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theteasetwrites · 2 years

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The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Chapter 61: Slice of Life

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader ❧ Era: Season 9 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: swearing, slightly steamy, childbirth (!!) ❧ Word Count: 7.7k

❧ In This Chapter: You experience nine months of pregnancy, with vignettes of different events throughout.

❧ A/N: This was such a fun chapter! It comes with a big disclaimer, though—I've never been pregnant before, so I have absolutely no idea what it feels like, but I did ask my mom a lot of questions (lol) so I did get a primary source! I also did some research on pregnancy and the different phases. Other than that, I just had fun with cute little mommy and daddy scenes for Daryl and Reader. There's a really sweet moment at the end between Daryl and the baby, and I can't even begin to tell you how excited I am to start writing for this new character!

Three months pregnant

The children in your class were fascinated by this concept called “pregnancy.”

You explained to them that you would be going away soon, in about three more months, because you were growing a baby inside of you, but beyond that, you weren’t entirely sure how to explain that to five and six year olds.

“Mrs. Dixon,” one child, Jose, asked, “is the baby going to be a boy or a girl?”

You smiled, setting down the chalk you were using to write today’s lesson plan on the board. “Well, it’s a little too early to tell, and I think I’d like it to be a surprise. It’s more fun that way.”

Alexandria had recently found an ultrasound machine, and it was in working order, but you decided it’d be nice to have the baby’s sex be a surprise, and to get ultrasounds without having Siddiq determine the gender.

“Mrs. Dixon?” Gretchen asked. “How did you get a baby in your belly, anyway?”

Great, you thought to yourself. Of course this day would come.

It was beyond your pay grade (which was nonexistent), since kindergarten curriculum didn’t entail the science of sexual reproduction, so you tried answering as simply as possible.

“That’s something you should all ask your parents,” you said, throwing your fellow adults under the bus. After all, you didn’t want to hear the complaints you’d no doubt receive if you gave your students a biologically accurate lesson on the subject, no matter how much you wanted to. The American education system, in your opinion, had always been much too conservative in regards to sex education, but you weren’t going to worry too much about reforming the system now, since you had other problems.

Specifically, heartburn, breast tenderness (the worst you’d had yet), and general fatigue had been doing a number on you these past three months, and Siddiq informed you that it would only get worse, and you’d develop even more discomforts.

Still, you were happy, as happy as you could be while still grappling with the sudden death of Rick Grimes.

Daryl was trying his best, bless his heart. Besides Michonne, Rick’s death hit him the hardest. He used his weekly two-day hunting trips as time to also search the woods for Rick’s body, and to return it to Alexandria for closure. In some hopeful part of his mind, he thought he might even find him alive.

In any case, he still looked, but he kept his promise to you—he stayed.

“How’s the wife?” a fellow Alexandrian, Syd, asked Daryl, aiming his dart at the target on the wall of his “man cave,” where the men of Alexandria seemed to socialize every Saturday night.

It was the same club Daryl had been invited to on his wedding day, and the one he was often reluctant to go to when he was in town and all the guys asked where he was. Finally, after two years of not attending, you and Aaron managed to convince him to go to one gathering.

Daryl watched Syd miss terribly, landing the dart on the outermost ring. “Damnit!” he yelled.

“She’s fine,” Daryl said, taking a big sip of his beer, something homemade one of the other guys, Perry, or something like that, had made.

Louis took his turn next, throwing the dart a bit closer to the target, much to Syd’s dismay. “When my wife was pregnant,” he began, “she started taking epsom salt baths every night because the pain was so bad. And guess who had to lift her out, me!”

The other men laughed at the very bland joke, and Daryl tried to muster a smile.

“Well, you knocked her up,” Tim replied, hitting the white cue ball on the pool table. “That’s the trade off. Woman carries baby, man takes care of woman.”

“And baby,” Manny said. “My wife died three years ago, still got my little boy. (Y/N)’s his teacher, actually. The other day, he came up to me, said Mrs. Dixon wouldn’t tell him how babies are made. She said ‘talk to your parents.’ Well, you can imagine the awkward conversation.”

Daryl nodded, but his mind wandered off, as it usually did when he was around the other men. He liked them enough, but they weren’t his closest friends. Aaron was there, and he was close, practically a brother, but it wasn’t like talking to Glenn or Rick or Abraham…

“You excited to be a dad, Daryl?” Perry asked, patting him on the shoulder, to which Daryl stiffened up. He never liked anyone other than you and a few others touching him.

He swallowed hard and nodded. “Uh, yeah, yeah. Real excited.”

“Daryl’s already building the crib,” Aaron said as he watched the other men play pool.

Syd’s eyes widened. “Wow, handyman. I couldn’t do it, just went out and dragged one home from the store. Assembled it myself, though. That was a bitch. Good idea, building one.”

Daryl shot Aaron an irritated look. He was sure the men would make fun of him for his overeagerness. “Well, could go on a run and get one, but had some extra wood layin’ ‘round from the repairs. Too small to use on the house and too nice to burn.”

The truth was, he just didn’t trust any of the cribs he saw in the stores. He wanted to make one extra sturdy, and ever since he read about sudden infant death syndrome in his book about pregnancy and infancy, he knew he had to make the safest crib known to man.

“He’s being modest,” Aaron said. “Daryl’s got everything figured out for this baby, except the gender.”

The other men laughed heartily, and Daryl’s cheeks reddened at the attention.

“Well, you’re gonna be a great dad,” Perry said, raising his beer to Daryl. “To Alexandria’s newest dad. Welcome to fatherhood, Daryl!”

“Here, here,” the others said, raising their beers.

Daryl just stood there awkwardly, and Aaron nudged him to try to rescue him.

“Hey, Daryl,” he said, then pointed to the dart in Daryl’s hand that wasn’t holding his beer. “Show these assholes what a real archer can do.”

The men all shouted joyfully and encouraged Daryl to shoot. That was one thing they’d all been wanting to see—just how good Daryl Dixon was at darts.

He huffed, and obliged their request by raising his dart and narrowing his eyes, holding the dart there for a few moments before shooting it straight into the bullseye.

The men burst out into celebratory yelps and hollers, while Aaron jumped up and down and let out a triumphant, “Woohoo!” as he hit Daryl playfully on the shoulder. “That’s my brother-in-law!” He was, to put it mildly, very drunk.

Daryl walked Aaron to his home, where you were babysitting Gracie.

“Hey, fellas” you said, sitting on the couch reading your book on pregnancy (you’d read a few by now, just to make sure you were doing everything right for the baby). “How was boys’ night or whatever you call it?”

Aaron flopped himself down beside you and huffed. “It was amazing. Daryl got the craziest bullseye in darts I’ve ever seen. He did like seven of ‘em! Never missed. The guys lost their shit.”

Daryl scratched the back of his neck as you looked up at him with a wide grin. “Good for you,” you said before turning to Aaron, who was already beginning to fall asleep. “And you need to go to bed, lightweight.”

Upon returning home and making sure you were comfortable, Daryl almost immediately took off all of his clothes and tucked himself under the covers next to you.

“Tired?” you asked him.

He allowed his head to sink into his soft pillow. “Yeah. I’m all… drained.”

You hummed and snuggled into his chest. “Sorry, sweetie. It’s good for you to go out, though. I know it tired you out, it tires me out, too, but I was hoping it would help you get your mind off things.”

He grunted in acknowledgment, and let his arm drape over you. “It’s all right. Wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Well, it sounds like those guys were pretty impressed,” you said with a smile. “You know, with your skills.” You absentmindedly traced little circular shapes over his bare chest. “It’s like I always say—you’re a bonafide Robin Hood.”

Daryl hummed, almost drifting off to sleep at the tingling feeling of your gentle fingertips grazing over him, when his eyes shot open, and his brain was firing on all cylinders again.

You flinched a little at his sudden jolt. “That’d be a good name,” he said.

You searched back into your tired mind to understand what he meant. “What, Robin Hood?”

“Nah,” he said. “Jus’ Robin.”

“Oh,” you said, a delirious smile creeping on your face. “Robin… Like, for the baby?”

He nodded his head. “Yeah, Robin. You don’t like it?”

You shook your head. “No, no. I love it, I just… I never thought about it. Robin… For a girl or a boy?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Both,” he said. “Ain’t like we’re gonna know till it comes, and Robin can be both, right?”

“Yes,” you laughed. “That’s perfect.” The more you thought about it, the more you couldn’t believe you hadn’t thought of it first. “Robin Dixon. It sounds nice.”

“It does,” he agreed, turning to his side and pressing his chest against yours. “So that’s our baby, then?” He lowered his hand to rub your belly, the satin of your nightgown creasing with each pass over your increasingly large belly.

“Yes,” you said. “It’s a beautiful name.”

Six months pregnant

Your arms were outstretched on the edges of the clawfoot tub, and the rest of your body sank comfortably into the warm water, except the top of your bump and your breasts, both of which seemed to be growing bigger and bigger by the day.

“Honey?” you called out to Daryl, who was still getting your pajamas ready. He knew how particular you were about which nightgown you wore after baths, but he still struggled to search through every silken slip and cotton frock.

“Yeah?”

“You almost done? Water’s going to get cold.”

He pushed open the door to the bathroom, and approached the bath, kneeling down to check the temperature on the floating baby bath thermometer (in the shape of a rubber ducky, no less).

“Ninety-eight degrees,” he said. “That’s good, right? Siddiq said that’s good?”

You shook your head with a laugh. “It’s perfect. Nothing warmer than a hundred.” Daryl was perpetually terrified of anything happening to you and the baby, and when he mentioned drawing baths for you when your muscle aches got too bad, Siddiq casually informed him that the bath water couldn’t be too hot, lest it “overbake the bun in the oven.”

Daryl took this lighthearted suggestion very, very seriously.

“Get in here, baby,” you said with your doe eyes. “I’m lonely.”

He scoffed as he stood up and began pulling off his clothes. “How in the hell are ya lonely, woman?”

You weren’t lonely, just needy. You couldn’t be lonely, not with all the attention you were getting from not only Daryl, but Aaron, Carol, Siddiq, Maggie, Michonne, Gabriel, Rosita, Bev… Everyone was coming over to check on you, and to bring you things.

Mostly, baked goods and baby gifts (that’s how you got the thermometer).

“I can get all the attention in the world from everybody else,” you said, watching him dip his toes into the water, “but the only attention I need is from my sweet, sensitive husband.”

He grumbled at the intentionally cheesy comment, and kicked his foot a little to splash your face with the water. “Oh, Daryl!” you cried with laughter. “How could you? I’m just a poor, defenseless pregnant woman, carrying your baby, no less.”

He maneuvered himself behind you and scooted you forward so he could wrap his legs on either side of you, then allowed you to slot yourself in front of him, your back snug against his chest.

“You’re milkin’ it now, princess,” he said, leaving tiny kisses all along your shoulder and resting his hands on your tummy.

“Mmm,” you hummed. “Speaking of which, Siddiq said the milk thing is normal.”

Daryl’s eyes widened. “You told him about that?”

He’d been worried sick ever since he saw tiny droplets of yellowish-white appearing to leak from your nipples the other day. From what he read in his pregnancy books (of which he’d read several by now, too), that was usually a sign that the baby was coming soon, and he still had so much to do.

“Relax,” you said, feeling his body tense up behind you. “He said it can start happening around this time. They’re just getting ready.” You grabbed his hands from your belly and moved them up to your tender, swollen breasts, where you encouraged him to massage them.

“Gettin’ ready?” he asked.

“To feed the baby,” you said. “They’re sore… Everything’s sore.” You let go of his hands and sank further into him as he rubbed the sensitive, swollen tissue in circular motions.

He let out a huff, utterly heartbroken that your body was in so much discomfort. As much as he knew about pregnancy now, he still couldn’t comprehend there was a baby inside of you, growing and changing more and more everyday, and putting a lot of pressure on your body, which he was perpetually amazed by.

“Sorry,” he said. “Anythin’ I can do?”

You sighed and closed your eyes, and left a kiss underneath Daryl’s chin. “No, just keep spoiling us,” you said, in reference to you and the baby.

Just then, you felt a sudden pang against the inside of your torso. “Ah!” you yelped, jerking up a bit and causing Daryl to be sent into a panic.

“What’s wrong?!” he asked frantically, bobbing his head from side to side, peering over your shoulders to see what was going on. “Baby ain’t comin’ yet, right?”

You let out a laugh, then turned your head to look at Daryl with the most exuberant expression. “It’s kicking!” you cried, and trailed your hands all over your abdomen to feel where the baby’s feet were. You felt it near your navel, and then felt it against your hand.

“Oh,” you whimpered, your voice shaky and your eyes becoming wet with tears. “Oh, I feel it. Here.”

You took Daryl’s shaky hands in yours again and placed them where you felt the kick. He was quiet for a while, trying to concentrate on his hands against your belly, until he felt the quick burst of pressure.

His eyes widened and he nearly gasped, to which you let out a tearful giggle. “You feel it?”

He nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s our baby?”

“Mhm,” you said. “Robin’s first kick.”

He shook his head. “Thought you were goin’ into labor. Nearly shit myself.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t. It would have ruined our bath.”

Eight months pregnant

You insisted, you pleaded with Bev not to throw you a baby shower.

You already felt spoiled enough, but that woman was intent on doing everything in her power to spoil you even more.

As it happened, Michonne was about seven months pregnant now, with Rick’s baby. You were over the moon when you found out, everyone was, and it was the perfect opportunity for Bev to feel completely justified in a dual baby shower for the simultaneous pregnancies.

Luckily, she took the entire event into her own hands, coming over to your house early that morning and decorating the place from top to bottom, with the help of Eugene, who she dragged along with her.

“This seems a little excessive,” you said, folding your arms as you watched Bev and Eugene hang a banner on either side of the entryway into the living room. Congratulations, Michonne and (Y/N)! it read in Bev’s immaculate cursive writing.

You smiled as you absentmindedly caressed your now very large tummy. “I just hope you didn’t invite everyone in town. You know how Daryl gets. He hates parties.”

Eugene looked at you with his usual serious expression. “Myself and Beverly used great discretion in compiling a list of attendees for today’s festivities,” he said. “I took the liberty of calculating the maximum room capacity for this area by assessing square footage, and I can safely say that we’ve reached an appropriate headcount.”

“In other words,” Bev said, resting a hand on Eugene’s shoulder, “we only invited friends.”

Going by Bev’s statement, you and Daryl must’ve been friends with everyone in Alexandria, and then some.

The whole thing turned out to be a community-wide event, with everyone gathered at your house, seeming to be the most joyful since before the incident at the bridge.

Even friends from the Kingdom, Carol, Ezekiel, Diane, Jerry, and Nabila, came to Alexandria. Things were a little tense with Hilltop after Maggie tried to kill Negan, but that was set aside for the day so she could give her gifts to both you and Michonne.

By the end of the afternoon, you were exhausted, but Bev and Carol stuck around to help you clean up, while Daryl was busy sending home the last of the well-wishers on the porch.

“I couldn’t believe Maggie showed up,” you said as you put away the dishes. “I didn’t think she would, with things between her and Michonne.”

“Well,” Carol said, crossing over to you and bending over to speak to your belly, “I guess this little one is already bringing people together.”

“It took a lot to get her here,” said Bev. “You know, she’s been thinking about joining Georgie’s community, with Hershel.” You’d heard about Georgie—she was an intelligent leader of a community nearby. She helped the Hilltop, giving them food only in exchange for vinyl records.

“Who’d lead Hilltop, then?” asked Carol.

You shrugged. “Maybe Jesus. Aaron’s been talking to him a lot lately, says he’s a valued member of the community there. Has been for a long time.”

“Or maybe Tara,” Bev suggested. “She’s doing a lot there now.”

“All I know is,” you said, “things are changing. Nothing’s as simple as it used to be, but it’s going to work out, whatever happens.”

Carol smiled. “Your optimism has always been… annoyingly optimistic, but I love it more than anything.” She took your hand in hers. “You’re going to be such a good mom.”

You blushed and brushed back your hair. “Thanks,” you said. “Not nearly as good as you, though.”

Carol and Ezekiel had recently taken in Henry, the orphaned boy at the Kingdom, and she couldn’t seem to stop talking about how proud she was of him.

“Oh, please,” Carol replied, nudging your shoulder as she walked past you to put away the wine glasses. “I’m just winging it these days.”

When everyone left, it was just you and Daryl, much to his relief. The sun was beginning to go down and he hadn’t even done any patrols today thanks to the little party Bev decided to throw, and he felt utterly useless. Still, he was happy with the bounty of baby supplies you received, as it eased his nerves about preparing for the baby just a little bit.

He plopped himself down in the rocking chair that evening, watching you fold the miniature baby clothes and delicately organize them into the dresser in the nursery, its walls covered in a lovely wallpaper Daryl had found, with dainty painted robins taking flight. The whole place was decked out at this point, with a myriad of stuffed animals, an assortment of neatly organized storage containers (mostly for diapers), and, of course, a large bookshelf, with painted-on ivy detailing trailing up the sides and an already impressive collection of children’s literature, curated by you, and collected by Daryl, who went on a rather dangerous run to the nearest chain bookstore to find everything on your list, but of course he did find everything.

“You’re exhausted, aren’t you?” you asked, examining the intricate detail on the lace of the baby pink colored miniature dress in your hands, given to you in case the baby was a girl (though you were almost determined to put the baby in it regardless of gender because it was just so gosh darn cute).

He covered his eyes with his forearm. “It that obvious?”

“Mmm,” you hummed. “At least it’s over.” You crossed over to Daryl and tried to gently sit yourself on his lap, but you ended up almost crushing his privates.

“Jesus, woman!” he yelped, flinching a bit and causing you to wrap your arms around his neck in case you lost your balance. “Watch my junk.”

You laughed as he reached his hands down under you to adjust himself, and to make sure your body weight didn’t render his “junk” useless.

“Sorry, sweetie,” you cooed, brushing his soft, brown hair out of his face and placing a kiss on his forehead, to which he closed his eyes and almost let out an audible purr. “Sometimes I forget how heavy I am now.” You looked down at your belly, and he rested his hand there to rub it over your summer maternity dress.

The thin, frilly fabric crinkled under his hand, and he smiled when he felt another little kick. “Damn kid’s a menace in there,” he said. “Kickin’ ya all day.” He lowered his head a bit to speak directly to your bump. He had a habit of doing that, but you didn’t mind, since you talked to it, too. You both read that the baby could hear their parents’ voices, and it seemed like a good way to comfort the child in your womb. “Ya havin’ fun in there, karate kid?” he asked, raising up your dress and tickling your skin.

“Daryl!” you cried, laughing at the feeling of his nimble fingers dancing across your distended abdomen. In appreciation, you massaged his scalp, with the long tendrils of warm, dark hair lacing through your hands.

He rubbed his nose against your belly, then planted a little kiss there, right next to your navel as he held you on his lap. “Yeah, you’re almost ready to come out, huh? You’re gonna love it here.” He looked around the room, and set his sights on the handmade crib he’d just finished a few weeks ago, with a built-in mobile above, complete with tiny stars and stuffed animals hanging from twine strings, and a custom engraving of Robin’s name in the sturdy pine wood. “Everything’s ready.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, looking down at your belly and speaking to Robin. “Daddy did such a good job, putting up the wallpaper in your room and bringing in the furniture.” Daryl scoffed at the flattery. “He’s so excited for you, sweet pea. And I can already tell he’s going to be your favorite.”

He tilted his head at you. “Stop,” he said, but looked at you lovingly.

You giggled and shook your head before cupping his cheeks with your hands and pulling his lips to yours, sharing a passionate kiss and sighing into his mouth. “You better make love to me right now,” you said.

You didn’t have to tell him twice, because before you knew it he was picking you up in his arms and going as fast as he could across the hall into the bedroom, where he pulled off your dress and bra with impressive speed.

He tore off his own shirt and pants before laying himself down and gesturing for you to straddle him (after all, your belly was much too big to have sex any other way now).

You giggled as you maneuvered your awkwardly proportioned pregnant body over Daryl, who guided you with his hands and made sure you were steady above him.

He rested his hands on your stomach, admiring the roundness of it, the faint stretch marks across the base of your belly, the lightly pigmented line forming above and below your navel… It was truly a marvel of nature. Oh, and of course, the breasts. They were bigger. Much bigger, and Daryl couldn’t keep his hands off of them more often than not.

He reached his hands up to cup the engorged tissue, to which you let out a hearty laugh. “Will you ever leave them alone?” you asked.

He hummed and shook his head. “Never. Too perfect to leave alone. Come here.”

Nine months pregnant

You felt a few strong jolts from your belly that warm May morning, each quite far apart and relatively mild, but nothing out of the ordinary, considering you were two days past your due date.

May twenty-third. The date was marked on your calendar in the kitchen, Daryl’s calendar in the garage, and in whatever organizational system your brain used to keep everything in order, except today was May twenty-fifth.

Siddiq informed you that it was nothing to worry about, and that it would only become an issue if you were about two weeks delayed, but overall the baby was healthy according to the ultrasounds.

Still, Daryl insisted upon you staying in bed all day, so you did just that in order to ease his nerves, but you weren’t happy about it.

At least Aaron came to visit you, and brought you a smattering of cheese and crackers, your latest craving.

Your home soon became a revolving door of guests, with Michonne being the latest. The two of you had grown a lot closer since you were the only two current pregnant women in Alexandria, and your babies were only going to be a month apart.

“Here,” she said as she carefully handed you a cup of tea she just made downstairs in the kitchen. “Careful, it’s hot.”

You blew on the steaming beverage, a plume of sweet vanilla and pomegranate scent tickled your nose. “Mmm, thanks. Is Daryl still down there?”

Michonne shook her head as she took a sip of her tea and sat herself on the edge of the bed where you were laying. “He said he’d be right back, he’s getting something from the pantry. I think he said something about paprika.”

You rolled your eyes. Daryl had been trying to perfect his macaroni and cheese recipe for months now, since it was your favorite dish, and he had been experimenting with various spices and different types of cheeses to get the perfect “Dixon family recipe.” The man was born to be a dad.

“I swear, he’s been feeding me so much macaroni that I think I might actually get sick of it.”

Michonne smiled. “Well, he loves you. Besides, I think pampering you keeps his mind off things.”

You nodded sadly, remembering how much Rick’s death affected him, and still affected him. Michonne was right, you’d seen it everyday since then. Daryl needed to keep himself busy, and he loved taking care of you, so it seemed like a perfect balance, but when he went out to hunt, he became entrenched in finding Rick’s body, almost like an obsession. Only you and the baby kept him from retreating into the woods for an indefinite period of time.

“I worry about him sometimes,” you admitted. “I want him to grieve but I just hope he can come back from this.”

“He will,” Michonne said. “I will, too. Just… It takes time, that’s all. But he’s got you, and little Robin…” She lightly patted your tummy. “He’s going to have a lot to keep him busy.”

You giggled a little, then felt a sudden twinge in your stomach, that didn’t end abruptly like the others you’d been experiencing that day. You spilled a little of your tea as you tried to put the cup on the nightstand, and you sat up to grab your belly.

Michonne rose to her feet in a panic. “(Y/N)?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

You grimaced in pain at the sharpness that was so much more intense than what you’d felt yet, like getting the wind knocked out of you but multiplied by a thousand, and the worst menstrual cramps imaginable thrown in for good measure.

“Nothing,” you said with a shake of your head. “Probably just more Braxton-Hicks contractions or whatever. I’ve been having them all day. I’m fine.”

Suddenly, you let out a pained yelp of surprise at the more intensified contraction, a piercing, searing pain in your abdomen.

“Oh, shit,” you muttered. Michonne moved quickly to throw the several layers of blankets Daryl had tucked you in with to the side.

She moved you over a bit to see if you were leaking, and sure enough, your water had begun to break, with a small puddle forming on the sheet below you.

Michonne looked up at you seriously, as you grimaced in abject pain. If this was just the very beginning of your labor contractions, you had a big storm coming.

“We’ve got to get you to the infirmary,” she said. “I think you might be going into labor.”

You nodded frantically, and began to swing your legs over the side of the bed, though they felt twenty pounds heavier.

“Oh, Jesus,” you murmured, holding your belly in place as if you were going to lose it somehow. “Michonne…” you said with a terrified quiver in your voice.

She cupped your face in her hands and pushed your messy hair back. “It’s going to be fine,” she said. “Come on, I’ll help you get there.”

She wrapped her arm around your back and hoisted you up with her, to which you let out another pained groan from the feeling of your body straightening as you rose.

Michonne led you out of the bedroom and down the stairs, a triumph in itself as you could hardly even walk with the pain of each step. Luckily, Daryl had prepared a little tote bag full of baby supplies and things to make you comfortable by the door for this exact situation, and Michonne grabbed it by the handles on the way out and slung it over her other shoulder.

Opening the door, the two of you stumbled rather inelegantly towards the infirmary across the street. It was immediately obvious to the people who saw you that you were going into labor, and several Alexandrians looked at you in secondhand panic, including Aaron, who immediately ran to your other side and helped Michonne shoulder the burden of guiding you (with his good arm, of course).

“Where’s Daryl?” he asked, looking between you and Michonne.

You only groaned in agony, unable to speak as you concentrated on keeping your cool until you got to the infirmary.

“He went to the pantry a few minutes ago,” she said. “He hasn’t come back yet.”

Aaron nodded. “Can you let him know? I got this from here. Tell him we’ll be at the infirmary.”

Michonne lifted herself from your arm and gave you a knowing look. “You got this,” she simply said before beginning to fast walk in the direction of the pantry.

Aaron wrapped his arm around your waist and continued guiding you, until Siddiq appeared in the doorway of the infirmary and quickly wheeled out a wheelchair.

“Thanks,” Aaron panted, helping you in the wheelchair all the while.

“This just happen?” Siddiq asked, opening the door for Aaron to push you inside.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I think so. Is she giving birth?”

You let out the loudest groan yet, accompanied by a hiss of pain through your clenched teeth as you threw your head back with tightly closed eyes.

Siddiq looked up at Aaron. “Yep.”

Daryl dropped three containers of paprika on the floor of the pantry, causing a reddish-orange dust to accumulate there, surely leaving a stain.

“Where is she?” he asked. “The infirmary?”

Michonne nodded, and Daryl moved past her before realizing Michonne was heavily pregnant, too. “You okay?” he asked with a huff.

Michonne shook her head in slight amusement. “Go.”

Daryl nodded and bolted down the street, with several Alexandrians immediately moving out of the way of the famously irritable bowman.

He burst through the doors of the infirmary, causing Siddiq and Aaron to flinch at the sound, while you puffed and grimaced at the pain. He looked around frantically for you. “(Y/N)?” he called out, to which Aaron responded.

“In here!”

Daryl moved quickly down the hall of the suburban home turned doctor’s office until he reached the room he had heard Aaron’s voice from, as well as a series of moans and groans he knew all too well.

“(Y/N),” he panted when he saw you on the bed, already dressed in a hospital gown and with your legs spread apart, and Aaron sitting by your side holding your hand.

Daryl rushed over to you, immediately taking your other hand in his and looking up at Siddiq for answers.

“She’s been in labor for a while now, about twelve hours.” Daryl’s eyes widened. He knew early labor could go unnoticed, and it made sense that you might’ve even been asleep while your first contractions started, but it still blew his mind that you hadn’t told him just how bad the contractions were.

“Is that bad?” he asked nervously.

“No,” Siddiq replied. “It’s actually quite normal. She’s just transitioning into active labor now, so she’s dilated to six centimeters. Once she gets to ten, she can start pushing.”

You blew a raspberry and threw your head back. “I hate this,” you said.

“You’re doing great, (Y/N),” said Aaron.

Daryl squeezed your hand tightly and sat down on the provided chair. “How ya feelin’?”

You looked at him with a tired face, but smiled a little, delirious from the pain of your increasingly intense and close together contractions.

“Never better,” you said. “Our baby’s coming.”

Daryl smiled. “I know.” He raised your hand and kissed your palm. “You’re a superwoman.”

You rolled your eyes. “Hardly. These contractions are getting bad. Now I know what my mother was complaining about.”

“Yeah, and she had an epidural,” Aaron said. “You’re going all natural.” Not by choice, of course. If you had access to an epidural, you would’ve gladly taken it, but alas, the apocalypse made for less than state-of-the-art medical treatment, but it was enough to get you through the labor.

“Yeah, well—uh!” You bent your head down a bit as you struggled through the next contraction. You were starting to get better at handling them, but they were also getting worse and worse. “Oh, Christ!” You cried through clenched teeth.

Daryl leaned forward a little and held your hand tighter. He exchanged a terrified look with Aaron, who was keeping his cool a little better than Daryl, but equally as frightened of complications in the labor.

Still, Siddiq seemed confident everything would go smoothly. “Breathe,” he told you. “Blow, in and out.”

You nodded with your eyes shut tightly, then focused on breathing and blowing out your breaths steadily.

The next four hours passed with similar bouts of long, closely spaced contractions, with brief periods of rest in which you became less and less talkative as the energy began to drain from you.

Daryl was by your side the entire time, only leaving you to pace around the room in a worried panic, but always within a close distance. He and Aaron were the only ones allowed in the room, though Bev and Michonne were waiting outside, with four year old Judith on the latter’s lap all the while.

When Siddiq gave the go-ahead to start pushing, you felt a cocktail of emotions—excitement, terror, bewilderment, agony, and a hint of relief that the pain would be over soon, and you’d be able to hold your precious baby.

“Push!” cried Siddiq, situated at the end of the hospital bed, looking between your legs and watching for the first signs of the baby’s head.

You let out the loudest scream you thought you’d ever had, pushing hard and feeling an agonizing stretch as the contractions came in succession now. You felt the sweat from the warm early summer air beading on your forehead and dripping down your face, reddened and contorted from the straining.

“Shiiittt!” you screamed. “Get this thing out of me!”

Aaron wiped your brow with a cool washcloth, but you couldn’t even feel anything as you concentrated on pushing, not even the immense pressure you were putting on Daryl’s hand, which he was sure had fractured a bit, though he couldn’t focus too much on that either.

“Almost there!” Siddiq yelled over your deep, guttural groans. “I can see the head. Keep pushing, (Y/N). You’re doing great.”

You nodded with your eyes squeezed shut, and pushed again until you heard the unmistakable sound of a baby coughing as it gasped for air.

Daryl’s eyes widened and he squeezed your hand tighter. “Keep goin’, sweetheart,” he said to you, surprising even himself by using such a pet name in public. “Almost there.”

Aaron grabbed your other hand for the last push, as Siddiq informed you that you only needed one more to get the baby out. That last push came with a hearty grunt and a short, but very loud, scream as you delivered your baby, and it practically popped out of you and into Siddiq’s hands.

You threw your head back in exhaustion from the strain of pushing yourself so hard, but soon your senses returned to you as you heard Siddiq’s proclamation.

“It’s a girl!” he said.

You raised your head and smiled deliriously, tears of joy and pain streaming down your red face. “A girl!” you cried, watching in awe as Siddiq held up your baby, who was crying profusely and wiggling her little limbs, her entire body covered in liquids from the womb and her umbilical cord still attached to you.

“Oh, she’s beautiful!” you exclaimed.

Daryl couldn’t even think, but was relegated to staring in fascination at the crying infant, who was quickly handed over to you after a brief cleanup, umbilical cord still intact as Siddiq wanted to wait a few minutes before separation.

The baby squirmed and cried in your arms, and felt so light and warm against your chest. You couldn’t see much of her features since her crying face was so contorted, but she was so beautiful, just because she was your baby, yours and Daryl’s.

Daryl hovered over your shoulder, watching the baby’s miniature fingers curl around your index finger as she began to calm down slightly. He moved his hand to her head where he delicately caressed her face.

“Hi,” you said through happy tears to the oblivious infant. “I’m your mommy… This is Daddy. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Aaron cleared his throat as he hovered over your other shoulder, looking down at his niece and trying to hold back his own tears. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

You laughed and angled the baby so she could see Aaron as she began to open her cloudy little eyes. “This is your uncle, Aaron. He’s a dork.”

Aaron scoffed with a grin. “Speak for yourself.”

Daryl couldn’t hold back his tears any longer as he continued looking down at the baby. He felt so overwhelmed, so beyond belief with the life he found himself living. If you had asked him five years ago where he thought he’d be today, his answer would be whatever the polar opposite of this moment was. Certainly, he never thought he’d be looking at his baby, a baby he made with the love of his life, but that’s where he was now, and the tears rolling over his cheeks reflected that.

“Say hi,” you said to him with a sniffle, nudging his shoulder with yours.

He cleared his throat and wiped away his tears. “H-hi, Robin,” he said softly, as if not to spook the new human. “It’s me, your dad.” He brushed over the baby’s cheek with his index finger, as gentle as one would caress a flower’s delicate petals. “It’s good to meet ya.”

Shortly after introductions, Siddiq invited Daryl to clamp and cut the cord, as he assessed now was an appropriate time. He was nervous to cut it, but he knew from his readings that it didn’t hurt the baby at all since it had no nerve endings, so it went quite smoothly, with Siddiq patting him on the back in congratulations shortly after.

You delivered the placenta about thirty minutes later, which was a much easier delivery, though still rife with contractions. It didn’t really matter, though, since you held your baby close, now wrapped up in her pale green plush blanket and staring up at you with sleepy, blinking eyes that already seemed too curious for her own good.

With everything cleaned up and your bleeding under control, Siddiq allowed the others to trickle in, and before you knew it, you were surrounded by friends and family—Michonne, Bev, Eugene, Gabriel, and Rosita. The only person you were missing, aside from the myriad of other people who had passed away you wished could be there, including your own father, and even your mother, was Rick. Still, it felt like home.

“She looks… exactly like Daryl,” said Rosita, looking down at Robin for the first time as you held her.

Daryl looked up at her with furrowed brows. “What? No.”

Rosita crossed her arms over her chest and grinned mischievously. “Yeah, she totally does. Right?” she asked the others.

Michonne shook her head and laughed, as you looked up to her, waiting for her verdict. “I’ve got to say,” she began, “Robin Dixon is definitely a Dixon.”

“She has your eyes,” Gabriel said to Daryl. “And your nose.”

Everyone laughed, except Daryl, who was once again entranced by the newborn as he studied her features.

Surely, it was too early to tell, but she did resemble him in many ways already, and she certainly had Daryl’s eyes—deep-set and cerulean blue. Still, she had your lips, plump and sweet, and the fascination and curiosity in her eyes certainly didn’t come from her father.

“She’s beautiful,” he said. “Just like her mother.”

The others let out a teasing “aw,” to which Daryl cleared his throat and tried to maintain his “masculinity,” despite feeling like he could break into a million pieces with how emotional he was.

“So what’s her middle name?” asked Aaron.

You exchanged a look with Daryl. “Well, we haven’t really talked about it much. We thought we’d decide when we knew the sex.” You cradled her tightly in your arms, unwilling to let her go if your life depended on it. “I was thinking… maybe naming her after someone.”

Daryl nodded. “Who’d you have in mind?”

You shrugged, looking down at Robin as she kicked her little legs beneath the blanket, and danced her hand around languidly in the air. She seemed so full of wonderment and enthusiasm, the likes of which reminded you of one young girl you once knew, whom you met on a little farm in Georgia.

“Maybe Elizabeth,” you said. “After Beth, you know.”

Michonne smiled sweetly, remembering the girl with a nostalgia for times gone by. She was the only other one among you who knew her well, Rosita and Eugene had only seen her limp dead body. Michonne knew her exuberance, her brightness. So did Daryl, and so did you.

“Robin Elizabeth Dixon,” said Bev. “That has a nice ring to it.”

The rest of your day was spent in the infirmary, sleeping. You hated to give up the baby after you breastfed her for the first time, but you couldn’t hold her while you were asleep, so you gave her to Daryl for the first time, and he held her so delicately for fear of breaking her, but he could already tell just how strong she was.

Siddiq informed you after her checkup that she was exceptionally healthy, at seven pounds and three ounces, and twenty-one inches in length. She was already quite active, too, kicking and showing interest in moving objects.

You chalked it up to Daryl’s incessant doting on you throughout your pregnancy, making sure you got the right nutrition for you and the baby, but Daryl just thought she was naturally the perfect child.

As he rocked her back and forth in his arms, wrapped up tightly in her floral patterned swaddling blanket and wearing a homemade knit beanie on her head (gifted by Bev), she seemed to look up at him curiously, with her blue eyes becoming clearer and clearer by the minute. He brought his hand up to gently poke the tip of her nose, which did, upon further inspection, seem to resemble his.

When he began to slowly pull his hand away, Robin clasped his index finger in her hand, and looked nearly cross-eyes as she examined it, her much tinier fingers wrapped around it.

He grinned widely and chuckled a little, though quietly as he tried not to wake you. You were already mumbling a lot in your sleep, though, which indicated to him that you were in deep sleep, and that he could speak to the baby a little.

“I’m gonna make a promise to ya right now,” he said quietly, looking down at her as his vision became clouded with tears. She stirred a little, cooing in her high-pitched little voice as he spoke, almost as if she recognized his voice, gruff and scratchy, but somehow soft and comforting at the same time. “I’m never gonna let anything bad happen to you or your momma. You’re gonna have a better life than I ever did, and I’m gonna make damn sure that no one ever hurts you. I’ll never hurt ya. I’ll keep you safe like a dad’s supposed to, make sure you never go hungry, that you always have a roof over your head. You’re my baby, and I love you.”

He held that little girl all night long as you slept soundly, and soon she fell asleep, too, occasionally kicking in her sleep and making little noises that seemed to mirror yours. She already had so many little idiosyncrasies that only could have come from you, the strangest person Daryl had ever met.

You weren’t strange because of anything you did or said, rather, you were strange to Daryl because of how much you loved him. It seemed beyond the realm of possibility for anyone to love him the way you did, and for a long time, he didn’t think that kind of thing was meant for him. You were strange to Daryl simply because he couldn’t figure out what you saw in him, but now, looking down at his child, he seemed to come to terms with the fact that he was meant to be here, that he deserved this life, a happy life, just as much as the next person, that life itself, not unlike you, was quite strange, and very, very beautiful.

Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs of any kind are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter ➳

✏ Taglist

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead headcanons #the walking dead fanfic #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #twd #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfic #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus x reader #the beginning series

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chippedaxe · 3 years

Note

Hi, how are you? You literally write so well. Can i pls request Karl trying to get the female reader pregnant maybe? Like they were both talking about it and they say that they're reader and Karl literally just gets to work lmao also dom! Karl pls?

┌─────━┿──┿━─────┐

Title: Baby Making

Warnings: NSFW (Minors DNI), cursing, breeding, pregnancy mentions, no protection, sub reader, pet names?, hair pulling, praising, soft sex

Pronouns: She/her Afab

Synopsis: The reader gets bred by Karl Jacobs.

Word count: 1.5k

Note: I don’t know a lot about pregnancy tbh, I’ve never been pregnant before.

- idk if this story actually makes sense, I didn't proof read (or edit)

*I'm good ty for asking (and ty for the compliment) ! Altho i wrote this when my fingers were cold :(

└─────━┿──┿━─────┘

You sat across the room from your loving boyfriend, twiddling your thumbs together as you tried to think about what to say next. You had no idea how to bring this concept up with him, you felt as if he wouldn’t be ready and would shut you down and you were worried as fuck. Karl leaned back in his chair and sighed “I know something’s on your mind, you wanna spit it out baby?” he asked you with a hushed voice.

“Y- yes actually, I’ve been wanting to bring this up with you for some time now but uh.. I just could never find the right words..” you lowered your head and tried to figure it all out “Oh uh- this isn’t gonna be something bad is it? I promise I’ll be better- If this is about my reluctance towards my chores than I swear I’ll drop it!” he exclaimed “No- no!” you couldn’t help letting out a little laugh at his silliness.

“Karl darling, I love you so so much.. And I was thinking..” you glanced away from him. “You were thinking what, sweetheart?” Karl got up from his chair and walked over to you, grabbing your hands and forcing you to look him in the eyes “Oh don’t look at me like that Karl!” your face heated up and you pushed him away gently. “Like what?” he smiled at you and you smiled back, many thoughts rushing through your head as you knew exactly what you wanted.

“I want a family with you.” you had finally blurted it out, lost in Karl’s eyes as you stared back at him. “You want what?” Karl was taken back “I want a baby- is that too much? I can wait if you’re not ready..” you started to apologize “I didn’t mean to make you-” he stopped your talking by shutting you up with a kiss “Of course I want that! I’d love to have little me’s running around- I just never would’ve thought that you’d.. You know..” he blushed a bit.

“You never thought I’d what?” you teased “I never thought you’d actually bring it up! I thought the thought of pregnancy would terrify you!” Karl explained “It did at first but then I saw how happy other couples were with their children and I just knew that was what I wanted..” you reached out and cupped Karl’s face “You mean the family we saw yesterday at the supermarket? I thought the same thing..” Karl leaned in and kissed your face all over.

“No matter what gender our baby is- I want them to have a gender neutral name” Karl explained “Of course if you had a specific name in mind then I wouldn’t care but-” he shrugged “Anything is fine with me, I love you” you wrapped your arms around him and brought him into a tight hug. “So- we should get started then, huh?” Karl whispered in your ear, you didn’t have much time to process what he’d actually said until you replied with “Yeah- we should.”

Your clothes were torn off in a matter of seconds, underwear thrown somewhere on the floor and your bra nowhere to be seen. “Oh wow!” you gasped as Karl towered over you “This okay? You want me to go slower?” Karl asked you but you shook your head “I love this new energy in you!” you smiled up at him “yeah, you do?” he leaned down and placed a quick kiss on your lips. You leaned your head back onto the pillows and then smiled in delight as you watched Karl slip his shirt off, tossing it behind him and then working his way to getting his belt undone.

Karl unbuckled his belt and began to pull at it, keeping eye contact with you every moment as he got undressed. You lowered your eyes and watched him take off his belt, noticing a very noticeable bulge growing in his pants. Karl straddled your body, legs on either side of you as he began to kiss your body. He nipped and sucked on the soft parts of your skin, hands rubbing up your sides and groping your soft mounds of flesh.

You squirmed a bit, writhing in pleasure and pure bliss. Karl kissed down your neck, biting it gently every so often just to keep your attention. Karl’s hands groped your breasts, fingers pinching your soft nipples “ah..” you gasped. Karl licked them, leaving his warm saliva on your nipples and watching them harden as the air grew colder.

"Oh this is new.." you smiled "Gotta get used to this, hun" Karl winked back at you. Your hand flew to his head, fingers running through his brown locks, tugging a bit on accident when your fingers found a knot in his hair "ah-" Karl let out a soft moan. "Oh you like that, do you?" you grinned as you repeated your action and pulled his head back away from your chest.

Karl bit his lip as he stared at you, admiring your face and body with his eyes. "Oh you're so gorgeous, darling" he jumped on top of you and pressed his lips against yours, teeth grazing against your lip as he was desperate to get his tongue in your mouth "mm-calm down!" you gasped as his desperation. He had never been so hungry for you in his whole life.

Karl grabbed your hips, sliding his hands down to squeeze and grope at your thighs. His tongue glided around the inside of your mouth, the sensation making you groan and clench your thighs together. Karl slapped your leg at your reaction, causing you to jolt a bit and open them back up again. Karl pulled away for a moment "Keep them open, love" he told you before going back in for another kiss full of heat and passion.

Your hands found themselves sliding up Karl's chest and feeling his warm skin. You pulled your head off Karl to breathe, huffing and puffing while trying to catch your breath "Breathless already? But we've only just begun, Darling do you need a break?" Karl rubbed your back gently and looked you in the eyes.

"I'm fine, baby- just finding it hard to keep up with your fast pace!" you admitted "I can get a bit carried away- should I slow down?" he asked again "no way! And if you ask again then I'm gonna slap you!" you joked around "And what if I want you to?" he smirked. You met his smart remark with a slap, stunning him for a moment "oh you sure are strong, darling- I hope our child is as tough as you.." he leaned in.

"I hope they're as caring as you, my love" you caressed his cheek and nuzzled his face. Karl started to massage your thighs gently as you two longingly gazed at each other, his hand somehow finding its way between your legs and rubbing your clit gently. "mm.." you hummed in pleasure, feeling yourself melt away in his touch. "This feel good, hun?" Karl asked "very." you gave him a quick kiss.

You slid your legs open a little wider so Karl could slide in between them "Think you're ready for me, darling?" Karl asked "Always ready for you, my love.." you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him again. You nipped at Karl's bottom lip in surprise as he suddenly thrust inside of you "Oh I'm so sorry, dear!" you apologized "Don't worry, just kiss it better" he smiled and kissed you again.

You kissed him a lot, you couldn't help it, his face was too adorable to be left unkissed! Karl's cock stretched against your walls, your vagina squeezing around him "ah- that feel's so good.." you grasped onto his shoulders and yelped when Karl suddenly pushed himself in deeper. His cock head was prodding deep inside of you, the sensation making you squirm "feel's weird- and good" you exclaimed.

"Where? Here?" he asked as he kept rubbing up against that certain spot, making you wiggle around on the bed "Darling. Stay still" Karl sighed and pinned you down. Your hands came off of Karl, now gripping onto the blankets to try and keep you from moving around too much.

"Love- I think I'm gonna cum. Are you ready for this?" Karl placed a hand over yours, looking deep into your eyes "Y-yes- I'm ready!" you nodded your head. Karl burst his load inside of you, his hot seed coating the inside of your vagina and leaking out a bit down your legs "oops- looks like we're gonna have to fill you up again, what do you say?" Karl smiled sweetly. You groaned and leaned back on the bed "Round 2 it is." you replied as you got comfortable, you were gonna be here a while.

#karl jacobs x reader smut #karl jacobs smut #c!karl jacobs smut #c!karl smut #dream smp x reader smut #dreamsmp smut #dsmp smut #dream smp smut #dsmp x reader smut #dreamsmp x reader smut #mcyt smut #mcyt x reader smut #tw pregnancy #cw pregnancy

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novoaa1writes · 3 years

Text

candles

image source

pairing(s): dark!wanda maximoff x reader

summary:

you’ve been feeling strange for the past month, particularly when it comes to dating.

you do your best to ignore it, thinking it’ll resolve itself on its own—given time, that is.

it doesn’t.

(and it’s got everything to do with wanda.)

[also available on ao3]

word count: ~5,300

rating: mature

warnings: dark!wanda, NON-CON spanking (with a belt), NON-CON BDSM play, mental manipulation, partial mind control, emotional manipulation, mental coercion, trauma bonding, toxic dynamics, drinking, possessive!wanda, non-con mind-reading, vandalism, adultery (not in reference to you or wanda), brief instances of slut-shaming

notes: [requested by anon] reader’s sexuality isn’t explicitly stated, but ex-partners of different genders are referenced/mentioned

— —

wanda uses a couple bulgarian terms of endearment for reader here, so below is a lil’ list in the order of which they appear.

*note: all of these are exactly one letter away from being precise matches to synonymous terms in russian. HOWEVER, the bulgarian alphabet and the russian alphabet are different—granted, in fairly minor ways. for one, while both are comprised of cyrillic lettering, russian has 33 while bulgarian only has 30.

— —

You have no fucking clue what’d gotten into you.

One moment, things were fine—good, even. And the next… well.

You’ll explain.

It was something like 11:30 on a Saturday night, and you were drunk.

Well, not drunk. More like buzzed.

But whatever, right? Considering the week you’d had, you deserved to let loose, even if only for a night.

Monday night saw a very angry and decidedly unhinged soccer mom banging on your door, screeching vehemently about the ‘two-faced slut’ who ruined her marriage and demanding to be let in so that she could ‘make her sorry.’ Turns out, the older guy your roommate had been sleeping with as of late was married—not that he’d bothered to share that particular bit of information with her, obviously.

The two of you spent the better part of the evening barricaded inside, passing a bottle of cheap wine back and forth while trying to explain to the 911 operator that you weren’t messing around, that there really was an angry soccer mom on your doorstep and you were actively fearing for your safety.

She eventually left around 10:00pm—no thanks to the police, since the 911 operator hadn’t even bothered to give them a call. It wasn’t until the next morning when you left for work that you saw the woman’s parting gift to the pair of you: the word ‘HOMEWRECKER’ spray-painted across the front door in obnoxious red lettering.

Bye-bye, security deposit.

That same night, you made your roommate promise to start dating people in a similar age range—because really, the both of you were stressed enough as it was without worrying about coming in between yet another middle-aged couple’s dying marriage.

The rest of the week wasn’t much better.

On Thursday, your balding creep of a boss had made yet another blatant pass at you in the workplace, making you seriously consider (and not for the first time) the prospect of just quitting and being done with it.

Then, at shit o’clock on a Friday morning, you awoke to an urgent phone call informing you that an ex of yours (one you were actually on semi-decent terms with) had gotten into a fairly serious car accident, and still had you marked down as her emergency contact.

30 minutes later found you showing up at the hospital just moments after your ex’s current girlfriend had arrived, which then prompted the whole ‘you still being your ex’s emergency contact’ revelation when the current girlfriend demanded to know what you were doing there, which ended up being… well, you’ll just say it wasn’t pretty, and leave it at that.

And your ex was going to be completely fine, anyways. She just had some minor cuts and abrasions, and would need to undergo a fairly minor (read: minimally invasive) surgery over the next couple days.

Before leaving, you instigated a quick check-in with the doctors to ensure they had everything they needed—which then turned into you providing a list of allergies, as your ex wouldn’t likely be conscious for another couple of hours, and apparently the current girlfriend didn’t know of her sensitivities to penicillin and phenobarbital… which the current girlfriend was less than happy about, if the daggers she glared at you were any indication.

Whatever. You were just trying to help.

You thanked the doctors, told them to feel free to call you if anything went awry, then asked if they might tell your ex to call you when she awoke. You thought about offering some words of comfort to the current girlfriend as she sat vigil at your ex’s bedside, but the murderous glower she shot you the moment you got within ten feet of her was more than enough to make you think better of it.

With that, you left.

So… yeah. It’d been a shitty week.

And now, here you were: a girls’ night out at the lively nightclub you and your roommate had scoped out just last weekend, tossing back $12 cocktails and letting the trashy EDM beat blaring over the speakers drown out the rest of your thoughts.

You’d been feeling a little weird all week—all month, really.

As far as you were concerned, this was exactly what the doctor had ordered.

So, when a cute guy wearing black jeans and a white T-shirt that was at least a couple sizes too big yet did well to compliment his well-muscled torso came up to you and started chatting you up at the bar, you didn’t blow him off.

The exact opposite, in fact.

He was nice, and funny, and had a gorgeous smile that made your chest feel warm for reasons that had nothing to do with the alcohol. When he flirted with you, you flirted right back.

You felt a little guilty for doing so, though you couldn’t exactly put a finger on why that was. Either way, you didn’t allow yourself to dwell on it for very long.

After all, you’d been feeling hints of that for the past month, if not longer. It seemed to happen whenever you flirted with a cute guy, or went out on another Tinder date with a pretty girl, or even hugged one of your close friends.

You’d get this painful tightening sensation in your gut, nausea roiling in your abdomen… a distant, lofty voice in your head telling you that this was wrong, that you already belonged to someone else.

Which was pointless, really. Stupid.

You were single.

Your last serious relationship (barring the one with your now-hospitalized ex-girlfriend) had been over seven months ago with an eccentric guy named Lukas. He was kind, well-meaning… a bit of a dork at his very core, but you always found that more endearing than anything else. You’d dated him for four and a half months before deciding to break it off; because as much as you cared for him and enjoyed being around him, you didn’t love him, and you knew by then that you never would.

You thought about him, from time to time—even missed him now and again.

And yet, the strangest thing about the shameful feeling you’d get whenever your roommate so much as brushed a friendly kiss up against your cheek—it had absolutely nothing to do with Lukas.

You didn’t know how you knew that, but you did.

Whatever.

This guy was not Lukas.

His name was Des—short for Desmond, you learned over your fourth sugary-sweet cocktail of the night. He was charming and slightly foul-mouthed, but conscientious and passably polite where it mattered. He didn’t grope your ass or stare at your tits, nor did he make any lewd commentary about your body in any capacity.

He also smelled… really good, like Old Spice and spearmint gum and the barest hint of cigarette smoke.

That was more than enough for you.

(Whatever, alright? Decent guys were in short supply these days.)

You smiled and let him buy you another drink, even after you’d insisted that he really, really didn’t have to. And when an obnoxious pop song with a beat that was far more catchy than you’d have liked to admit came over the speakers, you let him coax you out to the dance floor with minimal resistance.

It was… fun. You liked the way his hands rested on either of your hips—gentle, almost careful; holding you like he understood he didn’t have a right to your body, like he was more than content that you allowed him this to even think of demanding any more.

Despite the twinges of guilt flaring in your gut, you let yourself get a little more comfortable… dancing closer and closer to him amidst a packed crowd of writhing bodies, letting your breasts graze up against his chest.

It was teasing—provocative, even. A test, of sorts—one that Des passed with flying colors.

He didn’t do a thing to rush you, just kept dancing across from you with his hands on your hips and his darkened gaze on yours—seeming fully content to let you set the pace for the moment. And God, but the way he was looking at you… patient but eager, like he wanted nothing more than to crush your body against his own and grind himself into you like an animal—and yet, still, he held himself back.

You couldn’t help but find that attractive as hell.

Looping your arms around his neck, you let your body to press flush against his as you swayed to the beat of the song, not shying away from the slight stiffness you could feel growing against your hip.

That guilty, nauseous feeling in your gut pulled tighter.

You ignored it, and, when he leaned a little closer to shout over the deafening music, “Would it be alright if I kissed you?”... well.

You wasted absolutely no time in lunging up on the tips of your toes to capture his lips in a messy open-mouthed kiss, the strobe lights of the club fading into obscurity around you. His lips were warm and gentle against yours—tentative, at first, until you pressed a little harder and traced the seam of his lips with your tongue… and, yeah; that did the trick.

A moment later, his lips parted to let out a quiet groan directly into your mouth as he began to reciprocate in earnest, setting every nerve ending on your body alight with electrifying want.

And that’s when it happened.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a twisted sort of clarity hit you square in the chest—slowly, and then all at once.

The next bits were something of a blur.

You tore yourself away from Des, turned to forcibly elbow your way through a floor of grinding bodies. You thought you heard him call out your name, and more than a couple people on the dancefloor turned to glare at you as you rudely brushed past them without care—but, whatever.

You texted… someone, telling them you were headed back to the apartment, so they shouldn’t bother waiting up. The group chat, maybe?

And now… Now.

Before you can blink, the past crashes into the present, and you find yourself back outside in the pitch-black night.

It’s dark… chilly. A brisk wind catches you the moment you stumble out onto the sidewalk, assaulting every inch of your exposed skin like scores of needles piercing your flesh. You whimper, shudder, and hug your arms around your body—trying to warm yourself back up like a scared little kid who forgot their jacket.

For the first time that night, you regret the tiny black babydoll dress you’d chosen to wear for the evening—and that’s not even to mention the four-inch heels.

It’s miserable, to be sure, but you can hardly focus on it for very long.

No, you have to go somewhere. You feel sick, and cold, and wrong in a way you’re loath to even begin explaining to anyone else.

And your head… you’re positively aching for something—someone to make this better.

You need… Wanda.

Yes, Wanda is the person you’re looking for. She can make all of this better.

You don’t know why, but you’re sure of it. You just need to find her. Hopefully she’s spending the night in her apartment on that super cozy sofa of hers, drinking hot chocolate and binge-watching something on Netflix like the two of you did a couple weeks back.

A fond grin curves your lips at the recollection as you stumble off down the sidewalk, headed for the nearest subway station.

Another wintry gust of wind hits you square in the chest, and you pinch your forearm hard, silently willing yourself to focus.

The station should be less than a block down, if you’re remembering correctly.

At the next street corner, you manage to brandish your pepper spray in one hand while you rummage around in your purse for your MetroCard with the other.

It’s cold as hell, and you’re probably a little too drunk to be walking through the City streets alone right now, but you don’t much care.

All you gotta do is find Wanda. That’s all.

She’ll make everything better again.

— —

Where everything else is confusing, there’s one part that seems to make sense—Wanda.

You nearly pick a fight with the card reader at the subway entrance when it makes you swipe your card three times to let you through, and even the stairs leading down to the lower tracks are more of a challenge than they probably should be… and yet, somehow, the rest of it is blessedly simple. A no-brainer, really.

You know which train you need to take… the blue one that arrives in four minutes. You know you need to stay on it for five stops before getting off.

Once you’re up at ground level, you’ll have a short walk ahead of you—one that you know like the back of your hand despite only ever having been to Wanda’s a couple of times.

You’ll enter Wanda’s apartment building, take the elevator right up to floor four, and boom! Home free.

You do exactly that.

It takes a short time (thankfully) and there’s not an ounce of uncertainty within you all the while, like you’ve done this 100 times before.

In seemingly no time at all, you’re there—standing on Wanda’s doorstep, knocking a couple times just beneath the burnished bronze ‘4A’ nailed into her door.

Your head feels all light and dizzy; you’re still shuddering from the time you spent out in the cold; but—

“One sec!” Wanda’s muffled voice comes from inside, the mere sound of it washing over you like a soothing balm—promising relief.

You’re safe now.

You made it.

— —

The moment the door swings open to reveal a bleary-eyed Wanda Maximoff dressed in tiny grey pajama shorts, an oversized Star Trek T-shirt, and nothing else, it’s like everything falls back into place.

It’s like… like you can breathe again.

You’re still drunk, and shivering, and more than a bit confused; but now that Wanda’s awake and here and smirking like she knows exactly what’s happening even if you don’t, you feel… better, somehow. Not nearly so lost as you were before.

“Y/N,” Wanda greets, stepping aside and offering out a hand to help you inside. You’re quick to take it. “I was not expecting you,” she drawls, though everything about her demeanor is saying the opposite as she shuts and locks the door behind you.

You pay it little mind. “Yeah, I... ” you trail off, turning to face her even as an embarrassed flush warms your cheeks. All of a sudden, you can’t help but feel rather ridiculous for knocking on her door and barging in so late—especially without calling first. “I’m so sorry, I... I don’t know why I’m here.”

Wanda just tilts her head, appraising you curiously even as the ghost of a knowing smile curves her lips. “Are you sure about that?”

The heat in your cheeks seems to intensify tenfold at that. “I… I need to tell you something,” you hear yourself say, and the moment it’s registered, you realize that it’s true.

You feel… guilty, all of a sudden. Nauseous, too. Scared.

You danced with that guy—Des. You flirted with him. You let him touch you… You kissed him. Why would you do that?

In the present moment, Wanda nods, like that makes perfect sense. Like all of this makes perfect sense.

“Okay,” she acquiesces lightly, flares of crimson flitting through her measured gaze. “Is it something I’ll have to punish you for?”

‘Punish’ me? What—?

You feel Wanda’s presence in your head… inconspicuous tendrils sifting through your thoughts, worming their way through your scattered memories.

No point in lying.

“Y-Yes,” you hear yourself say. Much like earlier, it isn’t until the moment you’ve confirmed it aloud that you know it to be true. You danced with someone else. You flirted with him. You let him touch you… kiss you. “I… I’m so sorry, Wanda; I-I don’t know what I was thinking.”

You see the moment Wanda finds it—your memories of the nightclub. Meeting Des at the bar. Flirting with him… Kissing him.

The look on her pretty features goes from bemused to disbelieving to absolutely murderous in zero seconds flat, and the realization hits like a freight train that you’re really in for it now.

Fuck.

“Go to the bedroom,” she snarls, her typically blue-green eyes burning with scarlet light. “Then take off that slutty dress. I want you on the bed, face down, naked. Do you understand?”

Your head is spinning; confusion rears its ugly head in your gut even as every ounce of your being screams at you to just obey—‘cause if you can just do that, the rest of it will start to make sense. (Maybe.) “O-Okay.”

— —

You don’t know how you know the way to Wanda’s bedroom, but you do.

You slip inside a room shrouded in darkness, and no matter how it strains your eyes to look around, you don’t dare turn on the light.

It’s a modestly-sized bedroom with hardwood flooring, fairy lights along one wall, and an adjoining bathroom just opposite the entrance. There’s a tall, wooden dresser pressed up against the wall directly across from a large, king-sized bed. That’s pretty much all the detail you can manage to make out in the darkness.

Well, either way, you suppose it isn’t really your business.

Wanda gave you specific instructions, and you intend to follow them.

Not for the first time tonight, you’re quite happy about the babydoll dress you’re wearing—particularly for how easy it is to pull it up over your head and off, leaving you in panties and a strapless bra in a matter of moments.

You fold the dress neatly in your hands, then leave it atop the dresser. Your panties and bra come next. In seconds, you’ve formed a small, tidy pile.

As you step out of your heels and approach the neatly-made bed, you’re struck with the strangest sense of déjà vu… like you’ve done this before.

It lingers in the forefront of your mind as you crawl up onto the bed, biting back a groan at how easily the plush mattress gives way under your hands and knees.

God, you’d kill to have a nice nap in this absolute cloud of a bed.

You shake the thought off, simultaneously willing the haze of intoxication fogging up your brain to abate.

You’re not here to nap.

You settle face-down onto the bed, just like Wanda said. You’re careful not to rest your face on the pillows, though, since you have the distinct feeling that’s not something Wanda would want you doing without permission.

Instead, you fold your arms and rest your head atop your forearm, staring straight down into nothing. You scrunch up your features and let out a quiet huff as the black duvet tickles the tip of your nose.

It smells like her—all of it does. Cinnamon, vanilla, and something indefinable; something that belongs to Wanda, and Wanda alone.

You feel your body stiffen as a familiar set of footsteps draw near, approaching the room where you lie—naked and vulnerable atop Wanda’s bed.

The patter of Wanda’s gait becomes almost soundless as she enters, circling around the bed over towards the nightstand. You don’t dare to turn your head and watch as she pulls out one of the drawers, rummaging through it until she finds… well, whatever it is she’s looking for, you suppose.

A moment later, there’s the telltale chk! of a match being struck, and a hiss as the phosphorous tip lights itself aflame.

It’s quiet for a minute... then two. The only sounds you can hear are your breathing and the strike of a match every time Wanda lights another.

Gradually, gentle flares of light grow in your periphery, bathing the room in a dim, yellow-y glow. She’s lighting candles—a lot of them.

You’ve always loved candles.

A couple minutes later, she’s finished, and she returns to tuck the matchbox safely back in the drawer.

You lose track of her as she retreats once more, and your mounting curiosity is more than piqued when you hear her rummaging through the dresser near the foot of the bed; still, you don’t dare turn and look.

Instead, you wait, fetid nausea churning low in your gut, pinpricks of apprehension dancing across every inch of exposed skin. Your heart thuds painfully against your ribcage as she takes something out from the dresser drawer, then shuts it with an audible thud!

You swallow the lump in your throat and urge yourself to focus on your breathing.

In, out.

In… out.

“I’m disappointed in you, Y/N,” Wanda’s voice comes from somewhere behind you, genuine hurt coloring her hushed tone.

You have to fight the urge to shudder as a chill runs down your spine. “I… I’m sorry, Wanda,” you say meekly, pathetically, cheeks hot with shame.

And the worst part? You’re not lying.

You listen carefully for the sounds of her bare feet padding across the floor as she circles the bed once more, crouching down right beside you in the very corner of your periphery.

“Look at me,” she orders, gentle yet firm.

You do.

The moment you meet her gaze, you can’t help the errant thought entering your mind that she looks so pretty like this—face bare of makeup; long brown hair piled into a messy bun atop her head; dainty features cast into darkened shadows by the low, yellow light of burning candles clustered together atop the nightstand.

The muted light seems to soften her anger, her pain… allowing her to really look her age for the very first time since you’ve known her.

“You think too loudly, Y/N.” Wanda’s words are dry, almost teasing as they jolt you back into reality. “Focus on me, please.”

You do.

“You belong to me,” she asserts after a beat of silence, an uncharacteristically intent and almost solemn look splayed across her dimly-lit features. “I thought you understood that.”

The words confuse you even as they seem to resonate poignantly with some fundamental part of you… a part of you that categorically refuses to be ignored.

“Wanda…” you trail off, bewilderment and contrition warring violently within your chest until it aches to draw breath. “I’m confused, Wanda,” you whimper out finally, overwhelmed tears burning in your eyes. “I-I-I don’t understand what’s happening—”

Wanda cuts you off with a derisive snort. “Yes, clearly,” she agrees, her tone ripe with sardonic ire. “You’ve forgotten yourself. You’ve forgotten who owns you.”

You worry your lower lip between your teeth, desperately trying to make sense of it all. “Is that why…” You search Wanda’s eyes intently. “... I-I felt sick, an-and… guilty about dancing with Des.”

Something like anger flares in her gaze, hot and bitter, and you have to resist the urge to shrivel beneath it. “That boy had no right to touch what’s rightfully mine.”

“B-But then… why didn’t I remember?” you ask, utterly forlorn. “I-I felt it last weekend, too, but I… I didn’t—”

“Last weekend?” Wanda repeats, features hardening.

Oh, shit. You feel your cheeks get hot again. “I… I shouldn’t have brought it up, Wan’, I’m sorry—”

“What happened last weekend?” she interjects, her tone cold and hard like a double-edged blade. “You can tell me yourself, or I can start looking.”

You shiver. “I… I went on a-a… a date with a girl that I met online,” you admit, tears welling in your eyes even as Wanda’s jaw visibly tightens. “I-It was just the one time! A-And nothing happened; we didn’t even k-kiss! I just… I didn’t… I didn’t know—”

“Yes. You’re right; you didn’t know.” Wanda stands abruptly, then, and it’s at that moment that you see the folded belt in her hands—thick, worn leather with a sterling silver buckle.

An icy sense of dread blossoms in your chest, chilling you from the inside out.

Is she going to—?

“I was indulgent before… I let you get away with far too much. I will not make the same mistake again.”

With that, she turns to circle back around the bed, the belt buckle audibly jangling in her hands with every step.

“I have to punish you, принцеса,” she continues, her voice scarcely more than a whisper as she comes to stand near the foot of the bed—and somehow, you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that there’s no convincing her otherwise.

She’s going to punish you, and it’s going to hurt. Bad.

All at once, panic seizes you. You squirm, writhing in an effort to get up and off the bed—

Only to be stopped by tendrils of lurid crimson curling around either wrist, forcing them together just over your head like magic—glowing crimson cuffs holding both arms fast to the headboard. On a whim, you test your legs—tensing and pulling, only to be met with iron-clad resistance encircling either ankle in a tight, unrelenting grip.

Well, fuck.

“W-Wanda,” you plead, hardly paying any mind to the way your voice trembles. “Please, I—I don’t want—”

“I do not enjoy punishing you, мила,” she laments, almost sounding genuinely apologetic. It tugs at your heartstrings in a curious way—something you really don’t have time to examine right now. “But you did something bad. And when you do bad things, there are consequences. You understand that, don’t you?”

A tear trickles down your cheek, warm and wet as you steel yourself for the first hit. “Y-Yes.”

“Good girl,” Wanda lauds, and you can’t help the surge of warmth that washes over you at the simple praise—the pride that blooms in your chest at knowing you’ve finally done something right. “Now—try and relax, принцеса, okay?”

It’s all the warning you get before the first blow comes down upon your bare arse with a resounding Crack!

White-hot pain flares across your bottom, racing up your spine like wildfire and tearing a strangled whimper from your throat.

Jesus fucking Christ, that hurt—

Crack!

Holy fuck.

The impact of the leather against your naked cheeks leaves strips of fire burning in its wake, expelling all the air from your lungs in a choked-out rush.

“P-Please, no, Wan’,” you beg breathlessly, struggling in vain even as coils of vibrant scarlet hold you fast, “it hurts, please—”

Crack!

“This is for your own good, baby,” Wanda coos, sounding for all the world as though she truly believes every word of it.

Crack! This one lands directly across your sit spot, ripping a shriek from your lips as molten agony rocks you to your core.

“Wan’—Fuck, please, no—”

Crack!

“G—God, fuck, pleasestop, please—”

Crack!

“P—Please, hurtssobad, I’m—”

Crack!

“FUCK !”

Tears stream down your cheeks, wetting the black duvet beneath your face. You’re absolutely beside yourself with torment, your bare ass aflame with a pain unlike any you’ve ever known.

Crack!

… And the hits just keep coming—raining down stripes of blistering heat across your sore, bruised buttocks; pummeling your throbbing, exposed rear until it feels as though the entire area has just become one puffy, pulsating bruise.

Crack!

All the fight has completely gone out of you; now, your body completely slack—devoid of any resistance even as every hit seems to sear itself into your impossibly tender bottom like a third-degree burn… The pain is absolutely incredible, unlike any else you’ve ever known.

You’ll do anything—and you really do mean anything—to make it stop.

“P-P-Please, stop it, Wanda, PLEASE—”

Crack! Another hit directly across your burning sit spot rips a watery sob from your throat, followed by—

Crack!

It’s all you can do to keep yourself from hyperventilating until you pass out.

Crack!

Agony blackens the edge of your vision, fresh tears streaking down your cheeks as you await another strike…

But it doesn’t come.

Wh—?

“Have you learned your lesson, мила?” Wanda asks, and this time, her voice comes from closer… like she’s right beside you.

You don’t have it in you to be startled when a feather-light kiss lands itself between your shoulder blades, nor when one hand begins stroking up and down your heaving torso in soothing motions.

“Y-Yes! I—please, God, yes,” you babble, overwhelmed by the sensation of unadulterated pain branding every inch of your battered arse. “I promise I’ll never, ever, ever do it again, Wan’—Won’t ever be with anyone else—jus-just please stop hurting me—I’ll be so good, please—”

“Shh,” Wanda shushes you tenderly. You feel yourself twitch as the mattress suddenly dips beside you. “It’s okay, любима,” she soothes, coming to rest beside you. “Just breathe, okay? Breathe.”

‘Breathe’...

Your pulse thunders in your ears; your ass is on fire with an anguish far beyond your years; and yet, there’s something undoubtedly soothing about her words as they wash over you in gentle waves… something that tells you you’re safe.

Were you a little more lucid, you might’ve found that quite the nonsensical paradox—this feeling of safety and security with the woman who’d just beaten your arse raw without mercy no matter how you wailed and sobbed and begged for her to stop.

But as it is, you’re not.

Instead, you’re just broken and teary-eyed and in pain, and Wanda’s tenderness is a most welcome respite to alleviate that excruciating ache.

You take a deep, shuddering breath, even if it burns your lungs something awful, and force yourself to let it out slowly.

In, out.

In… out.

“That’s it, мила,” Wanda praises gently, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “You’re doing so well… Just like that.” Her fingers come to rest beneath your chin, urging you to turn and face her…

And you do, far too exhausted to even think of doing anything other than what she tells you to. Your lungs burn; your nose runs; and the pain in your bottom hasn’t abated any—if anything, it’s intensified.

You’re more than happy to be given something else to focus on.

When you look at her, her blue-green eyes are wet—glossy with tears.

“Wanda?” you manage weakly, feeling your brow crease with worry. “You ‘kay?”

Wanda sniffles, huffs out a watery-sounding laugh. “Yes, Y/N, I’m alright,” she whispers, then leans forth to plant a gentle kiss upon the tip of your nose. “I’m just so very, very proud of you.”

Despite yourself, you feel a pleased flush spread throughout your body at that. “Really?” you mumble, exhaustion drooping your eyelids until it’s a challenge just to keep them open.

Wanda nods, a tear sliding out of her eye that you yearn to reach forth and catch with your thumb—but alas, you’re far too weak. “Really.”

You hum, burrowing your face further into the duvet beneath your cheek—even if it is still damp with your tears. “‘M sorry I was bad, Wan’,” you murmur, feeling darkness near on every side. “Didn’t mean’ta make you upset.”

“I don’t like punishing you, принцеса,” she says once more, and this time, you have no reason to doubt that she means it. Honestly, you don’t know how you ever could. “It hurts me just as much as it hurts you.”

You hum again. Your eyelids feel too heavy to open. “‘M sorry,” you say. “Gonna do better… make you proud… I promise.”

Wanda chuckles. The sound of it makes your chest feel loose and warm and happy. “You already do, darling girl,” she murmurs. You don’t know if it’s because she’s whispering, or you’re fading into sleep, but you can barely hear her when she repeats it once more: “You already do.”

Sleep descends upon you, then, and you succumb to it willingly, feeling safer and more at peace than you have in a very long time.

— —

tagging:

[marvel]: @normanijauregui

— —

end notes: yeah i don’t know what this is either. i was only aiming for maybe 1,000 words or something, but things happened and...

look. i haven’t been to therapy in a hot minute, ok?

link to masterlist

#stuff i wrote #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x f!reader #f!reader #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda maximoff x f!reader #dark fic #mcu fic #marvel fic #scarlet witch x reader #dark!scarlet witch x reader #dark!scarlet witch #reader-insert #requested

594 notes · View notes

bas-writes · 3 years

Note

Hi Bas I am back with a second idea, this one is very very specific so i definitely get it if you'd yeet it away. 🥰 Id love to get some HC for a fem! Asexual reader (sex positive but not sex favorable. Sex is okay, but she doesnt want it) and Izo. They've been together for a little while now, and they're gonna sleep together for the first time. Reader is beyond nervous cause she's scared there's gonna be expectations that she will not be up for, but also doesn't want to be a mood killer? Hurt/comfort he's never had the expectations and they just share some cuddles or any other fluffy end 🤗

Thank you for considering it, i hope you get many good ideas in this opening and im sending you all the inspiration you could need! *smooches*

Hazel! As always, glad to see you in my askbox! I'm honored you trust me with such a sensitive topic. I hope I did it justice!

Asexual, Sex Repulsed, S/O Worries About Intimacy Related Expectations

Character: Izo Reader: female (implied cis) CW: talk about sexual intimacy, hurt/comfort vibes

You really appreciate the slow turn your relationship with Izo takes. It has its specific pace and neither of you speeds it up. Everything has its time: first casual dates, first kiss, first hand holding, first cuddling nap on the shaded part of the deck, first serious discussion, first confessions, first plans for the future. You already took a lot of big steps, besides one - you haven’t shared the cabin yet. Sleeping individually is nothing weird on the ship, especially considering Izo’s status as a commander and strict gender roles that Whitebeard guards among the crew. You welcome it with relief.

You’ve mentioned your sexuality to Izo already, but never fully explained him your take on intimacy and sex. And well, experience gained with people tells you to be a little wary. You trust him and love him, but you know well asexuality tends to be misunderstood and misinterpreted. Being a respectful and gentle partner, Izo has never initiated anything sexual with you - but, frankly said, you simply didn’t have any opportunity for it, constantly in public or close to the crew. You haven’t started the topic either, too scared to ruin something or discourage him. You truly love Izo and find yourself comfortable in this relationship, the thought of screwing something almost paralyzes you.

You simply don’t want sex. None. Null. Nada. But you also don’t want to lose Izo, and the thought of disappointing him with your take on sex scares you.

You agree, when he offers you to stay in his cabin, need for closeness and curiosity winning over the anxiety. You take a shower in his private bathroom, hot water manages to relax you, together with the promise of the bed, looking much more comfy than your own. But when you’re ready and switched to your night clothes, stress starts stirring inside of you. You are exposed. And you’re going to lay down in the same bed as him, so close and for so long as you have never before. The opportunity for something to happen is just too big!

Izo waits for you already sprawled on the bed, casually going through maps and papers. Once he spots you awkwardly lurking around, he puts them away on the nightstand and pats the mattress on his side. You’re so stiff you almost have problems crawling on top of satin softness - and when Izo reaches out to help you and accidentally touches your breast, you let out a panicked yelp. He frowns and asks if you’re okay, if you by chance don’t need to see Marco - you shake your head, you’re fine, just… “Nevermind. Can we already go to sleep?”

The light goes off and Izo wraps an arm around you, soon comfortably setting himself as the big spoon. This is nothing new, you’ve already been cuddling before. You’re used to his touch, his soft hair spilling all over you, his breath tickling your neck. But on his bed, in complete darkness it feels so different, so intimate, so… Tempting for something more than cuddles to happen.

Izo starts falling asleep and you can tell it from the way his chest heaves against your back, but you can’t relax at all. Your thoughts keep returning to the topic of sex, his touch starts to feel uncomfortable, almost predatory. Each breath he takes suddenly seems heavy. The way he nuzzles up to your neck at first feels like a hungry kiss. No, the more you try to forget about it, the more anxiety clenches your chest.

Your stiffness completely wakes him up. Izo lets you go and turns the light back on. “Y/N.” His face is serious, eyebrows frowned. “There is something wrong. What’s bothering you, love?”

With hesitation, you explain the reason behind your anxiety. There’s no way of hiding anything now - and well, you’re well aware you won’t get rid of intrusive thoughts. The tea has been spilled, now you just have to face the consequences, whatever the result is going to be.

Izo listens to you with patience and attention. As soon as you’re finished, he places a gentle kiss on your forehead and smiles. “Honestly, you took a huge weight off my chest.”

Turns out, he didn’t expect anything but some cuddles and shared dreams. He wasn’t thinking about sex at all. More, he was worried you might still expect sex from him, even if you came out to him as ace. And thus, he was worried about all the consequences that might come with it, including pregnancy and carrying his bloodline, already stained with tragic fate of his country. “The more you think about it, sex in pirate life is just more problematic than pleasant. Glad I can enjoy being with you without the need for it.”

He pulls you close once again, this time letting you rest on his chest, in case you would like to cry the stress out in his embrace. Once you’re calm and comfortable, the light is off again and nothing, but your breaths and waves are audible. Izo’s arms feel comfortable around you, warm and secure, the light touch of his lips is soft and brings you no fretting. “I love you for who you are,” he assures you. “Not for having sex with you.”

#izo x reader #op izo x reader #izo x you #op izo x you #one piece x reader #one piece x you #izo #bas writes #female reader #pride 2021 #long post

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randomshyperson · 3 years

Note

Hey :) can you please write about jo wilson (grey‘s anatomy) plot would be like „you guys are an engaged couple an you get in a pretty bad car accident and you flatline infront of her in the trauma room etc“

I love your stuff! ❤️ thank youuu

This request got a bit forgotten in my message box, sorry about that anon. I won't be able to write the “jo wilson plot” because I have never seen Greys Anatomy, and I really don't like medical shows. I also have a similar angst I believe, it is called Forever And Always , maybe you would like to give this one a read.

Also, i said already that Wanda suffered enough, i’m not giving her sad endings anymore, canon hurt her enough.

Glad to know you like my stuff, hope you like this, even if is short.

-.-

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Bitter Present

Summary: Reader and Wanda are married, and they are involved in a car accident.

Words: 3.499K || Read on AO3

Warnings: Angst, brief mention of smut, a bit of fluff, happy ending people i promise.

Marks: @mionemymind - @abimess

-.-

Present

"Honey, I can't find my keys." You said to your wife as you rummaged through the kitchen sink drawers.

Wanda let out a giggle, and you were startled when she suddenly touched your waist; you hadn't heard her approach. She wiggled her fingers on your belt, and lifted the metal item to your face.

"They were with you the whole time." She said in a playful tone and you smiled, grabbing your keys, and turning to her.

"All set?" You asked and Wanda nodded, kissing you quickly as she walked towards the exit, you hurried to keep up with her.

"I already called Nat to let her know we're leaving." Wanda says as you get into the car, you mumble in agreement.

As you drive to the house of your best friend, Natasha Romanoff, intending to attend her engagement party, you let out a worried grumble as you look up at the sky.

"I think there's a storm coming, honey." You say to Wanda in the passenger seat.

"Good thing the party is indoors then." She completes with a smile. You look at her tenderly as the headlight is closed. Wanda is so beautiful, you always think you are too lucky to have married someone so amazing.

"The light turned green." She comments with a playful smile, blushing slightly as she notices your gaze on her. You blink awkwardly, turning back to drive.

//-//

Eight Years Ago

Your palms are sweaty.

Natasha managed to set you up on a blind date after forcing you to sign up for a popular dating app since not only are you absolutely terrible at it, but you are also a surgeon, and don't exactly have a lot of time available for dating. But after much insistence, you accepted.

She texted you as you were about to arrive at the restaurant, and you pulled out your cell phone from your pants pocket. The notification read "Talk about casual stuff, please. Don't overthink it Try to relax. You can do it." You smiled at her attempt to instruct you.

Your date had not yet arrived, and you sat down at the table that the app had reserved for you. Nat had told you that there would be other pairs, so you weren't that surprised when you noticed so many other couples at several tables placed next to each other, in a row.

You had left the options open, so you didn't even know the gender of your partner, not that it really mattered.

Fortunately you didn't wait that long, when a handsome young man approached you, roses in his hands, which made you blush more from surprise than anything else. You greeted each other with a kiss on the cheek and he sat down in front of you.

A little small talk, and you were enjoying yourself. He was nice, and as bad at this as you were, you realized. When you ordered the main meals, however, something interesting happened.

"Hey, I think those are our orders." Commented a black man with an endearing smile. He was sitting at the next table, talking to a redhead. You and your date, Bucky as he had previously introduced himself, smiled in confusion. And then you noticed that the food you had just received was not yours, but that the one at the next table was.

"I think the team must be overwhelmed with so many people." You said as you helped the couple next to you exchange their orders.

You blushed when your gaze met the redheaded girl's, being impressed by her stunningly green eyes, and you almost knocked over your plate.

"I guess that's right now." Said the man as you finished, he was quite nice, and you risked another glance at his date, before quickly looking away when she glanced back.

"Yeah, I think it's fine." Bucky replied smiling.

The meeting took an unconventional turn after that. Bucky noticed the small army necklace the stranger was carrying, and made a comment. And then the two boys began to talk excitedly, and you and the redheaded girl exchanged accomplice looks. When they noticed, they immediately excused themselves, and you giggled.

"I have an idea." You said, and then you exchanged partners.

"That sure is against the rules of the app." Bucky remarked with a smile and you laughed as he sat down at the next table, and the redhead in front of you.

"I'm Sam by the way." The guy next to you introduced himself, and you smiled when you said your name back.

"Hi." You greeted the girl who sat down across from you.

"Hi." She said smiling at you. "I'm Wanda."

//-//

Seven years ago.

"Wow, what are you doing here?" You ask in surprise as you walked down to the reception desk.

"What are you doing here?" Wanda retorted in the same tone, and you looked down at her clothes in shock.

"My god, you've been transferred to my hospital" You exclaimed as you understood and Wanda let out a short laugh.

"I see you've already made friends with the new pediatrician, Doctor Maximoff" Announced Fury, your boss for four years, and also director of the Avengers State Hospital, who you hadn't even noticed was present when you walked down to the reception desk and found your girlfriend.

Wanda had mentioned that she had requested a transfer from the hospital where she worked, and is waiting for an answer. With the busy life you both led, you had forgotten to ask about it. And then here she was, duly uniformed and smiling at you.

"I suppose I have HR paperwork on relationship politics to prepare for you two." Commented Fury with an insinuating look when he noticed the way you and Wanda looked at each other. The two of you exchanged shy smiles. "In the meantime, why don't you take the tour with your friend, doctor Y/L/N?"

"Sure, Director Fury, i got it." You nodded in agreement before the man walked toward his own office.

//-//

Six years ago.

"That is so risky." You heard Wanda sigh breathlessly as you had her pressed against a locker, your lips kissing her neck as your hands drifted dangerously down her body.

"Honestly, Fury is to blame." You retorted as you opened the buttons of her blouse. "Forcing me to take time off while you're on duty. I can't believe I'm going 26 hours without touching you. You grumbled as you grabbed her right breast, causing Wanda's smile to turn into a low groan.

"I'll go to your apartment when I'm done." She replied, blushing and biting her lips to stop herself from making so much noise. You nodded before kissing her deeply, your hands reaching inside her pants, your mouth holding back her moan.

//-//

Five years ago.

You smiled as you felt Wanda's arms around you, hugging you around the waist.

"This is our home." She commented tenderly. You stood in the empty living room. The key in your hands.

"Yes, dear." You retorted smiling, "This is our home."

//-//

"Have you ever thought about having kids?" Wanda asked softly as you both were lying in your bed. You stopped staring at the bedroom ceiling to look at her, laying your face on your pillow and slipping your arm underneath.

"I didn't like the idea." You confessed watching her mimic your position.

"What changed?"

"You."

Wanda smiles shyly, and you lift your hand to caress her cheeks.

"Do you think we could do it?" You asked, watching her intently. She blinked slightly confused and you added, "With so many shifts, and little free time. Do you think that would be a good idea?"

Wanda sighed, thoughtfully.

"I don't know." She replied. "It would be a difficult change. We would need to organize ourselves very well so that the kids wouldn't feel alone and..."

"The kids? As in plural?" You interrupted amused, Wanda laughed.

"Oh, sorry, you just want one kid?" She asked slightly ironically, joining in the joke. You pretended to be thoughtful.

"I think we can handle eleven."

"Eleven?" Wanda asked in surprise, laughing softly.

"Yeah, like on a soccer team. One kid for each position on the team" You explain smiling.

"Shut up" She retorted pushing your shoulder lightly while laughing.

//-//

Four years ago.

"That's hot." You said looking at Natasha's cell phone screen, a picture of a lingerie. She let out a sigh.

"Yeah I know." She retorted taking the cell phone out of your sight and turning back to herself. "Bruce said he wanted to spice things up, and well, that's going to be interesting."

"I'd like to not talk about it over my lunch, though." You hit back with a smile, Nat laughs as she put the cell phone on the table.

"Sorry, but that's what friends are for." She says with a smile as she reaches for her own fork. You are having lunch in the main cafeteria of the hospital, it must be about two o'clock in the afternoon. "And how are things going with Wanda?"

You fiddle with your salad for a few moments, shrugging.

"I've never been more in love with someone." You comment.

"Well, you live together, so that's a good thing."

"I'm going to ask her to marry me."

Nat chokes in surprise, and looks at you with glazed eyes, before letting out an exclamation of happiness that attracts the attention of your colleagues around you.

In the next second she is listing a thousand ways the party could take place, famous buffets, flavor of cake, and you are smiling.

//-//

Present

"And how is the adoption process?" Natasha asked as you two stood in the garden. It had been a couple of hours since you and Wanda arrived at the wedding reception, and you are sitting at one of the outside tables, lots of guests around you. No rain yet.

Wanda smiles as she tells you that you have already met the twins, and that you are in the final processes of making everything official.

"They are so amazing, Nat, you have no idea." You comment as you show her a picture of the boys on your cell phone. Two five-year-old brothers. "They're not a full soccer team, but we'll get there."

Your joke makes Nat and Wanda laugh, and you take a sip of cider as Nat looks at the pictures.

Three years earlier.

You stuck your head through the warehouse door and let out a sad sigh when you found Wanda sitting on the floor, her head between her legs.

"Hey honey." You greeted her as you entered and closed the door, walking over to her to sit beside her on the floor.

Wanda wiped away tears with one hand as she raised her head and grasped the other in your lap.

"Hey." She answered weakly, and you squeezed your hands together.

"I'm sorry." You said. "It wasn't your fault."

"It's not how I feel." She retorted hurt. "Nor how his family feels."

You sigh lightly, wishing you could change things. But you can't.

"Unfortunately we can't save every patient, Wands. You've done everything you can."

"He was only four years old." She retorted tearfully.

"I know honey." You said releasing her hand to put your arm between her shoulders. Wanda sank into your embrace, crying softly. "I'm sorry."

//-//

Two years earlier.

You heard a familiar noise as you entered the living room, and you looked suspiciously at your wife when she startled when she saw you.

"Honey, what are you hiding back there, huh?" you asked crossing your arms. Wanda looked at you with surprise.

"Hey honey." Wanda said half-heartedly. "Don't be mad."

A meow echoed in the room and you let out a giggle.

"I imagine it wasn't you who made that lovely sound, was it, Wanda?"

Wanda moved to the side, and you let out a sigh as you observed the small creature inside a box on the table beside the sofa.

"I found it around the street corner."

You let out a chuckle, uncrossing your arms as you walked over to the animal. The cat couldn't have been even two months old.

"And of course the most logical choice was to bring him home instead of dropping him off at some pet shop."

"He was hungry." She retorted slightly upset, you laughed, taking your attention away from the cat to look at Wanda.

"Why are you grimacing, now I have two kittens at home." You joked stealing a quick kiss from Wanda, who relaxed her posture immediately.

"So can we keep him?"

You laughed, reaching out your arm to hug Wanda by the shoulders, she relaxed against you.

"We're going to have to figure out how to take care of a cat while working fifty hours a week, honey."

//-//

Present

You kissed Natasha's cheek as you said goodbye, Wanda mimicked your movement next. You both waved to Bruce again as you walked back to the car parked in front of your friend's house.

"Be careful in the rain." Nat warned as soon as you arrived at the vehicle, and you nodded in agreement.

By the time you have been driving a few minutes, Wanda turns on the radio, softly humming the song that begins.

"Can we watch something when we arrive?" She asks next, and you smile.

"By something you mean a sitcom?" You quip humorously, and she laughs softly, mumbling in agreement.

You are silent, and Wanda only speaks again when it starts to rain.

"This is getting heavy." She comments as she watches the drops thicken.

"Yeah, I'll pull over until it gets better." You tell her also worriedly, as you slow the car down to stop on the shoulder.

You think you hear a brake and turn your head to the side quickly, and a golden light is all you see before you black out.

//-//

You wake up in a jolt.

"Wanda?" That is the first question that escapes your lips. You blink in confusion trying to get used to your surroundings, there is a hand on your forearm the next second. "Nat, what...?"

"Hey, easy." Your friend asks pushing you lightly on the bed. She has a tired countenance and you look at her with confusion.

"Where's Wanda? Where am I?" you begin to despair, noticing your surroundings.

"You're in the hospital." She replies stopping you from getting up, not that you have much strength anyway. Your body aches. At her words you notice the room around you. It is a white room. There are needles in your arm. " You guys suffered an accident."

You choke in surprise, trying to sit up, but you feel a sharp pain in your ribs.

"Where is my wife?" You ask again, feeling your throat close up. Nat looks away.

"She's in surgery, Y/N," Nat replies gloomily. You feel your eyes fill with tears, but you force yourself to sit up, pushing Nat's hands away. "Please, you can't strain yourself."

"No." You interrupt. "I need to see her."

"Y/N."

"I need to." You repeated again pushing your feet off the bed. Nat had a tearful face, but grumbled that you would make her lose her job some of these days as she helped you remove the needles in your arm.

Nat led you around the hospital to the trauma center, you ignored the curious glances your co-workers and a few strangers threw at you through the hallways. You leaned against the glass, watching Wanda on a gurney, many doctors around her.

Your face wet with tears as you asked:

"What happened?"

"A truck driver lost control." Nat replied looking at you. "It hit you on the breakdown lane. Wanda... She has a skull fracture."

You sobbed, lowering your gaze.

"Stephen is operating, Y/N" Nat continued as he held your hand. "He's the best we've got, we're going to do everything possible..."

"I can't lose her." You breathlessly interrupted, crying. "God, I can'..."

Nat hugged you next, and you collapsed in sobs.

//-//

Wanda had been in surgery for six hours.

Fury made you go back to your room and get checked up. And after doing this, and putting on a change of clothes that Nat had picked up for you, you went back to the trauma room, and waited.

Your face is wet with tears when your phone rings, and you go out into the hallway to answer it.

"Yes?" You asked in a hoarse voice.

"Miss Y/L/N?" A female voice asked, you ran your free hand across your face before confirming. "I have great news for you and your wife, dear. The judge has cleared the finalization of the adoption. You can pick up the twins at the orphanage on Monday morning."

You let out an exclamation of surprise. And then you are holding back the cry.

"Wow, that's... Incredible." You laugh breathlessly. You swallow the emotion in your voice. "I'm going to... I'm going to let Wanda know. She... She'll be very happy."

"Yes, I can imagine. Congratulations to new moms." Says the woman, and you hang up, no longer able to hold back the crying. You sit on the floor, sinking your face into your arms.

Nat appears beside you a moment later, concerned as she places a hand on your forearm, but you are unable to say anything for long minutes.

//-//

When the surgery is over, Wanda is in an induced coma.

Stephen is saying that the procedure went well, but that they need to leave her under observation, and that there are considerations to be made and they cannot know what the sequelae are, but it all seems like noise to you.

Nat says you should sleep and eat, but you are already walking over to stand next to Wanda's bed.

"Hey, honey" You tell her softly, reaching into the sheet to hold her hand. "You'll be glad to know who called." You tell Wanda, wiping away your own tears as they flow. "We're going to be mommies, Wands." You gasp. "You need to wake up soon, honey. We need to be there on Monday."

Wanda just stood there, unmoving. And you sobbed, looking away. Stephen was beside you again, updating the documentation about Wanda's surgery.

//-//

"Enough, you need to eat something." Nat announced as she pulled you out of the room by your arm, a few hours after you arrived in Wanda's room. "And you're going to take a shower too."

You were so tired that you couldn't even resist, taking one last look at your sleeping wife as you were dragged out.

Nat waited outside the locker room while you took a shower. And then she took you to the cafeteria.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asks as you eat hamburger sitting at one of the tables. You let out a dry laugh, and point outside the hospital.

"If anything happens, I'm going to jump off that bridge". You grumble, and Nat lets out a sigh.

"Don't say things like that, it's not funny." She retorts with concern and you wipe away the new tears that have formed in your eyes.

"I'm not telling a joke, Natasha." You tell her impatiently.

You throw your burger back on the tray, running your hand through your hair.

"I'm sorry about all this, Y/N" Nat says reaching for your hand on the table. It takes a moment for you to shake her hand back.

//-//

Wanda had been in a coma for two days.

You had no more tears, so you just stood by her bedside like a ghost, unable to really think about anything.

Natasha checked on you between shifts, and she also asked Bruce to feed your cat.

After you fetched some coffee in the early morning hours of the third day, you gasped when the device at Wanda's bedside started beeping.

Within a second there were nurses rushing in, and someone was pulling you out.

Your coffee cup fell to the hallway floor as you caught a glimpse of the medical staff using the cardiac defibrillator before the door was closed.

//-//

You awoke in fright, many hours without news of Wanda. You were asleep in the waiting room.

Nat was poking you lightly on the shoulder, his eyes full of tears.

"What is it?"

"She woke up."

//-//

Monday.

"Is it true that we're going to have two moms now?" Billy asked from the back seat. Natasha laughed lightly as she drove.

"Yes, darlings, you're going to love it." She told. "Mama Wanda makes the best cakes, and you will get everything you want from Mama Y/N."

"That's so cool." Commented Tommy to his brother, holding his hand.

"Why couldn't moms pick us up?" Tommy asked a moment later, but Nat's expression was calm in the rearview mirror.

"Mommy Wanda got hurt last week." She recounted. "So your other mommy had to take care of her, but they are waiting for you at home. And I hear there are lots of presents waiting for you."

#wanda maximoff #wanda xreader #wandaxreader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wandaxyou #wanda maximoff x you #marvel imagines #angst #wanda maximoffxreader

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piratesfromspace · 3 years

Text

The Mechanic (Anakin/Reader)

Anakin Skywalker/Reader, Obi-Wan is also here

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Smut 18+, mechanical arm, Anakin is a little shit, dom/sub undertones, humiliation kink if you squint.

AFAB reader but gender-neutral pronouns MASTERLIST

“A… mechanic??”

“Yes, that’s what I am. A mechanic. The best in town. Isn’t it what you’re looking for?”

Obi-Wan scrunches his nose and turns to the poor clone trooper who had introduced you.

“Are you serious?” he asks in a whisper.

“Do you know how hard it is to find a biomechanics surgeon around here, General? That’s the best I could find.” the trooper seems really tired you notice.

Kenobi brings his hand on his chin, silently thinking for a few seconds.

“I guess they’ll do.”

---

And that’s how you’re recruited for a very special task. When you’re led to their temporary base just outside of town, you thought you were going to be asked to repair a secret-weapon, or some military speeder. Oh Maker were you wrong.

You’re pushed inside of a medical ship, and instead of a speeder, you find yourself face to face with another jedi. He’s sitting on a table, his jedi robe badly torned, already pushed down and bunched on his hips, leaving his muscular torso entirely bare. You would have noticed his perfectly drawn abs if you weren’t distracted by his right arm. From his elbow down, it is entirely made of gold and black metal, with armored panels mimicking the size of his other regular arm, complete with what look like delicate fingers. A mechno-arm. You’ve never seen one quite like it. It must cost a small fortune, and it is definitely custom. But it’s also definitely wrecked.

“So, you’re the biomechanics expert?”

“Mechanic. Just a mechanic. But I know a thing or two about cybernetics.”

“Great.” He says with a cynical tone before making a pause, eyeing you down shamelessly for a tad too long, as you cross your arms and raise an eyebrow at his poor manners. He smirks at your reaction, and cocks his chin up before continuing.

“Well, anyway, I’ll guide you, I know what’s going on with my arm, I just need a helping hand.”

He says that with a lot more confidence than what you would expect from someone his young age, almost condescending - but you can’t really be mad at him, considering the guy has the Force and looks like this. You would be insufferable as well.

Sometimes life is unfair, you think, too bad he chose to become a warrior monk, because you wouldn’t mind tinkering with more than his arm.

You take a deep breath, and just get on with it, starting to work on his prosthetic, following his instructions. Even if he hasn’t all the correct vocabulary, the man actually knows what’s wrong with his arm, and you’re a little bit annoyed at the fact he was right. You would have gladly taught him a lesson, making his cocksure smirk and patronizing tone go away just for a second. Nonetheless, you listen to what he explains, and after a while, you realize you’re just executing his directions without second guessing him, lulled by his warm voice, scrunched over his mechanical arm, your face just inches away from his very human skin.

After an hour, you’re done, and his fingers are back to life, the mechanism slightly buzzing while he lifts his hand to his face, watching with an honest smile as his movements resume. You’re watching as well, mesmerized by the way his metal fingers move with such great finesse. It’s almost surreal when you know the inhumane strength he could deploy thanks to the alloy ligaments, a deadly threat just lying under golden fingertips.

Your gaze switches to his face, and you allow yourself to stare a little. He’s young but the toll of war is already showing, the kindness of his eyes hidden behind a steely veil, a scar running way too close from his right eye. His hair is a mess, long light-brownish locks with a few blond strands. His innocence is long gone, replaced by a mix of fierce resolve and cocky attitude. He’s handsome, you won’t lie to yourself. And his toned body matches his pretty face. Even the mechanical arm adds to his charm. You’re sure some would be repulsed by it, but you’re definitely not. You can’t stop wondering what it’s like for him when he touches something, when he touches someone. And you can’t stop wondering what it’s like to be touched by those fingers, to feel the smooth golden steel on your skin. Would it be warm? Or cold?

You’re pulled out of your daydreaming by a cough. Anakin is now looking at you, and his knowing gaze is making you doubt if he’s reading your mind. There are many rumors about the powers jedi can have, and you suddenly blush at the realization he might actually be.

“Well, thanks, it works fine again.” he says with a falsely natural tone. “But I think I need to run just a few tests, you know, to make sure the sensation is back. Would you like to help me? I warn you, it can be a bit… overwhelming.” He says that as his mechanical hand grazes at your naked forearm, his self-confident grin back on his face, and you can’t miss the sexual undertone of his proposition. The feeling sends chills in your whole body, the metal of his fingertips is definitely cold — at least, for now. You’re a bit taken aback because you weren’t expecting advances from a literal monk, but at the same time you know you’re too curious and too horny already to pass down such an invitation.

“And how can I help?” you ask not so innocently.

“Glad you ask.” he answers, as he hops down from the table, an even bigger grin on his face.

You don’t have the time to realize what’s going on, but he lifts you up and slams you down on the table before climbing back on top of you, resting on his knees, arms caging you.

He hushes you when you want to protest against his manhandling, but you can’t deny the fact it’s turning you on even more. He watches your face intently as his mechanical hand is caressing your cheek, then shifting lower on your throat. He squeezes gently, just to see how you would react, and he’s pleased to hear you gasp at the tiniest of pressure. It’s making you dizzy, the knowledge he could literally crush you if he wanted to, and you’re being amazed at the control he shows instead.

His hand doesn’t stay there for long though, and goes even lower, shortly groping your breast before sliding further down until it stops at the waistband of your pants. He waits a second here, scanning you for any form of approval, before resuming when you thrust your hips slightly up against his palm, letting him know you’re looking for more.

He loses no time, snaking his hand under your pants and in your panties, cupping your cunt. The metal of his fingers is warmer now, thanks to your own body heat, but the feeling is still foreign although not unpleasant. He parts your folds, tracing a finger from your entrance to your clit, spreading your wetness there. The pitiful whine that escapes your lips as he starts circling the bundle of nerves makes him chuckle. He’s visibly enjoying the way you react under his touch.

The smooth steel of his golden fingertips feels like heaven against your sensitive parts, and you already know you won’t last long. He rises a bit, sitting on his heels so he can use his left arm to pin you down, real fingers made of flesh cruelly biting in your hips to keep you in place for what’s coming next.

He stops his ministrations and coats two of his metallic fingers in your juices before sinking them slowly inside of you. You stop breathing as you watch his fingers disappear between your legs with awe. You feel every ridges and bumps of the mechanical knuckles as they slide in and out of you, and when his thumb finds your clit again, you’re glad he’s actually pinning you down, because it’s suddenly too much to handle. Your back arches and your head slams down against the unforgivable steel of the medical table. In other circumstances, you would complain, but you just can’t find a good reason to care right now.

Anakin keeps on moving his fingers, relentlessly bringing you closer to the edge. Your whines are now moans, and he gives you a mean look, mouthing a “shut up”. You almost forgot you were in the middle of a military base, and that anyone could enter the room you were in at any time now. You clamp your hand on your mouth, trying desperately to keep quiet as the bastard is slowing his pace but increasing the pressure of his touch, crooking the fingers inside of you to rub against that perfect spot that makes you see stars. It’s a matter of seconds before you come with a muffled whimper, eyes closed, hips rising up from the table. He doesn’t stop until you push his hand away as the pleasure-pain of overstimulation settles in.

“It looks all good, thanks for helping.” he says with a cocky little smile, while you try to catch your breath. He wipes his mechanical arm on your pants, like it’s just a random rag, and you’re too shocked by the sheer audacity of the man to think of a retort.

You barely have the time to get back on your feet, that the door of the room is sliding open, revealing a visibly displeased Obi-Wan.

“You’ done yet?”

You open your mouth to answer but Anakin is quicker.

“Yes, Master. We were just making sure the repair is efficient.”

He says that with his usual grin and while looking the older jedi dead in the eye. You wonder how he managed to do that when some of his fingers still smell like you. You’re also jealous of the fact his crumpled robe is making a decent job at hiding his hard-on, while the wet patch on your pants where Anakin wiped his fingers is all too visible.

“It seems your hand is working perfectly again, Anakin.”

The tone of Obi-Wan's voice is half-amused, half-annoyed when he says that, his eyes on you, rather than on his padawan. You wonder if he knows what just happened, causing your face to grow hot under his suspicious gaze.

“Just ask the trooper outside for your payment” he adds bluntly, before asking Anakin to follow him for a briefing where they’re both needed.

As they exit the room, the younger jedi turns to you.

“I know I can count on you if I ever need more repairs. I’ll make sure to request you, personally.”

Your face is getting even more red as you mumble a good-bye to the two warriors.

The paycheck was generous, but honestly? You would be lying to yourself if you would not admit you’d do it all over again for free.

#anakin imagine #anakin x reader #star wars fanfiction #anakin smut #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #gender neutral imagine

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melancholymaz · 4 years

Text

Enceinte (3)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Now at 16 weeks in your pregnancy, The avengers have been taking the Uncle and Aunty role with pride, With your nursery being built and painted. But it’s game night and what better way to do that than have the avengers have a sleepover?

Warnings: Sad!Nat turns into Soft!Nat and couldn’t help but end it in domestic!Avengers. Swearing and Bucky and Steve cheating at Uno. Also talks of parents disowning their child.

Y/S/P = Your sexual preference

A/N: Here’s part 3! I am so deeply sorry it’s taken this long! Enjoy!

Deciding to live in the compound while pregnant has been both a blessing and a curse. Unfortunately with your parents having disowned you when you came out as Y/S/P, you didn’t have very many people to tell, besides a few friends and cousins, To which they were ecstatic.

The positives are that Nat doesn’t miss a thing as her and the team have decided to only go on missions unless necessary. So now they can be there for milestones or help if you ever need it. Even Carol has decided to stay until her niece or nephew is born. You and Natasha have both been reading pregnancy and baby books and even Tony had the two of you sleep in a spare room temporarily as him and the team combine your room with the vacant one next door for the baby’s nursery which is now ready to decorate. In about 3 weeks you’ll be having your gender reveal, as you and Nat had agreed you were far too excited to wait to see if your baby was a boy or a girl. Despite it being your first pregnancy, Your 16 week baby bump was very much noticeable, and now you didn’t look like you ate too much the night before, like you did when your bump was first starting to grow.

You’ve been keeping as active as you could, doing mild workouts during the day to keep as fit as you can. You’ve noticed your skin has become a bit more clearer, as the ‘pregnancy glow’ makes it’s mark. Sometimes you’ll have random blood noses, which is normal as Dr Cho had to convince Nat a hundred times, but it didn’t make them any less annoying. Warm baths and back massages had become your best friend as your bump starts to grow, If your back pain is bad now you dread the pain that is to come. You’ll even become dizzy at random points during the day, and it’s handy having the avengers around to easily catch you if you start to sway.

You’ve started wearing maternity clothes, to which Nat loves. Your choice in bras have become different thanks to your ever growing breasts, and she loves finding new ways to take them off as fast as she can. The only thing she loves to pout about is the fact you’ve started sleeping on your left side, as now it’s rare she gets to see your face as you both lay in bed together. That doesn’t stop her from rubbing and talking to the baby every night though.

Finishing up in the gym for the day, you wipe your forehead to rid the sweat and take a swig from your drink bottle, taking a breather before you say goodbye to Steve and Bucky who are both training together. Making your way to Your’s and Nat’s bedroom, you pass Wanda and Carol in the hallway, who asks you how you were feeling and if you needed anything, much to your gratitude.

As you enter your room you immediately notice somethings wrong. You hear a sniffle before a soft cry, and you notice it’s coming from the nursery. A frown settles on your face as you walk in and you can’t help the feeling of your heartbreaking a little. There Nat sit’s in the middle of the empty room crying, staring up at the half finished Winnie the pooh themed wall mural Steve has started, making sure to leave a spot blank to paint the baby’s name when you and Nat have decided on one.

“Babe? What’s the matter?” You ask, slowly coming up behind her, placing your hands on her shoulders, softly peering at her face. Her puffy eyes look up at you and she gives you a small sad smile. “I thought I was the one that was supposed to be emotional.”

“I’m sorry, I just came in here to see the mural but then I couldn’t help but think how surreal all of this is. I mean I never would have thought 2 years ago that you’d be my girlfriend much less pregnant with our first child. I mean all my life I thought I’d never have kids much less a partner. I used to have nothing, and now I’ve got this job... and this, family that couldn’t love us any more.”

“It does seem a bit crazy doesn’t it.” You say softly, lightly massaging her shoulders as she lets a few more tears fall. You know the best thing right now is to just comfort her and let her have her moment.

“I am so incredibly lucky to have the team, and you, and especially our baby. Everything I’ve ever wanted right here and I don’t know how or why I deserve it.”

“To be quite honest with you my love I think we’re the lucky ones. To have someone so loving and forgiving like you is definitely rare. Beans going to have the most protective and playful mama, and I think I can speak for the team when I say there’s no one that could ever replace you. You deserve all of this, The team, the family and most importantly me and our baby.” You tell her honestly, placing her hand on your bump.

“You think so?” She asks with so much uncertainness.

“I know so.” You smile, to which she returns.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Nat replies, the soft smile on her face as she looks up at you.

“Yeah, multiple times.” You smile. “Now come on, we’re gonna go have a shower and go see the team, It’s game night.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“This game is bullshit!” Sam screams, slamming his uno cards on the table before standing up and kicking his chair. “He’s cheating!! There is no way he can win game 5 times in a row!! He just picked up 4 cards!”

“Stop being a sore loser.” A smug Bucky says, taking joy in his friends rage.

“Stand up and clean out your pockets.” You demand, also annoyed at your friend. Bucky does as you say with a smug smile on his face, pulling his pockets from his shorts and jumper, proving he didn’t cheat. When he sit’s down however, you catch something in the corner of your eye and you shake your head with scoff when Steve subtly high fives Bucky under the table. Nat must have seen it to, because she too shakes her head and speaks up.

“Steven, my lovely captain.” Natasha says albeit too sweetly.

“Yes Nat?” He replies, probably too quickly to come off as nonchalant.

“Would you like to stand up and empty your pockets too?” I finish instead, smiling at the blonde who looks at Bucky then stands and does the same, which ends in him pulling out roughly 10 cards from his sweatpants pocket.

“Are those Bucky’s Cards?” Wanda asks, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“...no?” Steve replies. “They’re mine?”

“Steve is that or is it not Bucky’s cards?” Carol asks this time, her face stern, which you know is making Steve slightly panic. You see Bucky staring at Steve, almost daring him to lag on him.

“Okay fine. Buck and I made a deal that I would help him win because he always loses and he’s sick of Sam and Y/N always winning.” Steve confesses ashamedly, Bucky’s eyes widening in betrayal.

“I KNEW IT!!” Sam yells. Nat just stares dumbfounded, meanwhile Tony, Rhodey and Bruce just watch things unfold shaking their head in disappointment, Wanda and Carol stand up and start packing up the Uno cards as they both know no one will want to play after this. You, however, stare at Bucky with betrayal and hurt.

“You always say you want me to win! This is discrimination against pregnant women.” You joke, to which Nat laughs behind you.

“I think he wanted you to win so the baby will be named after him.” Rhodey inputs.

“Definitely won’t be now.” You say to which Bucky frowns. “Sorry pal lost your chance.”

“What-”

“Yeah because we all know the baby’s gonna be named after me.” Tony interrupts Bucky, pouring himself a drink at the bar.

“Jokes on all of you, we’re not naming the baby after any of you.” Nat replies, smiling matter-of-factly after nearly everyone looks at her offended. “You all suck.”

“Besides me.” Carol says, sticking her hand up.

“No definitely you.” Is Rhodey’s reply, causing Carol to throw the uno cards at him. Everyone begins to move into the common room, deciding to chill before someone picks a movie.

“Speaking of the baby, what’s the update?” Steve walks in, handing Wanda the chip bowl, who thanks him quietly.

“Well, Bean should be starting to hear sounds now hopefully, muscles are getting stronger and should be having coordinated arm and leg movement.” You explain, the team listening attentively.

“And Bean is now the size of an apple!” Natasha quickly adds.

“Seriously can’t wait to be an uncle.” Tony says, scratching his greying goatee. “How are you wanting to do the gender reveal?”

“Well so far it’s just gonna be all of us, Pete, Clint and his family, Fury, Sharon and Maria. Thor too if he’s back in time from Asgard. We’ll get Dr. Cho to put the respective colour in a big balloon and we’ll have like mini games and just have a fun time with all of us.” Nat explains. The team nods, and you can see Tony’s gears in his head rolling, probably just promoted himself the event planner.

“There is to be no one invited without our permission.” You direct to Tony, who just nods.

Just an hour later you and the team have all set up mattresses and blankets all over the common room, deciding to have a sleepover all together. Bruce and Rhodey as an exception as they believe they’re “too old” to have sleepovers. You and Nat set up on the end of all the mattresses, in case need to go toilet during the night. You’re surprised everyone agreed to do it, considering they’re the earths mightiest heroes.

As the end credits of the fourth movie rolls around, you look around to see everyone but you and Nat have fallen asleep. You move back down and start to wiggle around to find a comfortable spot, but end up failing miserably.

“You okay babe?” Nat asks, lightly rubbing your back after you groan for the third time.

“Just can’t seem to get comfortable.” You mumble back, trying to fall asleep.

“Would you like me to go get your new pregnancy pillow?” She asks laying her head on your shoulder, to which you nod softly. Nat gives you a kiss on the cheek before she stands and steps over you to go get your pillow from your shared room. When she comes back a few minutes later, she helps you position yourself and when you finally find a comfortable spot, you can’t help but sigh in relief.

“Thank you my love.” You mumble, already drifting off.

“Go to sleep Malysh, I’ll try to not keep you awake while I say goodnight to Bean.” Nat whispers, already moving down to talk to your bump. You hum in goodnight before you drift off into a deep slumber.

Malysh = Baby

#natasha romanoff x reader #imagine natasha romanoff #black widow #natasharomanoff #natasha x reader #Natasharomanoff x fem!reader #avengers x pregnant!reader #avengers fluff #avengers x reader #avengers x y/n

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spicymayo1983 · 3 years

Text

Hello. Been a little busy lately, but here is my latest story. Short, simple and to the point, lol.

You are a young officer for the rebellion who has led a sheltered life, protected from the outside world by your hovering parents.

You are on your own now, but there is one thing that is weighing heavily on your mind.

You are well into your 20's and still a virgin. You are aching for the touch of another person.

Your sexual frustration leads you into the arms of the dashing Poe Dameron, who is more than happy to be your first.

Warnings: Heavy smut, both genders oral sex, virginity loss, some language, age difference stuff (nothing illegal!) definitely not for anyone under 18.

You've seen him around and even spoken to him a few times. Poe Dameron. But you are notoriously socially awkward.

Your childhood on Tattooine was a sheltered one. Your parents wanted only the best for you but they never let you out of their sight.

As a result you never really developed your social skills and were painfully awkward.

But now you are on your own and have been for years, you are a young officer for the rebellion.

There's something you've been hanging onto for years that you just want to get rid of. Your virginity. You desperately want to let loose and have fun but you feel like your V card is getting in the way. Most of the men around you, especially the ones your age, want an experienced woman.

Poe is at least a decade older than you, you estimate.

His age and experience turn you on, a lot.

The two of you have developed a sort of playful friendship, you tease each other constantly with lame jokes.

It was hard not to notice how attractive he was, even for you. His dark curly hair, deep brown eyes and smooth olive skin made you feel things.

You were a virgin but you weren't dead.

It's a late night and everyone is getting ready to retreat to their quarters. You and Poe find yourselves the last people in the room.

He senses something is bothering you, Poe puts a strong yet gentle hand on your shoulder and asks,

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine". You reply quickly, your face turning a deep shade of red.

"I can sense something's bothering you". Poe presses on, a concerned look appearing on his gorgeous face.

"Tell me, I won't judge".

"Oh, I can't." You reply quickly, your face still feeling hot. "My problem is incredibly stupid, you wouldn't understand".

"Come on, you can trust me". Poe pressed on, his hand gently squeezing your shoulder. "Nothing is stupid or shocking to me".

"I'm a virgin". You blurt out, your face still red. "I've never had sex, not even once, never came close to it either".

Poe's eyes widen a little in surprise and he bites his lip in the most adorable manner. Your revelation has blown his mind a little, maybe even turned him on.

"Wow". He says, a look of surprise still on his face. "Can't really say that I saw that one coming".

"My parents ruled over me with iron fists". You explain with a deep sigh. "I was never out of their sight, not even for a minute".

"This is going to sound unbelievably crass of me but I would love to be your first". Poe tells you, his voice taking on a soft, sexy tone. "I can be as gentle as you need me to be, and I can teach you some things".

You think about his proposal for a moment. It doesn't take you long to reply,

"You've got a deal, teach me everything you know".

The two of you head back to his quarters. After a quick shower you nervously relax in his bed while Poe takes his.

You have only a towel flimsily wrapped around your body. You are nervous and excited but still uncertain whether you will go through with this or not.

But it is the closest you've ever been, so you silently congratulate yourself.

Poe comes out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his lower half.

With a slightly mischievous grin he sits down next to you on the bed, picking up on some silent cues you lower your towel a little, revealing your breasts.

"May I?" Poe asks, that devilish grin still on his face.

"Do what?" You reply, smiling a little.

"Touch those perfect tits of yours". He tells you, his voice taking on that smoky, sensual tone again.

You quickly nod yes, Poe begins to gently massage your hard nipples, he then leans down and takes one of them into his mouth and gives it a gentle suck, making you moan with delight.

He then reaches under your towel and with your blessing starts to tease your warm folds, he grazes his thumb on your clit, making you arch your back and moan yet again.

Things are happening quickly, just like you want. Poe's head wanders between your legs, moments later you feel his soft tongue gently lapping away at your silky wetness.

You feel the fireworks course through your body as you experience an incredible climax.

Afterwards Poe starts to kiss you all over your body, you can now clearly see his erect penis, and it's long, at least 8 inches, and thick with nice veins and a foreskin.

You giggle nervously, at your age you've never seen or handled one in person.

You lean down and surprise him by licking the tip a little.

Poe shows you how to stroke him, this becomes too much for you, the heat between your legs becomes unbearable.

So you roll over on your back, and offer yourself to him by spreading your legs a little.

"This might hurt a little, or a lot, just bear with me". Poe explains as he climbs on top of you. "Tell me to stop if the pain is too much".

He begins by gently inserting the tip, you beg him to go further, and he does, you wiggle around and moan in ecstasy as he slowly penetrates you, inch by inch.

Poe encounters your very much intact hymen, with one swift movement of his hips he breaks it, causing a moderate amount of blood to spill on his bedding and his thick cock.

"Does it hurt?" He asks again, briefly stopping his thrusts. "Tell me if I need to stop".

Poe is being a very gentle, caring lover, going out of his way to make sure you enjoy yourself.

"Not anymore". You moan.

He stops for a moment to enjoy your tightness, both of you are drenched in sweat.

The air is hot, humid and smells like sex. For a moment your eyes meet, there's a fiery lust in his dark eyes and his curly hair is a mess.

"Oh Poe, fuck, it feels so good!" You scream as as he speeds up his pace a little, your fingernails leaving deep scratch marks on his back.

He pulls out a little, teasingly, and then in one smooth movement Poe fills you again, he is stretching you out to the max, you feel full, you scream out in pleasure.

The brief discomfort turned into sheer excitement for you as Poe Dameron himself fucks you into a blissful, orgasmic state.

"Oh baby, you are so tight". Poe moans, his eyes rolling back into his head a little. "I can't hold back much longer, you feel too good."

He cums deep inside of you, the warm feeling of his large load coating your womb is in itself a huge turn on.

Luckily due to advanced birth control you can't get pregnant.

Afterwards you collapse in his arms and he cuddles you all night long, his strong arms are comforting and make you feel safe.

The end

#poe dameron #poe dameron smut #poe dameron x reader #star wars smut #star wars

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goose-books · 3 years

Text

& while i am posting things today. some more maxwriting, specifically two mini-fanfictions for yves. @yvesdot ’s WIP the one and only universe of kay rainier (would recommend! arguments to lovers! he/him wlw! interdimensional (?) shenanigans!) one of which also features an OC i've mentioned a few times on this blog but done historically very little with.

it’s occurred to me in my moment of posting that neither of these pieces have titles. oh well.

THE FIRST ONE

you ought to send yves. some bingo prompts. anyway, i sent them kay + daemons, and then immediately realized i had ideas and thoughts about that, too. so i wrote my own version. unlike theirs, this is vaguely set in the HDM universe, which is funny because i haven’t read HDM and learned everything i know from waya vivji, a single war and peace fanfiction, and also wikipedia just before i wrote it. the notable context here is that daemons are usually the “opposite sex” of their humans, and if i got that wrong do not tell me because i am embarrassed.

Kay is a precocious child; she is twelve years old when her daemon settles. Chesire is a sleek dark mahogany, a ferruginous hawk with a wickedly curved beak and eyes that glitter like beads. He is also male. This, for the Rainiers, is not done; even the absent Ariel, despite his eccentricities, had a properly gendered daemon. It unsettles Kay in a way she will not place for many years; still, as soon as she registers her disappointment (for it must be disappointment, surely; nothing more), she’s awash in guilt.

“How lovely,” she tells him, stroking his glossy new feathers, keeping her voice low less to keep out her father and more because it is only polite. Cheshire bobs his head and flutters his wings and seems, very slightly, to preen. He must be able to sense her uncertainty, the subdued flatness to her voice, but he is a Rainier as well; the polite thing is to ignore it, and he does.

“How curious,” Father says, stroking Fauntleroy’s velvet ears.

“Not unheard of,” the dormouse says from her seat in his breast pocket. Constantine inclines his head slightly; he does not deign to offer more.

When the Neighborly enters the house the jackal stalks at his heel, ears pricked at attention, wet black nose gleaming, mouth crooked open in a canine grin. With it comes a distinct smell — not unpleasant so much as it is unbalancing, an earthy scent, filling the foyer as its claws click on the floor. Like his clothes, it is black, head to toe. They aren’t usually. Kay wonders if it’s coincidence, if perhaps he dyes its fur so it will match.

She thinks of it as such — it — because to be frank she is not sure what to make of Atlas, and what to assume about his daemon. During the customary introductions, Cheshire perches atop Kay’s shoulder, and Fauntleroy emerges from her pocket to whisk up to Father’s collar and cling to the fabric to study the Neighborly. He can’t stay quite still. His hands twitch at his sides. He shifts his weight. The jackal paces maddening circles around the room, eyeing the dark walls and the fine wooden furniture, too dignified to lower its head and sniff but not too good to cast judgment without speaking. Every time it passes Kay in its slow inexorable orbit, Cheshire’s claws tighten on her coat.

“It’s a pleasure, Atlas,” Constantine says stiffly, extending a hand to shake with an expression that suggests he’d rather have it removed.

Atlas shakes, grinning easily, a looseness to his motions, and then he tilts his head and says, “Anubis.” In a moment the jackal’s at his side, curling around the backs of his legs to turn its wet smile on Kay’s father. It’s too large; that’s what she decides. How does he take it anywhere? Why hasn’t it learned to behave? Unless this is his goal: to part rooms, to announce his presence as soon as he steps through the threshold.

“Anubis,” she says, the first time she and Atlas are alone. “Like the god?” Atlas and Anubis; it is the sort of half-joke she can appreciate.

Anubis looks up at its name. Atlas looks at it. “I don’t know,” he says. “It was my sister’s idea.” He looks to Cheshire, who has settled near Kay’s inkwell to reorganize her pens. “And this is…”

“Cheshire.”

“Cheshire,” Atlas repeats, piercing glinting as his eyebrow quirks.

“When I was younger, I thought he would be a cat.”

“I thought she’d be a crow. Probably better this way. Crows are poser birds.” Anubis snorts at that, a sound both doggish and human.

“She is… she, then,” Kay says carefully.

“Oh, yeah. Apparently that’s weird.” Atlas leans back in Kay’s chair until the front legs leave the ground.

“Is it,” Kay says.

Atlas’s eyes flit around her face, like he knows what she’s asking; his smirk doesn’t lessen. “Well, women have male daemons, right? Ask Cheshire.”

Kay and Cheshire look at each other. Cheshire fluffs his feathers and says, “This is dull.”

Kay is less certain. She does not smile at Atlas, but some of the edge has smoothed from her voice. “I should like to watch you explain it to my father.”

“If he could take it,” Atlas says. “What’s the mouse’s fucking name again?”

Cheshire steps back and forth, feathers ruffling, until Kay sets a hand out to still him, gentle, comforting. “Fauntleroy.”

“Christ,” Atlas says. “Bless you.” When he catches Kay stiffening, he relents a little, letting the chair clatter back to the floor. “Fits the vibe, I guess.”

“As yours fits you,” says Kay, making it as uncomplimentary as she can.

“Guess my soul’s black,” Atlas says cheerily. He balls up a piece of paper and tosses it to Anubis, who, flopped across the floor, doesn’t move. “Not the weirdest thing about us.”

“Well,” Kay says, “I think it would be rather unfair for me to talk about oddities,” and she takes a small victory in the look they share: not friendship, not fondness, but something like an understanding, reached in the quiet moment before Cheshire hands her another pen and she resumes her work.

THE SECOND ONE

this one’s a bit older but i never posted it until now, at yves.’s urging! i think i was doing... camp nano last year? or something. and couldn’t think of what to write. or maybe i couldn’t focus on my project because i was thinking about my other project, the butch4butch hamlet retelling i still haven’t written. to which yves. said, “write kay x your lesbian hamlet character,” to which i said, “you don’t think i will, but i will,” and i did. so really this is yvesmax crossover fic.

It is annoying, Holden’s habit of dropping by whenever she likes. This can probably be attributed to the fact that Holden, herself, is annoying. Kay can only adjust the items on her desk (pens, mainly) so many times; she is caught up in an aggravating state of waiting but also not waiting, and she does not care for that.

Just as she thinks so, there’s a knock at the front door.

Holden doesn’t ring the doorbell anymore. She did that the first time and Kay came down the stairs a few seconds too late to find Father staring at the creature in his front hall, looking like he didn’t know whether he should be put out or concerned. “I think the earrings got him,” Holden said later, on Kay’s bed, tapping the crosses hanging inverted from her ears. Kay’s opinion was that it was all of her, from the messy post-buzz hair to the propensity for suits to the Doc Martens to the way Holden leans on any available surface.

She opens the door and Holden is leaning against the doorframe. Which looks a little more awkward coupled with whatever she’s carrying under her arm.

“Hi,” she says.

Kay blinks slowly.

“It is late,” she says, spinning on her heel and heading for the stairs. Behind her, she hears the quiet click of Holden closing the door. The grandfather clock in the front hall is ticking toward eleven.

“I never get over how weird this place is.” When she glances back, Holden is peering into the nearest glass cabinet. “Like a little dollhouse.”

“Thank you,” Kay says stiffly. She cannot decide whether she is irritable.

“And this is coming from someone whose parents were devoted to taxidermy.” Holden follows her up the stairs, hands shoved into the pockets of her suit jacket, looking entirely too comfortable here, and Kay decides that she is irritable after all.

“I do not know what you suppose your business is here,” she says. “Especially as it is almost an hour past ten.”

Holden shrugs.

“Do not shrug at me.”

Holden opens her mouth as if to speak, then casts a glance behind her. There’s no one in the darkened hallway; Father is in his office. Still, Holden waits for Kay to shut her bedroom door.

“I know I’m late,” she says, slouching back against it. “Sorry. I lost track of time in the bookstore.”

Kay blinks. “You are late to see me because you went to the bookstore,” she intones.

She says nothing as Holden withdraws the books from under her arm and extends them. “I really wanted to find Carmilla for you,” she says. “Like, the oldest print version I could find.”

It certainly looks old. Kay purses her lips. “I own Carmilla.”

“I know. But, like… it’s vintage.” Holden attempts one-handed jazz hands. “I have a sentence in my notes app from six months ago that just says carmilla but like the old edition.” She shuffles the stack of books. “And then I sat down for — look, I swear I was trying to be timely about it. Trying to be punctual.” She pops the P. “But time isn’t real and I read two chapters of Pride and Prejudice and I don’t know if you own that but it feels like the kind of thing you’d find sexy.” Her smile glitters. “And then — I know The Catcher in the Rye isn’t your thing. But I wrote in this one, so.”

Kay reaches out, very carefully, to take the books. She does own Pride and Prejudice, actually, but she still feels a pang. She flips through The Catcher in the Rye and is met with scrawls of black-ink handwriting, filling up the margins and underlining passages.

“Thank you,” she says, very softly, and moves to set the books on her desk. “You didn’t have to… get me anything.”

“I like knowing that my parents’ money is fueling homosexual agendas,” Holden says pleasantly. When Kay turns around, Holden catches her hand and steps in closer, showing her teeth in a smile. “But I’ll try to be on time from now on.”

“As you should,” Kay says, pulling Holden a few inches closer.

Holden raises a hand to caress Kay’s cheek. “That said,” she says in a low voice, “now that I’ve — what did you say. Now that I’ve fulfilled my business here, I can think of a few things we could do. Unless it’s too late.”

Against her will, Kay smiles.

“I suppose we can extend your stay a little longer,” she says, and their lips meet.

#max.txt #max actually writes #yves tag #love h tag #holden hemlock #apparently i only write kaypov. i'll admit atlas's pov intimidates me a little bit.#but i do maintain my choice of holden/kay versus holden/atlas because holden and atlas are like... the same. doubles #well not really doubles but like... i think the furthest they would get would be holden asking atlas to swap clothing items.#in a nonsexual very literal way.#anyway! enjoy.

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nopanamaman · 4 years

Note

yeah, seriously. ye can easily find people explaining why its transphobic. the most surface level explanation i could give you is that it's literally assigning characteristics to genders. like "oh only women have long hair and breasts" etc etc

okay, listen. i don’t like getting political on my blog and i assume this sudden influx of politics-related asks has to do with my recent video post getting popular.

the thing with my characters is that they DO have fairly prominent physical features traditionally associated with their respective genders/sexes. and so to me it’s a fun design exercise to flip those features to be the polar opposite while retaining what the character is about.

i do not have anything against trans people or any part of the lgbt community for that matter. if me drawing genderbends is something that offends your sensibilities, that’s fine. you can feel free to block me.

#Anonymous

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vintagesimstress · 4 years

Text

VI c. UV_1

(Previous: Changing the texture displayed in Blender)

As mentioned before, the uv_1 map plays a very different role than uv_0: it tells the game where certain parts of your mesh are located, so that the whole thing could move with sliders. It seems many people struggle with it a lot – and to be honest, I have no idea why, as in my experience uv_1 has always been totally unproblematic. Hopefully you'll share my feelings on this!

Let's click once again the little triangle on the right ('Data') and choose 'uv_1' this time.

As you can see, the texture on the model turned very weird – and it'll stay this way, as that map is not meant for texturing. You can as well change to solid shading, if you find that craziness spooky or annoying.

If you switch to edit mode, you'll see that the map looks just as crazy:

UV_1 uses a completely different type of template. It differs very slightly depending on age and gender of your sim; the adult female one looks like this:

You can download all the versions from S4S forum, in HERE (I highly suggest you make some kind of 'Basics' folder for all those things which you'll keep reusing!)

Once you have downloaded it, click 'Image' and then 'Open image'. It works exactly the same as in case of uv_0. Now it should look like this:

You can see that your vertices are twice wider than the template. I'm not sure why the template has been made in this way instead of getting adjusted to the TS4 requirements, but that's what we have to work with. Select all the vertices (a), press s, then x, then type 0.5 and press enter. Do not move your mouse! Your uv map should be twice narrower now:

We still have to move it, so that it'd align with the template. Select all again, this time press g, x and type 512. That's exactly the number of pixels you need to move your mesh to the right. Now it should finally look correct.

Just like in case of uv_0, the top part is completely done, so the only thing we have to do is unwrap the skirt. This time the only valid methods for doing it are no. 1 and 2 (see: VI a), namely moving the lines manually or using cylinder projection. As at this point making manual adjustments would be too cumbersome, we're going to use option no. 2.

Select the lowest line of vertices to select your whole skirt, go to front view this time (num 1) and choose cylinder projection.

Move the newly unwrapped faces up or down (g, y), to the black area, so that you could properly see them.

You can see that my dress got unwrapped a bit unevenly – there are small 'steps' on the sides. I highlighted all the faces which should form the left edge. Now I'll move the highlighted parts on the right to the left, and the non-highlighted parts on the left to the right, and then it should all look and work fine.

Tip: you can also move them precisely into the right place by typing g, x, 1024 (to move to the right) or g, x, -1024 (to move to the left)!

The weird part at the bottom is the closing circle; you can select the central vertex (which is here doubled on the sides), weld it and move it down, to more or less align it with the lowest row. Or simply wait with closing your dress until you're done with uv_1 ;). The bigger problem is that step my dress still has at the top. I'll select all the vertices below it and just very gently move them along the x axis to the left. Now, that looks better:

And now, just as we did before, we have to connect the skirt with the top. It's a bit trickier than in case of uv_0, because you can't do it in one piece: your mesh has to be split along the back and both sides. Take a look at the top mesh. Let's start from the left: click the rightmost face and then, in 3D view, the faces right underneath it. This will tell you where your skirt should be split.

I'll deselect the face of the top, select the whole part of the skirt left from the selection and then move it to the left (g, x), separating it from the central part.

That weird line at the bottom is the closing circle again – I'll delete it and redo it afterwards, it'll really be easier.

Repeat the same steps for the part on the right.

The edges of those three parts should be, if possible, straight. Mine aren't. To be able to adjust them, I'll select the edges and temporarily split them (ctrl + e, in 3D view). Select a vertex or two above as well, or the uppermost one won't get split!

(If you're having problems with selecting edges, it might be smart to select the whole skirt (not the top!) and change it back from tris to quads (alt + j). Then you can easily select edges by clicking them while holding alt).

Split also the top row of vertices, to separate the skirt from the top. Just for a second.

Now select a whole edge, press w and choose 'Align X'

Repeat for the remaining edges. If you want to and feel that it's needed, you can also straighten other lines in your mesh.

Now it's finally the time to put it in the right place. Select the skirt and move it up (g, y).

One can immediately see that it's way too tall. Scale it along the y axis until it looks more reasonable. It should start at the lowest line of the top and end a bit above the feet. Nothing big will happen if it covers them, but it has to fit inside the picture!

And now just scale and move each of the 3 parts individually, along the x axis, to match them with the top.

The only thing left to do is to weld the vertices. It's unlucky that we separated the skirt from the top; now we have to select all, remove doubles and then once again split the side edges to be able to weld everything properly. Just like with uv_0: select a vertex, press w and choose 'weld' from the drop-down menu. Repeat for aaaaaall the vertices connecting the skirt with the top.

Sometimes the vertices can be quite far away from each other. Is it still safe to weld them? I'd say risk it. If you see some weird stuff happening in game when changing your sim's body type, you'll know you have to fine tune it: straighten some lines, make them more regular etc. However, chances are quite high that it won't matter at all.

Select all and remove doubles. Yes, again (I keep doing it all the time, that's probably why I love the edge split modifier so much).

And now a very important, final step that I usually forget about: you have to revert the moving and scaling changes you made at the very beginning. Select all and press g, x, -512 to move it back into position, and then s, x, 2, to make it twice wider again. Otherwise TS4 will get quite perplexed with your mesh (and so will you, seeing everything being weirdly deformed and moving with all the wrong sliders)!

As you see, it's not very difficult and once you get a grip of it, you can do it in no time. To be honest, 90% of the time I don't even do the whole scaling and moving thing; I just open the picture, to know where the feet are, and adjust the rest to the top. UV_1 is really not that bad, at least as long as you don't have to deal with the upper body half.

Here are just a couple of general, closing remarks which I'd like to share:

If you move any vertices of the top, immediately move them on the uv_1 map as well. I try to avoid it at all costs, but sometimes I can't resist making just one teeny tiny adjustment... Arms are usually not a problem, neck can get problematic, and breast area is an absolute nightmare. I already mentioned it once, but honestly, better dissolve vertices and cut new edges with the knife tool than move anything in there.

If you're frankenmeshing, remember to weld any vertices you merged in 3D view! If your mesh is getting split in game when you move any sliders, that probably means you didn't connect those parts on the uv_1 map (or that it's vertex paint... but that's another story).

Of course, if you added any other parts to your mesh than just a skirt – or if you frankenmeshed a thing, but changed its location, e.g. took a hair ribbon and put it on the skirt – you have to put it in the right place as well! In case of frankenmeshing you just have to change its location on the map; if you made it yourself, you'll have to experiment with different types of unwrapping first (pssst, projecting from view usually isn't a bad idea).

There are also certain cases - rarely, but still - when it might be a better idea not to properly unwrap a part of the mesh, but weld it all together to a little dot and put it in the right place on the uv_1. The first example which comes to my mind are 3D buttons. I always weld each button to a single dot, so that it’d be changing its size evenly, without deformations. However, this comes at a prize of an increased risk of clipping.

And finally: if you're having big problems with uv_1 and my method doesn't work for you – or if you made your mesh completely from scratch, so you don't have an unwrapped top – you can always make a data transfer, copying uv_1 data from another mesh. I won't elaborate on this one, because Teanmoon already explained it all in her amazing tutorial, which you can find HERE. Scroll down a bit until you see 'UV-1 Transfers'. I think I used it myself once or twice in the past and I was quite pleased with the results :).

***

Once again, I'm sorry both for how long you had to wait for this tutorial and for its final length. I swear I intended it to be a simple, concise explanation ^^. I hope that at least it's all clear and will help you avoid any problems with uvs. Please tell me if you have any questions or if something doesn't work for you – really, I mean it! Half of my inspiration for this tutorial comes from me watching other simmers struggle with making their first pieces of CC, as it helps me notice what hasn't been explained yet.

From now on we'll be moving into the dangerous territory of clones, cuts, regions, bones and weights, and I need some time to figure out how to divide this whole topic into sensible parts. It's not even that hard, but very interconnected, and that makes it difficult to tackle – as covering it all in one part is absolutely out of the question. Please have some patience with me and stay tuned!

#tutorial #blender #blender 2.79 #uv_1 #uv_1 tutorial

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destroyyourbinder · 5 years

Link

I want to thank Jacob for his enormous bravery in speaking out publicly about how the “puberty blocker” (GnRH agonist) protocol and the medicalization of his identity affected him as a struggling trans teenager.

I want to note before I share the article that stories like Jacob’s are being politicized by groups like Mermaids (the primary transgender child lobbying organization in the UK) to claim that while "blockers” are “safe” and “reversible” and ought to be immediately provided to trans children who are beginning puberty, that any problems with GnRH agonists indicates that clinicians should begin cross-sex hormone treatment early. Organizations such as Mermaids and various other groups in the US frequently claim that there ought to be no formal lower age bound for the initiation of cross-sex HRT (i.e. testosterone for female children, estrogen and an anti-androgen drug for male children) and Johanna Olson-Kennedy (a pediatric gender “expert” and head of the gender clinic at Children’s Hospital Los Angeles) advocates regularly for female children to receive testosterone at twelve and has possibly given children as young as 8 testosterone treatment. So in sharing this kid’s story, I want to be careful, since there is a real danger that exposing the harms of using GnRH agonists such as Lupron on gender-variant children will lead to a change in strategy where these children are merely dosed early with cross-sex hormones, a protocol that to my knowledge that we have zero long-term data on. (Children are given GnRH agonists as a means to halt precocious puberty, and in fact, these drugs are approved for this purpose, so we have some data on their effects already. As far as I know, there has been no previous medical reason to give female children testosterone or male children anti-androgens and estrogen.) The article is behind a paywall but I am transcribing it here: Puberty blocking drugs: ‘For the past four years I’ve been stuck as a child’ Jacob has just turned 16 and for the past four years the teenager’s body has been put on pause. He has been on hormone blockers to stop puberty while he decides how far he is willing to go to become a transgender man.

He claims that taking blockers was “the worst decision I’ve ever made”.

Jacob was born a girl but felt unhappy with his gender. “I always felt so weak and pathetic and inferior to the men.” He started using the male pronoun and imagined himself growing up and “dating a woman”.

When Jacob became one of thousands of young adolescents to be referred for puberty blockers by the NHS’s main gender clinic for children he was delighted. “It was sold to me as a miracle cure for being trans,” he claimed. He told another trans school friend about them, who started requesting blockers too.

Hormone blockers are only licensed in Britain to delay the onset of puberty for children suffering “precocious puberty” — that is, those who start developing abnormally early before the age of eight or nine.

However, their use is promoted by the transgender campaign group Mermaids as a way of giving young people “a pause button” while deciding whether to graduate to the irreversible, cross-sex hormones that will trigger the life-changing, fertility-reducing jump from one gender to another, once they reach 16. The vast majority of children who begin blockers go on to take that step.

Blockers are physically reversible, insofar as puberty will eventually restart once someone stops taking them. But no one — not even the directors of the country’s leading gender clinic, the Tavistock’s Gender Identity Development Service [GIDS] — knows their long-term impact, for example, on the teenage brain.

After just a few consultations at the Tavistock, Jacob was referred to the endocrinology clinic at University College London Hospitals [UCLH]. He claimed the clinic did not consider his background, such as the trauma of a sexual assault at primary school, or his parents’ difficult divorce. He and his mother were soon making regular visits to London from their small village in the west of England for the injections.

“They promise you that your breasts will disappear, that your voice will be deeper, that I would look and sound more like a boy. For me, that was the best thing that could have happened,” he said.

Only, Jacob found that wasn’t what happened at all. Far from becoming one of the lads, as he’d hoped, he felt even more alienated from them as their physiques changed and Jacob’s remained the same.

“At school, other people were maturing into adults. The guys I grew up with were growing hair and growing up. For someone who’s trying to fit in as a boy, that’s not what you want.” Jacob had always been the tallest among his friends. Now he was the shortest. When his little brother overtook him in height and strength, he found it too upsetting to be in the same room as him. “My little brother is 18 months younger and now he has completely outgrown me. I go to school and I feel like other people are developing and I still feel like a child,” he said. Jacob also claims he was not warned about the side-effects of the drugs. These have included insomnia, exhaustion, fatigue, low moods, rapid weight gain which caused his skin to become covered with angry, itchy stretch marks, and a reduction in bone density. “I’d never broken a bone before [taking puberty blockers],” he says. “I’ve since broken four bones.” “I stubbed my toe, it broke. I fell over, my wrist broke. Same with my elbow.” As he took the blockers, Jacob’s mother watched her child become even more introverted and body-conscious. “The blockers contributed more to the self-image problems that were already there,” she said. Jacob found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on schoolwork. If sitting GSCEs is hard enough with raging hormones, it’s even harder without them, he said. “I’m someone with the developing mind of a 12-year-old who’s doing exams designed for a 16-year-old.”

He added: “The worst part was probably the depression. There were moments when I wanted everything to stop. Weight gain and depression — for someone who is already self-conscious about their body, that’s a lethal combination.” Clinicians who resigned from GIDS for ethical reasons said one of their main concerns was that young people were being sent down a medical pathway without proper exploration of the possibility they may simply be gay. Jacob is no closer to understanding who he may be attracted to at 16 as he was at 12. “My friends are all talking about having sex and girlfriends, and going to prom... but I’ve never had a crush. I’ve never felt sexual attraction to anyone. I feel so out of place.” In hindsight, Jacob finds it surprising how little his background — and the reasons why he didn’t want to be a girl — were discussed before being referred for treatment. “They didn’t even look at my history or trauma,” claimed Jacob. “They sent a child whose circumstances and feelings they didn’t understand [for hormone treatment].” Jacob is speaking out about his experience to warn other transgender youngsters to think twice before starting blockers. “I was sold a miracle cure. They promised happiness with little evidence behind it. Then four years in, you realise, oh my God, I’ve no idea about the long-term effects.“

“They asked a 12-year-old to make a decision an adult would struggle with.” “It was like, ‘here are the drugs’ and off we went. It’s a ridiculous process. It’s not gone the way they told me it was going to go.”

Mermaids, the transgender lobby group, claims that puberty blockers are safe and “completely reversible” and that not giving them to youngsters who request them can be more damaging than prescribing them.

Gendered Intelligence, another trans campaign group, claims on its website that hormone blockers give children “breathing space to ensure that they are sure about the permanent effects of cross-sex hormones, without the adverse effects of an incorrect puberty.” Jacob is scathing about such claims. “Breathing space! It really isn’t. I’ve not had any space to breathe the last four years.“

“They sell it to you as a break from feeling like a girl, and that’s fine for the first few months but as soon as everyone else around you starts developing it becomes ‘spot the transgender kid’, which is so easy because you’re stuck as a child.“

“If anything, I’ve been more depressed than before. My thyroid is messed up. I’m hungry all the time. I have no idea how my breast tissue will develop.” He claimed: “They push and push you on to this one-way train you’re not allowed off.” Asked whether it was misleading to promote puberty blockers as a “pause button”, a spokesman for Mermaids said: “Mermaids cannot comment on clinical cases as we are not involved in any individuals’ medical pathways.” “We offer young people and their families information, support and access to others in similar circumstances.” Gendered Intelligence declined to respond. Jacob claims the main focus of his treatment at the Tavistock was on the milestones of transition — “how far you’re willing to go” — rather than discussion of the consequences.

He claims: “My Tavistock worker was saying to me, ‘once you have the testosterone, you’ll be a boy’. “But it shouldn’t be about milestones. Being trans is how you think; it should not be about how far down the line you’re will to go.” A spokesman for Tavistock said: “All young people considering the puberty blocker or cross-sex hormones are repeatedly made aware of the known potential impacts of these medical interventions... as well as the areas of impact that remain to some extent unknown.“

“The information that we give patients about the blockers makes it clear that they may get tired and experience low mood. We explain to young people that hormones give us energy and drive, not just our sex drive but our overall ‘get up and go’. “We also emphasised to them routinely that while on the blocker they would stay early puberty whilst their peers developed. This is a routine part of the discussion.“

“In the end the decision to go on blockers is a balancing act weighing up these factors against the perceived distress of undergoing puberty in the ‘wrong’ gender and developing unwanted and potential hard to change secondary sexual characteristics.” Jacob decided to come off the drugs on turning 16. He began to feel the benefits almost overnight. “I grew taller, I lost weight, I felt livelier. It was like getting the poison out of my system,” he said. He will now wait until reaching 18 before making any big decisions.“I’m just fed up with all of it. I’ve felt like a guinea pig from day one. [Blockers] only made my life more complicated and it was pretty complicated already.” He added: “I’ll be 18 in two years, but for the past four years I’ve been stuck as a child. Blockers took away the chance I had to grow up with other kids. Now I want to give my body a break.”

#medical47 #risks01

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thorinthehottotty · 4 years

Text

May 22nd - Lyn's Writing Event - Thorin

Prompt - Body Swap

A/N: I'm really glad I read everyone else's first. I started writing Thorin experiencing menstruation for the first time but Jay already has that covered with her John Porter story which was great! I want to rewrite this later, I'm just mentally kaput.

Summary: It's been three days that you and Thorin have been in each other's bodies from some enchanted elven wine. With no idea how to reverse it's effects, you two are stuck hiding it from as many people as possible.

Warnings: implied smut, smut, language, shitty writing (I'm half asleep)

Three days had come since you'd woken in the body of the dwarf king. Three days of growing frustrations, temper tantrums and bitching. You and Thorin were no closer to discovering a cure for your ailment as you were before all of this.

Thandruil still hadn't replied to Thorin's raven on how the hell his wine switched you both.

So that left you both hiding away with only Dwalin and Balin knowing the truth. They'd told everyone you'd both come down with a strange illness and were out of commission, leaving Fíli in charge of Erebor!

At least today was fairly tame. It had been incredibly awkward to start. Bathroom breaks, while much easier for you, Thorin struggled. You were the reluctant one at first, complaining of invading his privacy. But after the first piss (where you totally didn't take a good look at just what he was packing) you're confidence was soaring. He was not prepared for your to sprint out of the chamberpot to babble excitedly about how easy it was.

His experience was less than ideal. Remember to wipe front to back, no you can't drip dry, and let me know if there's blood were all repeated to him everytime he heads for the washroom attached to his chambers. Now that you were both hiding out in them together, it made for loads of fun, not.

Thorin heaves a sigh and stands, meandering over to his book shelf and trying to reach for another book. He pushed up onto his toes to do it. Oh, hot damn. The position really made your ass and thighs pop.

A newly familiar stirring begins between your legs. You popped boners less often than you expected but it was still frequent.

When he turns back around his face crumbles into a ornery glower. "What's that stupid smirk for?"

"It's your stupid smirk." He glares at you harshly.

"Why?" Your dirty smirk turns into a goofy grin.

"I've got a nice ass." He groans deeply and moves to sit back down. "What? Am I not allowed to check myself out?" His eyes narrow as you shift the tightened trousers.

"Are you getting an erection while admiring yourself?" Your grin falters and you shrug.

"I can't help it! It's your body. You can't tell me you haven't been horny yet."

"I have not."

"Oh really?" You demand, lean forward to cross your arms.

"I hardly even woke with morning iron before this. You've woken with it every day for three days," he argues.

"I can't control my dreams, Thorin. Let alone your dick! And that's bullshit! My body is constantly horny!" Thorin gave you a skeptical look.

"I have not felt the effects of it."

"Well erections feel different from it, you probably just don't recognize the feeling." Thorin ignored your comment, opting to read instead. "In my world, orgasms are different between genders. I wonder if that's true for this too." That captured his attention.

"You wouldn't dare!" He snarls, slamming his fists on the table.

"For science sake."

"I forbid it!"

"Well... I'm the king," you smirk, eyeing him. "Besides, I wouldn't do you dirty like that, even if I do have serious blue balls. I'm just saying you wouldn't recognize being horny. It's subtle for women." Thorin crosses his arms and glowers down at the breasts that get in his way.

"What would these symptoms be?"

"Tightness in the lower abdomen, tingling down south, hard nipples, lots of discharge."

"Discharge?" He repeats, confused.

"Stand up and pull down your pants." Thorin gapes in horror.

"I will do no such thing!"

"It's my body! Just do it. I'm showing you!" You stand waving him up as well. He sighs again, like he couldn't possibly be more inconvenienced, and rises. He awkwardly unties his pants and shuffles them down with his underwear. "Ah! There. See that white stuff?" He glances down. "Discharge."

"What is it, though." You flash him a naughty grin.

"It's the body's natural lubricant produced when you are aroused," you explain, then a naughty grin passes your face. "That's essentially you getting wet." Thorin's cheeks go cherry red and he quickly yanks his pants back up as you chuckle haughtily at him.

"Nonsense!"

An idea fills your mind. You know every spot that feels good on your body. You could torture him with this. You step closer, brushing a big hand up and over the back of his thigh and buttock. He goes stiff and shoves at you. "What do you think you're doing!"

"Admit, it feels good!" He glares hard.

"Don't you dare!" You snatch the back of his neck as he turns away, making him gasp as you easily drag him back, spine pressed to sternum.

His butt bumps into the bulge in the front of your pants. You brush knuckles down the side of his neck and he gives a gasp, making you grin effectively.

"Unhand me-ee!" You grin around the shell of an ear, nibbling gently. The squeak he let out completely involuntary. Letting him go, you circle back around to your spot at the table. He stares at you, red faced and shook. "You... You... Goblin!" You grin at him, mischeviously. "You are enjoying this far too much!"

"I know all the ways to rile my body up, Thorin. Try me."

He paused, eyes narrowing. As he seems to realize the game you're playing, he steps closer, looking like a dangerous animal, but in your body.

"We should be looking for a cure, not playing these games!" And with that he drops back down into a seat and roughly opens a book.

"Fine," you tell him, hands raised. You turn back to your own book and easily settle back into it. He doesn't, however. He's twitching and shifting uncomfortably in his seat. On occasion, he casts you a glare that you either ignore or smirk at. "Crossing your legs and squeezing them only gives so much relief."

He gives a frustrated groan and slams his book shut. "I detest you." It makes you grin at him.

"Come on, for science. Only one of us has to do it." Thorin glares at you harshly. "One person gets off, we know if there really is a difference." Thorin is standing and moving to you faster than you expect. He grabs your face in both hands and leans toward you.

"I do not wish for our first time making love to be tainted by us being the other person." The intimate admission shocks you.

"Do you want to make love with me?"

"Yes, for a very long time. I was going to ask you to court me. But we became too drunk on wine." Oh. That's why he invited you to dinner. You smile up at him.

"Yes. I'll court you." His face flutters in shock for only a moment, then he smiles.

"I still don't want to subject you without being in your own body."

"We don't know how long we'll be like this, so how about I give you a bit of relief? Or me?" Thorin sighs. "It's not exactly romantic. But it will help with that ache." Thorin shakes his head, chuckling softly.

"Is that really what you wish?"

"Yes!" He gives a sigh for you, nodding softly. You grin and lean forward, he pressing a hand to your shoulder, leaning back.

"I will kiss you when we return to our bodies." You pout but nod as he unties his trousers again. You waste no time slipping a hand in. He gasps in shock. "No warning?!"

You laugh at him. "Don't make me kiss you." He doesn't have time to answer as you firmly press your sausage fingers up and into his clit. He moans loudly and stumbles back into the table. "Hold on tight, Thorin. Our little friend here has more nerve endings than a cock."

He grips the edges of the table as you set to work, careful to be a little gentler in your new body, aware of the unbridled strength. And then your fingers dip back further and easily slip into Thorin's new cavern. He groans loudly, tilting his head back.

He curses in Khuzdul,legs spreading apart easily. "Is it weird I'm totally into this?" You ask.

"Stop talking," he moans.

Taglist: @dabisburntnut @fizzyxcustard @queenofmankind @tomisbaeholland

#thorin #thorin fanfiction #thorin thursday #thorin durin #thorin x you #lyn's writing event

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jovialyouthmusic · 4 years

Text

Lovelink Fanfic 6

Fanfic featuriing Albert Bishop of Lovelink. Albert makes his way back to his match, but all does not go well

Word Count 2285

A/N Warning - This chapter features an episode of PTSD

6 Not All Roses

How was it possible to miss someone you hardly knew so much? After Albert had gone, I was left in my empty apartment, clean and tidy, with little to do. Before him, I’d never even though about what life in the military must be like, never found the uniform attractive at all. I had swiped right on him out of desperation. But his personality had won me over. I’d had little niggles at how he disappeared at a moment’s notice, how he couldn’t tell me about what he was doing, where he would be or how long for.

But what must it be like for him? He obviously loved his job and took pride in it, but it must come with incredible risk and danger. How much active service had he seen – did he suffer from trauma? So far he’d seemed well balanced and stable. He hadn’t got much longer to serve, but that didn’t mean he was in any less danger than when he first enlisted.

As I had little else to do, I decided to refresh my memory on how to handle PTSD, just in case. I’d taken a course years ago but never used it. I got ready for bed, deciding on hot chocolate instead of wine, resisting the temptation to add a tot of whisky to it. I settled in bed with my tablet and started to read an article. I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, my phone pinged with a text message. Blearily I opened it up

Change of plan, coming back

I wasn’t sure what to think – my mind raced.

What happened? Everything okay?

All fine, will explain later

I had mixed feelings now. Of course I was delighted he was returning – but why? Had he fallen out with his family? Had there been an accident? He’d said everything was fine, but was he just saying that so I wouldn’t worry? I couldn’t sleep after that, and couldn’t decide how to greet him. Somehow I didn’t think we’d be ripping each others’ clothes off in the hall, I was too preoccupied for that.

In the end, when he rang the doorbell I was standing there ready to let him in. His greeting this time was more sober, and he simply came in and wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight. He smelled of beer and smoke, but he didn’t seem to be intoxicated.

‘Albert – what happened?’ I asked gently when he let me go to kiss my forehead tenderly ‘I was worried sick’ His expression changed to one of concern.

‘I’m sorry baby, I didn’t think. It’s just – well, Pa’s as perceptive as my mother. He worked it out, and told me to make myself scarce, come back to you’

‘What about your brothers?’

‘So drunk they won’t notice – and if they do, Pa will cover for me’

‘How did you manage to stay sober?’

‘I’m not entirely sober’ he grinned ‘but there’s a pot plant in the pub that got a beer tonic’ I laughed

‘You kind of took my advice then’

‘Sure did Ma’am.’ He started taking his jacket off ‘I’m bushed, I just want to crash if that’s okay with you. The beer doesn’t do my performance any favours anyway.’

‘Of course, I was almost asleep when you texted’ He hung up his jacket and came back to take my hand and kiss it.

‘I’m sure we’ll carry on enjoying ourselves in the morning’ he grinned

‘There’s no doubt about that’

------

I scouted ahead through the deserted streets, moving from cover to cover slowly and methodically. All was quiet – too quiet. I listened, scanned for movement, inhaled to catch any unusual scents – cordite, smoke, anything that might give away the enemy’s position. I motioned my team forward to the next safe point and carried on forward, watching where I trod, monitoring the shadows.

Something wasn’t right. I gave the others the signal to stay put while I checked.

Then there was a whistle, and I dropped instinctively to the ground, felt the shock wave of the shell passing overhead. A dull thud, a noise that I could feel in my chest, and then silence, my ears ringing. Chaos. Rubble. Things out of place or just not there any more. A car on its roof, a lamp post horizontal to the ground. I pivoted to look for my team.

Movement. A hand sign – all okay. Relief. Then another whistle overhead.

‘No!’ I sat up in bed in a cold sweat, heart hammering. Beside me, a woman screamed. I threw myself over her body to protect her.

Protect her from what? All was quiet apart from her frightened whimpering. I was in an unfamiliar room. No, wait, I knew where I was. Underneath me, my angel struggled to get up.

‘Albert’ she gasped, panic in her voice ‘Albert, it’s okay’ I leapt out of bed, words tumbling out of my mouth unstoppably. Adrenaline pumped through my body but there was no threat, nothing to run from, no danger….

‘Oh my god, I’m so sorry, did I hurt you? Tell me I didn’t hurt you’

‘No, no, it’s alright. Sit down. I’m fine. You’re fine – you’re safe’ I slumped onto the bed, remorse consuming me. I passed my hand over my forehead. Someone was hammering on the door. She looked puzzled for a moment, then sprang out of bed.

‘The neighbours’ she explained, and went out to the hall. I heard her open the door. Voices, the word ‘nightmare’ and visitor’ drifting along the hall. The door closing, her soft footsteps returning. My heart was still hammering, shame consuming me.

‘Oh fuck. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry’ She put her hand on my arm softly

‘Arnold, take a deep breath’ her voice was soothing. I did as I was told, my senses calming. ‘I’m going to hold you now – is that okay?’ I nodded. She put her arm round my shoulder and paused as I stiffened at first, then allowed myself to let go just a little. She pulled me toward her and I didn’t resist. I rested my head on her soft breasts, heartbeat slowing, breath steadying. Her arms encircled me and she rested her cheek on my head. I felt her breathing, slow and calm, and mimicked it, my panic fading.

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry’ hot tears squeezed out of my eyes. Everything had been perfect, and I’d ruined it. Brought my job back to my sweetheart. I’d been tired and just fallen into bed. I’d not done my breathing exercises or my visualisations or affirmations. I’d not made love to my girl. The nightmare had come back.

‘It’s okay, it’s okay.’ I took another deep calming breath. I had to face this. I wanted to run, run from her and never come back, never bring back this horror to her world. But I also wanted to stay with her where it was safe and she loved me and the nightmare never called.

But it had called, and she wouldn’t understand if I left her. I had to explain, had to work it out. I’d hoped I could put it off for now. But I couldn’t. I was sobbing, shaking. I was ashamed of her seeing me like this. The sobbing died away as she held and rocked me.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Her voice was soft.

‘Yes. No. I don’t know’

‘Take your time. You don’t have to, but it might help.’

‘How do you know how to do this?’ I asked. She was saying all the right things.

‘I did a course on counselling once, but I never followed it through’ I sat up and she let me go. She sat looking at me, her face soft, her eyes holding my gaze, but gently.

‘It was just a bad dream about – about scouting for my team.’ I took a deep breath ‘I was so scared. I never lost anyone – never, but there was a close call once’

‘That must have been a challenging experience’ Suddenly I knew I could trust her, and it all came pouring out. I repressed my fears about upsetting her, polluting her world with my trauma. If we had any sort of future, she would have to deal with it too, I realised.

‘It was. This last time my mission was easy, but I was still on edge. You always imagine the worst, because it’s always quiet before the bad things happen. One of the scouts I trained with was killed protecting his team. It could have been me.’ She reached out and took my hand.

‘But it wasn’t. And you’re alive and safe, and you’re with me’ I dropped my head, ashamed at myself.

‘You must think I’m so weak, crying like that’

‘Of course not. It’s a healthy release’ she assured me ‘It’s not unmanly to cry, that’s just gender conditioning’ I let out the breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding.

‘Can we – just lie down and hold each other?’

‘Of course’ I got back into bed and lay on my back. She lay on her side next to me, arm thrown over my chest. I put one hand behind my head, the other under her soft body. Her scent soothed me as she nuzzled into my shoulder but I felt no arousal.

‘You don’t mind if we just – I don’t feel like…’ My voice cracked

‘It’s fine. If we keep going at it we’ll be worn out and sore. We need to pace ourselves’ We lay quietly until I heard her stomach growl. I lifted my head.

‘Maybe breakfast would be a good idea’

‘Only if you want to’

‘Yeah, I’m hungry too’ So we got up, and she went into the bathroom. I felt a twinge of panic as she closed the door. How could I protect her if I couldn’t see her? I gritted my teeth and went through to the kitchen to look through the cupboards for coffee, turning the kettle on and waiting, ignoring the flutter in my chest. I tried to supress my programming, shivering as I stood in my boxer shorts.

My heart rate slowed as she appeared and I let out my breath. I kissed her on the cheek and went to the bathroom, but left the door open as I urinated and washed. I could hear her moving around the kitchen, and the smell of bacon reached my nostrils as I emerged. I left the bedroom door open as I dressed in jeans and tshirt, throwing a shirt over the top, my dog tag warm against my chest.

‘Here, I guessed you might like a cooked breakfast. How do you like your eggs?’ She stood at the cooker dressed in her silky robe, hair loose and barefoot. I felt a stirring of desire – but just a little, I wasn’t ready for that yet. I still went up to her and stood behind her, kissing the nape of her neck. Another time I might slide my hands over her bare skin, but not now. My hands shook a little.

‘Scrambled’ I replied, and she giggled. I guessed that it tickled her, and I stepped away to sit at the table with my coffee. She was cracking eggs into the hot pan and stirring. I gazed at her, entranced as she worked silently, a vision of normality and comfort. Eggs cooked, she took a warm plate from under the grill, loaded it with bacon and sausage, and spooned the golden mass out next to them. She brought it over to the table, then getting bottles of sauce out of the cupboard – ketchup, brown, barbecue.

‘Toast?’ she asked ‘I don’t do black pudding, but I’ve got beans if you like’

‘No, this is just fine’ I was hungrier than I thought, but made an effort not to wolf it down like I might with my squad. She sat eating hers, glancing my way from time to time. The silence grew thicker as I struggled to think of what to say to her. She waited, not pushing, but I started to grow uneasy. I cleaned my plate with a slice of bread and butter that she had put out. I felt a little better for having a full stomach.

‘Albert?’ she asked ‘Does that happen often?’ I owed her an answer, and weighed my words.

‘No, not really.’ I sighed ‘I’ve had counselling. It’s not severe like some get it, but I have strategies to stop it from happening’

‘Oh? What sort of strategies?

‘Breathing techniques, affirmations, that sort of thing. I was so tired last night I forgot.’ I smiled at her ‘Sex is a good one too, but…’ she smiled sweetly

‘I knew I should have jumped you, soldier’ I winced.

‘Don’t call me that’ her face paled, and I leaned over the table to rub my thumb over her cheek ‘I just want to be Albert. The roleplay before was hot, but maybe go easy on it next time.’ I explained softly.

‘I’m sorry…’

‘It’s okay, you’re doing fine coping with all this. You’re my angel.’ I stood and walked to the window to look out, suddenly restless ‘I just need to clear my head’ I said.

‘Whatever you need to do, Albert’ I took a deep breath.

‘I think I’ll go for a run’ That would do it – something physical, something that needed no thought – just me and the road and the fresh air. I went back to her, lifting her chin and kissing her soft lips. ‘I’ll be back for lunch’ I promised, and went to the bedroom to get my running gear out of my kitbag.

@kittidot @jaxsmutsuo @ramseyswifey @otakufangirl-12 @mostly-tessaandscott @aestheticallypleasing5sos @sunflowy @celiamcg @basicallysailormars @fabi-en-ciel @rdjcoldplay @cyn-onlyyou @american-satanxx @exxtrastout @callmeluna7 @theclowneryqueen @speedyoperarascalparty @katedrakeohd @notoriouscs

#albert bishop #lovelink fanfic #lovelink #PTSD

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