#these tags could be their own post. this is out of hand.

[joelsgreys]

a safe haven l ten

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l previous chapter l next chapter

summary: After a long night, Joel and Ellie take you home.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF AN INJURY SUSTAINED FROM AN ACT OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, PREGNANCY, CONVERSATIONS SURROUNDING PREGNANCY LOSS . PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. Ellie and reader are very close to each other, Joel deals with feelings of guilt, Joel and Maria make nice, Joel gives reader a bath and washes her hair, food consumption (i am just gonna apologize to my lactose intolerant folks right now, trust me i must pretend with you), both reader and Joel have some big feelings, reader mentions her deceased father, angst, soft and domestic Joel, fluff.

word count: 5k

a/n: i have not updated this series since october. :l i feel a a mixed bag of emotions updating after all this time, but most of all, i am grateful to know there are a couple of people out there who are still invested in this story. to anyone who has been waiting: truly, it means the world that you have shown me patience, support, and kindness. believe me, i am going to be seeing this story to the end, and it is all thanks to those who continue to show this lil story of mine a whole lotta love. special shoutout to the loveliest human @mrsmando who made me this beautiful mooodboard every single time i got stuck during this chapter, i looked at it and it gave me the boost of inspiration i needed. thank you mimi <33 this chapter is fairly tame, the next chapter is already in the works, and there are a couple of time jumps coming. overall, we are down to the last handful of chapters. let’s finish this story and give these two the ending they deserve, shall we?

“What the hell is taking Tommy so fucking long?” Ellie whines. She’s sprawled out on the couch with her head in your lap, and her arm draped over her eyes. Her feet are hanging, dangling over the edge of the couch at an odd angle after you’d warned her not to get muck from her sneakers on the linen fabric. Despite Joel insisting over and over that she head on back to the house, she had stubbornly refused, not wanting to leave your side. “It’s been over two hours! He’s taking fucking forever, man. What’s the fucking hold up?”

Joel bites back a sigh, masking his own impatience. Or at least, he tries. He’s grown just as restless as the kid, if not more. Much like Ellie, he’s desperate. He’s itching to take you home already, almost too anxious to watch you take that first step over his threshold, and into your new life with him and with Ellie. He aches, aches, to get you settled into the place where you would be spending the remainder of your days with one another, where you would be safe, and loved in the way you deserved to be loved—the place where he would cherish and adore you until his final breath.

“Don’t know,” he answers, his voice sounding rougher, more gruff than usual. Reaching up, he scrubs his hand down the side of his face, adding tiredly, “He might be a while longer, kiddo. It could be another hour, could be more. Like I already told you, s’probably best if you just go on and head back to the house without us, alright?”

“No. I’m not walking out that fucking door unless she’s with me.” She pauses and pulls her arm away from her face for a moment, just long enough to throw a teeny glare his way. “Unless you’re both with me. The three of us go home together, or it’s no fucking deal. Got it?”

He shakes his head in utter exasperation.

“Ellie, we’ll be right here down the fuckin’ road—”

Her hand shoots out and she flips him off.

Just when he’s about to chastise her, he stops himself, clamping his mouth shut. It’s pointless.

Kid’s too goddamn hard headed for her own good, and Joel knows he’s just wasting his breath with her.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” you reassure them both, weaving your fingers through her hair to scratch at her scalp in an effort to soothe her. “Right, Joel?”

He meets your exhausted, worn down gaze from where he’s standing across the room, and his heart lurches in his chest. As the guilt begins creeping in, he’s forced to look away. He can’t imagine the living hell you had been through over the last twenty four hours alone. And the worst part about it was the realization that last night, while he was fast asleep in bed just a couple of houses up the road, that fucking bastard had his belt wrapped around your throat.

Joel feels sick to his fucking stomach all over again.

Horrifying, vividly real images of you helplessly trapped underneath Luke scratching and clawing at the leather around your neck with trembling fingers, struggling to breathe oxygen into your burning lungs as he tugged it tighter and tighter through the buckle flash in his mind, a gruesome nightmare turned into reality.

Exactly how far had Luke taken it?

Until you had grown too weak to keep fighting?

Until you almost lost complete consciousness?

Until he noticed the life threatening to leave your eyes?

Is that when he had finally stopped pulling on the belt?

Joel shudders, a bitter taste climbing up his throat as it sinks in. He could have lost you—and his unborn child.

This shouldn’t have happened.

He shouldn’t have let you walk away that night.

This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t let you walk away from him that night.

“Joel,” you say his name, quiet and weary.

His head snaps back in your direction and he glances at you, almost missing the subtle shake of your head. It is a silent warning telling him not to go there, though you know by the tight clench of his jaw it’s too late for that.

Joel makes the futile attempt to hide it, but he sees it written all over your face—you know what he’s thinking because you know him like the back of your own hand, and you just know he’s placing all of the blame for what happened to you on his own shoulders.

But can you honestly fault him for that?

How can you expect him not to feel like he is somehow responsible for this? Just how the hell is he supposed to make himself believe he hadn’t failed you?

Joel promised—he had fucking promised you—that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. He had sworn to keep you safe, made a vow to protect you from Luke, but here you are, your soft, delicate flesh marred with the painful evidence of yet another one of his failures.

And it was all because he had let you walk away on that fucking night.

He should have done something.

Even if it meant running the risk of you never speaking to him again—even if you never forgave him, spent the rest of your life angry and hating him for going against your wishes. He should have something.

“Joel—”

“Be right back,” he mutters, lightly shaking his head.

Shoving away from the doorframe he’s leaning against, Joel pivots on the heel of his boot and starts down the hallway. He walks into the kitchen where he finds Maria standing at the counter, tapping her fingers against the smooth, laminated oakwood as she waits for the coffee she’d offered him a few minutes ago to finish brewing. She’d offered to whip up a quick supper, but food was the last thing on everyone’s mind.

“Tommy’s been gone for a couple hours now. Girls are startin’ to get real tired of just sittin’ around waitin’ for him to come back,” he tells her, exhaling the sigh he’d held back in the living room. “What do you think could be keepin’ him so long?”

With her back still to him, Maria reminds him, “Well, he did mention he was going to round up the council and get them together for an emergency meeting.” She lets out a sigh that matches his own—it’s been a long night for her, too. When the last drop of dark roast drips into the glass pot, she carefully takes the pot by the plastic handle and pours the steaming coffee into a speckled, white and blue ceramic mug. “Do you take it with milk and sugar?”

“No thanks, that’s alright,” he declines as politely as he can.

“I also have cinnamon if you’d like?”

“Plain black’s just fine.” He gives her a nod of gratitude when she hands it to him. “Thank you. And I don’t just mean the coffee, but for, uh—for bandagin’ up my hand for me, too.” He clocks the brief look of surprise on her face and almost laughs. He doesn’t blame her for being taken aback, because truth be told, so is he. Since he’d met Maria, he had known she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. There was something of a mutual understanding between them, a silent agreement they had made to keep each other at arm’s length, to only interact when it was absolutely necessary.

Never did he think he would be standing in her kitchen, thanking her for patching up his hand, and for making him a cup of coffee out of the kindness of her heart.

His brother wouldn’t believe it.

“Don’t mention it.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she leans back against the counter. “How’s it feel, by the way?”

“S’fine,” he replies, shrugging. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

There’s a momentary silence. A taste of tension lingers over their heads, and he knows at one point or another, he’s going to have to address the affair, the very reason everything had unfolded in such a terrible manner.

Guess now’s as good a time as fuckin’ any, he thinks to himself with an inward sigh.

Joel lightly clears his throat. “Listen, since we’ve got a minute alone, just the two of us, I was wonderin’ if, uh—if we could talk ‘bout somethin’? If that’s alright?”

“Of course.” Maria gives him the floor.

“I know that she—” Pausing, he shuffles from the heel of one boot to the other, his ears burning hot. He had known it wouldn’t be an easy conversation to have, but he underestimated just how uncomfortable it would be, regardless of what she already knew. “I know she told you and Tommy all ‘bout us, and ‘bout our relationship. See, the thing is, the first time I saw her—”

Again, Joel stops, the burning sensation now radiating, spreading from his ears to his face and down his neck, flushing his skin a deep, deep shade of pink. Unable to meet his sister in law’s gaze, he glances down into his mug, as if he will somehow find the right words to say somewhere in the depths of his coffee.

“It was never my intention, y’know,” he finally says after a minute. “Goin’ after a married woman. I swear, I never meant to fall for her. I just fuckin’ did. I think I might’ve fallen for her long before I even met her,” he confesses. He feels himself darken to a shade of maroon under her curious stare. “And somehow, for reasons I ain’t all too sure I’ll ever understand, she fell for me too.”

Maria raises an eyebrow at him. “Look, I’m not judging you, Joel,” she assures him, shaking her head. “If that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not judging her, either.”

He looks up at her, blurting out, “You’re not?”

She moves her hands to cradle her swollen middle. “Do I wish you two had handled everything differently?” she answers her own query with a nod of her head. “Oh, I’m sure we all do. But I’ve known her for a long time now. I know the kind of woman she is. And I’m starting to see the kind of man you are.”

“And what kinda man is that, Maria?”

He waits without the slightest clue as to what she could possibly say.

“Since you came back to Jackson, I’ve chosen to keep my distance from you—but make no mistake, I’ve been watching you like a hawk since day one. Waiting for any signs of trouble. Waiting for you to fuck up. Waiting for you to give me a good reason to throw your ass out of this community because I didn’t trust you. Not after all the things I was told about you.”

He snorts. “You goin’ somewhere with this?”

“You are not who I thought you were,” Maria admits, smiling wryly. “I’ve gotten to see a different side of you. You pull your weight around here by doing your job and doing it well. You stay out of trouble—for the most part. And more importantly, I have seen the way that you’ve stepped up to be a father figure to Ellie. It takes a good man to do that, Joel.”

“Think that’s the nicest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever said to me,” he muses, setting his mug down on the counter. “I stepped up because I love her. I love them both. Those two, they’re the best parts of me. They’re the reasons I keep goin’ and now I’ve got another reason on the way.”

Maria smiles, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

Catching her hesitance, Joel asks, “What? What is it?”

“What comes next is not going to be easy,” she warns him, lowering her voice. Even with the living room a fair distance from the kitchen, she doesn’t want to run the risk of you overhearing her. “For as hard as we’re going to try to contain the fire, it will spread, and everyone in this town will find out about everything—including the affair. People are going to talk, and believe me, they’re going to have a whole lot to say about it, Joel.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at her.

“Think I can handle some fuckin’ gossip, Maria.”

“I know you can. But I’m not sure if she can,” Maria tells him, quietly. “It worries me. She’s been through a lot in just one night alone. I don’t want her stressing anymore than she already has. She is in a very delicate stage of her pregnancy right now, Joel. If she’s not careful, she could have a miscarriage. She had one about two years ago when her father became sick—” Observing his lack of a reaction, she realizes, “You knew that already.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. He knows where she’s going with this. “I did. She told me ‘bout it.”

“It makes her chances of having another one higher—”

Joel doesn’t even allow himself to think of it happening to you again. “I get it,” he interjects, trying not to sound too curt. “I’ll make sure she takes it real easy, alright?”

Lifting a hand off her belly, she reaches out and takes a hold of his forearm, gripping it tightly.

“Promise me something, Joel. Promise me that you’ll look after her,” Maria pleads him, gently. “Please. After everything she’s been through—I need you to promise me that she’s going to be in good hands with you.”

He nods. Without thinking, he places his hand over hers in an unexpected token of affection and reassurance. “You have my word, Maria. I’ll take good care of her.”

She gives his arm a grateful squeeze, then glances over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting pretty late. We don’t know how much longer Tommy’s going to be with the council. Why don’t we just go ahead and call it a night?” she suggests. “We can all get together first thing in the morning at your place to talk about it.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he agrees. “She really needs to rest.”

Maria gives his arm another squeeze. 

“Go on then, Joel. Take your girls home.”

“Finally!” Ellie exclaims with a dramatic flail of her arms as she shoves through the front door.

“Alright, kiddo. Get your behind upstairs and into the shower,” Joel instructs her, flipping on the lights in the foyer. “Y’smell like fuckin’ horse shit.”

She lifts the collar of her shirt to her nose, takes a whiff, and makes a face. “Yeah, I won’t argue with you there,” she mutters. She toes off her dirty sneakers and leaves them beside the door before dashing up the staircase, taking two steps at a time.

He shouts after her, “And don’t use up all the hot—”

“Yeah, yeah, I fucking know the rules, dude!”

Moments later, you both hear the shower going.

“Little shit,” he grumbles.

You exhale an amused huff through your nose.

Joel withdraws his arm from around your shoulders and reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “C’mon, darlin’.” He guides you up the stairs and down the hallway into his bedroom where he switches on the light before proceeding to lead you over to his dresser. “I’ve got a bunch of shirts in this top drawer here,” he says. Dropping your hand, he pulls it open for you and gestures to it with a jut of his chin as he takes a step backwards, moving out of the way. “Go ahead and pick one to sleep in tonight. Want you to be comfortable, so help yourself to whichever one you want, sweet girl.”

Nodding, you begin to rummage through the drawer, unaware of the moment he slips away. You reach for a t-shirt, but then a plaid green flannel catches your eye. You pluck it from the drawer, running your fingers over the soft, warm fabric. “Is it alright if I wear—?” You turn around, stopping mid sentence when you realize he’s no longer standing behind you. Puzzled, you follow the sound of running water into the bathroom where you find him kneeling beside the tub. “Joel? What are you doing?”

“Runnin’ you a bath.”

You notice the bloodied bandage beside him on the tile floor. “Joel, are you serious?” you scold him. “Maria just patched your hand up for you.”

“S’okay, peach. I can rewrap it when we’re done.” Joel sticks his injured hand under the faucet to check the temperature, the cold water soothing his cuts. Once it turns warm, then hot, he pulls out his hand, waiting for the tub to fill halfway before shutting the faucet off and rising to his feet. “C’mere, sweetheart.” He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms, then beckons for you with both of his hands. “Let’s get you washed up.”

You remain standing by the door. “Joel, you don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know.”

“I’m capable of washing myself—”

“Yeah, I know that too,” he says, chuckling. “S’only fair, darlin’. Don’t you think?”

That’s when it hits you—how this moment is mirroring that night you had cleaned Joel up after you and Ellie had brought him home from the clinic with an injured shoulder. He allowed you to take care of him, and now, he was looking to do the same for you. And all you had to do was let him.

“But your hand—”

“Will be just fine,” Joel persists, stubbornly. “It’s nothin’ but a few cuts and scrapes. C’mon—or else I’m gonna march right over there and get you myself, peach.”

Knowing Joel, you certainly wouldn’t put it past him to throw you over his should and carry you to the bathtub.

“Fine,” you relent with a small sigh of defeat.

Setting his shirt down on the sink, you slowly walk over towards him and whirl around, letting him help you out of your knitted cardigan. You finish undressing yourself, inhaling a deep breath as you muster up the courage to turn back around and face him—when you finally do, it feels like a punch to the gut to see the heartbreak in his dark brown eyes, the subtle tremble of his bottom lip. You don’t have to look at yourself in the mirror to know it looks about a hundred times worse when you’re not wearing clothes.

Keeping your arms down at your sides, you fight every urge to cover yourself up. You’ve never felt so fucking vulnerable.

Clearing his throat, Joel holds out his hand. “C’mere.”

You accept it, and he helps you into the tub.

“How’s the water? S’not too hot, is it?”

You shake your head and he leans forward, kissing your temple so sweetly, your eyes flutter closed.

He washes your hair first, then takes a clean washcloth, lathering it up with a bar of milk and honey soap—the same soap he would smell on your skin all those nights. Admittedly, Joel preferred castile soap, but switched it when he found himself missing you during those weeks you were apart from him, when he needed the comfort of your scent. He is gentle with you, so gentle, as if he’s afraid you’ll shatter into pieces in his hands.

As he lightly drags the washcloth up your back and around your neck, you stiffen, prompting him to freeze too. “Fuck. Baby, did I hurt you?” he asks, and you hear the slight panic in his tone.

“No,” you say quickly, desperately trying to swallow the lump rising in your throat. “No, you didn’t hurt me. It’s just—” Every overwhelming emotion slams into you all at once, and you can’t seem to figure out which one to feel first. Humiliation? Fear? Relief?

The water sloshes around you as you pull your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around your knees, giving yourself permission to feel them all. Bowing your head, you begin to sob quietly, hoping that Ellie, who is just down the hallway, won’t hear you crying again.

Joel says nothing. Washcloth still clutched in his hand, he leans forward over the edge of the tub and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, or at least, as close as the barrier between the two of you will allow him.

“Joel,” you choke, trying to push him off. “Stop it. Your clothes, they’re getting all wet.”

“Hush. Don’t fuckin’ care ‘bout my clothes,” he croaks, and for a second, you swear he’s about to cry too. But he doesn’t. He holds himself strong. Tugging you closer against his chest, he buries his nose into your soaking wet hair, whispering his reassurance. “You’re okay, baby. You’re safe, my sweet girl. I’ve got you, alright?”

He pulls back slightly, dipping his hand into the water, placing it on your lower belly.

You look down, your eyes glazing over his bruised and battered knuckles. Proof that Joel Miller really would do anything for you.

“I know you do,” you say, softly. “I know you’ve got me, Joel.”

A while later, you’re dried, dressed, and composed. You follow Joel out of the bathroom and back into his room, where he has you take a seat on the bed. Noticing you had missed a button on his flannel shirt, he does it for you. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and says, “Give me a minute while I change.”

He peels off his wet clothes, being careful so as not to further agitate his sore, injured hand. After changing into a pair of gray sweatpants and an old, faded black t-shirt, he turns around only to find you’re sitting in bed underneath the covers.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a nervous chuckle as you rest your back against the headboard. “It just looked so warm and cozy—and it smells like you. I couldn’t resist making myself comfortable.”

Joel pads over to the side of the bed. He leans over, planting one hand on either side of you as he dips his head and brushes his lips against yours. “Ain’t got no reason to apologize, baby,” he assures you in a gentle murmur. “This is your bed now too, peach. This is your room. This is your home. Alright?”

Home.

You’re home.

He touches the tip of his nose to yours, and then draws himself back up to full height. “There’s somethin’ that I’ve gotta take care of downstairs, peach. I won’t be too long,” he promises.

It’s almost midnight. Joel goes about the kitchen and he prepares you the quickest meal that he can think of. He plates the sandwich he’d thrown together and pours a glass of cow’s milk—he’s always sure to keep a pint of it in the refrigerator to make the kid her oatmeal in the mornings.

He heads back upstairs, only to find that while he had been gone, Ellie had joined you, making herself a little too comfortable on his side of the bed. He stands there at the door, watching the two of you.

“Hey, so is it true babies can hear stuff while they’re in there?” Ellie questions you, curiously.

“Mhm,” you reply with a nod. “They can hear music, for example. Voices—”

“Voices?” She smushes her face into your stomach and he hears a muffled, “Hey, dude!”

You giggle. “Ellie, I think it’s still a little too early.”

“When do you think it’ll be able to hear me?”

“I’m not too sure. In a few months, maybe?”

Ellie lifts her head, humming. “You know, I bet there’s baby books in the library,” she tells you as she sits up. “I’ll have Dina help me look for one tommor—oh shit.” She stares at you with wide eyes. “Dina! How are you going to tell her and Talia about Luke?”

Joel grimaces. He hadn’t thought of that, either.

“I—I’m not too sure.”

“You have to fucking tell them. Dina has to know about him. She has to know what a piece of shit he is, and so does Talia.”

Sensing your discomfort, Joel steps into the bedroom and intervenes before she can say another word. “Ellie, get to bed. S’late.”

“But—”

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he warns her, sternly.

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Fine.” She climbs off the bed and on her way out, she eyes the plate in his hand. “That chicken?”

“Turkey. And it ain’t for you, it’s for her. So scram, kid.”

“Couldn’t have made me one while you were at it, old man?”

“Ellie, if you don’t get outta here right now—”

“Alright!” Ellie holds her hands up. “I’m leaving. Jesus.”

She disappears, closing the door behind her.

“Pain in my ass,” Joel mumbles, shaking his head as he walks over and carefully perches himself beside you. He hands you the plate. “Here, darlin’.”

“Joel, I appreciate this, but I’m really not very hungry.”

“Maybe not, but y’gotta eat,” he insists. “Baby needs it.”

Thankfully, you accept it without further protest.

“I’ll have Ellie get your things tomorrow,” Joel states as you’re eating. “Maria can go along with her since she knows the house. They’ll get your clothes and whatever else you might need outta there.”

“My father’s belongings.” You accidentally talk through a mouthful of turkey and bread. Swallowing, you tell him, “I have some boxes of his stuff in the basement. But they’re way too heavy for either of them to carry.”

“I’ll take care of that for you.” He reaches up, wiping a breadcrumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “I can ask Tommy to give me a hand. Don’t you worry, peach. We won’t leave your dad’s things behind, I swear it.”

Relieved, you shoot him a grateful look, then polish off the last few bites of your sandwich.

“Here,” he says, offering you the glass of milk. “Figured it’s good for you, and good for the baby. Y’know, since it’s got calcium and…stuff.” He shrugs sheepishly, no clue as to what he’s talking about. “Vitamins, right?”

Nodding, you grab the glass and take a reluctant sip.

“You hate milk,” Joel realizes, raising an eyebrow.

“I do,” you admit with a laugh. “But you’re right. It’s good for both me and the baby, so cheers.” And with that, you somehow force the entire glass down.

He sets the dishes aside on the nightstand, figuring he can take them downstairs first thing in the morning.

Without bothering to rebandage his hand like he’d told you he would, Joel turns off the lights and climbs into bed with you. “All those nights wishin’ I could bring you home,” he muses as you curl into his side. “Wantin’ nothin’ more than to hold you in my arms in this bed. In our bed.” His arm slips around your shoulders, a laugh rumbling through his chest. “Almost doesn’t feel real, darlin’.”

Tilting your head, you nuzzle your nose into the scruff of his beard, prompting him to laugh again. Then, he remembers his conversation with Maria, and his smile fades from his face, his lips pursing together.

You catch the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Joel? What’s the matter?”

“M’fine, baby. It’s just—” He hesitates. “From this point forward, I need you to let me handle things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you gettin’ all stressed out, alright? I don’t want to run the risk of you—” He’s unsure of how to say it.

“Of me losing the baby,” you finish for him, quietly.

Joel winces, knowing he was wandering into sensitive territory. “Yeah. I—I really don’t want that to happen.” He pauses. “Maria mentioned to me you’re in a delicate stage. When do you reckon you’ll stop—how long until you don’t gotta worry ‘bout it?”

“After twelve weeks, my risk isn’t as high. If I make it to the second trimester in six weeks, then my chances of having another miscarriage are lower.”

Though you speak calmly, he clocks your anxiousness.

You’re worried, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fucking worried out of his mind too.

Being a father at his age wasn’t ideal, but he wanted this child. It was part of him, and more importantly, it was a part of you.

Joel squeezes your shoulders. “I only ask ‘cause I was thinkin’ that, y’know, once we get to that point, maybe I can go ahead and start buildin’ the baby’s crib.”

“You’re going to build the crib?”

He nods. “And the highchair too. I can even make you a diaper changin’ table if y’want one.”

“Joel.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Our worlds were just turned completely upside down. You just found out that I’m pregnant, and you’re already thinking about building furniture? Aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“Hey, those things take a whole ‘lotta time,” he says in defense of himself. “Besides, winter’s right around the corner and I don’t wanna be out in the garage freezin’ my fuckin’ ass off. If I can get a head start now, I can have them all done in the spring by the time the baby comes.”

You fall silent.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I’m really scared of losing it,” you confess. “When I first took that pregnancy test, I wanted nothing more for it to be negative. Now, I’m terrified I won’t make it past my first trimester again. I really don’t want to lose it. I want this baby, Joel.”

He turns his head, meeting your eyes in the silver light shining through the lace curtains over his window. “S’why you’ve gotta let me handle things, darlin’. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“C’mere, my sweet girl.” Joel presses his lips to yours, murmuring against them, “I love you.”

His declaration comes with natural ease.

And so does yours.

“I love you too, Joel.”

#fic: a safe haven #fic: ash #tw dv #tw domestic violence #tw pregnancy #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller series #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction

[dixons-sunshine]

I'm not even gonna put this as anon like I usually do with requests because I just can't be bothered to- Could you do Daryl making a stressed out reader slow down because she's running herself ragged and needs some downtime? Fluffy all the way.

Reader really is me right now lol

Spa Day | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine.*

Summary: With the walls needing to be rebuilt, runs needing to be made and crops needing to be planted, it was safe to say that you were at your wit's end. However, things needed to get done, causing you to get overstressed. Luckily Daryl was there to help you slow down and relax.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Alexandria, pre Saviour arc.

Warnings: Mentions of exhaustion.

Word count: 1.6k.

A/n: My migraine finally subsided enough for me to focus on finishing this. This was a really cute idea and I hope I did it justice. I hope you like this! (Forgot to tag you in this 😅 I was so tired when I posted this. @celtic-crossbow)

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

The scorching afternoon sun was relentlessly beating down on the people of Alexandria. The inhabitants of the safe zone were restlessly working to fortify the fallen walls to ensure that the community remained impenetrable from the the dead wanting to find their next meals.

However, none of them were working themselves to the bone quite like you were. And Daryl was starting to get fed up with your antics.

Daryl grumbled to himself in frustration as he leaned on the car he was busy fixing up, watching as you walked past him in a hurry for the hundredth time that day, occupied with yet another task that somebody else probably could've handled on their own. However, with you being you, he knew that you offered to take someone's job for them so that they could relax and get out of the blazing summer sun, all at your own expense. Everyone else was enjoying their day while you ran around like a headless chicken.

Your caring, helpful and selfless nature was something that the archer loved about you. Despite the horrors in the world, of everything you've seen and experienced, you managed to clutch on to your humanity and keep it locked safely in your being, like a vault. However, on that particular day, he wished so badly that you'd just be selfish and take the day to slow down and unwind, maybe get some much deserved sleep. You were awake even earlier than he was lately, and went to bed way later than almost everyone, so he knew there was no way you were going to last if you kept this up. It seemed to him like it would be his duty to pull you away and force you into your home to relax.

He's officially had enough of your stubbornness. You were going to relax, whether he had to drag you home or not.

He hurried after you, calling your name. You stopped when you heard his voice, turning around to look at your partner. You sent him a smile and called back to him. “Can't talk right now! I have to go help Denise restock the infirmary!”

You turned around and started to stalk off towards the infirmary, but you were stopped in your tracks when Daryl grabbed your wrist and spun you around. You looked up at him in surprise, observing the determined look the archer had in his eyes.

“Daryl, what—”

“Nah, ya ain't goin' nowhere,” he told you matter-of-factly, moving his hand from your arm to hold your hand in his. He looked to the side and saw Aaron walking somewhere with Eric. “Hey, Aaron, Eric! Would ya mind helpin' Denise with restockin' the infirmary? She can't do it alone.”

Aaron smiled and nodded. “Sure! We were just heading that way anyways.”

Before you could start to protest, Daryl started pulling you with him, leading you towards the house. That didn't stop you from trying to resist, however. The need to help everyone, even if they didn't need it, ran deep in you, and you hated that your responsibility was now pushed onto someone else.

“Daryl, what are you doing?” you questioned, sending your partner an incredulous look. “I should be helping Denise. Aaron and Eric were relaxing today. They shouldn't have to tire themselves out.”

“And neither should ya,” Daryl stated, pushing inside your small home and closing the door behind you. “Dun' think I haven't noticed ya overworkin' yerself. Takin' on extra guard duty, workin' day and nigh' to fortify the walls and helpin' Maggie with the crops when she has 'nough people helpin' her already. Yer outta here earlier and earlier each day and gettin' home later each nigh'. Ya deserve to relax, too. And I dun' wanna hear any complaints.”

You couldn't help the smile that spread over your face. Your heart swelled with love for the man before you. Never before in your life had you been with a man quite as amazing as Daryl. None of your previous partners would even have realized that you were working yourself down to the bone. You were extremely lucky to have the archer in your life.

“Okay, Mr Dixon,” you started playfully, sending him a teasing smile. “What do you want me to do first on this relaxation journey you seem to have planned for me?”

Daryl breathed a sigh of relief. “Go take a shower and get changed into somethin' more comfortable. I'll get started on makin' us somethin' to eat.”

Following his instructions, you headed up the stairs. A few minutes later, Daryl could hear the shower turn on and he inwardly celebrated his victory. You were actually listening to him. You were actually going to relax for the first time in weeks. If he had known that him voicing his concern would get you to start slowing down, he would've done it a while ago.

Working like a man on a mission, he quickly grabbed some pillows and blankets from one of the cupboards and made a comfortable place for you to relax on the couch before moving to the kitchen. Grabbing a few things he needed from the cupboards, he made good on his promise and started preparing a simple snack for the both of you—some omelettes.

In no time at all, you were done in the shower. You got dressed in a pair of freshly washed flannel pants and one of Daryl's shirts and made your way down to the kitchen. However, the sight that met you had you stilling in your tracks—Daryl was busy dishing up the omelettes, a glass of wine for each of you next to the plates.

“Well, this is a sight I could get used to,” you voiced, making the archer turn to face you, pan still in his hand.

He shot you a small smile before handing you a glass of wine, ushering you out of the kitchen. “Go on and get settled on the couch. I'll be right there.”

Accepting the glass of wine, you nodded and headed to the living room, pleasantly surprised to see the blankets and pillows set up on the couch. You did as you were instructed and sat down on the couch, covering your legs and lap with one of the blankets. You were slowly sipping on your wine, waiting for Daryl to join you.

As if being summoned by your mere thoughts, Daryl appeared in the living room, balancing two plates in his hands. He placed one of the plates in your lap before placing his own on the coffee table, moving to grab something from his bag that was resting near the fire place. When he turned around, you audibly gasped in surprise at the object in his hand, placing your glass of wine and plate on the table.

“Where'd you get nail polish?” you questioned excitedly, sitting up straighter to allow Daryl to sit next to you.

“Rosita found some on a run a few days ago,” he explained, sitting down on the couch and gently taking one of your hands. “She didn't like this colour and asked me to give it to ya. I forgot 'bout it until now. Figured I'd paint yer nails and turn this day into a spa day of sorts.”

You smiled fondly at the archer, watching as he placed your hand flat on his leg and opened up the bottle. “You know you don't have to do this, right?”

“I want to,” he replied easily, carefully applying the nail polish to your nails. “Ya've been overworkin' yerself lately. Jus' let me take care of ya, alrigh'?”

“Okay,” you whispered.

The next few minutes was spent in a comfortable silence. Daryl was surprisingly good at applying the nail polish, making little to no mistakes whatsoever. In no time at all, your nails were done, and Daryl motioned for you to turn around. You did so, and practically moaned in relief when Daryl's hands started gently massaging your shoulders. His hands were expertly working at the knots that had formed on your shoulders, transferring you to a state of bliss.

“That feels really good,” you mumbled, closing your eyes at the heavenly feeling.

“Yeah?” Daryl smiled, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to your shoulder blade before resuming his actions. “Told ya tha' ya were overworkin' yerself. Ya deserve this.”

You let out a groan of satisfaction, enjoying the feeling of Daryl's big, callused hands working at the painful knots. You were in heaven at that moment. Not only did Daryl make you food, he poured you a glass of wine, made you a comfortable spot on the couch, painted your nails and now he was giving you a massage. You truly believed that no man could ever compare to the man you had the lucky privilege of calling yours.

“I love you,” you whispered almost inaudibly, but loud enough for Daryl to catch.

Daryl smiled softly. “I love ya too,” he replied, pressing another gentle kiss to your shoulder blade before withdrawing. “Now lay flat on yer stomach. S'time to get workin' on yer back now.”

“Yes, sir,” you replied playfully, slowly flipping over to lay on your stomach.

“Good girl.”

#krys writes .ೃ࿐ #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x y/n #daryl x female reader #daryl x you #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead #norman reedus #norman reedus x reader

[dindjarindiaries]

Rush

summary: You and Hunter have to make a risky escape when the end of a mission goes sideways, though even an exit gone wrong has a bright side.

pairing: sergeant hunter (tbb) x reader

tags: canon-typical violence, light angst, kissing/sexual themes, fluff

rating: T

word count: 3.478k

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

Thunder crackled overhead, and no later did you start feeling the droplets of rain that ricocheted off the trees surrounding you. With a huff, you tried in vain to press yourself harder against the rough bark, as if the canopy of leaves would somehow give you cover from the oncoming storm. “Great,” you muttered. “This is just what we needed.”

“At least it’ll cool us off,” Hunter offered, tilting his helmet as he kept his blaster lifted in his hand. He spoke without moving from his post, which happened to be the tree across from yours.

You raised an amused eyebrow at him. “Ever the optimist.”

Hunter chuckled. “I’m trying my best.” He touched his fingers against his helmet and spoke into the comms. “Time’s winding down, Echo. How close are you two?”

“We’ve nearly got it,” Echo responded. “I’ve gotten access, but Tech just has to decrypt a few more sequences.”

You and Hunter watched another patrol of guards stroll around the corner of the safehouse Echo and Tech had snuck into. It was the third you had seen in the past ten minutes, which confirmed their suspicions were rising. Your squad had over welcomed their stay.

“There’s a third patrol group,” you warned them.

“Make that four,” Wrecker added. “Omega and I see a new group, too.”

You and Hunter shared a cautious look. His finger tapped his blaster a few times before he spoke into the comms again. “Tech?”

“Thankfully, I work well under pressure.” The tapping of Tech’s fingers along his datapad could be heard in the background of his comm. “All of Cid’s requested intel has at last been decrypted and uploaded. I must say, I find it utterly intriguing that she—.”

“Is this relevant, Tech?” Hunter’s tone was short with concern, not anger.

Tech’s sigh was audible over the comms. “I suppose it can wait. Echo and I are making our exit now.”

“Great.” With that, Hunter lowered his blaster, though he kept it close. You did the same with your own as you kept your keen eye on the latest patrol. Tech and Echo were getting out the same way they got in, and you and Hunter were closest to that exit point. Your focus would guarantee their safety.

As the rain turned into a downpour, however, it was harder to see. You squinted and blinked a few times when raindrops cascaded from your brow down to your lashes, eventually raising your arm to your eyes in a vain attempt to dry them. Your clothes had already started to stick to your soaked skin.

“You okay over there?” Hunter’s voice was yet again full of concern as you lowered your arm to look at him.

“I’m fine.” You offered him a nod for further reassurance. “You’re just lucky you have a helmet.”

Hunter began to raise his hands to the sides of his helmet. “You can have it if you need it.”

Warmth that was much more welcome than the tropical planet’s humidity swelled inside your chest as you shook your head. “That’s sweet, honey, but I’ll be fine.”

Hunter lowered his hands and nodded. His visor returned to the sight of the building in the distance even as he continued to speak to you. “I like it when you call me that.”

You chuckled to yourself. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s…”

Hunter trailed off, causing you to look from the blurry view of Echo and Tech’s exit point over to him. His entire body was tense as his visor looked just beyond you, and it became apparent that his senses had alerted him to something new. You furrowed your brow and prepared to ask him about it when you heard the sound of a growl just behind you.

“Sunny.” Hunter’s voice was a low and worried warning. “Don’t move.”

You slowly turned your head over your shoulder and felt your heart leap into your throat. There was a creature at least twice your size standing just behind you, a four-legged beast with long talons and two rows of eyes. It flashed its massive teeth at you as it growled once again.

Your panicked instincts took over, but before you could act out on them, Hunter lunged over to muffle your scream and keep you in place. His gloved hand absorbed the sound as his other arm wrapped around your waist. “Don’t. Move.”

You tried to control your breathing as your gaze stayed locked on the creature’s, but the louder it growled at you, the more difficult that task became. It took a step closer, and you gripped Hunter’s arm and wrist, lowering his hand from your mouth. “Hunter…”

“I’m watching.” His own steady breaths guided yours as his armored chest rose and fell behind you. For a moment, you really thought it would be okay.

Then, the creature roared, and Hunter raised his blaster and shot it so fast that it was nothing more than a flash in your memory.

Keeping his arm on your waist for a moment, Hunter tugged you away, leading you in a new direction. “Come on!”

You snapped back into battle mode as you diligently followed him. “Where are we going?”

“We can’t evade this thing on foot,” Hunter insisted, guiding you through the trees as the creature followed. You didn’t need Hunter’s enhanced senses to know it was only getting closer and closer. “I saw some speederbikes by the other exit point.”

“Won’t they see us stealing their equipment?”

Hunter gave his helmet a tilt even as he ran. He continued to raise his voice above the sound of the storm. “I have a feeling they already know we’re here.”

Then came the first blaster shot. You ducked down and glanced to your right, seeing the patrol group from earlier taking their aim at you and Hunter. “Oh, great! Another thing to avoid!” You fired back at them, though the attempt was pointless as the downpour blurred their distant images. “I could really use some of that optimism right about now!”

“Just stay close!” Hunter also fired back some shots at the patrol, which was thankfully composed of some poor shooters. He artfully dodged each tree and other obstacle as he led you forward, and soon, he was pointing at something ahead of him. “Here!”

You saw the outline of the speederbike just before Hunter hopped onto it. He waited until you had fallen in place behind him to push it forward, but even with the sound of its loud engine and the pouring rain around you, you could hear the other bikes following you in close pursuit. “We’ve got company!”

“Hold on!” Hunter took a sharp right, causing you to tighten your grasp on his middle for stability. Once he had straightened the bike out again, you reached back with your blaster and started to take aim at your pursuers.

“What’s causing that blaster fire?” Echo asked over the comms. “It’s impossible to see anything in this storm.”

“We’re in a bit of a situation,” you informed the squad, taking another few shots before holding tight to Hunter as he banked left. “We’re handling it, though. Did you get out okay?”

“Echo and I have rendezvoused with Wrecker and Omega,” Tech answered. “We are en route to the ship.”

“We’ve got a patrol hot on our trail,” Hunter managed to say even as he steered the bike. “We’re not heading back to the ship until we lose them.”

“Do you want some help?” Wrecker asked, and his tone revealed his desire to see some action.

“Negative, Wrecker.” Hunter paused as he went right, and you nearly lost your grasp on him thanks to how slick his armor had become. He set a hand over yours to keep it secure. “I don’t want them knowing there are more of us. Just get the ship ready to go.”

“You’ve got it, Sarge.”

“Be careful!” Omega’s genuine request managed to make you smile even as you blasted a few more times. None of your shots were landing, thanks to how hard the downpour was making it to aim. To make matters worse, they were firing their own shots, and you were just barely managing to dodge them thanks to your exposed position.

“I can’t see anything in this rain!” You ducked as a blaster bolt nearly grazed both your heads. “My shots are useless!”

Hunter, of course, only needed a moment or two before his quick thinking began. “I have an idea.” He paused to go around a tree, and you held on tight to keep yourself from slipping. “We’re gonna switch.”

Your eyes widened as you gave him a once-over. “How?”

Hunter spoke without once looking away from where you were going. “I’m gonna lean left, and you lean right. I’ll maneuver myself behind you, and once we’re both settled, you’ll take the handles from me. Okay?”

You took a deep breath. “Do you trust me to pilot in this downpour?”

Hunter’s response was genuine as he offered you a quick glance. “I trust you with my life, Sunny.”

You smiled as your determination set in. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Hunter nodded. “On the count of three.” He tightened his grip on the handles. “One… two…” Hunter took one more hard turn and then leveled the bike back out. “Three!”

As Hunter lifted himself up and leaned to the left, you leaned right and pushed yourself forward, tucking yourself under his arm. Hunter’s right leg swung off the front of the bike and fell in place behind you, and in just a few seconds, he was seated behind you. You wrapped your hands around the handles to take them from Hunter, and he let go once you were in full control.

“There you go.” Hunter wrapped his left arm around you for stability and drew his blaster with his right. “See? Easy.” He gave you a gentle squeeze before he focused on shooting.

“Yeah, don’t speak too soon.” You smirked to yourself as you banked left and then right, causing Hunter’s grasp on you to tighten.

“Are you trying to throw me off this thing?” Hunter’s tone was laced with amusement as he fired a few blaster bolts.

Your mischievous grin widened. “I thought you said you trusted me.”

“I do.” Hunter paused to focus on aiming for a few moments. “But I still wouldn’t put it past you to make it hard on me.”

“Considering you’re the one who’s responsible for keeping us alive right now,” you gritted your teeth as you swerved around two trees, “these are purely circumstantial challenges.”

“Lucky for you, I can handle it.” No later did you hear Hunter’s blaster go off, followed by the sound of a speederbike crashing. “We’ve only got two left.”

You revved the bike and pushed it forward even faster, causing Hunter to grunt with surprise as he held on tighter. You racked your brain for a new strategy as you artfully dodged each obstacle in your path. “Okay, I’m gonna make a hard left,” you told him. “That should give you a good shot at the pilot on our left.”

Hunter nodded, a movement you could sense as he kept shooting to distract them. You waited until you were headed full-speed at a tree to turn the handles and brake left, causing your bike to be perpendicular to the path of the others. All it took was two shots from Hunter’s blaster to incapacitate the second driver, leaving you with one more left to go.

Hunter’s modulated voice was warm as he spoke. “If I had known you were this good at piloting a bike, I would’ve had you hop on first.”

You chuckled to yourself and tried to ignore the heat that rushed to your face at his praise. “That’s nice of you to say, but we’re not done yet.” You glanced over your shoulder to see the bike gaining speed on you. “Got any ideas?”

Hunter kept shooting, and each new shot proved this pilot wasn’t going down as easy as the others did. “Not really. This one’s tough.” He pressed himself against you when a blaster bolt flew over your shoulders. “We might just have to try to lose them.”

You wove around another tree, and the movement alone gave you a new plan. “I’ve got something.” You flexed your wrists to increase your speed. “Holster your blaster and hold on tight, Sergeant.”

Hunter didn’t hesitate to obey your order. It was only after both his arms were tight around you that he spoke up. “What do you have in mind?”

You tilted your head and focused on the upcoming path. “You’d rather not know.”

Before Hunter could respond, you began to swerve around a massive tree trunk, but you kept your momentum to the left and turned the bike all the way around in a circle. You pressed forward even harder, causing you to charge the other bike head-on as you fired a few blasts from the bike’s guns. It did nothing as the distance between your two bikes began to close.

“Sunny,” Hunter warned, his gloved hands fisting the material of your tunic as you went faster and faster. When you still didn’t stop or turn away, he said your real name in an even more panicked tone.

At the last second, you pulled up hard, causing the bottom of your bike to narrowly miss skimming the other as they flew under you. Your distraction, however, caused them to miss what was standing directly in their path, and their bike flew straight into the tree trunk you had already circled around.

“And that’s three,” you said, smiling to yourself with satisfaction as you began to steer yourselves back towards the Marauder. You gave Hunter a quick glance over your shoulder. “Still think I’m a good pilot?”

There was a pause as Hunter lifted one of his arms from you. He reached up to remove his helmet as he exhaled an affectionate breath. “You’re amazing.” The hand holding his helmet wrapped around you again as the other moved to your thigh, his thumb and his fingers stretching across the expanse of it. “Amazing.”

Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt the warmth of his lips on your rain-soaked neck, and despite the fact you were trying to focus on the winding path ahead of you, you couldn’t help tilting your head to give him more access. His hand running up and down your thigh was no help. “Hunter,” your utterance of his name was more of a pleased sigh than you would’ve liked, “this isn’t helping me to focus.”

He stopped kissing you to speak, but he kept himself close enough for his breath to fan over your skin. “I think you’ve proven you can still work well with distractions.” Hunter gave your skin another kiss before pausing again. “But I’ll stop if you want me to.”

You couldn’t resist him. “Hell no.” You freed a hand from the handles to cover his on your thigh. “By all means, keep challenging me.”

Hunter huffed, the sound melting into your skin in a way that drew an audible breath from you. He took your words as an open invitation to devour you, despite the way the rain was still pouring over him—and now soaking his unprotected head. Heat coursed through you in a way that was much different than the planet’s humidity, and it was only getting more and more impossible to ignore.

So much for working well with distractions.

You weren’t far from the Marauder when you brought the bike to a full stop. Before Hunter could even begin to question it, you had already spun around to grab his face and pull it to yours. Each bead of rainwater on your faces began to melt together in a sweet storm of your own, feelings of strong desire and relief from your leftover adrenaline pulsing through in each matching stroke of your tongues. It wasn’t often that you got to show off for each other, and it certainly wasn’t often that you got to celebrate a victory like this.

You raked a hand through his wet locks, drawing a pleased growl from him that caused him to somehow intensify his beautifully overwhelming actions. He tilted your head back, deepening your kiss in a way that made you cling to him the most you could. It was a breathtaking moment that made everything else fall away, from the raging storm that continued to pour down on you to the squad who was still waiting for you on the ship.

That was the thought that eventually helped you to separate yourself from him, though your teeth gently clung to his lip in your desperation to stay in the moment as long as you possibly could. Your slickened forehead rested against his as you took a few breaths of composure. “I really need to focus on getting us back to the ship, honey.”

Hunter smiled at that. “You’re right. We can’t leave the squad waiting for too long.” He lifted his head from you and helped you to turn back around. “I don’t like it when they start to get suspicious of us.” You chuckled at that, the warmth remaining in your chest as he set his hand on your thigh once again. “Lead the way, love.”

You beamed and prepared to push hard on the handles. “Hold on, Sarge.” You surged forward, and Hunter tightened the arm he had around you to keep himself in place. You laughed as he shook his head, though his own armored chest was rumbling with a hearty sound that you could feel on your back.

It wasn’t much longer before you saw the Marauder exactly where you had left it. You parked the bike, and before you could hop off, Hunter had already done so and extended his hand to you. You smiled and accepted it before the two of you ran towards the open hatch.

“Nice of you two to join us,” Echo quipped from inside the hold. He had a smile on his face that proved Hunter’s earlier words to be true; he was eagerly suspicious of something.

“Took a while for us to lose them.” Hunter’s response was delivered with as much composure as usual, though you didn’t miss the gentle brush of his hand over your back as he passed you on the way to the cockpit. “Tech, get us out of here.”

You were immediately distracted by Omega, who ran up to you with a worried stitch in her brow. “Are you okay, Sunny?” She gave you a quick once-over, no doubt searching for injuries, as she held the blanket over her shoulders even tighter. “How did they see you? It was so hard to see anything in the rain!”

“We’re fine, Omega.” You ran a hand over her wettened hair and smiled. “A creature jumped out and surprised us, and that gave away our position.”

Omega’s eyes widened. “How’d you get away?”

You crossed your arms, suddenly starting to shiver now that the regulated temperature of the Marauder was making your soaked clothes feel colder. “Speederbikes.”

Omega began to look even more impressed as she raised an eyebrow. “You stole one?”

“We did.” It was Hunter who answered for you, having returned from his quick check-in with Tech. His gloved hand had fallen on your shoulder, and as you glanced at him, there was no hiding the concern in his gaze as he looked upon your shivering form. He stepped away to set his helmet down and grab another one of the blankets, which he set over your shoulders for you. You uttered a quiet thanks as he nodded.

“Aww,” Wrecker cooed from where he was sitting in the hold. “Look at your soft side, Sarge!”

“No blanket for me?” Echo added, his grin having widened even more.

Hunter grabbed another blanket and threw it at Echo, causing both him and Wrecker to laugh as he did so. You giggled and shared a look with Omega, who was beaming at you as she rested her side against yours. You sat down with her on the floor of the hold, huddling together for more warmth. Your gaze caught Hunter’s as his lips stretched in a smile that warmed every inch of you in a way that was much more wholesome than your stolen moment.

You would only have those longing glances until you could steal another moment with him, though the rush his admiring eye gave you would never fail to leave you wanting more.

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

hunter tag list: @zenrobbins0021 @cw80831

#oh to earn praise from this man... *sigh of longing* #tbb hunter #hunter tbb #sergeant hunter #tbb hunter x reader #sergeant hunter x reader #hunter tbb x reader #the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch fic #dindjarindiaries

[the-lil-spud]

Mama Didn't Raise No Bimbo part FOUR!

lets see what else is in store for y/n ... you didn't think Velvette was just going to let her get away now did you?

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five

Seems Velvette had tagged your photo on her story with the hashtag #newmodel? Flicking your gaze back up to an amused Angel.

“Well toots … you might as well collect all three than just two. Here’s to you babe - you are so fucked”. He raised his glass. Raising your own you blink in shock.

Fucked was right.

It had been a few days since your exciting little adventure to the Vee Tower, coupled with the fact Velvette had not only shared your post on Sinstagram but followed you was helping you gain thousands and thousands of new followers and likes. But like your tequila, you took this with more than a pinch of salt. The Vee’s didn’t do anything for free. There was always a catch. You were waiting for this one to hook you sooner or later.

Unfortunately for you, it was sooner rather than later. You had finished your job for the night ready to head home, plus there was a bottle of whiskey and a hot bath with your name on it. Arm raised to wave a taxi you were distracted by your phone starting to buzz in your other hand. Unknown Number. Huh, weird. Deciding to answer it you lower your arm. What harm could it do?

“Hello?”

“Is this Miss Y/n?” Frowning at the unfamiliar voice, hmm you were rather selective about who got your number. So … who was this?

“Speaking…?”

“Ah Miss Y/n I am Velvette’s assistant, and she is insisting that you come in to meet her to discuss an opportunity that you really do not want to miss out on” huh. Okay. Was not expecting that.

“Uh huhh … and when is she wanting to meet?” Looking up at the darkening sky you had a horrible feeling you weren’t going to be going home anytime soon.

“Well, what are you doing now?” Ohhh nooo! Come on!

“I have just finished work and was actu-”

“Ah perfect so you are free. Come to the Vee tower now and we will sort everything. See you soon” your mouth opened and closed as they hung up on the phone. Right eye twitching you took a deep breath in before exhaling slowly. The bloody nerve! Grinding your teeth you raise your arm up again and wave at a taxi. Trying to calm your anger you shove yourself in the first one that appears, telling them to take you to the Vee Tower. Stewing in the backseat you think it must be nice to be an Overlord – just ordering small insignificant demons around. Shaking off the attitude you realise you need to tidy yourself up.

Looking down at your outfit, a sigh escapes you. Not exactly the outfit you’d want to meet the fashionista Overlord in – a leather bustier, leather pants and your customary neon pink accessories and heels matching of course with your favourite faux fur coat – but it was going to have to do. You didn’t exactly have time to prepare. Scurrying around in your purse to find your compact mirror, you quickly tidy up your eyeliner – snarling at the cabbie when he purposefully swerved nearly wrecking your makeup – and pop a new layer of dark pink lipstick on with a topping of gloss. A quick fluff to your blonde/pink hair and that was the best it was gonna get with such little time to prepare. Spying your perfume, you give a little spritz to your neck, wrists, and boobs. Noting that you’d need to get some more on your next outing as you were nearly out.

Thankfully you had just enough time to get all that done before the taxi pulled up at the tower, throwing the money at the demon you step out on the street. If possible the tower seemed even taller than before. Intimidating. Shaking your head you steel yourself for this meeting, how the last one went down with the other two is not what you want this time round. No unnecessary touching. No being cornered. And no flirting. Okay maybe a little bit of flirting, you were a demon after all. Wait – no! No! Bad thoughts!

Stepping in to the reception you check the board to see what floor Velvette was on, marching to the elevators you ignore the same receptionist who seemed surprised to see you again. Yeah, Bitch I’m back! In the elevator you press Velvette’s floor and breath deeply. It would all be okay. Perhaps they were just going to tell you how much they liked your post? Or they were wanting a thank you in person for all the followers? Or how surprised at how naïve and stupid you sounded. Shaking your head you groan softly. Of course it wasn’t doing to be okay, dealing with the Vee’s was never okay. Or safe.

At the soft ding you pulled your attention away from your depressing thoughts and instead to the scene in front of you. Velvette yelling at a load of models, other demons running around grabbing body parts off the floor and clothes being burned. Well. That was different. A twitch of your lips hid a smile – so the Vee’s weren’t as organised and poised as they’d like you to believe. Good to know.

Taking a step into what felt like the Thunderdome your movement must have caught Velvette’s attention, she suddenly was advancing on you and quite fast for someone so short. You thought you were small, but she only came up to your shoulder. Of course her attitude, energy and that amazing hairdo made up at least a foot, if not more. And living with the other two Vee’s she needed as much attitude and sass to keep up.

“Ah so you are Y/n, totally nice to meet you face to face. Saw your post girl and I am in love with them – that last photo dump was so gorgeous and hitting all the trends so good on you.” Linking her arm with yours like you two were old buddies she pulled you further into the room, her voice so quick you had to focus so intently to understand what she was saying.

“So … any who, guess you are wondering why I brought you here?” She gently shoved you down on the chaise lounge, a small ‘offt’ escapes your lips when you hit the seat. Steadying yourself you turn your body to face the Overlord who decided to take a seat right next to you. Your knees almost touching. Okay then.

“Yes, I was curious why…” a glass of champagne appeared in front of your nose – accepting it gingerly you carefully held it in your lap thanking the demon who passed her boss a glass.

“Look, your style is cute but I think with my influence your style can be out of this world – I am in the market for a new model” - a glance to the pile of body parts in the corner of the room made you gulp - “and with your figure and my style we could totally rock this Hell, making us a tonne of money and you a star so whatcha think – whatcha say I can sort the contract out asap no problem, no fuss”. Blinking in a bit of shock at the speed of what she spoke and what she was speaking about you had to hold your hand up to stop her for a second. Information overload.

“Uh – wow that’s real generous of you Miss Velvette-“

“Please call be Velvette, or Vel! None of this Miss business,” Her smirk was widening, her black lipstick was shining under the florescent lights above us.

“Well, Velvette, I am really touched that you think I could model for you as your fashion range is just fantastic and I love it – but if I am to sign that contract what am I giving you?” You pretend to take a sip from your glass. No liquid entered your lips. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d heard of someone being drugged and signing their soul away – you wouldn’t be one of those.

“Oh, nothing big really. Just something tiny. Teeny really. You wouldn’t even miss it.” She wafted one of her hands around as the other was typing away on her phone.

“Uh huh and what would that teeny tiny thing that I wouldn’t miss be?” You hedged her for the answer what you knew was coming.

“Just your soul babes – nothing big.” Yeah, to her maybe. To you it was a massive thing. And you’ll be honest, you didn’t have masses in this Hell but you did have your soul which was more than some have.

“Then the answer is going to be no, Velvette” you placed your glass down on the table. Her fingers stopped twitching across her screen, her red eyes focused solely on you. Now normally you were one to bow your head and not make eye contact, but you’d had enough of the bullying attitude of these Vee’s now – not one but two now have tried to contract you into losing your soul and you weren’t having it! Matching her glare with one of your own.

“No?” Keeping the eye contact you nodded.

“Not to say I am not grateful that you thought of me, or the fact you even took the time to speak to me. But my soul is non-negotiable. Plus, I have a job already. One which I love and want to continue. So, thank you. But my answer is and will always be - No.” You might have held your eye contact, but your hands were starting to tremble a little. Clenching them together in fists you keep your gaze on hers. A small sneer was pulling on her lips, and you were getting ready to be dismembered like the model before you. But it never came. Instead, she laughed. Laughed?!

Not like an evil MWAHAHA laugh. But a genuine laugh. Confused you wrung your hands together as she lightly slapped your knee and wiped a tear from her eye.

“You got guts girl; I’ll give you that.” A strained smile tugged at your lips, dead heart thumping in your chest. “Fine then. No soul contract – which is a shame we could have had so much fun” her expression darkened with mischief sparkling in her eyes pulling a little heat to your cheeks. “But instead let’s make a little deal? No souls just two businesswomen making a deal, whatcha say?”

Raising your eyebrows in interest you place your elbows on your knees leaning forwards: “what do you suggest?”

“Your socials are starting to take off, people are noticing you babes, and I am here for it! You are a rising star, don’t think I haven’t been paying attention and seeing that people are using your hashtags and your name when they’ve seen you at one of the clubs singing performing”, surprised she had even looked you could feel your blush deepen. “So, here’s the deal – you wear some of my designs, tag them in your socials, etc and you come and do a catwalk for me and sing?”

“You want me to promote your clothes and sing at one of your Cat Walks?” you clarify because this evening was not going the way you had planned or thought it would go.

“That’s it gorgeous – whatcha think?” You think this was probably the longest Velvette had been off her phone.

“And that’s it? No loopholes, no contracts, no soul-binding – just for me to wear your clothes, promote them on my social media and sing at one of your cat walks – that’s it?” You narrow your gaze at the Overlord, there’s got to be some sort of catch here. The way she was gazing at you like a cat that had caught the canary you were sure you were screwed in some way.

“That’s it honey. No catch, no loopholes, just good business”. Humming under your breath, you racked your brains to see if there was anything that could go wrong.

“Okay, how long do I have to promote your clothes for and when is the Catwalk show?” you ask, tapping on your own phone bringing up your notes and typing away.

“Shall we give it six months and see what happens from there? The next Catwalk is in a one month’s time” her smile only got bigger. You couldn’t think where or what could be a loophole, it seemed like too good of a deal. And your mama raised you to believe if a deal was too good to be true then it usually is. But then again. When did you ever listen to her?

“So far so good, but what do you get out of it?” Her smirk grew, well that can’t be good. She reached over and squeezed your leg softly, your eyes flitted from her hand to her smug expression.

“I get exactly what I want gorgeous, but honestly helping rising stars get their fame is mainly it” her charming smile didn’t win you over. She was a lying. But let her keep her lies for now. You knew how to play the game and so far, you hadn’t been burnt. What’s a little risk.

“Okay Velvette, you have a deal”. Raising your hand, she slapped hers into yours and gave it a strong shake – red and black smoke erupted from her making you jump back a little but was stopped from the grip she had. Her grin was terrifying. Her hair was waving around her head like it was full of static. But as soon as the smoke and lights appeared, they disappeared as if you had imagined it. Pulling your hand away, the tingle of electricity ran through your fingers, you knew you hadn’t imagined it. Not at all.

“Well then gorgeous now that’s all done – you can pop back tomorrow and we will get all your measurements and go through colour schemes, styles, etc so keep you day wide open yeah!” Finishing off her glass of champagne we leaned back against the chaise lounge – never once had she let her gaze off you.

Nodding in agreement you thank her while rising from your seat, it was time for you to go and drown yourself in that bottle of whiskey. “You can stay if you’d like?” A flush covered your cheeks at her racking her gaze up your body.

“Thank you, but I better get home. Big day tomorrow I want to be rested” you give her your best winning smile, slipping your purse under your arm. Rolling her red eyes at you she huffed a little, “fineee be boring babes”. Happily!

Before you could even think of taking a step towards the elevator the doors slid open. An unimpressed Vox stood in the middle tapping away on his own phone, not tearing his gaze away from it he steps into the room.

“So what unfortunate soul have you managed to convince to work with you now Vel?” His charismatic voice lacked his usual flare and instead sounded bored. Not something you usually would hear from the TV Demon.

Clearing your throat, you were frozen in place when his eyes connected with yours. Uh oh.

“That unfortunate soul would be me” you smile nervously at him, watching as his screen glitched slightly. That was weird. His bored expression disappeared with the glitch and in its place was his usual charming smile.

“Ah Miss Y/n what a pleasure to see you! What was that you just said?” Velvette appeared at your side, wrapping an arm through yours you watched his screen glitch a little again.

“She’s mine now Voxxie” she smirked at the glitching demon.

“She’s WHAT?!”  

Taglist: @tasha-1994 @azullynxx

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin vox #velvette x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel vox x reader #Hazbin vox x valentino x velvette #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel imagine #Hazbin Hotel Fluff #vox x valentino #hazbin vox x valentino x velvette x reader #vox x valentino x velvette x reader #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel vees #hazbin hotel the vees #valentino x reader #x reader #fem reader #reader insert

[reyzxzc]

pregnant

summary: riley is pregnant. dad nico!!

contains: fluff, pure, pure fluff!!, instagram

————

june 25, 2024

riley’s period was late. like two weeks late. and it started to worry her, she wasn’t worried at the beginning because she’s always had on and off periods.

worlds were over (just a guess bc i have no idea when they end)

they were in michigan, riley was helping jack still, he was out of the sling, but still had trouble with his arm.

riley was with jack, quinn, and luke. “i think im pregnant.” riley stated.

“come again?” quinn said. “aren’t you on birth control?” jack asked. “it doesn’t always work. it’s 99.9% of the time, i think.” riley said.

“condoms?” luke pointed out. “okay i’m married, i don’t need a lecture on protection.” riley hit luke on the shoulder.

“yea well seems like you didn’t use any.” luke rolled his eyes. “i will strangle you.” riley said. “you tell nico?” jack asked.

“no. i haven’t taken a test yet” riley shook her head. “then go take one, the hell?” quinn said. “clearly my own brother don’t love me. i’m leaving, i’ll see you guys later.”

riley gave them each a kiss on the head before leaving.

————

the pregnancy test in front of riley said positive, the second one, also said positive.

riley sighed, “hey nico? can you come here please.” riley called. “of course, what’s wrong?” nico asked walking up to the bathroom.

when nico entered the room, he had a confused look on his face.

“i’m pregnant.” riley stated, pointing at the tests. nico looked at the tests, looking back at riley.

“riley that’s amazing.” nico hugged her. riley hugged him back. riley could feel nico’s tears on her neck. riley kissed his head.

nico pulled away, wiping the happy tears streaming down his cheek. “mom. call our moms.” nico said. “yea, you should call yours.. we can tell mine in person.” riley said.

————

july 16, 2024

“okay, mrs. and mr. hischier, the babies are healthy.” the OB, tommy said. tommy is her nickname. “babies?” nico asked.

“yes, twins. here look, this is twin A, and this twin B, we couldn’t see B at first, as they are hiding behind A. but you can see the four sets of fingers and toes.” tommy exlained.

riley nodded. “so there’s two?” nico asked. “yes, nico. two.” riley said, grabbing his hand. nico hummed, squeezing her hand.

“with twins, the pregnancy can be complicated, make sure your taking extra care of yourself, and that husband of yours doesn’t cause any extra stress.” tommy pointed at nico.

riley smiled. “okay i don’t cause stress.” nico rolled his eyes. “whatever you want to believe, sweetheart.” riley kissed his hand.

————

riley_hischier just posted

riley_hischier

caption: we’ve got twins on the way!! coming march 2025 just in time to watch nico play some hockey!!

tagged// nicohischier

comments:

nicohischier: mini hockey players in the making.

- riley_hischier: or whatever that want to be.

lhughes_06: uncle luke. i’m uncle luke.

- riley_hischier: no luke your an aunt

user: OMG!!! DAD NICO I CRIED 😭😭

user: IM SO HAPPY

jackhughes: okay now this is too much.

- riley_hischier: go home.

_quinnhughes: hey hi, twins. we were twins.

- riley_hischier: hey hi, i know.

user: WHAT THE EFF

njdevils: Congrats mrs. and mr. hischier!! 🎉

liked by creator

#riley hughes au #riley hughes #hockey #nhl #nhl players #nhl au #nhl imagine #nico hischier #quinn hughes #jack hughes #luke hughes #new jersey #new jersey devils #njd nhl #nj devils #dawson mercer #timo meier #curtis lazar

[fallow-hollow]

Hiii I am Dying of nervousness sending in a request for the first time but could I get Mithrun and a gn!reader? Nothing else needs to be specific, just that (sorry if I am making it difficult for you ^^')

body heat

…ft! mithrun x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, post-canon, spoilers for manga and ending, established relationship, cuddling

…word count! 955

…notes! don’t see a lotta mithrun content out there, so i’m happy to write for him! i hope this meets your expectations anon!!

“Mithruuuun,” you whined, unable to see your lover even when looking over your shoulder. “C’mere with me and light the fire already, it’s so cold in here.”

Mithrun shot you a glance from where he stood a distance away, despite the fact that you couldn’t return it. “Is it? I can’t tell.”

His flat tone of voice made it even more obvious that the elf truly knew nothing of the agony you were experiencing, imbuing you with a sense of lighthearted frustration. Tossing your head back, you would groan,

“Of course you can’t tell, you’d wear a flowy tunic even if it was a blizzard outside! Now come help me!”

Without as much of a sound to warn you, the man suddenly appeared at your side, causing you to both jump and squeak from the spontaneous nature of his movement. Scratch that, knowing him, it was probably teleportation. Hardly necessary, considering how close you were, but you wouldn’t put it past your lover to do such a thing just to scare you. What a tease…..

“I don’t mind helping you, but sometimes I do wonder if you choose not to do it on your own just to spend time with me.”

Now, it wouldn't be out of the ordinary for Mithrun to say something like this completely genuinely, but the ghost of a smirk gracing those gorgeous features of his let you know that he was most certainly poking fun at you right now. He could be so arrogant sometimes… not that you truly minded.

Ever since Mithrun had recently retired to live with you in the still fledgling Golden Country, you’d noticed him start to become ever so slightly livelier at times. In the past, he’d always said he was grateful that you didn’t meet him when he was so pompous and flippant, but to you, a few snarky remarks here and there didn’t bother you at all. If anything, it meant that he could reclaim his old self while also embracing the new, which made a hopeful prospect for your shared future.

While you were in the process of pondering these feelings, the man beside you went right ahead with his magic. Though he mainly specialized in teleportation magic, any self-respecting member of the Canaries, former or otherwise, knew how to do something as simple as create some flame. The firewood you’d piled up caught almost instantly, creating a blaze that was perfect in both size and temperature.

“Thank you.” You acknowledged him with a nod, figuring that was all he would do. It seemed that Mithrun had other plans, however, judging by his choice to lift up one end of your blanket and wedge himself into the space next to you. A bit confused, you shot him a glance. “I thought you said you weren’t cold?”

He hummed. “But I want to be with you.”

Want. It was such a strange word to hear from Mithrun. For the longest time, he insisted he was unable to want anything at all, aside from the burning need for vengeance. Even now, he struggled with things like eating or sleeping. So to hear that he wants you, of all things…

You did nothing to hide the smile on your face. “You always can, you big goof.”

Whenever the two of you snuggled, your lover never really knew where to put his hands. This rang just as true now, with his arms awkwardly hovering on either side of you, unsure where to grasp or hold. With an almost practiced sense of effortlessness, you guided him to wrap both arms around your waist, positioning one at a time.

For a man so strong, he was quite pliant under your touch. One could easily say that it was his own apathy causing such behavior, but on the other hand, it was nice to believe that he chose to do so of his own free will.

He certainly had no trouble plopping his head down on your shoulder, completely unbothered by the way his cheek was squished from the proximity. How could someone be so battle hardened yet so…..cute?

“You comfy?”

The elf hummed affirmatively, the sound slightly muffled by the close contact. You allowed one hand to snake behind his back and rest comfortably on his hip, meanwhile the other grasped the edge of the blanket to keep it snugly wrapped around you. Honestly, Mithrun could probably be in the strangest position imaginable and still consider himself perfectly comfortable, so you weren’t entirely sure why you asked. It just felt… nice to check in on him. Like the right thing to do, no matter how obvious his answer may be to you.

Soft crackling sounds served as the backdrop for these thoughts, all while your lover remained still and relaxed by your side, having some ponderings of his own. Without you, Mithrun often found it difficult to settle down. He was getting a little better at knowing when to rest and eat in recent days, but even at times where he was well aware of the tiredness weighing him down, it was difficult to want to rest. Especially when what he wanted even more was to wait for you.

With you, he was able to feel at ease in a way that he still struggled with for the most part. Just like that dwarf had told him, even vegetable scraps could grow anew when placed in the soil and cared for. Maybe you were the earth, and he wanted nothing more than to relax while surrounded by you. He really wasn’t great at metaphors, so he couldn’t quite tell.

Of one thing, though, he could certainly be sure.

“I think that it should get cold more often.”

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi spoilers #delicious in dungeon spoilers #delicious in dungeon imagines #delicious in dungeon x reader #dungeon meshi imagines #dungeon meshi x reader #mithrun dungeon meshi #mithrun of the house of kerensil #mithrun x reader #mithrun imagines

[iateyourfav]

Faster (Reprise)

Watching Tech win that race made you feel some type of way, so you show him your appreciation.

Inspired by this post by @bsxcrxts

Based on Season 2 Ep 4!

! 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

Tech x Reader

Tags: nsfw, afab reader, no pronouns/gender neutral reader, aftercare

CW: face fucking, rough blowjobs, afab masturbation, handjobs (both receiving), hair pulling, slight praise kink, dom/sub dynamics, switching, orgasm control, shameless smut, bickering, Tech is LOUD

Words: 3.659

I was literally on aphrodisiacs while I wrote most of this I'm sorry

Masterlist

Read on ao3

You were quiet on the flight back to Ord Mantell. While Wrecker and Omega were sleeping in the back of the ship, tired from everything that happened on Safa Toma, you were sitting in the co-pilot seat next to Tech. You were deep in thought, trying to figure out why exactly you were feeling the way you did right now.

Something about watching Tech win that race made you feel giddy inside. It wasn’t just the concept of him winning the race itself. Everything flowed together so perfectly. The way he casually multi-tasked to study the schematics of that tunnel while engaging in a sport he literally learned about hours ago. The way he tricked those other two racers into crashing into each other. The way that it was clear that losing this race was not even an option he considered. That was probably the most attractive thing about the whole thing. The confidence in his own piloting skills.

You looked over at Tech, who was currently getting the ship ready to land. You were so deeply engaged in your own thoughts you didn’t even hear him when he announced you were almost at your destination. You felt the aftereffects of your revision of the previous events as well. Your face and ears were all hot and even goosebumps were making themselves apparent on your arms and legs. You couldn’t just move on from what you had witnessed on Safa Toma, you wanted to revel in the memory just a little bit longer. You wanted to show Tech just how much you enjoyed watching him race. 

You stayed in your seat when Omega and Wrecker left the ship, basically sprinting on their way to get some Mantell Mix. This presented you with the opportunity to stay on the ship with Tech, alone. So when you noticed him get up, intending to leave the ship as well and go after his siblings, you stopped him in his tracks by calling out his name. 

“What is it?” he asked, though you noticed most of this attention was focused on the datapad he was holding in his hands.

“Could you maybe explain to me how exactly you won that race one more time? In detail?" this caught his full intention “Why do you require an explanation? You were there to see it.” He sat back down, indicating that he was expecting this conversation to last longer. Your mind was racing, trying to decide if you wanted to be straightforward about how horny seeing him casually win that race made you or if you wanted to play innocent. You decided on the latter, for now. “I just think it would be beneficial to understand your thought process behind the whole thing.” You shrugged, trying to appear as casual as possible. He raised an eyebrow, though he didn’t question you any further.

“At first I stayed further back, seeing as I was rather unfamiliar with the route..” You leaned forward in your chair, eyes sparkling while a smile crept up on your face. You liked when he explained things to you. You could listen to him for hours, trying not to miss a single detail. So, as if the chair moved on its own, you inched closer to Tech. He noticed, though he didn’t acknowledge your action with more than a quick look at your chair as it moved closer to him. Initially, you didn’t think much about his reaction. But when you moved closer again, wanting to make sure you couldn’t possibly miss a word he was saying, he looked over again, but this time he stuttered as well, barely noticeable, but with the amount of attention you paid to him right now, you couldn’t miss it.

You managed to distract him, even unintentionally.

This revelation changed your approach to this situation. You were eager to keep listening to him explain his strategy, but at the same time you wanted to find out just how much you could distract him from his task at hand. So you moved even closer. This time his gaze lingered on the foot of the co-pilot seat for a bit before traveling up your legs, then quickly looking the other way. All while still explaining, of course.

You decided to throw caution into the wind and just keep diving head first into the situation presented before yourself, shoving thoughts of possible embarrassment, if this situation were to go wrong, to the side. You extended your right leg, slowly shuffling it towards his left. When the toes of your shoes touched, he paused his rambling about how he studied the schematics of that restricted tunnel mid-race. “What are you doing?” 

You tried to keep calm, trying to appear confident in your actions instead of as nervous as you actually felt. You could not think of a single excuse for trying to get this close to him. It seemed you had no other choice than to confess. “I just… Something about the way you won that race was captivating to me. I wanted you to explain how you went about doing that because it made me feel.. giddy inside.” The apparent blush on your face and you obviously staring at the floor to avoid eye contact destroyed any type of confidence or seduction you were trying to display. You swallowed hard before stating the next sentence. “I actually wanted to show you how much I enjoyed watching you during that race.” You dared a look at his face. Tech's eyes were locked on yours as soon as you looked back up at him, his mouth slightly agape. This was very clearly not what he expected you to say. There was an uncomfortable silence as he was thinking of a response. You don’t think you ever witnessed him having to think about something for so long. Then he put his data pad to the side, giving you his full attention.

“Do as you wish.” This was not an answer you were expecting. Your expression matched the one he had on his face earlier, eyes focused on his and lips slightly apart, dumbfounded. Tech, on the other hand, was now back to explaining those tunnel schematics as if nothing at all had happened. You took his statement as an invite to continue your advances. Though you required further communication to be able to proceed with your actions. So, not wanting to interrupt him, you raised your hand as if you were a student having questions about the ongoing lecture. He noticed this. “Yes?” he asked, eyebrows raised, not only interested in how you decided to get his attention, but also what it was you had to say. You asked your question while sinking onto your knees in front of his chair “Tell me to stop as soon as you want me to.” You looked up at him with a serious look on your face, wanting to make sure this was communicated as well as possible. The last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable. 

Tech replied instantaneously. “Thank you for your concern, though I do not intend to stop you from anything you may have planned.” A shiver ran down your spine. He was eager for this as well. If it was not clear from this statement, it was from the way his legs shifted apart slightly, making room for you. And then he just kept on rambling, which you were glad to listen to.

Your right hand started at his calf, traveling up to his knee while your left hand landed just above his other knee simultaneously. You could feel him tense up. You were still listening to everything he said while your hands slowly made their way up his thighs. Your gaze was studying him from the top down. You broke eye contact to look at him top to bottom. Your eyes first found leverage on his chest, stomach, then his crotch. You could swear you heard a particularly loud gulp when your gaze landed where it did last. Your hands made their way towards his toolbelt, having to loosen it, at least the main buckle, to reach where you wanted to end up. You unbuckled the belt quickly before removing his codpiece. He did not once stop laying out his strategy to you, though his voice sounded coarser now.

You shuffled further between Tech's legs, your elbows resting on his knees as you undid his trousers. Then you paused. He had stopped his speech as soon as your hand reached his zipper. You looked up at him, eyes huge due to the low angle at which you were positioned. You wouldn't have noticed how much your actions were affecting him from just his voice, as it was barely disturbed before you tried to get into his pants, though a single look in his face revealed how hard he was blushing at your actions. You gave him a small smile before stating: “Keep talking.” It seemed you had now regained the upper hand in this situation. You enjoyed seeing how he reacted to you, the effect you had on him, especially considering how much it usually takes to distract him from his ramblings. 

He picked his sentence back up where he paused it earlier. „I decided weapons were slowing me down too much, so I left them behind.“ You could tell he tried to talk as casually as possible, but with the way he gripped at his chair and his eyes intensely focused on your hands, it was easy to tell just how eager he was. Not to mention how noticeably hard he was by now. Your hand brushed over his crotch, making him shiver, before reaching into his pants to pull his dick out.

He groaned at this action. He was louder than you expected, and you hadn‘t even properly started yet. Even though this sound he emitted sent a shock straight to your core, you didn‘t like how it disturbed his rambling.

“I didn‘t say you could stop explaining.“ Another groan. You knew how much he enjoyed babbling about whatever was on his mind, so it shouldn‘t have surprised you that it turned him on when someone actually wanted to hear what he had to say. 

When he started talking again you began ghosting your hand over his now fully hard cock. He shivered once more but he just kept on rambling. When you looked up at him again you noticed his eyes were now shut, most likely to help him concentrate on laying out his strategy further. A small smile formed on your face, pleased with the power you had over him right now. You started pumping him, almost as a reward, because he did so good relaying the race to you.

A whimper escaped his throat. You noticed his voice had become breathier and quieter. His eyes were still closed and his head pressed against the headrest of the pilot‘s chair, trying his hardest to keep his composure - and failing miserably. Some encouragement might help, you thought. You paused the up and down motion of your hand on his dick to speak.

“Look at me.“ His glassy eyes met yours. Your hand twisted slightly, earning you another whimper from Tech. „ You‘re doing so well explaining, and as soon as you‘re finished telling me all about that race, I‘ll reward you properly.“ He bucked his hips into your hand, accompanied by a low moan. He swallowed hard before snapping back at you. „I do not require your praise. I am fully in control of myself.“ You snorted, disregarding his statement.  „With the way your body is reacting to me, I beg to differ.“ 

This time, instead of talking back to you, he continued his explanation. You noticed he was talking notably faster now, but you let him get away with it and started pumping and twisting your hand again. 

„I-I took the l-left t-tunnel, seeing as I w-was now a-able to go f-fast enough to be a-able to make it a-across the m-missing part of the t-track.“ It took everything in Tech to form a coherent sentence in this state. „Keep going.“ you spurred him on further, studying the way his face contorted in pleasure and concentration.

You shuffled closer, leaning towards his cock. Wanting to challenge his focus even more, you puckered your lips, blowing some air on the tip. A shiver ran down his entire body and his breathing hitched. Again, he paused his debriefing. „I thought you would only intend to let me into your mouth after I finish the revision of the race.“ He was next to breathless. „Don’t be so hasty. This is only a preview to keep you motivated.“ You licked a small circle around the head of his dick to emphasize your statement. A deep, uncensored, guttural moan left his mouth. „Don‘t cum too soon, or I‘ll leave you here with nothing.“, you whispered up at him. „We will see about that.“, he responded, more bratty than did him good right now. You retracted your head, sitting straight on your heels now again, and squeezed him a little; a kind of warning to keep him in line.

You could not deny that his small attempt at gaining back dominance heated up your entire body. So, while Tech tried his hardest to finish the last portion of his explanation, you shifted your hips to rub your thighs together, hoping your attempt at trying to get some friction would go unnoticed. Your hands were still busy, with your right back to pumping him with increasing speed and your left digging into his still clothed thigh.

“…I-I fell back, l-letting the r-racers that b-boxed me in c-crash into e-eachother, allowing m-me to a-accelerate p-past them and w-win the race.“ You could feel his muscles relax after finishing his last sentence.  He opened his eyes to look down at you again. He looked desperate, almost teary-eyed. 

„You explained so well, and now I wanna reward you for it.“, you purred up at him. You lifted your hips, resting your weight on your knees. Your arms found their way to the back of your head to gather your hair so it wouldn‘t get in your way. You would have to hold it back with one hand, seeing as you were not in possession of a hair tie at the moment.

You were about to lean forward to take him into your mouth when something stopped you. Tech's much bigger hand landed on top of yours at the back of your head where you held your ponytail in place. You glanced up at him, slightly dumbfounded. „Let go. I will hold it back for you.“, he elaborated. Your attempt at nodding as a way to show acknowledgement of what he said resulted in him pulling at your hair on accident. You twitched. Tech's eyes widened, displaying concern. „I apologize. It will not happen again.“ You kind of enjoyed the sensation, though. „No. Keep doing that. Feels good.“ You removed your hand that was still in your hair from underneath his. 

Both of your elbows found leverage on his thighs once again. Your right hand gripped the base of his cock while your lips lowered onto him to kiss his tip. This triggered another whimper on his part. You felt his grip on your hair become tighter. Your eyes locked with his. He was searching for affirmation in your gaze. You smiled up at him, biting your lip as a nonverbal sign of your enjoyment. You lowered your mouth back onto him, now taking him until he hit the back of your throat. He gave you a long, deep moan this time. He pushed you down even further onto him, making you gag. Tech moaned again, seemingly enjoying the sight and feeling of you almost choking on him. He bucked his hips into your mouth once before asking: „May I take the lead now?“ You nodded as eagerly as possible with a dick this deep down your throat, giving up the last bit of control you had over him.

His grip on your hair tightened the slightest bit more before he took full control, shoving your head up and down on his dick, his hips bucking up every time his tip met the back of your throat. You gripped his upper thighs, holding on for dear life. Your core ached at the way he used you to his advantage, while he kept on groaning and moaning with every movement, you looked up at him. While all you saw on his face was passion and pleasure, he looked down at you, tears streaming down your face as a response to how he used your mouth like this was the only thing it was intended for.

You stuck your tongue out, which reached his balls every time he pushed your face towards his pelvis. His head fell back, overwhelmed with pleasure. You could barely handle the sight of him.

Your arousal had built up steadily since this whole situation started, and now you had reached the point where you couldn‘t go untouched any longer. Not wanting to interrupt Techs enjoyment with your own greedy need for bodily pleasure you slowly removed one of your hands from Techs thigh. It slowly traveled down your body until you reached your cloth-covered clit. You tried rubbing yourself through the fabric of your underwear. Thankfully, you chose to wear a skirt that day, so you at least had only one barrier between your fingers and your swollen clit tormenting you. 

You groaned in a mix of pleasure and frustration, sending vibrations down the dick still steadily ramming down your throat. This sent Tech over the edge. He gripped your hair tighter, holding your head in place as he came down your throat. You helped him through his orgasm by bobbing your head up and down ever so slightly. He pulled you off him by your hair. He looked out of breath, and when you stuck out your tongue at him, showing him you swallowed everything he had given to you, he groaned one last time before leaning down and kissing your forehead, hands still tangled in your hair.

That‘s when he saw where your second hand had gone. You had completely forgotten about your own pleasure when Tech came, the hand pressed to your core just a remnant of what you had attempted without him noticing. Now he saw exactly what you needed, though.

“I would gladly provide assistance, if you let me.“ except for heavy breathing on his side, there was no indication this man had just fucked your throat until both of you were seeing stars. You looked up at him, lips agape. You didn‘t even attempt to talk, already aware your throat was sufficiently sore at the moment, so you just eagerly nodded your head. 

He offered you a hand, as if he hadn‘t just used your throat as a sex toy, and pulled you up into his lap, your back facing his chest. His hands gripped your ankles and pulled them in towards your ass and spread your thighs by parting your knees. Your hands gripped onto his forearms for balance and security. He put his chin on your shoulder, your temple touching his goggles. He wanted to see exactly what he was working with. 

He brushed his hand over the wet spot on your underwear, exactly as you did with him earlier. He didn‘t even bother to take them off, just pushing them to the side, leaving your core flush, swollen and exposed. You shivered at the cold air of the ship hitting you at your most sensitive area. He brushed his hand over your now naked folds. „I did not expect that using you in the way I did would make you this wet.“

You moaned at his words, feeling slightly embarrassed at his wording.

Tech's fingers found your clit and began slowly tracing circles around it. This time you bucked your hips, needing more. „Don‘t be so hasty.“, he mocked your statement from earlier. His teasing didn‘t last long though, as he soon added a second finger to enhance the feeling. It didn‘t take long for you to feel your orgasm build up. You turned your face towards him, your nose pressing against his cheek as his head was still resting on your shoulder. Your lips parted slightly, whispering small, breathy moans directly into his ear. You could hear him swear before he quickened his movements, pressing down harder. Your moans increased in frequency and volume with every circle he traced until you reached your high. Back arching, thighs trembling, groaning, ignoring the ache in your throat. Your head fell back onto his shoulder. He pressed his palm flat against your clit, his hand quivering slightly, providing gentle stimulation while he helped you ride out your orgasm as his head turned to yours kissing your cheek.

You stayed like this for several minutes before you caught your breath again. He moved your underwear back into place. When he could tell you recovered from your orgasm enough to not pass out and fall over as soon as he let you go, Tech lifted you off his lap, setting you back onto the floor. You looked up at him, cheeks still stained with tears, still breathing heavily.

„You did well, and it is obvious you enjoyed this as much as I did, but I can tell your throat is sore, which needs to be taken care off quickly before it gets any worse. I will make you some tea.“ He tucked himself back into his pants and fastened his toolbelt again before getting up, walking towards a storage cabinet to get some teabags. You looked after him, still sitting on the floor next to the codpiece he had left behind, wondering how this was the same man who used your mouth as a fleshlight moments ago.

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb tech #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb smut #smut #tech x reader #star wars the bad batch

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 16

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: I didn't sleep very well but I'm here.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

As you move North, the sunlight fades sooner and rises later, the nights cooling with each mile. Nearly a fortnight on the road, and you return to the service of the queen. Bryce escorts you between the carts, gesturing in passing to his comrades, other times letting past another body on their own mission. You reach the front of the train where men with swords pace and keep watch over the surrounding lands. 

“Evenin’,” Bryce greets the guards outside the queen’s tent and they grumble back. The weariness of travel has overcome many of the travelers. 

You dip your head down and approach the tent flap. Before the card can pull it back for your entrance, it sweeps open from the other side. You step back as another figure falters before you. The king keeps hold of the silk and his eyes skim over you. He tilts his head and moves to hold the fabric open, beckoning you through with his large hand. 

“Your highness,” you murmur. 

His jaw squares but he says nothing. As you enter, the fabric falls heavily behind you. The king’s expression lingers in your mind, his silence even more. The tick in his cheek was hard to miss and you can hear his heavy footfalls as he stalks off. 

Within, the queen sits on a bench, playing with the tassel of her belt. Her father, Lord Dustan, stands to the side, arms crossed as he makes small steps back and forth. He tuts and chews his thumb. 

“Your husband does not behave as son-in-law,” the duke gripes lowly, “he would have let Debray fall to those vandals. He cares only for his frost lands.” 

“Father, he is only eager to be home. As much as I dread the cold, I cannot help but feel as such. I tire of this endless road,” Queen Jazlene yawns into a cupped hand. 

“Ah, but you must be a loyal wife. What of mine? What of your mother? She was alone in the castle.” 

“And you rode out to save her, didn’t you?” Jazlene prompts. 

“I am a lord of the summer lands, I am past my warring days,” Dustan snarls, “he would risk my flesh on an uprising he could crush with his left hand. He tests me!” The duke circles around as he jabs his finger in the air, “I deserve more dignity, more respect. I delivered him his kingdom.” 

“Yes, father, he is a frigid man,” Jazlene bemoans, “as icy a husband. He does neglect us both.” 

“Neglect?” Dustan faces his daughter, “does he not see to his contract?” 

She frowns and bats her doey eyes as she looks away, “it isn’t that he doesn’t fulfill his duty, it is only... how might I get an heir if I lie with my husband only once in a moon?” 

“Does he mean to deceive us? A son will bind us. A son is what we need. Does he think the summer lands will follow a king who does not sow his seed?” 

“I do not know, father. I... I have tried all I can think of.” 

“Mm,” the duke hums darkly, “that won’t do at all. Not at all. When I married your mother, she was swollen with you almost as soon as the vows were said. No, no, it won’t do. I will have word with the king, make certain he does not treat my daughter, his queen, so coolly.” 

Dustan stop and twiddles his fingers. You try to imagine him confronting King Geralt. Surely it is bluster for the sake of his daughter. 

“...we are ruined without an heir...” he mutters. 

Jazlene sits forward on the bench, “ruined, father? I am queen--” 

“Yes, yes, you are queen, but a queen has her duty too,” Dustan insists, “and it cannot be done with a negligent king. Leave it to me, daughter. The next I see the king, I shall handle our business. As I have ever done. Do you believe in me? For I did deliver you a fine marriage, didn’t I?” 

“Yes, father.” 

The duke goes to his daughter and rubs her shoulder. He leans in and you shrink against the tent wall, making yourself small. 

“Should it prove poor judgment,” his whisper scratches from his lips, “I will figure a way out.” 

He kisses her hair and turns to march out. He takes not notice of you though that is expected. Jazlene sighs as the flap falls and she leans back on her hands, swaying her leg. 

“Ah, the maid,” she cheeps, “you will fetch hot water for my feet. They ache.” 

“Yes, your highness.” 

She grins, a catlike expression and sits up straight, “yes, that is right. I am a queen and soon, the king will be certain to treat me as such.” 

You flit off to your duty. As you emerge, your chest stirs with unease. Something about their conversation has you unnerved. Though they said nothing outright, it feels as if there is more laced between the words. The queen and her father hardly sound as allies to the king. 

You try to wipe the apprehension from your mind. You are but a maid and not so well-versed on noble matters. It isn’t your place to unpiece their declarations or untangle their riddles. You are to get the water to sooth the daughter of Debray’s feet, it may yet save you a box to the ears. 

⚔️

You shiver as the cart bounces over the hard ground. You count a month or so since your departure from the capital though the days blend in a fog. The gradual creep of the chill has advanced upon the part, slowing the wheels, and sending the riders to pause and cover their horses. You keep the fur cloak over your lap as you lean into the corner of the cart though Bryce seems enlivened by the atmosphere. 

The dim sky harkens the crossing of the intangible barrier between the summer and winter lands. Sprawling plains and rounded feels give way to rocky passes and jutting mountains, interspersed with lumpy tundras speckled with patches of mud. Several times, your soldierly escort has had to help yank free the wheels from some rut or another. 

“Are we there?” You ask through as chatter, blowing into your hands. “The Hinterlands?” 

“Mm, by my guess, we are at the Fox’s Tail. You see, it is the little strip of land where no man lives, summer or winter,” he explains, reaching to scratch his beard. You envy the warmth it must give to his cheeks. “Isn’t so cold yet, mouse, better brace yerself.” 

You nod and look ahead at the grey, brown expanse. There are dustings of frost but not snow, only on the distant caps of rugged mountains that shadow the horizon. You hug yourself as Daisy’s breath plumes in misty clouds around her head. 

“Why does no one live here?” You ask. 

“There are no trees, no grass to feed the livestock or game,” he shrugs, “it is barren...” he sucks his teeth and thinks, “there was a war. Hundreds of years ago, maybe more. The summer folk spilled upon the winter lands, some squabble over a slain lord... they put salt to the earth. They did not only want vengeance on the living, they wanted their descendants to suffer for their misdeeds. Starve out an entire people.” 

He snorts and shakes his head, “what the summer people didn’t understand is that the winter skinned do not stay still. They move with the winds. You’ll see, mouse. You haven’t done the last of yer scurrying.” 

You huddle down as another cold breath sweeps through the air. You’re not used to it but you will be. That’s how it always is. You just have to take what you get and make it work. You can’t complain for what you have; a warm cloak, a cart, and a kind companion. 

⚔️

Your teeth chatter as you hold closed the front of the fur cloak, the hood over your head as you walk the frozen earth. More often than not, you’ve left the prized cape in your cart for your return. It is too heavy to wear while serving the queen but the weather permits you no mercy. It is far too bitter to forgo the extra layer. 

Bryce is unbothered in his mail and the simple fur trim the collar of his wool cloak. He only seems to thrive in the dipping temperatures, stoking a fire for your nocturnal return so that you may sleep in its warmth. His constancy keeps you from mourning the lost summer sunshine. 

He stands behind you as you cross to the queen’s tent, now raised with several layers to insulate the walls. You enter as you do every night, unnoticed as Queen Jazlene mindlessly stares into the pages of a book. She’s grown quiet these last weeks as the travel wears on her, even her wardrobe showing the effects. 

You feel a gust from beneath the tent wall and step away from it. You watch the queen, huddled beneath a blanket on a stool, shaking as she tries to warm her hands in each other. She wears several satin cloaks layered over each other but the fabric is too sleek to garner much heat. 

She puffs into her palms and groan.  

“Damn this cold,” she mutters, then sits up, “maid, tea!” She demands, “Something warm! Anything!” 

You utter a small “your highness” and spin away to your task. You step out into the cold and go off to find a fire and a pot. The queen has some berry tea in her chests.  

You acquire a cup of steaming water from a cluster of servants around a flame. You linger for a moment to absorb some of the fire’s haze then set back toward the royal tent. As you near, a shadow nearly collides with you. You keep the cup balanced as you scramble around the figure. The torch light catches the king’s golden eyes as they meet yours. 

“Your highness,” you murmur. 

He grunts as he stops fully. He stares down at you wordlessly. You cannot read his expression as shadows dance around his features, flickering various emotions across his face. He bows his head and presses on. You turn to watch him go as concern rolls up your throat. 

In those last weeks, months you believe, you’ve not seen much of the king. You’ve wondered after his elusivity. At first, you thought it might be due to the combat at Debray, perhaps he was disheartened by the last act of resistance. Then you surmised it might be evasion of his own wife. Alas, you could not guess and fathomed it was not your place to do so. 

This brief encounter further perplexes you. You can’t help but question if it is you. You recall the last day in the capital, the grit of his voice casting you out. Go. The memory ripples through you. 

You think much of yourself. It wouldn’t be anything to do with a paltry maid. You focus on the hot water in your hand and continue on to the queen’s tent. 

You enter and wrap the dried berries and leaves, steeping them in the steaming water. You hover over the cup, waiting for the water to deepen in hue and cool enough to drink. When you bring it to the queen, you feel her gaze upon you. 

“Your highness,” you hand her the cup. 

She hesitates to take it, only doing so after deep consideration. She holds the tea in one hand as her other tugs on your cloak. She makes an ugly noise. 

“And where did you find this, maid?” She sneers. “Hmm, I sit her in my summer garb and you wear a bear’s skin?” 

Your lips part and you raise your shoulders. You look at the tent wall and frown. You poke your hand outside the cloak and touch the soft fur.  

“Your highness,” you look down at the cloak then at her trembling grasp on the cup. “Would you like it? You look awfully cold.” 

“Yes, I want the damn cloak!” She yanks it hard, “I am the queen and you did not think to offer me a proper cloak? How stupid are you.” 

You bow your head and reach to unbuckle the cloak. When it is loose, you shrug it off and hand it over. You will find a spare blanket. There must be some left among the luggage. 

She shoves the cup at you and stands. She swings the cloak around her and hums as she pulls its snug around her figure. She sits again and rubs her chin against the fur. 

“Much better,” she says, “I’ve been suffering this damnable place for far too long.” 

She takes the tea back, spilling a drop on your hand. You back away, the liquid cooling and sending a new chill through you. You cover one hand with the other and clutch tightly, locking your jaw against the tremor that crawls up your spine. 

The queen slurps from the tea and makes a face. She sneers, “I want wine,” she pouts, “how long must I be deprived? Wine!” She snarls down at the cup, “but I must drink this bile. Oh, but the king bids it,” she raises her voice mockingly, “you must obey your husband.” She shakes her head and takes another gulp, “at least it is warm. At least--”  

She holds the cup away from her suddenly as her face twists. She drops it and recoils, panic washing over her. She keels forward, holding her skirts out of the way as she spews onto the rug spread over the hard ground. She wretches loudly, spasming with the horrid sounds snagging in her throat. 

The smell of her vomit permeates the tent. She stays bent over her lap as she pants. You come forward and offer her a handkerchief to wipe her mouth. She sits up and gulps tightly, her features drawn. She pats her lips. 

“Well, clean it up,” she turns her feet away from the puddle between them. “Stupid maid.” 

She pokes a sharp nail into your arm and you wince.  

“Your highness, are you unwell?” You ask, “shall I fetch a physician? Or some ginger?” 

“No, you stupid cow, I am not unwell,” she flicks her fingers at you before waving away the stench of her bile. She stands and walks away from it, her hand settling on her middle. She faces you and smiles broadly, “I am carrying the king’s son.” Her face darkens as she wrinkles her nose, “I told you, you twit, to clean that up. You best do so before I make you eat it.” 

You nod and bend your neck, “yes, your highness, I will fetch water.” 

“I don’t care, just do it,” she snaps and rubs her stomach. She lets out a shuddery groan and turns her back to you. You watch as she draws tight the cloak and sways with a trill, “I will be a true queen now. He cannot deny me any longer.” 

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au #winter's king #the witcher

[fiona-fififi]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @messyhairdiaz (thank you!! 💚) yesterday for Tease Tidbit Tuesday, but didn't have a chance to post, and now it's Wednesday, so we're going wip Wednesday.

I'm also spoiling my own fic, but fuck it. Why not?? Have some more jealous!Tommy fic.

Warning: this is angsty. This was supposed to be a silly little fic and now Tommy’s getting his heart broken. I'm so sorry!

Tommy cuts through the bullshit. Refuses to let the conversation keep running in circles. “Do you have feelings for him?”

“He's not an option.”

“That's not what I asked you!” Tommy can't help the way his tone jumps, some combination of desperation and anger warring in the tenor of his voice, because he knows—he knows—but he wants so much to be wrong. Wants Buck to find the right words and fix it all so maybe they don't have to end. But Tommy knows better, and when he continues, it's with a deep and painful resignation. “Can you look me in the eye right now and tell me that if Eddie wanted you, you would choose me?”

For a moment, Buck looks like a fish out of water, eyes wide and unblinking and mouth agape as his jaw works to try to form words that won't come. Tommy wants to laugh, but can't with all the hurt choking him of any sound as he waits for Buck to find his words.

They hurt more than Tommy expects.

“He's not an option. He's never been an option,” Buck whispers finally. Quiet and stunned and confused. Still trying to process the reality of Tommy’s words. 

Tommy huffs something like a laugh, but it's humorless, maybe even a little derisive. “That's what I thought.” 

“Tommy—”

“You've never so much as said you love me!” He spits the words, anger and hurt clawing at his chest. He'd thought he could do this. Thought, maybe, they really were on their way to something real. But he's starting to see just how much he was fooling himself.

Buck looks stunned at the words, face falling with hurt. “You know I said it too soon the last time. You know—”

“And you know that it will always be too soon unless it's him.” Tommy’s voice is quiet now. Resigned.

Buck looks like he's about to break down—hands shaking, breathing rapid. “It can't be him.” His voice cracks, tears gathering heavy in his eyes. “Tommy, it can't be him.”

And Tommy hates himself a little for it when Buck’s hurt cuts straight through to his heart. Because he wants to be angry. He thinks he has every right to be angry.

But somewhere along the line, he'd fallen in love with Evan Buckley, and he can't help the way he gentles at Buck's hurt. Keeps distance, but lets his tone fall soft along with his gaze. He thinks maybe Buck can see the pity in his eyes. “Why?”

“Because if-if he doesn't want me, I—” Buck sucks in a harsh breath, trying to force out the words, “—I don't think I'd survive it.”

Tagging (if you'd like): @messyhairdiaz @spotsandsocks @shortsighted-owl @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz and anyone else who wants to participate.

#blanking on my tag list again i'm sorry if i missed anyone #wip wednesday #the jealous!tommy fic #bucktommy #buddie #my wips #my writing #fic snippet #how many tags can i add just for tumblr to never find this post again??

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Banana Split

Steven Grant x GN!Reader • Rating: M •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Summary: You get an ice cream.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Last one for the MK bingo! I didn't quite get to finish the board (the other fics are just not in a good state to post, maybe I'll sort them out one day ^^)

Warnings: finger sucking, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 638

It had started with a playful argument about banana splits when you were in Kaspas. 

You weren’t quite sure how the discussion had started, just that the aforementioned desert had been on the menu and Steven and Marc had gone at it. 

Their bickering was always playful, a kind of sparring match that they seemed to partake in mainly for sport, and not so much for actually arguing about a topic. 

Seventy percent of the time you were pretty sure that they only took opposite sides so that they could continue quarrelling. 

Steven had said that banana splits were invented in the UK. Marc said USA. Steven had gotten up the Wikipedia page. Marc had gloated about how he was right. Steven had countered with, ‘yeah, but it does say no one knows for sure, doesn’t it? So it could have been anywhere.’ Marc had complained Steven was a sore loser, and ‘that everyone that could have been credited with inventing it was from America. So he wins.’ Steven had added, ‘Technically, you can’t invent a food.’ Marc, his tone dripping with exasperation, ‘Oh, getting technical now, are we? Because you’re a sore loser?’ 

It had carried on from there.  

Somewhere in between laughing you hadn’t quite been paying attention to your own ice cream sundae and some of the strawberry sauce had worked its way along the spoon and onto your fingers. You’d tutted and wiped it with a napkin, and hadn’t thought much more of it. 

That was until later when you were walking through the park with Steven and your fingers kept brushing together and sticking. The sauce, even though on inspection you could see absolutely no trace of it, was there on some microscopic level. Catching and fusing your fingers together. You tried to wipe your skin clean on a spare tissue, and then your trousers to no avail. 

The sensation was driving you close to madness. The constant irritation. The unending catch and pull. You couldn’t stop them from sticking without holding your fingers apart at a weird angle that started to cramp your hand. 

You needed to find a toilet, a sink, hell, even a puddle. Anything to-

“Love? You okay?” Steven frowns sympathetically, looking down at your hand. 

You nod halfheartedly. “Fingers are sticky.” 

“From the sauce?” 

You nod again.

He gave you a sympathetic look, his eyes softening in that sweet expression. “Poor love.” He kisses your cheek, knowing about and understanding your detest for the sensory experience. 

“Here.” He takes your hand carefully, so as to not push your fingers together. “These two?” He points to your middle and forefinger. 

You barely get a chance to nod, your mouth open to speak, but the words die in your throat as Steven sticks your fingers in his mouth and sucks them clean.

For a brief moment, all thoughts drain out of your head. Your mind completely blank. You try not to stare, you really do. Your breathing hitches at the slide of his tongue, the warmth of his mouth, the way his eyes have closed. A spark of pleasure rushes down your spine. 

You really, really shouldn’t be enjoying this quite so much. 

He finishes. Taking your fingers out of his mouth with a pop, and smiles innocently. 

You stay staring. 

“Better?”

There is a pause before you remember how to speak. “I… erm…”

“Oh don’t worry!” He beams. “Strawberry sauce is vegan,” he waves a hand dismissively, but I wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t.” 

You grab his arm, your skin burning with a deep heat, and begin to march him towards the park exit. If you didn’t get out of there in the next minute you were going to have to find some bushes to fuck him in.

“Love?” 

“We’re going home.” 

“What? Why?” 

Oh, he’d find out why.

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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#steven grant #moon knight #moon knight mcu #steven grant x reader #x reader #steven grant x you #x you #steven grant x gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #steven grant x gn!reader #x gn!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

[m1dn1ght-jade]

Hello! This is the first piece of writing i've ever actually posted, so please be kind! There's no like heavy nsfw or whatever, too nervous to write that stuff yet, but just wanted to see if anyone would like this. Also apologies if the end is kinda abrupt or unfinished. If anyone does take the time to read this, please enjoy, and thank you for reading!

prof!abby anderson x reader // ~550 words // based loosely on this post I made // not proof read

includes (i dont know how to do tags, bear with me) : implied reader shower masturbation, implied shower sex, nudity, established relationship, neck kissing??

nsfw under the cut, 18+ only please and thank you! enjoy :)

Abby wasn't too proud of her decision to end her classes for the day early, but she certainly didn't regret the decision. She quickly packed up her stuff, and shot you a quick text:

Abby: "Class ended early! Omw back now."

When she didn't hear anything in response after a moment, she just clued up her belongings and decided she would meet you at home. She was hasty as she made her way out to her car in the parking lot, it was a nice day out, warm and sunny as summer was approaching, she made a mental note to ask you if you would like to go out with her this evening, perhaps for a nice walk together. She let out a soft sigh as she turned on her car, her hands smoothing over the material of her slacks, stretched over her muscular thighs. Once she was situated she finally began the short drive home, her thoughts on you the whole time. She wondered about what you may be doing right now, maybe you were making some food, or perhaps having a nap; she really hoped you hadn't left the house, she would understand if you had, but she desperately wanted to see you.

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

Once Abby made it to the complex she was quick to make it up to your guys' apartment. She unlocked the door and slipped in, she noticed your favourite shoes and your sweater by the entrance, and a smile spread across her lips as she figured you were home. She slipped off her own shoes before making her way through the apartment, undoing the top few buttons on her shirt she had worn to work, rolling out the tension in her shoulders. It wasn't long until she figured out where you were, as she heard the sound of the shower running from your shared bathroom, which was quickly followed by the quiet sounds of your moans, her own name tumbling from your lips, barely audible through the door, but she heard you.

She made her way to the bedroom instead, taking off her shirt and pants from the day, neatly putting them in the laundry bin. Once she was down to her boyshort underwear, and she took the elastic out of her hair, letting the braid it had been in fall loose, she made her way down to the bathroom. She knocked a couple times to announce her presence, before slipping into the bathroom, smirking slightly as she was greeted by the sight of you- beads of water all over your skin, your breathing slightly ragged, and most importantly, your hand nestled between your thighs.

She slipped off her final article of clothing before quickly joining you in the warm shower, her muscular arms wrapping around you, pulling you close to her. You asked her about her being home early, but her mind was already elsewhere, muttering that she had ended class early as her kisses trailed along your skin, down your neck. Her hands ran along your body, pride and arousal surging through her as she felt your hands gripping back at her, as she heard your moans echoing around her. Any thoughts or worries about ending her classes early to see you disappeared from her mind, only you consumed her thoughts now, and now that she was home, she could give you everything you craved.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby anderson fluff #abby the last of us #abby tlou2 #prof!abby #prof!abby anderson #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x fem!reader #the last of us

[beetlevsboy]

i already posted this in some tags but I want to be more insane acryally. This is kind of just my opinion on Edwin and The Cat Kings relationship n why I don’t think fans should try and push their relationship.

Their relationship is starts off and is mostly the cat kings own narcissism and predatory (not age wise; I mean literally) behavior towards Edwin and Edwin's need for someone to push him into understanding that his queerness doesn't have to be torture and can be something giddy (even if he doesn't return those feelings). This is super important to Edwin but his rejection of TCK is also as he immediately recognizes his lack of feelings and actual literal discomfort at the moves placed on him. TCK is good about boundaries and consent sexually wise but that doesn’t stop their relationship from progressing from there.

At first, the cat king does like Edwin but he doesn’t know anything about him. He sees their relationship as a game and Edwin simply as someone he wants to have simply because he can’t. He continues to torment Edwin (showing up as people he does like, propositioning him still, being threatening when his control is questioned) through out the show but starts to feel that “romanticism” towards him because hes infatuated by the kindness he's shown despite the cruelty he's presented to Edwin. Queerness and performance always go hand in hand and Edwin’s lack of it entices the Cat King.

The show runners and Lukas, the actor, have said themselves that the cat king is an older secretly insecure character. He’s jaded by heartbreak the the world’s condemnation of everything he is. Edwin is this younger, genuinely kind character that shows him that projecting his hurt on others and romanticizing it only hurts both people in that relationship. Their relationship is about the isolation of queerness and the walls put up to protect yourself and the coping mechanism used to not be hurt again; even at the risk of hurting those just like you- or those who used to be (cough cough the show runners saying that TCK represented the older men with bad intentions that every young gay man has met that welcomes them into the space and makes them feel loved to use them). The Cat King uses Edwin and Edwin knows this. That kiss from edwin was not a reciprocation of feelings; it was to say "I'm sorry your loneliness had caused you to think you have to use your power to control those weaker than you. (Naive, young, and someone he can literally trap) It's the easiest way to feel. And while I cannot and will not give you what you want or need, you deserve to feel happy and not like you have to gain attention of those uninterested to feel good enough.”

I just can't even explain all my thoughts about their dynamic it's just so much about the predation from older queers because of the trauma they've endured from their elders and the cycle of hurt and abuse that is passed down and the way we can break the cycle with kindness. The way we can protect our youths by healing those traumas.

Something the cat king learns and accepts because he can like Edwin. He can show Edwin the sweetness and beauty of being queer while also not being the one that should hold his hand through it. Edwin cannot be a romanticized replacement for the pain others have caused him and trying to force him to be so, continuing to treat him like prey to catch, will only continue the cycle.

tdlr: their relationship is super important for both of their relationships with queerness and trauma and becoming more aware of their identities but their relationship is not romantic- it’s simply an attempt to romanticize Edwin into someone he could love (hurt and control) in place of the people who’s actually hurt him and is supposed to be a parallel of real life predation in the queer community but the realization of this created an amazing acceptance and new bond I do hope they explore without TCK trying to force a non-platonic relationship

Off topic but I don't like people defending their age gap because, yes, Edwin is 86, but he died with a teenage boy brain and then spent 70 of those years in hell where he certainly was not getting his brain developed while TCK has possibly hundreds of years of sentience and experience. The power imbalance is not it y'all and that’s like super clear in the show

#dead boy detectives #edwin payne #Dbd #dbda #neil gaiman #the cat king #cat king #I’m not tagging their ship name I’m not trying to hate on people I simply don’t understand why anyone would ship them #dc comics

[foxgloveprincess]

Pairing: Cole Turner x Female Reader, Curtis Everett x Female Reader [Second Person Narrator]

Summary: You always try to be your best at your job.

Word Count: 919

Attic Wives Anonymous Masterlist

Warnings: Dark, Dubious Consent (Sex Toys, mild Overstimulation), Manhandling, Clueless Reader, Cages, Pet Names (pup, lamb, etc.). Minors do not interact (18+).

A/N: Time to meet the contractor/handyman and his business partner, the toy maker. It’s a side story for A.W.A. that I just wanted to peek into. Don’t know if there’ll be any more parts to this. But Enjoy!

I love feedback, so go ahead and reblog if you want. However, I give no permission to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work on any third party website or app. Seeing my work posted anywhere beside my blog, my library blog, or my AO3 account (FoxglovePrincess) means it’s been stolen/plagiarized.

I don’t do tag lists, so follow @foxglovefics to sign up for notifications on my fics. 

This is unBeta’d, so all mistakes are my own.

Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age or if you are uncomfortable with the pairing, themes, dynamics, or warnings. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Thank you!

Things you now knew were stupid: answering a sketchy ad on the side of the road for a job in product testing. Apparently not your brightest idea. As Jeanne would say, you’re a dumb bitch. At least you were cute. 

It hadn’t seemed that bad. Cole and Curtis were pleasant, though they made you well aware of your deficient resume. You didn’t have marketable skills. It was something people said a lot. 

But that didn’t stop them from hiring you. They wanted you to start right away. And the benefits? They said they’d be comprehensive. 

What they didn’t mention was what exactly that meant. You were just happy they’d chosen you. With job after job firing you for ‘incompetence’, they’d seen your potential. Had said so, in exactly those words. You’d been on cloud nine, smiling wide. 

Before they opened the door to your office and had you test the first product. 

“Just turn your head toward the camera,” Cole coaxes, his sweet words dripping over you like honey. 

Your feverish body slumps over. The machine between your legs continuing its torturous thrusts and vibrations. 

A warm hand falls to your lower back, the other tilting your head up to meet stormy blue eyes. 

“She’s had enough,” Curtis says. With a flick of a switch, the machine beneath you turns off. 

“Come on, man,” Cole whines, “just a little longer. She’s so fucking adorable when she breaks like this.”

“We don’t want to break her.” 

Bundled into strong arms, you’re pulled off the toy and laid out on a nearby cushion. Your limbs melt into the plush fabric, twitching from overstimulation. Not an ounce of strength to move of your own volition. That’s all been fucked out of you. 

“It’s half the fun,” Cole mutters under his breath, starting a routine of cleaning off the toy. Though he complains, he won’t go against his partner outright. They work too well together for that. 

A quiet moment passes, Cole cleaning up and Curtis rummaging through some drawers. He produces a blanket a few moments later and carefully wraps you in it. You hum and lean close to his gentle touch. 

“By the way, Ari’s got me making a tail for his girl,” Cole says, joining Curtis in putting you away. He tilts your chin up with a finger. “How do you feel about that?”

You blink slowly and let incomprehensible mumbles fall past your lips. Mostly in the affirmative, not quite understanding how they’ll make you a tail. Isn’t that something animals are born with? Or sometimes like your cousin Courtney? Your brow furrows as you try to think.

You shiver and grip at the quilt over your shoulders, tucking it closer to your face.  For one night you wish they’d let you sleep here. Not that you’d complain about your normal accommodations. They could always fire you, and then where would you be?

“Don’t go falling asleep on us now or you’ll forget your form,” Cole reminds. He tucks a pen and paper into your unsteady grip and presses a kiss to your forehead. 

You blink to clear your eyes and look at the short form. Five questions and a comment box. 

“Do you need help?” Curtis asks, a hand on the cushion by your head, close enough to touch. 

Despite the urge to stretch into his touch and accept his generosity, you shake your head. It’s your job, you’ll do it yourself. Dragging your body from the cushion, you sit up and place the paper on your leg. Scrawl the product description on the top line. All five questions stare up at you, a scale of 1 to 5 beneath. 

Is the product enticing to potential customers? 

Is the product innovative?

Does the product seem high quality?

Is the product different from other products?

Does the product fulfill our customer’s needs and wants?

Though sluggish, your brain processes each question and makes a thoughtful rating for Cole’s new machine. The comment box proves more difficult. Words harder to scrawl while your hand lacks its usual strength and dexterity. But you jot down a few notes—about the vibration and the fit, you think? 

A yawn cracks your jaw and you stand on wobbly legs. Holding onto different bits of furniture about the room, you hobble to place the paper in its usual basket. They’ll look at it at the end of the month and determine what to do with it. 

Legs like jelly, you steady yourself a moment too long. Your bosses preparing your next task. You glance over and sigh. Still trying to perfect that thing. They’ve been working on it since you started working for them. 

“Come on, pup,” Curtis beckons, voice gruff, holding the door open. “Time for some shuteye.” 

You nod and bend your knees, ducking into the small metal cage. They finally got the cushion on the bottom thick enough that you don’t feel the bars digging into your side as you lay down. And they added some personal touches—a few pillows, your favorite blankets, a stuffed animal—to ensure the space still allows comfort to fit a full-grown human. 

Another yawn breaks free of your lips. Your head falls to the pillow and you let your eyes flutter shut. 

Fingers caress your cheek through the bars. You peek open your eyes to see Cole, a soft look of satisfaction on his face. 

“Time for a little nap, little lamb,” he whispers, “then there’s a few more things we need to test.”

#curtis everett x reader #cole turner x reader #dark #dark fic #dub con #tw dub con #attic wives anonymous #18+ #minors dni

[teenytinyjimin]

snow day (k. seokjin)

summary: being snowed in isn't always the most fun, but when you're stuck with the love of your life, there's very little you can complain about.

pairing: seokjin x reader

word count: 1.7k

tags: fluff, romance, winter fic, lots of cuddles (it's cold, what else are you meant to do?), chef!seokjin (as expected), teasing (in the lighthearted and romantic way), kisses!!!!! lots of kisses!!!!!

warnings: none! enjoy some sweet fluff!

author’s note: hey guys!! finals are this week (bleh) and then i’ll be on vacation two-ish weeks from now so i won’t be posting a lot i’m afraid :( i’ll plan to have another fic out by tuesday next week and then i probably won’t post again for a week or two after that. hope yall enjoy what i make in the meantime but im sorry it won’t be a lot :(

anyway, this is dedicated to @kskskskskskskskss i hope you enjoy my love <3

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

There was no doubt that winter was your favorite season. Despite the gloom it tended to cast across your cozy town tucked into middle-of-nowhere Korea, it was always wintertime when its true beauty shone. The glimmering streetlights making the snow look like glitter falling from the sky was one of the most beautiful sights, especially on days when the sun was struggling to peek through the clouds and left the town dim.

Alas, the beauty of the snow on this particular day didn't take away the fact that it was completely snowing you in, to the point where you were afraid that opening the front door would cause a mountain of white powder to fall into the entryway of your warm abode. Actually, you were more than willing to leave the house and go enjoy the beauty of winter, it was just your boyfriend, who is too overprotective for his own good, who persuaded you into not leaving and just enjoying it from the comfort of your own home.

So here you were, peacefully obliging to your darling Seokjin's wishes to stay inside. If you were to choose between the snow outside and the love of your life, it would be him a million times over again. So at the cost of not making snow angels, you were instead sprawled across the couch, cuddled into a cozy blanket with your eyes shut as you listened to the sounds of him cooking in the kitchen. You weren't quite sure what he was making, but you knew it had to be good because nothing he ever made was anything less than perfect.

The only other thing you could have wished for in this very moment was to be in front of a crackling fireplace – that would have made this snow day beyond extraordinary. But alas the heat radiating from the furnaces spread out throughout the house would have to be good enough for now. Wishful thinking, you thought. Maybe one day we can live in a nice little home with a beautiful fireplace.

"Alright, you ready for some absolutely incredible kimchi jjigae?!" Jin called from the kitchen, his voice enthusiastic and bright. Mm. Kimchi jjigae. Your mouth was practically watering just at the thought of the delicious stew. However, your body wasn't as enthused at the thought of having to move from the comfort of the couch.

You let out a groan. "Mmh, can't move," You sighed in frustration, pulling the blanket over your head so that you could bury yourself into an even deeper state of comfort. This was followed by silence except for the sound of a few dishes clinking, before you heard a pair of footsteps come your way. "Come, dear, you need to eat,” Seokjin said softly, nudging you with a gentle hand. You refused to pull the blanket down from your face and remained silent, causing your partner to let out a deep sigh. "Alright, I'll just eat it all myself. More for me."

The last sentence set you off as you let out a desperate and breathy whine. You wanted to eat, you did, but that involved sacrificing the state of bliss you were currently in. Silence ensued yet again for a couple of minutes, to the point where you couldn't even hear your own breathing, before you were suddenly lifted off of the couch, blanket and all, and into Jin's arms. Letting out a squeal, you pulled the blanket down from your face to look up at him, his beautiful features a mere couple inches from your own as he now had you lifted up in bridal style.

Rather than wrapping your arms around his neck for support, you decided to drape yourself over him like a limp doll, causing the silliest of smiles to creep onto his face. "You know, I can carry you to the kitchen with no problem like this, but I'm not going to feed you like a baby. Even though you're cute like one." Ignoring his words, you let out a deep sigh, inhaling the scents that flooded the house. "It smells amazing in here. If I were to die right now, I'd be completely happy."

As you arrived at the kitchen, Jin pulled out one of the dining chairs with his leg and propped you onto it, giving you a soft kiss on your nose before bringing you a bowl of jjigae. "Please don't do that. I need you to clean the dishes." Letting out a gasp, you glared at your boyfriend, who appeared to be pretty proud of his last statement. "Excuse me? Is that all you take me for?" You asked, feigning offense. As he pulled the chair next to you out and sat himself in it, he grinned and shrugged. "Well, you're also a good girlfriend."

"With that attitude, you might as well call the couch your bed for tonight. And you'll be doing the dishes." As you went to go scoop up your first bite of jjigae, you were stopped by a swift hand that took the bowl away from you. You let out a shocked noise as you looked over to Jin, who had absolutely no intention of giving you the food back. "Looks like I was right about there being more for me," He said, beginning to playfully spoon at your bowl.

"Hey! No, I'm sorry," You tried to bargain with him, even going as far as to give him puppy eyes. When it came to food, you did not mess around, and you were ready to take everything you said back if it meant that you'd still be able to eat. As you watched him take a spoonful of your portion into his mouth, you let out a pleading whine. He looked over at you with confusion, pretending that he didn't hear a word you said. "Huh?" He asked. "Sorry, did you say something? I was enjoying my jjigae."

"Give me my bowl back," You insisted, no longer playing around. If this went on any longer, you'd be declaring war. Smug look on his face, he pretended to innocently tilt his head. "I'm going to need something in return…” He said, his voice trailing off towards the end as he continued to spoon at your jjigae. You knew exactly what he was asking for and unfortunately there was no way that you were going to get that food back unless you gave it to him.

Letting out a soft sigh, you reached over to caress his cheek and guide his face towards yours before planting a soft kiss to his lips. And then another. But just as you were about to pull away and kindly ask for your food back he grabbed your face and pulled you in again for a gazillion more kisses. Squealing between each one, you attempted to playfully push him away but he just kept going, kissing your lips, and then your forehead, and then your cheek, and then back to your lips again, all the while a bright red blush creeping to your cheeks.

“J… Jin! The jjigae will get cold!” You finally got out, successfully pushing him away. He let out a defeated (and quite sad) sigh as he pushed your bowl back to you and returned to his own. “I could’ve reheated it…” He muttered, but you shushed him with a firm squeeze to his knee from under the table as you both began to dig in to the delicious meal.

Following the initial playful moment that you two shared during your meal, the food was nothing short of amazing and you both thoroughly enjoyed your dinner ‘date’. After every couple of bites you never failed to compliment Seokjin on his incredible cooking, each and every time resulting in a shy giggle erupting from his throat. He never knew what to say when you complimented him – although his confidence was never bad, hearing such high words of praise coming from the love of his life never failed to make him timid and unable to react. It was the fact that he saw you as absolutely perfect that made him unable to comprehend how you could feel the same about him, because hearing such kind and honest words come from someone he’s head over heels for is like hearing the sweetest song in the world.

After you took the time to clean up the dishes your chef used to create such a fantastic meal, you found yourselves flopped down onto the couch. With two bodies plus the blanket that was previously covering you before dinner, it was simply impossible to see which limb belonged to whom because you were tangled up with one another. The only thing that mattered to you, though, was that you felt safe, loved, and extremely cozy.

"I don't think I'll be moving anytime soon," You huffed out, head on your boyfriend's chest. "I can hardly breathe with the amount of food in my stomach right now." Letting out a satisfied hum, Jin brought a hand to your head as he gently brushed through your hair with his fingers. You felt him move slightly as he turned to look out the window and you did the same, admiring the snow that continued to fall outside. "It really is pretty," You commented, taking a deep breath as you not only tried to make yourself feel slightly more comfortable but also took in your lover's scent. "Never as pretty as you." Jin hummed without skipping a beat. "Plus it's cold. You're warm. Warm is always better."

"Are you telling me you'd rather be warm than cold?" You asked. In your mind, being too warm was a lot more unbearable than being too cold. As you felt Jin wrap his arms around you and give you a tight squeeze, he sighed. "No no, being cold is better. Because that means I can warm up by cuddling with you. The best cuddler there ever was." You let out a soft giggle as you buried your face deeper into his chest and he tightened the grip he had on you. It didn't feel too tight or restrictive in any way, shape, or form – being so tightly wrapped in his arms felt more comforting than anything else in the world.

"Thank you for spending the day with me," You mumbled into his shirt as you felt his lips gently kiss the top of your head. "There's nothing else I'd rather do, my love."

#teenytinyjimin #bangtan #bts #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts fanfiction #bts fic #bts jin #bts seokjin #kim seokjin #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #seokjin fluff #jin fluff #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #fanfic #fluff

[ashethecoolperson]

OUU WAIT.. can you do a dom x r where essentially they’re both in the judgement day and there tg but hide it cus they think it’ll ruin the dynamic of the group. so like HIDDEN TOUCHES, GLANCES, THE WHOLE SHEBANGHG😫

No One Will Know

A/N: This is like one of my first requests so apologies if it’s bad 😭

Dom is my favorite himbo thooo 💗

Tags: Mentions of sex, kinda sorta allusions to smut but not really, Rhea knows everything, some spanish 🤭

“Where in the hell is he?” You thought to yourself as you walked around backstage. You two had driven to the arena together, and you went to talk to Rhea for a minute, then he was just..gone.

“Dom?” You called out as you neared the dressing room. A chorus of ‘he’s not here’ rang in your ears but you continued on anyway. Dom wouldn’t just up and ditch you like this.

You walked next to a janitor’s closet when suddenly you got pulled in, pinned against the door by him.

“Did I scare you, mami?” He asked as you looked straight up at him, honestly stunned at how close his face was. His hand gently brushed away some hair from your face before moving back down to grip your waist. Your eyes darted between his eyes and lips. He smiled sweetly, but it didn’t make the butterflies in your stomach settle. He really wanted to kiss you, and you couldn’t help but wonder what this little surprise even was.

“Why were you just..hiding in the janitor’s closet?” You asked as he started peppering kisses onto your neck, leaving goosebumps all over your skin. You closed your eyes, trying desperately to calm your heartbeat. It only seemed to speed up more whenever he did that.

He finally stopped kissing you and whispered, “Just wanted to surprise you, mami.” He leaned down and pressed a light kiss into your jawline. When his lips met yours it left an overwhelming sensation behind. One that made you want to pull him closer and never let go again. His hands traveled lower on your body until they found their place around the base of your thighs, lifting you up and holding you flush against him.

While you two kissed, you both heard a knock, breaking the kiss as you two looked at each other and contemplated what to do. He smirked, “Maybe we should get going. Wouldn’t want anyone to think we snuck off or anything.” You blushed as he slowly placed you back on your feet. He reached forward to grab your hand and you intertwined your fingers with his.

The rest of the evening passed by pretty quickly, then RAW started and both you and Dom were hanging out in The Judgment Day clubhouse, waiting for your segment to start.

Dom was currently on his phone while he occasionally shot glances at you. You were looking through your Instagram feed, reading the posts about Dom’s match today.

You always enjoyed getting to see what fans were thinking of your boyfriend, your Dom. It made you feel special.

Your thoughts were interrupted by him putting an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. You looked up at him with a raised eyebrow and a smile. He returned it with a smirk of his own before he spoke, “You know how I always get sweaty after my matches?”

You nodded slowly, “Yeah…”

“Well, I could use a shower tonight so…want to join me?” He mumbled so only you could hear and gave you another smirk that made your knees weak.

You tried to play it cool as you tried comprehending what he said and why the fuck he sounded so hot saying it, before he just smirked and whispered, “Piénsalo, mami.” Before walking off.

He turned to look over his shoulder at you with one final wink before disappearing from sight.

What the fuck just happened? You thought to yourself as your mind raced to catch up with everything Dom said. You knew Dom had a dirty streak. He definitely liked to tease people, and you knew that he did that because he liked seeing them blush.

While lost in your own thoughts, Rhea approached you and tapped you on the shoulder, almost towering over you because of those big ass platform boots she always wore.

“What’d Dom say?” She asked, snapping you out of your thoughts as she looked at you expectantly. You blinked a couple times before answering. “Oh y’know, just shit about how he’d win and all that.” You lied, and Rhea raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Uh yeah. Why?” You felt stupid for lying to her. She was your best friend, sure, but that didn’t mean you could tell her everything.

“No reason, just wondering why I heard stuff in you two’s dressing room last week.” She said with a shrug, and you immediately blushed and scrambled for a reply, knowing damn well what you two were doing. After you caught your breath, you said, “Oh, uh he was just talking to me about some stuff, you know, personal stuff.” You lied, (again), and Rhea nodded with a scoff.

“Personal stuff? So why was he saying ‘oh fuck, right there mami’?” Rhea asked again, sporting a smirk as your face was flushed. She heard?! Well, shit.

“Don’t worry,” She laughed as if she sensed your panic, “I won’t tell anybody.” You let out a sigh and relaxed a bit, smiling at her. “Thanks..” You trailed off, still unsure of what else you could say without being too obvious about how embarrassing this even was.

“No problem. But don’t fuck in my dressing room, please. I like having a clean room.” You chuckled nervously and nodded, thanking her before walking towards the monitors to watch Dom’s match.

While he was doing pretty good (still paired with that fucking bobblehead, you hated that guy) he kept doing moves that made you wince or go ‘damn’, knowing full well that he’d be okay.

Obviously they lost because of JD, but Dom didn’t care as he just went over towards you, smiling as he looked down at you.

“Did I do good?” He asked, his smirk growing wider.

“Yeah, but you keep scaring me with those big ass flying moves. You’re gonna bust your face open one day cause of that.” You said as you crossed your arms, and he pouted like a child before rolling his eyes.

There was a beat of silence before you smirked, looking at him as you fiddled with those shirts he wore around his waist.

“Hey, Dom?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m ready for that shower now..”

#dominik mysterio #wwe #dominik mysterio x reader #the judgement day wwe #wwe judgement day

[7-wonders]

Requiem

Michael Langdon x Reader (Mad Love Act II, Chapter XVI)

Summary: It's all led to this, and now, you have to face off against Michael to get your world back.

Word Count: 6.3k

A note from the author: This chapter is so, so dark. Sorry? Also, this chapter relies a lot on the she/her pronouns this story was first started with btw. (more notes at the end)

I noticed when posting this that it looks like the previous chapter didn't load a lot of tags. If you got tagged in this and are like "wait how did we get to the fight already?" you missed the last chapter! Click on the Mad Love Masterlist to read Chapter 35. :)

Content warnings for this chapter include graphic depictions of injury and death. Reader discretion is advised.

Mad Love Masterlist

Mallory warned you prior to leaving your room that the residents of Outpost 3 were all dead, murdered at the hands of Ms. Venable and her poisoned apples (you try not to dwell on your own poisoned apple experience). All the preparation in the world doesn’t prepare you for the shock of seeing two dead bodies, those of Coco and Dinah, in the large foyer of the Outpost. Shock turns to revulsion as one of Mallory’s friends and other witches yanks a knife out of Coco’s skull with little more than a wince. When she stands, she points the knife at you.

“She gonna help us?” she asks warily.

“She is.” Mallory turns to you, pointing first to the woman with the knife and next to another woman standing near the stairs. “This is Queenie and Zoe.”

You wave sheepishly. “It’s nice to meet you two.”

Zoe smiles kindly, but Queenie just appraises you with a look that says she doesn’t trust you. You can’t say that you blame her, though you wish she didn’t have a reason for this reaction. Mallory leaves your side to kneel in between the two dead women, and you watch as she takes a deep breath and breathes out onto Coco’s face before repeating her movements with Dinah.

It takes mere seconds for the two to shoot up, gasping for air and trying to get used to once again inhabiting a body.

“Welcome back,” Mallory says.

“What just happened?” Coco asks, her elaborate hairdo impressively staying put after all of that.

“You died. And now, you’re no longer dead.”

“Oh.” She frowns, rubbing at the spot where a knife sat moments ago. “Fuck, that sucked.”

“Are you going to explain why you tore us from our afterlives?” Dinah snaps, standing up.

“It’s time to fix this entire mess. To defeat Michael, we need all the help we can get.” Mallory eyes Dinah specifically. “From both of you.”

“You’re on your own with that shit,” Dinah declares. “I’m not here to defeat anyone.”

Maybe it’s not your place, but you feel like you can help to convince Dinah. You take a step toward here. “Please, I really think that—”

“How can any of you defeat me, when I’ve already won?” A voice, so familiar to you that it could be your own, comes from the stairs.

You almost don’t want to look at him. If you don’t, maybe you can remain in this stasis where you’re simply preparing to undo the apocalypse, instead of being faced with the reality that you’re about to fight your own husband, the man who, despite all of the horrors he’s committed, remains your love. When you do tear your eyes away from Dinah, you see that he’s not even taking notice of your presence. No, he only has hate-filled eyes for the Supreme.

Michael’s changed into a blood-red jacket, which makes it obvious that he was expecting this showdown to happen. Ms. Mead stands off to his left side, ever the small, imposing bodyguard. Mallory steps forward, along with most of the group. You can’t bring your feet to move, so you remain back with Dinah.

“You haven’t won,” Mallory says. 

“Perhaps you haven’t noticed the state of the world.”

Queenie scoffs. “At least the world can be saved. Unlike your bitch ass.”

Michael smirks proudly. “The seventh seal has been broken. Wormwood has fallen from the sky and turned the rivers to blood and fire. The bottomless pit has been opened and my swarms of locusts and scorpions have ravaged humanity. The world has been remade in my father’s image.”

When he speaks like this, of biblical imagery and prophecy, he turns into a person you don’t care to know. He turns into the Antichrist.

“Almost.” Mallory smiles. “Pretty sure he didn’t imagine a world where there were still witches, so you failed there.”

Michael finally takes in the full group, and his haughty demeanor falters when he sees you. Softly, he utters your name. “What are you doing?”

You swallow thickly, willing your voice not to shake. “I think you know.”

“I do. You’re going to betray me?

Mallory tries to grab your arm as you move in front of her, but you can’t be stopped now. “This is not betrayal. I’m doing this because I love you, and I can’t bear to be faced with the monster that you’ve become any longer. Now, we have a chance to save the world, Michael. Help me undo this mess.”

“Michael,” Mallory gets his attention once more. “Your father never commanded you to end the world in this way. Jeff and Mutt, the two that ran Kineros, were the ones who thought a nuclear apocalypse was the solution. They controlled Ms. Mead and gave her the commands to tell you that this was Satan’s plan. Satan was just happy to take credit when he realized that you were going to cause anarchy.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Michael says.

“Is it? They told me so themselves, when I went to Kineros to ensure that Coco would be in this Outpost.”

He rolls his eyes. “This is such an obvious lie, I’m a little offended that you would think I’d fall for it. Right, Ms. Mead?”

Michael looks to his left, expecting to be backed up, only to see Ms. Mead with a look of bewildered shame on her face.

“Ms. Mead?”

“They—I do as I’m programmed,” she stutters. 

You gasp at the revelation. Satan didn’t come up with the plan to end the world like this? All of this could have been avoided?

Instead of being faced with the same reckoning, a look of absolute murder appears on his face. “I’m going to do what I should have done that day in the Murder House and kill you all personally.”

“Mallory,” Dinah calls, walking towards the Supreme. “You raised me from the dead so that you would have the power of voodoo on your side. But if you know anything about who I am, you know that the only choice I’d pick would be the winner.”

She comes to a stop just before the stairs, bowing her head respectfully. Michael raises a hand out to her, ready to welcome another acolyte. You throw Mallory a panicked look, but she’s barely holding back glee.

“You’re half-right, Dinah,” she admits.

“She needed the help of a powerful voodoo queen,” a deep Southern voice says. You turn and watch as a tall woman with long braids struts up to Dinah. “But that ain’t you, sis .”

“The former Voodoo Queen, Marie Laveau,” Mallory whispers into your ear.

“To release me from hell, Mallory promised Papa Legba the darkest and most corrupt voodoo queen’s soul for mine. You’ll serve him well in my place.”

“You’re a fool, Marie Laveau,” Dinah spits. “You would have done no different if you were queen.”

“No!” Marie says, before disappearing in a puff. 

Not even a second later, she reappears behind Dinah wielding a machete. When Dinah turns to face her, Marie brings the machete down in one swing on her throat. Dinah gasps and screams as blood begins to gush out of her neck, falling to the floor and bleeding out in a matter of seconds. Nobody else seems to be affected by this, but you feel a little faint, and you hold onto Mallory’s arm to keep from collapsing.

“Out with the trash!” Marie declares. “Give Papa my regards.”

Michael, apparently having enough of this, nods to Ms. Mead. The android removes her hand to reveal a machine gun hidden underneath it. Though you want to say something along the lines of, “What the actual fuck?” Zoe says a word in what you assume to be Latin before you can.

Instead of shooting, Ms. Mead begins to shake and whir mechanically. Mallory uses Michael’s confusion to usher everybody back towards the open fire, where you watch as Ms. Mead explodes and sends Michael flying over the railing. He lands harshly on the floor below, staring in horror at Ms. Mead’s head next to him.

It’s only a matter of time until his horror turns to rage, and Queenie scrambles forward to grab Ms. Mead’s machine gun hand. When Michael rises, she rises with him, gun trained on his chest.

“Sorry about your little toy,” Queenie says before placing her finger on the trigger.

Michael turns to be met with a firestorm of bullets, more than enough to kill even the Antichrist. You scream in horror at the sight, his blood spattering against the wall as he falls and comes to rest against it, very obviously dead.

“Michael!” You try to stand, wanting to save him even though he probably (definitely) deserves what’s just happened to him. Before you can, Mallory pulls you to her.

“This won’t keep him down,” she assures you. “He’s too powerful to be truly killed. But this will buy us time.”

Though you don’t know if you believe her, you need to in order to keep from emotionally collapsing, so you nod. 

Queenie walks to Michael’s body, kicking his foot as she checks to make sure he’s dead…for now, at least. “Do we need his hair or something for this? Because I’m more than happy to rip off a chunk of it.”

“No. The spell only requires that we have something personal of his.” Mallory smiles at you. “And we have the most important person in his life here with us. As long as you’re still in?”

You force yourself to look away from Michael, closing your eyes and taking a couple of deep breaths to recenter yourself. Finally, you look at her again. “Of course, I’m still in.”

“Good. Have you picked a time that will work to stop him?”

“I think so,” you confirm. After some internal deliberation, you think that the best way to get through to him is going to be when you had the big fight about the poisoned apple, before you stormed out and got yourself kidnapped by the witches. He wasn’t too powerful or too far gone with his father’s plan yet, but you were both in love with each other—albeit, you hadn’t actually realized it at that point.

“Alright. I’ll need you to focus on that, okay? Then I’ll say the spell, and we’ll be able to go back in time. We just need somewhere safe to cast the spell, somewhere with a large tub we can fill with water.”

You definitely found a room like that when you were exploring the Outpost your first couple of days here. “Okay. Follow me.”

Everybody stands, but hesitates when they remember the issue of Michael. If he’s going to come back to life like Mallory says, shouldn’t there be some safety measure in place to buy you more time?

Queenie sighs and rolls her eyes, realizing that she should probably be that safety measure. “Go,” she urges, readjusting her grip on the gun to ensure she’ll be quick to the trigger when Michael rises again.

Mallory darts forward to hug her quickly. “Thank you.”

“Enough with the sappy shit.” Even as she says that, you can see the affection in her eyes when she looks at Mallory. “Go!”

You do as she says and hurry up the stairs. Before you turn the corner, you allow yourself a moment to meet Michael’s open, lifeless gaze.

The hallways are much less of a maze than they were when you first arrived here, but the layout is still unfamiliar to you. After leading your group down what you thought was going to lead to the door you were sure contained the room with the tub, you’re met with a dead end. 

Sheepishly, you look over your shoulder at Coco. “I think I’m a little lost. Isn’t there a room with a really large washtub for laundry around here?”

Her eyes light up, and she lightly pushes you to keep you moving.  “Yes! We’re super close.” It’s going to take a bit to get used to her actually being helpful, you think as you follow her directions. “We’re going to go down this hallway here. Now, the weird little junction up ahead? Take a left and then it’s the third door on the right.”

Now you know where you are. “Thank you! I found it my first time going through the Outpost, but I haven’t lived here for eighteen months like you.”

You’re just about to turn left at the junction when a man appears from the other side of the hallway, jabbing a knife into your abdomen before you can even be surprised at the sight. You cry out, the pain sharp and sudden as he pulls the knife out of you with nothing but malice on his face. When he looks up at you, his scowl is replaced by a horrified shock.

“Oh my god, I thought you were—” He sees Coco, standing just behind you. “She was supposed to be you !”

Your shaking hands try to press down on the wound, but blood rushes out through your fingers, and your knees go weak as you crash into the wall. Down the hall, you can hear Mallory scream your name. She runs for you with Zoe hot on her heels.

“What the fuck did you do?” Mallory yells to the man, landing next to you on the floor and gently pulling your hands away so that she can assess the damage. By the way her lips start to tremble, you assume it’s not good.

The man that stabbed you ignores her, instead focusing on Coco. “You ruin everything!” he yells at her, lifting the knife once more.

Coco pushes him over the railing before he can do any more damage. He screams the whole way down, and Coco peers after him. “Sorry?” she calls with a grimace, no love apparently lost.

“This is…a lot of blood,” you note, watching your black dress becoming even darker from the rapidly expanding bloodstain. You’re also in a lot of pain. Fuck, you didn’t think being stabbed would hurt so much.

“It’s okay! It’s alright!” Mallory soothes; you can’t tell who she’s reassuring, herself or you. “I’m going to fix this. I’m going to—I’ll heal you, and then you’ll be fine.”

Your heart is pounding from a mixture of fear and adrenaline. For the first time since your arrival to this Outpost, you’re truly scared. This is a different fear from when you were worried about Emily and Timothy being executed, or when you realized that Michael wanted to have a child with you. It’s even different from the fear of knowing that you and Michael would be on opposing sides now. This is primal—this is terror.

Mallory’s hands hover over your abdomen as she begins to chant in Latin, eyes screwed shut in concentration. Nothing happens, and as the seconds tick by, your entire body starts to go cold. It’s like somebody’s taken a syringe of ice water and injected it right into your veins. You become more faint than before, and decide that laying flat will probably be the best way to rid yourself of this feeling.

“Why isn’t this working?” Mallory cries in frustration, catching your head and placing it in her lap. Tears begin to build in her eyes as she tries the same breathing technique on you as she did Coco and Dinah to bring them back to life, to no avail. You cough wetly, and when you wipe your mouth, your hand comes away red.

The realization hits you then: you’re dying. The overpowering cold, being unable to sit up anymore, the faintness—your body is beginning to shut down against your will.

“Mallory, I’m scared,” you admit.

“I know. I’m sorry. I promise I’m trying.”

“I know.” You smile at the repetition even as you begin to feel so, so tired. Maybe if you close your eyes and rest for a moment, you’ll be able to get enough strength back to help you fight to stay alive.

Your eyes barely close before Mallory starts shaking you. “No, no, please don’t close your eyes!”

Marie Laveau appears at the far end of the hallway you first ran down and yells something to Mallory, but you can’t quite make out what she says over the rushing in your ears. Mallory takes one of your arms and Zoe takes the other, both working together to pull you down the hallway. You watch dizzily as Coco runs to Marie, your vision warping as the two disappear around the corner.

Mallory continues trying to heal you once they have you in the room where you’re meant to go back in time. Her hand, soaked in your blood, runs over your forehead comfortingly as she becomes more frantic in her chanting. Even Zoe tries to help, pressing down on your abdomen in the hopes of slowing the bleeding as she joins Mallory in spellwork. It’s becoming more difficult to hold on as you become weaker, the two taking turns making you open your eyes again.

“Please, please, please,” Mallory begs any and all forces beyond her power that might be listening.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, the effort to produce sounds near herculean.

“Don’t apologize,” she says sternly through tears, earning the smallest of laughs from you.

“Yes, ma’am.” Your hands shake as you feel around for Mallory’s, and you weakly squeeze when you find them. “I love you, Mal. I’m so happy I got to see you again.”

“Stop saying goodbye. I’m going to bring you back, this isn’t goodbye.”

For now, though, it is, and you both know it. When your eyes close this time, they don’t open again, and you feel yourself being dragged down, down, down, away from consciousness and life itself.

With your last remaining strength, you become introspective. You have so many regrets, so many words that you’re going to leave unsaid. You wish you had gotten the chance to actually complete the spell and go back in time, sure that you would have been able to change Michael’s mind. You want to thank Queenie and Zoe and Coco and Marie for their help, for believing that you can help fix the mess the world has become. You wish you could—

•••

Michael has had enough of witches on this Earth, he thinks as he blows Queenie’s head clean off her shoulders after coming back to life. She had been distracted by a body falling from two floors up—whose body it was remained a mystery that Michael didn’t care to solve—providing Michael the element of surprise. Even if she were still prepared, it wouldn’t have mattered. He’s too powerful for anything to stop him now.

Maybe he was naive to believe that a simple nuclear bomb or two could kill them. No, he was definitely naive. After all, Mallory knew that the world would be ending, and soon. That was more than enough time for her to gather her chosen forces and figure out a way to survive. He knows now that his path, the one that Satan had created before he had even created Michael, was always meant to lead to this. In order to truly inherit this new world and rule Hell on Earth, he must eradicate the remaining witches with his own hands.

But what to do with you? You’ve chosen your side for this battle, and it’s not his. He nervously hopes that you’re simply mad at him after how your last conversation devolved into a fight, that Mallory reached you at a vulnerable time and used that to her advantage to recruit you. Once he defeats the witches, you’ll come back to him and he’ll concede that he was perhaps wrong to bring up the idea of having a child at such an intimate moment. Still, seeing you standing in solidarity with the witches hurt, which is likely what the Supreme was planning.

When Michael makes it up the stairs, the reanimated voodoo queen blocks the hallway that he knows you and the witches have gone down. Grabbing a pouch off of her belt, she pours a powder into her hand and spreads it in a line in front of her with a chant.

“You shall not pass,” Marie declares with a smirk, wiping her hands of the powder. Michael juts his hand forward, prepared to rip her heart out of her chest, but an invisible barrier stops him. “You’re dealing with the HBIC now.”

He smiles ruefully. “Clever,” he admits. “Normally, that would work.”

He’s about to show that voodoo magic is no match for him anymore when his blood runs cold and his heart drops. At that same moment, he becomes aware of sobbing coming from far behind Marie. Though Michael’s never felt anything like this before, he can feel the certainty of what it means down to his very core: something’s happened. Specifically, something’s happened to you.

“Let me through,” he demands. Marie falters, taken aback at the fear in his eyes. “Marie Laveau, if you value your second chance at life you’ll let me through.”

She recovers from her hesitation with a haughty laugh. “Nice try.” 

Michael makes quick work of her with a simple snap of his fingers, snapping her neck and sending her right back to the Underworld. He’s just about to clear the barrier and figure out just what is going on when he feels a presence behind him. Rolling his eyes, he turns around to face this distraction as well and comes face to face with Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt, who was with you when he was shot. Surely she must know something about what’s going on.

“What’s happened?” Michael asks. The knife that Coco was prepared to stab him with goes limp in her wrist, and she gapes at him. “Where’s Y/n?”

“She was…Brock…” She weakly mimes a stabbing motion.

“No.” He feels sick at the mere implication. “No!”

Coco now the least of his worries, he runs down the hallway, the whole time hoping that it’s a mistake, that Coco misinterpreted what she saw, that the cold emptiness now residing in his chest is simply a fluke. The sobs that become more clear as he nears the entryway, however, don’t do much to reassure him.

“Mallory!” Michael gasps. 

The Supreme is on the floor with you in her lap, and for a moment, Michael can delude himself into thinking that you’re okay. The excessive amount of blood on the floor—your blood—and the unnaturally limp way that your hand is lying force him to face the obvious. Michael’s knees give out, and he falls to the floor harshly.

Mallory looks up at him, forgetting that they’re meant to be enemies right now. “She got stabbed, and—” a sob rips from her chest, “my healing spells aren’t working. And neither is Vitalum Vitalis. It should be working, Michael, I’m the fucking Supreme.”

“Okay. Um, let me…” Michael’s brain is fighting a war between shutting down from the agony of this situation and kicking into overdrive to figure out how to get you back. After a moment, he thinks he might have an idea. He tries to pull you out of Mallory’s arms and into his own, but she refuses to loosen her hold on you. “Mallory, I need to hold her.”

While he does need to be able to touch you for the spell, he’s not really asking for that purpose. He feels that he might soon lose his grasp on sanity if he can’t hold your body. No, he needs you as close to him as possible, to try and capture the warmth of your body so that he might remind himself that you’ve only just left, that he can still get you back. Begrudgingly, Mallory allows him to hold you, but she still keeps one of your hands in hers.

He’d like to say that it looks like you’re sleeping, comforting himself with the platitude most mourners claim upon seeing a body. He’d be lying, though, because he knows what you look like when you’re sleeping. The way that your face scrunches at the smallest sensation, how your eyes move under their lids and your mouth forms silent words when you’re dreaming particularly deeply, the intermittent light snoring that you swear you don’t do. If you were simply sleeping, he’d play the prince to your Sleeping Beauty and wake you with a kiss, revealing your amused smile and your fond gaze.

Now, there’s none of that. You’ve been dead for mere minutes, but already the signs of death are here. Your face is as slack as all of your muscles now are, making your cheekbones more prominent and your mouth hinge slightly open. A sallowness has started to take over your skin, and he finds himself tracing the apples of your cheeks in a futile attempt to coax blood back to the surface. He even swears that he can feel your body growing colder, just like he feared.

It takes Michael some time to remember what he’s meant to be doing. All of this grief and pain will hopefully be for nothing, so long as he can hold himself together for a little bit longer. He takes a deep breath, hesitating for a moment before dropping his forehead against yours. Tears are threatening to fall, and when he closes his eyes to try and hold them back, it only hastens their arrival. They roll, hot and thick, off of his face and onto yours, and he wipes them off with a silent apology.

Finally, Michael slips into a dissociation as he begins to walk between the realms of living and dead. He’s done this more than a few times now for varying reasons, becoming pretty adept at finding a soul and bringing it back to the living plane. The hardest part by far is always calming his mind enough to be able to attempt this in the first place; the fact that he’s been able to achieve it in this circumstance is a small miracle. 

Now that he’s in the so-called in-between, he begins his search. Every single soul has a signature to it, so as long as he knows who he’s looking for, he usually finds the rest of this process to be pretty straightforward. Since your soul is so near and dear to him, he’s expecting this to take a couple of minutes at most.

A minute passes, then another, as he tries to track your soul down. Michael begins to grow concerned; considering you just died, he shouldn’t be having to search this hard. There’s a complete lack of you anywhere, and he begins to shake as he’s faced with the increasingly likely potential that your soul is gone. But how? Why? With a chilling clarity, he knows exactly what’s happened.

His father has become displeased. Whether he’s had enough of your and Michael’s collective disobedience over the years—Satan holds a grudge like no other, after all—or your declaration that you would never bear Michael’s child or be the perfect wife that Satan had planned for you to be. He’s had enough, and now, he’s taken this opportunity to make good on the threats he first warned Michael about during the poison apple saga. He’s made sure that you’re out of the picture for good. If Michael knows Satan, he’s probably already picked out some girl back at the Sanctuary to be wife number two, and this time, she would be the most devout, demure Satanist who would never even think of going against Satan’s will.

But Michael doesn’t want another wife. No, what he wants is to lay here on the floor and die right along with you, following you into whatever afterlife you’ve found yourself in in the hopes that he can continue to love you there. How can he ever be expected to love another person that’s not you? What kind of a life is there for him to live if you’re not here to share in it?

“Is everything okay?” Mallory asks, reminding him that there’s another person in this room, one who’s going to feel her own devastation at this news.

“I can’t find her. My father…” He chokes on his own words, unable to actually say the fate that’s befallen you. Instead, he can only cry.

Mallory picks up on the context clues, and her face drops. “So that’s it? She’s gone?”

The nod Michael gives her is the most painful movement of his life. When Mallory collapses, he also forgets the pretense of enemies and allows her to fall against him. It’s mainly for his own benefit—were he not using Mallory for support, he would be in a heap on top of you.

They remain without words for a while. Distantly, he’s aware of Zoe talking to Coco down that damned hall, the two wondering what to do now. He hopes that they come up with an answer, because he has no clue. In his opinion, there’s nowhere else to go from here. Though he may not have physically died, his life has ended along with yours in this room.

“Were you telling the truth?” Michael asks finally, making Mallory look up. “About Jeff and Mutt?”

He almost doesn’t want to know, but before he can change his mind, she nods. “All they cared about were themselves. They were fed up with minor inconveniences—having to wait for coffee, traffic woes—and wanted to ‘wipe the slate clean.’ They thought that they could reshape the world to how they wanted, and they used a vulnerable Antichrist to do so. Ms. Mead changed her tune from magic to fire and blood because Jeff and Mutt were feeding her the commands.”

He so badly wants her to be lying, but even if he couldn’t sense her truthfulness, he has his own memories to rely on. How suddenly Ms. Mead suggested that world destruction was preferred to world domination (and that the two cokehead idiots would be the guys to talk to about that) had always seemed a little odd to him, but he simply went along with it, believing Ms. Mead to still be his trusted advisor. This revelation simply makes Michael cry harder until he’s almost matching Mallory’s earlier sobs. She puts her free hand on his shoulder in comfort. Though he appreciates the gesture, nothing can bring him comfort.

All of this pain and death and destruction has been for naught. Michael spent years chasing his father’s approval and doing terrible things, things that made him so sick to think about that he forced himself to compartmentalize them in order to not drown in his shame. He’s shirked friends, love, and basic morals, only to find out that his father didn’t even care if the world ended this way. No, all Satan wanted was power and sin, which he got in spades these past eighteen months. 

“How were you going to stop me?” he asks.

Mallory hesitates. “We…we were going to go back in time. There’s a spell that I found when searching through the coven’s grimoires to help with your Cordelia issue. I practiced it a few times before the bombs dropped, trying to figure out the right way to do it. Y/n was going to be both your personal tie and the one convincing you to stop the apocalypse. She had a time in place where she thought that you would be most willing to listen, to change your mind.”

It’s a smart plan, and it probably would have worked. After all, you likely know (knew, he’s reminded harshly) him better than he knows himself. As he thinks about the what-ifs, Michael realizes that this doesn’t have to be something that never happens.

“So, if you and I were to go back in time together, then we could change all of this?” Michael asks.

Mallory gapes at him. “You’re willing to give all this up?”

“What, this empty, decimated kingdom that I don’t even want?” 

In the eighteen months since the apocalypse, Michael had found that he was not suited for being a ruler—he didn’t like the pomp and circumstance, nor did he like people fawning over him. Still, he pretended to be the cold, uncaring king of this “New World,” because he thought that was what Satan wanted, that he was fulfilling the destiny that he was born to.

Now, there’s nothing left to fight for. The world didn’t even need to be ended, let alone in this way. He’s been nothing but a pawn to people his whole life—the Satanists, the warlocks, the stupid fucks that ran Kineros, even Satan himself. He’s done. Done with this stupid, useless path he’s taken, done with hurting everything and everyone, and done with bowing to the whims of anybody.

After all, what has he got to show for any of this? He’s been a good little soldier, doing unspeakably horrific acts and acting like he wasn’t affected, like he wasn’t the Michael that he was before the apocalypse. How did Satan reward him? By ensuring that he would never get back the one person in his life that he has ever truly loved, and who had ever truly loved him. 

“I can’t—I can’t live a life without Y/n. There is nothing without her. What do I need to do to help you?”

“Promise me,” she says. “Promise me that you will not use this second chance to end the world once again.”

“I just found out I ended the world for no reason, Mallory. A world that I was slowly coming to love, before Cordelia informed me that I needed to speed up the apocalypse plans I had been led to believe were created by my father. Before I was upset by people trying to convince me that blowing everything up was a bad idea.” Because of course, Satan would take credit for those plans if it meant that he would be closer to getting the complete chaos it would create. “Why would I try to end it again?”

Mallory searches his face for a moment before nodding. “I believe you.” 

She’s known him for long enough now to know his tells, and she sees none of them. Right now, he’s too much of a wreck to even consider trying to lie, not that he was planning on it.

Mallory slowly stands, but not before kissing the back of your hand and laying it gently on your chest. “Come on.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael whispers to you, kissing your forehead. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m going to make this right.”

It takes strength he didn’t know he possessed to lay you down and let go of your body. Even as he walks away, going against every instinct and leaving you on the floor, he can’t take his eyes off of you.

Mallory climbs into the large washtub in the corner of the room, flicking her wrist and filling it with water. Michael follows her in, ignoring the uncomfortable sensation of sitting in wet clothes.

“Think of a time that you believe it will be easiest to completely stop the apocalypse before it goes too far,” she instructs.

There are many times in the past two years that Michael can see as a good time to stop the apocalypse. First, he’s tempted to go back to the beginning of this mess, when the witches killed Ms. Mead. Plans for the end of the world hadn’t even been drawn up yet, and he would have the added benefit of having Ms. Mead back. Plus, you wouldn’t have gone through the trauma of being kidnapped and forced to be the Antichrist’s bride.

It’s incredibly selfish, but the more Michael thinks about that avenue, the less he wants to take it. While it’s unfortunate how you came to know each other, he wouldn’t trade the way that you and he fell in love with each other for anything. But on the practical side, he wouldn’t have the influence that he has over important people and organizations were he to go back that far, and he needs that if he’s going to have enough power to keep the world from ending altogether. That’s off the table, then.

He wishes that you had told Mallory of your idea before being fatally wounded, because he probably would have agreed with your assessment. If it was any time after you moved in with him, he was already so in love with you that he could easily be swayed. What makes the most sense?

Finally, Michael has it. The time where he can be most effective at changing the fate of the world and ensuring there will not be an apocalypse by his hand, can remain powerful enough to not be usurped as Antichrist (for he’s sure that Satan will be very displeased by the change of plans if he finds out about Michael changing fate), and can still have you.

He opens his eyes and nods. “I have it.”

“Okay,” Mallory says with a hopeful smile. “Focus on that as hard as you can, place us both there.”

It’s all he can think about now, but he does as she says and recreates that time in his head. The sights, the sounds, the smells. How your hand felt in his, and the brightness of your smile. The possibilities that, at that time, seemed endless. Mallory holds her hands out and Michael takes them, feeling their magic bouncing off of each other like sparks from two exposed wires.

“Balneum infinitum. Dona salui conductus.” Mallory repeats the chant two more times, the water bubbling around them furiously and turning darker with each word.

Michael knows even without Mallory’s instruction that he’s needed to say the last part of the spell, and what that last part is. Just before they submerge themselves under the water, their voices join together to cast the most important spell of their lives.

“Tempus Infinituum.”

•••

Endnotes: Wow. I thought this would be a particularly tough chapter to write, but as I got going, the story flowed easily. I think because I've had this scene stuck in my head for so long! My FBI agent is definitely concerned by how thoroughly I read those "what happens to a body after a person dies" articles.

ALSO the Jeff and Mutt thing is canon!

Anyways, I'm gonna go watch some cute animal videos to feel better. Take care of yourselves, alright?

@ajokeformur-ray @iamavailablesstuff @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @nsainmoonchild @redroses07

@xo-angel-ox @littleangel4996 @iamlivingforturner @thatonehumanbeing05

@codycrazy @love-on-the-murder-scene

#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x reader #american horror story #ahs imagine #american horror story imagine #michael langdon imagines #mad love musings