#me and my wife... (she left me in another canon)

[bosbas]

Chapter 8: this is falling in love in the cruelest way

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 3.4k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, heavily going off of book canon, me stirring the pot (im sorry)(no im not), PINING!!!!!!!, anthony being very much in love with his wife

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

A/N: guys i'm sorry but this picture is INSANE. the THIGHS??? HELLO? i am looking respectfully.......👁️👁️

June 5, 1816 – And yesterday, much to this author’s surprise, Lord Barlow reportedly proposed to Lady Montclair! This proposal comes unexpectedly after the Duke’s promiscuity with Miss Barrington at the Bridgerton ball a few weeks ago. Given the fact that Miss Barrington has been compromised, it is incredibly shocking that Lord Arthur Barlow would do something like this in polite society. Luckily, Lady Montclair remains a single woman and swiftly rejected her former beau’s proposal. But this only begs the question: why did the Duke propose? Is Lady Montclair simply too alluring to pass up, or is something else amiss between Lord Barlow and Miss Barrington? 

“Oh, thank God,” muttered Colin under his breath, his eyes quickly scanning Lady Whistledown’s column as he sat on a bench in the garden. 

“What’s that you’re reading, brother?” asked Anthony, ears perking up at Colin’s scandalous language, even if it was just between brothers. 

Colin felt a slight blush forming on his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was speaking out loud, having been too caught up in the news that you had finally received a proposal from Lord Barlow. It was a lovely day out, and Anthony, Benedict, and Colin were in the gardens of Number 5 Bruton Street after a round of fencing. 

Of course, once Francesca had come outside holding a copy of Whistledown to read in the gazebo, Colin had stolen it out of her hands and abandoned his brothers in favor of catching up on the ton’s happenings. Though no one should have been surprised by his interest, really, given that you were the main topic of most of the gossip sheets nowadays. 

“Nothing,” Colin answered quickly, trying to recover from his blunder. “It’s bizarre how invested one becomes in Whistledown while living here. Is this what every summer is like when one isn’t traveling for half the time?”

“In essence, yes,” answered Benedict, still jabbing at the air with his épée as Anthony stared at him amusedly. “What does she have to say today?”

“Lord Barlow proposed to Lady Montclair yesterday,” said Colin, a slight edge to his voice. “And he looked a sight while doing it, too, apparently.”

Benedict dropped his foil, turning around to fully face Colin with a shocked look on his face. “And what did she say?” he pressed, intrigued about the outcome of this curious development. It was practically unimaginable that the Duke had proposed to you after defiling another lady in the ton, and Benedict hadn't considered him capable. 

Anthony clapped him on the back, smirking at Colin as he did so. “Well, did you not hear the man say, ‘thank God’? Obviously, she said no.”

Colin crossed his arms, immediately defensive. “It wasn’t that obvious! She could have said yes, and my ‘thank God’ could have been because she would’ve finally left me alone. Duchesses have a lot to do; I doubt she’d find the time to be irritating while attending to her duties in the country.”

Benedict and Anthony gave their brother unimpressed looks, watching amusedly as he squirmed under their gaze. 

“I assure you, brother, that there was absolutely no possibility of that being the case,” said Benedict jovially, earning a snort from Anthony. 

But before Benedict could laugh, too, Colin lunged at him, épée in hand as he glared playfully at his brother. Finding himself unarmed, Benedict yelped and ran toward the house, citing a very important painting to attend to before sprinting back inside. 

Turning to Colin, Anthony smiled curiously. “So, it’s true, then? What Daphne said?”

“What did Daphne say?” asked Colin innocently, dreading the conversation that would follow.

“Don’t be daft. That you love Y/N.”

Colin rolled his eyes, letting out an impatient sigh. “I don’t love her; that’s ridiculous, Anthony! A mere two weeks ago, we absolutely despised each other. I hardly think I could love her now.”

But even as he said those words, Colin questioned whether he actually meant them. Could he love you? He hadn’t ever felt this way about anyone, but then again, no one had ever vexed him quite like you. Though lately, he had been finding the line between irritation and fascination to be quite blurred. So blurry, in fact, that he was having trouble seeing a line at all. 

Having clearly overheard part of the conversation, Gregory ran up to his brothers, laughing hysterically as Hyacinth chased him. He stopped and let his sister catch up, smiling evilly at the older Bridgertons “Colin loves who, now?” 

Hyacinth arrived a few moments later, panting heavily. “Y/N, of course,” she stated while trying to catch her breath, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“What? What do you mean? Why do say that?” pressed Colin. Why did everyone in his family seem to think that he loved you? Surely they saw the two of you bickering incessantly, right? Your feud was so famous it had even made it to Lady Whistledown’s column. Colin couldn’t understand how anyone could think he had so much affection for you. 

Hyacinth raised an eyebrow at her older brother, unamused. “Colin, I am not an idiot. Though perhaps you might be,” she added brightly. And before Colin could respond, she quickly turned to her eldest brother. “Now, Anthony, could you please tell Gregory to give me back my quill?” she begged.

Gregory, scoffed, glaring at his sister. “I’d only borrowed it for a moment! And I only did so because Hyacinth hid mine! Anthony, she’s being unreasonable,” he whined.

Anthony affectionately patted them both on the head and flashed a faux sympathetic smile. “I rather think both of you are being quite the nuisance right now.” 

At times, Anthony found himself slipping into the role of a father figure to his youngest siblings. It was an unspoken duty he assumed after their father's passing. Yet, it was important to occasionally remind them that he was still their brother.

Hyacinth responded with a frustrated groan, her teeth grinding audibly, thoroughly vexed with her brother. However, the sight of Gregory's smug smile reignited her fury, and she immediately charged at him. Despite being older than Hyacinth, Gregory wasn't foolish enough to underestimate her, and he took off in a panic, screaming as he tried to outpace his deceptively quick sister.

Colin shook his head in amusement as he watched the antics of his youngest siblings. “Were Daphne and I truly like that?”

“Worse,” said Anthony flatly, but he couldn’t mask the warmth and fondness interlaced in his words.

At that, Anthony began to turn back toward the house. “Well, I must be-”

“Wait!” interrupted Colin. He wasn’t entirely sure why he had stopped his brother, other than the fact that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the possibility that he could love you. You, the person he supposedly hated. The person who certainly hated him. 

But, as always, Anthony was the right person to talk to about this. He would know what to say. Though it was well known that Anthony was completely smitten with his wife, Colin remembered a time when the pair seemed to dislike each other fairly intensely.

After a few moments of charged silence, Colin met Anthony’s expectant gaze. Swallowing his pride, he spoke up. “Purely hypothetically, and simply out of curiosity, when did you fall in love with Kate?”

Anthony smiled, amused. “Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, putting a hand to his chin. “As long as it's purely out of curiosity,” he teased. “It wasn’t like I simply fell in love with her one day, Colin.”

“Yes, but if you had to pinpoint a moment?” pressed Colin, slightly exasperated. If anything, he needed to know if he had experienced that moment himself.

Anthony’s gaze softened, and he suddenly saw a lot of himself in Colin’s uncertainty and pause when it came to a woman who profusely vexed him. “I found Kate in the library the night after we played Pall Mall for the first time,” he recalled fondly. “We were at Aubrey Hall for the country party and it was raining outside quite loudly, a terrible storm. She was huddled underneath a desk because she was scared of the storm. I very quickly realized I couldn’t hate her anymore. Not properly, anyway. Not when I just wanted to sit on the floor with her and protect her from the storm, and anything else that might come her way.”

His voice had softened as he spoke about his wife, recalling the moment he truly knew there was no way out. Anthony had tried to deny it to himself after, but his protests simply held no conviction after that night. 

“You never told me that,” said Colin thoughtfully, not missing the glint of emotion in his brother’s eyes as he talked about his now-wife. 

“Yes, well, the real challenge was getting her to love me back,” he said, coming out of his musings. “And that didn’t happen for quite some time after that. It was rather premature of me to declare my love for this woman while I supposedly hated her and was still technically courting her sister.”

It was truly a wonder that he and Kate were married now. But when it was meant to be, it was meant to be, Anthony supposed. Something that was proving to be particularly true of you and his brother. If Colin, who had a deep-seated need to be liked by anyone and everyone, could fall in love with you, the only person who didn’t actually like him, then surely it was meant to be.

Colin, still deep in thought, chewed his lip nervously. “And how did you get her to fall in love with you?”

“We were caught in a… compromising position. She had been stung by a bee and I… Well, I’m sure you recall,” said Anthony, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically shy as he remembered the circumstances that allowed him to marry his wife. “It’s far easier to get a woman to love you when she’s already your wife,” he finished sympathetically. 

Colin choked back a laugh. “Unfortunately, I can’t very well put Lady Montclair in a compromising position, can I?” he laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“But Colin, I thought this was all hypothetical,” teased Anthony, playfully punching his brother on the shoulder. 

Colin cursed under his breath, rolling his eyes in annoyance as Anthony continued laughing at him. “Never mind. I’m off to find Eloise,” he muttered, patting the eldest Bridgerton on the back and leaving him free to go dote on his wife. 

After speaking with Anthony, Colin had a renewed sense of purpose. He had to find out why you hated him. He was so utterly exhausted of hating you and of having this tiresome charade of fighting with each other at every available moment. At this point, he didn’t particularly care who in the ton liked him or not. Colin knew he would happily take the entire ton’s wrath for the rest of his life if it meant you loved him.

But he needed to know just how unrealistic his hopes were. Eloise would be the best–and perhaps only­–person who would know. 

Colin found his sister practicing needlepoint in the sitting room, focused intensely on the material in front of her. It was unclear whether she was trying to sew the fabric or her finger, given how often she was pricking herself as she attempted to thread the needle. 

“El!” he called by the doorway, pausing when he saw his sister grimace after pricking herself once again. “I can return later if you’re busy.”

“No! No, please interrupt. Thank heavens,” gasped Eloise, grateful to be able to do something other than draw her blood. 

Colin laughed, amused, and suddenly felt a tad sheepish. Was he truly about to ask about you? To ask about you to Eloise, who would no doubt hold this over his head for the rest of eternity? But he had to know. He had to ask, at the very least. 

“I was just…I was wondering if you knew why Lady Montclair hates me,” he asked, clearing his throat awkwardly. 

Eloise let out a snort. “Well, I can’t imagine she’d be hard-pressed to find a reason why, given how you treat her.”

Seeing her brother’s crestfallen face, Eloise immediately sobered. Standing up and walking toward him, she placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “I thought you disliked her as well,” she said in a questioning tone.

“Of course I do,” clarified Colin quickly. “But she hated me first and I still don’t know why. I thought she might have said something to you, given how close the two of you are. Do you know at all?”

Eloise clicked her tongue in sympathy, looking at Colin with concern. Perhaps his feelings did run deeper than anyone thought, and the recent dancing and promenading were more than just Colin being his usual charming self around you. “I’m sure I have no idea, Col. But you could always just talk to her.”

Colin shook his head, smiling sadly at his sister. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? She doesn’t usually seem very eager to speak with me.”

Sure, the two of you had been getting along recently. But that had only been twice. And was that really enough to undo the weeks of hatred?

---

It was a particularly delightful Wednesday afternoon, and you found yourself feeding the ducks at Hyde Park as you watched Isabelle and Charlotte skip rocks across the pond. Though you loved Louis to bits, it was a lovely feeling to have both of your sisters home with you. There was simply something about being out in society that he could never quite understand like them, though not for lack of trying. 

After lunch, you, Charlotte, and Isabelle had managed to sneak out of the house just as the post-meal discussion grew rowdy. It was not unheard of to have such lively discussions in the Montclair household, and you frequently even enjoyed them. But there were some days, like today, that you frankly just wanted to have a quiet afternoon with a baguette and about a dozen ducks. Luckily, your sisters had decided to join you, and the three of you had set off toward the park in search of a flock of birds to feed.

It seemed that the ducks had taken much more of a liking to you than to your sisters, and they had grown disinterested in the endeavor. Charlotte and Isabelle had opted to give you their remaining bread and take a stroll around the mostly empty park, and you couldn’t say that you were complaining. Coming from such a large family, it was a rare luxury to have an afternoon largely to yourself. 

A while later, after most of the ducks found themselves happily full, you spotted a stumbling figure making its way toward you. As you turned to your sisters with a questioning look, you were disappointed to find them in deep conversation facing away from you, neither one of them noticing you. 

As the figure neared, you realized who it was: Nigel Berbrooke. Your heart skipped a beat and you felt your stomach drop, unpleasant memories of him and his disgusting words flooding your brain. You had no desire to speak to this man, and you looked around for anyone you could speak with instead. But you had not brought a lady’s maid, and everyone else was too far to intervene.

“Lady Montclair,” said Nigel, with what looked to be an attempt at a seductive smile on his face. 

You stood up from your crouching position rigidly and turned to face him. You were unable to form any words, discomfort far outweighing any other emotion you were feeling. This had to be his first time back this season after his absence, you thought. You hadn’t seen him at any events since the Danbury ball, and you rather thought you would have noticed him, looking as vile as he did now.

His nose was a tad more crooked than on the night you had met him, and the bags under his eyes were ghastly. But perhaps it was just your perception of him, knowing what you did about who he was.

“Mr. Berbrooke,” you settled for saying, nose crinkling as you caught a whiff of the pungent smell of alcohol emanating off of him.

“A promenade?” he asked roughly, reaching for your hand without permission. “It’s a lovely afternoon, it would be a shame to waste it.”

“Oh, Mr. Berbrooke, we were just about to head home,” you pointed your head toward your sisters, panicked. 

Isabelle and Charlotte were far too immersed in their conversation to look like they were ready to head home, but you prayed that Nigel’s inebriated state would distract him from this.

He growled at you, clearly displeased at your rejection. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you, Montclair. Your dowry, as well as your other…assets, are far too good to pass up,” he slurred, very obviously staring at your chest. “It’s a shame Colin’s gotten to you first.”

You were scandalized, opening your mouth to chastise him, or to scream for help, or anything that could get you out of this situation, really, but he cut you off before you could say anything. 

"I've heard Lord Barlow abandoned you, and truth be told, it's hardly shocking," he taunted, his voice laced with disdain as he regarded you with a sneer. "You insist on playing the coy maiden, denying every man what he craves. It's the only reason they’re after you now, you see? They want what you didn't give Arthur. And it appears Colin has taken the lead in the chase, the lucky bastard."

His words brought you crashing back down to reality. Of course, he was colluding with Colin. You had conveniently overlooked that fact as you found yourself becoming bashful in his presence, feeling secure, even desiring his company after these recent days. A surge of bile rose in your throat.

You felt tears prickling in your eyes, and you were impossibly angry with yourself for forgetting the very reason you despised Colin Bridgerton. How could you have let yourself forget? He was still the same man you overheard at the Danbury ball, and you were too embarrassed to admit that his charm had worked on you. 

You were disgusted with Nigel and Colin, but also with yourself. You were more than this, you chided. How could you have let this happen? The two men were clearly no good, and you had unwittingly allowed yourself to be ensnared, much like you had with Lord Barlow.

“Excuse me,” you said roughly, dodging Mr. Berbrooke’s outstretched hand as you ran toward where Isabelle and Charlotte were standing, propriety be damned. 

“On va chez nous. Tout de suite,” you said to them urgently, practically begging as you tugged on Isabelle’s hand (We’re going home. Right now). 

Charlotte looked at you, confused, and then noticed you glancing nervously at Nigel as he approached, angrily staggering over to you as his face contorted into an ugly scowl. 

“Ah, I’m terribly sorry Mr. Berbrooke,” Isabelle said firmly, “but it seems we have to go.” 

Not waiting for a response, your sisters hooked their arms in yours and hurriedly walked back from where you came. They’d be damned if he let anything else happen to you after what happened with Lord Barlow, and they were not about to waste any time.

Nigel only grunted, displeased, but let the three of you go without protest. Both of your sisters’ husbands were very powerful men, and Nigel was not so deluded as to forget his place in society.

“Y/N?” Charlotte questioned softly once you were sufficiently far away enough. 

But you were too embarrassed, tears streaming down your face as you choked back sobs. How could you have let yourself fall for Colin’s charm? You knew exactly who he was, and you had ignored it anyway. It didn’t matter that he made you feel safe and that the two of you had more in common than you cared to admit. He would never respect you, and you could never love him. 

Nigel had come at just the right time, you thought sullenly. Right as you were thinking you could finally overlook your rivalry with Colin, right as the memory of why you disliked him in the first place was fading. And thank heavens he did. You would not be taken for a fool again, by Colin or by Lord Barlow or by anyone. 

—

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#bridgerton #colin bridgerton #colin bridgerton x reader #enemies to lovers #colin bridgerton imagine #colin bridgerton fanfic #colin bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton fluff #colin bridgerton angst #colin bridgerton x enemy!reader #bridgerton x you #colin bridgerton x you #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton angst #lost in translation #lost in translation: writing

[tealares-art]

im living off of that one unknownperson art where post-breakage karl is with rachel. they're together and in love

#karlrachel #law of talos #castle of nations #karl #rachel #fanart #IM SO INSANE ABOUT THEM AAAAAAGHHGFJKGJGKFHURIGHRIUERHGUIRGHIJHFDKGDFGKDUHRUIGEKGHDFGDFG #me and my wife... (she left me in another canon) #im gonna draw taitle digitally soon i DO have a crush on that city

[maidragoste]

The Decision

Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader, minor Harwin Strong x Velaryon!Reader, Rhaenyra Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader

Again another AU with the reader of The Sea Dragon, The Clubfoot and The Green Queen (you don't need to read it to understand this one shot because this story starts LONG BEFORE the canon of that universe).

Summary: When King Viserys announces that he plans to marry you, you make a decision to avoid becoming the king's wife.

Now you can read this bonus!

TW: This is NSFW (if you don't like it you can read only the Rhaenyra and Harwin parts)

I was dying to share this with all of you so I hope you like it!

If you want to read more of this Reader and Daemon, don't hesitate to let me know in the comments or in my inbox 🤭

REBLOGS, comments and likes are always greatly appreciated 🥰🥰💖💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. Also this is my first smut so sorry if it's weird to read.

You felt your heart hammering as you waited for the king to make his announcement. Your stomach wouldn't stop spinning and you have no idea how you still hadn't vomited up what you had for breakfast.

With every passing second you have to keep yourself from running out of the council chambers. You couldn't stop looking at your father, a part of you wanted to take his hand and ask him to get you out of here but you didn't trust him anymore. You were in this situation because of him. You always knew that your father is a proud and ambitious man but you never thought that his ambition would be greater than his love for you. If your father really loved you he wouldn't have sent you to the king's chambers. He wouldn't have made you start wearing dresses that showed more skin for your visits with him. Gods, you wanted to hit your father so badly, you wanted to wipe the smile off his face because both he and you knew what Viserys was going to announce. Everyone knew it, you noticed that Otto Hightower was trying to hide his annoyance from everyone, the only one who seemed unaware of the tension in the room was Rhaenyra.

“I have decided to take a new wife,” the king began and you noticed how he and Rhaenyra exchanged a look. You were surprised to see your cousin nod as if she was permitting him to move on. Did Rhaenyra know? Did she approve of this? “I intend to get married,” he continued, this time looking at you and your father. You forced a smile as you dug your nails into your palms, feeling helpless for being in this situation “with Lady Y/N Velaryon before spring.”

Your eyes met Rhaenyra's purple ones. There was none of the love or fun you usually saw. Now she was looking at you with a mixture of pain and fury. The pain in your stomach got worse. Nyra had never looked at you like that. This shouldn't be happening.

It was obvious that she didn't know that her father was planning to marry you. You wanted to scream, you wanted to hug her and tell her that this wasn't what you wanted, that you weren't trying to steal her mother's place, that you would never do anything to hurt her.

"Rhaenyra" the king called her but the princess left the chambers anyway. You couldn't take this anymore so you went after her, ignoring your father's calls.

You followed the princess. You could feel the fabric of your dress sticking together due to perspiration, you didn't know if it was because of your nerves or because you were practically almost running after Rhaenyra. It was uncomfortable but right now you didn't care. You needed to clear things up with her. You couldn't stand that she hated you.

"Nyra" you called when she finally stopped. You two were in the gardens, in front of the heart tree. Where more than once you had Rhaenyra lay with her head in your lap while you sang her any song she wanted. Where you two used to stay out in the sun complaining about the septa's lessons while you combed her hair. This tree has so many good memories and now you fear there will be no more.

"How could you?!" she yelled at you furiously. She couldn't believe how you had been by her side, comforting her, accompanying her in her grief, remembering the stories the both shared with her mother so that later you went behind her back to conquer her father. When her father told her that he needed to take another wife she thought it would be Laena Velaryon. Not from you. Never from you. You were supposed to be hers.

"Please, Nyra, don't hate me" you begged and grabbed her hands desperately, pulling her closer to you "I swear I didn't want this but my father" you shook your head and forced yourself to continue talking trying to ignore the knot in your throat "I'll find a way to fix this, I promise" you kissed her hands.

The princess studied you for a few minutes. She needed to check that you weren't faking this just to avoid her anger. Your eyes seemed to be glazed over from the tears you were holding back and your hands clung to her desperately.

“I believe you,” she finally said and you sighed in relief.

"Thank you", you said with a shaking voice

This time it was Rhaenyra who kissed your hands and rested her forehead against yours. You closed your eyes feeling at peace for a moment knowing that she didn't hate you.

"I won't marry your father, Nyra. I promise."

If it weren't for the fact that she was now the heir to the throne, Rhaenyra would have told you that you would run away with her, that the two of you would go together on your dragons and travel the world together, and that you didn't need a husband, that if you wanted her, she would take you as a wife. But now she had obligations, she couldn't abandon everything for you even if her heart screamed for her to do so.

After clearing things up with Rhaenyra you went to your chambers. Of course, your father was waiting for you, he scolded you for your abrupt departure but he left you alone once you told him that you had managed to calm the princess's annoyance. Being alone you decided to put your plan into action, first you took a bath with the purpose of relaxing and getting rid of any trace of nerves you had before, then you put on one of your simplest dresses and placed a hooded cape on top to hide your hair. You were leaving the castle and you didn't need anyone to follow you.

You successfully slipped away and headed out into the streets in search of Harwin. You knew that today he had to stand guard on the streets of Flea Bottom. A girl in your position shouldn't be here but you didn't care. You needed to talk to him as soon as possible.

“Harwin” you called him when you finally found him.

“Lady Velaryon, you should not be here,” said the guard, gently hugging you by the shoulders and taking you to a corner further away from the people.

It felt bad to hear him call you in such a formal way when for weeks he had been calling you by your name or “sunshine”, the nickname he had given you. You remember like it was yesterday when you kissed him for the first time after he explained to you that the reason he called you that was because you brightened his days every time he saw you.

This sudden formality was like a slap in the face and he confirmed what you already feared.

“You know,” you declared sadly.

“My father told me,” he admitted, releasing you. You weren't surprised since Lyonel is on the council and had been present at this morning's meeting. You suspected that Harwin's father thought it would be best for him to find out from him rather than from someone else since you were sure that Lord Strong and your parents knew about the meetings between you and Harwin. You thought it was no secret that he was courting you, but apparently, not everyone knew because otherwise, Viserys would not have chosen you as his wife. Or maybe he knew but didn't care.

“This doesn't have to change what's between us,” you said as you stood on tiptoe to have his face closer to yours. “I don't want to marry the king. I want you” you whispered against his lips but without touching them. Harwin had to control himself from closing the small distance between you and kissing you. “Make me your wife,” you asked before capturing his lips with yours.

You froze when Harwin walked away from you.

“I can't,” he whispered and closed his eyes to avoid seeing the disappointment on your face.

“I thought you loved me” In your voice there was more anger than sadness but your body language was different, you found yourself hugging yourself trying to comfort yourself. You were disappointed.

“I do,” he stated firmly, opening his eyes so you could see that he spoke sincerely. “I love you. If it were any other man he would fight for you but…”

His silence told you everything. He loved you but it's not enough to face the king.

“You're a coward,” you spat and left the way you came.

You didn't really think Harwin was a coward but you were hurt by his rejection. You felt stupid to believe that whatever Harwin felt for you would be bigger than any coherent thought but you can't blame him after all any intelligent person would be afraid to go against the king's wishes and steal his fiancée…

But all was not lost, you knew someone well who was not afraid of Viserys and could help you. It was a desperate move and your parents would think you were an idiot for this but you refuse to be the king's wife. You had seen how as the years went by and with each pregnancy, Queen Aemma deteriorated. You didn't want the same thing.

You wrote to Daemon. You told him that the king wanted to marry you but that you were seeking to avoid this marriage and that you needed his help. You waited anxiously for his response while you had to feign excitement every time someone talked about your wedding preparations. Luckily it didn't take that long for a crow to arrive with the rogue prince's answer. There were no reassuring words in his letter, the only thing the scroll said was "Come to Dragonstone."

And that's what you did. Nobody suspected when the next day you went on the back of your dragon since everyone knew that there was not a day in which you did not disappear for a couple of hours to go flying with Nightwing.

"My prince, Lady Y/N Velaryon!" The guard announced your arrival before letting you enter the chambers where the prince was staying.

Daemon, who had seen you approach with Nightwing from the window, had his back turned but turned to look at you. He hasn't seen you in months. Your hair was longer and you seemed to have changed the way you dressed. The blue dress you were wearing seemed to have more cleavage, it wasn't anything scandalous enough for the court to talk about but it did draw attention.

"It's good to see you, Y/n" Daemon stated making you smile. You were sure that this was the first sincere smile you had given in days.

You waited for the guard to leave. Once you heard the sound of the door closing, you began to walk towards the prince without haste, trying to show as much confidence as possible. Normally you wouldn't be nervous around Daemon but you hadn't seen him in months and he was the only person who could help you. You didn't want to ruin this.

*I'm wondering the same. These months without you were boring "You weren't lying or trying to sugarcoat it to achieve your goal, it was simply the truth. Every time he leaves court you wish for his return.

"You still didn't come after me" Daemon held back his smile when he saw the surprise in your eyes.

He liked seeing that look in your eyes. Every time he brings you something new from his travels, every time he teaches you a new move in the training yard, every time he asks you for his favor in tournaments. How he had missed seeing her. He wouldn't tell you but he had missed you these past few months. So imagine his fury when after so long the first news he receives from you is that his brother plans to marry you. You are too much of a woman for Viserys. Her brother wouldn't know what to do with you. You would spend the rest of your life bored. Daemon couldn't allow it.

"I didn't know you wanted that," you said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"I invited you to go with me on my next trip, didn't I?"

Before Queen Aemma's death, when you helped Daemon put on his armor for the tournament you complained about the lengthening of his travels. The prince's response was to invite you to go with him next time. You were so excited to accompany him on his trips that you didn't wait for the tournament to end to ask your parents for permission. But then Aemma died and you didn't dare leave Rhaenyra.

You laughed. “That wasn't a trip, Daemon. Viserys exiled you.”

"And now he will exile you" he mocked, making you irritated but you quickly forgot about your irritation when Daemon placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer to him, leaving your bodies pressed together. You should be uncomfortable with this but you're not. "You understand? Right? You know what you were asking for when you asked me for help?" He asked, studying your reaction. He needed to see that you really understood what you were about to do. This was your time to repent. But he didn't find uncertainty in your eyes if not desire, you looked at him with pure desire.

"I know," you responded, trying to ignore the flutter of emotion you felt at the intensity of the prince's gaze. You should be against doing this after all your reputation would be ruined but deep down you always wanted to have even a little bit of Daemon.

In reality, there was always a tension between the two of you. More than once you two ended your fights in the yard more irritated than you were before you started because after so much friction, touching, and sweat you both wanted to do something else that you couldn't. You didn't want to be the other woman and Daemon for once wanted to make things right with you. He hoped that one day Viserys would annul his marriage to Rhea Royce to take you as his wife. That day never came but that didn't matter anymore.

"You will take me as your second wife" While you spoke your eyes couldn't help but stop a couple of times on his lips.

Daemon tilted his head a little and gently brushed aside a strand of hair to whisper in your ear "I'll do it. If you want that" you shivered as you suddenly felt his breath on your neck. It doesn't take long for you to feel his warm lips against your skin. You unconsciously stretched your neck, leaving him free to continue spreading more kisses. With each kiss, you felt your body warmer. You can't help but wonder how his lips will feel just as good on another part of your body. “People will talk about us,” he warned, snapping you out of your fantasy.

You knew what Daemon was referring to, not only would it be a scandal if the king's fiancée married another but also if that other is Daemon Targaryen, the king's brother, and an already married man. People who don't understand his family's customs won't think your marriage is legitimate, and if you were to have children with him people would probably think of them as bastards. Also, the court could compare your marriage to one of Maegor Targaryen's many marriages. The kingdom would talk a lot about you two, even your family's name and respect could be damaged by this. Your father might never want to speak to you again in your life and your mother would be disappointed in you. You had thought about all this at night before receiving the prince's response. And yet you were determined to go ahead with this.

“Are you worried that the court will call you Second Maegor? Because I'm sorry to inform you but they already call you that” you said, managing to make Daemon laugh a little. You smiled when you heard him but your smile was soon replaced by a gasp as you felt his teeth biting into your neck.

“A wife shouldn't make fun of her husband,” he said making you roll your eyes, knowing that he wasn't serious and just wanted to mess with you. “If you marry me, this will not be just a marriage in name.”

You weren't an idiot. It wasn't enough for you to just marry Daemon. Viserys might still want to annul the marriage if he saw that you were a virgin but if it was known that Daemon had already had you then the council would tell the king that he should take another wife.

You walked away from him. “Are you afraid of taking me as your wife? You keep walking around instead of ordering them to start preparing everything for the ceremony. “The prince could see the challenge in his eyes and he loved it.” I'm not a little girl, Daemon. "I know what I'm getting into by marrying you."

And those words were enough for Daemon to finally join his lips with yours. There was nothing soft about his kiss, not like Harwin's. This kiss was hungry, you felt like he was devouring your mouth but you weren't far behind either, taking him by the neck, pulling him closer to you. It seemed as if neither of you two could get enough of the other. Finally giving free rein to the desire the both felt for a long time. You felt his hands trying to untie the back of your dress so you walked away from him with heavy breathing.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you hummed, now placing your hands on his chest, hoping to keep a little more distance. “You can't have me until we're married,” you declared, looking at him mischievously.

“You're so fucking annoying” Daemon complained and tried to kiss you again but you pulled your face away with a teasing smile. "Good. But then you won't leave the room until I'm done with you,” he warned you and he gave you a little squeeze on your waist before leaving, determined to prepare everything in the shortest possible time.

Daemon thinks he'll never get tired of this. See how you move on his cock, how focused you look with every jump you take in search of your pleasure, how you open your mouth and let those sinful sounds escape when you finally find your sweet spot, and above all the feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock.

Hearing Daemon's groan overwhelms you. It overwhelms you because, for the first time, you realize that you have power over him. It's too much to hear him say your name like you're a god while you're riding him. See how hungry he is for you, how he can't seem to get enough of you, how he can't go a minute without his mouth on you, without biting or sucking on your neck, without having his hands touching you. By now your body was covered in hickeys, marks, and bruises leaving the trace of your crime on display. You're sure that tomorrow when the maids came to help you dress they would be horrified to see the mark of Daemon's palms on your thighs after he held you for what seemed like hours while he devoured your cunt over and over again.

Your husband noticed that you were starting to get tired but you still didn't want to stop, not when you were already so close to cumming again but you were too proud to ask him for help.

“Let me take care of it,” he said, stopping to suck on one of your nipples.

He knows how stubborn you are so he didn't even give you a chance to refuse when he lifted you off his cock. You groan against his neck as he pushes you down onto his cock again. He begins to move you up and down as if you weighed nothing.

"Faster" you demanded with heavy breathing, feeling dissatisfied with the pace of his movements.

Daemon doesn't hesitate to follow your orders and makes you bounce faster. His grunts and moans do nothing but send heat to your core. You feel your legs tremble at the speed and depth of his thrusts. You want to have your share and leave your marks on your husband too but you can't focus as much time on biting or sucking on his neck when he's fucking you so good. You sob when you finally feel the knot in your stomach release and you cum on his cock.

Suddenly one of his hands leaves your waist and pulls your hair, stealing a gasp from you, making you stop hiding your face in his neck and thus trap your mouth again in a messy kiss.

"You take me so well," Daemon gasped against your lips, feeling your warm cunt not stop squeezing his cock.

The sound of skin slapping only increases the temperature of the room. Like the groans and gasps. Neither Daemon nor you were trying to be quiet, it was more like you were both competing to see who could make the other louder. You should be embarrassed and try to be quieter, that's what a good lady would do but you couldn't care less what people thought, not when you felt so good. And while you felt how Daemon filled your cunt with his seed a petty part of you couldn't help but think that you were hoping that this would reach Viserys' ears, that one of the servants would write to the king to inform him of the spectacle you and Daemon were putting on so that Viserys wouldn't want to have anything more to do with you.

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[lxkeee]

I absolutely love your writing!! And don't get me wrong, I love Lucifer, but they way you write Azreal and the Eveningstar family lives in my head 24/7. The AU where reader ends up with Azrael is my absolute fav to come back to, along with the main series it stemmed from. I'd love to see more content of him in general. I've been driving myself crazy imaging a part 2 to the AU with Lucifer wanting to reconnect with reader and having this family unit with them, only to realize that he lost them completely when he fell and that they've moved one and found happiness without him. Very hurt/no comfort for Luci while reader finally experiences a returned unconditional love with Azrael.

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

—ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE

Pairing: Azrael Eveningstar x Seraphim Angel! Reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: hurt and no comfort for our short king

Notes: an alternate universe where [y/n]'s family is complete, Xavier doesn't have any daddy issues nor has any hatred for Charlie as he doesn't give any crap about her and Lucifer (well, he did at some point but forgave them), where it was simply the wrong person and wrong time. Where it was Azrael who is endgame. This isn't canon to the fanfic storyline, simply an au.

Additional notes: I LOVE IT WHEN READERS WANT MORE AZRAEL CONTENT OMG

CH. 1 | CH. 4 | NAVIGATION

They finally have done it. Hazbin Hotel is finally booming in business, many sinners are finally checking in and giving redemption a try.

Though, Lucifer cannot help but be nervous. Heaven or specifically, the Seven Virtues requested a meeting with him and his daughter and along with Vaggie, they wanted to talk about the hotel and also about his punishment.

Why wouldn't he be nervous? The last time he was in a meeting with them, they absolutely crushed his hopes and dreams and to add to the fact that his first wife, now ex-wife is part of the organization.

Lucifer doesn't know how to handle it, he's afraid of how he'll act once he sees her and the fact that Charlie told him about his son that he left her with. Absolute guilt.

He misses her, he misses [y/n] so much and he regrets how he treated her. He neglected her, abandoned her and their son. Even after all these years, his heart still longed for her.

“Dad? You okay?” Charlie asked worriedly, holding her bag. Currently, they are waiting for the portal to heaven to open for their meeting tomorrow. She noticed that her dad seems to be in deep thought, she knows what's plaguing his mind—meeting his ex-wife again and seeing his son for the first time. She too is nervous about what will happen when that moment comes.

“The portal seems to be taking a long time to open.” Angel Dust snickered and Vaggie elbowed him on the side, somehow both Alastor, Niffty, and Angel Dust wanted to join them. Leaving the hotel underneath [f/n]'s care, another overlord who joined the hotel.

“You're really complaining when you're not even invited,” Vaggie muttered before turning to look at Alastor, “I am even surprised that even you also decided to join us, how come?” Vaggie deadpans at Alastor and the taller demon just laugh, radio static filling the air, “Myyy~! I am merely curious what the heavenly realms looked like. Nothing more~” He grins, quite mischievously. Vaggie narrowed her eyes at the radio demon.

Lucifer sighs and shakes his head and gives Charlie a small reassuring smile, “I'll be fine, I'm just a little... Nervous.” he admits softly and Charlie nodded in understanding, placing a hand over her father's shoulder. She understands him, she too is nervous in seeing her half brother. Last time she saw him, he was giving her judgmental looks.

“I'm sure we'll be fine... Maybe this will be your chance to reconnect with them?” Charlie suggested, hopeful that somehow the two families can find a neutral area to get along with each other. After all, she always wanted an older sibling or siblings in general. She hopes that she and Xavier can get along.

Lucifer smiled, he too is hoping that this meeting will be fruitful and won't go so horribly.

A golden portal opened in front of them and they looked at each other, nodding as they finally took a step inside.

Heaven, is very bright compared to hell. Too much white, gold, and blues.

The crew looked at Lucifer, urging him to take the lead as he did come from here. Lucifer sighs, despite the nervousness, he decides to approach the pearly white gates of heaven. Standing in front of the counter of Saint Peter. The others are following him.

“Welcome to heaven, can I get your names please?” Saint Peter asked, opening his book. Lucifer sighs, twiddling his thumbs nervously.

“Lucifer... Morningstar...” Lucifer says, almost a whisper. Cringing slightly as he watched the Saint slam his book close, “Oh... Fuck!” Saint Peter exclaimed with a nervous chuckle.

“Um... I wasn't aware that you will be visiting today...” the Saint said with an awkward chuckle, Angel Dust just smirked while Alastor just grins, clearly interested in what heaven has to offer.

Charlie stood nervously beside Lucifer, unsure what to do next.

“Saint Peter, please grant them access. They are here for an important meeting.” a young masculine voice says, surprising the hell citizens. Turning to look at the gate and their eyes widened to see an almost exact replica of Lucifer—except for the eyes and height.

Lucifer's eyes widened and Charlie can be seen to become more nervous as the young man approached their group.

Saint Peter eyes widened, not expecting to see the young general today. “R-right. Please, come in.. heaven officially welcomes you.” Saint Peter says, opening the gates wider for the group.

Lucifer couldn't think, his ears ringing as he looked at the newcomer. Lucifer examined the angel's appearance—an almost exact replica of him and of course, he knows those eyes very well. The same [e/c] eyes his ex-wife has. The angel wearing a white military-ish uniform with gold shoulder pads, elbow length black leather gloves and knee high leather black heeled boots.

Charlie gave his hand a gentle squeeze in assurance, he squeezed it back, grateful for her support.

Alastor grins, not expecting a twist in the scenario.

The young man turned to look at them with a gentle smile, “Greetings, I am Xavier. I am tasked with showing you guys where you will stay for tonight.” Xavier says.

Xavier looked at his obvious half family from hell, before, he had anger for them but because of his mother's influence, he was able to manage his anger on them. But it doesn't mean he'll accept Lucifer and Charlotte his family, he already has his own family in heaven. He doesn't need them.

“Please follow me and keep up.” Xavier says, almost emotionless. It's a habit of his, it might come off as rude or cold to people he just met but he doesn't care. His mother is the angel of kindness, he needs to inherit her kindness instead of his father's pride.

The hell citizens just looked at him with slight nervousness—aside from the smiling one—before eventually following him.

Lucifer just stared at the back of Xavier's head, the golden halo shining brightly against his light blonde hair. He wanted to speak to him but words wouldn't come out of his mouth. He just follows in silence, his demon kind just looking at him in worry—except Alastor, who just gave him a teasing grin.

They followed him, it took a while but they finally arrived at their destination. A large white mansion with black and gold accents, surrounded by fluffy white clouds and trees. Sunflower and tulip fields decorating the front garden. [Y/n]'s favorite flowers.

“This is where you'll be staying so please, come inside.” Xavier says, the gates to the large mansion opening for them.

They admired the scenery, it is completely different from hell. Clean and tidy. Almost blinding to the eye.

They finally arrived inside the large mansion, completely in awe with its exterior and interior designs.

“Don't worry about the palace being too crowded, it's just me and my family living here.” Xavier explained, ushering them to follow him. Walking towards the supposed living room, they weren't able to see the large family portrait on the wall as it was mounted on a wall that they couldn't see.

“I am surprised we're staying somewhere luxurious this time unlike last time. How come?” Charlie asked and Xavier gave her a raised eyebrow before sighing.

“The guest rooms are currently full while waiting for new buildings to be created for the new souls. The seven thought it would be a good idea if one of them houses you guys.” Xavier shrugs before continuing to tour them around. Angel whistling in admiration.

“And this will be your room.” Xavier says as he showed Lucifer his room. The others are already settled in.

“Thank you.” Lucifer says, almost a whisper as he went inside the large luxurious room. Xavier nodded as he stood at the doorway.

“It's nothing, I'll get going now and if you need me, I'll be in the living room.” Xavier says before turning around to leave.

“Wait!”

Lucifer doesn't know what he was thinking, he just acted out on impulse. Xavier stopped, turning around to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What is it?” Xavier asked, looking down on him. Mom, why is he so small? He thought.

Lucifer gulped, clearly nervous, “Are you... My...?” he couldn't get all the words out as his ears were ringing.

“Son?” Xavier completed, crossing his arms to look at his blood father, “Yes.” he says flatly and Lucifer's breath hitched.

Xavier sighs, already done with this, “Look, I am going to be straight with you dear father of mine.” Xavier says flatly, Lucifer looking at the taller boy in front of him.

“Just because you're my blood father doesn't mean I want you back in my life, whatever you're trying to do. I don't welcome it. I couldn't care less about you or my half sister. Do you understand? So, stop. Don't give me and my family a hard time. You've done enough damage already.” Xavier says coldly, catching Lucifer off guard. The fallen angel's heart shattered at the boy's harshness.

“Excuse me, I still have work to do.” Xavier says as he quickly walked away. Lucifer nodded, almost robotic. He went inside the guestroom and cried.

Lucifer doesn't blame Xavier for acting that way. After all, he's a horrible husband and father to [y/n] and Xavier.

Dinner was oddly awkward, a tension between the three blood relatives. Xavier didn't join them, opting to only have a drink instead.

“Aren't you going to eat?” Charlie asked hesitantly as she sat beside her dad, Xavier didn't bother looking up from his golden holographic screen that came from his wrist watch, his other hand typing into the hair and into the hologram.

“I'll eat later.” Xavier answers nonchalantly, they can clearly see him texting his mom.

M: Don't be too harsh on them sunshine.

X: I'm trying.

D: Well you better try harder, kiddo.

X: 🙄

X: What time will you come home?

D: Late as usual.

M: Indeed, there are still many things to finish but your father and I will make it quick to join you for dinner.

X: Alright, stay safe.

D: Love you, kiddo. Goodluck lol.

M: We will, sunshine. Love you<3

X: love you guys too.

Xavier was grinning slightly as he texted some people, Lucifer assumed it was [y/n] and somebody else he doesn't know of.

Lucifer avoided Xavier after that, clearly heartbroken. Lucifer assumes the D and M profiles meant Mom and Dad and Lucifer assumed that [y/n] remarried and he can clearly see how happy Xavier is talking to them.

To shorten this all up, the meeting went smoothly. The Seven Virtues promised to fund the hotel and also asked for Lucifer's forgiveness for how harsh they treated him. Heaven took back his punishment and he can freely visit heaven anytime. Lucifer was able to find out that Azrael married [y/n] and she's happily married to the man. Though, she doesn't hate him and forgave him but she did make it clear that she doesn't want him back to her life and so did Xavier and Lucifer respected their wishes.

Finally returning back to hell, Lucifer was extremely heartbroken. He lost before he even got to start. But part of him is glad that [y/n] found a better man than him, someone who treats her better than him.

End notes: I got a little lazy at the end lmao.

TAGLIST:

#lxkeee answers #hazbin hotel #lxkeee updates #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer magne

[safination]

Partners in Death...and Life.

Part I: Radio's not dead

| Part 2: Radio Will Be Dead if He Doesn’t Explain Himself. | Masterlist| ao3 Pairings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem! reader, established relationship, human!alastor, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) acroace!alastor

"Alastor! Pleasure to meet you. Quite a pleasure!" One hand reset on his chest, and the other shoots into the air. You chuckle. "I don't think it will be quite the pleasure you think." "Is that so?" Alastor's smile remains constant. "And why would that be? You show him the tray you're holding "I'm here to do your sutures"

You pass the tissue box—the third one already.

Your patient blows his nose, rubbing snot off his snout. He has to stretch his arms to reach his nose. Alligators are known for their long snouts. His nostrils flare when he sniffles. Used tissue is discarded on the pastel-pink floor despite a pastel-pink trashcan stationed by his webbed feet. It’s been the same pattern for the last fifteen-minutes.

Tissue, Sneeze. Floor.

“—and I have this…uh…like this real bad itch on my eye. I keep rubbing and rubbing but it doesn’t do shit! My eyesight’s gotten worse—It’s already fucked up but this is just different. My roommate hissed at me about getting blood all-over the carpet floors if I kept scratching my scales. Oh. Oh! I’ve been snee—achew!” Alligator snot lands on the pastel-pink floors of the clinic.

Your eyes twitch.

He takes another tissue and waves it around his head. “The top of my head is killing me. Ya’know where that is right?” He blows his nose. “It’s right here,” he says, inching his head closer to you. “The last nurse I went to was blind as a bat! Literally, she had the wings and everything. It was kinda hot.”

“I’m well aware of the location of your head,” you say. “You can lean back now.”

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor.

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor.

Pastel pink floor.

Underneath the mix of feathers and hair strands, the bustling of the waiting room catches your ear. Someone curses, booming and violent at another waiting patient. A cough, a sigh, a barf. Painful curses erupt after that. You bring a hand to your ears, wincing as your eardrum rings.

Pentagon City’s best and biggest hospital needs better doors, but those lazy sloth fuckers at the top invested at the first material they found. The alligator sneezes into another tissue. He flicks it with his wrist, and it hits the pastel-pink wallpaper adorned with closed eyes. Maybe Belphegor should be the sin of Pride instead, considering all items are covered in her symbol.

“I really feel like t’was those exterminators ya’know?”

You do not, in fact, know. Half of what this young man says is incomprehensible.

His snout sways left to right when he shakes his head. “It’s only my second one, and this was a close call, and uh…well, ever since then I’ve been like this. One even got to my roommate. “

You hum, leaning back on your chair. You should petition to for thicker doors. And while you’re at it, better interior design, and better paint—something that isn’t pastel pink.

“Ugh, and it’s so not cool that this new roommate of mine’s been shedding since the day they moved in,” he says.  “Speaking of shedding, do you think it’s because of those exterminators? Do you think they like spread some sort of weird pollen to make us sick? They’re totally the type to that.”

You take your pen—your pastel-fucking-pink pen—and poke his alligator sinuses.

Hell does have its own brand of humor. You gave your 20s to studying human anatomy, only to die and find yourself with the need to re-learn the boring part of biology.  (Two books on reptiles, four on mammals, and fifteen on sea creatures.)

“YEOWCH!” His teeth stick out again. You do not know what this means.  “What kind of nurse ar—“

“Doctor.”

“—you? That’s not the top of my head!”

You push back on of the feathers on your head. “Your roommate ‘hissed’ at you? And they’ve been shedding fur for two weeks now?"

“…Yeah…?”

You stare at him. “Have you ever considered that you’re allergic to your roommate?”

“Ooooooooooh,” he says. ‘Yeah, I was allergic to cats back when I was alive.”

You grab your (pastel-fucking-pink) prescription pad from the desk drawer. “Control it with some antihistamine. Four pills every 12 hours.”

His teeth start showing. You’re not sure if he’s frowning. It’s hard to tell. “Pills, really?”

You toss what you were writing into the massive pile of germs, mucus, and tissue. “I can give you a nasal spray. I’ll flush the mucus then insert a spray that prevents build-up,” you say. “They last for two weeks and then you’ll need to come back.”

He grabs the last tissue from the box. It still lands on your floor. “Ma’am nurse, do you have any more of this?”

You sigh and reach for a fourth box of tissue. “It’s doctor,” you say. “We keep nasal sprays here in the clinic. I’ll just grab one and you’ll be out in fifteen minutes.”

“No can do,” he says. “Before I died, my coach told me to stay away from that non-organic shit. It’ll mess us up real bad apparently. All those steroids.”

“You have phencyclidine sticking out of your coat pocket.”

“Pheny—what?”

“…Angel Dust.”

“The porn star?”

“The drug. You have drugs sticking out of your coat pocket.”

“Come on, nurse—”

Threads erupt from your fingers. It snakes around his wrist, coiling and twisting. He jerks his arm away and cries out when you tighten your hold. Your threads wrap around his legs. It pulls against his waist. Magic binds his arms, and tightens around every joint he owns. You stop, only when the alligator struggles, trashing against the clinic chair. 

His teeth bare and he snaps at whatever he can reach. You tug on one of the thousands of strings digging into his skin. His jaw snaps shut, and it will stay shut. Another tug and his back stretches to straighten. You move your fingers as if a piano laid before you, and he sits up like a good puppet.

Another month of clinic dury will be your punishment if those sloth from down below are lucid enough to do their jobs. Sadly, killing this idiot would have you suspended for three months.

“I am a doctor,” you tell him. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

The tension on your strings marks even the few scales scattered on his body. He’s a real idiot if he continues to struggle.

Delicate movements of your fingers bring him forward, his back still strained, and tilt his snout at a forty-five-degree angle. Your threads elongate as you move toward the clinic drawers. It loosens around you, careful at keeping you able to move freely. It’s one of the handier parts of your magic.

You shake your hands and the threads detach. It sticks to the floor to keep the alligator as your puppet. You scrub your hands thoroughly before taking the nasal spray and filling with with distilled water.

You place on nitrite gloves. It’s always best when dealing with bodily substances such as mucus. You place a pan underneath and jam the tube up his nostrils, hosing his sinuses with water. The tension of his binding keeps him still. (If you ignore his whining, then that’s your business. The brawl you heard from the waiting room drowned it all out anyway.) He starts breathing better when all the snot flushes to the pan.

“Finished,” you say with satisfaction. You grab your prescription pad and write one for a nasal spray. “I cleared the mucus buildup so you shouldn’t feel any more headaches. The spray will keep your nose clear for as long as you use it. Come back if you start to feel any discomfort. For the rashes just get cream.” You point at the pastel pink door. “The exit’s right there.”

The threads dissolve in the air. He rubs his wrist, trying to soothe the red marks that your strings bring. You hand him the signed prescription.

He doesn’t close the door on his way out.

The broom and dustpan are hidden in one of the taller cabinets—pastel-pink like everything else in the room.

(Well, not everything. The radio sitting on the corner of the counter gives a splash of red into the room.)

You sweep the tissues into the dustpan. Your control over your strings is much more proficient when living beings are involved. Inanimate objects whip around when you use your magic on them, and radios have been difficult to purchase recently. It’s more convenient to clean using your own hands.

“Tagatha,” you call out when the floor is clean. “You can bring in the next one in.”

Silence is your reply.

“Tagatha?”

Your ears quirk. The noises are faint—an occasional cough, silent weeping, and muted voices coming from the television. You peek out the door, eyeing the crowd formed around the corner of the hall where a pAstel-pInK television mounts on the wall.

The door closes with a faint click. You sink into the cushions of the office chair. Vox’s yapping bore you. It was probably some man-child debate about the new extermination date. Although… those serialized dramas he produces, sadly, are interesting enough to be consumed. If asked for your honest opinion, you’d tell them that they were a hot pile of smelly garbage, but you like to leave it playing mindlessly in the background.

Your husband will throw the television out the window the first chance he’ll get.

Too bad he’s occupied.

You grab a piece of paper from the drawer. Management is forcing you to write a thousand-word formal apology. There are about three-hundred words left to write.

Getting caught dissecting the dead bodies from the morgue is a mistake that won’t be repeated. One dead body and suddenly those lazy fuckers have diligence weaved into their DNA. The body was already dead, and it’s not every day a chance to poke around a chimera’s entrails appears. The sinner would contribute to something meaningful at least. You’re stuck on clinic duty until you dot your last sentence, and not a moment before

The coffee’s cold now, but consumable.

You reach across the desk, feeling for the knob of the radio. You twist until you feel the clink. Music fills the air—the same twenty-five songs on a loop. You stare at the radio for a moment.

Just… a small… single moment.

On your kitchen counter, that second cup of coffee should be cold by now. It’s always cold when you trudge through the door. It’s been cold and untouched for years.

Yet, without fail, that second cup you brew will always be waiting for its owner.

“Salutations!” You snap your head to the radio. “Good to be back on the air.”

…Huh? The feather on your hair bristle. You swipe the radio, your hold on it feather-light.  You turn the knob responsible for volume. The static noise stings your eardrums.

“—ile since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast. Sinners rejoice!”

Murmurs erupt outside your door. You blink and find yourself slamming it open. One foot after another, one step after the other, brings you closer to the television. Your shoulder throbs when you bump into someone, but you keep pushing until you see Vox and his tacky suit enlarged on the screen.

“What a dated voice!”

A reply comes from the radio. “Instead of a clout-chasin’ mediocre video podcast.”

Your feather rises higher. Laughter escapes your lips, it leaves a dry taste. That…that ṁ̵̭͔̲̙̦͎̝̜̲̠͙͇̂̏̃̐̂̓̊̂̕̕o̴̢̭̝̙̤̬͚͐̅͗̌̇̂̌̕ţ̷̛̝̂̿h̶̯̟̙̲̘̟̟͙͔̔̋͊̋̿̐͘͜͜ę̶̗̰͔̫͔̗̝̘̻̰̓̓̈̊͜r̵̨̂̏f̶͖̻̱̺͕̹̫̭̠̚u̸̬̺̯̟̦͖̅̂́́̌̚͝ć̴̖͙̰͈͕̉͌̈́́̈̔̀̉̍́͜͠ḳ̴̨̧̗̫̗͖̞̟̑͌̂̀̈́̀͆͒ę̷̛͓̼̟͍̆̆́͆̾͛͝r̵̹̮̤͓̗̹̈́̎̉͌̾͌̏͑̋̚͝.

“Doctor!” Tagatha screeches when she spots you. “I am so sorry. I’ll bring in the next one right away!”

Your eyes are trapped by the screen and your ears by the radio. “It’s alrig—”

Tagatha grabs the closest person to her and shoves you back into the clinic. The door slams shut just as everything goes dark and silent. (Well, it’s not completely dark, once your eyes adjust you can still see as if the lights were open. Another small perk to this body). Your radio, along with the power, stopped working.

“Oh my!” Your new patient bleats.

“We have generators,” you find yourself saying. “I’m sure the power will come on in a minute.”

The cushions of the chair do little to ease your nerves. You pat your hair, trying to get it in control. A pile of feathers starts forming on the PASTEL-FUCKING PINK FLOORS. T̴̹̜͇̅̅͗͜H̶̰̗̄Ơ̶̡̡̻̗͖̋̎̓̓S̴̨͉̝̻͋̽̆́͆Ẹ̸̡̢͐͐͠ ̷̨͚̞̙̀͒̆̆͊Ŭ̵͕̲̪͇͓͐̚G̷̹̝̦̬͊͒Ḷ̶̭͓̎̏̈͘Y̶͇̟̍̉̚ ̷̟͎͕̞͂͑̂̇À̶͉̍̄̈̚S̸͖̖͕͑̏͛̈́S̶͚̤̼̯̀ ̶̻͆P̷̬̝̉Ä̵͕́͊̌S̸̢͍̆̓͝Ṫ̸͖̲̠̾̉͜͝E̷̺͆L̷͖̏͐́͝ ̶̛̟̽͝P̷̪̔͜I̴̹̥̹͖̮͒́̏͘N̸̳̙̼̾̆̿Ķ̶̟̞̜̉͊̓̂̚ ̵͈̬̃̿̄̈́̋F̵̨̨̼̫̘͘L̸̙̠͎̓̆́O̷̧̘͚͉̤̓O̷̤̟̱̼̤͋̍͐R̷̰̝̓͌̌Ș̵̲̝̈́ "Excuse me?” You will paint this room red with the blood of management. You tap your foot again, and again, and again. “…Doctor?”

Your neck snaps in her direction, eyes wide and staring.

“The… uh… the lights are back.”

You blink at your patient—huh, she’s a goat. “I apologize,” you say, smiling. “Please, tell me, what brings you here in this hellish afternoon.”

She holds up her bleeding arm. “It’s been like this since the extermination,” she explains. “Some angle got me. Luckily, I was able to run off before I was finished. I thought it would heal on its own like it usually does but it just hasn’t. It keeps bleeding.”

“Well, angel-induced injuries are my specialty,” you say. Tucked away to the side, a mirror hangs. You catch your reflection, and you blow your hair away from your vision, your red sclerae “This will cost you. Injuries caused by angels are…difficult to stitch, but not impossible—not for me at least.”

“Oh, yes.” She bleats one more “Dear God, where are my manners? I’m sorry can I ask for your name?”

Your smile widens. “Of course. I’m—"

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure!” One hand reset on his chest, and the other shoots into the air. It’s the bow you did in high school, back when you wanted theater to pay your bills. A performer’s bow.

You chuckle. “I don’t think it will be quite the pleasure you think.”

“Is that so?” Alastor’s smile remains constant. “And why would that be?”

You show him the tray you’re holding. “I’m here to do your sutures.” He steps closer to take a peek. You watch him as his eyes gloss over your matches then your needle driver, then the alcohol lamp. His smile wobbles when he lands on the syringe.

You move the tray, dropping it down on the little cart by the examination chair.

“There’s no need to worry.” You beam at him. “I have the steadiest hands in this city.”

“Hmmmm,” he says. “You must be the other doctor then.”

“Not at all.” You point to your uniform, where the initial ‘NP’ is embroidered next to your name. “Just the nurse practitioner.”

He takes a closer look and reads your name. “Then I have no reason to fret. None at all! In my experience, doctors usually have their noses buried in their books. It’s the nurses that actually get the hands-on experience.” Alastor’s hands move when he talks. “What’s such a talented practitioner doing in such a dinged-up clinic?”

“Management caught me in the morgue dissecting the dead—It’s how I practice my stitches.”

“Really, now?”

You bark a laugh. “Not at all—I’m far too smart to get caught.”

“A witty sense of humor and a steady hand! I am in good hands, indeed.”

You take a seat on the rolling stool. “Yes, yes,” you say, waving your wrist. “You make fine compliments, Sir. I’ll be sure to be extra gentle.” You point towards the examination chair. “But, please hurry to the chair. You’re dripping blood on my floor.”

Alastor glances down. His eyebrows furrow as he glares at where the blood seeps from his sleeve … almost… almost as if he’s angry. “My apologies,” he says, allowing his blood to drip to the floor.

Alastor shrugs off his coat. It’s rare to see such a dark red—only a few choose such a color. You hum. Alastor is a well-dressed gentleman. Lovely. Those are your favorite kind. He drapes his coat over the spare chair, ignoring the coat racks the clinic provides.

You turn away and wheel yourself closer to one of the drawers on the counter. It takes two attempts until you find the stash of sterile gloves. “Take your seat when you’re ready,” you say. “I’ll take a look once you are.” You place the gloves on the little green cart, right next to your tray.

Alastor takes his seat, landing with an audible ‘humph’. He smiles at you, sleeves rolled and arm ready. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

You hold your palm out. “May I?”

His smile wobbles—it’s a small change in expression that you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking. “Of course.”

Along his forearm, a long and sharp cut wounds him. The sight of grime that covers the opened abrasions makes you inwardly cringe. You need to clean these as soon as possible. “Why was this not checked sooner?” You rest his hands on the armrest and use your foot to bring the cart closer. “This looks old, and not at all like a freshly deep cut. I prefer it when patients come to me with fresh wounds.”

You grab a bowl with distilled water and pour in a sterile solution. “I assumed it would heal on its own,” he tells you. “It was quite a surprise when it did not.”

“I need to clean this before you die of infection.” You dip his arm into the bowl. He remains silent, but you feel the tension of his muscles under your fingers. “Hopefully there will be no next time, but just in case, next time, please don’t wait a month.”

He laughs, and there, you faintly see it—a twitch in his eye. “It was only a week actually.”

You smile to yourself. “I’d prefer it if it was only a few hours.” You dry his arm with a soft towel, his arm still tensed underneath your touch. “There, much better.”  You release your hold to go to a shelf filled with different labeled vials and select the one you need. With the clean syringe, you draw the contents of the vial. “You’ll feel a bit of a pinch,” you say. You tap its side. “It’s morphine— wouldn’t want you screaming and writhing”

You study his face for a second. There’s just that same dismissively polite smile.

“You can look away if you wish,” you tell him. “It’s why we pin such…er…interesting decorations around…. May I?”

You feel it again when Alastor inches his arm closer. His muscles tense under your touch. It’s almost as if he wishes to pull away. You keep your hold feather-light, but firm.

“Are you a hunter by any chance?” you ask. You don’t prick him—not yet. Not when tension coils in your hold.

“You could describe it that way,” he says, chuckling like he’s told a humorous joke. (You don’t understand why.)

“I figured you were.”

Alastor slides his glasses up the bridge of his nose. You inject the morphine into his skin, right inside the soft pink tissue. Good. Alastor relaxes when he speaks, it seems. “I do love a good hunt,” he says. “How ever did you know.”

You release your hold and discard the syringe. “Your hands are rough,” you tell him. “And hunters always have this silly notion that injuries magically heal given enough time—along with farmers, actually. Although, farmers are usually much more deluded.”

He flashes that same polite smile. “I'm guessing you’re not a hunter then?”

“How ever did you know?”

You watch his eyes flicker to your palms as you re-arrange the needles. “Delicate hands.”

You flash the same polite smile right back at him. You take a match, and light the alcohol lamp.

Soap spreads all over your palms and up your arm as you scrub your hands. You slip your hands into the sterilized gloves, careful not to contaminate the surface. “I’ll begin now.”

Alastor hums in reply.

You take a scapple and pass it over the flame. You poke him, lightly, but he doesn’t react. Satisfied, you cut back fibrous tissue underneath the skin. You replace the scapple with a needle driver. There was a quiet click when you pinch the tiny curved needle. You pass it over the flame as well. “Can you do me a favor? Can you tell me how many stars are on that wall over there?

Alastor turns to look at you, but you block his eyes with your palm, shielding him from your stiches.

“The wall isn’t over here.”

“I assure you, I’m not afraid of a silly needle.”

“I’m sure you are,” you say. “However, you’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. The last three people who said that took one look and started squirming. One even fainted. It makes your life miserable, and my job harder.

He counts.

“Out loud please.”

He does as he’s told, rather reluctantly.

Hands steady and determination set, you pierce the soft pink tissue with your needle The tissue nearest to the surface is always delicate. You’re certain not to catch any fat in your suture, for fat dies, and a loose stitch is useless. “Well, isn’t this fun!” he says. “I really feel nothing.”

Your concentration does not break. “I don’t remember there only being twenty-six stars. I’m positive there are more.”

“Why is someone as talented as you only a nurse practitioner?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a nurse…,” you reply, tugging on the needle. “Well…we…. We certainly could be paid more.”

“Why not become an actual doctor then?”

“My father couldn’t afford it. He wouldn’t send me….and…hm…” You smoothly pull the suture thread and begin the next stitch. “And I enjoy this.”

He looks down at you. “Is this all you’ll be satisfied with?”

You focus back on your stitching, hiding your glare. You bring your needle underneath the flesh, making sure to catch the soft tissue. You’re doing an uncommon stitch, but it would be a shame to leave a scar. “You sound familiar.”

You pause to look at him, His smile brightens, and it actually looks like a genuine elated smile. “Why, I’m a radio broadcaster. You might have heard me there.”

“Oh yes...” you hum, turning back to your stitching. “Alastor... I remember now. The ladies and I listen to your broadcast as we do our crafts.”

“Knitting?”

“I personally prefer embroidery,” you say. “I get to practice my stitching and make beautiful art.” You pull the thread and begin a new one, stitching his skin like they were shoe laces. “You’re quite the humorous gentleman, I must say, and quite a lovely taste in music. We enjoy your broadcast very much”

“Do you have any of your artworks here?” he asks you. “I would be eager to see them.”

“Maybe next time.” You tug the suture, and his laceration snaps to a close. You tie a knot and snip the end. “Unfortunately, I’ve finished your stitches.”

“Next time then.”

You discard your gloves and go back to the shelf with the vials. You fill up another syringe. You jam the needle into his skin, not enough to hurt, just enough to scare him a bit. “To prevent infection.”

He jerks away from you. “What happened to that gentle touch of yours?”

“It’s still a sharp object, Sir. They tend to hurt.” You smirk and carefully clean the remaining blood on the skin around the sutured wound. You take a bandage from your cart and begin wrapping it around his forearm, covering your sutures. “Don’t forget to drink your pills every 8 hours, with a meal in your stomach, preferably. Replace the dressing every three days. You can come back here or if you’re able to do so, you can change them yourself. Any by the good God, please, visit the nearest hospital should this incident repeat.”

Alastor slides off the examination chair. He grabs his coat as if you didn’t just stitch him close. You start packing when you notice him fixing his bow tie, and smoothing his hair. Huh…There’s blood on his coat, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Like he’s used to having it there. Like it’s just something he’s learned to live with. “You were wrong by the way.”

“Pardon?”

“It was quite the pleasure to meet you.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Hello, welcome to the hell that's been plaguing my head. In case you didn't know Belphegor is the ruler of the sloth ring, and she seems to be in charge of medical-related stuff in Hell. I have the story mostly plotted out, it's just a matter of writing it down. If you have any questions, ask away

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #Hazbin hotel x reader #Alastor x reader #Alastor x wife!reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor x wife reader

[alavestineneas]

i can feel the soil falling over my head; no people are here, just the void in my chest

pairing: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!reader summary: Harkonnen men rarely wed; they just take what they capture—men and women—and turn them into slaves. Some, if particularly sweet, are reserved for fucking. There are no special songs for that; there isn't a specific word in their native tongue for wife, either. warnings: mentions of death, violence, implied/referenced child abuse, religious symbolism, daddy and sister issues, bald men chapter 1 - chapter 2 word count: 6,5K

author's note: hi beautiful people! this chapter may be classified as a prologue (yes, I am aware of its size, sorry, lol), but it is still integral to the story. we love evil people, especially evil bald people, in this house, so have fun and don't forget to wash your hands before reading! also, if you see things that are not canon, just know that me and the books are two parallel lines and we do not cross. feel free to point out grammar mistakes, though - english is not my first. love you!

Kaitain, 10176 AG

The violent streaks of light fight with the heavy cloth of drapes to find their way into the small, stifling chambers. The time was slowly crawling towards noon in the heavy summer heat, and the woman lying on the heavily decorated sheets was battling to get a breath in. Whether because of the annoying star, or the poisoning waiting, the patterns of sweat stained her tired face with esculent ornaments. Her lips, formed into a thin line, gleamed with small spots of dried crimson.

''Where is the messenger?'' The woman's voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes glued to the dancing light filtering through the window. ''The girl is strong; I can't hold her for much longer.''

The black figure on the chair in the corner slightly shifted at words. She was veiled, despite the heat—like a black hole, she seemed to suck the little air left. ''Forbearance,'' her raspy voice cuts through the room. ''The child makes you impatient. Control yourself.''

''I've waited, and waited long enough,'' the woman snapped, her frustration evident in her trembling hands. ''A few more minutes and all that is left of her will be a corpse.''

''Be quiet, Echidna. The child will live. If not, she was never meant to be part of our world in the first place.''

The woman clenched her jaw in a wave of pain and nodded. The girl ought to see the light of this planet today. Deep in her thoughts, she almost missed the rushed steps behind the door.

One of the Emperor's guards burst into the room, his eyes almost frantic. ''Lady Anirul has graced the Imperium with a daughter.''

Echidna smiled in relief, but her expression quickly changed as a beast-like cry pierced the air. The child was coming, with little care for the damage it caused to her aching womb. She tore the tissue down to the individual cells, gnawing her way with fists and elbows, moving the bones aside with brute force. Soon, her own cries were answered by much louder ones, as the head of the girl showed itself, covered in a thick layer of almost black blood. Just for a moment, the woman wished it would not steal another breath from the room, but she sharply composed herself. With a final push, the child left her body forever, leaving it a raw wound.

The small creature shrieked when the black figure approached, and slender, wrinkled arms took it from the warmth of rufous-red liquid. Echidna watched as the figure carried the girl away, resting her hurting body against the soaked pillows. She fulfilled her duty; she granted Bene   Gesserit the daughter they wanted. She is bleeding under a beautiful sun; she is holding the ghost of her child in her arms—the real one was never hers anyway. Echidna knows the Emperor will not come. From now on, it is just her and her never-passing pain. Thus, Kaitain, home to the Corrino dynasty, was warmed by the light of a new sun—Princess Irulan, an heiress to the Imperium—and chilled by the shadow of her sister, born a few minutes later.

-

The calmness of the gardens was disturbed only by the soft strokes of brushes against a thick canvas. YN sighed, her eyes still fixed on the tree nearby, its young branches swaying with the wind. Her body ached from stillness, the tension in her neck from holding her head slightly bowed spreading down to her small back. They posed for a portrait of what seemed like an eternity to a child, and was almost it to an adult who dared to inquire; the painter, while satisfied with the draft, looked at the group of young girls almost in fear—no normal child of that age would be unmoving for three hours. And yet, they were.

YN felt one of her sisters shift even through the thick fabric of her silver dress. Small Chalice turned, her cheeks red from the heat or tiredness, her lips forming a pout—the child was tired, sleepingly rubbing her eyes. YN thought for a moment, debating if the punishment would be worth it, or if her sisters could wait just a little bit more until the man with colours would end the session for today. She noticed how Irulan's face was starting to droop, her eyes fluttering closed and opening just a second later. Their youngest, Wensicia, was already asleep in Irulan's arms; her golden hair spread across her and YN's laps as a beautiful cover, shining under the faint sun.

''I am tired, Master Chen. We should end the painting for today,'' YN finally spoke; her voice was almost a whisper. She did not know whether it was not to awaken her sister or out of fear of the Emperor's anger; it did not matter. The man nodded and left, taking his canvases with him, leaving only a few drafts behind. Then, the sisters were left alone in the garden.

''Thank you,'' Irulan said softly, placing her head on YN's shoulder.

YN only nodded. Her eyes found the paper not so far away, her gaze studying the strokes of the pencil with interest. Wensicia, a beautiful girl of two, was smiling brightly, holding an olive branch in her chubby hands, her small feet peeking under the hem of her white dress. Small Chalice was at the opposite end of her, her curly hair surrounding her head like a halo as she leaned forward, holding a small dove inside her palms. Then, sitting at the bench, surrounded by lush greenery and bushes, they. Irulan and the Other.

YN was placed just a step away from her older sister, her head turned away from the gaze of the viewer. The delicate folds of her silver dress carefully cascaded down, creating an air of mist around them. Her hands were empty; she did not know if the artist hadn't decided with each object to grace her with, or left them hollow intently. She looked like a shadow—a ghost, maybe; her eyes were escaping the viewer as if hiding a secret.

Irulan was different. She was a sun-kissed creature, her head facing straight ahead. Her eyes, as if inviting for a challenge, were made from duty, steel. With a burning star on her regal forehead, crowning the streaks of golden hair, Irulan was water and air, dulcet and ever-bending; her figure held the place and her pose was distinct and commanding.

YN looked at the girl beside her, who was now quiet nearby. Irualn was wise, the wisest of the sisters; her eyes were all-seeing, her heart all-knowing. She was created in the shape of a mother since they could walk, and the small ones bathed in her light, drinking her till the last drop —like flowers following the warm embrace of the sun. The only one who could not enjoy the love was her, the Other. The other sister, the other half. For they have been too close in age, too similar to let each other pretend the burden was not a heavy one to bear.

When Irulan was natural in her all-caring shape, YN had to claw her way to the only role left—the father. An unbent tree, a silent soldier—she was not born to fit as one, but wishing for a different order of things was almost blasphemy. That's how it always was with them—out of two, one was the protector, the other - the protected. "Husband," Irulan humorously called her often. She smiled, and, for a moment, the wave of resentment in YN's soul calmed. She never called her wife in return: Irulan was too whole to be one, too proud to be moulded into. She stood alone, on a higher pedestal than all of them, closest to the Emperor, whom the Other was to call father, and closest to the Truth. No, Irulan was God.

God does not know how to love someone who is not his servant, because there is no one who would refuse to serve him; it is the only way. God guides, despite all one's protests. God gives, and God takes. God demands; Irulan demands—silent obedience without a need to explain or answer. That, she takes from their father. So, the Other takes a blade into her hand without compassion for her dead wishes and learns to wield it in God's name. She is the one little ones turn to when the world is too wicked for their fragile souls when the creatures under their beds lose all of their human form and turn violent. She takes their sins and bears the punishments, for they are not deserving of such cruelty. YN thinks not of her own guilt—what difference would one scourage make to one who counts in centuries? And when the sun shone, and God smiled, the Other almost forgot of the bruises she carried.

-

The first time he saw her, it was not supposed to happen at all. Feyd-Rautha just closed the door to Maester's chambers with such force that it shook against lean walls; the grumble echoed in the long corridors of Giedi Prime's fortness. The ache in his body was muted, but still present; the torn flesh inside his heart howled and clawed, slicing the ribcage in half. He would've screamed, or perhaps beat his hands bloody against the concrete until the dull pain turned into something as sharp as his knife's blade. Maybe he would've drowned himself in a small water bowl by his nightstand and done anything to escape the shame and humiliation that consumed him from within. But instead, Feyd-Rautha stood still, his jaw clenched tight and his breathing shallow. One day, it will pass. One day, he will see the world choke on its own spit.

That's when he noticed a small, shadow-like figure at the end of the hallway staring at him. A girl, not older than him, was in a dress so foreign to him that it hurt his eyes. The daughter of the Emperor, he guessed. One of many—only then would the golden stitching on her sleeve would make sense.

''What are you doing here?'' he barked, caring little for the common courtesy. Of course, she was a guest almost as prized as her father, but she was in his territory and dared to look at him for long enough without averting her eyes. Long enough to notice the bruising on his pale skin and a swelness surrounding his lips. Long enough to hear him cry.

''I was walking with my mother, but then I turned into the wrong hall,'' she shrugged. ''Will you be kind enough to show me the way out? Or should I find it myself?"

Feyd-Rautha ignored her question. What a weird creature she was—with cascades of hair and eyes that seemed to see too much. ''It is dangerous to walk these halls without guard, Princess.'' It is dangerous to be here, alone with him and the weapon strapped to his hip, but he did not add it.

''There is no use of guards if the one who wishes to kill you is their master.'' The girl took a step forward, pointing to the weapon at his side. "I am not afraid."

Feyd-Rautha laughed. It came out more as howling than human sounds, the abrupt nature of it ringing with high notes, tip-toeing down to hysterical; it sounded creaky, like his throat was not made for such sounds; yet here he was, laughing. ''Come,'' he gestured to her, his hand moving quickly, like ordering a slave around. ''I will show you why you should be.''

So, they walked. Inside the grandiose chambers and small rooms, filled with ancient artefacts or the newest technology Harkonnens came up with; inside the green lavish garden inside the dim castle and the training grounds, Feyd-Rautha showed every place that was built to display the greatness of his house and bestone fear inside both guests and people inhibiting it. He wanted to see the horror in the girl's eyes, to make her eyes water and her frame flee. Instead, he listened to her steady breathing just a step behind him, her curious questioning satisfying another need he did not know his heart possessed: reverence.

He was the youngest member of the ruling line, the smallest stone in the castle of power his uncle had built. His title meant nothing within these walls; he was too small in comparison to the Baron and his authority. Feyd-Rautha was feared, despite only being nine; he was the shadow in the corner that grew longer as the sun set, the whispered name that sent shivers down spines. But here, in the hallway he led the girl into, he turned out to be something else.

''Stunning,'' the girl whispered beside him.

Weapons. The walls, from the floor to the high ceilings, were covered in ritual and fighting blades. The pride of house Harkonnen, the tree of their dynasty, black, silver, golden, and steel knives, swords, and daggers gleamed in the dim light. Feyd-Rautha smiled, revealing a row of sharp teeth. "Welcome to our burial ground."

They stopped near every one, his voice briefly covering the story of each blade and his owner; barons that came before him; fighters and rules that defined their legacy. Some still have blood on them—the highest honour; some look almost virgin. The small signs underneath them tell the names of people who wielded these weapons, their stories forever immortalised in the cold metal. ''Each Harkonnen ruler is crafted a blade of his own, the one he is to honour in battle.''

The girl nodded, her fingers tracing the shape of the last blade carefully. Her palms danced around the sharp edge, taking in the ancient symbols she had no chance of knowing. ''Will you have to kill Baron Vladimir in order to have one, like he did with his father before?''

Feyd-Rautha paused. Of course, he has thought about it before. The idea he repeated like a mantra in his head for all of his short life, the belief that spread burning flames down his spine. The words left his mouth for the first time but felt almost natural against his cracked lips. ''I dream of the day I have the chance to.''

The pair of foreign eyes that stared back at him held a glint of intrigue that quickly changed with a flash of acknowledgement. Feyd-Rautha held the gaze; not a single thing about it was hard. Still, he was the first to turn away; the burning sensation of being  seen  made him want to tear his flesh apart. ''Let me escort you to your rooms, Princess. The walls grow colder as the evening approaches.''

-

The weather on the planet leaves too few guards out of their breath, Irulan notes. The striking sun burns through the rounded windows of man-built walls, the frankly depressing landscape of huge boxes constructed with little intent for anything else but utilitarianism. She must not fear, while those lands will also be under her power with time, but the dreadful atmosphere of the lonely planet makes her skin break out in hives.

She believes the people here are more terrifying. White, hairless creatures with eyes as dark as the sun above them speak with just nods and courseys, paying little to no attention to the world around them, save for the concrete floors.  ''Tell them to set themselves on fire, and they will,''  Irulan recalls Baron Vladimir telling her father over the banquet. She believed it to be a simple boast at first, but now, after a few days in the strange world, the words make greater sense.

Perhaps, the harsh weather made people here hardened. Perhaps, such cruelty is necessary for survival. What terrorised her more was her sister—the one who now silently reads nearby, her long dress carelessly spread on the floor. Irulan would never allow her dress to wrinkle before the concluding dinner, but she is not Irulan. Despite them being demisisters, they shared fewer similarities than one could guess. Two lambs, as many in court would call them—the white and black ones. They knew one another better than anything else; where one went, the other followed. Where Irulan failed, her sister succeeded. What was allowed for her sister, was fobility towards Irulan. No one was embedded in their small circle; no one could get close enough to understand the bond they shared—together, they were whole.

Yet as they grew older, the bond seemed to thin. The path to the mind of her sister was more often closed to her now, her thoughts veiled by the silence rooted deep into her veins. Irulan knows they are just growing up, trying to find their path in the unknown. But she is scared; what would be of her without her sister? What use would the river have without fish to fill it?

''I shall go,'' her sister says, closing the book. ''The dinner starts soon, and I wanted to return the book before it.''

''Is it the one Na-Baron recommended?'' Irulan voices. Truth be told, she would never touch anything that Baron or his family possessed, even more recommended, but her sister seemed to enjoy the ancient text.

''It is. Rather interesting are the traditions of these people. Did you know their slaves have no tongues?''

Irulan feels sick to her stomach; the thought of having slaves brings the small bits of her recent meal to her very present tongue. ''Can I come with you?'' she asks, instead of answering. Irulan does not want to leave the faint safety of her rooms, but even more, she does not want to be left alone. She feels vulnerable—she is not of power here, despite being the embodiment of it in all of the other corners of the Imperium.

''You know I walk without guards.''

Irulan knows. While she is not able as much as bathe without the presence of someone with fighting knowledge, the rules do not seem to apply to her younger sister; she can move freely, as she wishes. Was it because she carried a thin blade with her and knew how to use it, or because of the lack of care from their father? Irulan was not sure. What she was sure of, was that no woman of twelve should leave her sister alone in the halls of Harkonnens' fort.

''It is just to the reading room and back, is it not?''

''Yes,'' her sister nods.  ''I'll take you,''  it means.

So, they walk. Fortunately, the guards usually waiting outside are nowhere to be found, and they manage to slip away unnoticed. Irulan holds the hand of her sister tightly, with each noise from the outside digging her nails deeper into her soft palm. Her sister says nothing; she steps calmly into the labyrinth of corridors, navigating them without much evident trouble. Soon, they find themselves in front of a huge black door, incarnated with words Irulan hold no knowledge of.

Inside, the chamber is massive; it forms a beautiful, round circle with ceilings so high that the air in it is always chilly. Rows of books and manuscripts fill the shelves out of oxidant, contrasting starkly with the white wall. The black circle table of cold stone is filled with replicas and ancient artefacts, each emitting a soft glow.

Who knew the small, desert planet held such treasures inside? Irulan forgets about her sister entirely—the texts call to her, golden lettering shining under the light. Irulan follows the names on the covers: legends, myths, histories, and art overviews. Some even contained gardening and soil research; Baron likely held those for a good laugh.

Irulan travels deeper and deeper until the voice of her sister addressing the only library keeper almost disappears, consumed by tall bookcases. The section she finds herself in is solely dedicated to martial arts; where, if not here, would the hundreds of books on such a topic be stored? Some of them are used; the spines are slightly older; others look brand new.

Irulan is brought to her senses only when she notices a black figure moving in the corner of her vision. She puts the book back and Listens. Just like the Sisters taught her, her inner ear picks up the faint voice of her sister, and the moving of two sandaled feet—the slave handling the books. She feels something else, too. A presence familiar enough to recognise but not enough to name.

''We have to go,'' she says, grabbing her sister by the shoulder and pressing. ''We will be late,'' she explains to the slave. Not that it would question the whims of the princess.

''Why?'' her sister turns to her, confused. ''I was looking at some other books. Weren't you also?''

''Please,'' Irulan whispers. ''We spent enough time here as it is.''

Just as her sister was about to answer, the atmosphere shifted. The air, sitting in its calmness, heavied. The silent before slave turned on its feet, its eyes burning holes in Irulan's body. It lurches towards them, opening its obsidian mouth to show the blackened void inside—indeed, it possesses no tongue.

Irulan freezes. The void seems to suck her in, the sharp mouth growing wider as its owner approaches her body. The fear paralyses her, planting her otherwise quick feet deep into the ground. Now, her training as Bene Gesserit should awaken—she should oppose, or at the very least dodge, the attack. But the black mouth continues to draw her in, clouding her thoughts with terror.

The body beside her shifts; her sister is quick. With one strong thrust, she pushes Irulan aside. '' Hide ,'' the voice within her head commands, and Irulan has no force to object to the technique. She crawls under the heavy stone, frantically looking for something—anything—to protect herself with.

Despite the long skirts, her sister moves like Adam's wine; she bends and turns, and strikes the man far taller than her, but he seems determined on the idea of killing her. Her sister grunts under the heavy hits; one sits in her abdomen, and another lands on her knees. The slave's nails leave a trace on her skin, rough enough to pierce the young dermis.

Eventually, her sister grows tired; the slave pushes her to the ground, pressing his slender body on top and closing its white, almost translucent hands on her throat. Irulan clasps the found sharp cutting instrument to her chest, desperately trying to calm the wave of fear forming there.  ''I must not fear. Fear is a mind killer,''  she whispers again and again.

She watches as her sister's hand slips under her clothes and emerges an illicit, slender blade—it shines under the light just as lettering did on the books a minute ago. To Irulan, it feels like a year's hundred. ''No!'' she wants to shout as her sister raises the steel and preys it into the eye of the slave, but the words are unable to leave her throat. Like a waterfall, crimson covers her sister's face, staining her light grey dress in hot circles.

The slave falls on his back, his hands leaving their place on her sister's neck.

''Enough, please! Sister, stop!'' Irulan cries, crawling out of her hiding spot but daring not to get closer.

Her sister doesn't hear; she lurches towards the man in a slick puddle and takes his life quickly, cutting his throat in one swift motion. The blood from his arteria leaves the body in pulsations; they spatter everywhere, some drops going as far as touching the shelves.

The silence settles in the chamber once again; only the sound of weakly flowing blood disturbs the stillness. Her sister does not shed a tear; she meticulously cleans the blade with the slave's white cloth and slips it back into the folds of her gown.

''What have you done?'' Irulan whispers. Her hands tremble; the sight before her crawls into the deepest corners of her mind and tears everything there down. How can one kill so easily? How can one be so cold and calculating, as if it were nothing more than a daily chore? How could that one be her sister, the one she shared a life with?

''I protected.'' Her sister's voice is hoarse, but firm. There is no remorse in her tone, only weariness. ''What have you  done?'' She turns to face her. Her hair, carefully braided by servants for dinner, is undone; the wet strands of it grip her face like a vice, framing the unseeing eyes.

Like that, she looks like a woman mad. Irulan backs into the safety of the doors, feeling her fear turn into something much greater. ''Do not come near me,'' she commands. Just as the heavy doors close behind her, she sets off running.

-

YN waits until the footsteps of her sister are no longer heard, and only then does she come out of the reading room. She pays the body on the ground little attention; no one would bet an eye on the death of a useless creature like that. It did not intend to kill; rather, someone made it do it. Who, in their right mind, would try to harm the heir of the Emperor? How would they know that Irulan would follow her there?

Irulan. The one who watched as the Other almost gave her life for hers, the one who had the nerve to be repulsed by the blood on her hands—the blood she spilt protecting her. What do you do when you are not allowed to be angry at God? Why does God shame one for the will she herself inflicted on one to bestone? YN would ask the sun, but it hid behind the walls of the fort. She would ask, but no one would answer.

So, she does what she is meant to do—finds her way into the large dining hall, where everyone, of course, is starting to gather. The Emperor would be dissatisfied to find her not there on time; she has no time to fix her appearance. In light of the slight possibility of shaming their House with her muddled hairstyle or suffering yet another punishment for being even late, she chooses the first option.

The guards let her in without saying a word. YNr watches as the shield slides open, revealing a full hall. Rows and rows of tables, filled with foods one would imagine never would have made their way to the Giedi Prime, and laughter not so usual for a harsh realm.

''Princess...'' the servant starts, announcing her arrival, but she shushes him with a slight wave of her palm. She does not notice the crimson liquid staining it.

The Other makes her way to her seat calmly, careless of the way people around her stumble and twist their faces in shock. The only eyes that watch her without fear at the Emperor's table are those of Lady Echidna. Her face betrays no emotion at all—hidden by her veiled black cloth, it only slightly moves when the YN passes her seat.

She holds the angry gaze of the Emperor calmly. He will demand an answer, of course if Irulan has not whispered the truth into his aged ears already. Her sister probably would do no such thing; in that, she would admit to disobeying the orders bestowed upon her. YN is puzzled at the attention directed towards her humble figure—the first thing a Bene Gessarite in training learns is not to be repulsed by the anatomy of her body. Why be grossed out by the liquid coursing through her veins—the liquid she carries all her life? Why be scared of death, when it is always at your doorstep? In the sway of her thoughts, the Other also seems not to perceive the pair of icy blue eyes glued to her figure as she finds her seat and takes her place.

-

"The boy follows you around like a dog." The mother's tone stands not in judgment but rather simply states the truth.

Lady Echidna is not veiled now; her heavy hair is still tightly braided out of her face. Just a small black ribbon highlights her status as one of the Emperor's senior concubines, a position most would bear with honour. To her, it was yet another stain on her earthly body—the body she could not call her to possess. The black sun of Giedi Prime is finally long behind them; nothing but a few light orbs floating around illuminate the chamber, yet her intense gaze seems to pierce right through the girl that sits across her.

"I know, mother. His steps are heavy; his thoughts are even heavier; they follow me much more often."

The woman's fingers stop working on an intricate needlework for a moment, before continuing as it was. "You are to call me Sister, girl," she speaks, her voice low.

YN drags her teeth across her tongue, feeling the anger flow through the veins in her body. She wishes to be far away from this small chamber, to run and never face the woman's eyes again. "The girl has a name, Sister. Or do you fear to voice it?"

Lady Echidna places the cloth on the table beside her gracefully, as if paying no attention to the words spoken. But YN can sense can feel the resentment that burns inside her mother's stomach, spreading its molecules to her throat. "A name holds meaning; for a person to have a name, one must first be of character and substance. You are none."

YN bit the soft flesh inside her mouth; it tasted bitter. It was better if her mother shouted, if she hit her if she did anything to prove YN is still here in her eyes, that she was not just a void the woman spoke her riddles into. Maybe then the pain inside her would have a meaning, would have a reason better than just childish hurt. "Did I not have a beating heart when I left your womb, Sister? Did you not hear it loud and clear? What kind of proof is needed more of me?"

"My daughter died that day, screaming. You took her place. So do not bother me with your foolish talks anymore, for we both know they just waste the air we breathe. Am I heard?"

She was. The tears dried on YN's face before having the chance to spill, and she turned to her studies. Once more, a feeling of ever-lasting cold surrounded her shoulders. The never-leaving vision in her mind appeared once again—her mother's quick steps as she walked away in another corridor of Giedi Prime's fort, her head straight ahead as YN pleaded not to leave her alone, her legs glued to the command spoken. It was a blessing that the boy found her earlier than his uncle.

-

Time has passed since the first time YN's eyes saw the black sun of the foreign planet so far from hers. The Other trained, restlessly, in the tongues of ancient warriors and the most prominent whisperers, slowly earning the right to bear Knowledge in her crown-empty head. She had much yet to learn, but the prospect did not frighten her; with every passing day, she felt power building in her hands and soul. Patience, the greatest virtue of all. She was alone now, without her half of a sister; alone, in her solitude, the heavy bearings seemed not as heavy—she had no one to enlighten about her battles. Still, God was on her mind; YN felt her presence near, her watchful eyes guiding her. Like the tight, dampened cloth on her bruised knuckles, her sister was stuck to her open wound of a soul.

Irulan has grown. Her complexion changed; she no longer looked like a bright-faced girl who left her sister alone in Harkonnen's library; the plump cheeks were gone, and so was fear. At the Other stared a sole statue of power she bloomed into. Silver collars, light blue waves of fabric—the cut is, as always, straight. The Other eyed her up and down, taking in each detail of the painting-like sight. Irulan did the same—a slight disgust at the Other's simple tunic and pants, creased from the sparring. Irulan did not need to be broken in order to be a Sister in the Bene Gesserit; they wanted her Corrino first, and a servant second. The Other, however, held no such value—a child carried not by the lawful wife, a second, a spare. So, there would be no bone in her body left untouched by the lessons, no string in her soul unharmed by the knowledge. They crushed her cartilage in grey sand and forced her to swallow the bitter truths of their ways. Yet, God remains undisturbed—stoic. Eternal.

''Will you not eat again?'' Irulan musses, putting another piece of dish in her mouth.

The Other would take it as a cruel joke from anyone else, but not from God. She shakes her head instead. ''I am forbidden.''

Irulan hums. It was not the first time YN would be disciplined this way; the cycle of punishment and forgiveness was all too familiar to her. The room is silent; there is no one but the two of them. She could offer to eat, and no one would know she did, but Irulan won't offer. The Other does not expect her to; pity is not something a sister can possess.

''How are your lessons going? A fresh knowledge, perhaps?''

YN nods. If she opens her mouth now, her voice will betray her. She could cry all she wanted in the presence of a sister, but it is not appropriate for a thirteen-year-old to behave this way in front of God. The Other is reminded of that with an absence of bruises on Irulan's skin; her hands were never cut by the sharp blades, and her mouth was never starved. ''Why was I summoned from training?'' She asked, directing her eyes to the figure in front of her.

''I am here as a messenger from the Emperor.''

YN's eyes narrowed. ''And what does our dear Emperor desire to tell me now?'' She wishes not to hear anything he has to say; the Other is perfectly content here, amongst her Sisters. Here, she is of cost.

''Recently, Baron Vladimir turned to our House for guidance. He and na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen felt misled by the House Artreidis, and their promise of a bride that did not come. Our father has graciously offered to negotiate the conflict and pay the needed price for the Baron's cooperation.''

''Of course, he did. With all of our might, we are still afraid of the savages that made Arrakis their home. With what advice, may I ask, did the Emperor provide the Baron?''

Irulan's lips turn into a straight line, with the small wrinkle on her forehead appearing. Something that she carried with her through childhood. Something that still reminded of home. ''With the proposal of a woman of our House to na-Baron Feyd-Rautha.''

''A gift? Irulan, I am so sorry.''

Sure, the bridge between them was long forgotten, growing with tall grass and wildflowers, but the weight of their shared history still lingered in the air. Irulan was still her sister, no matter how many times the Other tried to tell herself otherwise. And no woman sane would consider giving her sister to the inhumane brutes that were Harkonnens—the people even Bene Gessarit wished to observe from afar; the people so ruthless mothers told stories about them to their small offspring in an attempt to instil fear and obedience.

Irulan does not answer. She hides her gaze, her eyes following the wooden panels of the quarters.

''What is it, sister?  Speak .''

''The offer Emperor found the most fitting would be of your hand, not mine.''

The Other exhales. As if a heavy stone were put on her chest, she fights to bring much-needed oxygen to her bloodstream. She almost feels the erythrocytes scatter from her face into her neck, hidden by the cloth, and gather there in an attempt to regrow their might. Her throat twists and closes, its muscles compressing until not even an ounce of air can get in. All of her organs, from heart to stomach, made their presence known; one by one, they tensed and burned, forcing the otherwise relaxed hands to grip them.

It was supposed to be Irulan. The first one to marry is the oldest sister; the title high enough to satisfy the ambitious Harkonnes would be hers, no less. Yet, here she stands, not even looking at the one taking her place as she sentences her to an ultimate death. No matter how much power the Corrino name held, on Giedi Prime, she would consider herself fortunate enough if she were to meet her end quickly.

''Why, Irulan? Have I not been a loyal servant to you all those years? Have I not followed every order without question? ''

Irulan is unmoved in her position. ''We can not risk the Harkonnen blood getting on the throne, you know it.''

''You mean we can not risk you? We are not eight anymore, dear Irulan; you can speak truthfully now. Do you really think the Emperor will treasure you more if you say nothing now? We are no sons, Irulan; we are sisters, you and I. Please, spare me this fate.''

''Yes,'' the girl lifts her eyes, taking a step closer. ''We are no sons; you knew that one day we would marry for the peace of the Imperium. Why do you shout now?''

''Married, yes, but not murdered for the sake of the fucking old man who could not hold his promise. They are monsters, Irulan, spilling innocent blood for the fun of it. I beg of you, sister, show me the mercy I know you are capable of.''

''You are worried about blood? What could one more splash of blood mean to you? You have been no sister for a long time; I order you, as an heir of the Emperor and as the messenger of his will here, to comply. Do not make it harder than it has to be.''

The Other smiled—she would not grant the pleasure of tears. ''Very well, then. Someone needs to go first. I'll go; I'll be first, at least here. Tell the Emperor that I will comply with any of his wishes, whether it be to throw me to the sharks or to feed me to the sandworms. As a confirmation of my undying loyalty, you may show him this:''

She slaps her. She slaps her not like a warrior, not like the trained assassin she was raised to be; she slaps her like a sister, bitterly, harshly. For the first time in her short life, YN raises a hand on something she deems holy—the God's shocked face brings a sense of satisfaction to the Other's veins, even if the same blood courses through them. She turns on her heels and walks away, leaving the forsaken room behind. Leaving God behind.

#dune 2 #dune movie #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #house harkonnen #imagine #character x you #feyd oneshot #dune 2024 #feyd rautha fanfiction #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha fic #dune fanfiction #bene gesserit #reader #yn #princess irulan #irulan corrino #house corrino #giedi prime #arrakis

[allur1ngs]

✮ see no evil, hear no evil ✮

TW: unedited, smut (dom & top!bada, sub & bottom!reader, teasing, strap usage–r!receiving, reader tries to ride bada’s strap for a bit before bada takes control, bada is very cocky in this one…idk mafia bada is just always so cocky to me during sex, bada’s strap is referred to as a cock/dick, exhibitionism, bada doesn’t receive again, sorry…, erm… dumbification, hyo hears you and bada fucking two times, she will never rest…), italicized words with quotes around them in this fic indicate a thought, and in a long block of text indicate a flash back, the picture in the middle purely for aesthetics/a visual aid and not meant to represent reader’s skin tone or body type!! this is entirely canon divergent and not a part of the mafia au timeline!!!!!!!!!!! if you want to read the canon version of this scenario, read this

SUMMARY: hyo will always be a dedicated bodyguard. she takes pride in the fact that she is able to stay by your side each day, and protect you. the only downside? she has to exercise immense amounts of self-restraint when she stands outside your bedroom or office door, and hears bada fucking you.

WC: 5.6k

A/N: an anon asked it so we did it!! a collab w my wife @bebeyue, make sure to read her continuation of this by clicking the three ellipsis at the end of this fic (this is a threat)!!!! this is the only time i’m cosigning on any form of hyo content–i make exceptions for aeri–so enjoy this one piece!! (ps. pls do not send any requests for hyo–i’m only writing for bada!!) but besides that, again, this is a “behind the scenes” of this drabble, but uses this fic as an opening, pls enjoy!!

DISCLAIMER: all characteristics portrayed are purely speculation and fiction, they are not meant to reflect bada or team bebe’s actual character, values, or attitudes. please keep this in mind!!

Kim Hyo is a diligent bodyguard, and no one can deny that fact. Although Bada may at times nitpick at things she does, she can’t dismiss Hyo’s commitment to her job as your bodyguard. Through thick and thin, she’s been there, watching over you. Early mornings and late nights, her presence is never far.

Take, for instance, the current situation unfolding between you, Bada, and Hyo.

"I'm starting to think you really do want us to get caught." Bada’s voice comes from inside her office, and leaks into the hallway. Coincidently, you’d accidentally left the door open when you entered to hand your faincée her glasses. Now that accident left you in a rather compromising position.

Hyo stands outside Bada’s office, her back against the wall as your fiancée eats you out and toys with you. She’s not exactly sure what is specifically happening inside but from the sounds of moans, you’re enjoying what Bada is doing to you.

"I-I don't." You answer your fiancée’s prior statement, a hint of shame creeping into your voice.

"There you go again," Bada says, tapping her tongue against the roof of her mouth in displeasure. 

Hyo hears a shuffling sound and then another moan rings out from the office, this time the sound is significantly louder–she lets out a sharp breath and clutches her hands tightly together in front of her, struggling to keep up her professionalism. 

"Do you enjoy lying to me?" Bada continues.

Trying to distract herself, Hyo forces herself to think of something else. “What are we having for dinner tonight–” She begins a thought, but it’s interrupted by the sound of Bada’s stern voice speaking up again.

"Should I make you cum like this? Make you fucking cum all over your panties as punishment?"

“No.” You squeak, "Please--"

“The Boss is being very stern this time.” Hyo finally manages to collect herself enough to think a clear, coherent thought. “The last time this happened–” Her thought is interrupted by another that invades her mind. 

“Be honest, you like that type of stuff–” Tatter’s amused voice echoes in your bodyguard’s mind, her entire body going rigid.

“Fuck.” She mentally curses, closing her eyes behind her sunglasses. “It’s not like that–” Despite what fibs Hyo may try to convince herself of, the mind never lies. It is the truest and most honest representation of thought.

So it’s natural that Hyo thinks of the night prior to this most recent excursion between you and Bada, when you’d engaged in such activities.

The day had begun normally, much like today had, until certain events led your bodyguard to a cruel fate.

3 days earlier

Standing on the steps of the Lee mansion, you beckon over your wife. “Come here,” you say, voice brimming with excitement.

Bada, who’d just spoken to Hyo, and asked her to bring around her Porsche 918 Spyder, turns to look up at you standing on the second step of the stairs toward the open driveway. “Coming.” She says, dismissing Hyo as she ascends the steps in your direction. When she reaches the step you’re standing on, positions herself behind you and starts to trail kisses up and down your neck. “Have I told you that you look beautiful? I love this dress…”

“You’ve only told me five times already.” You laugh while reaching into the pockets of your dress–a feature that you reverently appreciate–to pull out your phone. “But thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” She mumbles into your skin, dragging her nose up and down while continuing to press heated, wet kisses on the crook of your neck.

“Bada, I want to take a picture.” You huff, trying to focus on opening the camera app on your phone.

“Take one then, I’m not stopping you.” She replies, never slowing down her sweet assault on your neck. 

“I can’t when you’re kissing me.” You argue back lightheartedly.

“Just angle the phone so I’m not in frame–”

Not convinced, you gently shy away from Bada’s lips. “I’ll let you give me kisses after I’ve taken the picture. Just two seconds, alright?”

“Fine.” Your fiancée pouts as she wraps her right arm under your boobs, unintentionally making them pop.

You barely notice as you lean back into her chest and hold up your phone, closing your eyes and smiling for the picture. But Bada does. She sees the way the skin of your tits shine in the low light, and how the picture looks incredibly intimate, like it’s something not meant to be seen by foreign eyes. She leans in, completely entranced by the photo, and your reflection–

The moment slips away like a gentle whisper in the breeze as you slowly open your eyes and your smile widens at the picture. You don’t comment on the nature of the photo, only saying, “It’s so cute, I have to post it on Instagram!” Which you quickly do, all the while Bada remains silent, moving her head back into the crook of your neck.

The kisses she’d given you prior, although passionate, are nothing compared to the heat with which she charges the kisses she places on your skin now. She uses just the tip of her tongue and drags it across your neck, which makes you freeze, and a puff of air leave your lips.

“Maybe we should stay in.” She whispers between kisses.

“Bada, you made reservations.” You mumble, bringing your hand up to the side of her head, clutching onto strands of her long, black and white striped hair. At the same time, Hyo pulls up in the Porsche. She parks it right in front of you both, then turns to face you, but when she catches sight of the intimate moment you two are sharing, she instantly faces forward and clears her throat. She tries to make it seem like she’s not listening to what either of you are saying, but your close proximity makes it almost impossible. 

“Fuck the reservations,” Bada says into your skin, winding her other arm around your midsection–again making your tits pop out. “It’s been a while since we had sex.”

“Bada, Hyo is here with the car.” You whisper, using weak force to pull on Bada’s hair in an attempt to pull her off of your neck.

You succeed, but your fiancée is displeased. “So?”

“So,” you give Bada an astonished glance, “she can hear and see us–”

“She’s not even looking our way.” Bada points at Hyo, who’s scrolling through her photo albums, trying to busy herself. “She’s on her phone–” Your fiancée suddenly frowns, pressing you closer to her chest. “Hyo, why are you looking at your phone?”

Your bodyguard instantly sits up and snaps her head in Bada’s direction, looking like she’s about to break out in a cold sweat. “Sorry Boss, I was just…uh–”

“Oh stop picking on her.” You gently swat at your fiancée’s arm and break away from her hold, quickly grabbing her hand and practically dragging her forward. “Let’s just go and eat dinner like we’d planned–”

Although you’re not able to see, Bada sends Hyo a look that screams, “You ruined my plans,” as you force her into the car.

Hyo gulps, moving to face forward and placing her hands on the wheel of the car.

Yeah, she’s in for it.

The rest of the night surprisingly goes without a hitch after that. After leaving the Lee mansion, Hyo had proceeded to drive you two to the La Yeon, an upscale restaurant that serves traditional Korean cuisine, and only caters forty guests at a time. Bada had reserved a private room for you both to dine, so naturally Hyos stood outside as watch, only hearing small noises from your lively chatter.

But the real hell began on the car ride back to the Lee mansion. 

The three of you had been sitting in a peaceful silence when you suddenly spoke up, curiosity striking you, "Just how much did you have to pay for the private room we ate in?"

Bada nonchalantly shrugs, "Not much."

"Somehow, I doubt that," you banter. 

Bada shifts her gaze from staring straight ahead to glance at you. "Well, it wasn't much for me."

"Ah, that makes more sense," you nod, releasing a small laugh. "But you know, you don't have to take me to fancy restaurants. I'd be happy to spend time with you, no matter where we do it."

Your fiancée shakes her head, "I don't take you out of obligation. I do so because I love you. I want you to experience establishments that are worthy of your presence."

Turning your attention to Bada, you gaze at her through the barely-lit car. Her eyes reflect deep sincerity, sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Bada... I'm just a woman—"

"You're not just a woman," she interrupts, her eyes stern yet holding glints of love behind the firmness. "You are my woman. My fiancée. What kind of spouse would I be if I didn't treat you?"

Bada's passionate gaze makes you turn away, your hand ghosting over your mouth as you grow bashful. "You can't just say things like that," you whisper, your voice meek and soft.

"Why? Does hearing how much I love you make you nervous?" Bada laughs, amused by your reaction.

"I just..." you trail off, struggling to find words to express your feelings. "I love you." Those three words are the only way to convey the warmth coursing through your body.

Bada smiles softly, grabbing your hand which you’d positioned in your lap. "I love you more."

You intertwine your fingers with hers, observing the way she affectionately runs her thumb over the gem on your engagement ring. "But you know," you suddenly add, prompting your wife to look up from your joined hands to meet your gaze. "you could have mentioned we were going to a Michelin-star restaurant. I felt a bit underdressed..." Your eyes shift down to the silky white dress you're wearing. While undeniably elegant, its somewhat scandalous design features thin straps supporting a teardrop-shaped neckline that accentuates your boobs, which gracefully twists into the bodice and tapers into the gown's lower hem.

"Underdressed?" Bada says incredulously. "You look absolutely beautiful–"

"All the other women were wearing name brands and elegant dresses–" you protest, but are cut off.

"What does it matter what they were wearing?" Bada furrows her eyebrows, genuinely confused by your words. “You could walk into this restaurant in your pajamas, and you’d still outshine every single one of those women.”

You let out a sharp breath, smiling shyly. “There you go again. I think you enjoy making me flustered.”

“If you’ve just barely realized that, I clearly have not been doing my job.” Bada laughs, gently squeezing your hand, which still remains in her grasp. “By the way, I thought I had thoroughly expressed how much I love the way you look, earlier.”

A fire lights in your stomach as you glance at her. “Well…”

“I really am not doing my job, am I?” Bada uses her unoccupied hand to gently touch the side of your face, and leans in. “I’ll just have to show you how beautiful you look in this dress.”

That last sentence sealed Hyo’s fate. She continued to drive as you let out small giggles, and Bada whispered things in your ear. What exactly she said, Hyo doesn’t want to imagine.

Upon arrival at the Lee mansion, you and Bada are a mess of scandalous whispers, and chuckles as you both ascend up the steps, your bodyguard lagging behind to park the car. But it seems you two are far too excited to keep your hands off each other, because when Hyo walks toward the Lee mansion steps after returning the Porsche to the garage, you’re both nowhere to be found. Your bodyguard rushes up the steps, mumbling curse words under her breath as she opens the door and races up the mansion’s winding staircase, heading toward the only place you must be, your shared bedroom. 

When she makes it there, she instantly walks to the right side of the door, her back up against the wall. She lets out a small sigh of relief, glad that Bada was too busy to tell her off for lagging behind. 

But then she hears it, a small sound, simple and tiny, innocent. 

“Bada!” You squeal, while a creaking sound barely reaches Hyo’s ears. It sounds like you’d been thrown onto the bed.

Inside the bedroom, Bada moves to hover above you, planting either of her arms beside your head. She smirks down at you, her eyes sweeping over every sliver of your skin that’s available to her prying eyes. She leans in to rub her nose against yours cutely, watching how you crinkle yours and smile out of instinct. “You’re fucking adorable.” Bada breathes, then places a sweet kiss on your lips.

“I love you.” You whisper when she pulls away.

“I love you more.” She whispers back, moving her hand to grab at one of the straps of your dress. She thumbs at the silk until she slowly begins to move the strap down your shoulder, the movement so light a shiver runs up your spine as you watch her. When she fully slips down the strap of the dress, your bare tit is exposed to the cold air, which makes your nipple pebbling because of the sudden temperature difference. “No bra?” Bada presses her thumb against your nipple, starting to trace delicate, mithodical circles to the sensitive bud.

“The fabric is thicker than it looks–” You breathe, but the words die on your lips as your fiancée moves to drag the other strap of your dress down. Now both of your tits are exposed to Bada’s hungry eyes.

“I really love this dress.” She grabs either side of your boobs, pushing them together to oggle the way your flesh meets to make a tantilizing image. The soft skin of your tits glows in the light, and the way your nipples continue to pebble because of the cold has Bada captivated.

“I think you should take it off me.” You say coquettishly. 

Bada stares at you for a moment with an excused expression before she releases your tits and sits up. “Actually, I had different plans for you.” She steps away from the bed, making her way to the dresser beside it before opening the bottom drawer. You turn your head to the side to watch with a confused expression, but what she pulls out from the drawer makes you smile.

Bada takes out a bottle of lube and her long, black strap, glancing at you from the corner of her eyes to see you carefully studying her every move with excitement in your eyes. “Looking forward to it, are we?” She remarks.

“Should I not be?” You flip over onto your stomach, placing your head in the palm of your hand as Bada begins to take off her dress pants and shirt. Like always, she only has her boxers and her bra on while she puts on her strap.

“Do you need help?” You pipe up.

Bada looks up and smiles. “If you’re offering.”

You quickly get off the bed and kneel down in front of your fiancée, helping her manuver through the harness and secure it onto her pelvis. When you’ve finished, you don’t stand up, instead, you look at Bada as you lean forward to press a kiss on the head of her cock, running your tounge along the silicone.

Bada lets a small hiss at your actions, her hand coming down to gently rest on your head. “C’mon.” She pats your head, signalling you to get up.

You do so without a single protest falling from your lips, but you take the bottle of lube out of Bada’s hand, pop it open and slowly place a glob of the sticky substance into the palm of your hand. Before your finacée can say anything, you lean in and place a passionate, all-tongue kiss as you rub up and down in cock, twisting your wrist like you’re really trying to give her a hand job.

Bada groans into your lips, grabbing the sides of your face and deepening the kiss until you’re just swapping saliva messily, small strings of it clinging to each other’s lips, connecting you two together. “Sit on the bed.” She whispers inbetween your clash of mouths.

You pause, then take a step back from your fiancée, your lips parted as you let out staggering breaths. Backing up until you feel the edge of the bed gently collide with your legs you sit down like you were told to.

Bada is quick to follow after you, but to your surprise, she doesn’t push your back onto the bed; instead, she climbs on and reclines against the bedframe with her back cradled by pillows. Her position makes her cock stand tall on her pelvis, the large head slightly drooping downwards when she slaps her thighs. “Sit on it.” She tells you, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

You tilt your head to the side in confusion but crawl towards her anyway, taking off your panties before placing your thighs on either side of her hips and sitting down just shy of her cock. “I thought you said you were going to show me how beautiful I look in this dress.” You lightheartidly banter. Truthfully, you don’t care who does the work, all you want is to have Bada’s dick inside you, tearing you apart. But, then again, if she was going to tease you, you might as well do it back once or twice.

“What, you can’t fuck yourself on my cock?” She laughs, stretching her arm out to place it on your right thigh.

“I can.” You huff, feeling embarrassment start to burn in the pit of your stomach. 

“I don’t know.” Bada imitates a thinking face. “You’re kind of a pillow princess if I’m being honest.”

“Wha–” You stutter, your mouth dropping open. “I’ve eaten you out before.”

“And who was still in charge then?” Bada argues, her amusement growing every passing second.

“Well–”

“Listen to me.” Your fiancée suddenly cuts you off, leaning forward so that her face is only inches away from yours–her cock slaps against her stomach, the action going unnoticed by her, but not by you. “Fuck yourself on my dick, and if you do well, I’ll take over and finish you off.” She takes her left hand and places it on your cheek, rubbing her thumb against your cheek. She takes note of how your skin feels unnaturally warm. “Does that sound good, baby?”

Your eyes, which had gone wide out of pure shock stare back at her like lustrous gems. You slowly begin to nod, forcing yourself to close your mouth and swallow. Bada nods with you, then moves to rest against the headboard again, her back hitting the pillows. 

Although the tone she’d taken on was domineering, she still holds one hands out for you to take, so she can help you up onto her cock, while the other bunches up your long dress so it’s not in the way. You, of course, take her hand and with her added strength, lift yourself up until the tip of her cock just barely slaps against your pussy lips. You let out a shaky breath at the small surge of stimulation, but focus on inching your hips downward. Slowly, the tip of Bada’s strap fills up your pussy, every inch making you breathe harder and your hips stutter. The slight confidence you’d felt just a moment before instantly fades away as you close your eyes and stop moving.

“It’s only the tip, I should be able to take more,” you think, but truthfully even just the tip of Bada’s long and thick strap would be hard for anyone to take.

“Don’t do it all at once.” Bada’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts, making you open your eyes and look at her. “It’s big. You’ll hurt yourself.” She says tenderly. “Just take it slow.”

You listen to your fiancée, carefully and meticulously sinking onto her cock, taking small breaks in between every inch until you’re finally able to sit in her lap, every inch of her monsterously big cock inside of you. “Oh, fuck.” You pant, leaning forward to catch your staggering breath and to give your pussy a time to adjust.

Bada watches you with a fond smile on her lips, she leans in to press a small kiss on your cheek–which just so happens to angle her cock further into you, making you gasp. “You took it all, I’m so proud of you.” She whispers sweetly, the soft side she only has for you peeking through her dominant demenour.

“I–” You say through heavy breaths. “Fuck.”

“It’s alright, just breathe.” Bada grabs hands grab at the sides of your face, trying to ground you. “In and out honey, in and out.”

You try to take in a deep breath but it catches in your throat. Still, with Bada’s guidance, you slowly begin to calm your breathing until it settles into small puffs.

“There.” She mumbles. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” You nod, shaking your head. “Just…it’s been a while–”

“I know it has, which is why you need to take it slow baby.” Bada’s eyes flash with a small glint of worry. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m not, just took a little longer to adjust.” You place your hand over Bada’s, now wearing a confident expression. “I can do it.”

Your fiancée gives you a hesitant look but slowly leans back, allowing you to take the reigns. You start off slow, moving up just an inch before sitting back down. Then the next time you go up you go a bit further, so on until you’re able to take out half of Bada’s strap before slamming back down on her lap.

You also start to pick up your pace, angling your hips forward so her cock drags against your walls deliciously. You let out small, breathy moans with each rise and fall of your hips, still trying to get more out of her strap. But it feels like you can’t. Every time you think you can take out more you feel your legs weaken and have to slam yourself down on her lap before you awkwardly fall.

All the while Bada watches you, carefully zeroing in on the base of her cock, which is only wet with a minimal amount of your slick. She catches every moment you struggle on top of her, trying so hard not laugh at how cute your frustrated face is. “Do you need help?” She asks after she notices you lose your rhythm and slam onto her lap with a small annoyed curse.

“No.” You say stubbornly. Trying to prove her wrong, you use all your strength to lift up from her cock and this time manage to get another inch out before you have to quickly go down again. This time the sensation is deeply pleasurable so you let out a louder moan, but in your attempt to savor the feeling you once again lose your rhythm.

“So, you still don’t want my help?” Bada tilts her head to the side, just barely able to stop herself from chuckling at the glare you give her. But this time, you don’t answer her, instead, you just pant on her lap, looking like a defiled angel in your silky white dress that’s clutched between Bada’s hand, the straps having fallen so far down your body that some of your stomach is revealed, the other covered by the tight bodice. “All you have to do is say yes, and I’ll keep my promise from before.”

Truthfully, beyond feeling bad for your current inability to pleasure yourself, Bada just really wants to fuck you. The dress you’re half wearing is still doing things to your fiancée, the contrast of the pure white against your skin, which is stained with sin and sweat makes her desire to slam her cock into you reach incalcuable heights.

Looking at your fiancée, you bite your bottom lip in thought. There are two ways you could go about this. You could keep trying to ride Bada and probably only give yourself half the pleasure she can, or you can say yes and let her fuck you like she said she would.

…The answer is obvious.

“Yes.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Without a single second to spare, Bada lets go of your dress and grabs ahold of your hips, flipping your positions with such quick speed that it leaves you dizzy and giggling. 

Bada runs her hands up and down your figure for a moment, leaning down to place a kiss on one of your tits before placing one on the other.

“Put one of the pillows between your head and the headboard.” She tells you, pointing at a lone pillow beside you.

Confusion flows through you but you do what she asks anyway, propping the pillow on it’s side so it cradles the top of your head.

Bada gives you a smile, then takes both of your hands into hers. She coils her long fingers between yours and stretches her arms out so that your arms are held above your head. “I’ll show you how good my cock can feel.” She whispers into your ear, the words just barely leaving her lips before she takes out the entirety of her strap out of you and slams it back in.

The sudden fast and strong movement makes the headboard slam against the wall, and your head slides up, wich would have painfully hit the metal if it weren’t for the pillow Bada told you to put behind your head.

Your fiancée’s deep and fast stroke makes you let out a moan, your mouth falling open.

“Yeah,” Bada mumbles proudly. “Bet that felt so good after all that fooling around you did before.”

Outside of your shared bedroom, Hyo stands frozen in her spot, the sound of the slamming accoumpanied by your loud moan making her gulp. She hadn’t been able to hear a thing before this, which is why the sudden rancourous noise startled her, almost making her jump.

“It’s fine,” She tells herself. “They’re just…having fun, that’s all.”

But again, another loud slam followed soon after by your pleasure-filled cry leaks out of the bedroom, the sound echoing cruelly in Hyo’s ear.

“Fuck…” She squeezes her eyes shut.

Inside the bedroom, you don’t have the capacity to worry about about the fact that anyone in a five foot radius would probably hear you moaning and screaming like a whore, because your fiancée is fucking you within an inch of your life.

Like you’re a ragdoll, Bada takes you by the hips and angels them so that one is up in the air and the other lays on the bed, her cock slamming in and out of you at an insane speed. She’s moving so fast that your slick–which had tripled from what you produced when you were fucking yourself–is squirting onto her boxers and creaming at the base of her cock. It looks like a ring of sweet whipped cream against her thick black strap.

“I need to get this room sound-proofed.” Bada manges to say between heavy breaths. “You’re screaming like a fucking pornstar, baby.”

You’re unable to say anything, the only thing falling from your lips is moan after moan, which is somehow not overshadowed by the thundering sound of the headboard banging against the wall.

“Aw, have I fucked all the thoughts out of you?” Bada drives her cock into you in a deep stroke, hitting that sweet spot in you that has you seeing stars.

“Fuck!” You close your eyes, mind turning to mush as your fiancée quickly takes her strap out, the ridging on the silicone catching against your hot and gummy walls, giving you profound pleasure.

Another rush of slick follows the exit of Bada’s dick, strings of it clinging from your pussy to the black strap, connecting you both. It would be poetic if what you were engaging in wasn’t pure, unadulterated sin. Immoral is the way that your lover slams every inch of her cock into you, sweat and your essance falling onto the sheets, leaving a stain as a testament to your depraved doings.

Bada reaches over to take the silk of your dress into her hands again, flipping all of it upward so that she can properly see her dick splitting you apart, rubbing your walls and hitting the front of your clit perfectly.

“Not a single thought in that pretty head of yours, is there?”

Proving her absolutely correct, you don’t respond.

“That’s okay baby, you don’t have to think. You just have to lay there, looking pretty in this dress while I slam my cock into you.” The way Bada cooes into the hot air of your bedroom makes your eyes almost roll back into your head. She knows just what to say, and when to say it. “Keep moaning like that, it’s fucking hot.” She adds, her own cunt pulsing beneath the fabric of her boxers. The way she’s pounding her strap in and out of you so forcefully makes the base of it rub against her cunt harshly, the slight pain and pleasure mixing together to make the coil in her stomach slightly tighten.

Like the obedient slut you are for your fiancée, you let out one loud, scream of, “I’m close!”

That only serves to reinvigorate Bada, who quickly takes your leg which is up in the air and sets it on her shoulder, allowing her to push her entire pelvis into you with a fast and intense stroke, which again hits your g-spot.

That’s what finally makes the tight coil in your stomach burst, a long stream of cum gushing from your pussy as Bada continues to fuck you through your orgasm. Of course, you can’t help yourself. Every loud curse and moan that falls from your lips settles into the air of the bedroom before floating through the crack between the door and the wall, the sound reverberating in the hallway of the Lee mansion.

Hyo, who had been counting to one thousand in her mind with her eyes screwed shut and her head down, realeases a long breath. She shakily breathes in and out, applauding herself for her immense self-restraint.

“It’s over.” She thinks, the voice of her internal dialouge fostering a relieved tone. “That was a long one. Sounded like she was getting strapped–”

Hyo surprises herself with her last thought. She suddenly straightens her back, shaking her head a bit.

“Stop–stop thinking about it.” She mentally scolds herself. Her cheeks are red, but under the dim lighting it’s impossible to see, and the wide, ashamed look in her eyes is hidden by her sunglasses. “That’s your boss and her future wife in there, it’s not–it’s not right.”

It isn’t.

But her wandering thoughts would be the least of Hyo’s worries, because while she counted to one thousand moments prior, a certain blonde Bebe girl had spotted her standing outside your and Bada’s shared bedroom, all the while your loud moans and slamming sounds filled the air.

“If I’d have known she was there I would have told her to keep quiet about it.” Hyo grumbles. “Now all the girls think I’m into that type of stuff–”

“Ouch!” The sound of your hurt whine cuts Hyo’s thoughts off.

She freezes in her spot, but out of pure instinct, and briefly forgetting what was going on beyond the doorway to Bada’s office, she reaches for the holster of her gun, and swings around to look inside the office.

And what she sees changes everything…

#bada lee x reader #bada lee x reader smut #bada x reader #bada lee #bada lee smut #bada #street woman fighter 2 x reader #swf2 x reader

[mhsdatgo]

By the way, you can say you hate characters and STILL admit that they were abused or harassed. There's literally nothing wrong. Denying it or romanticizing it because of a strange kink of yours won't make your hate any less evident, trust me.

Rhaenyra was abused. She's continuously taken advantage of, and brushed away the moment she isn't needed anymore. And she experiences this first hand with her own father, who completely ruins motherhood for her when she grows up watching Aemma get impregnated and either miscarry or have the baby be stillborn or die in the cradle. If Viserys had been by her side as a supporter to her claim since the start, he wouldn't have gotten Aemma pregnant again and again in the pursuit of a male child. He wouldn't have married Alicent for the same reason. Even after, the only reason why he still stands by her side, and it's time the fandom accepts this, it's solely because of his grief and guilt, because Rhae is the only remnant of Aemma.

And there it starts. Firstly, groomed and left alone naked and alone by her uncle in a brothel. Secondly, slept with Criston Cole (although she did coerce him, that's still a literal TEENAGER) then she's married to a gay man and still approached super young by her new bodyguard and just one year later she's started giving birth to his children. (Side note: FUCK Rhaenyra x Harwin. FUCK with reverb. With hard K.)

And up to this point, most fan agree that she's had a shitty life, although I don't agree with some of her choices. (like her treatment of Criston Cole and the bastards, not because I'm some kind of bigot, but because passing bastards as trueborn in THAT precise world sets them up for failure, not being legally deserving of a thone DOES NOT mean me hating them. That's for another post.)

To top it all off, she meets her uncle again, and there starts the fanfic self insert. They have sex on a beach the day of Laena's funeral, the only one of the three wives he's ever been canonically loyal to (FUCK you writers) and fans think it's soulmates meeting again or sum shit. They subtly threaten Laenor to fake his death or actually die (that's what they were trying to do, cope harder) and marry mere days after the death of Laena.

Yes, all cute and romantic (for Dumbnyras twats) but literally, has it done anything good? For Rhaenyra or like, anyone else? It just brought Daemon closer to the line of succession. Literally. That's all the good it has done.

Fast forward to ep 10. How do I even start with this? Only Jace seems to be on Rhaenyra's side. It's clear he only obeys to Daemon out of fear and is scared to talk back to him. Meanwhile, he COMPLETELY disregards his wife's, and by his faction's loyalties, QUEEN's, orders, he ignores her wails of pain as she miscarries their daughter out of pure shock and grief for her father's death. He lashes out and chokes her on the same day and people still see him as the malewife to Rhaenyra's girlboss. They're always ready to do award-deserving mental gymnastic to justify this man.

"He was planning war because he wanted to distract himself!!!!" "He only choked Rhae because he was mad at Viserys, he'd never hurt her!!!!!!"

Fuck off. Coming from probably Rhaenyra's #1 hater. Fuck. Off. Don't say you care about her place in the view of men when you're ready to justify shit like this.

This is the same man who runs off and has an affair with a teenager, and then prefers going on and having a badass death instead of joining his wife and children who need him in King's Landing.

Do I like Rhaenyra? No. Do I think that, because of this, she's never been abused, or exploited in any way, in her life? ALSO no. My distaste for her character has NOTHING to do with Viserys, Criston, Daemon, Harwin or literally ANYONE ELSE in her life.

Alicent Hightower time, baby.

My mother, my aunt, my grandmother, my entire bloodline, my Roman Empire. And more. To anyone who thinks of her as nothing but a bitter/jealous girl, go read @feretrumdulcia 's post about this matter cuz there's literally no one I've seen that words it better. (And bub if you're reading, long live you and the way you think.)

https://www.tumblr.com/feretrumdulcia/720746371814195200/i-have-seen-quite-often-that-many-people-consider

Anyone who can read this and argue that Alicent is envious/jealous or bitter, honestly needs to take the heart shaped sunglasses off, get off tumblr and Ao3, learn what media literacy is and start learning how to possess a crumble of it. To us it makes sense to synpathize with both, because we've seen the big picture. To Alicent, Rhaenyra gave her virtue to the man that almost killed her brother, and chose to believe she did not out of trust and maybe nostalgia for her friendship and easier times, only to have her father be blamed and taken away from her as a result.

She has four kids in the span of, how much? Five, six years? Seven at best? Helaena and Aemond are NINE MONTHS APART. Viserys didn't even let her rest after she gave birth to her daughter. And I'm convinced 100% that he kept her as Idk some whore he didn't need to pay for because it's stated that he never wanted Aegon but the son he butchered Aemma for. Why keep on bedding her and forcing children on her when you'd never get what you want from her?

Throughout the series she's called bitter and downright a c*nt for this and that reason. She tries convincing Viserys that Rhae's children are CLEARLY bastards and she's setting herself and them up for failure by committing treason and putting them on the throne? Nah, power hungry, jealous, bitter. She marries Helaena to Aegon as a last resort because she's Valyrian and probably would've received proposals worse than the ones Rhaenyra made that would eventually convince Viserys to give her away? Hates her daughter, abuser, shitty mom. Rhae's sons slit her son's eye out instead of running when they had the chance and she rightfully lashes out? Nah, crazy ass, for the dungeons. She gives money and moon tea to her son's rape victim to ensure she gets a way out and isn't forced to have a baby she doesn't want? Bruh, rape apologist. She goes to Aegon and RIGHTFULLY disciplines him? Abuser. Forced to show her feet to a rancid filthy man to know where her son is? Upholds the patriarchy, hypocrite. She convinces Aegon to start fighting for her family because it's either them or the Blacks and he needs to start putting his life together and fight for them, so she crowns him and makes him King? Treason, deserves death, long live the brothel queens.

Somehow, it is ALWAYS HER FAULT. And those few that admit how wronged she was make fun of her.

CAN SHE FUCKING WIN?! Or y'all just hate her because she isn't Valyrian?

Btw almost all of these arguments are the same for Book!Alicent who I personally believe to be FAR MORE than just a bitter stepmom that hates her stepdaughter. She arguably has more reasons to start a coup against her in the books without that prophecy shit.

TLDR; It's OKAY to hate characters and admit they're abused and taken advantage of at the same time. You don't have a moral high-ground on no one because you hate or love a character instead of the other.

#rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #anti daemyra #anti daemon targaryen #anti daemyra stans #team green #team black #anti viserys i targaryen #anti larys strong

[strawberrystepmom]

the one

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

word count: 10k

about: in the aftermath of incredible loss and pain and nearly losing satoru himself, a week long road trip on one of the most famous routes in the world solidifies what you've already known to be true about gojo - he is the one for you & you for him.

contents: nsfw - mdni. established relationship (reader and gojo are engaged), story told through vignettes, major spoilers for ch 220 and beyond although the story is not canon compliant (gojo dies and is revived), major character deaths and discussion of them, descriptions of anxiety, panic attacks, and dealing with trauma, discussions about marriage and engagement, mentions of blood and injury.

gojo has an identity crisis, reader is a teacher and is appointed interim principal of the Tokyo campus, lots of flowery descriptions of nature and of my beloved california (i am not a california girl but i have longed my whole life 2 be one), gojo is referred to as husband, sweetheart, and baby, reader is referred to as wife, angel, pretty, and baby, reader has breasts, small smut scene with sensual and romantic unprotected piv sex, mutual body worship, vaginal fingering, creampie.

notes: if you have made it to this point and still want to read, thank you. this is a love letter spritzed with parfums de marly delina sent directly to gojo satoru from me and i'm very proud of this work.

he's so important to me and i think exploring him when he can't hide behind the veneer of being strong anymore is one of the most worthwhile uses of my time since ever. i hope that you enjoy ♡

wavy divider thanks to @/cafekitsune!!!!

One week.

One measly, little week - 168 hours or seven unique opportunities to see the sun rise and set - is all you’re asking to be granted while promising all but your limbs and hypothetical first born child to the acting principal of both the Kyoto and Tokyo campuses following the deaths of both Yaga and Gakuganji.

Utahime’s arms are folded over her chest and her mouth is set in a firm line while taking everything that has happened over the last month into consideration. Do you guys even have time for a break of any kind? 

Time, as you and her have both learned since that fateful night in Shibuya, becomes more difficult to quantify when you feel it’s slipping away. Every day since October 31st has felt like something each of you have had to earn rather than been given by sheer act of existence. It has been a fight since the moment each of you stepped foot into the railway station and now that it’s over, things feel so undefined. 

What comes next now that the immediate evil is gone? There will always be another threat of danger that appears as soon as one is eliminated and all that’s left of the sorcery community learned the hard way that sometimes that evil proves difficult without the man who has worked tirelessly to keep all of you safe around.

“Please. He needs this so badly and I know if I don’t force him to stop, he won’t.”

Your plea causes her gaze to shift from downward to your face and Utahime’s distaste for the man in question all but disappears when she looks over the concerned furrow of your brow and the dark circles under your eyes. She watched Gojo being whisked away to return to the Tokyo campus, the place where the two of you are sitting and having this discussion, ripped to all but bits but still throwing his thumb up to confirm he’s okay to everyone’s mixed annoyance and amusement. 

Contemplating every aspect of the situation for a moment, she comes to the conclusion that this week is something both of you need and there’s no viable way for her to tell you no. Not when you look so desperate, hands shaking and eyes sunken. 

Despite the mess you will be leaving behind, building debris and rubble the mere surface of the ripples caused in your small community and wider society by Satoru’s defeat of Kenjaku and Sukuna both within days of each other, she feels there’s no other option but to reluctantly give in.

“Okay.”

The tone of her voice is so tentative you’re expecting a but as her very next word but she shuts her mouth with finality written across her face. Grateful, you bow your head and blink back tears but she walks toward you and grabs one of your hands. She squeezes it gently, reminding herself to avoid the spots you broke it in 7 weeks ago and you find the sudden change in her demeanor concerning. 

Did she change her mind? Is he going to have to go from half dead on a cold metal table right back into the swing of things? 

“When you get back, be ready because you’re in charge here.”

The news comes as a shock and she can tell, your eyes widening and hollowing further. Bile rises in your throat and you swallow, blinking additional tears back, ashamed that your weakness is what represents the strongest individuals you’ve ever met and not just the one who your heart belongs to.

Iori doesn’t stick around for long to watch you come to terms with your new position, simply squeezing your hand and patting it with the back of her other one, before dropping it to slink off to her students that stand on the opposite side of the lounge everyone is occupying. 

Shutting your eyes tightly, you use the time to balance yourself and remember that you can deal with the upcoming challenges when you return. What’s most important is the here and now and there are a few things you’re currently sure of. 

First, Satoru is alive and breathing despite the terror you experienced when he was not. Second, you have at least one week to contemplate your own future and in true procrastinator form, you will wait until the last minute to even begin processing the weight of the responsibilities that have been placed on your shoulders. 

“He’s asking for you.”

Shoko’s approach is stealthy and you don’t notice her until she’s pulling a glove off beside you, the snap of the latex making you forget the tidy little list you were creating in your head. She doesn’t look any more morose than usual and you take it as a good sign, awkwardly nodding and keeping your head pointed toward the ground to avoid prying eyes. 

It’s not like everyone doesn’t already know about the two of you but there’s no plausible deniability anymore. No coy smiles and playing it off like it’s no big deal, not when there’s an engagement ring nestled safely in its box on your nightstand at home and when he’s asking for you as soon as he wakes up.

The room is eerily silent as you shuffle out of it beside one of your oldest friends and this is where she finally drapes an arm around your shoulder, stopping you and crowding you off to the side of the hallway. 

“He doesn’t look like himself right now,” she warns and you nod. You expected it, his energy depleted by the time both battles were won, but you still swallow thickly and struggle to get the lump in your throat down. Once she’s certain you are okay, she nods and keeps her arm around your shoulder until you reach the metal door to her domain that separates you and the love of your life.

“I’m going to give you two some privacy but if you need me you know where I’ll be.”

You’re sure she’s grateful for the reprieve, catching sight of her puffy eyes as she turns to walk away. You stop her and she smiles wordlessly, friends for long enough that the two of you know what the other is thinking. 

Thank you, I know, I’m glad he’s okay too.

Pushing the door open you hear an exaggerated groan and a watery giggle bubbles out of you. He just can’t help himself, one arm wrapped securely and safely and the other still oozing through its bandages. His torso is exposed and you can see the blow that killed him firsthand, an unnaturally precise cut across his lower abdomen. 

This is the sight that chokes you up and he chuckles weakly, unable to lift his head more than a few inches. He does look different, covered in scrapes and cuts and blood of uncertain origin, but he’s still himself. Those dimples still stick out against his pale skin when he smiles weakly at you and despite its pinkish hue, his white hair sticks up on end like it always does.

“No crying, baby.”

Sniffling, you look toward the cold tiles below and he tuts from the operating table. Holding his cleanly wrapped arm up he curls a finger toward himself to beckon you over.

“C‘mere.”

Slowly, you do. Each footstep feels as though you’re walking across cracking ice and it makes you cautious, scared that you’ve deluded yourself into believing that he’s here and he’s fine and things are going to be okay and in the midst of the angst, suddenly you remember - he is. 

He’s in front of you and breathing and you can’t stop the tears from falling when you reach the edge of the table, reaching to cup his face in your palms like you always do. 

“Don’t ever do that to me again.”

Another weak chuckle and he wraps his hand around one of your wrists, delicately holding it with his thumb and index finger. 

“Didn’t you say that about the prison realm too?”

Nodding and sniffling, you smile and he smiles back. It’s warm and inviting and all you can think about is how you feared you’d never see it again; that he’d become another loss forcing you to grow colder and colder until the inevitability of becoming a husk like the other sorcerers in your life would come true. 

“Yeah, I guess I did. Maybe I need some new material.”

A chuckle that turns into a wince makes you coo and his half smile instantly turns smug, one corner of his mouth upturned into a smirk. 

“I have always been the funny one, haven’t I?”

Scoffing, you don’t playfully swat at him like you always do and he misses it. The gentle swipe of your fingers across his pec or shoulder or arm to let him know he has entertained you is something he will not take for granted from this day forward. His chest tightens and his loose grip around your wrist tightens.

It hasn’t registered quite yet that he almost never saw you again twice. That realization will come painfully when he’s struggling to sleep some night, wrapping himself around your body to be certain you will never leave his side, as all of his realizations about his own mortality do. 

Until then he’ll embrace the reality in front of him.

“I’m so happy to see you,” he whispers and you see a shadow of sadness cross his face, smirk drooping into a frown. Your palms on his skin leech warmth into his tired bones and he shifts his head to lean into one of your hands, eyes fluttering shut and staying that way until he musters enough humility to say what he wants to say to you the most.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s still the coward's way out but he’s simply too tired and weakened to go into the specifics of everything he’s sorry for. Is strength even worth it if you still managed to save so few people you care about? The weight of the world remains on his shoulders and you carefully lean over him, pressing your cheek to his and shifting your hands from his face to his shoulders. 

“Oh sweetheart,” it’s a nickname you rarely use for him and it makes his heart leap to hear it even when your voice cracks. “You have nothing to apologize for. Never to me.”

He wishes he agreed with you. 

“Well, I am and nothing like this will ever happen again.”

The unspoken truth between both of you is that he said the same thing when he was released from the prison realm weeks ago and yet, this happened.

“You can’t control everything, Satoru.” You lift your cheek from his and glance down at him to see his eyes half open. “Nothing that has happened is your fault.”

Something else he wishes he could agree with. He gives you a small smile and you lean to kiss his cheek, shutting your eyes tightly to keep from breaking into absolute hysterics. You’ve been teetering on the edge for days but you know this is not the time for your usual dramatics, it’s time to hold it together for him like he has done for you so many times.

“But we can and should talk about this more on our trip.”

His half open eyes shoot open and he looks at you with uncertainty etched in all of his pretty features. 

“Trip?”

Currently, he’s in no condition to go anywhere except for hopefully home with you tonight, but a few more hours with Shoko and his cursed energy slowly returning should be enough to get the process of healing going but he knows you know that and wonders what your angle is. 

“Road trip. Very little impact, all we have to do is fly to California and don’t worry, I’ll drive the whole time.”

He smiles and chuckles, reaching to capture your hand in his own and lift your palm to his mouth. Kissing you gently, he sits up a little more now that he’s feeling stronger and you lean on the side of the table.

“How long?”

“I had to practically beg for it but we both have a whole week off. The road trip will be 5 days and we’ll have two days to travel there and back.”

Summarizing the trip aloud makes it feel real despite you having done no work to make it so, eager to see him and how he’s doing before making any solid plans, but you can tell that he’s interested based solely by the look on his face. Still, you worry it’s too soon and too much after everything that has happened.

“Do you want to? We can always hold off and do it another time if you don’t feel up to it.”

He shakes his head and kisses your palm again, molding your fingers to the curve of his face so that he can be held by you for just a little while. Your touch may not heal him physically but it fills the gaps in his soul, the little pieces he has been torn into since October 31st, and he needs it more than he needs another session of energy granted to him from Shoko right now.

“I want to go as soon as we can. Especially if I get to look pretty in the passenger seat the entire time.”

It’s so beautiful to have him come back to you a bit at a time and your heart swells until you’re afraid it’ll burst when you look down at him. His eyes are shut again and his cheek fits perfectly in your palm, just as it always does. 

He lived and now he gets to have a week by your side with no responsibilities. If he weren’t so comforted by your presence right now, certain you are real and tangible and holding him to the best of your ability in his current condition, he would believe that he’s still dead.

“I should let Shoko get back to work,” you say finally and he whines. A little bit more of him comes back with each passing moment and emotion swells again, your eyes burning when they start to well up. 

“I love you,” he whispers and you lean down to kiss him for real, your soft lips hungrily pressing against his dry and split ones for the first time since he left you and came back. It’s familiar and it sends you over the edge, tears breeching your closed eyes and dripping onto his cheek. He laughs, although it’s a bit hollow, and you back your face away from his.

“I told you no crying.”

You laugh and lean in to steal another kiss, his arm wrapping around your body and cupping your hip. The kiss grows in intensity, although it’s more a lazy exploration of each other’s mouths more than it is an earnest makeout session, and his hand slides from your hip to your ass just as the metal door screeches open.

“Save that for when I send him home with you tonight.”

Heels clack across the tile floor and you peel yourself away from Satoru, who keeps his hand firmly cupping your ass, turning your head to see Shoko snapping on a pair of gloves and walking toward her patient. You shoot her a grateful smile and she nods her head, letting you lean in for one more kiss before reluctantly parting.

“Man I love her,” you hear him mutter to Shoko who laughs and shakes her head as you’re leaving. 

“Yeah, I know. You never shut up about it even when you’re half dead.”

DAY 1 - SAN FRANCISCO, CA

Your flight landed three hours ago, 9 hours passing far more quickly than you expected. Satoru held your hand the entire flight and you let him have the window seat, watching clouds obscure the light dancing over his face every time he'd shift his gaze toward the sky outside. Looking at him never gets old, even with a baseball cap pulled over his face to obscure his injuries despite how much they’ve improved since days ago. 

Disembarking and entering the airport felt like going through the motions and you realized while grabbing your luggage that it has felt like that all day. It feels like just going through the motions despite everything and your excitement for the next several days and guilt gnaws at you because of it. Shouldn’t you be living every day, minute, second as joyfully as possible given Satoru is alive and with you? Why do you still feel so bad?

The feeling remains a mystery while the two of you gradually make your way out of the airport and into the cool city lying outside, your rental car already picked up and the keys jingling in your hand as you unlock the door to load everything up. Gojo takes the duties over for you and you smile at him gratefully, heading to the driver’s seat to get settled in.

“You alright?”

He has asked you many times today how you’re doing and your answer has been a polite nod and a smile each time, maybe a muttered “yeah I’m alright” if he’s lucky, but he can tell something is bothering you. Chalking it up to travel anxiety, he slides into the passenger seat and finally takes his hat off, chucking it aside. You watch his wispy hair fall over his face, the dark bruise on his cheekbone finally looking lighter than it did when you left Tokyo this morning and you genuinely smile for the first time all day.

“Hello handsome.”

Satoru chuckles and you laugh along with him, eyes crinkling at the corners. You aren’t sure if it’s exhausted delirium making you feel better but you allow yourself to feel at ease for the first time in weeks, settling into your seat and starting the engine of the mid size SUV that will be your chariot for the next several days.

“Do you wanna go straight to the hotel or did you want to stop somewhere first?”

He hums, thinking, and his stomach growls which gives him his answer.

“Let’s stop and get something to eat.”

You nod, tipping your head toward his phone.

“Your pick. Find a place and I’ll get us there.”

Picking the device up, he smiles at the sight of your face next to his on the screen, matching grins as big as your faces. Hopefully there will be opportunities for more photos just like that one on this trip despite how worn both of you feel right now. 

Even smiling sounds exhausting at this point but he musters one for you, opening the app with a little map as its logo, searching for restaurants near the airport. He wrinkles his nose at the list of chain restaurants and settles on a deli that looks easy to get in and out of, disinterested in a sit down meal. 

He turns the phone in your direction.

“Sounds good?”

You hum affirmatively and press on the screen, a digital voice through the speaker giving you turn by turn directions. You’ve visited San Francisco before and so has he, just not together, and the two of you smile contentedly watching the city roll by and you’ve arrived before you know it, parking on the sidewalk outside of the entrance. He grabs the cap he dropped onto the floorboards and slips it over his head, the bill covering his bruised eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you don’t notice he’s glancing at you until you turn to look at him and his brow is furrowed in concern. You are wound as tightly as he’s ever seen you and he worries this entire trip and the pressure of it is stressing you out more than you already are, the opposite of the desired effect. 

“Are you sure you’re alright, angel?”

Nodding, you plaster on a quick smile and reach for the door handle. 

“I think I’m just tired. I can’t remember the last time I slept well.”

He understands not to push any further despite lingering concern and he opens his door, stepping out into the cool evening and sighing contentedly, stretching his long limbs out. Still a little stiff from his injuries, he waits on the sidewalk for you to round the car and join him and wiggles his arms and hands. 

“You look so cute when you do that,” you mutter with a smile. For a moment, his concern quiets down but your face falls so quickly it comes straight back. Coming to his side, you clutch his hand as if it’s an anchor keeping you sane and nod in the direction of the door. “After you, baby.”

Gladly, he pulls you along with him and the bell over the door dings. It’s a small space and while not packed wall to wall, it’s more crowded than you expected on a weekday evening and you take it in stride, the overhead lighting making your eyes burn after a day spent in mostly darkness. Satoru leans down and kisses the top of your head, inspecting the menu hanging from the ceiling, keeping his mouth pressed against your hair and humming. It’s comforting and you appreciate the gesture, he knows you well enough to be able to tell when you’re struggling, but you can’t focus on what’s happening with the pit in your stomach growing wider by the second.

This room full of people has no idea what either of you have just been through. The weeks of hell, watching the man you love so much you’re afraid it will be your downfall, die in front of you and return like Lazarus himself, your best friend’s death. 

Your hands start to shake and your mouth runs dry.

They have no idea your fiancé just killed the body of a man he loved dearly for the second time or that children he assisted raising both lost their lives in the process. These strangers will never know or understand what happened, their lives continuing as carelessly and freely as they always have, and a lump develops in your throat remembering the responsibilities waiting for you when you return home. 

Your life has changed forever and the world keeps turning, a notion that is suffocating.

It has been years since your last panic attack but you recognize the feeling immediately. The room shrinks and you laugh nervously, balling your fists. Satoru recognizes something is wrong and tries to grab your attention, quietly mouthing words you can’t make out. Shaking your head and blinking, you laugh again and he uses his grip on your hand to gently guide you toward the door. He keeps his steps short and soft to make sure you stay with him until the two of you are able to find a way to slip outside. 

Bending at the knees slightly to come face level with you, he cups your face with your free hand and knits his brows together. If you can't remember the last time you had a panic attack neither can he and he wracks his tired brain to figure out how to make this better. You aren’t asking him to, just for his support, but he has failed to keep you safe and happy so many times he can’t bear to let you fall victim to your own mind while he stands and breathes beside you.

“Come on, let’s get in the car.”

Nodding, you can’t fight the tears anymore and they start to flow freely, dripping down your face and onto the sidewalk below as you let go of his hand long enough to skulk to the driver’s seat of the SUV. Opening the door and sliding in, the door has barely shut by the time you sob aloud, gasping for air and lifting your shaking hands to your face. 

Satoru grasps your wrists with one of his hands and pulls your hands down from your cheeks gently, using his other hand to position your head until you’re facing him. Seeing you like this utterly rends him, his own throat tightening watching you struggle to breathe. Without thinking, he does what he would do for his students in this situation.

“Can you breathe for me?”

Despite how sobs make your shoulders shake, you nod and try to inhale deeply through your nose. It still doesn’t feel like enough air but you panic less once it reaches your lungs, exhaling through your mouth.

“Oh, baby.” He hates that this is the only thing he can think of to say. There has and never will be a point where he’s better at words of comfort than you are and it intimidates him how his blindspots only come to light when people need him the most. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

Without thinking, you blurt out the news you wanted to tell him after you returned home. 

“They’re making me principal.”

His eyes widen and he starts to grin but it dims as soon as he sees more tears fall down your face, your sniffling filling the car.

“They picked the best person for the job,” he comforts and you shake your head, refusing to believe that it’s true.

“They picked the easiest scapegoat. They’re going to kill me just like they did Yaga.”

The people who killed Yaga have been permanently removed from their positions by two of your students, their deaths coming just before Satoru’s battle with Sukuna began, but you still worry about what comes next. The clans now hold all of the power and if they’re angry enough over what occurred, you’re the person who will be on the hook to deal with it all.

“No one is going to do that, I would never let them.”

You sniffle and look away, brows furrowed while tears drip into your lap.

“What if it isn’t your choice, Satoru?”

A dark thought consumes the usually easy going man, his stomach turning. Has your faith in him wavered? Do you think he wouldn’t cut down anyone who dared try to hurt or upset you? 

“Look at me?”

You do, just as you do any time he asks, and he sighs defeatedly. Now your hackles are raised because you’re worried about him, sniffling and reaching across the car for him. You clutch onto his t-shirt and he lets you, the fabric spilling between your fingers.

“I will never let anything bad happen to you ever again.” You’ve never seen him look so serious, no trace of humor to be found anywhere. No glimmer in his tired blue eyes, no upturned lip to reveal a dimple. You know he needs this confirmation and you nod, sniffling and pulling him closer to you with his shirt.

“Do you trust me?” You nod but it isn’t enough, his gaze still hardened. “I need you to say it.”

Swallowing to try and wet your dry mouth, you nod again and sniffle.

“I trust you with everything and I always will.” Another sniffle but you feel more normal, your breaths still coming quicker than usual but slowly steadying with each moment that passes. Keeping his shirt in your balled fists, you sigh and shake your head. “This isn’t about not trusting you, it’s about being afraid of what comes next.”

Now he understands. 

Your faith in him is unshakeable, something you have told him more times than you can count and meant every single one, but the future itself is terrifying. Nobody knows what is coming next, least of all you.

“I know but just like you always tell me, things will work out how they’re supposed to and if they don’t, I will kill anyone who is mean to you.”

Finally, this draws a watery laugh from you and he softens, posture slackening. His stomach growls again and you whine, upset that your own antics prevented him from doing what you two came here to do in the first place - eat.

“I’m sorry about this,” you mumble and he leans over the console to kiss your forehead. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, I’d rather get room service anyway.”

Sniffling again, you untangle your hands from his shirt and turn toward the wheel, positioning yourself to start driving again.

“Wanna go to the hotel then?”

He nods with a soft smile, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. 

“Do you want me to drive?”

You shake your head, face looking far less distraught than it did a few minutes ago, and he breathes a sigh of relief. 

“Will you really kill anyone who is mean to me?”

He hums exaggeratedly to accompany an animated nod.

“Thank you,” you whisper and he squeezes your shoulder with his arm.

“I’m a nice guy, what can I say?”

DAY 3 - MONTEREY, CA TO BIG SUR, CA

The California coastline glimmers beneath the sun and although you’re driving, you keep sneaking glances toward the edge of the highway, eyes widening every time something beautiful comes into view. You may as well keep them wide open, constantly amazed by the world surrounding you even as it breezes past while you drive.

Day 2 went off without a hitch for the most part, no panic attacks or the like occurring, but you noticed this morning that Satoru seemed quiet. His usual exuberance has been missing from your conversations, instead dimmed down into something that feels like an imitation of the man. You understand this is part of the process of coming to terms with everything that happens but you feel guilty, as if your outburst is keeping him from feeling comfortable enough to be himself.

It could also have nothing to do with you but it’s easier to blame yourself than it is to think about anything else that could possibly be bothering him, your tendency to fall on your sword even worse when it comes to him. The devotion he gives you is returned in full, your natural instinct always to keep him happy and away from anything that could hurt him as unfair as it can be to do so. 

You can’t protect anyone from sorrow, it comes as naturally as the waves wash up on the shore below you, all you can do is witness it unfold and hope it doesn’t become a tsunami.

The two of you have been driving in comfortable silence for miles, occasionally oohing aloud at the cliff sides, but it has become less comfortable now that you’re thinking about how it has been like this all day. You try to think of something to talk about but come up short, focusing on the road, and he captures your attention when he speaks.

“I saw them, you know. When I died.”

You raise your eyebrows but don’t look at him, keeping your focus on the road.

“Did you?”

Satoru nods and clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, carelessly sticking his hand out of the small crack in the unrolled window. It isn’t big enough to let the chilly winter air through but it’s just wide enough for him to feel the wind at 40 mph with his Infinity off. 

“Yup, they asked me about you. How you’re doing.”

He doesn’t have to say who he saw but you know, gut churning. It’s unlikely that Kento would ask, given you were one of the last people he saw before meeting his fate but Yu and - as painful as it is to even recall his name sometimes - Suguru would. 

“What’d you tell them?”

“The truth.”

Raising a brow, you focus on the road ahead of you and drum your fingertips idly against the sides of the steering wheel hoping he’ll elaborate on what the truth actually is. The silence sits heavier than you’d like it to and you open your mouth to end it but he beats you to the punch, head tipped back against the seat he’s sitting in. 

“Told them about us and that we’re going to get married.” You smile and he watches your cheek curve, mirroring it with one of his own that fades quickly while he continues speaking. “Told them you’re probably doing pretty badly because I failed to keep you safe. That you have been dead already.”

Shooting him a glance out of the corner of your eye, it’s hard to convey exactly how his words affect you while navigating a vehicle down an elevated single lane highway. 

Sometimes he forgets what it’s like to exist vulnerably. You’ve always been the wall between himself and the world, the place where he has allowed himself to soften and take down all airs, but now he wonders what it would be like if he extended that beyond just you. Other friends, what remains of his family, his students. He could never fully give himself to anyone the way he has to you but it’s something to consider while he spreads his fingers and lets the wind blow through them.

Does he deserve any of this?

He didn’t keep you safe. He didn’t keep Megumi or Tsumiki or Nobara safe. He failed, yet here he sits by your side, cold air chilling the tips of his fingers. In an instant, he feels nothing, turning his Infinity on wordlessly and keeping his gaze locked on the trees rushing by his window while you consider what to say to help him right now. 

“It has never been your responsibility to keep me safe, Satoru.”

He chuckles humorlessly and swallows so thickly you can hear it even with the sound of air entering the car through the cracked window. 

“For my entire life, my only purpose has been to keep people safe. If I can’t do that, what can I do?”

Glancing at the road, you spot the shoulder and decide to pull off to the side, parking and turning on your lights. Satoru has been wordless and still for longer than you’ve ever seen him and your heart breaks imagining how he must feel right now. 

The weight of the world is a heavy burden to carry and he has done it since before he could form full sentences, a fact you forget because he wears the responsibility as though it’s a cloak he can shrug off at any time, but you know that he takes it far more seriously inwardly. His life has been wrapped up in grooming him to be not simply a protector, but the protector, the gatekeeper of the insular society the two of you are a part of.

“Look at me?”

You ask just as he asked you to do two days ago and he does, the quarter turn of his head giving you an actual view of his face for the first time all day. He looks better than he did yesterday, scratches and bruises healing far faster than they would otherwise as he restores his energy. His eyes meet yours for a minute and you catch the shimmer that means his Infinity is turned on and you look away from him to compose yourself. 

His carefully crafted facade has shattered at his feet - he’ll always be The Strongest but his weakness was exposed in the form of bleeding out, severed through the middle, on a battlefield. What is he supposed to do now? 

Your eyes turn toward him once again and you sigh though it holds nothing but concern and you unbuckle your seatbelt to shift your body until you’re facing him, knees pressed against the center console. He half smiles and chuckles to himself seeing you move and get comfortable but it dies as quickly as it came, his head still pressed to the headrest while looking directly at you.

All you can do is help him pick up the pieces and figure out who he wants to be now that he has the ability to choose. 

“You know I don’t love you because you’re strong, right?”

He shrugs.

“I’m sure it probably helps.”

“No, Satoru. I love you because you make me laugh and cry and get angry sometimes. You let me be myself and never ask that I be anyone different even though I’m sure it would make your life easier if I were less stubborn and set in my ways.”

Getting choked up, you stop yourself and his eyes stop shimmering, Infinity off. He reaches across the center console and holds your hand, smoothing his thumb over the back of it and feeling the puckered wounds that are becoming eerily smooth scars. Swallowing, you blink and will yourself to keep it together until you get through what you have to say.

“I love you because you are courageous and that has nothing to do with your abilities, that’s who you are in your heart. You care so much despite how little you try to show it and your devotion goes deeper than the ocean and you are loyal and…”

Trailing off, searching for the words to sum up how you feel about him, he squeezes his hand and you see a peek of him in the soft smile on his face. Tipping his head to the side, he widens his eyes.

“You forgot handsome.”

Despite being near tears, you laugh and he feels warmer just listening to it and witnessing the grin he loves so much spreading across your face.

“You are the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on, even when you’re a little scraped up, don’t worry about that.”

Despite how difficult you have been to understand throughout various points in your decade long relationship with the man, he knows everything you’re saying is true or else you would not say it. You are too honest at times even if it’s sugarcoated to keep from hurting feelings but he knows you give him the most vulnerable form of yourself just as he does for you. 

He scrunches his nose and turns toward you, unbuckling so he can shift his body to face you. 

“Those sound like vows. Have you been practicing?”

Shrugging, you play his question off with a wry smile because he caught you. You still feel teary but blinking keeps any from coming and you idly play with his fingers and allow yourself to indulge in romance despite the heaviness still lingering between the two of you.

“Not necessarily practicing, just trying to figure out how to put how I feel about you into words because I don’t think the words I need exist.”

An arched brow is his response and you roll your eyes, tilting your chin toward the ground to hide your smile. He doesn’t want to coax anything additional out of you but the relief he feels knowing you still want to marry him despite everything that has happened is almost as comforting as the first breath he took waking back up after being healed enough to keep going by Shoko and Yuuta. 

He would be doing you both a disservice if he let you off the hook completely, though.

“So you still want to marry me?”

You scoff, lifting your head to look at him with a raised brow that mirrors the one he just gave you.

“Please. I’d marry you right now if you wanted.”

“Then do it.”

Opening your mouth to speak, you stop when the words won’t come, and he fills in the blanks for you.

“Let’s get married right now.”

“Satoru, we are in a car pulled off to the side of the road on one of the most famous highways in America.”

“So?”

At least his mood seems to have improved, the mischievous glimmer back in his eyes as he looks at where your hand and his take turns smoothing over each other. The two of you are always so sync even if you don’t realize it, seeking one another out like air, and you inhale sharply to keep from getting emotional once again.

“Okay. How do you wanna do it?”

He grins, shrugging.

“I guess we just say it.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you shoot at him despite the smile on your face and he leans across the center console to kiss you. It amazes you just how many different types of kisses this man can give you in the span of a few minutes, going from silly to sweet to sincere to sexy, but you’re grateful to be on the receiving end of each one. Your lips mold to his perfectly, no longer split and cracked the way they were a few days ago, and he pulls back from you with raised brows and meets your eyes.

“And you’re my wife.”

For as unceremonious as the event of apparently becoming his wife has been, you feel a rush of heat to your face when he says the word in reference to you and the way his gemstone eyes are gazing into yours tells you that he means it. You are his wife and as far as you’re concerned, just saying it is enough, you can worry about the rest later.

“Does that make you my husband?”

Smiling, he tips his head and leans forward to press his forehead against yours.

“I sure hope so.”

And so it begins, the rest of your trip as makeshift newlyweds, your heart pounding at the realization that this means forever. This is the commitment to one another you’ve both been anticipating and scared to make, you spent years running from him because you knew this was the only outcome, but with noses touching and two sets of eyes blinking at one another it has never been more apparent that you two were meant for this, for each other.

DAY 6 - MALIBU, CA - POINT DUME LOOKOUT

The final day of the trip has passed by at lightning speed, your flight leaving from LAX first thing in the morning. It feels correct that you’re spending your last few hours on some of the most beautiful soil on earth watching the sunset over the horizon in Malibu despite the cool air of the January day. The ocean glimmers and you can’t help but gasp in awe at what you see, feeling like a proverbial goddess staring at the open land below you.

“This is beautiful,” you mutter and Gojo joins your side, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. He has a blanket and spare jacket tucked under the other, something to keep you both warm after the sun fully sets and the air grows colder.

“Almost as pretty as you.”

Rolling your eyes, you swat at his chest and suddenly every piece falls back into place. The past five days have been exactly what he needed to find himself, to return to who he is and who he wants to be, and it thrills him to think for even a moment that he may someday feel completely normal again. It won’t undo the things that have happened but it will help him make sense of them.

“Ouch,” he mutters playfully and you laugh, pulling the blanket out of the crook of his elbow and placing it on the ground below with a flourish and a shake of your hands. You instantly sink to the ground below, crossing your legs and sitting back with your hands bracing you. Satoru follows suit with an easy smile, sunglasses covering his eyes despite his facial injuries now being mostly gone. 

Sighing, you tip your head upward and let the sunlight warm it. 

Things are going to be okay, you tell yourself with an earnestness you couldn’t muster a week ago. This is exactly what you needed.

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you, contentedly watching seabirds drift by in the distance, but you sit up and turn to face Gojo, smiling wistfully watching the sunset on his features.

“You wanna know what I’ve been thinking about lately?”

He hums at your question, nodding emphatically.

“Of course.”

Turning your face back toward the sunset, you recall a moment you have been thinking about since the moment it happened, the night he called you his soulmate. It was in the thick of an emotional evening after a long day, the two of you indulging in some pillow talk before falling asleep. It was so easy for him to say, as if he never assumed anything else could be true. 

“Years ago you told me you’ve always known it was going to be us and I brushed it off as you running your mouth,” Satoru fakes offense at your words but you smile wistfully, shaking your head and looking down toward your crossed thighs, the sun suddenly becoming too bright to keep gazing at. “But it’s not a coincidence it has ended up being us two, is it?”

You feel guilty for leaving out Shoko and Utahime and the other friends and students you have met along the way but he knows better than anyone what you mean. He smiles back and captures your hand in his, your palms pressed together while watching the sunset over the Pacific Ocean, cold winter waves lapping at the jagged rocks below the cliff you sit on. 

“Add clairvoyance to my list of skills because I called it, didn’t I?” Humor mixed with unwavering honesty, one of the things you love the most about Satoru, peeks through his every word and you feel so full of love it’s hard to do anything but finally stare at him, eyes squinting thanks to the last bright remnants of daylight. “Even back when you thought I was nothing but a pest with freakishly long arms I knew it had to be you.”

Giggling, you think back to those days that were a practical lifetime ago. Time seemed like it was endless, stretching on and on forever in sundrenched days lounging in the courtyard grass at school, and you assumed you had endless amounts of it. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, it’s all the same when you know you have theoretically at least six more decades to live. 

You were reckless with your feelings and even more so with those of others back then, the man next to you a frequent recipient of annoyed eye rolls and scoffs. He knows he deserved them all even if he gives you a hard time about them now, his boyish determination to impress you gradually buffing away your edges until none remained. 

To the uninitiated, it may appear he tamed you, buffed and smoothed you into perfection equal to his own, but anyone who matters knows better. Satoru remade you, as being loved unconditionally does to anyone. He loved you when you were scowling and spitting and swiping, refusing his friendship and certainly his affections, and he loves you now with your palm pressed against his while you gently breathe in brisk ocean air wrapped in his coat.

“Thank you for never giving up on me.”

He pulls you closer, chin resting on top of your head as it always does. No response comes and you don’t need one, content to listen to the soft puffs of air leaving his nostrils that ruffle the top of your hair. Weeks ago, you weren’t certain you’d ever hear them again. Now though, the mix of the roaring waves and his breaths and his heartbeat pounding against your back catch you off guard and you start to cry, a tear trailing down your nose. 

“Don’t do that. No crying.”

Despite the tears, you laugh. It’s impossible to do anything but when he looks down at you with his head cocked, a little mocking pout on his lips. Leaning up, you kiss him gently and he hums into it, thumb reaching to swipe the stray tear off of your cheek. Leaning back from him, you sniffle.

“Just a little? You know how I am.”

He shakes his head. How can he ever deny you anything? You’re his life, his reason, his world. His one.

“Okay, a tear or two for my little crybaby but that’s it.”

Whatever tears were welling up dissipate quickly when you start laughing and it wows you how it seems like everything is truly back to normal. The two of you glancing at one another like lovesick teenagers, the same as you did ten years ago, the same as you will for the rest of your lives.

“You were right, you know. We are soulmates.” 

He grins.

“That’s not something I hear from you often but I’ll take it.”

DAY 7 - TOKYO, JP

The 9 hours back home felt far longer than the ones passing on the way there but after a blissful week and an easy flight, you are home and you are clean and you are comfortable in your own bed.

Spread across the mattress in nothing but a towel, you listen to Satoru hum from the adjoining bathroom while he brushes his teeth, running water mingling with a song that kept playing on the radio during your trip that has been stuck in his head for four days. Giggling, you wonder if he knows you can hear him or if he’s truly in his own little world.

“Turn the water off, it’s wasteful!”

You playfully shout into the bathroom and you hear the water cease but the humming continues. He’s well aware that you’re listening and it’s glorious to see even more of him come home - his happiness returning and stabilizing over the last few days. You worried at the beginning of your trip things would never be the same and they won’t, of course, the losses you’ve both suffered more than any one person should have to, but they will feel good again and already do.

Speaking of feeling good, your husband (who is very insistent that you call him this despite no legal documentation of your marriage existing) saunters into the room with a towel low slung on his hips and you can’t help but let your eyes roam over every part of him. His arms are no longer bruised and scuffed, back to their defined and pristine glory. The face you know every contour of is back to normal as well, nary a trace of anything happening in the first place, but curiously - he isn’t devoting any energy to heal the scars across his torso. Small silvery slashes and the big one where Sukuna split him into two remain visible.

Your mouth waters watching him dry the ends of his hair with a towel and it’s no longer satisfying to merely look, you need to feel; to touch every piece of him to ensure he’s still here despite having done it many times over the last several days. Every touch will be like this for the rest of your life, you think, making sure he’s whole and real and yours.

“Come here,” you nod and tilt your head, flipping from your back onto your stomach and swinging your legs in the air behind you. Gojo hums, raising his eyebrows and sliding onto the bed next to you, leaning onto his side and propping his head up with a hand.

“What can I do for you?”

You giggle almost girlishly, fluttering your lashes for no particular reason other than to let him know that he still has the ability to fluster you a decade together later. Tentatively, you reach toward him and trace your finger over the scar through the middle of his torso, the flesh smooth and pearlescent.

“Keeping that one?”

He shrugs, looking down to see your single finger become an entire palm pressed against his abdomen, your fingers tracing small paths across his abs and chest. The muscles beneath your hand tense with each touch and you pull yourself to your knees, crawling across the bed to kneel beside him.

“Maybe I’ll get rid of it eventually. I have the choice, you know?”

That he does and you nod, understanding. Your hand continues to travel over his chest, smoothing over each of his pecs and your core flutters excitedly when your hand travels from his upper torso to the lower portion, fingers sliding beneath the knot of his towel. 

He looks over your body, the way that your tits are pressed together and spilling over the towel secured over them, eyes trailing from your cleavage to your shoulder where a jagged and angry scar of your own sits. It’s from an attempt to dismember you in Shibuya, to cleave your arm straight from your shoulder, yet you don’t let the fact that it’s there bother you a bit. 

Satoru’s cock starts to harden under his towel merely looking at you and you smile watching it come to life beneath the cotton covering it, pushing him backward and flat onto his back so that you can straddle him. Discarding your towel, you drop it on the floor next to the bed and lean over him, chests pressed together while your knees rest on either side of his hips. 

“Hello there,” he teases and you laugh, leaning down to kiss him and bracing your forearms on either side of his head. There is no time wasted on gentle kisses, opting instead for the type that sear as you pant into his mouth and feel his bulge pressed against your bare cunt. You grind against him, the friction from the towel over his cock making you whimper, and one of his hands finds your hip to hold you steady while you make yourself feel good. 

“You like that, baby?”

Humming affirmatively to his question, you drag yourself across his covered length for only a moment more and choose instead to sit up, giving him a full view of all of you. This is a sight he has been blessed with more times than he could begin to count but every time it feels like a gift, your breasts swaying as you steady yourself. His hand slides from your hip to your waist and even higher, thumb and index finger pinching your nipple and making you tilt your head back and moan.

“To think I almost never saw this again,” he mutters to himself but you hear it, leaning forward enough that your face hovers above his. You kiss the side of his jaw and he groans, cock so hard the towel has shortened by several inches while it fights to sit against his stomach as gravity intends for it to.

Kissing further down his jaw and his neck, you rest your face in the crook of his neck for a moment and sigh dreamily. You're already soaked, ready to slip him inside of you at any moment.

“To think I never saw this again,” you repeat back to him and sit up, reaching behind you to unknot his towel and push it off of his hips, looking over your shoulder and groaning at his pretty pink tip resting against his belly, glossy with precum. You look down at him with a slight pout, leaning in to kiss him while running your hands over every inch of his body that you can.

“Look at you, Satoru. You’re so beautiful.”

He’s no stranger to your compliments but he flusters a bit anyway, chest turning pink as his face heats up. His white lashes flutter as he looks down at you, your mouth pressing kisses into his neck and warm chest. You scrape your teeth over his nipples and it makes him whine, bucking his hips and pressing his heavy cock against your pussy.

"Fuck baby," he mutters, hissing when you press your hips down against him, the wetness seeping from you coating your lips and his shaft in return, your hips gliding easily over him. Your mouth remains occupied, pressing kisses lower down his abdomen and over the scars he hasn't yet healed. It's your responsibility to remind him that every single piece of him is as lovable and stunning as ever and you take it seriously.

"I need you."

The rasp in his words makes you smile and you nod, ceasing your kissing and straightening your spine so that you can press your tits against his chest again. There is zero space between your bodies, just how you prefer it. He reaches for his cock and groans, wrapping his fingers around the base, abandoning it to brush his fingers over your wet cunt.

"All that for me," he marvels, two digits sinking into you with ease and you arch your back slightly, letting him spread you open while grinding your hips down against his pelvis, the direct contact of his body on your clit sending sparks through you.

"Just for you, handsome," you smirk against his neck and he crooks his fingers inside of you, brushing the spot he knows drives you wild. You moan and he pulls his fingers out of you, your cunt clenching in protest only for him to immediately replace them with the girth of his cock, your walls stretching to accommodate him.

"Feels so good," you whisper and he hums, hands coming to your hips to keep them steady while he thrusts upward into you slowly, sinking himself to the base methodically, shallow thrusts pulling him nearly out of you.

He's greedy though, undeniably addicted to the way you make him feel, and keeps enough of himself inside of you that you are unable to even begin to miss the way he feels. Your walls clench around him, keeping him secured inside and your hips grind lazily despite his grip on them.

The pleasure is mind numbing but you keep yourself alert, moaning softly while he throbs inside of you. More lazy thrusts met with slow and passionate grinding make you moan on unison, lips finding each other. Moaning into each others mouths, occasionally brushing tongues and kissing, you're overwhelmed with nothing but pure love knowing you have this to look forward to forever.

Forever sounds like a long time but you can't think of any better way to spend it than with your Satoru.

"You gonna cum baby?"

He asks and you nod, your walls gripping him tightly. His thrusts speed up, the sound of skin on skin filling your bedroom. The mind is a powerful tool and despite this being quite possibly the least active sex the two of you have ever had, you're so in love with him your body does what it does naturally and that's cum around his cock, clenching and pulsing to let him know how much all of you loves all of him.

"I love you," you babble against his mouth and he chuckles. "I know baby, I know."

Your hips still and you let him hold you in place, his back arched as he thrusts fully in and out of you, his own release slowly coming over him. His eyes flutter shut and he stays buried inside of you, ropes of his cum filling you and seeping out around the base of him, dripping down onto the towel below him.

You don't say a word, sinking into his chest while he softens inside of you. Talking feels unnecessary when your body itself says so much but the big mouth is back to normal so the blissful silence doesn't last for long.

"I love you too, by the way."

At least he's being sweet.

Giggling, you kiss him and wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, clinging to him while he moves from your mouth to press kisses into your hairline.

"So," he starts and you look up, hovering off of his chest enough to look him in his eyes. "When are we telling everyone that we're married?"

"Let's make it legal first, yeah?"

He pouts but it is replaced quickly with a wry smile and you sink back down to rest against him, cheek pressed into his collarbone. The news surely won't come as a surprise to anyone but you want to make sure it's set in stone before letting everyone know.

"Let's go first thing in the morning."

His eagerness makes you laugh but you acquiesce, knowing there's no excuse to wait. You spent enough time fighting off the inevitable that for once, you're glad to just sit back and enjoy the ride, especially when you're enjoying it by Satoru's side.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoken #this is an entry to satoken canon yes #kendall writes

[hidtired]

Unfortunate Timing Prologue

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Description: You found out your pregnant early into your relationship with Daryl Dixon. To make matters worse? The apocalypse happens a few days later! (not fully canon)

5.7k words

Warnings (Pregnancy, gore, smut, reference to abuse, violence, fluff, walking dead stuff, ect.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 etc.

Pre Apocalypse

You had moved to a small town in Georgia to get away from your parents. Your Aunt Mary had a little boutique and offered a job. Your parents didn’t like you weren’t married yet, not even dating either. So they have been shoving men at you for the last few years. They thought by your age you should have been married with kids. They wanted grandkids. Your brother was married but him and his wife struggled with fertility. The final straw was trying to get you into an arranged marriage with one of your father’s business buddies kid. You had only just turned 30.

It had freaked you out how your parents made it seem like you didn’t have a choice. So you packed your bags, your mother pleaded for you to not go. You broke the lease to your apartment and left without telling them where.

You like the simple life you were leading now. Helping your Aunt's business. You lived with her because she was a widow with no kids and wanted the company. You had some interesting neighbors across the street. You had just driven into the driveway taking notice of a man fixing his truck. It was hot outside and his arms were covered in grease.

You walked into the kitchen where your Aunt was doing dishes. You decided to help making idle talk about how the shop was until you looked out the window to still see the sleeveless man. Your Aunt caught you looking, "Thought you came here to get away from boys?" You smile shyly at being caught, looking back down and handing her a wet plate to be dried. "Never said that... Just the one my parents choose. Didn't have time to look for a date when men were thrown at me randomly by them." Your Aunt was amused to say the least. "That's Daryl Dixon, him and his brother live there. You have to watch yourself with a Dixon. But Daryl has helped me with a few things that broke around the house. He replaced the battery's in the fire alarms for me a week before you came."

You gave her a sideways look, "You trying to set me up now to?" Mary laughs, "Fine fine, granted I do bake something for him every time he does something for me. Could just have a sweet tooth." You look back out the window, ‘Daryl huh?’

It was a week later that you got a call from your brother. You went on a walk to take the call. He was anger that your father was on him for a kid because you had disappeared. The pressure had turned to his wife who was already having a hard time with infertility. It was when you were walking back to the house did the conversation get heated.

"Grow a back bone and yell at them Mathew! Why are you coming at me for!?" He responded with his own venom, "Why couldn't you just do what they asked! But go ahead die alone for all I care!" He ended the call abruptly after. You clenched your teeth tight and closed your eyes trying to compose yourself. A voice called from across the street, "Ya doin alright over there?" You turned to see Daryl beer in hand with the hood of his car open. You sighed shoulders sagging, "Sorry for the yelling." Daryl pick up another beer showing it off to you, "Sounds like ya could use one of these." You put your hands to your hips before deciding to walk over. You grab the beer he handed you with a smile, "Thanks..."

You cracked the can open taking a sip. Daryl stare at you for a second before saying something, “Yer boyfriend causing you trouble?” You chuckled at the thought, making a small face of disgust at it even, “No, that was just my brother being an ass.” Daryl took mental note of that ‘single’. He huffed and looked back down into his trucks hood. “Oh trust me I know how that is.” You look at him as he refocused his attention to his car, ‘That’s right, that’s what your Aunt had said.’ You lean against the truck. “Your Daryl right? I’m Y/N” Daryl looked back up at the mention of you knowing his name, “Oh so ya heard bout us.” He sounded a bit disappointed at the thought. You lean to look inside the car, smiling over to him, “Only the things my Aunt said.” He perked a brow at that, “Who’s yer Aunt? What she say about us?”

“Mary.” You pointed over your shoulder to the house, “And she mentioned you might have a sweet tooth.” Daryl looked over to the house of the lady he often did things for, her niece chiming in again. “Always see you fixing this truck across the street.” He pulled a red rag from his back pocket wiping his hands, “Ya damn thing always seems to be breakin.” He took notice of the girl fully now. You took slow sips of the beer he gave you while starring into the hood. “Well if I have any trouble with my car I know who to ask.” You looked up to him with a shy smile. “I’m useless when it comes to knowing anything about cars.”

That’s how they both started talking. You watching him fix a couple spark plugs while talking about things. Getting to know each other a little. Like how you were helping Mary with her shop. “Ah, so you just moved here.” You nodded, “Mmm about a month. Have no clue where anything is and have no friends so…” you shrug. A breeze started as evening was setting in. Daryl hesitated before saying, “I could show you some local spots.” He bit the side of his thumb nail waiting for an answer. You had bit your bottom lip looking up at him and smiled, “Sounds like fun to me.”

He was worried for a second he messed up, “There’s a bar that everyone knows, real popular on Fridays.” You nodded while looking at him staring down at your watch seeing you had been talking for about a hour. It was getting late so you slowly started to walk backwards to your house. You smile with a glint in your eye, “Sounds like a Date… see you Friday!” You waved and all he could do was look on with wide eyes. Did you just- “Pick you up at 8!” He yelled. He was in slight disbelief at the out come. Had you been flirting with him the whole time?

You had handed him a tool before he could even ask. You had known how to do it all along and played stupid to talk with him. He smiled down as he closed his hood. ‘Oh you were trouble.’

When Friday came he was kicking himself. This was unlike him to go on dates. But he wouldn’t deny he liked you. You were also looking forward to a date for the first time in a while. Preferring it more than being tricked on to one with some guy your parents liked. Daryl probably didn’t fit that kind a guy they would. Oh but your kind definitely. Your Aunt watched you try on an outfit before deciding to go with a floral casual dress that went to your knees. She gave you a smug look and you only rolled your eyes. You had a long black jacket over you, knowing it was already cool outside.

Daryl knocked on the door and off you went in his truck to this bar. He was slightly nervous when he saw you dolled yourself up, and for him? He had lied to Merle where he was going and doing. He was desperately trying not to blow this, “Ya look pretty…” he had said it at a stop light looking over to you. It’s everything a girl wants to hear, and it sure made you smile.

When they got to the bar the bartender seemed confused to see Daryl with a girl. He was normally there with his brother. Mostly to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid he had noticed. “Well if it isn’t a Dixon, tell your brother he still owes me for the glass he broke.” Daryl cringed at the mention of his brother. You just simply took a seat on a stool. “What can I get you two.”

You had a few drinks you’ll admit. You tried a classic drink that the locals had. You were grossed out at the drink causing you and Daryl to laugh. He only had a drink with the need to drive you both home. You had tried to play pool but decided you were a little to inebriated at how many times you missed the ball entirely. You were standing in a corner of the bustling bar talking. You held a bow empty cup dying laughing at a story had told you about his childhood. Sometimes kids dumb actions, like jumping off a shed in a hero outfit, were just funny. You had lost a little balance at your laughing and place a hand onto Daryl’s chest. He only looked down to you putting a hand to your waist to steady you. You had tears of laughter in you eye, you fanning your face to no ruining your make up. He was definitely enjoying this more than he wanted to.

You had been at the bar for about 4 hours with Daryl. You now walked leaning into him in the parking lot. He had an arm around your shoulder leading you to the car door. He started the car and looked over to you, “Should have told me ya were a lightweight.” You gasped offendly, “Lightweight! I’ll have you know I’m just tipsy.” He looked at you questioningly humming. You relaxed into the car seat, “Ok, I’ll admit I haven’t done this in a while- might be a little rusty on the drinking game.”

You both continued to joke around until getting to the neighborhood. He back up in your drive way to later drive into his own. Him doing that thing with his arm as he back up. You bit your lip at the sight. When he parked and looked at you you spoke, “Thank you for this Daryl, I had fun.” He nodded, “Was my pleasure…” you had slowly moved closer crossing the middle seat. He looked down at your flushed face, mostly done by the alcohol. That liquid courage probably giving you the strength to grab him by the chin and slowly kiss him. He leaned into it grabbing your hip. You pulled back with a bashful smile,

“Same time next week?”

He had fully smiled at that, “Ya bet your sweet ass. Now get out of here miss ‘tipsy’.” You giggle wiggling your way out of the car. Waving goodbye with a stupid smile on your face. He felt his heart skip a beat, ‘oh he was real screwed…’

That night he even thought back to how you were looking at him on the way back. He had caught you leaned against the window with hooded eye. When he looked at you, you tried to fight a smile. Oh and how could he not think of the kiss. His hands dragged down his face at the thought.

This went on for a little over a month. You would see each other throughout the week but Fridays you would go out. Small touch’s and kisses here and there. It wasn’t until you ended up back at that bar that things changed. You were only 2 drinks in. You sat in a booth with Daryl. Head on his shoulder and hands intertwined under the table. You pulled away getting up, “I’m going to get another drink and you a beer. Then I’ll wipe your ass in a game of pool!” Daryl chuckled, “Let’s hope you can hit the ball with your cue this time.” You stuck out your tongue at him while walking to the bar. You had only been waiting for your drinks when a man slide up next to you.

“Whats a pretty thing like you doing with a Dixon? He blackmailing you?” The man held a sleazy smirk. You only look at him with disgust ignoring him. It was when he put his hand to your arm pulling you closer did you talk to him, “Hey back off!” The man’s grip tightened, “What you a hooker or something? Only way a Dixon could get some pipe is by paying for a slut.” You had yanked your arm from him, you falling back a little before landing against someone behind you. A arm rapping around you, you recognized it instantly, Daryl. His voice growling and rumbling against you, “Back off my girl.”

The man who was bothering you only rolled his eyes, “Maybe keep your slut on a leash-“ You had felt Daryl lean forward behind you before you even saw him sock the guy in the face. You had gasped and turned to push Daryl back from the guy. He stumbled and held his nose. You whispered to Daryl, “Ok it’s time to go…” You tried to push him closer to the door but the jackass decided to spit out another comment, “Ya let your bitch drag you away pussy!” You felt Daryl lean forward and resisted you leading him backwards but you spoke softly up to him, “Please…” His eyes briefly met yours. He looked back up to the guy who was probably drunk but, Daryl’s blood was boiling with rage. He relented at your plea and walked out the exit.

He was quiet as he walked back to the truck. Walking a little faster ahead of you. When he got into the drivers seat you had said his name but he wasn’t listening. He put the key in the ignition, turning it on but your hand rested onto his arm and you said his name again, “Daryl…”. He slumped a little and turned the car back off. He slowly turned to look at you. You scooted closer into him. You closed your hands around his face so he would look at you. You gave a small smile, “Thank you.” You gave him a quick peck before leaning back to look at him.

He signed and placed his forehead to yours talking a moment. He thought maybe he was gonna scary you off at the out burst. He whispered, “Hope I didn’t scare ya.” You chuckled shaking your head, “They opposite really. I was scared of that guy and then you came and I felt ok again.” He inhaled a breath before I closing his arms around you. He pulled you into him more and you rapped an arm around his back. You sat there for a moment before you spoke, “Soooo, Your girl huh?”

Daryl froze in place. Didn’t even register he said it in the moment. He pulled back from you, mouth agape, stuttering before he gave up at trying to say anything. You placed a hand into his hair playing with a strand of hair, “I’m your girl?” You had almost whispered it. Daryl cleared his throat, “Will you be?” You let out a breathy sigh,

“Yeah, thought you’d never ask.”

That is when you officially started dating. Sat in the truck, in the parking lot, making out for a good 10 minutes.

You were enjoying the new found established relationship. Over the next week was filled with your Aunt seeing you cuddle on the couch watching a movie. You had even managed to give him a small haircut in his bathroom, “Hmm, I think you would look good with long hair.” Sometime you would find yourself in Daryl’s room laying on his bed just talking when Merle was away.

Speaking of Merle he had later found out when at the bar that his baby brother started a fight over his girlfriend. He had thought nothing of it until he asked his brother if it was true. When it was confirmed he laid hurtful comments at him. ‘No one can love someone like us!’ ‘Like you really?’ It was a definite damage to his ego. But some of the things he said about you rubbed him the wrong way. It made him defensive, ‘She a good lay?’ ‘got you pussy whipped.’ They had yet to even cross that line.

You know understood why Daryl had not wanted you to met his brother at first. He made rude and sexually comments to you. Often either being sexist or racist any time near him. You mostly tried to say clear of him.

Then there came the drama that followed from your parents. Apparently your Aunt let it slip to your brother you were with her. He told your parents and now here you were getting a call from her shop. You picked up the business phone and before you could even spit out your prepared greeting you heard your father’s voice boom over the phone. “Now you listen to me little lady you’re coming back home!” You pause shocked. “Your little tantrum is done and you will do as you’re told!” You could hear your mother in the back telling him to calm down. You to in a breath and replied calmly, “Dad, I will do no such thing.”

He was yelling more. You had caught something about a wedding date and some name before your mother took the phone from him. “Honey, you need to come back home ok?” You really couldn’t understand why, “No Mama I like it here.” She went to go on, “We are just doing what we think is best for you. We just want you to be happy with a husband.” You had enough snapping at them for the first time, “You want what’s best for you. If you wanted me happy you would have listened to me! I’ll have you know with the time I’ve been gone I finally feel free. I even got a boyfriend!”

Your mother gasped, “In the town you’re in! What redneck white trash could you possibly find out there!” You were surprised at the way your mother spoke. But you were also mad at it. You angrily replied, “His name is Daryl Dixon! Fuck you! Never call me again!” You hung up seething. You had closed the shop a little early.

After the call from your parents you walked to the bar. The bartender seemed surprised seeing you without Daryl before asking, “Your usual?” You nodded with an appreciative smile. While waiting for the drink you noticed Daryl’s brother with a few other people. You ignored him deciding you would have the one drink and go home, not really in the mood to deal with Merle.

You had just finished your drink when you heard a commotion behind you. Merle and another were arguing. It was getting really heated. You had stood about ready to leave when the other guy threatened Merle, “I’ll kill you for this!” When you had turned Merle was smug looking and unaware of the knife being pulled from behind the man’s pants. You had yelled, “Merle!” In a panic you lobbed your glass at the man. It shattered over his head sending him to crumple to the side on a table. The knife slipping from his hand and landing in front of him. Merle looked down at the knife before looking up to where the glass came from, spotting you. You were shocked with your mouth open looking at the man holding his head in pain, before looking back to Merle. The few other men that were sitting with them getting up displeased.

Merle realizing he was out numbered started to run toward you. He had grabbed you by the arm and dragged you with him to the exit. The bartender yelled as you got dragged away. “Hey!” You had yelled back before the door closed, “Sorry Lawrence I’ll pay you back later!” Merle was still dragging you along to his motorcycle. The door had swung open and the angry men started to pursue you both. Merle had yelled at you when you pause to look at the door, “Get the fuck on!”

You had hopped over the seat and sat behind him. Not having a moment to hold on before he started to speed off. It wasn’t until he pulled into his driveway that you started telling him off.

Daryl had heard Merle’s motorcycle pull in but he wasn’t expecting to hear you yelling right after it. “Goddamn I’m already having a shit day!” When he walked out the front door to see you telling Merle off as he just sat there on his bike silently taking it. He had never seen his brother not throwing words back at someone. “Are you an idiot!” Not even that got a reaction from him. Daryl knew that would normally get replied by violence. It wasn’t until he spoke did you turn at his voice, “The hell is goin on?” Your anger soon crumpled into tears, you were overwhelmed and maybe a bit scared still body pumping with adrenaline. Daryl almost got whiplash at the sudden mood shift.

That didn’t stop him from hugging you as you started to cry. He shot a look to his brother who still sat on his bike. Merle looking weirded out at the sudden tears. "The hell you do ta her?!” Merle rubbed the back of his neck, "May have got into a bit of a fight at the bar with some folks. She kinda stopped me from being stabbed." He had felt you shaking in his grasp now. He knew you hated conflict, told him about the pit that would form in your stomach. But you stopping Merle from being stabbed? "How she do that?" Merle chuckled, "Threw her glass across the room! Knocked him clean on his sorry ass." He seemed almost impressed by you.

Daryl started leading you back toward your home. Daryl turning to yell back to his brother, "Whatever man piss off." He had gotten you into your house before you spoke, "My Aunt went on her Cabo trip with her book club friends. She'll be gone a week... stay?" He gulped, "If ya really want me to." You nodded, "I don't wanna be alone." He saw you were scared.

He lay next to you in your bed after you calmed down and ate dinner. "Want to talk bout it?" You moved closer to him leading him to put a arm over you. You sighed into him, "I was at the bar because I had a rough conversation with my parents. Somethings were said. Their the reason I moved here, to get away from. I saw Merle and then the knife- then all those men chased us." Your hand rose to pinch the bridge of your nose, "Just been a- a shit day." You move to look up to Daryl's blue eyes a smirk rising to your lips at the worried and tight look he was giving you. He relax a little at your attention. He dragged a hand up your arm to your face, "Merle seems to think your a badass now." He himself was a little proud to hear what you did. You grunted into his chest, "He'd better. Saved his dumbass."

You were talking for a while after that. Seeing the clock blinking 1am now. You were sleepy but enjoyed talking to him to much to fall asleep. Sleep was pulling at your eyes and a question that should have been a inside thought slipped out, "Why haven't we had sex yet?" Daryl was a little taken back but not to shocked at the question, he hummed, "Honestly not a clue, I like you to much to mess anything up." Maybe the tired feeling was making his lips a little loose to. He paused before continued, "I've only had meaningless sex. Nothing with feeling behind it." He smirked down to your hazy eyes, "Why? You tryin to get in my pants?" You chuckled adding a little shrug, "Perhaps. Take me out to dinner and we'll see how the night goes from there." That made Daryl's heart beat a little harder. Of course he has thought about it before just didn't know how to act on it with you. He held you a little tighter to him, goofy smile to his face, "Yes Ma'am."

Take you out to dinner he did. Nothing to fancy but by the end of that night you offered him to follow you inside. You were laughing while bumping backwards into things as you both kissed. You stripping buttons down his shirt when he paused face looking uncomfortable. You stopped at the look. He sighed squeezing his eyes tight. Reminding himself it was you. "Uh sorry, just forgot to mention- just look fer yourself..." You softly pulled the shirt down off of him. Revealing scars along his body.

You dragged a finger along one. You look up at him with round eyes. He looked away before saying, “M’ Daddy was a drunk.” You intake air and release it at the information. You leaned down and kissed the scar you touched. Everything turned slow from that point, more sensual. He rolled into you at a pace he never had before. He was used to chasing a feeling, getting it over with. But every time he would push into you he couldn’t help but love the groans you made. You sure loved the noises subconsciously coming out of him as well. You would move up into him. The slow motion had sent you crazy. Leading you to claw at him begging for more. He didn’t go faster but harder.

Your moans filled your bedroom. Daryl was sucking on your neck while rutting into you. He was huffing out air and grunting in exertion. The tight clench he felt around him damn near knocked the wind out of him. He had pulled out and rested his head on your chest while trying to catch his breath. You dug your hands into the back of his hair.

That night lead to many more like it. Which is what lead you to the current situation going on. You were in the bathroom staring at a positive pregnancy test. Not just one but three. You sat on the floor contemplating, 'How did this happen?' 'Do I keep it?' 'How do I tell Daryl?' You and Daryl had been only officially dating for 3 and a half months now. The first test had you in denial, the second had you begging. The third had you close to acceptance. At least you weren't ugly crying anymore. Before anything you needed to tell Daryl. So you called him over saying it was urgent.

He opened the front door and jogged to your room seeing you crisscross on the bed looking distraught. He kneeled down at the front of your bed looking up at you. You took in a nervous breath before talking, "If you need a moment after I tell you this, its okay, I wont be mad." Daryl's heart dropped to his ass, 'were you about to end stuff between them?'

"I'm pregnant."

His eyes slowly widened and he looked down to your stomach then back to you. He abruptly stood up then paused again. His mind moving a mile a minute but also not at all. The one thing to click was "A father? ME?' He slowly walked out the room. You sat there with tears burning in your eyes watching him leave the room. He paced back and forth hand running into his hair. The fight or flight in him was telling him to run, he was overwhelmed. Then he heard a small sniffle come from the room he had just come from. That stopped him in his tracks. He thinks he loves you. You both hadn't gotten to saying it out loud to each other. He didn't know what love felt like but this was what he imagined it to be. He hated to see you cry. Made him feel like maybe he would to if he didn't fix your tears. When he heard you he slowly made his way back into the room. Realizing you were most likely as terrifies as him, more so even.

You felt his arms around you making you cry harder. You had run the possibility of him leaving in your mind. Fully aware of his lack of a good father in his life. When you pulled away to look at him he also had tears going down his face. It was the first you have seen him cry. You had now put your arms around his middle and pulled him down to now lay on top of you. You had a tight hold on him and he you. You both calmed down and you knew he wasn't leaving, then he also whispered into you, "I've got ya. Both of ya."

It was rough that first day. It didn't feel real. You told Daryl how you were going to make a appointment in the morning. You asked if he was wanting to go with. He had slowly nodded deep in thought. You had said they could talk about everything in time.

You both had time.

You had an appointment in a week, the receptionist suggesting you go and buy prenatal vitamins before then. You also broke the news to your Aunt, she was supportive. Saying she would love to help with anything you needed. You and her walked a few blocks to a small store connected to a pharmacy. You looked to the shelves of pills. You held two big bottles, different brands, of prenatal vitamins. The sound of screaming alerting you to a disturbance in the store. You turn to your Aunt with a questioning look. You both peaked around the aisle spotting someone on top of the other, a fight perhaps?

Gun shots to your left making you jump. You turned seeing a man backing down the aisle beside you shooting rounds into a woman approaching him. You witnessed the women not even flinch to each shot. Your Aunt pulled you by the shoulder backwards down the lane. Another person who was pale with foggy eyes rounded the corner. It grabbed your Aunt and before you could blink took a bit out of her neck. You watch in horror as she dropped to the ground with that person on top of her. Blood from her throat being ripped out had splattered across your face. You screamed terrified. The lady the man had been shooting at now turned the corner from the aisle they were in. Now she was covered in blood though. You look down to your Aunt who had stopped moving. The thing taking notice of you. So you ran.

You had just seen your Aunt being brutally murdered. You ran out the door of the building pill bottle still in hand. You saw people running, cars crashing. Others getting hit by cars. It was a nightmare but you felt like you need to keep moving. You ran down the road back to your house. Dodging anyone covered in blood.

Daryl had kicked the door open to your house. Merle was packing stuff into the truck across the road. He screamed your name looking for you anywhere. When he couldn’t find you he ran back to the car, “I can’t find her!” Merle rolled his eyes, “Forget about her! She probably died someone where let’s get are asses out of here!” Daryl yelled back at him with rage. “THE IS NO WAY IN HELL IM GOING ANYWHERE WITHOUT HER!” The yell had shocked Merle. Daryl had never talk to him like that. “We can find you a new lady we gotta go!” Then Daryl did something more unexpected. He shoved Merle back. He had hit the side door of the truck, Merle was about to hit him when he yelled, “She’s pregnant man!”

Daryl had a panicked and pained expression on his face. He started to stuttered out, “I-I gotta go look—“ The sound of his name being yelled from a distance made him turn in the direction. He was relieved to see you running full speed toward him. His relief flooded by panic at the sight of blood painted across your face and cloths. He ran the rest of the way to you. Crashing into each other in an embrace. You struggled to regain breath after how long you were running. Daryl had held your face seeing were the blood came from. Tears forming in your eyes, “It’s not mine…” Merle’s voice cutting in, “Come on love birds we gotta go now!”

Daryl lead you to the car opening the door and making you jump in, “Stay here I’m going to get some of your stuff.” He ran off back to your house and Merle started tightening the cables to the bike in the back. He sat down in the driver seat and looked over to you. You had two pill bottles on your lap and you stared at your hands shaking. He then noticed all the blood on you and decided to keep his mouth shut. Daryl ran back throwing a duffel bag in the back before going to the passenger side. You sat in the middle still a little stunned. Like a bird who flew into glass.

Daryl’s arm went behind your head resting on your shoulders. You leaned into him. Merle had started to peel out of the space driving off into a direction. You heard little of the talk between them. Choosing a quarry they know to get away from the towns and head into the woods.

All you knew was the world was changing.

Part 2

Feedback welcomed and requests open!

Sorry for mistakes I to eepy its 2 am. I'm dyslexic and struggle with it and normally reread 10 times to fix mistakes but this is so long I wanna go to bed.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl imagines #daryl x female reader #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl #norman reedus #angst #fluff #smut

[the-traveling-poet]

hi Lynn!! I’ve been binge reading your profile and let me tell you, I love your reading. May I request some Levi x reader fluff where they're married n have a 3 y/o daughter named kutchel. Levi's wife is 8 months along with their 2nd kid. They're all excited n kutchel just wants to play. Kutchel tries to drag reader along to play but reader is very exhausted n cant keep up w kutchel but still tries to hide her exhaustion n make her happy. Levi comes back from the tea shop or something after work, and it’s worried his wife will overexert herself n tries to make both his girls happy? Thank youu ❤️ (Post-war, canon Au)

Family

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It seems three years was all the time it took for you and your husband to fully embrace your new lives together.

After the war, you were finally able to just focus on the two of you rather than possible impending dooms around every corner. And you couldn’t have been more grateful for the break. Engagement, marriage, conception and childbirth were all things you never imagined you’d have the luxury to experience with Levi, but after finding out you were pregnant with your second child, the reality of it all became oh so sweeter.

But eight months into the second journey, you learn that sometimes you do still need some help from your lover. And Levi is happy to provide.

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Pairing: Husband/Father!Levi x Wife/Mother!Reader

Warnings: Post-war, pregnancy, parenting stress

taglist: @21aurora @deepzombieyouth @braunsbabe

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A/N: Absolutely anon! I hope I did this justice for ya, I don’t have kids of my own so I hope I got this right! Sorry for the wait, work got in the way.

As always if anything written doesn’t fit your preferences, I’ll happily rewrite!

Enjoy~

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“Mama!”

The drawn out cry made you sigh. Not in annoyance. Never, in annoyance. Rather, it was a sigh of your ever growing fatigue. Staggering to your feet, you stood from the couch with a labored breath and turned to face your daughter with a careful smile.

“Yes, Kuchel?” You asked softly. No matter how tired you became, nor how round your belly grew, you’d always have the energy to tend to your daughter’s ever growing list of demands.

Kuchel raced about the living room, giggling happily as she babbled on about something or another that had prompted her to gain your attention. You couldn’t help but wearily smile; just where did she get all this energy from? And where could you find some?

With a hand in your belly to support the weight, you grunted as you crouched down to your knees to catch your daughter as she raced closer to you than the child suspected she had. With a shrill cry that stung your ears, she flopped around haphazardly in your arms once you nabbed her.

“Wanna go see papa!” Kuchel cried out in a mixture of laughter and whining. Heaving a sigh, you prepared yourself to remind her, once again, that her father away still away at work.

“Honey, daddy’s still at the tea shop. He should be back in only an hour!” You cheered her on, hoping your joyous tone would distract her from the fact her perception of time was all but nonexistent.

“An hour?!” she pouted, shooting you a look from under her unruly black curls. Silver eyes pouted up at you from your lap, making you smile at the resemblance that mirrored her father’s.

“I know baby, I know. We just have to be patient, yeah? When daddy gets home, you can greet him at the door. But no jumping, you hear? We can’t have you straining daddy’s leg again.” You reminded her, sternly but still lovingly.

Kuchel pouted in your lap, then hastily stood.

“But…If I can’t climb daddy, why he so tall?”

Her question left you speechless. Oh, the odd question from a child who could only string together simple sentences.

“You can climb daddy when he’s sat down. Otherwise, you’ll tip over his cane and strain his knee. You don’t want daddy to hurt, do you?”

Immediately Kuchel’s face sobered in expression, her eyes wide and plump lips parted.

“No! Not hurt daddy,” she scoffed, so much like the way her father did.

I guess more than physical traits are genetic, you thought with a sigh. Struggling over your very much pregnant belly, you managed to stand yourself back up. Watching your energetic three year old bounce excitedly across the room, and glancing down at your swollen abdomen, you really couldn’t find any room to complain.

“I miss daddy too,” you interrupted her ranting, “But he’ll be home soon enough. Now,”

Walking over to your kitchen, you pulled a knife out of your cutlery draw and picked an apple from a woven basket sat atop the counter.

Re-locking the drawer, (you can’t trust young children to not open any door or cabinet they can reach) you picked up a plate and began to cut.

“How about you enjoy a nice snack before dinner while you wait for daddy, and I’ll take a rest on the couch with you?”

“But you just got off the couch, and it’s daytime!” Kuchel pouted, the pitter patter of her bare feet sounding off the tiled floor as she waddled her way into the kitchen to watch.

“I know honey, I know.” Sighing, your subconsciously placed a hand over your belly, feeling the baby within gently press against your touch.

“Growing a baby makes mommy tired. It takes a lot of energy, even if I’m not moving.”

Kuchel stared on in silence, her bright eyes staring at your enlarged belly deep in thought. After a moment, she shrugged.

“That’s weird. Why did you grow one of it makes you sleepy?”

“Well, both your father and I wanted another baby. You’ll be a big sister, yknow that?” You hummed over your shoulder as you finished peeling the apple and handing her the plate.

“I guess so,” Kuchen mumbled as she bit into an apple slice. Seeing she was satisfied, you slowly made your way over to the couch to lie back down. After a moment, you felt your daughter struggle to climb up onto the furniture to join you. With a sleepy smile, you ruffled her hair and closed your eyes.

“Wanna go outside and play pretend?” Kuchel suddenly asked, disrupting the peaceful silence around you.

Heaving a sigh, you gave her a tired smile over your shoulder.

Please, Levi. Get home soon…

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A single click of the lock on his front door made any tension leave Levi’s shoulders. Finally, he was home.

Since he was a young teenager, he’d always dreamed of the day he could open up his own shop and run a peaceful business. And sure, he very much enjoyed his craft for brewing and steeping various drinks for anyone who stepped foot through door of his small shop.

But at the end of the day, there was nothing he enjoyed more than returning home to his small family. Listening to his daughter’s excited squeals as she tried to climb him like a tree in the threshold, seeing his wife’s radiant, and relieved, smile ever present on her face when they reunited in the safety of their home.

Though he dreaded leaving them for this sole reason, it made coming home every day so much more sweeter.

Heaving a sigh, Levi twisted the door knob open and stepped into their home.

The silence that met him immediately concerned him. Looking around, he saw no trace of his child or lover. Tensing up, he looked for any sign of their whereabouts.

There’s no way in hell Y/N convinced Kuchel to nap. That kid doesn’t sleep.

Shuffling his way further inside, he leaned on his cane to remove his shoes as he peered around corners. Just when he started to let panic take over, a jarring bang sounded from the kitchen.

Limping along as fast as he could, he tried his best to keep the panic from taking over. But the moment he rounded the last corner, all traces of worry faded away. Though slightly miffed, Levi couldn’t help but smirk to himself ever so slightly.

Sat in the middle of the kitchen floor and covered in both dirt and flour sat his child. He watched her tracing patterns in the mess on the floor, babbling to herself for every shape she drew. Levi cleared his through after a moment, trying his hardest to appear stern.

But he never could with his little girl.

Kuchel whipped her head around with a gasp, eyes widening at being caught. But soon enough a shrill giggle bubbled out of her throat and echoed off the walls.

“Daddy!” Kuchel cried out, slipping to her feet to tackle him in a hug. Biting back a grimace, Levi put an arm around her shoulder and peered down at her.

“What are you doing, Kuchel?” He asked in an even tone.

“Playing!” She replied innocently, blinking white powder from her eyelashes. Biting back a sigh, Levi picked her up and positioned her on his hip.

“Where’s mommy?” He asked her, brushed some dirt from her nose.

“Sleeping, again,” his daughter pouted, playing with the buttons in his coat.

“You probably tired her out, brat. Come on, we’ll get you a bath then clean this mess up.” Levi mused, unable to keep up his ‘stern father’ facade. Setting her back down he let her tug at his hand as she led the way to the bathroom, babbling and giggling all the way. They passed through the living room, seeing you slumped on the couch.

Ruffled hair, mismatched clothes, large belly poking out from under your tee shirt, lips parted and slightly chapped; Levi could only chuckle to himself as he continued on through the room.

“You know, mommy does a lot for you. For us,” Levi spoke quietly to his daughter.

“And look how pretty she looks while doing it.”

“Prettyyy,” Kuchel whispered in agreement, smiling up towards her father.

With an approving nod, they continued on.

“Now go on, get. Grab a change of clothes while I start the bath.”

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Hearing muffled giggles and low voices, you squinted your eyes open in confusion. It wasn’t but five minuets ago your daughter was bouncing on your legs, begging to go outside and play, wasn’t it? Yet looking out the window settled into the far wall you saw the last rays of the sun poking through emerald colored leaves from your front yard. Groaning, you sat yourself up and instinctively checked your belly with a soft touch. Feeling the baby stir ever so slightly, you smiled in relief.

Another loud giggle interrupted your train of thought, bringing you back to the present. Furrowing your brows, you could only imagine what Kuchel had found to occupy herself with while waiting on you to awaken and for Levi to return.

Levi…

Staggering through the living room, you peered into the kitchen to see just what the young girl was up to.

Stood in the center of the room was your daughter; a white cloth tied loosely around the bottom half of her face and a broom in her tiny hand. In front of her stood Levi; a cloth to match her’s adorning his face as he held a dust pan.

“Come on brat, it’s not that hard. I hold the pan, you brush the dirt and flour into the pan. We’ve been over this.”

“This isn’t play!” Kuchel whined, stomping her tiny foot.

“Sure it is. We’re playing cleaning; it’s the best game.”

“No it’s not!”

An unbidden chuckle escaped you, but the hand covering your mouth did nothing to muffle the noise. Both heads of raven hair shot up to stare at you in surprise as they let their cleaning supplies fall to their sides.

“Mommy!”

“Babe?”

Not knowing who to focus on first, you decided on both at the same time. Staggering forward, you ruffled Kuchel’s hair as you placed a soft kiss on Levi’s cheek.

His eyes softened significantly as he draped an arm over your shoulders and pulled you into his chest. Holding him tightly, you draped one of your arms over his shoulder while the other rested on Kuchel’s head. Giving them a playful glare, you looked over the half cleaned mess on the floor.

“Now just what is all this?” You questioned in mock demand. Neither of the two would meet your eye for a moment as you looked them over. Grunting something incoherent under his breath, Levi stopped down to pick up your daughter and hold her against the both of you.

“We’re playing cleaning,” Levi explained quickly, much to Kuchel’s dismay.

“No! It’s not play, it’s chores. Daddy tricked me!”

“I wouldn’t have had to if you hadn’t made this mess in the first place.” Levi scoffed, shooting her a betrayed look.

“But I want to play outside,” Kuchel pouted. Smiling softly to yourself, you glanced up at Levi with a raised brow.

“Honey, would you mind playing with Kuchel outside for a little bit? The mess can wait; I’m exhausted and she hasn’t slowed down once today.”

Thought you thought he might pause and think up a protest, Levi didn’t. With a soft peck to your lips, his eyes lit up with a smile he so seldomly showed.

“Of course darling. Go back to resting. Kuchel and I will be out in the yard if you need anything.”

Giving him a grateful smile, you stepped back to let Kuchel fall to her feet with an excited giggle.

As she raced to put on her shoes, Levi took a step closer to you and placed a careful hand onto your belly. You both chuckled upon feeling a tiny kick against his palm.

“Missed you,” Levi whispered, leaning in to capture your lips in a longer kiss. After a passionate moment, you broke away and smiled thankfully up at him.

“I missed you too. Come join me once you’ve tired out Kuchel?”

“Give me ten minuets,” Levi mumbled against your lips before pulling back with a small smirk, seemingly already having forgotten about the messy kitchen.

As you watched them exit the house, you couldn’t help but to chuckle to yourself where you stood leaning against the wall.

Lord, what had you done to deserve them?

#lynn’s requests #lynn’s oneshots #attack on titan #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #aot fluff #aot x reader #snk #aot #aot x y/n #aot x you #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x you #father levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fluff #father levi #aot levi #shingeki no kyoujin levi #attack on titan levi #levi x reader #levi aot #snk levi #levi attack on titan #captain levi #levi x you #levi x y/n

[jksprincess10]

Fix it part II

Summary: Din Djarin promised to break more things to bring them to you. After many moons, he comes back - with another woman, and Grogu. You're furious with him, but your patience is eventually rewarded. (3700 words)

CW: two idiots in love, Din is a dumbass, Bo Ka-Tan is kind of mean, fast paced romance, angst, fluff, reader has a nickname related to her work (fix), jealousy, canon divergent, unprotected p in v, oral (f & m), come eating, tummy bulge I guess, fingering, pet names in mando'a, praise kink, squirting, marriage.

Catch up on part 1 here.

Divider by @saradika-graphics

“I will keep breaking things and bringing them to you.”

That’s what he said. Many moons ago. You kept hoping, counting the days since he last came. You knew he was gone to get his redemption. Maybe he had run into some trouble… Or maybe he had found another woman, more worthy of being his wife, elsewhere.

So, you occupied your days. You fixed an old ship that a past costumer left as payment, hoping to make it fly some day. Hoping to go through the galaxy to find Din Djarin. Maybe hope was futile. And maybe you were a hopeless romantic. But you thought he truly liked you.

You were stuck in your daydreaming when the bell announced someone coming into your workshop. You had expanded it since the last time, business was booming, and you could now park a full ship in it. You came out from under the ship you were fixing up, your exposed skin dirtied by grease and various substances. You wiped your soiled hands on your apron, leaving a trace of grease on it, before looking up to see who had come by. There was a woman with short red hair and a square jaw. She wore Mandalorian armor.

The woman gave you a disgusted look and you were going to greet her rudely when you heard the familiar heavy steps of your Mandalorian. Your chest tightened. Was this his new woman?

“Fix, I hope we’re not bothering you.” He said as he looked around. “I see you extended your workshop. It’s nice.”

There was a third person, little steps behind him, and you looked down to see Grogu. You gave him a smile and approached Mando, totally ignoring the woman with him.

“Always have time for my favorite client.” You looked up at him, clearly remembering the pretty brown eyes and the beautiful face under the helmet.

The red-headed woman sighed loudly. “If you’re done flirting, I need you to fix my jetpack. Can you do it?”

“Of course, she can.” Cut Din. “You can, right?” He added quietly.

“I’m rebuilding this whole ship, so I don’t think a jetpack is a tall order for me.” You took the object from the woman’s hands, a bit roughly. “Do you have anything to pay, ma’am?” You asked through gritted teeth.

She handed you a small bag of credits, that you grabbed.

“This will do. Now, I don’t really like having strangers around when I work.”

“Lady Kryze, why don’t you watch the ship for me?” Din asked, and you’re thankful that he did.

“Of course. Please don’t take too long.” With that, she was gone, and you finally felt like you could breathe again.

You dropped the jetpack on your worktable while Grogu stood curiously next to you. You took the little creature in your arms and put him on a stool next to you, so he could watch.

“You seem tense.” Noticed Din in an awkward tone.

“I guess I just didn’t expect you to come by after many moons with another woman.” You said as you opened the jetpack. You noticed that a few parts were burnt. You turned around to look at Din.

“It’s not what you think.” The Mandalorian rushed to say, gloved hands up in the air as defense.

“Yeah, so what is it then, Din?” You asked, your fists against your hips to restrain yourself from punching him.

“Just a friend, whom I’m helping. And who helped me redeem myself.”

“Ah, so it is done, then. I’m glad I had news from you.” You responded sarcastically.

Grogu let out a worried coo, like he was witnessing his parents fighting.

“Listen, it’s not that I didn’t want to…”

You turned around abruptly to examine the parts you would need, purposefully ignoring Din. Nothing you had on hand. “I can’t fix it right now, I’m afraid I will need some replacement parts.” You changed the subject.

“Tell me what you need, and I’ll get it for you.”

“Yeah, and you’ll come back after how many cycles, Din? How long will I have to wait for you?” You hated that your voice cracked when you were upset. You heard him come closer, and you felt his gloved hands on your shoulders. The leather felt heavy against the soft fabric of your work clothes.

The Mandalorian hated seeing you heartbroken because of him. He didn’t know what to say and wasn’t good at all with feelings. He just knew he should have stayed with you.

You felt your body fall in his embrace, his arms tightening around your shoulders to keep you close. You felt the heaviness of his helmet resting against your shoulder.

“I’m sorry, mesh’la. Please, come with us. I promise I won’t leave you anymore.” The modulated voice was shaky.

You turned around in his embrace and pressed your palms against the lines of his helmet where his cheeks would be. You could almost see his eyes. Well, you imagined them.

“I’ll come with you and fix your friend’s jetpack and then what…?”

“Then, we will do whatever you want.”

“I thought you wanted to reclaim Mandalore…” The rough pad of his gloved fingers wiped the tears away from your eyes. You almost forgot Grogu’s presence, until he made a sound that you could only attribute to sadness.

“I can’t do it if that means staying away from you and breaking your heart.”

You were going to respond when you heard the bell from the door. You stepped away from Mando and you observed the woman in Mandalorian armor, visibly impatient.

“So, can you fix it?” She asked in an annoyed tone.

“I’m afraid I’m missing some pieces. I have a contact on Tatooine who deals with a lot of recycled Mandalorian armor parts. He comes by once every cycle maybe… but it would be faster for me to get to him. He will be able to help us.”

“Fine, get your things and let’s go.”

You didn’t like being bossed around, but you stayed silent. They waited for you outside with the child as you gathered the essentials for a short trip, and you changed out of your dirty work clothes. You put your pack on your shoulders and went outside to follow Din and the woman.

The silence in the ship was heavy and awkward. So much so that you disappeared in the back of the ship to play with the baby. The woman – Bo Ka-tan – made you feel uneasy and unwelcomed. You wished you were only with Din in this moment.

“Are you hungry, mesh’la?”

You lifted your chin to admire your Mandalorian standing over you, his towering and intimidating stature turning you on more than anything. Maker, if you two were alone in that exact moment…

“Not really. I think I’ll just rest, but I can feed Grogu if you need me to.”

“I’ll take care of him.”

“Where… do I sleep?”

“Take my cot.  We have two. I won’t go to sleep in a while.”

You nodded and you gave Grogu back to Din, who soothed him delicately in his arms. Din leaned down and bumped his head slightly against yours, which you could only interpret as a kiss.

The cot was a tight space and once the door of the minuscule room was shut, it was plunged in deep darkness, which made it easy for you to fall asleep. You woke up only when you heard the door slide open and felt the weight of a body next to yours.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up, sorry.” Apologized Din when he heard you moving around.

“S’okay.” You slurred, half asleep.

It was so dark; you couldn’t even see his silhouette. You could just feel it. Your hands felt around the minuscule bed until you found the strong shape of his body. Instead of being met with cold beskar, your fingers felt the warmth of his skin. You traced his bicep until you found his neck, then his cheek. It was still scruffy, like you remembered, his unkept beard still on his chin and lower cheeks. You heard him chuckle slightly as he threw an arm around you to bring you close.

“You’re trying to rediscover my body, mesh’la?”

“Yes. I missed it. I missed you.”

“I promise we’ll get married, and you’ll be able to see my face every day.”

“You make a lot of promises.” You whispered back, before bringing his face closer to yours. Your noses bumped together, and you finally found his lips. You abandoned yourself fully to the mercy of his mouth, letting him guide you in softness and lustfulness. “Please don’t tell me you’ll marry me only because you like having sex with me.” You said playfully against his lips.

“I genuinely love you, mesh’la. Don’t want to stay away from you anymore.”  And you believed him.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum (I love you).”

“You’re learning mando’a? We’ll work on your pronunciation.”

“Well, I had to occupy myself in one way.” You rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see you.

“You’re so special, Fix.”

You rolled over so your body was on him, your thighs straddling his waist. You already felt his arousal through the thin layers of fabric you both wore. You rolled your hips slightly against him. You heard him sigh, and you could imagine him lips parted, head relaxed against the hard pillow.

“What do you want, Din?”

“Whatever you think I deserve after leaving you for so long.”

“Be careful what you wish for.” You whispered as you lowered your upper body so you could kiss his jaw with rough hair growing there, his strong jaw, his thick neck. You sucked lightly on the skin there, imagining red staining the gold of his skin.  His hands held your lower back, and you heard him sigh again. You missed how vocal Din was when you were alone, but it would be for another time. Your lips traced his chest, following an invisible line until you met with his groin. You used both of your hands to take off his underwear. Your fingers wrapped around his girth, lowering his foreskin so you could kitten-lick his leaking tip. You heard him whimper softly, and you took this as an encouragement as you closed your lips around the head, hollowing your cheeks to put more pressure and suction. When you got tired of teasing, you lowered your head, taking more of his cock in your mouth, until your own hand stopped you. Your hand wrapped at the bottom of his girth slid up and down as you sucked the rest in your mouth.

“Kriff… you’re so good at this.”

You sucked a few times, before taking him out of your mouth, licking his length before you said. “I know.”

 His hands closed around your jaw so he could pull you up and kiss you. You undressed yourself, barely breaking the kiss. Din switched your positions, his large body a shadow in your vision. Din’s lips latched onto every parcel of skin he could find, until they wrapped around one of your nipples, making it hard as he popped it out of his mouth. He gave your other one a similar treatment as you writhed under him, keeping your mouth closed to keep any sound from coming out.

“You’ll have to be very quiet.”

“I know.”

You felt his fingers spreading your lower lips, as he used the tip of his tongue to find your clit. You bit your lip as you squirmed under him. You were so wet, it was ridiculous. But after all those nights of touching yourself and thinking about him, he was finally yours again. As he sucked on your small bud of pleasure, one of his thick digits entered your slicked walls.

“You’re so wet, I could just put all of my fingers in.”

You let out a noise between a moan and a struggled squeal.

“You’d like that?” He whispered, hot air hitting your wet core.

“Stars, Din, get to it. I want you inside. Please.”

Din chuckled darkly as he entered a second finger. He started moving them at a fast pace he knew would make you see stars. You were trying to be quiet, but the tiny room was filled with your obscene wet sounds already. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding on to him as you felt your orgasm hit you.

“Please. Please fuck me, Din.” You asked desperately.

His fingers left you empty, and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he entered your walls slowly, stretching you deliciously.

“You’re so tight, mesh’la.”

Your feet pushed against him so he could enter you deeper and deeper. Once entered to the hilt, he started snapping his hips back and forth, setting a slow, but powerful pace. You hid your head in his neck, letting your moans echo against his warm skin.

“Faster, please.”

His upper body left you, and you felt him grab your thighs to secure you as he fucked you harder, using you like you were his personal sex toy. Your upper body was limp, moving in waves with his harsh thrusts. When a moan escaped your lips, he stopped moving.

“Told you to be quiet.”

“I’m sorry Din, please don’t stop…”

You felt him leaving you empty and craving. You wanted to cry. But before any tears rolled down your cheeks, he laid beside you and turned you to the side, one of his strong arms over your body and his palm resting over your mouth. He shushed you, his free hand resting on your hip as he slipped back inside. The angle made him feel somehow even deeper, and you knew he could feel how tightly you were choking his cock. You bit on his palm to muffle a cry, but he did not protest. You could hurt him as much as you wanted in return.

“There. My good girl.” He whispered.

He fucked you deep and slow, the hand on your hip coming down to your mound, two of his thick digits circling your clit as the rest of his giant palm put pressure on your lower stomach. You could almost feel him there, he was so big.

“Give me another one, mesh’la.”

White stars replaced the darkness in your vision as you exploded around him, spasming and trashing as an intense orgasm took over you. It felt like you wanted to pee, and come at the same time. But it felt so good.

“K-Kriff…” Din cursed under his breath. “You’re making a mess.” Drunk on you, he followed closely, erupting between your walls. “Stars, come here.” Before you could protest, the man pulled away and brought your hips close to his face, fingers digging into the meat of your thighs and forcing you to sit on his mouth.

Flustered, you stuttered: “D-Din…”

He licked the mixture of your juices off your sweet pussy, making obscene slurping sounds. His hold on you was so strong, but you tried to pull away. “T-Too much…”

“Sorry.” He let you lay down against his chest, and you pressed your lips against his. He let you taste the potion you both made on his tongue.

Once arrived on the planet with a desertic landscape, you met with your contact, Jafan Typho. A man with a white beard, and kind, wise eyes, who lived in a garage-like house filled to the brim with junk.

You gave him a written list of what you needed as he eyed wearily the two imposing people with you (and the green little thing).

"Who are these... friends?" The man asked.

“I’m her future husband, this is my son, Grogu, and this is Lady Kryze of Mandalore.”

You almost choked on air at Din’s words, and you stared at him. You imagined his amused, teasing grin.

“I see.” Jafan responded. “Stay here while I get what you need.”

Bo Ka-Tan sighed, annoyed. She clearly was excited for this trip to end.

“What is our plan after this?” She asked as an attempt to make a conversation with you and Din.

“We go back to my planet so I can fix your jetpack. I’m thinking it won’t take me more than a day… Then… you’re free to do whatever you want.” You shrugged.

“Then, I will go back to Mandalore with our friends on Nevarro. You’re free to follow, or not.”

Din looked at you expectantly, but you looked away. All that you knew was always on Nevarro. Leaving… would mean leaving a part of your family legacy behind.

“I’ll think about it.” You said with a smile. You felt Din’s gloved hand grab yours, and you enlaced your fingers.

Jafan came back with a few pieces in hands. “There. Will you still be there when I go back to Nevarro, Fix?”

“I… don’t know.” You admitted. You exchanged the parts for a generous pile of credits. “But feel free to come by.”

“Okay.” The old man shook your hand, and you all thanked him silently as you went back to the ship, Grogu waddling behind you.

“You really are doing this backwards.” You let out as you’re crowded in the small space of the ship’s washer with Din.

“What... Do you mean?” He asked, distracted by your hands on his naked, tattooed chest. He put his hands on yours and looked at you with those adorable puppy brown eyes. You could see glimpses of him in the dark, and even though he called himself your future husband, he insisted on keeping the lights closed.

“You haven’t even asked me to marry you officially, and you’re already calling yourself my future husband.”

“Okay, then.” Din rolled his eyes playfully and pulled you closer. “Be my riduur. Please.”

“Finally. Yes.” You squealed and kissed him, long and slow.  “For someone so traditional… one would think that you would do things in order.”

“Maybe I lost my brain somewhere while I traveled.”

“I know where you put your brain.” You kissed his jaw, his throat, as you went down slowly on his body, your hands following the sharp lines of his muscles.

“Yeah?”

Once on your knees, you kissed the tip of his cock with a sly smile.

You wiped the sweat off your brow as you finished fixing the jetpack. You tested a few buttons and satisfied, you brought it to Bo Ka-Tan, who sat silently in your workshop, while Din was away, making arrangements for your union.

“You know I do not care for Din Djarin in that way, right?” She asked after clearing her throat.

“I would not blame you. He’s an attractive man.” You put the jetpack in her hands. She looked at it attentively, it seemed like new.

“I do not think of men that way.”

“…Oh. I apologize for making assumptions.”

“You’re fine. Thank you for the quick repair.”

“You’re welcome.”

You thought you hallucinated when you saw a smile on Bo Ka-Tan’s lips, but you were perfectly sane.

There was a small crowd of Mandalorians in various types of armors amassed in the covert. You were wearing a light dress, and not the conventional attire. Din was in full armor, beskar shining under the low lights. Bo smiled encouragingly at you, as you exchanged vows in Mando’a, repeating after the armorer. Your pronunciation was not perfect, which made you chuckle nervously. But Din held your hand and encouraged you. As he repeated the vows back to you, the deep rumble of his modulated voice gave you shivers.

You laid your head against his helmet in an intimate gesture, even though you couldn’t wait to tear off the helmet from his head.

After a celebration, you brought Din back to the apartment on top of your workshop, thankful of the other mandalorians taking care of Grogu for the night. The sun was almost setting, but you could see his golden skin in the sunlight. It felt even more special now that you were his.

“This couldn’t end any quicker.” You said, breathless, between languorous kisses. You almost tore off each other’s clothes, and you stopped for a few seconds to admire Din’s face in the sunlight after you took off his helmet. “There. My handsome man. I missed your face so much.” You cradled his scruffy jaw between your hands, and you kissed his pouty lips again and again, until he groaned in annoyance and pushed you on your bed.

“You will see this face so much; you’ll grow tired of it.” Your riduur settled between your hips, legs over his broad shoulders as he leaned down to kiss the sensitive skin of your thighs.

“I doubt it.” Your fingers settled in his curls, and you pushed him closer to where you truly wanted him. His nose brushed over your mound, then he spread your lips to gain an easier access, before drowning into you. He lapped and sucked messily at every piece of skin he could access, his head moving to the side as he ate you out with his whole body. “K-Kriff, Din…”

He whispered your name against your wetness, like a quiet prayer, before latching his lips onto your clit, alternating with sucking, and leaving quick licks. “Taste so good, mesh’la…” He said when he came back for air, after diving in again, like a man starved.

Your back arched, your hips bucking uncontrollably against his face as he kept going. His soft, brown eyes were on your face as he watched you coming undone, again and again, until overstimulation. You pulled on his hair and asked him to stop in a tired voice. His lips moved slowly up your body, stopping sometimes to latch onto a parcel of skin or a nipple. 

“Can I make love to you, my riduur?” He asked reverently, and you never wanted him to call you something else again.

“Yes.”

Din slicked his cock with your juices, before diving his tip slowly into your hole.  You held his gaze, wanting to engrave somewhere in your memory this particular moment.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum (I love you).” He said as he bottomed, his hips flush with yours.

You barely had time to respond, before he started thrusting in and out of you at a slow pace, like you both now had the whole time in the universe.

“Where do we go after this?” Din asked as he stilled to look at the remainings of the sunset reflecting on your skin.

“I will follow wherever you go, Din Djarin. So we’re never apart again.”

His fingers laced with yours as he felt happiness so overwhelming he could not bear it. A soft kiss. Another promise. And you would fly wherever he was needed.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x yn #din djarin x you #mandalorian #mandalorian smut #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x yn #mandalorian x y/n #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 33: Discovery

You, Joel and Tommy go on patrol. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-32 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. Torture. Smut :). No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 9.8k

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

February, 2028 

“Bambi, tell your husband to stop being a wuss.” 

“Wuss?” Joel shifted to look around you to his little brother. “Who you callin’ a wuss?” 

“Think I’ll call my brother-in-law a dumbass instead,” you smirked over toward Tommy. “Seems more accurate.” 

“You tellin’ me we shouldn’t be following that path there?” Tommy nodded toward a worn spot in the snow on the other side of the river where the three of you had stopped, sitting astride your horses. “The one that looks like it could’ve been made by a dozen fuckin’ men?”  

“Who knows how old that is,” Joel said. “Been weeks since it snowed. And water’s lookin’ high. Would be real easy to end up cold and wet for no damn reason…” 

“Seem awful scared of winding up cold and wet for someone who’s not a wuss,” Tommy teased. 

“I don’t want my wife,” Joel stressed the word and you smiled a little, tucking your chin into your chest to hide it. “Being cold and wet and getting sick because you’ve got some harebrained idea that we need to run down some track that’s long dead.” 

“Bambi, c’mon,” Tommy said. “You know I’m right, you know the horses can handle it and you know Joel’s just bein’ paranoid because you’re here.” 

Joel wasn’t about to tell Tommy that he was right. At least, not while he was out on his first patrol since the incident in November. It would just worry you, might make you drag him back to Jackson before patrol was done. But Tommy was right. Joel had been nervous all day, worrying about seeing you hurt. Worrying that, whoever had been after him would hurt you, too. That wasn’t something he could abide at any time but now that you were his wife, it was more vital. It felt different somehow.

A lot of things did. 

Not that there had been much tangible change since the two of you had said your vows that night in Joel’s bed. Since the attack, you hadn’t slept at your own house even once, you were already living together in every way that mattered. Ellie and Savvy had become like sisters in the few months that Savvy had been in Jackson, you like a mother to his daughter and him like a father to yours. And Joel had always been driven to protect you, from the first moment he saw you he knew he would do damn near anything to keep you safe. But the sense of peace and permanence he had calling you his wife made life alongside you another thing entirely. Protecting and caring for you was all the more necessary now. 

The girls had taken the news well, all things considered. Joel hadn’t really been worried about Ellie’s reaction, of course. You were the closest thing she had to a mother and lord knew the girl had been working overtime trying to shove you and Joel back together after you’d left. 

But he could tell you’d been worried about telling Savvy. 

“That ring fittin’ OK?” He asked as he brought you a cup of coffee in bed just as the sun started to rise on Christmas morning. 

“Hm?” You looked up at him from your spot nestled into the pillows, chest bare and blankets over your lap like they had been the night before as the two of you made promises to each other. The hand that was twisting your ring around and around on your finger stilled. 

“You’re fidgetin’ something fierce there, Mrs. Miller,” he smiled a little and handed you the cup of coffee. “Wanted to know if that ring was fittin’ OK or if you were just getting cold feet on me.” 

“It fits great,” you smiled a little over the coffee cup, taking a sip. “And no, no cold feet.” 

“Alright,” he said, sitting in bed beside you in nothing but his pajama pants. His fingers trailed up the bare skin of your arm. “Then I think you should tell me what’s on that pretty mind of yours.” 

“You’re gonna get us in trouble, touching me like that,” you said, taking another sip of coffee. “Girls will be here soon…” 

“Oh I can be quick,” he teased. “But I’d rather not rush our wedding… well, morning…” 

You rolled your eyes but laced your fingers with his, brushing his ring as you did. 

“Talk to me,” he said, turning serious. “Don’t want to start this off with secrets.” 

“It’s not a secret,” you sighed, looking at his hand for a moment longer before looking him in the eye. “But… I don’t want to hurt Savvy. I want this with you more than almost anything else. The only thing I want more is for her to be OK. I just don’t know how to tell her.” 

Joel nodded slowly, watching you. 

“Want to do it together?” He asked gently. You raised your eyebrows. “I don’t want to get in the way of anything but I don’t want you thinkin’ you’re in this alone because you’re not. That’s the whole point.” 

You laughed once and then sighed. 

“It might help,” you said after a moment. “I think she likes you more than she likes me.” 

“Don’t think that’s true,” he said. “She’s just… dealing with some complicated things. And there ain’t a real guidebook for regular parenting, let alone how you raise a kid after the world ends. She loves you. She really does.” 

“Should we tell the girls together then?” You asked, looking uncertain.  

“I think, if you’re OK with that?” Joel shrugged. “Yeah. I’d like to do that with you.” 

You smiled a little and the two of you adjusted in bed so that you were in his arms, your skin soft against his. You finished your coffee and got dressed just before the clatter of teenaged girls took over the house not long after. 

Joel kept you tucked against his side as the two of you watched the girls open their gifts, his lips brushing your temple and giving you a squeeze when he could sense you getting tense. He gathered the two of them that afternoon as the four of you got ready to head to Tommy and Maria’s for dinner, your hands stuffed into the back pockets of your jeans as you paced the kitchen until Ellie and Savvy were there and you joined him at his side. 

“What’s up?” Ellie frowned, looking between the two of you. 

“Well,” Joel said gently. “We were hopin’ to talk to you girls about something…” 

“Oh God,” Ellie groaned. “Please tell me no one’s doing anything stupid…” 

“Nothin’ stupid,” Joel smiled a little, slipping an arm through yours to curve around your back and tug you close to his side. You looked up at him for a moment but he didn’t need to look back to know that you were on the verge of panic. He could feel it, your whole body was tense, your breaths short and shallow. “Something real good, actually. We wanted the two of you to know before anyone else but… well, we decided to get married.” 

“Oh shit!” Ellie’s eyes went wide for a minute. “Congrats! It’s about damn time, honestly.” 

Savvy, however, was silent. She looked between the two of you, her brows drawn together, a small frown on her face before she stalked out of the room. 

You pulled away from Joel immediately and he went to follow you but you put up a hand and shook your head before chasing her down. 

“Shit,” Ellie, said quietly, staring out the back door that you and Savvy had just left through. Joel clenched his jaw for a moment, resisting the urge to go find you no matter how badly he might want to. 

“Still a sore subject for her, huh?” Joel asked Ellie after a moment. 

She sighed. 

“I really wish Bambi would give her some idea of what happened,” she said. “Because she really seems to think that she had some kind of easy fucking time… She asked me a little bit about it after you both got back last month. I guess she overheard the doctors talking but I didn’t know what to fucking say. I don’t think she’s actually pissed about the two of you. I think she’s pissed at the idea that she was on her own while her mom was having some happy life here.” 

Joel sighed for a moment before giving in and following you out the back door. You were standing in the snow, halfway back to Ellie’s place, your back to him as you focused on Savvy. 

“Don’t let me get in the way of whatever dream life you’re tryin’ to have here,” her tone was sharp. “Didn’t let me hold you back before…” 

“That’s not what this is,” you said, calm and steady. But Joel could hear the pain on your voice.  “You’re the most important thing in the world to me and…” 

“You’ve got a funny way of showing that!” 

Savvy noticed him then, narrowing glaring at him for a moment. You looked back over your shoulder to him, your eyes large and round and watery. He came up behind you, a hand going to the small of your back as he pressed himself against your shoulder. 

“Baby girl,” Joel said gently. “I know this is something that’s big…” 

“No shit,” she snapped in a way that was so Ellie that Joel considered talking to the older girl about how she spoke around the younger one. 

“But,” he continued. “You and Ellie are our number one priority. Always have been…” 

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, looking into the distance instead of at either one of you. 

“Us getting married is just about me and Joel,” you said, pressing yourself back into him. “It doesn’t mean we’re choosing each other over you, it doesn’t mean we love you any less. It just means we wanted to make that commitment to each other, that’s all.” 

She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment before looking back at you. 

“So what does this mean, then?” She asked. “What’s going to change?” 

You looked up at Joel for a moment before looking back to her. 

“Not a lot, really,” you said. “We haven’t really talked about where we’re going to live but that’s not too different from how things have been the past few weeks. No one here uses my real name, anyway, and you have your father’s last name, not mine, so even if I did decide to take Joel’s name, it wouldn’t change anything for you.” 

She nodded slowly, considering. Joel marveled, for a moment, at how your daughter held her face just like you when she was thinking, the same purse to her lips, the same scrunch of her brow. You’d passed on so much to her even if you didn’t give her your blood. 

“Think you can be OK with this?” You asked gently after a moment. “I don’t want to hurt you, honey. I love you more than anything, I don’t want you to be unhappy, especially not because of me.” 

“I don’t want you to be unhappy, either,” Savvy said quietly. “I just… I still don’t really get this place. I’m making friends, I’m going to school but… it’s all so different. I still don’t know how I feel about any of it.” 

“I know,” you said quietly, reaching out and cupping your daughter’s cheek. Joel held his breath for half a moment, until he realized that she wasn’t going to pull away from your touch. “And I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner or get you here when you were smaller and it would have been easier.” 

“I don’t want to be angry,” she said, her voice thick and wet. “I’m so tired, Mom.” 

“I know,” you said again, pulling her into you and holding her to your chest. She was stiff for a moment before relaxing into you, her arms going around your waist. “I know, baby.” 

It got easier after that. At least on the surface. Savvy was still distant but she didn’t seem to be as antagonistic as she had been before. You moved into Joel’s house - though you traded the sound system at your house for Joel’s - and you set up one of the bedrooms upstairs for Savvy, even though she was still living at Ellie’s. 

“At some point, Ellie is going to need her space,” you said, moving the twin sized bed for the fourth time, the wood groaning across the floor as you shoved it into a new place. “She’s a grown woman now…” 

“Rather not think about that,” Joel grumbled, even though he’d been trying to find a way to talk to Ellie about her friendship with Jesse in particular. They seemed… close. And who knew what  she’d been taught in that damn FEDRA school. 

“Think about it or not,” you said, standing back, hands on your hips as you looked at your handiwork. “It’s comin’ for you. She’s going to want to actually live an adult life and that means adult space. Would rather her not feel like she needs to move out of the backyard right away to have that. So… Savvy can just come here.” 

Joel thought it was a bit optimistic to think that Savvy would be willing to come here, but he couldn’t bring himself to say that. You were finally showing signs of hope about your relationship with your daughter. You’d been suffering with her so far away. You had done a good job of hiding it - he doubted anyone but him had noticed - but you couldn’t keep going like that, not forever. He didn’t want to ruin it, not now. 

Your hopeful nature around Savvy was just another way the world seemed to be changing. The patrols outside Jackson were reporting more and more signs of people and, with them would come more infected. Patrols were starting to pick up and Joel felt the push to make himself useful again with more urgency than ever. 

While Jackson was filled with incredibly skillful riders and hunters, Joel knew he was one of the best. Many of the folk here had lived a life that didn’t involve much struggle - at least, relatively speaking - after the outbreak. He’d survived with blood and he was more than willing to shed some more to protect his home and his family. Sitting on the sidelines, lame and useless, didn’t suit him. 

He’d learned to avoid the gates and the stables when patrols were coming and going, not wanting to look at the men and women who got to go out and actually make themselves useful with envy that was rooted in the self loathing that had started to bloom inside of him. 

He started going to talk to the doctors at least once a week, seeing if he’d made enough progress to start going outside the walls of the city again. It was slow going. Getting approved for sex and lighter work around town was one thing. Getting the OK to go outside and hunt down raiders was - apparently - another matter entirely. But, eventually, he got a hesitant OK from both doctors. 

Joel got them to put it in writing - feeling only a little bit like a school boy taking a report card home to his mother - and headed straight for the stable to show you. You were working with a horse, one that had been foaled in Jackson right around the time he’d first found you in the snow. It was old enough now that you could work with it, accustomed enough to people that you’d told him you thought you’d be able to get the horse to broke fast. He stood and watched you for a bit, you standing beside her and getting her used to someone putting pressure on her body to guide her, talking to her in that gentle voice you used when working with animals. 

“You gonna just stand there and watch, cowboy?” You asked after a few minutes, not looking over your shoulder to him but Joel knew you were smiling all the same. “Or is there something I can do for you?” 

“Man need a reason to come look at his wife?” He asked. You twisted look at him at that and he was right, you were smiling. “I don’t think he does. Not when she’s as pretty as you, anyway.” 

“Uh huh,” you looked back to the horse, giving her a treat of some kind. “Feel like you’re tryin’ to butter me up over there.” 

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “Or maybe I just needed to look at ya for a minute.” 

“Gimme five minutes,” you said, throwing a mischievous look over your shoulder. “Then maybe you can do more than look.”

Joel laughed a little and watched you finish up with the horse before you led her inside and put her in her stall, him trailing behind you. In all honesty, he was happy to watch you work. You were so good with them, you cared so deeply. It was enthralling in the best possible way, just the physical manifestation of one of the infinite reasons he loved you. 

You latched the stable door when you were done with the horse and stood close to Joel, taking his shirt by the fistful and pulling him against you so you could kiss him. He was happy to let you, one of his hands finding your face to hold you in just the right spot so he could dip his tongue into your mouth while you moaned against his lips. 

“Before this goes too far,” he said after pulling back from you. “Should talk about something…” 

“Should we?” You asked, tugging him against you for another kiss. 

“Mhmm,” he hummed against your mouth. You released him and stepped back a little, frowning. He smiled a little. “S’nothing bad, don’t gotta look so worried about it.” 

“Alright,” you said, a hint of challenge in your voice. “Then what is it?” 

“Well,” he said, holding your gaze and trying to shake the feeling that he’d done something he shouldn’t have. “Talked to the doctors…” 

Your eyes narrowed. 

“And they’ve OKed me to go out on patrol again…” 

“GodDAMMIT Joel!” You stomped away from him, back to him, arms crossed. He gave you a moment to seethe, his hands in his pockets, thumbs drumming a stuttering rhythm on the denim. After a few deathly quiet seconds, you turned back. “Really? You really want to go get yourself fuckin’ killed…” 

“Sweetheart…” 

“Are we just not enough for you?” You demanded, stalking up to him, arms still crossed tightly in front of you. “Me, Ellie, Savvy. Are we not enough? Do you need to go get some kind of goddamn adrenaline rush, is that it?” 

He resisted the urge to fight you on it. Your eyes were watery and wide and pleading. 

“You know that’s not what it is, baby,” he whispered. A single tear slipped down your cheek and he reached out to gently take your face in his hand, catching it on his thumb. “You’re more than enough, you’re more than I deserve. And you know I don’t want to hurt you…” 

“Don’t make this about me,” you snapped. He ignored that, too. 

“But we need people who can keep Jackson safe,” he said. “For you, for our girls. I can do that. You know I can…” 

“You can’t if you get yourself fuckin’ killed!” You took a deep breath and centered yourself for a moment. “You’re still limping…” 

“I know,” he nodded slowly. “But they think I’ll probably limp at least a little for the rest of my life. S’OK. I can ride just fine, won’t hurt me bein’ able to fight…” 

“Bullshit.” 

“It’ll be OK,” he said gently. “And I’m willin’ to go out with you or Tommy….” 

“And,” you cut him off. 

Joel frowned. 

“And?” 

“Me and Tommy,” you replied. “Deal’s changed. You’re limping, you can’t go out with just one of us, it has to be both.”

He sighed. 

“Bambi…” 

“You want me on board?” You asked. “That’s the deal.” 

He sighed again. 

“We can talk with Maria,” he said. “See if we have the space for it.” 

“Alright,” you said “Because I’m not going to just sit here and watch you get yourself hurt or killed. That’s not what I signed up for.” 

“Not what I’m asking you to do,” he said gently. “I don’t want to not come home to you, baby. But I need to make sure I’m doin’ my part to keep Jackson safe.” 

It had taken a few weeks for things to line up right with patrols and Joel could feel how tense you were leading up to the day the three of you were heading out. You’d clung to him especially hard the night before. Ellie and Savvy had joined the two of you for dinner and then to play cards and you’d held it together pretty well until they left. But the second they were gone it was like a switch flipped. You pressed yourself against his side, your arms wrapped around his bicep, your head tight against his shoulder. 

“You alright?” He frowned. 

“Fine,” you said, voice tight. 

When he took you to bed, you rode him aching and slow until you came and collapsed on top of him, Joel only lasting a few more deep thrusts into your tight heat before coming undone himself. He held you there, your head against his chest as his hand trailed a slow and easy path up and down your spine. He was still inside you when he felt your tears on his chest. 

“Baby,” he said softly. 

“Don’t make me come back alone,” you said, lifting your head from his chest enough to look at him, the rest of you still tight against his body. “Please, Joel. Don’t make me lose you, too.” 

“Not losing me,” he held your face in his hands. “Promise.” 

“You’ll always come back for me?” You whispered. 

“Always,” he said softly. “I promise. As long as you promise to always be there to come back to.” 

“Promise,” you said quietly. 

He’d been worried about how the patrol was going to go after that, but you, him and Tommy had fallen back into your usual patterns easily once you were outside Jackson and you let yourselves relax into them a bit. 

It had been an easy patrol until the three of you stopped to give the horses a chance to take a drink and saw the tracks across the river. And Joel couldn’t seem to shake the clutch of fear that gripped him at the thought of putting you in harm’s way by following the trail. 

“Tommy, I swear to God, you ever hold this against me…” you began, but he cut you off. 

“You’ll shoot me?” Tommy teased. 

“Trample you with a horse,” you replied. “But… yeah. You’re right. We should check that trail.” 

Joel gave you a look and you just looked back, your brows raised. He sighed. 

“Alright,” he said. “Tommy, you take the lead since this is your damn scheme.” 

“C’mon lovebirds,” he said, starting across the water. “Sooner we follow this path, sooner we can get back to town and the sooner you two can go back to leavin’ me out of whatever it is you two do.” 

Joel was about to give Tommy shit but you beat him to it, lobbing a snowball at him and hitting him straight in the face. Joel barked a laugh as you tried to stifle yours, your arms crossed demurely over your saddle horn. 

“Nice,” Tommy said as the snow slid off his face. “Real nice.” 

“Well, say stupid shit, win stupid prizes,” you shrugged, smirking a little. 

“Not cool, Bambi,” he said, wiping his face clean. “Not cool.” 

“You’re right,” you replied, smirk growing. “Think it’s technically cold…” 

Tommy leaned around you to look at Joel. 

“You’ve had too much influence on your wife,” he said. “I remember when she was a nice girl…” 

“Bullshit,” you said. 

“Wouldn’t even look at someone mean…” 

“Tommy, she’d have always kicked your ass whenever you did somethin’ dumb enough to ask for it,” Joel smiled, a little proud. “Now let’s move before you give ‘er another reason.” 

Tommy wiped the last of the snow from his skin with a good natured shake of his head and started off. You called Gatling back into her spot on your saddle as Joel nodded for you to be in between the two of them so he could bring up the rear. At least this way, Joel or Tommy would get hit before you would. 

The three of you followed the tracks for a few hours, until things shifted. You noticed it first, that the footprints in the snow looked more well traveled, like people were coming and going from this point in the forest more often than all the way to the water. 

“There,” you said quietly, nodding to the brush off the trail. Joel looked where you indicated, a baited trap primed and ready. 

“That ain’t been there long,” Tommy said. Joel came up alongside you, closer than he’d normally try to be when on horseback. But it kept the rising fear in him calmer, more contained. He looked around at the ground, the snow so worn down it was hard to have even a remote idea of how many people had been through here recently. Gatling gave a low, rumbling growl and you soothed her with a pet.

“We should go back,” Joel said. “Get backup…”

“That’d be wise.” 

Your gun was drawn before Joel or Tommy could reach theirs and you twisted in your saddle to  look behind you. Joel turned, too, his sidearm drawn, a group of six men on foot standing about 20 feet back. Their rifles were drawn, at least two of them trained on you. Joel’s jaw clenched. 

“Why don’t you folks get off those horses,” a man at the middle of the group said. “See what we can figure out.” 

You glanced toward Joel before you whistled Gatling down and started to dismount before he had a chance to argue. Joel did, too, arranging himself in front of you - Tommy at his side, shielding you, too - before stepping closer to the group. Joel slung his rifle forward on his arm but kept it tilted toward the man’s legs and not his head. The man who’d spoken smirked. 

“Haven’t seen you out this way before,” the man said. “Care to tell us where you’re from?” 

“Not really,” Tommy said as Joel looked the group over. They were all large and broad, young and cocky. Looked to be well fed. These weren’t travelers passing through, of that he was almost certain. “You can tell us, though, seein’ as you’re traipsin’ through our territory.” 

“Your territory?” The man raised his brows. “Seems like a bold claim for two men and their… pet to make.”

Tommy snapped his rifle up before Joel did.

“Say that shit about her again,” he snapped. “Fuckin’ dare you.” 

Your hand went in the middle of Joel’s back, right between his shoulder blades, a gentle and grounding force, before you appeared at his side, Gatling practically glued to your calve. 

“Bambi,” Joel growled, your hand trailing over his back before raising your rifle. 

The man looked at you, amused. 

“She’s come to play,” he smiled. “That’s good, I like ‘em with a little fight…” 

“Trust me when I tell you that I’m doing you a favor, giving you the chance to deal with me,” you said, sounding almost eerily calm. “Try me and they’ll kill you. Assuming I don’t kill you first.”

Gatling growled at your feet, crouched and ready to spring. 

“Now,” you said. “Where are you from.” 

The man looked at you for a moment, all but licking his lips, before turning back to Joel and Tommy. 

“You really let your little woman run the show?” He asked. “Can think of a lot better uses for her smart mouth…” 

Gatling snarled and flattened her ears against her head. Joel’s eyes narrowed, raising his gun so it was now aimed at the man’s chest, not his legs. 

“That’s my wife you’re talkin’ about,” he strained to keep his voice calm. “Now, you gonna tell us where you’re from or are you gonna make me gun you down?”  

“How about this,” the man said, still seeming over confident. “You tell us where you’re from, maybe let us have a little fun with your whore wife, you go on your merry way. Otherwise, we can just kill you.” 

Joel’s jaw clenched. Tommy adjusted his grip on his gun and Joel gave him a look before glancing over to you. 

“Any of them look familiar?” He asked, voice dangerous and low. 

“No,” you said. “Don’t know any of them.” 

Joel focused back on the men. 

“Good.” 

He reached out an arm and swept you behind him a half second before he started shooting, Tommy following suit almost immediately. The men shot back, a bullet glancing off Joel’s shoulder as they did. You, of course refused to stay where Joel had tucked you for long. You stepped alongside him, firing, too, as Joel tried not to be distracted by the terrifying possibility of you, bleeding on the ground. 

But the three of you were lucky. The men clearly hadn’t been doing this long. Joel wasn’t sure if they were just bad shots or if shooting and killing a person wasn’t something they were really comfortable with yet but either way, they’d dropped five of them, the sixth taking off, a bullet hole in his leg. 

You lowered your gun. 

“Gatling,” you panted before snapping and pointing toward the man. “Capture.” 

She shot off like a rocket, her ears pressed flat against her head. The man was no match for her speed and she launched herself at him, her jaws clamping around the man’s bicep as she wrenched his body to the ground. 

You took a deep breath and then looked to Joel’s arm, where there was now a hole in his jacket that the cold air bit through and a small spray of blood. 

“Why do you always find some way to get fuckin’ shot?” You asked, your thumbs gently tracing the outside edge of the small wound. 

“Just talented I suppose,” Joel smiled a little before looking over at Tommy. “You OK?” 

“Fine,” he slung his rifle over his shoulder. “Should question that fucker and get the hell out of here before worse shows up.” 

Joel led the way, drawing his knife. The three of you stood over the man, the same one who’d done all the talking before. He seemed much less cocky now, whimpering as Gatling growled around the meat of his arm. 

“Call off your fucking dog!” He sobbed. “Fuck, please! I’ll tell you whatever you want, please!” 

“Not one to give in to demands like that, but…” Joel looked at you. 

“Gatling,” you said. “Release.” 

The dog dropped the man’s arm and came to stand against your side, her ribs pressed to your leg. Joel caught the man’s shoulder with the toe of his boot and rolled him onto his back. He tried to sit up but Joel stopped him, pressing his foot into the wound from Gatling’s jaws on the man’s arm. He cried out as Joel forced him to the ground and Tommy kicked the man’s gun away. 

“Now,” Joel said, getting down low and putting a knee at the center of the man’s chest. “You’re gonna answer some questions for us.” 

***

Normally, watching Joel hurt someone would turn your stomach. It wasn’t a sight you enjoyed to begin with and you’d never seen him torture someone since you’d known how he learned how to. The fact that he had anything in common with the man bleeding on the ground made your stomach clench. 

But this was different. Savvy was back in Jackson now. There were a lot of lines you were more than willing to cross to keep men like this far, far away from her. Including this one. 

You rested your hand on Gatling’s head, the warmth of her fur comforting and familiar. 

“Look at her,” Joel said, taking the man’s chin in his hand and forcing him to face you before looking at you himself. “You sure you don’t know him? Want to make sure I make this worse if you do.” 

“I’m sure,” you said. It was oddly comforting, his threat. It was good to know that Joel was still Joel, even when doing stuff like this. 

He nodded once and looked back at the man. 

“Count yourself lucky,” he said. “She’s makin’ this easier for you. Now, where are you from.” 

“Territory north west of here,” he panted. “In Idaho.” 

“What brings you down this way?” Joel asked. 

The man was silent for a moment outside of his labored breaths, his eyes closed in a wince. Joel sighed, sounding exasperated before lifting his knife. 

“I’m gonna ask again,” Joel said. “Last time it’ll be nice. Why are you here.” 

“Why should I tell you, hm?” The man spat. “You’re just gonna hurt me, kill me anyway, what goddamn difference does it make?” 

“Now see, that’s just a bad attitude to have,” Tommy said, kneeling next to the man. He grabbed a fistful of his hair and forced his head to turn. “We can make this real hard or real easy. We got a lot of incentive to make this easy. We want to get back home to our families, don’t want to just be out here in the cold for hours on end because you’re being a goddamn dumbass. But, we have shit we need to protect. And if that means stayin’ out here while we take you apart piece by piece until you tell us what we want to know then, well, so be it.” 

“Give you just a second to think about what my brother told you,” Joel said, pressing the tip of the knife to the man’s shoulder but not pushing it in. “And then you can answer now or you can answer later. Why are you here.” 

The man closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep, shuddering breath before opening them again. 

“There are too many of us,” he said. “Too many groups, been fighting over space for the past few years. Decided to work together for a time, find new territory to expand into. Sent us out here to see what might get in the way. Been tracking the territory of a settlement about a day’s walk from here, trying to see where we can push in and what they’ve got to push back…” 

You stiffened, a chill running up your spine. Joel looked up to you, his eyes as concerned as you felt. He looked back at the man. 

“How’s that been workin’?” Joel asked. “How are you tracking it?” 

“We’ve been marking what we think the outside edges are,” he said. “We’ve been pushing in closer, last few months…” 

“Who’re you workin’ with?” Joel asked. 

“What?” The man asked, confused. 

Joel sighed before pressing the knife into the man’s shoulder and he screamed. 

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Joel said. “The way you were talkin’ about my wife? I really wouldn’t mind taking my time and takin’ you apart. Who are you working with. Want names.” 

“I don’t know!” He sobbed. “Swear I don’t, we run with a guy called Smith, he’s joined up with a couple other guys with groups like his, I don’t know their names…” 

“Try and remember,” Joel growled, pressing the knife deeper. You winced and looked away, trying not think about Joel doing this before. Your stomach turned. “The name Mitchum ring a bell?” 

“No,” the man said quickly. “Please, no, I promise I don’t know the names! Just that there are three or four of ‘em, that’s all.” 

“How far out are the others you’re working with?” He asked. “They gonna be breathing down our necks any second?” 

“No,” he said. “No, they’re a few days walk at least…” 

Joel nodded before he reached out, brushing his fingers over the outside of your thigh, bringing your attention back to him. 

“Any other questions?” He asked you. “Other names?” 

“No,” you shook your head quickly. “Nothing else.” 

Joel nodded, turning back to the man. 

“Can’t let you live,” he said. “You’re a liability. You’re too hurt to get a message back to your people so there’s no point in risking it.” 

“Fuck you,” the man spat and Joel shrugged. 

“Shitty last words,” he said, pulling the knife from his shoulder before quickly slitting the man’s throat. He gasped and burbled on his own blood for a minute before he went still and quiet. Joel wiped his knife clean on the man’s shirt before sheathing it and getting to his feet. He looked to you then, his eyes wide and soft and deep. 

“You with me?” He asked gently. You nodded quickly. He reached out, slowly, to take your face in his hands. His thumbs traced your cheekbones and his eyes looked into yours. “You’re OK? Not…” 

“Yeah,” you said softly, cutting him off. “I’m OK.” 

You weren’t sure how true that was. He pulled you against him, pressing his lips to your forehead before cradling you against him and holding you for a moment. 

“Much as I’m happy you two have worked your shit out,” Tommy said. “We should get moving. Pretty sure he was tellin’ the truth but I don’t want to bet our lives on it.” 

The three of you mounted up again, Gatling settling into her space on the front of your saddle. 

“So,” Tommy said after you’d been riding for a bit. “Am I allowed to ask the obvious question?” 

“Tommy,” Joel said, a warning on his voice. 

“Look,” he replied. “Not tryin’ to hurt anyone or fuck up things between you two. But I’ve got a job to do when it comes to protecting my town and protecting my family and you two are a part of both of those things. Can’t defend from something I don’t know.” 

“You don’t need -” Joel began but you cut him off. 

“Mitchum was the man who held me captive for two years,” you said, staring straight ahead. Gatling gave a small whimper and you scratched her head. Tommy was quiet for what felt like a small eternity.

“He…” Tommy’s voice trailed off. “Two years?” You nodded, not able to look at him. “Two goddamn years?” 

Your jaw tightened and your stomach turned. 

“Two goddamn years and he ain’t dead yet?” Tommy asked, voice shifting to anger as he rounded on Joel. “The fuck have you been doing?” 

“You think he’d still be breathin’ if I knew where to find him?” Joel snapped. “Ain’t that easy.” 

“Should do to that fucker whatever he did to you,” Tommy said, ignoring Joel now. “Why haven’t you mentioned this before? We could’ve helped you, could’ve tried to track him down…” 

“She don’t want to talk about it, Tommy,” Joel hissed. “Leave it.” 

Gatling stretched up to give you a small lick on the chin. 

“Joel’s right,” you said, finally making yourself look at the man who had become as much of a brother to you as the boys you’d grown up with had been. The pity in his eyes almost made you turn away. “I don’t want to talk about it. But you should know that he’s still after me. Joel and I ran into trouble on patrol before. One of the men then was one that… I knew him, from before. He said Mitchum is looking for me. He’s got a crew, at least 50 guys when I got out, and he’s looking for me.” 

“Jesus,” Tommy shook his head for a moment before steeling himself. “He’s not gettin’ his hands on you. We’ll protect you, not going to let him hurt you, you understand me?” 

“I know,” you said, looking straight ahead again. You tried not to think about what the man had just said. That there were groups of men like Mitchum, all bearing down on Jackson. 

“Who all knows?” Tommy asked, calmer now. “About… what happened.” 

“Joel,” you said, though that should have been obvious. “Ellie knows the broad strokes of it. Now you.” 

“Not Savvy?” He asked, frown so evident in his voice that you looked over at him again. He looked sad and you tried not to resent him for it. 

“Don’t need her having that shit in her head,” you said, looking forward again. 

Tommy was silent for a few minutes. 

“I’m really sorry, Bambi,” he said eventually. “You shouldn’t…” 

“I don’t want your pity,” you said, harsher than you’d really meant to. “Just… forget I said anything.” 

“But…” 

“I said fucking forget it, Tommy.” 

The rest of the ride back was quiet and you wanted to fix it. But, more than that, you wanted things to go back to how they’d been before. Where Tommy would give you shit and you’d give him shit back, not where he was going to pity you and handle you with kid gloves. You wanted him to keep being your brother, not someone who kept you at arm’s length because they kept picturing the shit that had happened to you. 

Olivia was at the stable when the three of you made it back and you were almost disappointed that you wouldn’t be able to get lost in handling the horses on your own for a while. When she stepped to the side for a moment, you took a deep breath and turned to Tommy. 

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” you said, hoping that this would at least start to fix things. “I get that you need certain… information. I just don’t want you seeing me any different.” 

“I don’t,” he gave you a sad half smile. “Just think you’re more badass now, that’s all.” 

You scoffed but he waved you off. 

“I mean it,” he said. “I do. And I’ll keep it to myself, alright?” 

“Thank you,” you said and he pulled you in for a small hug. 

“You might be Joel’s girl,” he said. “But you’re my sister. I’m gonna look out for you. No one’s allowed to fuck with you except me.” 

You laughed a little at that, Tommy reminding you so much of Richie for a moment. 

“I’ll go report out on this patrol,” he said, stepping back from you and looking to Joel. “We got some good information, it’ll help us be ready for whatever’s comin’ our way.” 

Joel nodded, a concerned look on his face. 

“We’ve weathered hard shit before,” Tommy said. “We can handle whatever these assholes have to throw at us. Took a lot to establish our territory here and I’m not afraid to shed a little blood to protect it.” 

He set off and you, Joel and Olivia took care of everything else in near silence, Olivia just filling you in on the goings on while you were gone, seemingly unaware of any tension on the air. 

“Should we go by the doctor?” You asked as you and Joel went to leave, your arms tight across your chest. “See if you need stitches or anything?” 

“No,” he replied, draping an arm over your shoulders and tugging you closer to press a kiss to your temple. “It’s nothing too bad. Just want to get home.” 

You just nodded and let him guide you home, walking in silence, the looming threat from the man Joel had questioned keeping your mind far away. 

But when Joel opened the front door, you weren’t met with a quiet living room. Instead, Ellie and Savvy were sitting on the floor around the coffee table, Uno cards fanned out in their hands. 

“Should never have told you how the draw cards work,” Ellie was muttering, her back to you and her already sizable hand growing as she drew from the deck in the middle of the table. 

Savvy looked up as the door knob thudded into the wall, her eyes finding yours. Her face lit up like she was happy to see you - actually happy to see you. 

“Mom!” She dropped her cards and jumped up. “You’re back!” 

She ran over to you but stopped short of hugging you, looking you up and down before looking at Joel, too. 

“Are you guys OK?” She asked, a little more reserved now, more how you were used to seeing her over the past few months. “Everyone made it through and stuff?” 

“We’re fine,” you smiled, trying to actually be in the room with her instead of worrying about the threat of raiders on the horizon. It was easier, knowing that she actually wanted you there. “Is everything OK? What are you two doing here?” 

“You were gone a little long,” she bit her lip and shoved her hands in her back pockets. “We just… we wanted to make sure you got home.” 

You smiled, reaching out to tuck the stray curl that always popped out from her braids behind her ear. It was an automatic thing, a gesture you’d done countless times since she was a toddler. It didn’t occur to you until your fingers were almost brushing her skin that she might pull back from you now. But she didn’t. She let you touch her, adjusting her hair and cupping her cheek. 

“Missed you,” you said quietly. 

She smiled. It was tight, a little hesitant, but it was a smile.

“I missed you, too.” 

Ellie had gone to the mess hall and brought back dinner for you and Joel and the two of you ate as Ellie and Savvy got Monopoly set up at the kitchen table. The four of you played a game, you paying more attention to explaining things like rents and mortgages and how they’d worked in the real world to Savvy. She crinkled her nose, the concept of money and paying to live inherently foreign to her. Joel kept a hand on your knee for most of it, his thumb tracing a gentle pattern there as you let Savvy clean you out, a small smile on your face every time you had to pay her. 

“Well, some of us have to be up early tomorrow,” Ellie said, stretching, back arched like a cat after she won the game. “C’mon Savvy.” 

“Yeah, alright,” Savvy yawned and tried to stifle it before getting to her feet. 

“It was good to see you,” you said, crossing your arms to keep from reaching for her. “Thank you for staying a while.” 

“Yeah,” she smiled, small but not as tight as it had been lately. “It was good to see you, too.” 

She looked at you for a moment before hesitantly stepping closer. You lowered your arms and forced yourself to keep them at your sides until she reached for you, hugging you. You slowly, cautiously, hugged her back, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you held her close. She felt so foreign but so familiar all at once. You’d never had a chance to truly get used to holding her in the body she’d grown into in the years you were apart but she was still so her, smelling and moving the same as she always had.

You held onto her until she pulled away, her awkwardly staring down at your shoes before clearing her throat. 

“Well…” she said. “Goodnight Mom. Joel.” 

“Night,” Joel said, coming up alongside you, one of his large hands splaying wide over the small of your back. 

“Goodnight,” you smiled a little, your voice wet. 

Ellie gave you an encouraging look and followed Savvy out the back door and into the yard. You just stood there, watching them go, until they were inside the shed and the light turned on there. 

“Hey,” Joel said quietly from beside you. You turned enough to look at him. He was watching you closely, frowning slightly. “How we doin’?” 

You frowned. 

“I’m fine,” you said. “Not really sure what you’re asking…” 

“Well,” he looked off to the side for a moment before steeling himself and looking back to you with a heavy sigh. “Back when you first came back to me… You said you might need space sometimes. Today… There was a lot that happened, I had to do some shit that I’m sure ain’t easy to watch and… baby, if you need some distance from me…” 

“Joel,” you said softly, twisting in his gentle hold so your front was pressed against his. You reached up and trailed your fingers through his curls. 

“Want to give you whatever it is you need,” he said as your hands came to rest on his broad chest. He took your wrist gently in his palm and brought it to his lips pressing a kiss into your pulse point. “Even if that’s time away from me.” 

“I don’t want that,” you said. “I just want to know you’re here.” 

He pulled you a little closer, the hand that was on your wrist trailing down your arm before curling around your back. 

“Why don’t we go get cleaned up,” he said, voice low, before leading you upstairs. 

You undressed each other while the shower warmed up. You unbuttoned his shirt slowly, methodically, running your fingers over his bared chest before pressing your lips into him there. You examined the place on his arm where the bullet had grazed him, the cut already scabbing over. 

“You got lucky,” you said, your fingers tracing over the older scars on his body before you kissed just below the new one. 

“Been a lot luckier than I deserve for a while now,” he said quietly. 

Once Joel undressed you, you took his hand and led him into the water. You cleaned him gently, lathering the soap in your hands before running them over his skin, cleaning the blood and dirt from his body and finding every mark on him that you’d gotten to know so well. He washed you in return, his large hands cupping your breasts, trailing over your stomach, your arms, cupping you between your legs with tender care. When you were both clean, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your slick, wet body against his own. His cock - half hard and thick - nestled against your stomach. 

“C’mon baby,” he said, tilting your head so he could look in your eyes while his nose brushed your own. “Let me take you to bed. Don’t want to rush this with you and don’t trust my bum leg to let me take my time in here.” 

You smiled a little and kissed him. 

“Promise you’ll take me to a lake this summer?” You asked. “Because I really want to fuck you in the water.” 

He closed his eyes and laughed, low and needy. 

“Promise, baby.” 

You kissed him again. 

“Then take me to bed.” 

Joel reached behind you to turn off the water and wrapped you securely in a towel before running one quickly through his curls and over his own slick body. You enjoyed the view for a moment - the muscle of his arms and chest, the soft and welcoming swell of his stomach - before starting off toward the bedroom, dropping your towel halfway down the hall and looking back over your shoulder to catch your husband staring at you as you did. 

It didn’t take him long to join you, his hands on your waist soon after you were in your bedroom, turning you to face him. His cock was fully hard as he kissed you, his lips hot and needy against you. You arched into his touch, the feeling of him against you, the taste of him on your tongue. 

He pulled back from you just enough that you could look into his eyes, all molten hot and soft and open, his nose brushing yours, still breathing the same air. 

“Tell me how to take care of you,” he said softly. “Tell me what you need.” 

“Just you,” you said, voice breathy and trembling. “I need to feel you, I need you close.” 

His mouth swallowed your words as he nudged you back down onto the bed. He arranged you in the middle of it, his skin never far from yours, before he settled in the cradle of your hips. His thick length pressed against your slit, making you moan as he kissed down your shoulder to your breast, taking the firm, pebbled part of you into his mouth and sucking you gently. You whimpered, grinding your hips against him. He kissed over your swell of flesh to your breast bone before looking up at you there, his gaze hot and desperate. 

“Needy, are you?” He all but growled before pressing another kiss to your chest. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll take real good care of you. Just let me enjoy you first.” 

He worked his way to your other breast, sucking you there while he cupped and gently toyed with the other one, his cock rocking against your core the whole time. You could feel your pussy starting to drip for him, your grasping entrance desperate for something to hold. 

“Please Joel,” you panted, working your hips up against him as best you could with the weight of him holding you still. “I need you, please, please…” 

He pulled his mouth from your nipple with a reluctant groan before adjusting his hips, your clit throbbing in protest of the loss of contact for a moment before you felt his head notch against your entrance. Joel hovered over you, the soft skin of his chest and stomach ghosting over yours, one of his hands coming to cradle the crown of your head, his thumb tracing tenderly along the peak of your hairline. 

“What do you need?” He asked, sounding nearly breathless himself. “What’s my pretty, perfect wife need, hm?” 

“You,” you whimpered. You didn’t really care if you sounded pathetic, you needed Joel too much. “Inside me, please, please…” 

“Don’t worry baby,” he said. “Give you exactly what you need, always gonna take care of you.” 

You felt him press into you then, his cock opening your tight channel as he sank into you. You closed your eyes and arched into the familiar, pleasant burn of the stretch of him followed by the almost shocking fullness when he was fully sheathed within you. He stilled there for a moment, your body adjusting to his size, and you could feel all of him. He was so close like this, closer than anyone else had ever been. Your body held onto his, your thighs around his hips, hands over his chest, pussy stretched taut over his cock. You could feel every breath he took, every throb of his cock within you. He was yours like this, yours and yours alone. 

“This what you needed?” His voice trembled. You could only nod. He pulled back from you and you whimpered before he thrust back in with a grunt. “Good. Always give you what you need, baby, always.” 

He fucked you hard and slow, his thrusts almost bruising in their force and making your hands leave his chest to twist and tangle in the blankets as your orgasm built. He set his aching rhythm, his tongue sweeping into your mouth and devouring all your needy, fucked out sounds.

Your whole being was drawn in tight and hot when he laced his fingers with yours, pinning your hand to the bed. 

“C’mon baby,” Joel panted as he thrust into you deep and hard. “Let me feel you, just let go for me. You’re OK, you’re here with me, just give in. I’ve got you, baby. Take care of you, just give in, just come for me. Just come.” 

You pressed your hips up against him and came, your fingers tightening around his as your pussy pulsed and throbbed and he fucked you through it. 

Joel didn’t last long, though. Your climax had barely begun to ease when he pressed himself deep and came with a strangled cry. He kissed you as he finished before collapsing onto you for a moment, the heavy weight of him soothing and centering as you came back down to Earth. 

After a minute, he pulled himself gently from your fucked out body and lay beside you, still panting for breath as he watched you next to him. You rolled to face him and pressed yourself close, burying your face in his chest that smelled like soap from the shower with a hint of sweat from what happened after. His hand brushed over your hair and down your back in a gentle, easy cadence. He pressed a kiss into the crown of your head and you felt him take a deep breath, his nose nuzzled into your hair. 

“You with me?” He asked softly. You nodded into his chest. “How’re you feelin’?” 

“After that?” You teased lightly. “I’m great.” 

He chuckled. 

“Not what I meant, love.” 

You took a deep breath, taking the centering scent of Joel into yourself. 

“I don’t know,” you said quietly. “I guess I just… I kept thinking raiders were far away from here. Sure, they were out there, we ran into them sometimes, but they weren’t a problem. Not really. But they’re not, they’re right there and I…” your voice cracked and he pulled you tighter. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered. “M’sorry.” 

“Savvy’s here now,” you said, trying to keep yourself from crying. “Ellie… she goes out there. And now you do, too, and… I know I sound like a goddamn broken record but I cannot survive losing any of you. I can’t. And they just take, they take and take and they won’t stop until there’s nothing left and…” 

You buried your face in his chest, not able to keep going. 

“It won’t be like that this time,” he whispered. “You’re not doing this alone. I’ve got you and anyone who wants to even glance at you or our girls will have to go through me. And good luck keepin’ me from coming home to you.” 

You laughed once at that, the sound thick and wet. 

“I’m going to protect you, Bambi,” he said, his tone serious now. “I promise you. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll keep us all safe.” 

Next Chapter

A/N: I dunno guys, I feel like something might be about to happen.

Could just be me, though.

👀👀👀👀

Thank you, as always, for reading. I really can't say how much it means to me that you're here, that you're so kind and supportive, that you choose to spend your time with this story. I appreciate it so much.

Love you!

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#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #smut fic

[green-typewriterz]

i would love literally anything sam winchester related the lack of fics r astounding.. maybe something fluffy?? ive had a bad week would so cheer me up

Best fake-real husband

ASKS ARE OPEN

Sam Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: You and Sam go undercover in a small town to find out what's been happening to the disappearing couples.

ASK: above

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, awkward moments, mid season sam (in my mind it’s season 5 so its not following canon plot)

Author notes: Thankyou so much for the ask!!! I hope this is good :))) also Sam is the leader of the Sassy man army and if you don’t think so you can leave. Also thank you to @midsummeranderson for helping me plan <3

word count: 4110

You had always hated suburban houses, they just seemed empty, unforgiving. Though you didn’t have much of a choice. Bobby had a case and you two were to go undercover.

”Husband and wife…” Sam began, a glint in his eyes as he moved around the open plan kitchen, opening the windows to salve the heat that bit at their necks.

You smiled in reply, laying out weapons to move to the spare room. “Not awkward at all.” You replied and he laughed, shrugging his usual flannel onto a chair and digging into his bag.

Sam looked up, smiling, holding two rings in his hand. “Nope. I’m going to be the best fake-real husband ever. Dean thinks I can’t and I’m kinda determined to prove him wrong.” You sigh and shake your head, but there’s no annoyance behind it. Trust Dean to make a game out of it.

A piece of hair fell in front of his eyes - it’s so long now that it reaches his shoulders, princelike. “Well then I guess I’ll have to be a good wife.” He hummed in agreement and you tucked his hair back behind his ear and a smile spread across his face. “Looks like I’m off to a good start, Sam Heathcliff.”

You gently slipped the ring onto your finger, the metal slightly too big for you. It was your grandmothers, a mix of silver and sapphire. Sam places his dad’s wedding band on his own hand, fiddling with it gently. It made you smile softly, how the ring was cold against your skin - your grandmother had always wanted you to wear it.

A knock at the door pulled you out of your memories and the two of you looked to each other with confusion, Dean wasn’t meant to be here until later that evening. You opened the door cautiously, flitting into character when you saw a 57 year old woman holding a large pie in her hands.

She grinned cheerily, pushing the dish forward into your hands as she spoke, you didn’t really have another choice but to take it (you’d probably hand it off to Dean later.) “Hi,” the voice sounded fake, satirical. She never met your eyes, she was almost entirely focused on Sam. “I heard there was a new couple in town, thought I’d do the neighbourly thing and say hi.” She began, flicking her hair over her shoulder in a particularly suggestive manner. “We’d love to have you over this weekend, monthly barbeque.”

You looked at Sam, who looked entirely uncomfortable with the attention he was receiving and wrapped your arms around his waist. “We’d love to…” you waited for a name, the woman smiled with annoyance, as if she hated you speaking to her.

“Helen. Watson.”

The two of you introduced yourself and agreed to go, knowing the gathering would be useful to get information. With one last glance at Sam, Helen turned around and left, allowing you to breathe a sigh of relief.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

Dean came round that evening, constantly grinning and mocking and (as you had expected) he greeted the pie with open arms. “Look you two,” he began, as if he were an expert on the subject, “You’re practically a couple already, just… act like you’re in your honeymoon phase for the old women.”

He stated this as if it were an obvious fact and you raised your brows at his use of the word ‘honeymoon’. Sam looked away in annoyance (Something Dean found extremely funny). It seemed as though the younger Winchester couldn’t wait to get rid of Dean and so, as soon as he had finished his pie, he was forced out the door and back to the impala. There was a second sigh of relief when the door closed.

Though it had seemed like a smart idea at the time, the two of you were sorely regretting filling the spare room with hunting gear as it had left you with one bedroom. “I’ll take the couch,” Sam said as he gathered some clothes to sleep in, you stood in the doorway, arms folded as you shook your head.

“Not a chance, you’d barely fit on this bed imagine how uncomfortable you'd be downstairs.” You argued and he shook his head, trying to claim that he’d slept worse. Eventually, the two of you came to an agreement. Sam would sleep over the covers, you’d sleep under them (he always got hot at night anyway - especially during the summer).

You excused yourself to the bathroom and by the time you had gotten back Sam was already asleep, long hair falling gently over his eyes. You lay down beside him and got comfortable, though you forgot just how much Sam moved in his sleep. He seemed to subconsciously move closer to you, warm, tan skin flush against yours.

His face was inches from yours, holding a gentle smile as if he were happily dreaming (though that was something that didn’t happen often). You gently moved the hair from his eyes and he moved closer still, broad shoulders brushing against you. You fell asleep in the comfort of his warmth and awoke with his arms wrapped securely around you. He wasn’t awake yet, you always woke up before him.

You eventually found it in yourself to move from his grip and headed downstairs, intending to make breakfast for the two of you. He was downstairs a few moments later, hair a sweet, tousled mess on his head. You smiled sweetly but neither of you spoke - there wasn’t much need to.

The two of you seemed to move around each other as if you had been married for years as you got ready for the barbeque, passing each other what you needed wordlessly. Chalk it up to years of hunting together.

“Todays gonna be entertaining for me.” You stated, a smirk on your face. He tilted his head in confusion as if he were a dog and you smiled, eyes drifting to his shoulders for a moment. “C’mon Sam, it’s a town of 47 year old women who hate their husbands and you’re a - very awkward - 6 '4 man. A handsome one at that.” He blushed and turned away, continuing to get ready.

His hands fiddled with the jacket in front of him. “Yeah, so?” You smiled at him, opening the front door as you spoke again.

“So, it’s gonna be fun watching you squirm.” Your smile turned to a grin and Sam shook his head, following you out the door.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

You were right, as expected. Although most were fine, one specific group of women made an exaggerated effort to fan themselves, whispering to each other about Sam. They almost immediately ushered you over. You sent a look to your best friend and headed toward them.

Immediately, they began to gossip, asking you about how you and Sam met and you could barely get a word in edgeways. There were compliments thrown at you too, but you knew they were just to stop you ‘feeling jealous.’

“How did you get so lucky?” One woman, Helen, asked. Her voice was wrought with envy as she stared over at Sam. Part of you understood why they were staring, Sam looked strangely good in the traditional small town husband attire. His white polo had a few buttons undone and the fabric was tight on his arms (Dean had ordered the wrong size) and his long hair was held back from his head by a pair of sunglasses, a few stray pieces falling over his eyes. The only part you weren’t a fan of was the khaki shorts…but it seemed to be the dress code in the town so you brushed it off - you and Dean would probably make fun of him for it later. He felt his gaze on you and turned to meet your eyes, smiling softly and winking. The women around you giggled and you rolled your eyes, to which he laughed.

It turned out that talking to the four women was the best thing for the case, they absolutely adored gossip. “Couples have been going missing, it always starts with the husbands.” Margaret whispered excitedly, “It happened to the couple who were here before you, sweet things.” she continued, sipping on a glass of wine.

You tilted your head, something Sam recognised from a distance, you’d had an idea. “Do they leave anything behind? People can’t just disappear?” You asked, pulling your hand through your hair.

Helen shook her head. “The damn council barely clean out the houses.” You nodded. Bingo. If the house hadn’t been thoroughly cleaned, chances are there’d be evidence. Helen continued to ramble and you were listening intently, until a hand gently slid onto your waist.

You let out a gasp but the strong smell of cedarwood and amber calmed you down. You knew exactly who it was. His grip pulls tighter around you and you lean into him, head resting on his chest. You felt your face flush - something you were praying he didn’t notice.

“How did you two meet?” One woman asked and you looked at each other, making sure without ever even speaking that you had the story right.

Sam leaned his head on yours and sweetly said, “why don’t you take this one, honey.” his eyes sparkled with mischief, he was trying to throw you off and the hand that was massaging your side was proof of that.

You met his eyes with the same excitement, if he wanted to play, you were really going to go for it. “We both worked as government agents, met on the field. Hence all the scars.” The women nodded in realisation, looking at some of the injuries you hadn’t quite managed to hide. “He wasn’t the biggest fan of mine at first but I grew on him, isn’t that right darling?”

Sam nodded, his eyes not leaving yours as he replied, “and now I don’t want to be without her ever again.” He found that sentence to be more true than he thought.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

Sam sent an exasperated look your way as he raked a hand through his hair (and sadly took the glasses off his head). “How were the boys?” you asked with a smile and he turned to make sure no one was watching before dropping the facade.

“I’m actually shocked how much I don’t know about football.” He replied and you both laughed, him leaning into you as he smiled. He looked outside at the group of gossipping women before adding on, “they seemed…friendly.”

You laughed, “to you, sure, but I think it’s because they want you in their bed.” The sentence was blunt and Sam’s eyes widened, cheeks blushing a strong red. You, however, continued as if you had never said anything, “I think it could be witches? We’d have to search for hex bags though.” He nodded, not meeting your eyes (he was slightly flustered).

The two of you eventually said your goodbyes and made your way down the street, Sam looked annoyed with himself. “What’s up?”

He sighed, “this one guy, Glenn, roped me into holding a housewarming party…” You stared at him incredulously, did he not try to say no? Sam recognised the look in your eyes and defended himself, “the man was incredibly persuasive!” You shook your head but knew there was no way out of it. You weren’t the best at party planning.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

The long stretch of grocery store met you as you and Sam stood in the doorway. You didn’t often do this as hunters so it was a slightly daunting task. You looked at each other with tired eyes and went your separate ways, deciding to cover ground as if it were a hunt…just for nachos.

You rounded a corner only to see Helen stood there. Not wanting to be stuck in conversation again, you instantly turned on your heel, hiding behind a row of sauces. Though, something caught your eye. In Helen’s basket, clearly hidden just not very well, was a large amount of herbs and salt. What got you interested was the extreme amount of basil and sage.

Witches. Had to be.

Sam approached you, smiling gently. Something about the situation made him look so… domestic. You tried to motion to him what you were thinking but he seemed so fixated on you, his reaching out for yours. “Can you do your job?” you spoke, the words sounding harsher than you had intended. He instantly pulled back, face twisting with annoyance.

“What?”

“Take the hint, Sam. Behind me.”

You continued to whisper back and forth in annoyance, alerting Helen who watched in confusion. You quickly turned to look at her and sighed as she approached, hiding the herbs with the rest of her groceries. “Lovers quarrel?” she joked and the two of you laughed in the same way Bobby would when Dean told another of his bad jokes.

Sam made excuses as you looked at her, trying to see if you could spot any witch runes on her. It seemed as though she was trying to do the same to you. “Well isn’t that tattoo…neat!” She said, trying to hide the venom in her voice as she pointed out the anti-possession tattoo on your collarbone. Great.

You looked at Sam in annoyance and turned back to Helen. “Thanks! I saw it in a magazine!” You tried to explain away but you knew you’d been caught, she had spotted you and you her. Though she was very keen to stay in conversation, Sam made a quick excuse and you both left as soon as you could.

“Told you it was witches.”

Sam didn’t reply. The car journey back was completely silent, an unspoken annoyance building in the both of you. Neither of you said a word until the front door closed. “Nice job letting her see the tattoo.” Sam said annoyedly, turning to look at you.

You sighed and turned away, packing away the groceries. “Maybe if you spent less time flirting and more time actually hunting we’d be done by now! This isn’t exactly a hard case, we don't need more bodies to our name.” The reply was sharp and annoyed.

He suddenly grabbed your wrist so you’d look at him. “I’m doing my job just fine.” His eyes were locked with yours. You stepped closer.

“No, you’re not. You’re distracted.” Sam scoffed, his minty breath fanning against your cheek from how close you were. His hand was still firmly on your wrist.

An annoyed smile spread across his face and a muscle in his neck tensed. “Oh yeah? And why would I be distracted?” You stared directly at him, from his long hair that fell over his unreadable gaze to the smoothness of his bronzed skin.

You found yourself stepping closer again. “You tell me.”

There was a crushing silence, the only sound being your sharp breaths. Suddenly, Sam’s grip on your hand moved to your waist and he pulled you into him, his lips colliding with yours. You leaned into him, hands grabbing his hair harshly. He kissed you as if he were hungry, as if he had been waiting for years - maybe he had. He lifted you easily and sat you on the kitchen counter, leaning back from the kiss for a split second. His chest rose quickly in hot breaths as he kissed you again. You bit his bottom lip - letting blood drip as his hands gripped your skin.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

The party was loud and irritating, there wasn’t a moment where you had time for yourself, not one point where you weren’t ’y/n Heathcliff’. You and Sam had barely talked after the evening before - you didn’t know what to say.

You knew Helen would be at the party, not only would it be good to keep up appearances but she could get her next victim from it. Sam sent you a look and you nodded once, heading toward the spare bedroom in search of weapons, just in case.

A small, easily hidden knife was being placed into your waistband when Sam opened the door, closing it harshly behind him. “Sorry,” he said quietly, “had to get away from Miriam.”

You laughed gently and went back to preparing, not wanting to meet his eyes. “Helen’s here.”

“I know.”

Silence again. You sighed, “and you just left her out there? Alone?” His brows furrowed and he offered a witty remark, starting another hushed argument between the two of you.

On the other side of the door, Miriam and Margaret pressed their ears to the wood, giggling like school children at how the argument sounded to them. Through the muffled walls, all they could hear was gasps and sharp noises - of course they assumed what they wanted.

Sam’s hands pushed through his hair as he sighed, uncertain of what to do, when suddenly the door started opening. He rushed forward and pushed against it, rushing out a quick, “one moment!” All he heard in reply was laughs.

“What do we do?” He asked nervously and you stood still, nervous, until a thought popped into your head. You held your hands out - asking for permission and, once he nodded, you placed your hands gently in his soft hair, ruffling it. It annoyed you how he still managed to look good.

Then, once he had done the same for you, you looked him up and down, deciding his outfit was far too…tidy. First it was one button undone, then another (you unbuttoned a third for personal reasons). A blush rose on the tips of his ears.

He went to open the door when you realised something was still missing and, in a quick moment of panic, you rushed forward and grabbed his face, kissing him harshly on the lips (you were purposely trying to smudge your lipstick onto him). Sam made a noise in shock but found himself leaning into it, eyes lingering closed for a moment longer after you had pulled away.

Shit. He thought. He definitely liked you.

Eventually, the door was opened and Sam met the two women with an awkward smile. “Oh!’ Margaret began, giggling, “I was going to offer a drink, but I see you’re occupied…” The woman looked at one another, laughed again and walked away, leaving Sam blushing with embarrassment. The door was closed once more and when you were both sure they had walked away, laughter spilt into the room.

He shook his head and smiled, stepping closer to you. “Close one.” You smiled gently, staring into his eyes (the light was hitting them perfectly). There was silence again - neither of you knew what to do.

”Are we ever going to talk about last night?” You asked, thinking about how his hands felt on your skin. His features turned more serious as he sat down on the bed.

He stared at you, lipstick still in a smudge on his face. “I’m not sure what to say about it.” You neared him, hands trailing over his shoulders. Then, slowly, you leaned into him, lifting his chin with your finger as you felt his soft lips against yours. There was something impossibly gentle about it and you weren’t sure anyone had kissed you that softly before.

”Maybe we don’t need to say anything.”

He smiled. You kissed the corner of his grin and headed back downstairs, attempting to fix your hair as you went. You were met with stares as you entered the kitchen - Miriam had most definitely told everyone… at least it sold the cover.

Time passed with an almost excruciating level of slowness and Sam not making a re-entrance back downstairs wasn’t helping either (you had no one to distract you). Eventually, the party cleared out yet Sam was nowhere to be seen - now you began to panic.

You said goodbye to the final few neighbours and headed back upstairs, calling Sam’s name. The lack of response worried you. The first door by the stairs - the one that unfortunately led to your weapons room - was ajar, scratches around the lock. You pulled the dagger from your waistband and slowly opened the door, sighing as you saw the bloodstain on the floor. You had a feeling you knew who had taken him and where he had gone.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

You had managed to track him to Helen’s house, hiding around the back to get a good view through the sliding glass doors. Sat, tied to a chair in the middle of the main room, was Sam. His face was bruised and bloody and his expression looked annoyed, chest heaving with sharp breaths. Helen, Miriam and Margaret circled around him, playing with his hair and gathering items they needed for the spell.

”Poor Sam,” Helen began - you assumed she was the leader, “you’d think you’d be able to fight back against three 57 year olds.” Miriam headed into the kitchen as Margaret laughed, they almost reminded you of the witches from Macbeth.

”You’d also think, considering she’s a hunter, that your ‘wife’ would be better at hiding.” Suddenly, a surprisingly strong pair of hands grabbed you, pushing you against the wall.

You struggled against the grip but it was no use, your hands being painfully tied behind your back. Miriam ushered you into the living room, retiring you to a chair beside Sam. You met his eyes with an apologetic gaze and he returned it.

It was your turn to feel the bunt of the witches’ fun now, knives sliced at your skin and hair was cut from your head, you knew they’d done it somewhere visible on purpose. They grabbed at your face, nails digging into flesh and smiling as Sam protested.

Eventually, the three left the room and you and Sam began planning. You shuffled your chair toward him, trying to see if he could reach the dagger you always hid in your shoe. His hand brushed over your shin but he couldn’t reach any further.

With one final attempt, Sam tried to lean on the chair to reach, which ended with him toppling both chairs. He landed on top of you, his chest flush against yours. “Sorry.” He spoke, words hoarse from lack of breath.

Luckily for you, the fall had broken the ropes around your ankles and - though it hurt like hell - you manoeuvred your leg just enough to read the blade. Sam's hair tickled against your face and his lips tickled your neck - but that was something you’d have to think about later.

“Nice try you two.” Helen spoke as she waltzed back in. You hid the blade in your sleeve as your chair was fixed once more and while the three were busy working, you managed to slice through the ropes. you waited patiently, watching with a newfound confidence. Luckily for you, Maragaret was the type of witch to intimidate - her favourite tactic being getting as close as she could.

You took the opportunity and thrust the blade forward, stabbing through her throat. She screamed out and you stood up making your way over to the other two to fight. You took a fair few punches, but it was nothing new and soon enough the two others were on the floor too, holding onto the last of their life.

The large salt circle was immediately broken and Sam was freed, you apolising every time you accidentally touched any of his injuries. “That was badass.” Sam complimented and you laughed, leaning your hair back tiredly.

You turned away, starting to destroy the spell further as you spoke, “Ready to finally stop being husband and wife?” You asked and a small smirk rose on his face, hands snaking back over your waist again.

With sudden passion, he spun you back around, his eyes glinting. “Not really.”

With that, Sam lifted you off the ground, hands securely gripping your thighs as he kissed your neck. You had your back pushed against the wall as he moved to kiss your lips, your hands pulling at the back of his hair. He sighed and went to kiss you again when the front door swung open, revealing a disgusted (but slightly relieved) Bobby and a grinning Dean.

”We can explain?” Sam offered, gently lowering you back to the ground. You couldn’t look at one another.

Dean shook his head, smiling like a madman. “I don’t know Sammy, seems pretty obvious to me.” Then, with the same giddy happiness he turned to Bobby, who had since fished a ten dollar bill out of his pocket.

Typical. You and Sam shared an annoyed look as The other two hunters headed back out the door. ‘“C’mon you lovebirds,” Bobby began, “There’s a vamp nest in Chicago.”

#fic #fanfic #one shot #writing #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester #fluff #Injury #witches #supernatural #supernatural fic #Sam Winchester the sass queen #sam winchester x fem!reader

[cod-z]

What Could've Been

Sadness is pouring onto me and one of the people I'm following answered a question and just said that if Price gets a canon wife, it'll break them... I- same? Like with all 141- and the others, like they're my boys...

Probably will re-write it (it was a bit rushed/is rushed)

TW: Angst/No Comfort, Mentions of being kidnapped, Ex-Poly Relationship (if you squint your eyes enough)

| One-shots |

Reblog & Likes are appreciated 🥀

Standing at the doors of the base that hid from society yet near to it that you watch, your team, your friends, your boys leave the through the doors and into their cars, half getting lifts and exiting the base. You lean against the door frame as you watch them show their cards to the guards, your hand clenching the frame tighter as they drive off into different directions, a small smile plastering your face as you heart clenches it pain and jealousy.

How you envy...

How you envy the people that they've married.

How you envy the mothers that had birthed their children.

How you envy their partners that stays with them... forever.

You leave door frame, a single, warm tear roll down your cheek as your smile flatters as you walk through the barracks, heading towards the offices of your team, peeking into their now empty rooms and reminiscing the special moments you had shared with each of them.

You heart aches.

You enter the office of Price.

It had changed over the years that you had gone missing, kidnapped by a cartel.

You entered his room with the spares keys, grazing your hands against the dark oak of his desk, tracing the small nooks and crannies, the dents, the small burnt circles from his cigars, rounding the table until your stood behind it. Taking his scent that seemed to have fade already even when he had just left with the others, you solemnly give a small smile as you look at a picture frame.

You and the squad, gathered with Los Vaqueros, smiling like idiots before you all parted ways.

That was the last you had seen them before everything had went to a spiral.

You touch the edge of the frame before seeing another one next to it, it was a picture of Price, his wife and his little girl, Vivian. Your heart clenched tightly in your chest as you bite back a sob, eyeing the picture, seeing his gentle, reassuring smile that he held towards you all your time in 141. His arm wrapping around his wife's waist while she carried their... his daughter with a bright smile. All of them smiling at you as if mocking you of what could have been.

That could've... should've been you.

You looked down at his... your, desk.

Blinking away the tears, your visions clears as only the frame of your old team sat in front of you, you clocked your eyes around the room seeing your things in there rather than Price's. Right.

It's been 3 years since they have retired to their families, you grab out your phone and checked your social media, scrolling through their posts, carefully trying not to accidentally like any of them. Checking your messages and personal direct messages, you have yet to read or reply, completely cutting them off ever since they had told you what had happened.

What could've been...

Laughs echoed round the table in the bar as you tell a joke, even getting Simon to give a deep chuckle from his chest.

Price patting your back while giving you that charming smile he always held towards you four, making you feel proud that you had made them happy within your presence and humour that you don't pay attention to what Price had to say or Soap's flirtation towards you.

You just smile at your team, your boys.

Yeah, your boys, you thought to yourself, always will be.

A/N: Bit rushed, just didn't want to cry is all XD

Divider Credit(s): @saradika

#cod-z #141 x reader #call of duty fanfiction #task force 141 x reader #call of duty x reader #cod mw x reader #cod x reader #cod x you #modern warfare x reader #Angst #no comfort #angst/no comfort #task force 141 #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic

[lovelytsunoda]

proud mary // han lue

summary: now living a quiet life with their daughter, han and y/n reflect on how they got there, and all the good moments that are still yet to come.

pairing: han lue x wife! reader

warnings: this is a big one so listen up: mentions of post pregnancy mental illness, mentions of pregnancy and starting a a family, weddings, ignoring tokyo drift canon because I fucking can, (actually I ignored a lot of canon) han is about to activate a shit ton of daddy issues

I left a good job in the city, working for the man every night and day and I never lost one minute of sleeping, I was worrying 'bout the way the things might've been.

big wheel keeps on turning, proud mary keeps on burning. and we’re rolling, rolling, rolling down the river

2009, tokyo, japan.

the garage was dark, lit only by the moonlight and the small lamps atop the workstations. han lue had closed up hours ago, and everyone was gone save for him and his lover.

“han, what are you doing?” y/n laughed, sitting at a table scattered with nail polish bottles and a shellac brisa light. “it looks like a smudge.”

“it’s a drifting car!” han laughed, staring through the large magnifying glass that was allowing him to see the design he was attempting to paint on his lovers thumbnail. “see, there’s the spoiler and those are the headlights!”

friday night manicures had become somewhat of a tradition. y/n hated painting her nails with her non dominant hand, but she also didn’t speak enough japanese to venture out and get her nails professionally done. when she and han started dating, he offered to do it for her, easing the aggravation that sometimes came with doing mail designs yourself.

“well, now that you’ve pointed it out.” she laughed, kissing him on the cheek. “I love you.”

they had been together coming up on two years. two long, wonderful years. she was a mechanic and he was drifter, it was almost meant to be. she stopped him from getting himself killed, and in return, he loved her unconditionally.

they were sympatico like that. she loved his sense of humour, his protectiveness. he loved her smarts and the excited way she talked, animatedly and with hand gestures.

“what do you say we get out of japan for a bit?”

han should have known this question was coming. y/n was a restless spirit, never meant to stay in one place for too long. in a way, han was as well. he could tell that his lover had been more restless than usual, either from missing home or needing a change of scenery.

“a friend of mine, his name is dominic torretto, he’s got this place down in the dominican republic.” han started slowly, unsure of how much he wanted to involved her in. y/n was his whole world, and what dom and mia would be running was far bigger than street racing in shibuya.“he called me the other day wondering if I would run a job with him. but it’s not entirely legal and I don’t blame you if you don’t want any part in it.”

“baby,” she frowned, placing her hand inside the blue light machine. “of course I’ll go with you. I never pass up a chance to go somewhere sunny, and you know that I’d go anywhere with you. what we’re running here with twinkie and sean isn’t exactly legal either, you know. I’m a big girl, seoul-oh. I can handle myself.”

“I know. I just want you to know what you’re getting into. you’re important to me, y/n.”

“I know.” she said softly, running her hand up his arm as she rested her head on his shoulder, gently kissing his neck. “so when does our flight leave?”

“whenever you want it to. I haven’t even bought the tickets yet. are you ready for an adventure?”

“fuck yeah.” y/n smiled, pressing her lips to his. “but you have to paint my other nails first.”

han laughed, the kind of laugh that would always set loose the butterflies in y/n’s chest, the kind that reminded her why she fell in love with him in the first place.

“I don’t think I have it in me to paint another drifting car.”

“then what are you going to paint on my thumbnail?” y/n laughed back, looking down at her nails and realizing that her lover had actually done a very good job painting a drifting car manicure.

“I don’t know,” han shrugged. he would deny it if asked, but he actually loved painting y/n’s nails. he thought it brought them closer together, built up intimacy in their relationship.

they were moments he wouldn’t trade for the world.

“I’ll just do like a checkered flag or something.”

“but you did that on my index finger!”

laughing, y/n turned her head to kiss him. “come on, you big dork. the sooner we get my nails done, she sooner I can model that new lingerie set I bought last weekend.”

“sold!” han laughed, knocking over bottles of gel polish as he searched for the bright pink he had used to paint the car on his girlfriends other hand. “drifting car? f1 car? whatever my gorgeous gorgeous girl wants.”

“I love you, han lue.”

“love you more, pretty girl.”

2010, monte carlo, monaco.

it was set up to be another sleepless night without her lover by her side, and y/n was having none of that as she wandered the deck of the comfortable yacht, looking around at the decorations that the crew had spent the day putting up.

she was just praying that it wasn’t going to rain.

nothing was about to spoil her big day.

she scurried below deck, past a half open door through which she could hear roman pearce’s guttural snores. fingers curled around the door knob, she tried not to make any noise as she eased the door open, slipping into the cabin.

“you couldn’t sleep either?” she laughed, looking at the king size bed where her fiancé lay, phone in his hands as he texted his mother, who the crew was picking up in the harbour in the morning before the ceremony began.

“got a lot on my mind.” han shrugged. “fucking tej won’t shut up about the reception and the playlist and I’ve told him a million times that it’s not going to be some crazy rave kinda thing.” the man sat up, gesturing for his soon-to-be wife to come closer. "it's doing my head in. seriously, he wants to do a club mix of 'i would do anything for love'."

y/n snorted. han thought she looked like an angel in the low cabin light, a halo glowing around her head and shining off her white silk pajamas, the ones with the tiny shorts and 'bride' embroidered on the butt. "how the fuck do you turn the best meat loaf song in existence into a club rave song?"

"the fuck if i know." han shook his head, hands sliding up her thighs as she came to stand in between his legs. "jagi, sarang-hae."

honey, i love you.

"mhm." she hummed, a smile on her lips as she leaned down to kiss him sweetly. "i love it when you speak korean. it's so fucking sexy."

the last year had been stressful. the dominican job had been way more complex than y/n had expected, and it took a while for han's old crew to warm up to her. it took a while, but eventually she managed to crack dom toretto, and two weeks later, han got down on one knee and asked y/n to marry him.

hence why they were on a yacht off the coast of monaco, the entire thing decked out in fairly lights and tulle.

"if you think tej is bad, you try getting in between letty and those large plastic ribbons on the back of the deck chairs." y/n laughed. "who knew letty ortiz was so serious about weddings?"

she was practically sitting on his lap now, head resting comfortably on his shoulder as the boat rocked back and forth.

han seoul-oh was her home. her safe harbour. she always felt safe in his arms, at his side, even when they were plunging into almost certain danger like they had in the dominican.

"i brought you something." y/n hummed, reaching into the pockets of her shorts and withdrawing the small cardboard packet.

"fake nails?"

"help me put them on? for old time's sake." she passed him the glittery white french tips, no doubt chosen to match her dress for the ceremony tomorrow.

"i can't wait to spend my life with you. and believe me, there will be plenty more manicure mondays."

2014, monterrey, california.

"daddy, where's mommy?"

"i don't think she's feeling well, poppy." han lue frowned, looking over at his daughter, who was perched in her little kiddie chair at the kitchen table. "i'm going to go check on her, okay? stay right here."

how do you explain depression to an infant? poppy jae-i han had been one of the best things to have ever happened to han seoul-oh. but in the almost twenty-four months since their bundle of joy had been born, something had felt off about his wife.

everyone hears about the mental health complications that can come with childbirth, but no mother ever thinks it would be her.

every husband fears it, too.

"y/n, jagi?" han tried to keep his voice level as he eased open the bedroom door. the couple had bought a ranch house in monterrey when they learned they were expecting. it was one of the few things they used their ill-gotten gains as a part of dom's crew for. "poppy's asking for you."

it broke his heart to see his wife like this, hair messed and greasy, red splotches under her eyes from where she had been crying.

"am i a bad mother, seoul-oh?" she asked, voice small. she seemed so tiny and fragile underneath the layers of blankets on the queen bed. "she always seems to cry when i'm around, but never with you. poppy loves you more than she loves me."

"what?" it was all han could do to stop himself from crying as he sat on the bed, gently running his fingers through y/n's hair. "sweetheart, what's brought this on? poppy loves you. you're her mom. she needs you."

"mia makes it look so easy." y/n sniffled, pulling herself up to a sitting position. she's lost weight. not a noticeable amount, or even an unhealthy one, but enough that her husband knows. there are many things that you can hide from the man you share your bed with, but han knows. he knows she's not doing well. "and i'm fucking shit at it, han."

"look at me, pretty girl." han encouraged, reaching for her hands. "you are such a good mother. i know you're struggling right now, and i know you're hurting but you need to know that poppy loves you so much. she was asking about you over breakfast, you know."

"i don't know who i am any more. i've lost my sense of self."

han frowned, brushing a few strands of greasy hair away from her forehead before leaning down and gently kissing her hairline.

"listen, i was talking to brian last night-"

"of course you were fucking talking to brian."

"-and he thinks you should talk to mia. they're passing through town today on their way back from dom and letty's, brian and i are going to take the kids out to the zoo or whatever, and you and mia should do something." he suggested, running his hand comfortingly up and down his lover's back. "go to the mall, get a coffee. i think she could really help you. she's been through this before."

y/n inhaled shakily, pulling away from han. "what if something happens to poppy and i'm not there?"

"y/n, everything is going to be okay. i promise. brian will be there, the kids will be in great hands. go do something with mia, darling. find yourself again, yeah?"

"okay." y/n nodded, still clutching his hand like it was her lifeline. "i can do that."

"mommy?" a small voice called. poppy had managed to get herself all the way from the kitchen to the master bedroom, where han had left the door ajar just in case poppy needed them. "are you okay?"

"oh, sweetheart, come here." y/n said, tears beginning to fall.

because how could she ever think that her little bundle of joy didn't love her as much as she did? poppy waddled over to the bed, and han hefted the toddler onto the mattress so that y/n could pull her close.

"you know that mummy loves you, right?"

"yes. i love you too, mommy."

"see." han smiled. "you're going to be okay. we're going to get through this."

2017, monterrey, california.

"i genuinely can't comprehend that roman pearce is getting married."

the family of three was walking down the nail care aisle at walmart, a welcome addition to their weekly shopping trip as y/n scanned the packages on the rack for a set of acrylic nails.

han laughed, one hand around his wife's waist and his chin on her shoulder as he leaned against the shopping cart. "it's not going to last. they may be getting married on saturday but i bet that by christmas roman is going to call and tell us she asked for a divorce."

"don't be so cynical." y/n laughed, kissing her husband softly before holding up a small white box. "do these go with my dress?"

"they'll go with anything, babe." han said, moving to whisper in her ear “they'd look even better wrapped around my c-"

"i want nails like mom's!" poppy han's shout cut him off, the little girl looking at the array of disney princess nails on the lower shelves.

laughing, han knelt down next his daughter, one hand on her shoulder. "which one do you want, princess? do you want frozen, tinker bell? mulan?"

"i want the ariel ones." poppy smiled, reaching for the pack of little mermaid nails. han helped her get them off the hook before lifting her up, carrying the six year old securely against his chest.

"seoul-oh, she's like six, you're spoiling her by carrying her all the time." y/n laughed, dropping both packs of nails in the cart.

"what, she's not heavy, sweetheart." han grins. "besides, i have to stay in shape somehow."

y/n rolls her eyes. "sweetie, it's bold of you to assume that you were ever in shape. but i loved you anyways, didn't i?"

back at home, they settled in the living room, near the large bay window. y/n watched contentedly from the kitchen as han sat at the coffee table across from poppy, delicately brushing nail glue across his daughter's tiny nails, dropping the glittery little mermaid nails on top.

it had taken a while to get to this peaceful, quiet part of their life, but y/n han was so glad that they had made it. that she had seoul-oh and that she had little poppy.

"be careful with your nails, they might come off. now, go get your homework done before we make the pizza, okay?"

poppy scurried off down the hall to her room, and y/n padded across the shag carpet, looping her arms around her husbands neck as she gave him a kiss.

"i'm so lucky, you know that. i'm happy and healthy again, and i have you and poppy. that's everything i could ever ask for." she said softly, resting her head against han's chest as the man tilted his head down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

of course they both missed the good old days. the days of adrenaline and adventure. but brian and mia had left, and then y/n and han, and soon after was letty and dom. they were moving on with their lives, a chapter of glitz and glamour coming to a close.

"i want another one."

y/n froze, pulling back from her husband. "what?"

"i want another baby. and i know what we went through last time, and i fully understand if you're not willing to take that chance again, but god, y/n, i want a big family with you." han explained, holding his wife's hands. "poppy is growing up. soon she's going to be too cool for dear old dad. and then there will be boys-"

"or she'll be like you," y/n cuts him off with a laugh. "in which case there will be lots and lots of girls."

"god help us all. my little girl is going to break a lot of hearts one day."

"and you want another one?"

"honestly? yeah, i do."

"then i guess we'd better start trying. multiplication isn't that hard, so poppy's gonna be looking for us within the next hour." y/n hummed, kissing her lover softly.

han smiled against her lips, hands slipping into her jeans pockets to cop a feel of his wife's ass. "i only need half that."

TAGS:

@libraryofloveletters @magnummagnussen @mignonricciardo @sidcrosbyspuck @cartierre @monzabee @scuderiamh @daydreamingleclerc @diorleclerc @oconso @cl16version

#han lue x reader #han seoul oh x reader #han seoul oh #fast and the furious x reader #fast and the furious #tina: the series by lovelytsunoda #han x reader #han lue #sung kang #Spotify