#x--daughters-of-darkness--x

[orion-lake]

[goryhorroor]

“horror movies were reborn in the 1930s. sound revolutionized cinema across the board and had a huge impact on the horror genre— and not just in the form of dialogue. sound effects added an extra dimension to terror, from creaking doors to echoing footsteps to the rumbling of castle thunder. music cues built suspense or signaled the presence of a threat. as screen storytelling moved away from symbolism towards realism, the dreamlike wraiths of silent cinema were replaced by monsters that grunted, groaned and howled.”

[luvrgreyy]

WHAT GOOD IS SORRY?

ex husband!leon x f!reader

word count: 3.3k summary: why does one wound those they love so deeply? masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

18+ MDNI. mentions of divorce, cheating/infidelity, awkward leon stuff, guilt, yearning, leon and reader have a child together — and i named her denise for whatever reason, getting stood up by a date, drunk texting, kissing, oral(r!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, bittersweet ending(?) i guess.

a/n: old wip,, this was supposed to be super gut wrenching and angsty but for some reason, my brain didn’t want to cooperate and decided that this would be the ending. also, i’ve been contemplating whether to address this or not and even tho its not a big issue, PLEASE interact with my posts. it’s the only way i’m able to know that you guys actually like the stuff i write, and ever since i’ve started writing on here 7 months ago, i’ve been noticing a decrease in interactions. im honestly losing motivation to write because i truly don’t know if people actually read my shit and like it. anyway, enjoy my mediocre writing ^___^

leon regrets everything he’s done up to this point. running into ada on a mission, going to the bar with her afterwards, and the kiss. the stupid kiss that eventually led up to this.

the divorce.

it all felt wrong, so wrong. yet here he was, driving his car to your doorstep, his stomach in knots despite having done this several times before.

for the sake of your daughter, the two of you had decided that shared custody would be the best option.

he stands at the door, hesitating before knocking, his knuckles hovering anxiously. clearing his throat, he gently raps his knuckles against the door, hoping for an answer. he's already second-guessing himself, wondering if he should have texted or called first.

your door eventually opens, and he's met with a familiar face. you.

you greet him with a civil smile, pressing a kiss into your daughter’s hair before ushering her inside.

he fidgets, adjusting the brim of his leather jacket nervously as he takes in the sight of you.

you reach to shut the door, catching a glimpse of him awkwardly hovering over you porch.

“you okay?”

he tries to find his voice. "yeah, i just, uh... i was just thinking..”

he looks down at his feet, kicking the ground with the side of his scuffed boot, as if trying to buy some time or maybe just willing the floor to swallow him up. when he speaks, his voice is low and sheepish. “when i was— last night, i thought… uh, do- do you remember when.. shit. are you free this weekend?”

”what?” you muse at his question. “leon, i really don’t wanna have this conversation with you again,”

he winces at the rebuff, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets as a defensive measure.

leon’s adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows hard, his ears burning at your words. he looks anywhere but at you, his eyes darting over the porch railing, the foliage, the sky — anywhere but your eyes. oh, those eyes he adored so much.

"no, wait, hear me out,”

"listen..." he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever fallout this might bring, knowing he's already on shaky ground. “i just wanna talk.. to you.”

he shifts his weight, glancing up at the roof of the house as if the heavens themselves could offer a solution. when he does meet your gaze again, his eyes are pleading, his jaw clenched with a mix of anxiety and something akin to desperation.

“i’m sorry, leon. i’m busy,”

he scoffs and his face scrunches up, a pained grimace contorting his features as he cuts you off. “c’mon, please?” he's standing too close now, invading the personal space he once knew so well. “i.. i know it isn’t what we do anymore but—“

“no, seriously. i literally can’t. i have something up.”

“oh.” he deflates slightly at your dismissal, shoulders slumping in defeat. a soft, regretful sigh escapes his parted lips, and his eyes drop, gaze wandering aimlessly. "can- can you can you cancel? is it really important? what about on sunday-? i’m sure we can..“

“leon.” it's not a question this time, you stare at him with the tiniest hint of pity. “i have a date.”

ouch. he freezes, his chest constricting as if he's been punched. a date? the words echo in his mind, each syllable like a dagger to his pride, his ego, his everything. a muscle in his jaw twitches, his hands clenching and unclenching in his pockets. leon swallows hard, his throat suddenly parched.

"oh," he repeats, the sound barely above a whisper. he takes a shaky breath, trying to calm the storm brewing inside him.

he rubs a hand over the back of his neck, jaw working in agitation as he grapples with the blow of your words. a snarky retort rises in his throat, a cutting remark to deflect the sting, but it withers on his tongue, a futile attempt at salvaging pride he knows is misplaced.

leon swallows hard, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally finds his voice, laced with a wry bitterness. “yeah, no worries.. guess that's that," a bitter, hollow chuckle escapes him as he shifts his weight. his tone is flippant, trying to mask the sting of rejection, but the defeat is palpable as he turns to leave. he starts down the porch steps, his boots thudding against the wooden slats.

you finally close the door on him, standing by the door, hand on the knob, unease prickling along you skin like a thousand tiny needles, each one stinging with the weight of guilt. you sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she tries to process her feelings. guilt, regret, a twinge longing — it's all so confusing, so messy.

the weight of his pleading eyes, the desperation in his tone — he had no right acting like a dejected puppy after he cheated on you.

you shake your head, face between your hands. he made his choices, just as you had, and now it was time to move on. you squared your shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped away from the door, determined to let go of the ghost of what was and focus on the life you were building. for you, and your daughter.

but it’s not really easy.

not when you’re sitting alone at a restaurant, waiting for a date that never bothered to show.

your phone buzzes and you hold your breath. hoping for some sort of confirmation, but it's quickly snuffed out.

‘hey, sorry i couldn’t make it. something important came up’ the simple text reads. the same stupid excuse. every. single. time. your heart sinks, a dull ache forming in the pit of your stomach.

a bitter, derisive chuckle escapes your lips. serves you right. you knew he was trouble from the start. yet, your heart aches, a dull throb of pain and disappointment. you feel so foolish, sitting there, waiting for someone who never shows. though, it isn't really new.

now you lay in your bed, having already kicked off your heels and changed out of the uncomfortably tight dress you wore.

you pull the blankets up to your chin, suddenly feeling cold. you toss and turn, brooding and wallowing in misery, and it seemed like you’ve been doing it for hours till you’re startled out of your fitful doze by the buzz of your phone.

it's a text from leon, of course it is. it’s another one of his ‘where are u? i miss u’ ‘can’t stop thinking about you. please let me c u’ meltdowns.

he's drunk again, you can tell by the sloppy caps and the desperate pleas. every time he has a rough night, he always thinks coming over will magically fix everything. and you always refuse, knowing he’s only drunk and alone. but tonight, you feel particularly lonely.

your thumb hovers over the keyboard, and before you know it, you're typing. ‘come over.’ you hesitate, then send the message.

by then, he’s already halfway out the door, stumbling out and nearly falling as he trips over his own feet in his haste. he takes the stairs two at a time, a goofy, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. when he reaches your door, he pounds on it with a fist. his breath comes out in short puffs as he waits, anticipation making his heart race.

click.

the door creaks open a fraction and his eyes lock onto you, looking all soft and domestic in a robe. leon's breath catches in his throat as his eyes drink you in.

he tumbles in, arms outstretched as if he's about to catch something. he's immediately in your space, arms around you in a tight, needy embrace. his face buries itself in the crook of your neck, breathless with relief and something else, something suspiciously like love.

“leon—“ he smashes his mouth against yours, tongue pushing past your lips, the taste of beer and regret in his breath. his hands roam, sliding up your back, gripping your hair, fingers splayed wide as if to assure himself you're real. a low, desperate sound escapes him, half-groan, half-moan as his body presses against yours. he's desperate, sloppy, but undeniably passionate. when he finally breaks for air, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes glassy with drink and longing.

“missed you s’ much, baby,” he presses a kiss to your neck, tongue tracing the pulse point with a reverence that borders worship.

“let me make it up to you, please,” he looks up at you with those big, puppy-dog eyes, an expression so pathetic it’s comical. yet, the desperation behind them makes it anything but.

his hands skim down your sides to your hips, fingers digging in as if to keep you anchored to him. his face buried in the crook of your neck as his hands knead the meat of your ass, claws digging in through the fabric of your robe. his breath hitches as he nuzzles into you, inhaling deeply as if committing you to memory.

he trails a string of open-mouthed kisses down your neck, pausing to nibble on your collarbone before continuing his journey south. his hands never stop moving, roaming over your body with an insatiable hunger.

you let out a soft whimper, arching into his touch. "bedroom," you breathe out, and he happily obliges.

once inside, he kicks the door shut behind him and spins you around, backing you up against the bed. he begins to undo your robe with shaking fingers, your heavy breathing and the rustling of silk the only sounds in the charged silence between you. when the robe falls open, he pushes it off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet.

the thin, sheer fabric of your nightgown offers little resistance as he practically rips it off you. a shaky breath escapes his parted lips as he reaches for you again, fingers grazing your skin as if he's not quite trusting his own touch.

he guides you to the bed, pushing you to sit on the edge. he immediately drops to his knees before you, face between your legs.

“these ‘re pretty,” he slurs out, before he fucking tears your underwear off.

“leon!”

he chuckles at your reaction, a low, rumbling sound in the back of his throat. “sorry,” he murmurs against your inner thigh, his hot breath causing goosebumps to rise in its wake. “gonna buy you new ones,”

his stubble scrapes against your sensitive skin as he slowly trails open-mouthed kisses up your thigh, savoring every inch of you that you’re willing to give him.

he buries his face between your legs, licking and sucking with a single-minded devotion that makes your toes curl and eyes roll back in your head. his scruffy cheeks hollow as he sucks a hickey into the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

god, it’s been so long. the feelings practically foreign.

his tongue begins to lash at your slit, long and flat, with a dexterity that belies his level of inebriation.

“you still mine?” he huffs. “‘course you are, ‘m the only one that can get ya this wet,”

slurp, smack, suck, repeat.

his tongue is relentless, probing your entrance, swirling around your clit with increasing fervor. he's sloppy, uncoordinated, but it only serves to heighten the intensity of it all. every time he pulls back, you can hear his heavy breathing, feel the vibrations of his moans against your most intimate flesh. your fingers thread into his hair, tugging him closer as your back arches off the bed. a keening whimper escapes you, the sound muffled by your clenched teeth as you struggle to maintain some semblance of control.

“fuck, leon—” your words trail off into incoherent mumbles as he drives you closer to the edge, tongue darting in and out with a pace that’ll make a grown woman go crazy. “d-denise, were gonna wake her up,”

a low growl rumbles in his chest as he responds to your whine. there's a hint of accusation in his gaze, but it quickly morphs into a look of raw, desperate need. “don’t matter,” he's relentless, persistent, refusing to back down even as you tremble and writhe beneath him.

he grunts, his attention snapping back to you, blue eyes squinting as he looks up from between your thighs. his tongue is a damn metronome, lapping and smacking with a relentless rhythm that has you chasing the edge of oblivion.

it's like every drunken fantasy he's ever had is being poured out onto you. messy, uncoordinated, desperate. and you’re eating it up. “gonna make you forget all about that stupid date," he mutters through slurred words. "’m the only man who can make you feel this good,"

he's not wrong. the way he's attacking you with his tongue, it's like he's trying to prove a fucking point.

"leon, please," you gasp out, and he takes it as an invitation to continue. your entire body is wound up tight, a taut string ready to snap. he slips a finger in, then two, curling them just right so that they’re pressing against that spongy spot that has you seeing stars.

your legs wrap around his head, fingers threading into his hair as you pull him in as close as humanly possible. his name is a chant on your lips, a prayer to the gods of pleasure. "leon, leon, leon,". denise could come in right now and catch you like this — legs splayed, back arched, eyes squeezed shut in bliss. he's that good. or maybe that bad. you dont know. and you don’t care to find out.

"yeah, just like that," he praises, voice a low, gravelly growl. "love my fingers in this greedy little cunt, don't you?"

your thighs clench around his head, heels digging into his back as you ride out the pleasure. "gonna cum, leon, please—“ yours words trail off into a wail, a keen of pure, unadulterated euphoria.

your back arches, toes curl, and your fingers dig into his hair, holding him to you as the wave crashes over you. he tugs you down to the edge of the bed, practically burying his face in your groin. he laps at your slit, in and out, in and out, until the last bit of resistance melts away.

he lifts his face from between your legs, eyes hazy and unfocused as he fumbles to unbuckle his pants. once he has it off, he's back, pushing your legs apart as he kneels between them. the thick of his length throbs against your lower belly, and you can feel his racing heartbeat through every inch of him that's in contact with you.

he notches the head of his cock at your entrance, pressing in just enough to make you feel the pressure, gathering your juices before giving a long, slow stroke up and down, coating himself in you. he's throbbing, pulsing with need, and you can practically taste the desperation in your mouth.

he presses in, just the tip at first, then a bit more. slow, shallow strokes, in and out. his hips rock against yours, the motion slow and languid. one of his hands cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your closed eyelids to check if he was dreaming. the other hand palms the small of your back, fingers digging in as if to anchor himself. your legs wrap around his waist, ankles locking behind his back as he slowly sinks into you.

he's quiet for a moment, just holding you, his heart racing in his chest as if he's trying to communicate something without using words. his hips move, the action slow and lazy, as if he's trying to spoon you into submission.

he pulls out, just to the tip, before pushing back in. the motion is slow, sensual, a deliberate teasing that has you whining and writhing beneath him.

sweat beads on his brow, tracing down the lines of his face, but he doesn't slow. if anything, he's driven by a desperate need to make up for lost time, to prove himself worthy of you. your back arches, hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets as he pistons in and out, the force of his thrusts rocking your entire body. he's not gentle, not soft, but rough and demanding, just like he always used to be when he was trying to stake his claim.

he nips at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh before he sooths it with his tongue. “fuck, feels so good,” he gasps out, his words punctuated by the slap of skin against skin. “can't believe i ever let you go.”

"leon," you whimper, the name a plea, a prayer. his lips find yours in a sloppy, frantic kiss. he's drinking you in, devouring your mouth, your moans, your gasps, trying to consume every ounce of you.

he's sweating, hair a mess, face scrunched up in concentration, but those blue eyes remain locked on yours.

you're lost in the sensation, every nerve ending on high alert, screaming for friction, for relief, for release. "leon, leon, gonna cum," you pant, your voice raw, your throat dry. "please, i—" but your pleas are swallowed by his next thrust, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls.

he leans forward, his forehead pressing against yours, noses nearly touching. his hot breath mingles with yours, the scent of his beer-soaked breath and the musk of his arousal mingling together in the most intoxicating way. "love you," he suddenly whispers, the words a quiet, a desperate confession that hangs in the air between you.

“love you, love you, fuck—“

the way your walls squeeze him when you cum drags his own orgasm from him. for a long moment, he stays frozen, buried to the hilt, his chest heaving against yours as he tries to catch his breath.

the heat of your body seeps into his skin, chasing away the chill of the night air. he collapses against you, a boneless heap of satisfied male. his cock throbs, pulses, and drips onto the bed between your legs as he tries to catch his breath. the room is silent, save for your joint heavy breathing, and the occasional groan as his softening length slips out of you. eventually, he rolls off, lying on his back beside you, one big hand coming to rest on your stomach, thumb stroking in a slow, idle pattern. his eyes are hazy, unfocused, but they find yours and hold. a small, sheepish smile tugs at his lips.

"sorry," he slurs out, the word garbled and slightly off-kilter. "i shoulda been better, should’ve tried harder, i... i‘m gonna make things right, i swear,"

he peppers your neck with soft kisses, his stubble rasping against your tender flesh. he's warm, solid, and comforting. gentle and tender, a stark contrast to the desperation that drove him mere moments ago.

he's not reaching for grand gestures or flowery declarations. he's asking for something simple, intimate, and achingly human. a chance to hold you, to sleep beside you, to maybe, begin to rebuild something from the rubble of what once was.

and for a moment, you let yourself believe that he’ll be different this time. that he's not just trying to relive past glories, but genuinely wants to make amends, to start anew.

tags: @crowleyco @withonly-sweetheart @fanilkychae

[diejager]

Could you please do a platonic yandere Vladimir Makarov with teenage daughter reader? Where he finds out that he has a daughter and is watching her but after awhile he decided to kidnap her to keep her safe from anyone and anything.?

Cw: DARKFIC, protective dad, kidnapping, spoiling, isolation, platonic yandere, tell me if I missed any.

He hadn’t expected his drunken one night stand to come back to him seventeen years later, at the peak of his revolution and power in the world. It had left his mind by the end of the week, where he spent a night with a pretty woman that he’d approached in the joy and mirth of winning a seat in the political image of Russia, his seat secured and power promised. He was - felt - unstoppable at that point.

Then he learned he had a daughter, a sweet girl that looked like a perfect mix of him and your mother. Thrust into the beginning of your adulthood and the closing chapter of your childhood, you had grown so prettily, adorable and loving. You were perfect in his eyes. Receiving the love of a mother, being pampered by her with the little amount of money she could scrounge to send you to school and provide for you. She truly cared for you despite being a mistake, a regret that reminded her of their coupling years ago.

While he believed in receiving motherly affection, he didn’t like the way you lived. So poor and hungry, denied the riches and luxury of his name and money. He wouldn’t have you live like that. So he took you, flew down to your quaint home, dressed finely and followed by his entourage while he stared down your mother, waiting for you to come back home from school. He’d forgotten her name - your mother - but all that mattered was you. He knew your name, your hobbies and preferences, but he’d like to hear them from you, to know you by your own words and acts rather than the video surveillance and all the digging he had his men do. 

And when he saw you in person, standing anxiously before him, you looked much more beautiful before him than through his screen. He saw the apprehension in your eyes, the small frown that pinched as you fussed about your mother’s fearful expression, using yourself to protect her from him and his men, ignoring her pleas for you to stand behind her, to let her protect you. But you were fiercely protective and loyal, something he expected from his daughter, yet was still surprised by the depth of it, blindly loyal and faithfully protective to a fault. 

“This…” she didn’t know how to explain this situation, he could see it as plainly as the blackness of his suit, “He’s your father, sweetheart.”

Your face broke between pain, shock and disbelief, but none directed at her, only to him whom you glared so powerfully. You were still so determined to protect your mother, knowing that she hid him from you and had never tried to reach out to him —not that he could blame her, he wasn’t a merciful man, neither easily reachable, nor easy to face. 

He gave you his name and smiled, pulling the sweetest grin he could, seeming soft and tender for a ruthless man like him. All for his daughter, the gem that would inherit his empire. Ever so polite, you muttered your name, voice slightly shaky. You took after your mother, taking her last name rather than his, one that screamed power and danger, but he’d have it changed, no daughter of his wouldn’t be given the name Makarov.

He was satisfied with this, and with little need to stay here any longer, he stood and approached you, his hand calling yours to have you accompany him home. He would have you brought home, where you rightfully belonged. On a throne by his side, dressed in the best silk and fabric his money could gift you, given the best education and taught by the best academic in both English and Russian, and if possible, you’d be taught other arts: literature, ballet, piano, theatre and language. 

But he was… somewhat disappointed that you shook your head, declining his invitation to come willingly. He understood that you’d have to start over again, uprooted and starting anew in a strange world without your mother. Truly, he knew how that felt, but he’d grown, he became better and wanted the same for you: to be better and deserve better. 

“Mom!” your cries and scream hurt him, the sound chiseling at his heart, fighting him to return o your mother’s side.

His men held your mother back, careful not to harm her as per his words, he didn’t need her health jeopardised. He had plans of paying her for caring for you, giving her a monthly cheque to support herself, eternally grateful that she sacrifice everything for you. You were now under his care, protected under his watchful eyes and international spread of allies and influence.

“Don’t cry, милая,” he cradled you, seated on his lap as he wiped away your tears, his hushed but steady voice trying to soothe you, “We’re going home.”[darling]

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | masterlist!

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"God loves you but not enough to save you,"

summary: In the small town near Austin, Texas, you are trapped in a life of rigid expectations and silent suffering. As the preacher's daughter, you endure the mental and physical abuse of your father while your mother, bound by obedience, offers quiet love. Your longing for a father's warmth finds an unexpected solace in Joel Miller, your father's best friend and neighbor. In Joel's presence, you discover a forbidden sanctuary, where your yearning heart is met with a gentle strength you've never known.

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡

❝ to my love, Joel.

,...found you just to tell you that I made it real far, i never blamed you for loving me the way that you did.

while you were torn apart, i would still wait with you there.

don't think about it too hard, honey. or you'll never sleep a wink at night again.

and don't worry about me and these green eyes,

baby, just know that i love you. and i'll see you when you get here.

i love you forever, Joel... ❞

THE PLAYLIST! (on spotify)👰🏼‍♀️

the preacher's daughter ▪️ dbf! joel miller

MASTERLIST!🐇

Chapter 1: "But I always knew in the end, no one was coming to save me,"

Chapter 2: "Because that's how my daddy raised me,"

Chapter 3: "I watched him show his love through shades of black and blue"

Chapter 4: "He looks like he works with his hands, and smells like Marlboro reds,"

Chapter 5: "Because for the first time since I was a child, I could see a man who wasn't angry,"

Chapter 6: "Let him make a woman out of me,"

Chapter 7: "You wanna fuck me right now?"

Chapter 8: "The fates already fucked me sideways,"

Chapter 9: "Christ, forgive these bones I'm hiding,"

Chapter 10: "and that's why I could never go back home,"

Chapter 11: "I don't care where as long as you're with me,"

Chapter 12: "If it's meant to be, then it will be."

Chapter 13: "Beautiful people, beautiful problems."

Chapter 14: "You put your hands into your head, and then smile cover your hearts."

Chapter 15: "Something's bad is 'bout to happen to me,"

Chapter 16: "Tag, you're it."

Chapter 17: "If he's a serial killer then what's the worst that could happen to a girl who's already hurt?"

Chapter 18: "He's cold-blooded so it takes more time to bleed"

Chapter 19: "Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise,"

Chapter 20: "You poor thing, sweet, mourning lamb. There's nothing you can do."

Chapter 21: "If we die tonight, I'd died yours."

Chapter 22: "I'm always going to be right here, no one's going anywhere"

-THE END-

read it on wattpad!

the preacher's daughter by babyvenoms

ENJOY! and if you guys have any like visuals to this, or art that you made for this I would love to put it here, just let me know! thank you!! 🩵

[rene-spade]

growing up räikkönen | f1 grid

fem! reader x räikkönen family, f1 grid

note(s): reader is kimi’s eldest daughter 👍 2nd pov but for the plot reader has a name. We start off in the 2021 season, reader becomes a driver for mclaren the 2022 season. main idea is everyone is obsessed with her lolol

Warning(s): potentially triggering relationship dynamics, some obsessive behavior tbh bc i like em crazy, mostly cute stuff tho!

GROWING UP RÄIKKÖNEN MEANS having a chaotic first few years, but with your father everything always works out. kimi isn’t even 22 when you’re born (2001), and your mother is just a fling who sadly passes away before you turn one, but you are his world. he melts at the sight of his eldest daughter; the one who he raised as his alone. Sure, you’ve had a couple step moms, but only one father who happens to be the protective type. You grow up in the f1 paddocks because kimi doesn’t like being apart from you for too long. even with his marriage to jenni, he has her watch you during his races. Just the racing part though, he commonly totes you along with him during anything he can, even media duties. due to his own upbringing, your schooling is the highest of priorities, but it’s still a guarantee you know how to drive anything by age 16. He wants you to be prepared for anything life throws at you, though of course he wouldn’t let you do it alone.

♤ ♤ ♤

SOME DAD! KIMI THINGS; childhood

he named you after himself (kimi -> miki, unoriginal)

when you were ages 1 month - 6 years, he took you everywhere with him

he nicknames you “lumienkeli” snow angel in finnish

his first tattoo was a portrait of baby-you with your full name and birth date

kimi can’t say no to his little girl, so you end up bringing all kinds of stray pets home, even from other countries

you and step-mom jenni iconic duo

uncle seb vettel and michael schumacher (who babysat you growing up) buying you and kimi matching outfits

kimi is very bad at documenting things properly, so jenni organized and labeled his entire “isä ja miki-mäiri” photo album. after they divorced, minttu took over that position, adding robin and rianna.

no-dating rule implemented as soon as you mention a crush at school (you were 6)

crazy dad! kimi who tried to run over your first boyfriend with a snowmobile

a responsible drinker around his sweet daughter but when you’re home attending school, he has his iconic drinking benders (championship era all the way to his divorce era)

kimi who learns to braid hair so you can keep your hair tidy and untangled beneath your first helmet

you are his mini-me (mostly, just in the ways he intended)

♤ ♤ ♤

Twitter; self-ran

♤ ♤ ♤

Instagram; self-ran

♤ ♤ ♤

photo album; written by kimi-matias räikkönen (edited by jenni dahlman and minttu räikkönen)

äiti ja miki-mäiri lumienkeli mik ja isä

2001 <3 (2004)

isosisko miki, minun miki-mäiri miki-mäiri ja robin ja rianna 10th syntymäpäivä setä rami (2006)

miki ja jenni <3 isän vauva miki-mäiri ja

(2003) (kesäkuuta 2002) serrku justus

♤ ♤ ♤

this is the introduction to this fic / au. Please send asks to get the ball rolling! If you don’t know kimi lore, this might not make much sense oops

- ren

[becomingvecna]

normalize using cannibalism as a metaphor for love and intimacy

[writerslittlelibrary]

"Children aren't payment, dipshit"

masterlist

summary: the most feared mob in all of New York only has one rival, which happens to be your father’s mob. When it turns out he is indebted to the feared mob boss Natasha Romanoff, he uses the only thing he has to pay her, you…

pairing: Mob!Natasha x rival mob young reader

warnings: guns, violence, basic mob fic stuff ig :) 

genre: angst, fluff

words: 1339

a/n: this was an adorable idea! (I feel like this is trash, but I just have to get back into my writing flow)

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

 |——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

It has always been difficult, being the daughter of a dangerous mob boss. It wasn’t like you were forced to kill and train with your father’s minions, but you had been living a far from normal life, to say the least.

When you turned seven, your father had called you into his office. 

You had always been a nice and obedient girl, totally opposite of your father, so when he called you to him and told you you were going to stay with your aunties for a while, you believed it. Your father had sent you and your bodyguard to your room, telling you to pack all your important items. 

Once you had finished packing, your father had given you a hug and you had been brought to the car, your bodyguard driving you across town. 

However, once the car stopped at a large apartment building, you had started getting a bit suspicious. This isn’t where your aunties lived…

Your bodyguard had taken you out of the car, but you didn’t want to, leading to him dragging you out, dragging you up to the doors of the building. Once you had arrived at the doors, two women were standing there. One had blonde hair, and the other had black hair. The women with black hair grabbed your arm, allowing your bodyguards to walk back to the car and retrieve your bag, handing it to the blonde women.

After he did so, he walked back to the car and drove away. 

The two women entered the building, walking to the elevator and pressing the button that read ‘PH’. As soon as the doors closed, the women with black hair let go of your arm. However, despite her removing her grip, you still didn’t feel like you could move freely. You were fairly certain that one wrong move and she would be on you again. 

And so, you stood perfectly still, refusing to move, even when the elevator moved a bit. 

The two women barely acknowledged your presence, instead opting to look straight ahead. You felt uneasy standing in between them. 

Once the elevator stopped at the top floor, the door opened at the women with black hair grabbed your arm again, leading you out of the elevator and to a dark wooden door. The blonde haired women walked ahead, knocking on the door twice before waiting for a “come in” to be called from the other side. 

Once the approval was given, the two women walked in, dragging you after them. 

Inside the room was another woman. You recognised her immediately. Who wouldn’t? Your father had always warned you about her. She was the most feared mob boss that New York, or the world really, had ever seen. 

You were in the office of Natasha fucking Romanoff. Were you about to get killed?

The two women walked a bit further into the room, forcefully pushing you down on the chair in front of the desk. 

You didn’t dare protest, nor did you say a word. You were absolutely terrified. Your father had warned you about this women every single day of your life, refusing to let you go outside without protection because of her, and now he had knowingly sent you to her. What the hell was wrong with him?

After you were sat down on the chair, the women with black hair exited the room again, leaving you, Natasha Romanoff, and the blonde haired women in the room. 

“Thank you for bringing her up Carol, you can put her bag in her room,” Natasha spoke, dismissing ‘Carol’ before focusing her attention on you. 

Carol left the room, leaving you and Natasha Romanoff alone. 

“I’m sure you must be very confused, sweetheart, but don’t worry, you’ll be alright,” Natasha reassured, smiling kindly as she stacked a few papers and put them off to the side.

You took a moment, gathering the courage before you spoke. 

“Why am I here…?” you asked quietly, hoping not to disturb Natasha or step out of line.

Natasha smiled, turning to you once more. 

“Your father made some pretty nasty deals. Deals that he couldn’t follow through on. He needed to pay me something, and he didn’t have the money, so I demanded you instead,” Natasha explained, leaving you to look at her with a shocked face.

“You don’t have anything to worry about, sweet girl. I promise you were are much better company than your father’s mob ever was,” Natasha stated, smiling sweetly before she moved to get up, walking around the desk towards you. 

She extended her hand, motioning for you to grab it. 

“How about we go check out your new room?” she suggested, allowing you a moment to think before you nodded and hesitantly grabbed her hand, allowing her to pull you up. 

She led you out of the office, leading you through the pent house towards another door, which was a different colour than the rest of the doors. The door was a beautiful dark shade of your favourite colour, and while you thought your favourite colour would never go with the aesthetic of the apartment, for some reason Natasha made it work. 

She pushed the door open, allowing you to step inside and take in the room. It was beautifully decorated and exactly your style. 

Your eyes widened in excitement, jumping up slightly. You weren’t able to contain your excitement as you saw the room. It was perfect. 

Natasha smiled as she observed your reaction, letting go of your hand to allow you to look around. You did, running from place to place to explore all the play items placed in the cupboards, ending your little exploration by jumping on the bed. 

“I love it!” you yelled out, letting yourself drop on the bed. 

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

You had lived with Natasha for about three months now, and you were happier than you had ever been. Natasha never hit you if you did something wrong, and she played with you everyday. She was willing to drop all her work if you asked her to play dress up, or if you asked her to play with your dolls. 

You had never been more loved than you were now, and you were happy your father had offered you as payment to Natasha Romanoff. 

Her henge people also adored you. You would play with them as well, and everytime they happily played with you. Your favourite were Carol and Valkyrie. They were the two women that had brought you in on the first day, and they turned out to be your best friends. 

Little did you know that Natasha had known you father hit you at home. She knew the mob boss of the rival mob was not just any criminal. He didn’t have morals, or principles. He did what he did when he felt like it. He wasn’t a good person to those he cared about, so when Natasha found out he had a daughter, she knew she needed to investigate. 

She had sent a hengemen uncover to find out more about you, and what was reported back to her shocked her. 

You were hit whenever you stepped out of line, and you were not well taken care of at all. Once Natasha learned about your situation, she decided she had to get you out, setting up an elaborate deal she knew your father couldn’t get out of.

When you father unsurprisingly failed to follow through on his end of the deal, he was in large debt with Natasha, and she knew she could demand anything from him. 

And so, she demanded she would get you as payment, knowing your father couldn’t do anything but follow through. 

Over the months she had build a soft spot for you, and she was more than glad that she had done what she did. She saved you, and now you were happy. 

Natasha Romanoff may not have been the best human being on the planet, but to those she cared about, she could not have been better. 

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @daddipantherr @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @tia-thesimp @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000 @hor1zond1ar1es @lorsstar1st @superlegend216 @ravensinthedaylight

[floatyflowers]

Helaurrr I'm thinking of a young reader getting their period for the first time any character will do like sibling/parents yk 🥹

Dark Platonic! John Wick, Hannibal Lecter, and Thranduil x Reader

Father! Hannibal Lecter

Hannibal almost had a stroke when he saw trails of blood on the floor, after waking up.

Thinking that someone might have broken into the house and killed you, his 10-year-old daughter, he quickly rushes to where the blood trails lead him to.

Only to find you in the kitchen, in front of the open fridge, eating your favourite snack as if there's no blood between your legs.

Realizing what is happening, he makes you have a bath, and change into new clothes after teaching you how to use a pad.

Hannibal made sure to explain what was going on in a simple way.

But, you only pout.

"Does it have to come every month? Why not every ten years?"

Father! John Wick

When your period arrived, you already knew what you were going to do.

But that doesn't mean John would not coddle you, and make sure you have everything you need.

Especially since his wife's death, he had to be the mother and father for you.

You are the last thing left of his wife, so he will do anything in his power to make sure you are always safe and happy.

He would kill for you, and also kill anyone who would try to steal you from him.

John would make sure to buy the most expensive painkillers and sanitary pads because he is against you using tampons.

Also, the painkillers might be the same ones he uses after treating his bleeding wounds.

Grandfather! Thranduil

Elf women get their period at a much older age then humans, and their period comes every three months.

Meanwhile, you are half-elven, so you got your period around the same age as human girl would.

So, the Mirkwood king got confused when he saw you, his cheerful granddaughter, having bad mood swings.

Directed at him.

Thranduil also got angry, when you were good with servants.

He felt like it should be the opposite, he should be the center of your attention.

So, he locked you up until your period is over.

Let's just say when Legolas got back from his mission, he got into a huge fight with his father.

[orion-lake]

Lzzy Hale Stop Draggin' My Heart Around [X]

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Farmer's Daughter 14

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You wake up with your head on Walt’s arm. You lay on your side, facing him as his chest rises and falls, a rumble thundering through him with each breath. His warmth has you in a sheen of sweat. You hesitate to move, not wanting to disturb him.

As you lay and listen to his snores, your stomach topturns. The realisation flows through you and turns to ice. As unusual as this awakening is now, this will be your forever. That’s what you agreed to. Your days, your nights, your everything will belong to Walt.

You squirm as suddenly you’re on fire, your scalp speckling with impending doom. You shift onto your back and slowly sit up. You bend your head forward and cover your face as you try to ease the spinning in your head.

You drag your feet from beneath the blankets and turn to sit with your back to him. To your future husband. You just can’t make it sound normal in your head.

You stand cautiously, mindful not to jostle the bed. His low snores carry through the air as you walk across the creaky floorboard, peeking over with each step. Your legs prickle with goosebumps as you get to the door. A shiver rolls over you and you hug yourself as the morning air flows up the bottom of the flannel shirt.

You leave him and find your way downstairs. You turn on the space heater and linger before it, building the courage to detach yourself from the glow of heat. You continue into the kitchen and carefully make your way around it.

The least you can do is make breakfast. You suppose that will be expected from now on. It’s not so out of the ordinary, it’s only Walt will be more than just a guest, more than a friend.

You take out eggs and a tray of breakfast sausage. You pause as you wonder if it’s too much. You hope he doesn’t mind.

You do your best to be quiet as you put a skillet on the oven to heat. You line a pan with the sausages and preheat the gas stove. You flutter your fingers anxiously as you wait, staying close to absorb some of the heat.

“Morning,” Walt’s gritty timbre sends a tremor through you.

You glance over as he enters, a brown robe around him as he rubs his eyes and sweeps his curls away from his face. You return his greeting as you crack the eggs into a bowl to whisk. He hums and nears the counter, grabbing a tin near the back.

“Coffee?” He wonders.

“Oh, no I–” you set the bowl down, “I didn’t– I can do that now.”

“Mm, thanks, sweetheart,” he puts the tin down and sidles closer to you, “sleep okay?”

His hand touches the small of your back as stands close. You nod, “mhmm,” you step up to the counter and grab the beat-up percolator. “Thanks, I… I did.”

“Rain’s let up,” he reluctantly parts and peers through the window as you fill the percolator from the tap, “should go out and check on the truck after breakfast… then we can head up to the bank.”

“The bank?” You shut off the faucet and loud the grinds, then pop the metal lid into place. You put the metal jug onto the burner and twist the knob.

“Get some thing’s sorted. I told your mother I’d bring some paperwork,” he explains as he sits in one of the wooden chairs. He watches you intently as you face him. He’s quiet as his eyes rove you from head to toe. A breath fills his chest, “and we can tell her the news.”

You try to smile and quickly turn your attention back to the eggs. You put oil on the skillet as you clear your throat, “yeah, she’ll… I think she’ll be happy.”

“Could do a lot worse around here,” he grits.

“I didn’t mean…” you shake your head as the oil sizzles, “I only… I’m getting used to the idea still.”

“Seem to be getting used to it,” he remarks, “lucky me got a woman like you to wake up to, make me breakfast…”

“Uh, yeah,” you pour the eggs into the pan.

He lets a long exhale and the chair groans beneath his weight, “it’s like a dream come true. Finally,” he drawls as the savoury smell of sausages blooms from the over, “about time I settled down. Least that’s what the old crones whisper down at the grocery store.”

“Oh, ha, well, everyone talks,” you shrug, “I’m sure they whisper about me too.”

“Uh huh, I heard them,” he scoffs as his tone harshens, “about you talking to Odinson… making eyes at him.”

“What–” you nearly choke, “I…I didn’t— I wouldn’t.”

You scrape the pan to scramble the eggs as your voice knots in your throat. It feels like an accusation but you know it was harmless. Thor was just being helpful and that was weeks ago.

“Well, you won’t,” he says tersely, “from now on, I don’t want you being friendly with the likes of him. He’s no good.”

“Walt, I wasn’t–”

“That’s before,” he interjects, “this is now. We’re gonna be married. Things are different.”

“I know,” you eke out, “but I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t do that.”

“Uh huh, but you flirted with me,” he insists.

“I…” you stop yourself before you begin. You didn’t flirt with him, you were nice to him. Like you always were. Like you had been for years.

“Sweet thing like you, it’s easy to get the wrong idea and men like Odinson, they always get the wrong idea,” he growls.

The percolator trembles and you turn off the burner. You quickly twist the other down to low and put a lid over the eggs to keep them warm. You turn to the cupboard and pick out a mug with an ombre of brown. You pour the steaming coffee and bring it to him.

“You don’t have to mope, I’m just making you aware,” he says, “you’re too sweet to see it. I’m protecting you. That’s what a husband does, right?”

You make yourself smile and swallow, “of course, thank you.”

“No, thank you,” he takes the mug from you with a wink, “look at you, my sweet little wife.”

[wandaspup]

I want to say the most disgusting, down bad things I would let this woman do to me but I’m too lazy to. 😩😩🥵 I CANNOT STOP LOOKING AT MOMMYS THIGHS. I want to bite them, kiss them, ride them and then I want her to squeeze my head between them as suffocate me as she pulls my hair…and other stuff 😖😖😖😖

[rene-spade]

Ok but how are the crazy f1 dads with their daughters dating? Who on the grid do they like?

oof this is a loaded ask bc they really are all out of it 😭 they just love their babies fr

♤ ♤ ♤

dad! kimi | growing up räikkönen!

FIRST OF ALL kimi doesn’t really vibe with most people in general, let alone anyone who’s trying to get with his little lumienkeli. kimi was lucky to raise a little girl similar to him, who listens when he places a no dating rule lasting until she’s 21 (as far as he knows anyways). despises the guys on the grid trying to get with her; he was one of them once so he thinks of them as animals, especially leclerc who’s known for his brow-raising dating life. also hates pierre but he already didn’t fw him bc he’s french. he is SLIGHTLY more easy going with women around his daughter so any grid guys with girlfriends might have an advantage. he finds that he wants the im-a-dog-and-ill-do-whatever-my-girl-says type for his daughter, but he dislikes unintelligence. he does not like anyone on the grid, but he best tolerates:

mick schumacher!

oscar piastri (+lily)

he vibes with kika okay but hates pierre 💀

bonus! he actually really likes max but his hate/distrust for jos overpowers that so he’s not letting that happen

♤ ♤ ♤

dad! jenson | growing up button!

OK SO JENSON is a bit less intense than kimi, however he is much more publicly affectionate with his daughter which means that he has definitely gone on public rants about how no man is good wen enough for his baby. that being said, he is a decent judge of character so he doesn’t hate anyone on the grid. but he gets real serious when he notices people hitting on his baby. this is mostly bc he was def a whore when he was younger so he isn’t quick to trust guys who are living the same lifestyle he was. he kind of turns on dad-mode when he notices anyone eyeing her up. but alas, he raised his own mini-me, who attracts just about everyone, and who likes to flirt back. it takes warming up to, but he can see himself fine with most of the drivers. he most prefers people who are friendly and who didn’t act like him when he was in f1 like:

george russel

daniel ricciardo

lando norris

♤ ♤ ♤

dad! fernando | growing up alonso!

NANDO IS DEFINITELY one of those guys who thinks he’s a “cool dad” bc he’s a young father and his daughter is his best friend. but in reality he’s one of those intense, fiercely overprotective dads who have impossibly high expectations for his daughters partner. 100% the type to punch a mechanic for saying gross things about his princesa. he’ll be calm and in a good mood then someone on the grid (or any man ever) mentions his daughter and he’s like 😐. UNLESS! it’s carlos. carlos is the only one who meets his standards, sorry to literally everyone else. but even with carlos, he can be a little stern just to get his point across about not messing with his only child. he just feels the need to personally approve of his daughter’s partner bc he’s hyper-paranoid about someone hurting her. his list looks something like:

carlos sainz!!!

that’s it

i mean if you put a gun to his head maybe max bc he’s a winner but he needs to learn to speak spanish so-

♤ ♤ ♤

dad! jos | growing up verstappen! unfortunately

FUCK JOS VERSTAPPEN obviously, however this man is one crazy dad who we have to discuss. his love for his youngest daughter is wild and unpredictable, and it’s very different from the way he treats his other children. his baby has some extreme one-sided beef with him that he’s smart enough to know about, so he isn’t too forceful about bonding, it’s definitely more desperate since max found success in f1 and she sticks with her big brother now. her entire life, he’s never allowed her to date, and when he found out about her first secret bf, he got arrested for trying to kill the kid so. he has IMPOSSIBLY high standards for his daughters partner and definitely wants her to marry within the f1 community, but he hates losers and despises half the grid.

suddenly he’s charles leclerc’s biggest fan !

lewis hamilton but he’ll never admit it

MAYBE carlos sainz

bonus! max obvi likes daniel ricciardo best but jos doesn’t fw him like that

♤ ♤ ♤

Ren

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 11

dbf!joel miller x female reader

"I don't care where as long as you're with me."

summary: you finally feel like yourself again.

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 11

masterlist of the series!

previous | chapter 10

next | chapter 12

The house was unassuming, hidden deep within the woods, a place where the world seemed to slow down, wrapped in a silence that felt almost sacred. As Joel pulled the truck to a stop, the headlights caught the outline of the modest, two-story house, casting long shadows over the overgrown path that led to the front door. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, a stark contrast to the suffocating air of the town you’d left behind.

Joel stepped out first, his eyes scanning the area, his hand resting protectively on the small of your back as he helped you out of the truck. The night was quiet, save for the distant chirp of crickets, but you could feel the tension in Joel’s body, the way his muscles were coiled, ready to spring at the slightest hint of danger.

You clung to his side, your steps faltering as exhaustion washed over you again, the events of the past day pressing down on your chest like a weight. Before Joel could knock the door as he carried you with his other hand, the door swung open, revealing Bill's face.

Bill’s grip on the shotgun tightened instinctively, his eyes darting between Joel and you, clearly assessing the situation. The man was all hard edges, a fortress in human form, and in that moment, you realized why Joel had brought you here. Bill was the kind of person who could handle whatever storm was brewing behind Joel’s haunted eyes.

“Jesus, Joel!” Bill barked, lowering the shotgun. His voice was rough, laden with concern and a tinge of anger. “What the hell are you doing here in the middle of the night? Where’s Ellie?”

But then his gaze landed on you, and you could see the shift in his expression—confusion, alarm, and something else that resembled pity. You felt small under his scrutiny, aware of how disheveled you must look, drenched in sweat and blood, carried on Joel's arms.

“Who the hell is this?” Bill’s voice softened slightly, but his suspicion remained.

Joel adjusted his hold on you, his grip firm yet gentle, as if he were afraid you might break apart. “I need your help,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading.

Before Bill could respond, another figure emerged from the shadows of the house. Frank, who had clearly been woken by the commotion, appeared at the top of the stairs in his pajamas, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Bill, what’s going—Joel?” Frank’s voice trailed off as he saw you, his eyes widening in shock.

Frank’s gaze darted from Joel to you, and his expression immediately shifted from confusion to concern. “What happened? Who is she?”

“She’s hurt,” Joel said, his voice strained as he tried to explain without revealing too much. “Please,"

Frank nodded without hesitation, stepping aside to let you both enter. Bill remained by the door, his eyes never leaving you, as if he was trying to piece together the story Joel wasn’t telling. But Frank, ever the softer of the two, helping Joel with you.

Frank’s panic was evident in his quick, almost frantic movements as he ushered you both inside. "Come, come, come on in," he urged, his voice trembling slightly as he guided Joel toward the couch. Joel still held you close, his arms wrapped protectively around you as he laid you down gently. Frank hurried off to grab some blankets, his footsteps echoing in the quiet house, while Joel knelt beside you, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort.

“Does it still hurt anywhere?” Joel’s voice was soft, but there was an undercurrent of worry that he couldn’t quite mask. His hands were gentle as they brushed over your bandaged wounds, checking to see if the makeshift dressings were holding up.

You managed a small shake of your head, but the truth was, everything still hurt. The adrenaline that had carried you this far was beginning to fade, leaving behind a deep, throbbing pain that seemed to settle into every part of your body. You were too tired to say much, the exhaustion weighing down your eyelids like lead.

Bill, who had been standing by the door, finally stepped forward, his face a mask of stern concern. “Alright, what the fuck is going on, Miller?” His voice was gruff, demanding answers. “What kind of trouble are you in this time?”

Joel ignored Bill’s question for a moment, his focus still entirely on you. He carefully lifted the edge of your shirt to check the bandage on your side, his jaw tightening as he saw the blood starting to seep through. “She’s hurt bad, Bill,” Joel said, his voice strained. “Do you have a first aid kit?”

Bill’s expression darkened, clearly unhappy with the situation, but before he could voice his displeasure, Frank returned with a bundle of blankets, handing them to Joel. “Here, Joel,” Frank said, his tone gentle as he knelt beside you. Joel took the blankets, draping them carefully over you, making sure you were as comfortable as possible.

“Bill,” Frank said, turning to his husband with a look that brooked no argument, “we need to help them. Get the first aid kit, now.”

Bill hesitated, his gaze shifting between Joel and you, clearly torn. But Frank’s firm tone left no room for debate. With a grunt of annoyance, Bill finally relented, stalking off to retrieve the kit. “This better not blow up in our faces, Joel,” he muttered as he disappeared into another room.

Frank sat down beside you, his eyes filled with concern as he looked you over. “What happened to her?” he asked Joel quietly, not wanting to pressure you to speak.

Joel hesitated, not wanting to reveal too much. “She's hurt bad,” he said simply, his voice low. “Punched hard, Frank.”

Frank’s eyes softened even more, and he reached out to squeeze your hand reassuringly. “You’re gonna be okay, sweetie," You smile at him weakly.

Bill returned a moment later, a large first aid kit in hand. He tossed it to Joel, who caught it with ease, but his expression was tense. “Alright, let’s get this over with,” Bill grumbled, still not entirely on board with the situation.

Joel opened the kit, his hands hovering uncertainly over the supplies. He was no stranger to injuries, but this was different—this was you, and the thought of causing you more pain made his hands shake slightly. Frank noticed and gently took over, his hands steady and practiced.

“Let me handle this,” Frank said kindly, taking the bandages and antiseptic from the kit. “You just keep her calm.”

Joel nodded, reluctantly stepping back to give Frank room to work. He kept his hand on your shoulder, his touch firm and comforting as Frank began to carefully clean and re-bandage your wounds. You winced at the sting, but Joel’s presence helped keep you grounded, the warmth of his hand reassuring in the cold, unfamiliar house.

Bill remained nearby, his eyes flicking between you, Joel, and the door, ever watchful. He didn’t trust easily, but his loyalty to Joel was enough to keep him from outright refusing to help. For now, that would have to be enough.

As Frank worked, the pain slowly began to subside, the new bandages providing some relief. You were still too weak to speak much, but the kindness in Frank’s eyes and the steadiness of Joel’s presence made you feel safer than you had in a long time.

Finally, Frank finished, securing the last bandage with a gentle pat. “There,” he said softly, giving you a reassuring smile. “You’re going to be okay. Just rest now.”

Joel squeezed your shoulder, his voice low and soothing as he spoke. “You'll be okay, I promise.”

You nodded weakly, the exhaustion tugging at your eyelids once more. You needed sleep, the kind that would pull you under and shield you from the chaos of the world. Frank noticed your weariness and suggested gently, “Joel, why don’t you take her up to the guest room? Let her get some rest.”

Joel nodded in agreement, his gaze never leaving you. Without another word, he scooped you up into his arms with a tenderness that contrasted with his usual rugged demeanor. You protested weakly, “I can walk, Joel.”

But he ignored your words, carrying you as if you weighed nothing, his focus entirely on getting you to a place where you could finally find some peace. Frank and Bill followed closely behind as Joel carried you upstairs, their footsteps echoing softly against the wooden floor.

The guest room was small but cozy, with soft, warm light spilling in from a lamp on the nightstand. Joel set you down gently on the bed, his hands lingering on your shoulders for a moment longer than necessary. Frank stepped forward, offering a kind smile. “Now, you try to get some rest. Things will look better in the morning.”

You managed a tired smile, your voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you, Frank. And Bill… thank you too.”

Frank’s smile widened, full of warmth and reassurance, while Bill gave a curt nod, his gruff exterior softened by the moment. “Yeah, well… just get some sleep,” Bill muttered, his voice rough but not unkind.

Frank, ever the thoughtful one, sensed that you and Joel needed a moment alone. “We’ll give you two some time,” he said, gently guiding Bill out of the room. As the door clicked shut behind them, the room fell into a comfortable silence, leaving you and Joel alone together.

Joel sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze searching your face for any signs of pain or discomfort. “How are you feeling now? does it still hurt?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You shook your head, trying to reassure him. “I’m fine, Joel. Really, I just need to sleep.”

Joel’s eyes softened, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. “I’m sorry… for everything. I’m gonna make sure you’re safe, that everything will be okay. I promise you that.”

You frowned, confusion and concern mixing in your expression. “Why are you saying sorry, Joel? You got me out from there,” you whispered, your voice filled with a fragile hope.

Joel sighed, his gaze drifting away from you for a moment as if searching for the right words. “Because… because I dragged you into this mess, darlin’. You didn’t deserve any of it."

His words hung heavy in the air, laden with regret. But to you, Joel had become the light that guided you through the darkness, the beacon that saved you when you thought you couldn’t go on. “But you did get me out, Joel. You saved me. You’re the only thing that feels real, the only thing that makes sense.”

He looked at you then, his brown eyes filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “I just… I wish I could’ve done it sooner. I wish I could’ve protected you better," His voice cracked slightly, the emotion in it raw and unfiltered.

You shook your head, reaching out to him, trying to soothe the worry etched into his face. “You’re here now, Joel. That’s all that matters. We’re here, together. I don’t care about anything else.”

He exhaled, as if your words were a balm to his weary soul, and he nodded slowly. “And I’ll make sure you’re safe now,” he said quietly.

Joel’s hand lingered on your shoulder for a moment longer, his thumb brushing softly against your skin, a silent comfort. “Now, you need to get some sleep. You’re exhausted, rest, and let me take care of the rest.”

He stood up, the bed creaking slightly as he moved away, and as he did, a sudden wave of fear washed over you. The thought of being alone, even for a moment, sent a shiver down your spine. You reached out, grabbing his hand, your voice trembling slightly. “Where are you going, Joel? Don’t leave me… don’t leave me alone.”

Joel stopped, turning back to you, his expression softening at the sight of your distress. He crouched down beside you, taking your hand in both of his. “I’m not leaving, darlin’. I just need to talk to Bill and Frank for a bit. I’ll be right downstairs. You’ll be safe here.”

You hesitated, “Are we staying here? With them?”

Joel nodded, his expression serious. “Yeah, for a little while. Just until we figure out what’s next and where we’re going."

You bit your lip, glancing towards the door. “About your friend, Bill… he doesn’t like me. I can tell.”

Joel chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Bill’s just like that with everyone. He’s a good man, even if he’s a bit rough around the edges. Don’t worry about him.”

You nodded, feeling a bit more at ease with Joel’s reassurances. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Get some sleep, okay? I’ll be back before you know it.”

You watched as he slowly stood up, his hand lingering in yours until the last possible moment. As he headed towards the door, he turned back one last time, his eyes locking onto yours with a promise.

With that, he slipped out of the room, leaving you to the quiet and the safety of the small guest room. The last thing you saw before sleep claimed you was the faint light from the hallway, a soft reminder that Joel was still close, watching over you even when you couldn’t see him.

As Joel quietly slipped out of the room, the soft glow of the hallway light was the last thing you saw before sleep claimed you, a small comfort that he was still near. Downstairs, the atmosphere was anything but calm.

The moment Joel stepped into the living room, Bill was already there, his arms crossed, his face a mask of tension and confusion. Frank, standing nearby, looked just as concerned, though his expression was softer, more curious.

“Now explain,” Bill demanded, his voice cold and laced with suspicion. He wasn’t one for pleasantries, especially not when the situation was as strange as this.

Frank’s eyes darted between Joel and the stairs leading up to where you rested. “Joel, what’s going on? Who is she? And where the hell is Ellie?”

Joel could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him as Bill's sharp eyes bore into him. There was no easy way out of this conversation, no simple explanation that could make everything clear. He knew that Bill and Frank deserved answers, but the truth was a tangled mess in his mind, knotted up with the raw emotions he’d been trying to keep at bay.

“It’s…complicated,” Joel began again, his voice low and burdened with the gravity of what he was about to say. The words felt heavy, each one dragging him down as he struggled to find the right way to explain. “She needed help, Bill. She was in a bad situation, and I couldn’t just leave her there.”

Bill’s eyes narrowed further, suspicion hardening his features. “And by ‘bad situation,’ what the hell do you mean?” His tone was cold, unyielding, as if he could freeze the truth out of Joel.

Joel knew that if he didn’t lay it all out, Bill would never trust him. He drew in a deep breath, steeling himself for what he had to do. “She’s… she’s been through hell,” Joel said slowly, trying to piece together a version of the truth that would make sense. “Her family… they weren’t good to her. I had to get her out of there."

"Now, hold on, who is she to you exactly?" Bill asked again, "She's...she's uh my neighbor, but she's under my care now," Joel answered.

Frank, who had been listening quietly, furrowed his brow in confusion. “What does that even mean, Joel? ‘Under your care?’ What are you trying to say?”

Joel felt his chest tighten, the words caught in his throat. How could he explain something so complex, something that even he was struggling to fully understand? “I saved her from her family,” he said, the words coming out more forcefully than he intended.

Bill’s expression shifted from suspicion to something darker, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “You kidnapped her?!”

“No, it’s not like that,” Joel snapped, frustration bubbling over. I didn’t kidnap her. She wanted to leave, and I… I helped her.”

“It’s complicated. I… I care about her. We care about each other.”

The room fell into a stunned silence. Frank’s eyes widened in shock, while Bill’s face twisted with disbelief. “What?” Frank whispered, almost as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

The room seemed to shrink as Joel stood under the weight of their incredulous stares. Frank’s voice was barely a whisper, yet it cut through the tension like a knife. “What do you mean?”

Joel felt like he was drowning, the pressure of the situation pressing down on him, suffocating him. His mind was a chaotic storm of guilt, desperation, and something else—something he didn’t want to name but couldn’t ignore. His thoughts twisted in on themselves, a tangled mess of emotions that left him reeling. The words felt like shards of glass in his throat, but he forced them out anyway, knowing he had to make them understand.

“I love her,” Joel said, his voice rough, strained. “I had to save her… I couldn’t just leave her in that hell.”

Bill’s face contorted with anger, his disbelief giving way to a rising fury. “The fuck do you mean, love her?! She’s a fucking kid, Joel! How old is she?!” His voice cracked with the force of his emotion, his mind struggling to wrap around what Joel was saying. “She looks barely older than Ellie!”

“She’s not a kid,” Joel snapped back, frustration and fear driving his words.

Frank’s expression darkened with a mix of disbelief and sorrow. “Joel, what have you done?” His voice was softer now, laden with a deep sense of concern.

“I had no choice,” Joel muttered, his voice tight as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “I couldn’t see her like that anymore.”

Bill’s eyes flashed with a dangerous light, his voice rising. “So you kidnapped her from her family? Is that why you ran away?! Why the hell would you get involved in your neighbor’s business?”

Joel’s control snapped, the words tearing from him like a wound ripped open. “Because her father was fucking beating her!”

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of Joel’s confession hanging heavy in the air. Frank’s mouth opened, then closed, as he tried to process what he’d just heard. Bill’s fury faltered, replaced by a cold, steely determination.

Joel’s chest heaved as he stood there, his emotions laid bare for them to see. He didn’t know how to explain what he felt, how to make them understand the desperation, the fear that had driven him to this point. All he knew was that he couldn’t let you go back to that life, couldn’t let you suffer any longer.

“I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing, she could have fucking die!” Joel said, his voice raw with emotion. “I couldn’t let her stay in that house, with that bastard… I had to get her out.”

Frank looked at Joel, his expression a mix of pity and resignation. “And what now, Joel? What do you plan to do?”

Joel’s voice trembled as he spoke, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him like a vise. “I don’t know… I just need time to figure it out.”

His desperation bled through each word, the facade of strength he’d always worn so carefully crumbling before their eyes. “J-just, just let us stay for a couple of days, till we—I—figure out what’s next.” His voice wavered, breaking under the strain. “She needs to heal, both mentally and physically. Please.”

It was a word Joel had never used lightly, a word that carried a weight of its own, something raw and vulnerable that neither Bill nor Frank had ever seen in him before. Joel had always been so cold, so unyielding—a fortress of a man who never let anyone see the cracks in his armor. But now, standing before them, he was exposed, fragile in a way that made Frank’s heart ache.

For a moment, the room was steeped in silence, thick with the tension of a decision that could not be undone. Frank’s gaze softened as he looked from Joel to Bill, who stood rigid, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Bill’s face was a storm of conflicted emotions—wariness, frustration, and a reluctance that spoke to his deep-seated aversion to complications.

“Bill,” Frank finally said, his voice gentle, almost pleading. “Let them stay. Just for a while.”

Bill’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he considered Frank’s words. He wasn’t one for sentimentality, and the thought of being dragged into a mess that wasn’t his own made his skin crawl. But there was something in Joel’s eyes, a fragility that tugged at the edges of his resolve, even if he didn’t fully understand it. He didn’t like this—any of it—but he also couldn’t bring himself to turn Joel away.

With a heavy sigh, Bill relented, though his voice remained gruff. “Fine. But only for a few days, and don’t bring any more trouble to my doorstep.”

Frank stepped forward, placing a hand on Joel’s shoulder. “Take as much time as you need,” he said softly. “We’ll help however we can.”

Joel nodded, the relief in his expression tempered by a lingering wariness. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice sincere but guarded.

Even in his gratitude, Joel couldn’t fully let his defenses down, couldn’t allow himself to believe that everything would be okay just yet. The path ahead was still dark, still uncertain, but at least, for now, he had a place to breathe.

Bill glanced up and down at Joel, his expression somewhere between exasperation and concern. “Jesus Christ, clean yourself up. You look like shit, Miller,” he muttered, his voice gruff but not unkind. Without waiting for a response, Bill turned on his heel and headed towards his bedroom, leaving Joel standing in the dimly lit living room.

Frank lingered for a moment longer, his eyes soft with understanding. He disappeared into another room and returned with a small stack of clothes—worn but clean, likely Bill’s—handing them to Joel. “Here, these should fit. Go clean yourself up and get some rest."

Joel took the clothes with a nod of thanks, his eyes lingering on Frank’s face.

As Frank turned to leave, heading toward his bedroom, he paused in the doorway, glancing back at Joel. “I’m gonna get some sleep now. Make yourself at home. If you need anything, just knock our bedroom's door,"

Joel nodded again, the weight of the night pressing heavy on his shoulders. "Thanks, Frank,"

“Goodnight, Joel,” Frank said softly before disappearing down the hall.

"Goodnight,"

Joel stood there for a moment longer, the quiet of the house settling around him like a blanket. He took a deep breath, clutching the clothes in his hand, then slowly made his way to the bathroom. As he closed the door behind him, the faint sound of water running echoed through the small space. Finally alone, Joel allowed himself to let go, if only for a moment. He turned on the shower, letting the steam fill the room, hoping the hot water could wash away not just the grime of the day, but the weight of everything that had happened.

After finishing his shower, Joel stepped quietly out of the bathroom, the steam still lingering in the air like a fading memory. His body ached, not just from the day’s events, but from the weight of decisions that had led him to this moment. The clothes Frank had given him felt strange against his skin—clean, unfamiliar—but they were a comfort, a small kindness in a world that had shown him little.

As he approached the guest bedroom, he hesitated at the door, his hand resting on the doorknob. The soft sound of your breathing reached him, steady and rhythmic, a fragile reminder that you were still here, still with him. He opened the door slowly, careful not to let the light from the hallway spill in, and stepped inside.

There you were, curled up on the bed, lost in the depths of sleep. Joel’s heart ached at the sight of you, so small and vulnerable beneath the covers. The bruises on your face had darkened, a cruel testament to the hell you’d been through. The bandages on your arms and legs stood out starkly against your pale skin, a reminder of the pain you’d endured. It broke something deep within him to see you like this, so fragile and hurt, but at the same time, it steeled his resolve.

He had done this. He had brought you here, taken you from one life and thrust you into another. The consequences were unknown, whatever it took, he would keep you safe. You were his responsibility now, and he was okay with that—more than okay. You were worth every risk, every sleepless night, every lie he’d have to tell to keep you from harm.

Quietly, Joel made his way to the bed and carefully lay down beside you, trying not to disturb your sleep. But as soon as his weight settled onto the mattress, you stirred, your body instinctively shifting closer to him, seeking the comfort and safety that only he could provide.

“Joel…” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, heavy with sleep and something deeper—an unspoken fear that clawed at your subconscious even now.

“I’m here, baby,” Joel whispered back, his voice tender, filled with a promise he would never break. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch as gentle as he could make it.

You sighed softly, your body relaxing as his words reached you, even in your half-dreaming state. “Please… don’t leave me,” you mumbled, your voice laced with a desperation that tugged at Joel’s heart.

“I won’t, sweetheart,” Joel assured you, his voice steady, though inside, he was anything but. “I'm not going anywhere, I’m here with you always."

You turned in your sleep, moving closer until your head rested against his chest, your arms wrapping around him as if to anchor yourself to the only solid thing in your world. Joel hesitated for a moment, feeling the warmth of your body against his, the trust you placed in him so absolute, it made his chest tighten with an emotion he couldn’t quite name. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer, feeling the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against his own.

He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, inhaling the faint scent of your hair, a mix of shampoo and something uniquely you. As he lay there, his mind swirled with thoughts of what had been, what could be, and what might come next. The future was a shadowed path, filled with dangers he couldn’t yet see, but none of it mattered if you were by his side.

Joel’s eyes drifted to the ceiling, his thoughts growing heavy as he tried to make sense of it all. There was no turning back this time, no easy way out, but he found a strange peace in that. For so long, he had been adrift, lost in a world that had taken so much from him. But now, with you in his arms, he felt something he hadn’t felt in years—purpose.

He would protect you, no matter the cost. Whatever the world threw at them, he would be ready, because you were worth it. You were the one thing in his life that made sense, the one person he couldn’t afford to lose. And for you, he would face anything.

As sleep finally began to claim him, Joel held you a little tighter, the weight of the world pressing down on him, but somehow feeling lighter with you in his arms. Whatever came next, whatever battles they would face, he knew one thing for certain—he wasn’t alone anymore. And as long as you were with him, that was enough.

***

In the days that followed, the world around you seemed to move in slow motion. The pain from your injuries was still there, a dull ache that lingered beneath the surface, but it was the emotional wounds that cut the deepest. Every time you closed your eyes, you were haunted by memories—flashes of your father’s anger, of Jamie’s twisted smile. They came to you in dreams, turning peaceful sleep into a battlefield where you fought to escape their grasp.

During the day, the sun brought with it a semblance of normalcy. Bill and Frank’s house became a strange kind of sanctuary, a place where you could hide from the world, from the things that had chased you here. But even in this safety, there was an undercurrent of fear that you couldn’t shake. Guilt gnawed at you, especially when you thought of your mother, of how you had left her behind. You missed Emma and Ellie, their voices a distant echo in your mind, reminding you of what you had lost, of the life that had been taken from you.

Joel stayed close, never letting you out of his sight for too long. His protectiveness was a constant presence, a shield against the darkness that threatened to consume you. He bought you new clothes, little things to try and make this feel like home, though he never allowed you to leave the house. It was as if he was building a wall around you, a fortress where nothing could hurt you again. But in the quiet moments, when it was just the two of you, you could see the cracks in his armor. He was struggling too, his thoughts often drifting to Ellie, to the life he had left behind to save you.

Joel had bought a new burner phone, a cheap, untraceable device that he used to contact Tommy. He couldn’t risk calling Ellie, not with the possibility that your father might report him. Every time he picked up the phone, you could see the conflict in his eyes, the weight of the choices he had made pressing down on him. He would sit in silence for hours, lost in his thoughts, his brow furrowed with worry. You wanted to tell him that it was okay, that you understood why he had done what he did, but the words never seemed to come out right.

At night, the nightmares were the worst. They came without warning, dragging you back to the terror of what had happened. You would wake up screaming, your heart pounding in your chest, the taste of fear thick in your throat. And every time, Joel was there, pulling you into his arms, whispering soft reassurances as he held you close. But even as he comforted you, you could feel him breaking, the weight of your pain becoming too much for him to bear. His voice would crack, his grip tightening as if he could keep the nightmares at bay just by holding you.

Frank had become a quiet presence in your life, always there with a kind word or a gentle smile. He helped you a lot, especially on the days when the world felt too heavy. He would sit with you in the kitchen, guiding your hands as you helped him cook, his voice soft and steady as he talked about anything and everything. There was a warmth to him, a kindness that made you feel safe, like you could tell him anything and he would understand.

As you stood at the counter chopping vegetables, the rhythmic sound of the knife meeting the cutting board filled the kitchen, a small comfort in the routine. Frank glanced over at you, his expression warm but thoughtful, clearly gauging how you were holding up after everything.

"How are you feeling, kid?" he asked, his voice gentle, carrying a note of genuine concern.

You paused for a moment, considering the question. The past few days had been a whirlwind of emotions—fear, relief, guilt—but here, in the quiet safety of Bill and Frank’s home, you were starting to feel a semblance of normalcy. You turned to Frank with a small smile, nodding. “I’m good,” you replied softly, though the words carried more weight than they seemed.

Frank returned your smile, sensing that there was more beneath the surface. “That’s good to hear,” he said, his tone encouraging.

Taking a breath, you decided to open up a bit more. "I really appreciate everything you and Bill have done for us," you began, your eyes meeting his as you spoke earnestly. "Letting us stay here, helping us get back on our feet… I know it’s not easy having strangers around, and I just want you to know how grateful I am. You didn’t have to do any of this."

Frank’s expression softened, and he shook his head dismissively, though the kindness in his eyes remained. “Ah, it’s nothing. Joel’s a good friend of ours, and now you are too. We look out for our own, you know?” He paused, then added with a light chuckle, “And besides, we could use the company. Bill and I don’t get many visitors these days.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, feeling a warmth spread in your chest. “Thank you, Frank."

Frank waved a hand, as if brushing off the praise. “Hey, friends help friends. That’s just how it works, right?”

You nodded, your smile lingering as you turned back to the vegetables. The ease with which Frank treated you, the way he made you feel welcome, was a balm to your frayed nerves. Despite everything that had happened, there was a sense of belonging beginning to take root here.

As the conversation naturally lulled, Frank’s gaze drifted to the small cross hanging around your neck.

His curiosity piqued, and he smiled warmly, attempting to lighten the mood with a bit of banter. “You’re a believer, I see?” he said, nodding towards the necklace. “Maybe that’s why you’ve got this positive aura around you.”

You chuckled softly, fingers instinctively reaching up to touch the cross. “Yeah, I am,” you replied, the weight of the necklace familiar and comforting against your skin. “Grew up very religious.”

Frank, still focused on chopping vegetables, glanced at you with a curious smile. “Are you a believer?” you asked, genuinely interested in his story.

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “No, I left God a long time ago. My parents were deeply religious, though. Strong believers, the kind who thought they had everything figured out until their son turned out to be… well, me. One day they decided to just threw me away like that,"

You felt a pang of empathy and glanced at Frank, seeing a flicker of old pain in his eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that,” you said gently.

Frank smiled, though there was a trace of bitterness in it. “No, no, it’s alright. Look at me now—I’m doing just fine, aren’t I?” He chuckled, but the words carried a deeper meaning. “Besides, I’d rather be alone and true to myself than pretend to be someone else just to make others happy.”

His words struck a chord deep within you, echoing the thoughts you’d harbored for years. You had always felt trapped, suffocated by the expectations and strictures imposed by your parents, especially your father. Living under their roof had felt like being in a cage—your every breath measured, your every step scrutinized. The cross around your neck suddenly felt heavier, not because of its physical weight, but because of the symbolic burden it carried, a reminder of all the years you spent trying to conform to a version of yourself that wasn’t truly you.

Your mind drifted, the kitchen around you fading as Frank’s words swirled in your thoughts. The yearning for freedom, the desperate need to escape the confines of your old life, had been a constant in your heart for so long.

Frank’s voice broke through your thoughts, drawing you back to the present. “Until I met Bill,” he continued, his tone softening with affection. “I wasn’t alone anymore.”

You smiled, understanding exactly what he meant. You had found that with Joel too—someone who didn’t just let you be free but walked alongside you in that freedom, making sure you never felt alone in it. With Joel, the darkness of your past didn’t feel so overwhelming, and the future, once so uncertain, now held the possibility of hope. He had become your anchor, the person who reminded you that you didn’t have to carry the burden of your past by yourself.

He had given you the space to breathe, to be yourself without judgment, without the crushing pressure to be someone you weren’t. With Joel, you could finally exhale, no longer suffocating under the weight of expectations.

“How long have you and Bill been together?” you asked, genuinely curious about the life they had built together.

Frank’s face lit up with a soft, contented smile. “Oh, it’s been about ten years now,” he replied, a hint of pride in his voice.

“Wow, that’s a long time,” you said, admiration clear in your tone.

“Yeah, it is,” Frank agreed. “We’ve had our ups and downs, like any couple, but… well, there’s no one else I’d rather spend my life with. He’s my home.”

The simplicity and truth in his words touched you deeply. You couldn’t help but think of Joel again, wondering if one day you could find that same sense of home with him—a place where you could finally rest, where the wounds of the past could slowly heal, and where the future, no matter how uncertain, didn’t seem so daunting anymore.

***

The night was still, the kind of quiet that felt heavy, almost suffocating, as Joel sat on the front porch, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. The faint glow of the ember was the only light in the darkness, aside from the occasional flicker of the beer bottle as he lifted it to his lips. He took a long drag, the smoke curling up into the night air, blending into the shadows that seemed to wrap around him. The weight of the last few days pressed down on his shoulders, the uncertainty of what lay ahead gnawing at him.

Three days. It had been three days since he and you arrived at Bill and Frank’s, and every second felt like the ticking of a clock running out of time. He hadn’t heard from Tommy since that last conversation, where his brother had warned him that your father had gone to the sheriff, reporting you as kidnapped. Joel’s grip tightened around the bottle at the thought. Kidnapping. The word felt like a noose tightening around his neck. He hadn’t taken you; he’d saved you. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. But with the sheriff and the police now involved, the danger was creeping closer, and he knew they couldn’t stay hidden forever.

They had to keep moving. It was the only way to survive. The thought of staying in one place too long made Joel’s skin crawl. The longer they stayed, the more likely it was that someone would come looking for them. And then there was the fear, gnawing at the edges of his mind, about what would happen if you found out about Jamie Lee and Pastor Ben. The memories of that night haunted him, the blood, the desperation, the cold finality of what he had done. What would you think of him if you knew? Would you still see him as your protector, or would that look in your eyes change?

Joel took another drag from his cigarette, the smoke burning his lungs as the thoughts churned in his head. The idea of settling down somewhere new was tempting, but where could they go that would be safe? Where could they build a life that didn’t feel like they were running every second of every day? He knew he had to talk to you, to figure out what you wanted, but the thought of that conversation made his chest tighten. He didn’t want to burden you with more decisions, not when you were still healing, but they couldn’t keep living in limbo. They had to make a choice, and soon.

He crushed the cigarette beneath his boot and drained the last of his beer, the bitterness of it lingering on his tongue as he stood up. The house behind him was quiet, save for the faint sounds of Bill and Frank finishing up the dishes. Joel took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he had to do next. He needed to check on you, to see if you were ready to have that conversation. But as he walked through the door and made his way down the hall, he stopped short at the sight of you.

You were on your knees, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a halo around you as you prayed. Joel’s heart twisted at the sight, a mixture of emotions crashing over him. Guilt, fear, love—all of it tangled together, choking him. He watched you for a moment, not wanting to interrupt, not wanting to break the fragile peace you seemed to find in those moments.

As you knelt there, your hands clasped tightly together, your thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions, swirling like a storm inside you. The familiar comfort of prayer was the only anchor you had left in a world that felt like it was spinning out of control. You whispered the words you had been taught since childhood, the prayers that had been your solace through so many dark times. But tonight, those prayers felt different, heavy with the weight of everything you’d been through.

You prayed for your mother, for the safety of the family you had left behind. You prayed for Emma, for Ellie, hoping they were okay, hoping they didn’t blame you for leaving. But most of all, you prayed for strength, for the courage to face whatever came next. The fear that had been your constant companion these last few days was a shadow that you couldn’t escape, creeping into your thoughts, into your dreams. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw your father’s face, heard Jamie’s voice. It haunted you, a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. And yet, as long as Joel was with you, you felt a glimmer of hope, a small light in the darkness. He was your protector, your shield against the world, and the thought of losing that safety terrified you more than anything else.

You prayed for Joel too, for the man who had risked everything to keep you safe. You knew he was struggling, that the weight of everything was pressing down on him just as much as it was on you. You could see it in the lines of his face, in the way he was always on edge, always watching, always worrying. You prayed that he would find peace, that he wouldn’t be consumed by the guilt that you could see lurking in his eyes, even if he tried to hide it from you. You prayed that he wouldn’t have to carry this burden alone, that together, you could find a way to move forward, to build a life that wasn’t just about surviving but about living.

When you finally finished, you sat back on your heels, taking a deep breath as you tried to steady your racing heart. You hadn’t heard Joel come in, but when you looked up, you saw him standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, and for a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you heavy with everything that had been left unsaid.

Joel stepped into the room, his movements careful, almost hesitant, as he approached you. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion.

You shook your head, offering him a small smile. “You didn’t."

You were wearing a soft, flowing white nightgown that brushed against your skin like a whisper, your hair now loose, cascading over your shoulders in waves. It was a small comfort, something familiar in a world that had become so unpredictable. As you prepared the bed, fluffing the pillows and smoothing out the covers, Joel moved with quiet efficiency, closing the door behind him before he began to undress.

He pulled his shirt over his head, the muscles in his back rippling with the motion, and you couldn’t help but watch him, your eyes tracing the lines of his body. There was something mesmerizing about the way he moved, each action deliberate and controlled, a testament to the strength that had kept you both alive this far.

But beneath that strength, you saw the weight he carried—the burden of the choices he had made, the lives he had taken to protect you. It tugged at your heart, a pang of guilt that you couldn’t quite shake. This was your fault, after all. Joel had left everything behind for you, risked everything, and now, he was bearing the consequences of that choice.

He slipped into a clean shirt and a pair of worn sweatpants, his movements efficient but unhurried, as if he was trying to prolong the moment before he had to speak. You watched him with a mixture of love and sorrow, the emotions swirling inside you like a storm.

Joel was your anchor, the one constant in a world that had been turned upside down. But at what cost? The thought haunted you as you climbed into bed, your eyes still following him as he finished dressing.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice cutting through the silence, thick with concern.

“Couldn’t be better,” you replied, though the words felt like a half-truth. Physically, you were healing, but the wounds that ran deeper, the ones that cut into your soul, those were far from mended. You had been thinking about that, about what came next, and as Joel continued to speak, you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same.

“I’ve been thinking,” Joel began, his tone more serious now as he turned to face you. You watched him, your heart clenching as he spoke, the intensity of his gaze making it clear that whatever he was about to say was weighing heavily on him.

You patted the bed next to you, inviting him to sit, to share the burden that had settled between you. Joel hesitated for a moment before crossing the room, the bed dipping slightly under his weight as he lay down next to you. The warmth of his presence was a comfort, even as the gravity of the situation pressed down on you both.

“We can’t stay here long,” Joel said, his voice firm, though there was a tremor beneath the surface that betrayed his worry. “I spoke to Tommy a couple of days ago… about your dad. He told me that he’s reported me to the sheriff, said I kidnapped you.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. You had known this was coming, but hearing it out loud made it feel all the more real. The sheriff, the police—it was only a matter of time before they came looking, before they started asking questions that neither of you could afford to answer.

“Tommy told me not to contact him,” Joel continued, his voice tightening with frustration. “He said he’d reach out to me if there’s any news, but until then… we’re on our own. For our safety, we’ve got to keep moving. But I need to know if you’re ready. I don't want to push you,"

You could hear the unspoken question in his words—whether you were strong enough to keep going, whether you could survive what came next. But there was something else, too, a flicker of doubt in his eyes that made your heart ache. He was worried about you, yes, but he was also afraid of what might happen if you weren’t ready. Afraid of what it would mean if you couldn’t keep going.

“I’m okay,” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand in yours. His skin was rough, calloused from years of hard work, but his touch was gentle, grounding you in this moment. Joel leaned into your touch, his heart warming as if it found a safe harbor in your presence. His lips curled into a small, genuine smile, one that softened the hard edges of his face.

“Well,” Joel began, his voice low and steady, “we might have a long trip ahead of us.” He paused, looking into your eyes as if searching for any sign of hesitation. “Where do you want to go?”

For a moment, you were lost in thought, the possibilities stretching out before you like an open road. This was the moment you had always dreamed of—the chance to finally leave behind the small town that had suffocated you for so long. Excitement sparked within you, a flicker of hope that began to burn brighter with each passing second. “What about California?” you suggested, your voice filled with a newfound enthusiasm. “We don’t have to live in Los Angeles… we could settle in a small town, like Davis? Some quiet place, you know?”

Joel considered your words, his gaze never leaving yours. “Wherever you want us to go,” he said, his tone sincere. “I don’t care, as long as you’re with me.”

Your heart swelled at his words, a sincere smile spreading across your face. The love you felt for him in that moment was overwhelming, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Joel’s expression softened as he watched you, as if he could feel the shift in the air between you.

A thought seemed to cross Joel’s mind, and his eyes lit up with a new idea. “Since you’ve never been anywhere outside,” he began, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice, “how about we take a trip? A real one. We could go to every state in the USA, see everything there is to see. And then, when we’re ready, we can settle down in Davis, or wherever you want.”

His words hung in the air, the idea taking shape in your mind. A trip across the country, just the two of you, exploring the world together—it felt like a dream. You could almost see it, the endless highways, the changing landscapes, the freedom that came with each new place. The thought of it filled you with a sense of adventure, a spark of life that you hadn’t felt in so long.

“You really mean it?” you asked, your voice filled with awe. “You’ll take me on that trip?”

“Why not?” Joel replied, his smile widening. “We’ve got time for ourselves now. No rush, no place we have to be. We can just… live. Just you and me now, doll.”

Without thinking, you threw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. The warmth of his body against yours, the strength in his arms as he held you close—it was everything you needed, everything you had been longing for. You pressed a kiss to his lips, a soft, grateful gesture. “Thank you,” you whispered against his mouth, your voice trembling with emotion.

But as the excitement faded, reality began to creep back in, and with it, the weight of guilt that had been gnawing at you for days. This was all because of you. Joel had left his life behind—left Ellie, Tommy, his family, left everything he knew—because of you. You had dragged him into this mess, turned him into a fugitive. The thought of it made your chest tighten with regret.

“I’m so sorry,” you said suddenly, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. “This is all my fault. You left everything behind because of me. Your life… Ellie… I ruined everything.”

Joel’s brow furrowed in confusion, his hands tightening around you as if to keep you grounded. “Hey, what are you talking about?” he asked, his voice firm but gentle. “This isn’t your fault. I wanted this, I chose this.”

“But—”

“No, listen to me,” Joel interrupted, his tone more insistent now. “I made the choice to leave, to take you with me. I wasn’t going to let you go through this alone. You didn’t drag me into anything. I’m here because I want to be. Because I love you.”

His words hit you like a wave, crashing over the doubts and fears that had been building inside you. Joel’s eyes were filled with a fierce determination, a resolve that left no room for doubt. He wasn’t going to let you carry this burden alone, wasn’t going to let you blame yourself for the choices he had made.

“You don’t have to feel guilty,” Joel continued, his voice softening as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “We’re in this together, okay? I’m right where I want to be. With you.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, soothing the ache in your heart. The guilt that had been suffocating you began to loosen its grip, replaced by a deep sense of relief. Joel had made his choice, just as you had made yours. And together, you would face whatever came next.

As you looked into his eyes, you knew that no matter where the road took you, no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would find a way through it. With Joel by your side, you felt like you could take on the world. And for the first time in what felt like forever, the future didn’t seem so terrifying. It felt like a promise—one that you and Joel would keep, together.

"I love you too, Joel," you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of everything those words held. His gaze softened, and before you could say anything more, Joel leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was tender, a gentle affirmation of the bond you shared. You melted into him, your bodies pressing together as you held each other close in the quiet cocoon of the room.

The kiss deepened, but it wasn’t rushed. It was as if time had slowed, allowing you to savor the moment—the warmth of his mouth, the way his hand cupped the back of your head, drawing you closer. There was something pure in that kiss, something that spoke of more than just desire. It was love, yes, but also relief, gratitude, and an unspoken promise that you would stand by each other, no matter what came next.

As you embraced, the sound of a song drifted up from downstairs, carried on the quiet air of the night. The familiar notes of “Have You Ever Seen the Rain” by Willie and Paula Nelson filled the room, and you couldn’t help but smile as you recognized the voices of Bill and Frank in the distance.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Frank, not this song again,” Bill’s gruff voice grumbled, the sound slightly muffled but still clear.

Frank’s reply was lighthearted, tinged with affection. “Once in a while, Bill, we need something besides Linda Ronstadt. I need something new.”

“But Linda is so good,” Bill protested, the hint of a smile in his tone. “You know that. It was our song.”

You chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against Joel’s chest as you lay wrapped in each other’s arms. “They’re an interesting couple,” you murmured, looking up at Joel with a playful glint in your eye.

Joel’s lips quirked into a small smile as he listened to the banter from downstairs. “Frank’s nice enough,” he said, but you noticed he hadn’t mentioned Bill. There was a slight hesitation in his voice, a subtle tension that you could feel through the way his body stiffened ever so slightly.

You knew that Joel and Bill had a complicated relationship, one marked by an undercurrent of mutual respect mixed with a kind of wariness that neither of them could fully shake. Bill was a man who valued his solitude, fiercely protective of his territory and his way of life. He and Joel shared a similar toughness, a survival instinct honed by years of hardship, but their similarities also made them clash. Bill’s brusque nature, his guarded demeanor—it all rubbed up against Joel’s own rough edges, creating an awkward, sometimes strained dynamic between them.

They weren’t exactly friends in the traditional sense, but they weren’t enemies either. It was more like they understood each other on a level that didn’t require words—a kind of silent agreement to coexist, to respect the other’s boundaries, even if they didn’t always see eye to eye.

“Joel…”

“What?”

“They’re good people, Joel. Frank and Bill. They took us in when they didn’t have to. They gave us a place to stay till we figure it out,"

Joel’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Yeah, they did, I guess Bill's not that bad,” he admitted making you chuckle a little.

There was an unspoken acknowledgment between you—a recognition of the small sanctuary you had found in Bill and Frank’s home, however temporary it might be. And despite the rough edges, despite the unspoken tensions, you knew that Joel was grateful in his own way for the refuge they had provided.

You reached up, cupping his cheek as you pulled him in for another kiss, this one more urgent, more passionate. It was as if the song playing downstairs had ignited something in you—a deep, burning need that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. The kiss grew more intense, and as your lips moved against his, you could feel the unspoken desire that had been building between you for days.

Joel responded in kind, his hands moving to hold you closer, his touch becoming more insistent. There was no hesitation now, no more holding back. It was just the two of you, finally able to be together without fear or guilt. The world outside could wait; this moment was yours.

You guided him to be on the top of you, your bodies entwined as the song played on in the background. The melody seemed to echo the rhythm of your hearts, each beat syncing with the other as you moved together. The room was filled with the soft sounds of your shared breaths, the quiet sighs of pleasure as you lost yourselves in each other.

Joel’s hands roamed over your body, gentle but with a certain urgency, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Every touch sent a shiver down your spine, every kiss ignited a fire within you. It was sweet, yes, but also passionate—like two souls finally finding their way back to each other after being lost for so long.

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake, and you arched into him, craving more of his touch. The heat of his skin pressed against yours, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart, echoing in time with your own. It was a rhythm that spoke of love, of need, of the deep connection that bound you together—one that had weathered storms and now found solace in the quiet moments like this.

Joel’s hands slid down your sides, fingers brushing the delicate fabric of your white nightgown. Slowly, he lifted it over your head, the soft material grazing your skin as it fell away. His gaze never left yours, a silent reverence in the way he looked at you, as if you were the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, as he undid the last of his clothing, baring himself to you. The weight of his words settled into your heart, grounding you in the moment as he moved closer, his body warm and familiar against yours. When he positioned himself between your thighs, the anticipation hummed between you, a charged electricity that made every nerve in your body come alive.

As Joel entered you, slowly and tenderly, a soft moan escaped your lips. He moved with deliberate care, every thrust measured, as if savoring every second of being with you. His pace was slow, each movement a testament to the depth of his love, the gentleness of his touch weaving a tapestry of passion and tenderness that enveloped you both.

Your bodies moved in perfect harmony, fitting together as though they were made for each other. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you in this moment of pure connection. There were no more secrets, no more hiding in the shadows. For the first time, you could be together completely, without fear or shame. It was as if the walls around your hearts had finally crumbled, allowing you to love each other fully, freely.

As you moaned softly, feeling the sweet friction within yours, the intensity of your connection deepened with every passing moment. Joel’s movements were unhurried, each thrust sending waves of pleasure rippling through you, building slowly but steadily. His breath was hot against your ear, his low growls of pleasure resonating through your body, making you shiver with anticipation.

“Joel…” you moan, your voice trembling with a mixture of need and love. His name on your lips felt like a prayer, a plea for this moment to never end, for the world to stay suspended in this perfect stillness where only the two of you existed.

Joel responded with a soft grunt, his hips pressing deeper, finding a rhythm that had you arching into him, your body reacting to his every move. He watched you intently, his eyes filled with a reverence that made your heart ache. In this moment, you were his entire world, and he was yours.

The slow, deliberate pace allowed every sensation to intensify—the way his skin brushed against yours, the way his hands roamed your body as if memorizing every curve, the way his gaze never wavered from yours, grounding you in the here and now. Every touch, every movement was a reminder that you were safe, cherished, and loved.

As Joel continued to move within you, the tension began to build, coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust. The world around you seemed to blur, your senses narrowing to the feel of him, the sound of his breath, the warmth of his skin. You were completely lost in each other, the outside world fading into insignificance.

And then, as if sensing you were on the edge, Joel leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, his lips moving softly against yours. The kiss was filled with all the emotions that words could never fully convey—his love, his desire, his unwavering commitment to you.

With a final, deep thrust, the tension within you snapped, and you came undone in his arms, your body trembling with the force of your release. Joel followed soon after, his own release a shuddering, overwhelming wave of pleasure that left you both breathless.

For a moment, the world stood still. You lay there in each other’s arms, your bodies entwined, hearts beating as one. The outside world, with all its dangers and uncertainties, felt miles away. Here, in this quiet space, there was only love—a love that had weathered every storm, a love that had brought moment of peace and completeness.

As your breathing slowed, you nestled closer to Joel, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the strong, steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your cheek. He held you tightly, his arms wrapping around you as if he could shield you from the world outside, from all the darkness and danger that still lingered just beyond the walls of this room.

The song playing softly in the background, "Have You Ever Seen the Rain?", blended with the lingering hum of your emotions. The lyrics, the melody, all seemed to echo the storm you had weathered together—the downpours, the relentless winds, and finally, the calm after the storm. It was a moment of serenity that you both craved, a small piece of normalcy in a world that had been anything but.

You shifted slightly to look up at Joel, your hand resting gently on his chest. “I never thought I’d feel this way,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the room.

Joel’s hand moved to cradle your face, his thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek. “Me neither,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “But I’m glad I do. I’m glad it’s with you.”

His words filled you with a warmth that spread through your entire being, a sense of belonging that you hadn’t felt in so long. Here, in his arms, you felt like you had finally found your home, not in a place, but in a person. In Joel.

“I love you, Joel,” you murmured, your voice steady despite the overwhelming emotions coursing through you.

Joel’s lips curved into a soft smile, one that reached his eyes, lighting them up in a way that made your heart swell. “I love you too, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice filled with the same intensity of feeling that you held in your heart.

He pulled you closer, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. And in that embrace, you felt the world fall away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in a love that was as deep and as vast as the ocean.

As you drifted off to sleep in Joel’s arms, you knew that whatever the future held, you would face it together. No matter the challenges, no matter the obstacles, you had each other. And that was enough. More than enough.

[writerslittlelibrary]

Mob!Natasha x daughter!reader headcannons

masterlist

a/n: I figured writing some headcanons was a bit less pressuring, and I enjoyed this so much! I’ll definitely be writing more headcanons in the future :)

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

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Mob!Natasha who found you when you were just a baby. She heard crying coming out of the closet after she had just killed her target. Turns out, he had already found his next victim, you. Luckily, Natasha was just in time to save you from that horrible life and raised you herself

Mob!Natasha who raised you in the safety of her Russian home. Protected, hidden, and far away from the dangers of the world

Mob!Natasha who only allowed Melina, Alexei, and Yelena to see and know about you the first 5 years of your life

Mob!Natasha who started training you for active combat the moment you could stand, wanting you to be able to protect yourself, should you ever end up being mixed into one of her ‘jobs’

Mob!Natasha who loves you more than anything in the world, getting you whatever you want whenever you want it, yet still making sure you’re not becoming a spoiled brat

Mob!Natasha who puts her trusted bodyguard, Bucky Barnes, on any and every outing you go on. You leave the house for a walk? You better count on the fact that Bucky is coming. You want to go shopping? Don’t worry, Bucky will simply come to help you carry your bags. You want to have dinner with someone? Bucky will simply sit a few tables away from you, giving you privacy yet keeping a close eye on you

Mob!Natasha who is terrified when your existence becomes known after you and her are spotted going for a little shopping trip. She will upgrade her security everywhere, putting multiple bodyguards by your side every time you leave the house. Of course, she still trusts that Bucky is the best at keeping you safe, but just to be sure, you get a few more of her men

Mob!Natasha who sometimes allows you to sit in on her meetings, letting you sit next to her, or on the ground, whichever you prefer. It’s not like any of the people she is meeting with can say anything. That is if they want to keep their lives of course. Sometimes, if you forgot to bring something she will slide you her notepad for you to doodle on, or she’ll just stop the entire meeting and order one of her men to fetch you whatever you wish. She gets to decided how her meetings go, of course

Mob!Natasha who knows you adore her henchwomen more than anything. Your personal favourite is Natasha’s assistant, Maria. You know her and your mom have some more going on. You are not blind to the lingering touches and the sneaky looks they send each other. Of course, you are a big fan of Carol. She is just so cool and nice to you, even though she can kill someone with basically a glare. To you, she is the sweetest human on the planet

Mob!Natasha who knows you adore your aunt Yelena more than anyone on the planet. Because of that, she makes sure Yelena gets the opportunity to visit more than enough. Everytime Natasha has to leave for a slightly bigger ‘job’ she simply calls Yelena to keep you company. Natasha knows you don’t need a babysitter anymore, but she likes the idea of you not having to be lonely. Besides, it is much safer for you to be accompanied by your aunt Yelena

Mob!Natasha who knows how much you adore playing board and cards games, so she told her people to never deny you a game, were you to ask. Luckily, you mostly gravitate towards Carol and her girlfriend Valkyrie, and who were they to deny you a game? They loved your company, and they loved playing your card games with you

Mob!Natasha who, when you start dating someone, runs thousands of background checks, does hundreds of checkups throughout the day, and makes sure to give whoever you decided to date a little talk, letting them know exactly what’s waiting for them were they ever to hurt you

Mob!Natasha who had the best private tutors coming to your home to teach you everything you needed to know, giving you the highest level of eduction you’d ever need

Mob!Natasha who knows that you are financially set for life, but who still allows you to go to college if you would ever want to. Of course it would be an expensive, high security private school, but still

Mob!Natasha who takes you on the multiple holiday trips during the year. You want to go to Spain? Pack your bag because Natasha will have planned a trip next week. Obviously you both will simply take her private jet, but she needs a week to book some fancy holiday home for you two to stay at

Mob!Natasha who, despite her fortune, often books small, low budget holiday trips. Everyone knows those small holiday homes are the best and the cosiest. What kind of mother would Natasha be if she didn’t give you that experience?

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @nova-kyle @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @tia-thesimp @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000 @hor1zond1ar1es @lorsstar1st @superlegend216

[strugglingsapphic]

Red hadn't even meant to kill someone today. But, you know how sometimes your body has a mind of its own. Just like the magic does too. It's his own fault really.

They had been in court, countless royals poised in their seats discussing world matters. She was sitting in the chair next to her mother, absentmindedly fiddling with a pack of cards, waiting for the next hearing when this, vermin is the best way she can describe him, walks in. He had entered with his sword drawn, spouting nonsense about how the royals of his country didn't care about his people. Red watched on as he got more aggressive, waving his sword around, until he pointed the tip right at the princess of Cinderellasberg, her princess, her Chloe.

She didn't realize she had even thrown the card in her hand until the man starts to scream bloody murder, hold his wrist where a hand should be. She looks down and there's both the sword he had been holding, and his now severed appendage laying on the hardwood. He's still screaming, cursing her and chloe so loud the whole gods above could hear him. The next card she lets loose lands in his mouth, and the magic it's infused with forces his mouth shut, rendering his voice mute. The court has gone silent, watching as the princess of hearts uses her magic to punish this man. Red opens her mouth, "Princess?"

And the blue haired girl knows what she's asking. She turns her head to look at Red and can't help the cruel smirk that graces her lips, and the wild look she knows is in her eyes, seeing Red wield her magic always did things for her, as did seeing her love put someone in their place.

"Make them see red mon cœur"

Red's smile turns into a cheshire grin, and she nods at Chloe. She feels glee as she lets loose a third card, this one aimed straight for the man's neck. There's a wet sound as the card takes off his head, and a loud thump in a motionless room when both his head and body land on the floor. So no, she hadn't meant to kill today, but god did she enjoy it.