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romanarose · 2 months

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Scars

Pre-Outbreak!Joel Miller x pale!fem!reader (see immersivity warnings)

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Summary: You and Joel are taking things slow, really slow. You find that he's easy to open up to about your depression, but you find it's hard to tell him the full extent.

Warnings: Talk of depression and self harm, self harm scars, descriptions of said scars (healed, not bleeding or recent) piv sex, oral f!recieving. Comfort sex. first time between couple, not loss of virginity.

Immersivity: Reader is fem, no specified age. This is a fic i started last year when i was doing very, very poorly and relapsing. I wanted to write something for myself. I usually really try to make things as inclusive as I can but the descriptions of scars are detailed and they are detailed to my skin, which is pale. I'm sorry, but I wanted to write this for myself. I support people writing fics specific to themselves, their skin tone, their hair type, their wieght etc, as long as it's labled right. @fandxmslxt69 said i could do it and said if anyone has a problem, come to her <3

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"And the scars remind us that the past is real" Scars, Papa Roach

Joel hadn’t minded when you said you wanted to take things slow. He didn’t mind one bit. Being a dad of a preteen , albeit an easy one, didn’t leave him with much opportunity to move fast. He was busy. In fact, he hadn’t really intended to date at all, at least until Sarah was in college if that… but you had sparkled your way into his life accidentally, and he was trying his best to balance it all. You were understanding, patient, you didn't get mad if he had to rearrange plans or cancel because something with Sarah or work came up, and he thought things were going well. You were beautiful, fun, and the few times you’d briefly met Sarah, she seemed to like you. That was a necessity. Joel absolutely refuses to date someone that made Sarah unhappy, but Sarah had made a few references to him and dating before he met you anyway, so she seemed okay with it. It wasn’t like he had a relationship with her mom, as much as Joel had tried to foster something… her mom hadn’t been interested.

Tommy was a lifesaver. When he noticed Joel had been struggling, Tommy sat him down and asked to help him. Tommy asked Joel.

“You deserve a life.” Tommy had insisted.

“Sarah is my life.”

“Joel, you deserve m-”

“Don’t say I deserve more, Tommy. Sarah is enough. I don’t need more.”

Tommy sighed. “I know, brother, but can I at least help you out a bit? Give you a little free time to see that pretty girl of yours?”

Tommy had only met you once, but he liked you too. Joel acquiesced, letting Tommy take care of taking her to soccer practices (but he would NOT miss a game). This did end up being a big help and Joel had more and more time to see you… and when Tommy took Sarah out for a movie or she had plans with friends, he found more and more time alone in the evening with you.

Joel didn’t want to take his hands off your body the first time you and him made out on his couch, but when his hand went to feel up your breasts, you noticeably tensed. Fearing he overstepped, Joel quickly pulled back and apologized. Both of you nervous messes, it took a moment before you and Joel got full sentences out.

“Shit, I’m sorry-”

“No no it’s okay!”

“I just thought-”

“And I want too-!”

“No, I didn’t mean for anything tonight-”

“Oh, uh, right-”

“Not that I don’t want to!”

“Me too!”

Eventually, Joel clarified he was just enjoying feeling you, he didn’t want you to feel pressured into anything ‘like that’, and you explained he can touch you like that, you just wanted to wait a little bit… You sat back, nervous, but figured now was as good a time as any.

“Actually, there was something I wanted to talk to you about, if we could…” You shuffle on the couch.

Joel looks nervous, but open. He wants to know you, good and bad, and if something was bothering you, he wanted to know. “Of course, I’m all ears.”

You take a deep breath. “Do you know what depression is?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah, I have an aunt with it but we don’t really talk about it much… Sometimes Sarah’s school sends her home with pamphlets… so I know a little, I guess.” That’s not what he was expecting.

“Well… I have it.”

“Oh.” He says again, dumbly. “I'm sorry. Or… am I not supposed to say that?”

You can’t help laughing a little. He was sweet, and he was trying. “It’s okay, Joel, and thank you. Well, about 6 months ago I started therapy and started taking an antidepressant, and things have been a lot better but… I need you to understand, things can get really dark for me sometimes and… it can be a lot for other people to deal with. I promise, it’s nothing dangerous to others!” You quickly add when you see his confused face. “It’s just, sometimes I’m not myself… and, if that’s not something you can handle, I want you to know that’s okay.”

Joel sat there for a moment, looking at you. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what depression was… but in the South, it wasn’t like they talked about that sort of thing much. Still, he liked you… he liked you a lot, actually, and he wanted to be there to support you. He couldn’t just run away from difficult times, not when he had a preteen. It would mean he wasn’t fit to be there for Sarah…

“I wanna be there for you.” Joel assured you, to your growing smile. “I may not know how to, but I wanna try my best.”

You smile more, and scoot up next to him, in turn Joel lays an arm around you. “Thank you, Joel”

Still, you were nervous… because Joel hasn’t seen you without sleeves… nonetheless without clothes.

In the end, it was almost 4 months before you had sex. Physically, you’d taken things slow, but emotionally you hadn’t at all. You were in love, and you’d both told each other as much. Tommy had given Joel shit for committing to a girlfriend without having sex, but Joel had told Tommy he could talk after he got an actual girlfriend, not hookups. Still, Tommy wanted to provide a good opportunity for Joel to fuck you the way Joel would want to. Sappy and romantic. So, when Sarah’s favorite band Halican Drops was coming to Housten, Tommy offered to pay for them to go and for a hotel.

Joel had tried to protest, saying it was too expensive, saying he wasn’t sure he wanted Sarah that far away, and that he should just come, but Tommy smacked him on the head.

“Dumbass, I’m giving you a night with your girlfriend!”

When Tommy promised not to have a single drop of alcohol, text every hour, not let her stand by any men, call when they leave the venue and get to the hotel ETC, Joel allowed it to happen. Sarah was ECSTATIC, being the first concert she’d ever been to, and although a teeny bopper band wasn’t exactly on Tommy’s dream list, he was excited to be a cool uncle. Also, Joel needed to get laid. He was getting cranky at work.

The night itself was a lot of fun. Joel took you to a nice restaurant, and after you came back to his place and changed into more comfortable clothes, you’d spent the night watching American Idol. Joel was very critical.

As the night progressed, your nerves grew as you knew where the natural progression of the night would take you. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to fuck Joel; you really, really wanted to. And you weren’t nervous about him. You knew Joel would stop if you said stop. What you were nervous about was your body. Joel looked good, but he had a bit of a stomach himself so you didn’t think he’d be worried about your shape or small imperfections… Joel was a gentle soul, kind, loving. Yeah, that wasn’t the worry. The worry had been on your skin.

In the middle of winter, you’d managed to not show much skin around him, with jackets and long sleeves and pants… but it was inevitable. Joel had been a wonderful support to you these 4 months, holding your hand, listening to you when you cried. Slowly you opened up to him about the circumstances that meant you needed extra help, and he was everything you could ask for.

But how would he react to this?

Joel had you laid out on the bed, both of you still dressed and his pajama covered pants grinding into your warm cunt. Joel sure liked to take his time.

“We don’t gotta do noth’n, you know that right?” Joel muttered into your neck, drunk on you but still being respectful like the gentle man he was.

“I know”

He pulled back. “Then why’dya seem so nervous?”

You look up at him, wide eyed and nervous, but you needed this… you needed to tell him the truth. “Joel…”

He got off you, standing up at the edge of the bed. The massive, rock hard erection in his pants couldn’t have been comfortable, but his willingness to stop anyway meant a lot. It was a low bar but it was there.

“We can stop, I’m sorry-”

You sit up on your elbows. “It’s not you, it’s just um… I should tell you something before we start…”

“Okay.” He was few on words, but he looked receptive.

You weren’t sure how to do this, how to open up that conversation… so you decided just to show him. Lights still on, you begin to take off your shirt.

Joel tried to stop you. “Hey, hey, no, let’s talk.”

You smile at him. “We will, Joel, just… let me show you…” After the shirt was off, you slid off your pants and laid on the bed, spread out and close to naked in a bra and underwear.

“Jesus, darl’n…” Joel mumbled, taking in the sight before him.

Scars littered your body.

It wasn’t a few, it was a lot, and the coverage was significant. Joel’s eyes roamed your body, cock softening quickly despite your near-nakedness and took in the expanse of the scaring. Your thighs were the most noticeable, pink slaves across your skin from the hips to mid-thigh. His hand reached out instinctively, but pulled back. You noticed.

Your voice was soft, reassuring. You knew he was confused and curious. “You can touch me, it’s okay.”

He does. Joel’s fingers a feather light across your skin, feeling the way the scars dipped and raised depending on severity. There there cuts, but also burn mark; small circles from cigarettes twisting up the patterns more. It was all over, reaching back to the curve of your ass. His eyes followed the trail up and the cuts became less in intensity and number, but never stopping over your hip bone and to your stomach. These were lighter; less that split open the skin but the silver lines were still raised over the belly fat as his fingers touched you. Your bra-line showed more burns, and he stopped short of the cloth.

You take his hands and guide Joel to reach behind you to unclasp the bra, allowing him to pull it up and reveal your breasts. His eyes water as he sees the scars never stopped, marring your breasts, although not nearly the horrific amount on your thighs.

“I don’t understand…” He mumbles, sadness and distress clear in his eyes. “You did this to yourself?” Joel takes your hand in his, examining the scars making a ring around your wrist. He kissed the inside, eyes threatening to pool over.

You nod. “Yeah…”

His voice cracks. “But… why?”

“Sometimes…” You start, overcome with emotions at the clear pain on his face. He loved you so much, the thought of you in this much pain hurt him as well. “It was all I could do to cope.”

He didn’t seem like he understood, but he wasn’t judging you. He didn’t look at you like a freak like so many others did. He just knew he didn’t want you to feel this way again.

“I havn’t done it in a while.” You give him a smile. “You make things easier. I mean, I’m still… yeah… but you do make things much better.” He did. Having someone who held you, listened to you, helped pick up the pieces… it wasn’t going to cure you, but it was amazing how much support helped with the addition of meds and therapy.

Joel relaxed at that, a relieved and gentle smile on his face. “I’m glad, darl’n…” He held you hand to his face, chapped lips nuzzling against your damaged skin. “”M here to take care of you now, okay? I wanna help.”

“You do.” You assure him, pulling his face down to you again and taking his mouth in yours. “You mean so much to me Joel, you make me so happy…” His body covers yours once more, his warm encasing you as he protectively holds you.

“You’re safe with me.” Joel mutters against your mouth, fingers digging into your soft flesh.

You pull him closer to you, grinding yourself up against him, enticing him again. “Still want you tonight, please? I can’t wait any longer.” It’s had been a long 4 months and fuck, fuck you wanted him, badly.

“Always gonna take care of you, princesa.” Joel grinds his jeans-clothed cock against the soft fabric of your underwear, making you shutter. “Gonna take care of my pretty girl, always.”

And god, did he.

Joel’s mouth was sloppy, wet, hot between your legs. His tongue fucked into your hole, prodding you open and his hips bucking against the bed. Insatiable. Arms locked around your legs, his nose nudged against your clit as it seemed he was trying push himself as strongly against your body as he could, to devour you, to bring you and him the most absolute pleasure he could.

You tug at his hair, soft waves in between your fingers as you draw him closer to you. Warmth pooling in your stomach, you felt that pressure grow with every moan, every vibration, every sluuuuuuuuuurp! of your juices, christ he was incredible. You felt elevated, devoted too and adorned in affection the way you had always wanted to be. He was everything in this moment. Joel’s tongue slid up in a swift swipe, mouth and that pouty lower lip latching onto your clit with his fingers pumped into you.

“JOEL! J-ohhhhhh” Your cry for his name melted into moans as you came on his mouth and fingers, crushing his head between thighs as your legs bent. The power of your orgasm caused you to tense and then melt into the bed. You give a low hum as he kisses your inner thighs. As you come to reality again, you register Joel’s sweet kisses all over your legs. He’s kissing the trail of your scars. Joel kisses over the scars on your right thigh and up the crease at your inner hip.

“What are you doing?” You mutter, never for a moment fully let go of his hair.

“Appreciating every inch of you.”

Joel kissed his way up your torso, over the scars under your tits and over the mounds. Latching onto your nipple, he swirled his tongue around the sensitive skin. You can feel him smile against your skin when your back arches off the bed.

“Fuck, Joel, your fucking mouth…” You whimper, and when his mouth lets go his hands never do. Softly, he touches you in all the scarred, squishy parts of you you were trained for so long to hate.

He kissed you tenderly, gentle hands a contrast to his hungry mouth. That tongue, that goddamn tongue…

When he slides in, your eyes can’t help but roll back; your chest rises up against his broad expanse. He filled you so perfectly, fucking deep inside you and filling you up. You never felt so full. Your heart, your life, your stretched out cunt… every part of you was full and euphoric.

“My sweet, perfect girl…” Joel grunts as he pumps into you, hand braced against the headboard and towering over you. You gazed up at him, the yellow lighting of the ceiling fan created a halo around him. Joel looked positively angelic.

Fitting, as he was your angel.

You were aware how he was perceived in his culésac. Joel was highly respected; kind, hard working if a bit disorganized. A good southern man who raised his brother and daughter well, helped the elderly neighbors, bailed his brother out of pinches and would use his truck to help anyone move. Yeah, people liked Joel. But they wouldn’t call him gentle, like how you feel his hands over your stomach. They wouldn’t call him soft like you felt his stomach against yours. They wouldn’t call him angelic, but that was all you could say as you came on his cock.

They certainly would not call him warm, but that was all you felt as you pulled out and sprayed ropes of cum on your stomach.

You dozed off to sleep as he spread his cum around your scarred skin.

You vaguely register him cleaning you up, tired and content, and wait for him to join you again. His body felt perfect against your, fitting so well against your body like two puzzle pieces so close together. You had mumbled a request to be dressed, just in case Sarah and Tommy came home early, so you were both cuddled up in sweats under a thick blanket.

Everything with Joel felt safe and warm.

"Scars remind us where we've been. They don't have to dictate where we're going" -David Rossi, Criminal Minds.

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So, there we are. I'm very frustrated by the new bought of scars that are quite noticable that I have to wait to fade again but I refuse to be ashamed the way I used to. My scars are just scars from my trauma and illness. It's a moral failing of the people who have and continue to harm me, not mine.

Thank you all for reading, this was quite a venerable piece for me but I see a light at te end of the tunnel, and things will be getting better, I know it <3

@fandxmslxt69 @runa-falls @k-ra @ahookedheroespureheart @mikaelak @littlenosoul @stevenandmarcslove @pikapuff-316 @del-ightfulling @faretheeoscar @harriedandharassed @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @campingwiththecharmings @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @milly-louise @casa-boiardi @joeldjarin @mrs-oharaxx @pedge-page @readingiskeepingmegoing @survivingandenduring @yorksgirl

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azrielbrainrot · 2 months

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I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 4

Azriel x Reader

Description: Azriel would give anything to hold you one more time.

Warnings: Angst (not that bad)

Word Count: 6680

Notes: This chapter was actually trying to fight me. I'm still not sure how I feel about it. Hope you enjoy!

Part 3 ○ Part 5

The days were blurring together the longer you stayed in this room. You've long since memorized the golden stripes and swirls beautifully decorating the navy walls, counted the teardrop-like glittering stones hanging from the small chandelier. You've gone through every closet and box in this room as well. Unsurprisingly, the room was almost empty, but you weren't looking through it to find any information anyway, you'd really done it out of boredom, and admittedly some curiosity.

You knew you couldn't complain about your treatment in this house, you'd never heard of a prisoner being treated to home cooked meals and expensive clothes. The House had even brought you books and journals in case you wanted to read or write, and Azriel brought you little treats from the bakeries in town - things you suspect he already knew you liked. He also kept you company every chance he got, even if it meant simply sitting together in silence. You didn't go a day without seeing him. But it was hard to focus on romance novels, chocolate cupcakes or even the captivating hazel eyed male when your entire reality was shattering around you.

The day after you met the High Lord and Lady, Azriel had found you snooping through the few clothes left behind by Feyre, and that same night he dropped off what he called some of your old belongings - some clothes and jewelry so you didn't have to borrow anything else from the High Lady. Everything was neatly folded and carefully arranged, it seems Azriel was extremely meticulous about how to store his late wife's belongings. He told you he's barely allowed himself to touch them in fear of ruining anything.

The clothes had since lost your scent, even if put away in a closed box it would be impossible for it to linger after a century. Still, you knew these were your things, somehow you could feel it deep inside you. You hadn't told Azriel about this, scared of getting his hopes up.

There was nothing personal in the box, Azriel was probably reluctant in letting you see them in case it overwhelmed you and triggered any more painful reactions, but there was enough for you to get a sense of who you were before.

It was clear she lived a happier and much more fulfilled life than yours. The clothes were all beautiful, if a little outdated. They came in all sorts of colors and fabrics, but even if you still liked them now, you know you'd never buy something like this for yourself.

Working at the guild, you had to prioritize functionality. You didn't have many personal belongings, you traveled a lot for missions and had to keep hidden, never staying in the same place for longer than a couple of months at a time. Your clothes reflected this, you prefered to wear pants or even your armor since you never knew when you'd be called for a mission or attacked.

You always had to be ready to drop everything at any moment so there was no use getting attached to anything or anyone. Even your favorite dagger was simply the model you've found works best for you, and you can get it anytime from different blacksmiths. The small hoops currently in your ears are the only jewelry you actually own and it's more of a way to keep the holes open for when you have to do undercover missions in which you might need to dress up.

There was no time or place for getting pretty clothes that made you feel good or buying a nice pair of earrings for the sake of it. Even less for making friends. You were living an empty life, something you always had a hard time coming to terms with, but that seems impossible to accept now that you know what you could have had, what you used to have and was taken from you.

Not being able to even trust your own memories affected you more than you'd ever admit, knowing things you considered unquestionable facts before that night were all made up. You've had to rely on what Azriel tells you and your own intuition to try and fill in the gaps. Your body seemed to be giving you clues, nudging you in the right directions but it only left you beyond frustrated that you could feel like all the answers were on the tip of your tongue but not being able to put your finger on it.

From what you've gathered, the night you disappeared from the Night Court corresponds with the mission in which you almost died, meaning someone in the guild - your handler, if your suspicions are correct - must have found you and brought you in. It's safe to say that, aside from a few lies and omissions here and there, your memories since that night can be trusted. But everything before that was all a lie, over a century of your life was nothing more than a made up story.

A burning feeling behind your eyelids has you forcefully shaking out your thoughts. You can't let yourself get consumed before you even find out what exactly happened, before you can get your revenge. And you refuse to cry in this room where anyone, especially Azriel, could walk in at any moment and see you in such a state. If you had to pick one helpful thing the guild taught you, it was how to handle your emotions.

You knew the High Lord was making good on his promise, knew that Azriel was working to help you as well. He'd only ever left your side to look into any information you could give him about the guild, though your knowledge was limited. You weren't a high ranking member and they were more than careful. You didn't know anything about the other members, as much as they didn't know anything about you.

Still, you weren't used to waiting around while everyone else did all the work and it took them over a week to schedule a new meeting with you, where you hopefully will learn more about this whole situation and what they intend to do with you. It feels like they're keeping you in the dark, something you knew you'd also do in their place, but that has left you feeling nothing but frustrated and worthless.

That meeting was happening in less than an hour and anticipation was eating away at you. Azriel promised he was going to take you to the office, letting you use him as a safety line as you've done so often these days.

Aside from the welcome information and decisions you hope would be talked through, you were also just excited to leave this room for a few hours at least. Only being able to feel the wind through an open window was getting old, and the city below this house felt like it was almost calling to you at this point, but you were too scared of seeming too interested since you didn't know if they'd find it suspicious. Just because the High Lord left the room on a friendlier note doesn't mean he'll trust you completely after what you've done.

You were technically allowed out of the room, free to walk around the House, with Azriel's supervision of course, but after your first attempt you decided it wasn't worth the trouble.

It had been mostly a miscalculation on your part. You were so consumed with your problems and with finding some sort of distraction that you almost forgot Azriel wasn't the only one you knew before, didn't stop to think what reaction they all would have to you.

Azriel asked you to join him for breakfast downstairs as he usually did, trying to get you to move around and talk with the other residents of the House. You accepted, tired of being in the stuffy room and curious to meet the General and his mate, who you've sometimes felt around the House and heard so much about from Azriel.

The atmosphere turned painfully awkward as soon as you entered the dining room with the shadowsinger at your side, making the other residents of the house look up to meet your eyes, surprised you had left the room. It wasn't long before Cassian stormed out, barely making an excuse on his way out after getting a good look at you, his mate following right behind him.

You ended up eating breakfast alone with Azriel, the same way you would have if you'd stayed in your room like you always did instead. Except now you couldn't take the general's haunted expression out of your mind. It truly had looked like he'd seen a ghost. Maybe he did.

Azriel apologized to you on his behalf, even though it wasn't his or Cassian's fault, and you're almost positive there was some sort of fight between them, though you hope not too severe. You'd hate for Azriel to get into arguments with his family over you. He didn't invite you downstairs again after that, simply joining you in your room whenever he could. The reminder of how caring the shadowsinger has been with you almost brings a smile to your lips.

“I'll make you fall for me again.”

Those words haven't left your mind since that night. You've never had anyone look at you with so much love in their eyes, and tell you something so bold with such conviction.

You're not sure you deserve it, and you're terrified you'll never remember him because you know this version of you can't ever be compared to the one in his memories. Even if you end up regaining your memories, it's impossible for things to truly go back to how they were. It's been too long and you've changed too much. The both of you know this.

You haven't actually talked about his or your feelings since that night, but it's clear that he still loves you, well he loves the female he once knew anyway, you're not so sure you're even that similar to her aside from your appearance. It doesn't feel fair to let him dote on you, knowing he's in love with a version of you that will never come back, knowing that, even with the fluttering of your heart, your feelings for him don't come close to his.

It makes you feel like you're taking advantage of him, how he's so dedicated to taking care of you and to restoring your memories, even trying to find the people who hurt you, while to you he's a stranger. Even if an extremely handsome stranger whose company you enjoy a lot, who makes you smile and even laugh despite the precarious circumstances you've found yourself in, who makes you believe you can get through this.

You can't deny you have a reaction to him either, every soft touch feels like lightning running through your veins, and every whisper of your name has goosebumps spreading all over your skin. Your body obviously still remembers how it feels to love him and to be loved by him in return, but the butterflies in your stomach don't even come close to the depth of his feelings for you. It's glaringly obvious that Azriel would do anything for you, even going as far as letting you stab him the very first night you met and brushing it off when you tried to apologize during this week.

Truthfully, falling for Azriel sounds like the easiest thing in the world, but you don't think you'd ever feel like you deserve him.

The shadows in the room start shifting ever so slightly as if reading your thoughts - something Azriel has assured you they can't do - a sign that their singer is approaching.

You put down the book you never even started and hop down from the window sill you had been sitting on for most of the afternoon, waiting for him to knock softly at the door like he always did, letting you prepare for his arrival or deny his company if you so wished. Anticipation was buzzing at your skin the longer you waited so you opened the door for him as soon as his knuckles met the dark wood, catching him off guard with his hand raised.

You can't help but smile at his wide eyes. Surprising the feared Spymaster of the Night Court has to be a hard feat to accomplish and the fact that you just did it so effortlessly makes you revel in his expression for a moment. He offers you a small smile of his own but you can immediately tell something is holding him back.

He hasn't really given you any information about their research or the guild, simply letting you know that they were working as hard as they could on it. You knew the High Lord still had his reservations about your presence in his court so it only made sense for them to keep their cards close to their chest until they knew more about the situation. You suppose he also wanted to see if any of the leads you gave Azriel on the guild actually turned out to be helpful, a last test to see if you were being truthful.

So you wouldn't be surprised that the Inner Circle had a meeting among themselves before bringing you in, one it seems like Azriel just came from, but his expression is making your anticipation steadily turn into nerves.

“Are you ready?”

Even with the lump that has lodged itself in your throat, you nod and try to give him a pleasant smile. You've been waiting for answers and you're finally going to get them, even if it feels like your heart is threatening to give out.

You quickly turn back into the room to slip on your shoes, before looping your arm around the one he offers, ever the gentlemale. He guides you through the painting covered hallways, most of which you haven't walked through before.

As you approach the room your nerves get the best of you. There are a lot more people in the office than you thought there'd be, you can hear their mismatched heartbeats from here, feel their suffocating presences. One you can distinctively recognize is the General's, it reminds you of his reaction in the dining room, how it seemed to hurt him just looking at you.

You didn't think the entire Inner Circle would be in attendance, figured that it would only be the ancient one, the High Lord and Lady aside from you and Azriel. You'll likely have to reveal more about yourself than you'd be comfortable with in any other situation, including things you're not proud of, things you know they'll judge you for, they'll judge the female they once knew for.

Azriel noticed your body tensing, your steps getting slower and the apprehension rolling off you in waves as your thoughts soured. He stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder, meeting your unfocused eyes.

Seeing the worried look on his face makes you take a deeper breath, willing your mind to focus on what's important right now and let your fears stay locked inside you. Thinking of it as another mission the guild sent you on, you've put your life on the line numerous times, you can get through a simple meeting.

You feel a familiar mask of indifference fall onto your face, the mask of a killer the guild made sure you wore almost every day of your life, but before you can rid your mind of emotion, Azriel grabs onto your hand, intertwining your fingers together, and bringing it up to his lips. He leaves a soft kiss on your skin, one that sends chills down your spine, though it's the look in his eyes that makes you stop.

You're not alone. For the first time in your life, at least in the life you remember, you're not alone. He's going to be next to you for every step of the way. You don't need to resort to assassin tactics. The blank mask was something you didn't have a choice but to use, to protect yourself from the things you'd seen, from the things you feel. But here you're allowed to delve into your emotions, to stay true to them.

Azriel gives you a small smile and lowers your hand away from his lips, proud of whatever determination showed on your face. He lets go of you, making you feel the absence of his warmth immediately, fingers twitching as if trying to reach out to his comfort on their own.

As soon as you walk into the room all eyes turn to you. You had been right to assume everyone was here. You let your eyes wander around the room briefly, noting the familiar and new faces, before settling back on Rhysand's, the reminder of the excruciating pain you've felt the last time you saw him an obvious weight on your mind.

You'd seen them all before except for the blonde sitting on the sofa by the window, her brown eyes were wide, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. You know that was Morrigan, the High Lord's cousin, and from what Azriel has told you, one of your once closest friends. Apparently she'd tried to come talk to you but it so happened to be on the day after you went down for breakfast and you denied it without a second thought when Azriel brough the option up. You wonder if that had been too harsh but you weren't sure you could handle a repeat of the Cassian situation.

Feyre and Morrigan are the only ones who attempt to throw a greeting smile your way but you can't bring yourself to respond, acutely aware of the tension in the air, eyes never straying from the High Lord's. Choosing to focus on the elephant in the room.

“I trust your stay has been enjoyable,” Rhysand muses as he points to the chair across from his desk, urging you to sit as if this were a simple business meeting. As ridiculous as the idea sounds, it does something to loosen your muscles and the snort that escapes Cassian lifts some of the tension.

“Yes, the House has been making sure of it,” you sit on the chair across from his desk, not daring to look away from him and the High Lady. He releases a simple hum at the answer, but you're too anxious for small talk. “Have you found a way to get my memories back?”

“In a way,” he offers, leaving you with more questions.

Thankfully, Amren fills up the silence in his place. “The spell suppressing your memories is the work of witches. Daemati can enter anyone's mind and make them forget certain memories but if someone had simply rewritten your memories then Rhys would have been able to fix them.”

“Witches?” The thought was enough to send shivers down your spine.

“Witches use tools to strengthen their powers, to access magic they aren't privy to,” she continues, “It seems someone used a witch's tool to feign daemati powers and rewrite your memories, effectively warding them as well.”

“That's why you had such a strong reaction when I entered your mind.”

You were positive this had to be the work of a daemati. It had never crossed your mind that there could be something else at play.

“You can't undo the spell,” you conclude for them.

Witches have a completely different approach to magic than faeries. While your kind was gifted their magic by the Mother, witches have to resort to the kind of tools Amren mentioned. The resulting magic isn't organic and as such it comes with rules and drawbacks you don't experience as fae.

“We'll need to find the person responsible for it. They're the only one who can tell us exactly how to undo it,” Feyre says.

You bite your lip, your mind reeling with the information. You only have one suspect and the thought of not only finding him but also making him talk sounds beyond ridiculous. He also hasn't shown any hint that he could use witch magic. As far as you know he's as much high fae as you are, but you can never be too certain when it comes to one the best assassins in the world.

“Azriel says you can only identify one member of the guild,” the High Lord continues, barely giving you any time to process.

You nod. “I had direct contact with a few other assassins when I was called for backup but never knew their names or even what some of them look like without disguises.”

“Our only option is finding your handler, but Azriel hasn't been able to find any tracks even with the information you've given him,” Feyre stands closer to the desk now, her hand leaning on the dark wood.

“I'm not surprised. Norris is one of the most prominent members of the guild, I'm not sure how old he is exactly but I suspect he's been working there for close to a millenia.”

“Azriel is extremely good at his job,” Rhysand tilts his head slightly, as if offended for his Spymaster.

“I know.” From the briefings he's given you, he has spies all over the world aside from his shadows, who can listen and see things fae could never begin to imagine. Even with your hints, he's come closer to the guild in a week than entire countries have in decades, perhaps even centuries. “But we've been trained to kill and hide from people like him, like you. And Norris has been doing that successfully for a very long time.”

“We…” He taps his nails on the table, the sound echoing across the room. “So you're an assassin then,” the distaste clear on the High Lord's face.

You hadn't said the words out loud but everyone had probably guessed it the moment you walked back into their lives. The guild has made a name for themselves, and as much as some of your work consisted of spying or retrieving objects, most people came to the guild for mercenary jobs.

“Yes,” you confirm, forcing yourself to keep up the eye contact.

“An interesting career choice,” he muses, as if you had the pleasure of just choosing to become this monster.

The several pairs of eyes watching you intently were making you feel defensive, your temper rising up with it. It's easy to judge someone looking in from the outside. You'd been an assassin or training to become one ever since you could remember, which in reality wasn't your whole life like you thought before. Still, whether it was because you'd been taken in by the guild as a child or had your memories rewritten, you were thrown into it against your will and had since been stuck with no chance of an escape. Everyone has done things they're not proud of and you know fae in such important positions as these and as old as they are can definitely relate to this sentiment.

You weren't proud of it, far from it, but you didn't have a choice. And it's not your fault the female they knew before wouldn't do these things. It's not your fault that innocence and chance at being better she had were ripped away from you.

“Not everyone has the luxury of getting a court handed to them,” the venom drips out of your tongue, every word meant as a weapon.

You know this is a low blow, being aware of the circumstances in which Rhysand became High Lord, how he lost his whole family in one night. But if he wants cruelty, the assassin he keeps judging, you can certainly give it to them. Your bravado lessens when you feel the sharp intake of breaths around the room, most notably from the Illyrian by your side, where he still stands despite how tense his posture has become.

Rhysand's wings tighten against his body and his eyes narrow, finally letting go of the faux relaxed look he's presented you with. He takes a moment to answer you, likely leveling his temper or receiving soothing words from his mate.

“There was a time you wouldn't even dare to hurt an innocent.” This statement lacks the same bite as before, it gives way to disappointment, and it feels like a bucket of ice poured over molting lava. It cuts deeper than any amount of judgment he could have presented you with.

You straighten yourself in the chair, trying to not let it show how much this whole conversation is affecting you. “Well,” you lick your lip, now realizing how dry your mouth felt, “The only thing left from before is my body.”

His violet gaze finally becomes too much for you to bear, allowing yourself the respite of looking down at your hands. There are too many emotions swirling in his alluring eyes, even more felt around the room, the tension has become so thick you could barely breathe, couldn't even risk a look at Azriel in fear of what you'd find written on his face, terrified that the same disappointment lingered there as well.

“It's not,” the change in tone has you looking back up at him, meeting his gaze once more to find understanding reflected on it. And I can only imagine how you've been surviving through it all.

His echoing words make you pause, not being able to look away from him. It's only when wetness gathers in your eyes that you look back down, praying the room of perceptive fae don't notice how close you are to tears. You don't even remember the last time you cried, the last time someone extended you the kindness Rhysand just did, even after all the judgment.

Shadows start crawling up your legs, tentatively moving towards you as if asking permission to comfort you. You bite back a smile, keeping your tears at bay as you wonder if they moved of their own accord or if Azriel sent them to you. You relax your body, allowing them to twist and turn over your legs, mildly surprised that you can actually feel a ghost of a touch. You didn't think you could feel shadows.

You risk a glance at the shadowsinger in question, almost regretting it as you see the fondness reflected in his beautiful eyes as he watches his own shadows move across your skin. This must have been a regular occurrence before. You look away as soon as your gazes meet, not being able to bear the intensity in them in this room full of onlookers.

Unfortunately, your escape brings you back to facing the High Lord and Lady, who seem more than amused at your interaction with Azriel. The change in atmosphere from just a few moments ago almost gives you whiplash.

“You haven't told me what you plan on doing about the guild,” you try to keep your tone leveled, but looking at their reactions you're failing miserably.

“Finding your handler seems to be our best bet,” the smile on Feyre's face only falters a bit, the tension from before has almost dissipated. “Since he's the one who sent you here he might know who hired the guild and their motives for wanting the book.”

“You said he was the one who introduced you into the guild.” You nod at Rhysand. “It's possible he's the one responsible for your… accident.”

“I think so too,” you agreed, your hand moving up to touch the scar on your neck, “I've always been told this scar was the result of a failed mission, and that Norris had been the one to find me and take me to a healer.”

“We found the attackers not long after your death,” the general finally speaks up, cringing softly at the choice of word. His mate was quick to narrow her eyes at him, as if reprimanding him for mentioning it.

“He might not have actually cut my throat,” you shrug, trying not to linger in unpleasant thoughts. “He likely saw me after the attack and decided I'd make a good addition to the guild if I survived. I'm basically a ghost, that's perfect for an agent. I wouldn't be surprised if they'd done similar things before.”

“Either way, we need to find him.”

“Even if we do, I'm not sure he'll actually tell you anything.” Norris was one of the most respected members of the guild. His abilities far surpassed yours, he'd been the one to teach you most things after all. You've never been able to even sneak up on him so finding and capturing him alive already seemed hard enough, but making him cooperate and answer any of your questions was next to impossible. The Mother only knows how many fae have tried it and failed.

“He will,” Azriel stated. When you look into his eyes you can only see pure fury and determination written in them, leaving no space for any doubts. He stares into your eyes before adding, promising, “l'll make sure of it.”

Some of that confidence rubs off on you it seems, because your hesitation starts evaporating the longer you stare into his eyes. You've always been on your own, and as such you've only ever considered how you'd fare against your handler without backup. Between the famed Shadowsinger, the strongest High Lord in history, the Made Sisters, and everyone else in this room, your chances were exponentially higher. Escaping the guild doesn't feel like a pipe dream anymore.

“How do you want to find him?”

The High Lord rewards your determination with a smirk. “The only way to find someone like him is by making him search for us instead.”

“You want to use me as bait,”

“You can refuse,” Azriel assured. This explains his sour mood. You didn't think he'd agreed with this solution with the way he's been treating you so carefully, almost as if you're made of glass. You can't exactly fault him for it either, but the truth is you can't refuse. You don't know if you could ever find Norris with traditional tactics, or if the guild wouldn't send more assassins to the city, if they hadn't already.

“And keep living like this? Hiding without even knowing who I am?”

He searches your eyes, fear and vulnerability swimming in the hazel, but nods all the same. He told you he's dreamed of getting you back for a century, and thought it was something that would never come true, so it makes sense that he'd be hesitant on letting you put yourself in such a risky position. You know he understands why you need this though.

The meeting runs for a while longer, and by the time Rhysand was calling it a day the sun was already setting on the horizon, making way for the night to take over in all its glory, one that could only be fully appreciated in the Night Court.

As much as everyone seems to be warming up to you, letting go of the conflicted feelings towards having you back in these circumstances, you were extremely overwhelmed by the end. Talking to someone who knows you so intimately even though you don't have any recollection of it is a confusing experience. You could almost hear your mind screaming at you, begging for some peace and quiet.

The contrast between the Inner Circle and Azriel becomes clear in your mind. Your relationships were very different before but it's interesting to see that even when you don't have your memories, you feel so much calmer with him. That nagging feeling of being faced with something you've lost keeps rising up when they speak to you, but it doesn't come anywhere close to the myriad of emotions Azriel evokes simply by looking at you. And even if those emotions are more intense, you have a much bigger tolerance for them, as if your body would gladly accept any turmoil as long as you stayed in his company.

Just as you were about to leave the room, Rhysand invites you to join them for dinner. Everyone turns to you with expectant eyes before the words fully leave his mouth. They clearly planned it out together. This habit they have of speaking through each other's minds is one it might take a while getting used to.

You bite your lip, as you think of what to say. Cassian and Morrigan look particularly keen on the idea, it makes you feel a little relieved that the general isn't looking at you like a nightmare came true anymore, but you really don't think you can handle any more questions today, or to have them reminisce about your former relationships. You're not used to spending time with a lot of people in general, you'd go months without any sort of fae contact sometimes. You just want to go somewhere quiet, and you can only think of one person whose company would allow you to relax.

Making up your mind, you decline the invitation politely, trying to ignore the disappointment in their eyes as they bid you goodnight. This still feels like a huge improvement from where you stood with them just at the beginning of the meeting, that they'd want to keep you company when it felt like they were avoiding you this whole week. You might have gained some of their trust, and, to your immense shock, you trust them as well. It feels like a breath of fresh air after a century of not even trusting your shadow.

Maybe it's that feeling, or the immediate quiet that settles over you as soon as you walk into the empty hallway, maybe even the fact that you finally got some answers and even a plan, a chance at leaving the guild, something you never even dared to dream about, but it has you feeling a little indulgent. Your steps are noticeably lighter, and all the tension from before is now only a faint ache in your muscles.

“Azriel?” You look up at him with a smile, feeling it widen when he looks at you in answer. “Since I'm out of the room, can we go somewhere to watch the stars?”

The smile that takes over his face is blinding, it feels like it could rival the moon. It's fascinating how his beauty can still catch you off guard like this, even if you've been spending most of your time with him for an entire week.

“Of course,” he moves closer to you and takes your hand, pulling you into him, his eyes never straying from yours. It takes you longer than it should have to realize he was covering you both in shadows, too lost in his eyes to pay attention to your surroundings, how they've turned to black. He told you before that's how he winnows, though it can't be called that since he moves through shadows instead.

The light almost blinds you as his shadows disperse, giving way to a view you can't believe is real. The sky wasn't completely dark yet, stuck in the brief moments of twilight where you could still see the last rays of the sun illuminating the dark blue sky. And yet the stars were already twinkling in the sky, surrounding the full moon.

You can't help but gasp, forgetting about Azriel and moving to the edge of the roof, admiring the unforgettable view. Your eyes don't stray from it as you lean against the railing, long enough that the sun completely sets, and the streets become illuminated by faelights.

You had thought there was some sort of celebration when you first came here, but have since learned that every night is enjoyed to its fullest in the city of dreamers.

As some of your awe settles, you turn to look at Azriel as he too admires the city. His shadows had left him uncovered, choosing to scatter around what you now recognize as a training ground. You almost regret staring up at the sky for so long when you could have been reveling in his beauty this whole time.

His tan skin was glowing with the pale moonlight, eyes as bright as the stars when he looks down at you. You move closer to him almost unconsciously, as if you've been bewitched.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you sound breathless even to your ears. “The view is a lot more beautiful from up here.” Your bedroom window could never do this justice. If you looked up, it almost felt like you were walking on air, among the stars.

He turns to you fully, ignoring the captivating sight in favor of watching you. His face relaxes further as he takes you in, the smile on his lips growing and the air around you changing. He raises his scarred palm up to cup your face, whispering softly, “It can't ever compare to you.”

“That's cheesy,” you stutter, clearly taken aback by the sudden flirtatious tone.

He grins down at you, a mischievous look in his eyes, rubbing his thumb over the increasingly warmer skin of your cheek. “You're blushing.”

Azriel has been open with his feelings for you all week, making it clear that they haven't changed over the years, even with your absence from his life, but he has never been this brazen. None of the interactions you've had can be considered anything else than platonic, and even with sweet compliments and bashful admissions, he has never looked at you like this, like he truly believed just one second of looking at you was worth more than this unbelievable view.

“You know,” you start hesitantly, “We haven't actually tried everything.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to catch up to your train of thought. You can feel when he does because he tenses against you, and would have let go of your face if you hadn't placed your hand around his wrist, keeping him there.

“I think I've read it in a story before,” you lick your lips, feeling like lava is pumping through your veins when his eyes follow the movement, “Sometimes a kiss can be stronger than any magic spell.”

He leans closer to you slowly, looking into your eyes to search for any sign of discomfort. You can't be entirely sure what he finds in them, you can't feel much else but desire in this moment, but it has him clearing the rest of the way, both of your eyes closing as his lips finally touch yours softly.

A sigh escapes him when you press into him harder, needing to find out what he tastes like, what he feels like. His other hand comes up to cup your other cheek, holding you against him. You can feel him losing his restraint bit by bit, hands moving from your face to hold your neck, your waist, grip getting tighter with every stroke of his tongue against yours, a century of longing and raw passion melting into the kiss. Your own arms find their way around his neck, pulling him down, finally feeling the softness of his hair around your fingers. His chest is pressed against yours, close enough that you can feel his heart beating.

When you finally pull away from each other, you're both breathless. He leans his forehead against yours, eyes closed. You wonder how many times he's dreamed of this moment, of being able to taste you again after so long.

“Any memories resurfacing?” His voice is rough, deeper than you've ever heard it. It almost makes you hold back a moan.

“No,” you lick your lips, reveling in his taste, “but we can give it another try.”

His lips find yours as soon as the last words leave your mouth, more than happy to deliver. You might chastise yourself for giving in to temptation tomorrow, but in this moment nothing else matters. Not the guild, not your lost memories, not your mistakes. Right now there's only him, you and the stars as your witnesses.

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#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel angst #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel fanfiction #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #divider by saradika

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d10nyx · 2 months

Text

don't hold your breath(nobody's home)

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dead dove, uncle-niece incest, non-con, loss of virginity, very minor blood description, forced alcohol consumption, alcoholism from leon ofc, reader gets slapped, age gap, guilt, one threat, fingering, p in v, non-consensual creampie, crying, idk leon feels entitled cause his brother sucks, reader hinted at having nice tits idk

a/n: sorry if this sucks ass... my motivation for writing has been non-existent w real life stuff n all the drama so... i feel like this is awful but here we are. title from razzmatazz by idkhbtfm... not proofread i'm sorry </3

word count: 1.9k words

Leon knew he had a drinking problem. He just hadn't realised it had gotten this bad. He couldn't even get his dick up with viagra anymore. He frowns as he looks down at the brunette he was planning to fuck, tempted to try and just push it in soft.

He ends up just kicking her out to drown his sorrows. He wasn't dealing with this shit tonight, not when he was seeing his asshole brother tomorrow. Pretty wife, perfect kids. His job pays better than Leon's ever will, and he didn't need to undergo years of trauma. Lucky bastard.

Leon does what he does best that night and drinks enough whiskey so he can pass out without worrying about the nightmares coming to ruin his night.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

He hasn't seen you in a good six years. You were still playing with dolls and shit when he last visited. Makes him feel stupid when he brings you a plushie as a gift. Clearly he forgot how time worked, cause he still expected you to be thirteen. You still hug him and say thank you, sweet as ever. When his brother said he'd be watching the house and looking after you, he didn't expect to see you so... grown. Too old to need a babysitter, really. Even if your parents are gonna be gone for a week.

He gulps as his hands settle on your hips, trying to prevent you from pressing against his hardening cock. Down boy. At least his dick still works. It just took his college-aged niece to get it up. Doesn't help that you've got your tits smooshed against his chest.

Therapy was gonna be a doozy this week.

He could only pray that this doesn't turn into anything. The last thing he needed was his dick being the thing that got him thrown into prison for doing something stupid to you, no matter how cute that body of yours is. That's a new one, he thinks, mentally slapping himself for even thinking about touching you like that. He'd never do it, of course. That's sick, and he knows it. He's just so frustrated. And you're hot. A total babe. Somehow, you managed to get a better rack than your mom. Must be the Kennedy genes coming in. Leon's got tits for days.

He knew he had a drinking problem, but he never thought he'd lose himself this much. He never thought about hurting anyone. He's not a bad guy. It's just that every time he tried to be with someone, he just couldn't get his body to react the way he wanted. That's what the oxytocin was for, he thought, already thinking about taking a swig of whiskey from the flask in his pocket. If only that fucking stuff worked on him. The part of his brain that controlled his cock seemed to be permanently on vacation, and his wires clearly got crossed somewhere if he wants to fuck his own blood.

Whatever. He could get through a week alone with his niece without any trouble. He's faced worse monsters than the ones making themselves present in his mind right now. He'd keep his distance, and all would be okay.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

That didn't work. Of course it didn't. You were just as clingy with him as you were when you were a kid, following him around like a lost puppy. He's convinced he's clutching the glass of whiskey in his hand hard enough to shatter it as you curl up against his side. His cock is throbbing, and he seriously hopes you don't notice how the fabric of his jeans is getting a little strained.

You really need to stop with those tits. He's gonna lose it if they brush his arm one more time. He's not sure what it is about you, particularly, that has him acting like a teenage virgin again, but his self-control is wavering by the second. He hasn't paid a single second of attention to the movie he was meant to be watching to keep his mind off of you.

Fuck this.

He takes a swig of whiskey that drains half the liquid in his cup in one gulp. Liquid courage and all that. Maybe he'd drunk a little too much while he was here, ‘cause his brain clearly isn't working right. Not when he's pinning you to the couch, kissing your neck despite your protests.

“Leon… Leon, what're you doing?” You force out, small hands pressing at his chest as if you'd be able to knock him off. Cute. He'd fought creatures six times your size. You didn't stand a chance.

He starts undressing you, and you start writhing and crying, hitting his chest with clenched fists. He swallows the lump that builds in his throat, wiping the tears that fall down your cheeks.

“Shh… it's okay, I'm… I'm gonna take care ‘f you.” He murmurs, his voice slightly slurred from how much he'd drunk. You cry even harder when he presses a finger into you, making the guilt rise up faster in him. That's not fair. He's being nice. God didn't bless him with much, but at least he gave him a fat cock. You should feel lucky he's prepping you. Not making him feel bad.

“Hey.” He warns, shoving another finger in just to shut you up. You finch when he scissors you open. Poor thing. “That's enough. One more complaint for you, and I'll just force myself in.”

Shit. Now he really does feel like a monster. He's not drunk enough to handle the pure terror on your face at his words. He fumbles on the coffee table with his free hand as he lazily pumps into you with the other. Glass? No. Bottle.

Maybe you need some, too. Get you nice and pliant so you'll take his dick without bitching. Not a bad idea. He twists the cap off with his teeth, gulping some of the liquid down himself. He takes another mouthful before leaning down to kiss you, spitting the liquid into the back of your throat. He keeps your mouth on yours even as you try to jerk away, making sure you swallow it.

You really are adorable as you start coughing and spluttering. Such a sweet thing, you probably hadn't even drunk before. He lifts the bottle to your mouth, pouring some more into your mouth before setting it down, covering your mouth. “Swallow.”

He starts thumbing at your clit as he fingers you, relishing in the ways your whimpers turn into soft moans, your hips bucking against his hand. He manages to coax an orgasm out of you with a few more touches, a big smile spreading across his face.

“There we go, sweetie. See, that wasn't so bad, was it?” He coos, unbuttoning his jeans. The sound of the zipper has your eyes widening in horror, and he tuts softly. “What're you giving me that look for? It's your turn to take care of me now.”

There goes the begging and pleading again. It has his brows pinching together as a frown tugs at his lips. You really are his brother's kid. So goddamn ungrateful. He just took care of you, and now you just want him to… what? Fist his dick in the guest room?

He smacks you so hard your head snaps to the side, your breaths coming out in short gasps. You look better like that, tears stinging your eyes but your body completely limp. He can see the fight draining out of your eyes.

“I was gonna be nice.” He mumbles, brows furrowing as he lines his tip up with your entrance, forcing himself inside in one thrust. He groans loudly, shuddering as your tight heat envelops him. His eyes look down, locked onto your cunt as he fucks into you with long strokes. He freezes when he notices blood. He's not sure if he's happy or disgusted that he's your first. No wonder you put up such a fight.

You keep weakly begging him to stop, but your pussy is gushing all over him. It's not his fault he can't stop – you're giving him the hottest look he's ever seen, and your puffy cunt is so fucking greedy for his cock, sucking him back in everytime he starts to pull out.

“S-sorry… I'm so sorry…” He grunts, picking up the pace of his thrusts, groaning at the sound of your punched out moans as he drives into you with as much force as he can muster. You almost sound like you're enjoying it, but you're still fucking crying and he can't take it. His heart hurts.

“Baby, please…” He whispers, squeezing his eyes shut so he doesn't have to see the betrayal on your face. His arms tremble as he holds himself up, sloppily fucking into you. “I'm sorry… just stop cryin’, please…”

Every time his hips smack the fat of your ass, you're moaning out a ‘please’. With his eyes shut, he can pretend you're begging for more. That you like this. That is, until you start saying ‘stop’. He winces, but the movement of his hips doesn't falter.

“Fuck, baby… please stop begging.” He pleads, throwing his head back as his tip kisses your cervix. He whimpers as it makes you tighten around him, angling his thrusts to hit that spot each time he fully sheaths himself inside of you.

“I-I can't stop…you feel so… fuck. So fucking good. M'so close.” He groans. He can't even find the strength to pull out anymore. He buries himself balls deep in your cunt, grinding himself into your tight heat.

“L-Leon… please.” You say weakly, chest heaving with heavy breaths as panic sets in, your hands pushing at his chest. “Y-you gotta pull out, you can't… you can't.”

“What?” He breathes out, cracking his eyes open to look at you again. He looks genuinely confused. Why would he ever pull out when you felt so good? He can't bring himself to. “Baby, no. I'm cumming inside of you. Can't pull out now.”

That seems to bring your fight back. You start struggling under him again, punching him with all your strength. Luckily, that's not a lot. Especially when you're sluggish from your first time drinking and getting fucked. It's Leon's lucky day.

“Shit, baby. Don't look at me like that.” Or do. He's gonna cum if you keep staring up at him with that wide-eyed expression. “No need to be so scared, princess. I just… shit. Can't help myself.”

Doesn't take longer than a minute after that for him to finish. He buries his face in your neck, whining as he cums. His cock kicks inside of you, the warmth of his release filling every inch of you. You start sobbing all over again, slumping weakly against the couch.

He lies on top of you, his weight pressing you down into the couch. He pets your hair like you're a doll, his fingers carding through your hair.

“I'm sorry, baby. Forgive me. I'll be so good. Do whatever you want. Didn't mean it.” He murmurs, kissing your cheek over and over as if he's trying to get you to relax. He keeps it up until you fall asleep, wrapping you up in his arms.

When you wake up in the morning, you're fully dressed in your bed. You almost think it's a dream until you feel the dull throbbing between your legs.

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy #tw dark content #dark content #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic

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ghouljams · 5 months

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Viking!Soap has consumed my entire being! Just imagining how unhinged he'd get if highland!reader got hurt or taken!!

Or or or! Him seeing her holding/caring for babies! They way he'd get sooo feral... 🥴

(Your writing > Me 🤰)

While the vikings aren't back home quite yet in the Soap story line, I did have an idea in my head and this is honestly the best ask to write it out in. Here's some of highland!reader being a healer and Soap being just... so dead over it

uuuuuh tw for descriptions of birth. I'm giving Gaz a baby.

Now this is a good use of your skills. You forget sometimes, that the vikings come from somewhere, that there must be people waiting on them, that they must have a home. This? You could never deny that Gaz is human after this. Not with the way he holds his wife's hand and frets over her as she grits her teeth and pushes. You know this, you've been midwife to enough of the people in your village to feel her dilation with your fingers, to cup the baby's head and ease its shoulders. You try to look reassuring as the mother sobs above you. That's what Gaz is for you suppose, he murmurs quiet affections to her, trying to keep her calm through the worst of it.

When the baby finally slips free and falls into your hands you can feel the relief that sobs through its mother. You're quick to dip your scissors in the boiled water nearby and snip the cord, tying it off with deft precision. You frown at the quiet infant, rub your fingers against its chest as Gaz comforts his wife. It scrunches its little face, opens its mouth on a silent cry and you turn it over to hit its little back hard. Then again, until it coughs and its cry finally pierces the air.

You sigh, and pass the baby off to be cleaned up by one of the mother's friends. "It's a boy," You tell the happy couple, taking their weary smiles as payment for a job well done. The only job you've ever done well.

The fire has burned low and the rest of the village has gone home to wait, but the 141 is vigilant. The crazy shepherd pops her head out of Gaz's house with good news after hours waiting. Soap lets out a breath and leans back to look at the rising sun. A new day for a new life.

He doesn't expect to see you holding the new wee one when they're actually allowed in. Sat next to the bed, fingers checking over the infant as your wrap and re-wrap its swaddle. His swaddle. Gaz said the baby was a boy.

You look tired, but you smile fondly down at the sleeping baby none the less. Again he finds himself staring at the rising sun, the warmth of you permeating every shallow corner of the room. The baby shift in its blankets and you shush it before it can start crying. Your fingers are so gentle as the skate over its little cheeks and nose. Every angle of you seems to gentle the infant, each soft touch to calm it. Soap's never seen anyone like you, never thought someone like you would step down from the realm of the gods to grace the earth.

Something warm melts over Soap's heart, the tender moment broken when you hand the baby back to his mother. Gaz and his wife laugh as Ghost and Price crowd close to give the congratulations, but Soap can't take his eyes off of you. He wants to see it again, wants to see you cradling an infant, looking content and proud.

Soap goes to stand next to you, brushes his fingers against your shoulder to try and catch some of the warmth breaking off of you. You stiffen and glare up at him. He takes his hand away, feels his fingers tighten, his smile hollow when he pastes it on. How differently would you look at him if it was his baby you cradled close to your chest? Would your gaze still cut into him like the bitter winds that carry snow down from the mountains? Would you soften for him, let him see the warmth in your eyes that now seems so far away? Would you look at him like you look at the baby?

As something human?

"Thank you," Gaz's wife give you a genuine smile, her eyes tired but shining with joy, "I know this isn't what you-"

"No," You stop her, the nordic tongue sounds so foreign to Soap's ears when it comes from your mouth, "I'm happy to help." Your accent is bad, it makes Soap smile a little fuller as he tries not to laugh. You seem to warm again watching the happy family. It's just him then.

Soap can see it when you give Gaz a weary smile, he's human in your eyes. He wonders what it would take to be granted the same honor. If you'd ever give him that, just that, he could live a lifetime on it.

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tightjeansjavi · 8 months

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your mind, your needs

A/N: so I genuinely had one of the worst days at work today. It started off okay, and then quickly spiraled downwards and by mid-afternoon, I broke. I decided to write this Joel comfort piece as a self indulgence, but I also hope this brings comfort to anyone that has had a rough day/week. Enjoy 🤎

~word count: 2.5k~

Summary: after a shitty stressful day at work, your long-time boyfriend Joel Miller comforts you in the way he knows best.

Warnings: none, AU/no!outbreak, fluff, bantering, soft intimacy, established relationship, pet names, no use of y/n, reader has no physical descriptions, moodboard is just for aesthetics, no age gap, feelings, breaking down in the workplace, comfort, soft! Joel, comforting! Joel, Joel is just the best boyfriend you could ever ask for. (+18) minors dni!

Pairing | Joel Miller x f! reader

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Your long-term boyfriend, Joel Miller, knew your needs as if they were on the back of his hand. He knew just by your body language alone if you needed space, or if you needed some form of comfort from him. He picked up on all your little quirks. Your habits, both good and bad. The things you loved, and the things you hated, and everything in-between. He knew that when you’d have a good day at work you’d hang your keys and coat up in their designated spot on the hooks against the wall in the main entryway. Your shoes would be neatly tucked away, and there would always be a candle burning on the kitchen counter. On your rough days, your keys and purse would be thrown on the table in the hallway. Your shoes would be kicked off on the doormat, and there would be no candle burning.

Your morning started off as it normally would but by lunch time? You were fed up and on the verge of breaking down into tears. Nothing was going right. Your emails were blowing up and it just felt like you could inevitably no longer keep up with the high demand that was tossed on your plate. Normally you’d go out to lunch with coworkers, but today you isolated yourself in your car. You picked a shady spot under a nearby tree in the parking lot and parked your car. It was a beautiful day and it made you feel guilty that you chose to sit in your car instead of socializing with your coworkers. The tears were on-coming as you dialed Joel’s number. The only time that you’d call Joel on your lunch break was if you were having a bad day, or if you were going to be home late.

“Hey darlin.’ How's my pretty girl doin?’ You enjoyin’ the nice weather we’ve been havin?’” His butter-smooth Texas twang was an instant comfort to your present overwhelmed state of mind.

“Hey, baby. Could be better.” You murmured into the receiver. You could picture Joel’s furrow between his brows, and the soft pout playing on his lips from your answer.

“Somethin’ wrong honeybun? Y’havin’ a rough day?..” He softly asked as he leaned back against the side of his truck.

“I just feel like I can’t fucking do anything right today Joel. I’m sitting in my car, alone, because I just can’t take it right now. I feel like I'm about to combust.” You spoke exasperatedly as you slumped back into the driver's seat.

“Sweet girl, I'm sure that ain’t true. Jus’ havin’ a rough day? You wanna talk about it, or do ya need some space? Y’know I'm always here to listen.” He softly reassured you.

“Can we..talk when you get home later? I just wanted to briefly try and decompress from the situation. What time are you off?”

“Course we can talk at home, honey. I should be home a little after five..anythin’ special you want for dinner?”

“Tacos? From that place that we really like?..”

“Mm. Those are pretty good. I’ll pick ‘em up on my way home, okay sweet girl? Jus’ try’n power through the rest of your day. I know it's tough, but it’ll be alright.” He wished that he was there with you right now just so he could give you a well-deserved hug and soft kiss on the forehead.

“Okay. Thank you baby. I’ll try my best to power through. I’ll see you at home, and I love you.”

“‘Atta girl. I believe in ya. See you at home, and I love you too.”

Your day only seemed to plummet even further than it did before lunch. You couldn’t get a grasp on the emails, five people were asking you to do multiple tasks at once. Your phone was ringing non-stop, and you finally broke. You retreated to the bathroom, hoping to god that none of the other office ladies were in there. Much to your relief, you were alone. Your tears didn’t fall right away. You tried to hold them at bay as you practiced your breathing exercises that Joel generously taught you. It wasn’t working and it felt like the already cramped bathroom stall was closing in on you. When your tears finally broke past your waterline, you finally let all of your pent up emotion out.

The rest of your afternoon went by in a blur, and when you were finally back in your car after a long day, you closed your eyes and inhaled deeply in through your nose with your eyes softly closed and exhaled through your mouth. The day was over, and you could finally go home.

When Joel had arrived home later that evening, a little after five, he wasn’t surprised to find your shoes left untidy on the doormat. Your keys and purse were thrown haphazardly on the table in the hall, and there was no familiar scent of one of your many candles. The home you shared together was cozy and welcoming. Photographs of you together and your friends and family could be found in every room. When you first agreed to move in together three years ago, you had a conjoined idea to have separate rooms. At first your friends thought it was a bit odd that you and Joel weren’t sleeping together every night, but it actually was beneficial to your relationship. You were able to have your own space to wind down in, and so was Joel. The best part? On the nights you did sleep together, it was like you were having a sleepover.

“Hey honey? I’m home darlin’, and I come bearing tacos.” He set the bag of takeout on the counter before he padded down the hall. He knew that if your bedroom door was closed this meant that you were needing space. He respected this of course and he always would knock so that you could continue to have your privacy.

You could hear his footsteps padding down the hall and coming to a halt outside your door. His knuckles gently thrummed against the wood three times. “Darlin?’ S’okay if I come in? Or do you still wanna be alone? Tacos are on the counter if you're hungry.” His head was bowed downwards as he let out a soft sigh.

You were completely burrowed and cocooned under the blankets. You reached your arm up and wiped your tear stained cheeks on the sleeve of Joel’s hoodie that you were wearing. The material was worn down but his scent continued to linger.

“You can come in, Joel.” Your tone was soft and muffled through the blanket. Despite this, Joel was able to hear it and he gave you a few seconds to change your mind before he was grasping the door handle and gently pushing the door open. You felt the unoccupied side of the bed slowly dip and crease from the weight of Joel’s body sinking down on the comforter.

“Y’know, if ya keep stealin’ my hoodies like this, I ain’t gonna have much to wear anymore, my pretty baby.” He murmured with a soft amusing chuckle.

“Shuddup.” You rolled over onto your side and gently swatted at his arm with your cheek squished into the pillow.

“There she is. There’s my pretty girl.” He had a soft smile gracing his face to match the softness in his eyes as he looked over at you.

“Even when my cheeks are all puffy and my eyes are all red from crying? I’m still your pretty girl?” You softly teased as you reached for his hand.

“That’s when I think you’re the prettiest. How long have ya been cooped up in here?” He gently grasped your hand in his own and interlocked your fingers through his.

“Oh, you hush. Don’t make me fall in love with you even more.” You hummed as you scooted closer to him. You were seeking his comfort, and he gladly indulged in your wishes. “I’ve been here since I got home. I seriously thought the day was never going to end Joel.” You let out a huff as you nuzzled your cheek into his shoulder as his free arm gently looped around your waist and tugged you in close.

“Baby, i’m just speakin’ the truth. You wanna talk ‘bout your day? You sounded real upset earlier..I was thinkin’ about you for the rest of my shift. I know you’ve been stressed at work lately, but is there anythin’ I can be doin’ to alleviate that stress for you?” His lips were gently pressed to your forehead and he gently squeezed your hand that was still presently wrapped around his.

“It just felt like the work was never ending, and everytime I tried to catch up, more work was thrown at me and I guess I just broke after lunch. I was working on emails and then these last minute orders came in and I couldn’t handle it anymore. I went to the bathroom to try and calm my nerves, but I broke down into tears instead. I just feel like no matter what I do, it isn’t good enough. My best isn’t my best, and there's more that I could be doing. I just feel like I failed as an employee today. Honey, all I need you to do is keep holding me and sweet talking me up. You just being here and listening to me is all the comfort I truly need.”

Joel let your words sink in as he thought deeply over what his response would be. “Baby, y’know it’s perfectly okay to feel like you can’t get all the work done, right? You don’t gotta push yourself to that breakin’ point. At the end of the day, it’s just a job, and you’re one person. I understand it can be overwhelmin’ at times, and y’know what? I’m extremely proud of you letting it out in a healthy way instead of jus’ bottlin’ that shit up. Your body was lettin’ y’know that it needed to release all that pent up frustration. I also want ya to know that you are good enough. You're a good employee who cares about gettin’ the work done, but ya need to be kinder to yourself darlin.’” Joel was always honest with you; it was one of the main reasons why it was so easy to fall in love with him. He never lied, and even when his own emotions were tough to sift through, he’d always be honest on how he was feeling.

“I know it’s okay if I don’t get everything done, and sometimes I’m okay with it. Sometimes I’m not because I feel like if I don’t do it, who will? If I don’t get all the emails taken care of, who’s going to do it in my place? I can only rely on my coworkers to a certain point Joel. You’re right. I do need to be kinder to myself, especially in the workplace. It’s a real struggle for me, and I’m working on changing that view on myself.”

“You jus’ gotta trust that you’re doin’ a good job. As long as you do your best, no one's gonna fault ya for that. You’re only human. Your brain only has a limited capacity to handle a certain amount of stress. That ain’t on you honey. Jus’ when you start feelin’ overwhelmed, jus’ remember that you can step away and go for a walk, or take a breather. Hell, you can call me whenever you want. I’ll always be there to talk you through it. I’m always gonna be here to listen and support you.”

You gently let go of his hand just so you could fully wrap yourself around him like a koala. Your legs tangled through his as you draped your arms around his neck with your fingers lightly toying with soft hairs at the nape of his neck. “How do you always say the right thing everytime? You just know exactly what it is that I need to hear.”

“Can’t reveal my secrets to ya baby. I’m just real good at readin’ ya. What can I say? I’m a natural.” He chuckled as his other arm came to rest along your lower back with his fingers gently splayed under the fabric of his hoodie that you were wearing. He was rubbing soothing circles into your skin as a comforting gesture. “I jus’ don’t like seein’ my girl upset. Breaks this poor man’s heart. Jus’ wanna be there for ya in any way that I can.”

“You are indeed a natural, Joel.” You pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose, giggling softly when he scrunched his nose up and playfully wiggled his eyebrows at you like the goof that he was. “I appreciate you giving me my space, and then being here to comfort me. I know I say this all the time, but I truly appreciate it.”

“‘Course, baby. Y’do the same for me. It’s mutual, and it makes me feel good inside that I can bring ya a sense of comfort even on your toughest days.” He softly murmured.

“Can we please go and eat tacos now and then watch a movie or something?” Your lashes fluttered as you looked up at him from where your cheek was resting against the crook of his shoulder.

“Baby, you don’t gotta ask me twice. Jus’ as long as you keep those toesicles away from me. Deal?”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at his remark about your apparently frigid feet. You couldn’t help the giggle that slipped past your lips as you slowly shook your head, “Joel, my feet are not that cold. You’re just being a big baby about it.”

“Nuh-uh. Those toes? They’re literal icicles. Put some socks on ‘em.” He playfully teased as he stole a quick kiss on your lips.

“You’re the worst.”

“Ah, but ya love me baby. You love me sooo much.” He singsonged as he coaxed you to sit up in his arms.

“Yeah, I do love you quite a lot. You might actually be my favorite person in the entire world.”

“Oh god, you’re evil. G’nna make me cry now. Cats out of the bag, darlin.’ Cus’ you’re my favorite person in the entire goddamn world too.”

“Disgusting.” You teased and he immediately went in to tickle you. Your joined laughter echoed through your bedroom. The sound of love, understanding, and feeling.

For the rest of the evening, you and Joel spent it on the couch eating your tacos and watching whatever movie you could find that would lift your spirits. Your sock-clad feet rested comfortably along his lap as he gently massaged your calves. He was focused on the colorful screen while you were focused on his jaw-dropping stunning side profile. Who the hell allowed this man to not only be beautiful on the outside, but also within. You loved that man with your everything, and he loved you just the same.

Banners made by the lovely @saradika

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 2 months

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Ok, this is so fun! Congrats again!

I'll pick...Hunter (shocked, I'm sure.)

How about: "I don't think I've ever seen you smile" and "Oh, don't be cute"/"Wait, did you just say that I'm cute?"

Thanks!!

Carol (@clonethirstingisreal)

Thank you @clonethirstingisreal - I hope you love this Carol, it actually brought a smile to my face as I was writing it.

Enjoy, love oo.

One Meal

Warnings: knife flipping, allusions to loss, slight angst, fluff. I think that's it, if I miss any please let me know.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

Hunter flicked his knife back and forth in between his fingers, as he contemplated the next mission. Things were … different, since you joined. Not good or bad … just different. It been about six months, and yes, the Marauder was cleaner and didn’t have that lingering smell anymore, and yes, the meals had gotten better too, because you refused to just eat the ration bars the GAR provided. And … okay, it was nice to see your smiling face in the morning, compared to the miserable faces of his brothers.

Yet, he still felt awkward around you. He wanted to laugh with you, like you could so easily with Wrecker, to have deep discussion, like you could with Tech, even philosophical discussions like you did with Echo. Hell, he’d be happy if he could just do target practice with you, like you did with Crosshair, but … every time he opened his mouth, he was curt, short tempered, and on edge.

It wasn’t even your fault, it was just him.

He stood from his seat, heading down the ramp and taking in a breath of fresh air. You were cooking dinner, doing your best to teach Wrecker that just because salt tasted good, didn’t mean he had to put in a whole table spoon full.

It made him laugh a little as you tried to explain in your most patient voice possible, that you’d fix the dinner and Wrecker could go help Tech or Crosshair with something else. It was your polite way of saying ‘go away.’

Hunter tried but he couldn’t stop the smile on his lips, as he walked over to you.

"I don't think I've ever seen you smile" you pointed out as he walked up to you. “What’s got you so happy?”

“Oh, I just saw how you were very tactful with Wrecker. It was funny.”

You shrugged trying to fight back your own laughter as you tried to fix the stew, by adding more water, “He tried. I’m grateful he’s willing to learn.”

“Need help? I’m not completely inept when it comes to cooking.”

You looked a little surprised when he asked, not that his offering to help was a real shock, it was the fact you realized this was the first time you two had a proper conversation. “Um … yeah, if you don’t mind using your handy dandy knife there, that you like flipping around so much, to cut up some of these veggies so I can add them, that’d be great.”

Hunter chuckled at your description, as he nodded, taking a seat and getting to work, “Where did you learn to cook?” He asked, hoping to get to know you a little better.

“My mom and grandmother. They were adamant that I learn how to feed an army if I ever needed to …” you chuckled, “I had a big family, back home. Usually there would be around twenty of us for dinner.”

“Twenty? Did you have a lot of siblings?”

“No. It was just me. But I had uncles, aunts, cousins, friends, neighbours, anyone and everyone who needed a meal could always come to our place for dinner. We never turned away anyone in need of a good meal.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It was …” a sadness passed your face, as you thought back to what had once been your home, until the Separatist droid army showed up, and destroyed everything you had held so dear.

Hunter saw your smile slip, it pained him to see that you had been through so much, although he hadn’t heard about it directly from you, he did overhear what had happened when you were talking with Tech. “Well we appreciate all your efforts, especially when you’re trying to teach us neanderthals how to cook.”

You giggled a little, pushing away the sad thoughts that had encapsulated your mind for a split second, “You’re not neanderthals.”

“We’re not exactly proper either. Couldn’t say, we’re exactly suited for a posh dinner.”

You shook your head as you laughed, “You don’t need to be suited for a posh dinner, you just need to show up to eat.” You smiled as you turned to look at him, smirking as you saw how perfectly he cut each vegetable.

You walked over and grabbed the tray of veggies, and dropped them into the stew, “Thanks for your help.”

“Of course. Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure”

“Why do you take care of us? I mean granted the Marauder smells a lot better, and the meals you cook are much better than the GAR rations, but … why do you do it?”

You stirred the stew as you contemplated the question, “I guess … because you feel like family to me.” You turned to look at him, truthfully, he was the only one that you didn’t think of as family, you wanted something more with him, something special, but seeing as this was the first time you two actually talked, it might be a bit far-fetched to imagine that could possibly happen. “And, I love seeing how my food makes you guys happy. Wrecker, has the biggest smile on his face, whenever he eats when I cook. Tech has this adorable blush, although he’ll never admit how much he enjoys my cooking. And Crosshair … well he always comes back for seconds; and frankly, between you and me, he needs to eat more. He’s too skinny. I could break off his collarbone if I needed.”

“I enjoy it too,” Hunter clarified as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “I might not say it, but I always look forward to your cooking.” He blushed and turned his head away, not wanting you to see how much of an effect you had on him, and not just because of your cooking.

You laughed at his reaction, "Oh, don't be cute” you teased, “I might have to walk over there and pinch your cheeks.”

Hunter started to laugh, when he realized what you said, “Wait, did you just say that I'm cute?"

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

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guilty-pleasures21 · 2 months

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Hii i have an idea for part 3 of interrogation w/ Jason!! SO the roleplay thing could be Red Hood (pretending he's high on sex pollen) with an innocent!reader who he's had a crush on for AGES

Basically him being all like "You're the reason this is hurting so much (referring to his hard-on), don't you wanna help your friend feel better? I'll only feel better if you do it..." And X doesn't know anything about sex so she's like "=) Okay I'll help!" basically gets tricked into fucking him

but this is just a random thot k u dont have to like it :)

(also can I be 🐺anon?)

Hooooooooh! I kept having to take breaks while writing this, because it is SO. F**KING. SPICY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

@🐺anon, you are my new hero. I hope I have successfully managed to bring your dirty little fantasies to life and I also personally hope to hear from you again soon because BABE?! ⁉️⁉️ This was AMAZING!!!

Sex pollen with innocent best friend

Jason Todd tricking his best friend he's been in love with for AGES into having sex with him.

Warnings: explicit description of sex including blowjob (f & m receiving), penetration (p in v) and Jason taking advantage of his best friend's innocence. No age gap, but manipulation is involved.

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

He stood on his best friend's balcony, heavy pants shaking his chest as the arousal flooded his body. F*cking sex pollen. Why the hell would Ivy even need something like that?! Argh! It didn't matter. Right now, all that mattered was that he find some way to relieve himself. Some way that maybe involved his unfairly gorgeous best friend he'd been in love with for … He couldn't even remember a time he hadn't been pining after her. Jason knocked on the glass door and his heart stuttered in his chest when he saw X's small figure rushing over to him.

Red Hood?! The Red Hood was at her balcony door?! But, oh, he didn't look too good.

“Mr Hood?” She reached up to place a hand on his brawny shoulder and her brows furrowed with concern as she looked up at him. “Is everything all right?”

F*ck! Did she have to be so f*cking cute?! Calling him ‘Mr Hood’ while she gazed up at him with those beautiful eyes of hers, the irises so dark that they reflected the entire night sky in them. He bent over as another wave of arousal hit him, his d*ck starting to throb painfully now that he could smell her sweet strawberry scent. “I'm … I need some … Do you think you could help me out … princess?”

She was right: it was Jason. The Red Hood was the best friend that she'd had a crush on for ages, but always been too insecure to do anything about. He was the Red Hood, after all, why would he ever choose her over the hundreds of beautiful women falling all over themselves to spend just one night with him? “O-Okay.”

She stepped aside to allow him entry into her flat, then locked the balcony door and pulled the curtains shut behind him. But he didn't call anyone else ‘princess’, she argued with herself. He didn't show up to anyone else's place when he was hurt, when he was vulnerable and had absolutely no choice but to depend on someone else for help. She turned to him and tilted her head in question, waiting for him to explain what was wrong.

He wanted to rip all her clothes off and murmur filthy things in her ear, then watch the blush crawl up her cheeks as he ate her out. She was just so innocent, so sweet and so ready for him to just eat her up. He winced as his c*ck gave another twitch at the thought. “I … Some chemical … from Ivy.”

That wasn't good. X took a step closer to him, her heartbeat quickening with anxiety at all the horrible possibilities. “What does it do? Can I help?”

This was it. All those filthy daydreams he'd ever had about her, all those restless nights spent tossing and turning in his bed, trying to imagine what she'd feel like in his arms, they were finally going to come true. But only if he could control himself long enough to convince her to take her f*cking clothes off. “It's … It's not dangerous. But it hurts.”

“Where does it hurt?” Jason placed a hand on his abdomen, then gradually moved it lower, until he landed on his crotch. X's eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh!” she gasped before glancing away from him in embarrassment. “Um, how … What should I do?”

She wasn't sure what he meant by it ‘hurting’, but she hated the thought of him being in pain, of him panting and wincing as he tried to hide it from her.

“Can you … Can you massage it? A little?” His c*ck resumed its throbbing at the idea and he hissed at the sensation. How the f*ck could he be so aroused that it physically hurt?! What the hell was the point of having a poison that could do that?! He was going to f*cking murder Ivy after this. Well, maybe he'd thank her first, if she managed to turn all his fantasies about f*cking his lovely little best friend into a reality. But then he’d definitely still murder her after.

X gulped at the suggestion. She’d never even seen a penis before let alone touched one! But if it would help …

“I can try?” She lowered herself to her knees and reached a hand to his waistband, but stopped before she could grab it. “Do you … Do you need to take your pants off?”

“F*ck, yes,” Jason breathed, undoing his belt and zip. It was that easy?! Shit, he should have pretended to be high on this ‘sex pollen’ ages ago!Maybe then he wouldn’t have wasted so much time trying to figure out how to confess his feelings to her. He ripped his pants and underwear off and kicked them aside, finally allowing his already erect c*ck to spring free.

“Wow!” X squeaked in surprise. He was so big and so hard, his c*ck twitching and throbbing as it begged for relief. X looked up at him, embarrassed by her naive response. “W-What … How should I start?"

Shit, shit, shit! She was so f*cking gorgeous, her almond-shaped eyes all wide and round with innocence as she gazed up at him. He cupped her cheek in his hand and pressed down on her lower lip with his thumb, then sucked in a breath when she parted her lips for him.

“You’re going to want to lubricate it first, sweetheart,” he advised her, his breath catching in his throat at the thought of her rosy lips closing around his c*ck. “Just so you don’t rub the skin raw or anything.” X nodded slowly, then turned her attention back to his c*ck. She dug her fingers into his thighs as she swallowed hard, her heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and excitement.

“O-Okay,” she agreed. “Should I … What can I put on it?” She turned back up to him in question and he growled at the innocent look on her face. He tipped her chin up, guiding her mouth to his c*ck.

“Just use your tongue, baby. Your saliva should be good enough.” She glanced back at his d*ck as he brushed his thumb along her cheek. Was that … allowed? Wasn’t it kind of dirty for her to suck on her best friend’s c*ck? Even if he was kind of in a lot of pain right now. But … it wasn’t like it counted as sex, right? That was when you penetrated the other person. At least, that was what she understood of it anyway. So maybe it was all right? She opened her mouth as he took hold of his c*ck, letting him slide it onto her tongue before she closed her lips around it.

“F*ck!” He shuddered as she began sucking on his d*ck, her movements slow and careful. She was so cute, her pretty little mouth staying close to his tip, barely able to take him in any further. But shit, it felt good - so f*cking good - having her warm tongue swipe across his slit and trace the veins along his shaft. He tilted her face up to his, wanting to see her pretty eyes peeking up at him from beneath her long, dark lashes as she suckled on his d*ck and he swore he almost came undone at the sight. “Just like that, sweetheart. Just like that, baby. You’re doing such a good job for me, princess, such a good massage.”

But she hadn’t even gotten to the massage part yet - this was just supposed to be the lubrication step, right? She tried to remind him of that - tried to speak around his c*ck that was currently stuffed in her mouth - but her words just came out a mess of muffled moans. Jason’s eyes rolled back in pleasure at the sound - at the fact that his d*ck was filling up her mouth so nicely that she couldn’t even speak! - and he grabbed onto the back of her head to slide her faster along his length.

He was too big, too much, and she felt herself choking a little as his tip bounced against the back of his throat. But he seemed to like that, if the euphoric groans falling from his mouth were anything to go by. He pulled her hard against him and she tried to swallow - an involuntary response - but was stopped by the bulk of his d*ck laying in her mouth.

“F*ck,” Jason groaned, his mind going numb with pleasure at the feeling of her trying to swallow around his d*ck. Shit, it was so f*cking good that it wasn’t long before he was spilling into her mouth, his sticky c*m dripping down her tongue and along the back of her throat. X sputtered, caught off guard, and Jason finally released her so that she could pull her head back. His best friend looked up at him in confusion, wiping away the mixture of c*m and saliva spilling out of her mouth. F*ck, she looked so pretty like that, he wanted to just rip his helmet off and kiss her. But he couldn’t do that, because then she’d know who he really was. And then she’d definitely stop, excruciating pain or not. And no way in hell was he going to let that happen - not until he’d come inside of her, at least. Then he’d reveal his identity to her and f*ck her so good that she’d pass out in his arms from the exhaustion. And then he’d take her out to dinner and confess his feelings for her. Perfect.

“What’s … What was that?” She hadn’t expected for that sticky liquid to come shooting out of him like that. But it seemed to relax him a little, so maybe it was helping?

“That was the poison, sweetheart,” he lied to her, gripping her chin in his hand and brushing his thumb along her lower lip. “You see how much you got out? You see how much you helped me, baby? Such a good girl, princess, taking care of me like that. You want to help me some more?” She brushed her fingers along his shaft, noticing how hard he still was. Was there still a lot of poison inside of him? Why wasn’t it affecting her?

“But … isn’t that dangerous?” she asked him, bewildered. “Won’t I get hurt too?” Jason shook his head quickly, his fingers never leaving her face as they alternated between stroking her cheek and running through her hair.

“No, no, no!” he reassured her, another lie forming in his mind. “It only affects guys, sweetheart. You’ll be fine, baby. You just … You gotta help me get the poison out. Hmm?”

Jason took hold of his c*ck - still painfully hard in his hand - and traced the outline of her lips with his tip. “You see this? You see how hard I still am, baby? That’s ‘cause the poison’s still inside. You gotta keep going if you want to help me, okay?” X nodded and curled her fingers around his c*ck, her slender digits brushing along his shaft delicately.

“Should I … Should I suck on it again?” She kneaded his d*ck as she said it, squeezing and stroking him so gently, like she really was trying to give him a massage. Argh! She was so sweet!

“You can use your hands too,” he assured her, his c*ck springing back to life at her careful touches. She didn’t know how bad the poison was or how long she had to get it out of his system, but the quicker the better, right?

“How … How do I do that?” He took hold of her arms and lifted her up so she was standing before him, her damp shirt clinging to her chest and outlining the stiff peaks of her nipples perfectly. Shit.

“Just … Just like how you’re doing it now, sweetheart,” he told her, his eyes roving across her body beneath his mask. He had to get her out of her f*cking clothes! He trailed his fingers along her curves, trying to come up with an excuse. “But … But don’t you want to take this shirt off? You’re all soaked, princess.”

“I’m okay!” she chirped, her hands leaving his c*ck and moving up to his chest. He was so strong, his muscles all broad and hard beneath her hands. She bit on her lip as he snuck his fingers underneath her shirt and her body shivered at the feeling of his calloused palms brushing along her skin.

“You sure?” he questioned, sliding his hands up and down her sides. Shit, she was soft. “You don’t have to be shy around me, princess. I just want to make sure you’re comfortable. You’ve done so well tonight, helping me out. Let me help you out too. Hmm? Please, sweetheart?” He was asking so nicely - Jason never said ‘please’ - and she was feeling pretty uncomfortable, her shirt all wet with the sticky liquid that had seeped out of him.

“Hmm, okay,” she agreed after a moment of hesitation. Jason swallowed down his elated cheer and slipped her shirt off, casting it aside. Then he turned back to her and all remaining rational thought left his mind. F********ck! She was so. F*cking. Gorgeous! Her curly hair tumbling over her shoulders, her cheek rosy with embarrassment, her perky little breasts all round and full. How was she so perfect?!

“Let me …” Jason reached his hands up and cupped her breasts, then began kneading them gently, marvelling at how soft she was. “You’re still a little sticky, princess. Let me clean you up.”

She let out a surprised yelp when he closed his fingers around her soft flesh and he growled at the sound. But he kept his movements slow, tender, his touch featherlight as he circled her breasts reverently.

“Um, M-Mr Hood?” X managed to squeak out, her mind quickly growing fuzzy at the feeling of his warm hands gliding over her sensitive skin. “D-Do you … s-still … need help?”

Jason grunted in agreement, then slid his hands around her waist and up her back. He pulled her flush against him and groaned as he dragged his fingers down her soft skin. God, he wished he could kiss her. “Yes. I need … I need …”

He pulled back and watched himself trace his hands all along her body, his fingers lingering on the smooth curves of her breasts and waist. Then he slid his fingers into her pyjamas and pulled them down her thighs, letting them fall to the ground. She squeaked in surprise and quickly squeezed her legs together, and he grabbed her ass in his hands, pulling her close to him. “F*******ck. You’re so soft, princess.”

She clutched onto his shoulders, her nipples tingling as they pressed up against his chest. She wasn’t sure how this was helping him, but it seemed to bring him some sort of relief, squeezing and stroking her as he was doing so. He kept groaning and sighing, the deep vibrations of his voice rumbling out of his chest and into her own, causing her body to shiver involuntarily.

“J-Jason, I … Something’s … coming out of me too. You sure I can’t be accidentally poisoned?” She’d felt a sticky liquid - not unlike his own - start leaking out of her vagina earlier, and it was absolutely soaking her thighs by this point. She’d never experienced such a sensation before, but it kept getting worse every time her nipples brushed up against his chest.

“Hmm? Let me see,” Jason commanded, immediately concerned. Was she hurt? Was there actually some sort of poison in the pollen Ivy had sprinkled on him? He’d f*cking murder her if there was; if anything were to happen to his precious little X because of her.

God, this was so embarrassing! He wanted to see her vagina! And the weird discharge that continued to drip out of it! But what if it was something serious? And she needed to go see a doctor? Maybe it was better to just let him check first.

“Um, it’s, um,” she hesitated before stepping back from him and going over to the sofa. Her body trembled as she pried open her legs slowly, exposing her deliciously drenched centre to him, and he fell between her knees desperately. She was so small - and tight, too, probably. Shit, it was going to feel so good being inside of her, so- Wait a minute. Had she just used his name?

“What did you just call me?” Jason looked up at her, a hint of confusion in his voice as he asked her the question. Oh no! Had she used his name? She couldn’t remember - she was too ashamed by the way she’d spread herself out before him, her naked body entirely on display for him.

“Uh, I … M-Mr Hood?” she tried, hoping he was too distracted by the poison to notice her slipup. But, of course, this was Jason, and nothing ever escaped his notice.

“That’s not what I heard, princess.” He took off his jacket, then his shirt, his c*ck continuing to twitch desperately at the sight of her blushing p*ssy, all red and swollen as it begged for his attention. “How long have you known? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Finally, he removed his mask, revealing his dark hair and his sparkling eyes and his sharp jawline. He licked his lips as he leaned closer to her, and she sucked in a breath at the sight. “I-I … I’ve known … for a while now. Just … It’s the way you walk. And how you always call me ‘princess’? I didn’t want to say anything because I thought … I thought maybe you didn’t trust me.”

He dragged his eyes away from her centre for just a moment, just long enough for him to see the pout her rosy lips twisted into. Then he pressed his thumb to her clit and she yelped in surprise at the unfamiliar sensation. “Of course I trust you, princess. I just … I just didn’t want you to get hurt.”

He circled her clit for a bit, nudging it gently with his thumb so that she kept twitching and moaning, unable to contain her pleasure. Then he pushed his mouth into her folds and groaned loudly as he began lapping up her juices.

“J-Jason!” she exclaimed, twisting her fingers into his hair in surprise. Her legs wriggled around his head as he dragged his tongue along her sensitive nerves, teasing her and stroking her until her entire body was quivering beneath his touch. “I-Is this … What are you doing? Is this allowed?”

God, she was so cute! And so naughty too - she’d sucked on his d*ck knowing that it was him? The whole time? Maybe she wasn’t as innocent as he'd thought.

“Anything’s ‘allowed’, princess,” he chuckled, the vibrations of his voice tickling her already desperate little p*ssy and pleasing her even further. “We can do whatever we want. And besides, I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m just trying to help clean you up. Hmm?”

He looked up at her and she swallowed at the sight of the sticky liquids dripping down his chin. Was he … Was he eating her up? Did she taste good? She must have if he seemed so satisfied by it. X nodded slowly and tried to relax back into her seat as he returned his mouth to her vagina, his lips closing around her folds and sucking them into his mouth. She tried to keep quiet, to not bother him while he did his best to help her out, but it was so difficult! She just kept squealing and moaning and squirming beneath his touch, the insistent throbbing inside of her getting more and more desperate as he dribbled his tongue along her bundle of nerves. He pulled her into his mouth again and she dug her fingers into the cushions as he circled her entrance with his tongue, trying her hardest to keep still and make his job a little easier. But then he slid tongue inside of her hole and she found herself sliding down the sofa and sighing with relief. Jason gripped onto her knees, holding her apart so that he could push his tongue even deeper inside of her and start lapping at her walls. And then he hit this one spot that had her leg twitching involuntarily, her body tensing up everytime he curled his tongue against it. “J-Jason … S-Something’s .. happening …”

Jason didn’t respond, instead speeding up his movements, his tongue pressing harder against her spot. Then finally, she was coming, her tight little body shaking and shuddering against him as he kept his mouth glued firmly to her p*ssy. He licked her up desperately as she spilled her arousal into his mouth - f*ck, she tasted so sweet! How did she taste so sweet?! - and refused to move even after she’d finished, choosing instead to admire the way her breasts heaved up and down as she tried to catch her breath.

“Um, Jace?” she began hesitantly, trying to pull herself away from him. But he tightened his grip on her, keeping her in place so he could continue licking up the sticky liquid splattered all over her thighs. “I-I … feel a lot better now, Jace. The … The throbbing is gone.”

She didn’t know how he’d done it, but he’d managed to get rid of that pulsing sensation inside of her, that tightness that had kept squeezing at her insides. Was that how he was feeling too? The sweat dripping down his forehead, his breaths coming in shallow and heavy pants? It must be painful.

“C-Can I … Can I help you too?” she suggested when he finally dragged his mouth away from her sweet little p*ssy. He looked up at her, dazed, trying to figure out what she was talking about.

“Huh?” he questioned, his brain so clouded with lust and desire that he found himself unable to focus on anything but the taste of her still lingering on his tongue. F*ck, she tasted good.

“Do you still need help, Jay?” X asked, her beautiful little body glistening with sweat as he climbed up over her. Help? What did he need help with? Oh, right: his throbbing d*ck that was still so painfully hard for her.

“Come here. Come here, princess.” He lifted her up, onto his hips, then pulled on her lower back, arching her towards him so that her breasts were right up in his face. He trailed his fingers around one, then squeezed her flesh gently and bent over to groan against her neck when she squealed in response. F****ck. She was so f*cking cute. “I need … I need …”

He nudged her head back with his nose, exposing her throat to him so that he could lick his way along it. She squeaked in surprise as he nipped at her jaw, and he chuckled before finally pressing his lips to hers and kissing her.

She curled her toes as he kissed her, trying her hardest to match his aggressive pace. But she was just so overwhelmed by all the new sensations around her: his warm tongue swirling around her mouth, his broad chest pressing against her breasts, his hard c*ck twitching against her p*ssy. He did feel really nice though, his large form wrapped protectively around her, his familiar masculine scent dancing through the air around her. She shifted in position, wrapping her arms around his neck and sinking into the kiss, and then she didn’t feel so nervous anymore. He groaned as she brushed her tongue against his and pushed her back against the sofa, his hands travelling all over her body as he continued kissing her. He was so gentle, despite his obvious hunger for her, so tender in the way he caressed her soft curves. X smiled against his mouth and Jason pulled back to look at her as their teeth clashed.

“You okay?” he asked, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek. “You okay, baby?” She nodded and nuzzled his palm softly, her lips stretched into a sweet smile. Then she straightened and her features rearranged themselves into an expression of concern.

“But what about you, Jay?” she asked him, feeling how hard he still was beneath her. “You’re still … You’ve still got some of that poison inside of you, right? How do we get it out?” Shit. Jason let his head fall forward onto her shoulder as he bit back a groan. She was so … Ugh! He wrapped his arms around her and stroked her back gently, relishing the feeling of her, small and soft in his arms. It was so much better than anything he’d ever imagined.

“You want to help me? Hmm?” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “ You want to help me get this poison out?” He pulled back to look at her, his expression serious as he waited for her answer. But of course she wanted to help him! Of course she’d do anything to help her best friend in the whole world! X nodded eagerly, her fingers still curled loosely around his shoulders.

“It might hurt, princess,” he warned her, his moss-coloured eyes fixed on her face as he brushed his fingers along her cheek. “Just a little, just in the beginning. Are you okay with that?”

“Of course!” she chirped quickly, offended that he’d question her loyalty. “It’s better than you hurting for the rest of the night!”

God, he loved her. If he hadn’t been in love with her before, then he definitely was now. She was just so sweet and so kind, always looking after him and taking care of him. And never expecting anything in return either! Well, he’d take care of her tonight. He’d take such f*cking good care of her, she’d never find herself wanting for anything ever again.

“Tell me if it hurts, all right?” Jason told her, taking hold of his c*ck and rubbing it along her folds. “I’ll … I’ll stop if it hurts.” F*cking liar. How the hell was he going to be able to stop himself once his d*ck got a taste of that sweet little p*ssy of hers? X nodded and Jason shifted in position slightly, lifting her up enough for him to slip his tip into her. She sucked in a breath, unused to the feeling, then exhaled slowly so that her body relaxed to allow more of him in. And f*ck if he wasn’t going to come undone right there. But he maintained his self-control, pushing his d*ck into her inch by inch. She curled her toes and bit down on her lip to muffle her pained whimper, and Jason forced himself to stop. He was already more than halfway inside of her, but he didn’t want to force her. He wanted her to enjoy it, to be pleasured by the feeling of being stuffed full of his c*ck, the bulk of him brushing up against her walls and stretching her out pleasingly.

She curled her toes, feeling a little uncomfortable at the way he stretched her out. It wasn’t an entirely unwelcome sensation though, being so filled up by him like this. And he’d said it would only hurt for a little while. “I-Is this helping, Jay? Does it feel better?”

“Mmhmm, so much better, baby,” he assured her, brushing her hair away from her face. F****ck. She kept leaking around him, her tight little p*ssy soaking him in her warm and slippery c*m, lubricating him so he could move in and out of her more easily. “You okay if I start moving?”

“Huh?” She furrowed her brows as she looked up at him, confused.

“I have to …” he sighed, trying to come up with an explanation. “You know how you were massaging me earlier? With your … your mouth and your hands? I’m going need you to do the same now.”

“O-Okay,” she agreed, still a little confused. But then he thrust himself into her and she yelped in surprise at the sudden movement.

“You okay … sweetheart?” Jason forced out through gritted teeth. He dug his fingers into her sides, trying to stop himself from moving in and out of her. But f*ck, it was hard. Especially when she felt so f*cking good, her sweet little p*ssy throbbing around his d*ck so obediently. X nodded and Jason continued his movements, but slower this time, nice and gentle, his hips rolling against hers carefully. And f*ck, it felt so good, sliding in and out of her, hearing the sweet squelching sound every time he moved.

“Mmm, f*ck,” Jason mumbled, lowering his head to her shoulder as he continued moving his hips against hers. It had been a little uncomfortable at first, but she was starting to get used to the size of him now. And it felt really nice, having him fill her up so nicely, the bulk of him brushing against her walls carefully and his tip prodding against this one spot inside of her that had her shivering with relief. She curled her arms tighter around him and he began pressing open-mouthed kisses to her neck and shoulder, his lips and tongue travelling along her skin appreciatively. “Feels so good, princess.”

He dragged his nails down her back, then pulled her hips against his and bent over to press his lips to her nipple. She let out a choked gasp as he suckled on her gently, then twisted her fingers into his hair. “J-Jason … Are we … Isn’t this, like, sex … or something?”

“Yeah, but it’s … it’s okay, right, princess?” he asked her in between the tender kisses he showered over her breasts. “You’re just … You’re just helping me out, right? Helping me get the poison out and feel better?”

“Mmm, yeah …” she conceded, her body tightening as he continued to suck on her breasts and pump his c*ck in and out of her. It was … kind of nice, having sex with him. He was really gentle and he kept making sure that she was comfortable before moving any further. She decided that she liked it. Jason pulled her breast into his mouth and sucked on it, then released it again with a ‘pop’. X squealed at the sensation and Jason looked up at her, concerned.

“What happened? You all right, princess?” he asked her quickly, his expression dazed, his eyes dark with lust. X nodded quickly.

“Yup!” she reassured him, starting to enjoy herself a little. She glanced away from him, giving a shy smile that made his heart start beating like crazy. “It just feels nice, that’s all.” Jason gave a wicked grin, then increased the movements of his hips as he returned his mouth to her breasts. It wasn’t long before she was shaking and shuddering in his arms, her p*ssy squeezing around his c*ck as she came for him. Jason moaned and squeezed her tighter, delighting in the way her small body shivered against him as he held her close. And then he returned his attention to her breasts, determined to make her c*m for him until she passed out in his arms.

“J-Jason …” X whined as he licked and sucked on her breasts, her body exhausted from the numerous orgasms he kept giving her. It had been more than an hour since he’d started and she didn’t think she’d be able to take anymore.

"Just one more, baby, just one more,” Jason pleaded with her, his hard c*ck pumping in and out of her repeatedly. He meant it this time: he could feel himself starting to slow down, the testosterone finally starting to recede from his body. But god, she looked so hot, her sweet little p*ssy stuffed full of his c*ck - all the way up to his balls now - her thighs and abdomen splashed with his c*m that he’d quickly replace everytime it started drying on her skin. F*********ck! He bounced her up and down on his lap, feeling his body start to tighten in anticipation. And then she was milking his d*ck again, and he was coming inside of her, his c*ck shooting every last drop of his sperm inside of her. X moaned as she shuddered in his arms, her body twisting and contracting as his old c*m spilled out of her p*ssy again. Shit, she was so cute when she was coming, her forehead creased in frustration, her eyes shut tight with fatigue, her lips twisted into an annoyed pout. He breathed a sigh of relief when he was done, his c*ck finally going limp in her p*ssy, and slumped over in exhaustion.

“Jason! Sleep!” X pawed at his shoulder drowsily before sinking into his chest. Jason smiled and stroked her hair gently before pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, never having felt more satisfied than right then, the girl he’d loved for so long falling asleep in his arms.

“All right, sweetheart,” he relented, already planning out their date for tomorrow night. “Let’s get you washed up and into bed.”

AHHH! I'm sorry if the ending is a bit abrupt, I wanted to finish this and get it out before I went to bed!!!

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allmyloveandyours · 1 year

Text

Astrology Observations 3!!!!

Hi I'm back again but these ones are kinda like straight up opinions. Take what resonates! I'm not a professional, if anything I'm a goofy fella who constantly asks to see peoples charts.

Virgo Midheaven creates a very detailed oriented person with an immaculate image. Everything they put out is out together well, their plans to be successful are insanely planned out, and I've never seen one look messy.

Mercury in your Suns element explain the things best to you.

Asteroid Actor (12238) conjunct Ascendant could mean people don't believe you when you're being honest/your sincerity comes off as fake.

Heavy Aquarius placements may love watching long commentary videos. Especially drama breakdown videos with Leo in the mix. I am a victim of this ✊😔

A lot of squares in a natal chart can make an extremely chill person. Whatever inner tension they have makes them oddly calm and forgiving of other people. Especially Sun squaring Mars and or Jupiter, it kinda feels like a cancellation happens where there should be anger. They also may get picked on a lot.

Moon in 10th and 11th house are popular placements for success. Whatever attention you get, your moon sign will tell you what people love about you. Jupiter also tells the same thing, but a less tame affect. Examples can be Moon in Pisces means that your very intuitive when it comes to your audience, and they vibe with you because of that. Jupiter in Pisces could have people going crazy for your intuitiveness and you could be able to gauge how you get attention the easiest.

The most accurate description of a rising sign I've seen is Virgo Rising having Resting Bitch Face. They also age SO well. The stars really balanced it out for them.

Mars in Libra can make a very passive person in relationships, and the house can talk about the problems. They may not want to speak up/will try to appease their partners. Like if the partner wants a cat and the Libra is deathly allergic, they'd rather get the cat than tell their partner there's an issue.

If you're feeling a little lost and need direction, looking at your Vesta could be a good place to start. Vesta represents your undying flame and your spark, so it can help jump-start your passions. Vesta in 5th can point to taking up more creative hobbies such as writing, acting, drawing, or maybe taking care of kids, 6th means starting with a healthy routine, helping others, or volunteering with animals, 1st is taking care of yourself and your appearance, and making even spicing things up a little. All of this is of course depending on the sign.

Cancer Midheavens are the best at being able to gauge audiences/coworkers reactions to things. Although it may seem strange, they're nice in positions of management. Strict enough to make you listen but nice enough to understand if you can't make deadlines/can sense if you're burnt out.

I feel like I can make a billion posts on Saturn since it's one of my favorite planets, but here's a favorite: I'm not sure who said it (it could've been multiple, if anyone knows who I'm talking about leave their @ in the replies) but your chart ruler in a house can show where you may excel, but also have problems based on what body part it rules. A good example for me is Saturn in 5th Gemini, and I have wrist joint/bone issues caused by excessive drawing and writing. I also get a lot of compliments for my jaw so win/win scenario. Another not me example is your rising being Sagittarius, with Jupiter in 6th house. You could be a joyous person when it comes to taking care of people/yourself, with a stable routine that's a bit too rigorous and you could end up hurting your thighs in some way like pulling your hamstring, or just having really thick thighs and contributing it to your routine. S/o to you for that

Uranus in retrograde can point to bad technology skills. Probably the type of person to go "I hate technology" one minute then continue to giggle at memes on Twitter the next. Especially in Aquarius.

Gemini Midheavens/Mars need to do multiple things at once. So like if you're a writer, you might be your publisher as well or your editor, or even make your own book cover. If you do YouTube you'll be your own editor and script writer. If you're an actor you may act and director, the list can go forever. But doing at least 2 things seems to stop the jumping from project to project some Geminis may feel creatively.

I like describing North Node and Vertex as The path you're drawn to (NN) vs What path you're gonna get dragged down (V). Like you can ignore your north node if you want but vertex will force you to deal with it. Like if you have North Node in 4nd but Vertex in 8th. You could ignore any homebody nature, ignore your roots and any family life, but you will be forced to go through transformations, deaths and rebirths whether you like it or not, or even notice it.

Pisces suns kinda flock together, I've never seen one by themselves.

Oppositions to Mars can tell you what makes you quick to anger even if you're not a hot headed person. Mars Opposite Venus could be that you get upset when people criticize your style, love life or appearance. Mars Opposite Sun could mean you don't like when people criticize you period, and it may be very ego based.

Chiron in 1st house may be sore losers, and they don't like looking stupid, especially with positive planets in 9th house. They may need to learn how to deal with showing a bit of that Chiron side in a healthy way, since the 1st house is the thing people see first.

Your descendant could be the moon sign/element you get the most, especially in love.

Squares/Opposites to Neptune can show what illusions you need to break in order to get closer to your intuitive nature. Neptune Square Pluto could mean you need to go through a full transformation and rebirth. Neptune opposite Mars means you may need to deal with bouts of anger, realigning your passions and directing your energy in the proper direction.

Mars in Scorpio are the calmest mars sign of them all. Nothing really ever phases them to be honest, regardless of the house.

ALRIGHT these ones were deadass just things I've noticed. Might be a week or so till I post another one, but let me know if there's any topics you think I should cover next besides the Chiron one I'm planning. See you next time :)

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eluxcastar · 4 months

Note

Number 13 and 14 with Arlecchino

Arlecchino being comforted by her s/o

── ୨୧：arlecchino x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: arlecchino comfort drabbles yesyes

୨୧﹑genre :: sort of fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, possibly ooc because it was written pre fontaine quest, not very proofread, arlecchino is implied to have issues with self-image/perception

୨୧﹑words :: 2.2k

"I could see the worst parts of you and still think you are the most beautiful person I've met." "I'm going to ask you how you are and I would like you to answer me honestly."

IT'S HERE you guys always spoil me 13 is my favourite prompt and you are the first of two to request it. completely unrelated but this is so familiar to what Kae said a few days ago (months now omg 😭) when we were talking about One of Repetition and it fits those two so well 😭❤️

to the anon who requested furina it'll take me a minute to figure out how to write her because I haven't played the archon quest but I'll watch some cutscenes and do my best for you

I'll also be using this because I got it in the middle of writing this and thought it fit the idea I had going super well 🙏 that makes three Arlecchino requests with prompt 13 😭 also second anon you're fine dw you guys are free to do with your requests with these prompts as you like, mix them together, add extra descriptions and rambles it makes it more fun 👍 thank you btw 😭❤ feel free to give yourself a name for future requests if you want ❤️ I love having new anons

prompt list

It is not often that Arlecchino shows her doubt, maintaining that half-pleasant façade to hide it all. If all people see is a ruthless woman with no regard for loyalty, then the details don't matter. There's no need to question, no need to dwell. She is one thing and nothing more, and she much prefers for nobody to notice the hesitancy in her drastic decisions, the thin-veiled regret as she watches the children she witnessed grow up go on to become valiant children of the Tsaritsa.

If there is anything more, it is disregarded as her unpredictability. She is a roach in the eyes of others, and perhaps she's ok with that…mostly.

To hear someone say "I love you" is strange to her, though it shouldn't be by now.

It shouldn't be unusual to wake up tangled in the sheets with you by her side or the struggle it ends up being to leave that mess as you try to convince her to spend five more minutes with you. It shouldn't be odd to discover that you've gone ahead and made her tea in anticipation of the time she will wake up or to have you remind her every morning that you hung her coat up to dry after she dumped it over the back of a chair the night before or to see you wandering around going about your own job.

But those events all feel surreal to her, even though she has watched you walk your patrol path a thousand times now, and she has seen you slack off where she sits by the window of Zapolyarny when you think nobody is looking.

You are very real, there's no doubt about that.

The things you do never click with her, however.

Perhaps you are real, but she made up these fantasies after watching you loiter by that one spot in the garden a little too long.

Yet every evening, you meet her in her office after you're officially let off for the day, and you usually bring snacks. You are most definitely there, then, as she watches you struggle to get through the door without damaging whatever you found for her to try, usually only small, a pastry you managed to get that you absolutely mustn't knock from your hands.

"I tried to get something that wouldn't make a big mess all over your stuff," you usually say, sometimes hacking on a 6guilty little "But~ these just looked so good…" to try and excuse you for bringing something that would cover her desk in crumbs.

Arlecchino doesn't mind because you went to the trouble of getting her something.

She got you a special chair to pull up and everything, and anyone else who uses it can deal with the death glare they get or find a different one.

But perhaps she made that up too, conjuring the image of someone fumbling their way through her office door to greet her with a smile, sometimes with jam on your mouth from taste-testing the gifts that she'll point out to you that you hurriedly wipe on your sleeve and pretend it was never there.

Maybe she put that chair there for nothing, and it never really moves, and each time she thinks this, she is sure this fantasy will all disappear.

However, every evening, without fail, as the sun begins to set out the window and the room is dyed an orange hue, the door opens, and there you are again. Delusions can't possibly be that persistent, and you would've scowled at her when she approached you in the hallways if you weren't aware of this relationship.

So it must be real, which she's well and truly aware of. There must be a person out there who sees what she cannot, someone who, by some miracle, manages to see past the things that block out all of the good. How can a person see anything but someone unworthy of their love?

What else is there to see?

The idea of a person who deserves to be loved beneath bloodshed has become unthinkable.

For a person who has been exposed to Arlecchino's worst sins, who has seen everything, and whose worst offence in life is a little laziness on the job, how is it possible to look at her and smile?

Arlecchino often wonders as she watches you. She how you go through your routine of placing your things down, whether on the desk or beside them, then all too happily mosey on off to get your chair and drag it over to sit across from her. She doesn't know why it's this particular day that she asks. Perhaps the fact it was weighing on her mind after a recent mission had her list of redeeming qualities shrinking further and further. It is in her job description, and there are plenty of worse people in this world.

But do you deserve to be stuck with one of them?

"Did you ever feel pressured into accepting my feelings for you?" Arlecchino asks the question so suddenly as you're halfway through walking back with your chair that she sees the exact point you register what she said, freezing in place from the shock. "Whether through status or power," she adds.

You blink a few times before all the motion in your world resumes to greet you with the image of her staring you down from the other side of her desk, patient and waiting for your response. "Sorry?" You let the chair go to return alone to her, standing in the place where you always put it. "I don't, uh…follow? I'm sorry, I just— I'm not sure what you mean?"

She hesitates, momentarily glancing down before her age returns to you and your uncharacteristic expression riddled with worry. She must've made you upset again.

"You want to be in this relationship? With me, that is…" Arlecchino struggles to think of the words, saying them as soon as they appear in her mind. "Even though you know the kind of person I am, you still want that?"

She studies your face as carefully as she can, watching the way you react as you absorb everything you just heard and assumedly try to put a response together in your head. Arlecchino has noticed before how you take longer to speak than her sometimes, but it tends to make everything you say more thought out, though you may end it like you're unsure.

"Well, I mean…if I didn't, wouldn't I just—" you pause for only a second— "break up with you?" There's silence after you finish. She doesn't say or do anything. To Arlecchino, that strangely almost makes sense, but you must be far too bold to admit that to a Harbinger. "It's not that I want to! I'm a little--…well, I think I'm just a little bit confused where that's coming from."

"I was thinking about it." You frown when she admits that. "Some of the things you have seen of me are…" Is there even a word to encompass that? "unbecoming of a lover."

Is that the right way to phrase it?

Again, you pause, and the telltale signs of consideration cross your face. An intense focus that barely lasts, and Arlecchino waits through it all to allow you your chance to answer, intent on allowing you that much. A few seconds more, and your features relax, looking back at Arlecchino with a tender gaze. "There's not really one 'right way', is there?" Your question, though rhetorical, strikes a chord with the many impulsive responses that flood her mind, all of which she keeps to herself. "You just kind of...try your best. Things might work out, or maybe they don't— the point is that you mean well and put in the work."

"That's not enough," she argues, "you deserve better."

"I deserve what I want." Your rebuttal makes sense in theory, but what do you want? She struggles to make sense of that part, the answer muddled by all of her thoughts and lost in her doubts.

You could ask anything of her, and she would do it. Any material possession, every feeling, more love than you know what to do with in any form you desire—physical, emotional, intimate—and yet you never do. You accept her awkward hugs, that it takes her time to relax when you lay your head on her chest, the fact she sometimes snores, that her clothes may very well be covered in bloodstains when she comes home depending on uncontrollable circumstances.

You never ask for the things she has plenty of power to give you in return for those flaws.

She shakes her head, "but surely you want more."

"I don't."

"There is a lot wrong that you deserve compensation for."

Arlecchino clenches the pen in her hand tightly, feeling the slight distress of pressure around it. She can't articulate what, not in the way she understands it; flaws is too broad of a term to use. You would instantly know and understand what she meant in a perfect world, but the world is not so generous.

"Like what?" you question. You feel that it’s obvious that nothing Arlecchino will struggle to say will shake you. She opens her mouth, prepared to refute it, headstrong and frankly stubborn as ever, but nothing comes out.

There is silence for a moment, and no one rebuts what you say. Nobody can. The only other person in the room fights with herself to yield and give in to your unwavering loyalty. In your mind, she is everything you want. There is nothing else you can ask of her than to simply accept that you wish to remain with her if only she will allow you to through her own emotional turmoil.

"Are you listening to what I’m saying?" you ask, frown creeping back onto your face as it tugs the corner of your lips down, seemingly against your will, "I could see the worst parts of you and still think you are the most beautiful person I’ve met."

Another chord is struck, her heart beating so loud it thrums in her ears like suddenly becoming aware it’s been threatening to beat out of her chest the entire conversation. She breathes, shaky and caught up in her own surprise. Somehow, she didn’t expect you to be so sweet in your words or throw her off guard so abruptly. She finds it hard to believe them. Arlecchino’s worries haven’t disappeared, only dwindled. It helps, if not completely. There is a reprieve in listening to you.

You have seen the worst of her, every crease she hasn’t ironed out, her sometimes rotten personality, her stained clothes, the weapons she cleans in your home. You have seen her walk to greet you covered in blood and gore from a savage fight, kneel before you and hold your hand with the same hands she uses to kill vagrants and petty criminals, kiss your skin with those lips that spill the vilest of curses against her enemies.

Before she realises what she’s saying, she blurts out a question, "Do you really believe that?"

It is quiet, reminiscent of how gently you looked at her earlier as her voice barely breaks a whisper, and she can’t bring herself to break eye contact with you once she finds the courage to make it.

"I do."

You smile at her, hoping she will smile back. A faint smile graces Arlecchino’s lips, ever the handsome picture. Her sincerity is comforting after such a scare. You still worry, and perhaps you will never stop with the way her mind likes to trick her. How long had she thought you secretly looked at her with disgust this time? You fear you won’t have an answer again, though you desperately wish for one. As much as you notice her awkwardness, dismissing some of it and observing other parts with more scrutiny, it is hard to make her talk to you at times.

"Thank you." It is all Arlecchino can think to say in response as she forgets what else she was going to challenge you on. It will return eventually, and she will face it again, but for now, it settles. Arlecchino can reasonably bury her doubt for a time.

"Can we keep talking?" you ask.

"About anything," she confirms with a nod.

You turn away, walking across the room in pursuit of retrieving your chair from its designated spot by the wall. You pull it along, dragging it over the floor, and set it down across from her on the other side of the desk you’ve been talking across. Your seat welcomes you as it always does as you settle into place, now comfortably at eye level with her.

"In that case," you begin, taking the pen she holds and wriggling it from her hands. She relinquishes it without much of a fight, allowing you to place it off to the side out of the way. "I’m going to ask you how you are, and I would like you to answer me honestly."

"Anything for you, my love."

#♡ — anon visit.#✦ — scenarios.#✦ — fluff.#arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

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thetriumphantpanda · 7 months

Text

reach out, touch faith

In The Woods Somewhere | Chapter Three

Chapter Summary | Trusting Joel to take you to the place he calls home is difficult, but it's your only real choice now. It brings back memories of the last time you trusted someone enough to follow them, and look how that turned out?

Chapter Warnings | Canon-typical violence, mentions & allusions to child death, mentions of PTSD, descriptions of & allusions to cult activities, soft!Joel, protective!Joel, pining, strained parental relationships, no use of y/n, italics indicate a flashback scene.

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 3.3K

Authors Note | Thank you for being so patience in waiting for this next part. I've rekindled my love for this little series and I'm excited to show you more of what's coming with this little band of travellers. If you enjoyed then please consider leaving comments, reblogging or popping into my ask box with your thoughts! And if you enjoyed, please consider supporting me with a tip through my Ko-Fi.

A reminder that I no longer use taglists - please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs and turn on post notifications to know when I post new writing.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Joel doesn’t really know what to do. He’s never been the best at consoling people, especially people he doesn’t really know. What’s he supposed to do? The way you’ve flinched at him every time he’s tried to touch you suggests that trying to hug you is probably going to make things worse. He’s still reeling from the information you’ve just thrown at him, and it somehow makes the situation worse. He was yours. How the hell is he meant to make this better now? Sure, anyone’s child dying is the worst thing that can happen, pure innocence snuffed out and for what reason? But the fact that Edward was yours, your flesh and blood, it's so much worse. He can yet again feel his own panic rising as your sobs continue, tears streaming down your face, hands shaking. He simply doesn’t know what to do.

“Hey,” He says softly, shaking your knees with his hands, “Hey, just look at me for a second, okay?”

You don’t, you just stare blankly into the fire behind his shoulder as you cry, so he moves his head into your eyeline, searching your eyes with his own, “Hey, can I touch you?” He asks, realizing as soon as the words have left his mouth how bad that must sound, “Just let me hug you, okay?”

When you don’t move away from him or tell him otherwise, he moves forward a little, moving tentatively so as not to spook you. He gently moves one hand to rest at your head, pulling your wet, puffy face to the crook of his neck, his other arm moving around your back. He stays like that for as long as you need, palm running over your hair, the other still on your back to try and ground you. Soon, the racking sobs have stopped, you’re silent now. And then he feels your arms wrap around him. He’s too broad for your hands to meet around his back, but your hands rest behind him as you soothe yourself.

“I’m tired,” You mumble into the skin of his neck, breath ghosting against him, “I’m so fucking tired Joel.”

He thinks that you perhaps might not just mean tonight – thinks you might be tired of it all, and he understands, because for so long he was tired too. He chooses to work with the immediate though. He ignores the screaming of his knees and his back as he scoops you up, walking slowly to the room you’d claimed as your own, careful not to knock your head on the door frame as he walks in. When he sets you down gently onto the bed, you’re already mostly asleep. It’s cold in here, he thinks, so he peels back the covers and drapes them over your body, and then takes his jacket off for good measure and places it on top of the sheets.

He wants to turn and leave, leave you in peace, give your privacy, but if his experience is anything to go by, these nights will be the darkest. You’ll dream about it, over and over again, replay everything that went wrong, every other possible way this could have ended. You’ll wake up in a cold sweat, screaming, then struggle to get back to sleep. He doesn’t know what brought you here, but he sure as hell knows it isn’t good, thinks you’ve probably been living with fighting on your own for too long. So, he stays. He takes his boots off, props the pillows up against the headboard, and lies there, listening to the way you breathe in your sleep, keeping a lookout for any signs of distress. He sighs to himself, resigned to another night of no sleep.

Joel gives you two more days until he issues his ultimatum. Two days of trying to make it through the day without breaking in front of the children, and evenings where you do nothing but cry, sometimes into Joel’s shoulder, sometimes into your pillow. The children are outside playing in a moment without rain when he comes to stand next to you.

“I have to go back,” He speaks softly, because it’s true, you think, his community will be looking for him, “You don’t have to come, I don’t expect you to trust me enough to follow me yet, but I think it would be for the best.”

“How far is it?” You ask without looking at him.

“With them?” He nods his head to the children, “Three weeks.”

“And they’ll accept us?”

“Long as you do as I say when we get there, yes.”

“And you promise, if I catch a single whiff of something being off, I can leave?” You bite at the skin on the inside of your mouth until it bleeds, weighing up what following Joel actually means.

He holds his palms up in surrender, “You can go anytime.”

You take in a deep breath, worst comes to worst, you can always shoot him if he doesn’t stay true to his word. So you nod. You agree.

“We can leave tomorrow morning.”

You know, as soon as you step into the community behind this bastard of a man, that it’s been a trap all along. It’s nothing big, a few dilapidated lodges in a clearing – there isn’t even a wall, but as he leads you down the middle of the street, something feels off and it has everything to do with the people staring at you. It doesn’t matter how many pairs of eyes you have on you as you grip your gun by your side, they’re all women. Some older than others, but from what you can see, you’re the youngest by far, apart from the children.

They aren’t playing, they don’t seem like children as you remember them. Even in the QZ they’d still been able to run around, find moments of joy in the darkness. There are five that you can see, stood next to women who you think must be their mother’s. Silently staring at you, following you with their eyes as John leads you and your mother into the lodge at the end of the street.

He opens the door, waving you both inside, and you’re furious at the way your mother does as she’s told. You take too long for his liking to step over the threshold, so he takes hold of your shoulder and shoves you through the door, shutting it behind him and standing in front of it, your one exit blocked.

“Your possessions, if you please,” He speaks, sickly sweet, gesturing his hand for you and your mother to put your bags and weapons on the table in the middle of the room, “You’ll get them back soon enough, but we must make sure you don’t have anything dangerous.”

You feel like a deer caught in headlights as your mother does exactly as she’s told. Places her backpack on the table and takes the knife she has from her pocket and sets it next to the bag. John smiles at her, a horrible, toothy grin, which quickly fades when he looks to you.

“And you, little dove,” He croons, it makes you shiver, “You’re not going to cause trouble already, are you?”

You already know there isn’t a chance in hell of you getting your things back, but you do as he says anyway, setting your pack and your gun on the table, but keeping your hunting knife concealed in the waistband of your jeans under the flannel shirt you’re wearing. He seems satisfied - stupid man - you think, as he walks further into the room, opening a large chest.

When he stands, he’s holding white material in his hands, he offers one to your mother, who unravels it to reveal a white dress. He hands you a similar bundle of material, when unraveled it’s another white dress, slightly different in style and size to the one your mother is holding up against her body. What the fuck kind of place have you walked into?

“It will help you fit in,” He explains, “The rest of the folk here dress like this, so it’ll help show them you’re one of us now.”

Something inside you thinks that whatever the women here do, it’s not through choice of their own but you decide not to talk back, following closely behind your mother as John opens the door and leads you back outside and into another lodge down the street, if you could even call it a street.

He opens the door, inside is a woman who you think must be your mother’s age, a baby cradled in her arms which she is rocking back and forth. It’s making tiny, gurgling sounds as if it’s just been fed.

“This is Alice,” John introduces, “You’ll stay here with her, and she can help you get acquainted with the way we do things here,” Alice turns and nods her head at him, much like you imagined people would do when they met royalty, “Dinner will be at sundown.”

With the baby clutched to her, Alice silently motions for you both to follow her. She leads you up the stairs and opens one of the doors. Inside, it’s simple, two single beds, one chest of drawers but nothing much else.

“You sleep here,” She speaks, her voice quiet and meek, “And please change,” She motions to your dresses, “It’ll make things easier.”

She closes the door behind her, and you can hear her footsteps retreating down the stairs. Your mother is already stripping out of her normal clothes and draping the white dress over her body. It doesn’t fit her properly, it’s too big. The hemline ghosts at the ground, long sleeves taper in at her wrists. She looks fucking ridiculous, you think.

“You heard her,” She chastises, “Get changed.”

Oh, so now you want to pretend you’re in charge. You suck your teeth in frustration, but take off your shirt anyway, letting the white material slip over you. You keep your jeans on, more as a place to keep your knife concealed than anything else. You can’t help the smug feeling that fills you when you realise your dress fits you perfectly. You don’t look nearly as stupid as your mother does in hers. Yours is a different style. Still long enough to ghost the ground by your boots, but the neckline is cut differently, dipping down to show off the swell of your breasts, and your arms are shorter, cut off just below your shoulders. You don’t think you’d ever worn something like this in your life. If it weren’t for the situation, you find yourself in, you’d start to think you actually looked nice.

Your mother opts to head back downstairs – maybe thinking she can entice Alice into a conversation, but she’s silent. She just sits on the couch and rocks her baby, vacant expression in her eyes, ignores your mother when she asks questions. The only time she really moves is when there’s a faint sound of a ringing bell. She stands, places the baby in a crib set in the living room and just motions for you to follow her.

It's when you sit down that you realise quite how fucked you are. John sits at the head of the table, because of course he does, but just as you’d suspected, the only other people sat at the table are women, apart from some of the small children who are boys. All dressed in similar white dresses to you. All wearing a similar vacant expression as Alice was. There’s a door behind John that opens, and two women, both clearly pregnant, but one further along than the other, bring out pots full of what looks like stew when it’s spooned into the bowl in front of you.

You go to pick up the spoon and start eating, but the sound of someone clearing their throat pulls your attention to the end of the table. It’s John, and when you look down, every single one of the women is holding hands with those sat next to them. An old woman sat next to you, graying hair and wrinkled face, has her palm up, waiting for you to slip your hand in her own. You set the spoon down and give her your hand, then John speaks.

“To our most gracious Lord, we extend our thanks to you for keeping us safe in these troubled times and for providing us with a meal to sustain us, amen.”

There is a small murmur of ‘amens’ around the table and then everyone picks up their spoons and begins to eat, although you’ve truly lost your appetite. All you can think is how the fuck you’re going to get out of here.

The next morning, when you set off from the safety of the cabin, you realise just how slow you are as a group. When you’d first arrived at your cabin, just you and the children, it hadn’t felt like it had taken that long to find your place of safety, but maybe that’s because you’d still had that adrenaline running through you. Now, as you walk behind Joel, who always seems to be fast enough to be feet away from you, you realise just how long this trek through the woods is going to take.

The eldest two children walk by your side – you walk slowly enough that they can keep up with you, but after a few hours, you realise Isabel is who is going to slow you down the most, so you opt to pick her up and carry her on your hip. She’s almost too big for this, her weight making your arms ache, but for the sake of making this quicker, you suffer on, shifting her around every now and then as you follow Joel, eyes always trained on the back of his head.

You stop that night in a clearing. The air is cool and it’s the first time in a long time that the children have had nothing but the solid ground to sleep on, but they don’t seem to mind, settling underneath the jacket that Joel had shrugged off, using yours as a scrunched-up pillow. You’re sitting with your back against the trunk of a tree, knees pulled up to your chest, Joel is sitting in a similar manner across from you.

“I can help carry her.” He speaks softly across the clearing.

You shake your head with a resolute and stern “No.” Thrown in his direction.

He holds his hands up in surrender, “You gonna carry her the whole way?” He challenges, and the ache that’s settled in your arms tells you he’s right, you aren't, “I don’t know what you’re scared of but I’m not going to do anythin’ to her.”

It’s a question you don’t really know how to answer, because you think deep down that you know he won’t hurt her. He’s done nothing but protect you since he crashed into your life – he’s fed you, protected you, carried your dead son and buried him, he slept next to you, as far away as he could get, didn’t try and touch you without permission. Everything he’s done so far has proved he’s a good man. It could still be some kind of sick joke though, that he’s leading you somewhere bad, that he could pick Isabel up and run off with her, or hurt her.

“I get it,” He murmurs now, “I’m a random guy that’s turned up and caused a lot’a trouble, and I’m takin’ you somewhere new and that’s scary,” He exhales a big sigh, “But I promise I ain’t gonna hurt ya, I know somethin’ bad’s happened to you before,” He signal to his own neck where that horrible scar sits on you, “I know whatever happened to you, to these kids,” He nods to where they’re sleeping, “Must'a been bad, and I don’t know how anyone could hurt you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I’m tryin’ to,” He defends, “I’m tryin’ to help you as well.”

“I’m not-” You shake your head, “Just been alone a long time, I’m not used to having to trust people.”

“It’s gonna take time,” He admits, his own mind flashing back to how long it took him to trust anyone in this new world, “And I’m not askin’ for it all at once, just let me help a little, alright?”

You’re silent, because you don’t really want to admit you need help. You’ve been fine on your own, with the children, for so long, and he’s wandered into your life and set off a chain of events you aren’t sure you’re actually going to recover from. You don’t need him, not really, is what you think as you focus your attention to the ground where the children are sleeping.

Joel takes the silence as conversation over. He won’t push you, he knows it’ll probably end in tears if he does, but the next morning, when you pack all your things away and get ready to move on, instead of hiking Isabel into your own arms, you gently push at her shoulders to get her to walk towards Joel.

“How about you hitch a ride with him this morning?” You ask softly, bent to her height.

Joel kneels too, trying to make himself look less intimidating to her, although he doesn’t think it really works from the way she tries to scurry back into your arms. He thinks about how Sarah was at her age, so unsure of the big people around her, scared of anyone that wasn’t him.

He stretches out one of his big hands to her, “Come on,” He coaxes gently, “You ever ridden first class on a pair of shoulders before?”

Isabel sucks on her thumb a little, but shakes her head to tell him no, “It’s the best thing,” Joel adds, “You’ll see everything from up here.”

That seems to do it, because with another nudge from you she’s walking over and putting her impossibly small hand into Joel’s. He doesn’t remember the last time he’d touched someone this small, apart from Tommy’s baby. He hauls her up with ease, settling her on his shoulders, just like he promised. He’s got hold of her legs to keep her steady as he starts walking, trying to dampen the lump in his throat and the tears that are springing to his eyes. It’s so familiar, the way the weight of her sat there feels. If he closes his eyes, he’s back in Austin, walking through the park with Sarah sat up there, pointing out birds and butterflies and trying to keep her steady when she squeals with excitement.

He's sure that this might be his undoing, he thinks as he walks slowly, accounting for the other children that are following behind, each one clasping one of your hands tightly. How has he allowed himself to care this quickly for you and the children that follow you? How has he managed to go so fucking soft already? He can’t explain it, the way your sweetness has sunk under his skin. He knows there’s something more to you, he’s going to try and coax it out of you if he possibly can, but he’s sure that whatever you might have to say to him, whatever it is you’re going to tell him that happened to you, is only going to make him more likely to protect you, to lay down everything to keep you safe, and it scares him. Where is the Joel he knows? The closed off, grumpy man who won’t let anyone in? Where is that man he knows like the back of his hand, and is too late to go and find him? He thinks it probably is when he hears the slight chuckle from the girl sat on his shoulders, who’s pointing her hand at the butterfly that floats past them in mid-air. He’s fucked, he thinks, and for once, he thinks he might just be okay with that.

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