#The last thing I want is to see us carry those things into the future regardless of whether we are independent or not | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imawreck · 26 days ago

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Darkness

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Reader

Summary: You're left with flushed cheeks and a shared secret with the darkest part of Bucky Barnes... and you want more.

Author's Note: You guys fucking DEVOURED the last one so this is the sequel to the previous part, His. It makes more sense if you read the other first! If you like this content, drop a comment or an ask and I'll be sure to write more like it in the future! It gets a little feral and I won't apologize for it. Also, there is possibly a part three on the table if this ship sails like the last.

Warnings: Choking kink, metal arm kink, Cursing, mentions self loathing/guilt (it’s Bucky, kinda normal), Possessive!Winter Soldier, hair pulling, fingering, Dominant!Winter Soldier, hickeys, bruising, PnV, praise kink if you squint, licking, oral (fem receiving), knife play (?) and probably some more but those are the big ones.

Word Count: 6,899

It had been two days.

Two days since you’d tried and failed to lure the Winter Soldier into a cell. Two days since you’d felt his hands on your body.

Two days since he’d given you a taste of what you could have.

He’d left his mark on more than just your skin. Though bruises and love bites littered your neck, it was your mind that he’d left the most impact on.

There was hardly a moment you weren’t thinking about him, about Winter. About what would’ve happened if the agents hadn’t stormed the stairwell. If he’d been able to keep going.

And you wondered if you’d ever get another chance to see.

Bucky had recovered, his mind once more his own. You didn’t know if he remembered, or if he would say anything to you even if he did. It’d been radio silence from everyone in the tower other than Steve, who’d been checking in on you to make sure you were really alright. You were sure Thor would be here hounding you if he was on the planet too.

Apparently, the earpiece had fallen out a little after he’d cornered you. So Steve and whoever else that was watching over you didn’t hear much of the conversation you’d exchanged with the assassin. They’d had to rely on the cameras, which hadn’t been able to see you past the wall of a man caging you between his arms.

Which means none of them had seen what had happened, that this was something only you carried the knowledge of. A small part of you was relieved.

That still left one question unanswered: Did Bucky remember?

A sharp knock jolted you from your thoughts, dragging you back to the present.

Blowing out a breath, you got up and headed towards the door. “Steve, I told you I’m fine. I—“

But when you opened the door, it wasn’t Steve on the other side.

It was strange how different those blue eyes were when it was Bucky at the wheel instead of Winter. Lively, pooling with emotion where you’d seen cold calculation and unbridled lust just days before.

It was guilt swimming in those eyes now, red rimmed and bloodshot. His dark hair was disheveled like he’d been running his fingers through it all afternoon, and he wore a loose pair of sweats and a black long sleeve despite the summer heat.

He looked scared and out of place standing in the hall.

“I—uh, hey.” A poor attempted smile wobbled onto his face, and he brought his flesh hand up to run through his hair—a nervous habit he had when he was uncomfortable or anxious — just like you’d guessed. “Can we talk?”

You opened your mouth to answer him but no words left it. You could only stare up at him and nod, feet shuffling back to pull the door open further.

Bucky’s frame squeezed through the door and he padded further into your space with wandering eyes and furrowed brows.

It was impossible not to notice the changes you’d made in the last few months since your breakup. Bucky used to frequently stay with you, favoring your bright and comforting space over his own empty room. You liked your knick-knacks, and you were a sucker for creature comforts so you always had the softest blankets and the fluffiest pillows. And you’d always made sure Bucky had things he liked in your space.

You used to keep his favorite coffee stocked in the mini breakfast bar you’d made on a bar cart, and his favorite pillow and throw blanket was always neatly folded in the armchair by the window. You’d even set out copies of his favorite books in case he wanted to relax in your room instead of the commons area or his own space.

But now it was gone. The little pieces of him you’d made room for were removed along with the photos that used to line your walls and bookcase. Save for the one, of course.

And it stung to see the reality of what he’d done, the choice he’d made now reflected in the absence of everything he’d built with you.

He pried his eyes away from the empty shelves of your bookcase and glanced back at you, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “I… Steve said that I went after you when I got back.”

His statement hung in the air for a few seconds, silence crowding you both and making him tense his shoulders the longer it remained.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, “I can’t imagine how awful that was for you. I-I never wanted you to see me like that. That- He’s not me, okay? God, I’m so sorry.” His fingers scraped over his scalp as he clenched his teeth, turning away and pacing a few steps.

Bucky couldn’t look at you, not after what he’d done. What he’d forced you to witness. He’d never wanted you to see him like that. It was one of his worst nightmares when you had been dating, and now it was a brutal reality.

“Bucky,” you started, but he cut you off.

“Did I hurt you? Did… did I do something to you?”

It struck you then that he didn’t remember what he’d done. What Winter had done. And your room was too dark at the moment to see what remained painted on your skin from the encounter.

You were both relieved, and utterly frustrated. Now what do you do? ‘Oh yeah, Bucky! I let you finger me with your metal arm in a stairwell for shits and giggles while you were all killer mode. No biggie.’ And then what, ask for him to do it again?

Yeah, definitely not.

“You didn’t hurt me, Bucky.” Your legs moved on their own accord, drawn forward by his obvious distress and the instinctual need to sooth his worries. “I’m fine, really.”

Bucky finally turned to face you, his eyes filled with sorrow. He chewed his cheek, his eyes searching your face for any hint of a lie. “I can't remember what happened, there's just glimpses.” His voice lowered, softened by the weight of his words and the fear woven in his tone. “But I can feel him. Stronger than before. Something’s different this time.”

You stilled at that, eyes glued to the side of his face.

“I can feel what he felt. I-it's like he’s just behind a curtain.” His right arm came up, his index finger tapping his temple, “Waiting.”

The haunted look in his eyes twisted a knife of guilt in your gut. You didn’t want him to feel guilty for what had happened, but it was unfortunately normal for Bucky. You understood it, respected his boundaries and his need to do anything he could to keep you safe. But you wanted exactly what he was keeping from you.

You wanted it so badly.

Could you tell him? Could you confide in him this secret you’d kept from lovers in the past? Something so twisted that you’d only shared it with someone equally as sadistic as you were flawed? Bucky was so much more important to you than any of them had been. You… you felt deeply for him. And it was obvious that the unknown was weighing on him heavily.

One more look at his shattered expression gave you your answer.

With a frustrated huff, you reached for his hand. You tugged it from where it’d curled itself into his hair again, and led him to the edge of your bed. “Bucky,” you started, keeping your voice as gentle as you could. “I need to tell you something. It’s going to be hard to understand, and you’ll probably think very differently of me, but I think it might lessen the burden I can see you’re putting on yourself.”

Bucky’s eyes fixed on you. Those brows furrowed over confused and tortured eyes, but it was obvious that he would listen.

You bit your lip, beginning to sweat as the nerves rattled through you. “First of all, I… I haven’t told anyone this. It’s not something I’m proud of, but rather something that just is. And it didn’t start with you. I mean—,” you let out a sound of frustration, “Fuck, I mean I didn’t date you because of it. It just sort of grew more complicated as we got closer.”

Those brows furrowed more and twisted his face into more concern than anything.

You kept going. “When you came after me, I was scared. Of course I would be.” You winced at the hurt that flashed in his eyes, but continued on, “But I also… I liked it.”

A shaky, bitter laugh left you. “I liked the chase. I liked it when he cornered me against the wall, when he—,” you paused, a feeling akin to resignation and begrudging acceptance settling into your bones. Your eyes found his metal hand, gazing at the light bouncing off the silver metal. “When he choked me with that hand.”

You buried your face in your palms, tears of shame threatening to leak from your eyes. “You didn’t hurt me. He didn’t hurt me, Bucky. He just brought to light these things I thought I’d kept from you.”

With another breath, one that felt like needles sinking into your lungs, you went on. “He made me feel good, Buck, in all the ways I’d always hoped you would someday. I feel like the worst person in the world for thinking that, for feeling the way I do, but I can’t help it.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes. Shame was writhing in your stomach and threatening to consume you. Tears pricked your eyes and wet your palms that still remained pressed to your face.

Bucky didn’t say a word, and you just let the silence thicken the air. You’d already said everything there was to say.

Your sin was bared for his judgment. “I get that you don’t want to be with me anymore—“

“That’s a lie.”

Your head snapped up at that, teary eyes wide as you took in his surprised expression. An expression you watched morph into confusion, and then something else. Realization, maybe.

Bucky went on, “I never wanted to stop being with you, Y/N.”

A piece of you settled deep in your soul at that confession, and you leaned in to listen. Every word from his lips an answer to the question haunting your every thought for the past three months.

“On that mission, we came across intel that there might be a mole in the tower and that they were going to try and trigger the Winter Soldier. I… I was scared, Y/N.” Grief washed over his face as he folded his hands together, knuckles turning white. “I was so scared that you’d see me like that and be afraid of me. I was terrified of hurting you, of— of killing you, that I had to make it look like you didn’t matter to me. I had to make it real, so that whoever saw you and I would think you didn’t matter and leave you alone. I was trying to make you less of a target.”

Your heart thundered in your chest at his confession, at the thought that these past two months of utter disaster had been the result of Bucky trying to protect you from himself.

“You could’ve talked to me,” you muttered, sniffing and wiping your face in a poor attempt to rid it of the mascara you knew had run. “You could’ve told me what was going on.”

Bucky’s head shook, “There wasn’t time. You have to understand.”

You nodded, even if you didn’t truly understand. The guilt and remorse on his face told you he was on the edge of crumbling, and if agreeing with him kept him from breaking, you’d give it to him.

Another long silence blanketed the two of you. You watched his face, his eyes, as his mind mulled over the information you had exchanged with him.

Those blue eyes found your’s after a while, something steely in them that wasn’t there before. “Friday?”

The AI of Stark Tower answered politely, “Yes, Mr. Barnes?”

“Initiate Soldier Protocol in Y/N’s room and cut camera feed. Don’t alert anyone.”

Soldier Protocol.

Your eyes widened, and a chill ran over your skin. Soldier Protocol was something Bucky had come up with when you’d first started dating. It was a safety protocol installed into yours and his own room to ensure that if the Winter Soldier was triggered, it would keep whoever was in the room safe, or keep whoever was trying to get inside from entering. It was a double edged sword, really, because if you were trapped in the room with him, then you couldn’t get out. Bucky had made sure to teach you some basic self defense moves on the very slim chance that would ever happen and had shown you ways that you could use to evade and make an escape to the bathroom if needed. Even though you’d thought of all the holes in the protocol, you couldn’t bear to voice them if it helped ease Bucky’s nerves knowing that if something were to happen, that you’d have an extra wall to keep him from getting to you.

“Confirm Command; Soldier Protocol, Miss Y/N?”

You hesitated, voice wavering just the slightest as you whispered, “Are you sure?”

Bucky nodded slowly, giving you the confidence you needed to answer the AI.

“Confirm Soldier Protocol, Friday. No alerts or cameras.”

The calming voice answered once more. “Command Confirmed. Soldier Protocol initiated.”

Your eyes followed the windows as metal safety doors shut out the dim light of the day. One after another they locked out the outside world and left the two of you inside the confines of your bedroom.

You and Bucky, and your confessions.

“He wants out, Y/N.” It was barely a whisper, but the low timbre of Bucky’s voice reverberated in your bones. “He wants you.”

There was concern laced in his words, but there was also more. So much more that you knew you’d have to talk about later. You’d have time to unpack all of this, what it means for the two of you, later. Right now?

Right now you needed Winter as desperately as you needed air.

“What… How can I help you, Bucky?” Your hands shook at the thought of Winter's return. Of what it would bring.

Bucky pulled his lip between his teeth, his hands running through his hair before twisting themselves in his lap. His eyes were wide, as if he didn’t quite believe he would say the words spilling from his own mouth. “I want you to trigger the Winter Soldier. Feeling him there— it’s driving me mad. An-and now that we know he won’t hurt you and that you… you want him—.”

You reached for his hand, concerned that if he kept squeezing them as tight as he was that he’d break bone. “Bucky, it’s okay.” You tilted your head, smiling softly at him, “Take a breath. There’s a few things I want to set straight before we jump into this.”

His voice lowered, “Okay.”

Bucky was obviously torn up over this whole thing. And as excited as you were to repeat what went on in that stairwell, this was someone you cared about for more than just sex.

This was Bucky.

This was the man who’d apologized with the biggest bouquet of flowers you’d ever laid eyes on the day after your first encounter with Winter. The same man who’d apologized for months after with cute little notes and trinkets he knew you loved and still kept in that shoebox under your bed. The exact same man you’d opened your heart to one Saturday night over a tub of butterscotch ice cream and the third playthrough of your favorite movie. He didn’t complain that you’d watched it back to back either.

This was the man you’d fallen in love with in just a few short months.

The realization settled into your heart, and that warm tingly feeling swept over you as you tightened your hold on his flesh hand and reached for his metal one too.

Bucky hesitated, jerking it away for a moment before allowing you to tug it into your lap. “Buck,” you started, thumbs swiping over his hands in slow calming paths. “It isn’t just the Winter Soldier I like about you. You know that, right? Because if you don’t, I’ve failed as your lover. And as your friend.”

Those blue eyes darted between your own, searching there like a man searching for salvation. You gave his hands another squeeze, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I… I love you, Bucky. You. I think I’ve known for a while now. I was just too scared to admit it out loud. I haven’t had the best run with guys in the past, and you’re so good that I was afraid I’d ruin you somehow.”

Your eyes fell to your joined hands, and this time he was the one to squeeze back.

“I know it’s kind of shitty timing, but I need you to understand that I’m not with you for any other reason other than the simple fact that I adore you, Bucky Barnes. Everything about you.” You shook your head, frowning. “I meant it when I told you I wasn’t with you just because of Winter. I’ve always had this attraction to… well, you know. Dating you just made it more difficult to hide when you were obviously so uncomfortable with it. I didn’t want to make things hard for you. I just wanted you to be happy.”

“Doll,” he mumbled, the name drawing your eyes to him. You’d always loved it when he called you that. “Say it again.”

You frowned, confused for a moment, before a small smile drew itself onto your face. “I love you, Bucky.”

A choked sound fell from his lips before his arms circled around your waist and pulled you into his lap, his face inches from yours. “Again. Say it again,” he begged, his breath fanned over your face as his fingers fisted the back of your shirt. “Please, doll, say it again.”

You folded your legs around his hips, threading your fingers into his hair and peppering kisses on his face. “I love you.”

“Me?” It was the most broken sound you’d ever heard.

You grabbed his face, tilting it up to look at you and tried your best to pour every ounce of love into your expression. “You, James. I love you. I’ll say it a billion times if I have to until I get it through that ridiculously handsome head of yours.”

He laughed at that, broken as it sounded. “I love you too, Y/N. God, I fucking love you.”

Soft lips crashed into yours, dancing a familiar dance as his flesh hand slipped under your shirt and glided up your spine. Your breath caught as the cool sensation of his metal fingers followed after it, his arm wrapping around your back. You smiled against his lips, leaning into him more.

You nearly pouted when he pulled away.

“Y/N,” those eyes, less uncertain and more determined now, swept over your face. “I want you to trigger him.”

You frowned, “But Bucky, you—.”

“I need this.” His voice was surprisingly steady, “I need to do this otherwise it’ll drive me mad. Feeling him there— Jesus, it’s like someone’s scraping a knife against my skull.”

Metal fingers drew circles against your back, “Are you okay with… with seeing him again? I’m not confident enough to do what he did yet. I need more time to come to terms with the damage this hand has done.” He pulled the appendage away, looking it over before his eyes found you again. “But I… I can tell he won’t hurt you. I can feel it,” he pulled his flesh hand away and pressed it over his heart. “Right here.”

He laughed, almost incredulously. “Even the Winter Soldier has fallen in love with you.”

All you could hear was the pounding of your heart in your ears. He wanted you to trigger the Winter Soldier. He said that he loved you, and that Winter did too.

It would really fucking suck if you were dreaming.

“I don’t know your words,” you mumbled, suddenly shy in the light of his proclamation.

This time, the smile he gave was one that reminded you of those old photos from the 40s you’d seen in the history museum. The one where the left side crooks up a bit more than the right. He didn’t release you, but instead wrapped his left arm around your hips and leaned back to rifle through the top drawer of your nightstand for the notepad you always left in there.

He pulled it back to himself and released you only long enough to scribble down a few words and tear off the page. “You’ll have to memorize them. I don’t want them to leave this room.”

You nodded, because of course he wouldn’t and you’d rather swallow hot coals than ever betray him. Your eyes scanned the page a dozen times when he handed it to you, lips moving in silence as you played with the foreign vowels.

All the while those strong hands of his trailed along your back and hips, sometimes exploring your upper thigh.

It made your mind foggy, and you had to keep yourself from squinting to focus.

After you’d finally memorized them, you remove yourself from Bucky’s lap and padded over to your bookcase. You snagged the candle lighter from a shelf, and then removed the bag from your trash bin. It took a few tries, but once the lighter ignited, you let the flames eat away at the page before dropping it into the bin and watching until it was nothing but ash at the bottom.

You could hear a breath of relief leave the soldier from where he remained seated at the edge of your bed. He looked somewhat relaxed, but a tension still ran along his shoulders.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You returned to the bed, smiling a bit as his arms wrapped around the back of your thighs.

Bucky hummed, low and steady. “M’sure, Doll.” He leaned his head against your stomach, and your hands found his hair on instinct.

He hummed again at the touch, and his arms tightened around your legs before he lifted you. Bucky turned quickly, one knee coming up onto the bed before he laid you down with a thump on the mattress.

You smiled, laughing a little as you bounced from the sudden drop. Bucky grinned back, his eyes shining. “Missed you, you know. I’m sorry for not telling you.” He leaned over you, hands planting on either side of your head. Nothing but honesty shined in those blue eyes as he looked down at you. “I’m sorry for wasting three months, and I promise I won’t do that again.”

Butterflies stirred in your belly, and you could feel the flush of heat on your neck as you leaned up and planted a kiss on his lips, “Better not.”

Before you could think much of it, Bucky reached over and flicked the lamp on. You were too busy feeling fuzzy inside that you’d forgotten the very prominent marks littering the delicate flesh of your neck.

Marks that would always make Bucky drown in guilt.

“Fuck, doll.”

He stared at your neck, horror painting his face in the lamplight. His body lifted until he was sitting on his knees over you, hands resting on his lap like he didn’t know what to do with them as he took in the damage he’d left.

This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen. “Hey, no—,” you gripped the front of his shirt, the sudden motion catching him off guard as you pulled yourself up to his face, forcing him to look you in the eyes. You would’ve liked to yank him back over you, but you lacked the ability to battle his serum-enhanced strength. Sitting up did just fine.

“You don’t get to feel guilty for this. Not now, and not anytime after this if you… if we’re serious about doing this.” You stared him down, unwilling to allow him even a glance away. “I told you, I liked it. I told you that it didn’t hurt. You need to trust me as much as I trust you in this. That’s the only way this,” you motioned between you both, “is going to work.” You lowered your voice, nearly mumbling the last part. “I can’t take another step back, Buck. Not after three months, and definitely not after that.”

Bucky’s eyes danced between yours for a few moments. They darted down to your marred skin and back again several times before he blew out a breath and nodded reluctantly.

Your shoulders eased too.

“Now come back here and kiss me, soldier. Your girl’s in need.” You smiled, quirking a playful brow in an attempt to draw him back in.

It worked. That smile pulled at his lips, small at first but quickly blooming as you began peppering his jaw with kisses.

The kisses started gentle and exploring, and the touches soft and sweet. You hadn’t felt his skin against yours for three long months, save for two days ago, and you’d missed everything that made him Bucky.

You’d missed how the stubble of his chin brushed your cheeks when you kissed, and how he held your face like you were the most precious thing he’d ever touched. Delicate and worthy of worship.

You’d missed him so much it hurt.

“Bucky,” you panted, tugging his shirt as you kissed him. “I love you.”

A deep, rumbling groan left him, and his tongue swept across your bottom lip. “I love you, Y/N. So damn much.”

His flesh hand cupped the back of your neck and guided your head to the side so he could place the tenderest kisses over each hickey Winter had left. “He’s a brute,” Bucky mumbled against the column of your throat, stealing your breath. “If he hurts you–.”

“He won’t, James.” You pressed your forehead to his shoulder, biting your lip as his flesh hand trailed all the way from your neck to the base of your spine. “I know it.”

You only got a hum in response before his lips crashed into yours again. Bucky’s hands were everywhere, confident and warm on one side and tentative and gentle with the other, much colder one. The contrast sent delicious tingles along your skin wherever he touched and only served to heighten your anticipation.

This was the first time Bucky himself had allowed so much of a brush of his metal arm against you, let alone tender touch.

His palms mapped every dip and crest of your body, his touch growing more needy with each sweep of his skin against yours. His tongue slid over your lips again, a silent request that you were all too happy to accept.

You couldn’t help the satisfied sound that escaped you as the taste of him swept over you, familiar and strong. Things only hastened from there. It was like a switch had flipped and he couldn’t bear not to have his hands on you.

He kissed you hard, chasing you with lips and tongue like a man starved. The feather light touches of his hands turned more firm as he held your hips and pulled you closer. Bucky’s chest heaved, his breaths fanning over you between kisses in hot puffs.

You could tell he was still holding back. That he needed this as much as the burning need in your core told you that you did. “Bucky,” the sound was practically a whine, “Please.”

His fingers curled against your hips, “Fuck. Okay, okay.” Wet kisses were trailed down your neck as his hands slipped beneath your shirt to sweep calloused thumbs over your aching nipples. “Say them, doll. Say the words.”

You deserved a fucking gold metal for succeeding to pull your mind out of the fog he’d clouded your brain with. It always happened with him. Your mind just short circuited every time he cast you a heated glance, and this? Well, it was a miracle you could remember your own name.

You opened your mouth, the words you’d memorized tumbling out one after another.

“Longing.” Bucky grunted, but didn’t stop in his ministrations as you spoke the next.

“Rusted.” Another grunt, and a tremor through his shoulders, but his lips never left your skin. In fact, it just seemed to spur him further as his hands tugged your shirt down to reveal the delicate skin of your breasts.

“Furn-,” you gasped as his lips locked onto a nipple, tongue teasing expertly over the nub. “Furnace.”

The hum he released sent skittering tingles across your body in the most delicious way.

“Finish, baby.”

Fucking hell. What was the next word?

“Daybreak,” his hands lowered to your ass and held it firmly against him as he licked and sucked the sensitive skin of your breasts, never missing a beat. “Seventeen.”

Those devilish hands dragged lower, fingers trailing along the seam of your panties through your leggings and along the underside of your thighs where they met the curve of your ass. Inches from where you needed him most.

You could barely suck in a breath, utterly overwhelmed by the sensation of his mouth on your skin and those hands mapping your body in agonizingly slow strokes that sent waves of need straight to your core. “Benign,” his body arched over yours, easing you into the mattress, “Nine.”

Another shudder this time, and you could see the ripple of muscle beneath that tight black shirt. God did you want it off of him.

“Homecoming.”

A groan, and a shake of his head. It was the first indicator that he was uncomfortable.

You hesitated at the pained sound, but you didn’t have time to ask a thing though. Not when his head snapped up and those wide, wild blue eyes found yours. “Don’t stop,” he panted, cheeks flushed.

So you didn’t.

“One.”

Wet lips trailed kisses down the exposed skin of your stomach, the tips of his dark hair trailing down as he kissed past your naval and kept going. Lower, lower, lower…

“Freight Car.” The words sounded strangled in your throat through your labored breathing.

The kisses stopped abruptly, and Bucky’s body went stock still.

You weren’t even sure he was breathing until the even rush of an exhale swept against your stomach.

And then he chuckled.

It wasn’t the kind you’d normally hear from Bucky. It wasn’t filled with joy, or playfulness. This one sounded depraved and downright corrupt.

The hairs on your neck raised, and that sharp bite of panic jolted through you as you stared down at his large frame hovering over you. You couldn’t see his face from this angle, and the lack of any hint of what was going through his head only heightened the tension building in your body.

“Told you, didn’t I?” His voice was a rumble in the silence, and you gasped when his tongue swept a path up the center of your belly. “You fucking need me.”

Cold fingers hooked the waistband of your leggings and shucked them off in one quick motion, the cool air assaulting your exposed skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. You simply stared up at him and tried to remember to breathe beneath the weight of his eyes on your body.

Those cold, lust-lidded eyes.

“Winter,” you breathed, a thrum of excitement mingling with the nerves tingling under your skin. The ache you felt was at the forefront of your mind. Bucky’s gentle touches had served to stir the need that was already brewing.

Now, Winter has come to finish the job.

He smiled, slow and sultry. “Needy little thing, aren't you, Dollface?”

You bit your lip as heat crept up your neck.

Winter’s body rose to his knees, his hands curling around your thighs in a bruising grip and lifting them over his shoulders. You yelped, but it didn’t stop him. Those thick corded forearms locked your legs in place over his shoulders, his face centimeters from your core and the stubble of his jaw tickling your thighs.

You were almost certain you'd soaked through the thin pair of panties you wore.

His hands dragged up your thighs, fingers slipping beneath the fabric at your hips as he held your eyes.

And then he ripped them at the seams. The puny fabric fell to the mattress in tatters, and all you could do was gawk at him.

“Don’t wear those when you’re with me.” Winter ordered against your thigh, his tongue swiping a path up the inner stripe of skin.

The action sent another wave of want through you, the anticipation of what he was going to do serving to build your nerves higher and higher.

He drew you closer by your hips, humming against your skin. The sweep of hot air over you was a welcome sensation and you arched into it. Your heart pounded, and the angle in which your body was held, your head still resting against the mattress along with your shoulders, made it hard to think.

Winter stopped just short of brushing his lips over your sensitive clit. You could’ve cried right then and there. Blinking up at him, you caught the wicked grin plastered on his face.

The soldier above you looked downright god-like bathed in the dim light of the room. His eyes gleamed, and that silver arm danced with every move he made. Every devious stroke of cool fingers against your body.

You knew this exact image would be carved into your mind for the rest of your life.

“Beg for it,” he ordered, his grip turning nearly bruising. “Tell me how badly you want it.” His lips brushed your core, just a whisper of scruff on your sensitive skin.

You squirmed in response, chasing the feeling. Normally, you would rather die than beg a man for anything. But Winter? He had a special way of breaking you down. “Please, Winter, please. I-I want you. I want you to–.”

He didn’t even let you finish before his tongue delved into your core.

You felt every sweep, every brush of that expert muscle laving over you. Desperate, needy sounds were echoing through your room, and a part of you knew they were yours. That they were spilling from your parted lips in broken sentences begging him for more. You were too focused on where his tongue toyed with you to care about anything else, though. Every pass of his tongue on your clit, or a sweep against your clenching walls made it harder and harder to ground yourself.

You were crawling closer and closer to the edge.

Your fingers were curled into the bedspread, and your hips ground into his face and bucked against the solid grip of his arms over your thighs. Winter groaned into your heat, the rumbling vibrations pushing you closer to euphoria.

Dazed, you tried to focus on his face, tried to make out his features in your love-drunk state.

Winter's eyes were closed, and his face never came up once for air. Not even when you could feel his chest shuttering, and those muffled grunts became more frequent.

And God did they feel good.

Your chest heaved, your legs trying and failing to move an inch against his iron grip. As those vibrating groans shoved you over the edge with a cry.

Your brain couldn’t focus, not with all the blood rushing through your head and the thundering sound of your own heart in your ears, or the blissful sensation of release crashing over you in waves.

“So dirty, Dollface. Letting me ruin you like this.” Winter eased his grip on your shaky legs, his hands dragging up your thighs to grip your hips. “Letting me brand you, taste you…” He licked his lips, tasting you on his stubbled face. His body leaned forward, your legs parting around his hips as he planted a burning kiss to your lips, “Fucking perfect.”

You panted, blinking to focus on his words as you came back to yourself.

Winter was lifting himself off of you, his eyes raking over your disheveled form as he slipped off the bed and stood to his full height. Those blue eyes held nothing but burning desire, muscles flexing as he yanked off his shirt and rewarded you with the view of his sweat slicked torso.

The sight was erotic. His hair damp with sweat, and his face glossy with the remnants of your release, chest heaving as he sucked in much needed air.

Winter reached forward, his cool fingers wrapping around your ankle and tugging you towards the edge of the bed with a wicked grin. “Gonna make you come again, Dollface. Need to hear those pretty sounds you make.” His flesh hand grabbed your calf, pulling you closer. “Wanna hear my name on your lips again, and again, and again.”

His metal fingers gripped your thigh hard enough to leave bruises, but that didn’t bother you. You loved the reminders that littered your skin from the last time Winter branded you with his affections, and you relished each one that would follow.

With a quick, strong motion, he flipped you on your stomach. Your chest bounced against the bedsheets, the friction against your pebbled nipples sent a jolt of pleasure down to your toes making you moan into the comforter as he brought your hips up and adjusted your knees against the bed.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He panted, pressing himself against your ass.

You could feel him through the sweats still hanging from his hips. The length of him pressed firmly against you, brushing your sensitive core and making you groan again. You wanted to feel him, needed to know what it was like to be with Winter the same way you craved intimacy with his counterpart.

“Please,” You begged.

With a grunt, the sweats were yanked down and he thrust harshly, seating himself completely in one swift motion.

His moan rumbles through you, setting your nerves alight. “Oh god…”

And then he starts moving.

One stark difference between James Buchanan Barnes and The Winter Soldier, was that one was gentle and kind, and everything you’d want in the man you’d take home to meet your parents. And the other? The other was the kind of man that would carve his name into your skin with a smile and defile you in unspeakable ways, rough and raw.

Winter snapped his hips at a breakneck pace, pulling out only to plunge back in with a force that made you see stars. Your mouth hung open in a silent scream, clinging to the sheets as he drove you into the mattress. His cock hit all the right places, those quick, constant motions driving you closer and closer to another release. His grunts and puffs of breath only added momentum.

Tears pricked your eyes, your heart hammering and your skin on fire as pleasure coursed through you, building higher and higher.

A cold palm slipped along your belly, snaking its way between your breasts and firmly wrapping around your neck, squeezing those delicate pressure points that made your head spin. He lifted you from the mattress, his pace halting almost completely as your back met his heaving chest.

Winter’s raw voice met your ears as you whimpered at the loss of friction, teetering on the edge of sanity as your core wept for attention. “Gonna cum if I keep that up, Dollface.” His voice is choppy, puffs of air hitting the side of your neck as he talks. “Feel so fuckin’ good.”

His dick pushes in again, dragging slowly along your walls as he groans in your ear, your own voice joining him in a broken harmony. “‘M gonna need this every time. Need to feel your tight cunt, hear your pretty cries…” His tongue darted out to slide over your cheek, swiping up a tear that had fallen from your damp lashes, “Taste you every. Single. Time.”

Those hips snapped back into their brutal pace, slamming against your ass as he clutched your frail neck in his metal hand, the other coming up to grip your hair and tug your head back as he sucked more love bites along your neck.

You moan, tears of pleasure falling from your lashes as you near the edge. Winter’s grunts and shaky breath vaguely registering that he’s nearly there himself.

He sinks his teeth into the juncture of your neck, the combination of pain and utter pleasure shoving you over the precipice as you open your mouth in a scream. That metal hand snakes up to stifle it as his hips jerk a few more agonizing thrusts before shuddering with his strangled moan.

You’re left limp and breathless, utterly spent and draped over his arm with your head lolling against his strong and heaving shoulder.

Winter slips from you, repositioning you on the bed like an offering on an unholy altar. With his hair plastered against his forehead, those dark strands utterly soaked with sweat, he smiles down at you.

“Again.”

Tags<3

@mrsnikstan / @sunnyhummingbee / @millercontracting / @veysxrge / @almosttoopizza / @tiredsleepyandreading / @lauratang / @buckyssugarchick / @tranquilty / @8crazy-freak8 @thatonewriterchick / @kennysbadkitten / @black-cat-2 / @urbanleftovers / @hellsenthero / @knowingnothingnoel / @appeys-world / @bubblegumbeautyqueen / @rianxx / @ponyosmom35 / @atomicwinter2213 / @ariana-l / @savannahrilee-blog

#sequel #fanfic #smut #winter soldier #marvel #bucky barnes #drama #the avengers #x reader #x yn #mcu #bucky barnes smut #update #marvel mcu

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illycanary · 11 months ago

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Katara's Story Is A Tragedy and It's Not An Accident

I was a teenaged girl when Avatar: The Last Airbender aired on Nickelodeon—the group that the show’s creators unintentionally hit while they were aiming for the younger, maler demographic. Nevermind that we’re the reason the show’s popularity caught fire and has endured for two decades; we weren’t the audience Mike and Bryan wanted. And by golly, were they going to make sure we knew it. They’ve been making sure we know it with every snide comment and addendum they’ve made to the story for the last twenty years.

For many of us girls who were raised in the nineties and aughts, Katara was a breath of fresh air—a rare opportunity in a media market saturated with boys having grand adventures to see a young woman having her own adventure and expressing the same fears and frustrations we were often made to feel.

We were told that we could be anything we wanted to be. That we were strong and smart and brimming with potential. That we were just as capable as the boys. That we were our brothers’ equals. But we were also told to wash dishes and fold laundry and tidy around the house while our brothers played outside. We were ignored when our male classmates picked teams for kickball and told to go play with the girls on the swings—the same girls we were taught to deride if we wanted to be taken seriously. We were lectured for the same immaturity that was expected of boys our age and older, and we were told to do better while also being told, “Boys will be boys.” Despite all the platitudes about equality and power, we saw our mothers straining under the weight of carrying both full-time careers and unequally divided family responsibilities. We sensed that we were being groomed for the same future.

And we saw ourselves in Katara.

Katara begins as a parentified teenaged girl: forced to take on responsibility for the daily care of people around her—including male figures who are capable of looking after themselves but are allowed to be immature enough to foist such labor onto her. She does thankless work for people who take her contributions for granted. She’s belittled by people who love her, but don’t understand her. She’s isolated from the world and denied opportunities to improve her talents. She's told what emotions she's allowed to feel and when to feel them. In essence, she was living our real-world fear: being trapped in someone else’s narrow, stultifying definition of femininity and motherhood.

Then we watched Katara go through an incredible journey of self-determination and empowerment. Katara goes from being a powerless, fearful victim to being a protector, healer, advocate, and liberator to others who can’t do those things for themselves (a much truer and more fulfilling definition of nurturing and motherhood). It’s necessary in Katara’s growth cycle that she does this for others first because that is the realm she knows. She is given increasingly significant opportunities to speak up and fight on behalf of others, and that allows her to build those advocacy muscles gradually. But she still holds back her own emotional pain because everyone that she attempts to express such things to proves they either don't want to deal with it or they only want to manipulate her feelings for their own purposes.

Katara continues to do much of the work we think of as traditionally maternal on behalf of her friends and family over the course of the story, but we do see that scale gradually shift. Sokka takes on more responsibility for managing the group’s supplies, and everyone helps around camp, but Katara continues to be the manager of everyone else’s emotions while simultaneously punching down her own. The scales finally seem to tip when Zuko joins the group. With Zuko, we see someone working alongside Katara doing the same tasks she is doing around camp for the first time. Zuko is also the only person who never expects anything of her and whose emotions she never has to manage because he’s actually more emotionally stable and mature than she is by that point. And then, Katara’s arc culminates in her finally getting the chance to fully seize her power, rewrite the story of the traumatic event that cast her into the role of parentified child, be her own protector, and freely express everything she’s kept locked away for the sake of letting everyone else feel comfortable around her. Then she fights alongside an equal partner she knows she can trust and depend on through the story's climax. And for the first time since her mother’s death, the girl who gives and gives and gives while getting nothing back watches someone sacrifice everything for her. But this time, she’s able to change the ending because her power is fully realized. The cycle was officially broken.

Katara’s character arc was catharsis at every step. If Katara could break the mold and recreate the ideas of womanhood and motherhood in her own image, so could we. We could be powerful. We could care for ourselves AND others when they need us—instead of caring for everyone all the time at our own expense. We could have balanced partnerships with give and take going both ways (“Tui and La, push and pull”), rather than the, “I give, they take,” model we were conditioned to expect. We could fight for and determine our own destiny—after all, wasn’t destiny a core theme of the story?

Yes. Destiny was the theme. But the lesson was that Katara didn’t get to determine hers.

After Katara achieves her victory and completes her arc, the narrative steps in and smacks her back down to where she started. For reasons that are never explained or justified, Katara rewards the hero by giving into his romantic advances even though he has invalidated her emotions, violated her boundaries, lashed out at her for slights against him she never committed, idealized a false idol of her then browbeat her when she deviated from his narrative, and forced her to carry his emotions and put herself in danger when he willingly fails to control himself—even though he never apologizes, never learns his lesson, and never shows any inclination to do better.

And do better he does not.

The more we dared to voice our own opinions on a character that was clearly meant to represent us, the more Mike and Bryan punished Katara for it.

Throughout the comics, Katara makes herself smaller and smaller and forfeits all rights to personal actualization and satisfaction in her relationship. She punches her feelings down when her partner neglects her and cries alone as he shows more affection and concern for literally every other girl’s feelings than hers. She becomes cowed by his outbursts and threats of violence. Instead of rising with the moon or resting in the warmth of the sun, she learns to stay in his shadow. She gives up her silly childish dreams of rebuilding her own dying culture’s traditions and advocating for other oppressed groups so that she can fulfill his wishes to rebuild his culture instead—by being his babymaker. Katara gave up everything she cared about and everything she fought to become for the whims of a man-child who never saw her as a person, only a possession.

Then, in her old age, we get to watch the fallout of his neglect—both toward her and her children who did not meet his expectations. By that point, the girl who would never turn her back on anyone who needed her was too far gone to even advocate for her own children in her own home. And even after he’s gone, Katara never dares to define herself again. She remains, for the next twenty-plus years of her life, nothing more than her husband's grieving widow. She was never recognized for her accomplishments, the battles she won, or the people she liberated. Even her own children and grandchildren have all but forgotten her. She ends her story exactly where it began: trapped in someone else’s narrow, stultifying definition of femininity and motherhood.

The story’s theme was destiny, remember? But this story’s target audience was little boys. Zuko gets to determine his own destiny as long as he works hard and earns it. Aang gets his destiny no matter what he does or doesn’t do to earn it. And Katara cannot change the destiny she was assigned by gender at birth, no matter how hard she fights for it or how many times over she earns it.

Katara is Winston Smith, and the year is 1984. It doesn’t matter how hard you fight or what you accomplish, little girl. Big Brother is too big, too strong, and too powerful. You will never escape. You will never be free. Your victories are meaningless. So stay in your place, do what you’re told, and cry quietly so your tears don’t bother people who matter.

I will never get over it. Because I am Katara. And so are my friends, sisters, daughters, and nieces. But I am not content to live in Bryke's world.

I will never turn my back on people who need me. Including me.

#ATLA #Avatar the Last Airbender #Katara #Anti Bryke #Zutara #but not really #just pro-Katara #Anti Kataang

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thefairywithboots · 2 months ago

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And The Gods Made Love (Thor 1!Loki x Fem!Reader)

As requested by @mischiefmaker615, I present to you And The Gods Made Love!

Summary: Reader gets tired of the rowdiness of the feast, and slips off to the library for some peace and quiet. Loki has the same idea, but things don't go as planned.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: Smut, sex, oral sex (female receiving), body worship.

Rating: Explicit (minors please DNI)

I hope you all enjoy this fic. I spent several days on it because I wanted it to be better than my last one. Comments and thoughts are always appreciated. :)

I tag @oswildin @mischieffae @bitchy-bi-trash @merakifreedom @kathren1sky-blog

@groovy-lady @trash-panda-kitty @mischief-dream @simone818283 @soulpiercing

@lokisgoodgirl @buttercupcookies-blog @stilleobjection @wolfsmom1 @firedrakegirl

If you would like to be tagged for future Loki fics, just let me know. 👍

The sound of the merriment from the feast faded into the background as I stepped out into the corridor. It was far too loud for me to handle Thor and his friends loudly shouting over each other, smashing their goblets... They had always teased me about not caring much for parties and festivities, about always having such a low social battery. But it wasn't something I could help. I longed for the quiet and solitude of the palace library, preferably with Loki's company.

I quickly but quietly made my way down the corridors of the palace in case Sif came to look for me to drag me back to the feast to try and get me to drink more mead. I would fall on my face after two goblets. Me being a lightweight was another thing they liked to tease me about.

I made it to the doors of the library, hoping to slip in there without making too much noise, but the familiar sound of a silken voice caused me to nearly jump out of my skin.

"Tired of the festivities already, are we?"

I turned to find Loki leaning against the wall of the corridor, so still and casual, that I didn't know how long he had been standing there, watching me. I placed a hand over my heart, trying to calm myself.

We had been meeting each other in secret for the past couple of months, stealing kisses when meeting up in the woods and empty corridors. He never failed to make my heart race when he stood before me, appraising me with those smoldering green eyes.

"I wish you wouldn't sneak up on me like that."

"Sorry, love. I saw you leaving the feast and knew I couldn't leave you alone in such a big palace, and let you get lost..." he said while moving closer to me.

I rolled my eyes. "You were tired of the loudness of it all too, weren't you?"

"Of course. I don't like loud gatherings anyway... I can only handle so much of my brother's idiocy." He smirked, his gaze never leaving me.

I felt my cheeks heat up as my hands fidgeted. "I plan to spend the rest of the feast in the library... would you care to join me, my prince?"

A soft chuckle escaped Loki's lips as he stepped forward to practically tower over me. He never failed to make my knees weak with his height, when I was not even short myself. He brought one hand up to gently caress my chin as he lifted my eyes to meet his.

"Nothing would make me happier, love."

We snuck into the library together, the silence of the room during nighttime pressing down on us as we walked through the shelves of books together. The moonlight softly illuminated the large tomes on the towering shelves as it poured in from the tall stained glass windows. The absence of the librarian and other patrons browsing the books made the place feel like a desolate land, filled with forgotten stories.

Being in here alone at night always felt strange to me. It carried a serene peacefulness but at the same time, it felt eerie. Sometimes I could see the shadows dancing in the corners of the room as if the characters from the stories were trying to get free, but when I looked closer, nothing was there. But having Loki with me felt like we had an entire kingdom to ourselves.

I quietly made my way to my favorite armchair near the fireplace, picking up the novel I had been reading. I turned to the fireplace to light it with some flint, but Loki was already using his magic to instantly cause the hearth to burst to life, illuminating that area in a soft orange glow.

Footsteps echoed behind me as he made his way around my chair to peer over my shoulder. I blushed when I felt his warm breath on my neck as his lips ghosted over the shell of my ear. "Loki..."

"Yes, love?"

"What are you doing?"

I could feel him chuckle softly as he brought his arms around me and rested his chin on my shoulder. "I can't help myself, love. You look simply ravishing."

His voice seemed to go straight through me to the pit of my stomach. I sighed and closed my book, turning to face him. He didn't waste any time and crushed his lips into mine.

I brought my hands up to wound through his silken raven-black hair, kissing him back passionately. Despite our many meetings, his kisses never failed to make my heart race and my thighs tremble.

When I felt his tongue slither its way into my mouth, I couldn't hold back a soft moan. He made a soft sound between a moan and a sigh as his lips trailed down to my neck, leaving small bites there.

"Oh, how I love that sound..."

I shivered slightly. "Loki, don't..."

"Hmm? Don't what?"

"If you leave a mark on my neck, Thor, Sif, and the others are not going to let me hear the end of it."

Loki didn't relent with his kisses. "Mmm... maybe I want to leave my mark on you... let the others know who you belong to."

I couldn't resist him when he talked to me in that voice. It sounded like velvet to my ears, and I felt myself tilting my head to give him easier access to my neck.

"I want you," he whispered against my ear, his teeth gently tugging at my earlobe. The sensation caused a strange sensation in my loins.

I sighed, turning my head. Embarrassment filled me as I felt him leave more intoxicating kisses over my neck and up my face. He noticed my hesitation and looked at me, a frown creasing his handsome face. "Am I hurting you, love?"

I shook my head. "No... I want you too, Loki... but... I-I've never... I don't have any experience with..."

Loki smiled softly and pressed his lips to my cheek gently. "Such an innocent little princess... I know you don't, love... but I can teach you. But only if you want me to."

I closed my eyes and kissed him again, breathing in his scent, trying to memorize every little detail of him. I had always found comfort in his scent; warm and earthy, like the woods on a warm day, but also with sweet floral undertones. It was something no cologne or perfume could ever replicate.

"Yes..." I whispered against his lips. "I want you to show me..."

He smiled against my lips, his breath hot against my skin. "I can give you pleasure that you've never felt before..."

He took my hand and led me over to the sofa, pulling me into his lap. I gasped, wrapping my arms around his neck, trying to keep myself steady. When our lips met again, his hands gently stroked up my sides, as if feeling me up through the fabric of my dress.

When I felt his hands start to unfasten the back of my dress, I froze. He stopped.

"Do you not want to go through with it?"

I could feel my cheeks flame with embarrassment. "I-I do... but... here? What if someone walks in...?"

"No one is crazy enough to be in the library this time of night. No one except for us..." His smile made me melt like putty in his hands. He leaned forward to press his lips to my neck, and the feel of his lips made me shudder. "And if anyone does happen to walk in on us, I can use my magic to make us both invisible."

I closed my eyes, letting him kiss me again. I didn't want to admit that I was scared, but it all felt so strange to me. We'd never done anything more than kissing. But I wanted him, I truly did. Every fiber of my being craved him.

"You don't have to be afraid," he whispered while running his fingers through my hair before pulling me closer by the nap of my neck. "I'll take care of you. I'll guide you through the entire thing. You can trust me."

I nodded, resting my forehead against his. "I trust you..."

Loki's hands unfastened my dress, causing the snug fabric to loosen on me. He gently pulled the dress off my shoulders, pressing kisses to my skin as it was exposed. The warmth from the fireplace kept me from shivering, illuminating my skin with a warm glow.

A wave of self-consciousness came over me at the idea of being exposed to him, and my arms tightened around my midriff. He pressed gentle kisses to my exposed shoulders, his breath teasing my skin.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered against my shoulder as he trailed kisses up my neck. "You are truly the most beautiful woman in all of the Nine Realms. You are befitting for worship, like the goddess you are..."

His voice made me melt against him, my arms loosening from around me. He used this as an opportunity to pull my dress the rest of the way off my shoulders. "Says the god..." I whispered as he kissed down my back and he slid the sleeves off my arms, exposing my breasts.

My dress was now around my hips, and he pulled back to appraise me like he might a fine sculpture. My heart raced in my chest as I brought my arms up to cover my chest, but he shook his head, gently taking my hands into his to stop me.

"My love... if I had my way, you'd rule alongside me as my queen for all eternity. To me, you are a goddess." His lips pressed to my neck, and I felt like I could melt right into his hands. "Don't cover yourself. You're too beautiful. Allow me to worship you instead."

I couldn't speak, I was breathing too heavily, my heart racing erratically in my chest. Loki knelt before me like a devoted worshipper would to his goddess. It was such a strange sight to see him like this. He gently tugged the rest of my dress off my hips, causing it to fall into a pool around my feet.

My face was burning now, my hands covering my face so that I did not have to see his reaction to my naked body.

"My love... look at me," he said gently while taking my hands in his and kissing them gently. I looked down at him, my hair spilling over my shoulders and curtaining my face. He pushed a strand of hair behind my ears. "We can stop any time you want to."

I swallowed thickly. "I want you..."

"Then why do you hide from me? Why do you attempt to cover yourself?"

I bit my lip, bringing my eyes down to our joined hands. "I'm sorry, I just... I've never done this before... I don't... know how..."

He shushed me and gently kissed my neck, sending every nerve of mine on fire. "I'll show you how... but only if you trust me."

I tried to hold back my moan as he nibbled softly on my neck. "I trust you..." I whispered breathlessly as my hands wound through his raven locks.

His arms wrapped around both of my legs as he kissed down my neck until his mouth reached my breasts. I flinched when he took one nipple into his mouth, his green eyes glaring up at me as he gauged my reaction. My cheeks were aflame, and I knew it wasn't because of the fireplace. I leaned my head back, closing my eyes as I tried to focus on the feelings and sensations he was bringing me.

He spent time using his mouth on both of my breasts; kissing them and tugging the nipples into taut points with his teeth. The sensation was overwhelming for me, and I could do nothing but gasp and mewl, and then bite my lip in case someone might walk into the library and hear us.

"Please..." I whined, my hands fisting in his hair, unable to decide if I wanted to push his head away or pull him closer.

Loki brought one of his hands out from underneath my legs and pressed firmly on my clit. My eyes widened as an unbelievable amount of pleasure shot through me. When he started rubbing firm, slow circles, I thought I could see the Nine Realms behind my eyes. I couldn't hold my moans back this time. It wasn't as if I was foreign to this kind of pleasure. I had touched myself before; oftentimes when thinking about him. But the skill and pace at which he did this caused me to writhe and squirm in his arms.

"Does that feel good?" he whispered gently.

I nodded quickly, keeping my eyes screwed shut.

"And how many times have you touched yourself in this exact same way? While thinking about me...?"

I felt the color drain from my face. "S-Stay out of my head!" I snapped. I couldn't believe he was going to use his magic on me here.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he pressed kisses down my chest, traveling down between my thighs. "I apologize, my goddess. Will you forgive me for my transgressions?"

The moment I felt his mouth on my core, I gasped. I could feel his tongue probing at my folds, licking a stripe up my slit before settling on kissing and sucking on my clitoris.

I let out a sultry moan that I had no idea I was capable of making. "O-oh my gods..."

"Does this mean I am forgiven?"

It seemed like such a stupid question in a moment such as this. But he wanted an answer. When he pulled away briefly, I whimpered in frustration. "Loki... don't you dare stop..." My voice then softened. "Please..."

"You didn't answer my question. Am I forgiven?"

I gasped, my head falling on the couch. "Y-yes... just please... keep going..."

He hummed softly before bringing his mouth back to me, his tongue skillfully manipulating my clit. The pleasure I felt was nearly unbearable. My hands fisted back into his hair, and I pulled harder than I had intended. Instead of expressing pain, however, Loki moaned into my core, the sounds muffled by lewd slurping noises. I felt a tightening in my stomach as if I were a spring being tightly wound around the very being that was him. I didn't realize my legs were wrapped so tightly around his neck until I felt my heels dig into his back.

He continued to go down on me, glaring up at me occasionally as he watched my reaction. I let out a few soft moans, despite trying to hold back as much as possible.

I felt like the soft sounds that I was making would echo throughout the library, down the corridors, and into the feasting hall. I could just imagine Thor, Sif, and the warriors three overhearing us and coming to investigate, giggling and jeering like a group of drunken teenagers. If they caught me and Loki in here like this, they'd never let us hear the end of it.

I tried to shove those thoughts out of my head as Loki used both his tongue and his fingers to stimulate my clitoris, rubbing and licking faster. He used his fingers on my clit while alternating between giving my slit thorough licks and my clit firm sucks. He continued these ministrations until the tightening that had formed in my stomach unraveled, causing a wave of pleasure so strong to shoot through me, it felt like I had been taken under by a giant tidal wave, the ocean of ecstasy I was in throwing me around as I was completely powerless to stop it.

I heard an aria of moaning and mewling, and it took me a moment to realize that they were coming from my own mouth. I could feel Loki licking up every drop of my release as my hands convulsed in his hair, pulling hard.

The aftermath of my first orgasm left me dazed. I didn't realize how tightly my legs were wrapped around him until he had to pull them off his shoulders to pull away from me.

He wiped his mouth as he looked down at me, drinking in the sight of me lying on the couch. "Look at you... so limp and satisfied. You look so... exquisite spread out like that. Your breasts and cunt are swollen because of my attention. Your cheeks flushed and lips parted... your hair around you like a halo." He started undoing the buttons of his shirt. "You look every bit of a goddess as I am a god." He slid his shirt off his shoulders, revealing his lithe yet toned chest. I was still so dazed, all I could do was stare at him. "And now tonight, we will witness what happens when the gods make love."

He unfastened his belt, shimmying out of his trousers, the warm glow of the fireplace illuminating his divine figure. He was larger than what I had expected, and for a moment, I wondered how he was going to fit inside me. I wanted to get up off the couch and go to him, but my legs were so weak, I knew I would fall straight on my face.

Loki kicked his trousers to the side, getting down on all fours as he crawled towards me. The idea of what else he might have planned for us made my thighs clench in anticipation. He was soon kneeling in front of me, but instead of burying his face between my thighs again, he grabbed me by the hips and pulled me onto the floor on top of him, adjusting my legs to straddle his waist.

I clutched his shoulders to steady myself as he lifted my hips slightly off his lap to align his cock with my soaked slit. He pushed into me slowly, the feeling of him stretching me causing me to gasp, burying my face in his neck.

"Gods..." I moaned.

"Am I hurting you?" his silken voice whispered in my ear, warming my heart...and my loins.

I shook my head quickly, breathing in sharply, his warm scent filling my senses. He had stilled inside me, giving me time to adjust to his size. "No... I just feel... full."

He wrapped his arms around me, cradling my head like a child's. "I love you. Have I ever told you that before?"

I felt my heart skip a beat at this confession. "No. You haven't."

"Well, now you know. I've looked forward to this moment for so long... I've wanted to be tied to you in every way possible... both in mind... body... soul."

I gasped when I felt him thrust sharply into me, my hands gripping his shoulders. "L-Loki...!"

He groaned as his hands went down to grip my hips, lifting me only to push back into me again. "I love when you moan my name, love..."

I dug my nails into his shoulders, my breathing becoming more labored as his pace gradually increased, his hands controlling the rhythm even though I was on top of him.

Gathering my courage, I rolled my hips against his, a sharp sting of pleasure shooting through me as his cock pushed deeper inside me.

Loki stared up at me, his eyes glazed and his mouth open. "Gods... yes, love... roll your hips against mine... just... like... that..."

I gripped onto him, moving in time with his thrusts. All sense of insecurity or uncertainty had been peeled away from me, awakening a raw, primal need for him, and him alone.

Loki wound one hand through my hair before pressing his forehead against mine. Our breaths mingled together as our moans and heavy breaths made a symphony throughout the library.

My hips continued to bounce on top of his as if they were acting on their own accord. He was so deep inside me, I could feel the tip of his cock brush against my cervix.

I felt that familiar tightening in my stomach again, and the idea of having another powerful orgasm both scared and thrilled me. Loki's breath came faster, and his movements were more hurried as he must have been approaching the edge as well.

"Loki... I-I love you..." I broke out in a hushed whisper as I moved so fast, that my breasts were bouncing wildly.

He grunted, thrusting his hips forward at such a fast pace, my walls clamped hard around his cock while my back arched. I couldn't stop myself from screaming right in his ear during my second climax. One hand convulsed in his hair while the other clawed down his back.

He waited until I was in the throes of ecstasy before taking my nipple back into his mouth and biting down on it. He pumped his hips, allowing me to ride out my orgasm. He finally came, shooting his seed into me as he let the warm release seep through me. He groaned loudly, burying his face in my neck as he rode out his own climax.

When we finally stilled, I felt boneless and limp in his arms. We both lay there on the floor of the library, catching our breaths as we stared up at the ceiling that was adorned with intricate imagery during the daytime but was immersed in darkness with nothing but the dying fire in the hearth dimly illuminating our exhausted bodies.

"You were incredible, darling," he finally told me with his arms wrapped around me tightly. "A natural..."

I breathed in his scent deeply, burying my face in his chest. "Thank you... for showing me..."

His chuckle reverberated through his chest, vibrating against my ear. "You know once is never going to be enough, don't you?"

My eyes widened slightly. Loki took my hips and pulled out of me slowly before setting me gently down on the floor. "Not tonight, obviously. I don't want to render you unable to walk."

He lay down beside me on the floor of the library, using his magic to conjure a thin green blanket to cover both of us with. I was still dazed and exhausted from the evening's activities, but I used what little strength I had left to drape my arm around his waist and cuddle into him. I felt his strong arms encircle around me, pulling me against his chest.

I let out a breathless sound, too drained to laugh. "You're unbelievable."

"Oh? And why is that?" he asked while massaging my scalp idly.

"I had always thought my first time was going to be... painful. And you made me... feel things I never imagined I'd feel."

I barely registered his lips pressing against my forehead. "I guess your body is just made for mine, love... our souls were tailored for one another. And it does get even better than this... that I can promise you."

I tried to fight the sleep, but the steadiness of his heartbeat along with the blaze of the fireplace lulled me into a sated doze. I tried to tell myself that if we stayed here when dawn came, we'd be caught by the librarian, or even more embarrassing, his mother. The mere idea of the situation mortified me.

Loki must have been listening to my thoughts because he pushed a strand of hair over my shoulder. "Rest, little one. The feast is still ongoing, and I will have us out of here before dawn. You don't have to worry about us being caught."

I was too exhausted to snap at him and tell him to stay out of my head. I instead gave into the lull of his heartbeat against my ear as it started to slow, and the slow dimming of the fireplace as I gave in to my exhaustion and slipped into the comfort of sleep in his arms.

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki laufeyson x reader #smut #fluff #marvel #mcu #mcu fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #thefairywithbootslibrary

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fastandcarlos · 5 months ago

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Accept My Help, Love : ̗̀➛ Ollie Bearman

summary: the last thing your stubborn self needed was an injury, particularly when letting people in to help is a trickier job then it should've been

Your soft eyes looked at Ollie, with your arm wrapped in cast the most mundane jobs were suddenly your biggest challenges. In the Haas hospitality you stood, your plate of food ready to be eaten, but your hands unable to carry.

With Ollie talking to many of his future team members around him, you found yourself at a crossroads. The table you had wasn’t too far away, and with the strength in your arm getting better day after day, you were sure it was about time to challenge yourself a little more, placing your hands on the hot plate, making sure that your grip was nice and tight on it.

Usually Ollie was there to help you with most things, but with his career skyrocketing you didn’t have the heart to disturb. As you lifted the plate up, you were feeling pretty confident, surprised by how easy the weight was to carry. However, as you took your first step, your confidence quickly plummeted.

Before you knew it the plate slipped out of your hands and banged against the counter. The vibrations were loud across the hospitality lounge with several pairs of eyes darting in your direction.

“Babe?” Ollie questioned, one of those to quickly spin around and see what was going on.

You weakly smiled across at Ollie as his eyes looked around, piecing together what was going on. “Don’t say it,” you sighed, your shoulders dropping.

Ollie was used to you pushing yourself, asking for help was a job that you found particularly difficult, especially now that you had your injury too. All Ollie wanted to do was help you with your recovery, and remind you of just how capable your body currently was.

“Why didn’t you ask me to get it for you?” He asked, picking the plate up, leading you over to your table.

You hung back behind him, your steps slow and lazy as people slowly started to look away from you too. With a huff you dropped down into your seat, allowing Ollie to place the food in front of you before sitting opposite you.

“What were you thinking?” He questioned, keeping his eyes firmly on you.

Your expression was blank, the frustration was clear. By now you had hoped that you would be back to your usual self, hating the fact that you had to constantly rely on other people to get you through day to day.

“I just wanted to try,” you defended, “I should be able to carry my own plate by now, shouldn’t I? This is where you work, you shouldn’t be spending your day running around after me.”

Ollie’s hand reached across the table, taking a hold of your own and squeezing it gently. If anyone knew how hard this was for you, it was him. Accepting help wasn’t easy at the best of times, but now it felt as if everyone offered their help out of pity rather than concern.

“I’m fed-up Ollie, this is ridiculous.”

Your eyes stared down at the cast around your left forearm, doodles up and down the plaster that some of your closest friends had added to it as reminders to cheer you up whenever you were feeling down. As always, they were particularly drawn to what Ollie had doodled, the biggest heart he could fit on it that he knew you’d adore.

Your other hand brushed through your hair as you let go of a sigh, “I just want to be me again Ollie, I don’t recognise who I am right now.”

Ollie nodded understandingly, brushing the pad of his thumb over the back of your hand. “I get it, I’ve had injuries too when I’ve had to count on other people to get me by. But people do genuinely want to help you love.”

You slowly turned your head up, allowing yourself to see the concern in Ollie’s eyes. “I don’t like the fact that you’re constantly having to put yourself out for me, you can barely sit still because you’re looking around and worrying about me.”

Ollie continued to hold tightly onto your hand reassuringly, “that’s because I choose to do that, because I care and want to be there for you, whether you’re injured or not.”

You smiled weakly, feeling tears threaten to spill as a wave of emotion washed over you. “I just want this to end, to rip this stupid cast off now.”

A faint chuckle came from Ollie, since the day of your incident he had seen firsthand how frustrated you were, particularly as your injury wasn’t your fault to begin with. His heart broke when the doctor told you how serious the fracture was, the recovery period longer than you could’ve ever imagined.

It was never going to be easy but at the start, you were positive. However, the longer your arm took to fix, the less positive you were. Your negativity had taken Ollie by surprise, he’d never seen you so low, at times wondering if he was the right person to be able to pick you back up.

He too wanted to rip your cast off, but only when your body was ready for it to be done. “You know, I’m worried about what you’re going to be like when your cast comes off, because you’re going to be so much stronger, and tougher, if people are scared of you now, they should see you with a freshly healed arm.”

“Do you really not mind helping me out?” You asked Ollie.

His head shook straight away, without even having to think. “I’m always going to be there for you, injured or not. There are people around you who really do care sweetheart, it’s not embarrassing to ask them for help.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, watching as Ollie lifted your hand and pressed a kiss against the back of it. “I don’t know what I’d do without you sometimes.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Ollie smiled, “you forget how amazing you are sometimes.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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favefandomimagines · 27 days ago

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You’re Losing Me (a.b)

Summary: a simple courtship was not what you wanted from Anthony and you aren’t sure he’s going to give it to you.

AN: more angsty fluff for our fave Viscount!!

Prompts 1,3,4,8 and 14 used! I switched it up a bit to have a happy ending 😉 @lilithlunastark

Anthony Bridgerton was not a man accustomed to hesitation. As the Viscount and head of the Bridgerton family, decisiveness was practically stitched into the fabric of his being. Yet, standing before the grand fireplace of Bridgerton House, his hands clenched into fists, hesitation consumed him.

The letter in his hand had been crumpled and smoothed so many times it barely resembled paper anymore. The words on it, however, were clear: Y/N was leaving London.

He’d read those words countless times since the letter arrived that morning, the ink seared into his mind: I need space, Anthony. I can’t do this anymore.

Y/N had been in his life for months now. Though their relationship had always been complicated, they had settled into a routine—a tentative sort of courtship.

They’d spent time together, attended balls, would promenade in the garden, and had shared quiet conversations in the Bridgerton drawing room.

There were soft, stolen glances, and moments where it felt as if there might be something more between them. But the truth was, Anthony had always kept her at arm’s length.

He’d never made any promises, she always did. Thinking that one day he’d hear her. He never hinted at anything beyond their tentative connection. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for her—no, he cared deeply.

It was that, in his mind, marriage was a far-off thing, a burden he wasn’t prepared to shoulder. His family, his duties, his fears about love—all of these things weighed heavily on him. He had convinced himself that, for all their chemistry, there was no future for him and Y/N.

Yet, Y/N, with her bright, curious eyes and the way she laughed as if nothing in the world could go wrong, had slowly, unknowingly, slipped under his defenses. And now, her letter felt like the knife of reality digging into his chest.

He knew exactly what she meant by "this." Their tumultuous relationship, full of passion and pain, had reached its breaking point. And though he’d always prided himself on being able to command order out of chaos, Anthony felt helpless.

He could still see her face from their last argument, the way her lips trembled as she fought back tears. The way she’d looked at him—like he’d broken her heart—haunted him.

The memory of their fight played vividly in his mind as he stormed through the crowded docks.

They had been standing in the drawing room, the light from the evening sun casting long shadows across the space. Y/N had her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her expression both defiant and heartbroken.

“You don’t understand, Anthony,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I can’t keep doing this—this dance where I’m always the one chasing you, waiting for scraps of affection. I need more.”

Anthony, his pride stung, had crossed his own arms in a defensive stance. “And you think I don’t? You think I don’t want to give you everything? Do you have any idea the weight I carry every day, Y/N? The expectations, the responsibilities—”

Her laugh was bitter, cutting him off. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare use your title as an excuse for pushing me away. You don’t think I see it? Every time things get difficult, every time I try to get closer, you retreat. You hide behind that cold, stoic mask like I’m not worth letting in.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, his voice rising. “You know I care for you—”

“Care for me?” she interrupted, her eyes blazing. “You care for your horses, Anthony. You care for the family estate. Don’t patronize me with that word. I wanted you to love me.”

He froze at her words, his throat tightening. Love. He had never said it. He had felt it, burning in his chest every time he saw her, but the words had always felt like a vulnerability he couldn’t afford.

Her silence in the face of his hesitation was louder than any accusation. Finally, she sighed, her shoulders sagging in defeat.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “This courtship, this... this nothing—it’s not enough for me. I deserve more than this half-hearted attempt at love. I deserve someone who doesn’t treat me like a passing interest.”

And with that, she had walked out, leaving him standing in the empty room, the weight of her words suffocating him.

The docks were bustling with the noise of carriages and sailors, the cries of seagulls punctuating the cacophony. Anthony scanned the crowd, his heart pounding with a sense of urgency he hadn’t felt in years. If she boarded that ship to Edinburgh, he wasn’t sure he’d ever see her again.

He found her standing at the edge of the pier, her trunk already loaded onto the ship. She wore a pale blue traveling cloak, the color washing her face in soft, muted tones. But even from a distance, Anthony could see the tightness in her jaw, the resolve in her posture.

“Y/N!” he called, his voice cutting through the din.

She turned, surprise flickering across her face before it hardened into something unreadable. “Anthony,” she said flatly. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to stop you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You have no right to stop me.”

He took a step closer, his voice raw with emotion. “You don’t get to walk away from me now, not after everything we’ve been through. Not after everything you promised.”

Her lips parted, but she said nothing. Maybe he really was listening to her. Anthony saw the flicker of doubt in her eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

“I can’t stay,” she said after a moment. “This—whatever this is between us—it’s too much. I thought I could handle it, but I’m not strong enough. I can’t fix this, Anthony. I’ve ruined everything.”

How could he expect her to go back to their suffocating routine when she had bared her soul to him the night prior. They simply couldn’t.

“No,” he said fiercely. “You haven’t ruined anything. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I’ve been a fool, Y/N, and I’ve taken you for granted. But I can’t lose you. I won’t.”

Her laugh was bitter, her arms crossing protectively over her chest. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve hurt, Anthony? If I told you how much I’m hurting right now, would you even care? Or would you just turn away like you always do?”

The accusation stung because it was true. How many times had he withdrawn when things became too difficult, too emotional? How many times had he failed to be the man she needed him to be?

“I care,” he said, his voice trembling. “God help me, Y/N, I care more than you could ever know. And I’m sorry. I should have told you the truth. The truth about how I really felt about you. But I was afraid. I’m sorry for not trusting you.”

She stared at him, her expression unreadable. For a long moment, he thought she might turn and walk away. But then she sighed, her shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world had finally become too much.

“Why now?” she asked quietly. “Why are you only saying this now, when I’m already leaving?”

“Because I’m an idiot,” he admitted. “Because it took the thought of losing you to realize how much you mean to me. Y/N, I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment I met you, and I’ll love you until my dying breath.”

Tears filled her eyes, but she didn’t look away. Slowly, she took a step closer. “Do you mean it, Anthony? Because I can’t do this again. I can’t keep putting myself through this if you’re not serious.”

“I mean it,” he said without hesitation. “I’ll prove it to you every day for the rest of my life, if you’ll let me.”

Her lips trembled, but a small smile broke through. “You’d better. Because if you break my heart again, Anthony Bridgerton, I swear I’ll make you regret it.”

He laughed, relief washing over him as he pulled her into his arms. “You have my word.”

As the ship’s whistle sounded in the background, signaling its imminent departure, Anthony held Y/N tightly, vowing never to let her go again.

#imagine #imagines #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #colin bridgerton

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foone · 3 months ago

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So, Laika. I see people talking about her recently because it's been 67 years...

But I want to clear up some things:

1. She died for political reasons

2. They did not know how to bring her back.

3. If they'd planned to bring her back, it wouldn't have worked.

To explain: Laika was in Sputnik 2. The launch window for Sputnik 2 was chosen so it'd be the 40th anniversary of the October Revolution, which meant the rocket designers had less than four weeks to design the rocket & capsule. Politicians wanting to have a good PR of a cool space rocket story also influenced the Challenger disaster: politicians always want results faster, and space does not respect haste.

Secondly, this was the SECOND ARTIFICIAL SATELLITE EVER. No one in the world knew how to safely return anything to earth, so from the moment launching a dog was chosen, it was always going to be a one way trip. They tried to make it as comfortable as possible for the dog, yes, but they knew if they launched anything it wouldn't come back. They didn't even know if she'd survive in space? Can animals live in the low-gravity high-radiation environment of space? We didn't know if it was even possible before Laika!

Thirdly: if they had planned to bring her back, it wouldn't have worked. They planned for her to have seven days of food, and the last days of food was poisoned. She'd be gently euthanized.

It didn't work. The rocket core didn't properly detach from the capsule, which fucked the thermal regulation. The capsule overheated, and she died within 5-7 hours of the launch.

If they'd planned some elaborate untested return system, it would have activated after the seven days of the planned orbits. Laika would have been long dead by then.

My point is not to say they did nothing wrong (even one of the scientists who designed Sputnik 2 has said it wasn't worth it: they didn't learn anything useful from sending Laika up), but that you shouldn't misunderstand the context. This was a highly experimental launch, it was politically motivated, and even if they'd tried to bring Laika back, she'd have ended up dead.

And the scientists knew that last bit was likely the case when they decided to do this! They knew they didn't know how to bring animals back to the earth, so they didn't try. If they'd tried, the same result would mostly happen: a dead dog in space.

It wasn't just a matter of "not caring" about her life. They thought this could be a useful contribution to science, the first animal in space... They were wrong. And they were always regretful that Laika died for science, especially since they got so little from it.

All future launches with animals were designed to be returned to earth, and those helped pave the way for humans in space. Dogs were used to to test the Vostok spacecraft that later carried Yuri Gagarin to orbit, making him the first man in space.

My point is that they were never uncaring of the safety of Laika: they thought this was the best of a bad situation and then it got worse. This experiment was not repeated and Laika was mourned. If you need to blame anyone, blame Khrushchev.

#Laika #cw animal death

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cloudcountry · 8 months ago

Text

SUMMARY: people say suffering is what it means to be a shroud. you could not think more different.

WARNINGS: mentions of blood & self mutilation.

COMMENTS: PHEW THIS ONE WAS A DOOZY!!! idia stop being my muse pls 🙏🙏 i keep writing 2k - 3k word fics in one sitting because of you

“Don’t you wish the world treated him better?”

You blink, entranced by the swirls of green. The voice beckons you closer.

How was that door open...? It should have been closed, right...?

“Don’t you wish you three could live up on the surface, like everyone else?”

More voices have joined.

“Don’t you want that for him and his brother?”

It sounds beautiful, like a symphony.

“This is what it means to be a Shroud.”

You step closer, muscles relaxing as you slip under their spell. The voices are right. They deserved better. They should have been able to live where they pleased, to escape this island and their fate.

The voices giggle—they know they’re right.

They’ve reached you.

Black consumes your vision, blocking out the glowing green. You shut your eyes. Your world grows darker. There's a seizing in your chest and a fluttering in your heart as something pours into your body, staining you.

“This is what it means to be a Shroud.”

“Set us free, and we’ll set all of you free.”

—

The hallways are blaring red, but all Idia sees is the floor swimming in his vision. Ortho is by his side as he punches access code after access code into the door panels, running like he’s never run before. He has a stitch in his side but he keeps going, your face flashing in his mind.

He lost Ortho once. He’s not losing someone again.

It’s like the stairs last forever, winding deeper and deeper into the Earth. Idia doesn’t stop running once, even though he feels like he’s going to fall over and throw up. He’s almost one-hundred percent certain Ortho has carried him at some point but his mind is too messy and his vision is too muddled to care.

Time seems to slow as he reaches the bottom. He raises his head as his ears ring, and the second he lays eyes on you it’s like his vision is clear again. Ink pours out of you and the black markings on your face are all too familiar. Blue fire spits out from behind you and your shrieks are heartbreaking, like you’re wailing for something you want so badly but could never have. Wings sprout from your back, broken and crooked, feathers twisted and clumped. Your hands are worn and bloody from stretching at the walls, and that’s when Idia realizes—

You want to be free.

Guilt crashes over him and it's a critical hit. Of course. He should have been sure this is what you wanted. He should have known you’d get sick of life here, even though you said you loved him time and time again, even though you held him on all those nights that he couldn’t sleep because the thoughts were too much, even though you bonded with Ortho and stepped back for him, letting him set boundaries even though that meant not doing things you wanted to do, like holding his hand or kissing his forehead or playing with his hair.

He should have known this wasn’t the life you wanted.

The ring on his finger feels like nothing more than a heavy stone now.

—

It took years for Idia to open up to you about his family situation. In fact, he seemed to be braced for the possibility that you’d leave him in a heartbeat after hearing it. Your heart ached for him when he explained his past and his inevitable future in a soft, low voice, rushing through the whole thing as if it was the scariest thing he’s ever done.

You placed your hand on his knee once he stopped, letting his words trail off into the night.

“I understand you.” you’d said, looking him straight in the eyes. They seemed to glow in the darkness of his room, flickering like a fire about to be put out.

Idia curled in on himself that night, dragging a clump of his hair over his shoulder and twisting it into knots. You’d reached over and gently grabbed his hands, stopping him from tangling his precious hair. You’d gently smoothed out the fiery strands before kneeling in front of him, looking up at him as if paying him reverence.

“I want to stay with you.” you’d said softly, cradling his shaking, fragile hands in yours.

In that moment, it felt like his very heart was beating between your intertwined hands.

Soft sniffles filled the room that night, and you kissed each tear away. More kept coming, more and more and more, his eyes blotchy and red as he tried to keep quiet. You kept quiet too, whispering how much you cared about him and how if he would let you, you’d stay with him forever because you loved him and he deserved someone by his side. You kissed each tear well into the night, fighting his overwhelming sorrow with your love.

—

Your memories are patchy. It’s like you don’t remember who you are, or where you are. In the dark expanse of your mind, you remember two things.

Idia Shroud and Ortho Shroud.

Your throat feels heavy as your heart starts to palpate—what happened? Where is the green glow? Where are all the comforting voices that whispered your new future to you?

Where were the people you were fighting for?

“Vitals stable.” a faraway voice calls, a sharp clatter piercing through your quiet, inky haze, “Commencing full body scan for blot.”

Blot...

Your eyelids pry themselves open. All the energy has been sapped from your body, your limbs heavy and useless. The strings holding them up have been cut, and it's scary that you can’t remember how you were strung up in the first place.

“Mx, we ask that you please stay still.” the man above you is in a white coat, his hands holding a clipboard and a pen.

You nod passively. Something about him seems familiar enough.

His voice drones on statistics about your well being as your eyes slip shut again, and arms of sludge reach out from your mind and pull you back under the ink, into a deep sleep.

—

Idia is chewing on his fingernails again.

He wishes you were here to scold him for it and paint a new coat over them so he wouldn’t chew on them anymore, being too sentimental to mess up your hard work and too repulsed by the taste, even though he would only ever tell you the latter and—

You were still asleep.

Your vitals are stable, You are fine.

You are fine but there are still black scars all over your body.

Your vitals are stable but the marks will stay there forever.

You almost died and it’s his fault.

You want freedom and he took that away when he said “I do.”

He kissed you and he sucked the soul right out of your body, keeping it clutched in his hands because he’s selfish and stupid and why in the world did you even fall in love with him in the first place?

He has nothing to offer you.

Nothing but this.

Suffering and loneliness and contempt and headaches and cold nights and machines that fill your whole day, leaving no room for the whimsical leisure you enjoyed before. There are no more board games, no more trips to the school store, no more fresh air and nighttime walks, no more watching movies and eating gummy worms, no more talking to anyone who isn’t him.

The ring on his finger burns.

—

You don’t know how long it's been since you went to sleep.

You wake up to a room with dark walls and metallic shelves above your head. The bed (cot?) is firm underneath your body, which is adorned by a gray uniform. There’s a desk right across from you with a tablet and a chair. You can’t see anything it’s hooked up to. The one constant among all of these things seems to be the triangular details, criss-crossing and curving and connecting with each other.

They make your vision spin, so you look away.

You stay in bed.

For some reason your face and neck sting, as does your back. You trace the parts of your face that burn, finding that the areas are almost symmetrical on both sides.

What happened?

“...Idia?” you whisper, your left hand resting over your smoothly beating heart.

The door opens.

Your heart lurches into your throat when you see a dark uniform, fiery blue hair that swings well past his elbows, and eyes that are sunken in. His skin is as pale as ever, his lips chapped and bitten by worry, his nails stubbed and torn, but—

He came.

But it’s him.

He came when you called.

“...Idia—!” you gasp, choking on your words as you lurch forward and cough, black ink splattering all over your gray shirt.

“Easy!” he yelps, rushing to your side. You feel his cold hand press against your back and you lean into the touch, starved for it.

“What happened?” you ask between smaller coughs, following his hand and he lays you back down.

Idia bites his lip. He does not answer.

Instead, he turns his back to you and moves over to the desk grabbing the tablet. He still doesn’t look at you as he taps a few bottoms. He gnaws on his lower lip before twisting the chair to face you and sitting down.

“How much do you remember?” he counters your question with another question, eyes heavier than usual.

“I remember green.” you whisper, the intriguing whispers poking into the corners of your mind again, “I remember voices...they said sweet things to me.”

Idia winces as if that’s the last thing he wants to hear.

“You overblotted.” he says, so blunt it surprises both of you, “You went...deeper than you should have, and you overblotted.”

You touch your face. The burning sensation wiggles as if it’s been recognized, and is pleased. It’s like there's something under your skin, something alive and yearning,that was waiting for him to say it.

“Oh.” you whisper, and in turn, the voices begin to beckon you again.

“This is what it means to be a Shroud. Don’t you wish you three could live up on the surface, like everyone else? It’s not fair, is it? He deserves better. His brother deserves better. You all do. We can help you, we can make that happen, you just have to help us—”

“They were phantoms.” you breathe, tracing the lines on your face over and over and over and over and over—

You don't notice when he gets up and reaches for you. Idia grabs your hand when it looks like you’re pressing too hard, your nails digging into your skin. You stop immediately, looking up at him with glossy eyes and trembling lips.

“Idia...is this what it means to be a Shroud?” you ask, forming each word carefully.

The phantoms said as much.

But he says nothing.

“I don’t blame you if you decided this isn’t what you want, you know.” he says, tone flat and disinterested, like you’re someone he doesn’t even know.

“What do you mean?”

“Your phantom looked like it wanted to be free.” he says, tablet still in his hand.

He pulls up the footage of your rage and shows it to you—your crooked, clumped wings and your bloody, inky hands and your screams as you cry for freedom, freedom—

He misunderstands.

“Not for me!” you seize his wrist, squeezing it so hard you fear it’ll break but this important, “For you! Freedom for you! It’s always you and it always will be you! I wanted you to be free and Ortho to be free. I wanted all of us to be free—!”

You start coughing again, this time even harder. Ink splatters on your bed and this time Idia is on you, he’s truly with you, cradling you against his chest as the ink stains his uniform as well. It pours out of you like a dead, polluted river, and yet in a twisted way it’s a symbol of how much you care.

You vaguely feel his nose pressing against your head in the haze, whispering what sounds like swears and pleads but none of it reaches your ears over the sound of your coughing. By the time you’re done, both of you are thoroughly painted with the remnants of blot.

The voices are gone.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” he whispers it into your head like it's a confession, meant for your ears and your ears only, “I thought you...wanted to leave here. Leave me.”

His arms are around you like a vice grip.

You’re grateful you’re alive to see him be selfish.

“Idia...my love.” you say, equally as soft, “How many times do I have to tell you that I want to be with you?”

“It’s hard to believe!” he protests, voice cracking.

He pulls away from you, just enough to look over your face. His eyes are watery and he’s so vulnerable—you really scared him. His thumb traces down the parts of your face that burned, the parts of your face you know will be scarred for life now.

“Good thing I’m still here then.” you smile weakly, cupping his face, “I’ll remind you every single day.”

His ring no longer burns.

His left hand rests over your left, and your rings clink together as they connect.

You’re okay. You still want him. You’re alive.

“You’re crazy.” Idia groans, stepping forward and falling into your arms, “You are absolutely crazy. Any normal person would be running for their life right now, calling me a freak and hyperventilating. A normal person would never want to come back—”

His slumps over you like a big cat, arms encircling you in warmth once again. It’s his way of hiding his expression when he’s getting a bit too into his feelings—you know this by now.

“Goodness. It’s a good thing I’m madly in love with you then.” you laugh, hands splayed out on his shoulder blades as he hugs you again, “You know what they say about love making you do crazy things.”

“Please don’t ever do that again—oh Great Seven.” he squeezes you even tighter and you let him, putty in his hands.

“I’m not planning on it. I promise.” you reassure him, “I don't want to leave you—”

“It’s not about leaving me, you could have died!” he protests, cradling the back of your head, “I’d be fine if you just left! If you were somewhere else...somewhere safe!”

“You would not be okay with that. Don’t pretend to be.” you chastise him quietly, and you know you’ve won when he goes quiet, “You want to keep me here, and you want me to stay. I want the same thing. You don’t have to pretend I’m a sacrifice that can be made. I didn’t fall in love with you because you’re noble or a goody-goody.”

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments. Then—

“I love you so much.” he mumbles.

It’s a rare confession, one that has never lost his sweetness even after years together.

Now this, this is what it means to be a Shroud.

It means staying with each other no matter what.

It couldn't be farther from loneliness.

“I love you too.” you murmur back, and his thumbs trace your blot scars as he presses a single, barely noticeable kiss to your forehead.

#auburn's fics <3 #flops on the ground. guyss i NEED to stop doing all this in one session omg #i keep coughing WHY AM I STILL SICK #anyways married idia <333 my favorite version to write <333 muah muah #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud angst #idia x reader #idia angst

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absurdthirst · 9 months ago

Text

Mother's Day Surprise {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.4k

Warnings: Menstrual blood/cramping, violent attack, near death, surgery, comma, mentions of blood and disturbing scenes, recovery, assistance with basic needs, helping Joel shower, confessions of feelings, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pull out method, mentions of family planning, breeding kink, dirty talk, cream pie, infertility, depression, feelings of worthlessness, death, harsh and cruel world, babies

Comments: Helping Joel Miller recover from a horrific attack leads to a life you never knew possible.

**🚨🚨 Contains spoilers for Season 2 of The Last of Us🚨🚨**

A/N: Happy Mother's Day to all those lovely moms out there and anyone wishing to become one in the future. Being a mom doesn't necessarily mean biologically. 💜

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

You grunt, squinting as you struggle to see in the dark. It's the middle of the night, the sun not yet peeking through the curtains, and you wonder why you woke up until your stomach twists and you realize you're wet between your thighs. "No. No. No. No." You cry, tears in your eyes as you scramble out of bed and rush into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You shove your shorts down and sob at the blood that's gathered there. You got your period. Again. You sit down on the toilet and gather some paper to clean yourself up while you try to smother your cries but there's a knock at the door and Joel's voice resonates through it, "are you okay, sweetheart?" He asks and you choke out, "the bed." Joel walks over to turn the lamp on, his eyes widening at the blood on the sheets. "Oh sweetheart." He sighs, resting his forehead against the door frame. "I'm sorry, baby. I - I am useless." You sob and he rattles the door handle, "let me in." He demands and you flush the toilet, washing your hands before you open the door. Joel immediately wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. "We will try again." He promises, "I didn't give up when I was recovering and we won't give up now." He assures you while you sob into his chest.

He sighs, not even going to deny his own disappointment, although people who used to know him in the Boston QZ would never believe it. Joel Miller, disappointed that you aren’t pregnant. The very obvious sign of his seed not taking root staining the sheets of the bed you share. He shouldn’t want a child. He’s closer to fucking sixty years old than not, just a few years shy and yet he finds himself wanting to see you round with his child. His second child by blood, his third in his heart. Ellie is staying with Dina tonight, so he doesn’t have to worry about waking her up as your sobs wrack your body. “You aren’t useless.” He soothes, frowning when he remembers your emotional words. Standing in the bathroom, he wishes there was something that he could do, fertility doctors from twenty plus years ago were a thing of the past. Most people do not want to bring children into this fungi infested world, but here in Jackson, he has hope for the future. Hope for a chance to pass on a legacy.

You cling to him, knowing he's disappointed. Lord knows you've been trying enough but you just can't seem to get pregnant. It's like you are cursed and you wonder if Joel's injuries hurt your chances.

****

You gasp when you look up to see a mangled man carried into the hospital. You set your cup of coffee down and stand up, the resident doctor rushing around to try and stop the bleeding. "What the hell?" You ask and a teenage girl is clinging to his hand as the team try to wheel him into the surgery room. "Joel. Joel. Don't leave me." She pleads, tears in her eyes, and you reach for her. "He's in good hands, sweetheart. Come here. Let the doctor work." You manage to drag her away and she wraps her arms around you and sobs, "I didn't know - she nearly - they nearly- it's all my fault." She chokes and you rub her back, frowning at the doors where the man disappeared.

Hours later, the door swings open and the doctor comes back through, his work scrubs stained with blood. Ellie had been impatiently sitting and leaps out of her seat. “Is he alive? Where is he? I want to see him.” She demands, making the doctor lift his hands slightly. “He’s alive.” He reassures her, making her tense shoulders slump with relief and tears prick her eyes. “There was massive trauma to the head, and-“ Ellie interrupts him. “Of course there is, that bitch tried to beat him to death with a fucking golf club.”

Your eyes widen at the news that he was nearly beaten to death. You wrap your arm around Ellie’s shoulder. She had rambled about how Joel saved her, how much she loves him, how he’s the father she never had. Her words made your heart melt and you silently prayed he pulled through. “It’s going to be a long road to recovery. For now, we will monitor him and see if he pulls through the night. It’s touch and go still.” The doctor warns Ellie who nods, “he will pull through. Joel is a stubborn fucker.” You chuckle and rub her upper arm, “let’s get you something to eat and a shower and we can come back when he’s settled in a room.” You suggest and she’s reluctant to leave but the doctor nods, “he’s unconscious. Will be for a few days at least. His body needs rest. Go get some food and he will be waiting for you.” Ellie nods and lets you guide her to your house. Her home needs to be cleaned up and you don’t want her to see the aftermath of the battle that occurred in her home.

Joel had put up a fight. Furniture is broken, the mirror in the hallway - one he had grumbled about every day when it showed him how old he is - is shattered. Shards of glass and spurts of blood splash the walls. Ellie grimaces and stops at the blood stain on the floor right by the open front door. Obviously no one had cared about closing up the house when rushing Joel off to the hospital. “Right.” She sighs, turning when she hears someone running towards her. “Ellie! Fuck, is Joel alright?” Breathless, Tommy stops in front of the teenager and his face almost begs her to tell him that his older brother is okay. “I tracked her, but she got away.” He explains; that being the reason he wasn’t at the hospital earlier. “She went to the river and I couldn’t track her from there.”

Ellie straightens her back, shaking her head, “that fucking bitch.” She growls and you answer Tommy’s question. “Joel had surgery. He’s unconscious right now. Still in the air as to him waking up without brain damage. The doctor did the best he could but it…it was bad.” You admit and Tommy closes his eyes, needing to see his brother. “I need to see him.” He says and you nod, “he’s unconscious still. I’m going to get Ellie changed and get her something to eat.” You tell Tommy who reaches out to squeeze Ellie’s shoulder. “Get something to eat, kid. I’ll let you know if anything changes.” Tommy promises and Ellie doesn’t say anything else, going quiet. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”

You nod, “go clean up. I’ll get started on trying to clean this up.” You tell her and she makes her way upstairs. You sigh, looking over at the pool of blood and you feel sick. You’ve always had a crush on the older Miller brother since he arrived at Jackson, but you’re certain he doesn’t even know you exist.

****

You check Joel’s pulse, his eyes moving beneath his eyelids. He’s still unconscious, has been for a few days, and the hospital isn’t equipped with equipment to test brain function. All you can do is watch and wait to see if he will wake up.

Joel hurts, every inch of his body hurts and it feels like he’s trying to move mountains just to open his eyes. Fingers twitching and he opens his mouth, groaning quietly.

You gasp when you hear him groan, watching his eyes flutter, and you let go of his wrist, calling for the doctor. The doctor comes in and you gesture to Joel, “he is waking up.” The doctor nods, checking Joel over, his bandages wrapped around his head, and they had to shave his head to perform the surgery. You wonder if he will be angry about losing his hair. Ellie is in the waiting room so you head out to see her. “He’s awake.” You tell her and she stands up, “he is. I want to see him.” You shake your head, “the doctor is checking him over. Let’s give them some time.”

It takes a long time to understand what the doctors are telling him, frowning in confusion and wondering why his head feels like it’s been squashed like a grape. Moving is slower and he hisses in pain when he learns that his ribs have been broken and his leg is also fractured. Opening his mouth, it’s hard to get a word out. “E-E-El-Ellie.” He manages, needing to see her.

The doctor nods, “she’s okay.” You escort Ellie into the room, wanting her to see her father is awake, and she rushes over to the bed. “Joel. Joel. I’m sorry.” Ellie chokes, reaching for his hand. He groans as he squeezes her hand, silently assured that she’s okay.” You watch their reunion with tears in your eyes from the doorway.

“D-d-don’t bl-ame y-your-self.” Joel rasps out, still fuzzy on what happened. He doesn’t remember anything much before waking up in the hospital. Although he gets the sense he was angry- desperate. He groans in pain when she lunges forward to hug him, but he doesn’t push her away.

You watch Ellie hug him and you know in that moment you’ll do whatever you can do to make sure Joel gets better. Ellie pulls back after several moments and the doctor checks Joel’s vitals. “He needs some more time here so we can observe him.” Ellie nods at the doctor’s words and you walk over to rub her back.

“I’m going be honest, Mr. Miller,” the doctor tells him as he pulls back. “I am surprised that you even woke up. There was significant bleeding and swelling of the brain. Tests seem positive but there could be damage that hasn’t manifested itself yet.” He tells Joel. “It’s going to be a long road to recovery for you.”

Joel doesn’t say anything. He was nearly murdered. He knows he shouldn’t be alive right now. Ellie sniffs as she steps back and Joel attempts to squeeze her hand. The doctor grabs his clipboard and looks at Joel’s recent vitals. “Waking up was half the struggle. Let’s monitor you and go from there.” The doctor says, “and we will keep running tests.” Joel grunts out an “okay” and you offer him a smile, “you’re a fighter just like Ellie said. She’s lucky to have you.”

You’re familiar to him, he can’t place it, but his thoughts are still fuzzy and jumbled. “How- how long have I been here?” He asks after a moment. “Three days.” Ellie answers and he frowns. “Who- where have you been sleeping?”

Ellie says your name, “I have been staying in her house. She has been cleaning our house because there was too much blood and - and it was a mess.” Ellie reveals and Joel’s eyes are hazy as they meet yours, silently saying goodbye thank you and you nod in response. “Just focus on getting better, Ellie and I are enjoying some girl time.” You tease, winking at Ellie who chuckles.

****

Joel stays in hospital for two weeks and you look after Ellie, preparing his home for his return, and when the doctor declares him fit to leave, he says that he needs someone to look after him. He still can’t shower by himself, he needs help eating and he struggles to walk alone. It’s going to be a long recovery for Joel. “I can help,” Ellie says without hesitation as Joel sits on the edge of the bed.

“You can’t help me do everything.” Joel grunts, knowing that he could never allow the teenage girl to help him shower or get to fucking bathroom. “I- Tommy-“ his brother has been by to visit every day, and he’s talked to him about taking Ellie. He doesn’t know how he will manage, but he also knows he can’t burden Maria and their baby with his convalesce.

“Tommy is out of town on a scouting mission.” Ellie says, knowing Joel’s brother was set on revenge for his brother’s condition. He just had to track Abby down. “I can help.” You volunteer, feeling close to him despite not having a full conversation with him. Spending time with Ellie, hearing her stories about Joel and his bravery had made you fond of him. “I can help him at home.” You offer and the doctor looks to Joel for his answer.

His eyes slide to you, unsure why you would volunteer to help him, but the doctor immediately nods. “That would be a good idea.” He agrees. “You can check his bandages and make sure that he doesn’t get an infection.” He smiles at the three of you like it’s a done deal and Joel frowns slightly, not sure if he likes the idea of you helping him.

You nod, noticing Ellie’s grateful smile, and you look at Joel, “it’s for the best. I can monitor your health and help you. I’m a nurse. It’s a medical decision.” You tell him and he grunts, knowing he doesn’t have a choice. He’s discharged and you wheel him to the doctor’s truck, knowing Joel won’t be able to walk home. You arrive outside of the house and Joel grunts, “I can walk.” He doesn’t want a wheelchair so you let him wrap his arm around you to guide him into the house. “Take your time.” You reassure him, “no need to rush.”

The shuffle is slow and painful, making him huff in irritation that he can’t move like he would want to. Even as he’s gotten older and been slower, he’s been able to move how he wanted to. Now, in a cast and recovering from nearly dying, he needs help. Ellie jumps forward to open the door and he’s glad to see that the scene that had been left from the attack you told him about has been cleaned away. He will have to thank you for that. “Fuck.” He pants, out of breath and in pain just because of the short walk from the truck to the house. “I don’t know how the fuck I’m getting upstairs.”

“We moved a bed downstairs.” You tell him, “you won’t be going upstairs for a while.” You escort him into the living room and help him settle down on the bed. He’s only wearing socks so he groans as he sits down and you help him lay on the bed. “You need to rest as much as possible. Let me get you some water. Are you hungry?” You ask, helping him settle against the pillows.

“Can you cook better than the shit they served at the hospital?” He grumbles, having not enjoyed the food there. He’s relieved to be home and his head hurts a little bit less today than before. He’s got a plate covering the fractured portion of his skull and they actually had to remove a large chunk of the bone.

You chuckle, “I like to think so. I’m glad your appetite is back. What do you feel like? I make a mean mac and cheese.” You adjust his pillow and Ellie comes to sit down next to him. “She’s a really good cook. Like really good. I’ve been helping make cheese and we even made a cake.” She tells Joel with wide eyes, shocked at how this place is like life in books she read.

“Sure.” Joel agrees, the little fissure of pain at the mention of a cake isn’t as rough as it might once have been. The last night she had been alive, Sarah had wanted a cake desperately for Joel’s birthday. “Make something the kid likes.” He suggests. “I eat anything.”

You smile, liking how he caters to Ellie, and you know that Ellie told the truth about the man she considers a father. “What do you want, sweetheart?” You ask her and she nods, “Mac and cheese.” You ask if she wants to help you while Joel gets settled in and Ellie follows you into the kitchen so you can get started on the food and you pour Joel a glass of water. “You want to take this to Joel?” You ask Ellie who takes the glass and takes it to her father figure.

Joel listens to the sound of people talking in the kitchen and it’s so strange. He can’t make out what’s being said, but he can hear voices. It’s almost unsettling that there is someone else in the safe, cozy home that he and Ellie have managed to carve out for themselves. Tommy told him that Abby, the girl who had attacked him, was the daughter of the doctor he had killed to save Ellie. His past sins were coming back to haunt him, but he doesn’t regret not letting the teen sacrifice herself for a lost cause.

Ellie comes back out to hand Joel the glass of water and he takes it, taking a sip. “Thanks, kid.” He says and she sits down at the edge of his bed. “I- I thought I was gonna lose you.” She whispers, her brown eyes meeting his, “I was scared.” She admits and Joel feels his chest tighten, tears stinging in his eyes. “But you didn’t. I survived and I ain’t going anywhere, kid.” He promises, reaching out to squeeze her hand with his free one. “She been looking after you?” He asks her, jerking his chin towards the kitchen. “Yeah. She’s been great. She cleaned this place up. Made sure I ate and showered and slept while worrying like fuck about you. She’s a good one.” Ellie says and Joel trusts her opinion. You hear what Ellie says from around the corner, some homemade chips in a bowl in your hand and you smile, liking that she trusts you. You carry the bowl in and set it down , “hope these are good. We fried them earlier today.” You say, looking between Ellie and Joel.

Joel’s brow raises and he nods. “Thanks.” It hurts to nod so he just sends you his thanks with his eyes. “For taking care of her and me now, I guess.” He sips the water and grunts when the cool liquid slides down his throat to quench his thirst. “I’m sorry for all the cursing I will be doing.” He warns you, knowing he’s never been a good patient.

You chuckle, “curse away. You’re alive. That’s all that matters.” You promise and make your way back into the kitchen to continue making dinner. It’s going to be a long path of recovery but you’re happy to help Joel get back on his feet.

****

“Shit.” Joel hisses as you help him into the downstairs bathroom to shower. “Do you, uh, I can help take off your pants.” You offer, cheeks burning as you try and help him shower for the first time since he left the hospital.

Joel isn’t a shy man, never has been, but the idea that you have to help him bathe like he is a helpless baby makes him burn with embarrassment. There’s not a goddamn thing he can do about it though, his body is still healing and he can’t get his head wet because of the stitches and staples. “Fuck.” He grunt, hoping he doesn’t really embarrass himself. The fact that he’s not gotten an erection since he’s woken up makes him wonder if something is wrong with that function. “Fuck, what the hell else am I going to do? Shower with my fuckin’ clothes on?”

You shake your head, “no. I- I have to help. I’m a nurse. I am a professional.” You tell him even though that doesn’t hold much weight in today’s world. “Let me help you.” You reach in to turn on the water to heat it up and you reach for Joel’s shirt. “Keep still.” You murmur, working the buttons open. He probably prefers t-shirts but the button down is required so he doesn’t jostle his head. He is still weak so he lets you push the shirt off of his shoulders. “Pants next.” You declare and hook your fingers in the sweatpants, dragging them down his legs and he’s naked under them so it's easier for him to use the bathroom. He steps out of them and you try not to appraise his naked form. He’s still healing but he’s gorgeous.

“Sorry.” He huffs, knowing that the last thing you want to do is to help an old man bathe, his still bruised body on display. Luckily, there were still medical supply devices like a chair to sit in the shower to make it easier for him, although he knows you will get wet helping him. His dormant cock twitches slightly and his eyes widen at the sensation.

You focus on looking after him and not on his body, which even though bruised, is still beautiful. You know your clothes will get soaked but that’s okay, you don’t want to strip off and make him uncomfortable so you step into the shower and help him sit down on the chair. “Temperature okay?” You ask and he nods. You grab the soap you made last week and hold it out. “You want to do it or shall I?” You ask, knowing you’ll need to wash his face so he doesn’t get his head wet.

He hates to admit that he’s so damn tired after getting into the shower, he just wants you to do it. Grunting, he shakes his head slightly and winces when he feels a little pain. “Just do it.” He tells you, not wanting this to become some kind of pissing match. “Feel like a damn baby.”

You nod, “I understand but this is the best thing for you, honey. You need to focus on healing. You nearly died so being showered isn’t the worst thing in the world.” You put it in perspective for him. You lather up your hands and work on washing his back. He groans and your stomach twists with forbidden arousal. He’s injured, recovering, you shouldn’t feel attracted to him.

“Does it hurt?” Your soft question is almost arousing, murmuring in his ear but he grunts. “No.” His voice comes out raspy and raw. “Feels good.” He’s still so damn sore and your hands on his skin feels like a massage. “It’s feeling really good.”

You continue working on washing him, mindful of his bruises. “Good.” You murmur, “I’m so sorry this happened to you.” You say as you massage the soap into his black and blue back. “Tommy tried to find them but they were gone.” You reveal, “they are gone.”

“It’s my fault.” Joel murmurs quietly, closing his eyes and trying to forget the moment he had killed that doctor, but it plays behind his lids. “How could you deserve something like this?” You snort, but he sighs softly. “I killed her father.” He reveals. “He was a doctor, for the Fireflies. They believed Ellie was the answer to a cure.” He opens his eyes, frowning. “They were going to remove her brain.”

You gasp, your hands freezing on his back. "They - does she know?" You whisper and Joel shakes his head. "She can't." You declare, having gotten to know Ellie enough to know that she would sacrifice herself. He nods, "I can't - I lied to her. I can't lose her." He confesses and you rub his back, "you won't. Secret's safe with me." You promise, "you didn't deserve this, Joel. No one does. This world...it's cruel but we have our little piece of paradise here. We just gotta protect it."

Even though he knows it would never absolve him of his sins, your words are a balm to his spirit. Soothing him and making him relax even more. “It’s nice here.” He murmurs softly. “Sarah would love it here.”

Ellie had briefly discussed the daughter that Joel lost on Outbreak Day and you rub his shoulders, “we are lucky. Not QZ, not the Wild West. We are safe and our commune is thriving.” You hum, “Ellie is lucky to have you.” You murmur and he hisses when you press a little too hard, “I’m sorry.” You grab the rag and lather it up, “you, uh, want to wash your -” Your cheeks heat up at the thought and he takes the rag without a word.

Joel washes his groin quickly, gritting his teeth when his long neglected cock starts to stir from the simple touch and the smell of your soap. He has noticed it every time he gets your help to use the bathroom and he is now covered in it. “Help me.” He grunts, trying to push to his feet so he can wash his ass.

You wrap your arms under his armpits, helping him stand and he grunts as he washes his ass. When he’s done, you rinse him off and shut off the water, grabbing the towel around his waist. “You good?” You ask and he nods, “yeah. Just feel like a fucking baby.” You chuckle, “at least you don’t need breastfeeding.”

“Fuck.” He huffs and blurts out, “that would be more fun,” before he even realizes how inappropriate it would be. “Shit, I’m sorry.” He grunts, blushing slightly.

You snort and smile, “I think we are beyond apologies now, huh?” You say, knowing you’ve helped him to the bathroom and now helped him shower. “Let’s get you redressed and I’ll heat up the soup I made earlier for you.” You tell him and grab the clean clothes you set aside for him.

His bedroom is what used to be the downstairs office. It’s got some doors for privacy, but more often than not, they are kept open until he needs to change. It makes it easier. “I didn’t ask, how do you like that bed?” His bedroom upstairs had become yours since they had broken down the smaller bed from the third bedroom. Joel wouldn’t let you sleep on the couch, telling you he could piss in a bottle in the middle of the night if he needed to. You deserved to sleep in a real bed for helping him.

“It’s good. Nice and comfy. I have no complaints.” You tell him, knowing your roommate, Sandra, will be enjoying the peace and quiet on her own in your house. “I hope it’s comfortable here.” You help him pull the shirt over his head and you kneel down so he can step into the sweatpants.

“It’s a bed.” He’s going to be uncomfortable regardless of where he is because of how badly he had been beaten. The only reason he’s alive is because she had started swinging on other parts of his body besides the head. “I think I’ll appreciate it more when I can move without wanting to cry.”

“Not too long now. You’ve overcome the worst. You’ll get there in the end.” You promise him, “you’ll get better. Ellie needs you.” You pull the sweatpants up and stand up, patting his chest. “All clean.” You smile and guide him to sit on the bed. You swing his legs onto the bed and stand up, “I’ll go get your soup, Miller.”

He watches you go, his eyes dropping down to your ass, not for the first time either. This time though, there is a punch of lust that his body responds to. Making him grunt and reach down to adjust himself slightly. You are beautiful and now that he has spent time with you, he can see why Tommy called him a lucky bastard.

****

You spend eight weeks looking after Joel. Helping him bathe until he can manage himself, feeding him, making sure he has water. It’s your priority and you are so happy he’s recovering well. He can walk properly now and the bruises have faded. “You want some cake?” You ask Joel as he walks into the kitchen where Ellie is trying to lick the spoon of the jam you made to go in the sponge cake.

“God, yes.” Joel groans, the irony of cake not being lost on him. You have been positively spoiling him and Ellie and he hates to think about when you will leave. He’s getting better and it’s about time you go back to your own life. “Are we doing a shower tonight?” The stitches are out, but he still has staples and needs help in the shower.

You nod, “yes, sir. Gotta make sure you avoid a nasty infection. We don’t have any oral antibiotics left.” You sigh, knowing that even if someone found some, they’d be expired. You and Ellie put the cake together and you cut out a slice for each of you. Setting the plate down in front of Joel, you love the way he smiles at you. It’s been impossible to keep your affection for him at bay. You’ve fallen for him, knowing that you will have to return home at some point but the grumpy yet funny man has gotten into your heart.

“Thanks.” He sends you a grateful look and sets his elbows on the table as he waits for you to sit down. “It smells incredible. You seem to enjoy cooking, or is it just something you do because you know Ellie can’t?” He teases, making the teenager huff and roll her eyes. “It’s not like I’ve had a chance to learn, man.”

You giggle and nudge Ellie, “you’ve been learning. You’ll get there. No, I, uh, I love cooking. Always have.” You admit, “I missed it a lot when I was on the outside. Cooking rabbit on a fire isn’t quite the same as cooking in a warm kitchen.” You sigh, forking up a bite of the cake.

“Yeah, campfires are temperamental, and cooking on them is even worse.” He snorts. Ellie chuckles. “When you would let us have them.” Joel shrugs slightly. “It’s dangerous out there.” He reminds her. “Hell, it’s dangerous in here too, but it’s better than out there.” He glances towards the entryway where he had collapsed when Abby nearly beat him to death.

You notice his glance and you realize once again how close to death he was. “You’re here now. Hopefully you don’t have to go back out there anytime soon.” You reach out to squeeze Joel’s hand and he smiles at you, his fork in his other hand, “you are safe for now.”

You have been incredible, and it’s almost amazing to see how you have slipped past the shell of his heart, something that only Ellie has managed since Tess. It’s hard to believe Tess has been gone as long as she has, but Joel has been slowly trying to heal emotionally as he heals physically. Thoughts of you have crept into his waking hours, causing some embarrassing moments in the showers when he gets hard, or you wake him up from an erotic dream that features you.

****

“So, the doctor gave you the all clear. Just to be careful and not do too much.” You smile at Joel as you enter the living room after the doctor left. He had done a full assessment of Joel and called his surgery a miracle - the fact that he survived is a gift from God. Ellie is out visiting Dina and you sit down next to Joel on the sofa, “I guess I can get out of your hair now. You can have your bed back and I’ll go back to my place.” You finish softly, sad to be leaving him.

Joel wipes his hands on his sweatpants, still wearing them out of habit over the past few months. “You’re probably happy as hell to be getting away.” He snorts as he looks over at you and wonders how you have become even prettier than before. He’s crazy about you, how kind you are, how you have taken Ellie under your wing and how you never rebuke him for when he gets sad and introspective. You have helped so much and he hates that you are leaving. “Maybe I need to get the shit beat out of me again, make you stick around.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. "No need to do that. All you have to do is ask me to stay and I would." You confess and your eyes widen at the way you blurted that out. You close your mouth, turning your head to stare across the room, avoiding those dark brown eyes. "I'm sorry. I-" You begin but he interrupts you. "Stay." You turn your head to look at him again, "what? You - you want me to stay?" You ask, feeling breathless.

He rolls his eyes at your question and huffs. “Do you think that I’m getting hard every time you help me shower because getting clean turns me on?” He asks bluntly. “I’ve been trying to think about anything else but you, but nothing works.”

You stare at him in shock, “I- I can’t believe - I just thought you were horny because you couldn’t jerk off.” You snort and close your eyes for a second. “I think about you. All the time.” You admit, reaching for his hand, “I had a crush on you before I came to help.” You tell him honestly, “always thought you were handsome, but now that I know you? You’re - fuck, I love you.” You confess just as breathless as your prior revelation.

His own breath stops, caught in his chest as you confess your feelings. A year ago, hell - a few months ago, he would have been denying that you felt that way. Ignoring it or being unable to respond in kind because his world was still ground to a halt, but that had changed. You and Ellie, that attack, it had changed things and made him realize that even though he had lost so many, he still had those to live for. He lunges forward and presses his lips to yours. “Love you too.” He murmurs as you gasp.

You can’t believe he’s kissing you but you reach up to cup his cheek, pressing your lips back to his, and your heart is pounding in your chest. You shift closer, cupping his other cheek and you rest your forehead against his when you pull back, caressing his stubbled cheeks. “I love you, Miller.” You smile, unable to fathom that the man you’ve fallen for loves you too.

He's panting and his heart is beating wildly in his chest. Already turned on again and starting to tent his sweats and all you've done is shared one kiss. Reaching up, he caresses your neck and shoulder. "Are you sure? I'm fuckin' old, baby." He jokes. "And a little decrepit."

You shake your head, "you're not decrepit. Or too old. I love you, Joel. No matter what. Hell, if I can look after you like I have and still think you are sexy, you're good to go." You promise with a giggle, sliding your hands down to his chest. "And I haven't stopped thinking about you between my thighs. Inside of me." You confess in a hushed tone.

The kid is off with her friend and Joel groans quietly, having thought of nothing else for the past few days. "I don't know if I can perform worth a shit." He admits with a shake of his head. "Haven't cum since I woke up."

"I don't care. Just want to be close to you." You murmur, "don't care if you cum right away. I can ride you." You want to be close to him, to feel all of him. "I keep thinking about how you'd feel inside of me."

He's still in his downstairs bedroom and he nudges his nose against yours. "Close the doors." He rasps out, nodding towards the French doors that close off his makeshift space. "I don't want to tire myself out trying to get upstairs."

You stand up, hands shaky as you shut the doors and turn to face him. You take in the details of his face, his head shaved from his surgery so his hair is growing back patchy but he’s still so attractive. You reach for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and you swiftly remove your bra. Hooking your fingers in your leggings, you push them down along with your panties to stand naked in front of him. “I’ve seen yours, figured it’s only fair if you see mine.”

"It gets bigger." He jokes, aware that you have seen and politely ignored the times he's gotten hard from you helping him in the shower. "Fuck, you are beautiful." He praises breathlessly, eyes drinking in your body as he licks his lips. It's been a long goddamn time since he's been with someone, the last person was Tess, but he feels like he's about to bust if he doesn't touch you.

“So are you.” You respond as you walk towards him. “So brave. A fucking fighter.” You murmur, shifting to straddle him as he sits back on the bed. His hands immediately find your ass and you chuckle, knowing he’s watched it enough times. You cup his cheeks and lean in to kiss him, “wanna see if it gets bigger.” You joke, grinding down onto the tent in his sweats.

Joel groans, twitching underneath you and he knows he won’t have any problem performing. The problem might be that he doesn’t please you before he cums. His hand slides around your waist to dip between your thighs. Hissing when he finds you starting to get slick as he starts to slowly rub your clit.

“Oh God.” You pant, rocking down onto his hand. It’s been far too long since anyone touched you and you are whimpering at the way his thick fingers rub your bundle of nerves. You tilt your head back and he leans in to kiss along your neck, your fingers digging into his shoulder as you absorb every touch.

He groans as he learns your body. He and Tess had been comfortable, completely familiar with each other and what the other liked. The whimpers and groans rockets his arousal higher as you grind down against his fingers and he feels like he’s going to bust in his sweats. Turning his wrist, he presses his thumb against your clit and slides his fingers through your slick folds so he can press them inside you.

“I want to touch you.” You whimper and he shakes his head, “not yet. Otherwise this will be over sooner than you thought.” He grunts and you rock onto his thick fingers, stretching you out in the most delicious way. “Fuckkkk.” You exhale as he presses his finger against that spongy spot inside of you. He’s good. He knows what he’s doing.

He loves the way you respond to him, how wet you get. Sliding his hand up and down your back as he kisses along your shoulder and down to your tit. Wrapping his lips around a stiff nipple as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of your wet heat.

“Shit.” You hiss, caressing his head as he suckles on your nipple like he’s trying to root. It has you quivering and you’re so close. So many nights of imagining how he’d touch you has led to you getting worked up faster than you have ever known. “Joel. Oh God, Joel. You’re gonna make me - I’m gonna-” You don’t finish your cry as you cut yourself off with a strangler choke and clamp down on his digits, soaking them with your cum.

“That’s it, fuck, good girl.” Joel pants against your breast as he pumps his fingers to help you ride out your orgasm. “You’re so goddamn good to me, ain’t ya? You creamin’ all over my fingers, making me harder than a fucking rock.” He coos praises into your skin, enjoying the way your nails bite into his shoulder through the shirt. Your pretty cunt soaked his fingers and he can only imagine how good you will feel around his cock.

His words make you choke on your breath as he works you through your orgasm. You never imagined he’d be so dirty but you love it. “Fuck, baby. Yes. I need - I need you inside of me but I want to suck your cock.” You whine, reaching down to tug on the hem of his shirt, wanting him naked beneath you.

“You can’t.” Joel moans, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t last a minute. And I want to feel you, fuck, imagined it so many times.” He pants, pulling away from the back of the bed so you can pull his shirt off. “Maybe- later, if I can get it up again.” He chuckles.

You pull his shirt over his head, still mindful of his injuries, and you slide your hands down his chest, admiring his broadness. “You’re so sexy.” You murmur, reaching down to pull his cock out of his sweatpants, wanting to see him in this light. You’ve seen his cock plenty of times but now you know he’s hard for you and it’s intoxicating. You pump him and he groans out a warning so you shift to lift your hips, positioning him at your entrance and you slowly sink down onto him.

“Fuuuuuuuuck.” His hands grip your hips harshly and he clenches his jaw as you take him. You are hot and tight like a glove around his cock, clenching around him as your walls flutter. Your ass presses against his thighs and he rocks his hips up. “Fuck, that’s - fuck, gimme a minute.” He begs, feeling like he’s about to cum. “Let me- calm down.”

You nod, stilling on top of him, and you caress his chest. He exhales shakily and you lean in to kiss him, “take your time, baby. I’m in no rush.” You promise and kiss along his jaw, loving how he stretches you out.

It’s been so long since he’s felt this close to anyone, your breath blows against his skin and he shivers. Closing his eyes as he holds you still. “Fuck, I love you.” He murmurs quietly, aware that this is something that he shouldn’t even have, he should have died. But he’s here and he’s going to live for the moment and bask in the forgiveness of your touch.

You close your eyes at his words, loving how he caresses you, and you tilt your head to look at him. “I love you too. You’re so much more than you think you are.” You murmur, caressing his cheek, and you experimentally rock your hips. His groan makes your stomach clench and you rock again, starting slow as he moves inside of you.

“Shit.” He hisses quietly, opening his eyes to watch as you start to move. “You’re so pretty, so fuckin’ pretty.” He promises as he starts to slide his hands up and down your back. “You feel so good, does it feel good for you?”

His words make your heart pound in your chest and you nod, “feels so good. You feel so damn big inside of me.” You confess breathlessly, “stretching me out. It’s been so long since I had sex. You need to- to pull out so tell me if you’re close.” You remind him, not wanting an accidental pregnancy right now.

Joel grunts, looking into your eyes as he nods. “I will.” He promises. Safe sex isn’t really a thing to be had but hopefully there’s not something to come of this. You are right to remind him. “I’m good baby, ride me.”

You take his word and start to move faster. Your hands gripping his shoulders as you start to move on top of him, moaning at the way he twitches inside of you. "Fuck, you feel so good." You pant, chest heaving as his cock curves just right inside of you.

Joel grunts and leans forward to press his lips to yours, biting your bottom lip after he kisses you. Your breasts brush against his chest and he pulls you closer, craving the feel of your skin against his.

You moan into his mouth, loving how strong her feels, how he’s recovered and he’s stronger for it mentally. You rock down onto his cock, loving the way he twitches inside of you, and you are getting close. Just the feel of having the man you love inside of you is pushing you higher. “Oh shit.” You whimper when you find the right spot and you reach down to rub your clit, pushing yourself closer to the edge.

“That’s it pretty girl, making yourself cum.” Joel groans, watching you touch yourself with dark eyes. It’s so sexy and he can’t get enough of it. “Make yourself cum on my cock. I want to feel it, see it. Show me what you look like.”

You nod, mouth open as you work yourself higher until you finally fall over the edge. A cry escapes your lips as you cum, moaning his name and you clamp down on his cock, soaking him while your orgasm rocks through you.

His eyes roll back in pleasure as he feels you squeezing him and he knows he will be cumming any second. “Sweethea-rt, you gotta-“ he grits his teeth as he jerks your body up off his cock so he can keep his promise to you, panting as he spurts all over his stomach and chest.

You watch him as he cums and you love it. The way he looks is intoxicating and you lean in to kiss him. “Fuck, I love you.” You murmur, leaning in to kiss him as he pants your name.

He kisses you back eagerly, reaching for his shirt to wipe away the mess so you can lean against him. “Fuck, that was- I can’t even-“ he chuckles quietly and kisses you again. “What do you think about moving in permanently?”

You smile as he looks at you, his dark eyes soft, and you cup his cheeks. “Yes. Absolutely.” Your smile turns into a grin, excited to explore this next step with Joel. “I was dreading going home and I would miss you and Ellie like crazy.” You confess, “I want to stay.”

“Good.” He pauses for a moment and then he admits, “it’s felt like a proper home with you here. Ellie, she loves you too.” He tells you softly. “I think she imagines we are a family.”

“I imagine that too. She’s like a daughter to me.” You confess, “I want to make this a home and I want to be yours. Be in your bed every night. Be by your side no matter what.” You promise and Joel smiles, cupping your cheek, “sounds amazing, baby.”

****

“Joel.” You say his name as he takes a sip of whiskey. Ellie is watching a movie with the other kids in the barn and you decided to cook a romantic dinner for Joel, wanting to ask him something. He looks at you and you tilt your head, appraising him. You pick up your glass and take a sip, your throat suddenly dry. “Everything okay, baby?” He asks and you nod, squaring your shoulders. “I want a baby.” You announce, bracing yourself for him to say no.

Joel freezes, waiting for the familiar ache to take over his chest. For this vision to blur and his breathing to turn into short bursts as thoughts of Sarah take over. As the sounds of her rapid, panicked last breaths fill his ears. It never comes.

He doesn’t panic at the thought of having a child that could remind him of Sarah. Ellie does in some ways, but she’s a completely different type of girl. One raised in the world outside the safety of the walls of Jackson. If you had a child here, they would be innocent in some ways Ellie was not, more like Sarah. “A baby, huh?” He murmurs after a moment. “With me?” He asks. “I’m nearly sixty, baby. You want that?”

You sense his hesitation and you feel like backtracking but you think about the nights you’ve spent awake pondering this, weighing the pros and cons of having his baby in this world. You reach for his hand, “I know and I still want it. Spending time with Ellie, helping with your nephew, it’s made me realize that I can do it. It’s hard, always hard being a mother, but I’m ready and I want a baby. I want a baby that will carry our legacy, a baby that will grow up safe and capable. We will make sure of it. Unless you don’t want that, which is - it’s fine. I’ll handle your decision. We both have to want this, Joel. Not just me. Don’t do it for me. I want you to want this too and if you don’t, then that’s case closed.” You promise, not wanting to pressure him.

Joel squeezes your hand gently, reminded of the nights he had woken in a cold sweat, sometimes from the broken memories of him being attacked or the memory of losing Sarah. You have been right beside him, offering him comfort and solace. He’s told you about that night, sharing with you memories that he has kept bottled for over twenty years. You had cried in his arms like you had been Sarah’s mother, assuring him that he had done everything right to try to protect his baby girl. The fact that he’s not immediately said no is very insightful and he bites his lip and watches you with a softness that even a year ago, he was unsure he was capable of. “It’s been a looooong time since 2 AM feedings and my hearing is shot.” He snorts, smiling slightly. “You’ll have to poke me to wake me up if you want me to get up with a baby.”

You smile, loving the way he has agreed to having a baby with you. “You’re forgetting the best part about deciding to have a baby….” You trail off and smirk, “the trying.” He returns your smirk and you giggle, standing up from your seat and you round the table to sit in his lap. “I love you.” You murmur when you’re settled in his lap, reaching up to caress his cheek. “I want you to fuck a baby into me, Joel.”

“Fuck, that’s hotter than I ever imagined.” Joel grunts, twitching underneath you. His sex drive isn’t completely on par with yours, but he keeps up and keeps you satisfied in other ways. You’ve told him you don’t regret being with him at all. Which is another balm on his battered soul. “You want me to cum in that pretty pussy?” He asks, squeezing your ass. “Imagined how you would look dripping me a few times.”

You moan, kissing along his jaw as his words wash over you. “I want you to cum inside of me. Put a baby in me.” You plead, wiggling on his lap. His hair has grown back now, more gray in it, but you love it, and you reach up to run your fingers through his hair.

He groans and captures your lips with his, licking into your mouth immediately as the easy passion blooms between you. His hands move to start stripping you down.

It doesn’t take long for you and Joel to be naked. You stumbled up the stairs to your bedroom, clothes scattered on the trail upstairs and when you lay down on the bed, Joel is immediately hovering over you. Your heart is pounding in your chest and his hand slides along your thigh, cupping your pussy. “I don’t want foreplay. I just want you. Want to feel all of you.” You murmur, caressing his shoulders.

There are times when you want the burn of his cock stretching you out and tonight is one of those nights it seems. That’s good because Joel is impatient to get inside you. He takes his cock in hand and pumps it a few times as he shuffles forward to press against your entrance. “I love you.” He murmurs.

He pushes inside of you, stretching you out, and you gasp out “love you too.” He pushes inside of you until he’s fully seated and you take a deep breath, enjoying the weight of his body on top of yours and the weight of the moment. Deciding to take this step together has your body primed and ready for him. He starts to move inside of you and you wrap your legs around his waist, moaning at the way he rocks into you.

Nearly dying hadn’t had the lasting effects that the doctors had feared when Joel had been brought in. His thrusts are steady, if not a little harder than normal, although he keeps the pace sedate. Not rushing, but he enjoys burying himself as deep as he can go and watching your eyes roll back in pleasure. “Gonna knock you up.” He grunts out.

His words make you clench around him, your hands sliding down his back to squeeze his ass. His recovery has been a miracle from the man who was on death's door to the man currently making love to you trying to get you pregnant. You whimper when his lips find your neck and you rock your hips up to try and meet his.

Every time the two of you come together, Joel remembers how lucky he is. His kisses trail along your throat as he groans into your skin. Both of you give and take from each other. “Fuck, baby.” Joel moans, his body tensing when you clench down around him again. “You gonna cum before I fill you up? Love it when you soak my cock.”

You nod, "yes baby. I - shit - you always feel so good." You slide one hand down between you so you can rub your clit. He immediately bats your hand away after shifting his weight onto one elbow. You moan when he rubs your clit just right, his hips pushing into your ass as you take him deep inside of you. "Shit. Joel. You - I'm - God." You cry out as you clamp down on his cock, soaking him.

“That’s it, good girl, goooooood girl.” Joel moans, clenching his teeth as you come apart around him. He feels his own body is ready to cum, excited by the situation and it only takes a few more thrusts. Instead of pulling his hips back, he plunges them forward, embedding himself deep as he paints your womb with his seed. “Fuck, fuck.” He pants, closing his eyes as he rides out his orgasm, amazed at how good it feels. “You’ll be pregnant in no time.”

You smile against his lips when he leans in to kiss you and you’re so hopeful for the future with Joel. A baby that looks like the two of you combined. You are excited and when he pulls out, you keep his cum inside of you, trying to make sure that it takes. You’ll be pregnant in no time.

****

“Sweetheart….I’m supposed to go ride the southern border and check the area.” You’ve quieted down over the past few hours, but he can still see the sadness lurking in your eyes. You’ve stopped blaming yourself but he knows those thoughts are bouncing around and he’s reluctant to leave you. “Do you want me to have Tommy go? Stay here with you?”

You shake your head, eyes sore from crying, “no baby. Just go. I’ll be fine. Ellie will be back soon.” You murmur, keeping your back turned towards him. You feel useless, you feel broken, and you feel exhausted. You’ve tried so hard to get pregnant. You even researched old wives tales about how to get pregnant. You’ve taken herbs, teas, anything you can to get pregnant and after trying for so long, you’re exhausted.

He worries about you, leaning over and pressing his lips to your forehead. “I’ll be back as quickly as possible and I’ll make dinner tonight.” He offers. It’s the historical Mother’s Day today, and he knows you will be extra glum since you are once again not pregnant. Sometimes he wonders if he should just tell you that he’s changed his mind, taking the guilt and worry about it off your shoulders. You can blame him for not having a child. “Okay?”

“Sure.” You murmur, closing your eyes as a cramp contracts in your stomach, making you curl into a ball. You really thought this was it. Your period was two weeks late and you didn’t tell Joel because you wanted to surprise him and then you got your period. You sniff and Joel sighs, shuffling out of the bed to get ready for his shift. You can’t blame him. He’s had a kid. It’s got to be you that’s the issue.

He’ll look for some wildflowers for you while he’s out. They always make you smile and tonight, he will do his best to make sure that you know that no matter what, he loves you. He thinks about all this while he puts his clothes on and brushes his teeth, coming out of the bathroom to find you still curled up. “Go soak in a hot bath, baby.” He suggests, walking over to the bed and kissing your cheek. “I’ll be back soon.”

You listen to him go and you know it's technically Mother's Day today. Salt in the wound. You swallow harshly and wait until the front door closes before you allow yourself to sob again. You can't believe you aren't pregnant. You've tried so hard. Maybe you aren't meant to be a mother.

Saddling the horse and getting let out of the gates of Jackson has Joel on autopilot. Most often the scouting parties are in groups, but today had been just singles, most men in the community wanting to spend time with their wives and celebrate them. The grass is green and lush; there's a certain beauty to the mild spring transitioning into warmer weather. Urging the horse forward, he is eager to finish the patrol so he can get back to you.

You have your bath, eyes sore from sobbing, and you try to come to terms that you’re never going to be a mother. It’s just not in the cards. You love Ellie and you think of her as your daughter but you wanted a baby, a combination of you and Joel to love and care for in this new world. That isn’t going to happen and you curl around yourself in bed after you’re dry, trying to cope with that fact.

Pulling the reins, Joel listens carefully, certain that he has just heard a cry. His hand goes to his rifle to pull it off his shoulder. Wary of traps or ruses to draw unsuspecting people in, he scans the area. Silence lingers long enough until he’s almost convinced he was hearing things when there’s another, louder cry. A baby. His eyes widen and he nudges the horse forward again. “Hello?” He cups his hand and calls out, wondering if there is a group traveling nearby. There must be, if there is a baby. Mountain lions and things that can sound like a baby crying are farther up in the mountains. Instead of the sound quieting, the crying turns into screaming, giving him a direction to head towards. Joel keeps his rifle up and guides the horse with his knees when he almost stumbles upon the scene.

“Shit!” There’s a woman lying on the ground, face down with a carrier on her back, a small baby - no more than three or four months old - screaming from the restraints. He scans the areas again, looking for a trap, but there’s nothing moving. The baby's howls prompts him to dismount and move towards the woman, his rifle pointed at her until he reaches them and nudges her with his boot. Wondering if she’s been changed and cannot get to the baby, although he’s never seen one go dormant with a human around and making noise. “Hey…” prodding her doesn’t make her move and Joel scans the area again, the open range not a good spot to plan an ambush, but someone could be hiding in the tall grass. Carefully kneeling down, he grabs a bony thin shoulder and turns the woman enough to see that her gaunt face and shrunken eyes are lifeless. “Shit.” He hisses, looking back at the baby who is almost as bad as the mother. From what it looks like, this poor woman had been traveling to find shelter, food, anything for her and her baby and she collapsed less than two miles from salvation.

Joel sighs as he sets the rifle down and rolls the body on its side. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs quietly, his heart clenching at the reality of the situation, reaching out to close the woman’s eyes before unbuckling the strap for the carrier that is across her chest.

Ellie returns before Joel does and you offer her a smile as she says hello. “I, uh, I made you something.” She says, handing you a piece of paper. It’s a card. “Happy Mother’s Day” it says and your heart clenches. A genuine smile on your face as you realize she made this for you. You open it and tears sting in your eyes as you read her scrawled handwriting. “Thank you for being the mom I never had.” She wrote and you choke, reaching for her. “I love you so much sweetheart.” You pull her close, reminded that you have a beautiful daughter who loves you. “I love you too.” She murmurs, holding you just as tight. The front door opens and you pull back as you hear a baby crying. “Joel?” You gasp when your partner walks into the kitchen.

“Ellie….go to Tommy’s and get a bottle.” He orders the teenager as he starts to pull the baby carrier off his own chest to take the baby out. He had brought the body back, but this baby needed milk as soon as he could get it for her. “I found her,” he explains. “A woman collapsed two miles away from Jackson, she starved to death.” He motions you over. “At least, I think it’s a girl.”

Your eyes widen as he cradles the baby and you reach out to take them into your arms. The baby’s diaper is dirty and you shush them as you walk over to grab an old dish towel from the drawer as a makeshift diaper. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” You coo, unwrapping the baby on the kitchen table and you tell Joel to get a wet cloth. You work on cleaning up the baby, “it’s a girl.” You announce and wrap her in the dishtowel, using the pin from her old diaper. “It’s okay sweetheart. You’re okay, sweet girl. You’re safe and we are going to get you milk.” You promise, cradling her as you turn back towards Joel. “Her poor mother. So close to salvation.” You sigh, shaking your head at the tragedy.

“I brought her back.” Joel tells you quietly, watching as you bounce the baby girl in your arms and coo at her to calm her down. “Hoping something in her bag would tell us where she’s from, what the baby’s name is.” He sighs softly. “I couldn’t leave her out there.”

“Her mother deserves a service, a burial. We must give this little one a place to visit her mother.” You murmur, stroking her cheek. She’s gorgeous, her eyes watching you, and you try to not get too attached to her, knowing that Maria and Tommy will be handling the situation.

Ellie comes bursting into the house. “Got a bottle!” She yells, thundering down the hall to rush into the kitchen. “Tommy and Maria are coming too.” She pants, quickly handing the full bottle of milk to you. The baby is obviously hungry because the second that you brush the nipple against her mouth, she shakes her little head furiously as she tries to get it in her mouth, crying out before the nipple is in and immediately starting to suckle hungrily with great, greedy gulps.

“We will need more. Tommy and Maria have everything for a baby. We - they should take her.” You murmur, knowing it will be hard to hand the baby over but she isn’t yours and the leader needs to make a decision on her placement.

Joel takes one look at the way you hold this baby while she’s eating and knows that’s not what needs to happen. This baby is your chance to be a mother, to feel like a mother. It’s like it was fate for him to be out there and find her today, to bring her to you. “I think we should keep her.” Joel tells you, coming up and laying his hand on your shoulder. “Tommy and Maria have a lot on their plate with one baby already.”

Your eyes widen as you look at him then back at the baby. “We - us - are you - Joel.” You whisper, a soft smile on your face as you dare to hope that you can keep the little girl. It feels wrong. Her mother just died, but she can’t be left alone. She needs someone to look after her.

The front door opens. “Joel?” Tommy’s voice floats through the house and Joel keeps looking at you with the baby. “In the kitchen.” He calls out. The guards at the gates had kept his horse with the poor woman’s body and he had known Tommy and Maria would come to find out what the hell happened, but he wanted to get the baby here first. Footsteps quickly sound out, two sets of them like he expected and the baby is still greedily sucking away at the milk when his brother and sister in law come into the kitchen.

You look up as Maria walks in, her baby strapped to her chest, and she immediately comes over to see the baby in your arms. “Oh, she’s a sweet little thing. She needs fattening up. Poor girl, her mom was so close to our gates. She needs a mother. You should be her mother.” She says and you stare at her, “are you sure?” Maria smiles, stroking the head of her son. “She needs a mother and you are a more than capable applicant.” She gestures to the way you’re holding the baby. “I- I know this sounds insane but I feel like this is my purpose.” You murmur, looking down at her as she suckles.

Tommy smirks at Joel, who is obviously relieved by the decision. He’s talked to Tommy about the issues you’ve had trying to conceive and wished that there was some way for you to figure out what was wrong, but there just aren’t the medical resources here in Jackson. Joel had even been thinking about trying one of the universities, but couldn’t risk it again. “We both feel that way.”

You smile, cooing at the baby. “Did we find out what her name is?” You ask and Tommy nods, holding up a note that was in the mother’s satchel. “Her name is Hope.” Tommy reveals and you smile, “Hope.” You murmur, pulling the bottle away when she’s done. You shift her to your shoulder to burp her and you cradle her once she’s burped. “She’s our hope.” You declare as you look at Joel and he comes over to wrap his arm around you, looking down at the baby. “Our new daughter.” Joel murmurs, kissing your hair and he beckons Ellie over. “She’s kinda cute.” Ellie says and leans in to stare at the baby. “Hi Hope. I’m Ellie. Your big sister. I’ll teach you everything you need to know. Especially about our grumpy dad.” She jokes and Joel chuckles and rolls his eyes. “We will gather everything you’ll need and we will make sure her mother has a proper burial. For now, you guys settle in as a family.” Maria says, stepping back towards Tommy. “Oh and Happy Mother’s Day.” Maria says to you and you smile, “you too.” You may not be able to have a biological baby but you have Ellie and you have Hope. The two girls who have made you a mother.

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #hbo the last of us #tlou #Happy Mother's Day

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luselih · 9 months ago

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Another new tumblr page! Welcome welcome!

I was wondering your thoughts on some of the Bleach captains with a very petite s/o? Think like… 4’8 - 5’2 , teeny tiny lil things. Someone who “looks” frail at first glance. Is someone smaller their type? Would that factor into any pursuit? 👀 You can go into NSFW territory if you like, but I’d be happy with SFW too!

miniature love(r) || gotei 13

summary/ask: bleach captains with tiny/petite s/o! (height underneath 5’2 / 157 cm tall)

content warnings | manga spoilers!!, separated in sfw/nsfw, sfw- mostly fluff (a little bit of angst) and my personal opinions of them having tiny fem s/o, teasing, kissing and physical affection, mentions of kids and domestic life, i think that’s it for this part, nsfw - so smut of course (minors dni), fem! reader, neutral skin color reader, yapping too much about kinks ,size kink go BRRRRR, oral (receiving), different sex positions, wlw!!, overstimulation, breeding + pregnancy + kids mentioned, mentions after care + more…

a/n - #1 i am actually using tumblr last 3 years but i just recently got back into writing lol and you got my european ass to convert those feet’s and inches to centimeters, 😦 i am like 5’8-9 feet ( around 175 cm-ish tall ) so please if i didn’t get a good point in this writing im sorry 😭, didn’t write for old man Yama, sorry not sorry honestly, he’s best grandpa tho <3

#2 also to say i wrote for captains in that picture (start of tybw lineup) if you are interested in past/future captains please send me a request! i don’t mind doing them later on~ Toshiro is aged up (grown up/him using his complete bankai)!

SFW!

Suì-Fēng is interesting one since she is not the tallest one (as tall as 150 cm (4'11")) definitely so she is leaning more into taller or at least average sized ones. However i don’t think she minds someone around her height, they can get each other struggles and solve then like you climbing on her shoulders to get a food from a high cabinet in a kitchen or gets in a tiny space together comfortably, yeah i think she is content with it!

Rōjūrō Ōtoribashi would like to have someone dandy on his side, dressing you up in fancy clothes and accessories. Having you as his dress up doll at home~ (sorry this is dry, i don’t like his characters that much lol)

Retsu (Yachiru) Unohana isn’t that tall either being 159 cm (5'2½") tall but her terrifying aura so there is no one pick on you and definitely not her in entire Seireitei so that’s nice <3 However i see her personal preference is someone taller but she also doesn’t mind having “a puppy” following her in free time ;)

Shinji Hirako, this little shit of a man would tease you till a day you die, picking on you as you are just trying to do your job or just passing by, he would put just get your paperwork and lift it that his lanky ass could reach and stuck his tongue out at you, eventually giving in and giving it back with a playful grin and a kiss on a side of your cheek as a apology, saying he won’t tease you again and then teasing you AGAIN not even an hour later 🤦‍♀️

Byakuya Kuchiki would honestly prefer someone who is tiny imo, that has already been proven right since he was with Hisana who is most likely same size as Rukia so there is no doubt. As a head of a clan he likes the feeling that his dearest could rely on him in anything, call it whatever you want but it brings him a sense of something he lost once and he is not planning to lose it again.

Sajin Komamura is TALLEST one 288 cm (9'5½") so as i said he would be probably more found of someone taller or average sized…however! that’s doesn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy having you around, in both of his forms he would carry you bridal style at late night hours or when Seireitei is empty so you two could have your time without having a fear of being judged or made fun of because of your appearances.

Shunsui Kyōraku, this man hoe likes every woman. He is a proud women lover. He loves any shape, size and complexion in women, he would absolutely adore having you close to him anywhere, especially in his bed late at night as he brushes your wedding rings together :)

Kensei Muguruma is on a more neutral side since i can see him wanting a tall and strong s/o he can fight and train with, but something in me is telling me that he’s a traditional man, he likes to be needed and wanted, be able to stood out in front of you proud, strong and straight to protect you.

Tōshirō Hitsugaya would finally be relieved that there is another person that is small, he’s so mf tiny that you are just maybe slightly taller than him anyway, in his true bankai form he’s around Byakuya’s height so he just might indulge himself into telling you a slight teasing comment, yeah i think he would like someone tiny to match him-

Kenpachi Zaraki would have a smaller s/o without a need for you to be smaller than an average woman in height, he’s like tall-tall, strong and intimidating compared with every race anyway. However i do have a feeling that he would like to have someone so dandy and small like Yachiru since she is a practically a part of his soul so he is found of tiny and cute things. Since his little Yachiru left ( :( ) you had become one who would sit on his shoulder as you two have to go anywhere, imo he probably wishes that one day if you two had a little kid together that it would be little girl who is his eyes is a little Yachiru who you two take care of, but this one have a little eyes just like yours and he likes that very much <3

Mayuri Kurotsuchi, this is weird one because i can see him not really having a type? He barely likes anyone, yet your tiny ass got underneath his skin and now you are here for him. Following him as you two raise Nemuri together, you 3 now looking like a real family!

Jūshirō Ukitake :( gosh i love him so much, anyway he is so nice with you, since you both are physically not very strong, it would make it easy but he fears he couldn’t protect you in time because of his fragile body :( yeah, can definitely see him with tiny s/o <3

NSFW!

Suì-Fēng - i think she loves classic scissoring as you two play w each other’s clits, can’t go well with that one and also, just sit on her face when she’s angry and don’t you dare to put only 10 percents of your body weight on her, fucking sit on it like a chair and let her spend her big mouth on a good job between your legs~

Rōjūrō Ōtoribashi - into Dacryphilia, absolutely loves when you get all pretty and dolled up especially in tiny dress, Pretzel Dip or missionary as you cry from overstimulation, looking so ruined and perfect just for him <3

Retsu (Yachiru) Unohana - man, if you haven’t died when she showed a 8 inch strap up your vagina and fucked you like she hate your guts you are good 👍 anyway, she fucking loves when you ride her or when she puts you in a mating press, absolutely filthy as she splits in your mouth you just because. ( she had a secret breeding kink but shush 🤫 don’t say you heard it from me, also i got some trans!Unohana thoughs, anyone interested in hearing it? comment down please!)

Shinji Hirako - he’s such a meanie in bed too ☹️, i mean he would literally yank you back by your ankle and continue giving you head with his pierced tongue, gosh the overstimulation is crazyyyy with him. Absolutely loves snuggling after it and his hand sliding on your side gently as it went to tease your kitty cat AGAIN-

Byakuya Kuchiki - he must be in love w you if he brings you to his bed so missionary or any position where he can see your face and kiss it is a must, he makes love with you and genuinely only fuckes you if he is jealous or mad, probably have a savior kinks/hints of it sometimes + soft kisses down your back as he praises you after 🥹

Sajin Komamura - (human version) when you two have sex he can’t help but to have a need to make you his because of wolf genetics in him so pretzel dip or prone bone are his favorite positions to make your tiny mind mindless as he might just cums inside if you especially in spring 🤭

Shunsui Kyōraku - loves cowgirl/any version of it so he doesn’t have to do too much at least at the start, see you bouncing on top of his cook as it’s tip bullies your cervix is a fever dream, pressing against your lower back or tummy just for your pussy get a death grip on his dick, isn’t fully interested in pulling out so pregnancy is inevitable sooner or later my dear 🫡

Kensei Muguruma - he is a simple man so he goes doggy or full nelson, fucks to fucks and myb slightly into bondage?? absolutely makes you squirt by fingering you, hate sex??? he absolutely demolish your poor pussy if you flirt w Shinji or Rose, he will kiss your forehead after it tho <3

Tōshirō Hitsugaya - (grown up version) doesn’t have that high of a sex drive but he adores you so he indulge into your horny cravings of him, loves spooning or Scissoring (just mlw) so he can kiss your shoulders or forehead as he for sure makes you cum couple of times at end of the night, secretly loves cookwarming but shushhh 🫢

Kenpachi Zaraki - actually fuckes you in every position possible and everywhere you can imagine, loves stand and deliver (The Bicycle position) as he is chocking you while pounding into your tight kitty, your bodies only stability is his arm that you are gripping for dear life and yes, he isn’t pulling out since he say so <3

Mayuri Kurotsuchi - doesn’t have that high of sex drive but he would absolutely make you deepthroath his length if you are bratty enough, probably some doctor/patient roleplay, people of Seireitei are scared to see his genuine smile if they see a little girl with both of your features??

Jūshirō Ukitake - my sweet man can only had cow girl/variations + missionary sex position with you so he doesn’t finish too soon, absolutely PERFECT with his fingers and has a praise kink so absolutely praise the living shit out of him as you make love underneath the moonlight all night long so he can be happy <333

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slasherscream · 7 months ago

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Hi, sorry to bug but I have to yap to someone about this, and I love your ideas. Do you think Nathan Prescott would take his partner’s last name if he ever got married? Would any of the Crazy Ass Boy Gang?

❥ who would take your last name ❥

Nathan Prescott - He would take your last name so quickly it would make your head spin. You’re the first person who’s given meaning to the world family. His sister tried, but when you’re on a sinking ship, there’s only so much you can do. Try too desperately to save the person drowning next to you and you risk going under yourself. So Nathan drowned alone. Until you, that is. Marrying you, becoming part of your family, is absolution for him. He’s not Sean Prescott’s son. He’s Nathan Y/L/N, your husband.

Jason Dean/JD - It might seem a little strange for JD to be so willing to change his name. His nickname is just his first and last name together, afterall. This was his mother’s last name. But it’s also his father’s. One night he’ll gently wake you , and in the quietest voice you’ve ever heard him use he'll ask you if you’d like him to take your last name. There are so many questions he’s asking, in that one sentence: Do you want me to be yours, unequivocally? Will you bear the weight of that ownership? Am I abandoning my Mother, if I leave her all alone as a Dean, with only him as her company? Will you ask me to take it? Please ask. Please take the weight of the asking away. I can’t abandon her. But I can’t stay, either. Put your arms around him and tell him he’ll make one hell of a Y/L/N.

❥ who would want you to take theirs ❥

Sebastian Valmont - He has genuinely doodled your names together in his journals like a middle schooler. Without a hint of irony: Mr. and Mx. Valmont. Y/N Valmont. Since the moment he fell in love he was planning to marry you and give you his last name. The Valmont name carries weight. It’s legacy. It’s old money. He throws his name around and people fall over themselves to get things done for him. He wants you to throw around his name too. He wants you to embrace every luxury he can give you. One of those luxuries is the power of his family name. Use it.

Billy Loomis - His parent’s marriage failed miserably. He doesn’t even know if his Mother kept the name Loomis. At this point, what does it matter? He fights tooth and nail not to live in the past when he has a future with you to look forward to. So he wants to look forward. He wants to do better than his parents did. He wants to wake up in ten years, twenty, thirty and reach for your hand and know you two succeeded. His family name isn’t doomed to failed promises, runaway spouses, and unfaithfulness. You guys are a better Loomis pair than his parents ever were.

David Mccall - Don’t piss him off. If you even try to hint at wanting to keep your original family name, it will be one of the few times you see David’s mask slip. “What? My name not good enough for you, sweetheart? Marriage is for starting over. It’s for building our lives together, not for hanging onto the past. Thought you loved me.” Every dirty trick he has in his arsenal will be used. Whatever it takes until you give in. Sex. Guilt. Moping. Anger. Don’t push back too hard, or go back and forth on the issue for too long. On your wedding day you’re gonna be Y/N Mccall, come hell or high water. There’s no need for anything drastic to take place just for that to happen, right baby?

Josh Washington - Josh could never be anything but a Washington. It’s the name he shared with his sisters. It’s the only thing he still shares with his sisters. He used to be able to see them in his face, at least. But now… he’s so different, even that bit of the twins has died. It isn’t right that there are so few Washington's left. Most days Josh isn’t even sure if he’s a Washington anymore. If he’s still Human anymore. But you are. You’re gentle, kind, and so painfully human. Just like the twins were. He might have failed them, hell, he probably failed himself. But he won’t fail you. He has a second chance at a family, and this time you’ll always be safe.

Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves - Would be so offended if this was even up for debate. Why wouldn’t you be taking his name? Why is it even a discussion? Why does he even have to ask? Will probably say something incredibly mean and unnecessary when you first talk about it. There’s a pit of insecurity in him that no amount of love you can give him will fill. It’s shaped like the love he should have gotten from his father. From his siblings. But the first love he’s ever felt has been yours. But that’s not true for you. You’ve loved people before him. Other people have loved you before he was able to. He needs you to be his. Just his. You’re the only thing in the world that matters that belongs only to him. But there are little pieces of you that will never be just his and it makes him sick. This can fix all that, though! He knows that the security of introducing you as his spouse will be a balm on his soul. He wants tabloids, newspapers, TV, and the radio to all be parroting the words: Y/N Hargreeves. He hopes- no, he knows it will make that hole inside him ache a little less.

❥ who wants to hyphenate ❥

Jordan Li - Jordan doesn’t want you to give up your identity, who you are, just because you’re marrying them. They also don’t want to change their name, really. Something about not being a Li, despite everything, makes their stomach turn. But marriage is still about coming together. Making two lives so harmonious, so copacetic, that sometimes, if you’re lucky, it becomes one life, shared. Jordan didn’t propose for a long time, afraid of it all going wrong. Of ruining what you have. You helped them believe you two were strong enough to change and grow together. They want your names to reflect that. So, you hyphenate, and you blend, and grow, together.

Stu Macher - Assumed you would take his last name, but when you pushed back, not sure if you wanted to shirk your family name entirely, Stu had the most relaxed reaction you’ve ever gotten from him about anything. “Okay, why don’t we both change 'em’? We’ll hyphenate! Like Brad Pitt and Angelina, or whatever.” You were expecting a tantrum. Not the easy acceptance that he actually meant for once. The fact is you’re wearing his ring on your finger, and you’re gonna stand in front of all your friends and family and say how much you love him. He’s already won. Why sweat the small stuff?

Kevin Khatchadourian - Was quite angry when you began to hint at not wanting to change your name. It was the icy, calculated anger that made him dangerous, too. But if you’re marrying him you know how to communicate with him. Reason with him. You don’t want to take his last name because you don’t want to emulate his family. You want to make something of your own with him. You’re not sure how well the words worked until he sets the paperwork down in front of you. Kevin Y/L/N-Khatchadourian. In those small lines of ink, you’ll realize how deep the love Kevin is capable of runs for you. If you squint your eyes those words start to look like: I want us to be different from my parents. He watches you sign the paperwork to change your name, and Kevin has never been more content to give in to one of your demands. Just this once, of course.

A/N: i LOVE a character study question that’s still x reader. you are my favorite person in the world for this one. if you enjoyed these headcanons consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writer's fuel is engagement. xoxoxo

#nathan and jd hating their fathers so much only topic theyd ever agree on. otherwise they would kill each other upon first eye contact #they all have something so deeply wrong with them #crazy ass boys gang #nathan prescott x reader #jd x reader #jordan li x reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #josh washington x reader #kevin khatchadourian x reader #sebastian valmont x reader #david mccall x reader #ben hargreeves x reader

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thoughtfulfiction · 2 months ago

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Dad and Mini’s Weekend

Author’s note: Gameday re-write! Bolt up as always. Hope you enjoy this dad!Justin piece!

“Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?”

The toddler stops in her tracks, putting down the purple crayon she was holding to look up at him like he’s offended her. “I’m not a baby, I’m this many,” she informs him, holding up four fingers. He reaches over the tiny drawing table and puts one of her fingers down so she’s only holding three up. They’ve been trying to work on it this week and there is clearly room for improvement.

“You’re right mini, you’re not a baby. Daddy’s sorry, do you forgive me?”

She hops out of her seat, the masterpiece she was creating quickly forgotten so she can give Justin a hug. “I forgives you, but...why do you call me mini?”

“Because,” he begins, laughing when she holds her hands up to be carried. He secretly still really liked to hold her, it was hard to believe the once small, green-eyed miniature girl version of him that he could hold in his hands like a football, was now a fully functioning, walking and talking miniature…person.

He walks the two of them to the bathroom, turning on the light so she can see their reflection in the mirror. ”Look at us, you look just like me. You’re my mini me. My mini.” She stares back and forth between her reflection and his, tilting her head as if that would help her get a better look. “See? We have the same eyes, same nose and—smile? That little hole in your cheek? It’s called a dimple. I have one too. And when I was your age my hair was blonde just like yours.” He pokes at each body part as he lists them off, his heart being warmed at the sound of her little laugh.

“Oh! We match daddy. We’re the same!” Remi kisses him on the cheek.

Justin was in charge for the next few days while you were in Chicago at a work conference. Remi had recruited you to help her make a list of things she wanted to do with him. And he made it his personal mission to get everything on the list done, to make up for all the lost quality time he didn't get to spend with her during the season.

Today, the main thing on the agenda was the aquarium. He strapped her up in her car seat and asked what she wanted to listen to on the way to their destination, secretly already knowing the answer because it had been the same for the last two weeks anytime either of you drove her around.

"The Cars song!"

“What’s the magic word?” He says looking at her through the rearview mirror, waiting for her to understand what he was getting at.

“Um…please?”

He nods and grabs his phone, playing the song on repeat. Remi starts dancing in her seat as “Life is a Highway” plays on the speakers. Justin watches intently as she wiggles her arms and shakes her little body as she pleases and joins her in singing along. If he could bottle up these tiny moments he would and he’d savor them just to be able to look back on them in the future because his mini was already growing up too fast.

Their duet lasted over an hour, driving into Newport from the ranch, and every time they left their home it made him grateful for his purchase to give his family some privacy. Of course he loved meeting fans and interacting with them but he wanted to be present with his daughter and interruptions or a quick selfie here and there got a bit old. And Remi was still trying to wrap her mind around why her dad always had people following him or taking pictures with him so answering those questions was always more fun for you than it was for him. So when he could be in the comfort of his own home, he wanted to be. But then again, if Remi said jump, most of the time he said how high and that is why he had this trip to take her to see some fish.

"Do you see those with the pretty tail that looks like a tutu? Those are called Red Betta Fish, so we can mark off the red square because we found something." Justin points out, handing Remi the marker and showing her the spot on the aquarium scavenger hunt they just checked off. After she was done she handed him the sheet, holding on to the writing utensil. He held out his free hand for her to hold, which she happily grabbed as her dad continued identifying different fish.

Remi looked at the various colors and sizes of the animals in front of her. “Do fishies have mommies and daddies too?”

“They do,” her dad nods, smiling at the fact that his daughter was tugging at his heartstrings due to her care for animals. He saw more of himself in her every single day but it was still mind-blowing.

“Maybe the mama went to work too, like mine. And the one in Finding Nemo!” She muses, looking up at him.

“You’re right! It’s exactly like that.” Neither you nor Justin had the heart to tell her what really happened to the mom when you all sat down for family movie night last Saturday. "Should we go find something blue?"

The toddler could not contain her excitement at the sight of the luminescent jellyfish. "Can we take one home? I want mama to see."

"Mini, I don't think they'd be very happy living at the house, they need lots of water. What if we find one at the gift shop to bring home? I think I saw some with glitter."

She understands immediately, silently wondering if she could let one live in the pool at their other house in California but she forgets her train of thought as soon as she he mentions glitter. "Yeah! I want more sparkly things in my room. Daddy?" He hums, grabbing her hand again, "someone is looking at us."

Justin turns around and spots the culprit, a little boy, maybe around 12 or 13, wearing his jersey. He can hear the dad, at least he assumed, who was telling him to just go up and ask for a picture. Remi pulls her dad over to them, clearly having heard the entire exchange as well.

"You should take a picture with my dad. He's really nice and he'll say yes." She obviously knew he played football but didn't quite understand the fact that her dad was famous. He was literally just her dad and he wanted to keep it that way as long as he could.

The kid's dad smiles at her, asking Justin if it's ok to interrupt his family time. "It's fine," he reassures him, "she insists and isn't the best at taking no for an answer," the quarterback huffs out a laugh. "Do you have your phone on you?" The dad pulls it out immediately, snapping a picture of the three of them as Remi looks on proudly. She definitely got that part from you. The father and son thank him after he signs the jersey with Remi's marker and both duos move on with the rest of their day.

Remi falls asleep on their way home, hugging her new plushie tight like her life depends on it. She's awake by the time he pulls into the driveway, thanking him for the "best day ever."

As soon as he opened the door, she went to her playroom to sit her plushie in a chair so all of her stuffed animals would be ready for tomorrow's tea party. "Hey," Justin pokes his head in, announcing his arrival when Remi doesn't turn around, purely focused on her "stuffies."

"Mini, what do you want to eat for dinner?"

She finally turns, plopping down to sit on one of the beanbags. "Can I have pizza pretty please? With ranch. Ranch is yummy."

"Sure, pizza and ranch coming right up."

"Thank you daddy," she says instinctively, having turned all of her attention back to the table.

Justin closed the playroom door, taking the stairs two at the time to grab his phone from the master bedroom. He clicked on your contact, praying you'd answer asap. "Babe, I really need your help. Remi wants pizza for dinner, how do I make healthy pizza?"

He hears you laugh on the other end of the line. "Oh my god. You know you don't have to give her absolutely everything she wants. I know you said you wanted to make salmon, so just make that. She'll be fine."

"I know but—she really wants pizza," you can hear the slight pout in his voice, reminding you of Remi.

"She also wants to be a unicorn when she grows up."

"I don't think I can make that happen, but I can definitely do some pizza. Can you just send me the recipe, please?" He really was desperate.

You chuckle at his antics, Remi really did have him wrapped around her little fingers. "Fine. Pushover."

"Whatever, thank you. I love you and we'll see you tomorrow."

"I love you too honey. You're a really good dad," you tell him seriously, "Rem has no idea how lucky she is to have you. We both are."

Justin didn't realize exactly how much of a pushover he was until he found himself sharing his bed with a toddler and the blue sparkly jellyfish he bought a few hours earlier and a gray bear named Muffin. Remi had cried sometime after dinner, a tell-tale sign she was tired, complaining that she missed you and his solution to that problem was to let her sleep in your spot for the night. She, of course, happily agreed.

All of the lights were off and he was seconds away from closing his eyes when he heard her giggle. "What's so funny over there little lady?"

"My pillow smells like mama. Like she’s right here.” She whispers in shock and he shakes his head in amusement, both of them drifting off to sleep with smiles on their faces.

The next day, Remi wanted to get into her costume. She’d been watching a lot of Spidey and his Amazing Friends and was convinced that she was Gwen Stacey aka Ghost Spider. So when her grandparents bought her a costume, she wore it pretty much daily. And her dad had to be Thor…for obvious reasons. The superheroes saved the city from the green goblin’s plan to turn everyone into hamsters and then they had to save Muffin from Doctor Octopus’ evil lair.

“We make a pretty good team, Spider Gwen.” Justin says, putting the Thor hammer on the couch.

“It’s Ghost Spider daddy.” She corrects him.

“Oh I'm sorry Ghost Spider. How about you take your costume off and we take a little snack break? Superheroes need food to keep up their energy.”

After enjoying her apple slices with peanut butter, Remi grabbed the list and asked her dad to read off the two things they had left.

"Flowers and slime."

She had added making slime to the list because she learned how to do it in preschool last week and made you stop at the store to get all the necessary supplies. Although he was secretly looking forward to this little science project with her, it was just another reminder that she was much closer to kindergarten than she was to the newborn stage. He followed the detailed directions that Remi got from school and added glue and food coloring to a bowl and let her stir.

“Do you wanna add in the baking soda?” He hands her the spoon and she dumps it into the bowl.

“Uh oh daddy I spilled. I need a tissue.”

“It's okay, we can clean it up when we’re done. You can keep mixing, you’re doing so well.” Justin runs a hand down her ponytail, proud of himself for successfully getting it all, even if it took him three tries. In his defense, Remi had a lot of hair to work with. “Next, we need to add some of this saline solution and mix it with our hands. Are you ready?”

Remi rolls up her sleeves with her dad’s help and digs into the bowl, kneading the slime with so much joy in her face. The orange slime came out gooey and perfect and they played with it for a while, cleaning everything up together when they were done. He loved that she was into science, fishing expeditions, superheroes and of course...football. But she was also a lover of unicorns, princesses, tea parties and all things glitter so they had gone through a plethora of her interests throughout the week.

The last thing on the list was going to the flower shop to surprise you with a bouquet when you came home. He walks into the tiny store with Remi on his shoulders, setting her down so she can smell the roses. "The yellow is pretty."

"It is pretty," he acknowledges, a sense of peace washing over him. Justin felt like he was in a constant state of serenity when he was home, the calm and quiet energy that followed him daily during the offseason was something he didn't want to take for granted.

The store clerk spots them browsing and asks if they're looking for anything in particular. "My mama is pretty, so we need the prettiest flowers in the world for her surprise."

She smiles, placing her hand on her chest at the toddler's words. "Well, I think I have just the thing you're looking for," the clerk crouches down to Remi's level, "do you wanna take your dad and see?"

Remi nods excitedly after looking at Justin to make sure it's alright. He walks behind her to the side of the store where they are shown an expansive array of flowers to make their own bouquet. The quarterback chooses sunflowers, remembering Remi's comment about the prettiness of the yellow, baby's breath and peonies and Remi picks out some roses, ranunculus bulbs and tulips, all various shades of pink. He gave her a fist bump on their way out the door, thoroughly proud of their work.

Before he knew it, you were texting him to let him know you were picking up dinner on your way home while the two of them watched Moana. Usually she’d be up and running around while the movie played in the background but tonight she was focused, cuddled into his side with her eyes glued to the screen. But as soon as you walked into the house Remi ran into your arms, not wanting to let go.

“Oh hi sweet cookie, did you have fun with daddy?”

“Uh huh, daddy is the best! I love him,” she mumbles into your shoulder.

“I love him too, he’s pretty great isn’t he? You’re so lucky sugar, you have the best daddy in the whole world.” Justin walks up to you and wraps his arms around both of you, sandwiching Remi in the middle. He gives you a kiss on the cheek and kisses the top of the toddler’s head. “So…tell me everything. What did you and daddy do?”

She takes a deep breath and you know you’re in for a long story. You catch your husband’s eyes and he shoots you a tight lipped smile as he goes back outside to your car to get your bags inside. Remi doesn’t let you go as you walk her to the couch.

“It was sooooo fun…” she begins, telling you every single detail without missing a beat.

“Do you need help unpacking? You know I have a little experience with it.” Justin smiles, looking down at your suitcase, long after Remi had gone to bed. You weren't going to say no to the help, gesturing for him to go for it. The man grabbed all of your essentials, easily placing them in their rightful places and putting your bags up without breaking a sweat. His tidiness and attention to detail had become even more attractive since you became parents, it really came in handy.

"How was it? Did she nap at all?"

He closes the distance between you and wraps you in his arms, sneaking in a kiss. "Barely. Maybe fell asleep twice for a total of less than two hours the last 4 days."

"I knew that was gonna happen," you laugh, shaking your head, "she was probably scared to fall asleep and miss spending every single waking moment with you."

"Not just 'waking.'" He notes. "She also slept in our bed...said she missed you too much to sleep alone."

"Of course she did, that kid is a genius."

"I swear she's three going on thirty. It hurts to admit but I just kept thinking about how fast she's growing and honestly? Sometimes I miss the baby stage. I—I think I want another kid." Your husband admits.

You look up at him with your eyes wide in shock, "really?"

"Yeah. Remi is...perfect. I just want her to have someone to play with and everything we did this weekend was great but it would be nice for her to have a sibling to do those things with. Hanging out with dad is cool now but it won't be forever."

Pondering his revelation, you bit your lip, taking in his words. "Two kids. That wouldn't be so bad."

Now it's his turn to be surprised, "you sure? I mean we don't have to make a decision right now, it's just-I always saw us having our own little crew running around."

"We did make a pretty cute kid, another one would just add more fun to our lives. Just promise me one thing."

"Anything,” he responds without hesitation. He’d probably carry the baby for you if that was humanly possible.

"This time I want to have an offseason baby, there's no way I'm having another kid in the middle of the season."

Justin's laugh vibrates against your chest as you hug him. "Deal. And maybe this one will look like you a little bit because Remi is all me."

"You carry a child for 10 months, suffer through over 20 hours of labor all for them to look like someone else. This one better look exactly like me or I'm suing you and your selfish genes."

"We'll have to wait and see but I may be seeing you in court."

#Justin Herbert #Justin Herbert imagine #justin herbert x reader #Justin Herbert fic

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asmogorna · 2 months ago

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Ok so for the last couple days ive been ill in the head about The Black Parade as mcr's alter ego/characters and i wanted to share some thoughts i had so far :3

It doesnt align with the canon lore that we have (i didnt really use it for reference at least) so it can be viewed as some sort of an au

I dont know if im gonna give them new names that just sound similar to the names of mcr themselves, so for now i will be referring to them by the names of the band members

So far I've been thinking about the typical "chosen by fate" scenario, where the characters lives lead them through a path for a specific cause

Post WW2 England

5 kids under their own circumstances witness a big parade (I will be doing some research and see if it could be some kind of victory celebration parade? It's just that I'm not sure if England had those. Not that I'm aiming for historical accuracy atp it's simple curiosity)

The kids get heavily impacted by that event and carry on (ha) that memory throughout their life

Now to the specifics of the characters cus by God they all gave me a headache

Heads up: they're all british orphans lol

Frank and Bob are students/residents in a Christian orphan school, and later on in life are priests in the town church

The reason why is that they both have badges on their uniform with crosses that could be associated with christianity

(I couldn't find any info about what exactly certain design details could be referencing, so ig it's up to interpretation)

The military theme in Gerard and Mikey's costumes will be explored on later (Mikey's medal could be either The Victoria Cross or The Distinguished Flying Cross, and the symbol on Gerard's shoulder is most likely the Order Of The Garter star)

And I couldn't figure out what to do w Ray, because I'm not sure if his uniform design details reference anything specific 🤷🏾🤷🏾🤷🏾

Now, Gerard and Mikey lost their father to war, and their mother passed away when they were both very young

And after that they ended up in the same orphanage as Ray, befriending him and finding out about their shared passion for music

This doodle was made abt that specifically <3

Later on in early adulthood they decide to start a cabaret band, in which Frank and Bob both join them later, deciding to leave their priest lives behind (partially because iirc both of them kinda fanboyed their way into the band irl lol)

After receiving little recognition, the band decides to take a train to America, to try their luck there. With a lot of hope and determination

That, sadly, doesn't last for long, for the train crushes with no survivors on board

The group crawls out of the collapsed train in their no longer physical forms. Yet, even after their death, they still have a desire to move forward. And that desire, though thoughtlessly, forces them to go forward. The souls of all the other people who lost their lives to the train accident follow them, through the landscape that no longer feels like earth

They then reach the end

Walking in one by one people disappear, finding their own peace and meeting their own finish line

After it's done, The Black Parade now have officially made themselves into what they're supposed to be. Gaining a new purpose and a new sort of life

I got too poetic for my own good here I fear .. anyway

Their job now is to lead the lost and the forgotten to the afterlife

They could be referred to as some kind of a grim reaper, I guess

I'm still thinking about adding more to the story, and maybe I will change some things, but so far this is all I can share really !! I hope if you've read this far you found this entertaining .. this is all for the satisfaction of my urges so I might or might not have too much fun w it in the future :3

The story was mainly inspired by this specific post from Gerard himself, because i liked the concept a lot ..

Also

She's gonna be here as a separate character too probably...... Cus I'm self indulgent and I love the ideas bubbling in my brain

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chanelnumbermine · 1 month ago

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2024 f2 boys during christmas preparations | f2 grid picks x gn!reader

i’ve been feeling really tired during those last few days and thought that i could use some help. who better than my favourite drivers! lay back and enjoy this small christmas gift! happy holidays, cuties!! <3

pairings: ollie bearman x gn!reader, kimi antonelli x gn!reader, zane maloney x gn!reader, paul aron x gn!reader, pepe marti x gn!reader, luke browning x gn!reader, franco colapinto x gn!reader;

warning(s): cuteness overload!!

ollie bearman | prema —> haas f1

as we know, the boy is a menace in the kitchen

so he helps with the christmas tree!

shows off his strength by carrying the tree to your house

excited to see all the lights and ornaments, wants to make it really perfect since you're doing it together

teases you about your height so so much

will lift you just so you can put the star on top of the tree! so cute!

kimi antonelli | prema —> mercedes amg petronas

he's a little flustered with all of this

can't help with the food, the tree is already decorated, what is even left?!

the presents!!

kimi would be the ultimate perfectionist in terms of wrapping

and don't even try to convince him that he can use a gift bag

every single item will be neatly wrapped with a bow on top

"can i wrap you up next?"

zane maloney | rodin —> formula e

king of confusion

chances are the chritmas traditions in your countries are vastly different and it's normal to be puzzled

zane would blindly follow your lead and admire how you handle yourself with so many responsibilities

"woah, babe, exactly how many cakes have you baked? this is so good!"

cleans up after your cooking because he sees how exhausted you are

"you need to teach me how to make this so i can help you out better"

paul aron | hitech —> bwt alpine reserve driver

surprisingly useful!!

my man will try to show off his baking skills but will end up asking questions every two minutes to make sure he doesn’t mess anything up

and thank god he asked, because no paul, you can’t add protein powder to my christmas pudding!

very clingy and affectionate, something about holidays together makes his heart melt

brushing his fingers over yours and teasing because he knows you will get frustrated and can't act on your needs

grins when you pounce on his later

pepe marti | campos, red bull academy

type of overachiever boyfriend who will start planning everything november 1st

all the dishes, the decorations, dates... you can count on him to have everything ready

but he somehow forgot about one thing: gifts

emergency last minute shopping, filled with laughs and good food!

"baby this dress would look so pretty on you!" "pepe we already bought so much-" "who cares! let's buy you this dress and, omg, is this matching lingerie?"

very excited puppy!

luke browning | hitech —> f2

really happy to be of help with just about anything

the type of guy to yap about his family traditions, his mom's cooking

not to compare or shame you, he just really loves christmas and wants you to be a part of his world so much

"mom, how do you make these cookies? i want to make them for my darling this year"

overall, it is very sweet and caring during this time

bc he's already imagining your future together and how would your family home look during christmas omg

franco colapinto | mp —> williams racing

curious about anything and everything

"hey, hey, baby! how did you make this? it looks to pretty"

you're stuck with his for hours tbh

will try to help you and fail miserably, causing even more mess and more work

flour will end up on the floor and on your faces

absolutely shameless about it, looks at you with puppy dog eyes

"come on baby, you weren't paying attention to me and now i ruined it! it's not my fault"

will try to make it up with a kiss or two, or five

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unknowntoyou2205 · 2 months ago

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Christmas Tears

Anthony Bridgerton x wife reader

Info: Y/n used to love the festive holidays, but this year she loses something special

Warnings: child loss, grief

Anthony and Y/n Bridgerton had been together for nearly a year now. During last season they had met, y/n’s family had travelled back home to be with her grandmother after her grandpa’s death, and it had been the first year y/n was introduced to society. As a 20 year old woman she was known as an old woman, nearly old enough to be a spinster. But her father was adamant that his only daughter wasn’t going to wind up with that title, so had put together a list of suitable men for y/n to meet.

Anthony Bridgerton hadn’t been on that list, but for some reason his younger brother Colin had. With y/n’s father having an interest in travelling, the third oldest Bridgerton had caught his eye, and therefore the two had been introduced. Neither Colin or y/n had an interest in each other, but had become close friends. They would often pomegrade around the town with y/n’s handmaid, and one day the viscountess had offered the y/l/n family an invitation to dinner, which was where Anthony and y/n had officially meet.

It was butterflies from the start for y/n, and Anthony had felt a shook when he took y/n’s hand, bringing it up to kiss it gently. Violet could tell by the look on her oldest face that he was smitten for the girl, and had advised Colin to get the two to sit together. For the duration of the night, Anthony showed great interest for the young woman, and asked any questions from her hobby to what she wanted in the future. At first her father wasn’t impressed, but when he seen the look the two mothers gave each other, he found himself second guessing which Bridgerton boy he thought best for his daughter. Despite wanting her to marry for society, y/f/n also wanted her to have some form of love within that marriage, just as he and y/m/n had. It was to Colins relief when her father told him abruptly that he wasn’t suitable for his daughter, and Benedict was more than happy to tell Anthony about that conversation.

It wasn’t long until Anthony asked for y/n’s hand from her father. He had visited her on the daily, and when the two families were out he would escort y/n around, much to the dismay of those who watched on. Anthony asked the question on one of their walks, stopping in the middle of the path as he took both of y/n’s hands, facing her as he smiled at her. She blushed as he held everyone behind them up, but he didn’t care about any of that, his attention solely on y/n. Their mothers hugged each other in delight as they watched the eldest Bridgerton ask the only daughter to marry him, while his father coughed to hid his emotions, shaking Anthony’s hand.

Now, in the cold December weather, the newest Bridgerton couple had joy on their doorsteps. Three months after their wedding, the new Viscountess had learnt that she had become with child. Anthony had been overjoyed with the news, and had grown protective of y/n from the moment they conceived. Y/n had known that her mother found it difficult to conceive, which was why she was an only child, and she had been scared that the same thing would happen to her. So when the doctor confirmed that she was indeed carrying a child, she was ecstatic, wasting no time telling her husband the news.

“Y/n, dear, what is it?” Anthony had asked when his wife had barged into his office without so much of a knock. “Anthony, I am with child.” Y/n grinned ear to ear as she said it out loud. “You are certain?” Anthony asked, not believing his ears. “Yes, it isn’t just the bug I had.” Y/n cried joyfully, putting her hands around Anthony’s neck. Anthony laughed in joy as he placed his hands on her cheeks to wipe away the tears before pulling her into his arms. “What on earth is all this about?” Benedict asked, seeing his brother and new sister buzzing with excitement. “Call mother, we have some exciting news.” Anthony told his brother, and y/n smiled as Benedict rushed off. “We are to be parents.” Y/n called out gleefully as Violet came into Anthony’s office with Benedict and Colin behind her. “Oh this is wonderful news.” Violet exclaimed, moving to take the new Viscountess in her arms. “Congratulations brother.” Benedict smiled, shaking her brothers hand. “Does this mean we should leave?” Colin asked jokingly, only for Anthony to laugh as Colin pulled him into a hug. “Oh I promise I will be out of your hair as soon as I can.” Violet stated to y/n as she kept a hold of her hands. “I assure you there is no rush for anyone to leave. It is a delight to be around such a large family.” Y/n smiled at each of the Bridgerton present, Anthony placing a hand on her shoulder.

---

The months of y/n’s pregnancy flew by quickly. The Bridgerton family were excited for the newest addition, and going by the couples maths, the baby would be due sometime in December. Y/n had always enjoyed Christmas, so having her first born during her favourite time of year made her feel all warm and fuzzy. Yet when December came, the couple felt underprepared. Both y/n and Anthony’s mothers had bombarded the couple with gifts for the baby, and y/n’s father had helped Anthony when it came to the nursery. The couple refused to let the help do the nursery for them, wanting to enjoy the troubles that came with the joy. Y/n had just stood laughing at her father and husband as they put together the wooden crib, while her mother helped her prepare the clothing the babe would wear.

The Christmas tree had been placed in the family room, and y/n admired the twinkling lights that shone on it. The odd ornaments that had been part of the Bridgerton family were littered along the branches, with one new addition for the new Viscountess. Y/n smiled as Hyacinth and Gregory ran around it, holding her swollen baby as she imagined what it would be like with her own children in the years to come. Anthony walked into the room to see her beautiful wife lounging on the sofa, and he smiled as he jumped down beside her, causing y/n to hit his knee in mock anger.

“Anthony Bridgerton, please be careful.” Y/n scolded her husband, before cupping his chin as he pecked her lips. “I do apologize my love.” Anthony smirked at her, pecking her lips again before wrapping an arm over her shoulder. “Will the baby come tomorrow?” Hyacinth asked, looking at the couple on the couch. “I don’t know Hyacinth, only they can decide that.” Y/n smiled at her little sister. “I don’t think I’d like that, a birthday on Christmas day.” Gregory scrunched his nose at the thought. “I think it would be a lovely gift to have them come on Christmas.” Anthony mused, placing a hand on y/n’s swollen stomach. “Your not the one that’ll be going through hardship my love. I would rather have no pain tomorrow.” y/n smiled, wanting to enjoy their first and last Christmas as the two of them. “You soon forget the hardship once you see their little face.” Violet explained as she came into view of her children. “Still , I would enjoy a quiet Christmas with my love.” Y/n smiled, looking up at Anthony. “I like the sound of that.” Anthony smiled, leaning down to kiss his wife softly. “Perhaps we should let your brother and love be children. After all they need all the rest they can get before the joys of parenthood begins.” Violet spoke to her two children, ushering them out of the room before closing the door behind them.

----

The night was cold as y/n walked around the grounds in her house gown. She had felt some twinges and had decided to take a walk outside to see if the cool air would help. Miraculously Anthony hadn’t woken up as she moved, so she got out in peace without Anthony trying to keep her inside. She had seen the clock on her way out, and couldn’t help the smile on her face when she seen it was past twelve. She could see the street lights still shining, and smiled at the sight before jumping when a voice was heard from behind her.

“You should be asleep my love.” Anthony mused, walking over to y/n with his coat hung over his arm. “couldn’t sleep, thought the fresh air would help.” Y/n hummed, rolling her eyes as she felt Anthony drape his coat over her shoulders. “It’s too cold for you to be out here.” Anthony spoke, wrapping his arm around her waist. “I’m with child, not fragile.” Y/n stated, moving to lean against her husband’s chest. “Still, I’d hate for you to be sick on Christmas day.” Anthony stated, kissing her forehead. “I’ll be fine.” Y/n spoke.

The couple stayed in each other’s arms, enjoying their time together. Y/n snuggled into her husbands body, enjoying the comfort she felt in his arms. Feeling his wife leaning heavier on him, Anthony wiggled his fingers along her side to tickle her.

“Anthony stop.” Y/n giggled, trying to get away from him. “Let’s go back to bed. Hyacinth and Gregory will soon be waking us up.” Anthony stated, smiling down at his wife. “Merry Christmas my love.” Y/n smiled. “Merry Christmas y/n” Anthony grinned, knowing how much y/n enjoyed Christmas.

Y/n allowed Anthony to guide her back into the house. It was weird moving in such a quiet house, with voices always haunting the halls during the day. The Viscount and Viscountess began to make their way up the stairs, however, y/n found herself barely able to move when she felt the twinges coming back. Grabbing Anthony’s arm, she came to a stop to catch her breath. Feeling her grip tighten, Anthony looked down at his wife before her knees buckled under her.

“Oww.” Y/n winched, holding her stomach in one hand as she held Anthony’s in the other as she fell. “y/n, what is it my love.” Anthony asked, panicked by the clear pain his wife was feeling. “It hurts.” Y/n whimpered, allowing Anthony to slide his arm around her as he crouched down beside her. “What’s wrong?” Anthony asked. “I don’t know.” Y/n cried, digging her nails into Anthony’s arm. “Help, somebody help.” Anthony called out, not wanting to leave her wife’s side. “Anthony.” Y/n cried, moving to lean her head against his chest. “I know. Somebody please.” Anthony yelled, and then movement was heard.

The next few moments were quick. Multiple handmaids came to the Viscounts aid. With strict instructions to bring his love to their room, a door man was ordered to go for the midwife and inform y/n’s family o while others grabbed water and towels. Multiple doors opened, but Anthony ignored them as he made his way to their bedroom.

“What’s going on?” Violet asked, moving to the closest person. “The viscountess has gone into labour ma’m.” The woman spoke, bowing her head. “Oh Lord.” Violet exclaimed, rushing to help. “What’s happening?” A tired Benedict yawned as he walked out of his room. “Get Colin and take Hyacinth and Gregory to the far rooms. It’s time.” Violet spoke quickly to her son before running to aid her eldest.

---

Screams filed the once quiet halls as Anthony paced along the halls, anxious of what was to come. After some convincing from his mother, Anthony had left the room when the midwife arrived, leaving hm out of the woods of what was happening. He closed his eyes as he listened to his loves screams of pain, praying for it all to be over quickly.

Violet and y/n’s mother were standing each side of the bed, holding y/n’s hands as they coaxed the girls breathing. Sweat covered the viscountess’s forehead, and her eyes had grown tired from all the pain and pushing. The midwife stood at the bottom of the bed, watching for the babes head to appear, but it was a struggle. Y/n had been in labour for the best of an hour, and there was no sign of the babies head.

“Y/n, I’m going to try and feel for the babies head.” The midwife explained, and y/n’s mother looked down at the midwife. “I can’t do it mama, I can’t.” Y/n cried, jumping in discomfort as the midwife done what needed to be done. “Yes you can sweetheart, just think, your baby will soon be in your arms.” Her mother smiled down, pushing back the hair from y/n’s face. “Alright y/n, the baby’s cord is wrapped around the neck so I’m gonna need you to push for me when you feel the need to, as hard as you can.”

Y/n looked up at the two mothers who gripped her hand tightly, nodding at her that it’ll all be okay. She was growing tired, and she just wanted it to be over. Feeling the next contraction, she screamed as she pushed, feeling nothing but pain.

“That’s it y/n, your doing so well. I see their head. Keep going.” The midwife spoke. “Good girl, that’s it.” Y/n’s mother commented, smiling as she kept pushing her daughters hair back in comfort.

Y/n’s screaming came to a stop, causing silence to fill the room. Anthony looked to the door, hoping for someone to come tell him what was going on. Inside, y/n cried in relief as Violet and y/m/n squeezed her hand, comforting her.

“You done so well y/n.” Violet stated, taking a towel to wipe the girls face from sweat. “I’m so proud of you.” Her mother stated with a smile, before looking down where the midwife was working on the baby. “Why aren’t they crying?” Y/n asked, knowing that usually a babe would be screaming. “Ma’m, what’s happening?” Y/n’s mother asked, already having an idea. “They should be crying. Why aren’t they crying? What’s wrong with my baby?” Y/n cried out, begging to know what was going on. “You had a baby boy.” The midwife spoke softly, and the three women looked her way. “Why can’t I see him?” Y/n asked, tears filling her eyes. “I’m so sorry.” The midwife spoke sorrowfully, and y/n began to scream. “No.” Y/n screamed, “Please.” “I’m so sorry sweetheart, I’m so so sorry.” Y/n’s mother grabbed her daughter, allowing her to cling to her. “Anthony.” Y/n screamed in sorrow, wanting her husband.

Anthony looked up in terror as he heard y/n screaming his name. His heart thumped in his chest as he moved towards the door. Not caring about whether or not he should go in, he burst through the door. He froze when he seen what was in front of him. Y/n was in her mothers arms, screaming and crying as her mother attempted to soothe her. The midwife was cleaning y/n up and his mother turned to him before placing a hand on y/n’s back and walking towards him.

“What’s happened?” Anthony asked, seeing the tears in his mothers eyes as y/n could be heard screaming and crying in the background. “Anthony, I’m so sorry.” Violet spoke softly to her son, placing her hands on his arms. “What?” Anthony asked, looking at his mother in horror. “The baby… he didn’t survive.” Violet explained, before wrapping her arms around Anthony.

Anthony clung to his mother as they both fell. They’re baby was gone before it even had the chance to survive.

----

Christmas morning was a sour one for the Bridgerton family. While Hyacinth and Gregory were blissfully unaware of what was going on, they ran around, playing with their presents. The adults sat in the family room, staring into space. Violet had told Benedict, Colin and Eloise about the loss of the baby. The family were in shock, not sure what to do.

After the midwife left the family to mourn, y/n’s mother left after kissing the Viscount and Viscountess on the head. Anthony had moved straight over to his wife, climbing on the bed as she continued to scream in sorrow. Shedding his own tears, he kissed her head as he rocked her. Neither of them moved from the room, and no one went to see them.

At dinner time, Violet asked y/n’s handmaid to try get the couple down to eat something. While the children dug into the turkey, ham and trimmings, the adults remained in their seats, waiting to see if the couple came. They held their breaths when they heard footsteps, and soon two drained and tired figures came into light. Anthony kept an arm around his wife, and only moved from her when Benedict and Colin stood up, moving to comfort the couple. Benedict allowed y/n to fall into his arms as Anthony threw his arms around Colin. Violet looked down with tearful eyes, and Eloise could only watch in shock.

“Why?” Y/n cried, breaking the families hearts, “Why?” causing Anthony to bury his head on his younger brothers shoulder to hid the tears.

#anthony bridgerton x wife reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton family x reader #bridgerton family #bridgerton

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