#ok it might not be that graphic but still going to give a heads-up

[thebearme]

Olimin comic [WARNING GRAPHIC]

#tw graphic #tw corpse #tw angst #pikmin #pikmin 4 #pikmin fanart #pikmin olimar #captain olimar #olimar pikmin #olimin #ok it might not be that graphic but still going to give a heads-up

[myfictionaldreams]

I have such a specific idea for poly marauders so please bare with me .

James and Sirius were out to a fancy party and they come home early to see reader and remus having sex in the kitchen , remus has her spread on the table while he fucks her and she arches her back and sees sirius through blurry vision and calls his name, remus doesn’t notice them so he thinks shes calling her other boyfriends name “ wrong boyfriend sweetheart “ so he fucks her harder until she calls his name “ there you go love”.

You could continue this however you would like Maybe james and Sirius join them. I also love the idea that after everything when they’re showering she reassure remus and says something like “ it’s hard to think of anything else when I’m around you , you’re all consuming “ and the boys agree THATS SO CUTE.

I’m so sorry that this is long and graphic.

Say My Name // Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader

A/N: Whoever you are, anon, I thank you for giving me this request because, holy shit, it has turned me (and Remus) absolutely feral, and I have no regrets.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, fluff, werewolf troupes, feral remus lupin, dom/sub undertones, possessive sex, size difference/kink (!), praise kink, dirty talk, self-confidence issues, gentle touching/kissing, rough oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, overstimulation, table sex, manhandling, multiple orgasms, crying, body worship, anxiety attack (nearly), restraints, blindfold, begging, aftercare :)))

Words: 5.7k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

“You both look so damn handsome!” you admire dreamily with a thick lace of sarcasm as you tighten the burgundy scarf around Sirius’ neck. The mischievous glint in those twinkling grey eyes brightened as he rolled them in jest, matching the doting smirk on his full lips. “Maybe you should forgo the leather jackets more often for the waistcoats”, you say with a lustful undertone to your words as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Hmm, you think so?” he asks, dipping his height ever so slightly so that he could press his lips to yours in a surprisingly gentle kiss that still managed to pull desire in your abdomen as you leaned in for more but whined as he stood back to full height and straightened the waistcoat you loved so very much.

From behind you at the entrance to the bathroom, James was attempting to knot his bowtie when he wondered, “Are you sure you both don’t want to come with us? We each can have a plus one, which means there’s room for two. We don’t mind being fashionably late”. Glancing over your shoulder, you took in his slick attire that also caused warmth to bloom beneath your cheeks. A simple black jacket shaped perfectly for his slim waist, a crisp white shirt beneath and a matching shade of burgundy to Sirus was the colour for his tie.

The matching colours were an idea of Remus’, who was lounging across the mammoth bed, his long legs stretched out beneath him with one ankle crossed over the other. He watched James intently, the corner of his eye twitching at the messy-haired Marauder's attempts to tie his bowtie.

Remus stood and approached him, batting away James’ fingers as he began to do the job for him. You watched them fondly before answering the unanswered question. “No, it’s ok, James. Remus and I have a lovely night filled with a romantic home-cooked meal and a fancy bottle of wine. Who knows where the night may take us? Might end in some lovely… hand holding”, you say with a simple shrug to your shoulders, returning to straightening the already pristine waistcoat of Sirius.

“Oh yeah? Some strong hand-holding, Moony, is that what you’ve got planned? You might need to up your game”, Sirius jokes under his breath as he watches your fingers closely with a dipped head.

Remus snorted, smiling to himself, knowing that your night would be filled with anything but hand-holding, especially as the hours ticked closer to the following day. It was approaching the full moon, not tomorrow but the next day, but that didn’t matter as the changes were already beginning to affect Remus, and it all started with his desire for possession.

The wolf in Remus took a keen liking to you, even from all those years ago when you met the Marauders on the train to Hogwarts. It was an obsession, a need that devoured him completely to be with you. It had been described to you like a mating. Remus’ wolf thought you were his mate; therefore, as the gap between Remus’ and the wolf’s mind thinned with the full moon, the desire would take hold of Remus. There was still the deep, adoring love that he held for James and Sirius, and thankfully, this stopped him from ever deeming them a threat against your love, but others? Well, that’s where the danger lay, and therefore, it was easier for everyone if you and Remus stayed in for the night rather than have a territorial wizard with werewolf anger in a room full of people.

“Remember to please be safe out there tonight. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, and for the love of Merlin, James, please don’t drink and fly again. I’m not having another incident like last time”.

“Yes, Mum”, James grumbles sarcastically as Sirius chuckles under his breath.

“I’ll make sure that Prongs is on his best behaviour”, Sirius reasons with you as his hands come to rest around your waist, pulling you ever so gently closer.

“Good”, you say promptly, whilst curling a piece of his long hair around your fingers before reaching up to kiss his lips with a fierce press. “You look so handsome tonight,” you try to praise him as your mouths are still kissing together.

“Don’t I always?” he responds cheekily, earning a half-hearted eye-roll as he eases away, swapping places with James so that he can say goodbye to Remus and James with you.

Your fingers automatically try to tangle through James’ hair, attempting to flatten out the messy strands, but after a couple of minutes of attempts, James tugs you by your wrists. “I don’t know why you even bother; you know my hair will just stay messy. Anyway, doesn’t it add to my roguish good looks?” he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively as he gives you a broad grin whilst kissing each of your palms.

Your fingers cup his freshly shaved cheeks, caressing the smooth skin as you say, “I hope you have fun tonight”, whilst leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him with as much vigour as you could hear from the groans across the room with Sirius and Remus.

James sighed into the kiss, one hand matching yours by resting along your cheek and the other on your lower back as his lips pecked across your face until hovering next to your ear. “If you need us to come back, just send a note as we taught you; two flicks of your fingers and it should disappear, and we’ll come back straight away”.

Nodding your head in understanding, James kissed your cheek quickly before standing up to his full height and looking over at the other two men. “Sirius, take your tongue from Moony’s mouth; we must go!”

You tried to stifle your laughter as the two men pulled away from each other with rosy cheeks and wet lips.

Sirius and James disappeared with a flurry of green fire through the flu network installed in your shared home's kitchen. Remus turned to you with a heartwarming smile as he asked, “Shall we put some music on and start with dinner, love?”

You left it in Remus’ capable hands to find suitable music on his record player, and it ended up being a medley of David Bowie, which you were always happy to listen to. The two of you worked in unison to cook a beautiful roast dinner, moving around one another without getting in the way but making sure to remain at arm's length. Lingering touches to arms or backs, sipping slowly on the bottle of wine as Remus sang along to Bowie under his breath. You’d told him he could sing louder as you wanted to hear him, but he simply smiled and kissed your cheek, like he was embarrassed at being caught, but it was a rare day where Remus Lupin was embarrassed about anything.

The dinner was beautifully cooked, and there was enough for many more people than just you and Remus. Soon enough, you were stuffed full, thankful for deciding to wear a loose dress today with your expanded stomach. Remus was still eating as you sat and slowly digested your food, talking idly about fond memories from Hogwarts and how your work had been this week. Just anything domestically happy that the two of you could as you shifted closer in your seat so that his large scarred palm could rest on your thigh and your fingers interlock over the back of his hands.

“It’s a rare time when it gets to be just the two of us”, Remus muses, his hand squeezing your fingers and thighs as he pushes away his empty plate, his eyes solely focused on you.

“It’s been nice. As much as I love having all four of us together, sometimes it’s hard to keep up and give each of you all my attention, so when it's just one-on-one, it feels so intimate, wouldn’t you agree?”

His eyes softened as he nodded, “I definitely agree. You look so beautiful tonight, by the way. Have I told you that?”

Warmth filled your cheeks as you looked away to the glass of wine in your other hand. Even after all these years, one small compliment from Remus felt like the world, and it wasn’t the first time he had said that tonight; he’d said it every other sentence, but that didn’t hinder the giddy feeling from spreading in your chest.

“You, Mr Lupin, are a smooth talker”, you say, drinking a sip of your wine, ignoring his growing smile. Placing the glass onto the table, you shifted closer to Remus, resting a hand on his chest as you realised how much time had passed over the night. “So pudding, what would you like? I think we have some ice cream in the freezer, or if you’re lucky, James would have left us a couple of slices of his mum’s cake from yesterday”.

Remus didn’t answer immediately as you realised he was just silently watching you with the beautiful twinkle back in his eye, a curve to his lips that you itched to caress with your thumb. But then, he shifted forward in his seat so you were only mere inches from your faces touching, and the soft flop of his mousey brown hair fell into his eyes. “You’re so pretty, Remus”, you admire and then hold back a giggle as his cheeks flare with colour at your compliment.

“Pretty and scarred”, he muttered in response, cupping your wrist and bringing your fingers to his lips so he could kiss them carefully.

Your automatic response was to shout at him. It wasn’t that he had said anything remotely negative, but you knew the self-conscious thoughts that laced his words that he rarely spoke but still thought. You wanted to remind him of the hundreds of times he had ever scolded you for making negative comments about yourself or any self-doubt. Still, if you did, you knew it would ruin the positive mood for the night, so you wanted to continue with words of affirmation.

Closing the gap between each other, you kissed the tip of his nose whilst cupping both cheeks, paying specific attention to the thick pink scar that ran down from his temple, over his brow and his cheek. “I love you, scars and all”.

Remus’ tension seemed to ease from his shoulders as he breathed lightly out of his nose, his face lowering to rest on your shoulder as you held him for a moment before he began to stand and offered a hand, “What about a dance m’lady, then I’ll find you something sweet to suck on for desert”.

Ignoring the innuendo, you grinned up at him, placing your hand into his much larger palm. James and Sirius had lessons growing up from their families on how to dance for special balls they were forced to attend. You and Remus, on the other hand, were utterly clueless, but this only added to the joy and laughter as you both clumsily tried not to step on the other's toes or twirl without knocking into furniture.

You’d laughed so hard that a stitch formed in your side, causing the vivid dance to settle into a light sway. Your head rested on Remus's shoulder as his cheek pressed against the top of your head, arms around your shoulder as he lightly sang the next Bowie song.

Everything was perfect, especially as his rough fingertips danced up the nape of your neck, carefully tipping your head back so that you were now staring up into his kind eyes, his lips no longer moving along to the lyrics as he licked them carefully, moistening them before dipping his head. The kiss was as gentle as his hands now cupping your face, and you wondered for a moment if you were lightheaded from holding your breath in anticipation or from the effects of having your boyfriend kissing you.

Remus was soft, lovely and perfect as he eased away to put a gap between your mouths, but only so that he could adjust his position by keeping one hand on your jaw and the other around your waist before taking your breath away once more. Instantly, your body rose to the tips of your toes to be closer to him and firm the kiss.

The breath you’d both been holding released, noses pressing into each other's cheeks as the warm air tickled your ears. His tongue teased the seam of your lips, and as you relaxed into the kiss, many things seemed to happen at once.

The grandfather clock in the living room chimed midnight, and the soft Remus you’d been carefully kissing and exploring with your lips was now firmly gripping the back of your thighs, lifting you whilst simultaneously stepping towards the table as you squealed in shock, desperately gripping his shoulders for support.

Plates and glasses smashed onto the floor as Remus shoved aside the lovely table setting so that there was a firm blank canvas for you to be led on.

“Woah, Remus, just give me a minute.” You try to reason with him to at least get your bearings. Having been standing up two seconds ago, you were now led on your back with your boyfriend having become frantic with his actions. His shoulders shook with restraint, and his eyes didn’t lift from the edge of your skirt as he reached for the material. Not only this, but the brightness in his eyes had one, replaced with sinful hunger.

“Need you-” he muttered with a gruffness that hadn’t been there moments ago.

This was why you’d decided to stay in. Sometimes, Remus would curl around your body with the need to simply just breathe you in and declare that you were his; he’d become somewhat feral.

The fire in your body scorched to life as the need seeped into your core. As lovely as it had been, seeing him like this just did something to you. You wanted him just as desperately.

Frantically, you tried to help him lift up your skirt, but he was in control, pushing the material and tearing it in places with his firm grip until your legs and underwear-covered pussy were revealed. For a moment, it looked like he was going to dribble as you tried to reach for him to tell him to take a breath and compose himself, but all you were able to do audibly was scream out, head tipping back as Remus devoured you.

The Marauder hadn’t even waited for your underwear to be removed before his mouth was on you, hands not-so-gently wrapping around your thighs to push your legs apart, the slippers you’d been wearing now flying off in different directions across the kitchen. It was like he’d not eaten a single thing all night with the way his lips and jaw moved against your most sensitive of areas.

The sensation was odd with the barrier of cotton in between your cunt and his mouth. All you had was the pressure, wetness beginning to soak through from his tongue and the overwhelming heat from his mouth. Remus moved hungrily, licking and caressing with his mouth as you lay with your arms gripping onto the edge of the table above your head.

“Rem-Remus! Merlin, please don’t stop!” you begged desperately, allowing your body to succumb to his touch. You couldn’t even open your eyes without feeling dizzy with the sensations of his body all over your lower half as he pressed his tongue firmly against your throbbing clit, circling it with intention.

The hands on your thighs pushed harder, giving his face more room as a deep groan burned from his chest as he needed more. Still, as you whimpered from him to not stop, he stayed in place, stimulating your clit over and over again until your body was tensing with the pulses of desire from your cunt as your orgasm erupted.

His motions continued through the waves of pleasure, and even after, he carried on with his devouring, even as you verged on the edge of becoming overstimulated from the rough material of your panties rubbing against your delicate area. Remus needed more, and he was ready to take it.

The pressure on the back of your thighs suddenly disappears as he drapes your legs over his shoulders, giving you a better angle now to reach down and run your shaky fingers through his soft hair.

With your eyes firmly closed, you hadn’t noticed that your underwear had been torn clean from your body, only noticing when there was no barrier between what you both wanted. Your back arched from the stimulation of him sucking on your bundle of nerves, making an obscenely wet noise as your juices and his saliva caused a heavenly mess. 

Your legs had begun squeezing his face as you weren’t able to control your body, but he didn’t stop; he just simply continued to eat your pretty cunt. “Please….please Remus”, you continued to beg but unsure of what as you were thoroughly warm head to toe with the effects from your last orgasm, but his playful mouth knew just the right ways to keep you at the elevated bliss.

The thickness of his tongue pressed against your throbbing hole, delving as deep as he could go before curling it and exploring the warm softness of your cunt as the tip of his nose stimulated your clit.

It was intense, primarily as his large hands now rested on your abdomen, pushing down and forcing your hips to remain against the table so that he could remain in complete control of the stimulation to your body.

Clenching relentlessly around his tongue, your body couldn’t tell if it was calming down from an orgasm or having another. The overwhelming sensation caused tears to well in your eyes as the apples of your cheeks burned with heat. Everything was too much; even the clothes covering your torso felt claustrophobic as your nipples ached to be free.

“Ah!” you babbled, unable to even say his name as more intense waves of pleasure rocked from your cunt as it pulsed around his tongue. The tears escaped down your cheeks as you tried to gasp for air, your body finally slumping in exhaustion against the table as Remus began to stand from where he’d been on his knees for you.

Each of your legs was carefully eased from his shoulders to dangle off the edge of the wooden surface, not that you could keep them up anyway, as your entire body felt as if it was made of jelly.

“Did so good for me, Love. Taste so fucking good, wanna try?” he asked from where he now looked down at you, hovering only inches away from your face as his fingers wiped away the evidence of the tears. You nod quickly, opening your eyes for a split second to see Remus’ dark eyes and swollen, wet lips before they were pressing against yours, his tongue pushing into your mouth and allowing you the vulgar opportunity to taste your own juices from his mouth.

“My pretty girl tastes so good”, he admired, staring down at you, memorising every flicker of emotions on your face. You mewled at the compliment, nuzzling your face pathetically into his palm as he cradled your face. “What do you want? I want to hear you say it”.

His tone indicated that he was teasing, which was a rare attribute for Remus as he usually just liked to do whatever he had in mind, but when he was like this, wishing to get the very most from you as his werewolf subconscious began to flicker through his thoughts.

“You, I want you. Please!” you stress whilst trying to look up at him, fingers trembling at your side with the need to touch him somehow.

The corners of Remus’ lips tilted up as he smiled down at you, “Have I ever told you how much I love to hear you beg?”

Before you could respond, you were gasping as coolness licked over your chest as he’d swiped his wand down the centre of your clothing until it was falling off of your shoulders, and your body could be free from the confines. His eyes lowered, focused on your pebbled nipples as they begged for him to be touched, but he didn’t rush to them.

Instead, Remus began the long journey of exploring the rest of your body with firm kisses and licking with the flat of his tongue. He paid special attention to your neck, as he always did this close to the full moon as his sharp teeth grazed over your pulse point, the animalistic side of his begging to bite down and mark his girl, but he restrained, knowing it would be painful for you. The last time he’d done so, he’d had a right bollocking off of James and Sirius, who prattled on about how you weren’t his chew toy, even though you had insisted that it was ok.

Moving lower, Remus worshipped your breasts. He was licking the skin around the areola before drawing your nipple and some breast tissue into his mouth, sucking with enough force that the area swelled with the rush of blood. The fire in your core intensified as you gained enough energy to lift your hands and grip his shirt.

“I need you, Remus, please stop teasing me”, you beg, but all that earned in response was an approved grunt.

“Relax, and just let me kiss you”, he sniped with desire as you wanted to sass back but found yourself melting into the table instead. Each inch of your stomach, hips, legs, arms, everywhere he could reach in this position, he praised with his mouth until he was once again hovering above your lips. “All I can think about is you”, he admitted, his tone caught between hunger and pain as his thoughts were becoming too clouded by the wolf’s desire to be close to you.

Your fingers combed through his hair as you tried to sound as calming as possible, “I know, Remus, it’s ok. I’m right here. Take me”.

A shiver ran down his spine as he finally began to unbuckle his trousers, freeing his cock between your bodies as he rested on his elbows on either side of your face so that his face could nuzzle into your neck.

You took the honours of reaching between your legs, grasping his impressively hard cock, admiring the soft skin and veins that bulged as you pulled him closer to where you needed him most.

“Tell me you’re mine”, he begged as you directed his tip to your soaked hole.

Tilting your head so that you could kiss his cheek, you implored, “I’m yours Remus - FUCK!”

All you could do was curse and cling to him as, with one powerful thrust, the majority of his cock stretched into your pussy. You could never take his entire length unless it were through anal play, but that didn’t stop him trying as the pressure became overwhelming as he nudged against your cervix.

Your thighs trembled once more as he gave you time to adjust, sighing blissfully against your neck as if he had finally found what it was that he was looking for. However, as your cunt frantically fluttered around Remus as you adjusted to the intrusion, Remus began to rut his hips in short, snapping thrusts slowly.

You groaned at the sensation and found your hips meeting his until all restraint was gone, and Remus was fucking you hard and fast.

Pushing up on his hands so that he was looking down at you, Remus fucked you hard. The table beneath you groaned just as loudly as you were as it rocked against the floor, and for a split second, you hoped it wouldn’t suddenly collapse beneath you two.

Remus suddenly moved as if hearing your thoughts, widening his stance as he stood to his full height, hands on your thighs and bringing your body to the very edge of the table. In this position, he could fuck you with quick snaps of his hips. Your back arched in this new position, pleasure pouring into your soul.

However, a noise over the sound of the fucking caught your attention as the fire flickered with green flames, and you couldn’t help but gasp, “Sirius!” as he stepped out of the fire, followed closely by James.

Remus, still with his head hunched slightly from where he was watching you intently, growled at the name used, his gaze hardening on you as he leaned back until you looked into each other's eyes. “Wrong name, Sweetheart”, he demanded lowly, fucking into you with as power as he could, causing you to cry out and tense with the pleasure. “I only want my name coming out of your mouth, do you understand?”

“Yes, Remus! I’m sorry!” you plead with him as he fucks you harder.

“There you go, Love. See, it wasn’t so difficult, was it?” As he talks, he lifts his hands and covers your eyes so you can no longer look at Sirius or James as you’re plunged into darkness.

“Don’t be too hard on her, Moony”, James teases from somewhere across the room as you hear him and Sirius shuffling around but are unable to see what they are doing.

Remus grunts but doesn’t stop with his motions, making sure that your next orgasm is just as overwhelming and powerful as the others as your cunt clung to him for dear life, attempting to milk his balls with the powerful clenches but he didn’t stop fucking you all the way through your orgasm.

Having his hand over your eyes was a disorientating position to be in, especially as he would every so often kiss your cheek or neck, savouring your soft skin before moving away so that his momentum could continue.

A hiss echoed across the room from wherever your other two boyfriends currently were, and as another whimper sounded from what you assumed was Sirius, Remus then decided it would be a good time to completely pull out of your pussy, leaving you gaping and empty.

Before you could moan, more disorientation flowed through you as his hand was removed from your face, and your body was being manhandled so that you were now being turned over on the table until your front was pressed against the wood. With a gentle kick to your ankle, Remus made room between your legs for himself and fucked into you. He was even deeper in this angle, which you didn’t think was possible as his chest pressed against your back.

His and didn’t return to your face, allowing you to look at your other lovers. Sirius was currently sitting on James’ lap, both of their fancy clothes more dishevelled from earlier as the bowtie and scarf were off and the top buttons were undone. They stared intently at you and Remus as they touched one another. James was kissing the column of Sirius’ neck whilst his hands groped at the bulge at the front of his trousers. At the same time, Sirius was grinding his hips down on James, who you assumed had a matching bulge that was rubbing against Sirius’ arse.

“You’re mine, Love. Aren’t you? My pretty girl”, Remus whispered with deep penetrations of his cock into your cunt.

“Yes! I’m yours, Remus! You’re so deep”, you proclaim with a cry as you find yourself already wanting to peak and cum over his thick dick again. However, Remus knew you just as well as you knew yourself and could feel the tightening of your soft walls and stopped all thrusting as you sobbed with the beautiful feeling washing away.

His hand eased beneath your face, holding your jaw and forcing your sight away from your boyfriend's until it was tilted to look over your shoulder at Remus. “You only get to cum after them”, he demands before nipping your ear love with a sharp tug of his teeth.

“Moony, you really are tense, aren’t you” Sirius jokes breathlessly as he moves more eagerly against James, whose hand is now fully inside of his boyfriend's trousers, wanking him off in time with the movements.

Thankfully it didn’t take them long to cum, Sirius first with his head thrown back and trousers staining a dark colour in a little puddle. James then rutted up into Sirius a few minutes later, groaning and stilling his movements. Both breathed each other in deeply, lazily kissing and holding onto one another until your sudden gasp echoed around the room as Remus continued with his fucking.

Your head moved to drop onto the table as you accepted the fucking, but Remus’ hand remained beneath, cushioning your face from the hardness of the wooden table as his lips moved to the junction between your throat and shoulder.

With each thrust, Remus repeatedly grunted the possessive word, “Mine!” until it was all you could think about. Your orgasm nearly caused you to pass out with its intensity. Juices streamed from your cunt, dripping down your thighs as waves of clenching pleasure constricted around Remus’ cock until he was forcing as much of himself as he could into you, and thick seed spurted into you. The warmth was welcomed as it soothed your pussy from the inside out as it began to trickle down your thighs, mixing with your own juices.

You were half aware of your movements, more concerned with the fact that you couldn’t control the tremble and sobs as Remus pressed himself harder over your back, making you feel grounded and safe.

“Shh. Slowly breathe in and out for me. That’s it. Slowly breathe for me again, keep going, well done”, Remus encouraged for some time as you’d been close to a panic attack with the overstimulation, close to tipping into the submissive headspace that would have taken them a lot longer to draw you out of.

“It’s just… a lot”, you say shakily, eyes closed and absorbing every warmth he was willing to give you”.

“I know, I’ve got you. I’ve always got you”, he reassured calmly.

You’re exhausted, ready to fall asleep right there on the kitchen table as you whisper, “I wanna go to sleep”.

Remus kissed your naked shoulder, “After we clean you up, ok, Love?”

As Remus begins to stand, his half-hard cock slipping out of your well-used hole with a slurp and shudder from both of you, did James finally step forward whilst readjusting his softening cock in his trousers.

Squatting down next to you, his fingers tentatively caressed your cheek while keeping an eye on Remus behind you to ensure the action wouldn’t trigger him somehow. “You alright there?” James asked softly.

“Mmhm. Just a little sleepy”, you say whilst closing your eyes at the ticklish touch on your face.

Sirius stepped forward from behind James, raising his wand and pointing it to the destroyed rest of the kitchen mess, “I’ll clean up here, you guys look after her, and I’ll join you in the bathroom”.

Remus had to carry you to the bathroom as liquid drips flooded out of you and marked the direction you had been giving Sirius more to clean up. As this house was altered for the four of you, the shower was wide enough to provide you with Remus and James plenty of room to wash together.

You attempted to stand up on your own but ended up leaning heavily on Remus as James washed the remnants of the fucking from your body was skilled, careful fingers.

“You know I didn’t mean to say the wrong name, right? I just didn’t expect to see them standing there and-” you begin to explain with Remus, worried he’d been upset by you saying Sirius’s name earlier.

However, his lips quickly cut you off with a simple peck, “I know”.

Kissing his cheek several times, you mumbled against his skin, “It’s hard to think of anything else when I’m around you. You’re all consuming, Remus”.

Against your lips, you feel the heat radiating off of him in a quick burst of rare embarrassment as he actually blushed at your words.

“She’s right, Moony. Without you, there is no us without you”, James quips in a rare statement of sincerity.

A cough from the bathroom door catches all your attention as Sirius casually leans against the door frame, cheeks round with roast potato as he joins in with the Remus praising. “There’s a reason why we all argue every night to see who gets to be spooned by the magnificent Remus Lupin”.

Three of you chuckled before you asked, “Are you eating my leftovers?”

“What?” he says with a shrug, stepping further into the room and beginning to take off his clothing at last. “The food was scarce at the party, and Moony’s roasties are always so fucking good”.

You nod in agreement before looking up at Remus once more, who looks quite proud of himself for the flow of compliments coming his way. However, as you attempted to lean up onto your tip toes again to kiss his handsome face in some way, your knees decided they were finished holding up your way as you nearly collapsed to the floor, only stopping because of his strong arms wrapping around your waist.

“As much as I appreciate this little pep talk, I think we need to get someone to bed”.

Remus lay in the centre of the bed, where he rightfully deserved to be tonight with you on top of him, face resting on his chest and legs on either side of his hips as each of your hands held his. Sirius and James joined later, deciding they needed some extra alone time in the shower together, as the dry humping hadn’t entirely filled that horny spot for either of them.

You were asleep by the time both men crept into bed, resting either side of you and Remus with arms spooning around your back as the three shared a kiss goodnight. “How was your night?” Remus asked, looking between James and Sirius. “You’re both sober, so I’m assuming no mischief?”

“Oh, Moony, like we need alcohol to cause a riot. Why do you think we’re back so early?” Sirius declares whilst flicking out the laugh and curling in closer to the warmth of bodies as Remus chuckles into the darkness.

#poly!marauders #the marauders #marauders smut #james potter x reader #james potter smut #sirius black x reader #sirius black smut #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x reader #the marauders x reader #harry potter smut #hp smut #mine*

[tojisun]

OMG. the helmet!!:!!:!: this might be biker simon https://pin.it/3aqBTs5

holy fuck the details on that??? AND THE MUSSY HAIR????

THIS MIGHT BE BIKER!SIMON FR

…ok but it def terrified you when you first saw his helmet 😭

you’ve been hearing johnny joke about simon being in his emo phase, talking about a skull helmet and teasingly call it cringe so you had… low expectations about what it could look like. you’ve seen graphic art on helmets before so you ascribed those to simon’s – a helmet you haven’t seen yet given that simon kept picking you up with his car instead so you never got the chance to glance at the art.

one night, simon messaged you saying that he’d crash at your place for the time being. the meet dragged on, apparently it’s because many members were preparing for the upcoming rally, and you replied to him, saying that he give you a call so you can unlock the door for him.

it’s two in the morning when simon calls, his muffled voice ragged from exhaustion as he tells you he’s outside. you mumble sleepily to him, dismissing his murmured apologies as you amble towards your door.

you peer through the peephole, fear dousing your previous exhaustion because what the fuck is that on the other side of your door.

“sweetheart?” simon’s voice crackles from your phone and you jolt, air rushing back into your lungs. you quietly turn, speeding away from your door to lock yourself in your bathroom, panicked breaths rasping from your dry lips.

“si,” you whisper, your voice broken from a building sob. “there’s someone outside my apartment.”

“what?!” simon replies, his own exhaustion morphing into concern. “do you see them from your room? are you safe?”

“yes,” you murmur, afraid to speak any louder. “i-i don’t know where you are right now but i saw them from my peephole and- si, i’m scared.”

there is an unusual pause on the other line, something you don’t expect from simon, before hearing him breathe in deeply and exhale with a trembling laugh.

“shit, baby,” he says, his voice racked with mirth. “fuck, this is on me but, uh, that’s me that you saw.”

…what?

“what?” you repeat out loud.

“what you might’ve seen is my helmet. remember how i customized it with a skull design?” he clarifies, still sounding so fond before a muffled thumping echoes from his line. then, “i removed my helmet so if you want to check again, you’d see it’s me.”

you nibble on your bottom lip, feeling your heart begin to calm down. “y’promise?”

“on my life, baby.”

that’s all you needed before tiptoeing back to your door, hearing the way simon is still murmuring soft assurances of your safety, and peering through the peephole. you see simon – mussed up hair and exhausted eyes, but that’s simon alright.

you fling your door open, forgetting that you were in a call with him, and instantly dive into his arms. simon catches you with a quiet oof before fixing his arms around you properly.

“shh,” simon whispers, pressing kisses on the top of your head. “i’m home now. y’r safe.”

“m’sorry,” you sniff, embarrassment filling you up now as the panic completely bleeds away.

simon chuckles before pinching your chin to make you look at him. he smiles at you softly when you finally meet his eyes. “nothin’ to be sorry for, baby. i’m proud of you for going to safety and telling me right away.” he kisses your forehead. “you did good, sweetheart.”

he cuddles you as you two sleep and tomorrow morning, he shows you his helmet.

he pulls you to his lap, resting his chin on your shoulder as he points at the engraving, telling you about the multiple trial-and-error helmets he’s gone through until he’s finally found the one that he truly liked.

“mm, it’s pretty,” you say, pretending last night didn’t happen

simon kisses your neck. “i’m glad y’like it.”

your lips wobble at the realization that simon is also down to pretend with you.

you shift on his lap and pepper his face with kisses, humming in delight when warm palms cup your ass to push you closer towards him.

(simon doesn’t tell johnny but johnny knows anyway. he drops beside you with a crooked grin, his shoulder bumping yours.

“so you finally saw the helmet?” he asks.

you nod, ignoring the sudden warmth of embarrassment that fills your cheeks. johnny laughs.

“scary, huh?”

“yup,” you say, popping the ‘p’.

he hums, shaking his head. “made me almost piss my pants, lass. y’r not alone.”

that punches a laughter out of you.)

i live for johnny n reader friendship <333

also ignore how long-ish this turned out again 😭 my fingers truly slipped

#suns.f #biker!simon #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #anon #ask #suns #I WAS LIKE ‘just a short headcanon lol’ THEN BOOM A WHOLE DRABBLE 😭

[luveline]

oooh! just had an idea!!! bombshell reader x spencer where he comes over to her apartment one day on the weekend to suprise her with breakfast/flowers bc they just started dating. however, bombshell is in sweats/no makeup/messy hair when she answers but when she sees its spencer, she FLIPS out/slams the door bc she doesnt want him to see her in that state. spencer, however, is confused ofc because he genuinely doesnt notice her outfit/lack of makeup and thinks she is gorgeous no matter what.

hope this is ok ♡ fem, 1.1k

The song starts slow and ends slower. You could picture Spencer listening to it, his head on your shoulder or yours on his, wired earphones shared between you. 

You grab a pencil to jot a quick post-it note so you'll remember, one knee on your desk chair. You don't want to sit down with the shower running in case you get distracted by your new photo frame.

You and Spencer took a photo to commemorate finally getting together. Or rather, Hotch did, standing behind the camera with an impossible mixture of fondness and disapproval. You look like a true couple with matching graphic t-shirts and beaming smiles, Spencer's arm over your shoulders and yours behind his back. You can't see it without staring; you use all your strength to ignore the photo, pulling your post-it from its pad and tacking the yellow square to your vanity. Tell Spencer about love song from Ocean Boulavard. 

The door to your apartment rings with a knock. If you weren't distracted in your losing don't-think-about-Spencer battle, you'd recognise the timid pattern of it. 

You've been expecting a parcel all weekend. 

"Coming!" you call, tugging a sweater over your vest top, plaid pyjama pants dragging against the floor as you make your way out of your bedroom and into the main living area. "Two seconds!" 

You give yourself a precursory glance in the mirror next to the door before you answer it. You'd never go out like this, but the delivery driver won't see you long. You're mostly clean and fully dressed, though your socks don't match. 

That's another thing to tell Spencer. He must be rubbing off on you. 

"Hello," you say cheerily, pulling the door open with a smile. 

"Hi," Spencer says, big brown eyes aglow at the sight of you, his hands full to bursting. There are enough things in his hands to hide his chest completely. 

You don't have a chance to decipher exactly what he's brought as you flinch behind the cover of the door, not cruel enough to close it in his face, but wanting to. "Spencer! What are you doing here?" 

"Well, you live here." 

His hand comes up tentatively near yours on the door. He doesn't push it further in or attempt to come inside. He might have, if you hadn't squeaked in warning, biting down on the soft inside of your cheek. 

"Is everything okay?" he asks.

"Everything is fine!" You squeeze your eyes closed, your pulse a hummingbird hammering between them. 

"Really?" Spencer asks, taking back his hand. "Can I–"

There's a shuffling sound like he might step forward, and that's the last straw, you're fully panicking as you slam it closed.

A too long silence. Your breath comes unnaturally quickly, your thoughts racing to match. I can't believe I just did that. Why did I do that? 

What do I do? 

"Spencer, I'm naked," you say. 

"You were definitely wearing clothes. What's wrong? I brought breakfast, I thought I'd surprise you. I texted you. When you didn't answer I figured maybe you were still sleeping after last night, but… now I'm thinking maybe I read that wrong."

"You didn't read it wrong! You can always come over!" you insist, looking around behind you as if you might suddenly find a full face of makeup hiding in your sideboard, or a fresh change of clothes hanging on the coat hooks. 

"Okay, so, can I come in?" 

You poke at the sore bit of skin in your cheek with a wince. "Spence, I'm not dressed. Like, I'm not ready. I look like a mess." 

"You looked beautiful. For the two seconds that I could see your face, at least." You breathe in uselessly. An answer doesn't present itself. Spencer offers some wisdom while you panic, but you aren't sure you want to hear it. "We're dating, right? So as much as you clearly don't want me to see you like this, it's gonna happen. Hopefully regularly?" He laughs lightly on the other side of the door. "Can I please come in?" 

Nerves gnaw at your fingers, uncomfortable pins and needles. "What if you don't like it as much?" you ask quietly. You're surprised he can hear you. 

"Do you trust me?"

What sort of question is that? This isn't about trust. This is about you, an image of yourself you hold and that you want others to share, it's why you dress as you do, why you wear your intricate hairstyles, and spend hours upon hours priming and primping.

You want to be pretty deeply, especially in Spencer's eyes. Do you trust him to find you pretty still, without all the extra effort? Pretty from the moment you wake up? 

You wait for the verdict as you open the door again. The handle clicks and lugs, the hinge whining as it swings inward. You step backward to allow him space, meeting Spencer's eyes with an insecurity that doesn't suit you.

He doesn't react at first. His hand tightens around the neck of a sprawling bouquet, wildflowers like a burst of colour against his chest, the long white body of a lily of the valley kissing the curve of his neck. He smells like powdered sugar donuts and the food truck they came from, the story of his obsession a remembered delight. I think of you every time I cross the square to the train station by my place. The warm vanilla smell reminds me of your perfume. But I'm usually already thinking of you. He's been bringing you donuts intermittently for months now. 

He finally smiles at you, all manner of morning warmth flooding the room with him. The sun at his heels, the silky brown colour of his hair, you look up as he steps close, as light silhouettes him, turns the silk to fluff. You can see every detail this close down to the baby flyaways, and he can see the same. 

"How could you think I wouldn't like this?" he asks. His words are hushed with earnestness but yards from hesitant. Spencer is unabashedly, genuinely enamoured with you. "You're so pretty. You always are." 

You beg him silently to hold your face, taking the flowers from his hand. He can read you from that small action alone, raising a deft hand to your cheek. 

You lean into his palm. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

[jobean12-blog]

Locked in Love

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Word Count: 1,161

Summary: You and Joel are clearly pining for each other but neither of you will act on it so Ellie and Tommy formulate a plan.

Author's Note: This is just because I want to be locked in a dark space with this man so he can have his way with me. I'd never feel safer. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: it's soft and sweet and fun and there's flirty tension and lots of touching...Ellie is a menace in the best way, a curse or three.

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

“Ouch!”

Joel turns his head to the left, listening with his good ear.

“For fucks sake! Son of a…OW!”

His lips twitch with a smile and he moves closer to the old shed.

“Hey darlin’? You ok in there?” he asks.

As he gets closer to the door he starts to hear the rattling of metal against wood and lots of banging.

“Darlin’?” he calls again.

The door is slightly ajar, letting only a small fraction of the light from outside in, so he steps inside.

He catches the briefest glimpse of your ass as you’re bent over a pile of old tools before the door slams shut behind him and he’s bathed in shadowy darkness.

“Oh no,” you mutter. “Did the door just shut?”

“Um…” Joel starts and reaches behind him to test the rusty knob.

A long moment stretches without words while Joel fumbles with the door lock.

“Shit,” he sighs.

“Joel?”

“It’s me darlin’,” he answers. “I heard some noises comin’ from inside and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Thank goodness it’s you.”

Your words rush out in a relieved exhale.

“But I’m pretty sure we’re locked in here now.”

“Seems that way,” he says, giving the knob one more good jiggle.

You try to take a step forward but the darkness makes it much more difficult to see and you walk into an old pile of wood.

“Shit,” you curse with a hiss.

“Don’t move,” he says as he extends his hands out in front of him. “I’m comin’ for you.” 

You stay still, waiting for the touch of his hands. You can feel his warmth first though and before his fingers make contact you’re enveloped in his familiar scent of earth and spice.

“There ya are darlin’,” he whispers when his fingers wrap around your arm. “Sure you’re okay?”

“I am now,” you answer, your breathy sigh washing over him.

You instinctively lean into his touch, pressing your shoulder to his chest and clutching his shirt in your hands.

“What are you doin’ in here anyway?” he asks.

You sigh and roll your eyes even if he can’t see the motion in the darkness.

“Ellie asked me to help her build her bookshelf and told me I could probably find an old hammer in here and maybe some other tools.”

He scoffs and shakes his head.

“Well there might be somethin’ in here we can use to open the door at least,” he muses.

His deep voice is close to your ear it sends a warm shiver down your spine.

“Ok,” you whisper but you don’t let go of his shirt and for several moments he stays still, pressing himself closer.

“Guess I should look around,” he says quietly.

When he does finally start to move you move with him, his arm slipping around your waist to secure you to his side.

At first he navigates the dark space well, only bumping into something small but at some point he makes a turn and the next thing you know you’re backed up against the wall.

“Oof,” you mutter, placing your palms on his chest to steady yourself.

Both of his hands slide to your waist.

“Fuck, darlin.’ Sorry. I didn’t know…”

“It’s okay,” you assure him as your hands move higher to his shoulders.

He murmurs your name in an almost desperate manner before he eases closer, crowding you against the wall.

You drag your fingers downward, reaching his stomach and savoring the feel of the softness beneath your hands.

His grip tightens and he asks, “what are you doin’ darlin’?”

“Making sure I don’t trip or bump into anything else,” you explain.

Your hands don’t stop their roaming and when you glide them back up and find the open buttons of his shirt your fingertips slide under the fabric and caress his warm skin.

His breath accelerates and he dips his head. You lean in and your lips meet his scruffy cheek.

With deliberate purpose you ghost your mouth along his jaw until you find his ear to whisper his name in a plea.

Your back molds to the wall seconds after the sound leaves your lips and he swallows your surprise with his mouth.

Even in the dark he kisses you like he’s memorized the shape of your lips, gently nipping and then soothing the spot with his tongue. His large hand traces the curve of your body before it settles along the back of your neck, his thumb delicately sweeping across your cheek.

“So soft for me,” he murmurs, releasing your lips.

You can feel him staring in the darkness and your hands start to wander again, fingertips grazing lower until you meet his belt buckle.

He drops his head to your neck, breathing against your throat as he rolls his hips.

“Fuck darlin’,” he growls.

Your lips meet again but only to lightly slide together, the anticipation hanging thick in the small space of air between you.

The door to the shed flies open.

Joel operates on instinct and crowds you against the wall, hiding you protectively with his body. As soon as the light from outside floods in you duck your head and tuck it under his chin.

He squints into the brightness and as his eyes adjust he grumbles out a curse.

“Told you it would work.”

At the sound of Ellie’s voice you peek out over Joel’s shoulder with narrowed eyes.

“Did I just hear her say what I think she said?” you ask Joel quietly.

“You did,” he grunts. “Damn kid.”

“Who was she talking to?” you ask next.

Before Joel can answer you hear the heavy footfall of boots followed by Tommy’s distinct laughter.

“Darn right it worked,” Tommy grins and then you hear him and Ellie high five.

Ellie looks pointedly at Joel and then you, giving you both a triumphant smile before sauntering off.

“Should I just leave you two…” Tommy starts, his eyes sparkling as his finger waggles back and forth. “I can lock the door again.”

Without releasing you, Joel takes a threatening step forward and Tommy retreats with hands held up in surrender but his knowing smile still unwavering.

Once Tommy is gone Joel’s eyes turn softly to you. Calloused fingertips brush along your forehead before tracing the outline of your lips.

Your breath hitches under the heat you see in his gaze, the intensity making you acutely aware of every sensation he draws from you.

“I’m not done with you yet. Far from it darlin’.”

Very deliberately he drops his hand from your face, grazing every exposed inch of skin he can find on his way down to the hem of your shirt and slowly, gently slips his fingers beneath.

Your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks and you let out a rush of air.

“Can I touch you?” he murmurs.

“Yes.” The answer bursts out of you in a desperate whisper, as if you’ve been holding it in forever.

@lorilane33 @blackwidownat2814 @hiddles-rose @lizette50 @littleseasiren

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal x reader

[mountainsandmayhem]

You're a Brat, Little Dove

Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: You play with Joel at your 25 year high school reunion to get exactly what you want. CW: Dom!Joel, Sub/Dom, blowjob, throat fucking, gagging, nipple play, Brat!Tamer, unprotected p in v (they’re in a long-term relationship), oral (f and m receiving), anal play very briefly, pet names, cream pie kink, praise kink, degradation if you squint, denial and edging, NO AGE GAP (Joel and reader are in their 40’s)  A/N: I am absolutely BLOWN AWAY by the love that You're Mine and Stay Still have gotten. Truly, from the bottom of my cold, dead heart I really appreciate your likes, comments and reblogs. Hopefully you enjoy this one, as well. Dividers and banners by @saradika-graphics Word Count: 5.6k

Dress. Check. 

Nude heels. Check. 

2 daytime outfits.  Check. 

Drive home clothes. Check. 

Make up bag. Check.

Stop worrying so much. You’re not even leaving the country, you can buy what you forgot.

“You ok?” Joel asks as he wraps his arms around you from behind.

“Just the usual pre-travel anxieties.” You say, leaning into his warmth. Your arms unconsciously cross over his, hands resting on his forearms. 

“We’re not leaving the country, you can buy whatever you forgot,” you smile to yourself at how well he knows you as his lips press lightly to your temple. “Remember when I had to go out of town at the last minute before our Disneyland trip and you packed for all of us?”

“Mmhmmm,” you say. The memories come flooding in of those two little girls; one dressed as a princess from head to toe and the other refusing to take off her Darth Vader helmet. The latter was far braver on the “scary rides”, and held her sister's hand until they were both giggling and screaming with delight.

“You didn’t miss a single thing - for any of us. Including the nightlight that Sarah couldn’t be without and the granola bars that Ellie claimed were the only things she could have for breakfast.” 

You turn your head and gently press your lips to his. This is the kind of love that people write about. Supportive. Caring. Complete and unwavering trust. Each person is 100% in for the other, willingly giving when the other needs to take, and never keeping score. You don’t judge the other for any sort of anxiety they might be having or help they might be needing. Partners. Through and through. 

A noise from the kitchen brings you back and you break the kiss. “What is that incessant beeping?” 

“That’s your phone,” he laughs while pulling out of the hug and squeezing your sides. “It’s been going off all morning. Someone is messaging you on Facebook.” 

You squirm free of his wandering hands and go to brush your teeth. When you come back out to the kitchen he’s scrolling through the messages in your phone. 

“Who is it?” You ask, getting your morning coffee ready. 

Joel throws his head back, laughing loudly as he reads in a mocking voice, “Hi. Long time no talk. I saw your name on the guest list for the reunion this weekend. Can’t wait to catch up. Looks like you’re single. At least based on your profile. Glad to see you got rid of that goon you were dating in your 20s.” 

Your profile is blank, a picture of you holding baby Ellie the day you officially adopted her is the only thing on there, and you have maybe 15 friends. Truthfully, you aren’t even sure why you have it, even in the heyday of Facebook, you weren’t exactly a share-everything-about-yourself-on-the-internet type of girl.

“Oh god,” you laugh. “It’s Zack, isn’t it?” 

Joel wipes away a tear from laughing so hard. “Each sentence is its own message, but I’m a goon?” He slides your phone across the counter to you adding, “Can I punch him again when we see him?” 

Years ago, while visiting your parents, Zack got a little too handsy when you ran into each other at a local pool hall. Joel was and very much still is, a ‘touch her and die’ type of lover. 

You both laugh as you kiss him goodbye and head to work.

On your lunch break, you updated your profile picture to you and Joel with the girls at their high school graduation. Hopefully, Zack will get the message. By 5 pm you’re rushing home to get out the door and drive 5 hours to your old hometown. 

The minute you walk into the reunion you see women’s heads turning to look at Joel. You can’t say you blame them, Joel Miller is the dictionary definition of a DILF! And tonight, in perfectly tailored black pants, a crisp black dress shirt and black tie, his slightly outgrown curls pushed back, and grey scruff perfectly trimmed, he looks hot as sin. And then, just to add insult to an already smoldering hot injury, he recently came to terms with needing glasses for driving at night. Those black frames should be illegal. 

Over the last few days you’ve been sending him articles about spanking and on the drive up had an open and honest communication about what you both wanted out of it. Deep down you’re hoping tonight is your night, you’re tempted to just go back to the hotel and let him do whatever he wants. Instead, the two of you hit the bar to get a drink before finding a table to sit at.

“Who is that lady in the gold sequin dress with the black hair, almost directly behind you?” Joel asks awkwardly, sipping his whiskey.

You glance around the room, trying to not make it obvious when you catch the one person you don’t want around Joel staring right at him. 

“Lucy Garfield.” You say flatly. “She’s the one that slept with Zack seconds after I left for university. I thought they were married but she is eye fucking you so hard.”

“Gross,” he laughs, his nose crinkling up in disgust. He’s so endearing when he’s joking around with you, “Don’t say eye fucking.”

You laugh, “It’s what she’s doing Joel. I wonder how long before she’s over here talking to you.”

You start pushing your chair out from the table and he grabs your leg, “Leave me alone and you’re dead to me”

“Joel,” you giggle and try to push the chair more, “I kinda have to pee though.” 

“Babe, I'm serious. She scares me,” he says with a shudder. “I can feel her looking at me.” 

“Oh, she’s doing more than looking…” you tease, sliding your chair back in.

“Don’t say it.”

He squirms as you lean in to his ear and whisper, “Eye fucking.”

“I hate you.” 

After a few hours of catching up with old friends, you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and grab another drink for you and Joel. When you come out of the bathroom Lucy is alone at your table with Joel. You can see the discomfort on his face as she shows him something on his phone. You’re not jealous or worried, but when Zack approaches you at the bar you decide to have a little fun.

“So you didn’t break up with him after all?” He’s leaning back cockily on the bar, arms crossed, eyes locked on Lucy. 

“No,” you laugh while ordering drinks; whiskey neat for Joel and a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon for you. “I never planned to.” 

“I figured. Lucy seems to take a liking to anyone you set your sights on.”

“You would know best, Zack.” You’re still facing the bar, but you see Zack glance quickly in your direction at the dig. “Any advice for poor Joel over there?”

“Don’t leave the best thing that ever happened to you for a gymnast with...” he stops speaking when he looks back to you, seeing you with one eyebrow raised as you sip your wine. “She and I are getting divorced.” 

“I assumed.”

“Oh?”

And that’s when you hear it. Your song with Joel. 

‘I know what you look like in the morning

Your kisses are soft and warm’

Joel looks around the room for you, when he spots you at the bar a mischievous grin crosses your face and you lean in close to Zack. 

“Dance with me?” You whisper, giving him the puppy eyes he never used to say no to. 

‘I can draw you with my eyes closed 

Seen you with nothing on but the radio’

He places a hand on your lower back and leads you to the dance floor before pulling you in close. Huh, you think to yourself, 25 years later and still got it.

You look away from Joel and give Zack a tight lipped smile as the first verse of the song melts into the chorus. 

‘I know the kind of thing that makes you laugh 

The way you tilt your head for a photograph

What other guy knows you like that’

You fight the urge not to look past Zack’s shoulder and over at Joel as Zack’s voice drones on in the distance, telling you about his divorce. 

‘And I can name the first guy you ever kissed’

You can’t help but sneak a glance at Joel. Zack is the first guy you kissed and Joel knows it.

‘I can name the perfume on your wrist’

Joel crosses his arms, staring at you darkly from across the room. Fuck, you think maybe you bit off more than you can chew.

‘What other guy knows you like that’

Joel stands and strides over to you. 

Yes. Got him. He doesn’t look mad, if anything he’s looking at you with dangerous desire in his eyes. Your heart flutters as heat travels between your thighs.

“Babe, we gotta go.” 

Zack starts to protest but you release yourself from his arms and say with a big smile, “It was lovely catching up. Thank you for the dance.” 

As Joel leads you off the dance floor he growls quietly in your ear, “You’ve been a very bad girl, Little Dove.” 

The car ride back to the hotel is silent. Not a word is uttered between either of you, the second the elevator door closes Joel presses you back against the wall.  Towering over you, one of his hands roughly pulls down the right cup of your dress and bra, he pinches your nipple hard between his thumb and pointer finger. 

You gasp out in pain, but he doesn’t say anything, just glares down at you. As the pain morphs into pleasure you squeeze your thighs together, your panties starting to soak through. He releases you when the elevator stops and turns his back to you, you cover your abused nipple back up before you follow him into your room.

“Clothes off and kneel,” he growls, throwing a pillow haphazardly at your feet.

“Joel-I…” you stutter out. He stalks across the room, only the discarded pillow separating you. 

“I said,” he starts harshly. “Clothes off and kneel, Little Dove.”

You swallow the dry lump in your throat while sliding the zipper down the side of your black dress, letting it fall to the ground. A deep, guttural moan escapes Joel as you kick the dress aside and remove your bra and panties. You’re completely bare for him, nothing but your nude heels left. 

“That’s better. Now kneel.” 

You do as he says, getting into his desired position; hands on your lap and eyes aimed at the floor in front of you. He bends, cupping your chin and tilting your face up to meet his gaze. You expect to see his eyes dark and lips tight, instead, you’re met with softness, his chocolate brown eyes boring into you.

“Little Dove,” he starts, his voice just barely above a whisper. “I am going to punish you for being a brat tonight. Everything I plan to do is things we’ve talked about.” 

“Like what?” You ask as your mouth goes impossibly dry.

“No, you don’t get answers tonight. You’re in trouble. Do you remember your safe words?”

You nod, “Yes sir.”

The colour coding system is how Joel prefers to do things. Red if you need to end things, yellow if you need a break or to slow down, and green to keep going.

His thumb caresses your cheek, “That’s my girl.” 

Joel stands abruptly and your gaze follows him. When he looks down at you, his features are no longer soft. His eyes are almost black, eyebrows slightly knit together and jaw clenched. He snaps his fingers and points at the ground and you immediately obey, shifting your gaze back to where he prefers it. He walks across the room, uncuffing the sleeves of his black dress shirt and rolling them up his thick forearms. You hear the unmistakable sound of him removing his tie and his glasses being placed on the table.

“You were a brat tonight, Little Dove,” he says darkly. “Remind me, do I like brats?” 

“No, sir.” It comes out in a nervous squeak.

Joel stares at you for a while and it’s nearly impossible to keep your eyes on the ground. If Joel had to classify himself, he’d say he was a pleasure Dom. He’d rather use pleasure until you’d beg him to stop, but pleasure is earned, and you used that song and your ex-boyfriend to get to him tonight. He saunters back over and pets your head, just as you start to close your eyes and lean into his touch he grips your hair hard and pulls until you’re once again looking up at him. A shocked yelp comes out of you as you make eye contact. 

“I think you did this on purpose because you so badly want me to spank you.”

“N-no, sir.” 

“No? I bet if I reached in between your legs and felt your pretty little pussy she’d be soaked for me right now. Am I right?” 

“Y-yes.” 

“Take out my cock, Little Dove.” 

His grip on your hair doesn’t loosen as you reach up with shaky hands to undo his belt and pants. As you slide his dress pants down his thick thighs you can see him already hard under his tight black boxers. As you lower those, his thick cock springs free, brushing against your face.

“Hands on my thighs,” he barks.

You jump slightly at the harsh tone and move your hands to rest along the sides of his thighs. He moves his free hand to one of yours and taps on your hand 3 times. “You do that if you need to stop. Show me.” 

You tap 3 times on his thigh like he showed you. “Too bad you were such a bad girl tonight. I wanted to please you and not punish you.”

He moves his hand to fist his cock a few times. It brushes your lips as he continues to speak. “Who do you belong to, Little Dove?”

“You sir,” you answer firmly but quietly. 

“That’s right. Open.”

You lick your lips and obey his orders. He lines himself up and slides the tip of his cock in your mouth, pumping his shaft slowly with his hand, the other still locked in your hair. 

“Mine,” he says it like he’s claiming you as he works more of himself into your mouth. You’re surprised how he takes his time, inching in a little before pulling back, letting you swirl your tongue around to get him nice and wet. When he’s finally all the way in, pushing against your gag reflex he groans out, “So…completely…mine.”

You look up at him through your lashes and remind yourself to relax your throat and breathe through your nose, moaning around his cock before he pulls it all the way out. Saliva falls from your mouth and he smirks at you cockily while he fucks himself with his palm, the tip of his leaking dick resting on your tongue. The salty taste of his pre cum sends a fresh wave of arousal to the apex of your thighs, you can feel it gathering on your calves that are tucked underneath you. 

Without warning, Joel starts to fuck your throat. He pushes himself all the way in and you gag around him before he pulls out halfway. He continues this punishing rhythm for a while, muttering darkly about how you’re a bad girl and you deserve to be punished.  

You’re taken aback by how much you fucking love it. Watching him tower above you all big and strong but you know he’s falling apart. He’s becoming putty because of you and your mouth. It’s filthy and slightly degrading, but you realize that you’re the one in control here. You could do this forever and make a mental note to find times to act out more often.  Tears start to run down your cheeks as his thrusts turn sloppy. You know he’s close so you hum around his cock.

“Oh fuuuuck, baby.” He pulls himself out and steps back, strings of saliva falling from his cock and landing on your chin. Your hands hit the ground in front of you as you gasp in a full breath for this first time since he started using your mouth.  The heat between your thighs is starting to become unbearable.

“What did you think was going to happen - huh?” he says in a deep and condescending tone. “That I’d spank you and then make you come?”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You’re not sorry though, you’d do it again just to feel that gush between your thighs when he hits the back of your throat. 

“Only good girls get spankings. So let me make myself very clear.” You straighten your spine and look up at him as he goes back to petting your hair. 

“You are not allowed to cum.” His voice is deep and scratchy, you’re sure he could make a living by narrating erotica, but that voice is yours.

A small whimper escapes you as he continues. “I’m going to continue to use you how I want. If I think you’ve proven yourself to be my good girl, you’ll get that spanking you want so desperately. Understand?” 

He almost purrs as he says good girl and it turns you feral. “Yes, sir.” 

He reaches a hand to you and helps you stand. He gently wipes the tears from your cheeks before kissing the tip of your nose. “Get on the bed.”

As you walk to the bed you bring one leg up to remove your heels. “Leave them on. Hands and knees, Little Dove.”

Fuck, he knows this is your kryptonite. And fuck, you’re back to thinking that maybe you bit off more than you can handle. Joel is predictable about his Sunday plans during football season and nothing else. 

After stripping off his clothes he comes up behind you, rubs the warm tip of his cock through your slit and he lets out a deep moan. Both of you can hear the wetness as he moves from your clit to your ass. “Mmmm - my bad girl clearly liked having me fuck her throat. You’re soaked for me.”

A firm hand pushes down between your shoulder blades and your upper body hits the mattress. at this new angle, everything is bare to him. 

“Mine,” he says again before placing a few long, slow licks from your clit to your ass, swirling and pressing his tongue in all the right places. “So…completely…mine.” 

His tongue teases your clit as he lightly teases your ass with the pad of his thumb.  The heat begins to spread to your spine, the world falls away and all you’re left with is Joel.  Joel and his wonderful and magic tongue.  Joel and his ability to make you cum.  His voice from earlier rings through your cries of pleasure, ‘you are not allowed to cum.’

“I…n-no…” you stutter, squeezing all your muscles to stop the orgasm that’s fast approaching. “That’s gonna…I’m gonna!” 

“Don’t you dare, Little Dove.” He bites down on your ass cheek and you yelp in pain, but glad for the distraction from how close you were to finishing. 

“Such a bad little girl tonight.” He says into your skin before continuing to tease you with his tongue, swirling your clit, moving to gently flick your ass, then back to your clit. You never know where his tongue might explore next and you find yourself mentally mapping out each aisle of your favorite grocery store with your eyes clamped shut to distract yourself. 

“I wanna be a good girl,” you beg, utterly desperate to follow his rules tonight. “Please stop. I wanna be good, sir.” 

“Poor thing,” he says mockingly, rising and sliding himself inside you so slowly that you feel every inch, vein, and ridge. 

“Fuuuuuuuccccck,” you gasp as he bottoms out. A small, pleading ‘please’ escapes your lips but you don’t even know what you’re asking for. Your body feels like liquid at this point, every muscle relaxed and every bone somehow missing. It’s a complete state of nirvana, if only he’d let you cum.

“Not yet,” he drags out of you and slams back in, a complete juxtaposition to how he first entered you. His grip on your hips is so tight that you’re sure you’ll have bruises tomorrow. “This is my pussy, mine. Say it.”

“Y-yours…” you manage to whine. “oh fuck…yours Joel.”

“That’s right, babygirl.  Mine. So…completely…mine.”

One of your shoes falls to the ground as he continues to slam into you.  You no longer know the difference between right and left, you just know that one shoe is missing. As you reach back to touch him, he pins your hand to your lower back, sliding almost all the way out before slowly pressing his hips flush with your ass. 

“No,” he says sternly. “Only good girls get to touch.” 

You scream out his name, begging him to let you cum. Joel leans forward and pulls you up, still fully inside of you, he holds you still against his warm chest, the combination of your sweat and his sweat feeling sticky along your back.  

“You like when I use you like this, Little Dove?”

“Yessss,” you whine. You force yourself not to roll your hips even though the need to orgasm is almost painful. The word yellow flows through your mind. You could say it. You could say it and get what you want, but you trust Joel. You trust that he has bigger and better plans for you. 

“Say it,” he commands while rolling your earlier pinched nipple between his fingers. 

“Use me, sir….Please. I want to please you.”

“That’s my girl. My perfect little submissive.”

He pushes you back down into the sheets and fucks you harder. The sounds of skin slapping skin and your moans and squeals fill the room. You tense every muscle again to stop the orgasm that’s right on the surface. 

“Where do you want it, Little Dove?”

“Inside me, sir.”

Joel curses through gritted teeth. “Fuck, baby.” 

“Fill me, sir.”

“Such a filthy little girl. D’you know that?” His voice is strained, you know he’s close and you just have to hold off a little longer. 

“Only for you,” you say through moans and gasps.

That’s what does it and you push him over the edge with your words, the heat of his spend filling you as he lets out a loud moan. “Good fucking girl.”

He moves his hips into you a few more times, filling you so much it starts to leak out. “Fuck, takin’ me so well, soundin’ so goddamn sweet as you beg.” 

He doesn’t stay in long after he cums, which you’re thankful for because you’re sure a faint breeze could make you detonate at this point. He steps back to admire the mess he’s made, using his fingers to push his cum back inside you before sitting next to your knees.

“Get over my knee.” 

You rush on shaky limbs to get over this lap, wiggling your ass in nervous excitement. He uses one hand to pin your wrists behind your back. “Mmm - that’s my good girl.” 

Joel uses his other hand to draw slow circles along your cheeks. His warm and calloused fingers send shivers across your body.  “How many do you think you should get?” 

“10,” you respond sheepishly. 

Joel laughs deeply to himself. “You were a brat. Do you really think 10 is enough?” 

You audibly swallow in response to what you know is a rhetorical question. You didn’t think your pussy could throb any harder, but his voice, his hands, and this position has every nerve in your body aflame. 

“20, and if you behave, I’ll stop at 15.” 

“Please, sir.” The anticipation is killing you.

“Ok. I am going to spank you with my hand 20 times. You are going to count and say ‘I’m sorry’ after each one. Understand?” 

“Yes, sir.”  You try not to whine, but you need to be touched,

“Give me a colour baby”

“Green,” you whisper needily. 

2 sharp and quick slaps hit your ass.

“1 and 2,” you squeal, “I’m sorry” 

Light finger strokes tickle along the back of your thighs and up towards the now stinging skin. Joel’s hand disappears from your body and you tense. 

“Shhh,” his thumb holding your wrist strokes the soft skin. “Take a deep breath, Little Dove.” 

You inhale shakily, as you try to relax on your exhale, his hand comes down again. When the two of you did your research on spanking, all the experts said you’d know the sound of a good spank, and Joel being, well Joel, has taken it to a new level of perfection. His third spank stings, but it’s quickly replaced with a fresh wave of warmth in your core. 

“Three. I’m sorry,” you love how quickly he can turn you into a whining mess.

From that point you’re in a trance. You almost feel like you’re floating outside your body as Joel continues your punishment. You hear your voice counting each strike of his hand.  A rush of adrenaline courses through you after each one and you can feel his spend leaking out and dripping in between your thighs.

“Eight. I’m sorry” 

“Messy messy girl.” He says, swiping a finger up your thigh and through the folds of your swollen pussy, he stays away from your clit but you could scream with how good it feels. “I should make you clean this up.” 

You turn your head, glancing over your shoulder to face him, readying yourself for him to slide his fingers down your throat. Instead, he licks his fingers clean and then lays 3 quick smacks across your ass. 

“Eleven. Oh god,” your body jolts with the first one but by the third you’re rolling your lips into him for friction, you need more. More pain. More of his fingers. More of anything and everything he’s willing to give you. “I’m sorry.”

Joel isn’t surprised to see that you like the pain, but he is surprised by how much he likes seeing you in pain. He was hesitant about this whole thing, worried about hurting you, but you’ve never looked more beautiful. A blush lights your face and neck, a thin sheen of sweat across your body. Your squeals and cries slowly become wanton moans. He knows it hurts you, but he can also see how that pain is temporary followed by a rush of adrenaline and pleasure. 

“Good job, Little Dove,” he rubs the red hand prints gently. “Fuck, I don’t deserve you.” 

You relax into his lap as his praises wash over you. You feel completely submissive to him and for the first time, you feel what he said earlier. You are his. So completely his. 

“My,” SMACK 

“Perfect,” SMACK

“Little,” SMACK 

“Submissive,” SMACK 

They happen so quickly that all you can do is moan loudly in ecstasy, heat flooding your core to the point that it’s unbearable.  Pressure behind your eyes builds as your neediness grows.  

“Fif-fifteen. I’m sorry, sir.” You’re squirming uncontrollably, tears threaten to spring from your eyes.

“Please - please. It huuuurts.” Joel knows it’s not the spanking that hurts, it’s the animalistic need to cum that’s causing you so much discomfort. 

“There’s my good girl,” he growls, sliding 2 fingers deep inside you. He curls them forward into your tight and messy heat. The squelching of his cum mixed with your arousal fills the room.

“Does this feel good, Little Dove?” 

“Please Joel,” you sob through stuttered breaths, unable to hold back the tears any longer. “P-please - don’t stop.”

“Fuck I love when you say please. Did you know that?  How it makes my cock twitch hearing you whine sweetly, asking so nicely.” 

He slows his fingers, he knows how sensitive you are, he can feel your pussy gripping tightly to his fingers and he wants to bring you pleasure now, not push you into overstimulation. “You took those so beautifully, Little Dove. I’m so proud of you.” 

You cry out a thank you, your orgasm is right there, the heat in your stomach and spine ready to erupt and spread to the rest of your body. As you squirm on his lap you can feel his erection growing beneath you. Joel continues curling his fingers against your most sensitive spot, his other hand letting go of your wrists and moving to soothe the handprints he left. The gentleness of one hand combined with the demanding desire of the other sends your mind swirling. 

“Get up, baby girl.” He slides his fingers out from you and you want to cry out and complain before he adds, “I want you to cum on my cock.” 

Joel steadies you as you stand up in front of him, “Hold on, spin around.” 

You do as he says, albeit slightly confused until he presses his lips to the bright red handprints he’s tattooed across your skin. 

Yep, you think to yourself. I’m His. So completely his. 

You lay back on the bed, Joel crawling between your legs. He’s looking at you the way he used to when you first met, taking in every inch of your skin almost as if to commit it to memory. It’s the complete opposite of how he looked at you while you danced with Zack. His dangerous desire has turned to an overwhelming softness. 

“Lift your hips, baby,” he slides a spare pillow under you. 

His strong hands massage your hips gently as his eyes rake over your red and swollen pussy. “Oh - that looks painful, baby. Do you need me to take care of it?” 

You whine out in frustration, “Please, sir. I need to cum. Please.” 

He lets out a whispered ‘oh god’ at your pleas, hooking one of your legs in the crook of his elbow, the other wrapping around his waist as he lines himself up and then leans down to softly press his lips to yours. He slides inside of you slowly and you’re instantly shaking underneath him. 

“Shhh, you’re ok,” he whispers into your lips before kissing you harder, rocking his hips with perfect precision. “I’m right here. I got you, baby. I got you.”

The soft part of his belly grazes your clit and you cry out into his mouth. “Oh god - I’m gonna cum.” 

“There you go, baby. Cum for me.” 

You fall apart around him, your head falling back in a silent cry to the ceiling. A buzz of electricity shutters through your whole body, your walls clenching around him harder than you thought was possible. 

“That’s it,” he says into your neck as he licks and kisses. “Let go for me.” 

His words spread more tingles along your skin, you tangle your hands in his curls and pull his face to yours. Kissing him deeply as you start to come down. He stills inside you as he comes again, sending you into a wave of aftershocks. You swallow his moans in your kisses, you never want this to end.

“Stay here honey,” Joel says, getting up to walk with wobbly legs to the bathroom. He comes back with a warm cloth and carefully wipes you clean. Your body jolts and you cry out when he gets near your clit, he whispers apologies while drying you with a towel.

You start to get up. “Are you ok?” he questions. 

“I have to pee,” you laugh. As you wash your hands you take in your reflection. Your poor nipple is purple from the elevator, you have mascara down your face, and as you predicted, you are already bruising from his grip on your hips. You spin to see angry, dark red splotches along the globes of your ass and you smile at yourself. Fuck, is there something wrong with me? 

Even though you’re exhausted, you practically skip back out to the bed where Joel is holding a big glass of water and some soothing lotion that he purchased weeks ago for this exact moment. He laughs and shakes his head, he knows he’s in for it now seeing how happy you are with yourself. 

“Drink this and then lay on your stomach please,” adding a quick, “you little brat.” 

“So bossy.” You joke and roll your eyes, but you both love this part and as elated as you are right now, you know you need the aftercare so that your anxieties don’t get you later. So, you do as he says. You drink the water and then lay on your stomach. Joel rubs the cooling lotion on your marks and then places long, light kisses along your spine.

“How are you feeling?” He coos between kisses.

“I’m great. That was amazing. How are you feeling? I know you weren’t too sold on spanking me.”

Joel lies beside you and pulls you in, his front presses against yours, both of you using your own arm as a pillow. “Honestly, I’m surprised by how much I liked it. You looked so beautiful the entire time. I didn’t think I would like it, but….” He trails off looking slightly embarrassed, using his free hand to play with your hair. 

“But?” you push.

“But…well a man my age doesn’t get multiple orgasms very often, makin’ me feel like we’re in our 20’s again.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to act out more often. Any cute guys on the job site I can eye fuck?” 

Joel growls as he pulls you over to rest on his chest. “Mine. Now go to sleep, Little Dove. And stop saying that.” 

Tag List: @corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @mermaidgirl30 @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot

Also a special tag for @javierpena-inatacvest because I'm not on a mission to make her a Joel girlie.

#joel miller #pedro pascal #pedrohub #joel miller tlou #joel the last of us #joel tlou #pedro is daddy #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #fanfic #daddy joel #joel miller smut #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x original character #tlou fic #the last of us hbo #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #dom!joel miller #bdsmrelationship #bdsmplay #Spotify

[jasmines-library]

This might be a weird request, but can you take your favorite song and make a batfam story with it? I saw the “Kristy, Are You Doing Okay?” fic and immediately folded I loved it so much <3 <3 <3

The Ghost of You.

YES YES YES! It's really hard for me to just pick one song, but this came to mind so i thought i'd give it a go. Also this probably wasn't what you were after anon, so i'm sorry. You're all going to hate me after this :(

Summary: After your death, the batfam struggle to navigate their lives without you.

Warnings: This fic deals with death (mildly graphic) and the aftermath, contains suicidal thoughts, grief, unhealthy ways of processing grief and some other heavy content so please be advised.

Word Count: 2k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

I never said I'd lie and wait forever

If I died, we'd be together

I can't always just forget her

But she could try

Tim was the first to arrive too late.

Your body had already careened over to the side, collapsing into a puddle of your own blood. Tim faltered as he made his way over to you, gawping at the arrows that protruded gruesomely from your stomach, your shoulder and the back of your knee. That was what had taken you down: a well placed shot to the back of the joint. The other two followed as insurance. To ensure that you would bleed out. 

And even though Tim was right there, he faltered. Even though he could see the way your chest spluttered as you fought for air, he couldn’t bring himself to move. His hands shook. His lips trembled. And if anyone was focusing hard enough they would have been able to see the glint as water collected in his eyes. 

Then came Jason, grappling down from the building. He had heard it before he saw it. Grimacing at the way your cry was followed by two more, he was gripped tight by a fit of rage. Mercilessly he took out the two crooks in front of him so he could dash to your side. He should have been helping Nightwing and Batman, but at that moment all he could focus on was your safety. 

He managed to gather himself up enough to try and press around the arrows, but your blood pooled through the fabric of your suit and your breathing had slowed to nearly nothing. Tim had finally got himself to move and he was sure that he heard someone call your name. Though he couldn’t remember if it was himself or Jason. Either way he too pressed down harshly around the arrow to try and staunch the blood flow. And it should have hurt. God, you should have been thrashing and screaming. But you just lay there, spluttering as you faded. Tim didn’t know what was worse; but he came to the conclusion that the sound of your agonised scream was better than waiting in this near listless silence. 

“Just hold on, Raven.” Jason. But you would have never guessed it from the way his normally firm voice wavered. “We’re going to get you to help…j-just a little longer. 

Then you moved. Your hands shifted to lay atop of theirs and you strained your head to see them. Tim’s stomach dropped as you looked at him with your hooded eyes and small smile. A gesture of consolidation. You were trying to tell them that it was okay. It made Tim want to hurl. How could you be thinking of them in a time like this?

 “Y/N..?” Tim muttered. He should have used your vigilante name. He didn’t care. 

“s’okay” you slurred as your eyes fluttered at him. You could no longer make out much as your vision became a blur of colour. Jason palled at the sight of the crimson that stained your teeth as a sickening contrast to the paleness of your skin. He wanted to look anywhere else, like to Dick and Damian who were still trying to take down the criminals who just wouldn’t quit, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off of your face. 

“S’gonna b-be ok..” 

“No…” Tim was crying now. They both were. Neither made any effort to try and hide it.

“P-promise you won’t do…any’thn stupid-” you mumbled.

Tim brushed his thumb over your hand. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to but he would. For you. “I promise…”

You wanted to turn your attention to Jason, but your eyes fluttered and you could feel your strength fading.

“ Love you…” Then, your chest rose… and fell as you took your final breath. 

~

At the end of the world or the last thing I see

You are never coming home, never coming home

Could I? Should I?

And all the things that you never ever told me

And all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me

The manor was silent. Deathly silent.

And even though the manor was the busiest it had been for a while it still seemed so empty. It was almost like the minute that your heart stopped pumping, so did all of the life in the manor. 

Dick hardly slept. He spent his nights staring blankly at the ceiling, letting his thoughts carry him away because if he didn’t his mind would torture him with pictures of you. He had thought about it. He had thought about it a lot actually. Especially after he had seen your body being lowered into the ground sealing you into nothingness. You were gone.

Dick remembered Jason and Tim uttering something about promising not to do anything stupid. But he wasn’t sure. They didn’t talk much anymore. He thinks he remembered them saying that they had promised you. But he hadn’t. And so the thought crossed his mind often. If he was only brave enough to do it. Oh, what he would jive to see even just a ghost of one of your charismatic grins again. Or to hear your laughter as you sang to your music poorly in your room across the hall. You often used to keep the door open, just a crack as a form of comfort blanket and that let your voice carry through the hall. But now the door was firmly closed. 

Pull yourself together. Dick blinked away the film that formed in his eyes. Though no tears fell; he had cried himself dry a long time ago. You wouldn’t want this. Dick had tried to tell himself. But it seemed everything he did reminded him of you. Reminded him how he was never going to see you again. And it hurt. You were still so young. You had your entire life ahead of you to live and Dick yeared to have seen it. But it was ripped away from you cruelly like candy from a child.

Ever get the feeling that you're never all alone?

And I remember now

Your bloodstained face was burned permanently into Tim’s mind. It was there every time his eyes drifted closed. 

Each time he finally got himself to sleep, there you were. Crying out his name. 

He should have been quicker. Tim scolded himself often for this. He thought that his fumble could have been the difference between you living and dying. But of course, he had frozen. His body had refused to function no matter how much his brain screamed at him to just move! But he was frozen. He remembered watching fearfully as Jason, who was much further away, dropped to his feet from above and tried feebly to help. If only he had been just that little bit quicker. If only he had been paying attention then you wouldn’t have gotten hurt in the first place. 

He was sitting in the batcave, staring blankly at the monitors. Not because he wanted to but because someone had to. Though him being there wouldn’t have made much difference. All of the shapes on the screen had blurred into one colour. 

Tim had never felt more lonely sitting in the plush chair because usually you would be there with him. Cracking a joke or two, or reminding him he needed to go to sleep with a gentle touch on the shoulder or his hand. Sometimes Tim thought he could still feel it. A phantom pain: like when someone loses a limb. 

You had become such an important part of his daily life that his body yeared for your touch or the sound of your voice. He yearned for the warmth of your fingers, but then remembered that the last time he felt them, they were ice cold and covered in your own blood. 

At the top of my lungs in my arms, she dies

She dies.

Jason was angry. He had never handled his grief well, even from a young age. And his coping mechanisms were far from healthy. Whilst his brothers spent their time reserved to themselves, Jason was searching for revenge. But he had promised you he wouldn’t do anything stupid. 

So he found his solitude in a punching bag. 

Your scream piercing through the air. A punch to the bag so hard that it swung violently on its bolt. 

The feeling of your blood trickling around his fingers. A right hook.

Your cold and clammy skin against his as he removed his gloves to trail his hands along your face. Another. 

Your last words falling from your tongue. Punch. 

Your chest rising as you spluttered. Punch. punch.

Your last exhale. Punchpunchpuch.

He kept going until his knuckles were a mangled and bloody mess and he felt like his jaw might snap from how much he had been clenching it. 

Jason didn’t bother to wrap his knuckles as he trudged towards the shower, despite how much they burnt and throbbed. But for some sick reason he couldn’t wrap his mind around, he savoured it. Almost as a punishment for not being able to save you. 

When he slipped into the shower, he still couldn’t stop the flood of images ricocheting around his head like a broken record that still somehow managed to play no matter how scratched up it was. He thought he might have found some solace in the feeling of the water trickling over his skin, but all he found was his mind confusing it for the feeling of your blood on his skin. 

Jason let out a cry of anguish, bringing his fists to clench at his hair as he sank to the floor and began to cry. 

And all the wounds that are ever gonna scar me

For all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me

If I fall, if I fall down

Damian had seen a lot of death in his life. That came as part of being a human weapon. But no death tore him up as much as yours.

He would forever remember the cold that gripped him when he saw Jason with your body in his arms. He had never felt so empty as Bruce tried to pull him away. Damian had fought against him, nearly clawing at his father to try and get to you, but Bruce just held him close and pressed Damians face into his chest to shield him from the horrors in front of him. But it was too late. He had already seen your mangled body and he couldn’t help the way his body trembled as he clung to Bruce like a scared little child. 

And Damian would never admit it, but he was scared. 

Scared of how everything would play out now that you were gone. Scared that you were angry at him for being so far away. Scared that because he wasn’t there when it mattered most, that it might happen again. 

He should have been there. Damian cursed to himself. 

He had been on the other side of the building trying to deal with the last of the crooks. Dick was with him for a time, but had finished up much earlier than Damian and had fled as soon as possible. Damian should have picked up then that something was wrong. 

But he didn’t.

And he was so frustrated with himself for not. He should have been better. Should have taken the criminal down with one blow and followed his brother to your side. Surely with all four of them there, you would have made it… right?

He wasn’t so sure. 

He wasn’t sure of much anymore. No one was. And they all felt so betrayed because you being by their sides was one of the things that kept them going everyday. And now…

One thing they did know for certain though was that you were gone. And no matter how much they yearned for you, you were never coming home.

🦇 BATFAM TAGLIST:

@aestheticdaisies

@hell-o-kittys

@mamapucket

@xxrougefangxx

@hearts4robs

(I'm sorry.)

#batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #dc #dc x reader #batfam #Dick Grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x injured reader #dick grayson x sister reader #batfam x injured reader #batfam x hurt reader #batfam x sister reader #nightwing #nightwing x reader #Jason Todd #Jason Todd x reader #jason todd x injured reader #jason todd x sister reader #red hood #red hood x reader #Tim Drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake x injured reader #tim drake x sister reader #red robin #red robin x reader #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x injured reader #damian wayne x sister reader

[simplydnp]

idk why this matters to me but in the last few months they've been acknowledging so many things I never ever thought they would. pinof and the touching. the phude multiple times. dapc slime (ok they had merch to sell for that one but still)

no but actually. phil literally said 'i thought we weren't acknowledging it' about the phude and now they just bring it up all the time.

pinof reacts... i still can't believe we're in a post pinof-reacts universe. how did that happen. i was changed permanently--like something shuffled in my dna when i got the notif for pinof reacts 1. this is not a physical reaction but a chemical one that cannot be undone. for something that was so... sacred. and integral. to their existence and history. pinof wasn't generally talked about unless it was pinof time. and even then it was 'it'll be up soon' or 'we just posted it' and then Never talked about outside of that. especially not the first one! we freak out about the We Know You Know in the newsletter but it's Always been like that with pinof 1. so to see them--new (& natural 🥺) hair for them both, in a house they bought and built together, in the first few months of giving the gaming channel a second chance--reflect on how it all began? absolutely devastating. and to lean into moments and discuss them in new ways. in territory previously not breached! the 'they're toUching'?!?!? the '11 hour fuck session'!?!? the '£9000 champagne'?!?!? like hey we're not supposed to talk about that, dan and phil might see!! shhh!! but they're the ones saying it!! absolutely wild.

in a way, it had to happen. especially with where we're at now (them literally selling merch of them holding hands). in order for them to move beyond that... mindset? i guess? that a lot of fans had, they had to defang it. i really see it as one of the biggest walls they've broken down in the way they communicate with us. the 'hey. it's okay. we've seen it. it's not a big deal. we will absolutely make fun of you for it though. but we're good.'

i'm just really curious whose idea it was. (lbr it was probably phil given dans not a react kinda guy. but i'd be lying if i said i didn't want to be in the room where it happened when they talked about actually doing it or not, and what it would mean) (big ad revenue thats for sure 🤣 get it kings)

i will never be able to get phil's 'they touched' out of my head and at this point i wouldn't want to. it's absolutely earned. and i guess it makes me a masochist to enjoy the psychic damage it inflicts on me, but such is life i suppose.

the crafts mention really surprised me! i had contemplated a few different scenarios in how they'd go about it, and i'll be honest i feel like they could've committed to the bit a little more but they're forgiven. like what about glitchy interstitials! cuts to the merch website. found footage inserted between sections! i recognize they don't want to 'scare' their usual audience wirh sudden cuts to intense/graphic content but my immersionnn. absolutely shattered by 'oh we have new merch now btw'. cmon boys you love to lie to us. say theres merch up but you dont know where it came from. just that we should buy it 👀 or idk, something clever. and i recognize i may sound like a spoilt brat bc i just got a 14 minute long masterpiece of an unexpected dapc revival, but my immersion. i mean i already bought the merch before they shilled it anyways so it didn't influence me regardless 🤣

ultimately we really are in a new era. even beyond just the revival. i think they're really finding their stride--not only in their content (evidenced by a semi-regular schedule) but also creatively, in doing what they want to do, how they want to do it, and truly not giving that much of a fuck anymore. and i'm really happy for them. phil talked a bit about this in his 'rating my icons' video, where he's kind of decided he doesn't care what people on twitter think, and how it's been good for him, and i think we're seeing that reflected in not only his content, but also the gaming channel. they play what they want. they say what they want. and it's just fun. dan going on the record to say he's really enjoying it makes me so happy to hear, because literally december 2022 he believed he'd disappear after WAD. and now, instead, he gets to play games and make stupid jokes and smile and laugh multiple times a week, and he's really happy about it. he gets to be silly and goofy and crude without having to Stress about it. i keep saying it but they're so settled now. and as someone who's followed them through big changes and turbulent times, getting to see them happy after everything... it brings a lot of hope. and i know theyre millionaires. but there's something to looking at someone you fell in love with 15 years ago the same then as you do now. but instead of it being something scary, something you have to hide, something that feels like it can consume you and everything you have--it gets to be something beautiful. and regular. and embraced. you've read this far you get to listen to me wax poetic about them.

we've been thoroughly boiled and maybe, just maybe, it's warming our hearts too.

#thank u for sending this. ive been writing non-stop since it arrived in my inbox #there is nothing i love more than someone pointing me in a direction and saying alright go for it! #i am always only a few moments away from a dnp breakdown and im glad to share this journey with you all #dnp #dan and phil #c.text #answered #phan #<- for the fandometrics #edited tags: holyshit this is a 1k words w/ my tags. jfc. what is Wrong with me. it took less than an hour but idk when u sent it exactly

[faust-the-enjoyer]

Anonymous asked: I saw you need requests This is really self indulgent, feel free to ignore Can I request Simon Riley with a freak out moment hurt/comfort? Thoughts going crazy, dots are connecting that aren't even related, overall hard time thinking straight (he means none of what he says btw, he's just unable to think straight). Reader and him get into an argument about how long he's gone, and long distance and he says something like he might break up with her if it gets too hard. She's like wtf?? Bc they've been together for over 2 years and he's just willing to drop her over something like long distance. He says things like: "wtf even is love? How do I know I even really love you?" And reader says "love isn't just a feeling, it's a fucking commitment" and he says "then I'm not ready for it" They almost break up and she's sobbing but she helps him calm down and he breaks down once he realizes what he said to her and promises he didn't mean it? She's heartbroken but understands and they just comfort eachother? I had this happen last night and you said you need ideas so I figured I'd pop in

Promises

Tags/warnings: fem!reader, sfw, hurt/comfort, use of pet names/terms of endearment, mentions of a breakup, crying.

A/n: I hope everything is ok with you and your loved one anon 🥺.

-Divider by (saradika-graphics)!

Rain hits the window of your living room as you sit down next to your lover, he gives you a small smile. He seems distressed, he's been thinking about your two's relationship, and his emotions have been building up, forcing him to freak out in his own mind a couple of times this week, although he's been quiet about it, you know something's wrong. As you sit down next to him and cover your legs with a blanket, you turn to him. "Simon?", your voice is quiet, he turns his attention from the tv to you, muting it with the remote, "Yeah love?", he turns to you, "You've been gone for too long this time...", it's true, he only came back a couple of hours ago after being away for a couple of months.

He lets out a sigh, "I know love, it's not in my hand, you know that.", "I know, but...I...I want you to be around me, I want to be around you, this long-distance thing is just....it hurts too much Simon...". His head starts racing with thoughts, thoughts that have been eating away at him for a good while now. "I know it hurts, it hurts me too.", his voice has an edge to it now, almost as if he's holding back on something. "Can't you do anything about it? can't we find any way for us to communicate a little better when you go on those missions?", there's an urgency in your voice, and he's getting closer and closer to his wits end, this is only adding more stress on him from his own emotions. "I can't do anything about it, so...then...", his voice is a little sharper now, "If it hurts too much for us, if it's too rough on us, then maybe we should call our relationship off...".

Your eyes widen and your jaw drops a little, "What?!", you look shocked. He lifts his hands to rub his temples as you speak, "Simon, we've been together for almost three years now...why would you even think that?", you can see his hand shaking a little as he rests them on his forehead, "We've been through so much these last few years, and we managed to still be together, now you just wanna...break up with me? over not being able to see me or talk to me enough? Over long distance?", although you're not crying, your voice is starting to get a little shaky. His eyes are slowly becoming tear-filled, "How do I even know that I love you? How would I really know? I don't think I know what love is...". He looks like he's on the verge of crying, but a tear is already running down the inner corner of your eye.

Your hands go to his face, and you turn it to face you again, "Simon....love isn't....it isn't a feeling that you experience...it's a commitment, it's dedication Simon...", you're desperate, your eyes are begging him to understand this, but he looks at you, and you can see his lip quiver ever so slightly as he opens his mouth to speak, "Well...then I'm not ready for it love...". Your eyes widen again, and as you start crying, your hands come up to his face as you start speaking again, trying to hold back your sobs, "So that's it? we're...we're just...over now?", his eyes soften and become full of tears again, threatening to roll down his face as his hands come up to wipe your tears away, "Simon....Simon please...let's just take our time and talk about this...let's think about this...please...I know you're stressed out...I know...but please...", your voice breaks as you start sobbing but he starts nodding, and you bring him in for a hug, laying his head on your shoulder, and you can hear the faintest sound of a sob come from him.

It seemed like hours, hours of you rubbing your hand up and down his back, hours since you both started crying in each other's arms, but in reality, it couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes. He leans back and looks into your eyes again, panicking, "God....I....I'm so sorry I said that love....I swear I didn't mean too, I swear I didn't, I don't know what came over me, I-", the panicked apologies and explanations kept falling out of his mouth over and over again. After letting him let all of it out, you hold his face again and wipe at the tears on his cheeks, and you put both of your hands on either side of his face. He sniffles and kisses the palm of your hand, "I promise I didn't mean it love, I swear...", his tone is full of desperation, he really is being honest. "I know baby, I know....you've been thinking about this for a while now haven't you....", he gives a small nod, "...you just seemed...really overwhelmed...".

Although it hurt and upset you, although he's worried and uneasy, although you both seemed a little lost, a whole night of holding each other and talking about your feelings, your expectations of your relationship, and what you want in it seemed to calm the both you down, especially Simon.

#cod x reader #faust speaks #my writing #cod simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #cod ghost #ghost cod

[semiweirdshipper]

Hello! It has come to my attention that you are currently looking for inspiration, so I thought I'd lend you a hand! First of all, if this does not peak your interest, please don't feel pressured to take my suggestion! Alright, so, emotional support/fluff, hm... What about killers being tenderly taken care of after a survivor managed to hurt them? I'm not sure if this is the kind of concept you are looking for, so please excuse me if it isn't! Have a lovely day! 💗

A reader helping killers' who were hurt- emotionally and/or physically.

For the very sweet, lovely @lovesick-on-the-loose

Thank you so much, lovesick, for being so kind and patient. You're a very wonderful person and I've enjoyed the conversations we've had together. I apologize that the drabble is late, but I really hope that you like it 💐❤️ Much love to you, my dear!

Also.... This is my first time writing Kazan, so I probably did an iffy job. Nonetheless I'm glad I got the chance to portray his character more.

Warnings: Non-graphic violence. Character injury. Blood and injury. Fat shaming.

...

Max (injury)

Max was in a rough chase with Ada who kept hitting him with pallet after pallet until one point it finally managed to break the skin on his head. And it was painful. So painful that he dropped his hammer and chainsaw and began limping around blindly while clutching his head.

He growled and groaned in pain. His heart was racing and it felt like his skull was broken. Blood oozed down his face and into his eyes. What did he do? How was he supposed to fight like this? Aw, he just wanted the pain to stop.

"Max."

Max jolted and spun around anxiously. Who was that? Someone else who wanted to hurt him?

"Max, it's me, (y/n), a-are you okay?" It was you.

Max relaxed a bit and stilled his movements. Personally, you were his favorite person here. You were just so pretty and kind and caring. And he kind of... 'liked'... you........

"Oh, that looks bad. Here, I have a medical kit. Would it... Is it okay if I help you real quick?" You asked, stopping nearby.

Him getting help from you? Was this a dream come true? Max hesitated, but eventually he nodded and got down to his knees. He heard you approaching, his eyes squinting with the intense desire to properly see you.

"Here," You say, your gentle hands cupping his chin and tilting his head up, "Hold still, ok?"

Max uttered small, patient growls while enjoying the feeling of you softly cleaning away the blood. You were so gentle and kind. Oh, how he wished he could speak.

"I'm gonna bandage this, but it might sting a bit, ok?" You say, patting his shoulder.

Nodding, Max tensed and groaned whenever you poured cool liquid over his head, but once it settled a bit, he was surprised to notice the painful wound go numb. "I'm sorry this happened. I know Ada can be a pain to deal with," He heard you speak while wrapping up his head.

"But you did a good job," You hum, and it caused his chest to flutter. "And you're so strong. I love how you never give up."

Stop it. You're making his heart go crazy. Max's crooked mouth curved in a smile, and he growled bashfully at your praise. It might sound silly, but he really wanted to hug you right now.

Once you were done bandaging his head, you sat back and smiled, "There. Is that better?"

Brushing a hand over his tingly, bandaged head, Max nodded and looked at you, his cheeks turning red at your beautiful, kind, amazing face. Gosh, you were so incredible. He was grateful to even walk on the same ground as you.

Wincing, Max clenched his eyes shut and forced out, "Thhh... Thank... You."

"You're welcome, Max," You grin, leaning in to place your hand over one of his, "This trial is pretty much over, but I'll stay behind so you don't get punished. Does that sound good?"

What? You would do that for him? And the way you were holding his hand- it just- ahhh! What was happening right now?

"Wh-what's wrong?" You laugh softly, obviously catching onto his adorable panic.

Max tilted his head away. What's wrong is that he really liked you, and you were really nice, and you just helped him, and you were holding his hand, and it felt like his face was about to burn off. He growled a bit, closing his eyes when he slowly turned his hand over beneath yours, your fingers lightly intersecting.

"Max?" You squeeze his fingers back.

Max turned and looked at you, and his heart rocketed into his throat at what you said next.

Herman (emotional)

He was sitting at the isolated killer campfire by himself, his knees drawn and body slumped forward as he stared with blank eyes at the infinite fire. Around a week ago he had been rejected by someone who he was really attracted to, and that pain was still heavy inside him, endlessly weighing him down.

And, to add more salt to the wound, people both killer and survivor alike had been making fun of him and all for different reasons. He felt like a fraud, an outcast, a failure and a hated imbecile. And lonely. So very, very lonely. Unliked. Unwanted.

There was the distinct sound of tasseled tree branches in the distance, but Herman didn't care to register it. Was probably just some other jerk come to rub his own humiliation in his face again.

"Herman?" He heard a voice. 'Your' voice. "E-excuse me, I don't mean to bother you, I just... I just came to see if you were okay?"

Herman turned his head and spotted your shy figure standing just on the other side of the fire. While he didn't know you personally, he knew that the brief moments you did share together in the past had been decent. But that didn't answer why you were here. He nodded.

You approached slowly, your steps light and hesitant, "Aren't you lonely out here all by yourself?"

Yes. Herman shook his head and sighed, idly watching you from the corner of his eye.

"Is it okay... Can I sit with you?"

He nodded. You sat down about five feet away from him, mindlessly grabbing a nearby stick and probing it around at the ground, "It sucks- being rejected. Makes you... Makes you wonder what you're doing wrong."

Herman's eyes widened and he looked over at you. You were looking at the ground, casually tapping at it with the stick. You had been rejected too?

"And it's crazy because-pfft! Who would wanna reject you? You're smart, kind... Handsome..." You bashfully admit, turning your head away.

Interest fully caught, Herman straightened his posture and turned towards you a bit, "(y/n)?"

"I'm just saying-" You say somewhat passionately, albeit embarrassed, "They're stupid for rejecting you..."

Herman's gaze drifted off a bit, "Or perhaps I merely hone no attraction."

"Uh," You scoffed, glaring at him, "Yes you do. Why would you say that? You're very attractive, and kind, and you have the most beautiful smile, and you're such a gentleman- I-I seriously don't know why anyone would want to turn you down. You deserve so much more than that."

"Hm," Herman smiled a bit and scooted closer to you, his tone pleasant and smooth as he mumbled, "Yes... Yes, I suppose I do deserve better, don't I?"

When you turned your head back and saw how close he had gotten, you blushed and stammered, "O-oh, I-I... I?"

"Tell me, (y/n)... Is it true? Do you really think that highly of me?" Herman asked, staring hopefully into your eyes.

You stare back, a bit flustered, but honest, "Yes."

"Well then," Herman stretched his hand out towards you, murmuring, "I guess I just need to set higher standards then, hm?"

Kazan (injury)

Kazan is not used to the foreign, futuristic buildings that he is forced to do trials in. And not frequently does he have the proper attire to venture through these realms- like right now he was trying to navigate his way through some freezing, concrete building filled with flashing lights, walls, creepy bathrooms and more walls.

There was also a lot of clutter in the institute, and along that clutter there lie stray broken glass. Glass that he stepped and 'slipped' on thus creating multiple, long cuts in the bottom of his bare feet.

Kazan roared in anger and pain, immediately dropping his katana and falling down onto his bottom. He growled, pawing at his rapidly bleeding foot. There was a piece of sharp glass lodged inside it. He touched it and roared yet again in excruciation. Curse this hell.

If the Entity was a belly, he would slice it.

Kazan attempted many times to remove the glass, and when that failed he tried resuming the trial, and then when that failed he sat back down and huffed and groaned loudly in a mixture of pain, fury, and annoyance.

"Hello?"

Kazan huffed and turned his head straight in your direction, startling whoever it was that dared tread close to him. His eyes dilated, though, whenever he saw that it was 'you'. (y/n). You were standing nearby with your hands lifted in the air- a red medical kit held in the right one.

"I-I saw that you were hurt," You say softly, gesturing to his foot, "I can help."

What? He didn't understand you. The language you spoke was foreign to him, didn't you know? Kazan huffed gruffly, clenching his hand around his katana. The only reason he didn't cut you where you stood now was because he liked you. You were the only survivor who he respected in this gruesome purgatory.

Instead of running away like he expected you to, Kazan watched suspiciously as you pointed from your med-kit down to your own foot, back to the med-kit and then to him. Hm? He knew that those red, square things were filled with equipment survivors used to heal themselves with. Were you implying that... You could heal him too?

"I can help you."

Well, there wasn't anything about your tone that suggested malice, and your expression seemed empathetic enough. Perhaps he could stand to accept your aid. Kazan huffed and spoke in his own language, relaxing his body and lifting out his foot.

He thoroughly observed you as you slowly approached him and kneeled down in front of his injured limb. So far you seemed trustworthy. You shuffled through that red container and pulled out a pair of pliers.

Kazan wasn't completely ignorant. He knew what was coming. This wasn't the first time something sharp needed to be pulled out of his body. So he sat up a bit and braced himself as much as he could, stifling a great roar whenever you swiftly pulled the glass out.

Your care after that was immediate. As you quickly dowsed his foot with numbing liquid and then wrapped it with gauze, Kazan listened to your soft yet foreign mumblings. Somehow it was reassuring to him, and you were so precise and gentle.

Kazan decided that he really did like you.

Once you were done, Kazan sat up straight and began to thank you in his own language. He even did a little bow to further express his gratitude.

When you bowed back, he blushed a bit and gazed down at his bandaged foot. You not only helped him but you showed him great kindness and respect. He said that he wanted to get to know you better.

You squinted your eyes at him, looking confused, "What?"

Kazan did the only thing he knew of that could work. He grabbed his katana, ripped off one of the decorative sakura on the handle, and lifted it out towards you. Take this as a clarification of his gratitude and maybe even, one of these days, his love.

Jeffrey (emotional)

He was sitting outside of his caravan on a chair all by himself, simply enjoying the peace after-trials brought. It had been a rough day- one that was filled with hate, degradation, embarrassment and loneliness. Jeffrey knew that he wasn't the best looker out there. He had let himself go a long time ago and he was far from being healthy.

But man, did people really hate him.

A lot of the survivors were friends with the killers, but no one was friends with him. Jeffrey was positive that the reason behind that was due to his appearance- hell, the survivors and even some of the other killers reminded him of how disgusting he was every day.

That's why, when Jeffrey saw you timidly approaching him from the opposite side of the dead circus, he rose an eyebrow of curiosity and defense. Judging by your posture, you didn't look like you were here with ill intentions. In fact you seemed kind of nervous and... shy.

Jeffrey eyed you heavily up until you came to a stop just a few meters away. "Hi?" You bashfully said, your adorable fingers lifting in a small wave.

"An' what the hell do you want?" He asked, prepared for the worst.

"I um... I just wanted to come by and say that... I saw how the other survivors were treating you last trial, and I... I wanted to come see you and say that... That I..." You cleared your throat, pressed your hand against your mouth and looked away, your cheeks a vivid red, "I don't think you're ugly at all. And... I hate the way they treat you. It's not right."

Jeffrey could only sit still in silence for a moment, utterly shocked. Well, of all the things you could have said, he definitely didn't expect to hear that. "Heh," He smirked, spreading his legs a bit and leaning forward with interest, "An' what made ya come all the way down here just to tell me that, sweetheart?"

"I..." You stammered, your blush more than obvious, "I-I felt bad for how they were treating you, and I... I was worried that you- you know... Might be feeling bad too..."

"Well, ain't you sweet?" Jeffrey grinned and beckoned you closer with a finger, "Commere."

You complied hesitantly, coming to a stop just a few feet away from him. Jeffrey eyed you up and down, pleased with what he saw, "Tell me: if ya don't think I'm ugly, then what am I to ya?"

Your fingers nervously rubbed together in front of your belly. Your cheeks were dark and your gaze averted. "I- you... I think that you're... Handsome." And then you covered your face with your hands.

And oh did Jeffrey love that. Someone thought he was handsome- and not just any someone. 'You'. One of the greatest survivors in this junky place. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, can ya repeat that?" He teased, lifting a hand behind his ear.

You made a face that caused him to laugh in amusement. "Aw, come on, ya gotta know I ain't got good ears," He grinned.

You shuffled and gazed around, unable to look at him as you sputtered, "I said... I think you're handsome."

"What was that? Sorry, one more time."

"Mm..." You blushed furiously, covering your face, "Seriously?"

Jeffrey leaned back and chuckled, "Ain't you just the dammed most adorable thing I ever did see... Much better than all them other hustlers. Prettier too."

"Is... Is it okay if I sit with you for a while? Please?" You ask.

Jeffrey hummed and closed his legs together, patting his thighs as he said, "Yeah, yeah, here. Sit right here. Take a load off from all them darn nice things yuv been sayin' to me."

Whether you sat on his lap or not was entirely up to you. Either way, Jeffrey loved having you around. And for the first time in a long time... He felt like he was finally accepted.

#dead by daylight fanfiction #slashers #reader insert #max thompson x reader #herman carter x reader #kazan yamaoka x reader #jeffrey hawk x reader #Request drabbles #I can write fluff! #Kind of...

[elionwriter]

Sherlock Holmes the Awakened: a Review

(SPOILERS AHEAD)

Sorry, sorry, sorry, but I just NEED to talk about this game! I have been a Frogwares Holmes fan since the very beginning and 'The Awakened' was always among my favourite titles. Not to mention one of the games that had scared the wits out of me. So I have to speak about the Remake now.

First and foremost, I think it needs to be reiterated that this game was made DURING THE FU****G INVASION OF UKRAINE! During such dark times, the team kept working on this. I would have supported this game even just for this reason alone.

Now, let's be honest: Frogwares never had the most marvelous graphics nor the most polished of gameplays and this entry is not an exception. I still feel the map system is a bit difficult to navigate (I may be an idiot, but I had the same issue with Chapter 1) but I really appreciated the added help the game gives you when you're recreating a scene, letting you know which passage you got wrong. Last game I found myself changing everything trying to hit the right combination so I really liked this fix.

This needs to be said: the game doesn't feel under any shape or form a product for a new fan. Everything from dialogues to game mechanics sort of take for granted that you've at least played 'chapter one'. Honestly? I'm ok with this, I hate having to always go through nearly identical tutorial stages for games I know inside out (like Pokémon) and I believe that most of not all people who are going to get this game ARE old fans!

I wasn't originally a big fan of the new Holmes and Watson models when the last game came out but....I dunno, they have grown on me. I find myself liking them now for, I suppose, no other reason than 'they are very expressive' and 'I've gotten used to them'. I think it's gotten to the point that these might be my favourite models of the two to date. Please ignore how fickle I am! (In honesty, just to draw a similar parallel, when Roger Craig Smith was first announced as Sonic's voice I hated it and now he's my fav Sonic v. actor)

This game has something.....compared to its predecessor, that makes it less scary. I can't really put my finger on it, but I distinctly remember the feeling of claustrophobia building in me when I was in the Black Edelweiss. Or the sheer jumpscare I got when the sacrificed American detective on the altar had tentacles coming out of it and severing his head making it roll to the ground. I remember almost not wanting to paddle the rowboat under the tree of hanging men in the Bayou. I remember how viscerally sick I felt at the lighthouse by all the gore and blood depicted. This time round.....I just didn't. I'm honestly not sure why this didn't hit me nearly as hard as its 2006 predecessor did!

And talking about comparisons, one thing I'm a bit disappointed they didn't grab the chance to do in this remake was fix the loose ends that were left hanging in the 2006 version. I mean....they still abandoned completely the search for that one Maori servant, what happened to all the people they managed to rescue? Who hired the private American detective that was killed? Why give out the cheap pendants? I know I'm a bit dumb and need extra explaining than what is necessarily needed but...I can't be the only one right? Sometimes you want to be told just a bit more.

Now, getting into the really good bits, that make all of it worth it!

'Chapter One' acted as a 'de facto' reboot of the Frogwares Holmes series, and I honestly think that was for the best. I don't really see where they could have gone with things after 'Devil's Daughter' and their Holmes had changed too much to be the same guy from 'The Silver Earring'...let alone Watson. But like this? They have a fresh, clean slate to start off from and they can rebuild the two mains' relashionship and lore from the ground up in a more strictly consequential manner. And the way they are doing it? I think it's state of the art!

The fact that they poke fun at themselves on certain points like Watson stating: "What about when you used to roll up only one of your sleeves? Did you get bored halfway through?!" I think the Devs themselves realized this was a cringe design choice and I like that they said so out loud.

The meta-conversation they wrote in towards the end, 'because yes, this HAS Happened before and the story still has the same outcome', is brilliant. I don't think I've ever seen another remake that acknowledges that it is a remake, and in the general madness that is mounting in the narrative this makes perfect sense! It adds one more layer of horror and inexplicable to the tale. The villain's warning 'that the Final Problem is coming and Sherlock will fall in the abyss too' is such a powerful way to use Canon. The prophecy is only made more real and dreadful by the fact that this person is aware of what has already happen in a similar but different scenario!

Also, not them using that one quote from 'The Valley of Fear' novel which happens to be one of my all time favourites!

I say, Watson,’ he whispered, ‘would you be afraid to sleep in the same room as a lunatic, a man with softening of the brain, an idiot whose mind has lost its grip?’ ‘Not in the least,’ I answered in astonishment. 'Ah, that’s lucky,’ he said, and not another word would he utter.

I think the thing that has most benefited from the Remake is Watson's character. Compared to the 2006 version, this Watson is a truly compelling character in his own right and this time round he's not just along for the ride. In this version, you simply cannot imagine how Holmes would have done it on his own. Watson was in every way a key component to the solution of the problem and the reason why Holmes didn't drown in madness. That point is driven home by Rochester asking 'How did you defeat me?' and Holmes answering 'I made a friend!'

Much of the narrative in the game was focused on Holmes truly learning to accept Watson's friendship and him as a person when he was still clinging so much to his old imaginary friend. You can see how, at first, Holmes refuses to be honest with the Doctor about what he thinks and feels and it's only as they move forward in the adventure that they both open up to each other. You can see as the adventure progresses that Holmes shifts his desperate cries from 'Jon' to 'Watson' to 'John' and the Doctor goes more and more often from 'Holmes' to 'Sherlock'. Mycroft also points this out when he says that Sherlock 'went from one Jon to another'. But this one, John Watson, is real and there to stay. In the context of a story that happens mostly in the detective's mind, Watson's friendship is really what turns the situation around!

I could add of little tid bits which were so random and on the nose that somehow worked, like the possessed 'Heidi' doll or the fact that you had to actually 'Kill Holmes' with the booby traps instead of avoiding them.

Also, "The director Guygax was randomly killed.....by a doll?!????!?!?! Yeah, let's just walk out of here no questions asked. That's too deep a wormhole even for this f***d up Adventure to go down. I'm sure nobody is gonna ask us questions, suspect or stop us as we go out the main doors!" 😃 -Holmes, probably.

So, yeah, I loved this game despite it not being perfect and my love and support goes to Frogwares more that ever!

#sherlock Holmes the awakened #sherlock holmes chapter one #sherlock holmes #john watson #frogwares holmes #sherlock holmes devil's daughter #holmes x watson #sherlock x john #sherlock and jon #jon #mycroft holmes #chtulhu #eldrich horror #lovecrafian

[mochie85]

To Have and To Hold - Chapter 7

THaTH Masterlist Complete Masterlist

Summary: Loki faces his father, Odin, on Asgard. Violet tries to find a way to get back to Loki. Pairing: Loki x OFC/Reader Word Count: Over 2K Tags/Warnings: Lots of angst. Pregnancy. Early labor. Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Loki landed in Himinbjorg, stumbling forward. The cuffs around his wrist kept him off balance and unable to use his seidr. Heimdall stood regal and unmoved as he welcomed the younger prince home. Behind him, stood The King of the Nine Realms, Odin. Along with the highest trained einherjar poised and ready with their weapons pointed at Loki.

“Why, hello father. What a wonderful sight to see you greet me home,” Loki sarcastically smiled, simulating the bravado and confidence of a hero being applauded upon their return.

The Allfather grunted and turned without saying anything more. His deep crimson cloak billowed as he made his way on his chariot back to the palace. The einherjar positioned themselves around Loki, prodding him to follow.

“Welcome back your highness,” Heimdall said with a bow. Loki just sneered back at him, angry at the turn of events and Heimdall’s participation in all of it.

Upon exiting the temple, Loki’s first steps on the Bifrost bridge were greeted by his mother who walked alongside him. “Shouldn’t you be in the chariot with Father? Wouldn’t you be embarrassed to be seen with the lowly prince turned criminal?” He asked looking straight ahead.

“I have never been prouder of you, my sweet boy,” the Allmother stated. Loki simply looked at her. His features did not betray the shock that he felt inside. “Stand proud. Chin up. Back straight. I walk beside you,” she smiled.

“Thank you, Mother.” They walked along the long stretch of the Bifrost on foot. The Queen’s hand tucked neatly under his arm.

The einherjar kept their weapons to their sides, not wanting to point them at Loki and subsequently their Queen. The citizens had all bowed down in her presence as they walked past the city streets. No one had seen the cuffs adorning Loki’s wrist.  

It was a blessing to have the support of his mother. Even more so to have her pride. What did he do? He’s done nothing but break his promise to his restitution. What’s more, is that he made poor decisions that not only cost him his life but the life of the one he loves and now the child.

The child! The child is still alive! How could Violet lie about that? Why did she run away? So many questions ran through his head, and he wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. He was shocked, first and foremost. Angry, second, that you had lied to him. Relieved that he had found you and then a new worry. That he might not be there to see you give birth to his child. He knew what this was. It was a second chance. A fortune that he was granted to make things right.

As Loki continued walking in silence next to his mother, his mind wandered back to Midgard where you still were. Were you ok? Were you taking care of yourself? You looked so beautiful and radiant. Was it the glow of pregnancy or were you happier not having him in your life?

The warm afternoon air gave way to the cold breeze of the palace’s corridors. Loki was led straight to the throne to await the decision of his ruthless father. He stood to attention at the bottom of the dais. His mother squeezed his arm before letting go and left to join Odin by his side.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Odin’s voice carried with it a finality and heaviness that could bring anyone to their knees.

“What would you like me to say? Tell me. Because anything else that I say, which doesn’t fit with your explanation of things, would just be left unheard,” Loki said uncaring.

“Why do you insist on making things so difficult?”

“Who made me this way?!  Who named me The God of Lies and Mischief?! If everyone, including yourself, sees me as nothing more than a troublesome, villainous god, why bother being anything else? You have all made up your mind. I tire of trying to change it. The only person who ever saw me for who I was, was Violet.”

“Yes, the poor Midgardian you decided to dally with. The cause of your indiscretion. I have half a mind to bring her here and…”

“Don’t you dare touch her!”

“I will do as I damn well please!” Odin screamed out as he stood up. “And you would do right by staying quiet and repentant as I decide both your fates!”

Frigga placed her hand on her husband’s arm, hoping to quell the anger rising in both.

“You have proven that you cannot carry out your sentence on Midgard. Thor had hoped to rehabilitate you on that rudimentary planet. But I see now that you are both fools. You will carry out your sentence here in the lower dungeons.”

“Darling…” Frigga tried to intervene.

“And no one shall change my mind on the matter. I have said my final verdict and it shall be carried out.” Odin finished, ignoring the quiet please of his wife.

Loki stood resolutely. The inner turmoil waging war inside him made his face contort in pain and anger. He refused to grovel for his freedom. Refused to beg like a commoner praying for some divine intervention. But it was not just his life now. This was for Violet and the miracle that he and you had created.

Loki wordlessly fell to his knees. His eyes traced the marble veins of the floor, taking a beat, wondering what he could say to Odin to let him have another chance. “I…” Loki swallowed. “I beg of you to reconsider. It is not for my life, I plead. But for the life of my…”

“Your beloved?” Odin scoffed. “Who is she to have my son, a god, on his knees begging for his life?”

“As your…son, I plead…no, I beg…I have wronged her, Mother.” Loki spoke directly to Frigga. “Not a day goes by where I have not wanted to apologize. And she is by no means absolved of fault, but I have yet to speak with her. All I ask is that…is that I see her. Stay, with her…”

“How dare you…” Odin was interrupted by a strong grasp on his shoulder. Frigga had stood up and had not taken her eyes off her beloved son.

“Who am I, if not the goddess of hearth and home, to deny my own son a prayer?” The Allmother decreed. Loki lifted his head and for once was filled with hope. Frigga had a distant look in her eyes. As if she were watching a movie that was filtered through a dirty window.

“Guards! Take him away.” Odin ordered. The closest einherjar grabbed Loki by the arms and hoisted him off his knees. As he was escorted down to the lower dungeons. Frigga had returned from her journey and smiled, “All will be well, my darling. Have faith.” Her voice echoed in his head before he descended into despair.

“Thor, please. You have to bring him back!” You grabbed his chest plate, shaking him as you spoke. Callum had ushered the three of you back into his bungalow. He could see how visibly distraught you were. The reappearance of Loki in your life had been looming over your head for the last couple of months. Callum wanted it to happen sooner, but not in such a dramatic spectacle as it did just hours ago.

“Violet, where have you been?” Thor asked. “My brother has been worried sick about you. He barely eats and sleeps as it is. What made you think you could run away like that?”

“Vee, where did you go?” Bruce asked.

“Here. This whole time with Cal.”

“How are you? How’s the baby?” he followed the question.

“The baby?!” It was then that Thor looked down and noticed the bump protruding from your abdomen. “I thought…I thought…” Thor pointed a finger down to your stomach. Then back up at you. Then back down to your stomach.

“Stop it!” You grabbed Thor’s finger and held on tight as you stared into his eyes. “What are they going to do to him, Thor?”

Like a crack of lightning, Thor’s expression changed. “It won’t be good, dear sister. This will be his second offense. Father will not take that lightly. He might be in the dungeons, permanently.”

“Permanently? He promised to come back.” The thought of never seeing Loki again filled you with dread. Isn’t that what you wanted? Why you left?

 “Why did you guys come here? What made you think that it was ok for him to ignore his conditional release?” you asked angrily.

“To look for you, Violet!” Bruce yelled back. “You were injured! Then on top of that, you asked me to do something horrible and keep that baby a secret. Loki loves you! He went crazy these past few months trying to look for you. And honestly, we were scared too. How could you leave just like that?”

“I…” your lips started to tremble. You had hurt more than Loki, you realized. “I’m sorry, Bruce. Thor. I didn’t think that it would…I never…” More tears ran down your face. You held yourself tightly as your resolve came crumbling down. Your lungs gasped for air as the crushing weight of what you had done came bearing down on you.

You asked Bruce and Stephen to do a horrible thing. You undervalued the opinion of the one you loved the most and decided that he was better off without you. Now, he’s gone. Possibly forever. And it was all because you were too scared to talk. Too scared to admit you were less than. What a surefire way to prove your self-doubt correct.

“Would you believe me if I say I was only trying to do what I thought was right?” You mumbled incoherently through your cries. Callum came in and wrapped his arms around you. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” You cried into his shoulder.

“We know you didn’t, Vee. But the truth is, we’ve been worried sick about you. Loki was too far gone with worry. He even turned Thor into a frog!” Bruce declared pointing to Thor.

“Tis true, milady. I had mucous on my skin days after he changed me back.” Thor said reminiscing with a grimace on his face.

“He loves you, Violet. I hope you can see that. Especially now.” Bruce said. “He sacrificed his freedom to find you and hopefully bring you home.”

You stared quietly at Bruce. A plan was forming in the periphery of your mind. The pieces were falling into place, but now wasn’t the time for thinking. You were going to do exactly what you were good at. And that was running. “Thor. I need to see him.”

“I can’t help you, dear Violet. Once my father has commanded his return…”

“Take me to him. Take me to Asgard!” you demanded.

“What?” “No!” “Absolutely not. Not in your condition.” All three men shouted at once.

“I need to see him. To apologize. To let him know that I was wrong. And to let him know that I never stopped loving him. Please, Thor.” All three looked at you, with varying degrees of concern and worry on their faces.

“Well, Father never said anything about Loki not having visitors.” Thor mused.

“You can’t be serious?!” Callum yelled out. “Can you at least wait till after the baby comes?” he said directed at you.

“No. It has to be now. I don’t know what they’ll do to him, Cal.” You responded.

“OK if you go, then I’ll go with you. There’s no telling what the Bifrost might do to you in your condition.” Bruce decided.

“Really, Bruce?” You looked at him with fondness in your eyes. You had all but forsaken the Avengers, but he was still looking out for you. You hugged him tightly and whispered, “Thank you. I’m so sorry I put you through that. I’m so sorry, Bruce.”

Bruce hugged you tightly, “It’s ok. You’re forgiven. Just…just don’t do it again.”

“Ok. I promise.”

“To Loki or anyone else that cares about you! Understood?”

“I promise,” you said smiling. “Ok, Thor. I’m ready.”

“What about me? Colonel Rhodes is gonna be furious!” Callum said.

“Cal, I have to do this. Loki risked his life to find me after I was selfish and cowardly. I have to save him now. Please tell Rhodey I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to both of you. Ok?”

Cal sighed and gave up. He pressed a kiss on your forehead, “Just promise me this isn’t a goodbye. That I’ll see you and my niece or nephew soon.” His words made you realize something. You’ve been running way too often if even Cal thinks that he might not see you again.

“I’m sorry that you had to ask me that, Cal. Know that I never mean to run from you. You are my family. You will always be home for me.” You hugged your brother fiercely. He always looked out for you. “I’ll be back soon.”

“You better!” he said narrowing his eyes. You squeezed him one last time before turning to Thor. He opened his arms, and you stepped in, hugging his midsection tight. Bruce, on the other side of him, doing the same thing. Thor lifted Mjolnir into the air and called out for Heimdall.

You were instantly surrounded by a kaleidoscope of light, blurring and changing. You felt a pull from up above as if you were being stretched but your feet were heavy and stuck on the ground. Then you felt it. Like you were being freed from the bounds of Earth. As if the gravitational ties that once held you were sprung free and you catapulted into the space beyond. You held on tighter to Thor as Bruce screamed like a banshee in your ear.

In what felt like a rollercoaster slowing and stopping, you arrived feet first onto a gilded marble floor. Thor patted you hard on the back which started your breathing once again. “Are you all right, Violet?” Thor asked concerned.

“Y-yes,” you coughed. “Just needed time for the air to catch up with my lungs!” You took deep long breaths, holding your chest and wincing at the minute pain in your abdomen.

“Welcome to Asgard, your highness. Lady Violet. Doctor Banner.” Heimdall greeted all three of you.

“Good to see you Heimdall. Is father…”

“I have announced your arrival. He is awaiting your appearance in the grand throne room.”

“I thank you,” Thor said nodding in his direction. You looked up at Heimdall. The vision where he helped you did not do him justice. Physically, in the here and now, he was much more impressive. So much grander and brighter. You nodded once in greeting, and he returned it with a smile.

As the three of you made your way down the Bifrost bridge and past the town, you felt a mixture of wonder and sentiment, watching all the places where Loki might have spent his childhood.

When you arrived at the foot of the dais, you were feeling more winded and tired. A slight pain constricting in your lower abdomen and around your back.

“What is the meaning of this?” Odin boomed in the large hall.

“Father, this is Doctor Bruce Banner and Lady Violet Moreau. She wishes to speak with Loki.” Thor introduced you. At the mention of your name, the Allmother stood up.

“This is Lady Violet? The one that has captured my son’s heart?” she smiled as she came down the steps. She came up to you and held out her hands. You bowed down before her. Then placed your hand on hers. “But you are with child!” Frigga noted.

“Yes, your majesty.” You realized how this must look. Exactly what Loki’s parents had warned him and Thor about. A mere nobody coming to the palace claiming that they carry the future line of The Nine Realms. Expecting royal treatment. “I didn’t scheme to entrap him, your highness.”

“Call me Frigga, darling. And NO, I have not once thought that. We had not once thought that,” Frigga said forcefully, looking at her husband.

“I don’t want to make any claims, your majesties. All I ask is to speak…to speak to Loki. And perhaps discuss a few things.” You started wincing and your breathing got erratic. You squeezed Frigga’s hand as a small whimper left your lips.

Frigga’s eyes went vacant and far but quickly came back to their rightful blue. “It is time,” she said holding onto your hand. You screamed in agony as the pain got worse and worse.

“Violet, are you ok? What’s happening? Speak to me?” Bruce said next to you. “Have you been counting your contractions?”

“It’s too early. It’s too early.” You kept repeating.

“Prepare the healer’s bath!” Frigga yelled out to the closest guards.

“What is happening?” Odin demanded. Thor just shrugged, not wanting to get in the way.

“She’s going into labor!” Bruce yelled out.

⬅️ Chapter 6 | Chapter 8 ➡️

🏷️@emarich7 @michelleleewise @coldnique @vickie5446 @psychospore @mukagentropy @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallows @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @holdmytesseract @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie

#loki #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki x yn #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki fluff #loki au #avengers loki #loki smut #loki odinson imagine #loki odinson fanfic #loki odinson x you #loki odinson fanfiction #loki odinson x reader #loki odinson x y/n #loki odinson #loki odinson x female reader #loki odinson smut #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson fanfiction #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x female reader #loki laufesyon x reader #loki series

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/730025691294449664/i-really-dislike-when-people-warn-about-something?source=share

This isn't about the post itself so much but I appreciate the suggestions in the replies about alternate terms to use that don't involve "warning" at all. I'm a college film professor who has often assigned content that is disturbing, and I've agonized a lot over how to do content warnings and what to call them, because while I haven't had problems so far, I know from talking to colleagues at both my and other institutions/reading studies about it that using the term "trigger/content warning" tends to turn on certain light bulbs in the heads of progressive students who are familiar with how those terms are used in progressive communities, where even if they're not that upset by that content they feel like the SHOULD be.... and those are the students who tend to cause the biggest headaches administratively if they feel like a professor who GAVE a warning didn't handle it correctly or shouldn't have been assigning the work in the first place or whatever. And that's also a thing I want to push against hard, because I've spent enough time in communities like social justice Tumblr and the feminist blogosphere before it to know that's a problem. I don't want students to think that to be a good feminist or ally or whatever that you HAVE to be unable to watch a rape scene in a film or TV show. I want to instead be able to discuss the framing of those scenes, and what is the difference between the more exploitative kinds of rape scenes we are used to vs. one that centers the feelings and experience of rape victims and is important to show because that is unfortunately a part of the human experience that we should be able to grapple with in film, like all art.

....At the same time, I don't want to just not give content warnings, because some students do legitimately need it. I've had students who had PTSD specifically request warnings from me. Ideally this should be handled by Disability Services, but we all know a lot of those offices don't do that and they often have barriers to entry that mean they don't catch every student. Plus, I want students to be able to have that who might need it but might not feel comfortable approaching me to ask for it. So there needs to be a solution that isn't just "don't give warnings at all."

Anyway, on a similar note, "warning" just isn't the right word for some of the things you want to give students a head's-up for. I for a long time resisted giving any kinds of "warnings" about consensual sex or nudity in film, because I knew American culture stigmatized that and I didn't want to add to that stigma. (And witnessing the recent discourse on Tumblr about "is it ever ok to have sex scenes in movies? is it ever useful for something besides getting people off?" (yes. easy question) has only added to that, although it's been my personal experience from teaching that the puritanical kids on Tumblr are firmly in the minority, just a loud minority, and that most of the university-age kids of Gen Z are just as edgelord about that stuff as every other generation has been at their age. I say this positively; I was an edgelord, too, still kind of am in my mid-30s, and I think it's legitimately concerning developmentally if you never go through that phase.) But I realized during the lockdown when I started screening films on Zoom - a practice I've kept up in some cases post-lockdown - and also when I assign things for students to watch on their own outside of class, that it's still a good idea to give students a head's-up for stuff, because they might be watching in public and it can be super awkward if you're in the wrong place and there's graphic sex/nudity visibly on your screen. For the same reason that most people on Tumblr asking you to tag nsfw content aren't asking because they're prudes, but because they browse at work or otherwise in public and don't want that showing up unannounced in a time when it could be awkward or get them in trouble. So I wanted to give students a head's up so they could decide ahead of time if watching in certain places was a thing they were willing to do. But I didn't want to call it a "warning," since that stigmatizes the thing.

So the stuff about "this may contain" is much better. And I feel like it's weird I didn't think about that before! Thanks!

(Sidenote: I kind of wonder if the "is there ever a reason for a sex scene?" discourse is so common on Tumblr because it's a very fandom-centric space and there are a lot of people getting their media expectations via fanfic, where when sex scenes show up it is usually at least somewhat with the intention of getting people off, and also when it shows up it tends to be a major feature of the fic - or at least people think of it that way, will decide not to read if they don't want any of that, etc. because of the way tagging systems on fic sites work. So the idea of media that includes sex where "getting the viewer off" has nothing to do with why it's there, but just because it's a part of life like anything else, or because of some other narrative purpose like "the way these two people have sex tells you about the relationship between them" etc. is just so foreign to people whose expectations are set by fanfic.)

--

TBH, last time we discussed the sex scene thing, it became clear that a bunch of people hadn't really been exposed to anything where sex scenes were well done, served a broader artistic purpose in a way that was reasonably obvious, and weren't aimed at the most cliched cishet dude audience tastes.

I don't think it's so much that fic is often horny as that fairly mainstream media contains a lot more sex and nudity than it used to, but the people telling those stories are no more varied than in the past. Some viewers feel like horny stuff that is boring and distasteful to them is inescapable, and that's exhausting.

If there's a fandom effect, I'd posit that the larger part of it is that when you hang out in a space where the default media doesn't necessarily prioritize a cliche of what cishet male viewers supposedly want, you become ever less tolerant of having the "default" shoved in your eyeballs all day long.

People have woken up to "It doesn't have to be like this" and "But I want to be the one catered to" but haven't quite gotten over the baggage of Only Men Like Porn or Sex Is Low Art or whatever.

Possibly there's some degree of effect from how fic archives are a space where people want to see only exactly what is their favorite while never seeing anything that makes them uncomfortable, which is very different from the desires of your average moviegoer at some arthouse theater.

[jobean12-blog]

Helping Hands

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Word Count: 704

Summary: Joel's working on fixing something that you'll love but as soon as you come to see what it is he gets distracted...in the best way.

Author's Note: This is just 700 words of pure indulgence because these small moments are everything for me and if I had Joel I wouldn't want his hands anywhere but on me all the time and I love when two people just can't get enough of each other and just the smallest touch is everything. Anyway hehe thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰

Warnings: Soft and sweet fluffy fluff

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

“What are you working on?”

Joel’s head whips up at the sound of your voice and he blinks, clearly pulled from concentration.

“What’s that darlin’?” he asks, his attention now completely focused on you.

His gaze wanders slowly down your body and he leans back in the chair, smoothing his large hands over his spread thighs.

With a gentle smile you walk to the table and lean your hip against the edge.

“I was wondering what you were up to.”

“Oh,” he says with a lopsided smile. “I found this old record player and I was going to try to get it to work again but it’s a mess.”  

Your face brightens at the thought of hearing music.

“I know,” he says with understanding. “I’ll do my best.”

You lean in and kiss his scruffy cheek and with your lips still pressed to his skin he turns his head and finds your mouth, whispering softly, “wanna help?”

“Me?” you ask as you pull away slightly. “Are you sure? I have no idea how to use tools or anything.”

Laugh lines appear around his eyes and then he pats his big, thick thigh.

“Get over here.”

You drag your teeth over your bottom lip and move around him to climb onto his thigh. You can feel the rough material of his jeans on your skin and every flex of his muscle.

With a shaky inhale you scoot back and get comfortable.

He wraps his left arm around your waist and secures you against his chest.

“Ok hold this,” he instructs before pointing to the needle on the record player.

He then grabs the screw driver and begins unscrewing something with his right hand. When it pops off he sets it down and studies the machine.

“Hmm…” he muses. “We might need parts…good thing I have this old thing.”

He leans forward to grab the old radio on the table. The warmth and weight of his body is so welcoming that you let out a contented sigh and snuggle closer.

“Where did you get that?” you ask, turning your head to find him only a breath away, his dark brown eyes trained on your mouth.

The arm wrapped around your belly flexes and his large hand splays along your skin.

“Don’t you dare look at me like that,” you murmur. “I want this thing fixed.”

“Thought that’s what we were doin’ angel,” he smirks.

“If you keep this up it’ll never get fixed.”

“Keep what up?” he asks with feigned innocence even as his hand slowly slides along the curve of your body.

You melt against him as warmth spreads across your skin.

“Joel,” you breathe out.

“It’ll get fixed darlin’…but it’s hard to concentrate now.”

“Well that’s your fault,” you whisper. “You asked for help.”

His calloused fingertips ghost over your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and then find your neck, trailing along the delicate skin until he’s pressing them under your chin and tilting your face closer.

“Joel,” you hum with one last weak attempted warning as your eyelids flutter closed.

“Hm?” he grunts as he brushes his lips to yours.

“Thought you wanted help.”

He pulls back and traces his thumb over your lips.

“This is helping.”

His hand slides to the back of your neck and wraps around it before he tugs you down to his mouth.

Your own hand smooths up and over his chest and your fingers curl into his hair, giving it a sharp tug.

“Angel,” he growls.

He stands in one swift motion and takes you with him, gently letting you slide down his body until your feet hit the ground, his mouth still on yours.

With sure steps he walks you backward toward the wall and pins you there with his large frame.

You let out a moan of his name and reach your fingers under his shirt to feel his skin.

He rests his hands on either side of your face, sweeping his thumbs softly over your closed eyes.

“I promise,” he starts on a murmur before kissing the corner of your mouth. “I’ll get it fixed.”

His lips are just a breath away, his nose lightly brushing yours…” just need you first darlin.’ Please.”

@lorilane33 @hiddles-rose @littleseasiren @kmc1989 @blackwidownat2814

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller imagine #the last of us

[andydrysdalerogers]

Yours Submissively ~ Primero

Steve Rogers X OFC Isabella Davis

Summary: Five Years after the events of Civil War, Steve Rogers has moved on from avenging and has started his own business, Grant Inc. He has a secret that would turn his world upside down. And he's good at keep that secret. Until he meets the woman with violet eyes that could bring him to his knees. Now his mission is to make her, his. But she is the key that could bring the world into balance... or chaos.

And she has no idea.

Series Warnings: slow burn at the beginning, smut, angst, sexual themes of BDSM, dom/sub dynamics, kidnapping, loss of virginity, (and a bunch of others that will come up)

A/N: I'm still testing dividers for this story and I hope I will find one that I like. Also, please don't judge me too harshly on the poorly written set you will experience below. I've gotten better LOL

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Previous: Consent

Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

Steve walked Belle to his bedroom.  He lowered the blinds from the harsh New York sun, shrouding the room in darkness.  He walked back to Belle.  He tilted her head up.  “Is this ok?”

“Steve,” she whispered, unsure of what to say. 

“Baby you have to talk to me, ok? If you don’t want this, I’ll take you home.” 

Belle looked into his eyes; the blue darkened by his pupils being wide.  She put her hands around his neck and pulled him down gently.  Their lips touched gently, the perfect first kiss. Steve pulled away gently. 

“Isabella, you have to talk to me.” 

“I’m scared but I want this.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Steve, will you take care of me?”

“Always Isabella.”  He kissed her again, feeling his tongue on her lips and she moaned.  He tasted divine. “Can I take this off?” He tugged at her shirt. She nodded, unable to speak.  Steve pulled it over her head.  “You are beautiful Isabella.” 

“Steve…”

“I’ve got you, ok? If you want me to stop, just say so.” 

“No, please don’t stop.” 

Steve kneeled in front of her and kissed around her navel as he unbuttoned her jeans.  She hitched her breath at the sensation. Steve smiled as he pulled her jeans down. “Step, sweetheart.”  Belle lifted her legs one at a time. “Good girl.” Steve stood up and stepped back. He took in Belle in just her white lacy lingerie. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers. 

Belle blushed and went to cover herself.  He grabbed her arms. He took her fingers and kissed the pad of each one, listening to her sigh with desire. He kissed each wrist, feeling her pulse. He took her hands and placed them on his chest.  “Undress me.”  Belle took her time with each button.  She pushed his shirt down and looked up at him.  “Keep going.”  She pulled on the belt, undoing it. She hesitated.  “It’s ok, Isabella.” He kissed her and started to walk her backwards. 

Her knees hit the edge of the bed.  Steve lowered her slowly.  “Are you still ok?” 

“Yes,” she breathed. He started to kiss her neck and down her chest.  He reached and unhooked her bra, pulling the fabric away.  He kissed softly, listening to the soft moans coming from her mouth. He continued south and pulled her panties away from her body. Steve stood over her and licked his lips. He removed his jeans and boxers, pulling a condom from the drawer.  Belle couldn’t help but stare.  His body was like it was chiseled from marble; every line of his body defined. She didn’t look down further, afraid of what the serum would have done to him. 

He rolled on the condom and hovered over her.  He kissed her.  “I’m going to go slow ok. It might hurt at first.  Just let me know.”  He lowered his hand down and caressed her folds.  Belle let out a mewl at the sensation.  “I just need to get you wet Isabella.” He skated over her clit and slipped a finger in, causing her to gasp.  “It’s ok baby, just relax.”  He started to pump slowly.  He could feel her relax and he added a second.  

“Steve,” she gasped. “I…” She couldn’t describe what was happening.  It felt like a coil tightening, threatening to break. 

“It’s ok baby.  It’s your body reacting.  Let go, Isabella.” 

She felt herself clench and then peak and release, her voice gone from the overwhelming pleasure.  Steve slowly stopped. He reached to his cock and pumped a few times.  “Are you ready?” Belle nodded. Steve lined himself up and pushed in gently.  He could feel Belle tense again, so he kissed her, distracting her from what was going on. He finally bottomed out and waited as her face was sill twisted slightly in pain.  “Isabella?”

“I’m ok, just hurts a little.” 

“I know, just tell me when.” 

She breathed in and tilted her hips up.  Steve started to slowly thrust and then picked up the pace. Belle moans and groans at the fullness. He continued to thrust into her, feeling her around him, starting to flutter.  “C’mon Belle, let go for me.” 

“Steve, I can’t.”

“Yes, baby you can.”  He reached down to gently rub her clit. Belle cried out as she felt the organism ripped through her.  “Steve!”

“Yes, Belle,” as he thrusted a couple of more time and then released in the condom.  He slowed and they both breathed in deeply. He pulled out gently and went into the bathroom.  He came back with a cloth and gently cleaned up Belle.  She was half asleep, so he pulled her under the covers and climbed in.  He pulled her close and they both fell asleep.

Belle woke up after what felt like hours. She looked at the clock and saw that it was just after one.  She was sore but it felt like it had a dream like quality. She saw Steve asleep next to her.  She got up gently and grabbed Steve’s shirt to put on.  She wandered to his closet and found a pair of boxers to put on as well.  She walked to the main area and to the kitchen.  She decided to make a salad and sandwiches for Steve.  She started to pull out ingredients when she heard someone clear their throat. 

She looked up and saw a dark hair man looking at her.  She backed up, suddenly nervous.  

“Sorry, my apologies ma’am. I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

Belle looked at him with slight recognition. “You were at the bar, I think.” 

“Yes ma’am.  My name is Bucky, sorry James Barnes.” 

“I like that.” 

“Excuse me?”

“Bucky.  It suits you.  I’m Isabella or Belle. Isabella Davis, I mean.”  She fidgeted with the shirt. 

“I’m sorry that I scared you.  I heard a noise and was just checking.” 

“Oh.  No, its not a problem. I was just making Steve something to eat.  Would you like some?”

Bucky smiled. “Sure.  What are you making?”

“I was going to make Chicken Pesto Sandwiches and a salad.” 

“Sounds good.  Should I leave while you cook?”

“No, I mean, if you want.  I mean, wow.” Belle felt her blush rise.  

Bucky tilted his head. “Do you always restart your sentences?”

“Only when I’m nervous.” 

“Is it because you are in Steve’s shirt?”

“Among other things.” She blushed harder and looked down. 

Bucky chuckled.  “Tell you what.  I have to check on something.  That should give you time to change and come back.  Either way, feel comfortable.  I’m not looking, promise.” He winked at Belle and walked out. 

Belle looked down again and ran back to Steve’s room.  She was quiet as she slipped her jeans back on and tied the shirt in a knot around her waist.  She headed back out and started to cook the chicken. She saw there was a speaker. She took out her phone and started to play her cooking playlist. She danced and sang along with her favorite songs. As she was putting the finishing touches on the sandwiches to press them, she turned and gasped.  Steve was sitting at the counter watching her.  “You scared me.” 

“My apologies Miss Davis.  What are you doing?”

“I am making lunch.  I woke up hungry and I thought you might be too.” 

“I am.  Thank you.” 

Belle fiddled with her shirt. “I met Bucky.” 

“Did you?  Dressed like that?”

“No, worse.”  She starts to blush again. “Wasn’t his fault.  I didn’t know anyone else was here. In fact, no, wait, none of my business.” 

“Belle, breathe.”  Steve started to chuckle.  “Bucky is the head of my security team and my best friend.  He lives here with my housekeeper, Mrs. Lewis. She’s not here right now.” 

“Oh.  I didn’t know you needed security.” 

“I’m a rich businessman.  Of course, I need security.” 

“You’re a former Avenger.  I just assumed you could take care of yourself.” 

Steve smiled.  Belle always tried to avoid calling him Captain America and he appreciated it. “You should try telling Bucky that.” 

“Tell me what?” Bucky walked back into the room. He looked at Belle. “Nice to see we went with pants.”

Steve looked at them with concern. “You weren’t wearing pants?”

“Ok for the record I was covered up, ok.  And second, lunch is ready.”  She placed a sandwich for each of them and a bowl of salad.  Steve took a bite. 

“Belle its delicious.” Bucky nodded his agreement. 

“Thank you.” Belle sat across from them and ate as well. 

“Any other hidden talents Belle?” Bucky asked as he cleared the plates. 

“I don’t know.  I used to sing but I don’t anymore.” She looked away and got up to wash the dishes. 

Bucky looked at Steve, who looked pissed.  He mouthed, Sorry, and moved back to his suite. Steve approached Belle and put his hands on her hip from behind.  “Where did you go?”

“Sorry.  I just don’t… I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Are you mad at me?”

“No!” She turned around. “I just don’t want to talk about it ok?” She started to walk away. She could feel her anxiety rising. 

“Isabella, please.  I’m sorry I won’t pry anymore.” 

“Can I go home?” 

Steve looked hurt.  “Yes, of course.  We’ll take you.” 

NEXT

Taglist:

@patzammit

@texmexdarling

@slutforchrisjamalevans

@jennmurawski13-writes

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

@alexakeyloveloki

@amiquette

#andy's hea #andy's shenanigans #yours submissively #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers au #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #Steve Rogers x OFC #Bucky barnes #chris evans #mcu fanfiction #Steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #chris evans au #avengers au

[foundtherightwords]

The Quiet Chaos - Chapter 5

Pairing: Billy Knight (Lethal White/Strike) x OFC

Summary: After a bad breakup throws her carefully-planned life into disarray, Esme has sworn off dating forever. However, when she forms an unexpected connection with a young man named Billy, who's dealing with his own struggles, Esme is forced to face the truth: sometimes you can't plan for love.  

Warnings: mental health issues, angst, slow-burn, developing relationship, dysfunctional family, some violence (non-graphic), some smut (non-explicit)

Chapter warnings: awkward sex, discussion of self-harm

Chapter word count: 4.4k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Chapter 5 - Dawn and Emerald

It was late, and the tube was packed with weary people coming back from their evening shifts. Esme felt sorry for them, for how downtrodden they looked, and was almost embarrassed for how happy she was. The return journey seemed longer than the journey to the allotment, but it was probably because she was so eager to get off, and so was Billy.

She leaned on his shoulder, her hand in his, their fingers all tangled up. Now and again, she would raise her head, and he leaned down to meet her halfway. Their lips brushed briefly. She wanted to pull him to her and feel his mouth over hers again, but their carriage was nearly full, and she didn't feel brave enough for a public make-out session yet, so she had to satisfy herself with those fleeting touches. Even then, they still made her feel absurdly giddy, like a teenager having her first crush. Not that I know what that's like. When I was a teenager, I was too busy making sure Sibby, Tiff, and Sam ate and bathed and did their homework.

When they reached their station, Billy pulled her back and asked quietly, "Are we going to your place, or mine?"

A thrill went through Esme. Is this really happening? She remembered having to Google "how many dates before you have sex" while going out with Neil, and being so confused because the results were so wildly different. Never would she dream, in a million years, that she would be going home with a guy at the end of their first date. OK, first official date, but still.

As she pondered his question, however, that thrill faded somewhat in the face of practicalities. "Mine is probably better," she said. "Not that there's anything wrong with your flat," she quickly added. "It's just... Angua's not allowed there."

"That's OK. I've always wanted to see where you live." He took her hand again, and they all but ran to her flat.

The moment the door shut behind them, Billy drew her to him, picking up where they'd left off, but Esme couldn't seem to rediscover the excitement she'd felt first in the greenhouse and then on the tube. Her insecurities were rearing their heads, reminding her of a million ways in which she was inadequate, in which this might turn out as disappointing as their botched first date. She extricated her lips from Billy's, muttering, "I thought you wanted to see the flat."

"Later." He peeled her jacket off, then his own.

"I have to give Angua some water—"

But Angua would not be used as an excuse. The moment Esme let her off the leash, the little dog trotted to her water bowl, which was already full, lapped up some water, and settled into her bed with a contented sigh and a sideway glance at them, as if to say, "That's it for me tonight. You crazy kids get on with it." Esme laughed helplessly and let Billy pull her back into his arms.

This could work, she told herself. This will work.

At least, it never felt this way with her exes. Sex with Marco was awkward and fumbling, both of them being too young and inexperienced to really know how to work with each other. Her casual dates were just that, casual. Neil was... adequate, but certainly he's never been such a blazing heat against her, nor has he ever slammed her into a wall so hard she could feel her spine tingling, while in search of the bedroom door.

"Um, Billy, that's the broom cupboard."

He buried his face in her neck, laughing. "Right. Sorry."

She steered him toward the bedroom. He reached for the light switch by the door, but she put out a hand to stop him. "Do you mind if we keep the lights off?" she said. That was how she had always done it, letting the dark hide her shyness and her imperfections, her too-small breasts, her flabby stomach, the weird stretch marks from puberty that never went away. It had annoyed Neil, who preferred to see what he was doing, to no end, but it'd annoyed him even more when she seized up under a bright light, so he'd let it slide.

There was still some light coming in through the window from the street, enough for her to see Billy frown briefly, but he shrugged, amenable as always. "Sure."

They found their way to the bed, and the rest of their clothes, whatever that hadn't been discarded already all over her living room and kitchen floors, came off. Esme ducked under the cover. A second later, Billy joined her, his hot body pressing down on her, his mouth dropping scorching little kisses down her neck, her shoulder, her breast, his callused fingertips running down her sides, rough yet gentle at the same time, sending trembles all over her. His frenzy, so different from his usual shy self, caught her off-guard.

"Have you been with—have you been with lots of girls before?" Esme asked.

"Does it matter?" he said, his voice muffled as he trailed his lips over her skin.

"No. I'm just wondering."

"There was one or two... but not like this. Not like you." His lips were on her again, and she realized she didn't mind it, didn't mind letting him sweep her away in a whirlwind of desire, of excitement, of things unknown but intoxicating. Her hips started to move under him.

But then Billy paused. She could feel his arms quivering as he held his body poised over her.

"Hold on... I think—I think we should slow down," he panted in her ear.

"I thought you said we would be at it all night," she whispered back with a giggle, rolling her hips more deliberately, rhythmically, pressing herself into his hand.

"More reason for—slowing down then—"

"But I don't want to slow down." She reached out, searching for him, guiding him to her.

Suddenly he wrenched away from her with a moan, and she felt something hot and sticky splash across her belly and thighs.

Billy dropped his head.

"Shit," he mumbled into her shoulder. "Shit, shit, shit. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

For what felt like an eternity, Esme could only lie there, motionless, while Billy said sorry again and again, his hands digging into her arms, his breath hot on her skin. Then she found herself thinking, as if her mind was somewhere outside of her body, And I just washed the sheets too.

The thought reminded her of practical matters. She shifted her hips, but Billy was pinning her in place. "I need to get up," she said.

He bolted up. "Sorry, yeah, sure..."

She gingerly lifted the duvet, sat up, and got out of bed.

"D'you need me to get you a towel or—"

"No," she replied, more sharply than she intended. "Just... no. It's fine."

She went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The hot water did little good for her jumbled thoughts. Is it possible to die from embarrassment? Because she wanted to curl up inside herself and die, right now. Was it her fault? Had she pushed him too strongly? He had asked her to slow down, and she hadn't listened. It was their first date all over again. No, it was even worse, because she'd been so nervous about their first date that the disappointing end had been almost a relief, and at least she could blame Billy's hypomania for that. But this? After their first kiss, and all that passion, all the expectation... this was crushing.

Then she realized she's been focusing too much on herself. If this was such a blow to her, then how mortified Billy must be feeling. Oh God, what if he's left? Wrapping a towel around herself, she ran into the bedroom. No, he was still there, sitting at the end of the bed with his head in his hands. The despondent hunch of his shoulders sent a twinge through her heart.

"Saved you some hot water," she said, much more softly than before, and dug out a clean towel from her cupboard.

He looked at her, then at the towel in confusion. It took him a moment to realize she wasn't mad at him. He took the towel, mouthed "Thank you", and darted into the bathroom.

While waiting for him, Esme put on her pajamas and turned on the nightlight. Billy reemerged a few minutes later, the towel wrapped around his waist.

"Listen, Esme, I'm really sorry about—" he began.

Esme was about to interrupt and tell him there was nothing to apologize for, when she caught a glimpse of his chest. There was a large mass of scars right under his collarbone, above his sternum. This was the first time he appeared without a top in front of her, so she'd never seen them before. When they were in bed together, she had been too focused on his mouth and his hands and everything else to notice the bumps under her fingers. But now they were there, unmistakable, and there appeared to be a particular shape to them...

She turned on the big light so she could examine the scars more clearly. Billy saw her eyes widen and attempted to cover himself with his hand, unwittingly repeating the nose-to-chest tic that she now recognized always surfaced whenever he was stressed or upset. But the gesture wasn't enough to cover the scars. She had seen. The scars were in the shape of a horse. No, not just a horse. The Horse. The Uffington White Horse.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Billy reluctantly dropped his hand. "... I did it."

She stared at him in horror. "What?!"

"A few years ago, I had a... psychotic break. It was bad. I cut myself. I don't remember why. I don't even remember doing it. I just... had to."

Tears welled up in Esme's eyes, blurring the shape of the Horse. Now she knew why he had fled at the sight of her necklace. What happened to him on that hill that haunted him so? She couldn't envision what horrors he'd been through, what pain he'd endured. She was only aware of the aching gulf between them, filled with those unknown things. How could she ever hope to cross that gulf and reach him?

"Please don't cry." He lifted his hand as if to wipe away her tears, but it seemed he couldn't bring himself to cross the gulf either. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

Esme shook her head. "You're not making me cry," she said. "I'm crying for you. There's a difference."

"How?"

"When someone made you cry, that's because they're hurting you. When you cry for someone, that's because you love them." She didn't know where those words came from. They sounded like something in one of her mum's sappy books.

Billy gazed at her for a long moment. "Does that mean you love me?" eventually he asked.

She paused, not knowing how to answer. Instead, she reached out to touch the scars, lightly brushing her fingertips over them. And then, because touching was not enough, she leaned down and kissed them.

Billy sucked in a breath. "Esme, I can't—" But she kept the kiss tender, not sensuous, and a second later, she straightened up. He was looking at her, his lips quivering with things unsaid, his eyes sparkling with tears, looking so vulnerable that she took him in her arms, rocking his head on her shoulder. "It's all right," she murmured soothingly. "We don't have to do anything if you're not ready. Just stay with me. If you want to," she remembered to add.

He did want to stay. Soon they were nestled next to each other in bed, her arms around him, her head on his shoulder. Esme again rethought her idea of a first date. This is nice too, she decided, as she fell asleep to the sound of his soft snores, feeling his breath on her hair.

***

It must be quite early—the window was still dark, though there was a grayish quality to the darkness that told her morning was close—but something had woken her up. Then Esme realized it was Billy, lying on his back next to her, groaning and thrashing in the throes of a nightmare. She knew better than to try and wake him up in this state, so she rolled him to his side instead. As she did so, Billy's eyes popped open, huge and haunted, looking at her without seeing her. "Dawn?" he said.

She didn't know whether he was asking for someone named Dawn or whether he thought she was Dawn or whether he was asking if it was dawn, but now was not the time to ask. "Shh, it's OK," she whispered. "You're having a nightmare." His eyes closed then, and he slipped quietly back to sleep.

However, sleep eluded Esme, whose head was filled with questions about the mysterious Dawn. Of course, she had no illusion that Billy had never been with anyone before—he had told her as much. And it did not matter anyway. But if this Dawn meant so much to him that he called out for her in his sleep, she'd want to know.

The next morning, over breakfast, she asked, keeping her voice nonchalant, "Who's Dawn?"

Billy looked up from his toast. "Where'd you hear that name?"

"You had a nightmare and called me Dawn."

"Did I?" His fingers tapped the jar of strawberry preserve, a ghost of his tic. "God, I haven't thought of her in years."

"Who is she?" Esme repeated, a touch impatiently now.

"She's my—um, my brother's wife. Well, ex-wife."

"Your brother?"

"Jimmy."

Presumably, this was the same Jimmy that frightened young Billy with tales of the dog-meat curry. Another puzzle piece fell into place.

"I used to stay with them sometimes, when my dad—when I first came to London," Billy continued. "She's a lot older than Jimmy, I think, and Jimmy's a lot older than me, so she's more like an aunt. But she was kind to me. I used to have these nightmares about—" Again, there was a pause, and a correction—"nightmares like you wouldn't believe, and she would calm me down. But Jimmy got angry with me for telling her about the Horse. So I left to share a flat with some mates, and then Dawn and Jimmy split up. I never saw her again." There was a wistful note in his voice. "She's the closest thing to a mum I ever had."

"Where's Jimmy now?" Esme asked.

"Prison," Billy replied, and said no more.

How silly of her, to feel jealous of Dawn! There was another stab of pain in Esme's heart, not just for Billy, but also because with each of his reveals, the gulf between the two of them seemed to be gaping a little wider. How could she be there for him, when he spoke of things she could never imagine, no matter how many books and articles and studies she read? How could she support him when she didn't know what he was going through? She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze, an inadequate gesture compared to his pain. He smiled at her, but even that smile could not drive away the fear that one day, all her tears and kisses and touches would not be enough.

But Esme tried to ignore that fear and continued seeing Billy. She no longer fretted about what to do for their dates. They still met every Saturday to walk the dogs at the rescue center. When they didn't have the late shifts, he would come to her flat for dinner and stay the night. During her lunch breaks, Esme would bike down to Asda or the woodworking studio so they could have lunch together on the river bank. She discovered her love for flea markets again while scouring them for things to brighten up Billy's flat, and Billy would sometimes accompany her as well—much like herself, he didn't mind crowds as long as he didn't have to interact with them. But most of the time they just stayed home, cooking and eating and reading and going to bed together.

They had yet to try having sex again, though Esme had gone to her doctor to refill her birth control prescription and to make sure everything was good to go. Sometimes, when Billy spent the night, she would wake with his hand on her breast and the hard ridge of his arousal behind her, but then he would also wake, go crimson, and turn away or even jump out of bed. If she hinted that they might have another go at it, he would try to deflect, and it turned into the most awkward back-and-forth of "We don't have to if you don't want to" and "If you don't mind that I don't want to". In the end, Esme decided to just drop it. It made Billy uncomfortable, and she, in turn, would feel bad about making him uncomfortable, so why put more pressure on both of them? Of course, if the timing was right... but she never did have good timing. So she just learned to take things as they come and not to think too much of the future.

She also learned that it was OK to ask a lot of questions, and to talk, and to listen. Billy had good days and bad days, and she learned not to take his bad days personally. If anything, the bad days helped her to treasure the good days even more, made every moment they spent together even more precious, and gave special meanings to the simplest of things, like falling asleep next to him and waking up, knowing he was still there.

***

That Sunday, the flea market in Camden was quieter than usual. The colder weather might have something to do with it, but Esme didn't mind as she linked arms with Billy and strolled through the stalls, stopping at whatever caught their eyes. Seeing a table full of used books, they both navigated toward it without a word, and grinned at each other when they noticed their synchronized steps.

A crate of brightly-covered children's books stood in front of the table. To Esme's horror, she recognized them. A box containing similar books was currently gathering dust in her storage shed. With a glance at Billy, who was digging through the stacks next to her, she tried to nudge the crate out of the way, but her movement only drew Billy's attention. He saw the author's name. "Ivy Pendergast... Hey, she has the same last name as yours! This isn't your mum, is it?"

Of course, she had told him that her mum was a writer and illustrator of children's books, as well as other basic facts—her dad was a glass artist, she grew up in Kent, and she had three younger siblings, Sybil, Tiffany, and Sam. Billy had raised an eyebrow at that and said, "They really do like Discworld, don't they?" (they had been reading the books together—well, rereading for Esme—and Billy was really getting into the City Watch, because, as he said, he liked stories about crime-solving), and Esme had nodded in mock weariness. But there were still things she hadn't told him, and now she silently cursed her dad for not having a more common last name, and her mum for taking that last name when they married, despite all her feminist ideals. I could lie. But he's bound to find out sooner or later. Better get this over with.

"That is my mum, actually," she mumbled.

Billy flipped through the content of the crate with interest. "Emerald Saves a Grasshopper," he read out loud. "Emerald Saves a Lizard. Emerald Saves a Fox."

Esme closed her eyes, praying that he wouldn't put two and two together. After all, not a lot of people know Esme is short for Esmeralda, and even fewer know Esmeralda means Emerald in Spanish.

But apparently Billy was one of those people. "Emerald?" he said. "Esmeralda? It's you, isn't it?"

Esme nodded, smiling to hide her pained expression. "She started writing them when I was about three. They were all quite simple at first, but then she ran out of animals, and now it's Emerald Saves a Lesser-Spotted Blue Tit and Emerald Saves a Mantis Shrimp and God knows what else. It'll be Emerald Saves an Amoeba next, probably."

He grinned. "So she just saves animals?"

"It's for kids age 5 and under, Billy, they don't need a plot. She saves other things too, but they're not as popular as the animal ones... What are you doing?"

He was buying them. He was actually buying the books. God help me.

"You don't have to buy them, you know," she quickly said. "I probably still have a few boxes of them in the shed if you want. Signed, too."

"You should keep those. They'll be worth something in the future, right?"

"I doubt it. She's signed so many of them that the unsigned ones might be worth more."

Billy grinned again. After he'd paid for the books, he asked, "Why didn't you tell me that your mum's books were based on you?"

Esme just shrugged. The truth was that, by the time she started school, they were no longer based on her. What she didn't tell Billy was that before growing up in Kent, she had grown up in a lot of other places as well, with the five of them—Sam hadn't been born at that point—crammed into one tiny camper van. It was the best day of her life when her dad decided to become a glass artist and realized you couldn't set up a kiln in a camper van. Nor did she tell him that her parents were always too busy with their creative endeavors to actually parent, and it fell to her, as the eldest, to give her younger siblings some sort of routine and structure in their day-to-day life. While Emerald was saving all sorts of cute animals and having adventures, Esme had to save her siblings from getting into scraps and falling behind in their classes. She grew to hate those books.

She didn't tell Billy any of it because she realized, compared to his nightmarish childhood, hers was practically idyllic. She knew how terrible it would sound if she complained to him that she'd had to take care of her siblings growing up, when he'd grown up motherless, beaten by his father, and abandoned by his brother. And so she kept silent.

At the same time, she would love for her family to meet Billy. They all disapproved of Neil, but she knew they would adore Billy. And he would adore them, provided that they didn't stress him out too much. She only hoped her relationship with Billy had reached a point when it was appropriate to introduce him to her family (why isn't there a guide to such things?)

"What are you doing for Christmas?" she asked one night while they were in bed, Feet of Clay propped up on her knees. Christmas was still a few weeks away, but knowing Billy (and herself), she thought she'd give themselves time to mentally prepare.

"Nothing, probably. Last year Jacob invited me to his house, but this year he's going to visit his daughter in Australia. You?"

"I have to work on Christmas Day."

"Bummer."

"I don't mind. Christmas is always a busy time. People don't pay as much attention to their pets, and they can get into all sorts of things. Someone has to hold the fort."

"I'll come by and keep you company."

"Ugh, stop being so stinking sweet, will you?" She leaned down and gave him a peck on the lips. Then, in a carefully casual manner, she said, "I'm going down to Kent to see my parents on Boxing Day though. Would you like to come with me?"

Billy sat up to face her. "You really mean it?"

"Yeah."

"Do they... what did you—I mean, how much did you tell them about me?"

"Not much, just that I'm seeing someone." She looked into his eyes. "Do you want me to tell them about your condition?"

He reached for her hand, clasping it tightly as if to stop his nervous tic, to anchor himself. "Would they... object, if they know?" he asked in a small voice.

"No," she said firmly. "And even if they did, it wouldn't matter to me." She lifted his hand and kissed his calluses. Billy's eyes softened. He tugged her forward until she landed on his lips.

"How did I get so lucky?" he whispered against her mouth.

But Esme had other things on her mind. "I have to warn you though, my parents are kind of... unconventional." She almost laughed at the understatement.

"I've gathered as much."

"No, honestly. For one thing, they don't celebrate Christmas."

"Are they Jewish or—"

"No, they just think it's too commercialized. When I was growing up, they would just give us presents whenever they felt like it. Only when my sisters and I moved away that they accepted that Christmas was one of the few times we could all get together, so they reluctantly agree to host it, but they still won't do any of the traditional things though. It's daft."

"I think it's cute."

"It may have been cute when we were kids, but not when we started going to school," Esme said with a humorless laugh. "Imagine having to explain to your classmates that you had no Christmas presents because your parents didn't feel like it."

"At least you had presents," Billy said quietly, and shame burned Esme's face. She was doing the very thing she had vowed not to do—complain about her parents in front of Billy. She kissed him again to distract from the offense.

"I'm just telling you so you won't have to worry about bringing presents or anything."

"OK, I won't." He kissed her back. "You can tell them about me. I don't mind."

Chapter 6

A/N: The detail about Billy carving the Horse into his chest was taken from the show. It didn't happen in the book, as far as I remember.

Taglist: @quinnypixie, @accidentalslag, @etherealglimmer

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