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nickfowlerrr · 2 years ago

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patience

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. smuuuuuut (mainly m receiving).

words: 2k.

notes: i think i’ve used this gif before but i’m running out of gifs to use lol i’m gonna have to start making my own headers again soon. anyway, this is just a little smutty fic based off a small prompt list i saw recently. (222: “come here.”) i also wrote a very soft drabble based on the same dialogue that may or may not be posted here eventually. okay, anyway, enjoy! thank you in advance for reading and as always, feedback and reblogs are more than welcome and so appreciated! 🩵

“Come here.”

His words, though they sound like a soft command, are more of a gentle plea as he watches you from where he lies in bed.

A small smile forms on your lips as he speaks. You take a moment to finish rubbing in your moisturizer, your routine done for the night as your eyes move to meet his in the mirror.

You smile bigger and turn around to slowly make your way across the room to him. You can feel his anticipation to get his hands on you grow with your every step. You let your hips sway as you move closer, loving the way his eyes follow your body, his lids falling heavy as he pushes himself to sit up.

You’re wearing his favorite set, the lavender satin against your soft skin.. You were just begging to be touched. In fact, you’d been waiting for him in nothing more than this for hours. But he got home so late, covered in sweat and dirt all over his clothes, you sent him to the shower with just a chaste kiss as his face fell at your dismissal - his hands lingering on you as you slipped away from him to start taking your makeup off and get ready for bed.

He’s been watching you since he got out of the shower, climbing into bed in just his boxers as he waited for you as patiently as he could.

You want to see how much patience Bucky has left.

You watch his tongue dart out over his lip as his fingers twitch along his thighs, bringing your attention to his growing need.

Passing by the bedroom door, you stop to flick the lights out. All three switches. One by one, taking your time.

His impatient whine at your detour has you biting your lip to keep your smile at bay, though he can still spot that amused glint in your eyes, even through the darkened room.

“Sweetheart, please,” he groans, “I haven’t seen you all day, come here.” He coaxes you over, spreading his legs and reaching his arms out for you, a pout forming on his pretty lips.

He was still lit up by the bedside lights, the lights that were guiding you to him.

“Poor baby,” you coo in faux pity, finally standing before him. You let your hand drag up his thigh as you walk closer. You put one knee on the bed as you lean in to place a soft kiss on his pillowy lips.

Bucky tries to deepen it as his arms wrap around you and pull you closer.

You smile against his lips as you crawl fully onto the bed, straddling him as his hands smooth up and down your back now. He stares up at you as you part from him ever so slightly, his blue eyes shining. He looks at you like you’d hung the stars.

“I missed you,” he breaths.

“I can tell.”

You can’t help the smirk that effortlessly forms on your lips as you run your hands over his bare chest. You push your hips back and sit on his clothed erection. A hiss escaping him as he grips your soft waist, his eyes falling shut at the feeling of you on top of him.

“Missed me quite a bit, didn’t you,” your voice teasing.

“Yes,” he answers with a deep moan as you slowly roll your hips over his.

“And now I’m here,” you begin, leaning closer to brush your lips over his, “you’re quite happy, aren’t you.”

“Yes,” he moans again against your lips. They are so, so close to his, he can hardly think straight.

“And if I wasn’t here?” you question, pulling away from him as he chases your touch before you press on his chest, urging him down. Your strength is no match for Bucky’s. You both know he could easily have you on your back in a flash, but he falls to your touch, his pink lips part on an exhale as he watches you atop him, mesmerized.

A shudder runs through him as you let your hand run from his shoulder, down his chest, along his stomach until you get to the band of his underwear, snapping it lightly.

“What would you be doing if I wasn’t here?”

It wasn’t a real question, you both knew that. Bucky opens his mouth to try and formulate a sentence through his lust filled haze but you stop him.

“Don’t tell me. Show me,” you whisper, your dulcet voice laced with desire.

Bucky is stunned as you lift yourself off of him. He watches you settle on your knees beside him before you start pulling his underwear down for him.

“I know you want to,” you rasp, your heavy gaze never leaving his beautiful face as you free his straining cock and rid him of his boxers. You sit back up and kiss his stubbled cheek before whispering in his ear, “Come one, baby. Touch yourself for me.”

He lets out a soft groan as you guide his hand to his cock, wrapping it around himself before you guide it up and down his shaft. You watch his face as his eyes flutter shut at the motion.

You take your hand off of him and he looks at you as you nod, urging him on.

You watch intently as Bucky moves his hand along himself, pumping his shaft slowly but firmly.

You crawl across the bed to your nightstand and grab the nearly empty bottle of lube from your drawer before returning to his side.

You shake the bottle and squeeze the contents into your hand, only a pathetic spurt being released. You tsk before tossing the bottle to the wayside.

“Aaaah,” Bucky breathes as you rub the lube on your palm over his tip while he continues pumping his dick in his hand. You lean over and lift your eyes to meet his as you hollow your cheeks to collect your saliva in your mouth before you spit down on his cock. His thighs tense as your spit eases his strokes. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he groans as he works himself over a little faster.

You're tempted to stop him now and just wrap your mouth around his cock, but you won’t. You enjoy this too much, his cheeks growing pink and his puffy breaths as he jerks himself off. It’s a sight to behold, truly.

Instead you lay your head in his lap, let your hand rest on his lower abs, enjoying the way he tenses every now and again. Your fingers idly play along his happy trail before tracing the vein that leads to his cock, stopping as you near the base of him as to not interfere with his touching.

Your name can be heard falling from his lips in whimpered pleads before they’re overpowered by his deep groans and growls.

Bucky’s idle hand crawls along your chest and you let him grope your breasts as you watch him still. Your nipples are hard beneath the satin material of your bra and you revel in the feeling of Bucky’s hand on you. You slip your hand under yourself and unclasp the bra, pulling the garment off for him as he moans and runs his thumb over your nipple, earning a moan from you in turn before you decide to grab his hand and sit up. You turn your head and as you see the beads of precum leaking from his tip, you can’t help but lean down and lick them off as Bucky keens.

You move up his body and meet his lips, kissing him hotly. You bring your hand up to his face, caressing his stubbled cheek before working your fingers into his mouth. He obliges you, humming around your digits.You pull them from him before you settle back down into your spot, head on his lap as you lay perpendicular to his body. A breath leaves you as you relax into the mattress, content to watch Bucky get himself off while your hand slips into your panties, your fingers still wet with his spit playing in your own slick before you slide them inside you with a small moan. Your eyes are glued to Bucky as you watch his fist tighten around his dick - his eyes on you as you play with yourself. You can tell he’s close as his neck strains and he bears his teeth. You move further into his lap and stop your play, instead focusing completely on Bucky. Your face in his crotch, you let your tongue slide out and along his balls, a heavy groan falling past his lips as you lick him, his hand moving faster over his cock. You gently suck one into your mouth, letting your tongue massage him before you suck it off and let it go with a gentle pop, taking the other past your swollen lips and paying him the same attention. Bucky’s broken moans and whimpers fall freely from his lips, curses and your name intermingled as he begins to fully lose himself to the pleasure.

You watch as his tongue pokes out past his lips as he tries to hold himself back, a strangled noise leaving his throat as his body tenses. He’s kneading the tip of his cock as you play with his balls.

“Fuck - yes, baby, yes,” he calls out to you, voice tight, “fuck, please, sweetheart,” he begs.

You feel a sense of pride rush over you as you realize he’s asking for your permission. You sit up and get on your knees between his legs as he pants, his groans and growls growing louder the closer he gets.

“Where do you wanna come, baby?” you purr.

“Oh fuck,” he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before he returns his tortured gaze to you. “Oh god,” he moans headily, “fuck, baby, let me come inside you,” he mewls, “please.”

You bite your lip and waste no time in slipping off your panties before you straddle him. You feel his cock pressed against your wet pussy as you grip his length, his hands now grabbing your hips as you line him up to your slick entrance. You slide down on him and moan in sync with Bucky as he fills you perfectly, the way he always does. The stretch of him inside you is intoxicating. You aren’t surprised when you immediately feel his dick throbbing along your walls, his come filling you up as you watch in awe - his beautiful face twisting in his pleasure.

His hands are still gripping your hips as he thrusts up into you, riding out his orgasm before he loosens his hold on your hips and relaxes under you, panting before he starts to catch his breath.

You lean down and press your lips to his, kissing him lovingly as he smiles into it, wrapping his arms around you before flipping you onto your back easily as he hovers above you.

“You did so good, baby,” you praise him as you take his face in your hands, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs.

“Yeah?” he smiles coyly, melting into your soft touch.

“Mhm,” you hum, a contented sigh escaping you as you settle yourself further into the mattress, your hands dropping to the blanket beneath you, getting ready to sit up so you can pull it over your bodies.

Bucky’s deep laugh catches you off guard as you look up into his eyes, still swimming in lust as he licks his lips. He grabs your wrists in his hands and pulls them above your head as he drops his head to your neck, kissing your sweet spot as he nestles himself better between your thighs as you gasp lightly, a small moan tumbling past your lips at his attention.

“What?” he mumbles against your throat before picking his head up, “you think you can just lay down and go to sleep now?”

Bucky lets go of your wrists as he drags his palms over your breasts, squeezing you before he moves down your soft torso, his kisses ceaseless against your skin as you arch into his touch. “I’ve missed you all day, sweetheart. I’m gonna be makin’ up for it all night,” he assures you with his charming, toothy grin as you titter under him with a soft smile of your own. You dutifully spread your legs wider for him, ready and wanting for whatever he has in store.

#bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky x curvy!reader #bucky x plus size!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes drabble

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voxmortuus · 1 year ago

Note

I'm sorry the Hanniheads have been so rude to you. Ironic considering what he dies to the rude lollol. Take your time. There's no rush :)

This is sooooo not self indulgent lmao i was wondering about a yandere Hannibal waking up and his darling is totally gone. Her shoes are still there, all her stuff. He searches every where for her and finally finds her outside, having sleep walked all the way to the edge of the woods.

I sleep walk, I once woke up stirring an empty pot on the stove. Thank God my mom heard the commotion. I was around 12 at the time, now I'm 27 and it's calmed down a lot. I still laugh in my sleep from time to time, bonus points if you could perhaps include the reader laughing in her sleep?

►PAIRING: Yandere!Hannibal X F!Reader ►UNIVERSE: Hannibal ►WORDS: 650 ►SUMMARY/PROMPT: See Above. ►TRIGGER WARNINGS: Panicked Hannibal | Possessive Hannibal | Worried Hannibal | Sleepwalking Reader | Sleep Laughing Reader | Some fluff | Hannibal Watching You Sleep | I may be missing some, but you get a general idea, so please proceed with caution if there is anything in there that is overly triggering please let me know politely and I will make sure it is added to the list. ►NOTE: Thank you for understanding. It has not been a fun experience, some aren't so bad and I appreciate them and others, well, they make me not want to write for the Hannifans. You know what's funny, is my wife and I were talking about that just the other day! Sleep walking can be terrifying! At least you were safe! Anywho, I hope this meets your request and finds you well. Sorry it took so long, it's been a crazy past few weeks! I hope this finds you well and safe. ►IMAGE CREDIT: I found this gif here. It is not mine nor do I claim any ownership. This gif does not belong to me. I found it on an outside source. ►DIVIDER CREDIT: @nyxvuxoa ►My Master Masterlist | Hannibal Masterlist

A void, an empty void. He could feel it, the bed felt cold, like it had been emptied for a long while. Hannibal shoots up looking over to see your side of the bed is empty, and cold.

"Where did you go?" He asked aloud, but low and behold no answer. His brow furrowed. "Y/N!? WHERE ARE YOU?!" He called out, but nothing still.

He looks around the bedroom, and all over the upstairs, you've got to be somewhere. He kept repeating in his head. He didn't like that you weren't here, his heart raced, he panicked a bit, and felt this obsessive need to find you. Where could you have gone, you couldn't have gone far. Calling your phone didn't help, you turned it off, but why? Why did you turn it off tonight? That was slightly unlike you.

Hanibal's brow furrows again, finding your phone on the bathroom sink. He leaves it there before he heads down the stairs. Looking around and sees your things are still here, your bag, your shoes, and the front door wide open. Where did you go?

He feels this deeper panic, did you get taken? Did you run away and leave everything here? He started to worry even more, feeling this deeper need to find you. He steps out of the front door and calls for you, but you do not respond. His jaw clenches and he starts to look around outside, walking the property until he looks in the grass and sees footprints, and he follows them.

The ground was wet from the dew, your feet were covered in blades of grass, some dirt specks, your night shirt hung off your body, swaying in the wind as the bottom of it brushed against your legs. You stood there, just staring into the black void of the woods. What were you looking at? What was it you were seeing? What was calling you? You just stood there, watching, swaying slightly, not aware of the chill of the summer night.

Upon following your footprints Hannibal find you, he knows waking you can be a problematic situation, so he guides you back inside. Blinking a few times, you look over at him and tilt your head.

"Were they not calling you, my Love?" you ask.

Hannibal shakes his head. "No, my Darling, they were not, I'm not as special as you are. Come now, back in bed." He states softly.

"Do you think they'll call for you one day?" You ask.

He smiles and shakes his head. "No, my Darling, I do not." He states softly as he gets you back into bed and covers you up.

The moment your head hits that pillow you're back asleep, but afraid you'll wander off again, he takes a seat in the chair in the corner of the bedroom and watches you. Like hell you're going to leave him. The idea of that happening angered him, but he wasn't going to take it out on you. He just truly didn't like the idea, it made him sick and aggressive and overly possessive.

Watching you, he pays close attention to your motions, maybe he can find a way to fix this, you didn't do it often, but when you did, it scared him each time. It was this little bubble in his chest that grew and grew each time he woke up and you weren't there. You scared him, you scared him deeply, and he didn't like that.

With a small moment of silence, he thought he heard you giggle, so he listened a little closer. Sure enough, you were giggling. A soft tilt of his head, and soft chuckle escaped his lips.

"How adorable." He spoke softly, shaking his head he let out a breath and leaned back in his chair and sat there watching you, making sure you weren't going to leave his side again.

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toms-cherry-trees · 7 months ago

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"Look After You" || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Time and distance cannot break certain promises

Word count: 4.2k

Tags: Mentions of war, mental asylums, unjust imprisonment, mentions of controversial mental health treatments, cross dressing (?), implications of violence against women, illness, no betareading we go in raw

Author's note: You might have seen this post where I mention the life of Dorothy Lawrence. Well this is very loosely based on her life mixed with Tommy's story. Left it very open to a part 2 if people like the premise.

(Yes my people watch me put together moodboards instead of choosing gifs)

Requested tag (hope not to disappoint) @brummiereader @emotionalcadaver

The asylum stood tall and imponent before Tommy’s gaze, its towering central dome and flanking turrets framed by the bright sun rays of a cheerful spring afternoon. The radiant gardens contrasted dramatically with the derelict state of the building itself; rusty and broken drainpipes hanging from the roof, rotten wood frames and shattered window panes, missing chunks of brick on the walls, revealing the inner framing and plaster. Nothing about that place inspired trust to those who crossed its threshold, let alone hopes of betterment. The lamentable exterior stood like the perfect match of the decadence within.

The smell of rot assaulted him the second he entered. The paint had started to peel off, and moisture stains crawled across walls and ceiling. Most windows in the main hall were shuttered, and the incandescent light bulbs did little to cut through the darkness, casting a sickly shadow over the room. The orderly that welcomed him in the entrance had an embittered face, and he questioned Tommy on his name, whom he was visiting and his reasons to. He patted him down and overturned his pockets, making him leave behind anything that could be used to harm or be harmed. Cap, cigar case, lighter, sleeve garters and shoelaces stayed behind while another orderly led him through long hallways and endless locked doors towards the morning hall where he’d meet the purpose of his visit.

Finally, they stopped before a wide set of oaken double doors with panels of rubbed glass, which allowed him a faint peek of what happened on the other side. The orderly barely opened the door enough to enter himself and told Tommy to wait outside, as if he feared something may escape from within given the chance. After a few minutes he returned, leaving the gap open for Tommy to pass through.

“Sister Janice will take you to her. Don’t look at other patients. Don’t talk to other patients. If they come to you, ignore them. Don’t take anything they give you”

Perplexed, curious and mostly annoyed by all the delays, Tommy ducked under the orderly’s arm while he held the door open. As soon as he stepped inside the orderly let go, and the door closed behind him with a heavy click.

The sudden brightness hurt his eyes after the unceasing darkness, and Tommy had to squint briefly as his pupils grew accustomed to his surroundings. An ample hall stretched before him, arch windows spanning from floor to ceiling lining the west and north walls. Moth eaten draperies of blue velvet had been drawn back to allow sunlight in, in hopes of insufflating some life into the gelid heart of the asylum.

The room had surely once been a magnificent ballroom, but had now been reduced to the sad, dirty, abandoned alcove where the non-aggressive patients spent most of their waking hours, some engaged in the very few activities offered to them, others dragging their feet and mumbling to themselves like lost souls, their gazes absent and their appearance unkempt. Not one person appeared to have a coherent thought there, and Tommy wondered if it was due to their own ailments, or due to the medicines the nurses forced down their throats to keep them tame and peaceful, albeit stupid.

As Tommy walked past, he couldn't help but notice the way his presence drew attention from them. The patients stopped in their tracks to stare at him as if he were the most marvellous wonder they had ever seen. They pointed at him, uttering incoherences and laughing at jokes no one else heard. Some tried to get close but were forced back with a sharp gesture by the nun accompanying him, whom only now Tommy noticed, carried a mean looking leather strap, hanging side by side with a rosary from her cord belt.

At long last, she came into view. Slouched on a rocking chair facing the windows, a ragged purple cardigan thrown over a white, floor length dress, resembling more a nightgown than any sort of decent clothing. A white linen cap covered her hair, and Tommy noticed that the ties had been removed, as had been from the rest of her garments. She looked thinner, thinner even than she did in France. She gave no indication that she had noticed their presence, her dulled eyes fixated on the gardens outside.

“I have it from here, sister” Tommy dismissed the nun with a wave of his hand, dragging a nearby stool to sit next to the woman.

“I’m sorry Mr. Shelby, but I cannot allow you to be unsupervised with a patient. She seems tame now, but who knows what atrocities a woman of sin like her might commit”

Tommy wanted to snort. She barely looked strong enough to hold herself in the chair, how could she harm anyone?

“She won’t attack me sister” Tommy insisted “Now step back, and I will make sure the asylum is handsomely rewarded for your troubles.”

The nun opened her mouth, ready to argue, but then chose against it. The asylum could do with some extra coin, after all. She straightened up and smoothed her habit, perhaps a way to reinstate her authority that Tommy had so brazenly challenged.

“You have half an hour” She stated at last before walking away towards a group of patients who were seemingly arguing over a doll.

Tommy’s gaze returned to the woman in front of him, who continued to be absent from the world around her, and who gave no sign of life other than the steady rising and falling of her shoulders with each breath. Thomas allowed the pause to linger between them a few seconds longer, but he didn’t want to waste his allotted time. He wouldn’t put it past these people to drag him out like that; the laws of men did not apply in these sorts of places.

He called her name softly, in a nearly soothing whisper. Once, twice, thrice, yet it did not do to her more than the drafts howling through the broken panes or the maniac laughs of the patients around them. He didn’t want to touch her and risk startling her, but he didn’t want to spend his visit staring at her left cheek. He took his last chance, using this time a different name, a name he had not pronounced since 1915.

“Private Anders”

The name stirred something in her mind. Her back straightened a bit and her features quivered in recognition. Slowly, stiffly, she turned towards Tommy, her eyebrows first furrowing in confusion then rising in surprise.

“Sergeant Major?” Her shock could not be disguised, and she readied to rise and salute, but Tommy motioned for her to remain seated.

“At ease, private”

Tommy recalled perfectly the first day he saw her. They were stationed near Albert, digging up a new front line as they tried to gain terrain from the Germans. The troops from the British Expeditionary Force and the 179th tunnelling company consisted mostly of coal miners, all turned sappers whose task was to ready up the land for battle. The clay rich soil basically melted between their fingers when it rained, making the digging of trenches and shelters a never-ending battle. The dampness crept up their legs and seeped into their bones, and Tommy had seen one too many soldiers whose feet rotted inside their boots. Even the strongest men, used to work from sun to sun in the depths of the coal mines breathing dust and methane, would sometimes succumb to the elements.

Tommy worked paired with Tom Dunn, a man as thick of back as he was of skull. He could easily lift an adult man and throw him across the field like a sack of potatoes, and legend has it he pulled the coal carts in the mine when the horses couldn’t. If left to it, he could probably dig out the trench with only his hands and his helmet.

He had been the one to introduce Tommy to her. Dunn had hidden that little lunatic in an abandoned cottage, not too far from where the troops were stationed. Somehow, she had obtained a uniform, which she had padded with cotton wool to flatten her curves and broaden her shoulders. Her hair had been cut in a military style, scrapes on her cheeks simulated a shaving rash, and potassium permanganate attempted to sharpen her jaw and cheekbones with dark shadows.

She slept in a damp mattress, with little more than a threadbare blanket to keep her warm; she had no means of acquiring something better, nor could she light a fire in the dusty hearth for fear of being discovered. Dunn had been feeding her with whatever he could spare from his own rations or snatch from others, which meant she had been eating the minimum for survival, since the woods offered nothing but naked branches at that time of year.

Tommy had been left thunderstruck, far too much to react properly. A million questions came to his lips, and a million died there as his mind couldn’t exactly put into words what he wanted to know. His gaze flickered between them both, who looked at him pleadingly like a couple of children asking their parents to stay up late. His first instinct was to call up their superior and hand her over to them, for her own safety, but then he thought about it better. The things that could happen to her if he handed her over to the war office…and that’s it, if they handed her over in the first place, or chose to make justice themselves.

No, for the sake of her safety and his conscience, he would play along with them for now.

“What is your name?” He inquired, a simple question to cut through the gelid silence that had befallen them.

For an answer, she handed Tommy papers and a matching dog tag. Forgeries, most likely, and very good ones, which meant she spent money on those. Paying from her own pocket to go to war

They held each other's gaze for endless seconds. At long last, Tommy offered a handshake.

“Welcome to the 179th tunnelling company, Private John Anders. I’ll look after you”

Tommy hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the meeting. The person who sat before him, hunched and dirty and completely lost to the world, bore no resemblance to the fiery, and perhaps a little unhinged, woman that had gone through every length to infiltrate herself in the front line. Years of memory seemed to have been erased from her mind, but she recalled vividly everything she went through in her time in France. She did not know the day and year she lived in but could easily recite the names of every man she met from the 179th, as well as every technique they implemented to dig out the clay.

Tommy was sure that, if he were to put a shovel in her hands, she would unconsciously start digging.

He had partly placated his worries by placing a nurse in the asylum, one handpicked by Polly and paid out of his own pocket, to look after her. But that solution felt like not enough. Not by a mile. What that place did to her, what they were turning her into…Killing her bit by bit, stripping away her sanity to erase from her any memory she held of those weeks in the front. He still recalled the tunnel collapse, when the rain-soaked clay began to crumble over them like cold tar, obscuring their vision and sticking their feet to the ground. How the men dragged out each other, coated from head to toe in the reddish paste. She had tripped, her foot had gotten stuck, he couldn’t tell anymore. All he knew was that she had been left behind, and he had re-entered the tunnel for her. Feeling his way through the darkness, keeping an eye on the entrance, calling her name out; her fake name, for even in the face of danger he had the mental fortitude to remember the importance of her cover up. How she dropped her own facade, her fearful voice calling him as she stretched her arm towards him.

Tommy, Tommy, Tommy

“Tommy!” Billowed an angered female voice, dragging his thoughts back to the present time.

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, attempting to dissipate the fogs of the past that laid over them. Because he was not in the tunnels, nor in the Western front. He was sitting in his office, behind his desk, nursing a whiskey in his hands and with Polly sitting across him, equally angered and perplexed at her nephew’s inattention.

“You know I don’t appreciate my words being wasted”. It sounded like a threat, but half of the things Polly said usually did “If you had no interest in this briefing, you could have rescheduled our meeting”.

“You hate your time being wasted” Tommy pointed out.

“Which is exactly what you’re doing now” She remarked.

Silence lingered in the office while Polly lit a new cigarette and Tommy downed his drink, which had already begun to warm in his hands. He stood to pour another, which he finished almost immediately.

“So” Polly began, exhaling the smoke in an elegant blow “Will you tell me what’s on your mind?” As usual, Polly could see through him as easily as one would do through a clean glass. It unnerved him sometimes, to be laid open so vulnerably under her watchful gaze.

“It’s nothing” Tommy sat before the fire; hands laced behind his head in an attempt to seem relaxed.

“There’s been many things on your mind, Tommy, and nothing has never been one of them”. Polly’s slender fingers ran across the glass bottles on the bar cart before settling on gin, pouring herself a more than generous serving.

“You’re thinking of her”.

Tommy immediately thought of denying it, but what was the point? When Polly knew, no one could tell her otherwise. And as much as he hated others meddling in his business, the words came tumbling before he could hold them back.

“I’m just worried. She’s not the same she used to be. I don’t know what they do to her in that place, but she’s changed. Those medicines they give her, and who knows what else they’ve done. You know the treatments” He shook his head, as if to dismiss everything he said “Just worried”

“It’s been many years since you last saw her. Everyone changed after the war. God knows you did”.

“This is not the same. They’re killing her there” Tommy stared up at the ceiling, as if hoping to find a solution to his problems in the plaster. Polly only watched him, pondering over her next words carefully. She only hoped she would not regret whatever her nephew chose to do next.

“If her wellbeing worries you so, you have to do the right thing”

He frowned, turning to look at her with confusion clear in his eyes. Polly sipped the gin, swirling it around her mouth as she gave it a last thought. This was one of the far and few times in which Tommy proved he had a heart, and that softened her as well.

“If you are worried, you act. If they’re killing her in there, you get her out”

The sun had finally shone upon the soldiers after nearly a week of bad weather, when rain and fog had turned the living conditions in the trenches into nearly inhumane. The soldiers were happy, for they would no longer shiver until their bones ached, and they would at last be able to put their clothes and themselves to dry. The tunnellers were less than pleased, for the sun had dried the clay into a solid wall, forcing them to exhaust their muscles to dig out chunks the size of their heads while the sweat ran down their temples and backs. Their comrades kept them supplied with water, but it felt like pouring water on a bottomless bucket.

Tommy worked side by side with her. Him. Her. Her identity still got tied in his mind, and he had to think through every word addressed in her direction for fear of blowing her cover. He watched her out of the corner of the eye as she swung the pickaxe with a strength and determination he never expected to see in a woman. Despite her resilience, Tommy worried about her, and kept a watchful gaze for any sign of exhaustion. She could not afford to be taken ill or injured, for a trip to the medical tent would be enough to unravel all her carefully crafted lies. He had to take care of her.

They both worked in the very end of the trench, and the sounds around them would conceal any hushed conversation. Tommy’s curiosity was stronger than his willpower

“Why?”

She didn’t react at first, and Tommy thought she either didn’t listen to him, or chose to ignore him, both of which were valid. But before he could ask again, she whispered back, keeping her manly tone

“Why what?”

“Why come here? What sane person would come here, on her own free will, to be forced into coldness and starvation? Risk your life, and for what purpose? Couldn’t find good places to dig back in England?”

She snorted, the sound quite lighter than any man’s laugh, so she concealed it by clearing her throat

“I wanted to serve my country, same as you. Is there any sin on that?”

“Is that what you tell yourself at night to sleep?”

She stopped digging for a moment, leaving the pickaxe embedded in the clay. She sat in the upturned bucket they used as stool, wiping the sweat from her brow with her sleeve. She couldn’t work shirtless, and their uniforms had been made to shield from the cold only. Tommy offered her water; she drank a sip and poured the rest on her head. He noticed her hair had grown again, and curled behind her ears. He made a mental note to give her a trim after nightfall.

“I just wanted to see what it was like. What it really was. They don’t tell us the truth back home. The newspapers make it sound as if the front is almost peaceful and the men are just laying back eating turkey while the Germans fall a hundred a day. I wanted the truth, and I want to write about it. Make a book of all the lies they fed us home.”

Her reasoning didn’t sit well with him. All that effort, that trouble, that risk, just to figure out if war was as bad as she thought? Mad, mad in the head this one.

“And what does your family think you’re doing away from home?”

She scratched her chin, in the same way Tommy did when he got a shaving rash from his blunt razors. She had picked up male mannerisms quite fast, particularly his own

“Not much family left to care what I do or stop doing. I said I’d come to France to volunteer as a nurse, but they most likely think I came as a camp follower. If they knew what I’m up to, they would have me committed to the closest madhouse”

“The madhouse is where you belong” Tommy replied, albeit jokingly, as he stopped his work to pull out a cigarette from his pocket. But he was interrupted by a ball of clay being tossed at his face with masterful precision, dampened for maximum effect.

“Shut up, Sergeant Major”

Blue skies and a pleasant breeze welcomed them at the gates of Arrow House. Tommy chose to drive this time, taking the advice from the doctor who would oversee her care, who suggested she be exposed to the least amount of people possible during the first days as she adjusted to life outside. Only Tommy, Frances and the nurse who would be her primary caretaker.

She stared at the world around her with such wonder, like a blind whose sight had been restored. Every tree, every bird, the very landscape that surrounded his manor brought such wonder onto her face, like a child with a Christmas tree. Her happiness almost managed to convince him that this was, in fact, a good idea.

When Polly told him to get her out, he knew she meant to put her in a home of her own, with a caretaker, and allow her to have a life of her own. And Tommy considered the idea, for a while. To place her in a nice neighbourhood, in a house with a garden and a balcony where she could enjoy the sun, with a nurse and maids and a car. But it didn’t sit right with him. She had been alone ever since they took her. Imprisoned until the war ended, and then released only to be taken to the madhouse at first chance. Not one familiar face around her for nearly a decade. No, Tommy wouldn’t take her out of a cage just to put her back in a smaller, prettier one. She needed someone to protect her. And for better or worse, that one could only be Tommy.

When the car came to a halt, she was the first one out, gaping at the imponent state which Tommy owned.

“Is this where you live, Sergeant Major?” The wonder was palpable in her voice. But the only thing Tommy noticed was that after everything she still couldn’t find it in her to call him by his name.

“2000 acres of land, of which 12 are just garden, and 750 acres of farming land”

She cocked an eyebrow, and in the amused twinkle of her eyes Tommy saw a glimpse of the one she used to be.

“Are you a farmer now, sir?” She disguised her laugh behind the handkerchief she insisted on carrying, looking down like a bashful schoolgirl.

Tommy pulled out a cigarette; he felt the corner of his lips pulled into the shadow of a smile, pleased to see her spirits lifted.

“My business is more focused on progress and modernity, but I wouldn’t reject the idea. Perhaps one day it’ll come in hand to have crops and cows”

“That would be the bloody day” She didn’t even try to hide her laughter this time “Our mighty Sergeant Major, dressed in overalls and with mud up to his knees shovelling cow shit”

“I find myself more interested in horse shit these days. Come on, I’ll show you around”

Tommy gave her a complete tour of the house and adjacent grounds, both to show her everything that would be at her complete disposal, and also as a way to show off how far he had come since they were both in the trenches, hunched over a meagre fire lit inside an empty can and sharing a homemade cigarette made from tobacco leftovers. Her eyes were wide with wonder, her fingers running over tapestries, leathers and carved wood with childlike wonder

He saved her room for last. A wide bedroom at the very back of the house, situated in a corner with plenty of windows. It had a view of the back of the state, so she could enjoy the gardens, the horses and the surrounding woods. In the corner with the most sunlight Tommy had placed a writing desk, supplied with paper, pens, ink and a brand new typewriter. Amidst everything sat a bunch of old and worn pages, all of different sizes and materials, kept together nicely with leather cord. She picked it up gingerly, running her thumb over the first page. Even though the paper was stained and dusty, the words could be read as easily as the first day she wrote them.

Tears flooded her eyes, and she hugged the improvised diary to her chest like it was a most prized possession. And perhaps it was. She turned towards Tommy, a mixture of bewilderment and eternal gratitude plastered on her features

“Where did you get it? I thought they would have had it destroyed when they locked me up”

Tommy only smirked, pulling out a cigarette from the golden case he carried “Remember what I told you? Always make sure someone owes you something”

That gesture, so small yet so meaningful, shifted something inside her. Her eyes brimmed with tears she attempted to fight, but they won in the end. She practically jumped into Tommy’s arms, hugging him with the eagerness of a person who has been denied a caring touch for far too long.

“How will I ever be able to thank you enough, Sergeant Major?”

His free arm circled her frame, returning the gesture

“You can start by calling me Tommy”

Worry crept up Tommy’s spine as the higher ups did their rounds to inspect the work on the freshly dug trenches. It had been three days since she last showed up, and he would soon run out of lies to cover up for “Private Anders’” absence.

As much as she tried to deny it, finally the harsh conditions had caught up to her. Her health had gone down a slippery slope with the arrival of winter. First it had been just a fretless dry cough, easily softened with pine tea. But then came the bone pains, the headaches, the constant fatigue. The dampness of her safe haven had seeped into her bones and caused some sort of rheumatism. Tommy noticed the swelling of her hands as they struggled to grip the pickaxe. Her hair began to fall out in clumps.

The shivers and the fever had finally knocked her off her feet. She had been unable to leave her cottage, which in turn worsened her condition even further. Tommy had tried to bring her something more substantial to eat, but she seemed unable to eat more than a few bites of stale bread dipped in some coffee the Americans had given them. Dry, suffocating coughs racked her body until she had to gasp for air, her teeth and lips speckled with blood.

“This is the end line” She had mumbled weakly during the third night, while Tommy tried to desperately convince her to light a fire to warm and dry the place

“No. You are not going to die. I won’t allow it. I told you I’d take care of you” He stated firmly, sitting on the floor by her side with her hand in his, his other one cupping her feverish cheek. He had been in a similar spot, not too long ago. Watching life fade away from a young woman’s eyes. He refused to let her die, not like that, not there where he would have to dump her body in the river.

“I am not going to die” She stated with a conviction her current condition didn’t match “But to survive, I have to turn myself in”

The idea of handing her over to the war office filled Tommy with panic

“No, no you cannot do that. Do you have any idea what they could do to you? Your best prospect would be to be thrown in jail, to be given 10 years for impersonating a soldier. And that’s if the higher ups are feeling compassionate” He shuddered at thinking what those wolves would do to her “Listen, I get leave tomorrow night. I’ll go to the nearest town, get some medicine, maybe I can pawn some things and get you a new blanket. You-”

“No�� With great effort, she propped herself up in one elbow. Tommy couldn’t help but notice the strands of hair left in the pillow “I’ve implicated you long enough. The excuses and lies you have made for me are enough to have you dishonourably discharged and tried. You have done everything you could for me, and for that I am forever indebted to you, Sergeant Major. This next chapter in my life, I have to write it alone”

She sounded dejected and disappointed, as if she had failed some unwritten expectation of her adventure. But Tommy thought quite the opposite. He only felt admiration for the things she had put herself through in order to tell her story. He still thought she was mad in the head, but in a completely different way

“Will you mention my name when you write your book?” He asked jokingly, helping her lay back down slowly, pulling the ragged blanket up to her chin

“Only if you want to be jailed next to me for helping an intruder” She laughed, but the sound was cut short by another fit of coughing “I’ll dedicate it to you, Sergeant Major. Everything I write and do will be because of you”

Tommy awoke with a startle. His eyes were wide open, darting around the room as he tried to locate the source of the disturbance. Everything seemed to be calm in his room. And then it happened again. A dry thud in the wall, followed by a muffled scream.

In a heartbeat he was out of bed, gun in hand. He followed the noises, which seemed to grow louder the closer he got to her bedroom. The door was ajar, allowing a sliver of moonlight to project in the floor, in which Tommy could see two shadows moving.

He stormed inside, gun ready to fire. But he didn’t find an intruder, no. Just her, on her knees, banging her fists against the wall as she screamed. Her nurse stood by her side, amidst a disaster of clothes and books and other objects, unsuccessfully trying to coax her back to bed

“Miss, please. The hour is quite late. You need sleep”

“No, no. The walls are coming down. We have to get out, the roof’s collapsing!” She yelled desperately, clawing at the wall trying to dig herself out of some dark place that only existed in her head. He saw her nails tear the wallpaper with ferocity. And then he noticed the nurse unlocking a cabinet and pulling out a syringe

“No” He said almost immediately as he put a firm hand on the nurse’s arm “Go to bed. I have this”

“But Mr. Shelby!”

“I said go. Leave me with her”

The nurse doubted, holding his gaze, but chose to exit the room, closing the door behind her.

Tommy walked towards her slowly, afraid he would startle her. He gingerly touched her arm, but his presence went as unnoticed as a speck of dust. He called out her name, again and again, without success. The mud had seeped deep in her brain, as it had done his, and blocked her senses from the outside world. In order to get through, Tommy had to get into the mud with her

He stood tall, in martial position, hands behind his back

“Private Anders!”

Quick like a lightning bolt, she stood up and saluted in a firm position. Tears streaked her face and her entire body quivered like an autumn leaf

“Sergeant Major sir!”

“At ease, private. You are relieved of your duties. Time to go back home”

Like the lifting of a spell, her eyes glossed over as she blinked slowly, looking around her from the bed, to the things she had thrown around in haste, and finally towards Tommy. Her lower lip quivered

“What is happening to me?”

Her knees faltered. Tommy lunged forward before she could hit herself, coming down to the floor with her held in his arms. She burrowed herself in his chest, her fingers clinging to his shirt as she wept, her body racked by sobs. Tommy shushed her quietly, his fingers carding through her hair

“Don’t cry. I’ll take care of you”

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby one shot #marsie writes #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine

247 notes · View notes

pinkykats-place · 6 months ago

Text

Tanjiro x Inosuke

AO3 FanFic Recommendations

Disclaimers!

None of these stories are mine.

A few contain mature content.

GIFs are not mine.

Note: If you read any of these stories and like them please let the author know with a kudos and/or comment!

You Hold My Feelings In Your Palm by sleuthlaw

Summary: "It may not have been extraordinary, but it was still an eye catching and pretty rock.

“It’s lovely,” Tanjiro said. Inosuke pressed his hand against Tanjiro’s with a grunt, his eyebrows beginning to furrow in frustration. “Wait, it’s for me?”

He was expecting an outburst of an answer. Something along the lines of ‘of course Gonpachiro’ and how great he was for gifting his subordinates with such treasures.

Inosuke didn’t say anything though. He just nodded and kept his hand held out.

— —

Tanjiro's poor pining heart can't take Inosuke's sudden careful and affectionate actions.

One Shot | SFW

To Forehead to Lips by orphan_account

Summary: Tanjiro brushes Inosuke's hair.

One Shot | SFW

Shinkei by orphan_account

Summary: Inosuke is touch starved. So touch starved that even coming in contact with his skin without violence makes him giddy.

He doesn’t know why but it makes him upset when he’s touched by another person especially Tanjirou Kamado. His touch is soft and light and it makes Inosuke almost want to cry.

He doesn’t understand.

Incomplete | 10/? Chapters | SFW

Last Updated 2020

mountain storms by ghosthotel

Summary: Zenitsu had called it a panic attack. The only thing Inosuke drew from that was that something was attacking Tanjiro, and that was absolutely not allowed.

One Shot | SFW

familiar by saturneggos

Summary: Inosuke felt warm when he was with Tanjirou. Like he was the sun, and Inosuke was some sort of plant stretching its leaves towards the sky. He needed him.

He felt guilty that he needed him when it seemed like Tanjirou was whole without him.

One Shot | SFW

you drag me headfirst, fearless by meiishu

Summary: “It’s a celebration, son!” Momosuke says. “It’s tradition to find the person waiting for you, and give them a kiss! The more passionate it is, and the better your bond is with who you return to, the better your catch will be!”

Chiyo gently hits her husband on the chest again, blushing, criticizing him about teasing the kids between her giggles.

“Strength?! Passion?!” Inosuke asks. “How is this strength?! How does this make the fish better?!

Chiyo is laughing. “You don’t have to do it, you can just ignore my husband.”

Inosuke bristles. Tanjirou can almost read it from his body language: well, now I want to.

“How do you pick your victim?!” Inosuke demands to know.

“Victim? No no, you pick the person who was waiting for you to come home.” Momosuke says. “Someone important to you.”

— — —

(or: inosuke learns how to kiss someone...maybe.)

One Shot | SFW

Sun-streaked horizons by fishy_fishyy

Summary: Inosuke’s made a growl of protest, and tried to get up. “I don’t have an infection or a fever, you hag! I’m fine!” Shinobu pressed him back down onto his bed. Inosuke continued to struggle, definitely not liking the sound of staying in bed for days straight.

“Stop it, Inosuke.” Tanjiro said. “You need to rest and get better. The sooner you get better; the sooner you can go on missions again.”

Inosuke hesitated before sinking back down, his face red, and not because of his fever. “Fine. But only because you said so.”

Complete | 3 Chapters | SFW

Safe and Warm by orphan_account

Summary: Inosuke has a rare moment alone with Tanjirou and he finally lets his guard down.

Complete | 3 Chapters | SFW

in which tanjirou insists that he's not jealous and inosuke is oblivious by lostcaptains

Summary: “Ugh don’t start pissin’ me off too Daichi, I’ve had enough alright,” Inosuke groans dramatically. He hands his finished plate to Daichi and lays back on the bed, “Give me the damn medicine so I can go to sleep, I’m tired.”

Oh.

He didn’t get Daichi’s name wrong.

Tanjirou scoffs loudly and curses himself in embarrassment when he sees everyone in the room look at him curiously. Crap, he meant to keep that to himself.

——————

In which another demon slayer catches feelings for Inosuke and listen Tanjirou is not jealous okay! Really he’s not, no matter what anyone says.

One Shot | SFW

fuwafuwa by Esselle

Summary: Inosuke likes it when people tell him he's great at things, because it's true, and they should all acknowledge how powerful he is.

But whenever Tanjiro does it, it makes him feel… weird.

— — —

ふわふわ (fuwafuwa) can mean several different things:

1. Fluffy; soft.

2. Light and airy.

3. The way Tanjiro makes Inosuke feel.

One Shot | Rated - Teen & Up

Romancing A Feral Boy by Tinisprout

Summary: A dumb feral boy learns what a kiss is.

One Shot | Rated - Teen & Up

If I Did This by angeljays

Summary: Tanjiro always found himself watching and wondering if they could be something more or if Inosuke would ever see him that way. There were so many things he loved about the wild boy, but he would let it all go if it wasn’t what Inosuke wanted.

A trip to an onsen seemed like the perfect opportunity to see if Inosuke felt the same.

One Shot | SFW

Chopsticks by HopeyHope

Summary: Recovering from his injuries in bed, Tanjiro is visited by Inosuke for lunch each day. Tanjiro ends up trying to teach him how to eat in a more civilized manner.

One Shot | SFW

Red by SummerSolstice202

Summary: Once Inosuke realizes his feelings for Tanjirou are more than platonic, he decides the best way to show his affection is to give Tanjirou odds and ends that remind Inosuke of him.

*Part of a series but can be read alone*

One Shot | SFW

The Start of Something New by SummerSolstice202 or @basic-otaku

Summary: “I really am sorry,” Tanjirou says as he pulls away. “I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.”

“S’okay,” Inosuke says, voice barely a whisper. “Didn’t hurt.”

"Hey, are you two together?" Mitsuri asks from behind the pair.

“Hah?” Inosuke points to Tanjirou. “I’m literally standing right next to him! What are you, stupid?”

While Inosuke may understand that the feelings he has for Tanjirou are more than platonic, that doesn't mean he understands romance in the slightest. So, who else to go to other than the love hashira herself?

*Part of a series but can be read alone*

Complete | 4 Chapters | Teen & Up

Series: sof inotan by akowotagawa

3 Works

Natural reactions by CorruptBagel

Summary: (NSFW KnY Week Day 2: Training together)

Tanjiro and Inosuke are sparring and Inosuke gets the upper hand. Tanjiro can't hide his boner and hormonal hijinks ensue.

One Shot | NSFW

I won't stop until I give you the stars! by Shirley_Queen

Summary: Since the moment Tanjiro receives his first gift, he knew that he would be receiving a large number of these for the rest of their adventure.

But he wasn't expected that the boar take it so seriously, not until Inosuke yells at him earnestly:

"I won't stop until I give you the stars!"

— — —

Or basically, Inosuke giving strange gifts to Tanjiro because he doesn't know how to handle his feelings for him.

Complete | 7 Chapters

Rated - Teen & Up

A Fire Dance by Prumery

Summary: Inosuke doesn't understand why Tanjiro would want to get married. They already are mates, they have a child.

But they don't have a home.

He might need that.

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

you’re the dream i never wanna wake up from by namseoks

Summary: All three of them played a different harmony to the same melody. They were three notes of the perfect chord — a C major triad, the sun, the moon, and all the stars.

———————

In which three boys fall in love.

One Shot | SFW

264 notes · View notes

hugmekenobi · 6 months ago

Text

S3: The Bad Batch (4)

Chapter Four: A Different Approach

Gif by @azertyrobaz

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: A reunion may be on the cards sooner than you thought

Masterlist for S1 and S2

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, gambling, again we have my interpretation of headspaces, limited use of y/n, fluff and mild angst, discussion of character death, protective reader and Hunter, reader and Crosshair kinda get into it

Word Count: 5.3K

Author's notes: Now we're getting into part of the series where each episode allows for a bit more creative license which I'm very excited about! It starts with the end of this one and I hope y'all like it! Also, with regards to tagging people, I'm only tagging the users who still officially register when I do it. Please, please let me know if you want tagged/for me to try your username again!!

Sparks flew from the control as Omega did her best to stabilise them, but it was proving to be a rather challenging task. “I could use some help up here! Our comms are down. I can’t contact Hunter!”

From down below in the shuttle, Crosshair was also doing his best to get things under control but the smoke, electrical malfunctions and the persistent screech of the alarm told him that was a very unlikely outcome. He analysed the screen dictating the state of the ship. “That’s not the priority. The ship sustained heavy damage.”

“I can see that.” Omega retorted.

Crosshair made his way back up to the co-pilot’s seat, with Batcher following close behind. “Get the stabilizers back online!”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Immediately after she said that a large spark of electricity crackled from the console and the ship was torn out of hyperspace and spiralled towards the planet ahead.

“We have to land.”

“A little hard to do when nothing’s working.” Omega snapped at him as she fiddled with the steering but to no avail.

The ship entered the atmosphere and started to plummet towards the ground.

Omega pulled hard on the lever to even out the ship as the ground grew ever closer. It was all she could do before it crashed landed and skidded along the surface.

When it finally came to a halt, Omega opened the glass roof to allow them all to get some air and eventually exit the wrecked vehicle. She looked in dismay as the controls fully shut off and the last dying spark flickered. “This will take forever to repair.”

Crosshair exhaled a sore sigh as he got his bearings, but that soreness was soon replaced by irritation as the hound pushed insistently on the back of his chair. “No. there’s no time for that.” The dog’s fussing got too much for him. He stood up to allow her to jump past him and off the shuttle.

“We need to get the nav reader online to extract the coordinates to Tantiss for when we go back.” Omega said, turning to look at him.

He couldn’t understand how she’d only just escaped that hell and was already talking about returning. “We’re not going back.”

“We left the other prisoners behind.”

“And the Empire is going to be searching for this ship and us.” He grabbed the pack with the blasters and hopped out of the shuttle. “We have to move. I scanned a spaceport a few clicks east. We’ll start there.”

Omega followed his example and let him lead the way to the spaceport.

With the establishment of the new plan being they would get to the spaceport and sneak onto a shuttle, they acquired their disguises and the two of them blended in with the civilians of the town.

They walked past the various troopers in the town as casually as they could so as not to arouse any unnecessary suspicion.

Omega warily analysed the situation ahead as they reached the spaceport. “It’s too well-guarded. We’ll never slip past all those troopers undetected.”

“I can take out at least half before they know what’s happening.” Crosshair stated confidently.

“Or… or we could try a way that doesn’t involve blaster fire.” Omega countered.

“Like what?” Crosshair asked, his voice filled with doubt.

“Watch and learn.” With that, Omega calmly led the way to the ticket attendant.

“Oh, I can hardly wait.” Crosshair said with a sigh as he followed a few paces behind.

“Hello. We’d like two tickets on the next shuttle please.” Omega requested pleasantly.

“Chain codes?” Came the standard reply from the attendant.

“About that. We lost our chain codes.” Omega said coyly.

“No chain codes, no passage.”

“Right. But you see, a problem for us could be an opportunity for you if, say, you knew of an alternate way of booking passage without a chain code.” She advanced towards the desk.

The attendant leaned forward. “Are you insinuating that I should take bribe?”

“If that’s what you want to call it.” Omega replied, feigning innocence.

“I do. And that could be arranged… for 15,000 credits.”

Omega’s composure slipped slightly upon hearing that price, “For two tickets?” She exclaimed.

“Per ticket. And it’s non-negotiable. You’re lucky I’m not charging extra for the creature.”

“Where do you expect is to get 30,000 credits?”

“Sounds like a you problem. Don’t come back without the credits.” The attendant waved a hand in dismissal.

Omega hung her head in defeat and left the port with Crosshair.

“Well, that went well.” Crosshair remarked sarcastically.

“Stow it.” Omega grumbled.

“Storming the spaceport would be easier than finding 30,000 credits.” Crosshair hissed as they aimlessly wandered the streets of the town.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Don’t be naïve. Every second we’re here, we’re at risk.”

They came to a stop outside a bar.

“The quite wasting time complaining.” Omega argued before two troopers exited the bar and they both averted their gaze, but the opening of the door had given Omega another idea. “I think I know how we can make some fast credits.”

“Of course you do.” Crosshair mumbled as he saw her getting ready to make her way into the bar. The fluttering of a scrappy piece of paper caught under a nearby crate grabbed his eye before he entered, and he came to a sudden stop as he picked it up and saw what- or rather who- was on it.

Omega noticed he had stopped and when she turned back to enquire what was wrong, the question died on her lips as she saw what he was looking at. Only half the information on the sheet was news to her, but the rest made her eyes widen in shock. By the looks of things, you had been on your own for the time she’d been on Tantiss and clearly, you’d stopped hiding. And judging by the harsh language and substantial reward offering, the Empire wasn’t too happy about that. Now, not only was there the trouble of how exactly this information would go down between you and Crosshair but she also couldn’t count on the fact that you were back with Hunter and Wrecker. She glanced up at Crosshair and, despite the fact that most of his face was covered, he could not conceal the emotions that flashed behind his eyes. “Oh… um… she- well back when- I’m sure she would’ve told-” She broke off with a sharp breath as she struggled to find the words to say.

“Doesn’t matter.” Crosshair said dismissively, crumpling it up and putting it away before he carried on into the bar. The fact that Omega seemed to already have an idea of what your… situation… gave him enough of a timeline to go off of.

“One thing at a time, right girl?” Omega said with a shaky breath, patting Batcher’s side as the hound nuzzled into her. Putting her mind onto the task at hand, she too entered the bar.

The bar itself was relatively busy, especially compared to how Cid’s had usually been, and it gave Omega the chance to study her potential adversaries from their booth by the wall unnoticed.

“That’s your plan? You want to hustle someone?” Crosshair repeated sceptically. What had they taught this kid?

“I’ve done it before, and I prefer to think of it as a temporary requisition of funds.”

“And bet with what? We don’t have anything.”

“They don’t know that.” Omega said with a cheeky grin.

“And if you lose?”

“Well… I guess we’ll be in more trouble.” With that, she made her way to the card table in the middle of the bar and sat across from the Trandoshan and got her performance ready to go.

To say that Crosshair was surprised would be an understatement, the kid was winning every hand against the Trandoshan and securing credits within a matter of minutes. Whatever experience she’d gained with the rest of his squad was clearly something to be admired. Although the mental image of Hunter even allowing her to hone such a skill felt very out of place, he was quietly grateful for it right now.

The bar came to a sudden hushed silence as the door opened. Omega heard Crosshair clear his throat in warning and she looked to the entrance to see an Imperial officer flanked by two troopers enter. She studied them carefully but remained at the table as she won the next hand much to the Trandoshan’s disappointment. “I think I’ll quite while I’m ahead.” She said in response to his pleas for another game. Having an Imperial official here complicated matters and it was time she, Crosshair and Batcher left.

“Leaving so soon?”

Omega turned her head to face the officer as he stood by the table.

“You’re in my seat.”

The Trandoshan let out a low snarl before he departed and gave up his seat to the man.

Crosshair tensed as he saw the Imperial sit but Omega waved him back.

“So, you think you’re good at this game?”

Omega replied with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders.

“Want to try against a, uh, real opponent?” He suggested to the young girl. “I insist.”

“Your mutt don’t seem to like me.” He said as the dog released a series of growls.

“She’s harmless.” Omega said in reply as she organised her cards.

“She’s a distraction. Get rid of her.” He demanded.

Omega signalled to Crosshair to take her out.

Crosshair got to his feet, clicked his tongue, and led Batcher to wait outside.

The Imperial watched them go. “Never seen you or your dad around before.” He commented.

“We’re just passing through.” Omega replied as she watched him flip the next card and the rise in murmurs indicated that both he and the crowd seemed to think her time was up.

“Eh, I’ll admit you’re not bad. But you seem to have misunderstood your enemy.”

Omega only smirked, “Did I?” She placed her cards down and flashed the set of the three Eastern Stars. Game over. “I’ll take those 20,000 credits.” She grew nervous however when his two guards made to approach the table.

He held a hand up to stop them. “I concede. You beat me fair and square.” He gave her the credits. “Nicely played.” He left the table.

The Imperial went back to his men and one of them addressed him.

“Sir. Patrol found a crashed Imperial vessel on the outskirts of town.”

“I wasn’t notified about any shuttles arriving today.” He angled back to look at the two strangers with a newfound sense of suspicion. “Now, hang on a minute.”

Omega gathered the credits in her bag and, now that Crosshair had returned, she got up to leave with him, but the familiar voice of the Imperial stopped them both.

“We’re not done here.” He chuckled coolly. “You haven’t paid your fine.”

“What fine?” Omega asked.

“Gambling’s illegal in these parts.”

“What?” Crosshair snarled as he made to step forward, but Omega’s arm stopped him.

“The law is the law. Now, all you gotta do is pay the fine. And I’ll be on my way.”

“How much?” Omega asked him as she did her best to keep her disgust at bay.

“Ten thousand credits… unless you prefer to be arrested instead.”

Omega got the credits out and handed them over.

“Excellent. Consider your fine paid in full.” He said smugly. “Try and stay out of trouble.” He dipped his cap and left the establishment.

Omega sighed in relief. “Let’s get out of here.”

Crosshair caught her shoulder. “How many credits do we have left?”

Omega checked the bag. “Thirty-five thousand. Enough for two tickets and a little extra.” She made the first move to leave.

“Crosshair, where’s Batcher?” Omega asked anxiously as she scanned the area for her companion.

“Oy. You looking for that hound?”

The two of them turned to look at the young boy speaking to them.

“You know where she went?” Omega queried.

“Sure do, but the answer’s gonna cost you. Ten thousand credits.”

The fact that he was a child made no difference, Crosshair sighed and stood intimidatingly over the boy. “I’m getting tired of this.”

“Okay, okay.” The boy backtracked. “Five, but that’s my final offer.”

Omega touched Crosshair’s arm to call him off before she gave the boy the money.

The boy examined the credits before he supplied the information, “That Imperial officer and his troopers snatched the creature and headed for the cargo docks. Down that way.” He pointed. “Nice doing business with ya.” He ran away from them before they could change their mind about the money.

Omega started off in the direction of the docks.

“Omega.”

She angled back to face Crosshair. “You heard him. Batcher’s this way.”

“And the spaceport is that way. Forget the hound. We have to get off this planet.”

“We never would be escaped without Batcher. I’m not leaving her.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“I’m not abandoning her!” Omega angrily tossed the bag of credits at him. “Take the credits. If you wanna go, then go. I’ll find my own way.” She stormed off.

Crosshair watched her go but before he got ready to go his own way, he felt guilt coil in his gut. It was becoming very clear as to the impact she could have on someone and explained why his squad had cared so much for her since he too found himself following her rather than doing the more sensible thing of leaving from the spaceport.

“Fine. We’ll do this your way.” Crosshair agreed begrudgingly as he placed the bag down before Omega scaled the gate to the cargo docks herself. “But my skills are being wasted.” He offered his hands as a means to boost her over the top.

Omega gave him a warm smile, “Noted.” With his assistance she was able to climb over the gate with ease.

Crosshair made the quick climb after her and together, they snuck through the docks looking for where Batcher was being kept.

Omega then heard a series of whines and she saw Batcher’s cage. “There’s Batcher.” She signalled to Crosshair before she analysed the situation around her. “Shouldn’t we free the other animals too?”

“Don’t push it.” Crosshair replied.

They had managed to covertly make their way around to get better access to the centre console but before they could make a move, that dull voice spoke up.

“I thought you’d come searching for your mutt. Yeah, unfortunately for you, Lau has a very strict pet policy. No license means a hefty fine.”

“How much this time?” Omega asked, pretending to play along as the two of them were swiftly surrounded by troopers.

“How ‘bout you give me all my money back? Credits won’t do you any good when Hemlock shows up.” He saw the shared looked between them. “Oh, did you think I wouldn’t piece it together when I found that crashed shuttle? Nothing gets by me. I run this town.” He drew his own blaster. “So, hand over the credits and surrender.”

Omega sighed, “Alright.” She chucked the bag to the Imperial. “Let’s try things your way.” She murmured to Crosshair.

“Finally.” Crosshair waited until Omega ducked to cover before firing the first shot, but he noticed his hand was still no unsteady and his aim was more compromised than he liked.

Omega used the chaos of the firefight to get to the controls and release all the animals, the resulting stampede thinning out the Imperial forces and reuniting her with Batcher.

“I’ll handle this. Take Batcher, and power up the ship.” Crosshair ordered. He provided her cover fire as she got the ship ready and when he saw a break in the blaster fire, he made his move towards the step.

Once he was on board, Omega got the cargo ship in the air and into the safety of hyperspace.

You had remained on the ship to study Tech’s datapad and the various planets and their coordinates whilst the other two dealt with the lead on this particular planet, but its name escaped you- you’d been to so many in this sector already, the names of them were beginning to blur together.

You were doing what you could to try and determine the next, more efficient course of action whilst the others were out but the words and data on the screen were moulding into one pile of unintelligible information. You put the datapad down for a minute and rubbed your eyes as you huffed a tired breath from your lungs. You stretched your neck and adjusted your posture but before you picked the datapad back up, a faint chirping caught your ears.

You swivelled in your chair to see the communications light flashing and you knew you weren’t supposed to be hearing from Echo any time soon. So, when you patched the encrypted message through and untangled it to find coordinates to the moon just outside of Ryloth, you knew there was only one other person who could’ve sent it.

You jumped out of your chair and cleared the steps of the Marauder in one leap before you sprinted to find Hunter and Wrecker.

“What’s wrong?” Hunter asked urgently as he saw you come running towards them.

You shook your head as you glanced between them. Your breath was heavy from the running but also from excitement as you said, “It’s Omega.”

“Look, I hate to be the one to say it, but what if this message is a trap?” Wrecker broached carefully as the ship flew through hyperspace.

“Who else would know those codes?” You disputed.

“But if the Empire has her…”

“If it’s a trap, then we’ll get out of there but if it is her… we need to be there, Wrecker.” Hunter said as the ship disengaged from hyperspace, and he entered the landing cycle. There was no sign of another ship yet, but he opened the door anyway.

“There’s no one here.” Wrecker murmured, wringing his own hands anxiously.

“Then we wait.” You said calmly though your own heart was pounding.

“The Empire will be able to track this vessel. We need to ditch it.” Crosshair advised as he entered the cockpit after getting rid of the hat and face covering that he had donned back in Lau.

“We will. I’m heading to a remote location, and I sent a coded transmission for Hunter and Wrecker and (Y/N) to meet us there.” Omega responded. She only hoped you’d be with them too.

Now that this reunion was approaching ever closer, he found himself unprepared for what was to happen next. “Omega. It’s- it’s been months. You don’t know if they’re still ali-”

“They’ll be there.” Omega interrupted sharply.

The ship exited hyperspace and as she peered out the window, she saw the welcomed sight of the Marauder waiting there.

Omega dashed down the ship’s steps but paused as she saw no immediate sign of any of you.

A few hours had passed but there was still no sign of the ship and nerves were starting to get the better of you all.

Hunter had begun pacing the length of the cockpit, you had not stopped fidgeting with your vibroblade and alternated between that and examining the hilt of your lightsaber, and Wrecker was busying himself around the rest of the ship.

You saw the uneasy expression on Hunter’s face, and you pulled yourself together enough to be there for him. You caught his shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. “Just wait, take a breath. She’ll be here, Hunter. I know it.”

“But-” He broke off as he heard the sound of a ship landing and a whole different type of nerves overtook him.

Wrecker made the first move to look outside and what he saw filled him with pure joy. “Now there’s a sight!”

Take your time. You caressed Hunter’s cheek with a comforting and utterly relieved smile before you ran outside to join Wrecker.

Hunter braced his hands on the back of the pilot’s chair. He needed a minute to gather himself. This was the moment he had been seeking out for months but part of him couldn’t quite believe it was happening.

“Wrecker!” Omega cried in relief as she ran towards him and let him pick her up.

“I wasn’t even sure your message was real!” Wrecker said with a happy laugh as he held her close.

“I knew you’d show up.” Omega closed her eyes and let the comfort of his strong hold overtake her.

“We wouldn’t have missed it.”

Omega opened her eyes to the sound of your voice, and she smiled brightly as she saw you standing just behind him.

You knelt down with your arms open as Wrecker lowered her.

Omega fell into your embrace and nuzzled into your shoulder. “I wasn’t sure if- I thought you might’ve been-” She pulled away with a teary sniff.

You tilted your head as you tenderly wiped away the tears that had slid down her cheek and stroked a hand through her hair, the longer length of it a painful reminder of how much time had truly passed. “I’m right here, nothing happened to me.” You didn’t need to worry her about past events right now- that rehashing undoubtedly would come up later- but this current moment was something to be celebrated and not clouded by anything else.

Omega went to clarify what she meant but Wrecker’s words stopped her.

“We crossed the galaxy four times looking for you.” Wrecker revealed, wiping his own tears away.

“Five.”

Omega glanced past you as she heard Hunter’s voice and the sight of him created a feeling of pure elation that she wasn’t sure she would never experience again.

“But you’re the one who found us.” Hunter said with a smile from the doorway of the Marauder.

Omega started to run towards him.

Hunter darted down the steps two at a time and came to his knees as he held his arms out to her.

Your heart swelled and the emotions of the moment got stuck in your throat. That sight had been one you had been waiting to see for quite some time. You sensed and visibly saw how relaxed and content he looked, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

Wrecker put a friendly arm around your shoulder as you both go to your feet, and he saw your reaction to their reunion. He too felt himself getting caught up in it all. Finally, things were looking up.

“We missed you, kid. We never stopped searching.” Hunter said affectionately and as he tightened his hold on her and felt her reciprocate, for the first time since Ord Mantell, he felt truly at peace. He pulled away but kept his hands on her shoulders, “But how did you escape?”

Omega hesitated before saying, “I had help.”

Hunter looked past her to see… well to see his brother descend the stairs of the ship, but what hit him was far more complicated than the relief he had been experiencing a mere second before.

You all followed his eyes and whatever happiness and lightness that had been surrounding you all immediately vanished and was replaced by a palpable tension as you all faced the clone that walked down the steps.

Your hand automatically came to cover your lightsaber.

Omega gaze darted between you all and she saw the shift in body language as well as the serious and distrusting expressions on all of you. It appeared she may have miscalculated as to how this smoothly this particular reunion would go.

“We can do this now and remain by a ship the Empire will be currently tracking, or we can get out of here.” Crosshair said simply.

Hunter placed a guiding hand on Omega’s back and jutted his head to Crosshair as the rest of you boarded the ship.

Crosshair followed them, with Batcher now close on his heels and the Marauder entered hyperspace once more.

Omega stood in the middle of the hallway. None of you had so much as made a sound or really moved since the ship had begun the journey back to Pabu and it was getting rather unbearable. “So… I got a dog! Her name’s Batcher.” Omega said with an uneasy laugh into the dead silence of the ship, but it got no reaction. The four of you continued your standoff with Crosshair positioned down the hall of the ship closest to her room/gun turret and the rest of you closer to the cockpit. All of you had your arms crossed and you, Hunter and Wrecker looked particularly guarded. She took that resulting quiet as her cue to perhaps let you all have it out right now. She took a seat and called Batcher over to sit by her feet and waited.

It was Crosshair who broke the silence first, “Where’s Echo?”

“Working with Rex.” Hunter replied briskly.

Crosshair released a soft hum in acknowledgement before he asked the question that he’d been putting off since he’d deduced it from how Omega had talked to him all those months on Tantiss, “And Tech… he’s- he’s really gone?”

“Yeah. It-” Hunter released a sad sigh, “It was a mission gone wrong and he- he sacrificed himself for us so we could get away. He knew what he was doing but… yes, he’s gone.”

Crosshair’s jaw tightened. He knew exactly what mission Hunter was referring to. “So much for Plan 88.” He couldn’t help but say, the grief and tense situation getting the better of him.

“What?” You remarked with a glare.

“You were supposed to stay hidden.”

“We couldn’t do that.” Wrecker said grimly. “Not when it looked like you were in trouble.”

“We couldn’t leave you behind, Crosshair.” Hunter added quietly, some of the fight leaving him as he recalled the events of Eriadu.

“Why? You never had trouble doing that before.” Crosshair retorted harshly.

“Excuse me?” You growled.

“Hey, it’s okay, don’t-” Hunter came to stand in front of you, but you stepped past him.

You couldn’t help it, the protectiveness that hit you was all you could act on. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to throw your choices back in his face. You were offered a different path, but you decided the Empire was where you wanted to be. And yet, despite all of that, the moment we found out you needed us, there was no real alternative. We never knew what had happened to you, but we didn’t need to. All we knew was that you were in trouble. We all knew the risks of ignoring that plan… Tech knew the risks. Don’t you dare-”

Crosshair wasn’t prepared to explain what happened to him yet, so he kept up with his provocation instead, “You want to talk about risks? What are you playing at staying around with them?”

Hunter and Wrecker both looked sharply towards Crosshair.

Your posture stiffened. “I don’t know what-”

“I may have been out of action but I’m not blind. If the lightsaber on your belt didn’t give it away, the wanted poster I just saw sure as hell did.” Crosshair spat as he flung it towards you.

You unfurled the paper, and your breathing became irregular saw this was one of the more detailed wanted ads that had been circulated. You crumpled it back up and then glanced to Omega who could only offer an apologetic grimace that she couldn’t warn you earlier, “That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

You looked back to the clone, “Crosshair, I-”

“You’re a Jedi and that wasn’t something you felt the need to share?”

“Every day.” You said tightly, “But I couldn’t chance something happening-”

“Well, something’s happened now, hasn’t it?” Crosshair bit back angrily. “Do you have any idea the danger you’ve put us in? Do you even care? You’d be doing us a favour by leaving.”

Even Omega joined Wrecker in shaking her head at him this time.

“Crosshair.” Hunter cautioned as he saw the guilt and shame that flashed across your face as your mask of composure slipped. “She’s not going anywhere. We’ve handled it so far.”

“You don’t know what the Empire is capable or what she is. I read what she’s done, and they won’t stop-”

“We’ve got it handled.” Wrecker repeated again as he noticed the way your shoulders started to heave.

Your jaw clenched. “You weren’t there. You don’t know-”

“I was there on Devaron.” Crosshair snapped. “I was there when you decided to join us. I was there when you decided to spend every day lying about what you are.”

“Crosshair.” Hunter warned again and there was no mistaking the protectiveness in his tone or his stance now.

Crosshair picked up on Hunter’s reaction, but he wasn’t to be dissuaded. “You want to judge my decisions, but you betrayed-”

“You don’t get to talk about betrayal, Crosshair.” Hunter interjected coldly as he came to stand by your side.

You only let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, I made my choices in the beginning but when would you have liked me to tell you, Crosshair? On Kaller? But would that have been during or after your attempts to kill the Padawan? Or perhaps you would’ve preferred it on Kamino when Tarkin was there, and you were talking about how great the Empire was and how the Jedi were traitors and what happened to them was justified? Or would you have liked to have a sit down during one of the many occasions you were already actively trying to kill us? Tell me, when should I have entrusted you with this part of me?”

This time he didn’t have a response for you, he just shifted uneasily on his feet and glanced down at the floor.

You continued to speak but there was a distinct sadness to your voice now, “I wished I had been honest with all of you from the start. Truly I do. But after everything that’s happened, I’m glad you’ve only just found out because looking at you now, knowing what I do, I can’t be certain that if you had known what I was on Kaller, that you wouldn’t have tried to kill me too.”

Crosshair went to speak but found that he couldn’t immediately offer the reassurance that was needed.

“You’re our brother, Crosshair, and you’re welcome to stay on Pabu with us but don’t expect any of this to be easy.” Hunter said, placing his hand on your back in support.

“He helped me get out of Tantiss. He’s different now.” Omega remarked quietly.

Wrecker grunted and nodded towards his brother, but you and Hunter made no such moves, instead you both retreated further into the cockpit.

You sat in one of the passenger seats and stared at the paper again as you read the painful reminders of how you’d acted when you’d been separated from them. He’s right, you know.

“No, he’s not.” Hunter disagreed firmly as he knelt before you and untangled the wrinkled piece of paper from your hands. He paid it no attention as he threw it away. He came back and placed his hands on your shoulders as he crouched before you. “Are you alright?”

You breathed deeply and nodded. And you?

Hunter also nodded before he got to his feet and sat in the seat across from you.

“So, when did this happen?” Crosshair asked, gesturing to the two of you. The way you both were behaving wasn’t totally different to how things had been in the months before Kaller, but there was a definite shift that marked something more official. There had been a lot he’d missed out on.

“After Tipoca City.” Omega informed him as Batcher eagerly greeted them.

Wrecker enthusiastically petted the hound as he moved closer to Crosshair and Omega. “About time, right?” He added with a hint of humour in his voice, but the stern looks from the two of you had him clearing his throat awkwardly.

Crosshair simply hummed in reply and found himself wondering just quite how difficult things were about to be.

Next Chapter>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @andreaaxy, @dominoeffectsworld, @nightmonkeysstuff, @arctrooper69

#the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch s3 #hunter x reader #hunter x femalejedi!reader #hunter x fem!reader #hunter x female!reader #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #hunter tbb #hunter the bad batch #the bad batch hunter x you #hunter x y/n #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars #friends to lovers #angst #fluff

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descendantsramblings · 3 months ago

Note

Morgie x GN! Reader where Reader and Morgie get paired up for an Assignment, Reader dislikes him while Morgie is just a pure little Goldenretriever who likes them and tries to Win them over

Win You Over

Morgie le Fay x Reader

Pronouns used : they/them/theirs

I wrote part of this at work this morning and the other half while watching a Spencer Agnew compilation, I hope that's fun for y'all.

Summary: Curse the professor of Magical History for not letting them choose their own partners, now they're stuck with an overly agreeable villain.

Warnings: Reader is actually kinda mean to Morgie, Hook teasing the reader and Morgie, that's about it though. Somehow the reader is giving me Edwin from dbda vibes but that could just be me

Word Count: 2.3K

Also,,,Until this gif I had no clue he had that tattoo, have y’all known about this??

Magical History is their favorite class. They genuinely loved learning about the past, especially in connection to enchantments and curses. The process of creating magical objects had them entranced, the history behind the things they passed every day excited them. Their best friend sat right beside them quietly passing them notes, the teacher genuinely liked them, they always made As on their work. It was a no-brainer, of course the class is their favorite, or at least Magic History was (Y/n)’s favorite class.

“Alright, alright. As you may see from the names on your desks, you have been given new assigned seats, this will be your assigned partner for this week’s project. Don’t you worry, after this assignment you will return to your old seats,” Mr. Cranston, a pompous and ever flustered man announces to the class as he wanders around his room. Waving his hands about as he speaks, “Of course this is the final project you lot will have until your final examination so it seems your seats shouldn’t matter much. I know how you kids are though, so fussy.” (Y/n) wanders the room as he speaks, their fingertips dragging lightly over different shiny desk tops as they look for their name, finding it in the dead center of the room. So their desk hadn’t been changed, perhaps the man knew how good it would be to leave their partnership together. Fay and (Y/n) always did such great work, no point in breaking them up, was there? From the corner of their distracted eye, they could see “Fay” written on the desk in his lazy scrawl, calming that little anxious voice that ate at the back of their mind. This would be fine, they were sure of it. They had the perfect partner for this last project, it would be an easy A and they would round out the class with a perfect score. It was all truly simple when you could look at it that way.

Busying themself with setting out their supplies, (Y/n) barely noticed as a black leather messenger bag fell beside their feet with a hearty thud. Eyes flashing over to the bag and cascading up the long, toned legs it belonged to. “Oh,” they straighten up, looking at the boy with wide eyes, “I’m sorry Fay is sitting there. I’m sure your seat is somewhere nearby.” They tap the lettering beside their own name matter-of-factly as they speak, smiling up at him in a way that was nearly cocky. He lets out a laugh that they’re pretty sure would count more so as a giggle, “No uh, I see the mistake. It’s my seat, ‘Morgie le Fay’ not just ‘Fay’, spelt the same I know.” He slides into the chair, smiling over at them in a way that wasn’t quite friendly but in no way was villainous. “Guess you’re stuck with me.” Their eyes drink in the boy, with his French tucked shirt and overly gelled hair, a mischievous air hanging around him. If he wasn’t friends with his little group there would be something almost intriguing about him, nearly charming, and they knew that. Didn’t mean he was intriguing to them now though, eyes rolling as they turn away, arms crossed over their chest, “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

His brows furrow, looking over the person sat beside him with a slight pout to his lips, “No I uh, I think you are. He said our seat partner was our project partner. You’re stuck with me. It’s an assigned thing.” They shake their head, eyes glued on the board in front of them as the bell rings, waving him off with their left hand as their right hand clicks their pen half-mindedly. The repeated noise makes an obnoxious pattern that has him nearly on edge. Looking for anything to make them stop, something to calm them in any way. “It’s not like it’s a bad thing, I’m great to be around, we’ll have fun. I’ve been told I make a great lackey, you can think of me that way if it helps.” And they hush him, genuinely hush him. Finger to their lips and all, as if he was a toddler or a yapping dog. Wasn’t he supposed to be the mean one? This was going to be a long week, Morgie was sure of that.

Class seemed to drag on after that. He couldn’t help himself but to cut eyes over to the student beside him, taking in everything his sight alone could manage to learn. His little glances were met with side eyes rude enough to rival Hook and Maleficent. What was their deal with him? Had Morgie been rude? He didn’t think he was, in fact he thought himself to be quite cheeky in his introduction to them. So what made them such an exposed wire? Perhaps he scared them? Their walls were simply up to evade letting him hurt them. Or do they take time to warm up to people? A test for him maybe? As a villain kid he had to win them over to like them, earn his spot as someone a royal could like. Morgie could do that, he was sure he could do that. Everyone liked him eventually, he could make (Y/n) like him. It wouldn’t be that hard.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

He doesn’t think he’s ever been to the Merlin Academy library. It was a nice room though, quiet with the faint smell of old books and oak filling the air around him. Warm, the room was so warm, he was shedding his jacket as he looked around, eyes landing on his project partner. (Y/n) was tucked into a corner in the back of the room, their back to him. For him to sit with them, he’d be hidden in a corner where no one could see him from the front door. His partner was planning to hide him, wonderful news. With less pep in his step than when the sorcerer arrived, Morgie makes his way over to the table, eyeing their stack of books as he gets closer. Eight books in a stack, sitting by their elbow as they flip through their notes. It was a studious display, extremely nerdy but in a way respectable. “Hey, sorry if I’m a little late,” he gives them a nervous smile as he slides into the chair they reserved for him. They let out a dissatisfied hum, barely sparing him a glance from their notes, “Get held up harassing some poor princess? Was her dress too pretty, needed some mucking up?” He frowns, playing with his hands, “No actually I got lost. I’ve never actually been to the library here, just the one back home.”

They look up now, placing their notes to the side of them. “You go to your library back home?” It was like they couldn’t believe that he read. Did they think he didn’t know how to read? “You,” he lets out a nervous laugh, reaching over to grab one of the books from their stack, “You do know I can read, right? Like, I am literate.” They roll their eyes, looking over at him with a blank face, “Yes I know you’re literate Morgie. I just didn’t think that you would be the type to read for fun. What are they, evil spell books?” He looks over the book in front of him, “Cursed Objects and Their Origins” written across the deep purple cover in looping silver letters. Was that really how they viewed him? He guesses he signed up for that when he started hanging out with Uliana. “No, actually I read a lot of mystery novels, or those little young adult romance novels where they hate each other at the start. They’re uh,” he traces the letters with his pointer finger, “A good distraction.” A sudden softness crosses over their face, looking back down at their notes as if trying to hide it. “I decided we’d do our trifold on cursed objects, it seemed like something you’d be into.”

He wasn’t, Morgie would’ve loved to do enchanted flora and fauna. He loved the outdoors, it was another way that he could get away from his own chaos. But they had done so much work to get the cursed object books, who would he be to tell them he wanted to do something else? “If that’s what you want to do, yeah, we can do cursed objects. It wasn’t what I was thinking but you did so much work already, so yeah. Let’s do cursed objects.” They look up at him, eyes flickering between both of his as if they were looking for something. An apologetic smile seems to find their face as they lean back, “No, I just assumed you’d want to do that. I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair of me, what were you thinking? I want this to be something we both want to do.”

They can feel their chest warm as his face lights up, sliding the book away from him as he leans forward. “I was thinking we could do enchanted flora and fauna. Things like the enchanted lake and Idun’s golden apples. Things that held power in nature, I’ve always had a thing for that type of stuff.” They must have been staring at him because the boy shrinks down, “But if you hate that idea, there’s no need to do it. I know this class means a lot to you and I don’t want to affect that.” (Y/n)’s brows furrow, how would he know that? They weren’t friends, they’d never actually spoken before that morning. Of course they’d interacted but it was more so just him watching as they dealt with his ragtag crew of friends. Morgie hasn’t interacted with them before, why hadn’t he? “How do you know that?” His face flushes red, looking down at his hands, “You uh, you always know the answers in that class. And you help other students with their work, you tutor people in it. (Y/n), you have the highest grade in our class, everyone knows that.” They bite their lip, looking at their lap with what he thinks is the ghost of a smile threatening their face. “I didn’t think you paid attention like that.” He chuckles, standing up to start putting the cursed object books back, “Yeah, you don’t really know me, do you?” “I guess I don’t.” He motions over to the stack of books in front of them, “Pass me those, I’ll go put them up and then maybe we can look together for the ones we actually need together? Unless you don’t want to be seen with me.” The tone at the end is teasing, taking a book from their hands with a smile. “No, I,” they stop, shaking their head, “Why would you think that?” He lets out a scoff, rolling his eyes, “Come on, (Y/n), I can tell you don’t like me. Don’t worry though, I’ll win you over eventually.”

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Morgie’s dorm was cozy, they had to admit that, sitting at his desk with him leaning over them. Refusing to just pull up a chair so he could “see better” as they arranged their project across the trifold. “No the golden apple needs to be the centerfold,” He breathes, reaching over them to swap it with a picture of the enchanted lake. Mumbling something about how the story of Norse gods was more important than some stupid fable about some water. (Y/n) and Morgie were so close they could smell him, as if he was wrapped all around him. The boy wearing some sort of spicy cologne that they hated to admit was intoxicating, with a hint of something floral under it. His soap maybe? They couldn’t be quite sure, all they knew is they were shifting underneath him, trying to get away from the boy’s warmth so he wouldn’t notice the affect he was having on them. They were not meant to be so close, (Y/n) didn’t want to be this close. And yet, something about the comfortability made it impossible for them to ask the boy to move.

“The Enchanted Lake is the closest one to us, it should be in the center.” “It being the closest enchanted item to us doesn’t make it the most important, (Y/n). The story of the golden apple is the most interesting and it's the most attractive to look at. Look at how pretty centering it made our poster,” his hand softly tilts their head to look down at the project. And he’s right, that was the missing piece that the two of them had poured over for the past two hours, it looked perfect now. “Morgie le Fay, I could kiss you right now,” they breathe, reaching over to grab a glue stick from the pencil bag that rests open on the desk. His breath hitches, making them giggle slightly. He opens his mouth to say something, and the royal in his desk chair looks up to him, waiting patiently for whatever he has to say.

“Well isn’t this cozy? If I knew you had a date tonight I wouldn’t have come home, Morgie.” Hook’s voice snaps both of their heads over to the pirate in the doorway. He stands smirking, arms crossed as he leans against the frame. “Would you like me to go? I know this little date is basically one of your silly little novels come to life, I can give you space.” (Y/n) looks down at their lap, lips pursed as they play with their fingers. “You’re not funny, Hook,” he scoffs though there’s a playful air to it. “Oh but I am,” he teases, looking over at the royal in the chair, “So, (Y/n), did he win you over yet?” It was gentle, playful even in a way they’re positive Uliana would hate. They look up at him with a smile, meeting hopeful, hazel eyes. “He’s on the way to it, if he gets me an A on this project he might be in my good graces.” It was a lie of course, he was a hard person to hate, even if they refused to admit it. Mr. Cranston had done something right putting them together they supposed, this little friendship with Morgie was truly worth it.

#descendants #descendants imagines #descendants rise of red #descendants fanfiction #descendants x reader #morgie x reader #morgie le fay #morgie le fay x reader

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noxiatoxia · 4 months ago

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So, when Danganronpa S was released (and V3's UTDP but I'll get to that later...) Hinata and Komaeda were given noticeably different versions of their pre-existing sprites for their swimsuit versions:

If you struggle to see a difference, note Hinata's wider mouth in the swimsuit ver., and Komaeda's narrower eyes and more outlined smirk in his swimsuit ver.

I, along with many people, always wondered, why? Why change these already perfectly fine sprites and, honestly, make them worse? What gives?

Then, I stumbled across something. Back in 2012, before the Japanese release of Super Danganronpa 2, you could play an online monomono machine to win little goodies like desktop backgrounds and profile pictures. Please note these pre-release desktop backgrounds for Hinata and Komaeda:

...So, wait a minute. The sprites used in Danganronpa S aren't new edits, but beta sprites? Older than the ones featured in the original SDR2? Turns out, this website features desktop backgrounds using beta sprites for nearly every character that otherwise never saw the light of day.*

I'm going to go through them one by one, gif comparisons included. This won't be the only post, either! UTDP also has some very interesting likely beta art used in it, too. As well, some of the other sprites featured in Danganronpa S may also be reused beta sprites!

As such, this log will be broken into three parts. This is part 1.

[Part 2 - UTDP (not made yet!)] [Part 3 - DRS (not made yet!)] [Part 4 - Dangan Island (not made yet!)]

*with the exception of UTDP in some cases, as well as some other things I will get to in Part 4.

As said, semi-flashing gifs will be included in this post. They are meant to swap between the beta and final sprites at a fast pace to illustrate the differences (2 frame, half a second each). Be cautious if you have epilepsy.

Also, because of Tumblr's stupid image limit, this post will have a reblog with the rest of the sprites! So please check this post's reblogs, it should be the first one!

Firstly, how do we know these are actually beta sprites? These images are sourced from the Danganronpa fandom wiki, and while I generally trust the wiki's credibility, it's always imperative to fact-check. So, I went ahead and searched Danganronpa's old website on the Wayback Machine and uncovered this:

A character intro page for Hinata, using this same beta sprite. Now, granted, the only capture of this page is from 2015. Still a year before V3 and a few more before S, but still, it's not the 2012 original. That said, a character intro page for Mioda circa early 2014 looks exactly the same, including the usage of her beta sprite.

And, when you click on the button that says スクリーンショット(Screenshot)...

You're offered a very obviously beta trial shot. As is common with Danganronpa trials, in development, the actual character portraits are not put in until later, and to substitute, their art reference photos are used, as seen on the left.

With that out of the way, I think it's safe to say these sprite we are about to look at are indeed betas.

It's only fair, then, we focus on Hinata first.

(Please note for all the comparison gifs I had to manually size the final sprites to get them as close as possible in aspect ratio. Very minor size difference between sprites is likely a result of this and not an actual detail change.)

A lot is revealed with a simple gif. Hinata's entire face shape was changed (including ears), not just his mouth. In fact, not just the shape of his face, but the face itself is drawn very differently in the end. The neck of his shirt was raised, as well as tie being redrawn (you can actually see where the new part begins somewhat sloppily). Less notable but still apparent are his bangs being redrawn and shaded differently.

Keeping with consistency, let's check out Komaeda next.

Yet again, the differences are striking when flipped back and forth. Komaeda's face shape and ear was redone much like Hinata, but not to nearly the same dramatic extent. As well, his entire face was redrawn, notably erasing the black shading under his chin and shortening his eyelashes. Less noticeable, the hair touching his neck is shortened a bit, and the crease line on his hood is more well-defined. They also slightly changed the line art for the first fold in his shirt, the neck at the back of his shirt, as well as his leftmost bang. Interestingly, they either forgot or didn't care to fix the shading to reflect the new placement of these lines. His jacket also has some changes in line art weight.

With Hinata and Komaeda out of the way, let's touch on Kuzuryuu.

This one honestly shocked me. Besides the added detail of him spitting, I didn't notice any difference right off the bat until I overlayed the images, but the differences are night and day. His eyes are made to be less mean and more skeptical. His mole was shrunk and his nose is more 3-dimensional. Extra detail is added to his ear while his hair is redrawn in whole, including it being slightly shorter. What's most interesting is the fact the body was sized up and moved down several pixels, I imagine to change the perspective. Some minor line changes are made to the white undershirt of his suit.

It would be improper not to do Pekoyama next.

Again, just like Kuzuryuu, I didn't notice half of these changes at first. Pekoyama's whole face is slimmed. The outer outline of her hair remains the same, but almost every outline inside of it, including her bangs, changes. (Although, her right twin-tail has a slightly longer end to it.) Her outfit receives minor touch-ups, including a clothes fold on her breast and darker shading by her collarbone. Speaking of, her neck muscles and such have been redrawn. Most interesting to me is the fact Pekoyama's outline is noticeably thicker with action lines in the original beta sprite, but lack them in the final sprite as if somebody used the magic wand tool to edit the background out, editing away some of the jagged black lines in the process. She is the only character where this happens.

Since she is a major character, let's do Nanami now.

I wasn't surprised to find Nanami has virtually no difference about her. Her design was pretty much set in stone early on. That said, it's not entirely the same. Though very minor, the thickness of her left eye was increased at the top. As well, shading across her pinky finger was removed. There is also a chance her body is slightly bigger, but that's more likely to be a result of me failing to perfectly match up the two images.

I want to focus on Souda now as he was the first one I did this test with.

You know, when I first played SDR2, I thought Souda looked kind of scary. His beta is even scarier looking! I can see why they changed it...Every detail on his face is redrawn including his chin, notably his pupil was enlarged and his eyebrows were quirked. Funnily, it seems the clip on his beanie was redrawn, but like Komaeda, they didn't edit the color layer to match the new outline. Some minor line art changes were made to his back hair. The lines for his neck and collarbone were lessened, and the jacket zipper is made more three dimensional. His thumb was fixed too, as well as the lines on his hand.

Also, here's a fun little thing I noticed while replaying SDR2 just a few days ago!

The sprite used for Souda in the Dangan Island opening is the exact same as the beta sprite! This would be the only time Westerners would catch a glimpse of some beta sprites until UTDP, as keep in mind, these wallpapers were exclusive to the Japanese Danganronpa website.

In fact, Souda isn't the only one with a beta sprite in the Dangan Island opening. I will also be covering that in part 4.

Moving on...

I guess it's only natural we look at Sonia's sprite next.

Changes like these ones are very interesting to me, because if you did not do a side-by-side like this, you may never see how many minor details were changed. A lot of Sonia's line art was redrawn to be more detailed, such as more lines in her hair, thinner outlines for her braid, and redrawn creases in her shoulders and bow (as well as a redrawn button). Her face is interesting as some very minor changes were made. Some detail is added to both ears (thicker outline on the right, changed line art on the left) and her left eyebrow is slightly edited. She was also given extra eyelashes on both sides. When it comes to such minor changes, it makes you wonder why they bothered at all. I wonder what the development looked like.

Anyways, please check the reblog for the second part! That's where the rest of the characters will be!

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not-to-me · 8 months ago

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Clever Boy (DW One-Shot)

(My gif)

Eleventh Doctor x gender neutral!reader — 18+ NO MINORS — Requests closed for now <3

Requested by anon: “May I request sub eleventh doctor with a HUGE praise kink (and edging)? With a very teasy gender neutral reader pleasee- Thank you!”

Summary: Pretty much just straightforward and to the point if I’m honest ToT

Warnings: ummm. Smut. Handjob, light oral (Eleven receiving), everything the request mentioned,,, not much else? Let me know if i missed something cause I’m blanking lol

(Note: I know I disappeared a little while. I hope I’ll be back but the inspiration not what it was smh)

———

Many things had lead to this moment. Quite a few of these things had been the Doctor’s own fault, if you have to say it yourself, that is. For example, the Time Lord is so fun to tease, so cute when he blushes and stammers at your praise. No one but you, seems to have this effect on him. So honestly, who can blame you? You smile fondly down at him as he writhes on the sheets. Maybe you are a bit cruel, but in your defence, the Doctor seems to be enjoying it quite a bit.

“Good boy. So patient for me, pretty one,” you say as you deny him release yet again. His mouth is open in a silent whine that doesn’t quite break through his vocal cords. His naked body twitches under your lips as you kiss up his thigh, over his hipbone and then lick at his pebbled nipples. You chuckle softly as the whine finally broke through when you don’t pay any attention to his cock, weeping precum at this point. But the whine breaks into a cry halfway through as you surprise him by gingerly wrapping a finger and a thumb around the base of him. Placing one final kiss to his chest, you sit up on your knees, straddling one of his thighs. The Doctor makes eye contact with you, desperation clear in his bright eyes.

“Please, I need—“ he starts, but you decide to tease him by gently stroking up his length, effectively interrupting his train of thought. He gasps and his hips twitch upwards, his eyes closing as he chases a high he needs so bad.

“Yes, my love? What do you need, hm?” you ask him teasingly, but you don’t give him a chance to respond as you dip down and kiss his lips, swollen from his bites after the many edges you’ve made him go through. He almost can’t focus enough to kiss back, but when you stroke a soothing hand over his brown hair, he whimpers into the kiss and returns it.

“Shh, such a good boy… just lay there and take what I give you,” you whisper against his lips, unable to stop the smile from spreading on your face. He really is cute when he’s like this. As you’re leaning over his body, you feel his dick twitching against you, only serving to broaden your teasing smile. He whimpers again, begging you to touch him.

His hands are gripping the headboard, just like you told him to, but you see how white knuckled they are, and you see the teary eyes he’s giving you, causing you to have mercy on him. Kissing him a final time, you begin to kiss down his glistening body, which has a nice sheen of sweat from the hours of teasing and edging. You leave little bites on his neck and collarbones, taking your sweet time with him.

Please, please— I- I need to cum,” the Doctor cries gently, pathetically. You chuckle at him, stopping the kisses to look up at him.

“My sweet, I’ve been waiting all week to have you like this,” you interrupt yourself with an open mouthed kiss to his throat, then continue, “you will cum when I let you, my clever boy.”

He whimpers and nods submissively, sinking his head into the pillows. You can tell he’s really trying to be good, and it makes your heart swell with love and admiration. His hard cock is hot against your stomach as you start kissing down his pretty body once more. You can feel his precum smearing on your skin, and you hum, need for him to cum swelling up inside you as well. But you are patient.

As you reach his tummy, he’s a whining mess beneath you, pleading with you to keep going, to not stop. He feels so good. When you finally reach his pelvis, you raise yourself up slightly to look at him. He blinks tears of desperation away when he notices and gazes back.

“Keep those pretty eyes on me, my love,” you command him. He whines out a ‘yes,’ with a quiet voice, obviously anticipating finally being able to cum. A shiver runs through him as you lean back down to kiss his tip, keeping your hand around the base of him. He moans wantonly, but keeps his eyes glued to your actions. You lick up the side of his length, before letting your hand work him slowly back to his peak.

His lips are an endless stream of noises, ranging from quiet whimpers to lustful moans. His hands fidget with the headboard but he remains good for you. It’s when you choose to add your other hand to massage his balls that he throws his head back and squeezes his eyes shut, prompting you to stop your ministrations immediately. His hips try to follow your hands as they retreat and you sit back on your knees once more.

“Ah, ah… did I tell you to close your eyes?” you ask him, and he doesn’t have to look to know that you’re smiling. The whine that cascades from his lips almost make you return your hands to his needy form, but you are persistent.

“…N-no, not- ah- not exactly…” he stammers out, completely high on the almost-climax. If he just reached down and— No, no, he’s a good boy.

“What do you say?” you ask as you tease him by placing feather kisses around the base of his cock.

“Ah- I’m sorry!” His voice is a higher pitch than usual, conveying his desperation.

“Good boy. You’re such a pleasure to tease like this… my patient boy.” You begin slowly licking up his cock, letting your hand follow, as you start up again, then you lift your lips from him, “And remember, eyes on me.”

He whines, not believing he’s able to at this point, but needing his release so bad, he’s willing to do the impossible. As your hand strokes languidly up and down his length, you murmur praises and place soft kisses on his chest, stomach and, when he makes a particularly cute noise, his cock.

His moans are unstoppable as you steadily bring him closer to his peak once more. He looks absolutely lost in the pleasure you’re providing for him, his eyes glazed over with bliss. He’s babbling nonsense, but he’s keeping his eyes on you, even as he feels his orgasm approach rapidly and his voice cracks with the mind blowing intensity of it all.

Your eyes lock with his, which makes him twitch in your hand.

“Are you gonna cum for me, sweet boy? Go on, you’ve earned it… been so good for me, how can I deny you any longer?” you say sweetly, letting your ministrations grow just slightly in their intensity. You want him to really feel it when he falls over that edge.

“Ah, ah, ah— than- thank you— AH!” the Doctor’s words turn into a scream of ecstasy as he finally falls head first over that blissful peak. His cum shoots in thick droplets onto his stomach and chest, some almost hitting his face with the sheer strength of his orgasm. He’s practically wailing, completely unable to control himself as he thrusts up into your hand. You soothe him with praising words and soft hands, helping him draw out that peak. He looks so beautiful like this, so purely him. You tell him so, and he whimpers, his face red from the orgasm and your sweet words.

When his pleasure subsides, you pull your hands from his body and move to kiss him once more. When you pull away, he looks at you with such fucked out, but loving eyes that your heart melts. You kiss his nose, making him smile. You feel like he’s your whole world right now, and he feels just the same. You let him calm down and get his breathing under control again, before you get up from the bed, going to find a wet cloth to clean him up. He lies helplessly on the bed, admiring your retreating form.

When you’ve cleaned him, he pulls you in for a slow kiss, having regained some of himself again. He tugs you onto the bed with him and you know exactly what he wants. And who are you to deny your love?

You let him rest his head on your chest as you cuddle, stroking his hair absentmindedly. Your whispered praises are the last thing the Time Lord hears before drifting off into a lovely, peaceful sleep, with you not far behind.

#eleventh doctor x reader #the doctor x reader #doctor who x reader #x reader #eleventh doctor smut #smut #doctor who smut #my fic #I banged this out In two hours somehow

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whateverisbeautiful · 2 months ago

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♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#38: The Scars (1.04)

gif cred: @nat111love

In their years apart, Richonne endured some scarring moments that left literal scars on their bodies. They sadly weren't able to be there to help patch each other up from those physical scars back then. But they are here together now to finally open up about the scars, and it leads to a very moving conversation🥺...

So after the Roomba interruption, Michonne lays back down and Rick returns to placing an arm over her as they talk about the things they noticed in the building. I always love a good Richonne chatting while cuddled up in bed moment.

gif cred: @nobleriver

Rick asks if Michonne noticed how thin the walkers were and Michonne notes how they may have starved. Rick talks about how the buildings’ former inhabitants kept this place going for a good while, and I always love seeing that Michonne is playing with his hair while he speaks. They really are back, y’all. 😋 ...Or at least almost back. And, again I love how comfy they both look in this scene.

gif cred: @clonecaptains

Michonne talks about how the people here were innovating and wanted to create another way and then she says, “But no crops?”

Rick says, “Well even if they did have them, crops fail.” See, he may not know Roombas and tech but the farmer's son is well-versed in crops. 😋 I love seeing him just comfortingly rubbing her while he talks. And just the way they’re communicating here it feels like they're a well-oiled machine...But then there’s a slight machine malfunction. 🙃

Because then Rick says, “One bad harvest - something has to burn to bring it back.” Michonne is curious about this and it seems she can tell there’s something more behind the comment so she asks, “What?” And then as I unfortunately suspected, Rick reveals he does in fact have a tad more audacity left in him when he says, “If I can change the CRM there’s a chance for future generations, a real chance.”

gif cred: @nat111love

Y’all…😪.

Every time I hear that I just sigh. Like this was truly me having a great time with this scene and then hearing the CRM get brought up again...

You know how there are safe words in the bedroom? There should also be banned words in the bedroom and 'CRM' is most definitely a banned word.

Now I fully empathize with the pain, fear, and PTSD that is motivating Rick to be saying this. But I still wasn’t here for it, especially after Michonne had just kindly opened up with him in every way and now he’s right back to hurting her with this back and forth. 😔

I was curious what would prompt Rick to bring this up here again after they were having such a nice moment together. Like I get the crops comment had him thinking about his dad's sacrifice and his own sacrifice, but I also think Rick brings it up here because of how great and blissful he and Michonne’s moments together just were.

It’s like this CRM comment is an act of self-sabotage because he ultimately still believes he can’t just go home with Michonne and the more time he spends with her in their lovely Richonne bubble the harder it’ll be to follow through with what he thinks has to be done. So it’s like this is his attempt to pop the bubble for his wife’s safety.

Plus, right now every good moment with Michonne seems to also serve as another reminder for Rick of how unbearable it'll ever be to lose her permanently. And so with this CRM comment, he attempts to "get ahead of" being back with her completely, knowing it'll kill him if he returns to her and something tragic happens and forces him to remain in this world without her in it.

I was also very curious to see how Michonne would respond to Rick saying this since it's understandably frustrating. And she proved yet again that she’s the best wife when she has such a loving response.

gif cred: @nat111love

Looking just so captivatingly beautiful she gives Rick this empathetic smile and then because their kisses are communication she doesn’t even say anything at first, she just gently takes his face in her hands and kisses him. 🥲

gif cred: @nat111love

The she softly says, “You’re still lying to me. You’re lying to yourself.” I love how this is yet another great depiction of how Michonne is so simultaneously good at empathy and accountability. 👏🏽

I think after witnessing Rick's panic attack, Michonne now knows that whatever this wall is that Rick keeps trying to put up is not something he’s doing to shut her out but really to shut himself out. To shut out Alive Rick. So rather than get angry, she feels for him and knows that whatever is going on inside him is very deep-seated and heavy for him.

And this back and forth undoubtedly hurts her, but like a truly selfless gem, Michonne also acknowledges how this hurts him. Rick has the best wife on the planet and it only gets more confirmed as the scene progresses. 👌🏽

gif cred: @nat111love

She doesn’t tiptoe around addressing the fact that Rick is lying to her and she also doesn’t beat around the bush when telling Rick what he needs to hear which is that he’s lying to himself too. And she’s spot on. Michonne has always been able to call Rick out with such grace.

I love how she keeps her hand lovingly on his face as she drops these truths and the way Rick is entranced yet again by her. I was like - Michonne, you might be onto something kissing him in a moment like this because that’s a surefire way to get him to snap out of CRM mode for a sec.

gif cred: @nat111love

But also, I feel like she kissed him because one; she feels for him, and two; she knows the tough conversations and hashing things out is likely about to resume so she’s like let me kiss my man one more time just in case it ends up being the last time, depending on how this conversation goes lol. 😅

After Michonne notes that Rick is still lying to them both, I love the look she gives him before getting up from the bed. One; gorgeous and two; her look just feels like she knows that CRM pillow talk has ended any chance of another round.

gif cred: @nat111love

When Michonne does get up her X scar is visible and I feel like they knew we wanted a moment of Rick touching the scar and since TOWL came to check everything it can off the wishlists, we sure enough get this moment of Rick gently touching her scar. I love to see it. 🥹

gif cred: @notwithoutmycoffee

I remember first watching that traumatic season 9 Scars episode years ago and just thinking how badly I wanted Rick to be able to comfort Michonne after she went through that horribleness - and now here we are. 😌

And I always find it sweet that despite saying that CRM stuff and Michonne calling him out for lying, the second Rick sees her scar that becomes his focus. He’s always honed in on her which is sweet. 😊 And you know each time he's seen that scar, he wishes he could have been there to protect her from whatever happened.

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

Rick inquires saying, “this mark on your back” and Michonne sighs and says “Yeah.” Then she tells Rick the details of what happened and I am so glad she had a chance to share about the experiences she’s been through. 👏🏽

After TOWL Episode 3, I remember I was talking with my brother and I was saying I really hope the next episode has a moment where it feels like everything Michonne’s been through and feeling gets proper acknowledgment and I adore that Danai really did give her incredible character the much-deserved and much-needed space for this. 🥲🙌🏽

Michonne explains that the scar came from a woman that she let into Alexandria who was also a college buddy. Rick is surprised to learn she knew her and Michonne says, “Yep. I was searching for you every day, me and Daryl.” I’m glad she got to tell Rick that she searched for him every day.

It’s interesting the tone in which she’s saying this as she gets dressed and stays facing away from him. There’s this sort of detachment as if she has to speak about this with a bit of a wall up because it’s such a sensitive thing that really traumatized her and it’s like perhaps it’s hard to be vulnerable with Rick right now when it’s unclear which Rick she’ll be talking to.

Even just the act of her getting dressed when they def were about to be intimate again prior shows that she’s having to put some guard up a bit more. And it makes sense because I love the guy truly but Rick’s behavior has really been giving whiplash.

Michonne says, “There was no body, no trace. I couldn’t stop believing you were still out there needing help, needing me.” I love that she knows their soulmatism would mean that wherever Rick was he needed her specifically. And she was right. Rick literally needed even just the vision of her in a dream to keep going.

This line reminded me of a moment in season 6 when Maggie doesn’t know if Glenn is dead or alive. She tells Aaron that if Glenn is alive then she knows he’s somewhere needing her. That’s a feeling Michonne had to live with every day for almost 8 years…knowing if Rick is alive then he’s out there needing her. Not just needing help, needing her.

So it was already hard enough mourning his unknown fate in a different way than everyone else because she knew him differently and more personally than anyone else, but then to also have to live with this strong gnawing feeling that he was out there needing her had to just add a whole other level of pain to the situation.

Michonne says, “Everyone thought I was crazy” and I was like - Rick, if you only knew the way so many of those people back home were not there for your wife during this time. 😔 Like so many members of team family were lacking in being the family she needed.

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

And it’s so sad to know that Michonne knew pretty much everyone thought she was crazy. But I love that she kept believing anyway because Richonne’s love is too strong to let any outside perspectives dim what she knows to be true about her and Rick’s connection.

She then says how while everyone else thought she was crazy Joycelyn encouraged her to keep looking. It just sucks that the reason she encouraged Michonne is because she’s actually psychotic and wanted to kidnap ASZ’s children. 😖 Like Joycelyn even tho you're long gone, please know...

Michonne then has a moment where she sighs and says, “I was 7 months pregnant.” 🥺 I’m glad she included that detail because it makes everything that happened in Scars extra egregious even tho it was already wildly egregious. Plus, you know it has to hit Rick to know that Michonne endured this during such a vulnerable time of being pregnant with his child just months after his disappearance.

This highlights Michonne's resilience but also has to wake Rick up to the fact that if he isn’t home with her, she’s still at risk of enduring really painful things. She'll just endure it alone and there’s no way he wants that.

Michonne finally turns to Rick and tells him, “She stole Judith and some other kids. She was sick, twisted. Did this to me and Daryl. We stopped her. I don’t want to go into how.” And it makes sense. For Michonne, what she had to do that day is clearly one of the most haunting and horrific things she’s ever experienced so I get that she doesn’t want to have to relive that right now.

But Rick does want to confirm one very important detail when he asks, “You killed her?”

Michonne assures him “Yes” and then this is when we see a flash of that Season 5 Rick because he looks at Michonne and says a very firm and affirming, “Good.” I love this. 🥲

gif cred: @notwithoutmycoffee

It’s clear Rick wants to go dig Joycelyn up and kill her again for the trauma he put his wife and children through.

I was like Michonne, maybe you should have told Rick that Joycelyn is still alive - because that would have had Rick in the car in 3 seconds ready to go home so he could finish the job lol. Tell me Rick wouldn't have hopped up off that bed like...

I love the protectiveness of the way he says "good." You know Rick would have done every dark thing Michonne had to do had he been there in that season 9 episode.

I remember in a s9 RIR post I wrote how part of why Michonne had to wrestle so much with what she had to do in taking out those kids was because she didn’t have Rick there to let her know it’s okay. Like how he had her there to let him know he was okay after his most traumatic act of killing someone with his teeth.

I knew had Rick learned of that Scars' situation he would be wholly supportive of Michonne and feel she was right to do what she did. And so it was nice to see exactly that at this moment in TOWL.

Now, I saw some viewers were upset that Rick doesn’t acknowledge Daryl in this scene...but Rick is hearing that his pregnant wife was branded and his daughter was kidnapped - that’s bound to be the priority for him right now. And it’s not for lack of love for Daryl, it's just there’s a time and place to address him and this wasn't it. Michonne is telling Rick about some of the deep-rooted trauma she’s carried during their years apart. That’s the focus for the two right now and that’s more than okay because...

Michonne looks so sad as she tells Rick, “I stopped looking for you.” And Rick looks sad but understanding as he nods upon hearing this.

It’s interesting how, despite having every reason to think she witnessed Rick blow up and die on that bridge, Michonne still tells him “I stopped looking for you” as like an apologetic confession. And I think that’s because they are so connected and she really was feeling his presence alive out there and so, even tho she had very valid reasons for why she stopped, she still feels sorry that she stopped looking for him when she knew in her heart he was findable.

Michonne says, “I had to take care of the baby. Take care of Judith.” And I’m just moved by this. 🥺 Because it wasn’t even like she stopped looking cuz she gave up or because she was too depressed to keep looking - no, it was cause she still had these important responsibilities to her young daughter and newborn. And she took such good care of her babies even amid her grief. 😭

I like that we see Rick’s watery-eyed reaction to hearing the mother of his children say that she had to take care of their kids. But even with having to stop looking, Michonne lets him know she never moved on from him.

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

Rick tends to think he’s someone people can just move on from but I love that through Michonne he constantly gets reminded of how treasured he is. She says, “But I kept believing that you were not gone forever.” Rick looks into her eyes and it’s like he’s getting yet another confirmation of what his dreams continually reminded him of - which is that Michonne wholeheartedly believes in him.

And then I love that she says, “I still believe that.” Even when it feels like her Rick might be gone, she still believes that he’s not gone forever. 🥹 Love it so much. She’s really honoring that 'believe a little longer' motto. 👌🏽

Rick silently looks in her eyes for a moment and this whole scene and episode really just feels like an exchange between two halves of one soul. The way they depict soulmates like no other is something to behold. 👏🏽

gif cred: @nat111love

And right now there’s this underlying complication because Rick has this guard up and yet every time he and Michonne look at each other he knows she can see right through his walls and is beckoning for him to finally let the guard down and express what’s really going on inside.

Rick starts to get dressed and it’s almost like feeling so figuratively bare before her makes him put on another layer. But they are soulmates so nothing can ever really stop her from seeing and knowing all of him.

gif cred: @nat111love

Michonne watches and turns toward him and when she looks down she can see his handless arm. For the most part that arm had always had the prosthetic but now she gets to reach down and touch it and the way she gently touches his arm is so precious. 🥺

I adore the parallel of both Rick and Michonne touching each other's scars that they both received during some of the most traumatic and hardest days of their life.

After enduring those things alone and in the name of love for each other and their kids, they now get to be here face to face and healing each other with their loving touch and care. 🥹

As Michonne touches his arm she says, “You did this to get away.” That has to really move her. Like knowing Rick was willing to cut off his own hand to get away immediately paints the picture of his determination and desperation to get home. And as crazy as that act of chopping off his own hand is, Michonne doesn’t look at him as crazy for it. They’re both intensely devoted to family so she gets it. 👌🏽

gif cred: @nat111love

Rick looks into her eyes and says, “It was the only way.” Michonne says, “You were trying to come home.” And Rick repeats, “I was trying to come home.” I like how he wants to assure her of that. Like while now he keeps saying he won’t go home, there was a time that Rick was fighting like hell to get home. And that’s part of why he’s so convinced he can’t make it home anymore - because of all the taxing thwarted attempts he's tried before.

gif cred: @nat111love

I love that Michonne says, “You’re still trying. I see it.” Even despite the BS, she knows Rick’s heart is still pulling him toward home. 🥲 His heart is pulling him toward her so that’s the same thing as pulling him toward home.

And again, it’s so effective for Michonne to just softly ask these questions and statements regarding Rick’s hand because one; it’s reminding him of what he most wanted and pursued in his past which was to go home and be with his wife and family. And two; it's reminding him how he should still go after what he most wants in the present too.

gif cred: @nat111love

I love how she stays comfortingly holding his arm as she reminds him, “You have the button. You could have hit it, Rick. You haven’t.” That’s a great point. I had forgot that he’s had access to the PRB ever since Michonne gave it to him earlier in the episode. Not pressing it definitely shows that he’s not nearly as eager to involve the CRM again like he claims.

gif cred: @nat111love

Then I love the dialogue with Michonne saying, “You say you can’t go home but I don’t think you can go back.” It’s said so tenderly and as always she’s absolutely right.

Seeing Michonne be there for Rick like this, it made me think about how Rick's past saw him needed as a provider but with Michonne he gets to feel needed and valued most of all as a person, as exactly who he is.

It’s why I think Michonne is the absolute best person to have rescued him because he needed to find himself again through someone who views his role not just as a protector/provider but as a true partner, equal, and love. She's the one who will always fight alongside him and fight for him the same way he does for her.

gif cred: @nat111love

And then y’all, cue my tears because Michonne then lovingly touches his handless arm and emotionally says, “I’m sorry for what they did to you.” 🥺 I have to pause and collect myself after that line. 😭

The way Michonne depicts a wife’s love is just something special. 🥹But also it’s so moving how this just feels like she's expressing from human to human that she feels for him and the pain he's been through.

And even tho Rick hasn’t yet told her exactly what the CRM did that has him so traumatized, in this moment you know Michonne can sense and feel what has yet to be expressed.

I love that Rick is loved on like this by this incredible woman. 🥹 She cares about him so much and after enduring a lot alone for years, I'm so glad Rick has his soulmate back. He needs her and her tender loving care desperately after going without any of this type of care for years.

gif cred: @nat111love

And again, the wording stands out because she knows that what is making him this way isn’t him but something done to him. They did something. And I love that she is continually trying to free Rick from the burden of thinking what he’s become is all his fault or a product of his failure when really he’s a traumatized captor of the CRM.

It's interesting because yes the Civic Republic/CRM didn’t deliberately torture Rick, in fact for many the place is a sanctuary, but they kept Rick from his family and therefore they put him through a fate worse than death. 😔

When Michonne offers him this sincere empathy, Rick looks at her and you can hear his shaky breathing come back a little bit. Again he’s being the most seen and loved that he’s been in nearly a decade and it’s like there’s this anxiousness because he knows there’s something he needs to open up about but he’s kept it inside for so long and so it seems overwhelming to open the floodgates. Especially when he’s still convinced that the best thing he can do is keep Michonne away from him and the ‘poison’ that’s over him due to the CRM.

gif cred: @nat111love

But fortunately, he’s with the one person who can always get him to be real no matter what and so that’s exactly what happens as this scene continues.

I truly appreciate this series of events for the touching way it allowed Richonne to address each other's literal scars and segway into addressing the even more painful invisible scars that they’ve got from having gone without each other all these years.

And if I thought the acting and dialogue were great already…it reached new heights of excellence in these following moments. 👏🏽😌

#richonne #towl #reveling in richonne #1.04 #RIR (38)#the ones who live #twd towl #michonne grimes #rick grimes #rick x michonne #twol #michonne #rick and michonne #twd: the ones who live #twd #richonnefandom

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tremendum · 1 year ago

Text

Mr. Miller's Show

[not my gif] pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, some use of she/her, use of the words girl/woman) rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.) word count: 7.3k (back to regularly scheduled programming) requested: yes thank you all for all the patience srsly <3 summary: “'like how sweet you've been t'me, sugar," he mutters gently, head tilting, "why y'gonna go and fuck all that up now?'" warnings: gendered words (girl, woman, etc) allusions to PTSD, porn with feelings, guys theyre like getting healthier, SMUT (PiV unprotected), oral (M receiving), deepthroating, rough sex, face-fucking, shower smut, counter smut, reader is a tease, masturbation (f), marijuana use as always lol, brief voyeurism, canon-typical violence, age gap (undefined but mentioned), ass play (spitting, fingering, only a bit sorryyyy), mirror sex again bc im a whore, reader has hair long enough to grab, hair pulling, lots of choking, spit kink, light slapping (f receiving, consensual), dirty talk, praise kink but also degradation, use of words like slut, brat tamer!joel, overstimulation, MEAN!JOEL YALL, but he has feelings so he’s also kinda soft!dom in this again, once again sooo unedited that it hurts. notes: finally finally after over a month im back!! hope you enjoy this chapter, ive been having rough writers block with this story so any suggestions and requests are very welcomed!!! thanks for all the love and as always, comments & reblogs w tags are motivation and help out so much!!! love u all <3 also for the taglist, it's too big now and i may consider stopping my taglist, just letting everyone know!!! ill lyk if i do ofc but im reblogging with the list this time.

[this is part six of the Mr Miller series. read previous part sympathy for the devil. main masterlist here. ]

★

"you're wearing earrings."

Joel's voice cuts through the serene chill in the air, shocking you enough to have your head turning away from where you stare ahead - you crane your neck too much, but you can just see the dusted gray and dark of his curls behind you as your brows raise.

it takes you a second to understand the sentence he's just uttered to you out of nowhere- but you blink to life, clearing your throat as the dead trees pass you by.

"oh. yeah, it's... they're new. didn't really wear stuff like that until..." you shrug, trailing off as you stare forward yet again. your heart thumps as his chest rumbles against your back - jesus, he's so close to you. it's been weeks since he's been this close, even if this is just work.

your body wants what it wants, you suppose.

your lips purse, lost in the press of his thick body behind you.

"-till?"

your lip twitches in a smile for a split moment; he's waiting for you to finish your sentence. as if he cares.

Joel...

he's been so normal recently. or as normal as you could ever imagine Joel Miller to be; full sentence-conversations full of questions, full sentences, and even an occasional joke or dry line littered in with his glares and eye-rolls. he's even taught you and ellie to woodwork, nodded in hello when you picked up Ellie on your way into town - hell, he'd actually gotten a drink with you after patrol a few days ago and held eye contact for a whole thirty minutes.

a fucking miracle.

and even, on rare occasions, you are rewarded with that mind-splitting, earth-shattering smile - a very rare but rewarding sight. the kind that shocks a room, silences you and Ellie both, lights the sun and makes the birds sing. makes your stomach flutter.

so perhaps things have changed.

it makes you almost laugh to yourself, recalling that day so many moons ago when you had walked into the Bison and first stared into those stony eyes; how big his calloused hands were, the way his lip lifted in distaste at your crass words.

the sway of the horse makes your hips move gently; your ass is starting to feel sore at the constant motion and as you rock forward with the decline of the hill, you feel Joel's body slide slightly as though he tries against everything to press fully against you. even though you wish he would.

heat paints your face as you feel his breath on your neck, waiting patiently for you to finish your sentence.

your sharp breath exhales as you realize you've hesitated at his questioning, a bit too long - you smile sheepishly, shrugging. "-sorry, didn't..." you clear your throat, "couldn't remember the last time I wore earrings. not that it matters, but I just..." you thumb the makeshift earring back, grinning to the mane of the horse as he trudges you and Joel both along.

"-it feels nice. makes me feel like myself." you finish, shrugging awkwardly.

for all of the steps Joel has taken in the last few weeks to change, there are some things you still have a hard time with.

talking about yourselves and opening up is a very large, unmovable hurdle that you and him are still clearly trying to pull yourselves over. it's quiet for a second as your words seep into the dead surroundings, less than an hour from town.

"look nice." he grunts quietly, his arms pressing slightly from where he straddles the saddle behind your frame.

your eyes widen at the seemingly random compliment, face flooding with flattery and embarrassment. your grin betrays you, but you don't dare stutter out a broken thank you for fear that you will sound like a croaking frog; instead, you purse your lips over the giddy grin that spreads over your cheeks and hope that as he stares at the profile of your face, he can see the flattery written across your features.

"Ellie has a matching pair." you say instead, sparing a quick glance back at Joel. his brows raise, jaw ticking as he takes in the information - your voices both echo at the same time as you speak over each other suddenly:

"she doesn't have her ears pierced." "in case she ever gets them pierced."

you let out a short huff of laughter, nodding sheepishly at having accidentally interrupted each other; Joel shakes his head with a ghost of a smile.

"got it." he nods, "s'real nice of you." he nods, "making a pair for her, too."

his chest is right on you - broad, warm through all the layers, and smelling of pine, whiskey, sage. amber. it's intoxicating as his drawl rumbles in the back of your ear - you silently thank Tommy or whoever the hell it was who ordered half the horses to rest after a bout of sickness spread through the stable; sharing a horse has never once before today seemed like a good idea.

but the good idea sours quickly when you kick speed slightly, the horse leaping over a small creek as your hips shift back into Joel's and your ass presses into him.

your mouth dries as you shakily exhale; he's so close to you - smells so good. your hands grip the reigns tighter and you nearly jump when a large, calloused hand falls onto your hips to steady you after the change in pace.

your mind travels back to that morning after you'd stayed with Joel in his own bed - how gentle his hands had been as he'd guided you towards your own house under the early morning sunrise; your eyes bleary with sleep but his smile still cracking bashfully when you'd kissed his cheek, muttering about how maybe Ellie'd missed your boots by the front door when she'd come home.

she and Joel certainly haven't said anything you if she did notice, anyways.

you clear your throat, ignoring the searing desire that spirals from where his hand touches your clothed hip; you shrug, "she said she liked mine, so I figured we could match."

he hums lowly at your word, his nose brushing slightly over the crown of your head. shivers roll over your shoulders as you swallow, retreating into the silence that you've lived in for the last few weeks since the two of you were put back on patrol.

but you stiffen when a hand runs down your side, over the jagged stitching of your jacket, and you suck in a sharp inhale. his other hand slides forward, hooking gently around your hip, fingers splaying over the very top of your thigh and your throat dries up; a faint desire awakened and soon screaming at you. you squirm under his touch.

Joel's hips adjust behind you gently in the next second, your eyes fluttering shut as you imagine him pulling you into him, his hard cock sliding between the round globes of your ass and through your dripping folds, his hands greedy and hungry; his words sharp, teasing. his touch, sweet. intoxicating-

your eyes open again and your heart skips a beat, his knees hitting the outside of your thighs.

christ. your whole body tingles as you shift slightly, rotating your hips as the buck of the horse's cant tilts you further away from the heat of his broad chest. no, you can't stand his teasing - intentional or not, Joel is making you nearly melt in desire.

jesus.

you're barely pulling the horse to the side of the path when, with barely a crane of his neck, Joel mutters, "the hell are y'doin?"

you suddenly pull the reins and mutter woah, slipping yourself off of the horse and onto the hard ground with a burning face, your lungs screaming for air as Joel protests.

"what-" he grunts as he pulls himself down from the stirrups, face etched with irritation and concern at your sudden evacuation, "is there an issue?"

you can hear the irritation in his voice and you sigh, shaking your head - your heart's thundering, face hot and surely laced with poorly-hid embarrassment. god, what the fuck is wrong with you? there's barely forty minutes back to Jackson, why couldn't you just suck it up for a few more torturous minutes until you could return home to your trusty drawer and hot shower?

"no." you snap, "no problem, Joel." your heart is thundering with surprise at his concern, eyes glaring daggers at him before shooting down towards the heat that nearly blisters on your forearm; his hand, warm and gentle, asking silently if you're okay. your eyes soften before you can school your expression - he reads you, as always, like his favorite novel.

his hand falls away gently, grazing your finger tips like the gentlest breeze on your face and it still surprises you.

"alright," he says softly, eyes searching your flustered appearance. "can we get back on the horse, then?" he asks - his voice is surprisingly patient, though his eyes are wary. irritated, but concerned.

you clear your throat, unable to contain yourself much longer. "we could- take a break."

his brows raise, tilting his head, "a break? we're nearly back. s'almost nightfall."

you shift your weight, avoiding the way his corded arms cross over each other, his frame towering over yours as you dully throb in arousal.

"you're-" you squeak, shaking your head, "you're fucking crowding me, and I need- fuck-" you groan, "just- just fuck off for a second, Joel." you snap, bursting in frustration, unsure how to just admit you are being driven fucking crazy with lust by his presence.

his head tilts, "fuck off?" his eyes are darker every second you stand, facing each other- "the hell's gotten into you?" he sounds offended, and your heart flips as you feel bad - you're trying, you're trying so hard to be normal around him, as he is with you - so one touch, one innocent adjustment of his hips and now you're freaking out on him again?

you need to get a grip, or at least be honest.

your face burns as his stern gaze rolls over each curve of your body; "Joel, you're driving me fucking crazy." you snap, glaring at him.

he looks shocked, hands flying out, "I barely said anythin' this whole goddamn day, how the hell am I still fucking this up?" he snaps back, irritated - his eyes incredulous as he stares down at you.

flames lick up your sides as you grind your teeth - his hair looks much more wavy with his curls today, and the green of his jacket it making the golden on his skin nearly glow; you nearly growl as you jump towards him. he's too much. too fucking much.

your hands lock on his shoulders, tugging yourself up towards his face as your lips fall against his.

the kiss is a shock to you both.

you're not sure what really compelled you to do it - the stubble over his sharp jaw, his hair, the way his thighs pressed against the outsides of yours just minutes ago, the way he pressed on about the earrings - whatever, it doesn't matter, because he's kissing you back and you're melting like butter over a campfire.

his lips press hard back against yours through his shocked inhale, surging against you in a dizzying haze of Joel.

but the kiss is seared away from your lips when Joel suddenly shoots his thick hand out, rising to grip hard at your throat, shoving you backwards.

it's more shocking than the sudden kiss - the speed in which he pulls back and pushes you hard backwards by his warm grip, causing flutters of arousal to course through your stomach.

you stumble in shock but he keeps his hold on you, passionate as he movers the two of you back. you're torn away from his warmth as he presses you with one hand on the small of your back and the other on the beating pulse of your throat - right against a tree, nudging you as he tilts his head down to your height once more.

he's back on you in no less than a split second; his heat swirling around the cold air, teeth nipping at your lip when you take a moment longer than he'd like to open your lips to his tongue. he groans against you, a warm and deep thing that you feel in your own chest as your hand slides up to his hair, tugging at the base of his neck.

the fingers around your throat flex and tighten in reaction to your own grip and the moan that rips from your throat sends his hips in a slow thrust against yours.

you've been desperate for his touch for fucking days - he's been walking on eggshells even after you'd spent the night with him a few weeks ago. he'd barely touched you, taking his time trying to make up for all the lost time you'd spent trying to rip each other's heads off instead of your clothes.

and sure, you don't know who you are with him still - nothing defined, and a lot of things still unspoken - but for the first time since this whole mess started, that doesn't bother you. there's not much anger, nor jealousy - just... Joel. and you.

it's not bad.

his lips leave yours as he breathes against your lips, "like how sweet you've been t'me, sugar," he mutters gently, head tilting, "why y'gonna go and fuck all that up now?"

his hand slips from your back lower, tugging you against his semi-hard cock as his fingers squeeze your ass. his hand lies just below your jugular, thumb soothing over your cold skin as his dark eyes glint with desire. you feel a rush of arousal pool between your legs as you raise your brows.

"-you need to stop fucking touching me like that when we're riding, Miller." you growl against his lips, staring back at him. you lean slightly to catch his lips with yours once again but he pulls back with a strong hand against your neck to stop you - teasing.

he tuts, "you need to learn how to use your words, sweetheart." he growls against you, teeth catching on your bottom lip.

you whimper at the sharp sting, chasing him as if you could steal a kiss. he tilts his head just out of reach, his hand pressing against you until your breath comes out slightly ragged; your pussy flutters as he squeezes, knee sliding against your clothed core.

"if you want it, ask for it, baby." he all but demands, hands rough against you, "can't just throw a fit every time you're aching for my cock, or else you'll be whinin' all goddamn day. how am I supposed to know-"

but there's a snap of a twig somewhere behind you and you both spring apart, straight as boards, hackles raised.

it's almost like deja-vu as you're both thrown from your stupor - ripping away, your voices cease as your hand flies to your hunting knife - in your peripheral, you see that Joel's slung around his rifle so quick you're almost impressed as you both stare to your left.

christ - just the fucking horse, tied to the tree. stepped on a twig.

you let out a shaky breath, hand falling onto Joel's chest as you almost wheeze out a relieved laugh. but your hand feels it, suddenly - you notice how stiff Joel is, even after you've both realized there's no threats.

his heart, thundering in his chest wildly. like a caged animal surrounded by a pack of wild, ravenous wolves; Joel's heart tries to scramble right out of his chest and onto the dead ground.

that feeling - the one that creeps around at night when you wake up with memories of that cabin, of those raiders - of your past, visions of Joel, surrounded by red. that feeling that creeps up, squeezing at your throat and banging on your chest.

he's feeling it, too.

it's not from arousal, though you can see enough of that in his eyes, in the way his lips part and ragged breaths puff into the air - no, not arousal.

fear.

your heart hammers similarly, you suddenly notice. your hand shakes as it hovers near your knife; his hands grip the rifle so tight the blood may burst forth from the roughened skin any second.

"hey," you whisper, suddenly worried to speak above any quiet noise. his eyes are sharp and his jaw clenched as he looks back at you, wild and alarmed.

as if he were ready to fight for his life and yours.

"let's go home," you whisper, thumb running over the shoulder of his jacket, muscles strained and still below the layers.

he snaps out of it, eyes falling to rake over you as if assuring that you're still in front of him in one piece. his hand finds yours on his chest, sliding it off - not unkindly; his hand squeezes yours before boosting you up onto the double saddle silently.

Joel insists on walking you back to your house; he's brooding, as normal, as you both trudge back from turning in your patrol log and tracking the mud from the stable through the quiet streets.

you don't speak about what happened in the woods - the kiss, nor the twig snapping, but you ache and as you walk, every brush of the backs of your hands send shooting sparks up your arm.

"damn it," he grunts under his breath as you lead him up your driveway. you lift a brow at him, silent prompt to explain his expletive.

he shakes his head, "s'nothin'. forgot Ellie said the water heater ain't workin', said she was stayin' with her friend Dina till I fix it. cold shower for me tonight."

you grimace; the air nips at your cheeks, you can't imagine a cold shower in this weather. you shrug, "use mine." you suggest, tilting your head. "no point in turning into an icicle, Miller, you're cold enough as is." you tease, sending him a small wink.

something in you wonders if the shower really is broken, or if he just can't bring himself to ask; not that you can blame him. you can't bring yourself to ask, either.

your heart flutters when Joel rolls his eyes but still trudges after you, through the entrance of your home. his eyes look just as tired as you feel but there's a spark to them, one that coaxes more warmth between your thighs.

you see his eyes catch on the partially-smoked joint put out on the ashtray on your kitchen table as you slide past it; you have a mind to grab it before you make your way up the stairs, pretending not to feel too hot when you feel Joel's eyes graze over the sway of your hips.

he showers first, you insist.

while he does so, you strip out of your clothes and into a more comfortable sleeping shirt and shorts. you sit, smoking lazily on the joint, savoring the sharp herbal taste as it flows into your blood and trying to ignore the throbbing desire when the sound of the shower shuts off.

Joel's respectful when he leaves your bathroom, pants on and shirt tugged over his chest, speckled with dots of moisture. his hair is much darker and more curled just after a shower; you're transfixed as you stand in front of him, joint smoldering between your lips, an exhale of smoke swirling lazily from your nostrils.

"may I?" he asks suddenly, causing you to nod, pulling the joint out from your lips and noting how his own dark eyes follow it like a horse to a carrot; you smirk, tutting. "and to think, all this time you've been judging me for it?" you shake your head. "shame on you."

his jaw ticks and you just smirk, shaking your head as you hold the joint up to his lips boldly. "you're a bad influence on me, aren't you, Mr. Miller?" you ask, voice sultry as you peer up at him through your lashes. his eyes flick to yours as he inhales, your fingers ghosting over his plush lips. the ones you kissed not an hour earlier.

the air is thick in your room, steam from the hot water creeping through as Joel inhales the weed, ember lighting up your eyes in his. you leave the joint between his parted lips, opting to strip down as you walk towards the shower, hoping Joel had the mind to watch as you go.

your heart thuds in arousal and excitement when you hear his sharp exhale, still refusing to turn around as you leave the door slightly open once again. you and your innocent habit of leaving the bathroom door open when you shower.

you're relieved there's some fog over the glass door of the shower, but you take your time cleansing your hair, running soap over your face and then slowly, slowly lathering up your skin.

you can feel him watch the entire time.

his eyes are like a hawk's; you can see his shadow through the light of the bathroom, the ember of your joint glowing occasionally as your hands run over the wet planes of your skin.

your shaky fingers cascade down, over the skin of your stomach, lower until they just barely graze where you ache. it's like he's been waiting for you to finally start to touch yourself; just as your fingers find your slit, the amber of the joint is tamped, ashed on the windowsill.

you hum lowly as your fingers swirl through your velvet folds, so wet you're dripping onto your upper thighs as your head thumps against the wall.

"Joel," you let yourself whimper, eyes fluttering shut before opening again languidly.

Joel's footsteps are gentle as he slowly strides up to you; he lasted, admittedly, longer than you through this torturous game. through the glass, you see his tall frame and your legs quiver with desire - your aching cunt throbs as you move your hand over yourself, rinsing off the rest of the suds from your clean body as your fingers tease your bundle of nerves. your hips jolt; a choked moan from you as you slide the glass open slightly, cocking your head - "it's a shame you already showered," you mutter, fingers not ceasing as Joel's eyes rake over your naked for ravenously.

he leans on the doorframe to the bathroom, eyes stern as he takes in your silhouette through the fogged glass, slowly rolling over the curves of your body to meet your eyes with flames alit in his own.

"-it'd be nice to have some help." you shrug, gesturing to the bar of soap in your spare hand, eyes swimming with desire as your other hand continues the slow, torturous movements on your aching clit.

your eyes catch on his crotch; through the jeans, his cock is hard and straining already as if being stirred by just the sight of you, naked and whimpering for him in your shower.

"I know you've always liked a show, though, haven't you?" you tease, lifting a brow as you recall the night Joel'd first seen you shower.

his jaw ticks at your words but it's like something in his snaps; he wastes little time ripping his shirt off, his patience clearly gone as you bite your lip, stepping back for him as his jeans finally slide off.

his glowing, naked form crowds into your own as he slides into the shower with you. his eyes are sharp as his hand takes the soap from you; yet instead of running it over your skin like you'd hoped he would, he's tossing it to the side until it hits the wall of the shower and splinters into two.

you gasp slightly as his hand grips your neck, tugging you close. his cock is hard, tip glistening with beads of precum already as he presses to your lower stomach, his body glued to yours; his nose slides along the plane of your collarbone gently, the shower water pelting rolling off your meshed bodies like some sort of sick baptism.

"you smell clean, darlin'," he mutters against your kin, one hand sliding up to your scalp, threading through your hair. his tongue peeks out to lick a stripe up your throat. "taste clean, too-"

his hand tightens suddenly, tugging your hair until your head snaps up to him - his eyes are dark, face full of desire. "so why're you pretending you need my help?"

the condescension in his voice is intoxicating - your legs weaken, hands sliding up onto his hot skin under the water that cascades over him.

your throat dries as you swallow, eyes wide as a rush of arousal threatens to drip down onto your bare thighs.

his head tilts, "s'because you want to put on a show, 's that it?" he asks, voice condescendingly sweet as he once again tightens his grip. you whimper at the sweet feeling, nodding slightly.

he smiles against your neck before pulling away, "fine. you can give me a show. get on your knees." he hums, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. your head feels dizzy at the words he says and the sweetness of his kiss; the most delicious juxtaposition.

"a show." he chuckles to himself, shaking his head darkly. "gonna make you a goddamn star."

christ. your cunt squeezes around nothing, aching for him as his hands slide down to your shoulders. you nearly moan as he smirks, water cascading down his broad chest as he pushes you down; you sink to your knees, your wide eyes on his own as you move until you're close to his aching cock.

he stands, towering above you as the shower head sprays directly onto his back; water runs off the broad expanse of his chest and you follow the droplets as they smooth over his stomach, down over the sprinkling of hair that trails to the base of his dick. you swallow, heart thundering impatiently as you sit on your haunches, waiting anxiously for him to tell you what to do.

his brows raise, though, flush high on his cheeks from heat - or arousal - as he hums, "well?"

you blink at him in surprise as he shakes his head down at you, his own hand falling to pump his long cock in languid strokes, the skin so close to you that you can almost feel the heat. if you were to lean out, just a bit, to taste-

"christ, darlin' do I gotta tell you how to do everything?" he grunts, other hand cupping the back of your head, carding through your wet strands of hair as he tuts, "you were practically beggin' f'me earlier, now you're suddenly shy?"

your face blooms in heat, "no, sir, I just-" at your words, his eyes fall back and a groan echoes through your bathroom, "-just suck my cock, darlin' c'mon."

his impatience, desperation sends shivers down your spine and your mouth opens eagerly, tongue flattening as he slaps your tongue gently once, twice-

you're always surprised by the size of Joel - each time, it catches you off guard; the head of his cock breaches your lips and his pre-cum smears over your tongue; the taste of him has you keening forward, eager to feel him in you, filling you up.

"there you go, 's much better." he grunts, muttering as one hand slides around to hold your jaw. your eyes flutter up through your lashes and the falling shower water to stare at him, how big he is towering above you. his cock pushes into your warm mouth and you try your best to breathe through your nose, tongue sliding up the vein which reaches up towards his tip. his groan spurs you on and you gently start to bob your head, spit gathering at the sides of your mouth slowly as your knees press against the wet porcelain.

"you feel better like this, baby?" he mutters, your stomach tingling at his words. you can't nod - can't even make a noise as his hips slowly buck into you; you gag slightly and moan around his cock as it pushes to the back of your throat.

"fuck-" he grunts, one hand leaning forward to place against the wet shower tiles; he's crowding you, now, pressing you into the back of the shower as his body takes the brunt of the water and takes and takes from you.

anything Joel wants, he can fucking have it.

"that's it, sweetheart-" he grunts, "fuckin'- take me."

his hands grip yours, pulling them onto his thighs, muttering gently that if it's too much, you can slap his thigh; you nod, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes as you keen towards him again, hungry to feel him in your throat again.

your nails dig crescents into the meat of his thighs as he pushes your head right against the wall, fucking into your throat as his head tilts back. "tha's- right, look at you." he grunts, his lips parted as groans fall from his lip. the steam rises like tendrils from hell as you take Joel's length in your mouth, barely able to breathe in the most delicious way as he uses you. your spit trails over your chin and onto your bare chest as you stare up at him. one hand soothes over your forehead, wiping wet strands of hair plastered to your forehead, "you're a fuckin' star, baby."

you heat at his words, stomach swirling as you shift uncomfortably, cunt puffy and aching for relief.

your fingers grip onto him as he takes you in the shower, fucking your throat until you're dripping and aching and a writhing mess, his moans echoing around the empty home.

"water's cold." he grunts, pulling his cock from your lips; you, weakly, chase the heat of him as he leaves your mouth, gasping for air and coughing slightly.

he shuts off the water, suddenly, and you swallow as he turns back to you, eyes significantly softer than they'd just been; "somethin' wrong?" he teases, a dark smirk on his face as his eyes flicker to where your thighs press together to soothe the ache.

you grit your teeth, shaking your head, "jus' want you to touch me, sir." you mutter, face burning at the way Joel never ceases to reduce you to a whimpering mess.

he smiles one of those brilliant, radiant smiles.

"that's all you had to say, darlin'." he shrugs, "told you, if you just learn to ask for it nicely, I'll give it to you."

you shiver as you nod, taking his hand as he pulls you up off your sore knees, wrapping a towel around your form gently. he's so- commanding, yet still somehow keeping his kindness that often hides deep beneath his layers.

you can't tear your eyes away, though - even as Joel starts to walk towards your open bedroom - your hand stops him on his naked shoulder. "will you please fuck me?" you ask, voice stronger than you'd expected it to be.

his eyes flicker with something as he tilts his head, "right here?" he lifts a brow as his hand snaked over your neck to pull you flush against him once again. "y'gonna beg me to fuck you against the sink because you're too desperate for my cock to walk to the bed?" he whispers it into the shell of your ear; a shiver as you whine, eyes blinking up at him, "been waiting all day, Joel, stop fucking teasing me."

you notice your mistake too late; his jaw tenses as he bites down at the junction of your neck - you let out a sharp, whining moan as his teeth mark a love bite bright and center on your skin. "fuck- fuck, s-sorry, sir." you groan, eyes clenching shut in pleasure as his hands push you into the counter.

"bet you're fuckin' sorry." he mutters lowly as he pulls away from you, flipping you quick to bend you over the vanity of the sink. you gasp as the cool wet porcelain hits your breasts, your nipples hard and sensitive as a sharp smack lands on your ass.

"christ," he groans as you bend over, puffy lips soaked and glistening for him, "look at this pretty pussy."

you move your hips slightly and his hands grip onto your waist - "quit that." he snaps, hands resuming their exploring. he grazes over the backs of your thighs, up the expanse of your spine.

over your ass, groping and slapping, relishing in your small moans and sharp gasps. "don't move." he orders.

you sigh, head falling onto the sink as you nearly whimper - you're aching, throbbing as Joel teases you - "Joel," you whimper quietly, voice whiny and small.

"what's wrong, y'tired of being teased?" he asks, voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. your cheeks are hot as you groan, "please, need to feel you inside of me-"

he hums, smacking the flesh of your ass, "'f I don't warm you up you'll be sore, baby-" he tuts, "y'know I gotta get you ready."

"I don't care, I can take it- I like it, just-" you stutter, face heated as you nearly scream in frustration, unable to voice how badly you just want him inside of you.

he likes that - a thumb sliding over your cunt to spread your lips, exposing your pussy and ass to him as he hums. "too fuckin' eager, have to have my cock right now, 's that right?" he shakes his head with a dark smirk, hand teasing over your swollen lips as he nods, "yeah, s'alright, I'll give it to you whenever you ask."

"thank you," you wheeze, letting out a shaky sigh when Joel leans down, spitting directly onto your asshole, thumb sliding over the tight ring as he hums, "so desperate for me, couldn't even wait 'till we get back to town, could you? had to try an' fuck me right there in the woods." he doesn't wait for you to respond as he spits down again, this time the slick spit sliding down onto your seeping cunt. his hand leaves, replacing with the thick, teasing head of his cock.

you gasp, rising on your toes as the blunt tip of his dick spreads your cunt, teasing your clit before notching at your entrance. "gonna fill up every hole tonight, baby, y'gonna let me?"

you let out a whine, "fuck, yes, please." you nod, cunt fluttering around the tip of his cock.

the stretch is painful; you expected it, craved it - you let out an animalistic moan when he slides in a few inches. "oh-" you whimper, legs tensing as Joel kneads the flesh of your ass, pressing his bare chest to your spine as he mouths along the base of your neck, "relax, baby, so fuckin' tight-" he groans as he slides in slowly, "let me in, sweetheart, c'mon-"

a rush of arousal and he's fully seated within you, the sting of his cock in you subsiding as a growing desire mounts until you can't take it. "move- m-move, now, please." you rush, hips pushing back against Joel's impatiently.

"shit," Joel hisses as he pulls out of you slightly - a long, thick drag against your velvety cunt and you groan at the sweet bliss of being filled up. you moan as he thrusts forward, tip hitting the perfect spot that already, as his pace builds, has a simmering coil deep within you.

"thought- thought about it all day," you admit, hands finding purchase on the counter as he starts to fuck into you, your tits sliding as they press against the sink. "on the horse, thought abo-" you moan sharply as his thumb grazes over your asshole, spreading the slick and his spit around the tight ring. "fuck, sir- that feels good." you moan. he groans in response and the words fly from your lips - "you drive me crazy, so big, t-touching me all the time. dream about you filling me up- s-stuffing me full, even out in the woods-"

your words are too much for Joel, apparently, because his hand slaps over your mouth and his voice whispers, "sh-shut the fuck up, darlin', y'needa be quiet or I'm gonna finish before this even starts." he grunts, hips snapping into yours as he picks up the pace.

you whimper at his words, arousal gushing from you and coating his cock in your slick; the wet slapping of your bodies echoing through the bathroom. "fuck-" he drags out the word, fingers sliding over your lips to prod at your mouth, "here- suck, darlin' - there you go, good girl, that's right."

your tongue slides over his fingers, eyes fluttering closed as you feel his thumb breach your tight hole; a sudden rush of pleasure runs through you as it hits you - Joel's everywhere. he's filling you completely - his thumb slowly fucks your tight ring of muscle as his cock spears your cunt; his fingers, pressing down on your tongue as you whimper and moan around him.

a groan leaves his full lips; "fuck- look at me." he grunts, hand sliding up your throat to pull your jaw towards your reflection. "look at me, baby-" his fingers slide back into your mouth as your eyes meet the fire in his through the mirror.

"always tell me when you feel like this, 'kay?" he asks, brows stern as he rams his hips into you; his thumb fills you and fucks into you at a slower speed than his cock, sending searing pleasure through your entire body.

your flesh moves at the impact of his hips and you cry out as his cock hits the delicious spot inside you that curls your toes. his thumb slips from your ass and you whimper dejectedly; the full feeling subsiding slightly as his hand grips your tits, pinching your nipple as he hums in your ear. "don't want my pretty little slut feeling so needy all the time, right?" he mutters, nosing at your hair as he fucks into you with no abandon. your fingers clench to the sides of the sink as you let out a strangled, "yes, sir-"

"so if you use your words, I'll give you anything you want." he groans, hand smacking your ass as the other squeezes your jaw. you nod, agreeing with his words though his cock has rendered you nearly speechless. he hums in approval before muttering, "now you're goign to play with your clit until you cum."

you let your eyes roll back at the commanding tone as your hand snakes down to rub tight, blisteringly pleasurable circles over your bundle of nerves.

but it's immediately too much so soon; you're already so close to your orgasm that a jagged gasp falls from your lips, jumping at the feeling.

"no, 's too much," you moan, head falling back as your finger teases your clit, flames of pleasure licking up isnide you.

but Joel smirks, "why're you still doin' it, then?" he teases, cock hitting so deep and bruising that you think you may see stars.

you moan out, "w-wanna cum, wanna make you happy, Joel." you whimper, completely forgetting to call him sir; but you feel his brows furrow as a moan ripples from his lips - "y'makin' me real happy right now, darlin', look at you. fucked out on this old man's cock, doin' whatever I say, desperate and willing. you're perfect, aren't you?"

you shiver in pleasure at his praise, fingers shaking as you rub your clit, trying so hard not to ruin your orgasm by cumming too soon. his cock spears into you at a pace that will certainly bruise your hips; your breath is punched out of you, your gasps and moans painting the air.

"say it, baby." he orders, hand stroking your breast a staunch contradiction to his brutal pace. "tell me how perfect you are for me."

you wail, head falling back onto his broad, thick shoulder as he runs his mouth over your shoulder, nipping as he goes. you're out of breath - "p-perfect, I'm perfect for you Joel, fuck, don't stop. so good, so good-" you mumble, fucked out after only a few minutes.

he hums, nodding into you. "taught you well, didn't I? you're my perfect little star."

you nod, "yes, sir, thank you-" you squeal in pleasure as he strokes long and slow, pushing you nearly to the brink as your legs shake. you can't take it, though - your fingers stop their ministrations, shaking and burning as you pull away from your clit, so close from just his cock and-

a slap to your cheek as Joel's lips bite into your jaw, "put your fuckin' hand back right now. you don't stop 'till I tell you to."

you swallow shakily, shaking your head, "I can't- it's too much, I can't-"

"fine." he snaps, slapping your cheek again before one hand slips to grip hard at your shoulder, lifting one of your legs up onto the sink; his other hand snakes down to pinch your tortured clit and you scream as he grunts in your ear, "I'll do it myself."

he's unforgiving on your quivering cunt, barely able to stay upright as he pushes you down, your cheeks pressing to the cool counter as he pounds down into you, shooting you into a hurtling race towards your orgasm.

he brutally fucks into you in a blinding pace. you nearly scream as white-hot pleasure rips through you, your hands falling to the counter as he coaxes a mind-bending orgasm from you. you see white as you cum, pulsing and writhing over his cock as it spears into you, splitting you open.

"that's it, baby-" he lets out a loud moan, biting into your neck as he continues the brutal pace, "jesus- s'fucking tight, baby, can barely move-" his hands fall to your hips, using you as a fuck toy to finish himself off; you're still writhing with the ecstasy of the orgasm, relishing in the way his hands hold you.

"where're you gonna take me, baby?" he grunts, voice strained: he's so close.

you scramble, holding his hips as you nearly pass out - pleasure too much. "cum on my ass, please sir." you mutter, heat licking up your throat as the words come out.

he moans and pulls out of you suddenly, hand flying from your skin to his cock, a slick noise as he quickly tugs himself until hot spurts of his cum paint the skin of your ass. "pretty girl," he grunts to himself, "an' you're all mine."

you hum, moaning quietly as his thumb soothes over your skin, spreading his cum over your ass and pressing it slightly against your ass. your cunt flutters in arousal at the action and he hums, "y'like that, don't you, pretty girl?"

you nod as you let out a shaky sigh and he presses a kiss to your spine, "good." it's a whisper on your skin, a promise.

he's barely grabbed a towel to wipe his cum off your skin before you're turned around on jelly legs - his strong arms pull you in so fast you barely have a second to straighten out - he's nuzzling into your wet hair in a way that has your heart thumping and your throat dry.

his heart beats against your cheek, body warm, chest heaving along with yours.

heat, affection - they swirl in your chest as his bare body cradles yours. intimately.

your sweet skin is sticky with sweat when Joel comes to, out of the bliss of his and your orgasms.

he's just as sweaty as you, though the clean skin and foggy mirror have started to clear up. Joel nearly huffs a short laugh at the thought of taking yet another shower - christ knows the two of you are once again filthy - but he kind of likes it, in a way. a secret.

he brushes it off when he feels your fingers curl around his arm; he had barely noticed that he'd tugged you upright and right into his chest, holding you as tight as he could. for some reason, his mind reaches back to earlier in the evening, when he'd heard that branch - the fear, the panic that'd risen in him. he's not sure why, or at least, he won't think about it. you hadn't mentioned it, but he'd seen your hands shake and your eyes cloud with fear.

something for another time, because he has you warm and pliant and naked in his arms. he barely noticed how his lips press at your hairline; it's just... well, feels natural.

like you both need it.

"stay here, please." you ask meekly, quietly. the first words spoken in a minute; you're swallowing around the nerves and anxiety that crawl in your chest, he can tell. he feels them, too.

he's taken aback as he stares at you - you both have patrol again in the morning, is it not... aren't you going to get tired of him?

won't you find him annoying, or gross in the morning when he inevitably pulls you closer in his sleep, when the dreams are too real and he shoots up in bed?

the panic subsides as he stares into your warm eyes, hopeful, bashful. he smiles gently, biting through the smile in embarrassment at how willing he is to stay. he'd stay forever if you asked.

Joel nods through his surprise, though, his body and heart and head aching to lie with you once again, to feel the calmest sleep he's had in years.

"course, darlin', I'll..." he pulls you in closer, so he doesn't have to look at those damn eyes when he finally admits it -

"I'll stay as long as you want."

feedback welcome as always :') <3

#let's chat abt mr miller #joel tlou smut #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x you #joel miller the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel smut #joel x reader #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #the last of us (tv)#the last of us smut #pedro pascal smut

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cal-kestis · 1 year ago

Photo

HOW TO: Do a Motion Blur Transition Using Timeline or Frame Animation

Hi! Someone asked me for a tutorial on the transition effect in the second gif of this set (also featured in this set and the text on this set). So, here it is! This is one of the easiest and least tedious of the gif transition effects in my opinion — and I’m going to go over how to do it both in Timeline and Frame Animation (using the screencap method). Disclaimer: This tutorial assumes you have a basic understanding of gif-making in Photoshop.

PHASE 1: PREP

This phase applies to both the Timeline and Frames method!

1.1 – Prepare your caps. (New to gif-making? Check out my basic tutorial here!)

The key to this kind of gif is making sure your final gif, with all the transitions, won’t be too long or too big of a file to post (Tumblr’s limit is 10 MB).

If your gif is going to be big like mine (540x500px), you might want to keep your total frames between 50-60. I decided to try getting away with a whopping 70 frames total... because I like to test fate (spoiler: my final gif ended up being 9.6 MB 🙈). Since my gif is transitioning between two scenes, that means each scene was 35 frames.

If you aren’t doing screencaps like me, just make sure your clips are equal in length. And if you’re transitioning between more than 2 scenes (like the Mando example I linked at the beginning), you’ll have to use shorter clips/fewer frames per scene. In my Mando gif, each scene was 16 frames and my final gif was 64 frames.

1.2 – Crop, sharpen, color, etc. as you would. For this, since you’ll probably have 2 more more sets of coloring, just make sure your coloring is only being applied to the appropriate gifs. The way I do that is by aligning my adjustment layers with my gif as you can see in the screenshot in 1.3 below.

1.3 – Arrange your frames or clips. If you’re working in Timeline, drag the clips/layers of your second gif so they’re immediately after the ones of your first gif. I like to keep things separated in Groups:

Note: I’m keeping my text layers separate because I don’t want the motion blur to affect them. But if you wanted to make your text transition from one word to another, you can either follow the same steps I’m about to show you and apply them to your text layers, or simply merge your text layers with your gif and adjustment layers, so they can all get the motion blur filter applied to them!

If you’re working in Frames, simply paste the frames of your second gif after the frames of your first gif. Again, you can either keep your text separated or part of the motion blur.

METHOD: TIMELINE

T.1 – Divide the Timeline. Using the Scissors Tool, you’ll want to divide each gif so there are 3 small segments at the beginning and end. (3 is my go-to, however, for my Mando gif, I actually only did 2 segments because each section was already so short.)

Now there are two options for this:

OPTION 1: Simplest, 00:01 Seconds Each, Makes Duplicate Frames

You might be wondering, why on earth would I want duplicate frames? You wouldn’t, usually. But this method only causes the duplicates to happen on the blurred frames, so it’s not noticeable at all! However, if you’re like me (read: Type A) — just knowing there are duplicate frames may bother you. If that’s you, go to Option 2.

Each of these segments are the absolute smallest Photoshop will allow, a duration of 00:01.

Sometimes Timeline won’t let you cut things that short (for me, this typically only happens at the end of a clip). So my work around is to cut the segment so it’s 00:02 seconds long, then drag the clip until it’s as small as it can be. Here’s a gif showing that process:

You can see that after I dragged the clip so it would be 00:01, I also dragged the big clip over so it would still continue as normal. Timeline is neat because, even if you divide a clip, each segment can be dragged back to its full length.

OPTION 2: 00:02 / 00:01 / 00:02, No Duplicate Frames

Timeline works in a weird way... when you move forward one frame by clicking the right arrow, you don’t always see movement in your gif. And if you don’t line up the clips properly with the movement, it can create duplicate frames. The easy way to fix this is by making the 3 segments 00:02, 00:01, and 00:02 seconds respectively. This goes for the segments at the beginning and end.

You can see the duration of each segment and an example of how the gif doesn’t move on certain frames in this gif of my workspace:

T.2 – Apply the Motion Blur filter in varying distances or strengths. Now that we have all of our segments, it’s time to apply the blur. Motion Blur is under Filter > Blur > Motion Blur!

This is the window you’ll see when you click it:

Note the fields where you can change the angle and distance.

The angle is basically the direction in which you want the blurred effect to stretch. I always do 0 because I want my gifs to blur together horizontally — I just think it looks smooth. You can play around with it if you want to get a different effect!

The distance is what I like to refer to as the strength of the blur. But really, it’s distance because it’s how long the blurred effect is being stretched.

The rule of thumb here is to apply the filter in a gradation. The part at the beginning of one gif should go from strongest (greatest distance) to weakest (least distance). The part at the end of one gif should go from weakest to strongest.

I keep things easy to remember and do 20, 15, 10 for the beginning and 5, 10, 15 for the end. The reason the numbers aren’t the same is because I don’t want the end of Gif 1 (which is blurred 15px distance) to be the same as the beginning of Gif 2 (which is blurred 20px distance). If they’re the same amount of blur, I don’t think the transition looks as smooth.

Here’s my entire timeline and the strength of blur I used for each of the transitional clips:

T.3 – Export That’s it! Convert from Timeline to Frames, export your gif, and there you go!

Reminder, if you decided to do Option 1, you’ll have duplicate frames, and therefore more frames than you started out with when you initially imported caps.

METHOD: FRAMES

F.1 – Apply the Motion Blur filter in varying distances or strengths. In Timeline, we created segments. But in Frames, each frame acts as one of those segments — so we don’t need to divide anything. We can just get straight to the filter!

Now, disclaimer: the way I’m working with Frames right now is with the adjustment layers merged with the frames. I typically work in Timeline, so I colored in Timeline and then converted into Frames for this. However you work, just make sure the coloring from one part of your gif doesn’t affect the other part.

Anyway, here’s where to find Motion Blur again:

And here’s what the window will look like:

Now just apply the filter in increasing and decreasing degrees. In case you didn’t read the Timeline section, I’ll paste exactly what I said there:

Note the fields where you can change the angle and distance.

The distance is what I like to refer to as the strength of the blur. But really, it’s distance because it’s how long the blurred effect is being stretched.

Here are all my frames and the strength of the blur I used for each of the transitional frames:

Note: I wanted to mention again that I kept my text layers in a separate group and didn’t apply the transition to them:

F.2 – Export Finished! Easy peasy!

EXPORTING TIP

If you’ve read my other tutorials, you already know this tip — but since I’m part of Discord servers where members are encouraged to share embed links to their creations, I often rearrange the order of my frames before saving them. (This tip is also handy for making sure the best frame of your gif is visible for Tumblr users who turn off auto-playing gifs.) In this case, I made frame 27 my new frame 1 because I didn’t want my embed preview to look like a blurry gif. Everything will still be in the same order, but anywhere your gif is paused, the best frame will be displayed!

Anyway, that’s it! If you have specific questions about this tutorial, my ask box is open. Hope this helps! <3

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mischiefandlies · 2 months ago

Text

The answer to all your prayers

Loki x f!Reader

Masterlist

Notes: CRACK FIC!!! This was so much fun to write. Enjoy!

Warnings: Smutty with no actual smut. Mentions masturbating, but there's no real description. Also, Loki has a megapenis (we've all seen that gif, y'know what I'm talking about).

You were fresh out of college when you landed a job working as an apprentice technician for Stark industries. You were exceptional at physics and aerodynamics, so ended up working on the newest designs for an iron man suit Tony was working on. Due to your position, you had ended up becoming quite chummy with the avengers.

Pepper had recently been trying to set you up after hearing about your tragic love life. The truth of it was, you had been on a spree of first dates in college, but they had all been so disastrous you had sworn off dating until you were a little older and had enough time to actually go on dates properly. This, however, had left you a little inexperienced around… sex. You had been wanting to lose your V card for a while now, but knew that if anyone was going to take you to heaven and back, you wanted it to be someone you trusted. You weren’t up for playing hide the sausage with just anyone.

Enter Loki. A handsome devil (literally), hung like a horse (literally) with magic fingers (also literally). Loki may not have been worthy, but he certainly had a hammer and he knew how to swing it. He also had Ye Olde Viking charm, quick wit, and happened to be a fairly good friend of yours. The two of you had a habit of getting flirty, then backing off and letting nothing ever come of it. You'd been safely sat in the friendzone for quite a while.

Which was how you found yourself here- lying in your birthday suit, in your apartment in stark tower, dreaming about a certain tall dark and handsome norse god. You could imagine it all perfectly. How he’d slowly crawl over, kissing your lips, prising them open to invade your mouth with his tongue. He'd slowly work his way south, kissing your neck, collarbones, chest, then further south, until he reached your dripping-

DING DONG

Who the fuck is ringing your doorbell at this time of night? And why did it have to be just as you were mid wank?

DING DONG

You stumbled around in the dark, pulling your PJs back on, ready to give Tony a bollocking for knocking on your front door at twenty to midnight. You're hoping this will be a quick conversation so you get right back to the dirty fantasies about your coworker who had done nothing but make you More infatuated since you met him.

You open the door, and are met with…

“Loki!?”

He was looking incredibly dapper in that black suit, which you immediately dreamed about ripping to shreds in a state of feral horniness. If anyone could look like sex incarnate wrapped up in a gorgeous designer suit, it was him.

“Loki! What- er, what are you doing here?”

He smiles “I heard you.”

“What?”

He shakes his head slightly. “May I come in?”

“Yeah, sure. Sorry the place is a mess, I wasn’t expecting company, otherwise I would’ve made a-”

He cuts you off mid-sentence, pressing his lips to yours. You immediately kiss him back with all the fervour you can muster, until reality comes crashing down on you and you push him back. He keeps you close to him, refusing to let you out of his embrace even if he has stopped kissing you. When you finally get your breath back (you appeared to have been too busy sucking his tongue to breathe) you look him dead in the eye and ask

“What the fuck was that!?”

He smiles again. “I heard your prayer.”

“My… prayer?”

“Oh yes, angel,” he says. “You’ve been praying to me for weeks. It's like I'm in your thoughts all the time. It's been hard to concentrate in those dull meetings when all I can hear is your delicious fantasies in my head. And every night my darling- you really are obsessed, aren’t you?”

You are mortified. “Loki, I'm so sorry, I didn’t realise I was doing that. Really, I don’t know what I was thinking-”

“Shh love. There's no need to apologise. I find it all quite amusing. You are rather adventurous with your fantasies. But there’s one that you keep thinking about, isn’t there angel?” He waits for you to nod before continuing. “The one where I claim you. Where I am the first to have you. Where I make you mine.”

He pulls you tight against him, and bends down as if to kiss you. However, you are slightly distracted by the HUGE boner poking you in the thigh. You pull away slightly and glance down. There was a fucking great tent in Loki’s trousers. By Christ, how had you never noticed he was that big before? “Hold it Lokes. I don’t think mini mischief is gonna fit.”

He looks down at you, confused. “I beg your pardon?”

“Look, I’d love to be fucked into next Tuesday, but you’re putting the long in schlong, and I kinda need to be able to walk tomorrow.”

His eyebrows have risen to halfway up his forehead now. “Is it normal for humans to speak in riddles before intercourse?”

“All I’m saying is your bellend is going to end me. You can’t go cave diving if you don’t fit in the cave.”

He rolls his eyes, and covers your mouth with his hand. “Darling, I have no idea what your saying. Yes or no, do you want to have sex with me?”

“Well, yes, but-”

You can’t finish your sentence because Loki has thrown you over his shoulder (giving you a spectacular view of his arse) and marches the two of you to the bedroom, setting you gently on the bed.

“Now my dear, I believe as a benevolent god, I am obligated to make all your prayers come true.”

“Loki?”

“Yes love?”

“You didn’t see all my prayers, did you?”

He looks down at you with a wolfish grin.

You are so fucked (literally).

The gif from earlier btw:

#loki x y/n #loki x reader #loki fic #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki #mcu loki #loki x f!reader #loki x female reader #tom hiddelston loki #tom hiddleston

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a-court-of-fics-and-errors · 5 months ago

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Keep Moving Forwards, Part 35

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Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 7.2K - This definitely could have been split into multiple parts but I started foaming at the mouth and have no self control.

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

Additional Note: You may have noticed that I’ve replaced all the images in previous parts with GIFs or photos linked to their original sources. A friend was helping me with the original images and I later found out they were primarily using AI-generated content. To support independent artistry, I’ve decided to remove those images and replace them with original works that include links to the sources. This decision aims to combat the negative impact AI can have on artists and creators. I apologize for the earlier oversight and will ensure to uphold artistic integrity going forward.

Three days. Three days in the House of Wind with just Azriel. The thought was exhilarating and a little terrifying, as you pondered the possibilities of what those days might hold. Azriel did have his personal home in Velaris, the Town House, but since your return, he had essentially relocated his life to the House of Wind to be near you. Now, you had three days of isolation with him, or so you thought.

Nesta paced about your room, her bare feet whispering against the plush blue carpet. You sat cross-legged on the bed, clutching a pillow in your lap as you watched her braided hair slowly unravel and the tension radiating from her every step.

“Why did I do that? That was so stupid,” she muttered, her eyes flicking anxiously around the room.

“Nesta, you have to tell him,” you said softly, your voice steady but gentle.

“I could have waited longer, and now I’ve put myself in this situation,” she groaned, rubbing her temples as she sank into the chair in the corner, her fingers tracing erratic circles on her skin.

“How long did you think you could hold off?” you asked, knowing the answer was not much longer.

“Longer than this! Longer than this weekend.” She huffed, her fingers now digging into her scalp.

“Do you really not want to go?” you asked, watching as she chewed her lower lip, avoiding your gaze.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled, her eyes darting to the floor.

You leaned back against the headboard, drawing your knees up. “You know, it’s probably going to be a little strange, given you asked to stay at the cabin and now you’re the one backing out.”

Nesta sighed. “I can’t back out now,” she said, her voice wavering, as if she were trying to convince herself more than you.

“You could always figure out a reason not to go,” you suggested, half-heartedly.

She peered up, her brows raised slightly as though the idea were preposterous. “Like what?”

You hesitated, knowing you shouldn’t encourage her reluctance, but the desperation in her eyes made you ignore your better judgment. “You could say you don’t feel well.”

Nesta scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Yeah, like that won’t raise more questions.”

“Or you could say you just don’t want to go. That you’re not feeling up to it,” you offered, rolling your eyes slightly.

She leaned forward, burying her face in her hands, rubbing them up and down as a groan escaped her. “I can’t back out,” she finally sighed, leaning back again, “I need to just get it out there. I can’t hide from it if he’s standing right in front of me.”

“To be fair, he’s been standing in front of you for the last week, and you’ve been avoiding it,” you pointed out, your tone light but with a hint of sarcasm.

Nesta’s glare could have melted stone, her eyes sharp and venomous. “That’s different,” she snapped, before her hand unconsciously moved to rest on her womb, a tender touch to the life growing inside her. She turned to gaze out the tall windows overlooking Velaris, her eyes like reflecting pools of fear, guilt, and perhaps hope.

You observed her quietly, noting the new radiance pregnancy seemed to give her. Despite her worries, her skin glowed with a renewed vitality, her eyes, though filled with uncertainty, shone brighter, and her hair had gained a lustrous fullness. It was remarkable how quickly pregnancy transformed her. Your thoughts drifted to your own mother, wondering if she too had experienced that early glow, if she had known about her pregnancy at four months, or if you had been a secret she kept even from herself for as long as she could.

You tried to pull yourself from that daydream, reminding yourself that your mother was more a figment of your imagination than a memory. It felt childish to pretend she was anything more. “Nesta,” you began gently, “I can’t say I know exactly how you’re feeling.” Her eyes flicked to you, her finger tracing her lips absently. “And I won’t say everything’s going to be okay because, well, we both know that’s a promise I can’t keep.” Nesta’s delicate finger paused on her lower lip, her other hand pressing gently on her stomach as you continued, “But carrying all this stress alone,” you gestured to her, “it’s not good for you or the babe.”

Nesta’s eyes hardened, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. “Cassian wouldn’t want you to go through this by yourself,” you added softly.

Her gray eyes, clouded with grief, locked onto yours. You could see the inner struggle, the battle between her fear and the need to share her burden. Silver began to line her eyes, the tears she fought to hold back shimmering like tiny stars.

“It’s okay to be scared,” you whispered, leaning forward from the headboard. “It’s okay to worry about the worst and try to prepare for it.” As a single tear escaped down her flushed cheek, you added, “But it’s also okay to feel joy about this. To celebrate. This is a big deal, Nesta—this is amazing.”

She sniffled, her attempts to brush away the tears only making them fall faster. You offered a reassuring smile. “Enjoy these moments with Cassian. He’d want to share this with you.”

Nesta nodded, her tears now flowing freely despite her efforts to contain them. She sniffed, her smile watery but genuine. “What about you? Plan for this weekend?” she asked, clearly eager to shift the focus. ”

You looked down, rubbing your hands over your thighs, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “Not sure what you mean,” you muttered.

A crooked smile tugged at Nesta’s lips. “Three days alone with Azriel,” she reminded you, her voice laced with teasing.

You nodded, still fighting the blush spreading across your face and, perhaps, a few other places.

“No big plans?” she pressed.

You shook your head, “Nope. Nothing formal.”

“How’s everything going with Azriel?” she inquired, her tone growing more earnest.

You glanced up at her. “You mean with me and Azriel?”

She nodded, her gaze intent.

“It’s good. Things are good,” you said, your voice trailing off as you tried to keep your composure.

Nesta let a silence settle between you, her smile turning knowing, almost cheeky.

“What?” you asked, finally meeting her gaze.

Nesta shook her head, crossing one leg over the other casually. “Just seems like you two are enjoying each other's company a lot.”

“Yeah,” you admitted. “We do like spending time together.”

“A lot of time,” she added, her eyes twinkling.

You glanced at her, your cheeks burning. “We get along.”

Nesta’s catlike eyes gleamed with amusement. “You know, I’ve never seen Azriel look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

You didn’t respond, but her words struck a chord, making your heart race.

“It’s like he can sense when you’re about to enter the room and drops everything just to see you first,” she continued.

You shrugged, trying to deflect. “Isn’t that part of his job? To be observant?”

“Sure, but he doesn’t get that goofy smile for just anyone,” she teased.

You knew the smile she meant—the half grin Azriel couldn’t seem to suppress. You wanted to dismiss it as Nesta reading too much into things, but deep down, you couldn’t ignore that Azriel had confessed his feelings to you. Feelings he said he hadn’t even realized he had until you came along.

“So?” Nesta prompted, her voice light yet probing.

“So what?”

“So things are going very well then?” she asked, her question thinly veiled as a statement.

“Yes,” you admitted. “Things are going well.”

“And things…” she raised her eyebrows suggestively, “down south?”

Your eyes widened in shock.

“Oh come on,” she groaned, her hands slapping her thighs in exasperation. “You read as many of those smut books as I do. Give a girl some details.”

You laughed lightly, embarrassed but amused by her persistence.

“You know the boys have a joke about wingspan being related to… other sizes?” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

You looked down at your hands, “No, I didn’t.”

“Mhm, and Azriel always goes oddly quiet when they bring it up.”

You giggled, making Nesta’s grin widen. “So… it’s good?” she pressed.

You shook your head, still laughing. “I wouldn’t know.”

Nesta’s face fell slightly, confusion clouding her features. “Wait, you mean you haven’t-?”

You shook your head, meeting her gaze. “We haven’t. Not yet.”

“But he’s been in your bed for months!” she exclaimed, a note of desperation in her voice.

You shrugged, feeling a mix of awkwardness and honesty. “We just,” you paused, “We haven’t gotten there yet.” And now pink rose to your cheeks for a different reason.

Nesta broke her gaze, her own face flushing with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

You cut her off gently, “No, it’s okay. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t thought about it.”

Her interest sparked again, though she still looked cautious. “Have you two talked about it at all?”

You pulled the pillow closer to your lap, your fingers nervously tracing nonexistent frays. “Not really.”

You’d shared more of your past with Nesta than with anyone else, down to the painful details you tried to bury. Her voice, gentle and filled with concern, asked, “Are you ready for that?”

You kept your eyes fixed on the pillow. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with,” she began, her tone careful, “but I guess I just want to know if you’ve been intimate like that with anyone other than… him.”

A shudder ran through you at the thought of the 'him' she referred to, memories of past pain and harsh touches flooding back. “No,” you replied softly. “Not fully.”

Nesta nodded, understanding. “Do you think you’d want to try?”

You considered her question. Your body responded intensely to Azriel, your stomach fluttering at the thought of him, and his touch sent electric shocks through you. Physically, you were more than ready for something beyond mild petting. But those memories were powerful, and they had interfered before. They had with Kai, where attempts at intimacy had often triggered terrible flashbacks, forcing you to stop. Now, knowing that moments of vulnerability could open a line to Caelum, you worried if you could ever enjoy intimacy without the fear of what might slip through the bond. You looked up at Nesta, your voice trembling slightly, “I don’t want to go my entire life without being close to someone like that.”

Nesta gave you a gentle smile. “I think we both know that Azriel would understand.”

You returned a tight-lipped smile. You wanted to believe he would understand, that maybe he would even forgo that aspect if you asked. But then you thought of his skin against yours, the longing you felt for him, and the dream of a life you wanted, one that included closeness and a future you couldn’t have if you couldn’t be that intimate.

Nesta’s voice softened, almost a whisper. “I know it��s a little hypocritical, but,” she met your eyes, “just talk to him.”

She smiled softly, and you found yourself smiling back. You chucked the pillow across the room at her. She laughed, a bright sound that echoed through the room, and you laughed too. It felt good to laugh like that, to share a moment of joy with her, a moment that just felt normal.

—

Nesta made good on her word, and when the morning finally came for her and Cassian to set off, she did so with a determined gleam in her eyes. When she hugged you goodbye, she lingered a bit longer than usual. You couldn’t tell if the prolonged embrace was for her or you, or perhaps for both—a silent recognition of a weekend that might have you both coming back changed.

As for Azriel, he missed the departure, having been called to the River House by Rhysand early that morning. He’d roused you slightly as he pressed a kiss to your temple, urging you to go back to sleep, promising he’d return before Nesta and Cassian left. Apparently, that hadn’t been the case. You didn’t know when he’d come back, but as you wandered through the hall, hands mildly dirty from prepping the rooftop garden for overwintering, you paused by the library, rocking back on your heel as you saw the outline of wings.

Peeking through the entrance, you found Azriel at the writing desk, his hand pressed to his temple, his leg bouncing under the table. His boot squeaked softly on the floor as shadows curled around his feet like restless cats.

“Hey,” you chirped cheerfully, stepping into the room.

Azriel started slightly at your voice, turning to you with a surprised smile. “Oh, hey!” he replied, that goofy grin lighting up his face.

You walked over, wiping your hands on the small towel you'd brought with you before tucking it into your back pocket. “Where have you been?” you asked, leaning your hips against the desk, your body angled towards him.

Azriel’s hazel eyes, sparkling with mischief, met yours. “Got caught up with Rhys,” he said, leaning back in the chair, his hands interlocking behind his head, causing his biceps to flex slightly.

“Everything okay?” you asked, arching a brow, noticing the way his eyes seemed to brighten at the sight of you.

He cleared his throat, his posture relaxed yet commanding. “Yeah, yeah, fine.” But his tone betrayed a hint of uncertainty.

Deciding to trust that, like Nesta with Cassian, Azriel knew what he was doing, you chose not to pry into matters beyond your reach. Instead, you nodded, and his eyes flicked to your hands.

“You’ve been busy,” he noted, gesturing towards your fingers.

You glanced down, seeing dirt still peppered under your nails. You began to dig them out, a sheepish smile crossing your face. “Oh, yeah. Elain had me prepping the soil for overwintering, but I might have gotten a bit carried away.”

Azriel chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I don’t know how you manage it, but it seems like every time you walk away from me, you come back covered in grime.”

Feigning offense, you scoffed, ��Okay, well, every time you leave, you come back smelling like actual shit and death.”

“I’m talking about leaving you alone for five minutes, and you come back like that,” Azriel countered, his grin widening.

You shrugged, a playful glint in your eyes. “What can I say? I like dirt.”

“Dirty girl,” he purred, his tone taking on a teasing edge.

Heat crept up your cheeks as you looked away, biting your lower lip to suppress a smile. “Gross,” you replied, though a laugh slipped through.

Azriel’s laugh was a low rumble as he stretched back in his chair, his wings flaring slightly. His black shirt rode up, revealing the tantalizing V-lines that disappeared beneath his waistband, along with a glimpse of his defined abs. You tried to keep your gaze on his face, but your eyes betrayed you, flicking down for just a moment.

As he straightened, catching the way you looked at him, Azriel’s smirk deepened. “Enjoying the view?”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the blush threatening to deepen. “Don’t flatter yourself, Shadowsinger.”

His chuckle was warm, and his eyes sparkled with teasing affection as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a soft, intimate murmur. “I think I already did.”

You rolled your eyes as you pushed off the desk, catching Azriel’s eyes trailing your hips as you walked away. It seemed he might have been entertaining thoughts of potential weekend activities himself. Letting yourself flop backward over the couch, you landed with a thud on your back, legs dangling lazily over the backrest. “Plans for the rest of the day?” you asked, casually picking at the dirt caked under your nails.

“Actually,” he replied, “I was wondering if you might be willing to do something for me.”

Your ears perked up just as you pulled a piece of your nail off completely, hissing slightly as a small bead of blood welled up in the tiny wound. “What is it?” you inquired, pressing your thumb to the spot.

“I have to meet someone from the Summer Court this afternoon.” Your heart sank a little, imagining Azriel’s weekend filling up with more responsibilities. “But I was supposed to pick up something from a shop in the city. If I drop you off, would you mind getting it? I can swing by and pick you up on my way back.”

You flipped your legs over the back of the couch, peering up over the crest of the sofa to meet Azriel’s eye. “Sure,” you agreed, though your voice lacked enthusiasm.

Azriel’s face relaxed, and the tension that had coiled around him when you walked in seemed to dissipate. “That would be fantastic, thank you.”

You smiled lightly, “Just let me clean up first,” you said, scooting off the couch.

“Thank the gods,” Azriel replied with mock relief. “I was worried I’d have to carry you down there smelling like dirt and sweat.”

As you walked out, you stuck your tongue out at him over your shoulder. He laughed, leaning back in his chair again, and you had to stop yourself from turning around to admire the view.

“Careful, you might catch flies,” Azriel called after you, his tone teasing.

You snorted, waving him off as you headed to clean up.

—

When you finally finished getting dressed after your shower, you opened the door to find Azriel standing across the hall. You jumped slightly, hand flying to your racing heart. “Gods, Azriel! We need to get you a bell or something.”

Azriel smirked lightly. “Ready to go?” He seemed anxious, perhaps pressed for time, though he hadn’t exactly given you any.

“Now?” you asked, blinking in surprise.

Azriel glanced around in confusion. “Yes?”

“Oh, okay. That’s fine.” You opened the door wider as Azriel crossed the hallway, tossing you your jacket from the front entry hall.

It seemed he’d been waiting on you—how long, you had no idea. He threw open the balcony doors, letting the cool air rush in, a sharp reminder that winter was on its way. Azriel smiled over his shoulder, extending a scarred hand to you. “You haven’t told me what I’m getting for you yet,” you noted, taking his hand. He scooped you up under your knees, cradling you close as his wings took a few powerful flaps, lifting off the marble floor. Your stomach flipped at the quick descent down the mountainside.

“I wrote the address down for you. Just give them my name,” he said, the wind biting at the tips of your ears.

You furrowed your brow. “You’re not going to tell me what I’m picking up?”

Azriel glanced down at you, his smile widening. “What? You don’t trust me?”

You gave him an incredulous look. “Not even a hint?”

“Okay,” he responded, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Just trust me on this one. It’s nothing bad.”

“I’m not collecting the head or fingers of your enemies?” you joked.

Azriel chuckled, the sound reverberating through his chest. “That would be an errand I’d want to handle myself.”

“So it’s you who doesn’t trust me?” you countered playfully.

“I wouldn’t want to miss out on the fun,” he replied, smirking.

“Gross.”

“You love that word today, don’t you?”

“When I look at you, it’s the first word that comes to mind,” you shot back, your face breaking into a smile.

Azriel landed gracefully on a deserted sidestreet. “I’ll be back in about an hour,” he said, pulling a piece of parchment from his pocket. “Here.” He handed it to you, leaning in to place a light kiss on your temple.

You opened the paper, squinting at his neat, thin handwriting. No name of the building, but you recognized the street. “So I can’t know what I’m picking up or where I’m going?” you asked, looking up at him.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m going to be late. Consider it a trust exercise. Do you know where it is?”

“Well, I don’t know what ‘it’ is, but I do know where it is,” you replied.

“One hour. I’ll meet you there.”

You watched as he shot back up into the sky, wondering why, if he was meeting you there, he dropped you off a good fifteen-minute walk from your destination. But again, trust. So instead of calling out to question him, you sighed and began your trek through the city, shaking your head with a bemused smile.

Local shops were already setting out items for Winter Solstice gifts, the streets adorned with twinkling lights and festive decorations. Your heart ached a bit, reminded of how different your life had been just a year ago. For a moment, you wondered if you had moved on too quickly from everything that had happened. You shook the thought away; dwelling on others’ perceptions of your healing wouldn’t help. Or at least, that’s what you tried to remind yourself.

You knew the shortest route to this particular street cut through the city near the entry gate, but the memories there were too sharp to face today. So, you opted for a longer, winding path, adding about ten minutes to your walk. The detour gave you a moment to breathe, to let the festive atmosphere seep in without the weight of the past pressing down too hard.

When you finally reached the correct street, you followed the numbers until you stood in front of a small bakery. The sweet scents of fresh breads and pastries swirled out from under the door, mingling with the crisp winter air. You rechecked the address Azriel had given you. This was definitely the place. Stepping up to the front door, your mouth watered at the sight of cranberry tarts with their crystalline sugar gleaming in the window, boxes of dark chocolates overflowing with cream, ganache, and fruit, and cakes delicately frosted with winter themes of ice and snow.

The bell above the door chimed softly as you entered, the warm, cozy interior a sharp contrast to the chill outside. Your eyes adjusted to the dim, inviting light, and you noticed a few other patrons standing in front of the large glass counter, debating their purchases. You approached the rather plump, cheery-eyed male at the register.

“Hi,” you greeted as he smiled down at you. “I’m here to pick up something for Azriel.”

“Oh!” The male’s eyes lit up with recognition. He nodded and disappeared into the back of the bakery. You must have been in the right place. While you waited, you watched a female baker behind the counter delicately package pastel macarons into a cellophane box, her hands flying yet precise as she tied a pastel blue ribbon over the top.

The male reappeared, holding a small white box secured with red twine. He handed it over the counter with a broad smile. You thanked him, looking down at the box with curiosity, slightly disappointed that you couldn’t see its contents like the macarons on display.

Given that the sun was beginning to set, you figured you didn’t have much time left before Azriel would come to retrieve you. With the mystery box in hand, you crossed the street and sat on a bench, pulling your jacket tighter around you as you watched fae bustle by.

A few small children barreled down the street, chasing each other and giggling wildly. They stopped in front of the bakery, pressing their noses to the glass, their eyes wide with longing for the delectable treats inside. You watched as the female baker inside noticed their hungry faces. She smiled warmly at them, exchanged a few words with the male baker, and then disappeared into the backroom.

Moments later, she emerged with a white paper bag and stepped outside, beckoning the children closer. They approached cautiously, eyes alight with excitement. She handed them the bag, her smile radiant as she reminded them to share.

The children eagerly took the bag from the baker, nearly ripping it as they peered inside. Their eyes lit up with delight as they distributed various cookies and candies among themselves. You smiled, remembering how, when you were young, the baker Henri used to give you scones that hadn’t sold the day before. A memory that once included your mother, now replaced by Titania. There was something comforting about these children, nearly a century later, still engaging in the same rituals. Adults continuing to offer sweets from the kindness of their hearts, expecting nothing in return but a smile and the hope that these children might someday pass on the same acts of kindness.

You heard footsteps crunching on the sidewalk next to you and looked up to see two large, winged shadows approaching. Azriel’s face was partially obscured by the late afternoon sun. He took a seat next to you, crossing his legs casually and draping his arms over the backrest of the bench, one foot jostling slightly.

“Hey,” you greeted, moving the box to the other side of you.

“Hi,” he replied, his warm smile melting away the chill in your bones.

“All set?” you asked. He nodded. “How did it go?”

His face conveyed a sort of nonchalance, his mouth twitching slightly downward but not quite frowning. “Fine,” was all he said, shrugging. “How was your little errand?” He cocked an eyebrow, glancing at the white box.

You handed him the box, feeling its light weight in your hands. “Fine, I think.”

Azriel took the box from you, untying the twine and turning slightly away to examine the contents. You strained to see over his shoulder, but one large wing blocked your view.

“If all you wanted were pastries, why be so secretive?” you scoffed, amused, as he replaced the lid and turned back to you with a cheeky grin.

He rolled his eyes. “Can’t a male have a little fun?”

You huffed, your eyes scanning his face. There was something about his presence you couldn’t quite place. The look of hesitation behind his eyes, the continuous bouncing foot, and the odd secrecy made you think Azriel might be nervous about something. But what, you couldn’t quite figure out.

“Ready to go?” he asked quickly, standing and adjusting his jacket. You watched him, taking the hand he extended to you, agreeing quietly while complaining slightly about the cold. He just called you a crybaby in response.

The two of you walked through the streets, searching for a quieter sidestreet where Azriel could fully stretch his wings for takeoff. When you finally found one, he picked you up gracefully, asking you to hold the pastry box, which you obliged. The entire flight home, you debated just opening the lid for a peek inside.

As you landed back on the marble balcony, Azriel gently placed you on your feet. You adjusted your top, smoothing the fabric with a quick tug, while he reached for the double doors and swung them open, reclaiming the white pastry box from you. The warm glow of the fire beckoned from within, its gentle crackling drawing you closer. You shrugged off your jacket, tossing it casually onto the bed as you entered the room.

“Thanks,” Azriel’s voice followed you. “For doing this for me.”

You gave a nonchalant shrug, flopping down onto the plush bed, your arms stretching upwards as you tried to ease the ache in your muscles. “No worries.” You expected Azriel to make a swift exit, eager to tackle the next task on his agenda, but he lingered. Standing near the double doors, his eyes stayed on you, a quiet intensity in his gaze.

Lifting your head off the bed, you noticed his prolonged stare. Feeling a bit self-conscious, you asked hesitantly, “Everything okay?”

Azriel snapped out of his reverie, his scarred finger tracing the twine of the pastry box absentmindedly. “Yeah, it’s fine,” he replied shortly, a touch of awkwardness in his voice. “Dinner?”

At his offer, you sprang up from the bed with eagerness. “Yes! I’m starving,” you exclaimed, your voice edged with a playful whine.

Azriel’s lips twitched into a soft, fleeting smile, the sound of a light laugh escaping him. As he started towards the door, you stumbled over your own feet, trying to kick off your boots in a rush. You fell into him, face-first against his chest, his warm laughter rumbling through you and making your stomach flutter. “Careful,” he chuckled, steadying you with a gentle hand.

“Sorry,” you murmured, pushing back slightly, your hands pressing against the hard muscle of his chest. You glanced up, your chin hovering mere inches from where your fingers rested.

Azriel’s gaze softened, his other hand still clutching the pastry box. With a slight nod, he led you out of the bedroom and down the hallway towards the kitchen. Normally, you and Nesta or Azriel would eat casually around the kitchen island, but tonight was different. Azriel walked past the kitchen doors, his pace quickening with a hint of excitement.

You paused in front of the kitchen, a confused look crossing your face. “Aren’t we eating?” you asked, glancing towards the familiar island.

Without stopping or turning back, Azriel urged, “Come on,” his tone carrying a trace of anticipation.

Puzzled but intrigued, you followed him, your stomach rumbling in sync with your growing curiosity. As you trailed behind him through the sunken living room and past the cozy library, you realized he was leading you towards the grand dining room. A room you had only seen used for formal family dinners hosted by Nesta.

Azriel reached the doorway, his imposing wings nearly filling the large frame. Turning to face you, his smile broadened, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

You couldn’t help but smile back, still trying to decipher his peculiar behavior. Azriel pushed open the door, stepping aside with a radiant, cheeky grin that made your heart skip a beat.

As you stepped through the doorway, Azriel trailing behind, your breath caught in your throat. In the center of the grand dining room, which typically housed a vast, imposing table fit for large gatherings and entertaining, stood a much smaller, more intimate table, set elegantly for two.

The table was adorned with an elegant lace tablecloth, its intricate patterns catching the flicker of candlelight. Candles were placed strategically around the room, their soft, golden glow dancing off the walls. The centerpiece was a lush arrangement of flowers, the key flowers being purple hyacinths—your favorites.

Your eyes were immediately drawn to the exquisite spread laid out on the table, a feast of your favorite dishes, each more mouthwatering than the last. Golden roast chicken, perfectly seasoned with a medley of colorful, caramelized vegetables, parsnips, and baby potatoes crisping in the tray. A bowl next to it held bright, emerald-green steamed asparagus drizzled with a cream sauce, a favorite that Titania used to make for you as a child, you had recently learned. Sautéed mushrooms and wild rice pilaf made your mouth water, and a few freshly baked rolls, still warm from the oven, rested in a basket lined with a blue towel.

You stood there, momentarily stunned by the sheer meticulous effort placed on each part of the room and table. You couldn’t conceive of any other food on the table that wasn’t one of your favorites, as though someone had crawled into your mind, into your childhood, and handpicked out the moments you held with reverie. Azriel came to stand next to a chair, pulling it out slightly as you approached.

“Az, this is—” you stammered. “How did you—?”

Azriel merely chuckled as you took your seat, sliding it in behind you, then crossing around, pouring a sparkling purple wine into a crystal-clear glass and passing it to you.

“This is,” the words couldn’t even come to your mouth as you took the glass, staring down at the food in front of you. “This is insane.”

Azriel poured himself a glass, swirling it lightly as he gazed across at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement as you tried to get your mouth to close from awe. He took a light sip from the cup, the first taste hitting his palate as his face scrunched up, eyebrows drawing together and then widening in surprise before narrowing into discomfort. He peered into the glass, mildly confused, and then slowly processed the unexpected saccharine assault on his taste buds, followed by a sharp exhale through his nose. “This is so sweet,” he said, shoulders and wings rising in an involuntary shudder.

You looked down into your own glass, the sweet aroma of blackberries filling your nostrils as you took a tentative sip. You were greeted with an intense burst of blackberry flavor, as if a handful of the plumpest berries had been freshly crushed, the taste rich and succulent with small hints of dark chocolate and vanilla coating your throat. You almost moaned in sensual delight. Your eyes shut as you melted into your chair. You finally managed to moan out, “This is delicious.”

Your eyes fluttered open to see Azriel swirling the wine in his glass, peering into it with his mouth pulled up in a sneer as though a fly had landed in it. “Oh come on,” you said, taking another sip.

Azriel’s eyes flicked back to you, his sneer growing more exaggerated. “You actually like this stuff?”

“What about it don’t you like?” you asked, your tone slightly accusatory.

“It tastes like pure sugar,” he responded flatly.

“No, it doesn’t! It tastes like blackberries.”

“Blackberries that have been coated in sugar.” He glanced into it again, “There’s probably one blackberry for three cups of sugar.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against your chair as you took another delectable sip, eyes shutting again as you felt the warmth of the wine trickle down your throat. You hadn’t had this kind of wine since—

Your eyes shot back open as Azriel tried another sip, the same reaction flying from him. “How did you know I liked blackberry wine?”

Azriel seemed to pause in stillness as he gulped down his drink. “Lucky guess?” he offered.

You shook your head, leaning forward. “You were spying on me,” you said, eyes narrowing.

Azriel’s own eyes went hollow as he considered the best way out of this situation. “I wasn’t intending to.”

You laughed lightly, “So your shadows just followed me around on their own accord?”

At that, you felt the cool breeze around your ankle as one shadow skirted past you. “To be fair,” Azriel offered, “they are fond of you.”

Your gaze turned into a glare as Azriel tried to dig himself out. He placed his glass on the table, leaning his elbows onto it, eyes lined with sincerity. “Look, it was right after you left, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“So how long were you watching me?” you asked, slightly more forcefully.

Azriel’s palms faced upward. “Only until it seemed you and Kai were getting more serious.” He paused. You scanned his face for any sign of deception but found none. Only pure sincerity. “Once you seemed like you had someone to rely on, I stopped.”

You leaned back, calming yourself again. In truth, you weren’t too upset that it seemed Azriel had been pining after you much longer than you had thought. Not to mention that knowing there was someone watching over you who wasn’t your mate allowed you to breathe a bit of a sigh of relief. You picked up the glass, swirling it so the sweet wine scent hit your nose again, breathing it in deeply.

“So you’ve seen me drunk?” you asked, taking another sip, eyes heavy as you cocked a brow at Azriel.

Azriel chewed his lower lip, trying to contain a slight smile playing at his lips. “Perhaps,” he offered back.

You quickly tried to sift through your memories, wondering about the things you had said or done that might now cause some embarrassment. “You’re giggly when you’re drunk,” Azriel remarked, a playful glint in his eye.

You set your glass down on the table, leaning forward as he carved a piece of chicken for you, placing it on your plate. The warm juices from the pan flowed onto the dish, tantalizing your senses. “And what are you like?” you inquired, arching a brow.

Azriel let out a breathy laugh as he served himself. You grabbed the tongs, dishing asparagus onto both your plates. “I haven’t gotten drunk in a long time.”

You handed over the tray to him as he passed you the rolls. “How long is a long time?”

Azriel pondered for a moment, setting the pan back down on the table. “Half a century?” he responded, sounding like he was questioning his own memory.

You picked up your fork, eyeing him with a smirk. “Sometimes I forget you’re ancient,” you quipped, taking a bite of the chicken. The savory sauce melted in your mouth, making you moan with delight.

Azriel rolled his eyes. “It stops being important once you turn one hundred.”

You opened your eyes again, taking another greedy bite. “That’s what someone who’s too old and boring to get drunk would say,” you teased.

“I got my days of heavy drinking out of the way before I took on one of the most important roles in the Night Court,” he countered, leaning back. “It’s not exactly a good look to be falling all over yourself in front of those in power.”

You scoffed, “Cassian seems to have no problem with it.” It’s true, Cassian seized every opportunity to get absolutely sloshed at formal events, often challenging other warriors to drinking contests.

“Let’s not use Cassian as our standard for formality,” Azriel replied with a chuckle. “But when I used to get drunk, I’m told I got rather chatty.”

You almost choked on your food. “Chatty?” you questioned, wide-eyed.

Azriel flicked his eyes at you from under his brows as he took a bite. “Is that surprising?”

You shrugged, chewing a bit more carefully this time. “Chatty with everyone? Or just the people you know?”

Azriel leaned back in the chair, his wings casually lounged behind him. “According to Rhys and Mor, everyone.”

The thought of Azriel being the life of the conversation somewhere in a bar in Velaris, chatting it up with strangers, almost made you laugh out loud. “I’m sure you were fun at parties,” you offered, swallowing down your bite with another glass of wine.

“I would say I still am,” he replied, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“You think fun is brooding in the corner?”

“You’ve only ever seen me at Night Court events,” he countered.

“But you’re a party animal at the tavern?” Azriel rolled his eyes. “Maybe that’s why you don’t like sweet wines,” you teased, leaning over the table. “You’re too old to enjoy something so youthful. You’d rather have a dry glass of white wine or some liquor that burns like firestarter.”

Azriel scoffed at you. “Am I going to regret doing all this for you?” he joked back.

You smiled at him sweetly, looking back down at your plate. “No,” you replied, a touch quieter and sincere. “This is amazing. Thank you.”

Azriel’s face lit up slightly at your response. “I just thought you deserved a nice night,” he said.

You gestured to the table, “You really got all my favorites, even the ones I haven’t told you about or eaten in front of you.”

Azriel glanced toward the ceiling. “I’ll admit, the House did provide me with some insight on things you ask for late at night.”

You followed his gaze up, whispering in a hiss, “Those moments were supposed to be secret.”

Azriel laughed, “That and Titania helped fill me in on the rest.”

You ran your finger around the rim of your glass, heart and belly slowly filling with a feeling of deep adoration and joy. “This is really nice,” you finally whispered.

Azriel reached a scarred hand across the table to you, taking yours. “You deserve to enjoy the things you love,” he offered, his voice filled with quiet sincerity.

Azriel shared with you that, unlike what you might have considered, he actually prepared all the dishes himself. He prepped the meal early in the morning with the help of Nuala and Cerridwen at the River House and then took the hour he had misled you into going to the bakery to set everything up. He really had thought of everything.

As you settled back in your chair, the plate nearly licked clean, you let out a sigh of gratification. Azriel, who had indeed brought out some nasty liquor you refused to try despite his imploring, swirled his glass across from you. His eyes lit up suddenly as he jumped from the table. “I almost forgot!”

You straightened slightly as he brought out the white box from the bakery, setting it in front of you to open. You glanced up at him, smiling. “You made me get my own dessert?” you teased.

“Oh yeah, I’m so sorry,” he replied sarcastically. “How foolish of me to ask you to do one thing so I could do all of this for you.” He gestured around the room with a dramatic flourish.

You smiled back as you undid the twine, peeking in at two delicately crafted tarts. The rhubarb, lemon, and berry compote glistened up at you, the crust perfectly crisped. Your mouth fell open again as Azriel looked down at you, joy in his eyes. You peered back up at him, “These are the tarts that Elain made when I first came here,” you said, breathless.

Azriel shrugged, “Not the exact ones. But they’re as close as I could get to the real thing without cluing Elain in.” In fairness, Elain couldn’t keep a secret, and for something of this nature, which included romance and food, she would have spilled every detail the second Azriel told her.

You found your hand seeking Azriel’s as you marveled at the beautiful little desserts, eyes welling up with emotion. This entire dinner was a three-course journey through your life, from childhood to now, all prepared for you, all a reflection of who you were and the things you had experienced. You felt a tear start to fall, but Azriel caught it, tilting your head up to face him, his own eyes filled with a sincerity and care you don’t know if anyone had ever had for you before. “Thank you,” you whispered lightly.

Azriel leaned down, his lips meeting yours, the oils from the chicken mingling with the sweet wine on your own lips. While you could taste the fiery hint of his drink, you didn’t pull away, lost in the soft caress of his lips as his thumb drew a lazy line down your face, his other hand coming to cup the other side. The kiss held no intensity other than pure adoration, care, and unbridled joy. When he pulled back, Azriel smiled down at you again, and you giggled lightly when he reached into the box, pulling out one of the tarts with his hands and taking a crumbling bite from it.

“Hey!” you protested, laughing as he chewed. “That’s mine!”

Azriel shrugged, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Consider it a toll for the perfect evening.”

To my readers, I'm hot, bothered, and need to be put back into my enclosure. We about to get wild: @thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterra @skylarkalchemist @darling006 @loglady00 @caninnes

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