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her-satanic-wiles · 6 months ago

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Dawn Chorus - V

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

When you question the Almighty for a third time, you find yourself on the run and escaping a horde of wrathful angels ready to punish you for your insolence. Whose garden should you fall into than Cardinal Copia’s? And he has more nefarious plans for you.

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by anonymous ⛧ Series Masterlist

Words: 7.2k.

Reading Time: 29 min.

Warnings: brief mentions of the past trauma the angel went through, including the harrassment and torture, but other than that this chapter is pretty chill.

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @dopey-fandom-girl @ravensbars @copiaspet622 @onlyhereforghost @ultrahalloweengirl @ad-astra-per-aspera-1976 @dolceterzo @whitepawfics

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this fic is quite dark, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my decision. Thank you.

The Sister’s voice echoed through the room, laced with anger and accusation as she confronted the Cardinal about his inexplicable actions. “Why would you drain her when you knew we were going to perform the second ritual the next day?” Her words dripped with venom, each syllable heavy with indignation and fury.

You listened intently, your confusion deepening with each passing moment. The revelation only served to deepen the mystery surrounding the Cardinal’s betrayal, leaving you grappling for answers in the midst of the chaos unfolding in the next room, both of them oblivious to your consciousness and your eavesdropping. Why would he sabotage their plans at such a critical juncture? What could possibly drive him to act against his own interests in such a shocking manner?

“The second ritual didn’t fall on the right day, and you know it,” the Cardinal retorted, his voice tinged with frustration and defiance. Despite his anger, he made a planned effort to rein in his emotions, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure in the face of the Sister’s accusations. “Turning her into a demon won’t solve our problems.”

His words hung in the air, a sobering reminder of the gravity of their situation. The Cardinal’s admission hinted at deeper complexities beneath the surface, implying that their plans had encountered unexpected challenges and complications. It was a rare display of vulnerability from the normally stoic and resolute Cardinal, revealing the inner turmoil and conflict that plagued him.

“Oh,” she said with realization, her voice laced with a mixture of understanding and accusation. “I see what this is. You wanted to keep your little blood bank.”

Her remarks sliced through the tension like a knife, exposing the Cardinal’s hidden motives and the real reason of his actions. It was a damning revelation, a stark reminder of the Cardinal’s selfishness and lack of regard for the consequences of his decisions. In her assertion, the Sister captured the core of their unstable relationship, emphasising the power dynamics at work as well as the simmering problems beneath the surface.

The Cardinal’s response was measured yet weighted with underlying stress, his tone betraying a hint of defensiveness mingled with a touch of resignation. “It’s not about that, Sister,” he replied, his words carrying the weight of truth and conviction. “We both know the risks involved in the second ritual. We can’t afford to gamble with her life.”

“We need to control her!” The Sister exclaimed.

“And we will, I just need more time.”

“We’re running out of it, Copia! Our window of opportunity is closing, and if we don’t act soon, we risk losing everything we’ve worked for for the Dark One!” The Sister’s voice crackled with urgency, her words echoing the gravity of their situation.

“He doesn’t need another angel, He’s received plenty over the years.”

“No, but he needs information!” Something smashed in the other room which caused you to jump in surprise. “How many times must I remind you that Lord Lucifer gave us eternal life to do His bidding and give Him an advantage for the centuries to come? We are indebted to Him, and we could lose our lives because of your idiocy!”

The Cardinal protested, “He wouldn’t do that. He’s not Yhwh.”

There was a noticeable tension in the room as the Sister and the Cardinal argued angrily, both standing up for their own fears and motivations. You listened closely, your pulse thumping in your chest as you realised the magnitude of the situation. They were playing a dangerous game that may have serious ramifications for both you and them.

As the dispute progressed, you couldn’t help but feel a sensation of unease sweep over you. You were caught in the centre of their power battle, a pawn in their ultimate plan to serve Satan. But deep down, you knew you were more than just a tool to be used for their benefit. You were an angel with individual thoughts, feelings, and wants. And even though the Cardinal was in there defending what you believed to be your honour, he still seemed to forget that.

“You have until the next full moon, Cardinal!” The Sister shouted, her voice getting quieter. “If you’ve not gained control over her then, we’re doing things my way.”

The Cardinal huffed, and in a high-pitched, mocking tone, he repeated, “If you’ve not gained control of her then, we’re doing things my way.” This sentence was punctuated by a string of expletives in his native tongue, no doubt cussing her out angrily for the outcome of the argument. He continued to mumble to himself as he moved about the living room, no doubt beginning to clean what had broken.

You were unsure whether to move, or to stay where you were. As of now, you were on his bed, lavishing in the comfort and enjoying some freedom - if you were to leave, he might put you back in your cage. And so, you stayed put, your mind swirling with thoughts and emotions. The weight of the Cardinal and the Sister’s ultimatum hung heavy in the air, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of being trapped in a precarious situation. You even went as far to close your eyes as though you were still sleeping when the Cardinal came back into the room, gently closing the door so as not to disturb you. You felt the bed dip where he sat on it beside you, and though you couldn’t see them, you knew his eyes were on you, trained on your face and burning into your mind as if he were trying to read it.

You remained still, feigning sleep as the Cardinal’s presence loomed over you. Every fiber of your being was on high alert, your senses attuned to the slightest movement or sound. The tension in the air was palpable, a silent battle of wills unfolding between you and the Cardinal.

You could feel his gaze boring into you, probing for any sign of wakefulness or vulnerability. Despite your best efforts to maintain the facade of slumber, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that washed over you in his presence.

Minutes passed like hours as you lay there, locked in a silent standoff with the Cardinal. Each passing moment only served to heighten your apprehension, amplifying the sense of confinement and helplessness that enveloped you like a suffocating shroud.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you sensed the Cardinal’s presence recede. The bed shifted as he rose from his seat, his footsteps fading into the distance as he left the room.

Alone once more, you allowed yourself a moment of respite, exhaling a sigh of relief as the tension slowly dissipated. But even as you closed your eyes and attempted to find solace in the darkness, the weight of the Cardinal’s gaze lingered in your mind, and the memory of the Cardinal’s touch lingered like a ghostly imprint on your skin, haunting you even in his absence. Each sensation, from the prick of the needles to the gentle strokes of his hands, replayed in your mind with vivid clarity.

There was something about his gaze when you were at his feet, and the gentility of his touches as of late, that had you deeply questioning both the Cardinal’s intentions, and your own resolve. How this strange attention from him was awakening you in a way you never thought was possible. And though you tried to drive away the sin, you still couldn’t forget how your body responded under his scrutiny. You shuddered involuntarily as the phantom sensations danced across your flesh, a chilling reminder of the violation you had endured at his hands. Despite your best efforts to push the memories aside, they clung to you like a stubborn shadow, refusing to be banished from your thoughts.

You didn’t know how long you were out for this time, but when you woke up you felt almost entirely healed… and you were still on the Cardinal’s bed. You felt a fresh surge of energy entering your veins as you awoke from your sleep. The old aching that had tormented your body appeared to have vanished, replaced by a renewed life that left you feeling almost perky.

With cautious optimism, you forced yourself out of bed, appreciating the lack of agony that had plagued you for so long. As you climbed to your feet, you couldn’t help but wonder at the sense of liberation that swept over you, like a bird freed from its cage after a long imprisonment.

Stepping out of the Cardinal’s bedchamber, you entered the living room with anxiety, unsure of what lay beyond the doorway. The space was bathed in a warm glow of flickering candles, which created dancing shadows against the walls and gave the place a peaceful atmosphere.

Your attention was pulled to the figure sitting on the love seat, bathed in warm amber light that streamed through the room. The Cardinal was dressed in pyjamas and a robe, his usual powerful demeanour minimised by the informal garments and a tousled appearance indicating a recent bout of sleep.

He sat with a book in hand, the pages lit by the warm glow of the candles, his gaze seemingly immersed in the words on the page. His features were relaxed, with a tiny furrow of concentration on his brow as he read deeper into the text.

As you arrived, the Cardinal looked up from his reading, his mismatched eyes meeting yours with a flash of surprise before a faint smile formed on his lips. “Come here,” he ordered, returning his eyes back to the pages of his book. His voice was deep and gravelly, like it was the first time it was used that night.

For some reason, your body responded and did as you were told without the need for the halo, and you found yourself once again at the feet of the Cardinal, on your knees at his request. He moved his book and patted his thigh, inviting you to rest your head there, which you obliged, draping your upper body over him and pushing your cheek into the warmth of his robe. His hand found its way to your hair, and he gently stroked it, like a human would with their dog who was asking for attention.

Despite the internal turmoil that churned within you, there was an undeniable sense of warmth and comfort that enveloped you as you nestled against the Cardinal’s side. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his fingers threading through your hair with a tenderness that belied the darkness that lurked beneath the surface.

As you rested your head upon his thigh, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of security wash over you, like a weary traveller finding refuge in the shelter of a friendly inn after a long and arduous journey. The rhythmic motion of his hand stroking your hair was oddly soothing, lulling you into a state of peaceful resignation despite the turmoil that raged within your heart.

In that moment, as you lay entwined with the Cardinal, you couldn’t deny the conflicting emotions that warred within you. There was a part of you that recoiled at the thought of finding solace in the arms of your captor, a deep-seated instinct that screamed for you to break free from his grasp and reclaim your autonomy.

And yet, there was another part of you that yearned for the comfort and reassurance that his presence offered, a primal longing for companionship and connection in a world that seemed so cold and unforgiving. It was a paradoxical dance of desire and revulsion, a tangled web of conflicting emotions that left you feeling simultaneously adrift and anchored in the Cardinal’s embrace.

But as you lay there, enveloped in the warmth of his robe and the gentle caress of his hand, you couldn’t help but surrender to the moment, if only for a fleeting instant. For in the midst of chaos and uncertainty, there was a fleeting sense of peace to be found in the arms of the one who held you captive, a fragile sanctuary amidst the storm that raged within your soul.

“You’ve been asleep for ten days, Angel,” he commented absentmindedly. Double the time of your last recovery. No wonder you felt rejuvenated.

““I am disheartened to see thou hast not yet choked on my blood, Cardinal.” You told him, your voice more teasing than resentful.

The Cardinal heard this and chuckled, “I held on until you woke up, so you could watch it happen yourself.”

You tittered, “Now that I am alert, there is naught preventing me from enacting it myself.”

“You can try,” the Cardinal challenged.

“I shall indeed. However, it would happen when thou least expect it.” You sat up and looked at him. “I would mend more swiftly if thou did return to me my halo, even if it were but for a brief span.”

“Out of the question,” the Cardinal said moving his hand from your hair to your cheek.

“I shall perish if I do not retrieve it anon.”

“You’ll be grateful you’re not going back in your cage. Keep this up, and you’ll be back in there.”

You hesitated but still decided to ask, “Why didst thou set me free?”

“Don’t ask me questions I don’t want to answer.”

“How shall I discern to refrain from posing such queries if I am unaware of thy reluctance to provide answers?”

The Cardinal chuckled, “By the look on my face.”

“But if thy countenance be ever thus, then I shall never discern the difference.”

“You better not be calling me ugly.”

You giggled, “Not ugly, Cardinal. Yet I envision it proved troublesome for thy mother to tender affection towards thee.”

He slapped your cheek for your impertinence, not hard at all, in fact it was more like a tap. “Do you want to go back in your cage?”

You shook your head and draped yourself back over him as he wanted you to do in the first place. “I am exceeding content in this place, I thank thee.”

The Cardinal laughed. “I thought as much.”

You didn’t go back in your cage that night, or the night after. In fact, the Cardinal didn’t expect you to go in your cage at all except if and when the Sister would come and visit unannounced. But it was made very clear to you that the door would be locked at all times, and there would be at least two ghouls standing guard outside.

The days stretched into weeks, and still, you remained free from the confines of your cage. It was a strange and unsettling shift in dynamics, one that left you feeling both grateful for the newfound freedom and wary of the Cardinal’s intentions.

Without the familiar bars of your cage to contain you, you found yourself wandering the Cardinal’s chambers with a sense of cautious curiosity, exploring every nook and cranny as if searching for hidden answers amidst the shadows that lurked within the room.

In the Cardinal’s apartment, you uncovered a plethora of objects and trinkets that provided insight into his mysterious personality and the depths of his depravity. Ancient tomes and grimoires were scattered across the room, containing occult rites, incantations, and forbidden information. These books, bound in leather and covered with intricate sigils, contained intriguing symbols and metaphysical teachings that alluded to the Cardinal’s fascination with the occult.

You found an assortment of foreboding artifacts filled with dark power and nefarious purpose, hidden away in shadowy nooks and secluded alcoves. From ceremonial daggers and ritualistic equipment to elegant talismans and cursed relics, every piece exuded a malevolent aura that sent shivers down your spine.

Subtle sigils and symbols of unknown provenance were woven into the fabric of draperies and tapestries, and etched into the walls. These mysterious marks pulsed with ghastly energy, their meanings hidden by layers of mysticism and old legends.

Locked chests and coffers littered the room, concealing untold treasures and forbidden secrets. These perplexing containers were ornamented with sophisticated locks and enchantments, their contents shrouded in ambiguity, and protected by powerful wards and incantations.

As you began to examine the Cardinal’s chambers, your keen eyes noticed a little, intricately carved wooden box nestled away on a shelf in the corner of the room. Unlike the other artifacts in the room, this box appeared to exude a sense of hidden charm rather than obvious malevolence.

Intrigued, you approached the shelf and cautiously raised the box’s lid to see its contents. A collection of exquisite treasures and keepsakes were snuggled inside, surrounded by layers of smooth velvet lining.

A little bundle of velvety, mousey-colored hair, comparable to the Cardinal’s sat inside the box, held together with a beautiful, black ribbon. Despite its unassuming appearance, this keepsake exuded solemnity and veneration.

A beautifully drawn miniature portrait of a solemn-faced woman with piercing eyes and a soft, yet forced smile sat underneath the hair. The craftsmanship was exceptional, catching every detail with astonishing precision. After careful examination, you recognised it was a younger image of the Sister.

A little sachet containing fragrant herbs and spices released a delicate yet seductive perfume of lavender and rosemary into the air. Its purpose and significance remained unknown, adding to the collection’s uniqueness.

And an old pocket watch, its numerous gears and mechanisms glimmering softly in the chamber’s faint lighting. Despite its antiquity, the watch appeared to be properly kept, indicating that it held sentimental worth for the Cardinal.

Some of the books around the place, you’d come to learn only hours after being left alone and free for the first time, were novels rather than entirely non-fictional, educational works. Novels from romances, to horrors, to contemporary works and classical, you found them all among his private collection. And that was how he found you when he came home that evening, curled up on his love seat with a book in your hands and your nose buried deep into it.

“Having fun?” He asked, removing his hat and placing it on the dresser in front of the door.

You didn’t hear him at first, too occupied with the world in front of you to realise he had even returned home. When he repeated himself, you finally acknowledged his presence. “It is wondrous what you mortals would engage in during thy leisure hours.” you remarked, closing the book but trapping your finger between the pages. “Truly, this is a marvel. I find myself transported to another realm, yet anchored to this very seat!”

He smiled. “If you like that, then you should watch a movie. Or play a video game.”

“I am content with these works, I thank thee.” You replied. “Though, I must declare, it will not be long until I complete thy collection.”

“Well,” he moved your legs and sat down beside you, removing the book from your hands, “let me know when you do. I’ll get one of the ghouls to bring you up a selection from the library.”

“Hath this place a library?” Your eyes widened.

“Yeah, of course. The Vatican has one, why wouldn’t we?”

Come to think of it, it did make sense that the Satanic Ministry would have its own library filled with untold knowledge, given that was why Lucifer was expelled from Heaven in the first place. “How many of these tomes doth it possess?” You asked, curiously.

“So many questions.” He said, tapping his belly.

“Inquiries thou art disinclined to respond to?”

He nodded.

You sighed, “Then shall I remain forever ignorant.” You sat back to your original position and opened the book again, choosing to read over conversing with him.

That night, he worked at his desk by candlelight, with you at his feet, a book in your hand and head in his lap. Every now and then, he’d reach down to stroke your hair, but in the meantime, your presence was simply enough for him. Sometimes, when you were alone in the apartments, your mind would drift off to the Cardinal and his sudden change in behaviour. How his guilt at violating you was enough to change him almost completely.

As you reflected on the Cardinal’s change, a ray of hope flickered within you. His sudden concern for your well-being and sympathetic gestures, however fleeting, provided a glimmer of redemption amid the darkness of your incarceration. With each stroke of your hair and soft touch, the Cardinal appeared to silently atone for his past wrongdoings finding solace in the calm companionship you offered.

Even while you basked in the warmth of his devotion, a niggling worry lingered in the back of your mind. Could this sudden friendliness be genuine, or was it only a ruse to conceal deeper intentions? Perhaps he’d realised that getting information out of you through torturous means wasn’t getting him anywhere, and so he was trying to trick you with falsities to get what he wanted. Despite your worries, you couldn’t resist the pull of his presence, the way his touch sparked a desire within you for connection and understanding in an uncertain world.

As the light flickered and cast swirling shadows across the room, you found yourself slipping into a state of calm, nestled on the Cardinal’s lap, the weight of the book in your hand a reassuring reminder of the brief moments of tranquility you enjoyed in his presence. And at that moment, surrounded by the lovely glow of candlelight and the quiet whisper of turning pages, you allowed yourself to imagine that escape was possible if you simply bade your time and waited long enough.

As expected, you’d gotten through all of the books in his possession and found yourself craving more. It didn’t take you long to get through the entire library situated on his shelves, and you found yourself igniting with boredom. Now that you’d had the privilege of freedom (or rather, freedom adjacent), you found yourself crawling the walls itching to be released unto the mortal realm like a bird.

The Cardinal was out for a lot of the night, meaning you had nothing to entertain you, until you noticed the box large rectangular box, its glossy surface reflecting the dim light in an almost mesmerizing manner and hanging on the wall opposite the love seat. You’d spent so much time with your nose in a book, you’d hardly noticed anything else.

You took hesitant steps towards the curious object, your fingers running down its smooth exterior. You saw your own reflection in the black mirror, and pulled some faces before your fingers continued their journey across the cold box. You observed a row of buttons organised neatly on one side, each with enigmatic symbols and marks. Intrigued, you tapped one of the buttons, your mind racing with possibilities.

To your surprise, nothing happened at first. Determined, you continued to investigate the thing, prying and poking at its many parts in search of any clues as to its purpose. Your efforts were met with quiet until, finally, your fingers brushed against a small switch buried between the buttons.

With a slight click, the frame sprang to life, its surface flashing to reveal a brilliant display of colours and images. Your eyes widened in amazement, watching as it began presenting sights from faraway countries and odd faces unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

Intrigued by this novel display, you reached out to touch the images dancing across the screen, only to discover that they were just beyond your reach. You were fascinated as the scenes altered and transformed before your eyes, each one providing a glimpse into a world beyond your own.

You reached down and pressed a different button, and the image cut out, replaced by something else. A purple door came into view that was opened by a woman, so angry, her arms were flailing as she stormed into the room. “I cannot believe that you didn’t tell me that we are still married!” She exclaimed.

Following her, a man entered, equally as frustrated and more guilty. “Look I was going to tell you!” He argued back, somehow much calmer than her.

“When?! After the birth of our first secret child?!” Laughter from a crowd of people sounded through the speakers, making you turn around thinking that they were in the room with you. They weren’t. “Ross didn’t get the annulment; we are still married.”

Their friends sounded disgusted and surprised, the blonde one more so than the rest.

The man called Ross sighed, “Okay, maybe it wasn’t my best decision. But I just couldn’t face another failed marriage.”

Another man spoke up, his tone flat. “Okay, let me just jump in and ask, at what point did you think this was a successful marriage?” The people laughed again.

Ross spoke again, awkwardly laughing, “Rach, come on, if you think about it, it’s actually kinda funny.” He laughed alone in the room, but the crowd laughed again. Even though you didn’t understand entirely what was happening, the laughter made you chuckle, too. “Okay, maybe it’s best not to think about it.” More laughter.

A woman spoke this time, long blonde hair and a lilt to her voice, “Okay, this is inexcusable. I am shocked to my very core!” She sounded like she was exaggerating.

“Phoebe, I told her you already knew.”

Everyone looked at Phoebe for a moment, and she processed her next words: “Another lie. You have a sickness!” So many sins, such little time.

The other man from before spoke again, in the same jovial tone as before, “Ross, just for my own piece of mind, you’re not married to anymore of us are ya?”

The clip ended and was replaced with a yellow couch sat in a field in front of a fountain, so large, it couldn’t be hidden behind the seat. A lamp sat beside it, as though it were the one lighting the field despite its dull brightness. No, not a field… a park? There were lights behind it that resembled buildings. Text appeared on the screen, each letter separated by a different coloured dot; red, yellow, blue, red, yellow, blue.

A song began to play from the device, an enthusiastic and engaging song, with energetic guitar riffs and rhythmic percussion. As the tune filled the room, you found yourself tapping your foot to the beat, enthralled by the music’s captivating vitality. Although, when it first sounded, you startled, and screamed out your surprise.

“So no one told you life was gonna be this way,” the song sung, followed by four, sharp claps.

A joyful group of voices sang the upbeat, playful words, which almost appeared to invite you into their world. They spoke of friendship and connection, laughing and love, building a story of shared experiences and memories that struck a chord deep within you.

As the song reached its peak, the visuals on the screen began to alter once more, revealing a group of individuals gathering on the yellow couch you had previously seen. Their features were strange… new - with each one smiling as they laughed and joked together.

You sat transfixed as the image unfolded in front of you, drawn in by the warmth and excitement emanating from the television. And when the final chords of the theme song died away, you couldn’t help but feel a connection to these strangers, as if they were old friends welcoming you into their group.

“Having fun?” The Cardinal’s voice sounded behind you, causing you to jump out of your skin. You turned to face him, eyes wide and fearful, and you noticed a dark glint in his eye as though he enjoyed making you squirm.

You stuttered, caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the Cardinal. “I… I was just… I found this… thing… and…”

He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that sent shivers down your spine. “It’s called a television,” he explained, walking over to stand beside you. “It’s a device that plays moving pictures and sound.”

You blinked, trying to process this new information. “Moving pictures and sound?” you repeated, your curiosity piqued.

“Yes, exactly,” the Cardinal replied, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “It’s a form of entertainment. People watch television shows and movies on it.”

You tilted your head, still not entirely understanding. “What is… a television show?” you asked tentatively.

“It’s like a play, but recorded and shown on the screen,” he explained. “It tells a story, with characters and plots, just like the stories you read in books.”

You nodded slowly, beginning to grasp the concept. “And this…” you gestured towards the television, “is one of these… television shows?”

The Cardinal nodded, his smirk widening. “Yeah. And it seems you’ve stumbled upon one of the most popular shows.”

“What’s it called?” you asked, curiosity burning brightly in your eyes.

“It’s called Friends,” he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. “And trust me, you’re in for a treat.”

He sat on the seat and gestured for you to sit at his feet, and place your head in his lap like you usually did. The show continued with the two of you sitting like that, his hand in your hair and your eyes mesmerised by the show.

As the show progressed, you grew more immersed in the plot, your eyes glued to the screen as the characters moved through numerous comic scenarios. You couldn’t help but be fascinated and amazed by this new type of entertainment, which was unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

You took a few glances up at the Cardinal, examining his expression as he watched the show with amusement and focus. It was unusual to see him in this light, relaxed and almost… human. For a minute, you nearly forgot about the evil underlying his facade, the control he wielded over you.

In that moment, you realised you’d become too comfortable there; his pet in his Satanic temple, and you were too happy with it. For far too long, you had allowed yourself to be lulled into a false sense of security, seeking sanctuary in the Cardinal’s rare acts of tenderness and compassion. But now, as you sat at his feet, head in his lap, you couldn’t avoid the fact any longer.

You were nothing but a pawn in his sick game, subject to his whims and ambitions. And, while you may have experienced brief moments of happiness in his presence, they were nothing more than illusions that masked the terrible reality of your situation.

With a heavy heart, you promised to break free from the ties that held you, to restore your independence, and to oppose the Cardinal’s authority over you. But you knew deep down that the journey to freedom would be difficult, and that the Cardinal would not give up his grasp on you without a fight.

As you looked up at him, a fire kindled within you, a desire to break away from his grip and make your own path forward. You may have been his pet for a while, but you refused to remain a prisoner forever.

“I have Saturday night free,” The Cardinal told you, eyes still fixed on the television, “did you want to see the library?”

His nonchalant question caught you off guard, prompting you to lift your head from his lap and stare up at him, surprised and hesitant. The possibility of visiting the library with the Cardinal was both exciting and unnerving, considering the power dynamics at work between you.

“I…I suppose,” you said cautiously, uncertain how to answer to his surprise invitation. The chance to explore the library, with its limitless volumes of knowledge and secrets, was obviously appealing, but you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of unease in the back of your mind.

The Cardinal nodded in answer, his gaze still set on the television screen, as if he were only half-listening to the exchanges. “Good,” he noted simply, before returning his focus to the show.

You couldn’t help but feel nervous about spending Saturday night alone with the Cardinal in the library. But, deep down, you were fascinated about the library’s secrets and the hidden truths it may hold. What a Satanic library would look like, and what precisely they had hidden away on their shelves.

When Saturday night rolled around, the Cardinal woke and begun getting ready for the excursion, before he turned to you. From beneath his bed, he pulled out a hefty chain. It wasn’t forged with hellfire, he told you, it was just a regular metal. But he understood that your strength wasn’t fully back to how it was when he first met you, after being without your halo for so long, so he was confident you wouldn’t break free of those chains.

You sighed and presented your wrists to him, grateful that it wasn’t going to hurt you but annoyed that you were still to be treated as a prisoner, despite that being what you were. But, he shook his head in response. “That’s not what I’m going to restrain, Angel.” He informed you, gesturing you to turn around.

He tied your wings together with that chain, making sure you couldn’t fly away. Your wrists remained unbound.

As you walked down the corridors of the Ministry, the eyes of the Satanic nuns and monks followed your every move, their gazes filled with a mixture of curiosity, suspicion, and perhaps even a hint of envy. You couldn’t fathom why they’d envy you - chained and restrained as you were paraded through the hallways like a prize. You couldn’t help but feel uneasy beneath their attention, knowing of the muttered rumours and speculation that would undoubtedly surround your appearance among them.

The Cardinal led the way, his steps confident and purposeful as he escorted you through the Ministry’s dimly illuminated corridors. You kept your attention fixed straight ahead, attempting to avoid the looks and whispers that seemed to follow you everywhere you went.

Despite the weight of the chains that bound your wings, you moved with dignity and grace, refusing to let your imprisonment shatter your spirit. You were determined to be strong, to face whatever trials lay ahead, in the hopes of one day breaking free from the chains of your imprisonment. Every now and then, you’d turn to find eight ghouls following behind you, and though you couldn’t see them, you were sure their eyes were firmly fixed on you beneath their masks.

As you entered the ancient library, the massive wooden door groaned behind you, trapping you inside the unhallowed halls of knowledge that had stood for generations. The air was dense with the perfume of worn parchment and the faint mustiness of time, a fragrance that enveloped you like a veil as you walked through the maze of high shelves.

Dim, flickering lighting produced lengthy, dancing shadows on the walls, showing the building’s solemn design that dated back millennia. The roof soared high above, covered with exquisite, time-worn frescoes that appeared to guard the numerous tomes below. The air was still, interrupted only by the occasional rustle of pages or distant echo of footfall.

The shelves, built of dark, polished wood, stretched eternally in all directions, each bearing the weight of centuries-old books and forbidden knowledge. Some volumes appeared to sag under the weight of their age, while others stood straight and proud, their leather-bound spines broken and matured.

In the dead centre of the library, atop a reversed pentagram, stood a statue of a snake made from white marble, sat upon and winding around a black, marble pedestal. The snake’s jaw was unhinged enough to comfortably hold an apple between its sharp fangs, the apple itself had been painted the most delectable shade of richly dark red, and polished as though it were a real apple, so shiny you could see yourself in it. It represented the most famous of Lucifer’s triumphs: presenting “God’s children” with the knowledge they’d need to withstand his criminal behaviour. Standing in front of the snake, you very much felt how Eve would have: curious, enraptured and tempted, and you felt your stomach churn at the celebration of such a pivotal point of their ancestral history.

The pentagram the snake lived upon was also a marvel to behold, though you hated to admit it. The pentagram itself was carved into the pentagonal shaped stage, each of the corners of the star lining up perfectly with the points of the pentagon. Each straight side leveled out the different heights of the flooring using two, wooden staircases separated by a thick ramp - the ramps themselves covered in artistic portraits of all animals associated with Him, showing goats, cats, bats, owls and crows - all animals that became associated with Satan. All incredibly intelligent animals, no wonder the Catholics feared them. In a circle surrounding the pentagram were intricately carved atropa belladonna flowers and vines, floral representation of his existence. The petals of the belladonna were subtly stained a purple hue to replicate their natural colours.

The statue made you uncomfortable, especially as the snake’s eyes seemed to follow you around the room. And so, you ducked into one of the shelves and hid from its gaze, though you could still feel its sight burning on your skin. The Cardinal laughed at your discomfort, but followed you wherever you went, his ghouls immediately in tow. You had considered making a run for it, now that you knew the size of the library. And, there was a brief moment where you were about to enact your spontaneous plan. But the chain was still tied around your wings, and you wouldn’t get very far on your feet.

You cautiously reached out, your fingers tracing the spines of the ancient tomes that lined the shelves. Each book seemed to pulsate with a dark energy, whispering secrets and promises of forbidden knowledge. Despite your trepidation, you couldn’t resist the allure of the mysteries that lay within.

Your gaze fell upon a weathered volume bound in cracked leather, its title obscured by time and wear. As you pulled it from the shelf, a shiver ran down your spine, as if the book itself were alive and watching you with malevolent intent.

Next, your eyes were drawn to a tome adorned with intricate sigils and symbols, its pages yellowed with age and filled with cryptic incantations. You could feel the power emanating from the ancient text, calling out to you with a seductive whisper.

You spent what felt like an eternity wandering the shadowy aisles of the ancient library, your senses overwhelmed by the weight of the centuries-old knowledge that surrounded you. Time seemed to warp and distort within the confines of the unhallowed halls, leaving you disoriented and uncertain of how long you had been there.

In reality, it was difficult to say exactly how much time had passed. Minutes stretched into hours as you pored over the dark tomes, each page revealing new secrets and mysteries. The Cardinal’s presence loomed nearby, a constant reminder of your captivity and the precariousness of your situation.

You finally chose a book, despite the weariness of your bones after contemplating the tomes for so long. You were surprised to see such a wide variety of works, anywhere from fantastical fiction, to non-fiction books based on history and language. You had settled in the religions section, morbid curiosity getting the better of you and finding yourself wanting to know what the mortals truly thought of the Almighty and His grace. There were numerous texts debunking the existence of the Almighty, which you cackled at. You couldn’t understand how people wouldn’t choose to believe that at least one creator existed - even if it wasn’t the Creator. And, so, you picked up a Bible, the King James’ Version, to be precise, and made your way back to the Cardinal.

When he saw the book you were holding, he raised his eyebrow, but chose to say nothing. Instead, he watched you walk over to one of the desks and situate yourself there, ignoring the Satanic followers on the chairs nearby gawking at you with open mouths and pale faces.

The Cardinal approached just as you opened the book and cleared his throat, “Angel, what are you doing?”

“I am reading, Cardinal.” You responded, matter-of-factly, as though he were stupid. “I had not deemed your ancient eyes would falter in perception, albeit they bear the weight of eternity. Flaws in sight are unsurprising.”

“You do realise you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to?” He asked, staring at you warily.

You laughed, “To appropriate a tome from a library? Cardinal, ‘tis thievery. ‘Tis a sin.”

“You’ve been in libraries before, right?”

You sighed and closed the book. “Indeed, I have ventured into libraries. I have graced some of the grandest ones. The Library of Ashurbanipal, the Library of Pergamum, the Library of Alexandria… that last one was my cherished abode. Such splendor, such vibrancy. Delving into scrolls within was always a delight to my soul.”

The Cardinal flinched, “Maybe we should get you a history textbook on Ancient Egypt.”

“Thou possess a copy?”

“Several… was that the last time you went into a library, circa 100 AD?”

“Ah, yes. Mortal years tethered to the birth of Christ. Naturally, thou dost adhere to those. It was nearer to 100 BCE. It was my ultimate sojourn to the mortal realm before I ascended eternally to Heaven.”

“Great, so times have changed. Most books within libraries you can take home with you, and you can take home multiple at a time.”

You sat and listened intently to the Cardinal’s explanation on how modern libraries worked, and though you could feel he was holding information back from you, you were sure this wasn’t a malicious act. He was thinking before he spoke, making sure all of his words were simple and easy to understand. And so, with this newfound knowledge, you chose multiple books, most of them historical and linguistic based, allowing you to properly study the Almighty’s creations and what they’d done in your time between visits. Playing catch-up was always your favourite thing to do before your Heavenly missions began, and so it excited you to learn 2,000 years had passed and a lot had changed. Upon the Cardinal’s recommendation, you grabbed a historical textbook on Ancient Egypt, though you couldn’t fathom what new information you would learn, given you’d already spent so much time there.

Approaching the front desk of the library, you were met by a stern-looking Satanic nun who regarded you with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. Despite the discomfort of her gaze, you remained composed, knowing that any sign of weakness could be exploited by your captors.

With a sense of trepidation, you placed the stack of books on the desk, each one heavy with the weight of forbidden knowledge. The nun’s eyes flickered over the titles, her expression inscrutable as she scanned each one. After a moment of silence, she reached out with a bony hand and began to process the books, checking them out in silence.

As she worked, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that settled over you like a shroud. The library, with its ancient tomes and whispered secrets, seemed to hold you in its thrall, trapping you in its shadowy embrace.

Finally, the nun finished checking out the books and handed them back to you with a curt nod. You accepted them with a sense of relief, eager to leave the oppressive atmosphere of the library behind you. With one last glance at the forbidding shelves, you turned and made your way out of the building, the weight of the knowledge you carried heavier than ever before.

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 1 year ago

Text

All Good Things [a Joel x f!reader fic]

Read on Ao3

Fandom: The Last of Us

Ship: Joel Miller x you/cishet female reader explicitly over 50.

Tags/warnings: This takes place after season 1 but nothing bad happens, everybody's fine, Ellie and Joel are cool. Teasing, Joel is a soft sub/switch, Joel and reader have aches and pains, vaginal dryness and erectile dysfunction mention, cunnilingus, unprotected PiV sex, creampie, Joel is a master of vaginal health.

Summary: You and Joel may be middle-aged and sex may be something of a challenge sometimes, but all good things come to the ones who wait.

Words: 4,768

My masterlist

”I hate that fuckin’ rooster.”

You agree with Joel’s throaty mutter as you blink your eyes open against the first light of day. It’s nice and warm underneath the covers, and Joel’s got his heavy, thick arm thrown over you, but just as you’re about to fall back to sleep, the obnoxious cock-a-doodle-doo from next door rouses you enough to fully open your eyes.

”It’s effective, though,” you yawn before stretching until several joints pop. Joel only grunts, sprawled out on his belly, face buried deep in the embrace of the pillow, arm around you. He’s not a morning person, and here in the safety of Jackson, he can afford the moments of laziness before taking on the day’s chores.

You turn towards him and press a quick kiss to his forehead before inching out of bed, Joel keeping his hand on you for as long as he can before you get up.

”Get back here,” he grumbles, but you just smile on your way to the bathroom for a quick shower. When you reemerge, Joel’s sitting up, feet planted on the floor, scratching his neck with one hand and his soft belly with the other.

”Leave any hot water for me?”

”Don’t I always?” You give him a playful little slap on his ass when he gets up and drags his feet past you to the bathroom. He glares at you, but you’re already on your way to the kitchen.

The smell of coffee lies strong when Joel comes out of the shower, a towel around his hips. He putters around the bedroom, picking up his clothes from yesterday, turning inside out and then back again, sniffing the armpits, discarding something to the laundry basket, deciding something else is okay to wear. You watch him quietly through the open door, thinking how very normal and domestic this is. How long it took you to reach this. How lucky you are to have Joel.

He arrived in Jackson with the girl barely a year after you. You had settled quickly, he took his time. He was difficult to approach, and he mostly spent time with Ellie and his brother. You worked a lot with Ellie, taking care of the sheep, and once she seemed to decided that you were trustworthy, she started to open up a little about what she and Joel had been through. At Maria and Tommy’s place, you had seen the little memorial to Maria’s kid, and Joel’s.

You didn’t have a plaque like that yourself, for which you were thankful. Had the outbreak not happened, who knows, maybe you would’ve had a family. As it was, you and your boyfriend got separated two days into the catastrophe, and you never saw him again. Since then, you had focused on survival. Sure, there had been comfort sex, a couple of times. It was never good, but it had provided escape, if only for a moment.

It was different with Joel. When you started hanging out with him, sex was the last thing on your mind. You had accepted that you’d probably go without for the rest of your life, and you were okay with that. You barely even masturbated: it took too long for you to get off, it wasn’t worth the loss of sleep. Then Joel came along, and you found that your interest in sex awoke again when he kissed you the first time.

Turns out, you were both old enough and damaged enough to find sex difficult. Joel’s knees are bad, your back is shot. Even without those problems, your first time sleeping with each other had been such an embarrassing experience that the only thing that kept you from never looking at each other again was exactly the thing that caused your complications: your age. You had been able to laugh about it, what little there is to laugh about vaginal dryness and erectile dysfunction, and then talk about it. Because lube and Viagra were luxuries of the past, you just had to make it work on your own. You may not enjoy sexual penetration as often as you’d like, but you had a good life together, you and Joel, better than you thought was possible, considering the circumstances.

Joel’s cute little ass disappears into a pair of boxers, and he pulls on a t-shirt. You feel something stir inside of you, and you put down your coffee mug, instead going straight to the bedroom to embrace Joel from behind. Hugging him tightly, you inhale the scent of clean man, and sawdust from his t-shirt.

”I love you,” you tell him quietly. Joel finds your hands on your chest, and take them into his own. His big, strong, capable hands that have hurt and killed countless people but are now callused from building futures for the community.

”I love you too, darlin’.” His voice is still raspy but there’s no mistaking the sincerety. When he turns around in your arms and faces you, you see a soft smile on his lips.

”Hi.”

”Hi,” you reply with a similar smile before leaning in and nipping at his lips. The taste of mint lingers on his lips: he brushed his teeth before breakfast, like he always does. You sometimes wonder about these small things: what in his early life made him take to this habit? To you, brushing your teeth before coffee makes no sense. Joel doesn’t seem to reflect on it, and you don’t bring it up, because it doesn’t really bother you.

His lips are soft, and they part willingly when your coffee-soaked tongue gently prods in-between them. You slowly move your hands over his back, then down to his ass, and his hands mirror the flow of yours. The kiss deepens, as does the tingling sensation in your core.

You break the kiss just as Joel lifts his hand to the back of our neck to bring you in closer. Stepping back, you throw him a teasing smile.

”Plenty more where that came from later tonight, cowboy,” you tell him, and Joel chuckles.

”Is it gonna be like that, huh?”

”You’re damn right it is.”

You return to the kitchen and finish your coffee. It’s time to go milk the goats.

///

You don’t see Joel again until lunch, which is taken in the communal dining hall. You and Ellie have been tending to the animals and arrive to eat together, finding Joel already inhaling the food on the plate in front of him. You set your tray down across the table from him, and Ellie takes the seat next to you. As you sit down, he throws you a warm smile.

”How’s your morning been?” you ask. He stuffs his mouth and nods, humming approvingly. You taste the soup, finding it heavenly, and tear a piece of the breadroll to dip into the bowl.

As you, Joel, and Ellie enjoy small talk, the tip of your boot touches Joel’s considerably larger footwear and moves up his ankle and calf. You haven’t played foosie since you were twenty or something, and doing it in boots isn’t maybe as arousing as slipping you bare foot between his thighs, but you do your best. When Joel realizes what you’re doing, he falls quiet and stares intently at you while chewing.

”Hey, are you even listening?” Ellie demands his attention, and without breaking eye contact with you, he nods.

”Sure.”

Ellie looks from him to you and shakes her head. ”Whatever, man.”

He gathers the rest of his soup broth on a piece of bread and pops it into his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. A drop of brown broth gets stuck on his lower lip, and you lean over the table to wipe it away with you thumb. Your heart is beating fast, and when you sit back down and put your thumb in your mouth, you see his nostrils flare.

”Gross,” Ellie mutters, takes her tray with her now empty bowl, and gets up. ”Get a room, you two.”

”Sorry,” you shoot after her, your eyes not leaving Joel’s.

”No, you’re not.”

When you’ve finished up as well, and have left the dining-hall, Joel pulls you in behind the building. Pressing you gently against the fragrant timber wall, he covers your mouth with his.

”You make me weak at the knees, sweetheart,” he murmurs. You taste the same garlic on him that you know is on your breath.

”You mean weaker than they already are?” you smirk, and Joel punishes you for your jab at his bad knees with a little bite of your lower lip.

”Bad, bad girl...”

You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him like a teenager, enjoying the rather tame excitement of making out in a place where you could be seen, but nobody would care. The community is loving enough not to give a damn if two consenting adults are kissing each other in the middle of the day.

When you finally part swollen lips, both panting and like jelly in each other’s arms, Joel leans his forehead to yours.

”You wet?”

”You know I am.”

He places a little kiss on the tip of your nose. ”Hold that thought ’til tonight.”

”What do you think I was doing?”

He chuckles, warm eyes soft as he looks at you.

”I gotta go back to work.”

”Yeah, me too,” you nod, and both of you start a slow, unwilling detangle from each other.

”Don’t work too hard,” you tell him before parting. ”You’ll need your strength tonight.”

///

A few hours later, you take a break from your own work, and take some coffee and snacks to the building site Joel is on, along with a few other men. You stand for a while and admire the confidence with which he, board by board, erects a home for someone else. When he takes a step back to inspect his work, you step forward. His critical gaze turns soft the second he sees you.

”Time for a break?” you suggest, holding up the basket. He wipes his palms on his thighs and turns his broad frame towards you.

”You’re really butterin’ me up today, aren’t you?”

”Tryin’ my best.”

You put one arm around his waist and give him a quick kiss.

”I missed you,” you murmur into his good ear as he slides his hands over your waist. ”Missed your hands, your mouth...”

”Baby...” he breathes, but then his head jerks up as his fellow builders show up.

”We interrupting something?” Charlie grins.

”Yes,” Joel deadpans, but you turn around to face the men unphazed.

”I brought coffee and cookies.”

”Much obliged, ma’am,” Sam nods, and you hand him the basket. Hand on Joel’s back, you steer him after the men. Knowing how hard he works every day, you’re keen on him taking a break. Soon, all of you are sitting on the porch steps, drinking coffee and eating butter cookies. The men are talking about this and that, and you have found a knot in Joel’s shoulder and are carefully working it open. He doesn’t say much, but you can see from the relaxed line of his jaw and smooth forehead that he’s enjoying himself. When the men are getting ready to go back to work, you lean into Joel and whisper:

”You like my hands on you, don’t you?”

He exhales audibly, eyes flickering to your face after a quick glance at the men. His eyes under the eternally knitted brows are smoldering, and they set off the pull in your core.

"You're gonna make me take a long break, sweetheart," he tells you in a low voice. "Take you home and bed ya."

"In the middle of the afternoon, Mr Miller?" you grin, and close your eyes when he leans closer to nuzzle your neck. His bristles scratch the sensitive skin, and you shudder.

"Like we had no responsibilities at all in the world..."

He doesn't take you home and bed you, of course, but goes back to work after a kiss and another look that just about consumes you. You return to your own chores with a damness in your panties.

///

"Are you two gonna be gross again?"

You laugh at Ellie's question as she stands by the table holding her tray. Joel, who is next to you, keeps his dignity.

"Most probably."

She takes the risk, though, and sits down with you. Tommy and Maria join you as well, Tommy carrying their one-year-old Samuel. You all enjoy dinner and the conversation, Joel's hand only sporadically rests high up on your thigh, hidden by the table. After you've eaten, you take a moment outside the dining hall, talking and laughing until Samuel grows fussy and needs to be put to bed. Maria and Tommy excuses themselves, Tommy asking his brother if he's up for a drink later on.

"Nah, long day," Joel shakes his head, as his hand slowly moves from your lower back to your ass. "Early night for me."

Tommy and Maria wish you all a good night before walking away, and Joel's hand finds the back pocket of your jeans, sliding in and cupping your ass. You smile at him and put your arm around him, cupping his flat ass with your hand inside his back pocket.

Ellie looks from you to Joel, and shakes her head.

"You're not 14 years old," she grimaces.

"Neither are you," Joel reminds her, "so act your age, and deal with it."

"You telling me to act my age?"

"Whatever." The discussion is over for Joel's part. "We're callin' it a night."

"Good. I'm going to see a movie, and I don't want you two kissing in front of me."

"Good night, Ellie," you smile at her, knowing that Ellie's just ragging on you out of love. When you turn around and start to walk home, she calls out a Good night, and you hear the affection in her voice.

"Messing with teenagers is fun," you giggle, and Joel pats your ass.

"They're easy to upset," he agrees, pulling you closer. "But I don't wanna talk about Ellie anymore."

As soon as you get home to your little house, he pushes you up against the door, chasing your lips.

"Been thinkin' about this all day..."

You'd reply something sassy, but he has your mouth covered with his, tongue plunging in greedily, and you put your hands on his cheeks and slide your fingers through his hair, tugging at it at the back of his neck. He crowds you with a gentle urgency against the door, kisses the breath out of you, his own hot breath disappearing into you. His facial hair scratches and burns the skin around your mouth before long, and you savour that burn.

His lips are swollen with kisses by the time they leave yours, and he cups your cheek and strokes his thumb over it as he looks into your eyes, like he's trying to remember the shape and color of them. You smile, making him smile as well, and then you put your hands on his shoulders and start to walk him backwards towards the bedroom.

You turn on the bedside lamp for soft light. Joel tries to unbutton your plaid, but you shake your head and catch his wrists in your hands.

"Let me, baby."

Exhaling deeply, Joel lets his arms hang down and watches you as you start to pop open the buttons of his denim shirt. When you lean in to caress it off his broad shoulders, you press your lips to his in a kiss that you let bleed onto his cheek when your lips continue their soft brushing along his jawline. You sneak your hands underneath his t-shirt, caress the soft swell of his stomach before running your fingers up his sides. Joel nods his head down so that you can take the shirt off, and as soon as his head is free from the garment, you press your lips to his again. It's more playful now, the way you fondle different parts of his naked upper body and pour your smiles into the kisses, and he smiles back and tries to cop a feel of you.

"You in a hurry there, cowboy?" you tease him between the kisses, and Joel hisses softly when you pinch his nipple.

"Just want you so badly."

"I know, I want you too..."

You unbuckle his belt and push down his jeans and underwear, ghosting your hand over his still soft cock. He doesn't want too much attention to it, that only stresses him if he can't get it up, so you go back to kissing him while squeezing his ass.

"I should be doin' that t'you," he grunts between kisses.

"But now I'm doin' it to you..."

He ends up sitting on the bed, and you untie his shoelaces and take his boots off, then pull his pants off. You then push him down on the bed, take a step back, and start to slowly unbutton your shirt.

Joel sighs deeply.

"Is that how it's gonna be?"

"It is," you acknowledge with a smile. It's not going to be a sexy You can leave your hat on striptease, you're too old and jaded for that, but you're going to get undressed in your own time, and Joel can only watch.

And he does watch. He watches your every single move, mouth open and eyes slightly glassy. Each revealed inch of skin is noted, and by the time you're taking your panties off, you can see that he's getting hard. He doesn't like too much attention on his cock before he's fully hard, it stresses him, so you keep eye contact, and crawl into bed. You straddle his hips, settling your warm, dripping core over him.

Joel groans and his hands come to a rest on your thighs.

"Darlin'..."

You put your hands over his and make him squeeze your flesh.

"You wanna touch me?"

"Want nothin' else."

"You can, but I get to choose where."

You have to smile at his frown. Joel doesn't appreciate not being in control. His love for you and trust in your capability to make him feel good makes him accept your terms, though.

You guide his hands up your sides and under your breasts. Having passed the age of 50, you're secretly thankful you didn't have to age in a world of glossy magazines telling you the various ways in which your body is wrong. You don't have to compare yourself to lingerie models or the neighbor's young hot wife, who has a better job and tighter tits than you. You are alive, you are doing your part in Jackson, you are valued, and you are loved. Sagging tits and excess fat mean nothing, especially to Joel.

You let him cover your tits for a second before moving his hands to your hips, and his subsequent whine of frustration almost makes you feel sorry for him. You lead his hands back to your chest and let him fill his hands with your tits as you bend down to kiss him. A muscle in your back twinges, making you hiss.

"Babe?" Joel is immediately concerned.

"My back," you hurry to reassure him, "it's fine, I'm good."

"We could switch," he offers, "before you hips start to act up too."

You're already feeling a strain in your hips from sitting astride him. Getting older sucks.

"And what would you do to me if I agreed?" you smile sweetly, feeling his dick twitch underneath you.

"Treat you right," he replies a little inelegantly. Joel's not good at the talking bit, but he tries.

"Yeah?" you prompt him softly, touching your lips to his. "How?"

"I'd eat that pretty pussy of yours..."

You clench around emptiness. "Yeah...?"

He kisses you softly as he bends one knee, lifts his hip, and very gently slides you off of him. You rearrange yourselves, intertwining arms and legs as he rolls onto his side, facing you, and your lips meet again. You can feel your pulse in your core by now, a long day of anticipation finally catching up with you.

"Will you let me?" Joel now breathes against your lips, and you hum your approval. He immediately gets up on one elbow and starts to kiss his way down your body, pausing around your breasts to gently fondle and bite.

"Pretty," he murmurs, mouth full of soft flesh, sending heated tingles through your body and making your pussy clench. You thread your fingers through his hair until he takes your hand and holds it down on the bed. When he finally has had enough and moves down to the apex of your thighs, his breath on your folds alone makes you chew your lower lip.

"God, Joel..."

"Like it when you sound like that," he lets you know, his arm sliding around your thigh. "Now, just lay back and take what I have to give you, darlin'..."

The first lick melts you immediately, the second stokes the fire within. When you're fisting your hands into the sheet underneath you and moaning his name, he slides two fingers inside your dripping pussy. Your hips twitch at the intrusion, and he soothes you with broad, slow laps of his tongue at your clit, his fingers crooking to touch you just right.

"Joel..." you keen, "yes, there, please..."

He massages that spongy spot inside you, slowly and steadily, knowing that he can't rush this if he wants you to orgasm. It's difficult for you, maybe from the many years of living in fear, maybe from the same amount of years of no sex, sex drive, or romance. When you and Joel started exploring sex together, you were astonished by how horny you could be for another person while simultaneously finding the mechanics of sex so difficult. It surely hadn't been this complicated twenty years ago.

But both you and Joel were adamant to make it work, and that's what he's doing now. Your mouth is dry from panting, your thigh muscles are tensing up, your mind is going blank as you let his ministrations take you higher and higher. Painfully near the final soar, your hands clamber for Joel's at your hips, finding them and holding on tightly as you let go, your legs stiff as a board as your hips jut up, your thighs pushing shut, Joel's scruff suddenly too much on your sensitive skin. Your blood rushes and you let out a long, moaned sigh as your legs tremble before relaxation floods your muscles. Joel places one final, soft kiss on your clit before dragging his lips over your thighs, up your hip and over your stomach where his tongue dips into your navel. You hum, almost purr from his care, and when your eyes blink open, you find him smiling up at you.

"Beautiful," he murmurs. You release one hand from his and pass your fingers through his hair, then cup his cheek. He turns his face a little so that he can kiss the palm of your hand.

"Perfect," he whispers against your skin before your hand sneaks behind his head, and you pull gently to beckon him up, to you, to your lips.

His lips are covered in your slick and you lick at them, suck his full lower lip into your mouth, let your hands get lost roaming his broad shoulders. His cock is heavy and stiff against you, and you feel a surge of yearning within your core. The day of teasing, the foreplay, his service to you worked as it should: he's fully erect, stiff as a board, and it's so sexy that you think you're going to go crazy just from thinking about it.

"I need you," you whimper, pulling him down over you as you spread your legs to accomodate him. "Joel, I need you inside me."

"Can you take me?" he asks hoarsely, fingers running down your body to your weeping sex.

"Won't know for sure unless we try," you manage to quip, and he grins at you before pressing his lips against yours again. Kissing you deeply, he nocks his cock at your slick lips, rubs the head against your clit, then starts to push it in. The kiss is filled with moans, yours and his mingling with tongues, and despite your wetness, he's a lot to take. Still, you encourage him to fill you completely, your arms around him hugging him in, in, all the way in until he bottoms out, and stills. He breaks the kiss and draws back to gaze into your eyes. You smile, blissfully full.

"I'm okay, baby, I'm okay, you feel so good," you reassure him, words coming out breathlessly. Joel groans, head dropping to your shoulder.

"Darlin', you're killing me..."

He starts to slowly move his thick cock inside your embrace, lips open against your shoulder, teeth scraping without biting. You answer by wrapping your legs around him, left hip protesting a little but you don't care, you need him deep inside, need to feel that tight drag, need him to understand just how good it feels when he loves you like this.

"Harder," you beg, "take me harder, Joel, I want to feel all of your big cock."

He moans at that, his hot breath burning your skin.

"Can you take it?"

"I can take it."

He thrusts hard into you then, making you catch your lower lip between your teeth, your chin rising and one arm coming loose from him to brace yourself on the headboard.

"That hard, huh?" he smirks with his lips against your ear, and you chuckle breathlessly until he starts to fuck the smile off your face. Shifting his weight, he reaches for your hand braced against the headboard, and you let go to instead clasp his hand as he continues to steadily chase his release with one deep thrust after another.

"So good, darlin'," he gasps, "you're so good to me, fuck, I wanted to do this to you all day, wanted to bury myself in your warm pussy..."

You're all his when he talks to you like this. Joel finds the words when he's drunk on you, not before. Grinding into you with purpose, he keeps moaning out filth like this into your ear until his breathing becomes too laborous and his movements too irregular.

"Come," you beckon him as he crashes his mouth to yours to swallow your words, "come, baby, come, I want you to come."

His moan when he empties himself deep inside of you is a helpless sound of surrender. You wrap your arms around him and hold him tight, forcing him to lay all of his weight on you. His quick heartbeats echo against your own ribcage, but slow down as his breaths become deeper and more controlled. You stroke his hair, thinking briefly how extraordinarily lucky you are. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, you rouse him from his rest.

"Go piss," he murmurs, and you have to laugh softly.

"Is that the first thing you tell me after sex?" you tease him. His lips quirk before he presses them to your cheek.

"I love you. Now go piss."

"You're on top of me, Miller."

"Hasn't stopped you from knocking me on my ass before..."

He does, however, roll over, freeing you up to find your bearings and get out of bed. After having used the bathroom, you return to bed where Joel is waiting for you underneath the covers. You turn off the bedside lamp and join him, letting him gather you into his arms and sighing deeply once the two of you are settled.

"Okay?" he asks quietly.

"M-hmm," you yawn, nuzzling his neck. "Sleepy."

"Me too."

Silence descends along with the darkness, and you're almost asleep when Joel speaks again.

"Hey?"

You murmur to let him know you're listening - just barely.

"I'm still standing."

You murmur again, not understanding. Joel takes your hand and leads it to his crotch, closing your fingers around his thick, sticky shaft. That makes you open your eyes.

"Oh..."

"You did that," he groans when you start to rub him slowly.

"I don't think so."

"Yeah, you did. All that waiting all day..." He moans when you drag your thumb over the head. "Baby, can you...?"

You smile at the wonder and anticipation in his voice. Twice in one night has happened before, but never this soon, never like this. You grow wet and heavy in an instant. To hell with sleep deprivation and sore joints.

"I can."

#joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfic #my fic

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aihoshiino · 12 days ago

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secret villain kaburagi theory had so much potential lowkey,,, the more i think about onk and the theories and predictions we (fandom) had before the end, the more i feel sad about the ending :(

IT WOULD'VE GONE SO HARD..............

I do try to keep in mind when I'm talking about the like. shoulda woulda coulda of it all in OnK that it's really easy for a fandom with no real skin in the game to say XYZ should have happened that Akasaka (and Mengo, to an extent) are not the sole arbiters of whatever goes on in the manga. There's god knows how many editors, PR guys, franchise managers, etc etc and who knows what else who all have their own vision for the series and their own ends to achieve in being involved in it.

Not only that but...... the weekly manga industry is kind of a hellscape!!! It is NOT a good environment in which to create art, so with all of that combined I imagine it was a nightmare for Aka and Mengo to realize their visions of Oshi no Ko even to whatever extent they were able.

EVEN WITH THAT BEING SAID.... I do think Kaburagi really ended on a flop as a character lol. Secret Villain Kaburagi is at least a LITTLE bit a joke on my end in the sense that I didn't NEED it to be what the series did with him even if I do think there was very much groundwork laid (if only accidentally) for that to be what Aka did with him.

But the actual note he goes out on... I don't wanna go as far as to say it icks me out, but it does fall uncomfortably into a pattern of male perpetrators of misogyny towards young women and teenage girls in OnK being let off really easy with this sort of "aw shucks he didn't mean none of it" sort of framing.

ShimaD being a sex pest who coerces sexual favours out of girls in exchange for parts is completely forgotten past a certain point and him like... not going through with committing statutory rape is almost treated like a "see, he was just a misunderstood good guy all along!" reveal. Puke inducing!!!!

Kaburagi obviously isn't THAT bad, but he's still introduced to the audience as not just shady but extremely shitty to and exploitative of Kana's goodwill and innocent desire for validation in a way that never goes challenged or resolved across the series:

And let's not forget THIS shit:

normal way to describe a 14/15 year old girl, bro

In general, Kaburagi's consistently framed as kind of a scumbag who's good at his job specifically because he's a shithead. We're never given any indication that he gives much a shit about his talents outside their utility as commodities, so this sudden swerve to framing him like he always felt soooooo fondly of Ai and felt soooooooo bad about what happened to her and giving him this bizarre as fuck like... misty-eyed quasi-fatherly moment of closure with the 15YL poster as a closed book on his until then non-existent relationship with Ai was just. okay akasaka. whatever you say.

hannibal lecter looking mf. someone get his ass.

#oshi no ko #oshi no posting #onk spoilers #onk asks

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kanerallels · 10 months ago

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My first contribution to Spring Fling, run by @monthly-challenge!

Day 2: Green

Fandom: Star Wars Rebels

Pairing: Kanan Jarrus x Hera Syndulla

Had it been any other person, any other encounter, any other voice, Kanan probably would have just brushed it off and moved on.

Bumping into some stranger in the hall of the VA? That was normal enough. Getting around with about 75 percent of his vision gone was something he was still getting used to, and the building was pretty full on an average day.

So when he bumped into someone while leaving a meeting he’d been at, Kanan caught himself quickly. “Sorry,” he said, stepping back to let whoever it was by.

“No worries,” they said— she said. It was a woman’s voice, and the very sound of it rooted Kanan to the ground, speechless.

He’d been alive for 25 years, fought in a war, lost people he loved, and made a variety of highly questionable decisions. And in that time, Kanan had seen and heard a lot, both ugly and beautiful.

This voice? It blew all of them away. Both gentle and firm, with a musical quality that sent warmth through his bones and made his heart skip a beat. It was absolutely exquisite, and Kanan knew, without a doubt, that he absolutely had to know the woman it came from.

She was already walking away, towards the elevator, by the time Kanan recovered enough to come to this conclusion. And by the time he’d started to move or speak or do anything, the elevator door was already sliding shut.

All he’d seen, with what was left of his vision, was a bright, vibrant flash of green.

From a shirt or a scarf, or something else entirely? Kanan didn’t know. All he knew was that the color was burned indelibly into his memory, and that he definitely needed to find out who that woman was.

He took the stairs, but when he made it to the lobby a floor below, the woman was long gone, leaving behind the memory of her voice. Kanan bit back a frustrated growl. Don’t worry, he told himself. If she was at the VA, it was for a reason. Which means I might bump into her again.

So he stayed calm, and headed out. Unfortunately, he was late for lunch with his friend Zeb thanks to his searching. The burly man was waiting in the usual booth at their favorite diner when Kanan made it.

“Oh, thanks for bothering to show up,” he said as Kanan slid into the seat across from him.

“Sorry,” Kanan said with a grimace. “I didn’t think I was going to be that late. But I— got distracted, and then the cab had to take a detour thanks to some accident. Did you order already?”

“I waited like ten minutes, but then I got bored,” Zeb said with a good-natured snort. He wasn’t the type to hold a grudge over one being late. “What exactly distracted you so much you forgot about lunch with your best mate?”

“I didn’t forget,” Kanan corrected. “I just got distracted, like I said.” The waitress approached, and Kanan ordered. He and Zeb had been coming to the diner since long before he’d lost his vision, and the menu was ingrained in his memory.

As were the staff, for that matter, and Kanan frowned as the waitress walked away. “We don’t know her, do we?”

“Nope,” Zeb said, slurping from his drink. “Some Russian kid Quinlan picked up. Now, are you being evasive, or am I going nuts?”

Kanan hesitated, then admitted, “You’re not going nuts. I was distracted by… someone I met. She and I bumped into each other in the hall—”

“Ohhh,” Zeb said, and Kanan didn’t need to see him to know a smirk was stretching across his face. “She?”

“It’s not like that!” Kanan protested, then paused. “Well… it is a little. But it’s not like I had enough time for anything to happen.”

He recapped the incident for Zeb, lingering just a little on what he remembered of the woman. Especially her voice— he probably lingered a little too long on that.

“Right,” Zeb said as the waitress reappeared, carrying both of their meals. “So you fell head over heels for this girl you met one time, and you’re gonna do what about it?”

Kanan shrugged. “Find her, I guess? Thanks,” he added as the waitress set his sandwich in front of him, along with his drink. “How hard could it be? I just need to talk to all the women in Lothal City until I find one that sounds—”

“Like an angel from your dreams?” Zeb said, snickering as he took a bite from his burger.

“I was going to say familiar,” Kanan said, scowling at him.

The man chuckled. “Sure, mate. Well, you’ve got the VA to start with. Maybe ask Piett. He and Veers know everyone around there, and if they don’t know her, they’ll know someone who does.”

“Good point,” Kanan said, his heart lightening a little. Veers was his former CO, and between him and his best friend Piett, they had a handle on pretty much everything that went on in both the VA and Lothal City. (Although it helped that Piett’s sister in law was a state senator.) After their meal, Kanan headed home planning to speak to them the next day.

He didn’t have to wait that long.

While he knew it made him something of a stereotype, Kanan liked to stop at the same diner every morning before work. He’d been going there for years, and the owner, Quinlan Vos, had been close with his mother. So he could usually count on cheap— or free, depending on if Vos’s wife was there— coffee, and a decent breakfast.

What he hadn’t counted on, however, when he stepped inside, was finding someone in his usual booth. In fact, Kanan had been expecting it so little that he’d sat down before he realized someone was sitting across from him.

“Oh— sorry,” he said, starting to slide out of his seat.

“No apologies necessary.”

Kanan froze. That was the voice— warm, slightly amused and curious, and stunningly gorgeous. And, as he gave her a proper look, there was the green. Her hair, by the looks of things. It was unexpected, and fit her well. Really well, he thought.

“Do we know each other?” she asked, her voice thoughtful. “You look familiar.”

For a moment, Kanan couldn’t speak. A long moment, as it turned out, because she asked, “You speak English?”

“Words fail me.”

There was no mistaking her smile, gentle and wry, as she said, “So they do.”

Recover, Jarrus. Pull yourself together. “Um.” Not a strong start. “We, uh, we actually met the other day,” he told her. “Bumped into each other at the VA— literally.”

“That’s right,” she said. “Which is why you sat down next to me?”

Kanan couldn’t help himself— he laughed. “Believe it or not, this is a complete coincidence. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad it happened. But this is my favorite spot, at my favorite diner.”

It’s almost like fate, the unhelpfully romantic side of his brain whispered.

He elected not to say that part out loud.

“Well, you may as well stay, then,” she told him serenely. “I’m Hera.”

“Kanan.”

“Nice to meet you, Kanan.”

A smile crossing his face, Kanan said, “Trust me, the pleasure is all mine.”

#springfling2024 #star wars rebels #swr #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #kanera #garazeb orrelios #modern au #writing stories is a kind of magic too

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slxsherwriter · 1 year ago

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Pack Expansion

Fandom: House of 1000 Corpses, 3 from Hell, Firefly trilogy

Parings: Otis Driftwood x Reader

Word Count: 3, 724

Warnings: Otis Driftwood is his own warning?, cannibalism, kidnapping, death, blood & gore

Series: Monsters in Plain Sight

Author's note: This sort of started off as a joke fic that took a turn into an entirely different direction. Come on now, The Midnight Wolfman? Foxy has been hiding something from the family. Hope everyone enjoys. As always, not beta read so mistakes are mine.

You had long since given up the fight over whether or not the Firefly house was your home. It had been declared for you, long before you had come to the realization. The last to pick up on in fact. Sure, you had accepted the family as your pack. It was hard not to with the increased amount of time you spent around them and at the house. Otis in particular. But to call it a home? Something you hadn't exactly had in years.

When Otis had officially laid claim on you, there was no chance to deny it. Your wolf recognized its alpha and accepted the claim. No fight, no hesitation. Well, maybe a little fight. Neither of you would have enjoyed it if you had just rolled over immediately.

So, you had given up the fields that you had called your own for the better part of two years and moved into the house. Chaos tended to reign more often than not. But there was rarely a shortage of prey or something to keep you entertained. Not simply from Otis either. The entire family fell into that category. On occasion though, things shifted from the enjoyable chaos that dominated life into something else.

The lazy, relaxed atmosphere of the home permeated through everything it seemed. All but impossible to ignore. Lounged on the couch, you were taking up all the space, stretched and relaxed. The worn in material was soft and comfortable, molded to your body perfectly. Baby was settled in the chair, legs thrown over the arm of it, playing with her hair. For once, she was quiet. The normally talkative woman had found an ease just sharing space with you and with the atmosphere, it wasn't necessary to talk. It was a challenge not to let the content rumble come from you. After being alone for so long, yes it was an adjustment but the pack abjm that you ultimately were was thrilled with the fact that you had found a proper place.

Movement from upstairs indicated that Otis was finally breaking away from whatever project that he was working on and had been toiling away with for hours on end. When he got inspired, there was nothing that could stop him. A habit that you were happy to let him indulge in since most of the time, it gave you the opportunity to slip from the house for a run, a patrol, or a hunt. Whatever you fancied at the time.

“Ya wanna go out tonight?” Baby's voice broke you out of your indulgent haze, causing you to glance from the TV to her. She hadn't shifted her gaze, still playing with her hair absently, chewing away at a piece of gum. “Just me and you. Ya know, a real girls night. We'll hit up the bar, get shitfaced, see if we can find any fun for the night. Come on, Bunny. We've been cooped up for too long.” Finally, her eyes unglued themselves from the TV. Admittedly, the idea was a bit enticing. Even if you couldn't get shitfaced with her. It brought about the possibility of getting a proper snack.

“Yeah, sure, why not?” The sound that came from her couldn't be classified as anything other than a squeal of excitement. It was amusing, like a pup discovering their tail for the first time. She was more aware and smarter than most gave her credit for but Baby might have been the most unhinged of the pack. She had been raised in this, brought up to know no other thing. At least from your understanding. So, it made sense. “Would be good to get a stretch and see if we can't find something to sink my teeth into.” Playfully, you snapped your jaw, human teeth clashing together, which just made her laugh harder.

Steps thudding down the stairs brought the both of you out of the moment. Too light to be Tiny or Rufus. Meaning there was only one culprit.

“The fuck are you two going on about?” Otis appeared around the corner, eyeing the both of you suspiciously. Though, with the trouble that Baby could cause, he could hardly be blamed. Before you could answer, Baby cut you off.

“Bunny and I are gonna go out tonight!” Bouncing now in her seat, her entire body was practically vibrating in excitement.

“Oh, is that so?” Red rimmed blue eyes turned to you, brow raised. As if challenging the statement that his sister had made. A shrug of your shoulders was the response, though you accompanied it with a smile.

“Yeah. What's the harm in having a little bit of fun? Besides, it's not like the freezers haven't been a little lacking lately anyway.” That might have been the wrong thing to say because the shift in his demeanor and expression was abrupt and vicious. You had to backtrack a little bit, since the words had been taken as an insult to his ability to provide. “It's the time of year, lack of people moving through, I know. Don't see nearly as many when I'm out on a run. Ain't a lack of trying. But maybe, we can pull a few guys that won't be missed, at least right away.” Baby always grabbed attention wherever she went. Which meant that it shouldn't be difficult to snag the attention of some asshole with a wandering eye.

Otis seemed to think it over for a few moments before letting out a small grunt. An agreement to the statement.

“Bring me back something to play with then.” That was about as much acceptance as you would get. Nothing else was said as the man wandered off to the kitchen, leaving a silence in his wake. The sound of the TV hadn't reached your consciousness, eyes lingering on the spot where he had disappeared. That was until a pillow smacked you right upside the head. The attack was accompanied with giggles.

“Hey! You said we were going out. No thoughts of following after him for a fuck.” Yeah, well, that couldn't exactly be denied. If that sort of game was started, the two of you wouldn't end up leaving wherever you were at for a few hours. Which, in turn, would end up ruining Baby's night.

“We are still going out, don't get your panties in a twist.” The crouch protested movement, creaking and shifting with your movement. Legs swung over the edge, you sat up and stretched out. “I'll go find RJ, see if we can take the truck.”

“You're the best!” You had barely abandoned the couch before the blonde was taking the now empty spot. She passed along a wink before turning her attention back to whatever horror movie was playing on the television.

***********************

The bar had been utterly packed, bodies from wall to wall. You hadn't thought that there were even this many people in Ruggsville. Music had pumped through the speakers, leaving it impossible to talk to anyone without shouting. The stench of sweat and arousal permeated the air, laying heavy enough that surely even humans could pick up on the scents.

It was fertile hunting grounds. Quite literally when it came to the two of you. Baby had enjoyed the attention, moving from person to person, trying to find the right one to bring back home. If she wasn’t about to go off to have a little fun before dragging someone off into the night.

You had a few drinks, barely feeling a buzz, and had been a little more particular about who was grabbing your attention. A few choices had appeared good. Otis's words echoed in the back of your head. He wanted a plaything, though he didn't specify for how long he wanted that plaything to last. Something that did go into consideration. If you focused solely on that, you would likely miss your chance for your own plaything. Snickering softly with no one to ask why, you shook your head. Would your alpha get jealous? Seemed like he might. Even if it couldn't go both ways.

Jealousy was a pointless endeavor. None of those bodies meant shit to Otis, even if the wolf occasionally liked to grumble about it. That was settled though when you were allowed to chase one or two of them down after they accidentally escaped from the house. Quote on quote.

Eyes finally landed on a couple that was more hidden in the corner of the room. Ah, now there was a promising prospect. The first anyone had piqued your interest the entire night. From there, it had been easy to purchase some drinks, make yourself available for approach, and flirt when the woman came wandering over first. You had them hook, line, and sinker when he wandered over and settled down. The heavy arm first rested against the back of the booth, as if there was any question about where it would end up. Her hand found it's place on your thigh first before his arm slid down.

Baby found your eyes from across the room and you nodded. It would be best for you to get both the bodies tied up and tossed in the back of the truck under a trap so that Baby could bring her guy back without any sort of issue. Less questions from both parties, less chance of someone running off, easier hauling back to the house. And, the benefit was having Baby occupied with the man that she had found.

A little more damage that you would have liked happened to occur with your chosen plaything. The shift had been quick and she had knocked out without struggle as her head met the side of the truck with a satisfying thud. Claws had torn into flesh, leaving jagged and gaping wounds that might just end his life before returning to the house. All caused when he had decided to make a run for it, shouting his head off. That would draw unwanted attention and was simply unacceptable. A slash to his back had him falling before one single curved claw dug into the flesh of his cheek, yanking to tear the flesh. Cries of pain rang out into the night air but no one was around to hear it. Thankfully. Everyone was inside and too focused on enjoying their night. That music that had hurt your ears so much before was now a blessing.

RJ always had some extra rope in the back and dirty rags were a dime a dozen. Stuffing one into his mouth took care of the noise problem. Tying them both up from there took a little bit of time, you weren't used to having to restrain. The hunt was always better when they were able to run and scramble. But, it was managed and the tarp went over them, making it look like there wasn't anything but tools and other necessary things for repair in the back.

Baby had significantly better luck, though she was dealing with one where you had two. The two were intertwined as you drove back to the house, leaving you to focus solely on the roads and making sure that the two bodies remained in the bed of the truck.

She took her prey inside the house, leaving you with yours outside. Shaking your head, you pulled the tarp back and surveyed the mess that had been left behind. It seemed that the woman was just waking while the man was alive, but more in that way of clinging to life out of desperation more than anything. He wouldn't be a good chase. But there was enough there to have a few extras thrown in the freezer with an extra snack or two for you in your wolf form. Otis had just opened the door when your nose twitched. The smell carried on the wind in your direction, giving you enough time to anticipate what was coming.

Back ramrod straight, the quarry in the truck was forgotten about.

“Bunny, are you fucking listening?” You hadn't been. A low growl worked, growing in volume by the second. Nothing moved in the tree line, the cattle remained unperturbed, and the dogs were relaxed along the porch and towards the gate. “Bunny!”

“There's another wolf.”

“Another wolf? The fuck do you mean another wolf?” The potential threat had at least forced him to pay closer attention to your reactions rather than what he had been focused on, moving to grab the gun from his pocket. Not that it would do much besides piss a wolf off but it would give him a chance to get inside the house. Protective instincts rose, overwhelming every sense of self preservation that had been honed over the years.

“There's another wolf on the property. And getting closer. Get inside….” Your eyes snapped in the southern direction, near the gate before a car appeared. A car? Truck to be exact and it looked beat to hell. The person inside made a howl and instead of Otis listening to you, he began laughing. However, the sound died off and the car moved through the gate faster when you shifted and lowered closer to the ground, ready to attack. Otis may have thought that this was all a joke but that scent never lied. Whoever was in that car was a werewolf. Underlying it though was something familiar. Not that your mind allowed htat to process when all that was screaming was protect, attack, defend.

The car came to a stop, the headlights not dying down, focused directly on your prowling form. Otis was moving towards the car, gun no longer drawn. The growl only grew in volume and ferocity, your body inching forward to try and stay ahead of him but there was nothing that was deterring him.

“Holy fucking shit….”

“The fuck you doing here?”

“Oh, I think that the question should be about that.” The man pointed in your general direction, causing you to snap your maw, drool flying. The growl had never stopped, the sound rivaling the rumble of the dying engine in the car. Ears pinned back, the scent was so much stronger now that he was standing in front of you. There was no denying that this man was a werewolf. Had Otis not picked up on the fact that the man was not at all disturbed or worried about the fact that there was a giant beast snarling and gnashing not ten feet from him?

“Bunny, calm the fuck down already. This here is Foxy, he's my brother.” Brother? Why the hell hadn't he been at the house? The entire family, minus Spaulding, was supposed to be here. Huffing, you were still unsure but took a step back and shifted once more.

“Brother or not, he’s a wolf.” Otis was smiling, at more ease than you had seen him in awhile. He was slapping Foxy on the shoulder, still chuckling. Foxy had gone from smiling to watching you, posture a little more tense than before. There was a sharpness to his teeth and a flash of color to his eyes that wasn't natural for a human. Proof that your instinct and that your nose had been correct. Otis could feel the tension, he had to with the placement of his hand against Foxy. His head cocked to the side ever so slightly, eyes jumping between you both.

“I gotta fucking admit. Her nose ain't been wrong before…” Foxy grunted before his shoulders sagged.

“Ah, shit. This ain't how I wanted to tell you.”

“She's right? Fuck me!” Foxy rolled his eyes and shoved Otis off of him. “How long you been hiding this shit? That Midnight Wolfman shit a fucking inside joke?”

“Oh, fuck off. I ain't been hiding shit. Shit happened about four months ago. Didn't know fuck all about what was happening.” A newly turned wolf. Now, that would explain why he hadn't reacted as strongly to your presence as you did to his own. That, or he had been around other wolves and was able to contain it. The thought that he could bring a pack down on the family didn't settle well, flaring that desire to protect all over again. “Still don't really understand shit. Definitely can't do that,” he offered and motioned towards you. Shift on command? That had to be what he was referring to when he spoke.

“You can't control it?” Otis stepped back for a moment, looking at the man, now almost as if he was an actual threat.

“It takes a lot of fucking time,” you offered before Foxy could speak. If he really was a new wolf with no sort of mentorship, the last four months would have been hell. Likely not nourished correctly, injuries that wouldn't heal properly, and suffering through a lot of pain without embracing and understanding the shifts. The same thing young, pureblooded wolves went through. Like it or not, if the man was really family, then that meant he was part of your pack. By extension, you were responsible now for teaching. “Time and work. There's a reason young wolves generally don't master it until their teenage years.” Another huff passed your lips into the night air as your gaze jumped between Otis and Foxy.

Before you could offer any help or guidance, the moans from the bed of the truck broke the silence. Right. There were play things. A thought struck you. An injured animal always worked best when it came to teaching one how to hunt. Less likely to fight back, cause harm, and easier to catch. Build up confidence. Maybe it hadn't been such a bad thing that the man had put up that struggle.

“Ya got something you wanna share?”

“You asked for a plaything.” Pulling the tarp off revealed the two bodies. “She's all yours. Shouldn't be anything more than maybe a lingering concussion. He decided he didn't want to get into the truck so…” You shrugged with the explanation. Otis peered over the edge and took in the prey.

“Not bad, Bunny.” The praise had your spirit lifting a bit. “What do you plan on doing with him? Doesn't look like he is gonna give you a run.”

“No, but….” You glanced towards Foxy and Otis followed your look.

“What a great God damn idea.” Foxy looked confused for a moment, brow raising as you both were assessing the man.

“What?”

“We are going on a hunt.”

*****************

By the time you returned to the house, both you and the newly turned wolf were covered in blood. A rib was settled between your teeth as he was working on a section of the ulna bone. Dragging behind the both of you was the remaining carcass that could be tossed into the freezer. Not as much as you had planned but it was better than nothing at all.

Foxy was most certainly related to the Fireflys. That was no longer doubted. He reminded you of Otis in several ways but didn't have quite the domineering sense behind him. Dangerous and deadly? Yes. Without a doubt. But his personality was a little more calm, his mind a little less focused on the big world. Frighteningly easy to talk to and within an hour of being out in the dark, he was cracking jokes and actually getting a laugh out of you.

It would take a lot more time and effort for him to learn the shift on command but he didn't fight his nature like some who were turned. That alone had him ahead of the game. From your understanding, he planned on laying low at the ranch for some time, given the amount of land and space that was here.

“Not too bad a night for a newbie.” He chuckled, looking down at the bone that was nearly out of marrow from the sounds of it.

“Have to say, you make the shit look easier than it is. But you make it make sense.”

“You'll get there. Like I said, takes time. Probably would have taken you years on your own. I say, we go out nightly, especially over the time when it's closer to the moon, and you'll get there in a few months.” A hummed response was what you got as the both of you trudged up the stairs. Slinging the remains over your shoulder, you motioned for him to head inside. “I'm gonna take care of this before settling in. You got questions, just come find me. Don't need shit getting out of hand while you're in the house.” Instead of questioning it, he nodded and headed inside, still gnawing away on the bone. Like a pup. You could have swore that if he still had his tail, it would be swaying.

Chuckling, you headed down to the basement, moving past Tiny's room with a wave to the giant, before tossing the meat onto the table.

The instinct to protect had come up without thought. Still, the hair on the back of your neck was half on end with the adrenaline that remained coursing through your veins. Threats as a wolf were never taken lightly and over the years, threats were dealt with on your own so it just heightened everything.

“Have to say, you make a pretty damn good guard dog.” The voice rang out, unexpected enough that it actually made you jump. Shit. The chuckle meant that Otis hadn't missed it either. “Aww, did I sneak up on the big bad wolf?” Rolling your eyes since your back was turned to the man, you grunted in response while using a claw to slice up the remaining meat.

His hands found your hips, the length of his frame suddenly pressed against yours. Any growl died in your throat, the sound choked out by the shifting gears within your consciousness. Seemed he wasn't too upset about you stepping across some boundaries. The hand sliding across your abdomen and up to your chest would have been far more demanding and harsh, its placement wholly different. Teeth sunk into sensitive flesh and a different sort of keeling growl took place of any other sound. Maybe the night wasn't entirely a waste after all. And just maybe having another wolf around wasn't such a bad thing. As long as Otis didn't go getting any ideas...

#slasher writing #horror writing #slasher x reader #slasher x you #otis driftwood x reader #otis driftwood #otis driftwood fic #otis b driftwood #foxy coltrane #winslow foxworth coltrane #house of 1000 corpses fic #house of 1000 corpses #3 from hell #tw cannibalism #tw kidnapping

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mdhwrites · 1 year ago

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I saw a post a while ago lambasting Amphibia for having its characters 'do the most horrendous shit imaginable' for the sake of comedic plots and get off far too easily for it. In their view, Amphibia took slapstick comedy way 'too far' sometimes. I thought this was quite hyperbolic; the protagonists made serious mistakes, but rarely anything I'd call unforgivable, especially since they'd almost always show a level of remorse. But it did make me think about the way immoral acts are portrayed in comedic shows, and how we, as viewers, can tolerate and forgive things we probably wouldn't in real life because of the way these acts are presented to us.

I mean, think about Hop-Pop using mind control on Anne, Sprig and Polly in Children of the Spore. If anything like that happened to you in real life, chances are you wouldn't react to someone violating your body and mind by shrugging your shoulders and going 'well, guess we pushed you pretty far.' You'd probably beat the shit out of HP and never talk to him again. But that episode is kinda self-aware about the awfulness of it all (which I love). Polly flat-out says the old frog crossed all kinds of ethical and moral lines XD

Going back to the whole 'too far' accusation, though, I'm pretty sure we're smart enough to understand the difference between a silly frog show and real-life crimes. I don't think there needs to be super realistic consequences to everything (as the post I mentioned was suggesting) when your focus is on writing a slice-of-life fantastical comedy. I guess the only real argument you could make is 'but it's teaching kids to forgive absolutely atrocious, unforgivable things!' And...maybe? But I'm pretty sure any kid with their head screwed on straight understands not to replicate or forgive immoral behaviour too easily.

I guess what I'm trying to ask is, do you think characters doing awful things for the sake of comedy or plot can go too far, in that they can unintentionally make characters far too heinous to sympathize with, or do you think complaints like those of the post I mentioned above are a result of taking something far too seriously? Is there even such a thing as 'too far' when it comes to slapstick comedy?

So let's talk about intent, tone and framing because these things REALLY matter to a story. It's actually part of the problem with fandoms wanting everything to be realistic, darker, etc. because they're really asking for one thing: For them to all be the same. To not be what they are because, you know, the fact that these are comedy cartoons for kids MATTERS.

But first let's actually shift gears AWAY from cartoons for a second to talk about things being genuinely irredeemable for comedy. MANY people are really against prank style reality tv because it preys so completely on human suffering. Because these people are doing terrible things to just normal people. I personally don't like the premise... But I like Impractical Jokers. That show frames it DEMONSTRABLY more about terrible things happening to these four friends, by these four friends, and usually the worst they do to others is leave them a little confused or a bit uncomfortable. One of the big elements to changing this is that all the challenges are effectively dares. Someone either commits to the bit or if it becomes too much, they dip out but they are ALLOWED to dip out, minus the final jokes which are always pretty much purely at the Joker's expense.

Are these four people bad people? No. But part of why we also know that is because it's television and they're doing it to entertain as part of being comedians. Bizarrely enough, a lot of modern cartoon fandoms seem to want to act like fiction IS reality. It's where you get people going "Oh, you're being so cruel to a 14 year old, nuerodivergent girl!" and me going "I'm being critical of a character in a narrative. Can you please stop telling me, an actual human being in the real world, to kill myself because of a fictional character?"

Because shock of all shocks, PEOPLE CAN TELL REALITY FROM FICTION! In fact, even kids can! The fucking video game industry had to go through this hell HARD to prove that killing people in a video game is not the same as having psychopathic tendencies in the real world. Do you know how many kids play CoD? And those kids are fine. At least most of them.

So with all of that preamble out of the way: When can a morality focused show fuck up?

It's actually incredibly rarely in the terrible things the characters do because the show USUALLY addresses these elements as part of the moral of the day.

For the example given of Hop Pop's mind control, it is shown as... Eerie to put it mildly. Even from go, Hop Pop only enjoys it so long as he doesn't have to interact with it. It is never framed as a positive besides a bit selfishness. However, Hop Pop is a good enough person to show genuine remorse and try to fix this. He puts in a lot of effort, is admonished as the lesson of the day is learned to not try to control people and to potentially compromise and then it MOVES. ON. Because they live in a fantasy world where anyone could die at any second. A day of none thoughts is not actually that big of a deal, especially since it wasn't done out of malice or even really on purpose. It's a part of the fun of the setting and of the fantasy genre as a whole that you can just do these weird concepts like this and move on because magic happens sometimes. You might grumble for a day or two but hey, at least it was your neighbor and not the king, am I right!? Hail King Andrias.

A big part of this though, and why so many morality driven shows can have characters do terrible things without imparting the wrong lessons, is because it's addressed. Pretty much explicitly. It is framed as wrong, addressed as wrong and then fixed because it was WRONG. Even if it gives momentary gain, that gain is almost always also included in being wrong.

It's actually a formula that Amphibia purposefully breaks for an episode, carrying it over from directly the one before, because there genuinely was one crime committed that hadn't been addressed and by the time it was, that sin had grown to a point where it was too reasonable to have a character still be mad to ignore it: The music box. Hop Pop hiding it is actually an AWFUL thing to do because it dooms Anne, it means her parents will never get closure, dooms the rest of Anne's friends, etc. etc. Hop Pop has to be okay with Anne never quite being fully happy because of always wanting to go home while also living with this false hope that he implanted into her. A trust he has not earned because of the lie.

So even after they theoretically have their morality episode about the box, Amphibia takes this time for such a PERSONAL attack on Anne to stick with her for another episode during The First Temple. It actually acknowledges that you don't get over everything immediately. That sometimes you need space. I don't even like that episode but the break in formula is actually meant to make the message more powerful, and does so successfully, especially because the crime was different. It wasn't of indifference or something quickly fixed. It was of long term AGONY and a complete breach in trust that would make one question what relationship they can have with another person. There's pretty much zero other crimes in the show like that besides Sasha/Marcy's betrayals, which aren't treated as easy fixes, and Andrias' betrayal is the heel turn that makes him the primary antagonist. These crimes, these personal, genuinely awful things to do to other people that could be replicated, unlike so much of the fantasy violence, are usually seen as something you do have to work on. It's a great, nuanced take on being a morality one off show while also being able to elevate some issues to being dealt with more seriously and consistently.

Also, quick note from someone on my Discord: They NEED to do bad things in order to teach! They are meant to be the bad example so when their actions lead to things going wrong, you understand not to copy that behavior. This is honestly storytelling 101 for most... Plots. Not just morals but plots. If the characters do NOTHING, nothing happens and nothing will be learned.

You want a show that will teach kids bad lessons and then reinforce there are no consequences for those? WELCOME TO THE OWL HOUSE! Specifically: The show that tells you to lie and keep secrets because your fear justifies keeping them!

I know that sounds shitty but like... Luz is the main character. For half of the show, she is portrayed as the second most moral character in the show behind Willow. She admonishes stealing, cheating, etc. as her contrast with Eda. Then after Yesterday's Lie... She literally can't stop lying and never faces consequences for it.

The closest actually comes in Falls and Follies where Amity at least forces a promise out of Luz to be more open with her. This actually though doesn't fix the problem, it just makes it WAY WORSE because one of the main targets of these lies, that kids can easily replicate, especially because Luz is almost always lying about things that might upset others which is the most common thing kids will lie about, is Amity. So now we have both lying and breaking promises. You know, two of the most basic morals any kids show should impart on the audience!

In Reaching Out though, Amity gets a little mad but then it's excused because of her dad! In Thanks to Them, no one gives a shit that Luz has been keeping secrets and lying for months. Camila makes sure Luz DOESN'T tell her friends the truth either about her plans. You know, Luz's MOM who should want her daughter to be an honest person. The show then constantly keeps cutting Luz off from telling anyone anything because it literally can't without revealing how bullshit what she's doing is until by the end of the show... Luz hasn't been punished in any way and the lies just... Drift away.

Completely unaddressed.

This causes a problem because while the lies theoretically hurt Luz... They hurt less than losing her friends. Hurt less than disappointing a parent. Hurt less than making her look bad. And this is the main character. The one kids are supposed to connect with the most. The one who usually most explicitly defines the morality of a show. And she is never punished or stopped from all. Of. Her. Lies.

(As a note: This is also how you get a lot of guys taking the wrong lessons from anime perverts. Sure, this guy gets smacked but he never loses his friends. Never faces real consequences. In return... He gets way more ass than the main character does, doesn't he? *gags violently*)

THAT is how you impart bad morals. It's not surprising to me that the fandom for TOH hides behind excuses so much for their show because their literal main character was justified, in fiction, to have all of the terrible things she did, all the choices she didn't have to make or the people she discarded, because she ALWAYS had an excuse. And so long as you have an excuse, by what TOH says, you can get away with fucking anything.

And mind you, that last part is NOT Luz specific. Have a bad uncle? Don't worry Hunter, the fact that you literally hunt, oppress and potentially kill wild witches can be entirely forgotten and ignored. Have a mean mommy? Don't worry Amity, we literally never have to properly address the literal years of bullying you did to another character or even how attempting to kill Luz was wrong. Collector? COME ON! You just had bad friends/family so now you just need good ones and we can forget all about you oppressing people for fucking months!

This isn't addressing these problems. These are excuses. And excuses can seem REALLY appealing to people. After all, how many hide awful acts or statements behind: "Come on, it was just a joke." Shields are useful for trying to avoid criticism after all. If you never acknowledge you were in the wrong, you don't have to feel bad for having done something mean, let alone terrible.

Just to bring it back to Amphibia: Sasha tries to do this. She believes she knows best so she feels justified in all she does because it will make everyone the happiest, at least in her own eyes. Then in Turning Point, she realizes the folly of her ways, addresses that she was a terrible person and plants her foot down FIRM. No more acting the part of protector while actually being a tyrant. She will risk her very life in order to right these wrongs. And we see it also in Commander Anne where she is taking the change seriously. These are two half episodes, a single episode in full, that lets us know that her actions were inexcusable and that they were wrong and now she is allowed to be a part of the good guys now that she has made sure the audience knows that they can look to her as an example.

One full episode to ADDRESS the fact that what Sasha did was wrong and to not excuse it but to learn from it.

That's why all these terrible things protagonists do in shows is fine. They learn from it. They genuinely regret their actions. They show the audience why they shouldn't have done it. It's never okay to the show that they did. Not that it can't be forgiven, because people should be allowed the chance to grow, but that it still wasn't okay.

For a kid's show, that is pitch perfect. It's why moral of the day storytelling exists and I can't really think of any huge errors in this department on Amphibia's side. It's pretty damn good at smacking someone over the head when they act like a jackass. At bare minimum, there are WAY worse examples out there.

======+++++======

This is absolutely one of those criticisms that has me look at the person making it and go "Just admit you don't like cartoons. Or children's media in general probably." Admittedly, there's actually plenty of adult stuff just as childish, no one stays mad in Family Guy, so it's probably just "You don't like cartoons." It's the sort of bad faith criticism that just reveals you as not having actually wanted the product but whatever you thought the product should be.

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

#amphibia #toh critical #the owl house criticism

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galway-girlatwork · 4 months ago

Text

Deliver Me

Fandom: Triple Frontier- AU.

Rating: Mature-This is a dark fiction. It took on a mind of its own when I began writing it. There is so much angst. A small amount of fluff and smut. Like teeny, tiny. It was supposed to be Frankie falling in love and he did, it just took a really long time to get there.

TRIGGER WARNING: Domestic Battery. (Please do not read this if it will cause trauma. Explicit scene. Explicit description of abuse.)

Central Characters: Frankie. Trinity. Lily. (Trinity’s daughter) David. (Trinity’s ex-husband)

Central Relationship: Frankie, Trinity, Lily.

Word Count: 4,669

AO3

Please do not copy my work. If you liked it, please re-blog and tag me. Please do not steal my mood board. Stealing is WRONG so just don’t do it. I do not give permission to copy, translate, or post my work to any other platform.

Music inspiration: Bat for Lashes-Let’s Get Lost

Written for @toomanystoriessolittletime writing challenge

SUMMARY:

Running. It was what she knew, her ex-hundreds of miles away. A relationship is not what she needed, not what she wanted. Peace is all she craved after years of living in fear, relying on the flight or fight response. Meeting her daughter’s kindergarten teacher, who was the exact opposite of David, her abusive ex, might change that. But what happens when the past rears its ugly head? Will she fight, flee or finally ask for help?

Deliver Me

The small town of Pinebrook seemed like the perfect place for a fresh start. Trinity had arrived just a few weeks ago, driven by the promise of a peaceful life for her and her five-year-old daughter, Lily. Cozy, tree-lined streets, friendly neighbors, that didn’t ask a lot of questions, gave her hope that Pinebrook could be the safe haven she needed.

David was finally in jail, after the last time he’d hit her. He hadn’t cared that the papers were final, the judge giving her full custody of their daughter. A month later, he’d broken into her apartment. When she came to, he’d fractured four ribs, broken her nose, for the second time, and choked her until she’d passed out. When he was sentenced, he was taken out of the courtroom, screaming that the next time he’d kill her. But now? She felt a sliver of hope that she and Lily could have normal. PTA, bake sales, Girl Scouts, it was a feeling she’d hadn’t been allowed to have in years.

Lily was starting kindergarten today at the elementary school at the edge of town. She was anxious about leaving her all day but Lily’s excitement was contagious. As they stood outside the classroom on the first day of school, she knelt down to straighten Lily’s little backpack.

“Are you ready, sweetie?” she asked, her voice gentle yet tinged with nervousness.

Lily nodded; eyes wide with curiosity. “I’m ready, Momma!”

Just then, the classroom door opened, and a tall, warm-looking man with kind brown eyes and dark curls appeared. He smiled, making Trinity feel an unexpected flutter in her chest. Standing, she took Lily’s hand in hers, not expecting a male teacher, especially for a room of five-year-olds. Lily, hid behind her, tiny hand curling into the sweater she was wearing. “Lily love, it’s okay.”

“You must be Lily,” he said with a grin, kneeling to meet her at eye level. “I’m Mr. Morales, but you can call me Frankie. I’ll be your teacher this year.”

“And you must be Lily’s mom,” Frankie said, standing up and extending his hand to her. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Frankie Morales.”

“Trinity,” she replied, shaking his hand. “Trinity Greyson. It’s nice to meet you, too. Lily, I’ll be here to pick you up at 2:45, okay? Be good and have a great day.” Frankie seemed to have a calming effect on Lily as he gently guided her into the classroom, her own nerves settling slightly for the first time since she moved here.

Sitting in the carpool lane had to be one of the most boring things a mom had to do. It was a hurry up and wait deal where you wanted to be the first one in line but then sit here until school ended. She didn’t realize the line would be halfway down the street. When she pulled up, she smiled, seeing Lily with Frankie, being so animated about whatever they were talking about. When the back door opened, he helped her in the car, letting her know he’d see her in the morning.

From then till bedtime, Lily told her everything about her very first day, showing off her first coloring page, which was promptly put on the fridge with a magnet that had been left by the previous owner. Finally tucked in bed, night light projecting stars on walls and ceiling, she went into her room, tablet in hand and after checking emails, browsed the school website, a small smile graced her face as she found Frankie’s picture. If Lily was this happy on the first day, then that was all that mattered.

Three Months Later

Months flew by, and kids were getting ready for Thanksgiving holiday. She couldn’t believe that Christmas was around the corner and that it would be the first one she’d celebrate without her mom. David had always made a big deal out of the holidays, it was the one time of year where she didn’t have to worry about arguments, because heaven fucking forbid his parents see anything wrong with their marriage. Her Mom wanted to come out but she’d convinced her to stay in Boston with her younger sister but truth be told, she didn’t want anyone knowing where she was, including her mom.

She was a million miles away when her cell phone rang, picking it up, she saw it was the school and panicked. “Is Lily, ok?”

“Hi Mrs. Greyson, this is Mr. Morales. Lily’s fine but I was wondering if you had time to meet today? There was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Um sure. After school?”

“Actually no. Can you come at 11:30 while Lily is at lunch?”

“Sure.”

“Great. See you then.”

Well, what the fuck was that all about?

“Come in Mrs. Greyson.” Frankie showed her to a chair in the conference room before sitting across from her, opening the manilla folder, a pen appearing from a shirt pocket. “Lily is doing great in class but when we were talking about Thanksgiving and where everyone was going and their favorite part of dinner, she said something disturbing and I want to get it cleared up. Something about not liking Thanksgiving because of being in the hospital? Does that make sense to you?”

Fuck, she thought. She didn’t think Lily would have remembered last year but apparently that was not the case. Shit. Fuck. Damn. “First it is not Mrs. I’m divorced, Greyson is my maiden name. Second, it was last year. I was um…” Fingers clenched into fists under the table, eyes dropping to the table, noticing the swirl marks in the polished wood. “There was an accident, I fell down the stairs and I was in the hospital for a few days. Lily was with my mother.” It was amazing how easy the lie fell from her lips. It was the same lie she’d told the police, her mother, her boss, basically anyone who asked. The doctors were the only ones who knew the truth and since she’d refused to press charges, there was nothing anyone could do.

“Ahhh, I see. Well thank you for clearing that up for me.” Something was off about the whole conversation, he thought. He noticed the way her head dropped, not looking him in the eye, the stiffness of her body, and he was willing to bet his paycheck that her nails were digging into her palms. It was almost as if she shrank into herself, ready to run given the chance. “Miss Greyson, Trinity, please know that if you or Lily need anything, we’re here for both of you. Lunch will be over soon so I have to get back to class before the kids but…” Taking a sheet of paper from the folder, he scribbled his number across the bottom and slid it towards her. “If you ever need anything, just give me a call.” Standing, he noticed the involuntary flinch when he extended his hand towards her, dropping it instantly.

“Thank you, Mr. Morales.” Holy crap she just wanted out of here right now.

“Please call me Frankie.” He helplessly watched as she practically ran from the conference room. Later that night, he fought the urge to call her, to check on the both of them, but he didn’t, wanting her to call on her own terms, when she was ready. On a hunch, he went onto his laptop and did some digging, but couldn’t find anything on her or Lily in Washington but then he remembered something in Lily’s file, that she’d been born in Massachusetts. He really shouldn’t be prying like this but he was attracted to her, had been since the minute he saw her. Blonde curly hair, beautiful green eyes, but the biggest attraction had been the way she was with Lily, hands on with everything but not overbearing or intrusive. Nothing was coming up for him in Boston and decided it was best to just leave things be for now.

She was more cautious now, simply out of habit. Her past had left not only emotional scars but physical ones as well, reminded every time she looked in the mirror, her back a crisscross of scars but every day that passed without any word from him or his family, allowed her to believe that she’d finally escaped, that she was safe. It was the last day of school before Christmas break, Frankie putting Lily in the backseat, that he asked her out. Just coffee. No pressure. Looking in the review mirror at Lily, her eyes wide, smile even wider as she nodded, that she said yes. Cue awkward conversation as he stammered for a second, before letting her know he’d call her later.

“Momma, can we have McDonald’s? I want a happy meal. Oh, can I have a playdate with Amy? She gave me her number. It will be fun and I can take my Barbies and LOL dolls and Patch can go.”

“Yes, Lily love. I can call Amy’s mom. Right now, how about we get home, have a snack and you can watch a movie while I finish work.”

Later that night, she was in bed when her phone rang, smiling a little when his number had come up. A nervous exchange of small talk ensued, the hi’s, how are you’s, what are you doing before they actually had real conversation. It was two hours of getting to know the other, the only thing she refused to talk about, dodging the question of where Lily’s dad was by changing the subject. When he asked her out for dinner, she was comfortable enough to say yes. Hanging up, she nestled against the pillows, wondering if this was worth anything, David’s words on repeat in her head.

They dated all through Christmas break but only when Lily was with her friends, Trinity not wanting to confuse anything for her. It was coffee first, a few lunches, dinner one night. She always met him, needing her car in case she had to go get Lily early but he knew there was something more, just beneath the surface, something she wasn’t ready to share. He gave her the space and time, wanting more with her but it needed to be on her terms. New Years came and went, so did the day every person dreaded, Valentines. She asked for nothing but he wanted to do something special, so flowers were delivered to her house but not the stand-by of roses, how cliché was that, remembering her favorites were daisies and snapdragons. Lunchtime had him sitting at his desk, eating a sandwich, scrolling through his phone when the phone vibrated, letting him know that she was calling, smile on his face as he answered.

“Hey, you. Didn’t expect to hear from you during lunch.”

“Well, I just got a surprise delivery so I figured I’d call the guy responsible.”

Leaning back in his chair, suddenly forgetting lunch, head back, staring at the ceiling. “So, you got the flowers?”

“I did. They’re beautiful. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I just wanted to remind you how amazing you are. Not a crime, right?”

“Well, consider me reminded. I was having one of those days, you know. You’ve got pretty good timing.”

“I know nothing with us is official but I just wanted to do something special.”

“You remembered my favorites.”

“I’m glad you like them. That’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Frankie. Really. See you at school?”

“I’ll see you this afternoon.”

“By the way, Lily is going to Amy’s tomorrow night, dinner at your place?”

“You’re on. 7?”

“It’s a date. Bye Frankie.”

“Bye Trin.”

Setting the phone down, heart still buzzing with the sound of her voice, he glances down at his half-eaten sandwich, grinning to himself.

“Mom, I already told you to meet us in Seattle. Please don’t argue, it’s just…We need to be safe, just a little while longer. Please do this for me.” She was frustrated, angry because her mom wanted to come for spring break to see her and Lily but she didn’t want her mom traveling here. “I promise I am safe right now but Mom if you can’t do this for me then I am not going to let you take Lily for spring break. Boundaries Mom, boundaries.” Her mom finally conceded, agreeing to meet her there, she’d spend the day with them before driving back. When the phone rang, she was still annoyed. “Mom I am not talking about this anymore.”

“Whoa wrong person. You, okay?”

“Frankie…I’m sorry. My mom is just being a little difficult about spring break.”

Again, something was wrong and again she was closing herself off. Every time they would take one step forward, something happened and he was right back at square one with her. It was enough to test the patience of a saint and he was no saint but he’d fallen so hard for her, but there was still that distance and he was trying to close it. She never talked about her life before moving here, always changing the subject when it came up and he always let it go. “Trin, you know you can talk to me, right? I am not asking for much here, just talk.”

“I know. There’s just…So I’m leaving to drive Lily down to Seattle on Friday since it’s early dismissal but I’ll be back Saturday if you want to have dinner?”

“Yea dinner sounds great. Same time?”

“Seven. Bye.”

“Bye.” Fucking hell, what the fuck was he doing? He was fucking pining for a woman that held him back at arm’s length. How much longer did he allow this shit to continue? He knew the answer before the question.

Dinner had gone off without a hitch until he brought up her past, when he could see her mentally and physically shutting down. Sighing he picked up their plates and went into the kitchen, hands grasping the counter, knuckles white, skin stretched tight as he heard her come in behind him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“There’s just things I can’t…”

“You won’t,” he interrupted, his frustration slipping though despite efforts to remain calm. A hand ran through his hair as he took a deep breath, turning to face her. That’s when it all clicked in his head and he became angry with himself for missing all the signs, things he was trained to look for. “What did he do to you?” The sudden jerk of her head, green hues piercing his and he knew the accusation was true. Her silence was deafening, and he wanted to shake her, to make her see how much she meant to him. But he also knew that pushing her too hard would only drive her further away.

Exhaling slowly, he moved towards her, reaching out, gently cupping her face in his hands. Her skin was cold to the touch, but he didn’t pull away. He couldn’t. “I’m here, Trin. Not going anywhere,” he said softly, brushing his thumb along her cheek. Lips gently brushed against hers, “Let me in baby.”

Closing her eyes, she leaned into his touch, wanting to desperately let go of the past, body shuddering as she whispered, “I don’t want to lose you.” Opening her eyes, gaze filled with longing but something deeper as well. A hand came up, palm resting against the back of the hand that cupped her cheek, amazed at how it felt. To have someone touch her without a hint of violence. Something shifted in her when he called her baby. This was a man who’d been so patient with her, so understanding and she was pushing him away because she was scared when he’d done nothing to earn that fear. Hand moved from his, cupping the back of his neck, she brought him down to her, kissing him, the tip of her tongue running along his bottom lip, hearing a low growl, both arms wrapping around her waist, he held her close as he carried her to his room.

When his knees hit the edge of the mattress, he laid her down, wanting to commit everything to memory as fingers traced along her cheek, moving across her lips, watching her expressions with each touch, kiss, lick of his tongue. Hands grabbed the bottom of her shirt, pushing it up, kissing the contours of her stomach, protruding hip bones, visible stretch marks but when he sat her up to take off her shirt, she scooted away from him, a single finger pressing against his lips, before she presented him her back, lifting the fabric up and off, flesh a myriad of scars. Sitting behind her, he unclasped her bra, pushing the straps down her shoulders, fingers tracing over each one. He didn’t understand how someone could be so brutal to another human. Fingers lightly grabbed her chin, turning her head towards him. “You’re so beautiful.” Standing, he pulled her up, stripping her naked before himself, settling once more on the bed, back against the headboard, he settled her between his legs, kissing the ends of the scars that went across her shoulders. One hand played with her nipples as the other moved up her thigh, finding her clit. He wanted this to be about her, to show her how beautiful he thought she was, despite what she thought about herself.

Legs opened further, erection pressing against her ass, he slid one finger into her, feeling how wet she was for him. He wanted her, more than he wanted anything else in this world. He wanted to see her face when she came, to see how beautiful she was when she was a desperate mess. His name was a murmur from her lips, fingers holding tight the hair at the nape of his neck, as her hips moved against the palm of his hand. Her body exploded, orgasm soaking his hand, as he gently slowed down, hearing her whimper when he pulled his fingers out of her.

She’d never had anyone pay as much attention to her body as he just did. It was like every guy she’d been with, a total of three, almost four, was too busy chasing their own orgasm to worry about her. With David, it had become more of a chore than a want, praying so hard that he would just get it over with so she could shower. This? This was so different. Turning around to face him, legs draped over his thighs, his stare so intense, she could feel it in her soul. She didn’t say a word, as she straddled him, thighs squeezing his, hips moving against him before he slid into her. She could feel a hand at her hip while the other tucked a curl behind her ear, never once did his eyes leave hers. He watched her as they moved together, not one more than the other. She wanted to this to be something she’d never forget, no matter what happened between them. He was letting her know that she was beautiful, wanted, cared for, possibly loved. Did those words mean something? Yes, to anyone who wanted to feel that emotion but all she could focus on right now was him, beneath her. Arms wrapped around each other as he lavished attention to sensitive nipples, suckling at them, it was like a tight rope between them, and she was the first to fall. He came right after her, seed scalding her insides as he whispered that he didn’t want to stop, couldn’t stop. When her head dropped to his shoulder, pressing kisses against the skin, he just held her as she cried. Silent tears of just letting go of all of it. The past, the hurt, the rage…It was cleansing, cathartic, forgiving.

Two days later, pulling into the garage, phone tucked between shoulder and cheek, she hadn’t noticed that the alarm didn’t beep when she opened the door leading inside. Hadn’t noticed anything until she was violently shoved forward, losing balance, falling face first into the hardwood floor. Pain radiated the entire expanse of her chest as foot connected with ribs, body flipped over before he was on top of her, a violent hand expanding over her neck as she clawed at it, before the other backhanded her. Vision blurred as lungs burned. In that second, she thanked God. Thanked him because her child wasn’t here to see blood trickling from lips that kissed her goodnight. Hair wrapped in a fist pulled her from the floor before slamming her into the wall, arms pinned above her head as he screamed in face, all the names that were his favorite. Whore. Slut. Bitch. Cunt. The names weren’t new. She’d heard them all before, but this time, it felt like they were etched into her skin, branded across her soul. He demanded to know where she’d been, who she’d been fucking, where his child was. When she refused to answer, meaty fist went through drywall before body met wood, skin met skin, trying to stay conscious. Just as quickly it started, it had ended. Instinct curled body into a ball, protecting vital organs, hands cupping her head, screams torn from lungs as hands touched her, not registering who they belonged to, her name called over and over. The voice wasn’t filled with hate. It was warm, familiar, calm, soothing, gentle, arms around her in a protective embrace. They didn’t tear at her or bruise her. They weren’t meant to hurt.

He heard it all. The name calling. Cries of pain. Poisonous words of hate spewed out as if they were part of normal conversation. His heart dropped, adrenaline hitting him hard, like ice water in his veins. The panicked cry of her voice, left him only one clear, primal instinct—get to her.

Hands shook with rage and fear as he sped through side streets. "FUCK?!" He barked into the phone, his mind racing through possibilities, but no answer came. "NO!" His voice broke, thoughts a chaotic mess, bouncing between fury and terror. His foot pressed harder on the gas as flashes of her—bruised, terrified—ran through his mind. The rage welled up so fiercely he could barely breathe. Clenching the steering wheel so tight, knuckles turned white, streets flying by in a blur, every second feeling like an eternity. All he could think about was her.

When he finally reached the house, he barely stopped the car before jumping out, sprinting toward the door, trying to open it before he gave up and kicked it in. “Let her go!” Frankie shouted, rushing towards the man that was on top of her, a haze of red clouded his vision as he punched him, over and over until he was unconscious. Moving towards her, heart shattering at what he saw and when he reached for her, the blood curdling screams tore from her body, broke him even more. Picking her up, he moved into the living room, setting her down on his lap as he sat on the couch. Pressing a kiss to her temple, he moved her, anger fresh as he watched her wince. Going back into the kitchen, he picked up her phone, his still in his truck, calling 9-1-1 and while he spoke to dispatch, he began looking for something to bind his hands before he killed the fucker

Her home became a hive of activity, David led away in handcuffs, digging himself a bigger hole as hate fueled threats were thrown at everyone. EMS had her a gurney, trying to ask questions, eyes vacant of any emotion, she said nothing. He’d pieced what he could together for the cops, letting them know he’d take care of the door before he was left alone in the middle of the living room. He wanted to go with her but the medics wouldn’t let him, family only, letting him know where they were taking her. When he was finally allowed to see her, she was sleeping, given pain meds and a sedative. Bruises began to blossom on her cheeks, hands prints could be seen on the slim column of her neck, skin red and angry. No broken or fractured ribs but all of that would heal. It was what it would do to her mentally and emotionally that worried him the most.

It hurt. That was the first thought she had when she woke up. It hurt, everywhere. Her mouth felt like it was full of cotton and grit, throat raw and sore from screaming, pleading. Head was pounding as though a hammer had taken up residence in her skull, the sterile smell of antiseptic burning her nostrils. Blinking a few times, vision blurry, she tried to focus, body heavy, every breath an effort, every movement, reminding her of what happened. That is when eyes fell on Frankie, sitting in the chair next to her bed, elbows on knees, hands clenched together, face looking tired. “Hey.”

He jerked upright, eyes wide with relief. “Trin… you’re awake.” His voice was hoarse, thick with emotion he barely concealed. He shifted closer, the chair scraping the floor slightly as he leaned toward her, his hand tentatively reaching out, gently taking it in his. "How do you feel?"

“I hurt," she managed with a faint, grim smile. The effort hurt, but seeing Frankie there, watching over her, soothed the ache, if only a little. “Where is he?”

“Jail. He violated parole. They are keeping him here. The police want to talk to you about what happened.” For a long moment, neither spoke. The machines continued their rhythmic beeping, but all he could focus on was the warmth of her hand in his. “I called your mom, she wanted to come up here with Lily but I convinced her not to. She said for you to call her when you’re up so you could talk to Lily. Said something about keeping Lily in Seattle until you’re feeling better. Gonna have to think of something to tell her unless…”

“I’m going to tell her the truth. She knows her father is not a nice man, she’s seen more than she should have, I just always figured she’d forgotten but what you said last year, made me realize she hadn’t. I’m not going to lie for him but I have to ask you something. This is more than what you signed up for, are you sure that all of this is something you want?” She needed to give him a way out, an escape. It would hurt more than the bruises and sore muscles but this was so much for someone to want to deal with. She didn’t want to lose him, not when she loved him so very much.

“Yes. I know you think you’re broken but broken is beautiful. You’re beautiful and I want to spend the rest of my life showing you and Lily that.” Whoa. Wait. What? Did he just say the rest of his life? Fuck yes, he did. It didn’t mean they had to get married, that was just paperwork. It was being there for her and her daughter, wanting to be with them, that she was worthy of being loved.

In the weeks that followed, she realized something profound, she wasn’t just safe with Frankie; she was loved. He had seen her at her most vulnerable, and even when she’d given him an out, he didn’t take it. Instead, he had stayed, offering her and Lily the kind of love they had been missing for so long.

Their relationship deepened as they spent more time together, and for the first time in years, she allowed herself to imagine a future. Of peace, calm, where they felt safe. Where someone made her feel like she could finally heal. He wasn’t just a protector, he was her partner, seeing her for who she really was. Strong, independent, a mom, a fiancé, a woman who was delivered from violence.

#frankie morales #orginal character #triple frontier au #pedro pascal #writing challenge #ao3 writer

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