seat, his eyes never leaving the man as he felt his mood darkening, looking at his hands. Those were the knuckles that had smashed the teeth out of her mouth. “I do, because you have somethin’ of ours we want returned to us, but I’m a fair man. I’m happy to exchange.” Lifting his chin, he pulled his cigarettes out, lighting one up. “Give me the girl, and I’ll walk away from the warehouses in Yonkers. You have my word.” 

He rolled his tongue against his cheek, chuckling a deadly hiss. “Your word is worth shit, and Emily ain’t for sale, pal.” 

“Oh!” The wise assed man laughed, entertained. “On first name terms with the little puttana now, huh? Wait, I can’t call her that, though. Bitch is more frigid than a fuckin’ nun!”  

Luca remained still, but his eyes moved with all the intent of a predator locking onto its target, slowly pulling the toothpick from between his lips. “The fuck you just call her, stronzo? A bitch?” 

“Yeah,” Giacinto laughed, “I called her a bitch, and...”  

That was as far as he got before the lion that was the head of the Changretta mob pounced, grabbing his collar and pounding his head down onto the table, their respective guys all drawing their weapons. 

“You’re outnumbered, fellas,” Angelo rumbled, tutting. “Put ‘em down.” The men fell back, all watching the scene unfold before them.  

Luca loomed like a shadow of death, his hand holding Giacinto fast against the smooth, dark wood. “Did you call her a bitch when you knocked her fuckin’ teeth out? Did ya? Tell me, how hard does a guy like you have to slug a tiny little thing like her to crack the goddamned teeth from her jaw? This hard?” His fist met his face in a sickeningly strong blow, the piece of shit beneath his grasp grunting in pain. “This hard?” He punched him again, this time loosening one of the teeth he was aiming for, Luca hauling him up and beginning to lay repetitive punches to his face, Giacinto flying back to the floor.  

With his rage pumping like water through a broken dam, Luca loomed over him, pulling a flick knife from his pocket and releasing the blade, holding it so hard against his cheek, his blood began to seep from beneath the press. “You ever speak her name again and I will cut your fuckin’ tongue from your head. The Yonkers warehouses are mine now, too, just for the fuckin’ gall of you. Give your fuckin’ father my goddamned regards, Giacinto.”  

“Fuck you, Luca!” he spat, shame and rage coiling through him.  

“Fuck me, huh?” he laughed, low and deadly. “Nah, kid. Tell me, you right-handed? You are, aren’t ya? It was your right hand you used to beat her, wasn’t it?” Wrenching his arm up, he grasped his wrist, bringing the knife down between his third and fourth fingers, beginning to slice through skin, sinew and tendons. Giacinto screamed, Luca holding the knife towards Angelo, needing both hands to grab the second and third, then fourth and fifth fingers, grasping hard before literally ripping his hand apart.  

“Can’t go punching little girls no longer now, can you?” Standing, he left him screaming on the floor, looking to his guys. “Step down from the warehouses as of tonight, or I do worse to all six of youse.” With that, Luca and his eight cohorts left the speakeasy, heading back to their cars, Brooklyn bound. Entering his apartment just under a half hour later, he made sure he was quiet, not wanting to wake the beauty in his bed.  

Hanging his coat and jacket, he unlaced his shoes, removing his tie as he walked over to the bed, just about able to see her outline there curled up, sleeping soundly. Reaching toward her face, he gently swept the platinum strands of hair that had fallen loose back behind her ear, tenderly stroking the apple of her cheek with the back of his fingers.  

He realised right there that she could never again utter anything about the Calabrese’s, and he wouldn’t care at all. He didn’t need her for information. He just needed her to be safe.  

The twisted irony wasn’t lost on him, though, that the very person she wasn’t safe from was the one whose bed she slept soundly in, but for very different reasons than what the Calabrese’s represented. He lingered there only a moment longer before going to the bathroom and undressing, pulling on his grey and white striped pyjama bottoms, heading for the couch.  

“Luca?”  

He actually jumped a little, hearing her soft voice suddenly sound through the dark. “Yeah, doll?” Turning, he watched her sit up, peeling the bed clothes back as she shuffled over, patting the mattress. “It’s freezing. You can’t keep sleeping on the couch. I don’t mind sharing.”  

He hesitated only a second before walking over, climbing in next to her, his heart beginning to race. Her warmth was the most alluring intoxication he’d ever felt near to him, wanting nothing but to wrap himself around her, meld his body to hers, tell her in no uncertain terms that Giacinto Calabrese would never dare touch her again.  

Lying there, Emily could feel the tension radiating from him, not knowing why he was in such a state, but sensing it all the same. Had something happened, while he was out, something to spark his temper, amp his ire? She felt him turn away from her, turning over herself and hesitating a moment before putting the advice she’d had from Maggie to good use. ‘Just move on him. You’re beautiful, sugar. He won’t turn you down.’  

It wasn’t necessarily a sexual advance, as Maggie had been specifically advocating, but it was a step in the right direction. Wrapping her arm around him, she pressed herself against his back, resting her hand to his chest. Her heart almost leapt into her throat when she felt him grasp her hand, thumb stroking, placing a kiss upon her fingers.  

He clutched her hand tight, feeling her breath flutter against his shoulder blades, his heart still hammering. If he turned to her, that would be it. He wouldn’t be able to hang onto the bull within him, goring against the very last of his soft flesh in a bid for freedom. Flesh that had softened for her. 

He remembered how he’d felt, punching Giacinto repeatedly in the face, until he had expelled blood with every groaned breath, all for her, because of her, because no man would ever make the sweet little darling curled against him feel less than all she was ever again.  

But still, he didn’t dare turn over. It’d be like Satan himself defiling the purest of angels. If only Luca knew, though, as he wrestled with the beast within, that the only thing the angel pressed against his back wanted was to feel the burn of his lust against her skin.  

#luca changretta fanfiction #luca changretta smut #luca changretta x ofc #luca changretta fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders fic #luca changretta fic #nobody's girl #luca and emily

[ystrike1]

You’ve Come to the Wrong House, Villain - By Banana (6.5/10)

This yandere sucks, canonically. He "protected" his love until she had no one else left (alive) to rely on. He was hideously jealous of everyone, from the most distant acquaintance to her little sister. He was so horrible that the original heroine regretted saving his life, so let's redo this story. What if he falls for a strong woman? One who will never need or want his twisted "protection".

Lakis is a big bad yandere.

Yuri is...nothing. She was supposed to be killed by him in a lab, with a bunch of other side characters. Yuri was given magical powers, against her will, in a dingy lab. She was just another lab sample. Lakis has similar powers, but he's much stronger.

She only manages to escape when he rampages because she's a reincarnator. When he descends she crawls away.

She works a regular day job, and she lives in a regular house...

He shows up bloody in her neighborhood garbage pile.

She's in shock.

Why is the villain here?

She's not a main character, and she avoided her disastrous death already.

Anne Marie, the original heroine with a cute little sister and a ton of debt, is her neighbor. That's why he's there. Anne Marie is about to be plunged into a life of misery.

She was a noble girl.

Her dad died.

She is steadily using her healing abilities/labor to clear off his debts.

Lakis pops into her life and boom she's surrounded by danger. After she heals his wounds her life becomes hell, because he has so many enemies....because he sucks..

Yuri almost kills him, but he's too important.

She makes a major sacrifice.

She shoos her innocent neighbor away.

She heals him instead.

Lakis is unforgivable, bossy, presumptuous....blushing?

With Yuri he is a different man.

He is weakened.

Afraid.

He wants comfort.

Why?

Yuri doesn't have healing powers. She uses her magic to stitch him back together. He's in pain, on her couch, for a while.

They sort of become friends.

Lakis has a demon inside him.

The shadow...thing...suspects he has a crush on Yuri.

While he heals slowly his attitude melts away.

He thanks Yuri awkwardly.

His gentle side is shocking, but yeah.

He almost perished.

He woke up in painful stitches.

Yuri offered him bread and a place to stay.

He's indebted to her.

In the original plot Anne Marie slapped healing light on him. He woke up as powerful and deranged as ever, with a beautiful woman before his eyes.

He actually uh...gets to know Yuri.

They chat.

Also BTW Yuri is a badass criminal with spider assassin powers. That's how she can afford to live in a nice house alone with no husband.

She tortures guys on screen.

She's not a giggly, naive girl.

Lakis and her are kinda similar.

Only kinda.

Mutual respect can happen here.

The plot is sort of a yawn fest.

I couldn't really get into it.

The art is pretty bad.

The side characters are supposed to be attractive but they look awful. Only Anne Marie, Yuri and Lakis are passable.

Yuri has cool spider powers, but the fights are lackluster because every other magic person has very boring powers.

She mostly fights faceless mob dudes.

Anyway Lakis spots her in a mask running off with a magic crystal.

He's crazy so he immediately decides to kill the thief to get the item.

They fight.

He figures out its her because love.

More respect grows in him and his crush grows deeper.

His savior is a cool magic lady.

I could not get attached to ANY of the characters. They are all too basic, but I know the plot isn't awful due to spoilers.

If you can handle mid art and stock characters open this one.

#You’ve Come to the Wrong House #Villain #yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #otome games #otome #otome isekai

[metal-and-machetes]

The Downward Spiral

—

Jed Olsen isn’t who he says he is.

Ghostface has a thing for the young reporter.

Danny Johnson always takes what he wants.

—

This is a dark Ghostface DBD fanfiction. Content warning:

Stalking

Torture

Sexual violence

Knifeplay

Dubcon/Noncon

Blood kink

Graphic descriptions of violence

A very mean Danny Johnson

Some wound fingering

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. If the above are triggers for you, do not proceed. DBD lore does not suggest Danny is fun or nice, I wrote him as such.

Originally posted on my AO3

—

Listen, I’m not going out tonight. I’m already in my pajamas and I’m just not in the mood.”

“Oh c’mon! Look, I know you’re bummed about your boyfriend breaking up with you, but I really think a girls’ night would do you good!” You sighed. Cass had good intentions, she was just trying to help, but you were just not in the mood tonight.

“It’s not just that. I still think that call was out of character for him. He just sounded… something wasn’t right.” You sighed. “He sounded scared…”

“Need I remind you that he’s the same man who made you cry, on like, multiple occasions. He was a piece of shit, babe. He really isn’t worth your time, he’s not worth any woman’s time.”

She was right. He wasn’t very nice to you. He blew you off, he was always late picking you up for dates, and he was just a jackass. Still though, something just felt off about his message. And then he just… vanished.

“Hellooooo?”

“Sorry, sorry. Hey, and not only that, what about the curfew? Roseville PD will be crashing parties, and I don’t think an office party is an exception.”

Cass huffed. “We’re the newspaper. I don’t think they’ll shut us down. You know Jed’s supposed to be here too.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Jed Olsen. He showed up a few months ago with a stacked portfolio and a ‘winning attitude’ according to the editor in chief. Jed Olsen with his confident smile. Jed Olsen with his dark hair and deep brown eyes. Jed Olsen with the entire office head over heels for him. You weren’t any different. Jed was nice to you, if not a little flirty, Cass pointed out that he seems to hang around your desk and chat with you the most. Jed was, in every way, miles better than your ex boyfriend.

“Tell him I said hi.” You replied. “I’m not leaving my house tonight.”

Cass sighed, defeated that her master plan didn’t get you to leap into your car and speed off to the party. “Okay, we’ll miss you tonight.”

“Have fun, let me know when you get back home.”

The line cut out after you exchanged goodbye and you were once again left in silence. You opened the microwave and tossed a bag of popcorn in, leaning against the counter as the machine heated the snack up and you went through the mail. Junk, junk, junk, bill, bill, coupon. You paused when you got to the Roseville Gazette.

TWO FOUND SLAIN IN ANOTHER HORRIFIC GHOSTFACE MURDER by Jed Olsen.

The screaming ghost mask stared back at you, taunting you, watching you. Jed’s career took off when the Ghostface killings began. The exclusive photos, taken by the murderer himself, certainly helped. But so did the interviews Jed conducted, you’ve seen them, he was so sympathetic and kind to the victims’ friends and family. And he wrote like a god. No one seemed to question how Jed’s ‘insider’ gets him the photos, you don’t think anyone even cares.

You tossed the paper aside and stopped the popcorn, dumping it in a bowl and making your way to the couch and pressing play on the video you rented tonight.

Twenty minutes into the video, the phone rings. You huff and press pause to pick up the line.

“Hello?”

“Hello there.” The voice was male, albeit a little mechanical, but it was over the phone.

“Um, who’s this?”

“Who do you want it to be?”

You scoffed. Seriously? A grown man prank calling? “Okay, you’re either some random man who picked my name out of a phonebook, or you’re one of his friends being a jackass.”

“Can’t say I know who that is, doll.”

“So you just call random numbers? Or did Cass give you my number?” You found a smile pulling at your lips, starting to have a bit of fun with the stranger. Who’s to stop you, really. “Can’t imagine that isn’t something she’d do.”

“What can I say? The curfew had me bored, must’ve dialed the wrong number, but I’m not complaining. What are you up to?” Fuck it. You’ll entertain this.

“Just watching a scary movie I picked up from the video store after work.”

“Oh really? What’s your favorite scary movie?” He inquired. I was practically blushed at the smoothness of his voice.

“Halloween. Personally, I think John Carpenter makes the best horror.”

“Well, he is the Master of Horror. So, you got a name, doll?” I laughed.

“What about your name, mystery man? You called me first.”

The voice chuckled on the other end. “Well, tell me your name, I’ll tell you mine.”

You jumped up onto the counter. “Why should I do that?” A giggle rose in your throat.

A pause.

“I wanna know who I’m looking at.”

Time seemed to freeze. Your heart rate picked up and your breathing became quicker. The giggle died and became bile rising. There was a roaring in your ears and you began to stammer in fear. “Wh-what did you just say?” You misunderstood him, you must have! No one would say that, and if they did, it was just a cruel joke.

“You heard me, sweetheart. I saw you reading the front page. Do you like my work? You’re talking to Roseville’s biggest celebrity.”

No fucking way…

“I’m calling-“

“The cops? They wouldn’t make it in time, they’d find you gutted and I’d be long gone by then, just pictures of me and your pretty corpse.” His voice changed, it wasn’t flirty or sexy anymore, it was downright terrifying. It was aggressive and harsh, no more seduction. He wasn’t toying anymore, he had begun his hunt. “The only thing calling the cops would stop is how long I plan on playing with you.”

“What the hell do you want?” You growled, flinching when a flash went off out of the corner of your eye from the small window above the sink, but when you looked at it, no one was there.

“Heh. Pretty picture. But, won’t you smile for me, doll? I’ll be sending these to the paper in the morning, I want you looking your best for the obituary they write for you.” Ghostface teased.

“Quit playing around, fucker!” You pulled a knife out of the drawer and crept out of the kitchen and into the living room. “C’mon, asshole. Let’s see what you’re made of.”

The man laughed on the other end of the call, tsking at you as if you were a fool. “Well… then it’s a good thing you left the garage door unlocked.”

The dial tone blared in your ear as he hung up, leaving you in silence, the only thing scoring your last few moment was the soundtrack of Halloween 2 playing quietly. You lowered the phone, gripping the knife as your fingers began to sweat. It was too quiet. You scoffed and began to dial 911, but before you could finish dialing, you were tackled by a large figure.

“Fuck!” You thrashed as the two of you wrestled, your foot connecting with his chest and shoving him off of you. You sat up and cursed as the soulless black eyes of Ghostface’s mask bore into you before grabbing the knife and swinging at him, just missing his hand. He tilted his head as you two circled the couch, his hunting knife at the ready like yours.

“You’ve got spirit, doll. I like a challenge. I like a little fight.” His voice was distorted by a modulator, sounding the exact same as the mechanical voice over the phone.

“Fuck you!” You screamed, lunging at the killer and landing a cut on his forearm.

He yelled furiously. “You bitch! If you would just cooperate and lay down and die this wouldn’t be so bad!”

You turned and made a break for the door, hoping, praying, that you could open it and scream and your neighbors would come to your rescue. Instead, a sharp pain bloomed in your back and a scream ripped from your throat as the sharp pain was torn from your back and renewed in your flank. Ghostface’s hand tangled into your hair and your head connected with the wall, leaving you engulfed in darkness.

—

When you came to, your head was pounding. You could feel a dull pressure in your flank and something warm and sticky was running down your scalp, and was the room spinning? What room where you even in? What day is it? Shit… what happened to you?

“Oh look, you live.” You groaned and turned your head towards the mechanical voice. Ghostface was lounged in a plush chair, legs spread as if he were right at home. “You know, you’re a tricky one! Who knew you’d put up a fight!”

Oh right… he caught you…

“What do you want from me…” You slurred, trying to focus on stringing your words together. How concussed where you? Ghostface tilted his head. “Are you going to murder me?”

“Aw, don’t be scared, sweetheart, that part will be quick.” He stood and casually made his way to the side of the bed, gripping the knife that was still jammed into my side. His unoccupied hand clamped over my mouth as he slowly twisted the blade, my muffled screams having little affect on his sympathy as I thrashed and began to cry. Ghostface chuckled. “The part before however, I’ll be taking my sweet time.”

“Fuck you! Fuck you, fuck you!” You barked, squirming as he ran his leather clad fingers down the column of your throat.

“Sucks that your boyfriend broke up with you, huh?” He teased. “Maybe you wouldn’t have been alone tonight, huh?”

“Wh-How do you know that?”

“Speaking of, have you heard from him lately? I think I saw somewhere in the paper that there were two bodies butchered beyond belief.” Your eyes widened. “Maybe you should’ve gone to the Gazette’s party, but I was counting on you being a recluse instead. You’re so predictable, doll. And a dumb bitch too. You really shouldn’t just go around telling people so much about yourself. That’s dangerous, you never know who exactly you’re talking to.”

“How do you know all of this? The party, the break up, who the hell are you!?” Tears spilled out of the corners of your eyes as Ghostface stroked your hair and stared at you, seemingly taking in your pathetic, half dead state. “Why are you doing this?”

Ghostface remained silent, but his hand rose up towards that mask and you knew what it meant. It meant whatever chance you had of getting out of this alive. It meant you were doomed to end up on the front page of the Gazette. You could see it now, ‘The Ghostface Killer Strikes Again, One Dead’. What you couldn’t foresee was the face behind the screaming plastic mask, because you would have never guessed that Jed Olsen’s brown eyes would be staring back at you. “Hey there, sweetheart.”

“No… No, no, it’s not y- it can’t be you, Jed!” You sobbed as he ran his fingers through the blood on your cheek and examined them. You thrashed against the restraints on your wrists and ankles, desperate to run from him.

“You’re even prettier when you bleed.” You groaned and shake your head as he cleaned the blood away from the leather with his tongue. “Way more satisfying than the look on your ex-boyfriend’s face as he made that phone call to you with a knife to his throat, thought I’d let him go too! Hah!”

“Jed… please don’t do this, please let me go, I won’t tell anyone!” You felt so pathetic begging, but it was all I could do. Jed looked back down at you, a short laugh escaping his lips.

“You won’t tell anyone, huh? I can’t risk it, sweetheart, you’ve seen my face now.” You yelped when he grabbed the knife and ripped it out of your side, examining the way your blood dripped from it. “But our fun is just beginning.”

“Please… I- I’ll- I’ll help you cover up the murders! Please Jed!”

He shushed you softly, stroking your cheek with a gentleness that was almost cruel while his other hand pressed against the wound on my flank. “The more you fight, the harder this will be. You’re going to do everything I tell you, you’re not going to fight, and you’re going to be a good pet. Do you understand?”

“Fuck- Fuck you!” Jed scoffed and jammed his fingers into the wound while holding his hand over your mouth, pulling a weak scream from you. “Jed! Stop! Stop, it hurts!”

“Do you understand now, bitch!?”

You nod reluctantly, gasping when his fingers left the wound. This was it, you were going to die and there was nothing that you could do about it. Worst of all, you liked Jed. He was always nice to you, he was gorgeous, he was smart, he was everything you wished you could have in a man. And even now, even as he played around with you in the cruelest way, he looked ethereal with the eye black and the hood of his outer layer pulled back just enough to let his hair peak through.

“Good pet.” I winced as he patted my cheek a little too aggressively.

“Why are you doing this? Why me? I thought you liked me?”

“Oh doll, I do like you! I think you’re interesting and fun to be around. Why do you think I would hang around you so much at work?” Jed circled the foot of the bed, looking eerily similar to a wolf stalking its prey. “And you were so eager to have my attention.”

“I was being friendly!”

Jed scoffed. “Give me a break, sweetheart. You think you hid it so well, but I didn’t miss the way you blushed, or smiled, or pressed your thighs together when I would lean down over your shoulder to look at what you were working on, my breath on your neck as I praised you. You really enjoyed that.” You gritted your teeth and spat in his face, earning a flinch and an unamused chuckle as he wiped it off. “You’re a lot dumber than I thought.”

He moved like lightning, throwing himself over you and straddling your hips, his buck knife pressed hard against your throat as your eyes went wide in panic. One pull on the knife and you were a goner.

Except there was a part of you, some sick and disgusting part of you, that fucking liked this. Liked the cold, sharp steel biting your skin, liked his weight holding you down, and really liked the press of his bulge against your body. And even more fucked up, you rolled your hips up against it.

“Oh my fucking god. Are you really into this?” Jed leaned down, nearly nose to nose with you. “You little slut, you are into this! Rolling your hips up like a needy little bitch. Want me to take care of that little problem down there for you?”

You whimpered at his cruel words, or maybe you were whimpering because that damn leather felt so good as it glided up your shirt. There was a loud rip as he sliced it off of you, a sadistic grin lighting up his face as he slowly raked his eyes down my body. “Jed I-“

“Danny.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “S-sorry?”

“Name’s Danny. Not Jed.”

This gave you pause, you had so many questions. What else had he lied about? How did he wind up here? Why Roseville? Why choose the Gazette? Why you? “I’m scared… Danny.”

Danny smiled softly and traced your jawline with his knife before stabbing it inches away from your head. “Fear makes pussy taste better.”

You didn’t even get to think before his hand was in your hair and ripping you upward to crash his lips to yours. You whimpered, but didn’t fight, instead you opened your mouth when he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip. You were sick in the head. You had to be. But it felt so good when his fingers slid down your body and pinched your nipple between them.

You let him grope you, you let him run his tongue over yours, you let him do whatever he wanted. He lied to you, he tricked you, and goddammit, he was still the single most sexually appealing person you’d ever laid eyes on. He parted from you and pushed you back down, grinning as he rips the knife out off the pillow and cuts your underwear.

You blushed as he raised it to his nose and inhaled before laughing as his knife slipped back into its sheath. “Pretty fucked up that you’re turned on by a stalker with a knife. I’ll be keeping these.” He stuffed them into his pocket before removing his hood, the shroud, and finally his shirt. Your breath caught in your throat as he stretched and ran his fingers through his hair, locking eyes with him. He was lean, not overly muscular, his chest had various scars, scars from when victims probably fought back. He clearly worked out, you presumed he had to with his… line of work. Danny sighed and leaned down. “You gonna be a good pet for me and be still?”

“Yes…”

“Good.” He nipped your earlobe before he began the torturously slow descent down your body. “I’ve been pining after you for months, sweetheart. But that damn boyfriend of yours…” he sucked a harsh bruise onto your neck. “Always getting in the fuckin’ way. It was so annoying.”

You gasped as he reached your breasts, running his tongue over your nipple, the softness briefly interrupted by the coolness of a ball. You looked down to see a silver ball, a piercing. Because of course he would have one.

Danny continued his descent, kissing and biting your hips until he got where he wanted to be. “And what do we have here, hm?”

Your breath hitched as he slid his hands out of the gloves by his teeth and dragged his cold, bare fingers up your thigh until he was just shy of brushing your vulva. Danny watched your legs tense and your body twitch as he finally ran his fingers between your slit.

“I wouldn’t have guessed being strapped down by a stalker would get you so wet, it’s adorable.” You whimpered as Danny leaned in close to your face and circled you clit slowly with his index and middle fingers. “Such a pathetic slut.”

“N-no!” you protested.

“Oh? You’re not a pathetic slut? Is that why you’re trying to grind on my hand?” he taunted.

“Danny please… I won’t tell anyone, we can be done here!” You felt pathetic begging him for mercy. It was weak and pitiful. “Please.”

“Oh do I love hearing you beg. Tell you what, doll, you play nice and cooperate, and I’ll consider… other options. Deal?” You swallowed, biting back a moan as he pressed a little harder on your clit. That was still Jed’s face hovering above yours. You could pretend it was still him. But pretending would involve ignoring the dull ache in your head from when Ghostface slammed you into the wall. Pretending would involve acting as if the pain from the stab wound on your flank from when Ghostface impaled you didn’t exist. And pretending would involve you looking up at the man with eyeblack and Jed’s face was truly Jed. Jed and not Danny. Jed and not Ghostface. “Tick tock, sweetheart. I’m getting an itch, and I don’t think you want to know what kind of itch it is.”

Danny pulled his fingers away from your clit and pressed them into the stab wound, grinning as a scream fell out of your throat. “Okay! Yes! Yes! I’ll cooperate! Please stop!”

He pulled them back out and shoved them knuckle deep into your pussy. Your eyes widened as your blood mixed with the wetness between your legs, a soft moan falling from your lips.

“You like that don’t you, baby?” He grinned in a way that would have been charming, but with all the eyeblack and blood that splattered on his cheek, it was simply sinister. “Maybe you’re sicker in the head than I thought.”

“That’s- fuck- that’s a lot of talk coming from the man who- mmh- who stalks people like a pervert!” you snapped, back arching as he stroked his fingers in that delicious come hither motion.

“I know I’m sick in the head.” Danny leaned in close, breath ghosting over your lips as he growled. “But you’re the one loving every second of this pervert fucking your hole with my fingers.”

“Shut up!” you snapped, gasping as his fingers spread into a v-shape and stretched your walls.

“You act so prim and proper at work.” Danny kissed your jaw bone with a laugh. “You put on this facade of the young and perky reporter with a great boyfriend and a great life. But I know what you need, Princess.” You cried out as his fingers left your pussy. “You need it filthy. You need it rough. You need me.”

Your breath heaved in your chest as he spread his fingers, streetlights gleaming against the juices that webbed between his long fingers.

“Open.”

“Wh-“ he shoved his fingers into your mouth with so much force you gagged. Danny laughed like a maniac.

“That’s it. Lick them clean and I might give you what you want.”

Fuck. His fingers tasted like your pussy and the copper of blood. This was unhinged. What the fuck were you thinking?

“That’s a good pet.” Danny’s fingers slipped from your mouth and he smiled. “Keep it up, maybe I can find a new use for you besides adding to my body count.”

“Danny-“

He ignored the weak cry of his name as he pushed apart your legs, groaning at the slick folds of your pussy, spotted with blood from his handiwork. Speaking of…

You cried out in pain as he brushed the stab wound. “Fucking hell! Stop!” Your cries were only fuel to his desperate longing and lust as his fingers played around in the wound. How long had he dreamed of this? How many days had he gone home, jacked off in his chair, went and killed, only to be back in the shower beating his cock again to you. He was obsessed.

“When I’m through with you, doll…” Danny growled, “I’m going to have you screaming my name, I’ll infect your brain like a parasite. You won’t be able to even comprehend what happened to you. I’ll have you completely cumdrunk.”

You felt breathless when he finally stopped digging around in the wound, your vision was fuzzy, your head was pounding, and yet still, fucking still! Your pussy was soaking.

“Pathetic, really, how wet you get when I play with my marks.” His dark eyes rose to yours. “I think it’s time I get to taste that sweet pussy.”

You whimper as he pressed his lips to your knee, trailing his tongue and that piercing down, down, down until he bit down on your inner thigh. “Fuck! Ow!”

Danny let go and pressed and open mouth kiss to the bite mark. “How I wish I could feel you pull my hair but… I wouldn’t want you thinking up any ways to start fighting.”

He laughed at your anger before his tongue was running up your slit in the blink of an eye. Oh god it was so warm. You gasp and let out a long, low groan as Danny focused his attention on your clit. You moved your hips best you could as his bloody hands gripped them, leaving red stains on your skin. His eyes lifted and he smiled wickedly.

“That’s it baby…” he lapped as your clit. “Make those pretty noises for me.”

You sighed and arched as tears formed in your eyes. Why did you like this? He was a murderer, a psychopath, he was a liar who created this persona to charm and hypnotize. And you fell for it.

Danny growled and nipped roughly at your clit. You look down with a yelp, locking eyes with him as he slightly lifted an eyebrow in a silent warning before fingers slipped in as he circled and massaged the tongue piercing over your clit.

“You,” he began, looking down at his fingers pumping in and out of your pussy before resting his head on your thigh. “better keep your mind from wondering. I’m all you should be fucking looking at.” He punctuated his point with a deep shove of his fingers. “Understand?”

“Fuck! Yes…” Danny grinned and nodded.

“You wanna cum don’t you?” You didn’t respond, just moaned as he stroked your G-spot. “I asked you a question, bitch!”

“Yes… fuck, yes I wanna cum…” Your cheeks burned as you admitted it. He was hot. This was hot. This was gross. He was gross. You reached that point, your legs began to shake and your body tightened as you exploded, cum flowing out onto his fingers. Danny grinned like a wolf, leaning down as his fingers withdrew.

You whimpered as his tongue touched your asshole, dragging all the way up to catch what dripped out. “God fucking damn, you taste so fucking delicious.” His fingers smeared your cum down your chest as he tweaked one nipple, then the other to illicit cries out of you. “I’m going to fuck you so good, you won’t be able to think straight.”

He stood and slowly unzipped his black pants before working it all down and narrowing his eyes at you. “If I take off those restraints, are you going to behave?”

The black around his eyes made them more intense as he sent that threat to my core. “Yes…”

“Yes, what?” he growled.

“Yes sir?”

He smirked and found the knife again, slicing your restraints off your legs before stealing you and cutting the ones from your arms. You hesitated then brought your arms to his shoulders. How could he look so good with your blood splattered on him? You couldn’t deny it any longer, you were grossly into this. You were into him. Even if he wasn’t Jed. Even if he was Ghostface. You were into everything about this. Sure, the blood loss made it easier, but you accepted your fate.

Danny leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. It was softer, more chaste. His hand drifted down your torso, lifting to grab his cock in his hand, pumping it before he teased the head against your slit.

“Please…”

“Look me in the eyes and try again, sweetheart.” he whispered.

You sighed, lifting your eyes to his and murmured “Please fuck me, Mr. Ghostface.”

Danny laughed then thrusted deep into you. You cried out as he began a brutal pace, your legs instinctually wrapping around his waist and your nails digging into his chest. “Fuck, so tight… god dammit!”

You whimpered and arched your back. The wound in your side still bled, you could feel it smear as his hand passed over it to pull a brief cry of pain from you. He grabbed the knife again and pressed it against your throat.

“You’re so lovely, covered in blood.” He purred, pressing harder, eyes darkening as he grinned. Your own eyes widened as he pumped faster, fear taking over as you. Danny groaned. “God, you slut. You just clenched at the thought of his knife slicing you right open.”

Danny moaned as you clinched again, then his eyes sparkled with an idea. He pinned you down at the elbow, exposing your inner bicep, the soft flesh exposed as he brought the hunting knife to the skin.

“No! Danny no please don’t cut me again!” You screamed when the blade bit into the skin, a sob wrenching from your throat as he carved at your arm. Each scream drew a moan from him, for every cut forced a squeeze from you. “Stop! Please! It hurts so fucking much! Fuck you!”

“Aw baby. But you’re squeezing me- fuck- so good.” He thrusted unevenly, clearly close to an orgasm. “Fuck, c’mon sweetheart…”

With one last deep slice, he came, cumming inside you as he practically roared with relief. You started sobbing, blood pouring from your arm and side, that headache that you forgot about coming back with a vengeance. The room was getting fuzzy. It hurt. You didn’t know exactly what it was that hurt the most, but it all hurt.

Danny smiled, slowly pulling out of you, sitting back on his heels and looking down at his handiwork, almost admiring it. He stayed straddling you, then started laughing again. “You know sweetheart… I think I can make a deal for you.”

You gazed up blearily, vision going in and out. “Deal…?”

“I’ll keep you alive… but not here. No… no Im taking you with me.” Danny’s breathing picked up. “It needs you. It needs a survivor. A sacrifice…”

Your brows creased as he raised the knife. “No… you… you said I’ll live!”

“I’m taking you where I’m going. We’re you will be mine forever.” He stabbed down and pierced your heart, ripping the knife out to slash your throat. Blood filled your lungs as you coughed and choked. Your eyes widened as your head lolled, eyes registering what he marred into your arm. ‘MINE’.

As the world faded, Danny’s fingers stroked your hair. “I’ll see you real soon, sweetheart.”

#horror #danny johnson x reader #jed olsen x reader #ghostface dbd #ghostface x reader #ghostface #slashers #dead by daylight #dbd killer #slasher

[stories4thepack]

Evil or Broken?

Spider Gwen x Villian Reader

Warnings: swearing, violence, blood, death (Jolly stuff right?)

(This might become a two partner or even a series depending on the popularity/ comments)

“Villains. Stories depict them as emotionless, and movies display them as hateful. The newspapers create blood thirsty monsters, but the internet declares that they lack humanity. Whoever you ask, villains will always be the bad guys, never has anyone paused to actually discover what happened to them. 

Hero’s are the good guys, the ones celebrated and praised, the ones holidays are named in honor of. They are the ones allowed to tell their tales and they are the only ones who own the tragic origin stories.”

What about your story?

Gwen Stacy was your best friend. You had known her since she was 4, but when you grew up, you realized that you saw her as more. Her deep eyes never failed to put you in a trance and her gentle, humorous tone brought a warmth to your chest. You always felt nervous around her, terrified you would say or do anything to make her aware of your growing feelings. You loved Gwen Stacy. 

Then the worst happened, a serum twisted a man into a monster, who the news called ‘The Lizard’. You were told to stay inside for your own safety, but your brother, Peter Parker, was out there somewhere. Something had told you that he was in danger. So, you ran to find him. 

Spider-woman was fighting the Lizard when you happened across them, she was throwing punch after punch and web after web. But the creatures clawed hands grasped her by the waist, throwing her against a nearby wall. She slumped against it, groaning in pain. You had little time to think before you threw yourself in front of the girl

You would never forget the feeling of the creatures' claws tearing through your stomach and every night, you rewatched as your blood flew across the alleyway and how Ghost-spiders covered hands grasped your body as you collapsed.  

“Tell Gwen I’m sorry.”

You had told Ghost-Spider as she held you in her arms. Your vision was dark, but you watched as she tore her mask from her head, revealing her perfect face from beneath it. Blood covered her suit, but she couldn’t care. She held your body as you muttered you last words.

“I love you.”

Your hand fell limp in hers, a tear frozen on your emotionless face. The Lizard stood silent and still, perhaps fighting his instincts, perhaps aware of what he had just done, perhaps your brother looked on in horror behind his slit eyes. You would never know. The fight ended with both parkers lying dead in the dark alleyway and you never knowing about your brother’s crimes. 

Later, when you awoke to a burning sensation spreading through your body and the reeking smell of death from the darkness you lay in. You knew you shouldn’t be there, not just in the morgue you discovered you lay in but also in existence. You knew that you should not be alive. 

You had managed to wriggle into a jacket and clambered out of the Morgue, too weak to walk and managed to discover your invulnerability when attacked by a pack of stray, rabid dogs lurking nearby. The other abilities followed suit, your increased strength and speed allowing you to throw the mutts aside, the claws sharp enough to dig into brick that pulled you up the alley wall, the instincts and endurance of a creature far beyond your own, allowing you to throw yourself from the top of the 7ft high building to the busy street below. It was as if you were injected with a serum that gave you the same abilities as The Lizard, but without the hideous, blood thirsty monster.

Your first thought was to find Gwen and driven by desperation to pull her into your arms, you followed her scent. You watched her leave school, head held down, books clasped to her chest. The left side of her head had been shaved and the stench of depression filled your nose. You crouched on the edge of the balcony, claws digging into the stone, a growl rippling past your lips at the sad sight. Gwen's head snapped upward, meeting the unfamiliar gaze of the figure lurking on the roof, a white doctor's coat thrown over their shoulders and bloody bandages covering every inch of their body. She sees the figure stiffen, head tilting in curiosity. They turn quickly, leaving the girl to dart home, struggle into her suit before allowing her Spidey senses to guide her to the being.  

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

“How did we get here Gwen?”

You ask from beneath the metal mask. The memories that were made over a year ago fading away, allowing you to return to the dark cell you kept your prisoner in. Her wrists cuffed in heavy chains. You wear a black shirt with matching trousers, above that were silver armor plates covering your chest, shoulder and knees. A dagger hangs off the left side of your belt and a pistol on the other. The news had depicted you as a Villain. As an emotionless, hateful, blood thirsty monster lacking all sense of humanity. They called you “The Shadow”, catchy right?

“I keep telling you, I don’t know who Gwen is!”

Ghost-spider calls from behind you, her mask still on even though you desire to rip it from her face. You can hear her heart pounding beneath her suit, she was scared, perhaps terrified of you.

“I have done nothing wrong Gwen; you are here because I do not want to hurt you.”

She snorts, making your head snap towards her, your eyes growing into a burning green, one that Gwen recognized and fears immediately; Peter Parkers eyes went the exact same color before he turned into The Lizard. Before she killed him. The news depicted her as a murderer, that she was responsible for the fate of two “innocent” siblings, and in some sickening sense, she was.

“You murdered Peter Parker.”

You state, turning slowly towards her, she stutters unable to make words, too shocked that her captor brought that up and too terrified to act. 

“Why-why? Are you doing this? For him? To Finish his work?”

You grab her throat.

“He did nothing wrong!”

Your anger drives your actions as you finally rip her mask from her head. Revealing her terrified face from beneath the fabric. The sight makes you release your grip, your eyes fading to a color Gwen recognizes, the eyes now filled with the life she saw leave you but lacking the deep gentleness she’d fallen in love with. 

“Y-Y/n?”

She asks, watching as you turn the other way. She can see a tear roll down your cheek, vanishing underneath your metal mask, she fights the instinct to pull you into her arms, not even sure if it is you. Your hand reached up to your mask, pressing on a button on the side which clips it open, it falls away in your hand, revealing the long scars trailing up the side of your face, disappearing into the hair hidden under your black hood. Gwen sobs, her hand reaching up to your head, you freeze, allowing her to lightly trail the marks in your skin. The Lizards claws replaced by Gwens feather light touch. 

“You-your alive.”

She cries, her words mixing with the sobs crawling up her throat. The sound breaks the heart you thought you had lost, bringing that familiar, welcome warmth back to your chest, pushing out the cold. 

“How?”

she finally asks, to which your shrug, sadly shaking your head. A question you are yet to answer yourself. Gwen leans into you, placing her forehead against your shoulder. 

“NO!”

You roar, tearing away from her, the voice does not belong to you, its hisses and burns in your throat. You claw at your head, hood falling away to reveal your hair, cut lazily short and covered in mud. You bark, black veins crawling up your throat as your eyes darken to an evil emerald. 

“Shut up!”

You beg, falling against the wall beside Gwen. You thrash, bark, cry, the mask falls from your hand and crashes loudly on the stone floor. You lurch onto the ground, claws digging into the stone as your back arches and teeth grind against each other. 

“No, I will not hurt her!”

You scream, fighting whatever creature you have inside you. Gwen begins to fight her chains, attempting to tear them from her wrists as you pound on the floor, bloodying your fist as you break into the stone. She screams your name, begging you to stop and stares at the blood flowing down your hand. 

“Gwen is Spider woman”

You suddenly sigh, head turning eerily towards her as if you had become possessed. A snarl pushed past your lips as you carelessly crawled onto your feet. Gwen sobs petrified of whatever you were fighting.

“And Spider woman killed your brother.”

You stalk towards her, the voice muttering from your mouth was not a welcome or comforting sound. It croaked and hissed with every violent spasm causing your body to shake and twitch. 

“Y/n-”

“And she didn’t even kill The Lizard, did she? He is still out there, somewhere!”

“NO, NO I killed him. He is dead!”

“SHUT UP!”

The creature screams. Gwen can see the way your jaw tightens, as if attempting to silence the creature. You had been corrupted by whatever serum you had been injected with, no doubt by your brother. Gwen tugs at the chains, stumbling forward as they fall partly from the wall. 

“She killed your brother because she hates you.”

The creature continues to mutter through your mouth, taking another menacing step closer. Gwen tears at the metal around her wrists, her fingers finally digging under them. 

“A life for a life.”

You mutter, throwing yourself at the hero. She tears her hand through the metal quickly enough to be able to web herself away from the claws aimed at her head. You bark, eyes snapping up to where she is stuck on the ceiling, amazed that she has broken free. 

“Coward.”

You scream, leaping at the brick wall before stalking your way up, never breaking eye contact. Gwen lifts her hand up, attempting to show that she is not armed, but your approach does not cease.

“Your brother was The Lizard, Y/n, and I can almost guarantee that he-”

“Shut up.”

You scream, but there is something behind the words, mixed with animalistic growls. Pain. She knew she was getting through to you, knew that you were listening to her. 

“I can almost guarantee that whatever he injected himself with, he injected into you! It just hasn’t had the same effect.”

You freeze, muttering under your breath before screaming again. The sound makes Gwen flinch, but she continues, watching the way your eyes flicker from green to their normal color and back again.

“I did kill him Y/n, when I fought him. You died, you died in my fucking arms, and I could do nothing. I saw the creature and-”

She swallows back the lump in her throat, you haven't moved, head tilted and watching her. The emerald glare had reduced to a lighter, broken gaze which made more tears flow down her hot cheeks. 

“I was angry, I had lost you. It hurt and I just- I just wanted revenge. I had no idea he was, that he had turned into that creature. I am sorry. For everything.”

You growl, approaching slowly, almost appearing cautious during the action. Gwen keeps her hand raised in case you aren’t truly back. 

“You're lying.”

You suddenly shout and pounce at her, Gwen shoots a web at you before pulling it and you onto the floor below. You hit the ground hard, groaning as you attempt to get up. Your hand goes to your head, blood dripping down the side of it. Gwen lands elegantly on the floor, raising her hands again to show she will not hurt you, that you know now to be a lie. Your blood covers the tips of your finger when you take your hand away from the wound, a smile spreads across your face at the sight of it. Your skin immediately begins to knit itself back together and there is quickly no wound in sight. Gwen takes a step back as you begin to cackle

“You can hurt me as much as you like, but you will have to kill me to win!”

You leap once more at the startled hero, able to force your claws into her shoulder and pin her against the wall. Your talons press against the skin of her throat, she looks into your eyes, praying for some sign of you beyond your feral stare. 

“Tell me why I should not avenge my brother right now?”

“He was the Lizard.”

She responds quickly, hoping that the fact he became a creature that wreaked havoc on the city would get through to you. You force her head against the wall, making her cry out.

“Would you kill me then? Am I no longer a friend to you because I am the villain.”

Gwen freezes, hearing the slight familiarity in your voice and how the reptilian hisses of your words attempt to smother your own, human voice. Gwen’s hand goes to the side of your face, the action makes you flinch before digging your claws deeper into her skin, she hisses in pain, a tear welling up in her eye. Gwen feels her heart pounding with fear and perhaps something else as she mutters

“You’re so much more than a friend to me.”

She hears a breath catch in your throat and notices the way your gaze darts to her lips for a brief second before you shake your head. You growl again, but the hero hears the whine hiding behind the sound. 

“Please, don’t kill me yet.”

She begs as your claws dig deeper into her throat, the first drops of blood dripping onto your talons. You shake your head again, desperate to both break free and remain captive. Your eyes meet hers again, your emerald gaze filled with apologetic tears as your dig your claws deeper into her skin

“Just- give me a final moment to do this”

Before you have time to respond, she presses her lips to yours, grasping your shoulders as you attempt to break free. She presses her body against yours, keeping her lips firmly in place as her eyes close. She feels you growl against her, before your hand falls away and she is pushed firmly against the wall, your lips pressing desperately into her own. You purr slightly as her hand trails up your neck and into your hair, melting in her hold. When she finally breaks away, your head goes to her shoulder, face disappearing into the crook of her neck as you wrap your arms around her. 

“Y/n”

She mutters, wrapping her arms tightly around you, desperate not to let you go again. If only she knew what was to happen….

(I will do more parts if wanted, also, I was thinking of doing another Wednesday x vampire reader or even another character x vampire reader form the series. Let me know what you think)

#Gwen Stacy #hailee steinfield x reader #jenna ortega #requests #fanfic #hailee steinfeld #Superhero x villian #villian reader #Avengers #Avengers x reader #spider woman x reader #spider woman #ghost spider #ghost spider x reader #vampire #ghost spider fanart #spider gwen #miles morales #spiderverse

[chaeiimimi]

Jujutsu Kaisen men and a Single Mom

Hi! I originally wrote these scenarios for Haikyuu men, but since I made the decision to write for jjk as well, I figured this will be a fitting scenario for jjk men, please note that some of the characters are aged up and my ask box is and comments are open for suggestions, also take note that some of the plots may have been twisted to be more suitable for the scenario

SUGURU GETO

Geto may not seem like it, but he is good with kids, he loves and adores them, as a matter of fact, he wouldn’t be a teacher at Jujutsu High if he did not like them (yes, he also likes troublemaker teenagers)

So imagine his delight when a chubby baby girl walks toward him and raises her hands to him indicating she wanted to be carried 

the long-haired man did not think twice and carried her, how could he refuse when she was looking up at him with her big bright eyes, her pigtails bouncing with every move she makes, her pouty lips pouting at him, and her plump pink cheeks were begging him to pinch them

Geto was very fond of kids but holy hell he was enamored with the one he was holding now, she was so bubbly, so precious, not to mention extremely cute and pretty that he couldn’t help but get curious as to how her mom looked like, he was almost tempted to take the baby home with him and hide her from her parents

but all of that was thrown out the window when he hears the voice of a woman calling out for what he assumes is the baby he was holding right now 

“Maya baby! Where are you?” you called out, you were talking to your students about the field trip you were having and all of a sudden your daughter has already walked off somewhere, you were not too worried since you attached a talisman to her clothes for you to be able to find her easily 

one look at you and Geto’s plan to commit kidnapping was replaced with stealing one man’s family, he has never felt jealous in his life before, a beautiful wife and an unbelievably adorable daughter? damn your husband must have been a national hero in his past life cause holy hell he already won in life 

you saw your daughter being carried by a long-haired man and you immediately went up to him 

“excuse me, sir, I believe you have my baby” you smiled politely at him, he looks at you and smiles

“I believe I do” he says and hands you your daughter

Geto was surprised, aside from you being extremely beautiful he could barely keep his knees from wobbling, he also senses cursed energy from you, he sensed it from your daughter but he assumed that it was just because she was young, yours was way more prominent and noticeable 

he cleared his throat preparing to ask the question “hey I know we just met and you don’t know me but are you-”

“yes, yes I am” you smiled knowingly 

a Jujutsu Sorcerer?” he finishes his sentence inside his head

“I am a reverse cursed technique user, I assume you do  Shikigami ?” you asked in a friendly manner 

he smirks at you, you had the same technique as Ieri but you two were very different, you were bubbly and friendly, no wonder your daughter was like that

“close, nice guess though, how did you know?” 

“i have a keen eye on stuff like that” you say ever so proudly 

you were cute he thought 

“I’m actually here with my students, they’re here for joint training with Tokyo Jujutsu High School of Sorcery 

Geto felt like he hit the jackpot cause what are the fucking odds, for once, the gods were actually in his favor, he tells you that he teaches there and proceeds to introduce himself and you do the same thing 

“thank goodness I ran into you Suguru-san, you made my job a lot easier,” you say brightly

“ you know I was surprised by you, never thought such a pretty woman would be a Jujutsu Sorcerer” he can’t hold his tongue

you chuckled, “not pretty enough to make my ex-husband stay”, you can’t hold your tongue either

you both stopped at the realization of the joke that just came out of your mouth

“I am so sorry Suguru-san that was such a bad and inappropriate joke” you apologized profusely 

Geto did not mind the joke, he liked it, no he loved it, he loved that joke a little bit too much

he was definitely getting a date with you

GOJO SATORU 

It was very rare for Gojo to get time to himself, aside from teaching he was also a highly in-demand Jujutsu sorcerer, so best believe in those rare free times, he would spend it roaming the town to hunt for good food and by food, he means sweets

Gojo decided to start his day off with an over-sweetened latte and about three different slices of cake, nothing was going to ruin his day, not even this weak ass tiny curse sitting on his shoulders, he doesn’t even bother to exorcise it 

he was enjoying his first slice of cake which was a strawberry shortcake when a little boy about the age of four walks up to him, Gojo found him pretty cute, he was wearing jeans and a bomber jacket since it was already November

he can’t take his eyes off the kid, the blue-eyed man had his heart pounding, the little boy was too adorable 

he stops directly in front of Gojo and points at his shoulder

“mister, you have a little buggy on your shoulder” 

Gojo was confused at first, but then it hit him like a train, this boy can see curses and it’s a lot more likely that he also possesses cursed energy

Gojo did a swift motion with his hand that made the curse on his  shoulder fade away 

“and the buggy is gone” the little boy cheered

Gojo patted the little boy’s head 

“Hi buddy what’s your name?” he asked the little boy 

“Kino! My name is Kino!” the boy answered enthusiastically 

“Well Kino, why are you here alone? are you with your mom?” 

“Mommy told me to wait here” he says

Gojo smiled and helped the boy up so he could sit next to him, they had a solid conversation for five minutes, Gojo asked him about these “buggies” he sees and Kino enthusiastically answers his questions, the boy was very lively which makes Gojo love him anymore, The Gojo Satoru is smitten by a little boy

“Sometimes they’re small and very cute, but sometimes they’re very big and scary and-”

“Kino!” Kino was interrupted by a lady calling out to him 

“Mommy!” he exclaims and Gojo’s eyes immediately landed on you 

for the second time today, Gojo is smitten, you were so breath-taking to look at, you had a sundress on and your hair was neatly clipped together by a hair claw

he couldn’t take his eyes off of you 

“Mommy, come here! Me and Mr, Gojo were talking about buggies!” your son says excitedly 

you went over to them and greeted the unbelievably attractive man your son was talking to, damn, if only you knew he was three times more attracted to you 

you politely greeted him and introduced yourself

“Ms. Y/N if you don’t mind having a conversation with me about Kino’s “buggy” friends” he smiles, but it was a knowing smile, you shifted in your sit but nodded nonetheless

Gojo smiled and tapped Kino gently on the head and your son fell asleep 

“don’t worry, he’s just asleep” Gojo smiles reassuringly 

you nodded 

“I know he can see them...” you started, Gojo sips on his coffee

“His father was one of you...” you explained to him how you were impregnated by your ex-boyfriend who was a Jujutsu Sorcerer and how he died in battle way before Kino was born, you also explained how it has been hard for you to find the perfect learning place for him cause he’s been seeing things everywhere and you can’t explain something you can’t see to your own son

unknowingly, you were pouring out your frustrations to a stranger who wears sunglasses indoors

In all honesty, Gojo wasn’t paying attention to every word you say, he was overjoyed with the fact that you, a gorgeous woman with one hell of a cute son, were single 

Gojo’s head was immediately filled with plans on how to make you his while helping your son, it wasn’t hard for Gojo to come up with a plan though afterall, he was the strongest Jujutsu sorcerer 

being born with a cursed energy subjects you to be a prey of every curse you meet, the older you get, the more prominent it becomes and the scarier curses go after you, he had a feeling you know that and that’s why you were desperate for help

Gojo was doing this for Kino, to be able to protect himself. He was doing this for you, a mother, to stop worrying about his son. 

He was also doing this for himself, 'cause he’ll be damned if he let this chance go, an adorable son and a gorgeous girlfriend? hell yeah he’s in, he doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but one look at you and he’s a changed man

he was definitely going to make you his, even if it meant sacrificing the very little free time he gets

expect a handsome teacher at your door every weekend with a flower in hand for you and a gift for your son, he also brings three highschoolers with him from time to time who never fails to make the little lessons with Kino a lot more livelier 

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen

[its-vannah]

Midnight Rain | Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader

A/N: Y'all have no idea how happy I am to finally release this chapter. Although this series is a crossover between Jace x Reader one-shots and Midnights, this one adds in a classic fairytale spin, as it's based off of Sleeping Beauty (the Disney version, we don't condone the original). I hope you guys enjoy reading this one as much as I loved writing it.

Warnings: Mentions of death, fighting, violence

Midnights Masterlist

Just what we wanted, just what we wanted

Everything had gone to plan. You were tucked away in one of the far eastern towers in Asterthal, forever at rest while your palace was in shambles.

My town was a wasteland

Homes had been burned, the palace ransacked, bodies were left littering the ground.

Full of cages, full of fences

Sites that had once attracted outsiders were now unrecognizable, reduced to ashes. Those who had survived the attack were kept inside cells beneath the palace, waiting for their executions.

And the life I gave away

If you had been awake to see your people now, you would've been devastated. But after one of your friends, who had been working as a spy for the Queen, slipped you a sleeping concoction, you were unable to escape slumber.

But for some, it was paradise

But the Queen was delighted to hear of your capture. The alliance between the eldest Velaryon-Targaryen son, Jacaerys, and the House of Asterthal's eldest daughter would have been unstoppable.

I wanted that pain

She had ordered your execution, but been advised to put you to rest rather than death. Anything more and she'd be tried for treason against a noble house.

Chasing that fame

So, Queen Allicent sat beside the Iron Throne, a goblet of wine in her hand as she toasted to her recent victory. Long live the Queen.

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

When the news reached Jacaerys that the House of Asterthal had been attacked, his heart dropped. He feared that it was too late, that your life had already been taken.

All of me changed

But when it was revealed that you were alive, he immediately sought out his mother, searching every hall to find her.

Once he spotted her in her chambers, he fell to his knees before her.

Rhanerya looked down at her soon, concern in her eyes, "I'm afraid you've heard?"

My boy was a montage

"She's alive," He managed to blurt out, clasping his hands together, "Mother, please, I must find her."

She hesitated, "Jacaerys, it could be far too dangerous for you to go to her aid. We must think this through."

"I love her, mother. I wish to marry her," He said between bated breaths, "She's everything I ever wanted—everything I needed."

Rhaenyra bowed her head, thinking back to when she lost the man she loved, "My son, do you understand the dangers you will face on your journey?"

Jace nodded, "I understand and accept the challenges I will face."

"Then you have my support," She said, pulling him into a hug, pressing a kiss to his temple, "I love you, my son, come back to me."

Picture perfect, shiny family

"I will," He promised, before pulling away, "And I'll return with her."

On the ride to Asterthal, memories plagued Jace's mind of when you had met. At the time, he had no idea that you were the woman he was supposed to wed. You were simply a girl taking a stroll through the forest.

"Are you alone?" Jace had asked, pulling his horse on a lead behind him, "It isn't safe out here."

But you merely smiled, "I've been living here my whole life, I understand the dangers."

"You live in the woods?"

Nodding, you continued walking, "My family lives in a cabin farther up the hill. It isn't too bad, really. Just farther away from the town."

'Cause he was sunshine

"Do you need a ride back? The sun is about to set."

Shaking your head, you turned back to face him. It was only then that your beauty struck him. You were gentle, steady, but he knew that there was a fire that lay inside you.

I broke his heart 'cause he was nice

"I was told to never trust a stranger," You replied, "But I thank you for your kindness."

"Then let us not be strangers," He bowed, "Prince Jacaerys Velaryon."

Shocked, you immediately curtsied, "I'm sorry, my prince. I didn't know—please accept my apologies. I hadn't known you were to be in Asterthal."

"It's to discuss arrangements between me and the princess."

He wanted a bride

You tilted your head, "The princess? Why, she's been locked away for years. Since she was a babe. Only when the time is right will she be able to wed."

He sighed, "I'm hoping the time is now. We need Asterthal's support now more than ever, with everything going on."

"Then, I wish you luck, my prince."

"I'll gladly accept it, if you allow me to escort you home. I don't feel right allowing a lady like yourself to go on alone," He said.

You hesitated, unsure, "I wouldn't want to impose upon you."

"It would be my pleasure," Jace said, a reassuring smile on his face, "The Prince's orders."

All of me changed like midnight

You returned his smile, "Then I'll gladly accept your offer."

"It's Y/N," You breathed, "My name, it's Y/N."

He walked beside you up the hill towards your cabin, leading his horse behind him. The two of you talked about everything: your upbringings, ability to relish in the peace and silence of the woods, and even shared stories of yourselves that no one had seen. It was refreshing. But then you arrived at your cottage, and your shoulders suddenly dropped.

"I suppose this is goodbye, my prince."

All the love we unravel

Jace sighed, bowing his head, "I look forward to meeting you again, Lady Y/N."

He was sunshine, I was midnight rain

Drowning, you shook your head, "I'm not sure that's a good idea, my prince. You're betrothed. It wouldn't be becoming of us to see one another again."

He paused for a moment, "I nearly forgot."

You reached out to grab his hand, giving it a small squeeze, "As did I. But there's a stark difference between the world's we're used to. I'm not sure it would be wise for this to continue. I apologize, my prince."

He wanted it comfortable

"It's I who should be apologizing, my Lady," Jace said, "I've become comforted by your presence in this short period of time. I bid you farewell."

With that, pain heavy in his chest, he pressed a kiss to your hand, walking away with a heavy heart.

"I was comfortable, too," You muttered, leaning against the doorframe.

Now, riding on his dragon to Asterthal, Jace couldn't help but smile. From the moment he met you, he knew you were going to have a big meaning in his life.

A slow-motion, love potion

But until he had spoken with the Lord and Lady of Asterthal, he hadn't known that their daughter, Y/N, had been hidden away in a nearby forest. As soon as he heard your name, his heart swelled. He had known it then, and he knew it now: you were the love of his life.

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

Dismounting his dragon, Jacaerys fought his way through the knights guarding the entrance to your chambers, his sword impaling and beheading several men who came his way.

Their swords had been held high, but their skill was no match for the young prince and his dragon.

Finally reaching your chamber, he threw the doors open, panting.

Throwing his sword down beside him, Jace kneeled down beside your bed.

Pressing two fingers to the side of your neck, he felt a steady pulse.

Reaching into his satchel and removing an antidote, he held the vile firmly in his hands as he twisted the cork off.

Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he opened your lips and poured the liquid down your throat.

A deep portal, time travel

Waiting for a sign to show that you were awake, it took a few minutes before you stirred, groaning in your sleep.

Your body had to have been sore from the position you had been in the past few days. So when you opened your eyes, meeting Jace's gaze, it didn't take you long to lurch forward, grabbing his collar and pulling him towards you.

Lips moving against each other, you held him close to you until you were both so out of breath that you couldn't help but pull away.

Except on midnights like this (midnights like this)

Resting against your forehead, Jace smiled, "I knew it was you.

#fanfiction #jacerys velaryon #jace velaryon #jacerys targaryen #jacerys x reader #jace velaryon x reader #jace valaryon x reader #jace strong #jacerys valeryon x reader #jacerys #jacerys strong #jacaerys velaryon #prince jacaerys #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys imagine #jacaerys velaryon x reader #hotd jacaerys #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon #hotd fic #hotd x reader #hotd #mudnights #midnight rain #sleeping beauty #fic #jace #velaryon

[kirasgirl]

GOD COMPLEX| jujutsu Kaisen x FEM!reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

SHE ANSWERED THE PHONE.

"Mrs. (name), there is a guest here at the reception, should I release him for you?" The voice of the young receptionist was heard through the line.

The actress agreed, causing the receptionist to immediately disconnect the call, releasing the guest to her suite.

The girl crawled her feet on the cold floor of her suite, the silk robe in red color covering her naked body.

The single and thin layer of fabric against your soft skin.

Her cold hands going against the glass containing wine that had been served as soon as she arrived at the exclusive suite for her. Feeling the liquid go down her throat, she sighed.

Having canceled the small meeting he had with Gojo earlier, because of the stress he was in, wanting to look for some source to calm down.

Let it not be the drugs.

The bell of the suite rang, her ears sharpening before she fixed her hair briefly before walking in gentle steps to the door. Hands so soft against the door, typing the small password before the door opens.

The wide view in front of you making you open a smile from ear to ear.

The tall man in front of him licked his lips, his look so sinful walking all over the girl's body, absorbing every detail he can capture.

From the silk fabric fallen on her body, the fabric almost transparent, understanding where the young woman wanted to go at that moment.

He wasn't silly.

And much less was she.

The clothes he wore being his work clothes, a little more sloppy. The white shirt unbuttoned slightly to his chest, exposing his toned and large chest. The coat he accompanied with his pants in his hands while his hair remained lying on his face as always.

The smell of cologne entering the girl's nostrils so that she felt like she had been bewitched.

Without prior notice, his hands clung to the boy's shirt, pulling him inside and closing the door behind him.

A small and single click signaling that it had been completely locked.

Alone with that big man.

The burning inside him was almost impossible to control before his lips fell desperately but slow on that boy's lips.

Exploring every space he could from that man's magnificent mouth, his big hands going to her waist, seeking support while his arms wrapped around his neck. The kiss deepening even further as his steps went to the king size bed of that luxurious suite.

Clumsy steps before throwing the young actress there.

The silk fabric slipping down his shoulders, exposing his marked clavicle, leaning on his elbow while the man stood in front of him, between his legs.

A hand being taken to your tie, loosening even more.

"That's fast." He smiled maliciously, surprised by the girl's direct attitude towards him.

Barely knowing what she would be able to do tonight, but willing to find out everything about what she was doing on four walls.

"Not time for conversation, Fushiguro." She said without fear, her lips splitting up.

His hand grabbing the CEO's tie before pulling him again for another deep kiss. The boy's leg between the girl's legs, so close to her groin that he pulsed anxiously in search of touch.

He laughed between the kisses.

Bold.

Realizing how sassy the girl was, naked under that little fabric. As if were desperate to be fucked by that man.

Oh, how that turned him on.

The young woman dropping small moans on those lips so sweet when Toji descended to her neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses, sucking her skin so hungry for more. The bulge almost causing your pants to tear.

Her tongue tracing each mark by her skin, making her feel even more excited.

That man's so powerful hands going against the origin of his pleasure. Her hands touching causing the girl to tremble softly in her arms, knowing that she was so sensitive by her touch.

He smiled even more.

Just the feeling of having control over that dangerous girl causing her brain to create so many sinful images.

His lips came together strongly.

The kiss as fast as before, the fire burning in lust while exploring the girl's mouth with her tongue.

She smiled between the kiss, her hands being quick with the buttons on the boy's shirt, soon descending into his pants, her fingers already on his zipper, descending gently.

His body burning even more on fire when he felt how big and long he was. The bulge against her hand making her smile even more.

"I-" she shut him up, her finger against her half-open lips.

A request for silence while I looked at him so ardently.

"Don't worry, sweetie..." she laughed naughty, climbing on top of the boy.

Her hips briefly grinding against his bulge. His cock throbbing at the small approach. So wet, just wanting to feel that woman's hot, tight walls.

He was so excited.

The way the silk robe slipped over her body, showing her completely naked figure against the light of the moonlight and the busy city that entered the huge open windows of the place.

Her nipples completely hard in arousal, the figure of the man in front of her below her. His dark hair stuck to his forehead due to the heat that was building up from all that sensation. His bare chest is so defining.

Toji growled ferociously, his sanity disappearing, unable to wait any longer.

He pushed against her.

Her hands firmly gripped the hips of the moaning young actress, that sweet moan escaping her glossy lips, her mouth parted as she moved up and down against that throbbing cock. Your warm, wet walls clenching tighter and tighter around his dick, making Toji grunt in pleasure.

(Name)'s hands gripped Toji's broad shoulders tightly, while his thicker hands squeezed his hips tighter, leaving a large mark there.

Kisses were left on her neck as the sound of her sweet moans spread throughout the room. Her body perfectly sculpted by the gods rising and falling against the bulge of the man who was thrusting everything inside the girl.

“A-ah!... F...f.fushiguro!"

His name slipped out so stealthily that the smile on the man's face only grew, knowing his job was being done perfectly well.

The feeling of fucking the actress's needy and adorable pussy is almost like a blessing from the gods.

The sight of her face with its emotions of pleasure, seeing how she fought to keep her moans a secret.

He laughed.

“Fushiguro, huh? How good would it be if you begged for more, uh?” He opened her hips wider, forcing her further against his cock that felt so large above her. His thrusts slowed into the girl, his hand going to the girl's face. Pressing her face, her lips approaching the girl in such a seductive way.

"Come on, (name). Say my name and beg for more." He said almost in a whisper.

The girl held back.

Her body was so soft being controlled by the boy that he seemed to increase his speed against the young girl's sensitive pussy. The soft lips went against the man's broad shoulders, biting him hard, preventing his moans from being heard. Toji going so deep, feeling her cervix so swollen.

"T-Toji!"

She cried out in moans, hitting her spot perfectly, arching her back into the CEO's hands.

Toji laughed so sadistically.

"What did you say, darling?" He laughed, his hand forcing the girl to look at him, the scar on her lips stretching with his smile.

Noticing how the girl's face was so red, shame mixed with pleasure throughout her entire being, the feeling of his thick, long cock inside her making her feel so dazed.

"Please... p...please..." he went deep once again. "F-FUCK!"

He laughed once again, feeling the girl's soft body against his warm skin, her hand grabbing her fragile neck. Forcing her to look at him, those watery eyes, begging for more.

He attacked her lips once again.

As fierce as a beast and its prey.

Gently biting the young woman's lips.

"I'm just getting started with you."

#gojou satoru x reader #geto suguru #yandere gojo #geto suguru x reader #toji fushiguro #gojo saturo #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu geto #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen nobara #jujutsu kaisen #toji smut #yandere megumi #megumi x reader #itadori x reader #sukuna ryomen smut

[thepixelelf]

25¢ Magic

Genres: fluff, romance, friends-to-lovers, mans-in-love-disease Pairing: Reader & Wonwoo (Seventeen) Words: 2.6k Warnings: other than some food mentions, none! all fluff 💕 Notes: yet another recasted fic sorry!! I reread the original last night and imagined it with wonwoo and liked it too much 😖 (i changed a couple things to be more inclusive since the original is a way older work! if there are any mistakes regarding inclusivity, please let me know!)

Wonwoo needed a little magical intervention. Definitely not for you. For his eyes. Yeah. His eyes.

Magic 25¢

Through his glasses, Wonwoo eyed the sign above the tiny corner shop as he stood there, debating whether or not to enter. You'd recommended the place to him a few weeks ago, even though you'd never bought the so-called "magic" yourself. According to you, the sorceress inside fixed whatever problem she deemed fit, all for the low low price of practically nothing.

At first, Wonwoo had brushed off your suggestion, scoffing at the idea of a mythical being actually solving his life problems, but now, he wasn't so sure. He couldn't be certain what exactly brought him there, to the small store in the middle of the bustling city, though he had his suspicions.

Lately, you'd been occupying his thoughts in weird ways. He had no idea why, but one day -- and he couldn't tell you which one -- he started looking for you whenever he found something funny or saw something beautiful, or thinking he'd seen you in a busy crowd when really you were never there at all; things like that. It confused him more than he would care to admit. You were his friend, yes. Someone he cared about more than most, but recently you got yourself a position in Wonwoo's heart that no friend has ever touched before. It scared him. What were you doing?

So he'd come to the corner shop. desperate for some sort of relief. The tinted windows and seemingly decrepit interior almost made him change his mind, but the brain-racking problem that was you made him enter.

A pervasive scent wafted up to Wonwoo's nose when he opened the door, smelling like rosewater and oranges. The shop was brightly lit, with various plants and flowers either placed on every available surface or hanging from the ceiling. Gold accents came in the form of geometric wires in various shapes accompanying the flower pots or hanging above the windows. From what Wonwoo could see, the only spot not covered with greenery was a marble counter near the back, which housed a silver service bell.

Before he could ring the bell, a girl popped up from behind the counter, startling him enough to jump back at her sudden appearance. She wore a plain white t-shirt and light wash jeans, matching the shop's simple feel, but her bright pink hair covered her face, and she spent a few seconds just getting it out of the way.

"Hi!" she greeted cheerfully, blowing the last few strands of stray hair away from her face. "Do you have a quarter?"

"Are you... the sorceress?"

She chuckled, a light sort of laugh that you do in front of people you aren't close to. "Sure am! I'm not what you expected, huh?"

Wonwoo didn't want to admit that he expected a haggish old woman wearing torn black rags and looking half past death, so he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he took a quarter from his back pocket and slid it across the counter.

"I'm guessing you know the drill; you give the quarter and I fix whatever I think you need most." She took the quarter and placed it somewhere under the marble counter, then pointed at a little table in the opposite corner of the shop, right next to the windows. "Have a seat. I'll be right back with some tea."

When she returned with two steaming teas in fine china cups, she sat in front of Wonwoo and looked into his eyes. He pursed his lips, not knowing exactly what to say, but also not wanting to turn away.

"I've decided. I'm going to fix your eyesight."

Wonwoo's fingers unconsciously fixed his glasses, though they weren't skewed in the first place. "My... eyesight?"

"Yup!" Her smile was soft, nothing like what Wonwoo expected before he came in. "Right now, it's what you need more than anything else."

Well, who was he to argue with a sorceress? It wasn't like he was going to straight-up ask her to fix his you problem. He was too shy to just give himself away like that to a total stranger. Maybe this really was what he needed. Though, he actually started to like his glasses after you said they made him look like, quote, "boyfriend material".

"So, if you would just take off your glasses--" the girl said, taking a sip of her tea. "--then I can get started."

Hesitantly, Wonwoo pulled his glasses from his face, placing them down on the wooden tabletop. From a little metal box that Wonwoo hadn't noticed before, she procured a small glass bottle, filled halfway with a lilac-coloured dust that sparkled in the sunlight. It was only then that Wonwoo questioned the windows . They looked tinted from the outside, and... the shop looked empty through them, but now they were clear and letting in plenty of sunlight, and the shop was clearly anything but empty. Was this really magic?

His eyesight wasn't that bad, he thought, especially since he could tell what she was doing when she pulled out the cork and poured some of the dust into her palm. She struggled for a second to plug the cork back one-handed and stick it back in the box.

"Keep your eyes open, please."

Without a second warning, she blew onto her palm, raising the dust off her hand and straight into Wonwoo's eyes. He flinched, falling back in his chair as he coughed. Through squinted eyes, he watched her gulp down the rest of her tea and pack up, then stand from her chair and walk away towards the counter.

"That's all. It should take effect by tomorrow morning."

With another smile, she disappeared into some sort of back room, leaving Wonwoo to wonder why the hell he ever followed your advice in the first place.

•

Wonwoo couldn't deny that he was a little excited to not need his glasses anymore. Sure, he didn't mind wearing them at all, but updating prescriptions costs a lot of money, and keeping them clean was a whole other ordeal. So, when he got up to make breakfast, he left his room with upturned lips, his glasses still on his bedside table.

It was only partway into breakfast -- when he tried to look at the clock on his oven and couldn't tell time -- that he realized his eyesight wasn't fixed at all. Same blurry vision, same nearsightedness. What happened? Had he been ripped off? But who on earth would scam someone for 25 cents?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his buzzer. He walked over to the door, pressing the camera button to see a pixelated version of you standing right in front of it, a big bag in your hands as you waved towards the camera.

He buzzed you in, not thinking much of it. You had a habit of showing up out of the blue.

"Wonwoo!" you greeted happily when he opened the door. "Are you ready?"

In the time you took to get up the stairs to his apartment, he'd found his glasses and put them on, as well as cleaned up breakfast. But ready? He wasn't ready.

As soon as he'd opened the door, you shined like you never had before, like a sunset glimmering off the ocean horizon. It very nearly blinded him. Your smile seemed so bright, and when you frowned at his lack of response (aside from wide eyes and a slack jaw) he had this surging feeling that he absolutely needed you to smile again.

Though, your pout put him in just as much awe in a different, alluring way.

"Don't tell me you forgot," you whined, bottom lip jutted out. "You promised we'd go to the carnival today."

He couldn't stop staring. Your eyes, your cheeks, your lips. All of you drew him in, and he couldn't say why.

"Wonwoo!"

Snapping out of his reverie, he blinked a few times to clear his vision, but nothing changed. You still looked...

Enchanting.

He stammered, trying to get back to himself. The regular Wonwoo, not the one stumbling over the sight of you. "What... huh?"

You rolled your eyes, a move from you that Wonwoo always liked, and today was no exception. Except, this time, he almost lost himself again just with that one action.

"The carnival? C'mon, you promised, so get dressed. We're leaving in ten minutes." Grunting, you used all of your might to push Wonwoo through his small apartment into his room and closed the door between you.

Once you were out of sight, Wonwoo stumbled backwards into his room and practically fell onto his bed, head in his hands. What the hell was happening to him? You looked exactly the same as you always did. Your face was the same, your style of clothes, the way your eyes moved with each expression. So what changed?

Whatever. Wonwoo assured himself that all these weird feelings would fade soon enough. He was probably just tired.

"So," you started once he stepped out of his room. "I've made a one-hundred percent foolproof plan so we can go on every single ride and hit every stall I want. Plus, I've written down our choices of what to buy so we stay within budget."

You were already halfway out the door before he could respond, giant carnival map held in both hands.

•

Wonwoo had a hard time concentrating on the carnival with you right next to him. He'd started noticing little things he'd never picked up on before, like the way your smile grew half a centimetre wider after you scored a single point at a stall game, or the way your eyes screwed shut when you screamed on a rollercoaster. Normally, Wonwoo could barely handle keeping his own eyes open on rollercoasters, but this time he just couldn't keep them off you.

It was by the time you bought food that you noticed something was up.

"Are you okay? You've been quiet all morning," you asked him as you sat down with your lunch. (Not the healthiest thing in the world, but hey, that's what carnivals are for.)

The concern on your face reminded him of something. He didn't know what it was, exactly, but he knew he both liked it in a weird way and wanted you to never feel concern ever again. "I'm fine." He sat up straight. "Just... thinking about something."

"Oh? Like what?" You chewed on your food, leaning forward on your elbows and propping your chin in your palm. Why did he find every single thing you did endearing?

"It's nothing," he assured you, though he was mostly trying to convince himself that. He needed to switch up the subject -- far far away from his feelings -- otherwise he might just burst. "I heard you beat Seungcheol at Mario Kart yesterday."

Your face lifted as you sported a triumphant smile, launching into the riveting story of how you finally won a grand prix against Seungcheol for the first time. Wonwoo concentrated on your storytelling for only a few seconds before he got lost in your eyes and how they sparkled like a thousand, no, a million stars.

"And the, when he asked for a rematch, I stood up and went, 'I'm king now! Your words hold no power here!' so he chased me around his entire apartment, that brat!" You waved your hands around to illustrate your story. "It's okay though, 'cause guess what? I won a second time for our rematch! Gosh, it was so satisfying."

"Really? That's cool." Wonwoo tried to react instead of just staring at the way your skin looked today.

"Uh huh... and then he kicked me out of his house."

"Oh, nice." Your furrowed brows were so adorable.

"Yeah, and then David Bowie rose from his grave just to serenade me as I walked home."

"That's fun." You've got something on your lip; Wonwoo wouldn't mind helping--

You clapped your hands in front of his face. "Wonwoo!"

Jolting up, Wonwoo blinked a few times, but the beguiling you didn't disappear. "What-- what?!"

"You're spacing out on me! Are you okay? Do you have a cold or something? Why didn't you tell me?!" You reached out your hand to his forehead, brushing underneath his hair to feel his temperature. "Oh my god, you're burning up!"

Yes, he was feeling hot, but definitely not because of some fever.

"I'm taking you home. I can't believe you didn't tell me you were sick!" You grabbed his wrist and pulled him up, about to walk away and abandon your lunches.

Oh god. Oh no. If you took him home and started fawning over his "sickness", while looking this ethereal, Wonwoo would probably spontaneously combust.

"No, uh, no!" He wrenched himself from your grip. "I'm fine, really!"

Scrunching up your face, you mocked him, "'No, uh, no!' I think you mean: yes, uh, yes, because we're leaving. C'mon."

"No, we can do more. What about your foolproof plan? What about the rides? Let's keep going."

You crossed your arms and huffed. "I'm worried about you."

Were you trying to make him explode?

"I'm fine. Better than ever. I can do more."

"Are you sure?"

"One-hundred percent."

You sighed, uncrossing your arms. "Fine," you gave in. "We'll do one more ride. Just one."

"Great! What's next on your plan?"

Grabbing your paper map, you tried to read your own writing. You squinted at your plan. "Uh... next up is the Tunnel of Love."

Wonwoo choked on his own spit. "The what?!"

"The Tunnel of Love. I've heard it's really famous here."

"Why would we go in a Tunnel of Love?"

You crossed your arms again. "Because my friend told me it's really pretty on the inside. We could just go home, if that's what you want."

"No, no," Wonwoo said. "I'll go on it."

Your friend was right, it was really pretty on the inside. At least, you thought so. Wonwoo was too busy staring at you under the pink and red lights, oh and the reflection of the chandeliers and fairy lights in your eyes. Your smile was just as stunning as whatever the ride had to offer, in fact, he would argue that you were ten-- no a hundred times more stunning.

He liked the way you smiled and pointed at the things you thought were pretty. He liked the way you looked at him every time, just so you could see if he was enjoying himself, too. He liked the way your smile got wider when you saw his. He liked you.

He liked you.

"See, I knew you'd like it," you said cheekily. Your face looked so cheerful under the coloured lights. "Are you feeling any better?"

Wonwoo nodded. "I think I'm feeling..."

He always imagined falling in love to be something unexpected, like spilling coffee on someone in a cafe, or getting wrapped up in a dog leash with an attractive stranger, or meeting someone outside of a club who hated them as much as he did, but this was much better. Sure, seeing you in an entirely different way, in a whole new light than ever before was sudden. It was like falling into a pit trap with how quickly it happened, but unexpected? No. Wonwoo should've seen this coming.

I've decided. I'm going to fix your eyesight.

For the low, low price of practically nothing.

Without any warning, he leaned in and landed a sweet peck on your lips. "...much better."

•

"Oh, did you ever visit this place?" You gestured towards the Magic 25¢ sign. "I would, but I don't think I have any problems worth fixing right now." Peering through the dark windows, you furrowed your brows at the seemingly empty shop. "It looks closed..."

Wonwoo pulled his hand up, yours in tow with your fingers interlocked in his. He placed a quick kiss on the back of your hand, smiling. "Maybe, but I bet she works wonders."

#jeon wonwoo scenarios #jeon wonwoo imagines #jeon wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #svt scenarios #svt imagines #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #.100 #.200 #.300 #.400 #.500 #.600

[gaysindistress]

Sad Girl - three

summary: James has an interesting new business’ proposal and one hell of a condition to deal with.

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

warnings: cursing, guns, violence (it is a mob au after all), Bucky’s smartass

word count: 2.2k

part 2 | series masterlist

a/n: Would anyone be interested in a series playlist? 

taglist: @missvelvetsstuff @angelsincident​

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

7 o’clock rolls around with no sight of the woman. Everyone starts to gather in the dining room and James looks to Natasha, silently asking her to go check on her. 

7:10 comes and goes with a saddened Natasha and a disappointed James. Maids rush up with a plate full of food. 

7:45 passes and dinner begins to dwindle done but no Miss. Stark. Maids rush back down the stairs with the same plate still full of food, now cold and untouched.

James sits in his office, walls lined with books from every imaginable author. His desk, black and sleek like the rest of his house, only holds his computer and whiskey glass. A fire flickers in the brick fire place, casting an amber cast across the room. The grandfather clock that is nestled between two book shelves shows that it’s some time after ten pm but there is no rest for the wicked. The only sounds that fill the room are the crackling of the fire, the clicks of the computer keys, and the occasional tapping on the crystal glass. 

Upstairs she has finally found peace in her pj’s, face void of any makeup and salty tears. Her hair has been combed, oiled, and put into a braid. The old black sweater hangs off her body and covers the forest green shorts she got from a friend as Christmas pj’s. Sitting in the desk’s chair, she rests her head on her knee as she stares at the computer in front of her. The screen is black and has been for hours. She can’t bring herself to work on anything or even ask for the WIFI password. Not having eaten anything, her stomach grumbles at her to go search for something, anything, an apple even. 

Groaning at her body’s demands, she gets up from the chair and works up the courage to brave the world outside of those black double doors. She debates taking something for protection but quickly shakes that from her head remembering that James had taken both guns from her. 

When she leaves her room, there is no one around and the only light she can see is coming from deep downstairs. At the top of the stairs, she starts to wring her hands truly wondering if she does need to eat but her stomach grumbles in urgency again. Bare feet slap against the freezing cold stone as she makes her way towards the massive kitchen. 

The light she spotted earlier is coming from down the hallway where Natasha said his office was at. Ignoring the urge to peak inside his office, she finds a fruit bowl in the middle of the black island. She leans over the counter and picks up a pear from the array of random fruits. This will have to do until tomorrow. She sits at the counter, eating her pear as something in her is pushing her to go investigate that light while another part is telling her to just go back upstairs. 

Tossing the core into the trashcan under the sink, she steps back into the hallway and is faced with two options; go back upstairs or go towards the light. How fucking ironic this all is? Run away from the man who basically bought her or go towards the metaphorical light and risk dying? Curiosity wins and she walks towards the office before she even realizes what is doing. 

She can hear the fire crackling and fast typing but no voices through the cracked door. Natasha had mentioned that he had a door policy but failed to mention what it actually was. All douche bags had the same policy right? Open door means come in. Cracked means knock and closed means go the fuck away. 

A light knock breaks the trance James is in and he looks towards the door in confusion. The clock reads 11:11 pm so it shouldn’t be any of his men. 

“Come in,” he says, one hand on his glass and the other sliding to the gun that was strapped under his desk. 

She opens the door a little wider and slips through the crack to face him. She takes in the office so starkly different from her fathers. Her eyes run across the walls of books and down to the simple desk he is sitting at. He too has two black couches facing each other with a coffee table in the middle. A bar cart is next to his desk and two rather comfortable chairs sit in front of it. 

He drops the hand reaching for the gun onto his lap and leans back into his chair, watching her and waiting for her to say something. It seems like he’s going to be waiting for a long time because she’s wordless as she slowly walks around the room, manicured nails trailing across the books. The awe that is on her face is adorable to him and makes a mental note to bring up books whenever the conversation feels stiff or forced. 

She makes it to the grandfather clock, drops her hand and rounds the desk to make herself a drink at the bar cart. The glass bottles clinking against the glass of the cart narrates her actions as she ours herself a drink of undoubtedly expensive whiskey. Drink in hand, she takes a seat in one of the chairs facing James. By now he has shed his black overcoat and black blazer leaving him a fitted white button up that have been rolled up to expose his forearms. His right arm disappears around the table but his left arm can be seen. Rumors have been spread about that left arm. Rumors she doesn't care to repeat and seem untrue because here it is, intact and covered in intricate tattoos up to his wrist. The watch he wears catches the light from the fire every now and then as he moves the glass around. 

“Did you eat?” is the only thing he can think of saying. 

She nods, still taking in all of the man that sits across from her. 

“Good,” he says, setting the glass down and shutting the computer. 

“I don’t know why I came here,” she says quietly like she’s talking to herself out loud. 

“I don’t have anything to say to you. You’re just as bad as him for saying yes. I fucking hate you for this and don’t think for a second that I will ever be okay with this.”

He nods, accepting her hatred because he knows he deserves it. 

“This is so messed up. Who gives up their daughter for some business deal?” she trails off, “I’m his daughter, he should have more respect for me than this. I mean who… who does this?”

Tears fall down her cheeks again, “Who does this, James? Who fucking does this?”

“I don’t know, Doll.” 

“Who does this?” she asks again, finally making eye contact with him. 

The tear stricken face of a once strong woman stares back at him and what breaks his resolve is the knowledge that he played a part in it. He rounds his desk to stand before her and extends a hand out to her. The fighter deep down demands she break every bone in that stupid hand but the broken and scared little girl pleads to be held and comforted even if it’s by him. 

She takes his hand and curls herself into his chest, whiskey glass and arms pined in between the two of them as he wraps his arms around her. The smell of his cologne engulfs her senses as she cries against his chest. One hand holds her head against his chest while the other rubs her back and he sets his chin on top of her head. 

“I will never stop hating you.”

“I know, Doll. I know.”

________________________________________________________________

Sleep evaded her for the rest of the night and by the time her phone awakens with her six am alarm, she’s already up. Coffee seems like the only cure for her tired eyes and exhausted soul. Crawling to the end of the bed to avoid the freezing wood floor, she digs through her suitcase searching for socks and a pair of leggings. She forgot slippers in her haste yesterday and she’s not wearing heels to get coffee so socks will have to be her armor. 

Maids and other workers can be heard getting the house ready for the day. Every now and then she hears men greet each other and cars drive around the property. Once again there is no one upstairs as she steps into the hallway. Everyone seems to be downstairs, keeping peace upstairs for their sleeping king. 

Natasha is sitting at the island, a cup of coffee in-between her hands as she talks to Steve. Neither are expecting anyone from upstairs so they pay no attention to her when she makes it down the stairs. It isn’t until Steve glances over Natasha’s shoulder that either acknowledge that she is in the kitchen with them. 

“Good morning,” Natasha greets as she spins her chair to face the woman, a smile wide on her face. 

Steve offers a small smirk and a quiet ‘morning’ over his coffee cup before he takes a drink. The woman smiles and gets her own cup, setting it down opposite of Natasha and Steve. 

“How did you sleep?” asks Natasha. 

“Fine. I didn’t make a list for the men who are getting the rest of my stuff. I’m sure my father will stop them from taking whatever he wants back. I can just buy whatever doesn’t make it here.”

“Oh okay that’s great. Did you want to go with them?”

“Oh god no,” she scoffs, “I don’t want to see him until I’m absolutely forced to and even then I’ll figure out how to get out of it.”

Steve chuckles at her answer, “I don’t doubt that, Doll.”

“Is Doll my new name?”

“Take it up with Buck if you want to change it.”

“Right because ‘Buck’ is my handler and decides what I’m called,” she rolls her eyes, turning to the fridge to find some sort of creamer for the tar black coffee. 

“We follow what he says so if he calls you Doll, we’ll call you Doll. If you calls you …” Steve is interrupted by an apple zooming past his head. 

“Say my name and I won’t miss next time,” she threatens. 

A deep chuckle comes from the entry way of the kitchen, revealing James standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. Of course he’s dressed in a black suit with a burnt orange shirt at six am. 

“What would you like to be called?” he asks the irritated woman, still leaning against the entry wall. 

“Doll is fine,” she shrugs her shoulders, “for now.”

“Doll it is then,” he pushes himself off the entry way and goes to pour himself some coffee just as the others had. 

“Steve and I have some business outside of the house but we’ll be back around 10. After that I need you, Doll, to go over,” he pauses, not wanting to mention the elephant in the room, “the contract and what’s required from both of us.” 

“Sounds like fun,” she states emotionlessly, trying not to look at him and how damn attractive he looks this early in the morning. 

But if she had stolen a look or two, she would’ve seen the chain that is peaking out from under his shirt or how there’s a pearl bracelet adorning his right wrist. She may have noticed that when he moves, his suit jackets reveals a black leather shoulder holster that also clips onto his waistband. Maybe just maybe she would’ve seen that her revolver is snuggly secured on one side with his own 9mm on the other side. 

Of course she wasn’t looking because that would mean she was too distracted by the details of his outfit to notice that he was standing right beside her and the other two had left the room. 

“What happened to your ‘s’ necklace?” he asked, finger tracing the two remaining necklaces she’d pulled out of her sweater when she got up this morning. 

“I’m not a Stark anymore so I left it,” her voice barely above a whisper. 

“Left it or smashed it?” his hand traces its way up her shoulder and puts a fallen strand of hair being her ear. 

“Both.”

“Looks like you need another one to replace it now,” his hand finds itself on the back of her neck. 

“I’m not yours,” sounds hopeless on her tongue as he draws her closer to him, no more than a few inches separating the two of them. 

“Never said you were,” his blue eyes make a painful slow journey from her lips to meet hers. 

His eyes are daring her to make a move and hers are begging him to stay put. 

“I’ll see you in my office at 10:30,” his tongue darts out to lick lips and he places a kiss on her forehead, leaving her dazed and confused with the change in their relationship. 

As he walks away, she wants to scream out and throw her coffee cup because why the hell did she let him get so close to her? Why the hell did she let him touch her?

“I’ll never be yours,” she says hoping he believes her words but they both know her self control will fail her. 

#mob au #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #mob!bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #sad girl - bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you

[moriburnd]

characters: akaashi keiji x fem!reader

words: 540

tags: fluff, lowercase intended.

a/n: sorry for the bad english, english is not my native language.

a sea of black clouds covered the sky, and the heavy rain from outside could be heard clearly. In a large room that people usually call the 'living room', two human children were relaxing, watching a movie that they had agreed to watch together. the man sits with his back leaning on the sofa, while the woman lies down on the sofa with the man's thigh as a pillow.

her eyes scanning all the items in the room, until finally, the girl's eyes stopped on a medium-sized album under the table. "kei, is that a photo album?" her index finger pointed at the object in question.

the man's emerald eyes moved, glancing slightly at the girl's index finger before returning his gaze to the screen in front of them. "yes, my photo album. yesterday my mom was nostalgic, hahaha, but i haven't had time to put it back to its original place," the young man responded with a laugh inserted into his sentence.

"i want to see it, can i?" the girl begged with her eyes, implying hope.

the big hand moved to caress the head that was in his lap. he lowered his head to see the beautiful face of his lover. a smile appeared on his face, showing a row of neat white teeth belonging to the young man with the surname akaashi. his hand slowly went down, gently caressed his lover's cheek, and pinched it affectionately before saying, "of course, just take it."

after getting approval, the girl got up from her position, took the album that said 'akashi keiji' on the front cover, and returned to her original position with the thigh of the young man still as a pillow for her head.

her hands opened the not-too-thick photo album sheet by sheet, looking at the contents inside one by one. occasionally a giggle escaped the girl's lips because of a photo that she thought looked very funny and cute. 

keiji turned his gaze to his lover, ignoring the screen in front of them. for now, the reaction on his lover's face was more interesting than the movie that was being shown. the corners of his lips were drawn against gravity because of the expressions his lover was giving off.

she still engrossed in looking at every photo there was, until suddenly she screamed, even clear liquid escaped from her two beautiful beads. making keiji shocked and panicked. "love, are you okay? why are you suddenly crying?"

"no, i'm okay. it's just, you used to be a tiny precious child, you were so cute!" she answered in a hoarse voice typical of someone who is crying, and with emphasis at the end of her sentence. then she looked at keiji. "well, you're still a tiny precious child," said the girl as her index finger poked the nose of the man.

keiji breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing his lover's words. his lover likes to suddenly cry when she feels excited, and keiji is still not used to it even after 6 months of their relationship, so he is always panicked by this habit. "look who says I'm a tiny precious child when she's tinier," replied keiji, cupping his girl's cheek and kissing her forehead lovingly.

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu x you #akaashi keiji x you #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi x you #akaashi x reader #english isnt my mother tongue #akaashi keiji #haikyuu akaashi

[the-gay-disney-games]

Round 1B: The Lion King 1 1/2 (2004) vs. Mulan (1998)

Propaganda:

The Lion King 1 1/2:

“This movie is about Timon and Pumbaa raising a child together”

“Just 2 dudes raising their son and dealing with commitment issues. The movie heavily leans into the bit that Timon and Pumba are like a couple. Timon is voiced by gay icon Nathan Lane. This movie was my childhood.”

Other propaganda for the original movie with the same idea:

“Simba was literally raised by a gay couple (Timon and Pumba…Timon even literally wears drag in the movie)”

“Timon and Puumba are a queer couple that raised simba into adulthood. Scar is a mean gay. Nuff said”

“Timone and Pumbaa are Simba's gay adoptive dads.”

Mulan:

“Trans awakening for so many of us”

“Well Mulan gives off very non-binary vibes”

“Literally listen to the music also Li Shang”

“just what your intro post said - Milan being trans (or gnc) coded and Li Shang being bi coded. like come on do i even need to explain? I’ll just add that I was listening to “Reflection” on repeat cuz the lines “Who is that girl I see staring straight back at me?…When will my reflection show who I am inside?” we’re stuck in my head. So with that song on loop I decided to finally chop my hair short in true Milan fashion (ok that’s a lie, I didn’t do it myself, but the PRINCIPLE) so not only is Milan trans/gnc coded but I can’t be the only one the movie inspired to finally go for The Haircut or something else related. sry that’s very rambly”

“gnc. bisexual. what more could u want.”

“Both trans and gay coded. Shang was so into Ping that he couldn’t stand to execute him for his “crime”. Also includes drag saving the day!”

“This is less a competition for the queerest movie and more a competition for the second queerest movie. Just *look* at every aspect of Mulan and tell me it’s even a contest.”

“Not only is mulan super trans coded but Shang is definitly bi”

“I know it's the obvious pick, but Mulan is so gender and Shang is so bi. 💯💯💯”

“Mulan is very trans coded. Li Shang is totally bi. Dude absolutely had a thing for “Ping” before learning he was actually a woman (Mulan). Also watching that movie as a young egg made me feel less alone about the fact that I didn’t fit into the “girl” role everyone around me pushed me into. Mulan was kind of my hero and sometimes listening to Reflection makes me tear up a little bit because it’s such a mood but also such a TRANS mood. It’s probably my favorite Disney movie song. “Why is my reflection someone I don’t know” made me THINK as a kid. Disney may be evil but they did the world a great service with Mulan.”

“It is obvious why”

“If movies could turn you trans this one did it to me”

“I mean I assume this one is going to be there, but what if we all think “oh everyone is going to put mulan so I won’t” and then nobody does?”

“it’s mulan”

“Gender”

“Mulan is so trans, however you want to read her (as a trans man, genderqueer, genderfluid, etc.) and Shang is hella bi. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk”

“This movie is SOOOOO trans coded. Captain Li is a bisexual icon. As an Asian queer person I have sat and cried to Reflection by Lea Salonga while staring in a mirror too many times to count. Can I be my authentic self without making my parents who I love hate me? It's too good.”

“My little asian tboy awakening”

“Can be read as transmasc- he finds his true purpose/calling in life by presenting as male- or as transfem- she goes against everyone’s expectations for her by revealing her true self as a woman. A very trans movie. Also just a very good movie in general.”

#polls #queerest disney movie tournament #round 1b #disney #the lion king 1 1/2 #mulan