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imaginedisish · 1 year

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Home (Din Djarin x fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey everybody! Here is a new Din Djarin fic! I don’t know if I’ve done this trope already...there’s a good chance I did. I had a version of this fic in my WIPs for a while, and I don’t think it ever made it out of the doc, so here it is. I hope you guys like it! It’s heavily based on “Home” by LCD Soundsystem.

Summary: Din learns the truth about your past...

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ fingering, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), praise kink for sure, hurt to comfort, friends/idiots to lovers, Jedi!reader (implied conflict/is training Grogu), implied kidnapping (Inquisitors kidnap reader as child), cursing, Crest still exists because I’m lazy, probably grammar mistakes because again, I’m lazy.

Word Count: 3,661

Your lungs burn painfully as you sprint through the forest, dodging trees, maneuvering through the thicket. You swear Grogu is giggling in his little carrier strapped carefully onto your chest. “This is not funny, little guy,” You mumble in between breaths. Grogu babbles and giggles some more in response.

This was not how this training session with Grogu was supposed to go.

BANG! You flinch a bit to the left as a blaster shot whirls by, smashing violently into a tree, leaving a burning gaping hole in its wake. You make a sharp turn to avoid the tree as it crashes down in front of you. The dark troopers were closing in on you and Grogu; you could feel it. It was only a matter of time until they circled around you, blasters pressing at your back.

Another. BANG! The tree to your right comes crashing down a few feet away. You turn around for just a split second, searching for Din, for something, for a way out. They were gaining on you, you could see them coming from over the hill.

You press a button on your comlink. “Hey Mando?” You practically shout into it. “Things are getting a little messy over here.” Your words are panicked, jumbled.

“I’m almost there,” He reassures. “What’s going on?”

“Well, they’re-,” BANG! That answers his question.

“Just hold on, okay?” You can hear the fear in his voice; it wasn’t something you were used to. Din was normally confident, but this time there was a sense of insecurity, as if this time was going to end differently than all the others. As if he was afraid you weren’t going to make it.

You take a deep breath and navigate away from the now burning, fallen over trees. You turn around; the troopers were even closer than they were before. You swear there weren’t this many a few minutes ago. You turn to the left, trying to find another way out, but it’s too late. You were surrounded. You weren’t fast enough. Maybe this was the end.

“I am not getting killed by a bunch of droids,” You huff, raising your hands above your head. But the troopers don’t stop, they continue to creep closer towards you and Grogu, raising their blasters, readying to shoot, aiming to kill. “We are not going down like this kid,” You whisper, Grogu’s ears picking up as the words slip from your tongue.

The troopers finally stop, their metal joints freezing in place. Their blasters are still pointed towards you and Grogu. You swallow harshly, staring at your reflection in the metallic armor of the dark trooper directly in front of you. You watch closely as their robotic fingers hover over the trigger. You had one shot, one chance to get this right. You shut your eyes, waiting for it.

All at once. CLICK. BANG.

Your hands extend out. You can feel the energy pulsing through you. It’s controlled and stable. You slowly open your eyes, and hovering in the air are at least twenty violently shivering blaster rays, threatening to finish the job if you let go. You can feel the rays dancing under your fingertips, struggling against your grasp. You shut your eyes again, the tension of each one growing. You couldn’t hold this forever.

A new feeling abruptly shocks your system. It’s a certain power you haven’t felt in years. It rattles your bones, sending shockwaves throughout every inch of your body. There’s something delicious about it, tempting even. It’s powerful, yet intrusive, quickly invading your senses and taking over. You allow it to course through you fully. You can almost hear something calling out to you. Let go.

And so you do.

With a swift motion, you release the energy building up inside of you. It’s a radical feeling, but still somehow familiar. The shocks flow through the palms of your hands and out of your fingers. There’s a slight sting. It’s almost painful. And that’s when you remember exactly what this feeling is. Your eyes open wide, and you watch as electricity, and the blaster rays, shoot out towards the dark troopers, decimating them immediately.

Fire consumes the trees around you, embers quickly filling the air. You’re not sure if the electricity you just shot out of your hands caused this, or the blaster shots, or the dark troopers themselves. Most likely, it was some sort of messy combination of all three, which meant that you were in part to blame.

“Cyare?”

And Din saw the whole thing.

He’s standing just a few feet away from you. You can see the flames and carnage reflecting against his armor, and in the center of it all is you. This wasn’t a side of yourself that you wanted him to see, or even know about in the first place.

But it was too late for that now. “Din, I can expl-,”

He cuts you off, curt, emotionless. “We need to go.” You nod, taking slow strides towards the ramp of the Crest. You pass Din along the way. You want him to say something, to look at you, to move at the very least. But he doesn’t. He’s motionless, frozen in the aftermath of what you had done, of the secret you had tried so very hard to cover up.

You reluctantly step into the Crest, taking Grogu and his carrier off your shoulders, placing him in his crib. You throw the carrier to the ground. He gurgles something entirely unintelligible. There’s a tiredness in his grumblings. Good, you think to yourself. At least he’ll be asleep when you and Din have it out.

Din’s steps echo against the walls of the Crest. You know he’s disappointed. You can feel it. You should’ve told him the truth, told him who you were, told him that person isn’t who you are anymore. It’s certainly not the person you are with him. Din makes your past seem like some non-existent, intangible, fictional far-off tale. It was like he made you forget. No. He changed you, altered your brain chemistry, made you feel like you mattered. And not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

You needed him, and it scared you. You were almost afraid of the connection, of the dependency.

But he needs you too, you just don’t know it yet.

You wait a minute, trembling a bit in the hull, watching as Grogu’s eyes struggle to stay open. Within a few seconds, they’re closed. Din’s figure finally appears in the doorway. He’s apprehensive, tentative, as if he hasn’t made up his mind about coming inside. Your stomach knots, twinging as he finally steps all the way inside, pressing a button as the ramp shuts behind him.

He looks over at Grogu, fast asleep in his crib. A modulated breath escapes from under his helmet. It’s a sigh of defeat, of dejection. You build up the courage to stare into his visor, half expecting to get an indication of how he’s feeling. But there’s nothing, no sign of life save the shallow breaths slipping through his vocoder.

“Din, just let me explain.” It’s a plea, a solicitation for forgiveness.

But he isn’t buying it. “Did you lie to me?” There’s no anger in his voice, no agitation, not even an ounce of annoyance. It’s hurt, pain, possibly even betrayal, and that feels far worse than any vexation or outrage ever could. “Last time I checked, Jedi don’t use the force like that.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, your eyes breaking away from his glare. You know he’s staring at you under his helmet, searching for answers, trying to convince himself that what had just happened was a figment of his imagination. But it wasn’t. It was you. The past had caught up with your present, and now they’d fight for control.

“No, they don’t,” You pause, breathing deeply before continuing. “The Inquisitors kidnapped me when I was a kid. I was saved just a few months after the first Death Star was destroyed.” There’s a moment of relief before the fear of waiting for his response kicks in. You had told him the truth, and he wasn’t running away. Din was still in front of you, listening to every word you had to say.

He takes a few steps toward you, slowly closing the distance between you and him. “You could’ve told me that,” He whispers. “You should’ve told me.” He’s more assertive the second time around.

“I didn’t want you to think that I-I was still like that.” You can feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, begging to be blinked away. “I d-didn’t want you to t-think I was some monster.”

“What are you talking about?” He finds himself being drawn even closer towards you, his gloved hands gravitating to yours, his fingertips brushing against your wrists as he presses his palms into your own. Home. The word flashes in your mind in big bright lights, your hands fitting perfectly into his. “How could you think I’d ever see you like that?”

“I could tell you were scared, when you saw what I did…” You trail off, your heart beating wildly out of your chest. “Maybe I shouldn’t be training the kid. Maybe I’m not…” Din shakes his head. “Not what?”

“Not good enough,” You mumble, fighting back sobs. “If I can’t let go of my past, let go of those feelings…”

“No.” There’s no hesitance in his statement, no question, no consideration. Din means it. “Don’t think like that, mesh’la. You’re more than enough, more than the kid and I could’ve ever asked for.”

“But I-,”

He cuts you off again. “You protected Grogu. You protected me.”

“I lied to you, Din,” Your voice is soft, quiet, timid. “I did something I’d promise myself I’d never do again.” You blink a few times, letting the inevitable tears stream down your cheeks.

Din squeezes your hands lightly and lets go. Before you can internally grieve the loss of contact, he pulls you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you. He had never been so gentle with you, so kind, so soft. This was so unlike him.

You sob into his beskar covered chest. The cold metal feels good against your burning cheeks. “I-I’m sorry.” You croak out, your voice reverberating through his armor.

“It’s alright,” He mutters, the top of his helmet coming down to rest on your head. “I’ve got you, it’s gonna be okay.” You sniffle as he whispers sweet reassurances in your ears, reminding you that you’re good enough, that he’s right next to you, that nothing bad is going to happen. “You should get some rest.”

You nod, and Din pulls you from his chest, stepping away from you and into the cockpit. You wish he was still next to you, his body pressed against yours. The closer you get to Din, the more dangerous things become. Luke and Ahsoka had told you the dangers of maintaining connections, building relationships. Ahsoka had been more forgiving, given that she believed in a more balanced way than the Jedi did. But Luke…Luke had been warning you for years.

Honestly, you didn’t care anymore. You wanted to forget Luke’s grating voice, to dispel each ideal he forced into your head. You wanted Din, needed Din. He was all that mattered now.

Forget your past This is your last chance now And we can break the rules Like nothing will last

Luke’s warnings fade away as you search through your clothes for something more comfortable to wear. Naturally, there’s nothing clean, nothing that Grogu hadn’t spit up on.

There’s one shirt of Din’s that you had borrowed a few nights ago when he was out on a hunt by himself. It still smells like him, feels like him too. You like how you look in it, the way it hangs too long on you. You like that it’s his and not yours. You slip it on and walk out into the hull and towards the cockpit as the Crest takes off.

You can’t see it, but his eyes settle on your reflection in the viewport. He turns around to get a better look. His shirt is massive on you, falling just above your knees. He hadn’t expected to see you in his clothes, but fuck did you look good. He couldn’t hold back anymore, not after today, not after you had sobbed in his arms.

He needed to remind you of who you are. He needed to tell you what you meant to him. Maker, he needed you to know everything, how he wants every inch of you, how much he cares about you, how much he loves you.

You can tell he’s looking at you now. You’re suddenly incredibly self-conscious. “I-I’m sorry,” You stutter. “I took i-it the other day without asking…should’ve told you I had it.”

He clutches his fists as the Crest comes out of the planet’s atmosphere. He presses a button, putting the ship on autopilot. “You need to stop apologizing,” He says, pushing his palms into the arms of the pilot’s chair and standing up.

You tilt your head to the side, confused and somehow even more apologetic than you were before. “I-I didn’t mean to offend you-,” “You’re not offending me, you never could.” He closes the gap between the two of you with one small step. “So stop saying sorry.” There’s an urgency in his voice, and an undeniable sense of certainty, like he had thought hard about what he was going to say, as if he had wanted to say this for an incredibly long time.

“Sorr-,” You cut yourself off, a smirk spreading across your face.

Din’s hands hover over your waist, softly settling down, waiting for you to protest. But you don’t. “Is this alright?” He asks.

“Y-yes,” You stutter. Din’s grip becomes firm against your hips. You hum at the contact, slowly pushing your body closer to his until your chests are flush against one another’s.

The tension is palpable. This is no longer him simply trying to comfort you; this is much, much more than that.

He makes the first move, taking a step in between your spread-out legs so that your back presses into the wall behind you. You can feel a pulse of heat shoot down to your core. “You need to know what you mean to me,” He whispers, his knee pressing lightly into your clothed cunt. You hold yourself back from grinding against him. “Need to show you how I feel about you, how you make me feel…” He trails off, letting himself get lost in the moment

Your hands snake up to the base of his neck, where his flight suit and his helmet meet. Your fingers slip under the fabric, exploring the exposed skin there. You’ve always wanted to feel him, to let him feel you. But this was never the deal, this was never something you expected. These were uncharted waters, a feeling that was so far shoved to the back of your head that you were positive this would never happen.

But this is happening.

He tugs the shirt up so that his hands can slip underneath. “Take off your gloves.” Your voice is breathy as the plea slips out. “Wanna feel you.” Din nods, quickly pulling them off before gluing his palms back to your skin. His calloused fingertips graze over your stomach, sending chills down your spine. “Din,” You whisper as he trails towards your bra, dipping underneath. His thumb brushes over your peaked nipple. You shut your eyes, letting your head fall back against the wall.

“What is it, pretty girl?” He asks, teasing you, his fingers pinching your nipple lightly. “Tell me what you want, need to hear you.”

He was going to be the death of you. “I-I want you to f-fuck me,” You beg, shamelessly grinding against his knee, searching for some sort of relief. You can feel your wetness pooling in between your legs. “N-need you to touch me Din, please.”

Din nods, his hands slipping out from under your shirt and down to the waistline of your panties. He drops to his knees as he slips them down your legs, practically tearing them off of you in the process. His fingers glide up your inner thigh as he stands. His palm finally settles against your cunt, the heel of his hand pushing into your clit, his fingers teasing at your opening.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, such a good girl,” He praises, moving a bit so that his fingers find their way to your clit. You moan out at the sudden pressure. “You like that? Like my fingers there?”

You hum a yes, unable to pull any sort of coherent thought together as Din’s fingers swirl around your clit. “N-need more,” You mumble. “W-wanna feel you, please.” You can feel his erection against your leg, throbbing in his flight suit. But Din doesn’t stop, his fingers continue their unrelenting circles at your core.

He moves his hand ever so slightly, shifting the angle so that his thumb brushes against your clit, and his fingers begin to tease your folds. Your head falls against his shoulder at the feeling. His fingers suddenly thrust into you, pumping in and out.

“You’re so perfect,” His honeyed, modulated voice rasps. He watches as your chest heaves against his shirt, your back limp against the wall of his ship, your head pressed against his shoulder. Fuck you looked so good like this, taking him, letting him make you his. And Maker, you felt good doing it. Nothing would ever compare to this, to the feeling of having him this close to you. “Doing so good for me.”

“Din,” You whimper. “I-I’m so close.”

He smirks under his helmet. He was going to make you come on his fingers. You clench around him, his fingers hitting the spot you need him in most every time. “That’s it sweet girl, just like that,” Din whispers, his thumb mercilessly toying with your core. You can feel yourself coming undone around him, like a wire snapping in two, heat spreading fervently across every inch of your body.

“D-Din,” You stutter, pulling him against you, his fingers still buried inside you, his thumb still drawing gentle circles. You needed more, you needed him closer than humanly possible. You bring a hand down to his erection, jerking him off through his pants. “N-need you inside me, Din.”

He doesn’t waste any time undoing his belt, shoving his pants off. He’s so fast you’re not even sure any of it happened in the first place. He lines himself up with your entrance. “Are you sure you want this?” He asks.

There’s no question. “I’ve always wanted this, Din, always wanted you.”

He rests his forehead against yours. “…‘always wanted you too, mesh’la.” You gasp as he buries himself inside of you with one thrust, splitting you open. “So fucking tight, so perfect,” He praises you again, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at his words. He gives you a minute to adjust to him before pulling out and shoving himself back in. You’ve never felt so full, so whole, like he’s tearing you apart just to put you back together.

“Feels s’good,” You murmur as Din sets his pace. It starts slow, his hips rolling against yours with each thrust. He’s taking his time, exploring every inch of you. His thumb finds your clit again. The sensation is almost overwhelming. You’re already on the borderline of being fucked out.

You can feel your core pulsing as he works at you, toying with you. His thrusts become quicker, needier. “So perfect for me,” He soothes, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek, brushing away a tear you didn’t know had escaped your eye. “Taking me so well, wanted to do this for so long.”

You were already practically there. Every pump, every praise, every swirl pushes you closer to the edge, threatening to throw you over, to split you in two, and Maker, you wanted it.

“Din I-I-,” You can’t even get the words out.

“I know, pretty girl, I’ve got you,” He coos, fucking you into the wall, his thumb still beating away at your heat, his other hand still holding your cheek. Your legs are hooked around his waist, your fingers digging into the beskar that dawns his shoulders.

Your walls flutter around him, and you can feel yourself falling apart around his cock. Searing white heat floods your vision. You can feel a few cool tears against your hot cheeks. You look into his visor as you come. You want him to see you, to know how he makes you feel. “F-fuck, Din, I-I love you.” The confession doesn’t bother you as it slips out. It’s natural, like you had said it countless times before.

And you’ll say it countless times after.

It’s what sends Din over the edge. “S-shit,” His voice is shaky, breathy, broken, his cock twitching inside of you. You can feel him fill you up, pumping in and out a few more times before stopping, still buried deep inside you. His forehead rests on yours, your body limp against his. “I love you,” He confesses back. “So fucking much.” You shut your eyes, letting yourself melt around him. “Can we stay like this, for just a little while? Don’t wanna leave you yet.” You hum a soft yes in response. You didn’t want him to go anywhere either.

His arms wrap around you, pulling you in, keeping you held against his chest. There it is, that same feeling from before, the one you felt the very second you joined this little clan of three.

Home.

If you're afraid of what you need If you're afraid of what you need Look around you, you're surrounded It won't get any better

And so, goodnight

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netherfeildren · 1 year

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FEAR OF GOD : Chapter IX : What should we believe in next?

Series Masterlist ; Moodboard

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC

Summary: There is no point to which you cannot return — the moment lives on forever.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Fluff (fucking finally, am I right?); smut; pregnancy kink

A/N: Art is Femme Au Tigre (detail), François Martin-Kavel

Word Count: 8.2K

Read on AO3

Chapter IX: What should we believe in next?

To love someone

is firstly to confess: I’m prepared to be devastated by you.

-Billy-Ray Belcourt, A History of My Brief Body

In many ways, you felt like the forest had swallowed you down its dark maw, and spit you back out a different person altogether – a rebirth of sorts. You’d awoken to a different set of priorities to which, you now knew, you had to dedicate yourself to like nothing you’d ever done before.

There could be no recalcitrance, no doubt, no fear. You realized it was, as ever, always choices, choices, choices that determined the value of your character, the weight of your potential. It had seemed for so long that you’d found yourself unmoored – waiting for something, Joel or your own certainty, your own desires to come to fruition. But you’d not realized, until this very moment, until death had been so close, until you’d almost lost yourself in that overwhelming wilderness, alone with only the possibility of what your future could be, and now, carrying this baby in your arms, another held within you, born of all the love in your heart you could ever hold – you realized your choice had been made a long time ago – in your dedication to survive after Beth. You remember the moment of startling revelation that you’d never considered putting an end to yourself after witnessing such a tragedy, that it, perhaps, would have been less of a struggle after such a trauma. The realization seems to be colored in a different sort of light now, after everything. You can see now that that was your decision, that was your choice. That was your moment of ownership over yourself, of taking your very life, your future in your hands, and choosing to go on. Everything that had come after that was merely a byproduct of that moment of perseverance. Joel, Connie, Jackson, your life here, those were all consequences – the fruit – of that choice. You’d chosen to live. You’d chosen to go on in a world in which there existed the great possibility of being alone for the rest of your life, of dying, of more pain, more hurt, more struggle, and yet you’d done it.

You think of that long past conversation with Connie, I would not like to see your choices taken from you once again, but what he’d failed to realize was that you’d been living in the realm of that past choice already. That the ultimate decision – the one to endure, to survive despite whatever had passed or may come to pass, had already been made. The enlightenment of that certainty, that which you could provide for yourself, to forge your own path, to survive when you needed to, was infinitely comforting in the face of all that you had to look forward to. You realize now, holding such potential for life within you, in your arms, that was what your choice was, to live. Anything that came after that was only what had always been intended, what was inevitable, what would have always happened thereafter, no matter what. A life full of inevitabilities: Beth, you, Joel, a child. The comfort that realization provides now is so profound. You wish, like in so many other moments, that Connie were here to share it with him. The great epiphany of having realized that the place your life had come to had been led here by your own hand, after having felt, for so long, so out of control. There could be no regret after that, only a great appreciation that now you had so much to look forward to; even if, perhaps, the one thing, the one man, you needed might not be part of it. Another choice to be made there. Perhaps the most terrifying of them all.

Courage, above all else, it is courage that is necessary to go on.

You look down at Kate asleep in your arms, her full belly and the gentle sway of the rocking chair pulling her into drowsiness. You run the tip of your finger over the soft peach fuzz of her tiny little brow. “Poor little girl. All alone in the world… But now you have me – you’ll always have me. And soon there’ll be another, another baby,” you tell her, your most precious secret. “There’ll be three of us then. And I don’t know where I’ll get the strength to take care of us all, but I will, I promise. I’ll find it, I’ll pull it out of myself any way I have to. I promise you.” You press a small kiss to the softest rose petal of a cheek you’ve ever felt.

Joel leans against the side of your house – listening to you talk to Kate – promising this most sacred of things as you sit slowly rocking her on your back porch. Another baby, another baby, another baby. The entirety of the face of the world could be alight with fire in this moment, and he doesn’t think he’d feel himself burning. Maybe he already is. His heart, his heart – it’s on fire. Maybe I’ve finally gotten so fucking old this’ll be the thing to kill me. Maybe I’m actually just dying of a goddamn heart attack right now. He clutches his chest. Wants to laugh and cry and scream and kiss the ever loving hell out of you. He wishes, like in so many other moments, that Sarah was here. He wishes he could tell her she’s going to have a little brother or sister, that the two of you could have known each other. He can’t move, can’t get his brain to send a signal to his legs to move. To go to you. And he thinks: this is what real wonder is. This is like nothing else that has ever come before. A baby, a baby, my Birdie’s baby.

He can’t say he’s even surprised really, has just been subconsciously waiting for this. Acting like a goddamn teenager, just discovered sex, never heard of a condom or pulling out, fucking you every chance he got. Jesus. Two babies in his fifties – he’ll never hear the end of it from Ellie. A huff of a laugh escapes, and he feels a tear run down his cheek.

“Can I hold her?” He steps up onto the porch. You startle a tiny bit, jostling the sleeping bundle, looking around yourself as if for an escape, but when you look back into his eyes, it’s almost like there’s an air of resignation in them, as if you’re now realizing there’s no escaping this.

“Of course.” You frown down a little at her as you make the transfer, a soft coo passing your lips to settle her, reassure her, I’ll be right here, don’t be scared. The warm brush of your arms along his chest sends a shivering jolt through him. He hasn’t touched you in too long, what feels like years. He takes the baby gently from your arms and settles in the rocker across from you. The tiny weight in his palms is so small and yet so magnificently significant, heavy in the weight of what she represents. It’s been so many years since he’s held a baby, his own baby, but it feels as natural as breathing. The muscle memory reawakening to remind him to support her head, keep his too-big-hands gentle and soft. He looks back at you, so lovely, always. The most beautiful thing he’s ever set eyes on in his whole life, he’s sure. He wants to go and lay his head in your lap, stay there forever. And now that he knows the secret you’ve been carrying, he’s shocked at himself, that he hadn’t noticed before, so attuned is he to the planes of your face, the slope of your mouth and brow and cheekbone, the color and warmth of your skin, your body. But he sees it now, painted upon you as if you were a canvas for all that’s shared between the two of you, this tiny little secret you’ve both created together. It glows out of the light shining in your eyes, bathes your skin in the most radiant luminescence. But you look tired now too, afraid of him, of what he’s about to say, for he can see you know there’s something he wants to say to you.

“What is it? Tell me,” you breathe, and there it is, always that keen ability you have to read his mind.

“I was afraid,” he confesses.

And yet it is not a confession, for you already know, have always understood him to his very core. “I know.”

“I had a choice to make, a moment to flinch. I chose wrong.” Your gaze is trained on Kate asleep in his arms, and he can see the roll of your throat swallowing. “I should have never turned away from you. I will never turn away from you again.”

You stifle a little gasp, turn away to look out into the dark of the surrounding trees. He can see your eyes shifting back and forth, as if you’re searching for something. Perhaps now’s the appropriate time for him to get on his knees and start begging. He watches your throat work several times, and the tears welling in your eyes tell him you’re trying to swallow your sobs. A bludgeoning would be less painful than watching the look on your face right now.

He can’t voice what he just heard you say, not yet, not yet. He needs this to be about the two of you first, about what he feels for you, about what he needs you to understand about what’s inside of him, what he’s let go of, before he lets anything else interfere in what might happen here. He needs the two of you now to come to each other of your own volition, unburdened by anything else except for what you feel for one another, the necessity of being together because without the other you’d simply die.

“Birdie, look at me. Gimme those gorgeous eyes.”

“I can’t,” you choke out.

“Please, baby. Why not?”

“I don’t want to see what’s not there. I can’t–” He gets up then, comes to kneel before you, the baby still cradled in one arm, he brings his other to grasp your face. “Look at me, Birdie. Listen to me when I tell you that I fucking love you, and I will never ever leave you again.”

“Joel– there’s something–” you cut yourself off.

He grips your chin gently, the rest of his life cradled in both hands, “I am so fucking sorry. And I love you so goddamn much. I can’t say that I’ll never hurt you again, piss you off, that’ll I’ll never make a mistake, do the wrong thing, say the wrong thing,” his voice is guttural, he has to clear his throat several times of the tightness overwhelming it before he can continue, “But I promise I’m gonna do everything in my power to try. To be the man you need, the man Kate and Ellie need. Look at me–” for you’ve closed your eyes now, silent tears streaming down your cheeks, running over his fingers to drip down onto your lap. You blink them open. “You hearin’ me?”

“Yes–” you whisper, “Yes, I hear you.” And then you’re sliding down into his lap, bottom coming to rest on his bent knee so he’s cradling you in one arm and Kate in the other. “I should've never left–” you sob, clutch at his clothes, his hair, drag your nails through the thick of his beard.

“No, baby– no. I should’a never let you go.” He tangles a hand into the back of your hair, bringing your mouth to his, and then finally, finally the taste of you within him again. He licks into your mouth, deep. The hot cave of it, opening so sweetly for him. You moan into him, breathe him in, let your head fall back for him to devour more deeply.

But he pulls back, gives you a moment to breathe. There’s still so much left for the two of you to say. He grips you around the waist and rises to his feet with a grunt, goddamn knees, the both of you clutched within his arms. “Let’s put her to bed.”

The sight of him cradling Kate’s in his strong arms, the little bundle of her, so small, he could hold her entire weight in the palm of his large hand. Watching him set her in the crib you’d set up beside your bed, so, so gently, it has images of the rest of a shared life flashing in your mind. Sending painful cramps of lust through your womb, spears of longing through your heart. He’s so solid and strong. Broad and thick and you know that nothing could ever hurt you when you’re in the circle of his arms. He makes you untouchable by anyone or anything but him.

When he turns to face you you’re already there, pressing your hands and your breasts along the broad, strong planes of his chest. Pulling him out of the bedroom and into the hallway to push him roughly up against the wall and attempt to climb him. “Jesus fuck, Birdie–”

He cradles your jaw in that strong hand he’d just so gently cradled the tiny baby with, and you suck his thumb into your mouth, the groan he lets out at that — it sets you ablaze. “Joel, please, please, fuck me,” you beg. Your voice pitched into a whine. You’ll become inconsolable soon, if he isn’t careful, if he doesn’t hurry. Your cunt, a tight furl of desperate need, you claw at his belt, his shirt. “Please, p–please, I can’t wait anymore, I need it. I don’t care.”

“Birdie, open your fucking eyes,” he gives your head a sharp little shake, you’d pressed your eyes tightly closed to keep the tears at bay, “Look at me. This is it,” he says, “You and me. Do you understand? This is it – us.” Your eyes are huge and wet, unblinking. His grip on your jaw, cheeks smushed, mouth in a pucker, forces your head to nod like a marionette – as if he could force the understanding into you.

“I love you, Birdie. Do you understand me?” And you want to say no, no you don’t understand because how could you ever comprehend something that enormous.

You look down, then, unable to meet his eyes anymore and press the tips of your fingers to his lips as if to stifle his words. How can something you’ve wanted for so long, so desperately, scare you so much now? It’s as if the two of you have switched places – as if he’s transplanted his fear into you. What would you do with the love of a man like this? What does one do once they have the possibility of everything they’ve ever wanted within arms reach? How could your love for him, the intensity of it, intertwine with his in a way that could create a life together? How did one grapple with the notion of casting away their loneliness, their aloneness, when you’d lived with it for so long? And most important of all, what about all you hadn’t told him yet? What would he say then?

So many questions, little bird.

“I’ll give you anything. Anything you want, baby,” he whispers, and you wish he wouldn’t say such things. No – you couldn’t brush up against the idea of your love for each other existing out in the world one moment, only for it to be ripped away from you the next.

His voice is hushed, he says again: “I love you,” and the words slide through your hair like water as he presses you tighter into him. You feel so empty, your cunt clenching desperately around nothing at just the deep, familiar sound of his voice.

This feels, simultaneously, like the final nail in the coffin being ripped away, setting you free, and also, being hammered home, sealing your fate away with an undeniable finality.

And Joel, he’d never been able to say the words easily before. I love you, it is a blessing – a benediction and a gift – to be able to tell the person you love, out loud, how you feel about them. To have them in front of you to do such a simple thing. To have that choice. He’d always felt too laid bare by it – vulnerable. To Sarah, to Ellie, to his brother. He’d always needed to work around it, find another word for it, another action to show them – let me do you this favor, let me bring you this thing I know you love, let me stand guard over you all night so you can rest. It wasn’t ever enough; so, he’d say it now. He’d tell you now, without fear or regret or take backs. Without pushing you away after. He’d tell you, let it settle between the two of you and exist as it would.

You rip yourself from his arms then and turn away abruptly, too much to take in all at once. Pacing away, you can feel him stalking after you, herding you like prey. His fingers ghosting along the trailing tips of your long hair. You go as far as the confines of the house allow you to escape him, and then his hands are gripping your hips, spinning you around to face him and pressing you up and against him. Patience seemingly at an end.

He presses you up against the wall, his hands everywhere, under your breasts to lift the heavy weight of them up and into his face and open mouth, kissing and sucking and biting. He bends his knees to bring his face down closer to your level, sucks whatever skin of yours he can into his mouth, breathes you in, wraps his arms around your waist and squeezes.

You moan at the feel of him, your head tipped back – you should talk, you should talk, you know you have more to say – but your eyes are cast to the ceiling almost in supplication, and he’s everywhere, touching every part of you.

“I love you, and you’re gonna listen to me. I’m gonna say it over and over until you’ve got it in your head. Do anything I gotta do to prove it to you.”

“Promise me you’ll never leave me,” you beg suddenly, “Promise me you’ll be with me always, please.”

“I promise, Birdie.” I promise, I promise, I promise.

He pulls back, presses his brow to yours, it feels feverish and you’re trembling in his arms, needy little fingers carding through his hair to tug his mouth back to yours. “Tell me– lemme hear you say it.” He does not need to specify, you know what it is he wants from you.

A tiny whimper, and then: “I love you too.”

“Fuck–” who would’ve ever thought the words’d have such a direct line to his cock. He moans, deep in his chest and slots your mouths back together, takes your top lip between his own to pepper soft little kisses on your open, panting mouth, sucking and nibbling and licking.

He straightens to his full height, grasps the hinge of your jaw to open your mouth wide for him and thrusts his tongue inside, runs it along the roof of your mouth, behind your teeth. It’s wet and sloppy and you feel like you’re suffocating in each other. His hands roam down to clutch your ass in his hands and hoist you up and into him, your legs wrapping around his waist, he rolls his already hard erection into you. “I’m gonna fuck you now, alright? ‘Nd then we’ll talk some more, but fuck, right now I need inside that gorgeous cunt.”

“I missed you – oh god,” you moan, rolling your hot center along the stiff length of him, “Missed you so mu–much.” He growls the start of your name, his ragged voice turning it into nothing more than an incoherent, wordless snarl before he’s turning on his heel and setting your ass down on the edge of the kitchen table. His hands tangle in your hair, tugging your head back to open you to his savaging, all tongue and teeth, he fucks into your mouth with all the mounted desperation and fear and need of the past few days.

Your hands are at his belt, tearing his clothes open and then your hand is there, wrapping around the hot, hard length of him and he rips his mouth back to stare into your eyes, teeth bared in a snarl. You stare at each other, open mouths panting into each other as you start to jack his cock slowly, up and down, tight little hand squeezing from base to tip, a twist at the sensitive, leaking head.

“Shit, I– I was out of my fucking mind–” and at his words a flash of hot anger burns through him. “You’re never leaving me again. This is it,” he growls.

“Never,” you promise, “Never again.”

He pushes you back onto the surface of the table and pulls your ass to the edge, ripping your leggings and panties over your hips and down your legs. He pushes your sweater up over your naked breasts, wraps his hand around the lush weight of both of them and brings his face to them, licking and sucking as much as he can into his mouth. “Joel, please, please, I need you inside of me,” you’re crying, breathy, high pitched and whining.

“Not yet, not yet. Need to feel you, Birdie. Need to feel you here with me, need to taste you.” He kneels between your spread thighs, hooks one over his shoulder, your other ankle held in his grasp to anchor you wide, pushes to rest your heel on the edge of the table, completely vulnerable and open to him. Your pussy is red and swollen and soaked, slick sliding down your thighs, between your ass onto the table. “Fuck–” he licks the broad, flat of his tongue through the mess of your cunt, drinking your slick down. The taste of you – he’ll never tire of it, never get enough. Your back arches at the feel of his mouth on your aching sex and he takes the swollen bud of your clit gently between his teeth and holds there, you pause, acknowledge that you’re caught, before he sucks hard, and the whining mewl you let out, Jesus Christ, he could come just at the sound of it. He moves back down, presses his tongue inside, fucking in and out of you, can feel the ripple of your muscles, desperate for more.

He moves back up to your clit lapping at it with his tongue as he presses two thick fingers inside to stretch you open, eyes trained on your face the entire time. He can hear you whispering his name over and over again and it washes over him like a litany of forgiveness. He will do anything he needs to, to continue hearing you say his name like that for the rest of his life.

He stands then, fists his aching cock at the thick base and presses the wide head at your little clenching hole. “Gonna give it to you now, baby. No more crying, it’s okay, I’m gonna fuck you now.”

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

He’s pressing in, then, all the way to the end of you. Until his tip is at the mouth of your womb, right where you’re carrying his baby now. He pulls his hips back, the slick suck of your cunt trying to hold on to him, pull him back in deeper, and thrusts in again a little harder, but slow, just as deep, so that you feel the entire length of him, every throbbing ridge. Your eyes are unfocused, wet – lips red and swollen. So, so fucking beautiful. He needs to tell you now. He needs to tell you what he knows. Needs to tell you that he heard. That he’s gonna take care of the three of you. That you and him and Ellie and the babies will all be a family. That you’ll never have to worry or be scared or alone ever again. That there will be no more monsters. He pushes in again, harder, his hands sliding along the slopes and dips of your soft curves, brings one of them to the crown of your head to hold you in place, anchor you against the sharp thrust of his hips.

“How is it that we always end up in this position, huh?” he grunts. “Meant to have a conversation, but instead buried balls deep in your sweet cunt.” He nuzzles into your throat and you tip your head back. You’re beyond conversation, a half laugh, half moan all you can manage. He presses again and again and again against that sensitive spot he owns inside of you, fucks up against it harder.

“I heard you,” he whispers, so soft, into the dark, tender crook of your neck, that place made just for him, not stopping the rhythm of his hips. “I heard what you said to the baby earlier.” You freeze beneath him. Suddenly filled with tense fear and trepidation, and he hates himself for ever behaving in a way that could ever pull such a reaction from you. He promises himself and you and his child within you, that he will never, ever do something again to further that uncertainty. He presses a gentle kiss to the hinge of your jaw, runs his palm over the soft swell of your belly. “Heard you’re carrying a little secret, just for me.”

“Joel–”

“Didn’t think I could ever– would– would ever have– have this again,” presses another soft kiss, grinds his cock deeper.

It is almost possible to canonize each other with the force of this feeling. To give so much to each other – to create life in a dead world– what on earth could ever, ever be as sacred as this?

“You gonna give me a baby, little bird?”

“Y– yes, Joel. Yes – Oh, God– that’s so good,” you moan.

He grips your face roughly: “Tell me again, say it. I have’ta hear you.”

“I love you. I’m gonna give you a baby.”

“Fuck — fuck.” He starts to saw his length in and out of you again, the wet squelch like some lewd song between your bodies. “Again, again.”

“Ungh — I love you, I love you, I love you, Joel.” His cock feels like it gets harder and harder the more you say it. The words sing through his entire body. He grips the sides of the heavy wooden table to keep it from scooting across the floor with the power of his thrusts, and you clutch the front of his shirt to pull yourself onto him deeper.

“Fucking tight, p– perfect,” he grits, forehead pressed into your breasts as he watches the place where his cock impales you. His hips pick up their pace, fuck you harder “I’m gonna take care of us. Gonna love you forever." He starts to feel your muscles pulse and flutter at that, the wet suck of your pussy as you start to come around him, and the tight clutch is so wet, searing, it triggers his own orgasm. He wraps his arms around your waist to arch your back up, off the table and buries his face in your breasts as he starts to fill you with his spend. Your fingers tangle in his hair, press him harder into you until he’s almost drowning in your soft musky scent, come and sweat and him covering your skin everywhere.

“What are we going to do?” The two of you lay in a nest made of the comforter dragged off your bed, your ugly orange throw draped over your naked hips. He’d gotten the fire going, the warm fingers of it licking at your back. Your head’s tucked into the crook of his shoulder, your bare chests pressed together, hot and sweaty. So close and comfortable.

“You’re not to worry about anything,” tiny kiss pressed to your nose, “I’m gonna take care of everything,” another to the arch of your brow, the corner of your mouth, the edge of your jaw.

“Two babies is a lot.” You twirl your fingers through the curls at his nape. You’ll never stop touching him now, for the rest of your life, you plan to keep your hands on his skin.

He ignores that, continues his lecture, “And you’re not going to work so hard anymore – lots of breaks and resting. And you’re not to go forgetting meals anymore either. Three times a day, three square meals. And be sure that I’m gonna keep a close eye on all that.”

“And, and, and,” you mock, “Anything else?”

He gives you a stern frown, “I’ll let you know as I think of ‘em.”

“Actually, I think I’ll do what I want.” You hitch your thigh over his hip so that your wet core is pressed up against his thigh, his come still leaking from you. Even after he’d bent to clean you with his tongue after he’d pulled out earlier.

“You’ll do as I say.” He gives your bottom a gentle swat.

“What are you gonna do? Punish me?”

He nuzzles at your nipple, “No–” gives it a little bite, “You’d like that too much. Won’t give you my cock, that’s what I’ll do. Make you really suffer.”

“What a mean old man you are.”

“You like that too.” He rolls to lean over you, your head cushioned in the crook of his elbow. He gathers your wrists in his hand above your head, runs his nose along the length of your throat, a wet swipe of his tongue over the wing of your collarbone, down to the peak of your breast where he presses a long kiss, then his open mouth dragging over the lines of your ribs, lower still to the soft swell of your belly, where he presses his forehead. No sign of your secret yet, just the shared knowledge between the two of you for now. His tongue dips into your navel and you giggle, try and push him away, but he grips your thigh to keep you in place. He has you caught, snared. His nose journeys back up, skating along the surface of your skin. He nips gently at the meat of your bicep, and then back into your hair again to breathe deep, “Smell so good,” he moans. You can feel his length hardening again against your hip and your answering wetness begins to pool. “So soft–”

Kate’s cry sounds from the bedroom.

He pauses, “I’ll get her, don’t worry.” He presses a soft kiss to your temple and brow and heaves himself up with a rough groan. You watch the long lines of his body uncoil, the messy, silver threaded curls, broad shoulders, thick arms, smattering of hair on his chest that creeps down to his belly, his cock, thick and long, even soft as it is now, still wearing the glossy sheen of your slick. All your insides clench at the sight of him. Lust mixed with the satisfying flavor of possession, and the overwhelming splendor of your love, the knowledge that he’s all yours. That his claim over you is mutual, shared in full. That you love him, you love him, you love him, and he loves you back. That you’re carrying his baby.

Thank God pregnancy’s going to give you an extra excuse to jump his bones even more than usual, you think, with a pleased sigh.

“Stop ogling me,” he grouches, but you know he likes it, likes your eyes on him.

“Never.” You burrow further into your nest of blankets and stare at his ass as he walks away.

Joel and Ellie sit on her porch in the cool evening air after dinner. Nancy makes hooch in her spare time, when she isn’t helping you tend to patients, and they nurse glasses of it together now. It’s strong as shit, and who knew old ladies’d be so good at brewing booze, Ellie laughs

“How’s she doing?”

“Good. Settled now, just a bit tired from all the movin’ around. Overturning a mountain’d be easier than trying to get that woman to get off her feet for ten minutes.” He’d moved you and Kate into his house earlier that week. He had more bedrooms. More space to turn one of the guests into a nursery for the babies.

“She’s unsatisfied with the color of the outside of the house.” Baby, it’s so dreary. It can’t be a curmudgeon lair anymore, it’s gotta be baby friendly and bright. “Too dark and dreary, according to her.” It needs to look happy. “Don’t know where the hell I’m supposed to find enough exterior paint for a whole house in the middle of the damn apocalypse but–” he sighs. And really, when you’d gotten on your knees afterwards to make him agreeable, how was he meant to do anything besides whatever it was you could ever possibly want.

“Real trouble maker you’ve got on your hands there, it seems.”

“Ah, well, what’s three more trouble makers in the grand scheme of things, huh? Dealt with you well enough.”

She freezes, “Three?” The look on her face – oh, he’s in for it now.

“Well…you see– Birdie’s… well, she’s— I’d been meaning to mention it—” he can’t even say the word to her, slow and stuttering and red in the face.

“You knocked her up, didn’t you?!” she shouts. “But h– no – oh, that is so – ewwwwww! That is so– I don’t even– I don’t even wanna think about that!”

“Don’t be immature,” he says, exasperated, “And quit your damn hollerin’.”

“Fuck you, man. That’s disgusting – I can’t think about that shit. Old man and my friend – no way. Let’s talk about something else –” she looks up at the sky, anywhere but him, pretends to whistle, even though she still can’t, “Isn’t the weather nice tonight? Not too cold, huh?”

“You’re a weird kid.”

“You’re a weird kid, you dick.”

“Don’t go gettin’ all over excited now. These things happen–”

“You knocked your girlfriend up in the middle of the apocalypse,” she deadpans.

“Ellie–”

“Oh god–” she’s laughing hysterically now, bent over and clutching her middle, “Oh, god… I am never gonna let you live this down – Dina!” she hollers, “Dina, get the fuck out here! Oh my god, the fuck are you going to do with two babies, Birdie, me and Dina.You’ve officially been overpowered by estrogen.” She cranes her neck back and screams again, “Dina, Joel’s gonna be a baby daddy!” at the top of her goddamn lungs.

“Ellie! What’s the matter with you?” he hushes, looking around the dark road, “Whole damn neighborhood’s gonna hear you.”

She turns back to him, points a mocking finger at him, “You better fuckin’ pray that baby turns out a boy or you’ll never win another argument for the rest of your sorry life, old man.”

He slides into bed with you afterwards, his hand sneaking up the back of his t-shirt you have on to slide against your bare skin.

“How’d it go?” you murmur into his hair, sleepy and warm, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

“Good, Dina made dinner. Me and Ellie sat out on the porch after, had a drink.” The girls had invited the two of you over tonight as a small step, Joel and Ellie’s way of easing back into the normalcy of things, with the benefit of you and Dina serving as buffers for the inevitable awkwardness. You’d been too tired to join them – the fatigue of pregnancy taking a toll on your good graces. “Nancy’s hooch s’fuckin’ strong,” he mumbles into your skin, “Think it got me tipsy or somethin’.”

You huff a laugh, “So, normal…”

“Yeah, normal, s’good.”

“You talked?”

“Yeah, we talked. Told her about the baby” he says with a small smile, softly pushing your hair behind your ear.

“Oh, and what’d she have to say about that?” You sidle up into his chest, running your hands across the strong planes of him.

“Nothing flattering or respectful towards me or for the ears of an infant,” he grouches.

“I’d expect nothing less of her. Call you an old dog?”

He grumbles, “Yeah, yeah, amongst other things. Not so old I couldn’t knock you up though, am I?” Smug bastard.

“Of course not, baby. You know your old-man-charm is what really got me into bed with you in the first place.”

“Shut up, little girl.” He buries his head in the valley of your breasts, nuzzles softly, gives the swell a soft nip. Your breath hitches, extra sensitive now. “And how were you?”

“Tired…achy,” you pout. His hands roam now, squeezing and kneading the soft swells of your curves.

“My poor Birdie.”

“Feel better now though,” you squirm a little, hitch your knee higher up on his side.

“Is that so?”

“Mmm, we missed you.” Your hips roll a little, seeking the relief of his hard length.

“Missed me?” he nuzzles deeper and laves his tongue into your cleavage.

“Missed our daddy,” you whisper into his hair, breathy, whiny. Provoking.

That shocks him into stillness, gotcha. “Jesus,” he says gruffly. His hands reach down to cup your ass, squeezing roughly, rolling his hardening length into the soft apex of your thighs. Pressing down right on your clit and pulling a throaty moan out of you.

“Jesus fucking christ–” he pants and moves to cup you between the legs. “Make me so fuckin’ hard with that mouth.” The molten heat of your core seeps through the thin gusset of your panties, already soaked. “Can’t wait to see you round and swollen with my baby, little bird.” He pulls the neck of your soft, worn t-shirt down bearing your naked breasts to him. “So goddamn pretty…” His big hands mold the heavy weight of them and gently squeezes your tits up and into his open mouth, so sensitive… I know, I know, Birdie. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle with this soft little cunt. I’ll get you nice and ready for me first.

What a cruel, cruel man.

He reaches down to free his hard cock from the confines of his jeans, pushes them down far enough to free his aching length and heavy balls. He pulls your panties to the side, exposing your aching, wet flesh to the cool air and tucks his cock under the elastic, letting the thick weight of him rest there, over your cunt, the tight stretch of the fabric adding to the pressure. Oh, he’s going to be mean, you can already tell. “Joel, please, no– no teasing– It hurts–”

“I know, I know, don’t worry, I’m gonna give it to you – Don’t worry. Just be a good and patient girl for me, just for a little.” He starts to thrust against your slick pussy, the fat head catching on your clit with every thrust up – stoking the fire in your blood. His hands on your ass direct your movements, but you need more, you need to feel more of his skin. You pull your shirt up over your breasts, and tug his own t-shirt up his chest as well, let your stomachs press together, the shared heat between your skin turning the temperature of your blood up to boiling. “Need to feel you,” you whimper.

“I’m right here, little bird.” His thrusts start to get faster, and he shifts his hips back a little, changing the angle so that the wide tip catches on your sensitive entrance with every thrust, and then up to grind against your clit. “Come for me, baby. Give it to me just like this so I can fuck you after. Need that little cunt nice and soft for me – gotta be gentle with her now it’s filled with my baby.” And God, the mouth on this man.

Your heart is beating so fast, it feels like it’s burning, like it’s going to melt and seep right into his own chest cavity. Everything below your waist starts to tighten and quicken and his cock is soaked with your slick, sliding fast and smooth, the slight catch at your opening and then the surge up to grind the entire length of him against your sex, the restriction of your panties making the squeeze tighter. You grip the thick muscle of his shoulders to leverage yourself better, roll your hips onto him harder, faster. You’re moaning his name, begging him for his cock and everything else he has to give, you want everything. And then you’re coming, the knot in your womb going loose and wet. Your head falls back on your neck, but he grips your jaw to bring your face back to his. “Lemme see those gorgeous eyes, my love, lemme see you come for me.” Your open mouth is panting into his, and he licks into you, tastes behind your teeth. He guides you through it, keeps the steady roll of his thrusts and your ass gripped in his hands bringing you further into him. “Just like that– Yeah, baby, give it to me just like that. So fucking pretty.”

“Feels so– so good,” you stutter.

He grips the base of his cock, your walls still fluttering and pulsing, and starts to press into your still clenching pussy. The wet gush of your orgasm pulls him in with a lewd suck of your walls, and then he’s there, there as deep as anyone’s ever been inside of you, right at his spot, and fucking up into it. His grip on the flesh of your ass is tight and you feel one of his hands sneak back between your legs to slot around where he’s fucking you open. “Goddamn, it does–” he growls, looking down at where his cock disappears into you. “Look at that– milking me like such a good girl. My perfect girl. Gonna give me a baby, my Birdie’s baby, huh?”

“Y– yes, Joel,” your voice is a soft, whimpering mewl. “I’ll give you anything– anything–” You dig your fingernails into the muscle of his back, try to drive your words home, into his skin.

“I know, I know, you’re fucking perfect, fucking wet– Keep going, keep coming around my cock, just like that.” He rolls you over onto your back now, settling deeper between your thighs, and picks up the pace of his hips. Your naked breasts pressed tight against his chest, the hair there rubs against your sensitive, swollen nipples. It feels like he’s everywhere, embedded in every square inch of your skin, invading, conquering. And he has, he conquered you a long time ago.

It is perhaps the greatest thing that’s ever happened to you.

One of his hands cups the crown of your head, keeping you in place, his palm so wide it covers the entire span of your skull, and the other pulls your thigh open for him wider, angling your pelvis so he can ram against the mouth of your womb, and your insides are so sensitive, your orgasm still echoing in your skin, it feels like he has a direct line to the very heart of your pleasure. He speaks to it in whispers and demands, and you roll directly into the throbs of a new orgasm. No reprieve, no moment to gather your skin around you, pull your seams together.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

“Yeah, I can feel it – Gonna soak my cock again, I can feel it–”

“Oh my fucking god,” your moan is broken and guttural, and then it’s there, overtaking you completely, your vision whiting out. Your back arches as deep as possible, somehow letting him in ever further and you feel the pulse of his come, the heat of it, as he starts to fill you.

“Fuck– fucking perfect cunt, take me so well.” He buries his face in your neck, licking and kissing as much skin as he can get his mouth on. The hinge is your jaw feels like it’s come undone, gasping and hiccuping, it’s too much. He feels so heavy inside of you, like your insides, your skin is swollen with him.

“Joel–” you whisper, trembling. He hums, pressing his nose into your hair, he pushes your head back, making room to run the tip of it along the column of your throat, kiss to the soft spot behind your ear, down to your collarbone to suck a blossom into the dip there.

He’s whispering into your skin, perfect girl, perfect pussy, so good, so pretty, let me fuck a baby into you, take me so well always. He pulls out gently, the both of you groaning at the loss, at the sudden gush of your mingled come. You’re soaked, the insides of your thighs, your panties a sodden mess. The lap of his jeans, that he’d not bothered to even take off all the way, soaked in your slick as well. He moves to shuck off his clothes, and then pulls your ruined panties down the smooth slopes of your legs. He kneels between your spread thighs, brings your foot up to his mouth, presses a soft kiss to the arch of it, then further up, his tongue dragging along your calf to your knee, another press of his mouth to the bone there, and then he’s spreading your thighs wide, a smug look of appreciation as he surveys the wet, swollen mess he’s made of you. His thumbs pull your lips apart to take in the sight of his come leaking out of your still clenching hole, a soft swipe of his thumb to your clit that has you gasping and bucking away. “Ah, ah, gotta clean you up, little bird.”

You’re too blissed out to even object, to tell him you’re too sensitive, that you can’t take anymore. His tongue is gentle, slow languorous strokes against your wet flesh. He eats up the mess, cleaning you slowly until another orgasm is right there, pooling low in your pelvis and then surging through you in gentle waves, rolling along the lines of your limbs. There are overwhelmed tears running down your cheeks, and you can see the slow grind of his hips into the mattress, turned on just from this, from the shared taste of you.

He kisses the insides of your thighs, runs his tongue along the crevice between your leg and pelvis, licking up the slick and sweat there, and it should be disgusting, but all it does is make you want to taste every single inch of his skin, as well. Finally, he lays his cheek on the damp inside of your thigh, looks up at you, and the two of you just lay there, holding each other’s gazes, quiet.

There’s a tiny bump to your belly now. The soft little swell existing between the two of you, like the most precious, perfect shared secret. This little kernel of truth that only belongs to the two of you. He’s been so smug about it, strutting around like a damn peacock. You’ve made him promise, Ellie, and Dina by proxy, are the only ones he can tell until you’re a little further along, but the cocky look he gets in his eyes every time he looks at you is practically a blaring sign. Yeah, I knocked her up, she belongs to me. And it’s also made him insatiable, relentless and needy, fucking you every chance he can get. Not that you’re complaining.

Wish I could get you pregnant again already, he’d whispered in your ear as he’d finished inside of you yesterday, bent over the kitchen table, leggings and panties around your ankles.

It is a small sort of miracle to lay here now, like this. Without any sort of distance, after everything else.

The desire for choice was the spark that animated the deepest inquiries of what now existed between you. The force that grounded the two of you together, a need for a path of your own choosing; one so savage, it overcame all other obstacles. Internal, external, human, fungus, past, present. None of those existential inquiries mattered after the choice for one another had been made. Once the helm of fear had been cast away, all that remained thereafter, was only the deepest desire to choose the path that, at the birth of the end of the world, had been stripped of the two of you. The willingness to choose for yourself that which you knew might, could, devastate you, and yet choose it anyway. To accept that a thing could hurt you, maim you, obliterate you, and yet still take its hand. To know that you may not deserve it, but that you would inevitably be hurt – that you would, yourself, inevitably hurt someone who, in turn, did not deserve it either. But that was the price of accepting your monstrousness, of cherishing it, of, at long last, letting it go. After all, to acknowledge a thing was, in many ways, to free yourself of its power over you. Your fear could not lead you, control you, if you were aware of it enough to master it, to take it for what it was, merely a faction of yourself, not the entirety of who you were.

No longer a man made up of fears, no longer a man made up of hurts.

After courage, the possibilities were endless. For courage, above all else, was what was necessary to go on.

Epilogue

Netherfeildren Masterlist

#FoG fic #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #tlou fic #ellie williams

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ninjigma · 2 years

Text

Cody's Little Sister

“It’s really quiet huh?”

Cody may have been tempted to keep his eyes closed longer, but he could already hear Rex begging Cody to answer his honorary little sister with something comforting. Anything really.

“Probably more the lack of people being shot than actual quiet.”

Well. Maybe anything but that.

But Ahsoka offered up a morbid laugh anyhow. And Cody decided she had been fighting too long.

Currently, the two were a bit… lost. Though not of their own accord. The planet was mostly marsh, temperate and soggy, and though they had come prepared for that there was no preparing for a section of a natural water dam to be destroyed and flood their forward route. Thankfully Cody was pretty sure most everyone was out of the direct path of the flood, but oh so lucky for Ahsoka, she had been in the middle of the river crossing. Cody, a few feet behind her, cursed Jedi and their non-armor-wearing ways as he leaped forward. The wave hit him hard enough that truthfully he only remembered dark and choking until he was coughing up slime on their island. Everything to communicate had been damaged by the sediment, and Ahsoka was currently tinkering at Cody’s helmet to give them a chance.

“How far do you think we went?”

Cody took another careful breath, chest aching horribly. But a bit more determined this time to be encouraging he started mapping the stars that had come out. “Based on where the sun is setting and what I remember of the briefing, we probably made it a few clicks down The Serpent's Back. Surprised we didn’t drown truthfully.”

He really is trying. Seriously, Rex, it’s hard when everything is always getting worse by the minute.

“Thanks for the credit,” Ahsoka sniffed. “That armor doesn’t make you any lighter you know.”

Ok, now Cody’s eyes were open. “You pulled me out with you?”

Ahsoka glared at him a bit, as if what he said was absurd. “Of course. I wasn’t going to let you drown.” Then in the fading light, Cody caught something much sadder in her eyes. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you protecting me from the water and trees in the first place. It isn’t at all your job to protect me, but you did it anyway.”

Cody swallowed. He may be out of his depth but even he could very much tell that ‘your life is more important than mine because I’m replaceable property’ was not the right follow-up here. So he went with something more honest, the white and blue of her montrals making it a bit easier. “Any time Commander.”

Ahsoka chuckled a bit again. “And same for you, Commander.”

The silence that fell now didn’t feel nearly as awkward as Cody had expected. He was propped against a low tree comfortably enough. The moss made it just about as lovely as those new pods the Kaminoans were putting cadets in. Ashoka didn’t seem to mind either, sitting a few feet away to try and get the last rays of light to work by.

It was when they were finally without almost any light source that Cody became overly paranoid again. Any small noise and he was tending for some separatist gang or some Togruta-eating beast to come barreling down on them. It also didn’t help that his chest twinged every time he shifted, and Ahsoka was better at reading people than he thought.

“Here,” she whispered as the nightlife began making odd noises. The familiar noise of a lightsaber soon drowned them out and their little island was lit in its eerie green glow.

Cody was about to thank her when the light flashed across something moving through the water behind Ahsoka. It moved slowly but purposefully, turning as if it could see-

“Turn it off!” Cody hissed as loud as he dared.

The lightsaber winked out and Cody had no time to even ponder whether the creature could hunt some other way before Ahsoka's trembling voice cut him off.

“I’m sorry, I-I thought it would help you relax.”

Cody couldn’t help in the slightest. “No, I’m sorry to snap that way Commander. I just think, as nice as the light is, it makes us a rather large target.”

Ahsoka nodded, giving one last look at the fading helmet and then curling in on herself. Again they fell to silence, the sound of water moving now making Cody even jumpier. The fog and pain in his head weren’t helping either. He had to focus on something else.

“Do you… mind me talking with you?” Cody asked in a slight whisper. “Would help me keep my head clear.”

He managed to make out Ahsoka turning to look at him (really, was this planet one big fresher bowl because of its weak ass moon?), though he wasn’t quite expecting the surprise. “Are you asking for… permission to talk to me? In order to help you?”

“Sorry Commander,” he answered in reflex. “I won’t-“

“Stop, Cody,” Ahsoka now sounded even more upset and Cody was sure Rex was somehow glaring at him. “You don’t have to ask. I know we aren’t alone like this, ever, but nobody needs permission to talk to me. Especially not you, or Rex, or any of you. Unless you’d like me to ask permission to speak?”

“No,” Cody answered immediately, though his mind was still processing her words. “No, never.”

Ahsoka has a small smile, even though she figured Cody couldn’t see it. “Then I suppose we don’t have much else to do until master Obi-Wan finds us.”

Cody took another pained breath. “Shouldn’t be long. I imagine General Skywalker is having a fit about him losing you.”

Finally, Ahsoka gave him a quiet laugh. Small victories. “They both worry too much. You had everything under control.”

“Yeah well, someone should remind them of that next time they decide to test how flightless humans are.”

That laugh felt more genuine, and Cody relaxed just a tad more. “I’ll try to remember, but I can’t promise I won’t be doing it too.”

“Oh, you will be,” Cody grunted. “Rex too, the di’kut.”

“What’s that mean anyway?”

Cody hadn’t even realized he had his eyes closed. Blinking he shifted slowly against the tree to wake himself a bit more. “Someone who forgets to put their pants on.”

Ahsoka’s quiet laughter did a better job than the moving. She covered her mouth to stifle the sound but Cody felt his spirits lift regardless. “You two sound much closer than Captain and Commander,” she said, though with a hint of something that made Cody suspect she knew the answer.

Yet, Cody oddly enough found himself smiling as he answered. “Yeah, you could say that. I’ve known Rex since he was a little shit. And now he’s a big shit, but he’s still my little brother.”

Ahsoka laid her head on her arms, crossed on her pulled-up knees. “You sound just like Master Obi-Wan and Anakin. Maybe that’s why our battalions work so well.”

“Because the general and I are both calling your battalion idiots?”

“I’d think I could earn a little more faith,” Ahsoka smiled. “But no. I think it’s more because you both say it out of love for your little brothers. You understand something more about each other, just like Anakin and Rex can.”

Cody knew it had been a while since he last laughed, and even though it was quiet, he found it quite nice. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“I usually am, but no one listens to me either. Especially Skyguy when he’s flying.”

They were now both laughing, the soft noises blending into the living environment around them. For how much pain he was in, and the fact it was becoming quite cold, Cody found this was a vacation compared to his normal life. “You’re just like them.”

“Who?”

Cody hadn’t realized he said it out loud, but he wasn’t feeling as reserved as usual. “Rex. And General Skywalker. You’re probably all feeding off each other’s crazy. Whoever partnered you all up must have been just as nuts.”

Ashoka snickered again. “Well I think it was Obi-Wan, so don’t think you're oh-so-good Mr. 212th.”

The sentence was suddenly so informal Cody had to cough another laugh. “If anything that just proves I’m the only one with sense!”

“Didn’t you break a foot once kicking a droid?”

“Details.”

Ashoka was now burying her face to try and be quiet. “No, you’re one of us. Disaster lineage is what Master Windu says.“

“Pft,” Cody started to shake his head before it spun and he stopped. “Rex and my batch mates would probably agree, even though they’re just as bad.”

“Batch mates?”

“Like, well, brothers,” Cody chewed his lip. “Closer than the overall vod though. More like a nat-born sibling. Decanted together and then trained from day one together.”

“Oh! I think I know what you mean,” Ahsoka said. “Some of us Padawan are much closer than others. I guess we aren’t that different, brought to the temple really young and then growing up together.”

“Heh, yeah, and look at us now,” Cody chuffed. “Practically twins.”

Ahsoka's laugh was softer this time, and Cody could just make her out as she began to shiver badly. Kriff, he had his armor and thermals, and even soaking wet he hadn’t realized he was probably much better off than Ahsoka with the chill. She looked like a shiny, trying to hold everything together. Cody then found himself leaning forward despite the pain, undoing the clasps on his armor.

“What are you doing?” Ahsoka was now all concerned. “Is something wrong? Is your chest getting worse? Are you-“

“I’m fine Commander,” Cody halted her panic. “You made sure of that. Just thought it’d be warmer without some of the armor.” Finally, he had managed to undo the breastplate and plied it and the plackart to the side. He then tapped the mossy ground and raised his arm, careful to hide as much pain as possible. “You’re not going to survive all of this only to die of a cold on my watch.”

Ahsoka barely even hesitated, which surprised Cody some. But as she curled carefully into his side he figured Rex called her little sister for a reason. And soon enough the shivering stopped and Cody found the contact quite comforting, as much as he thought it was gonna be awkward.

“He told me I could go to you.”

Kriff, he had to stop closing his eyes. “Huh?” Yeah, he must be concussed.

“Rex,” Ahsoka spoke a bit clearer. “He found me once crying in a supply closet. I didn’t want any of the men to see. I’m supposed to be a Jedi, supposed to be able to lead them. But when Rex found me I couldn’t even try to fake it.”

Cody found himself thrown suddenly back into his memories, the moment he found Rex, hiding and crying. It was like some odd twist of fate, to be hearing this. And it only stung him more as Ahsoka continued.

“He helped me. Told me if no one else he’d be there when I needed him. And then he promised me that if he couldn’t be there,” her breath caught a bit, the unsaid being heard clearly. “Then you’d be there. If I couldn’t find anyone else, I should find you. And I guess I just accepted it was the same as with any of you. But Anakin once said something similar about Obi-Wan, and you never even hesitated to protect me today. So now I get it,” Cody didn’t even feel any pain as her montrals pressed against his side. “You’re my big brother too.”

Cody wasn’t lucky. No, luck wasn’t on the side of any clone. There was only training and fighting and suffering tooth and nail for one more day of miserable existence. And yet, here he was, thinking fond memories of a small blond mischief maker and how a family really was made, not born. After everything that had happened to them all, he was here now, doing what he actually did best: being a big brother.

And when the entire sky suddenly lit up in dancing green and blue lights, he figured he should rethink the miserable existence part of his thoughts.

“What is that?” Ahsoka gasped, mesmerized as the lights started changing colors, purples and reds shooting through like tendrils. Everything around them was bathed in it, and Cody couldn’t help a breath of relief as it revealed familiar white and gold armor and a very scared-looking master Jedi a few dozen yards down the river.

“I’d say hope,” he answered. “but I’m not quite that concussed.”

Ahsoka's laughter rang a bit different now, and her smile was definitely brighter as she too caught sight of Obi-Wan and started waving. Rex was right. Cody would be there whenever she needed him, they both would.

That’s what big brothers are for.

#found family #is best family #this has been in my drafts for over a month #I have been enabled #ahsoka tano #clone commander cody #star wars #clone wars #fanart #my art #my writing #I just wanted to write it damn it

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q-gorgeous · 1 year

Text

A Ray in the Dark

fanfiction

ao3

word count: 2389

No one knows AU. Instead of being assigned homework or busywork for his recent detention, Danny is presented with two chairs and a teacher who just wants to talk and try to understand him. And after having a huge fight with his friends after bailing on them at lunch and a fight with his family that morning, Danny is actually willing to talk about everything and finally open up to someone. @darthfrodophantom

im not good at titling things ahhh

“Danny! It’s time to get up for school!”

Danny groaned as his mom called to him from downstairs in the kitchen. Either her or Jazz must’ve come by and opened his bedroom door. He didn’t remember that happening, but when he squinted his eyes open he could see through his doorway and into the bathroom. He sat up and threw his covers off of him and closed his door again. He grabbed a change of clothes and started getting ready for the day.

He had to fight a ghost last night. It made him miss curfew by an hour and then another one had popped up again in the middle of the night. He’d barely gotten any sleep before his mom called him.

After he changed he grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He ran down the stairs and set his backpack in the living room before heading to the kitchen.

He smiled when he saw his favorite breakfast food sitting on the table waiting for him. Strawberry pancakes and syrup with a side of eggs and sausages. He pulled his chair out and started digging in. He could feel his parent’s eyes on him as well as Jazz’s. When he looked up at them, they all looked like they wanted to say something but didn’t know where to start. He slowed down on eating his breakfast. He knew what they were doing. They were buttering him up before they gave him bad news.

“Danny, sweetie.” His mom started. She wrung her hands together, looking to his left before she made eye contact with him. “We need to talk.”

He swallowed the bite of food that was in his mouth and shifted his gaze between the three of them. “About what?”

“Your grades have been dropping for a couple months now. You’re failing a handful of classes. We know you can do better. Your grades used to be so good. What happened?”

He leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just stupid now. Not everyone can be as smart as you guys or Jazz.”

“Danny, that's not all that’s been going on though.” Jazz said softly. She placed a hand on his arm. “You’ve been coming home past curfew, skipping school. I even saw that you snuck out last night.”

He pulled away from her grip. “What?”

“You left your door open last night.” Jack said. “Jazzy-pants was going to the bathroom when she saw that you weren’t in your room. She came to get us when she realized you weren’t downstairs either.”

Danny crossed his arms. “Some sibling you are, snitching on me.”

“This is serious, Danny!” His mom exclaimed. “You’re never where you’re supposed to be. That can be dangerous for a kid your age in a city this big. You can’t do whatever you want whenever you want, especially when you aren’t passing any of your classes. It’s those things that are causing your grades to fail.”

“How do you know what’s causing my grades to fail?” Danny shot back at her. “This is the first time you’ve ever actually talked to me about it. Every other time you bring it up you make it out to be that I’m dumb, that because I’m a Fenton I need to get good grades. You never ask what’s wrong.”

“That’s why we’re talking about it now.” Jack said. “It’s gotten to a point where it needs to be addressed. Until your grades start to go back up, you’re grounded.”

“What?” Danny shouted as he stood up from the table. “Why?”

“We need to keep an eye on you to make sure you’re actually getting your homework done. You need to attend every class and be home on time so that your grades can get better.” Maddie said. “We’re doing this because we love you.”

Danny scoffed. “More like you love good grades.” He walked out of the living room and picked up his backpack, throwing it over his shoulder. “I’m leaving, then. Maybe if I leave early for school you won’t think I’m some kind of delinquent anymore.”

“Danny, wait-”

He slammed the door on the sound of his mom’s voice and started walking away. They didn’t understand why his grades were failing. He couldn’t tell them either. He was probably going to be grounded for the rest of his life if this is what they insisted on doing. He needed to talk to Sam and Tucker. They didn’t know anything about why he was suddenly failing all his classes either, but he could at least complain to them about his parents.

-----

Danny ran back into the school out of breath. He had to fight another ghost and it caused him to miss both his lunch hour and the class right after it. He was supposed to meet with Sam and Tucker during lunch, he’d been so busy all the time, giving them excuses about why he couldn’t make it to lunch. Today he promised them he’d be there, that he didn’t schedule anything for today but then this stupid ghost had to show up.

In the speakers above him, the bell rang and students started filing out of their classes. He slowed down so he didn’t run into anyone and looked around for Sam and Tucker.

There they were! He saw them walking out of their English class and started jogging towards them.

“Sam, Tucker!” He shouted at them, waving a hand in the air.

They turned around to look at him and he slowed down again at the expressions on their faces. They definitely looked mad at him.

He made it the rest of the way to them, still breathing heavily from running into the school.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. Something came up and I had to-”

“Are you really?” Sam asked coldly.

His brows drew down. “What? Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You keep bailing on us, dude.” Tucker said coldly. “You’re never around anymore. You always have some excuse for why you can’t eat lunch with us or why you can’t hang out. You say you’re studying or making up work but you’re not. You wouldn’t be failing all your classes if you were actually doing all that.”

“And if you’re not working on your schoolwork why would you be avoiding us unless it’s because you don’t want to be friends with us anymore?” Sam shot at him.

“What? No, of course I still want to be friends.” Danny looked at them with panicked eyes. “I just have a lot going on right now that’s taking up all my time but it’s not anything to do with you guys.”

“Why don’t you tell us what it is, then?” Sam asked. Danny looked away from her. They didn’t know. He couldn’t tell them. They’d think he was a freak, just like the rest of their classmates.

“That’s what I thought. Come on, Tucker. Let’s get to our next class.”

He watched as they turned their backs on him and walked away. He could feel the tears threatening to spill from his eyes and he clenched his hands into fists. He turned to walk to his next class when he bumped into someone.

“Sorry, my-”

He looked up and made eye contact with Mr. Lancer.

“Ah, Mr. Fenton. I see you’ve made it back to school. You seemed to have disappeared for a while there.”

“Uh, yeah. I got caught up with something. My-”

Lancer shook his head. “You’ll be serving a detention after school today, Mr. Fenton. Meet me in my classroom after your last class today.”

He walked past Danny to go into his classroom. Danny could feel his eyes welling up with tears again and he stomped away towards his next class.

Great. As if today couldn’t get any worse. First he had a fight with his parents and got grounded. Then he had a fight with Sam and Tucker, his only friends. Now he was going to get detention, which would only make his parents more mad. He hated today. He couldn’t wait to finally get home.

-----

Danny stood outside Lancer’s classroom door. The teacher wasn’t in there right now and Danny was debating whether or not he wanted to leave and go home or if he wanted to serve the detention. No doubt he’d get a call sent home either way.

He sighed and jumped when a voice sounded behind him.

“Hello, Mr. Fenton. Let’s head on inside.”

Danny walked into the classroom with Lancer following close behind him. He sat down at a desk, dropping his backpack down on the ground. When he looked back up he saw Lancer closing the door behind him. Danny looked around at the empty classroom.

“Aren’t there other kids that have detention today?” Danny asked. Usually there was at least one other person in here with him.

“Not today.” Lancer said. “I wanted us to be alone so I could have a word with you, Danny.”

Danny squirmed in his desk chair. Mr. Lancer didn’t often use his student’s first names. Something about some kind of personal vs professional boundaries. Danny didn’t think it made a lot of sense since they were just kids in high school but that’s just what the teacher did.

Lancer pulled his desk chair out from behind his desk and pushed it in front of the desk that Danny had sat in. He sat down in it and looked at Danny.

“Is everything alright, Danny?”

Danny just stared at him. Was this the only reason he had gotten detention today? So Lancer could try to talk to him one on one where he couldn’t leave?

“I saw you arguing with your friends earlier today.” Lancer continued. “And as one of your teachers, I know your grades have been dropping and how often you’ve been skipping class. I feel it is part of my duty as a teacher to make sure you’re doing alright. Has something happened? Is it a home issue? Do you need help?”

Danny was stunned. All this time since he’d gotten his powers and was fighting ghosts, no one had asked if he was okay. Apparently every single important person in his life had noticed something was wrong, but it took his English teacher to notice something for someone to finally ask him ‘are you alright?’.

He took a deep breath. “I don’t… I don’t think so.”

He finally let the tears fall. They had been building up in the time since his accident, since his grades started falling. It had been building up today when everything kept happening and it felt like there were no solutions. He didn’t have a way of fixing any of this without letting the ghosts attack Amity Park. And he couldn’t let himself do that.

Lancer turned and grabbed the tissue box that sat on the top of his desk and placed it in front of Danny quietly. He grabbed one and blew his nose.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Lancer asked softly.

Danny stared down into the tissue in his hands. He hadn’t told anyone what happened. Not his parents or his sister, not even his best friends. Was his English teacher really going to be the first person he told his biggest secret to?

He looked back up to Lancer, meeting his concerned eyes. He’s the only person who asked if he was okay. If he wasn’t going to tell him, who else would he tell?

“I died.” He said quietly. Another sob threatened to come out of his throat but he held it back. Lancer’s eyes widened at the admission.

“You died?”

Danny nodded. “It was the portal accident. The one that kept me out of school for a while at the beginning of the year. I turned the portal on from the inside and it electrocuted me.”

Lancer looked dumbfounded. “If you were electrocuted, how are you…”

Danny shrugged. “It killed me but it also did… Something else. It kept me alive at the same time. It just came with some side effects.”

“What kind of side effects?”

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. After a few moments of steeling himself for it, he pulled on his core and transformed. He could feel the rings pass over him and after they were gone for a few seconds, he finally opened his eyes and met Lancer’s gaze. His eyes were even wider and he looked ready to have an existential crisis of his own.

“What? You’re- You’re the ghost boy?”

Danny nodded.

“Lord of the flies! Is this why you’re always missing class? Why your homework is never finished and you always look so tired?”

Danny nodded again.

Lancer leaned back in his seat, stunned. “To kill a mockingbird. If I’d known-”

“You’re not going to tell my parents are you?” A sudden spike of panic washed through Danny. He didn’t think about that part. Teachers were obligated to tell parents certain stuff, right? This seemed like it would fall under the ‘something your parents should know about immediately’ category.

“No! Of course not!” Lancer met his gaze again. He looked nearly as panicked as Danny. “I’m not daft, Mr. Fenton. I’ve seen how your parents follow your ghost self around town with weapons brandished at the ready. I would never put you in danger like that.”

Danny heaved a huge sigh of relief. He slumped down in his seat and closed his eyes. He heard Lancer take a deep breath of his own.

“I’m not going to pretend like I understand how any of this happened.” He said. “But, I do understand that you need some serious support right now.”

Danny opened his eyes. “What kind of support?”

“We can start with accommodations for your schoolwork. We’re going to make a plan for you so that you can still get your assignments done and do whatever you need to do as your ghost self.”

As Lancer kept talking, a warm feeling was growing in Danny’s chest. For the first time since he started fighting ghosts he felt like he’d be able to do this. Like he’d be able to be more than just a disappointment or monster to his friends and family.

“Thank you.” Danny whispered.

“You’re welcome, Danny.”

#gorgi writes #danny phantom #danny fenton #mr lancer #maddie fenton #jazz fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #phic phight 2023 #fanfiction

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robthegoodfellow · 1 year

Text

Because this chapter is kicking my ass but I’m finally making progress—have a snippet. More Billy bonding with Patrick McKinney. Context: Ah... well. Carver & co. tagged the Hargrove house, called Billy a slur. And then Neil was Neil. And then there was a bit of a kerfuffle at school.

TW: reference to abuse and PTSD

Pat had called him up at Harrington’s the night before—the grounding had lasted only so long as his uncle was away, on account of his mother’s decision to keep certain parties in the dark regarding certain recent events. Sorry, man, Billy had mumbled, but Pat blew air into the receiver. Yeah, whatever—you wanna hoop after school tomorrow? And when Billy had pointed out he was kinda laid up at the moment, Pat was likewise dismissive: So you can warm the bench. Admire my moves.

The team had just been knocked out of the tournament—total bloodbath—but Pat was zen about it. We’ll get ‘em next year.

At lunch, Pat had taken one look at him and let out an arcing whistle. Even fading to yellows and greens, Billy’s face still eloquently spoke of blunt force not long past, but Pat restrained himself—didn’t ask about it until they were walking to the courts after last bell.

Billy gave him the Reader’s Digest version, capped it off with, “So. Guess you can say I told you so.”

Pat hummed, critical. “Don’t think I can, though. Didn’t expect him to, like—outsource it entirely.” He squinted. “Who knows what really went down?”

“The painting crew,” Billy began, and as the list went on, the scroll unrolling to drag on the ground, a knot clenched tighter in his gut. “The dweebs. Couple of their parents. Harrington, my sister. Then Eddie, Robin. You.” With a wince: “Chrissy Cunningham.”

“That one’s a surprise.” Pat dribbled the ball, biting his lips. “And—you’re good?”

With all of them knowing? About your dad?

“Eh.” He tried to smile. Couldn’t quite manage it.

“Yeah.” He glanced at Billy with an understanding quirk to his mouth, then took off, bounding for the basket for an easy layup.

“Oh, what moves,” Billy hollered, and sat himself on the bench.

It was cold but sunny, so he buried his dry hands in his jacket pockets, hunkered down in one of the scarves he’d snagged from Harrington’s coat closet—thick and forest green—and tried to savor the rays hitting his cheeks. Now and then, he shouted challenges: Jump from the three! Reverse layup! Alleyoop! At that one, Pat glared, panting, and joined him on the bench.

“Maybe if I grow another foot or so.” He knocked his shoulder into Billy’s. “And if you’re there to pass it.”

“Yeah.” Billy inhaled deep to check and yep—bright bursts across the sides of his chest. “Once the ribs aren’t screaming.”

“Fucking ribs.” Pat tsked like he’d had it up to here with them. “Those are the worst—‘cause like, only thing for it is to wait. And what’re you ‘sposed to do in the meantime? Not breathe?”

“Just take the pain, bitch.”

Pat laughed, and Billy had been wanting to ask—but they’d only ever hinted at this shit, never really talked about it. Not directly.

Billy watched Pat spin the ball between his hands a moment. Several moments. Then: “Is it—random, what he does? Like the timing?”

The basketball stopped spinning. “Whatcha mean?”

It wasn’t defensive—not a you better not mean what I think you mean. Just neutral. So Billy let it come pouring out.

“Like… I used to think he—couldn’t help it, I guess?” He scrunched his nose. “Or not really that but… like he was Jekyll and Hyde, and when Hyde was out, he wasn’t in control. So for a while I tried not to trigger Hyde or whatever. But then…” Huffed a chuckle, a bleak sound. “After the divorce, I noticed that—that he only ever really lay into me—like, left marks—when there was time enough for them to heal up? Before Ma would see me next? Which meant… it wasn’t random. He was always in control. So…”

He shrugged, and Pat exhaled long, nudged his arm against Billy’s, but instead of retreating, straightening, he stayed. Kept leaning there.

Billy swallowed. Leaned back in return.

“I think it is kinda random, with him,” Pat said, finally. “Because to hear Mom tell it, he wasn’t this way before ‘Nam. Like he is more of a Jekyll and Hyde. Something happens and he just pops off, you know? Like that night after the party, the quarry, when I came in, I—” He snorted. “I stepped on an empty and it made this cracking sound and he—rocketed off the couch like he was electrocuted. And then he just—lost it. Always the same shit, shouting ‘bout I’m an embarrassment to this family.”

“Yeah.” Billy nodded, commiserating. “I hear that a lot.”

Pat grunted, swung his head around so he was eying him sideways. “Yeah, but you half believe it.”

“And you don’t?”

“Nah.” He cast his gaze off somewhere distant, then let out a huff, soft. “When he says that, he’s talking to himself.”

Billy couldn’t say anything a moment, overcome with this aimless, nameless thing—like grief, but not. Rage, but not. “Still not right,” he said.

Pat pursed his lips, the picture of equanimity. “I know,” he said. “I mean, not like I want him near me, no matter why he does it. But…” He tipped his chin back and forth. “Sometimes wish I could’ve met him—the old him. Ma says he was a lot like me.”

And then Billy imagined Pat—bashful, impish, shrewd Pat—plucked from his life and fed through the butchery, sent home a shell, his mind rigged with mines.

Thought of his own uncle, and how maybe it wasn’t a matter of who came home in a box or not—you were dead the minute your number was called.

He blinked the heat from his eyes, cleared his throat.

“Glad we were born when we were.”

“Yeah,” Pat agreed.

They were quiet a while, until Pat asked, with the air of someone gently closing the skeleton closet: “Think Lover Boy could drive me home?”

“Yeah,” Billy replied, rolling his eyes. “He’ll be here soon.”

Edited to add: chapter is up!

#in which billy and pat compare experiences #living with an abusive bastard #and find they are not quite the same #patrick mckinney #billy hargrove #harringrove #but VERY background in this bit #barely mentioned #spin me right round #snippet

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rumbelleshowdown · 1 year

Text

Author: Spindle

Prompts: A ray of sunlight. “Get the hell out.” Vocabulary.

Group: C

Warning: blood, violence, ambiguous ending with possible MCD

His Ray of Light

He was floating in the dark.

But he wasn’t alone for long - a ray of sunlight fell on his face, its warm caress against his cheek both grounding and beckoning at the same time, and he couldn’t help but follow the lead, out of the darkness and into the light, towards an angel with chestnut curls and beautiful blue eyes and a melodious, lilting voice that begged him to…

“...with me!”

Gold blinked, heavy and slow - his whole body felt heavy and slow to respond to his mind’s commands, for some reason - and Belle’s face came into focus, hovering over him, her messy curls lit like a halo by the library lamp.

No wonder he thought she was an angel.

“Alan! Stay with me!”

Belle sounded so panicked that his brow furrowed - what could possibly distress her so much?

Either way, he had to soothe her, to ease her worry, and it seemed that, for once, he had the means to do so.

Swallowing against the dryness of his throat, he tried to speak, to reassure her he was with her, even if all that came out was a hoarse croak:

“I’m here.”

For some inexplicable reason, it was enough for Belle to give the most radiant, though teary, smile.

“Alan,” she breathed, tremendous relief singing in every syllable, and stroked his cheek with her thumb.

But then her eyes flickered down and he didn’t know what she saw there, but when her gaze locked with his once again, there was sad resignation in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said, tears welling in her eyes, as if whatever she was about to do was going to hurt her but she had no choice, and her caress of his cheek grew even more, impossibly, achingly tender, “But I have to do this and you have to stay awake.”

Then, she pressed down somewhere on his torso and a thought, ridicoloudly relieved, that it was going to hurt him, not her had just enough time to flicker in his mind before his world exploded with pain and memories.

He remembered heading for the library after closing up his shop because they agreed to have dinner, a pep in his step as it always was when he knew he was going to see Belle, and a bouquet of flowers he practically wrestled out of her father’s hands in his hand.

He remembered limping up to the door only to see through an open window something - or, rather, someone - that made his blood run cold.

He remembered bursting into the library, the bouquet falling to the floor in his haste, with a roaring “Get the hell out of here!”

He remembered Killian Jones turning towards him from where he was having the most polite conversation with Belle with a smirk on his lips and a triumphant glint in his eyes when they landed on him.

He remembered Belle looking between them, confused, and asking him what’s wrong, Killian here was just helping her put some books up…

He remembered Jones asking too, in a mocking voice that made his stomach twist “Yeah, what’s wrong, Alan?”

He remebered losing control and pinning Jones to the nearest bookshelf with his cane, growling into his face to leave him and Belle alone.

He remembered seeing something dark and twisted in Jones’ eyes as he said he couldn’t leave them alone until he made him pay for breaking Milah’s heart.

He remembered the cold steel of a dagger entering his flesh and Belle’s scream ring in his ears as the world tilted and suddenly it was Jones on him, not the other way round, leering about how he finally got to him and now he was going to get his revenge and would make him watch as he played with his little librarian before…

He remembered watching Jones slump in the middle of his triumpant speech and seeing Belle behind his back, a book clutched tightly in her white-knuckled grip.

He remembered relief washing through him as he saw that she was unharmed, if shaken, and a laugh that startled out of him when he asked her what did she hit Jones with and she said that it was a book of English vocabulary with an adorably sheepish expression on her face.

After that, everything grew hazy…

He was dimly aware of Belle crying, of her voice begging him to hold on, of something warm and liquid making its way up his throat but it was all so far away and the darkness was so warm and welcoming and near that he let himself succumb… just for a moment, he told himself.

He was floating in the dark.

But he wasn't alone for long – that same ray of light fell on his face, though not as warm as before, as if it was the last ray of sunlight before the sun set.

Still, he followed its lead back towards the flickering light of a lamp that was definitely not from the library and Belle, lit up by it, her face pale and something bright glistening on her lips.

“Alan?”

Her voice was so weak and fragile as she called his name, her hand trembling against his cheek, that Gold worried she was unwell.

That worry only deepened when he realised that the bright liquid glistening on her lips was blood.

“Belle?”

With great difficulty he forced himself to raise his hand to her cheek, his fingertips barely brushing her delicate skin before his strength faded and his hand threatened to fall limply back to his side if Belle didn't cover his hand with her own, pressing it almost desperately against her cheek.

“I'm here, Alan.”

The darkness was beginning to lick at the corners of his vision and he was dimly aware of a stranger's voice saying something that sounded like he's crashing but he couldn’t be sure because he was straining his attention to find out if Belle was alright.

Breathing, let alone speaking, suddenly seemed like too much effort but he pushed himself to gasp out between heaving, wet breaths:

“Are… you… alright?”

Belle’s brow furrowed in confusion, then something like heartbreak reflected in her eyes, quickly welling with tears, but she replied, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze even as her own hands trembled:

“I am. But Alan…”

Whatever she was about to say, it got lost in a loud, high-pitched whine that came somewhere from beside him and Alan's eyes slid shut even as Belle pleaded with him to stay.

She was okay. That was the main thing.

And he…

He was floating in the dark.

#rumbelle showdown #rumbelle fic #round two #spindle

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overlord6746 · 2 years

Text

Legs hanging over the edge of the cliff, he stares into the moonless, star lit sky. The gentle wind rustles his hair. He wants this. So why is it so hard? He turns his gaze down to the small town below him. Only the street lights are on. Everyone’s asleep. He leans forward slightly, ready to finally let go-

“Dawa!” He whips around. The tears in her eyes are evident, even in the darkness of the forest around them. “What the fuck!?”

He swallows the lump in his throat and opens his mouth to speak, “Am-”

She cuts him off, “No. Get your ass back home. Now.” Fists balled at their sides, and shaking with rage. Her tears are falling heavy now. Dawa scrambles to his feet, his own tears beginning to cascade down his cheeks. A pang of guilt hits him like a truck seeing her so upset.

She storms towards him, snatches his hand from his side, and begins basically dragging him behind her in silence.

He wipes his tears and takes this moment to observe her. Her usually neat, curly red hair has been tied into a messy bun, and the hoodie she had thrown on was backwards. Armani is a very pretty person, even when upset.

“Ami I..” He pauses their walking and takes a breath. “Ami I’m sorry. You weren't supposed to know until later!”

She drops his hand, turns to face him and barks, “You really thought I wouldn’t notice!? You thought I’d be okay with you just- galavanting to your death!?” She bites out the last word. Taken aback at her harsh tone, Dawa falls back onto the grassy ground below them.

Armani stops and actually looks at him for the first time in the last twelve hours. His green eyes are filled with tears, and his bottom lip is trembling. Actually, his whole body is shaking. That's when they realize she scared him. She’d never yelled at him like that before. Hell, she even scared herself.

She takes a deep breath and lowers herself into a crouch, and inches forward to him. She reaches a tentative hand out, and he gently takes it in his own. She cups his face and whispers, “I‘m sorry hunny. I just love you a lot, and you scared me.”

“I-It was justified. I’m sorry too..” He sniffles.

She pulls Dawa into a tight hug, and he nuzzles his face into her shoulder.

---

The rays of light filter through the scattered clouds causing a soft glow to envelope the small town. Light glints off the windows of nearby buildings, getting into his eyes. Dawa turns in his chair at the dining room table instead opting to watch his partner. She’s humming a tune he doesn’t recognize while swaying her hips, flowing around the kitchen in a waltz-like pattern.

Dawa softly counts along with her steps, deciding to join in, “1,2,3.. 1,2,3.. 1,2,3.. 1,2,3..” He stands and paddes up to the kitchen entryway, still counting, “1,2,3.. 1,2,3..”

He steps through the doorway right as Armani turns his direction, and slips one hand into hers, and the other around her waist. She tilts her head up at him looking slightly bewildered at the intrusion. Though, she smiles and giggles, continuing their dance past the kitchen counters.

He then recognizes the song she was humming. The song is called “Photographs” and it was playing the night of their first date. Dawa had taken her out to Denny's after asking her to be his valentine. The song had been playing over the speakers in the restaurant, serenading the couples. Once they finished dinner, they and several of the other couples had stood up to slow-dance.

The loss of warmth and loud beep of a timer snap Dawa out of his thoughts. He looks around for his partner and spots her tending to her now finished coffee. He never liked coffee. It's too bitter on his tongue, and smells even worse. Personally, he likes Monster energy. Armani on the other hand, loves it. She always mixes it with one cup of vanilla creamer, and one cup of milk.

///

I'm trying to get back into writing, so please give any constructive criticism

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eileenyixiwang · 11 months

Text

Sunsets

The last ray of sunlight disappeared into the horizon, returning the ocean its lost colours. The warm breeze brushed against my skin as sand began to flood into my sandals with each step taken towards the deep ends of the sea. I don’t know how to swim. But I have to try.

A chill went up my spine as the cold water embraced me. I felt like I was drowning despite the rocks at my feet reminding me that I’m on steady ground. I dipped my head into the sea and held my breath. Almost lost it when I saw my dead grandmother laying at the sea floor I was about to set foot on. Gasping for breath, I rubbed my eyes until they were red and swollen. I dived down again despite the pain in my eyes and a slight headache. Struggling to open my eyelids, I avoided the ground this time. There was two bodies. Felt pranked when I saw mother laying there, still as a statue, eyes closed, arms crossed on her chest. My mind blanked, barely felt the tips of her hair when I ran out of my last breath. I ran towards the shore, splashing water everywhere. Wanted to escape from this haunted place. My wet feet rubbed against the sand, sticking them to my skin. Almost reached the road when the world started spinning like crazy around me and my eyes shut.

I woke up in a bed with white sheets. I could hear the whispers outside. My father came in with a man in white coat, perhaps a doctor.

“Am I going insane?” I tried to swallow back my fear.

“Quite the opposite.” The doctor said without so much as raising an eyebrow, “Events that happened last night must have triggered your consciousness and stimulated your brain.”

My father smiled at me and squeezed me tight, “I thought I lost you.” I thought so too.

I was insane.

Seeing my mother as a corpse last night indicated that I finally accepted her death, the doctor said, after I explained my vision at the beach. I guess I didn’t find mom, but I found acceptance, sanity and a chance at a future.

My white dress flowed along with the wind as my father scattered the ashes, of what is left of mother, into the dark blue ocean. We watched, as the sun dived into the sea, but I know, it will always rise again.

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frostbittenbucky · 3 years

Text

Bruce Wayne

The Batman

The Dark Knight

Worlds Greatest Detective

Had fucked up

Bruce Wayne isn’t a slob, he’s not lazy- he is the complete opposite of his persona “Brucie Wayne”, who is a lazy pampered prince. But Bruce Wayne? Never.

So after Bruce finishes a snack he washes his dishes like any civilized human would do- or else Alfred would have some very choice words and some very petty actions towards him. It’s a simple task, take off his rings, run the water, apply the soap, scrub then rinse.

Simple.

But someone tell Bruce how the hell he managed to drop his ring down the drain? And someone tell Bruce why the didn’t stop for a moment and think before shoving his hand down the drain?

He fucked up. Now he’s stuck. But Bruce Wayne is a genius, he can get himself out of this silly situation. So he tries pulling... and pulling... and pulling. Ok, next option, lubricant. Soap will do. So Bruce proceeds to pour a generous amount of soap around his hand, he moves it around to make sure it’s coated, then he pulls. And pulls. Ok so next move.

What’s the next move?

He groaned loudly, thinking how utterly ridiculous and stupid this situation is. “Ok... dammit,” he muttered to himself. He decided to reach for his phone and-

Shit. It’s on the kitchen island directly behind him, where it’s just out of his reach. Why did he do that? Oh right, because he got water in his speaker last time. Right. Perfect. Wonderful.

“Alfred?” He called out, “Alfred, Damian are you still here?” No response. Shitshitshitshitshitgodammitshitshit.

Maybe he can reach his phone? He thought. So with all his grace he leaned towards to island, swishing at the air in hopes his phone would magically come into his hand. Nah.

Leg, his leg might reach. It’s longer than his arm, and his can get some torso length in there. Lifting his leg and leaning his body out he kicks at the counter, his brows furrowed. Fuck. Bruce is very flexible, but his leg and torso are extended to the fullest human capacity, and fuck why are these countered so spaced out?!

Bruce pulls his body back and lays his forehead on the cold countertop, trying to push down the rage that’s building up in his chest. This is stupid. This is so fucking stupid. “Is anybody home? Stephanie? Jason? Ca- not you, Titus,” He lifted his head from the counter and looked to his right, and there Titus stood in front of Bruce, wanting to investigate the noise. Seeing nothing interesting Titus tilted his head and gave a “boof” before turning out and leaving him to his own demise, “no wait,” Bruce reached out for the dog who already made up his mind.

So there he stood.

Bruce Wayne

The Batman

The Dark Knight

The Worlds Greatest Detective

Dumbass

Knowing he now has to swallow his pride and go into his next move, he groans loudly. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s called when it wasn’t anything life threatening. Sure, it’s rare, but it does happen. Plus, he always understands, and by now he knows the differences between help and help. But Bruce knew there would be consequences... because he isn’t scared of Bruce, all his intimidation tactics fall short, completely on deaf ears around him.

“Clark,” his voice sounded almost like a whine, his voice was a little hoarse from literally forcing the words past his lips, “if you’re not busy I need a hand.”

Just as soon as his finished his sentence Clark was stood in front of him, flannel, glasses, and cowboy boots, “howdy.” Bruce closed his eyes at Clark’s greeting, then opened them to send him a hard glare, “what’s seems to be the problem, Bruce?” A wide and knowing grin spread across Clark’s face. X-ray vision. No explanation needed. Sure friends help friends in their times of need. But best friends? Oh yea, Bruce had to earn his help by paying the high price of humiliation.

“Just hand me my phone, Clark,” pointing at the device just out of reach.

A shocked and confused looked replaced Clark’s smile, “oh, this? This phone right here?” He also pointed, walking to grab the device, “you don’t happen to have Face ID do you?”

“No, I w-“ It was a lie. Clark know had opened his phone just by turning it to Bruce’s face. A sigh left his body, was this price worth his freedom? Probably not.

“Hold on, B, I’m not dressed properly. This is a rescue after all,” and just in a blink of an eye Superman now stood in front of a tired looking Bruce, having no choice of his front vow seat the shit show that was about to unfold. Clark lifted the phone and snapped a couple selfies with Bruce, grinning his charming smile that the world adored him for. Bruce looked like a hungover raccoon, putting it kindly.

“Are your done? Just get me out and I’ll buy you a horse or something.”

“Aw, you do care. I knew you were listening when I told you about that pony farm,” Clark didn’t bother to look up from the phone, tapping away at the screen, “oh Bruce, your groupchat is named ‘family’?”

His eyes widen, “don’t you da-“

“-Isn’t Dick a firefighter? I think that he’s better for this job,” Clark announced, taking a seat on the island that just out of reach, “I hope you understand Mr. Wayne, I’m glad to offer help but them seems like a job for our local emergency service.”

“If you call 911,” Bruce growled, gritting his teeth together, leaning towards the other man and close as possible, “I swear.”

Scoffing, Clark waves him off, “of course not, why would I waste a 911 operators time? There’s people who need real help out there. I’m calling Dick directly.” Once again, is the price of freedom worth it?

————-

“Fireman Dick Grayson reporting for duty!” Cried his oldest child with two other firman following close behind, “hey pops I h- is that Superman?” He faked a gasped, clutching his chest.

The group chat had blown up by now. A series of text and FaceTime calls followed shortly after.

Damian: “Tt. Father this is utterly disappointing”

Bruce: “Sorry to be disappointing, kiddo”

Stephanie: “lmfaoooo I’m coming over. Be there in 10 don’t escape until I get there”

Jason: *screenshot of the photo of Superman and Bruce posted on Twitter with the caption: “when your dad panics and calls Superman”

Jason: *another screenshot of a multitude of replies along the lines, “what are you doing step bro?” “What are your doing Superman?”*

Duke: “the mighty Batman has finally met his match. A kitchen sink”

Cassandra: “😆😆😂🤣😬🤔🧠🤷🏻‍♀️💕💕💗💓💖”

Bruce: “thank you, Cassandra. I think.”

Stephanie: “imma do a live when I get there 🤣”

Tim: “you know we’re not going to let you live this down right b?”

Dick: “dumbasssssss”

Dick: “don’t worry B I’ll be there to rescue you shortly”

Bruce: “I can unadopt all of you.”

Alfred: “master Bruce, please word yourself properly. “Unadopt” isn’t a real word.”

Bruce: “Sorry, Alfred.”

So now that official rescue crew has arrived he expected this to be a quick and professional release. Nah. Dick, his oldest, his light in the dark, his son, his baby boy, is an asshole.

Dick started taking his own selfies with Bruce and Superman. Dick and Clark wore bright smiles, full of perfect teeth and glimmering eyes. Bruce, again, looked like a mess. He was wearing an old shirt, old sweatpants, no makeup on, his hair an untamed, scattered, frizzy mess. He should’ve conditioned, but he wasn’t expecting to go out today or have any photos done today.

The price of freedom is high, but not worth it.

#Bruce Wayne #batdad #superman #Clark kent #batman #Batfam #my post #I just want to make people laugh tbh #also I’m tired of Bruce seeming so perfect #I want him to do stupid things and make small mistakes #and I want more Clark terrorizing Bruce #also no I’m not editing this I’m lazy #dick Grayson #Cassandra Cain #duke Thomas #Stephanie brown #Jason Todd #Tim drake #Damian Wayne

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Desperate Measures 2

Warnings: nonconsent and rape (miniseries); stalking, fear, intimidation, fingering, toyplay, fuck machine, control, overstimulation, cock ring, oral

This is dark!Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: At first, you think it’s a joke when you get the strange messages, but when they don’t stop, you realise too late how real it all is.

Note: Okay, here’s the last half!

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Part 1

I can't let this, I can't let this go When I got you right where I want you I been pushing for this for so long

💌

You put your to-go box in the fridge. Your appetite was all but gone after the encounter but Eva barely seemed to notice as her gushing went from the unexpected cameo of America’s hero to Ray again. Another argument meant she was holding out to punish him but you knew it wouldn’t last. She was already incessantly checking her phone.

You sat as she took selfies on Snap and shared them in her passive aggressive way. You knew this dance. She’d keep going until she got a reaction. You took your own phone but hesitated before you lit up the screen. It unlocked as it registered your face and the number over your inbox made you wince.

It was like a story in itself, the unanswered text bubbles lined the rectangle; ‘where’d you go, sweetheart’ to ‘what’s wrong?’ to ‘I will find you’ to ‘you better answer me, sweetheart’. You could almost hear them in Steve’s deep tones and it made you shiver. The phone suddenly vibrated and sent another wave through you.

‘Seven tonight. I’ll meet you in front of the bar,’ the message said tersely.

You lowered the phone as Eva searched for better lighting and angled her phone around as she pouted. You watched her and the phone buzzed again. You looked down at the next message.

‘You answer me, sweetheart.’ Still all you could do was stare blankly until you felt another jolt, ‘either you come to me or I come to you.’

The threat was clear. It wasn’t just about you. He knew you were at Eva’s and you had no doubt he would break through any obstacle between you. You saw him sitting across from you in the restaurant, felt the way his eyes bore into you.

‘Okay,’ you texted back. It was all you could handle.

Eva giggled and flopped down on the sofa, “oooh, Ray is so mad.”

“Uh huh,” you murmured as the heart emoji popped up on your screen.

“I sent him the pic I got with the Captain,” she smirked, “he’s so jealous.”

“Do you two ever stop?” you rolled your eyes and set aside your phone.

“Babe, he might be a jackass but the way he serves--”

“Say no more,” you pointed your thumb down your throat, “please.”

💌

Eva was gone before seven. You were thankful that you wouldn’t need to explain yourself to her but disappointed nonetheless. You walked the block down to the bar and stood by the corner of the low wrought iron fence that lined the busy patio. You held your phone in your hand and hugged yourself with one arm. You felt sick and numb.

You felt a light touch on your elbow and spun. Steve smiled down at you as he wore a ball cap and dark blue jacket.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” he said, “I got a bit held up--”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, finally finding your voice.

“Sweetheart,” he warned as his lips straightened, “I don’t like to be interrupted.”

“I don’t understand,” you hissed, “I just don’t. I don’t know why you’re doing this.”

“Why I’m doing what? Why I love you? Sweetheart, you need to be better to yourself and if you can’t do that, then I guess I have to,” he tickled your cheek with his fingertips, “are you hungry?”

“No,” you crossed your arms as he glanced over at the patio, “please, just stop. Leave me alone.”

He closed his eyes and his jaw tensed. He swallowed and his hand dropped to your shoulder. His thumb rubbed your shoulder through your light cardigan.

“Don’t be like this,” he said, “after all I’ve done for you. After--”

“I never asked for any of it,” you croaked.

“You interrupt me again,” he squeezed your upper arm and leaned in, “and there will be consequences.”

Your eyes widened and you gaped up at him. He grinned and dropped his hand to take yours. He drew you away from the hedges along the fence and walked you down the street.

“Since you’re not hungry, I guess we can just go home,” he tugged on you as you dragged your feet and you stumbled to catch up. It felt as if he would crush your hand as he stopped by a sleek car and reached into his pocket to unlock it with a chirp, “sweetheart,” his tone was grizzly as he exhaled in frustration, “I don’t like this. This isn’t you.” He opened the door and loomed over you as he lowered his voice to a whisper, “be a good girl.”

He nudged you into the car and you sat heavily as he shut the door with snap. Your hands shook as you turned your phone over and hit the emergency call number. Before you could hit the nine, he was in the driver’s seat and ripped your phone from your grasp. The doors locked with a loud click.

“What do you think the police will do for you?” he growled as he started the car, “do you think they’ll believe you? You think they don’t have a record of all the crazed fangirls who ever followed me around?” he scoffed and reached over to slap your thigh, “buckle up…” he lifted his hand and stroked your neck, “we don’t want you getting hurt, do we?”

You slowly pulled the belt over and buckled it. You were trembling so much it took several tries. You let out a brittle breath and sank back against the seat, “no,” you said quietly as you glanced out the window.

“Good,” he said as he drove with one hand still on your leg, “I only want to keep you safe.”

💌

The walk-up looked like any other on the street. She iron railing along the concrete steps, the faded brick, the frosted glass slats of the front door, and the twisted metal numbers just above the mailbox. Steve walked behind you and kept you trapped between him and the door as he unlocked it.

You entered if just to get away from him and he calmly locked the door as he followed. He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it with his cap on the hook along the wall. He waited and crossed his arms as he watched you expectantly. You hesitated and pulled off your cardigan. He took it and draped it beside his jacket.

You froze and stared at the shoe rack. There were several pairs of women’s shoes in the cubbies and the hooks not only held his own jackets, but at least two meant for a female counterpart. You took a step back and peered around. Your blood turned to ice as you saw yourself smiling back from a photo; a picture printed out from your social media.

“I’m still working on some things,” he said as he followed your gaze and adjusted the frame on the hook, “of course, you can bring some stuff over to make it more homey.”

“What…” the air rushed from your lungs and your head spun.

You backed up and caught yourself on the wall. You were losing your mind. This couldn’t be real. None of it. He was crazy.

“Let me show you around,” he didn’t seem to notice your distress, or he just didn’t care. He grabbed your hand again and pulled you away from the wall.

You let him guide you through the front room, the dining room, the kitchen and back up the hall as he pointed out the half-bath. You didn’t process much of it and as he urged you up the stairs, you tripped and hit your knees on the next step. He helped you up swiftly, his arm around you as he walked you up the rest of the way.

You could hardly support your own weight. He sat you down on a bench along the wall as you struggled to breathe. He knelt before you and framed your face with his hands.

“I was gonna wait,” he said, “but you made me do this. And now neither of us are ready but this how it has to be.”

You reached up and grabbed his hands as you stared back at him in horror. He didn’t even flinch as he kept his hands around your face.

“Get yourself together,” he said darkly, “now.”

He dropped his hands and stood. You watched him and nodded. You gulped and got to your feet, your legs weak but you forced yourself to stand.

“I’m sorry,” you said without thinking. He smiled and your heart dropped. Why were you apologising to him? You weren’t wrong, you were trapped.

“Come on,” he shoved you ahead of him and pointed you past the open bathroom door. You peeked in as you passed and stopped at the next, “go in.”

You entered the room. It was a tidy bedroom with everything in its place. The rug, the chair, the bed, the sheets, the dresser; everything was finely arranged and painted a scene you found in lifestyle magazines. He brushed by you and pointed to the door at the other side of the bed.

“Your closet,” he said.

You went forward and opened the door as he watched. He flicked the switch as you poked your head in to look around at the hangers. There were more clothes in the closet than you ever had. Some of them were even identical to pieces you already owned.

“Before we move on,” he went to the dresser and the subtle whisper of the drawer sliding out pulled your attention back to the room, “you should change.”

He laid out a frilly lavender piece. The fabric was see-through and there was no crotch. There were flowers embroidered where your nipples would be, the fabric ruched along straps. You looked at him and back at the flimsy lingerie.

“I’ll wait outside,” he backed away, “surprise me.”

“I… Steve--”

“Captain or sir,” he corrected as he filled the doorway with his broad figure, his hand on the handle, “you will learn the rules as we go.”

“I can’t--”

“You can,” he insisted, “rule number one: you address me properly. Rule number two, you do what I say. Rule number three,” he held up three fingers, “you break the rules and there will be consequences. Don’t make me repeat myself again.”

He stepped into the hall and slammed the door. You flinched and looked back at the purple bodysuit. You shuddered and sniffed as your eyes tingled and your nose tickled. You wanted to break down and cry but your fear kept your tears inside. You undressed and pulled on the dainty lingerie.

He knocked just as you finished and pushed open the door without response. His lips parted as his eyes roved your body and you tried to fold in on yourself. He waved you forward and you reluctantly crossed the room. His fingers danced along the seam along your side and lingered just along your pelvis. You may as well be naked.

He gestured you further down the hall to the door at the very end. He slapped your ass as you walked ahead of him and he groaned. You stopped as you saw the thick latch above the handle and you felt him against your back as he caught up.

“It’s unlocked… for now,” he said.

You opened the door as the lightbulb bloomed to life on a censor but you couldn’t cross the threshold. Your mouth hung open as you looked around at the walls, sketches of you pasted across every inch. In all of them, you were naked and contorted in some lurid position; some alone, some with Steve, others you were strapped own while a few had you touching yourself.

You took a step back and collided with Steve. He urged you inside with his body and the door closed. You peered around as he turned to lock the door but there wasn’t a keyhole but a keypad. You couldn’t see what he pressed as he shielded it with his back and your legs threatened to collapse again.

More than the pictures on the wall, the room was a personal playground. There was a bench in the middle that was fit for those kinkier videos you found on the internet, with straps hooked in rings along the legs.

Aside from that, there were leather cuffs, crops, and other whips lined up neatly over a table, surrounded by a litany of silicon, metal and glass toys. In the corner, there was a boxy machine on wheels with a rod sticking out of it.

You spun around and Steve caught you. You reached over his shoulder for the door as panic flowed through you like electricity.

“Please,” you begged, “please, let me go. You can’t--”

“Sweetheart,” he cooed as he took you off your feet and carried you further into the room, “tonight, we’re just getting you ready…”

“No, no, no,” you ranted as you struggled against him, “no, I can’t--”

He threw you down on your feet and as you wobbled, he caught your throat, “never say no to me,” his eyes flared with anger, “do you understand?”

You swallowed and nodded stiffly above his large hand, “yes..”

“Yes, what?” he sneered.

“Yes, sir,” you forced out, “I… I…”

“Will you be good?” he asked as he lifted a brow.

“I’ll be good, sir,” you echoed.

“Turn around,” he released you harshly and you staggered awkwardly until your back was to him.

He rounded you and grabbed your wrist, he pulled you to the cushioned horse and urged you up onto it with a curt order. As he strapped you in, your panic spiked again and you pulled with a squeal of terror.

“If you continue to struggle, it will only be worse,” he said as he buckled in your ankle, your pelvis prone over the end of the bench, “sweetheart, I have to train you because right now, you’re being bad. I can’t love you if you’re bad.”

“Please,” you eked out, “Steve, this isn’t you. You’re-- you’re Captain America--”

“And you’re mine,” he snarled and grabbed the back of your neck as he stood and pushed your head down against the bench.

He trailed his hand down your back and slapped your ass. The strike stung badly and you whimpered as you braced for another. It never came and you sensed him move away from you. You turned your head to watch him as he went to the table but could not see what he was doing.

He spun back and marched around the back of the horse. You tried to crane your head up to keep an eye on him and he smacked your ass again.

“Eyes forward,” he commanded.

You turned your head straight as you let out a whine and he pushed his hand down your thigh. He prodded your ass with the toy in his other hand and the soft click turned to buzz as the vibrations reverberated through your flesh. He rolled it down and pressed along your folds. You squeaked at the sudden ripple it sent through you.

“Just relax,” he coaxed as he pushed between your folds and cupped the toy against your clit, his hand nestled between the leather and your cunt. Every muscle in your body tensed and you gritted your teeth as your core burned to life, “that’s it, sweetheart,” he kneaded your ass with his other hand, “gotta get you ready for me.”

You muffled a sob and pressed your cheek to the bench. You curled your fingers around the metal legs and braced yourself against the rising pleasure. His touch crawled down your ass as he rolled the toy against your bud and he pushed a finger into you. You moaned as he pulled in and out.

“That’s it,” he purred and added another finger, “sweetheart, you’re so tight. So tight for me.”

Your breath hitched as clicked the toy to a higher setting and his fingers sped up inside you as he bent them to reach that most tender spot. Your voice wisped from you without restraint and your eyes rolled back as the pleasure smothered your fear.

“I don’t think you’re ready,” he said, “too tight…” he fucked you even harder with his hand, “you need more.”

Your cunt clenched around him as you came and your walls twitched against his thick fingers. An ocean of pleasure washed over you as he teased your clit to the point of pain. You cried out at the overstimulation as your orgasm crashed down on you. You barely had time to catch your breath as he brought you to another peak and you whined desperately through your teeth.

He slid his fingers out slowly and spread your juices down your thigh and left the toy beneath you as he freed his hand. He backed away and you heard the sloppy noise of him sucking on his wet fingers. Your eyes fluttered open as he went to the table again and wiped his hand on his jeans.

He came back to you and pushed down the straps of the lingerie. He lifted you the inch allotted by the restraint and pinched your nipples with the metal clamps, letting the chain hang between them as he dropped you back down. You grumbled as the feeling plucked at your core.

He returned to the table then went to the corner. You looked up as he rolled the machine towards you, a dildo screwed onto the rod. You pulled at your cuffs helplessly and he slowed as neared you. He stopped and knelt to caress your head as he gripped the firm toy.

“Not quite as big as me,” he smirked, “but it will help…”

“Please,” your thighs tensed as the toy beneath you kept buzzing, “please, sir, no more.”

“Shhh,” he stood and rolled the machine around you.

You listened to him as he adjusted it and lined it up with your cunt. He pushed it until the tip was at your entrance and you stretched around it as he inched it forward. He stopped until the toy filled you. There was a momentary lull and then a subtle whir added to the vibe of the toy as the dildo moved mechanically in and out of you.

You sucked in air as you were fucked by the toy and Steve fixed the vibe beneath you so that it was flush to your clit. You cried out and he backed away as he looked you over. You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to resist the pressure building inside of you. The steady motion of the toy was enough to push you further and further with each stroke.

When you opened your eyes again, you found Steve leaned against the table, his eyes watching you over a sketch pad as his hand moved a pencil on the other side. You didn’t even have the sense left to be ashamed. You bit your lip and rolled your eyes back as you succumbed to another orgasm. You heard his low hum of satisfaction and quaked atop the bench.

You groaned and opened your eyes again as he neared. He pet your head and held up the pad before you. Lines of graphite etched your image onto the paper and you stared at the sight of your fearful pleasure. He smiled proudly and stood. He puffed his chest and ripped free the page and taped it up with the rest.

“I think that’s the best one,” he said, “it’s a lot easier with the real thing.”

You quivered and panted against the bench. He disappeared behind you and the toy plunged into you even faster and deeper than before. You grunted and lifted your head as you arched your back.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” he reached under you again and clicked the button on the toy until it was on the sixth setting, a vibration that built to top speed only to restart at the lowest and build back up, over and over, urging you to climax only to ease off right before it came, “you’ll be ready… soon.”

He retreated and you looked around your shoulder as you heard the pinpad, “where… where are you going… sir?”

“You need time,” he said as he opened the door, “I’ll be back when you’re ready.”

The door closed and you whined. You tried to rip your hands free from the straps and kick your legs but did nothing but add to the whirlwind of pleasure and pain. You were screwed, literally.

💌

You didn’t know how long Steve left you for but it felt like forever. You hardly heard the door as he entered or the deep of the pin pad as he locked it. You only truly knew he was there when the machine stopped. He slowly slid it out of you and rolled it back to the corner. He took the dead toy from beneath your cunt and paced around you.

He wore only his briefs and stopped by the table as he rubbed the front of them. Your vision was hazy and your mind could only think of your core. Even after all that, you wanted more. You need more. You’d been fucked for what could have been hours but hadn’t cum since he abandoned you.

He pulled down his underwear as he faced you completely. He was only half-erect as his fingers toy with a silicon ring. You squinted as he squirted lube onto the ring and rolled it down his length. He grunted as he got to his base and stroked himself as he neared.

He traced an oily finger along your cheek and gripped your jaw, “open, sweetheart.”

He was completely hard by then and pushed his tip to your lips until they parted. He slid inside as he spread his hand over your head and pinned it to the bench as bent his legs. He poked at your throat but didn’t force himself deep, even as you hardly took in half his length. He fucked your mouth carefully as your saliva squelched loudly.

“You ready for me?” he asked as he continued to thrust, “hmmm?” He pulled out of your mouth and you coughed as your spit clung to his tip. He pushed a finger against your tongue and bent over you, “we have lots of time to use that mouth…”

He stood and dragged his hand down your back and came up behind you. He groped your ass and spread your cheeks with a purr. He rested his cock between them and rubbed himself against your ass as he kneaded your hips.

“You ready, sweetheart? You gotta tell me,” he dragged his nails down your thighs and you trembled.

“I’m… ready…” you gasped out, “sir, please…”

You couldn’t think straight, you could see clearly, and you surely couldn’t fight it any longer. You wiggled your ass and let out a pathetic groan.

“Mhmmm,” he gripped his cock and pushed his tip down along your folds. He pressed against your entrance and tapped it cloyingly.

“Please… sir,” you begged, “please, I’m good. I’m being good.”

“Yes, you are,” he praised and pushed into you just a little.

You moaned and slowly he inched deeper. He was bigger than the toy, thick and throbbing as he filled you more than you could handle. You whined and exclaimed as his pelvis came flush to your cunt. Your toes curled and you scratched at the metal.

“Fuck,” he bent over you, his hard torso to your back, “you are so tight…” he whispered in your ear and felt along the clamp over your nipple, “is it too much, sweetheart?”

You nodded and bared your teeth. He pulled back and you exhaled but he thrust just as deep and you shouted in surprise. He did it again as he crushed you against the bench and squeezed the clamp tighter on your nipple. Your voice trickled from you in weak whimpers as your body shook uncontrollably.

His other arm snaked around you and he buried his hand beneath your pelvis. He parted your folds with two fingers and flicked your clit with another. You murmured and rolled your head against the leather as he sped up, his flesh clapping loudly as he hammered into you without restraint.

“Ah, sweetheart, I don’t think I’d last much longer,” he purred in your ear, “fuck I coulda cum in your mouth if I didn’t… prepare.”

He stood up and kept his hand under you as he rutted into you, his free hand against the small of your back as he played with your bud and tilted his hips wildly. His voice mingled with your own but you were so dazed, you could only hear the squelching and slapping of your bodies.

“You’re mine,” he panted between thrusts, “aren’t you? Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m… yours…” you uttered, “sir...CAPTAIN!”

You shouted as he slowed and rolled his hips tauntingly. You raised your head and squeezed the straps of your restraints as you tried to bend your legs. Your body tensed and your back arched against your will. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth as you came at last.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he groaned as you gushed around him, “fuck, you fit me perfect.”

You dropped your head and he pulled back to grip your hips, fucking you faster and harder. Your entire body ached as he railed into you. The bench quaked under you and you feared both you and the metal would break.

“All mine,” he buried himself entirely and held himself there, “sweetheart.”

He pulled out of you suddenly and you gulped at air as he came around you. He bent to unstrap your wrists and ankles. He lifted you off of the bench and you let him, too weak to stand on your own. He bent his knees and scooped you up, tossing your arms over his shoulder as he held you against him and entered you from below.

He nibbled your lip as he moved you up and down his length and you hugged him loosely. He walked around as if you weighed nothing and turned to lay you down on your back, staying inside you as he stood over the bench. He gripped your sides and rammed his hips against you as he held your ass just above the leather. Your reached up and clung to the bench above you and let your eyes roll back once more.

“Mmmm, don’t pass out on me now, sweetheart,” he grabbed your chin and forced two fingers into your mouth, “I’m not even close to finished with you.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #two shot #miniseries #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers #desperate measures

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raibebe · 3 years

Text

Coming Home

Genre: Sentimental smut with the most feelings Words: 1.456 Prompt: Taeyong + “Mmmh, you are warm” Warnings: unprotected sex, THE most feelings

A/N: One night the wonderful groupchat now named “sexc writers” with @ncteaxhoe and @sly-merlin came up with the idea of what would happen if the three of us had the same prompt and all wrote something with each other’s biases. So I wrote for one of Inni’s biases!

For maximum feelings, play “Dear Dream” while reading. I just want you to know that I actually made myself cry while writing this and listening to that song.

Waking up to your boyfriend in your bed when you definitely went to bed alone wasn’t something unusual. Waking up with him curled around your body like he was some kind of snake and you were his prey wasn’t either. And waking up because of the little butterfly kisses he pressed to the skin of your neck wasn’t out of the ordinary either. So what was the unusual thing when you woke up this morning? “Good morning baby,” Taeyong spoke in your ear, his voice raspy either from sleep or from recording all night – you weren’t sure which one it was. “Morning,” you smiled, snuggling back into your boyfriend’s chest.

“When did you get here?” You sighed after a couple of serene moments spent with Taeyong caressing your body. “Not too long ago,” he confessed, pressing an open mouthed kiss to the tender skin on your neck that seemed to linger longer than his lips actually did. “You should’ve gone home to sleep, baby,” you whined, squirming in his hold to turn around but his grip wasn’t budging. “Mmmh, stay still,” he sighed, tangling your legs together and oh- that was why it was an unusual way to wake up. “Yongie~,” you sighed, arching your body into his. “Mmmh, you’re warm,” he breathed, pressing his naked body to your back until there wasn’t a single centimeter of space between your bodies, “So warm.” He sighed deeply and gently rutted against your backside, his dick sliding between your panty clad asscheeks since he had forgone clothing all together.

Taking a shuddering breath, Taeyong let his hands roam beneath the big shirt you had worn to sleep, mapping out your body with firm hands like it was the first time he was touching you before he grabbed a handful of your boobs, squeezing the soft flesh to make you moan his name. “You’re so beautiful,” he sighed, burying his face in your neck to stifle the moans that kept slipping past his lips, the sounds so soft and breathy, they would have gotten lost any other time than right now in the early morning hours. “Make love to me,” you said softly, turning your body around in Taeyong’s grip to press your lips together in a sweet kiss, pouring all the fragile feelings into it you weren’t quite able to voice. “I love you so much,” your boyfriend whispered against your plush lips once you broke the kiss, his eyes so open and sincere, you almost choked on the feeling that built inside your chest.

“Want to see your face,” you mumbled before catching his lips again, soft and sensual, “Want to see you when you make love to me.” “Then let me see all of you in return,” Taeyong whispered back, his nimble fingers helping you out of your shirt and panties before he settled his body between your open legs, another moan spilling past his lips as his cock got trapped between your bodies. “So perfect,” he chanted, littering your cleavage and breasts with soft kisses, the ghost of his lips burning on your skin while his hands left goosebumps in their wake. With practiced ease, his fingers found your center and easily pushed inside, his eyes never leaving yours as your lips parted in a breathy moan. It should have been embarrassing how intensely he was watching every twitch of your muscles and how open and vulnerable you were but this was Taeyong, he knew you inside and outside so it was easy to just let go and bathe in the feeling of being loved and cherished just by the touch of his fingers and lips.

“I want you,” you moaned softly, letting your own hands roam over his strong back, down his small waist and down to his perky ass, pressing him forward. “You have me,” your boyfriend promised, gently curling his fingers into your sweet spot before slowly pulling them out, savoring the whine that spilled past your lips at the emptiness. “I’m yours.” You meant it. In more than one way and Taeyong was able to understand the weight behind those simple words because sometimes you two didn’t even need to speak at all to understand each other.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he breathed into your skin when the head of his cock prodded at your entrance. “You would never,” you just replied, curling your arms around his neck to swallow his moan with your lips as he slowly pushed into your heat until your hips were flush together. For a little while you just got lost in the feeling of being close to him, connected in the most intimate of ways as your tongues lead a sensual dance, exploring each other’s mouths as if you hadn’t already done it a thousand times over and over again. “Please,” you pleaded, letting your eyes flutter open to marvel at the beauty of your boyfriend, every detail on his face so imperfectly perfect. “Anything,” he promised, “I’d do anything for you.” Breathing the same air as you, Taeyong slowly pulled his hips back to slide back into you just as slowly, letting you both savor every inch of his length, every drag against your walls and every unspoken word between you.

The air was heavy with both spoken and unspoken feelings as your hands never stopped to caress each other: Yours slipping from his arms up his shoulders before tenderly cupping his face to softly stroke your thumb over the scar next to his eye. Taeyong easily leaned into your touch, his dark eyes that held all the stars of the galaxy slipping shut as his pink lips parted to let out soft sounds of pleasure while he held you securely in his arms. “I love you,” you softly whispered and immediately felt like love wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what you were feeling in this moment, soft rays of sunlight bathing your naked bodies as you moved as one, just basking in the feeling of pleasure that buzzed in your veins without the urge to reach your peak. “My whole world,” Taeyong whispered back, pressing open mouthed kisses along your jaw, “My sun,” down your neck, “My moon,” back up to your ear, “And my stars,” to finally connect your lips again all while he never ceased to move his hips, reaching so deep you could feel it in your entire body.

“Please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his hips and your arms around his shoulders to press him impossibly closer, feeling like you needed to feel all of him to make sure this moment was real. “Everything for you,” he whispered into your skin, picking up the pace of his hips without it being urgent or frantic, just what both of you needed to reach your peak. You worked your hips with him in perfect unison as much as your position allowed you to, burying your hands in the soft strands of his hair to keep his close to your pulse where he was panting into your skin, sending tingles down your spine.

“Please,” now it was him who was begging, his hips losing their steady rhythm to grind deep inside your heat. “Look at me,” you asked, voice cracking slightly but if anything it showed how fragile this moment was, how fragile the feelings between you were. But the moment Taeyong looked up and locked eyes with you, you knew that your heart was safe with him; he would keep it safe and give you his soul in return. “I love you,” you spoke in unison and the soft smile that tugged on Taeyongs lips only got broken when his eyebrows pulled together in a frown as his hips came to a stop deep inside you and you felt him release inside you, the blissed out look on his face pulling you over the edge with him. The orgasm wasn’t mind-blowing to the point where colors were exploding behind your lids. Instead it washed over you like a smooth tide on a beach, leaving you warm and glittery; your skin prickling with thousand little firecrackers everywhere Taeyong and you were connected: From the tips of your hairs down to your toes and inside your chest.

A breathy sigh left your lips and you couldn’t help the soft giggle that spilled past your lips when you saw the feeling of safety and just home you felt reflected in the warm brown of Taeyong’s eyes. “Marry me,” he spoke into the delicate silence, bearing his heart for you to receive or reject, “Be with me for always and forever.” “You were my first love and will be my last,” you accepted his heart, vowing to always keep it safe.

#taeyong #lee taeyong #nct #neosmutcollective #kafenetwork #nct 127 #taeyong smut #taeyong fluff #nct smut #nct fluff #taeyong scenarios #taeyong imagines #nct imagines #nct scenarios

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irrelevantwriter · 3 years

Text

Embracing Misery

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, unprotected vaginal sex, mention of bodily fluids, funny Rio (he got jokes), secret feelings (bc I love to torture my characters)

Word Count: 3.6K

Summary: Part 3. Rio returns and you decide to take some initiative.

A/N: Thank you guys so much for all the love and support on these Rio fics! It truly means so much and I am so glad you’re enjoying them. I now bring you part three of a saga that was not at all planned, but has somehow happened anyway. I blame the Rio haze I’m still very much in and my zero chill tendencies. If you guys haven't read parts one and two, then I recommend doing so, for plot purposes. I have some more things planned for this duo so we’ll see what my muse brings. Until then, I hope you guys like it. Feedback is that good shit. 💗

*Read Part 1 here

*Read Part 2 here

*Read Part 4 here

*Give and Take series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

***********************

It was early.

The house was blessedly quiet while your children stayed at their father’s house for the weekend. You soaked up the stillness of the early morning sun rays and crisp, cool air. They washed over you, as if cleansing what the previous night’s sleep hadn’t. You missed your kids like crazy while they were away, but the mornings alone were priceless. It was a time for you to prepare for the day. A luxury you hadn’t been afforded since before the kids were born. But now...now you got to take it all in. Enjoy the serenity.

Or so you thought.

You tied the sash of your robe as you opened the front door, preparing to grab the morning paper, but as soon as you turned the knob you knew what would be waiting on the other side. Something told you he was there. You didn’t need to look out onto the street to see the familiar sleekness of a dark tinted luxury car. You could feel him. Feel his eyes on you as you bent down to get the paper and turned, leaving the front door wide open.

Rio had been gone for nearly two months. You hadn’t seen or spoken to the man in that long. Not even a text message, though the thought had crossed your mind on more than one occasion. You had no idea where he’d been or what he’d been doing while he was away, but you’d had no choice but to conduct business as usual. Mick had been your contact, times and places for drop-offs exactly as Rio had set them up. It was as if he was still running things from wherever he was. As if he could somehow see you without actually seeing you.

During his time away you’d done nothing but think of when he’d return. You teetered on the edge of worry and longing as your thoughts raced between concern for your boss slash lover to outright arousal. You’d spent more than one night thinking about his hands on your body while yours tried desperately to replicate his touch. It would get the job done, but it was nothing compared to that gentle slide of hand or gravelly voice that sent literal shivers up your spine. Your body had missed him. And you had come to the realization that you did too.

You walked into your kitchen, hearing the click of the front door as he passed through the threshold. You went straight for the humming coffee pot, grabbing two mugs from the cabinet.

“Coffee?” You asked over your shoulder, not at all surprised to hear the shakiness in your voice.

“Sure.”

Your entire body thrummed to life at that solitary sound. You hadn’t even laid eyes on him yet and already your thighs were clenching together. Your nipples hardened against the thin fabric of your tank top, your black robe barely concealing the reaction. You poured the coffee with unsteady hands, preparing yourself to face him once again.

When you turned around, you were greeted with a familiar smirk and a magnificent throat tattoo. A tattoo that you’d missed. He looked exactly the same. Same dark button-up. Same dark jeans. Same intense eyes. Same addictive swagger. It all came together to seduce you into a trance. A trance you’d fallen victim to in the past. It was a fog of uncertainty and lust. It was powerful. Merciless. And you couldn’t stop it from taking you hostage if you tried. So...you embraced it.

You slid the mug of coffee across the kitchen island towards him, a gesture that had you experiencing déjà vu. He accepted it and the sugar you offered. You watched as he dressed his beverage. Two spoonfuls of sugar. No milk or cream. He stirred it and then sipped, nodding in approval at the taste. The entire display was odd...domestic even.

His eyes trailed over your body before coming to rest on your face.

“Did you miss me, mama?” He asked cheekily, white teeth on display. They bit sensually into his bottom lip, the action making warmth seep deep into your bones.

You laughed. You’d missed the banter. Missed his blatant want for you. It was a cruel punishment to take away someone’s drug of choice. Rio just so happened to be yours. And you’d been experiencing withdrawals for the last two months. You desperately needed a hit. Needed something to take the edge off.

“Hardly.” You quipped, smiling so that he could see the lie clearly written on your face.

He only stared back. The action was still unnerving.

You turned to pour your own cup of coffee, feeling his gaze ghost across your back. You busied yourself with adding cream and sugar, the clang of the spoon against ceramic the only sound reverberating throughout the house. You took a few cursory sips, testing the temperature of the liquid. It was hot. Too hot. But you drank it anyway.

Turning around to face Rio once again, you were surprised to find the spot across the island empty. Your eyes darted around the immediate area, catching a glimpse of him lounging on your sofa. The same sofa he’d fucked you against. Along with the kitchen island.

You left your drink behind, bare feet walking with a purpose across the cold wood floors. You rounded the sofa and took him in. One leg was crossed over the other, his mug resting against his knee as he steadied it with one hand. His free arm extended along the back of the couch, taking up a fair amount of space on the piece of furniture.

He was a picture of comfort and ease. Looking as if he belonged there. You supposed in that moment, he did.

You observed him for a long time. Long enough for his face to grow serious as he stared up at you. A myriad of emotions swirled within you. All of them seemed to be conflicting. They pushed and pulled in various directions, telling you what you should do while others persuaded you to do what you wanted to do. In the end none of it mattered. You’d already sold your soul to the devil long before you got into bed with him. It was time to accept that.

You wordlessly reached for his drink, moving the mug onto the coffee table. He let you, uncrossing his legs and watching you with a sharp eye. You grasped for the knot that held your robe together and pulled the two ends apart, feeling the material start to give way. It fell open to reveal the tank top and shorts you wore underneath. It was a far cry from lingerie, but it sent the same message. You wore no bra, an obvious fact as his eyes hungrily took you in. Your shorts were cut high, practically underwear and exposing more leg than you would’ve normally felt comfortable with. The robe fell from your shoulders and into a heap at your feet.

You swallowed, feeling the butterflies in your stomach begin to take flight. You focused on him. You focused on the way he looked at you. And how he made you feel. You let that be your guide as you pulled your top up and over your head. The garment joined the robe on the floor as you moved on to your shorts, pulling them down and letting them slide along your thighs. You were left in your demure cotton panties. You were only slightly embarrassed by their modesty, but Rio showed no inclination that he was put off. In fact, his mouth twitched, his lower half shifting against the couch.

You looped your fingers into the waistband of the cotton and pushed them down, baring yourself completely. He’d never seen you naked. Your previous trysts had been rushed with clothes shifted aside and out of the way in frenzied yearning. It’d never been thought out before. And now, here you were standing naked in your own living room, seducing the man you were sure wanted to kill you about as much as he wanted to fuck you.

It was exhilarating.

“What’re you doing?” Rio rasped, gaze locked with yours. His voice was low and tinged with desire. He looked equal parts amused and perplexed, and the thought of him trying to be a gentleman in your current state of undress only made your need for him strengthen.

“Sshh...” You soothed, stepping between his spread legs and straddling his lap.

His hands immediately gripped around your waist, the touch of his bare flesh against yours sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You kissed him, hands sliding up his chest and resting on the buttons of his shirt. He reciprocated your eagerness, lips moving with yours. Your tongue reached out to taste him and he accepted, his hands kneading the flesh of your ass in approval. Your lower body writhed in his lap, feeling the firm muscle resting beyond his zipper.

You longed to feel his skin against yours. To feel the proof of life beat against your own chest. To feel close to him in a way you hadn’t thus far. Your fingers moved swiftly to grant you the sensation you craved. You unfastened each button, pulling his shirt apart and gliding your palms over the smooth muscle of his chest. His hips thrust up into yours restlessly as you explored his upper body. Your lips had yet to detach from each other, completely lost in reuniting. Your nails lightly grazed down his chest and abdomen, feeling him reciprocate the action by nibbling your lip.

His touch scorched your skin, roaming freely. He cupped your heaving breasts, mouth moving to your neck as he attacked your skin with kisses. You threw your head back in blessed relief and pleasure, finally feeling as if you could breathe again. You maneuvered your hands between your bodies, aiming for his belt buckle. You were impatient. Unable to wait for him to fill you. You’d waited long enough. The abundance of slickness that slid from your walls could attest to that.

“Mmmm...” He growled against your neck when you finally pulled him free, your palm easily smoothing over the hard length. His hips rutted into your touch, his own impatience showing.

You moaned when his lips attached to a nipple and sucked. He tortured you with sensations, bouncing between gentle and unyielding. His mouth was hot and wet against your flesh, encouraging your arousal to new heights. You craved more.

Again you took the initiative and lifted your hips, angling his length to fit against your weeping slit. He pulled away from your chest and took you in, watching as you slowly impaled yourself on his cock. Your lips parted as you engulfed him, your breathing accelerating with every inch he filled you. It’d been too long and your body was taut, clenching around him in such a way that let him know just how much you’d missed his touch.

“Fuck…” He groaned when you finally bottomed out, your thighs flush with his. His fingers gripped your hips, his body completely still and waiting for you to move. His brow was furrowed, his lips pouted as he took in measured breaths. He almost looked in pain as you sat unmoving atop him. The notion pleased you.

You moaned when he shifted, his cock nudging your womb. You couldn’t prolong the torture anymore and began to swirl your hips, your palms flat against his chest. It was a new dynamic for you both. Being able to control the moment with him was not something you were used to. His demanding nature was something you secretly loved, but having him at your mercy like this was so much better. You could see every pass of ecstasy on his face. Feel it in the way he twitched inside you. It was addicting.

His calloused hands massaged your breasts as you rode him, his dark eyes glazed over with lust but still holding you captive. He slid along your walls, stretching and filling you to capacity. You only got wetter at the feel of him, the slickness so overwhelming that he almost fell from your tight clutches. You used his shoulders for leverage as you moved, your pace increasing, desperate to come undone with him.

“Damn...yeah, just like that.” Rio exhaled, hands encouraging your hips to keep their speed.

He licked his lips as you bounced, flesh slapping as you fucked yourself. You watched with heavy-lidded eyes as he sucked his thumb into his mouth and then attached it to your clit, rubbing the swollen flesh in sensual circles. You arched your back and whimpered, feeling the tendrils of climax begin to latch on.

“I’m gonna cum.” You confessed, feeling your skin slicken with perspiration. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he continued his assault on your clit, your teeth biting into your bottom lip to keep the moans at bay.

“Do it, mama.” He throatily demanded, leaving no room for argument.

“C-cum...with me.” You pleaded between breaths. He nipped at the underside of your chin and you swore you could feel his smirk against your flesh.

He didn’t waste another second.

You held on as Rio’s hips met yours, his cock hitting your cervix with a brutality that had you seeing stars. Your muscles spasmed from the inside out, your limbs locking as you came. Your walls clamped around him in stuttering patterns, giving him no other option but to feel it all. You held him to you as you shook, feeling yourself dripping down your thighs and his length. He continued to fuck you through it, his control now waning. He buried his face into your chest and neck, holding you just as tightly as he repeatedly thrust up into you.

“Inside me...please.” You found yourself begging, exhausted from your own euphoria but still wanting to feel him release deep within you. It was a sensation you thrived on. It meant he was real. That he wasn’t a figure in the night or a lone man with a gun. He’d been inside you. Painted your walls in him. Claimed you. And you wanted to feel that for as long as you could.

“You want it?” He grunted against your neck, hands digging so hard into your ass that the area would surely be sore afterwards. It was welcomed after his prolonged absence. Just another clue that he’d been there.

“Please…” You whimpered, uncaring that you sounded so desperate.

He said nothing in return. Only thrust harder as he finally came. He held you still against him, ensuring not a drop of his cum left your joined bodies. You reveled in the warmth that suddenly filled you, spreading your thighs wider across his lap. His teeth dragged along your collarbone, eliciting a shiver from you.

It was quiet for a moment, your labored breathing slowly steadying with the beating of your heart. You were pressed against his bare chest, his hands now smoothing across your flesh rather than gripping it. The sensation nearly put you to sleep.

“So you missed me then?” Rio teased, his voice raspier than normal.

You sat up straight, looking down into his eyes that were glinting back at you with boyish arrogance. You cracked a smile and shook your head.

“I’m not answering that.”

“You didn’t have to, darling.” He whispered, face growing serious as he tenderly shifted the few strands of hair that stuck to your forehead.

Laughter bubbled in your throat suddenly, effectively cutting through the moment. His fingers drifted to your lips, tracing them as you broke into a smile.

“Somethin’ funny?” He asked, an eyebrow raised. His own lips quirked up at the sound of your tired giggles, your body shaking above him.

“We haven’t made it to a bed yet.” You said between laughs, pulling his hand from your mouth and resting it on your cheek instead. You held onto his forearm, the sinewy muscle feeling sturdy under your touch.

“There’s still time.” He retorted with a sly smile, his eyes taking in your face in a careful study. The intensity of it was almost enough to make you feel bashful.

You were lost in the moment, ready to let him take you again when a knock at the front door sounded. You scrambled up, hearing a key in the knob.

“Fucking Paul.” You cursed as you grabbed your discarded robe and hastily tied the sash. “Get dressed.” You ordered Rio, that smug smirk still planted firmly on his lips.

You moved past him and through the dining room to the front door, seeing your ex shuffle through the door with a baseball bag thrown over his shoulder. Your son’s bag. He must’ve forgotten something for his game today.

“You mind?” You snapped at him, throwing a quick glance behind you to ensure he couldn’t see Rio through the entryway.

“Well, I called but you didn’t answer. Figured you were still asleep.” Paul supplied with a nonchalant shrug.

“You couldn’t wait until I actually answered the door instead of using a key? A key I was sure I got back from you.”

He rolled his eyes, not making any move to return the item.

Bastard.

“What’re you doing here, Paul?”

“Anthony forgot his mitt. Needs it for the game today.”

You inwardly rolled your eyes, both at your ex and your son. They were mirror images of each other and that extended to their forgetfulness.

You walked to the entryway bench and lifted the pillow, knowing it would be stuck there because that’s where Anthony always left his gear after a game.

“Here.” You said shortly, thrusting the glove over to him. The sooner he got it, the sooner he’d be gone.

The universe was a cruel bitch though.

A shuffling from behind you pulled both yours and Paul’s attention. You tensed as Rio rounded the corner, clothes neatly tucked back into place. He eyed your ex for a long moment, making both you and Paul uncomfortable.

“I-uh...this-,” You stumbled over your words, at a loss for how to proceed. “He was just checking on some things around the house.” You lamely offered.

“What things?” Paul threw back with a raised brow, obviously not buying your answer.

“Just taking a look at her pipes.” Rio quipped, making you cough.

The air was awkward and tense as the two men sized each other up. You could see the suspicion in Paul’s eyes as he took in Rio’s very notable tattoo. Paul’s gaze flicked to yours, attempting to read your face. You opened your mouth to cut through the silence, but Rio beat you to it.

“I gotta go. I’ll be in touch.” He said, facing you and biting his lip. The action was purposeful. A signal of sorts.

You nodded and crossed your arms, watching with bated breath as he walked past Paul. He stared at the man as if he was a nuisance, giving him a quick once over before chuckling and exiting out the door. You released a sigh of relief once the door latched, your shoulders easing now that he’d left. A wave of disappointment followed. You were hoping to spend more time with him before he ultimately disappeared again. You were sure you’d see him at your next drop off now that he was back, but that was still days away. And you’d be damned if you reached out to the man for anything other than business-related topics.

You’d just have to wait.

“Friend of yours?” Paul interrupted your thoughts, face twisted in disapproval.

“He was here to check the pipes. They were making a weird noise. Wanted to make sure they didn’t freeze over.” You explained, your attitude back in full force.

“Sure.” He replied flatly, eyes belatedly taking in your state of undress. “You should put some decent clothes on when you have strange men in the house.”

The chastising tone of his voice made you see red. It was one of the reasons you’d divorced him. Along with the infidelity. And his tendency to be an egotistical piece of shit. Your reaction was a completely different reaction to Rio’s reprimands. Rio made you feel alive...desired. Paul’s goal was to always control and make you feel less than. He’d lost that fight throughout your marriage, but that didn’t stop him from continuing to do so long after it’d ended.

“You need to go.” You demanded between clenched teeth, opening the door for him and gesturing him out.

He took the hint and walked outside to the porch, shaking his head as he did.

“The kids wanted all of us to go out to dinner. Including Erica.” He said as he turned to face you, hand held to the door that you were ready to slam in his face.

You fought the urge to scoff at the mention of his fiancé and instead nodded, a pleasant smile on your lips and pure hate in your heart.

“Sure. Text me details. I’ve gotta go before this cum running down my leg stains the carpet.”

Paul’s face was priceless. And you had the pleasure of slamming the door in it. You smiled victoriously to yourself. The unexpected visit wasn’t so bad after all.

Your two worlds were getting harder to keep separated. That was apparent after the debacle that just took place. Rio was a significant presence in your life. And it was in more than just a working relationship way. That was obvious now. But were you really ready to let that happen? To let him in? The answer was still no. It would always be no. But sleeping with your boss had to have some benefits. And you were willing to find out exactly what those were. Misery and all.

#rio #rio good girls #good girls rio #rio imagine #rio x you #rio x reader #rio fanfiction #rio fanfic #nbc good girls #good girls nbc

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 3 years

Note

Your riven imagine was amazing! Could write about the reactions of the winx and people in school, with a light fairy from earth being with him, please? Anyways, hope you're ok :)

Come back to me (part 1)

Pairing: Riven x reader

=================================

Ever since Rosalind officially took over Alfea, Y/N had felt her hope dwindling. She’s a light fairy, she thrives surrounded by good. The darkness surrounding her is exhausting, bleeding her dry of all positive emotions.

Belief is when there is no reason to hope, when despair sets in, and yet you hold fast to a certainty that it is worth seeking the light, even if you have never seen it.

“I’m not an asshole without a cause. Trust in me.”

Riven is what Y/N believes in. Despite her better judgement, she can’t help it - she does trust in him. Even though he’s gone down a darker path than she could have imagined.

Seeing Riven as Rosalind’s private guard had been tearing her apart, more so when she saw him locking lips with Beatrix.

‘We’re just friends’, she told herself in order to not hate him for his choices. She told herself all of this is for a reason.

“Ugh, why are you staring at those two freaks”, Stella makes a fake gagging sound, drawing attention of Riven.

He glances at Stella, but his eyes are drawn to Y/N. Swallowing thickly, Riven felt his heart sink at the hurt flickering in her eyes. Exhaling through his nose, he locked eyes with Stella again, unable to bear the heaviness of Y/N’s gaze.

“What are you looking at?” Stella narrows her eyes, making Riven roll his eyes.

“I was about to ask you the same. You do know that beauty isn’t transmittable, right? Staring won’t help fix your face.”

Beatrix snickers at Riven’s snarky remark, enjoying the way Stella’s nostrils flare in rage she’s trying to contain. Y/N shakes her head, disappointed by his behavior.

Is there really any of the old Riven left inside that empty shell of his? He barely looks like the Riven she knew let alone anything else.

“Really, Y/N? This is who you swore is the kindest guy you’ve ever known?” Bloom buts in, glaring at Riven.

“I can introduce you to someone so much better”, Aisha adds only making Y/N’s heart ache.

She doesn’t want anyone else. She wants Riven. She wants the guy who’d hold her hand and tell her everything would be alright. She wants the guy who’d written her love notes and called her Sunshine. She wants the guy who made her smile with a single look, but that’s no longer possible. She sees that now.

Blinking fast, her teeth sink into the soft flesh of her bottom lip before she turns around, rushing off to find a moment alone. She needs a place where she can heave, let out the panic of her realization pass through before she loses control and blinds half the school.

She can feel her heartbeat in her throat as tears rush to her eyes. She was his Sunshine, a ray of light capable of shining through the darkness. She doesn’t feel very light and bright anymore. She feels empty and she feels angry and hopeless and bitter about losing him.

After the storms the sunshine returns, and crying is much the same, so she lets it out, she lets it go. She must.

“Sunshine?” A breathless voice freezes her in place with her hand on her chest.

Looking over her shoulder, she finds the perpetrator of her deepest pain.

“There was hope before. Just a tiny flicker.” Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, she sniffles. “Who are you now?”

“I’m still me. I’m still your Riv.” He steps closer but Y/N recoils.

“You’re not the Riv I know. And you’re certainly not mine.” She can still see his hands all over Beatrix and the flashback makes her sick to her stomach.

“I’ve always been yours, Sunshine.” Riven’s voice breaks and Y/N holds her breath with the sound cracking her sanity.

“How is it you see the suffering and choose to make it all the worse?” Sitting down, she covers her quivering lips.

“I’m not trying to make it worse, I swear”, Riven falls to his knees before her, reluctant to touch her. If he saw her recoil from his touch once again, it would kill him. They were never more than friends, but they were more together than couples who actually dated.

“Trust me”, Riven pleads, his fingers shaking as they make contact with her knees. He lets out a relieved sigh once she allows his hands to rest there.

“Trust goes both ways, Riv”, Y/N looks down to his hands, aching to take them in hers yet she can’t. She’s been itching to hold his hands for a long time now, but that would only give way for more heartbreak.

“I’m the inside man”, Riv admits and Y/N’s eyes widen. “I’m trying to find a way to take them down and get Silva out of prison. Sky knows this. Only Sky.” Shaking his head, Riv sighs, “And now you. No one else can be included, Sunshine.”

“Why didn’t you tell me from the start?” She leans in, her breath tickling his lips as their foreheads meet and they close their eyes. The intensity of the moment set them aflame for they’ve never allowed each other the luxury of such intimate touches. Not in a sexual manner, although Riven wanted her in every way, but in a way where the sound of her voice was enough to make his heart flutter. And he never had his heart flutter.

“I told you to trust me.” Riv defends, making her smile.

“You’re an asshole”, she whispers. She can’t help but wonder if he’ll kiss her, finally. The anticipation is mirrored in her shaky lips and she knows she’s so unprepared, but she longs for him.

“I’m your asshole”, Riven’s nose brushes hers and her heart skips at the notion.

Riven’s hand found the back of her neck, quickly pulling her closer until their lips touched and the words ceased. The kiss barely lasted, managing to take their breaths away in an instant. Y/N surrendered to his touch, losing her senses as his lips brought her heartbeat to the speed of light. Her lips tingled, electricity sparking up throughout her body and her hands clutched to his shirt with all their might as if he could slip through her fingers like sand. He’d been wondering how her rosy lips would taste, never quite sure if it would make any impact on him but from the way his hands tremble with her face in them tucked away safely, he knew he has been bested.

“I wish I didn’t have to leave”, he whispers against her lips before pecking them again, drunk on adrenaline her lips caused.

“Don’t leave then”, she cups his face, holding him close. The simple thought of letting him go pains her. “When you’re gone, I’m stuck in darkness.”

Drawing a deep breath, Riven inches away. Using his hands, he brings her hands down from his face, clinging to the softness of her palms for a moment longer. “Even when I’m with you, I’m darkness that’s consuming you. Sunshine, no matter what happens, I’ll always be bad for you.”

Scoffing, she narrows her eyes ever so slightly, “That should be my choice and I choose you.”

“If you cling to me, I’ll snuff out your light. It’s who I am. I’m the darkness to your light, the night to your day. These kinds of loves don’t have happy endings.” Pressing a kiss to her palm, Riven leaves Y/N in deep thought.

Is it true? Is he her darkness? How much light had he taken already? Because even with that in mind, she wished to be consumed by him entirely.

People say the darkness presses in, but that’s not true. The darkness kisses up to your skin closer than a lover’s lips and whispers excitement into your ears. The darkness becomes your best friend, a second skin that’s flattering and cool. The darkness becomes your favorite thing right up until your exits are blocked, then it has no reason to hide.

If it was easy to spot darkness there wouldn’t be a problem, now would it?

How often do you confuse day and night?

“Riven is my darkness”, she realizes and yet she doesn’t care. She’s light enough for both of them. If he is her darkness, she is his light and while the sun and the moon failed to make it work, Y/N decided to prove everyone wrong, Riven included.

PART 3

#riven fate winx saga #riven x reader #riven imagine #riven angst #fate the winx saga #fate the winx saga fic #fate the winx saga fanfic

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whythinktoomuch · 3 years

Text

i. apocalypse now & then

Kara touched down, her boots meeting the earth with a metallic clunk that was promptly swallowed up in the dust and utter grayness of her surroundings. The warnings came immediately—insistent beeps, bright red numbers and figures flashing before her eyes.

“How’s it looking?” asked the tinny voice in her helmet, and Kara sighed.

“Yeah, you were right. Place is infested,” she said, studying the mess of debris and desolation that seemed to feed directly into the faint horizon in every direction. “Kryptonite readings are off the charts. There’s either a tower nearby, or mines just planted all over. Maybe even both, if i’m Iucky.”

Alex let out a harsh breath. “Look, I know you’re not going to leave until you find those people, but you better watch your fucking back out there, okay?”

“Hm… don’t I always though?”

“You ask that every single time, and every single goddamn time, I have to re-mind you of all—”

“All right, all right…” Kara said, rolling her eyes. “Just stop worrying so loudly already, jeez. I’ll keep you posted the entire time.”

“Like that was ever an option.”

“Love you too,” Kara said breezily, and she began her search.

She explored the area in proportioned sections, slipping periodically into x-ray vision, keeping her feet drifting an inch off the ground at all times. You just never knew these days. By now, Kara had stepped on enough lead-wrapped kryptonite mines for one lifetime, which coincidentally had been the same number of times it took to gray almost the entirety of Alex’s head. Or so Alex claimed anyway.

Apparently, over two decades of this sort of living could do that to a person: make them older, but also, steal away every last bit of their sense of humor.

Whenever Kara happened upon a particularly extensive blind spot—jagged slabs of lead piled on top of each other—she took her time. Carefully sifted her way through all that rubble, with a spare bit of rebar or her heat vision from a safe distance. Calling out to any potential survivors that could have been trapped underneath. But as she steadily neared hour two of her search, it was starting to look like a lost cause. That whoever had sent that distress signal must have since succumbed to the environment, like so many others already had done before them.

Then Kara heard it.

Whipping her head around, Kara strained her ears to their very limit, all the while silently cursing how muffled everything sounded in this godforsaken suit of hers. It took a minute or so to hone in on it, but she finally made out the distant voice.

Help us. Save us. We’re down here.

Kara snapped into action, already hurtling full-speed toward the source of the cry. “Alex, I found them.”

“About fuckin’ time,” Alex said, but the note of relief carried through the speakers loud and clear. It always did, of course, given the scarcity of such a feeling as of late. “All right, get them out of there, and hurry your ass up. You’ve already been out there for too long.”

The voice grew louder and more distinct as Kara approached it, and eventually, she could even distinguish other people in the mix—their whispers, the muted beats of their heart seemingly punctuating every word, and all the shallow breaths of air in between. She counted at least five separate individuals, five more lives that she could potentially save from this impossible landscape.

But by the time Kara reached the point where the voice was sounding from below rather than from the distance, her excitement had all but waned, receded back into the ever present anxiety hanging in the air.

“… Fuck,” she huffed out, staring at the large swathe of broken rock and dirt and twisted metal beneath her, the letter K spray-painted all over the surface in a faded green. “Alex. They’re in a mine-rigged shelter.”

“Forget it then. Just get out of there,” Alex said, all rather predictably. “We can send an extraction team with defusers in the morning.”

“But that’ll take too long,” Kara protested. “It would take days, just for a task force to cover all that distance, and these people need help now.”

“No. I want you to put down a marker and come right the fuck back home,” Alex said. “That’s your last kryptonite filtration suit! If anything happens, if you sustain even the slightest bit of damage out there, you could—”

Kara cut the feed and swiftly locked her comms from all available channels, employing one of the few tips Winn had passed onto her before he died. Because Alex didn’t understand. How could she, when she wasn’t the one who had to listen to these desperate cries for help from people just barely out of reach.

She floated outside the presumed blast radius, planted her feet firmly to the ground, and went to work. Uncovering the buried shelter bit by bit, one sizable mass of charred rubble dug up after the other. It wasn’t easy. The kryptonite in the area, though not exposed, was much too close for comfort even through her suit. And it made the sun hotter, everything heavier, and Kara’s progress as slow as it could possibly be.

But all that—the sweat gathering on her brow, the soreness burning up her lower back—was a very small price to pay when weighed against the lives of at least five people in need. So, Kara kept going. She kept burrowing deeper into the earth with her bare hands, until the sun was but a small twinkle above her head and her fingertips were brushing against a patch of warmed metal.

And she could hear them better now. They were so close.

Kara pressed her palm against what had to be the outer wall of their shelter. “Hey, can you hear me in there?”

“Please help us!” came the frantic response, only somewhat muffled now. “Please get us out! We can’t breathe in here!”

“Okay! Okay… I’m gonna get you out, okay?” Kara shouted back, heart thumping hard in her ears. “Just… hang on.”

A quick once-over was all it took to determine that the wall before her—like most other surfaces nowadays—was naught but a few inches of commercial steel, coated in a thin layer of lead. And as such, all it would to take, of course, to break into such a structure was—THUNK!—a single punch from the Girl of Steel herself.

Kara ripped a hole in the wall, using her heat vision to melt down the edges as she tugged the entire thing apart. Eventually satisfied with her efforts, she was just about to crawl through her rather crude but functional doorway when the speakers in her helmet abruptly flipped back on.

“—him back to life, and just… throttle him for showing you that trick!” Alex was practically hollering in her ear. “Why would you ever need to do that anyway? The whole frickin’ point of the—”

“Whoa, Alex, Alex, it’s fine! I’m fine! Just shh!” Kara hastily cut her off. “I’ve pretty much got my foot in the door already, okay? So, I’m helping these people whether you like it or not.”

“Yeah, you fucking better,” Alex said with a scoff. “I want to look these people in the eye while you explain to me what was so goddamn special about them that you had to…”

And Kara barked out a laugh, shaking her head in wonder as Alex continued to chew her out in a way that only sisters could, apparently. “Hey, you can do whatever you want, okay? Just let me bring them home first.”

“Fine. Just don’t kill the comms this time.”

“Oh, I would never.”

“Kara, I fucking swear to—”

But the rest of all that swearing quickly faded into the backdrop, as Kara finally poked her head into what should have been just another underground refuge from everything their world now had to offer. Because ten feet below from where she had burrowed her way in, was not a handful of dehydrated people waiting to be rescued—only masses upon masses of thick coils and plates of smooth black metal shifting about.

That’s when Kara realized that it’d been quite some time since she’d heard a cry for help. And soon after that was when a muted click! sounded, then somewhere down there in the midst of all that darkness and mechanical movement, came another loop of voices calling out to her.

“Oh shit…” Kara whispered, and at least ten sets of glassy eyes flicked up to stare at her. The pre-recorded voices immediately cut out, and the entire room lit up in a vibrant green as the machines all powered up with a collective hum. “Shit, shit, shit, you were right!”

“Right about what?” Alex demanded, but Kara was too busy heeding her long overdue advice of getting the fuck out there to respond.

Kara burst from the ground in a flurry of dust and clattering scrap metal, already heading for the horizon at full-speed. She needed to put as much distance as possible between her and the decoy shelter. It was nothing short of an honest-to-Rao miracle that her sudden escape hadn’t tripped any of the mines on-site, but now, it was only a matter of time.

Still hurtling away, Kara threw a glance over her shoulder just in time to see the first three drones break through the surface, already mindlessly chasing after her. Then the third and the fourth crashed right on through after them, which abruptly led to a series of rapid beeping, which abruptly led to a violent disturbance in the air that stole away all the sound from the world and knocked Kara right out of the sky.

(next part here)

#sometimes it takes me 2 years to write one sentence #other times i bang out 3k words in one sitting #so here's the first half. the second half will be pt. ii... and will there be a third part? who's to say #my words.

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